I couldn't decide if I wanted to show Trent's or Matt's ultimate move, so I did both. Sure Matt's power attack was the last chapter, but oh well XD  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the battle rages outside...

Angela steps back, positioning herself on top of the hidden door she just slid into place to buy her friends some time. The Devil's Own close in on her, but the cell door limits their numbers, giving her a chance to manage the fight.

One of them lunges with a heavy chain, but Angela sidesteps the attack, narrowly avoiding the strike. She counters with a quick kick to his knee, sending him crumpling in pain.

Two others come at her from different angles, but Angela's agility serves her well. She deftly dodges their strikes, moving with grace and precision. She lands calculated blows, targeting their vulnerable spots.

The sounds of the fight echo through the cell, fists meeting flesh and weapons clashing. Angela remains focused, her determination unwavering. She takes some hits herself, bruises forming, but it only fuels her resolve.

As the battle continues, the cell transforms into a chaotic arena. Shadows dance and twist with every movement, the flickering light bulb casting an eerie glow. The air is charged with tension and the scent of sweat and fear.

Angela gains the upper hand, disarming one opponent and incapacitating another. The last Devil's Own member looks at her fallen comrades, then back at Angela, a mix of fury and frustration in her eyes.

The clash of blades intensifies as Angela ramps up their deadly dance. She presses the girl against the wall, their blades clashing. Angela's voice cuts through the chaos, "I hate killing those who have no choice," She immobilizes the girl, locking her arms into a cuff recently used on Matt. "Now. Tell me. A young woman, about my age, a bit shorter in height. Short, red hair. Is she here? She was kidnapped from a field about eight hours ago."

"What makes you think she remembers you?" The girl taunts, easily matching Angela's aggression.

"Even if she forgets, her heart will always remember. You may control the mind, but never the heart and soul." Angela fires back.

"Not if we do our job correctly."

Angela growls, frustration rising. She rips off a part of the woman's sleeve and stuffs it in the woman's mouth.

"You can hang there then." Angela bursts out of the cell, her heart pounding as she locks the door behind her. "Val?" Angela calls, looking up and down the hall, her heart full of hope as she strains for the slightest of sounds. Brain waves catch her attention from up and down the aisle of cells. We'll come back for you all she promises as she looks left and right, trying to get some sense of Valery.

Angela sprints through the dim, oppressive corridor, putting as much space between herself and the enraged shouts of the lady. The underground cells are a labyrinth of tight passages, the air heavy with dampness. Flickering lights offer meager illumination, casting unsettling shadows on the cold concrete walls. Every step she takes leads her deeper into the suffocating complex. The distant drips of water create an eerie, unsettling rhythm that reverberates through the desolate space, sending shivers down her spine.

As Angela presses forward down the right corridor, her heart aches for any sign of Valery. "Val! Please, let me know if you hear me!" Her voice echoes, edged with desperation, a lone plea in the silence.

"GIRL! I know you're here somewhere," Angela's voice cracks, carrying a mix of exasperation and genuine concern. "What were you thinking, going out there without telling any of us? We didn't know Tessa asked you to go." Her frustration swells, fueled by regret. Tears trace silent paths down her cheeks, a mix of worry and anger mingling. She wipes away the moisture, her gaze hardening. "You shouldn't have gone with just Savannah! You needed more backup than that. We were so caught up, we didn't know until it was too late," Angela's admission is laden with guilt. "I'm sorry, okay? We let you down. We didn't know. Please, for angel's sake, answer me!" Her voice breaks, the plea hanging in the air, a desperate plea for a sign that Valery is still out there, still reachable.

Turning a corner, Angela spots a faint glow emanating from a cell. Her heart quickens with hope, thinking it might lead her to Valery. Peering through the bars, she finds a flickering candle on a makeshift table. Beside it, a tattered map is spread out, covered in markings and notes.

Grabbing the map, Angela examines it closely, determined to unravel its cryptic symbols and uncover Valery's location. It appears to reveal a network of hidden passages and concealed chambers within the headquarters.

Without hesitation, Angela continues, following the trails marked by the map.

*** POV CHANGE***

Olivia steps towards Trent, her presence dripping with venomous intent.

Trent's eyes narrow, a deadly storm gathering within them as he demands, voice low and lethal, "Where is she?" His words cut through the chaos of the battlefield, drowning out the clash of swords and the cries of warriors. All that exists is the traitor before him.

"She's lost to you now," Olivia spits out, her tone laced with cruel satisfaction. With a shrewd shrug, her lips curled into a smirk."There's nothing left of her to save."

"Don't bullshit me. You're telling me you wasted your time to just tell me that? There's no way she died to the likes of you," Trent snaps, watching her carefully.

"Is that so?" Her playful tone was almost enough to drive him into a frenzy right there and then. It was the next moment that sent him spiraling. She tosses out a ring at him. It bounces off his chest painfully as he catches it with his open hand. His breath catches in his throat. It was the same one he gave to Valery. It was stained in blood.

Trent's jaw clenches, the tension in his body coiling tighter. He growls, a deep, primal sound, his fury barely contained. It simmers beneath the surface, threatening to erupt.

"Come on, let it out. I do enjoy a good scream. Valery's were especially rhythmic," Olivia sneers, her voice dripping with malice.

Trent's face contorts with a mixture of rage and anguish. His fists clench, knuckles white with tension. His eyes, once filled with determination, now reflect a tumultuous storm of emotions—grief, disbelief, and a seething fury that threatens to consume him.

A barbaric roar erupts from Trent's chest, lunging at her. Olivia laughs as he sprints towards her. Every strike carries the weight of years of festering emotions. The clash of their swords reverberates, a thunderous echo of the fierce turmoil raging within Trent. He grits his teeth, a fortress against the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf him.

Olivia's smiles and giggles slice through the chaos, a venomous melody aimed at breaking Trent's resolve. Every strike slices the floor around her. They bounce off her blade. She dances. Even inches from cutting any inch, her resolve never shakens.

A searing pain flares as Olivia's blade grazes Trent's arm, drawing a rivulet of crimson. He clenches his jaw, refusing to surrender to the agony.

Her hand curls against his neck. "Is this the best you can do? Even in chains, Valery put up a much better struggle..."

His world was nearly a crimson red. He'd never felt angrier in his life. Trent swings and screams with each strike, but never once could he land a blow. Olivia's eyes never leave him, even when his sword is just barely scraping her cheek, each step a deadly dance that sends shivers down Trent's spine. She catches his arm and a cruel smirk twists Olivia's lips.

With a swift and vicious maneuver, Olivia strikes low, her blade finding its mark in Trent's calf just above his knee. A deep cut gashes causing an anguished cry to erupt from Trent's throat as he crumples to the unforgiving ground, the world spinning in a dizzying whirl.

Taking a step back to admire her handiwork, she chuckles. "Poor defenseless little Trent. No parents. No sister. No Valery. Does it give you satisfaction that your end will be the swiftest of them all? Perhaps it shatters your pathetic pride. You don't have to feel lonely anymore-" she swats aside his blind attempt to strike out. It nearly caught her off guard. Nearly. "Still feigning bravery?"

His mind was spiraling. Hoping the one person he could never seem to get rid of would sense it. "You pretended to be one of us. It makes sense that you of all people would be ignorant of what makes us strong."

Trent's vision was blackening. He couldn't see. Everything was burning. Olivia's maddening cackle even sounded like it was miles away. "Just what is that? That you all die alone?"

Her smile turns into a grimace of pain. He couldn't see it. For one moment everything was clear. A spark bursts against her shoulder. That was Matt. The sliver of blonde hair, a shadow of someone sliding as her blade cut through Olivia's lower thigh. That was Angela. All of the glee in Olivia's eyes turns to horror as she falls forward. "We fight as one."

In the maelstrom of pain and chaos, Trent's retaliation is a desperate, blind swing, his vision clouded by agony and shock. Olivia's smirk falters, replaced by wide-eyed astonishment as Trent's blade connects with her neck, biting into her collarbone. The two of them tumble into a tumultuous heap of agony, blood, and sheer disbelief. Their gasps fill the air, accompanied by the metallic tang of fresh, spilled blood.

A hushed stillness blankets the battlefield, as they hush one another one by one.

In the eerie quiet, a tentative whisper escapes one of the Devil's Own, "Who's down?" A tremor in their voice as they edge closer to the entangled figures. The weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the air as a shush is uttered. Everyone stands, frozen to the spot. The next few moments would decide everyone's next move.

"Trent?" Matt's voice cuts through the tense silence, his words a desperate plea. Both factions approach cautiously, the boundary between friend and foe momentarily blurred. "Buddy, come on," Matt begs softly, his voice tinged with urgency. "Please get up. Please."

The breathless seconds seem to stretch into eternity,

From the twisted heap of bodies, a low, guttural groan escapes Trent's lips. Through sheer willpower, he begins to stir, gradually pushing himself upright. As Trent rises, the weight of the battlefield seems to lift with him. His breaths come heavy and labored, his body bearing the brutal marks of the savage struggle. Yet, in his eyes, there's an unmistakable spark of triumph.

Matt rushes forward, "It's ok buddy, I got ya." Looking down at Olivia, now vanquished at his feet, Trent's chest swells with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Matt quickly moves to support Trent, wedging himself under Trent's arm while Brent takes the other side. Together, they help Trent to his feet, his right foot lifted off the ground to staunch the flow of blood.

"We've got you," Brent whispers.

"Brent," Trent starts, his voice low and forced, "I thought I saw Angela."

"You did, she heard you and came like a damn Miley Cyrus wrecking ball, fuck shit up ran back in complaining about not having enough time for all these damsels in distress as she went, I didn't even try to ask how it was going." Matt casts a confident glance towards the remaining Devil's Own, now visibly growing nervous and uneasy. "This battle won't be dragging on much longer," he assures Trent, who chuckles weakly as he settles against a sturdy tree.

"Sounds like her." He groans, letting his head fall.

"These chumps are the lightweight, just hang in there bud, no dying on me," Matt adds, patting Trent on the back. The weight of their victory hangs in the air, palpable and electrifying.

"We can handle these yellow bellies without you," Brent chimes in, a determined glint in his eyes as he surveys the now apprehensive foes.

Trent's gaze remains fixed on the chaotic battlefield, his heart pounding with the desperate hope of catching a glimpse of Valery among the surging fighters. He prays for her safety, yearning to see her face during the tumultuous clash.

Surrounded and vastly outnumbered, the Devil's Own decide to retreat, vanishing into the heart of the city to live and fight another day. The Guardians watch as their adversaries melt away, their victory tinged with bitterness. While the immediate threat has receded, the battle's toll is evident all around them. The snowy landscape is now dotted with the fallen. The air is heavy with the scent of blood, and the once-pristine snow is marred by the scars of the conflict.

As the echoes of battle subside, a heavy silence settles over the snowy expanse. The remaining Guardians gather, their faces etched with a mixture of relief, sorrow, and determination. Trent's heart still pounds in his chest. He relaxes his shoulders as he sees Matt walk up to them, Cora by his side. Matt claps Trent on the shoulder, his eyes reflecting the weariness and pride they all feel. "We did it, Trent. We held our ground."

They look the crew over. Trent gives a small smile. "This is a victory, no doubt. But our fight is far from over. We need to regroup, tend to the wounded, and figure out our next move."

"You first, let's get you inside," Matt suggests, holding a hand out to Trent.

"There's a healing station inside. I can make sure he gets the care he needs." Cora says.

"Thanks." Trent smiles lightly to hide a grimace as he settles back onto his feet. Tobi joins them, supporting Trent on the other side.

Cora leads the group inside.

With Trent leaning heavily on Tobi and Matt they follow Cora inside while the rest of the Guardians gather up the weapons for future use. Inside, the place is deserted. Trent, Tobi, and Matt are led to a healing chamber like those back home. The two guys work together to get Trent into bed without making Trent bend his legs.

"I thought Val was the dramatic one." Matt teases lightly as he wipes his blade off using his sweater. "You had us all going."

Trent laughs weakly, wincing as Cora examines his leg. "Just trying not to die. She doesn't have competition."

"Don't worry, I won't tell her. You just focus on getting better." Matt grins, looking to Cora as she dabs an antiseptic across Trent's leg wound. "You are a beast, Cora. You blew my mind repeatedly today."

Cora glows with pride at his praise, working more enthusiastically as she hummed to herself.

"We need to call HQ, and get more Guardians sent in so we can hold the fort down." Trent groans.

"All will be done in time," Matt says, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Albert cracks open the door, signaling him with a nod as he catches Matt's eye.

"Take care of him, I'm going to see if I can find Ang," Matt says, glancing at Cora before standing to leave.

"Be careful out there," Cora says, watching him walk away.

"I'll call base while you guys work. Don't give me any extra reports by dying on me, alright?" Trent calls out, wincing as Cora renews her work on his injuries.