Dragan coughed as smoke poured through the garage, the aftermath of a mighty explosion. He was about to fall to his knees, but Muzazi seized him by the back of the collar, pulling him back to his feet.
That single blow of light and fury had cracked the garage doors open, the warped tal allowing harsh sunlight to infiltrate the space. A few seconds before the explosion, the power had gone off -- and so that unwelco light was the only illumination they were offered.
"What happened?" Muzazi wheezed, covering his mouth. His sharp eyes were focused directly on the entrance.
"So kind of EMP?" Dragan ventured, filing through the possibilities in his Archive. "Knock out the power to cut us off from each other, then begin the attack?"
It made sense. It was a little more technical than he’d expect from an evil mushroom, but…
"Sothing coming, dead boy," Pan whispered. She was stood by one of the now-dead sentry guns, a worried look on her face. "Sothing coming…"
A shadow rose through the sunlight, like a monster under the waves of the ocean. Glowing red eyes peeled through the dark. It stepped forward on massive feet, each footfall a resounding thump.
"What makes a god a god?"
John Blair had changed since the last ti Dragan had seen him.
He was taller, for one -- nearly eight feet, with grotesquely engorged musculature, such that he looked like he could strangle soone with a finger. His blonde hair had been bleached to a shock of white, crimson Aether coursing through it as it billowed in the wind. Angry red veins, as thick as electric cables, ran across his bare chest.
His eyes shone like twin stars, scarlet malevolence pouring over every person in the room. A plate of bone -- growing out of his jaw -- covered his mouth. He held his hand up and flexed his fingers, as if still getting used to his new form. Those red lights turned to look directly at Dragan.
"I’ll show you," he continued, voice a demonic rumble. "Right here. Right now."
There was a mont of fool’s tranquility, a few seconds before violence erupted. Atoy Muzazi drew his blade from his sheath. Dragan Hadrien let his pistols fall into his hands from his holsters. The gathered fighters, plasma rifles still in their grip, aid them at the intruder.
Soone gulped.
With a storm of red Aether, Blair bounded forwards -- arm pulled back to reduce Dragan to a sar with a single mighty blow. The rain of plasmafire missed him completely, the burning deluge falling onto the spot he’d just been standing.
Dragan and Muzazi acted at the sa ti.
Gemini World.
Dragan vanished into his Aether, the only trace of him being a few stray sparks snuffed out by Blair’s fist. The attack struck the ground where Dragan had just been standing, shattering the concrete and forming a crater from the sheer impact.
Muzazi slashed at the exposed arm with his sword as it ca down -- slicing between two of the fingers and splitting the limb lengthwise. As he pulled his blade free with a thruster-assisted tug, he leapt to the side of his enemy, attempting to get into his blind spot.
Through his observation, Dragan watched as another tendril of red Aether appeared behind Blair -- coalescing into a massive construct. A mixture between a clock and a coat of arms, with four emblems arranged around it.
Blue eye. Cogitant.
Golden eye. Pugnant.
Black eye. Umbrant.
lting eye. By ans of elimination, either Crownless or Scurrant.
The hand of the clock hovered over the blue eye.
As Muzazi moved, Blair responded in a flash -- swinging his body around as he unleashed a devastating roundhouse kick. It was fast, monstrously fast, and the thrusters that sparked across Muzazi’s body only allowed him to dodge it by a single hair. So of the rubble, catapulted by the kick, smashed into the opposite wall with a sound like a bomb going off.
Gemini World.
As Blair’s foot ca back down, Dragan appeared in the air above him -- posed like he was diving into a lake, his pistols extended down in front of his gaze. As he fell, he fired -- the first few plasma shots slamming into the top of Blair’s skull. As his head snapped up, Dragan could see that he had already done his damage: parts of his crown had begun to lt and crumble, one of Blair’s eyes jiggling in place as the foundations of the socket weakened.
Dragan continued to fall, continued to fire -- and as he did, Muzazi slashed his sword at Blair’s legs. The blade penetrated, but not far enough: lodging in the middle of Blair’s log-like thigh. The Repurposed didn’t even look at the source of the injury.
His eyes were still fixed on Dragan, after all. He spread his hands wide, ready to smash Dragan’s head between them the mont he ca into view. Dragan did not falter -- he continued to fire, shots scorching and lting, for every second that he could.
The hands ca together, so fast they were little more than blurs.
Gemini World.
An instant of pain before he vanished: he’d misjudged his timing.
When he decided to reappear, he would be injured -- Pan would heal him before long, of course, but there’d still be a ti when he’d be vulnerable. As quietly as he could, Dragan manifested himself behind a fallen shell of a truck, doing his best to keep himself out of sight.
His arm had been crushed by that attack, bone breaking through the skin around the elbow and protruding grotesquely. Dragan bit down on his good hand to suppress the screaming as Panacea pooled out from the wounded tissue, coating his injury and beginning to make the necessary repairs. The damaged arm sloughed away with a curious lack of pain and the replacent began to grow.
Hurry, he urged the mushrooms.
"Hurrying, dead boy," they answered with a mutter.
As his arm grew back, Dragan peeked out of cover. He couldn’t imagine Blair was just sitting there waiting while Dragan made a run for it -- and in this case, he was right.
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Muzazi was fighting admirably. At first, his sword was still lodged in Blair’s leg -- but with a flash of thruster fire, the weapon completed its path, severing the limb and sending it flying off into the distance. Blair fell forward, landing on his hands and remaining knee, reduced to an organic tripod by Muzazi’s assault.
The Special Officer thrust his sword forwards to capitalize on the opening, aiming right for Blair’s still-cracked forehead. No doubt he aid to destroy Blair’s brain and put him out of commission for quite a while. But he had overcommitted.
The clock behind Blair switched from Cogitant to Pugnant.
The already absurd muscles of Blair’s body swelled, and he swung one of his massive arms towards the incoming enemy with a roar of animalistic fury. Muzazi dodged backwards flawlessly, of course -- but the air pressure of the swing was like a solid object all by itself, and it slamd into him with all the grace of a speeding car.
He went flying backwards, smashing through the makeshift barricades. By the ti Atoy Muzazi had landed in a heap, John Blair’s severed leg had already grown back.
As had Dragan Hadrien’s arm. No rest for the wicked.
Dragan leapt out of cover, charging straight towards Blair. As he ran, he scooped up gravel with his hands, tossing it ahead of himself and absorbing it into Gemini Shotgun. Sixty-six, no, sixty-seven shots in total -- but they’d be weak enough that he’d go through them quickly.
The clock behind Blair switched from Pugnant to Umbrant, and the growling from his throat was silenced like a muted videograph.
As Blair swung around to intercept his incoming foe, Dragan fired a volley of shots directly at his face. Streaks of blue, like shooting stars, slamd into Blair’s eyes, hollowing out the front of his head and blinding him for a mont.
Not to be deterred, the massive man stepped forward and unleashed a blind punch in Dragan’s direction. Unguided as it was, it still would have been more than enough to send Dragan’s head flying off. Within a split-second, Dragan’s field of view was consud utterly by the massive incoming knuckles.
No ti to dodge.
Gemini World.
Gemini World.
It was the work of a mont -- an execution of the technique that looked more like teleportation than anything. The punch missed Dragan by inches, and as he continued to run along the length of his arm he pelted the limb with the remainder of his Gemini Shotgun.
The at was pulped and filetted, the bone cracked and snapped, and finally the arm was torn free of the body. Dragan leapt through the opening that provided, avoiding a swing of the bone stump -- and fired his pistol downwards, incinerating so of Blair’s toes.
If John Blair still felt pain, he showed no signs of it. His eyes remained unburdened, his mouth remained a flat line -- and as he brought his good foot down towards Dragan’s head in a devastating stomp, he made not a sound.
Using Gemini World so many tis in such quick succession wasn’t a good idea. Sooner or later, the ntal fatigue would lead him to make a mistake -- if he wasn’t careful, he could reappear missing a limb or even so organs.
"Why’s that so bad, dead boy?" Pan asked.
Huh?
Dragan caught the foot as it ca down, Aether coursing through his arms to stop them from snapping under the imnse pressure. Even so, his knees buckled under the weight, his hands shaking as his physical strength was pushed to its utter limits.
He didn’t have the strength to push the leg away and move without being crushed. He didn’t have the strength to hold it up forever. He didn’t… he couldn’t…
At the very edge of his hearing, he could hear Atoy Muzazi getting to his feet. He could hear plasma raining down on Blair’s back, repelled by his Aether defenses. He could hear his own bones creaking, beginning to ever-so-slightly crack.
And then, he could hear…
"There you are," said a voice like hell.
A crimson forest spread out around him, ford from brain matter and nerves and the smoke of wasted blood. In the hollow sky, a black sun hung bleeding.
Dragan could not move.
He could not move because he lacked a body with which to move. He did not have skin, or arms or legs, or even a beating heart. He had bark and crumbling leaves. He was a tree, his branches torturously spread out like angry veins.
The barest impression of a face protruded from the surface of this form, allowing Dragan to see and breathe. He stared ahead, blue eyes watering, as the crimson coalesced before him.
Like smoke trapped in a fist, the scarlet assud the form of the red girl. White hair fluttered in an assud wind, and a cruel smile played across her lips. As she walked towards Dragan, the undergrowth slithered away to grant her passage.
"This is misguided, my other self," she said, her voice as firm as gravity. "To put your hopes in sothing like this?"
Dragan tried to open his mouth to say sothing, but the only thing that resulted was hacked-up leaves. The red girl chuckled mockingly.
She reached out and caressed his cheek with the gentleness of a subtle knife.
"If only you’d never existed," she purred -- the old words sending a jolt down Dragan’s back like lightning. "Such a pest. Such an… inconvenience, dead boy."
Dragan could not speak, but he mouthed the words anyway: fuck you.
The smile dropped from the girl’s face, leaving only burning malice. "You want to kill , don’t you? To hurt ? That’s your nature. That desire to inflict pain, right now -- that is your truest self. That is why you deserve this."
Dragan just glared, and the girl let go of his face. Her glaring eyes burrowed into his soul.
"It doesn’t matter," she growled. "In a few monts, you will be dead -- and that will be the end of it."
"No," said a voice from behind her.
Slowly, with a frown of annoyance on her face, the red girl turned -- to look at the orange girl standing on the other side of the clearing. Pan stared at her other self with determination, even as the crimson air pressed against her with crushing force. Her eyes, usually hidden, were bright and clear.
"I am doing this to protect you," the red girl said, with the exasperation of a parent reprimanding a child.
"Doesn’t matter," Pan said. "If this is protecting, then I don’t want it. Stop hurting dead boy. Stop hurting people."
The black sun opened a massive red iris, staring down at the land below. It’s pupil was focused directly on Pan’s defiance.
"You’ll have to make ," the red girl whispered.
Pan nodded. "Okay," she said, spreading her arms wide. "Then I make you. Fucko."
The world exploded into orange light.
As Dragan ca to, still holding up Blair’s foot, he found himself gasping for breath. It was like he’d just co up from the bottom of the ocean.
Blair flinched, blinking rapidly -- and Dragan took the opportunity to push him away with all his strength. The giant staggered backwards, each step cracking the ground. One hand went to his regenerating skull, as if to soothe a headache.
"What…" he growled. "Did you do…?!"
Dragan had no answer for that.
"Hadrien!" cried Muzazi -- and Dragan turned just in ti to see the Special Officer hurl his shining sword with all his strength. For a split second -- as the sword hurtled towards him -- Dragan thought the warrior had turned traitor.
An attack?
No.
Gemini Shotgun.
The sword vanished just before it would have hit Dragan -- then reappeared, flying at a new angle with far superior speed… right towards the recovering Blair. It speared right through his torso, sending him flying across the room and pinning him against the concrete wall.
Dragan let out a breath he felt he’d been holding in for a long ti --
-- and then the second tier of Blair’s ring appeared.
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