05:31
The ferris wheel exploded.
A plume of flame rose up into the sky, only to be smothered a moment later as the cooling systems of Appointment's suit -- infused to extremes -- took hold of the environment around him. He stomped over grass turning brittle with frost as he pulled himself free from the wreckage of the amusement park. His glowing blue visor scanned the battlefield for lingering traces of his enemy… but he had covered his tracks well.
The same with Atoy Muzazi.
Sparks rained haphazardly from the back of Appointment’s Chassis -- and then stopped a moment later, as the self-repair functions completed their work. Experimentally, he flexed his arms and worked his fingers. Everything seemed to be functional again.
That… had not been ideal.
For twenty minutes he'd been submerged in the molten metal of the ferris wheel, effectively blind and deaf as it hardened around him. Only once he'd been fully encased in the steel shell had he been able to shatter it and break loose. How many years had it been since someone had managed to immobilize him for twenty minutes? It was embarrassing.
Well, he thought, thrusters flaring as he rose up into the sky. It's an embarrassment I deserve.
He'd gotten arrogant, to be sure. He'd bought into the reputation he'd built for himself, and assumed that a Nebula could be easy prey. These were the strongest warriors of the UAP, after all -- not criminals skittering around the world's underbelly. Next time, he'd make sure to go for the kill with his first attack, and not let them see him coming.
The sun was starting to come up, dawn breaking upon the rule of a new Supreme. Appointment beheld it as a silhouette against the sunrise.
The man frowned behind his visor. Daylight was disinfectant for dwellers of the underworld -- he'd have to exercise more caution from here on in. Still… whatever else happened, he would acquire Atoy Muzazi again.
He couldn't afford not to.
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05:35
AETHER SCAN EXECUTE
TARGET IDENTIFIED: “RUTH BLAINE”
ABILITIES:
“Skeletal Set”
“Noblesse Set”
“Revolutionnaire Set”
“Direwolf Set”
“Monarque Set”
EVALUATION: Abilities are useful in equipping warriors for enhanced speed and defense, along with enhanced capacity to counterattack. Later abilities require previous ones used in tandem to access, which may make providing them impractical in the field.
*
AETHER SCAN EXECUTE
TARGET IDENTIFIED: “VICTORY”
ABILITIES:
“Compass”
“Conquest”
“Calamity”
EVALUATION: A high-level source of information-gathering powers. While Conquest is redundant given other ability-scan powers the Hive currently possesses, Compass’ ability to locate designated targets will make the hunt process far more efficient. Calamity's self-combustion is also useful for attack and defense purposes -- typical usage is not practical as a long-term strategy, however.
*
AETHER SCAN EXECUTE
TARGET IDENTIFIED: “SAMAEL AMBRAZO ZAKOS”
ABILITIES:
“Plunder Reach”
EVALUATION: Mediocre.
*
The Queen considered her position from behind dozens of eyes. For her, distributed among the ranks of the Hive of Malkuth, this evening truly was a banquet. She had been right to bring her Hive here for this grand occasion.
Money meant nothing to the Hive of Malkuth. What they needed, they took in the most efficient way possible -- and that was rarely through commerce. The only reason they took on the role of ‘bounty hunter’ was to be given opportunities like these -- to track and acquire prey with useful abilities, incorporate them into the collective, all without arousing the ire of inconvenient governments.
It was unfortunate that Atoy Muzazi and Rufus von Frostburn had escaped Her gaze.
Both of them had useful abilities for mass destruction. While She wouldn't use them against single targets -- it ran the risk of killing them before they could be incorporated -- they would have been useful in siege-type scenarios.
No matter. It was a temporary setback.
What was more concerning was the status of Her fellow bounty hunters, witnessed through satellite imaging. Appointment was causing havoc in a nearby amusement park, while other members of the Hive assaulted the hospitals holding injured contestants -- and meanwhile, the riff-raff were pursuing Morgan Nacht through the streets… along with one of the Kennelmaster’s hounds.
Only one? Why had the Kennelmaster dispatched such a meager force? What was he doing right now?
A thought brought Her focus to the Kennelmaster's current position, lounging on a roof on a dilapidated part of the city -- sending out the bulk of his canine army. He had another target, one he was prioritizing. Given the positions of the other targets, and the sheer force he was bringing to bear, there was only one answer: the former Supreme Heir. Aclima -- the girl with an almost unparalleled ability to oppose Aether-users.
Curse Hand… if the Queen had a mouth, She would have salivated at just the mere idea of obtaining that ability.
She ran the numbers. Given their skill levels and resources, the Kennelmaster would dispatch Aclima in short order. She would die, and Curse Hand would be lost. The Queen of Malkuth could not allow that.
Priorities shifted, units moved between squads -- reinforcements in this pursuit of Nebula Two. She'd need to split off some of the drones attacking this group to go after Aclima instead. No, that was not practical. Only one drone would be needed.
UPGRADING DRONE 21
NEW RANK: PRAETORIAN
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “Godsheen”
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “Untouchable Allison”
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “Robin of the Night Garden”
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “Blez Peshi”
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “The Red Wallpaper”
DOWNLOADING ABILITY… “Excel Replicant (N)”
ALLOCATING CAPACITY FOR INDEPENDENT THOUGHT… SEGMENTING INDIVIDUAL PERSONA… ASSIGNING ATTRIBUTES: “Calm”, “Cold”, “Ruthless”, “Sadistic”, “Imaginative”, “Eccentric”.
Against a threat such as Aclima, a horde of units would only be a liability. The Queen could not risk the Hive falling victim to Curse Hand -- it would only take a single touch against an improperly coordinated drone for the entire collective to be damaged. No, in a situation like this…
…the Queen required a champion.
PRAETORIAN-CLASS UNIT COMPLETE
She felt the opening of a mind's eye, nestled against her own, and a semi-independent consciousness formed in an instant. From the perspective of Aguta’s group, all they would have noticed was one of the drones hanging back behind the others, abandoning the chase. They didn't truly understand, of course, that this was no longer a drone at all.
Bloody skin hardened into shining steel.
One arm curved into a cruel scythe-blade, teeth dancing around the edge and throwing sparks.
The other engorged into an organic grenade launcher, dripping with explosive pus, a grinning mouth of human teeth serving as the barrel.
And, to complete the image of a reaper, crimson wings spread out from its back -- composed of thin red squares, seams of empty space running between them.
Those new wings flapped but once, but that force -- infusion bolstered by Excel Replicant (N) -- was enough to rocket it up to the sky. The Praetorian flexed its shoulders as it turned away from the chase, staring into the distance… towards the target it had come into existence for.
PRAETORIAN 2, PURSUE AND ACQUIRE THE FORMER SUPREME HEIR.
The Praetorian bowed regally, one hand over its heart.
“As you command…” it said, voice deep and dignified -- the voice of a butler, or perhaps a seasoned knight. “...Your Majesty. 😊”
And, with the poise and grace of a champion swimmer, it blasted through the sky.
----------------------------------------
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
05:41
Gideon Grain, the Kennelmaster, took another puff of his cigar.
This was starting to get tiring. He'd made some allowances for this brat's Curse Hand, sure, but she was still just a kid. Why hadn't those mutts brought her down yet? It should have been easy.
Grumbling, he flicked his spent cigar away, ash spilling over the roof. The haze of incompatible signals he received from his hounds revealed no trace of blood or mangled bodies… just a hunt that continued on and on, snapping at a target just out of sight -- and one that seemed to move away each time they came close.
Was Aclima really so adept at evading capture? Gideon found himself doubting that. Sighing, he ran one hand down his face -- and with the other, he whipped out his blunderbuss and blasted the man sneaking up behind him.
Gregori Hazzard dodged to the side, his arms -- folded into needle-like blades -- glinting in the slowly rising sunlight. Gideon ground his cigar beneath his heel as he turned to face his would-be assassin directly.
“Right,” he nodded, scratching at his mutton-chops with his free hand -- his gun pointing at his adversary. “Okay, yeah. I get it. While that bitch leads my dogs on a merry chase, you track me down and take me out? Was that the plan? Fucking hell. This is goddamn amateur hour, huh?”
Gregori looked back at him with a dull red eye, sharpening his arms together. “You say that,” he muttered, with just the slightest trace of smugness. “But you're the one who got caught, aren't you?”
Gideon smirked, blowing some of the smoke away from the barrel of his gun. “What? You think this is you catching me, little man?” His lips parted into an unseemly grin. “Don't make me laugh. All you've done is make my job easier. Now I don't have to go looking for you, do I? I should pay you 20% of your bounty as a finder's fee.”
“How much is that?” Gregori smiled.
Gideon's mouth dropped down into a scowl. “It was a joke, dumbass.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Hazzard folded his body into a shape like a paper aeroplane, weaving through Grain's shots as he fired over and over again. Chunks of the roof exploded as the blunderbuss ate away at them, rubble falling down into the municipal void. Grain's reflexes were such that Hazzard couldn't get close, even with his increased speed -- but Grain knew the Special Officer's game.
He was waiting for the Kennelmaster to run out of ammo… as if that would save him. Ha.
“Storage,” Grain snapped to the dog atop his hat. “Gimme Guard.”
There was a crack as the tiny dog's jaws opened grotesquely wide -- and a moment later, Guard bounded out of the throat, hearty barks shaking the air as it pounced at Hazzard.
Gregori's flat body was caught under a paw, barely unable to escape -- but with a razor-fast and razor-sharp sequence of slashes, he was able to cut away enough of the limb to get away. Guard’s whimper of pain quickly transitioned into a scream of fury, the hounds rage building to such a degree that it destroyed much of the rooftop just charging after the tiny Hazzard.
“Pathetic,” sneered Grain, lighting up another cigar as he watched Hazzard be chased this way and that. “This all a Special Officer has to offer? Here, lemme give you some more. Storage, let out some Backup.”
Storage belched out three more of its compatriots -- dogs that reached up to Grain's waist, their heads so grotesquely enlarged that they looked like furry paleo-beasts. They snapped at the air with oversized jaws as they charged towards Hazzard too. The paper bastard was flowing through the wind, at its mercy -- and that mercy ran out right on cue.
Guard from behind. One Backup from above, one from the right, and another from the front. A wall to the left.
Hazzard was cornered.
Time proceeded luxuriously, each second stretching itself out as much as possible. Grain watched as droplets of saliva glistened in the air. Grain watched as newborn sunlight washed over the ravaged rooftop. Grain watched, and Grain waited… for the blood to go flying.
And he watched as Hazzard so slowly, so quickly, unfolded himself.
The man was standing in a ready position, one arm pulled back, hand closed -- as if he were about to throw a pitch in farball. What was he doing? He wasn't even looking at the dogs about to maul him. He wasn't aiming at them.
He was aiming at Grain.
Gregori Hazzard hurled his payload -- and as it flew through the air, it unfolded. The tiny speck expanded like a piece of paper. Legs emerged, then arms, then a head. Within a second, it wasn't a tiny speck hurtling towards the Kennelmaster at all.
It was Aclima.
As she reached out, hand crackling with wicked purple Aether, the disjointed perceptions of Grain's dogs suddenly aligned. He understood what they'd been hunting in those apartments. Countless crude replicas of Aclima's form, folded together from the scenery like origami, smeared with her blood. Decoys.
He'd been had.
At this moment, any ordinary man would have panicked. Perhaps they would have turned to flee, or just despaired in the face of the incoming Curse Hand. A plea for mercy would not be out of the question for an ordinary man.
But Gideon Grain was not an ordinary man. He just extended his own right arm, as if to meet her with a high-five, and spoke:
“Golden Wolf.”
His right arm came flying off.
The limb became a streak of gold, slamming into Aclima's stomach -- sending her down to the ground -- before whirling around and stomping on her back with a paw, leaving the girl immobilized.
Unlike the rest of Gideon's minions, the beast that had emerged from his right arm bore no deformities or modifications at all -- in fact, it was beautiful in its perfection, like something plucked from mythology and dropped into the real world. Glowing golden fur waved in the air as if caught in a perpetual soothing breeze. White eyes shone like lanterns, piercing through the early morning gloom.
Its proportions were flawless, its demeanor regal -- this was the ideal of a wolf.
And because of it, the gambit had failed.
The dogs converged on Gregori, pulling him back and forth with their jaws as they fought over mauling rights. Grain couldn't see his face from here, but he was thinking a spark of despair on the young man's face was a pretty safe bet. He watched with amusement as Aclima seized hold of the leg pinning her down, purple Aether coursing uselessly up the limb.
“Forget it,” Grain grunted, adjusting his coat to cover the stump of his right arm. “Golden Wolf only uses Aether to transform. Right now? It's just that strong, and you're just that weak.”
Aclima struggled under its grip, but Golden Wolf was merciless as ever. It didn't so much as twitch as she pushed against it, even with Aether-infused strength. Given time, the kid might have been able to wriggle out… but Grain didn't intend to give her any time.
Smirking, he raised the blunderbuss, pointing it directly at her head.
Aclima's struggling stopped, her eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, fixed on the barrel of the gun. There it was. The expression of someone certain they were about to die. Grain had seen it many times… and he still hadn't gotten bored of it.
“Shame,” he sneered. “You were a looker and all.”
His finger curled around the trigger --
----------------------------------------
████████ ██████: ████████
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-- but suddenly, the Golden Wolf went flying.
Aclima didn't know what had happened. She didn't understand why a circular wound had appeared on the Wolf’s side, and she didn't understand why warm blood suddenly splattered across her back. She didn't have time to question any of it.
All that was open to her right now… was animal instinct.
Go. She lunged forward, hands bared like claws, the bounty hunter's shot scraping over the top of her head as it missed. For the first time, the creep’s expression was twisted into panic -- at this distance, he knew he wouldn't be able to get away.
His left arm had started to transform too, the jaws of a silver fox stretching over his shoulder like a pauldron, but the work of a second would be too slow here. With a swipe of her clenched fist, Aclima sent the blunderbuss sailing off into the night. With a lash of her open hand, she seized hold of the man by the face.
And, with a brain drowning in adrenaline, she thought:
Curse Hand.
The Kennelmaster's scream was like something not human, twisted by pain beyond human limits. Inflammation spread across his face like rabid acne -- only for the skin to burst seconds later, bloody pus spraying over the rooftop. For a second, he tried to back away, legs twitching in a frenzied dance… but the slippery blood quickly pulled him down.
Die.
He collapsed to the floor, Aclima still climbing on top of him, still grabbing him -- and so Curse Hand continued its vile work. His eyes went the same way as the zits, popping like twin balloons. His fingernails peeled away like rotting wallpaper, taking the skin with them all the way up to his knuckles.
Die!
Kneecaps clipped free of their frames. Veins squirmed until they burst. Ribs twitched beneath his skin. His tongue boiled in his mouth. The option of releasing his Aether -- the only thing that could stop this -- had been banished from his mind by the agony.
Die!
Die!
Die die die!
DIE!
When you did it... When you killed my father, did you feel like this, Muzazi?
Die.
Did you feel like you were about to vomit? Like your bones were just going to slip right out of you?
Die!
Or did you feel nothing at all, like… like when you betrayed me? Over… and over again…
DIE
By the time Aclima was done, she was pressing her hands against nothing but a bloody puddle. Ragged breaths poured from her ravaged throat as she slowly drew her arms around herself, heaving. Tears streamed down her face. She tried squeezing her eyes shut, but they still hurt -- so she just stared straight ahead, made distraught by victory.
Slowly, Gregori Hazzard rose to his feet behind her. He'd seen better days.
Some of the dogs had fled from the rooftop, while others had been hit by the recoil from Curse Hand. Golden Wolf in particular was unrecognisable -- Gregori kicked the carcass out of the way as he passed. Wiping the blood from his face with a hand, he looked down at her.
“You good?” he asked, wiping his hand on his pants.
She looked up at him, her mind adrift. “I…”
“Of course she's not alright. 😔” A voice came from behind her -- an image of emotion beamed into her thoughts from incoherent noise. “But not to worry -- 😈 -- you'll soon be able to sympathise.”
Aclima spun around just in time to see what was floating in the air behind her. An insect-like humanoid, staring down with red compound eyes, flying with wings of detached red fabric. One hand was a cruel blade, while the other ended with a grinning row of teeth.
Oh, she thought vaguely. Someone else wants me dead.
Even with his injuries, Gregori Hazzard moved even faster. Within a second, he'd dashed behind the new enemy, his own blade-arm raised and ready. His red eye cold, he swung his weapon --
-- and that eye widened as his blow had no effect.
“Hm? 🙂” the creature glanced over its shoulder at Gregori. “Did you really think that wimpy blade could stop me? 😂”
A mere backhand sent Gregori flying, and those crimson compound eyes flicked back over to observe Aclima.
“Now then, little one, 😃” it said, raising its mouth-arm. “I'm going to have to ask you to come with me. 💀”
She opened her mouth to say something --
----------------------------------------
DOWNLOADING ABILITY…
“Capture Ball”
----------------------------------------
-- but no sound emerged, as she was suddenly encased in what looked like a bubble of pink chewing gum.
The creature wasted no time. Wings battering the air, it zoomed off -- bubble flying alongside it -- abandoning the roof and Gregori Hazzard in an instant. Pulling himself out of the wreckage of the wall, Hazard quickly followed, folding and adjusting his arms until they were like the wings of a bat.
So, nobody witnessed it.
For a moment, the roof was still, and the roof was silent. Then… the corpse of the Kennelmaster began to twitch.
Something was brewing beneath his skin, gruesome bubbles rising to the surface as his ravaged arms and legs flapped up and down. Whatever was moving inside him dragged him -- left and right across the roof -- like he was possessed by an evil spirit. Something punched up against his stomach, a gruesome indentation making itself known.
Crack.
Crack.
Splat.
The Kennelmaster had kept dogs in all sorts of places. On his hat, in his arms… and one, his final beast, stored as a tiny embryo nestled against his own heart. That infant had waited, only barely alive, leeching off the malice of its master… and now that the master was dead, the promised time had come.
Spite.
Gideon Grain was a man who had smothered his infant brother for stealing their parent’s attention.
Gideon Grain was a man who had strangled his first girlfriend for trying to escape from him.
Gideon Grain was a man who had shot his son in the back of the head for talking back one time too many.
Gideon Grain was a man with spite to spare.
That spite was this beast's inheritance, and the sole thought in its head as it slithered out of Grain's carcass. Its shape was grotesque, a monster of vengeance that could never be mistaken for a natural organism. Was this thing even a living creature, or just a shadow? Was it a human, or a hound? Was it an ability, or an Awakening?
Grain had never cared to consider it. Names and designations had never meant much to him. His care was only for utility.
Even this final hound, the one designed to bring down his killer with cruel fang and cruel claw, was only called…
image [https://i.imgur.com/upg9tfO.jpeg]
The wind rushed past, and the monster poured as smoke into the night.