ZETA

Igel lunged at him first, a movement which Zeta spotted in his peripheral. Black Meridian was already drawn, and he moved to block, adopting a pose specifically to defend against Igel’s arms and legs.

But Igel used neither of them. He reared his head back, and Zeta caught himself, raising the flat of the blade. Igel’s headbutt sent Zeta back a few feet like he had been hit with a ram instead of a cranium.

“What?”

Zeta’s hairs raised as he realized Berto was right behind him, arm raised. At the last second, Zeta rolled away, and Berto’s overhead smash missed.

Zeta jabbed Berto’s thigh with the pommel, but Berto’s skin cushioned the blow, and the man himself didn’t flinch.

Who are these monsters?

Berto raised his hands, preparing to bring them down upon Zeta’s skull. Igel to charge at him with a raised fist. Zeta swung his sword, and Igel pulled away to avoid a cut.

When Berto returned for another downward smash, Zeta readied his sword for a thrust. In a panic, Berto tried to dodge, but the tip of the sword grazed his stomach first.

Even as Berto passed by, however, the blade merely pushed his skin inward like a roll of fat, and by the time he was gone he had not a scratch to show for it.

Berto seized on Zeta’s momentum by grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him up. Zeta struggled, but suddenly Igel was pounding on his stomach with the impact of bricks. Zeta only managed to free himself at the moment he started coughing up blood.

He had no energy in the first place, but with Igel’s assault, Zeta’s stomach cramped in grave pain.

“What the hell is going on!” he exclaimed.

They didn’t answer. Instead, the two rushed like bulls out of tricks but with horns to protect them from change. There has to be a weakness. Igel came in for another swing, and Zeta blocked it with the flat of the blade again.

Zeta went for a strike of his own, but a picture of Sir Kagan flashed before his mind. It was vivid, detailed, painted out of his own memories. It came and went in an instant, just long enough for Zeta to recognize the man, and just long enough for Igel to tackle him to the ground.

Before Igel could start pummeling him, Zeta attacked with great, immature fury and scrambled back to his feet. Igel staggered back in pain, examining the clean slash across all his knuckles. Zeta turned immediately on Berto and plunged his sword into Berto’s arm.

It pierced without error. No cushioning. Zeta wanted answers.

Another flash went through his mind involuntarily, this time a clear picture of Greenwich Villa. A perfect three-dimensional replica.

“Are you confused, stranger?” he heard a voice say.

Zeta turned to Hera, who had not moved a step since they started fighting.

“These visions, are they your doing?”

She smirked, “Perhaps. I have a Mind focus after all.”

Zeta raised an eyebrow, and she started laughing. “Oh, don’t tell me. You don’t know about focuses either?”

“Enlighten me,” Zeta said. “I’m the muscle duo over there have unnatural physiques because of sigmas.”

“Hey! Your build isn’t so normal itself. Don’t judge me,” said Berto.

“They’re offense and defense focuses,” Hera said. “It’s nothing official, but it means they try to make use of sigmas of the same type.

“And what about you?” Zeta asked. “You don’t seem to be in a rush to get your hands dirty.”

Hera laughed. “I don’t need to any low grunt work like that, of course.” She gestured with her hand, flicking her wrist in his direction. Suddenly, another blast from the past slid through his vision. “Not when your brain is my playground.”

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Zeta winced. He was in no mood for reminiscing, yet it was being forced upon him. Nearby, Berto and Igel were growing restless with conversation.

“Sir Kagan told me that no one man can have the strongest sword and shield. It doesn’t matter if one has punches of steel and the other’s skin is packed protection. Everything has a weakness. Believe me, I’ll exploit it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hera asked. “Offense and defense focuses are common, but Berto and Igel are a particular case.

“Yeah. We don’t have the full set!” Berto said.

Hera sighed. “Berto, don’t put it that way. It makes you sound weak.”

“But it’s true,” said Berto. “It’s psychology or somethin’ like that. Makes us ‘unpredictable.’”

“If you call yourself unpredictable, it makes you predictable,” Zeta commented.

“Regardless, I’m sure you’ve noticed the difference, stranger,” Hera said.

“You mean how not every strike is brutal? Or how not every slab of flesh is softened? I’m aware, very aware.”

I appreciate you spilling your vulnerabilities. I’ll consider it penance.

“It really doesn’t matter what you know, however,” Hera began. “It doesn’t change fated outcomes.”

Zeta glanced to Berto and Igel marching his way with greedy aggressiveness in their eyes. He noted Igel’s scratch, a mere scratch, and suddenly the Greenwich Group felt like such a simple obstacle.

“Let me ask you this, then. Before I win, I want to know, what exactly is your trade?”

“Before you win? That’s presumptive,” said Hera.

“And foolish,” added Igel.

Zeta continued, “To what degree are you all criminals?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” Hera said.

“I’m just not sure if I should leave bodies in the alley or not,” Zeta said.

Hera frowned for a moment, unamused. With another gesture, she sent a flash through his mind, and by the time he recovered Igel was in front of him.

He shoved Zeta–enhanced–and sent him flying backward, crashing into the wall and leaving a crack as a souvenir.

Damn it! Zeta hoped that a boastful display might diffuse into real physical capabilities, but his body was severely aching and still running on fumes from a lack of food. Plus, none of them seemed troubled by his remarks.

Igel came in for another charge, but his relentless attacks had grown old. Zeta sidestepped at the last second and let Igel ram into a wall. When he gripped his skull in recovery, Zeta grabbed him, smashed him into the wall and elbowed him in the chest to knock the breath out of him.

“Igel!” Berto called, running closer. His stampede was easy to avoid as well, and Zeta slashed him across the back. Thankfully, that one left a mark.

Hera flashed his mind again, showing a recent image of Hodge and his family. He wondered if she knew exactly what she displayed him when she did that.

Zeta turned on her with rage still plastered as his expression. With her brutes out the way, Hera grew pale and visibly nervous.

Finally, shaken confidence.

He had no intention to harm her–he avoided it if he could, and this moment was opportune. Nevertheless, he adopted an intimidating posture as he strode closer. She backed away, sending more mind flashes his way, but with Zeta predicting them they had no effect.

“Are you done?” Zeta asked.

Hera stood in a corner now, shaking and anxious. She nodded her head.

“Yes, I’m done. Because we won.” She gently poked him in the shoulder.

Black Meridian fell to the ground as Zeta reeled in agony.

Her touch burst through his nervous system, a bullet in the shoulder with the absence of a gunshot. She poked him again, and again, and again. Every time it was brief, but each impact simulated a mortal wound. Each healed a second later as he received another one.

He opened his eyes to face the pain, and Hera was grinning as she continued to lay down the inhuman sensations.

From behind, the recovered Berto hugged his waist again, and Igel clutched his skull. Hera backed off, and the two of them piledrove him into the pavement with a massive thud. The sigmas rolled out of Zeta’s pockets; the trio didn’t hesitate to pick them up.

“That was more trouble than it was worth, but thanks for the fun tonight, stranger!” Hera said with cheer.

“Can we kill this one?” Igel asked. “He didn’t depart as easily as the others. He might come back.”

“Well, did you guys break his spirit?” she asked.

Berto scratched his head, then he picked up Zeta’s and smashed into the cobblestone a dozen times. Zeta thanked Sir Kagan’s intense training for the reason he was still conscious.

What I’d give for steel bones right now…

“That should do it,” said Igel.

“Then all that nonsense he said earlier isn’t anything to worry about,” said Hera. “Now he knows better than to stand above your station in Aspic, and the rest of the world for that matter.”

“So we were teachers then? Were we good?” Berto asked.

Hera smiled. “You were excellent.”

With two fingers, Hera tore a little rift in the air, and she tossed the two sigmas inside and sealed it. “I don’t know why you didn’t use your Pocket Inventory, stranger, it would have made these a whole lot harder to steal.”

“Maybe he didn’t know how to use it? No, wait. I bet he doesn’t have one,” Berto suggested.

She laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Zeta witnessed the rest of their jeering with one eye half-closed. As they started walking away from him, it unwillingly shut. His brain gave him no warning before he fell asleep.

Neural Flash - Mind: User pulls a vivid image from the target’s past into the target’s consciousness for a millisecond, causing some brief disorientation. (215).

* (A) Press fingers to temple.

* The image will obscure a target's vision during its duration.

* Neural Flash always pulls from both the hippocampus and the amygdala to create emotional discord. Has differing effects depending on the target.