Here goes. God, how tired was I when I scribbled this down, it's illegible.

Soul heard Liz's cry for help over the tinny radio, but he knew they were deep in some serious shit when the airships lurched back into action, stalled shots in cannons ripping through the hulls of the Academy airships that had dared to take advantage of the once still ships and sending large dangerous splinters of wood flying through the air. The confusion resulting from the frozen ships would pass quickly and the Academy would not only lose the advantage they had managed to garner but end up as sitting ducks.

They were about to lose, and Soul couldn't find it in himself to care unduly.

Well, about the Academy's airships. Maka on the other hand, Maka who was fighting for her life, probably overwhelmed by the effort it had to take to stall and entire fleet in it's tracks. That he cared about. She could be seriously injured or worse. He had to help her, he just wasn't entirely sure how. His song was growing frantic and erratic, the insanity he and Maka worked hard to keep at bay seeping into the already cacophonous notes and pouring out in waves of sound. If he left the airship, the Ghost, Maka's goddamn baby there was no way that the Academy(who no doubt thought they were traitors) and the smugglers(who had a personal and professional vendetta against them anyway) were going to just stop trying to blast them out of the sky.

If he boarded the Kishin, the Ghost was going to be destroyed. Maka might not need his help, but he wasn't taking that chance, even if it meant she was probably going to kill him. If their airship was the price for her safety, it was one he was willing to pay a thousand times. Not that he had a thousand airships, but that was hyperbole for you.

At least the Academy had all of her notebooks, and tools. Not everything would be lost.

The music, frantic and ear painful even to him, layers of madness woven into song, had movie him close to the Kishin aware of his choice as soon as he was, long before he'd even realized it; still panicking about Maka in the forefront of his mind.

There was an old-fashioned pistol on his belt- Liz had pressed it into his hand "Just in case we get boarded," having strung herself with enough artillery to outfit an entire army.

"It doesn't take much to point and shoot," She'd advised him, once after giving him the minimum amount of instruction required to ensure he didn't shoot his own foot. "Consequences are the hard part."

Consequences were the hard part. He knew that. Maka knew that. Liz and everyone else knew that. But there was knowing and knowing. Liz knew, he could see it in the gunmetal blue of her eyes, that shone to match her weapon of choice and so did Maka. He didn't.

He had a feeling he was about to though, one way or another. Soul would have to act fast. He pulled the airship in close to the Kishin, closer then he'd brought it for the other. The hulls of the ships screamed in protest. He ducked out of the cockpit and scrabbled up on the table before hauling himself out of the hatch. He felt the Ghost take a serious hit and the entire ship lurched.

He almost lost his balance and decided it would be best to move across to the other ship before the Ghost took another hit. The Kishin hadn't moved much, a lot of the ship's airmen were out of action, if he had to guess. Or Maka was still fighting and still had some semblance of control over this ship at least. Something sickly and ugly clung to him almost tangibly, seeping into his very core, before it slid away without a trace bar the memory and even then that was slipping away like oil.

Soul leapt across the gap just as the Kishin widened it to farther then he could possibly stretched and he would never forget everything that happened in these milliseconds. Something smashed into the Ghost and he felt a part of himself, or something he'd thought was a part of him pull away painfully. The something had hit a vital part of the ship, and then the something made it's presence extra clear by exploding. The force of the explosion blasted soul, helpfully, but rather painfully through the air as the Ghost burned, the smell of melting rubber filling the air, and she was blasted apart in the finest clash of angry, insane noise that caused the airship to rise a final few hopeful feet before falling, falling, falling.

Soul slammed into the deck of the Kishin, ears ringing.

He stood up as quickly as he could, which given the fact that he was battered, bruised, missing more epidermis and hair then he'd intended, and couldn't hear very well, was a great deal slower then he would have liked. If the crew that were supposed to be manning the deck hadn't been largely unconscious and partially dead. He forced himself to stand, when he felt like he'd rather curl up and lament his burned off eyebrows and his crispy eyelashes and his shorter then he remembered fringe.

He had to save Maka.

And everyone else by default.

Of course.

He staggered upright and decided there was a trail of destruction to follow. An airship as old as this one, not the oldest, but from a time when airships were still new enough technology to follow a set building and layout pattern. Many airships still followed this pattern, but what it meant was that he could navigate the halls easily enough, and finding the bridge shouldn't be too hard.

He held the gun up, safety unlocked, like Liz had told him.

"Shoot first, ask questions later," he whispered to himself, the advice she's given him, advice she'd said had saved her and Patti's lives a lot when they were growing up. He moved through the airship carefully, nudging the unconscious airmen with his foot and avoiding the glazed empty stare of Liz's victims. Liz hadn't left any wounded. He picked up the guns of those he passed. Guns were expensive, and not many had them, but he'd feel better if he didn't leave them armed. He jammed each one into his belt. He'd gathered about a half dozen guns, when he came to a closed door, but the wood around the lock was splintered and broken. Maka had kicked to door open.

He tried to shoulder the door open, but it wouldn't budge and inch. It was jammed shut, somehow. Kicking it and shouldering it would only serve to making the situation worse. He ran a hand through his hair, and several still clinging burned wisps broke a fell to the floor. He heard voices on the other side, and helplessly pressed his ear to the door.

On the other side of the jammed door, Maka was just waking up with a monster of a headache.

'Of course, I should kill you," Asura mused, turning a knife over in his hand thoughtfully. "It's only right, but you are a little curio on your own aren't you? And so very pretty,"

"Go fuck yourself," she spat, with a great deal more bravado then she felt.

"Of course, this one's very pretty as well, but she's not special like you are. " He'd handcuffed Liz to the sturdy wheel, and she slumped there, fully clothed but looking more exposed then Maka had ever imagined without her armour of artillery. "She's not like us,"

"I'm nothing like you."

"I beg to differ," he smiled, a sadistic grin that stretched from ear to ear and exposed more teeth then Maka liked to see in his head. "Did you think you were the only one?"

"Only what?"

"The only one who could see," he knelt next to the prone body of Liz, and traced her jaw with the blade he'd been spinning in his hand. "Of course, I've never heard of anyone who could command so many souls at once, with so little clue of what she was doing. Such potential, such waste..." Blood welled along the blade of the knife.

"Stop it! Leave her alone," Maka jerked against her restraints.

"... if only you had a teacher who could show you how to control your talents and put it to good use," he examined the blood gathered on the knife's edge, before licking the blade clean.

Maka retched.

"You don't think I built an empire with my good looks along, did you?"

"You? On people?"

"They weren't like us, they barely counted. Like that freak you've got parked outside the door,"

Soul stiffened, and it wasn't really of his own volition.

"Soul? Soul!"

"I could make him do anything.. even blow his own brains out..." He flipped the knife in his hand again before standing over her, he leaned in close to her face. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back ".. such a pretty face..." the knife bit into the skin on her cheek, dragging slowly down through her flesh, slicing her open with impossibly patient precision.

The blast of a gunshot ripped through the air.

"Soul!" Maka yelled, the movement driving the knife deeper. It hadn't hurt much before, but holy shit, did it hurt now. "I'm going to kill you. You're going to regret every day of your life, every decision that led you up to this when I 'm done with you. I'm going to kill you, you bastard do you understand that!? I'm going to kill you!"

"What are you going to do little girl?... Such pretty eyes.." she could feel the knife scratching the hollow under her eye, it broke the skin, then the green eyes started to burn, and the knife froze.

"Such potential, such waste..." Maka's voice echoed hollowly, her eyes burning bright, and a faint glow appearing.

"That's it little girl, give in," the knife still his his hand sliced under his jaw and flicked out, the blood spattering on Maka's face.

"Such a pretty face..." the knife bit deep into in cheek, and he howled gleefully.

Gunshots rang through the air, but Maka didn't hear them, she couldn't hear anything as she pulled all the ships to a halt, and maintained a brittle control over the mad captain.

"Such pretty eyes..." a dangerous, twisted grin a mirror of Asura's own spread across her face as the knife hovered over Asura's eye, gleaming with insanity. It moved slowly closer, halting with the point ready to plunge into his wide, dilated pupil when the was ripped off it's mutilated hinges by a limping hero.

"Maka! Maka, stop! I'm fine!" Objectively speaking, a member of the medical professional would probably not consider burns, bruises, what felt like several cracked ribs and shooting yourself in the foot fine.

The knife slid into Asura's mad, eager eye and he started screaming and Maka, Maka started giggling, vacuous peals of unnatural broken laughter.

Soul pulled the trigger, and Asura crumpled, the knife still in this eye. Maka slumped, spent, but Soul could faintly hear the cheers of a victorious Academy as he rushed to her side. He untied the tangled mess of rope that had been holding her, and Soul pulled her into his arms.

He thought she was out for the count, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Am I dead?"

"No, you're alright, I've got you."

"But you're dead," she whispered, tears shining in her almost empty eyes. "I heard it,"

"No, I got the shot off before he... I didn't need those toes anyway,"

"So we're not dead?"

"No, we aren't,"

She stared at the body of Asura, and Liz finally began to stir.

"Wh... What the fuck happened?" She said, eyes fixed on the slickly bloody knife embedded in Asura's eye. She looked at Soul for answers, seeing that Maka was in no condition to provide any.

"He was insane," Soul cut off Maka, "Went crazy and started cutting himself up, he wouldn't- couldn't stop. It wasn't human. I had to shoot him. I had to." Liz didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway. If that was the story he wanted to tell, that was the story she wanted to tell. You do terrible things to protect people you love, she knew.

"We'll be okay." said Liz. "It'll take a while, but you'll be okay,"

Her eyes didn't leave Maka.

The Tiniest Epilogue in the Land Because They Were, You Know, Eventually Okay.

"So this is it?"

"This is it," Maka confirms.

It is, in no uncertain terms, a pile of junk, which, coincidentally is how it started life. Ashes to ashes, junk to junk.

"And you're going to rebuild it?" Soul is aware of his wife's(his wife's!) engineering ability, but he is also aware of how the junk looked before, and he has to admit, it looked a lot better then.

"I'm going to recycle as much as I can, and build a new airship! Lord Death gave me a pretty big budget for any supplies I need," Light shines in her eyes, she knows she can do this, whereas the first time around, she hoped she could. She needed to. And she needed to again."She's going to be greater then the Ghost, but still carry a part of her!"

"What are you going to call her?" he nods to the junk.

"Valkyrie."

Here's to Resbang 2014, in which, despite what I suspect is my better judgement, I will be participating.

That took a turn for the kind of fucked up. Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for being very supportive and saying lovely things and favouriting and following and naming airships for me when we're supposed to talk about resbang (I've forgotten who suggested it now, I feel awful about that).

So, if you have any final nice things, or not nice, or anything at all things to say, now is your chance.