The hurricane stopped, and Dragan Hadrien's heart almost leapt out of his chest.
In an instant, Masadora had used those rocket boots to zoom right into Dragan's face, his visage contorted in utter fury, his sword lifted high over his head.
"Corpse," Masadora croaked --
-- and the sword came down.
However, it never reached Dragon's skull. The dreadful smashing of flesh and bone never came. His life continued unimpeded.
The reason for this, needless to say, was that in the instant before Eli Masadora could land the finishing blow, his entire body dissipated into electric blue Aether. Even the sword he'd been swinging disappeared. Dragan let out a heavy breath.
"Gemini Shotgun," he slurred, as if reminding himself that he'd somehow survived this.
That had been a close one. Painfully, unacceptably close. Dragan had only survived by using Gemini Shotgun the same way he'd once used it to catch a falling Ruth. It had worked back then, allowing him to save her before she became a bloody smear, but this time it had been a gamble -- Eli Masadora wasn't quite as willing. Dragan had no doubt that if the other man had even a spark of Aether to resist with, this little maneuver would have been impossible.
It was still an ordeal. Dragan could feel it on the edge of his consciousness, like a migraine creeping over the surface of his brain. Masadora's mind was writhing, trying to pull itself out of the web Dragan had dragged it into.
He put a hand to his head as he staggered to his feet, stumbling over to meet Skipper. The pain was gradually increasing, like a trained boxer was trying to punch their way out of his skull. How much longer could he hold this? Ten seconds? Twenty?
It wouldn't be for long, at any rate.
He reached Skipper, and the older man put heavy hands on his shoulders, his usual grin weary in some way Dragan couldn't describe.
"You okay, kid?" he huffed, ignoring the blood oozing from his own myriad wounds.
Dragan shook his head as quickly as he could without triggering vomiting. Masadora was almost out. Even without Aether, his sheer force of will was terrifying.
"We need to get on the tram," he rasped, his words clumsy as he focused most of his attention on restraining Masadora. If he'd timed things right, it should be leaving for its next stop within the next couple of seconds -- needless to say, none of the people in there had the courage to get out on this one.
Skipper nodded without any more questions, wrapping an arm around Dragan to support him as the two of them staggered towards the open tram. The civilians inside, clearly just as terrified of them as their opponent, moved away to either side of the carriage, their faces pale and their eyes wary. Skipper, for his part, offered a lazy salute as they stepped inside.
"Just a couple of monorail inspectors, folks," he said unconvincingly. "Don't mind us."
Dragan was at his limit -- if he didn't act, Masadora would reappear right next to them inside the tram. The doors beeped as they began to close: he wouldn't get a better chance.
Gemini Shotgun.
In the second before the tram doors closed shut, Dragan launched Masadora forth, infusing the manifested body with further Aether to make him fly farther and harder. He went zooming out through the doors, slamming hard against a pillar back on the platform.
Dragan had hoped to see if he was still moving, to confirm if he'd managed to get a kill, but before he could check the tram was already on the move -- the ruined platform replaced by the darkness of the tunnel, and a second after that the flaring lights of the city.
He slumped down into a free seat, Skipper collapsing next to him. The two of them panted for breath.
"I think," Dragan wheezed. "I think we need to go to another hospital."
Skipper wiped some of the blood out of his eyes. "Yeah," he replied, looking down at the red liquid. "I think you're right…"
Appreciating the long-required rest, Dragan fumbled in his pocket -- ignoring the worried looks of those around him -- and fished out his script, holding it to his ear as he called Ruth. Their efforts to find Serena had been a bust, but maybe she and Rico had had more luck.
It rang once, twice, thrice, but no answer. Dragan gulped: had they gotten into a similar situation?
"Don't worry, kiddo," Skipper waved a shaking hand, noticing the concerned expression on Dragon's face. "Ruth can look after herself."
"What about Rico?"
He hesitated a moment. "Ruth can look after herself."
----------------------------------------
Three years ago…
"Tiny Garden?" the Teacher asked, leaning on his hand as he sat cross-legged on the floor. "That's a unique name for it."
Rico shrugged, staring down at that same floor. The two of them were alone in the family gymnasium for their weekly tutoring session, the only sounds outside being the occasional tweets of passing birds. Despite the grim work they were doing, there was a strangely peaceful feeling to this place.
"Is there a reason you've chosen that name, specifically?" the Teacher gently prodded, his voice utterly serene. "I'd be interested to hear about it."
Rico glanced up -- the Teacher wasn't going to let go of this. If he didn't get an answer to a question, he would keep prodding until you got tired of holding back. There was a quiet kind of relentlessness to him, a sort of paradoxical ferocity.
His appearance was just as strange. He spoke with the voice of a fairly young man -- maybe in his mid-twenties -- and his eyes shone with youthful vigor, but his body was unmistakably elderly. Wrinkled and thin arms, a face lined with years he didn't seem to have lived. Even the gentle smile on his face seemed strained.
Rico wasn't quite sure where his mother had found this person, but apparently he was one of the best in the business of teaching Aether.
"I guess," Rico mumbled. "I guess because bacteria are like little plants? I mean, not really, but you can think about them that way. Under a microscope the shape sort of reminds me of leaves, I guess? So if there's a bunch of them together, they're like a tiny garden. That's where the name comes from."
The Teacher nodded slowly. It seemed he was satisfied with this answer. He reached into his dusty grey robes -- the only article of clothing Rico had seen him wear -- and retrieved a vibrant green leaf.
He carefully placed it on the smooth floor between them, and as he did Rico caught a split-second glimpse of the word 'ALPHA' tattooed on the front of his wrist. He was seriously weird.
"I hope you've been practicing," the Teacher said quietly, retracting his hand.
A shiver ran down Rico's spine -- oh, it hadn't been by choice, but he'd definitely been practicing. His mother made sure of that, when she brought mice or rats or whatever made convenient test dummies for his ability. The stench of that practice wasn't forgotten so easily.
Rico held a wary hand over the leaf, sickly Aether already coiling around the object.
Tiny Garden.
For a second, the leaf simply twitched in the breeze. Then, as if it had been suddenly set upon by a horde of invisible insects, it began to crumble apart -- fragments of green turning grey and dead as they collapsed into dust, and then collapsed further. All in all, the thing was reduced to a substance like steam in the span of ten seconds.
"Impressive," the Teacher said, his tone utterly unchanged. "You've completely eliminated it. You don't seem pleased, however."
Rico went to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He found himself looking down at his hand, at the grey chalk that was still clinging there.
It didn't need to be said.
"You dislike the ability we've developed?" the Teacher asked. "Your mother wanted a power that could protect you from danger, and you said the same. Have you changed your mind, seeing the form that protection takes?"
Protect you from danger. That was what it all came down to, really.
Around a year ago now, Rico's mother Valentina had given birth to her second son Alejandro, his little brother -- and a month later, one of her enemies had smothered him in the crib. She hadn't taken it well. The murderer had died in the worst way possible for a human being, and her drive to make sure the same thing didn't happen to her surviving son.
Now matter how much he vomited when he saw flesh bubble away, so long as he was alive, she'd be satisfied.
"It's a versatile ability," the Teacher continued. "We've trained to use it in a specifically macabre way, but the ability to manipulate bacteria can be used for a wide range of purposes. You're lucky to be capable of such range."
Rico glanced up. "What do you mean?"
The Teacher smiled thinly. "May I demonstrate my ability? I think that will illustrate my point well."
Rico couldn't deny that he was curious about this man -- his mother had hired him to teach Rico Aether, and so he didn't know much about him save for the fact that he was good at what he did. If nothing else, knowing who he was dealing with would give him some small comfort in these sessions.
"Sure, I guess."
The Teacher reached out with one hand, extending his thumb towards Rico's forehead. "May I?"
"Sure," Rico repeated, a little more hesitantly. It was disconcerting to consciously put his defenses down like this.
The Teacher's cold thumb pressed against the spot directly between Rico's eyes for a second -- tiny sparks of dark purple Aether crackling around the digit -- before he retracted it. As he returned to his neutral sitting position, he brushed a lock of his long grey hair behind his ear.
"You unlocked your Aether before I met you," he said gently. "But I can see now that your Aether core is fear. Whether fear or death or fear of failure or simple animal terror matters not. I can't imagine awakening to such a thing was pleasant."
He was right on the money. Rico blinked. "How…?"
"It's my ability," the Teacher replies by way of explanation. "Just by pressing my thumb against you like that, I instantly know your Aether Core. In most cases, it's a vital part of my curriculum."
Rico frowned. He guessed, for someone like this guy, that ability could be worthwhile, but…
"Isn't that kind of useless?" The words left his mouth before he could consider just how harsh they sounded.
When the Teacher sighed, resting his chin in his hands once more, he seemed to match his years much more. In that moment, he seemed to embody a kind of… disappointment? Not in Rico specifically, but just a general feeling that he'd been let down.
"I suppose you must think that, mustn't you?" he sighed. "After all, it's a useless ability for combat."
"Sorry, I didn't…"
The Teacher cut him off with a raised palm. "No need to apologize. It's the opinion of our age. But, still… I ask you. Why is it why we must think of Aether as solely a tool of violence?"
"Uh…" Rico chuckled. "I mean, it's a power for fighting, right?"
"In what way is a power for fighting? Aether is a power that can bypass the very rules of our existence, that can make dreams into reality. Why not use it to work the fields, to heal the flesh, to ponder the great mysteries of our world? It's said that the first Supreme even managed to preserve his consciousness following death itself." The Teacher sighed. "Does mankind's ambition truly only stretch to finding new ways of punching and kicking?"
Rico put a hand to his chin. The things the Teacher was saying made sense, but they completely went away from the way Rico had been led to think about this power. To him, Aether was a dagger used to stab those who came too close.
"The world's dangerous, though," he muttered, looking down at the ruined leaf. "If people are using Aether to hurt others, then it's only natural, I guess, that people use Aether to defend themselves. I mean, it must be, like, a cycle or something, right?"
That spiel came out of his mouth clumsily, an inept attempt at imitating the Teacher's thoughtful words, but the older man nodded in acceptance of what Rico had said.
"Since the beginning of time," he spoke softly, staring through the window at the bright sunlight outside. "Humans have lied, killed and stolen from another. No matter what tools they've had at their disposal, that principle has never changed. Personally, I find it all terribly dull, but I suppose that's just the shape of this world."
"If you're so bored of it… why are you working for my family? You know they're not exactly pacifists."
The Teacher cocked his head. "They're? Not we?" Before Rico could reply, however, he went on -- speaking as casually as if he was discussing the weather. "I'm going to be dead soon, most likely. If I want to live my last couple of years in luxury, I require funds. It's for that reason alone that I work for such people."
"Oh. I… guess that makes sense."
Sunlight drifted in through the glass doors. The bird that had been incessantly tweeting outside flew away with the sudden billowing of wings.
"Still," the Teacher closed his eyes. "I wonder how long it'll take until you get bored of hurting people, too?"
----------------------------------------
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Now…
As Ruth's blue bullet slammed into Rico -- streaking through the air like a firework -- the pain and oblivion he had expected did not come. Instead, strength began to well up inside him: a sense of power that he'd never experienced before. His Aether began to crackle vicariously, like a building thunderstorm.
"Go," Ruth grunted, her voice muffled by the scarf covering her mouth. "Get us through."
Every single one of his movements felt easier than it had ever been before -- even turning to look at the cloud of red gas in front of them was unnaturally fluid. It was as if he'd spent his whole life half-awake, and now he'd just drunk his first cup of coffee. Even blinking gave him a sense of unparalleled freedom, like he could barely be held back by his physical form.
He'd heard of it before, this sensation: was this an Aether burn?
At first, he didn't quite understand what was going on. If this was an Aether burn, his body should have been collapsing under the pressure, but the sense of vitality radiating through him suggested nothing of the sort. He only understood when he took another glance at Ruth.
As he watched, steam began gently drifting up from the edges of her scarf. Her bronze breastplate began to crack just a little, tiny fractures appearing on its surface. He could even hear the wood of the musket she was holding creak with discomfort.
Just from looking, he'd worked out that the armour she manifested around her body gave her different powers. The one she'd shown off so far -- the dark metal like the ribs of a skeleton -- have her enhanced strength and speed, beyond normal infusion. This new set, however, seemed to have a much more specialised power: it forced others into an Aether burn, then took the damage in their stead. A good way of getting around the rules of Aether.
If that armour was taking damage, Rico could only imagine the boost would end when it finally demanifested. He couldn't waste time mentally applauding.
Turning back to the stationary cloud of gas, Rico held his hands out in front of him, as if waiting to catch something from above. His sickly green Aether ran across his arms, coalescing and brightening in his palms. Commands ready to be sent out like a net.
Clean the air. Scrub it of toxins. Convert the poison into normal oxygen and carbon dioxide.
Tiny Garden.
His power blasted out, the haze of Aether colliding with the poison -- and then, like he was drawing back a set of curtains, Rico pulled his hands back, the poison ripped apart in the time it took for him to breathe again.
The way to the bathroom was unimpeded, the only signs of any obstacle being the fading wisps of red, already being devoured by the bacterial horde. With the lights destroyed, the place seemed like a tunnel of darkness, but that didn't stop Ruth from charging right in.
She wasn't the bolt of speed she'd been wearing her previous armour, but she was still plenty fast -- sprinting with that musket clutched between her hands, her resolute eyes unblinking in the dark. Rico hesitated for a moment before following her.
Through the slight illumination their collective Aether provided, Rico could see that the bathroom had been wrecked -- Cerevisia had smashed through the wall utterly when it had first attacked Ruth, after all. One of the cubicles seemed to have received the brunt of destruction, the entire unit annihilated, parts of it converted into what looked like swords -- opening up a hole into the plumbing tunnels below.
"This ain't gonna be big on dignity," Ruth grunted. "Let's go."
And with that, she hopped in. Rico sighed, braving himself for his bad day to continue, before he followed after her.
Funnily enough, the tunnel was brighter than the actual bathroom -- dim maintenance lights built into the walls, stretching off in either direction. In the distance, the slightest suggestion of two humanoid figures could be seen, running away from their position.
Keiko and Ruth's friend, no doubt. Until now, Rico had been content to sit back -- this whole thing had nothing to do with him, after all -- but now he wanted answers.
His cousin wasn't even supposed to be on this station. With everything happening -- the Hunter Game, Uncle Jacques' death -- he wasn't about to let this mystery go unanswered. He'd get the answers out of Keiko and they'd all make it out of this safe.
He went to chase after them, but Ruth was already way ahead of him. Before he could take so much as a simple step, she had grabbe dhim by the collar and began sprinting down the tunnel, holding her right on front of him. He felt another bullet from that muzzle strike him in the back, his Aether flaring around him.
"If she sends more poison," Ruth roared, voice almost swallowed by the air pressure. "Get rid of it!"
Fantastic. He'd been upgraded from kidnap victim to human shield.
Well, he could certainly manage that. As the two of them rushed forward -- gaining on Keiko and Serena at incredible speeds -- Rico saw a cloud of yellow smoke coiling towards them, spiraling in the air like some kind of flying serpent. He instantly threw his hands forward again.
Clean!
The complex commands he'd transmitted the first time were now simplified to a single directive. Those instructions were encoded in his green Aether, which lanced out through his fingers and swarmed the air like a horde of buzzing insects. The poison didn't stand a chance.
It vanished completely as Rico's body rushed through it -- and then, just like that, they had caught up.
As the two of them burst through the disappearing cloud, Rico could see Keiko's shocked expression below, her eyes widening. The centipede on her shoulder lunged at them -- but too late. Rico felt Ruth's grip slacken, releasing him as the two of them dropped to the ground.
Her usual reappeared as Ruth's fall transitioned into a flip, and in the very instant she crossed paths with the attacking centipede, a single swipe of her claws severed it's head from its body. The corpse of the beast vanished into vicious red Aether.
"You --" Keiko began, but no more words left her mouth. A kick to the stomach from Ruth sent her doubling over, choking for breath -- and then Ruth whirled her around, pulling her arms behind her back.
There was a flash of red as one of Ruth's gauntlets vanished, only to reappear on Keiko: both her hands trapped in the confines of the cramped glove. A makeshift pair of handcuffs. A second kick sent the younger woman down to her knees.
"She tried anything, mess her up," Ruth growled, tossing Keiko over to Rico. He reluctantly nodded.
The other person they'd been chasing, Ruth's friend, had slid into the shadows -- but as Ruth approached, they returned to the light. The blonde girl, Serena, glared at her, her lip wobbling.
"What are you doing, Miss Ruth?" Serena asked, her voice full of resentment. "Why are you getting in the way?"
Ruth scowled. "Me? What the hell are you doing? Going along with people you don't even know because, what, they promise they'll help you get revenge on this Cott guy?"
Serena's nostrils flared. "Don't say that name."
"Fine. I won't. But what are you thinking?!" Ruth spread her arms wide as if to illustrate the ludicrous position they were in.
"At least she wants to help. All of you just want me to wait," Serena frowned, the frustration in her voice building as she went. "I can't wait, Miss Ruth! How the heck can I wait?! I need to protect Bruno!" By the end, she was nearly screaming.
Rico had to look away, focusing on keeping Keiko restrained. He felt like a voyeur -- being here, watching this. The angry lines on Ruth's face relaxed, just a little, and she sighed.
"That's what we want, too, Serena," she said kindly. "We want you to be safe -- Bruno, too. But you're just running off without thinking what you're gonna do at all. Tell me: if you knew where Cott was, right now, what would you do?"
Serena frowned as if the answer was obvious. "I'd go there and I'd kill him."
"How?"
"With this." Serena lifted the sword in her hand, the blade glinting in the dim light.
That bit of foolishness seemed to be the last Ruth had patience for. She suddenly stepped forward, a growl leaking out of her throat, and slapped the sword out of Serena's hand. The clattering of the metal echoed down the hallway.
Ruth planted both her hands on Serena's shoulders as she roared: "You're the one putting Bruno in danger, you idiot!"
Her eyes wide with outrage, Serena went to headbutt Ruth -- only to be stopped by a gauntleted hand. "I wouldn't do that!" she screamed, thrashing against Ruth's grip.
"You already have!"
Overcoming Serena's strength, Ruth pushed her down to the ground, looking down at the fallen girl with a mixture of fury and concern. There was a resounding clash as she thumped her fist against the metal wall in frustration.
"You think you're the only one who's felt like this?!" she asked. "You think I've never wanted to kill someone so much it burns?! Want to rip them apart?! I've wanted it, and I've done it! Let me tell you: when you've done it, and you've lost everything else you had along the way, it still burns! It never stops!"
"He hurt Bruno!" Serena screamed, her tear streaked face looking up, her teeth bared in anger. "He hurt me!"
"He's still hurting you! And you're letting him!"
Serena looked like she was about to scream some other threat, before she simply drove her fist into the ground. Once, twice, then again and again -- until the Aether sparked away and was replaced by blood. Finally, she stopped, her body heaving with sobs.
"What…" she breathed. "What am I supposed to do, then?"
Ruth crouched down next to her, pulling her into an embrace. Even with that tender gesture, however, her eyes glared straight ahead.
"You stay with us. And then we'll kill him."
----------------------------------------
The security center certainly was a sight to behold. Scout chuckled to himself as he turned on the spot, taking in the cavernous space.
The room was cylindrical, lit only by blue panels on the floor and the holographic monitors lining the walls. Views of every district on the Cradle, from crowded streets to deserts alleys. Tinny audio mingled together from each display, crowding together even in the massive chamber.
With the similarly holographic keyboards that floated below, one could input any location they wanted to look at. No doubt they allowed access to the Silver Vision system too. It was all according to the schematics.
Chloe kept her arms crossed, her eyes tracking the patrolling guards. This place wasn't actually manned -- having potential voyeurs in your government spying facility was an invasion of privacy too far, it seemed -- so all security was handled by automatics. They were actually fairly comical-looking: metal cylinders with spindly arms and legs, clutching plasma rifles.
These two were members of the Oliphant Clan, whose patriarch had funded the renewal of this place, so they were automatically granted access. Some hacking efforts from Deceit's source had seen to it that he didn't have to worry either.
In fact, he was on call with that source right now. He held his script to his ear as he strode around the room, running his fingers through the holographic screens, imagining the fizzling sensation he would've felt if he had nerves. These idiots really thought he was talking to some sort of 'mission control', on a starship outside the station.
"Which ones do you have with you?" Cott asked, his voice inaudible to all but Deceit.
"We've reached the Silver Vision control room," replied Deceit. "Awaiting the access codes."
Scout Oliphant-Dawkins and Chloe Oliphant-Escoffier. They don't suspect me at all.
Deceit's unique ability wasn't very good for combat -- unless he was fighting a shitstained Cogitant, anyway -- but it was uniquely useful when it came to espionage. He could encode information directly into his speech: transmitting unrelated connotations through casual greetings, or giving the impression that he was trustworthy through every word that left his mouth.
"I see," Cott laughed. "Access code is, uh… B-2292-H-6711. That'll get you into Silver Vision. Make sure they're all in one place before you do it."
Lazy asshole. He was sitting back at home, sitting on that damn metal coffin, while Deceit was out doing the actual work. He briefly considered angling for a change of management instead of this busywork, but quickly discarded the notion. More than likely that was just Arrogance speaking.
He didn't say any of that, though. "Appreciated," Deceit said chirpily.
I'll make sure you get the collective message too. Should be a laugh.
"Well," Cott replied, his voice naturally much more dull. "Enjoy yourself. I'll be waiting to hear back."
The call ended. As Deceit returned the script to his pocket, he called out the code he'd been given to Scout. The young man began tapping away at one of the keyboards, already concocting the message he'd send out to his family members.
Already readying the lure Deceit would use to pull them in.
----------------------------------------
Cott swiped the screen on his script, casting a holographic display right in front of him.
After he'd started participating in the Hunter Game, he'd moved the coffin out of that dusty hotel and into an apartment he'd rented under an alias. Still, he kept the lights off -- he didn't want anyone knowing he was here, or that anyone was here.
He didn't even like to look at the coffin, even as he sat on it. The scratching he could hear from inside it was more than enough for him. The thing in the dark hated, after all.
The broadcast began, a message manually being sent to a specific list of people. Distorted by poor signal, it blared out in the dark apartment. The image of Scout, Chloe and Deceit flickered in and out of view.
"This is Scout here. Scout, um, Oliphant-Dawkins. Well, you know."
----------------------------------------
Roy grinned down at his script as he listened to the message, the artificial wind blowing through his hair. He stood atop a skyscraper, one leg up on the ledge, having stopped when the message had started.
He'd been searching for the kids through the night, leaping over buildings in a single bound, and it turned out Scout had been working hard all the while! What a man he was!
"Chloe is with me too," his son's voice continued. "We're in the Silver Vision center -- the big, uh, security tower."
Roy's eyes gazed up: the building his son was talking about was visible from here, a needle stretching up. No windows, no doors: a place where only automatics lived.
Well, the Cradle was an inverted globe, so from Roy's position, the tower was actually stretching down. The top of the tower terminated directly in the center of the sphere, like the core of the brain that was the Cradle. A house at the bottom of the sky.
He grinned. Seemed like a good workout.
----------------------------------------
Carla looked down at her script, listening to the message, as her private car drove through the skies of the Cradle. The neon lights of the city blared through the windows, filtered through layers of bulletproof glass and metal.
Those that had been gathered at the Oliphant compound had scattered after the place had been attacked by one of the Hunter Game participants -- the maniac who called himself King Smile. Along with a small army of traitorous bodyguards, they'd clashed with those bodyguards who'd remained loyal.
Valentina had left with her men in one car, Carla had left in the other alone.
"If this is actually getting through," Scout was saying. "If we want to survive… we need to come back together. If you're able to, make your way here."
"Change destination," she barked to her automatic driver. "Central monitoring tower."
----------------------------------------
"I…I hope I get to see you all soon."
The message ended, Rico's screen flicking back to black. The only sound in the narrow tunnel was their myriad breathing, echoing in the confined space.
There had been three people in that message, standing in that darkened room. He recognised Scout and Chloe, of course, but that third person… that young man with long orange hair, dressed in a blue blazer…
He didn't recognize him, but someone clearly did. Among the breathing in the tunnel, Serena's was by far the heaviest.
"Cott," she hissed, staring at the blank screen.
Immediately, she went to stand up and begin running, only to be stopped by a heavy hand on the shoulder from Ruth.
"No," she said forcefully. "No. This time we kill him together. Let me call Dragan."