7:42
Rory the Clown had dark in his eyes and dust on his skin.
Normally, the amusent automatic would dance and sing at passersby, delighting and terrifying children -- interrupted every so often by a sponsor from his painted lips. Now, though, when the shopping centre was closed? Now he just stood there, staring off into empty space with his vapid grin, powerless and lost.
Ruth could relate.
She hugged her tal knees -- cold -- to her chest as she sat before the clown, a clumsy campfire on the floor in front of her, conjured from sparks and advertisent banners. Annatrice del Sed, the odd girl, sat next to her, poking the flas with a farball bat she’d procured from a sports goods store.
"The key to it," she said, with confidence Ruth wasn’t sure she deserved. "Now, listen, the key to it -- is to make sure the fire is ’trained’ to follow your will. You might laugh at that -- I would even understand it -- but that’s only because you don’t yet understand the world in the sa fashion as I. All humans are but clumps of eager fla, and we, the supern? We are the sticks poking them, having them dance to our tune. It’s quite amusing, really! For others to think they are walking by their own rit, but if only they looked up, they would see the strings of machination. It makes one want to laugh. In fact, I think I shall! Ha --"
"Sorry," Ruth murmured, eyes fixed on the flas. "But can you shut up?"
The adrenaline of near-death was beginning to wear off, and now Ruth could feel the floor opening up beneath her. What did she do now? She had to get Bruno and Serena off of Azum-Ha alive. She had to get herself off of Azum-Ha alive. But… what then?
Her goals had turned to dust in her hands. Dragan had made it very clear he wouldn’t listen to a word any of them said. Ruth wasn’t even sure she wanted to give him her words anymore.
The image wouldn’t leave her head -- him, blasting Bruno with his Gemini Shotgun, the world illuminated in a flash of deadly blue. Even just thinking about it made her shake with rage. That sa rage had gripped her in that mont, made her charge forward. If the Tree of Might hadn’t co between her and Dragan, what would have happened next, she wondered? What would she have done with her claws?
No… what would she have tried to do with her claws?
"Do you think they’ll be okay?" asked a soft, quiet voice from beside her.
Ruth turned to look at Annatrice over the unconscious del Sed body. The girl’s body language had shifted -- now she was hugging her knees to her chest just like Ruth -- and she’d stopped putting on that stupid voice. Ruth hadn’t even realized it was her speaking at first.
"They should be," Ruth said after a mont. "I an… they’re not hurt that bad."
"Then why are they still asleep?" Annatrice whispered, eyes half-shut, staring into space.
Ruth clenched her fist. What she had said wasn’t wrong… Bruno and Serena weren’t hurt that badly. Physically, they were probably in better shape than Ruth herself
But that was only on the outside.
"Look," Ruth pushed on. "Once we get them out of here, we’ll be able to have soone look at them. Until then… we just have to keep moving."
Annatrice glanced over, just for a second, before looking straight ahead again.
"Once we escape," she murmured. "Once we do get out of here… what then?"
What then?
The very question Ruth was asking herself. Where did they go after all this was done? The UAP? The Final Church? When the del Sed’s woke back up, what would they want to do? What did Ruth want to do? Did she even know?
Ruth opened her mouth to provide a comforting answer to the girl…
"I don’t know."
…but that was all she could manage.
I’ll show you. I’ll show you that people can be good… that they’re not how you think.
Ruth’s lips twisted into a complicated line as she rembered the careless words she’d given Dragan, back in the Heart Building. Again, she couldn’t help but think… she hadn’t shown Dragan a thing, had she? She’d failed -- and everything that was happening now, everything they were going through, was all because of her failure.
Hell… did she even believe those words anymore?
7:50
Appointnt waited.
It wasn’t anything new for him. Most of the bounty hunting business -- if you knew what you were doing -- was waiting for your opportunity. Those bounty hunters who charged in didn’t remain bounty hunters for long. Often, they found themselves moving over into the carcass industry.
Flying high in the air above the Alyn Grace morial Shopping Centre, Appointnt inspected the surrounding area. His visor was powerful enough that he could read the spider-web of streets beneath him like he was standing there himself, down to the specks of dust swimming through the air. Ruth Blaine was confird at the shopping centre, but when would the others be arriving at this rendezvous point?
He couldn’t see any sign of the targets or Atoy Muzazi yet -- but if the intel Anduan had sold him was accurate, this was where they’d all be eting up. Appointnt did not doubt the Cannibal’s intel. Despite his debilitating Aether tic, Anduan was a forr Ultraviolet, part of the UAP’s intelligence service. If you caught him at a good mont, you could find him quite reasonable.
It was just a sha that the Cannibal had been especially reasonable today… and so Appointnt was not alone in his vigil.
In the shadows inside buildings, inside the dark mouths of alleyways, he could see them. Drones from the Hive of Malkuth, lurking unseen, waiting for worthwhile prey to appear. There were only a few drones present right now, but Appointnt knew that the Hive covered so high-level transportation abilities.
If the need truly arose, the Hive could be here in full force almost instantly.
There were others, too, remnants from the Crimson Carnival that had drifted here like flotsam. Appointnt caught them watching the shopping centre with his distant gaze -- they weren’t quite as hidden or as skilled as they probably assud. The Guardian Entity technique they used was sowhat interesting, but Appointnt wasn’t terribly concerned about them as rivals.
Funnily enough, as forr subordinates of Nael Manron, they had their own bounties -- nothing huge, but enough to buy birthday presents with. Rachel would be turning fifteen this year, and Josiah nine. Easy pickings weren’t to be scoffed at.
Still… you could never be too careful. Appointnt had his Chassis’ computers begin compiling all the information on the Carnival’s mbers that it could access. If he was going to be stuck here, waiting, he might as well get so light reading --
"Stop," Appointnt said quickly, audible only within his suit. "Enhance."
His visor zood all the way in on the designated spot -- a nondescript street corner -- but as he’d half-expected, it was empty. It wasn’t often that his senses played tricks on him. Had they played a trick on him? What had he thought he saw? He wasn’t quite certain…
…but he’d thought he’d seen sothing like a black dog sitting there.
Swallowing back his unease, Appointnt cracked his neck. With a barely audible beep, his weapons switched to low-power mode, maintaining only the basic auto-defenses. Light-bending camouflage concealed him against the rising sun.
Azum-Ha had twenty-hour days, which ant he was approaching the halfway mark for his ability. Past 20:00, he’d be just as powerless as a normal human… well, a normal human in a state-of-the-art Armoured Chassis, but still not ideal. It was tempting to let that ti limit drive him to haste -- but no. Appointnt had never known a bounty hunter who had lived a long life by rushing things.
He would stand in the sky, and he would wait -- for the mont he needed.
As his visor snapped back into focus, zooming in on two figures limping through the backstreets, Appointnt smiled thinly.
There you are… Atoy Muzazi.
7:54
"Are we being followed?" Muzazi asked, holding his side as he dragged himself across the courtyard, his face slick with sweat.
"Definitely," Rufus grunted, holding his shield out protectively as the two of them made their way towards the entrance. "We’ve got plenty of eyes on us. But they won’t do shit yet."
Muzazi raised an eyebrow. "What do you an?" If they knew they were walking into a trap, then why were they still walking?
"First. If they think we’re eting our buddies here," Rufus explained. "Then they’ll wait for our buddies to show up before doing anything. They wanna hit the jackpot, you know? Greedy bastards."
"And second?" Muzazi asked, leaning against the shutters as they reached the sealed front doors.
"Like I said," Rufus smirked, crouching down to grab hold of the shutters. "They’re greedy bastards. None of them want the other guys to get the payout… so the first one to make a move will have everyone else on their ass instantly. Mutually assured destruction, right?"
"Right…"
Muzazi said that, but no… a battle as pointless as that was beyond his comprehension.
Was it?
The shutters slowly creaked open, and Muzazi thought.
The rivers of blood he’d seen on Elysian Fields, the hills of corpses, the legions slaughtered for the sake of ’points’ that in the end had amounted to nothing. What gave that battle more aning than this one? At least tonight there was money on the line -- actual money that one could reach out and touch.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He felt sick… and as he passed into the darkness of the shopping centre, he couldn’t help but wonder.
When will all this stupid fighting stop?
…will it ever stop…?
8:01
Jamilu’s foot slamd into the side of the motorcycle, and a mont later it flared into life, hovering over the ground to receive its passengers.
Nebula Two mounted the vehicle, swinging his head around to face Morgan. "Get on."
"I’m surprised," Morgan said, climbing on the bike behind Jamilu. "I thought that little move only worked in the videographs."
"You’d be surprised."
The bike took off, swooping out of the alley and into the river of traffic. Jamilu’s eyes narrowed as he weaved around cars and trams, the streets transford into sars of colour as they made their way to their destination. Night had fully blossod into morning, now, and a newborn sun illuminated their journey as they rode.
"So," Morgan said, squinting against the air pressure. "Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why are you guys saving us?"
Jamilu was silent for a mont. Then, he opened his mouth to answer -- but Morgan continued before he could do so.
"Don’t get wrong," the New Moon said. "You guys are nice enough -- I an, you’re not assholes -- but I can’t see you going out of your way like this just to be nice. At least, I can’t see the UAP top-brass letting you do that."
Jamilu’s hands tightened around the handlebars. He sighed. "If you must know," he replied. "Atoy Muzazi demanded we save you as well, or he wouldn’t allow us to evacuate him from the planet."
"And why are you ’evacuating’ him?"
"I won’t lie," Jamilu said solemnly. "The UAP hopes to use Atoy Muzazi for political purposes. There’s already controversy about the new Supre -- about his thods of victory. They hope to stir dissent by presenting a more honourable candidate, perpetually out of the Supre’s reach."
Morgan closed his eyes. "More honourable, huh…?"
Jamilu glanced back at him. "You don’t agree?"
"No, I do. It’s just… I don’t know that anyone else will. The way the Contest ended… Muzazi stealing Aclima’s position, then confessing to killing Kadmon… to anyone else, he probably doesn’t look very honourable right now. That’s my fault."
Jamilu spoke quietly, barely audible over the engine. "How so?"
"I wanted Muzazi to win," Morgan sighed. "I thought he’d make a better Supre than anyone else. So… I pushed him. I pushed him to win using whatever ans possible. The proxy law… stealing from Aclima… that was . If it wasn’t for , he would never have done that. I’m an asshole, huh? I wanted to pull him up, but I’ve just thrown him all the way down. It’s a bad joke."
They swooped down, sliding between two buses as they descended though the roadways, towards Grip District.
"I won’t deny that your tactics have damaged Muzazi," Jamilu said rcilessly. "But I wouldn’t say that damage is irreparable -- and besides, any dishonour Muzazi has accumulated in the dark is nothing compared to what the Supre has done out in the open. In a contest of virtue, Atoy Muzazi would win. I’ll tell you that right now."
Morgan scoffed. "Trying to cheer up?"
"Hardly," Jamilu said. "I’m not that kind. I just --"
"Enough of this bullshit," groaned a grimy, gravelly voice -- coming from the crimson spear on Jamilu’s back. "How about I tell you how it really is, brat?"
Jamilu’s nostrils flared, even as his gaze remained fixed on the road. "Silence."
"Silence yourself. You’ve got no way of stopping from talking, you little shit. How about it, Nacht? You want a dose of reality, you Supremacist cunt?"
Morgan swallowed as he looked down at the spear, noticing the faint pink aura that swayed around it. This was sothing out of legend he was looking at, hearing -- an Old Demon of the Dawn. A hero of antiquity, crushed into a monstrous diamond by the pressures of an endless war.
Just looking at it prodded so basic instinct in the back of his mind, so base and animal terror. Still, he answered.
"Go ahead," he said, with more confidence than he felt.
"Don’t indulge it," Jamilu snapped -- but it was too late.
"You think your guy was really gonna change anything?" Victory laughed. "Why, because he’s so nice, because he swings a sword so pretty? You stupid fuck. They should’ve aborted you. How many Supres have there been now… five, six? Every one of them has been the sa. Even when they think they’re different, they’re the sa. You know why?"
"Five or six?" Morgan furrowed his brow.
"Ignore it," Jamilu sighed as they turned a corner. "As a spear, its ntal capacity is limited. It only has so much comprehension of the world."
Victory ignored the insult, speaking still to Morgan. "You know why, brat?" it repeated.
"No," Morgan looked away. "No, I guess I don’t. You gonna tell ?"
"Because it’s all the sa bullshit under the skin -- all the sa bullshit veins and bullshit bones. If the sword’s calling the shots, what does it matter which asshole is holding it?"
Morgan… had no response to that, and so he gave none.
"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go fuck yourself."
Swallowing back his discomfort, Morgan looked back up at Jamilu, changing the subject. "Do you know what’s happened to the others?"
"The others?"
"The other Phases."
Jamilu thought for a mont. "I did so investigation while Muzazi was unconscious. Gregori Hazzard and Ash del Duran are missing -- they haven’t been seen since the end of the Dawn Contest. Sa with Anya Hapgrass and Endo Silversaint."
"Don’t you worry about them," Morgan muttered.
"From what I’ve been told, Marcus Grace fled the planet during the last match of the Contest -- he’s probably on his way to the Grace estate on Perkile. And Ionir Yggdrassil… well, my condolences."
Morgan quietly nodded. The night had been so hectic, so active… it was as if he’d managed to run ahead of his grief for a while, and only now was it actually catching up. Ionir was gone. Ionir, who had saved his life. Ionir, who had been part of him.
Ionir… his friend.
Morgan took a deep breath. He couldn’t let it catch him now. For the ti being, until they were safe, he had to keep running.
Safe, huh?
"Do you think they’ll go for us?" Morgan asked, as they swerved around a corner. "The bounty hunters? Your driving is hardly keeping a low profile."
"Our faces are known all across Azum-Ha," Jamilu said simply. "Low profiles are no longer possible for us. Besides -- the Banquet isn’t an official occasion. During the day like this, the hunters have to be careful of law enforcent just like usual. No sane bounty hunter would risk attacking us in a public -- "
Jamilu cut himself off.
One second, Morgan was sitting behind Jamilu on the motorcycle. The next, he was up in the air, grabbed by the scruff of his collar by his companion -- and the motorcycle was a fiery explosion beneath them. It had been slapped out of the air by a massive spectral hand -- a hand that had squird out of a nearby billboard as if being birthed by it.
The two landed on a neighbouring balcony -- and imdiately, Morgan flared his Aether.
F! A!
Black Fog poured out of his palms, coalescing into a smoke-sword that he grasped tight. It wouldn’t be as effective as an actual weapon, but at least with this he could defend himself.
"Yoohoo!"
Morgan’s head snapped up -- and he saw the person that had attacked them. A young woman in a black leotard, sitting cross-legged atop another spectral hand that sprouted from the rooftop opposite. She stood up, dusting off her legs as she strolled across its palm. Reaching the edge, she leaned forward, holding onto the raised thumb for support.
"It is!" she smiled. "It really is! Morgan Nacht, right? This is our first ti eting! Isn’t that great?"
Morgan gripped his sword tighter. "And you are?"
She grinned excitedly. "I’m the Sixth Dead, sweetie, but you can call Six if you like. I’m so surprised, though. To think you’d just be driving around in the open like nothing’s even happening… is there a reason for that, or are you just stupid?"
It was just as Jamilu had said. No sane bounty hunter would choose to launch a brazen attack like this in public. No sane bounty hunter.
But Morgan could see the woman’s eyes from here. Those weren’t eyes he wanted getting any closer to him. Slowly, he adjusted his footing, sword raised.
"So you’re here to cash in?" Morgan called across the street. "That’s your reason for being here, right?"
"Hm…" the Sixth Dead put a finger to her lips. "I suppose, I guess, technically, you could say that… but no. Actually, I’m here for the sake of love."
Morgan frowned. "Love?" That he hadn’t expected.
"Love," the Sixth Dead sighed, putting her hands over her heart and twirling dreamily -- nearly falling off the hand in the process. "It’s what makes the world go around, you know. I’m on my way to my first date with Atoy Muzazi, if you must know. I know it’s a little presumptuous to say it’s ’love’ at this point, but they say you’ve gotta dress for the job you want, right? It’s the sa sort of principle. I want Atoy Muzazi more than anything else in this world. He’s like my father and my husband all rolled into one. I an, who wouldn’t go crazy for that, right? Everyone needs true love. Everyone needs a needle pinning them against the world. It’s the sa for you, right? You hang out with Atoy Muzazi all the ti, don’t you? Don’t try to hide it, you little howrecker, you. I’m on my way to my first date, and I need flowers. For flowers, I need fertilizer. You’ll do. Don’t you think Muzazi would prefer a scent that’s close to ho? You would know, right? You’ve spent so much --"
"Damn, bitch," said Victory. "You really like to yap, huh?"
The Sixth Dead blinked.
"Excuse ?"
Jamilu did not waste another mont. In one smooth motion, he pulled Victory from his back and hurled it at the Sixth Dead, pink Aether tracing a trail through the air. For her part, the Sixth Dead just giggled, cocking her head to the side and allowing the spear to sail right past her.
"Ooh, you know how to kill too, dont’cha?" she said. "But I think my aim is a little better."
Jamilu said nothing in response.
He just closed his fist…
…and Victory began the journey ho.
Apart from its main three abilities, Victory had so secondary functions as an Aether Armant. Most of those Jamilu couldn’t access, but this one -- automatic return -- had co in handy many tis over the years. With just a thought, Jamilu’s weapon would return to his hand.
Even if soone else’s head was in the way.
He saw the realization on the Sixth Dead’s face. The sharp intake of breath, the widening of the eyes as she realized that blade was aid at the back of her skull, was coming for the back of her skull. With Victory’s speed and this distance, there wasn’t enough ti to dodge.
Jamilu wasn’t cocky enough to think he could kill this woman with his first attack… but her response would show him what to watch out for.
Purple Aether poured down the Sixth Dead’s legs, spreading out into the rooftop beneath her -- and a second later, it activated. Countless purple arms burst out from the concrete, a veritable forest of severed limbs -- young and old, long and short, sharp and soft -- grabbing hold of the demon spear and halting its path. Within a few seconds, it was wrapped between so many spectral fingers that it wasn’t even visible anymore.
I see. Her ability creates phantom limbs that can grab and manipulate objects. How strong are they? How durable?
It’s best to test these things.
Jamilu had not sent Victory out alone. Before hurling the spear, he had sared the blade with so of the blood from his wounded hand -- priming it for this countermove. With a single spark of Aether, he calmly activated the ability.
Calamity.
Pink flas erupted from the spear, and severed fingers of all shapes and sizes flew in every direction. As the inferno washed over the Sixth Dead, cutting her cry of surprise short, Jamilu swung his head around to face Morgan.
He didn’t have to say much.
"Run."
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