(Guard #2) Who are you?

Two of the guards pinned their weapons onto the defenseless Luna, who had her hands up high while holding onto two of her metal batons.

Letting out a bead of sweat from her nose, Luna straightened her back as she had her heels digging into the sunken dirt, despite the soul being vastly dry. Luna being Luna, she made sure that Benn was nowhere in the guard’s line of fire, as his body was hunched to make himself small and vulnerable.

The guards, a couple of feet away from her position, slowly walked forward into the wild tiger’s den as they kept their aim on the back of her head. Slowly, the tanned woman turned around, both corners of her lips forming a sadistic smile.

(Luna) Just your typical ballerina.

Two twin double-edged blades were hatched out of the holes of the metal batons.

Like the speed of an incoming bullet, the tip of the blades stabbed both the guard's chests, but not that deep for it to be fatal. The CO2 wind that poured forth from their mouths ceasing, both widened their eyes as the loss of feeling in their hands and arms began.

Leading them to drop their weapons.

(Benn) You shielded me…

(Luna) If they saw you, hell they’ll do something worse than shoot you on the spot.

(Benn) True.

The light from the rectangular lantern continued to light up from out of the large garlic stems.

All of them now standing mindlessly in the garlic crop field, they didn’t pay any mind to the southern watch tower that was right in front of them. Trying to recover from the little ultimatum, one of the guards squinted her eyes as she wielded a wooden Springfield rifle attached with a little scope.

Having her finger resting on the side of the laminated wood, she sucked in a multitude of air into her tiny lungs. With the light showcasing the group from below, she began to nod at the sight of both Luna and Chris.

(Guard #5) Now what do we have here …

Having her flat cap worn sideways, a bit of chewing tobacco streamed off the side of her lips. Continuing to chew, she used her left eye to analyze the two fallen guards who slept in the fields. Moving her finger on the trigger, she saw one of them having a burly figure from the rest. Adjusting the barrel, the harsh metal that pinched and tore her blistered fingertip was only the beginning.

She soon spit out the tobacco like she just ate garbage.

(Guard #5) How about I send you to sleep with the fishes; where you belong.

(Jack’s thoughts) Nuh-uh.

On the southern hill far beyond the Zirardge Ranch, sheltered a well-kept man who stood behind a tree.

Having his aim steady, his lungs empty, he caressed the metal trigger of his sniper rifle, all the while keeping his eyes and ears open.

Like the crack of swamp thunder, the gunshot traversed across the region, causing every guard across the ranch to perk their heads up. Not only the guards but also the intruders that lay right below the waist of the garlic crops also looked right toward the hill where they came from.

(Luna) What the hell?

(Benn) Jack shot that sniper round.

(Chris) Wait, but where did he shoot at?

(Guard #5) God … damnit…

Dropping her Springfield rifle on the wooden floor, the guard immediately placed her right hand over her left shoulder, her overall outfit soaked with blood from the left side of her body. Her knees unwilling to hold the weight of her tiny body, dropped to the splintered floor, her brown pants being stained from her same blood.

Clenching her teeth, she looked up to the night sky, her mouth trying to sprout out anything to reach the heavens.

(Guard #5) I’m … not going … to—

(Sean on radio) Hello! Hello! This is your favorite elf speaking!

Turning her head toward the black metal device, she swallowed whatever saliva and leftover remnants of the tobacco inside her mouth.

Her eyes widened, her left shoulder being numbed from the lack of blood, and her legs and feet were locked in place as she could only watch and listen. With her right hand, her palm pressed forth onto the streaming wound that dripped out from the crevices of the wooden cracks below.

(Guard #5) Did he … is he behind this …

(Sean on radio) That was one hell of a shot right!? I don't know about you guys, but that was clean! That poor guard on the western watchtower looks like he’s crying to his mama!

(Guard #5’s thoughts) Wait what … but I’m assigned to the Southern tower…

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

From the west to the south, to the east and finally to the north, every single guard that walked and patrolled the gravel roads stomped along those same roads. All of them traveling West, Luke and the others that were still loitering on the crop field all watched as the inaudible sounds of talking were well heard.

With just the switch of a button, a low monotone alarm blared throughout the ranch, causing all the lights in the ranch house to switch back on.

The ranch being fully alert, Luke, Miles, and Hope all made a deadpan face toward the ginger elf, with Luke swaying his head back and forth while releasing a breathful huff.

(Luke) I don’t know if it made your job easier or harder.

(Sean) Couldn’t say the same thing for you. Now you have it in peaceful mode from here on out.

(Luke) Just promise me that you won’t be shot or killed.

(Sean) Sure thing cinnamon roll.

(Luke) … please don’t call me that.

As the sounds of the guards were nowhere to be heard, Luke looked back at the stables that they ran away from. Extending his hand, he pointed straight at it, his eyes peeled into the red wooden shack that contained the laughing green donkeys.

Miles and Hope both looked at the stables, while also glancing at Luke.

(Luke) I want you two to take cover in those stables.

(Miles) Make sure you run like hell.

(Luke) Don’t worry, I’ll make it.

(Hope) Don’t get hurt…

(Luke) No worries.

Giving Luke a nod, Miles and Hope ran through the garlic field, heading back toward the stable shed. Turning his head to Sean, Luke began to put both of his hands inside his jacket, his fingers caressing against a cold glass substance.

Pinching the neck of the glass, Luke pulled out a small wine bottle that was shaded in a dark green, with the water substance being clear as air. As a misty gas circulated inside the bottle, Luke began to stare into the mystical gas that took his attention tenfold.

Which was soon interrupted by Sean, who gave Luke a small push.

(Sean) What’s wrong, chickening out?

(Luke) If we pull this off, what will become of us?

The low monotone alarm continued to blare throughout the ranch, with the two men not caring as they talked in the open. Putting his hand over his cheek, Sean scratched his unshaven face that couldn’t even grow a simple minuscule of hair.

While keeping his eyes locked on Luke.

(Sean) I guess we could help others in the shadows. Angels drenched in all black, that’s our name, isn’t it?

Sean turned toward the three-story ranch house that was centered in the middle, his eyes looking toward one of the rooms that were located on the third-story floor.

Swaying some strands of hair from his forehead, Sean looked at one one last time before he went off, giving Luke a peace hand sign. Running through the field of garlic toward the house, left Luke to be the only one that’s left standing in a field covered in the richest family’s popular crop.

A crop that had a weakness similar to many other crops, but multiplied by a dozen.

(Luke’s thoughts) I hope I don’t get injured by doing this. I hope Hope is better at dealing with regular burns than she is dealing with chemical burns.

With just one small wine bottle of the watery liquid in his right hand, Luke began to tighten the pinch around the plug of the bottle. Squeezing it down, he then twisted it counterclockwise to allow the highly pressurized gas to let out.

The vapor streaming down the bottle, the cold-like air soon began to burden his knuckles with frostbite.

But instead of acknowledging the pain, Luke tilted the bottle 90 degrees, pushing it away from his body as well as having it low to the ground. By the time the liquid touched the soil, he pushed his feet to run back to the stables, leaving a trail of the watery substance that soon released a multitude of vapors.

(Mary in Luke’s thoughts) I got another call from your school! Why do you always get in trouble with your chemistry teacher!?

(Luke’s thoughts) But chemistry was the only thing that I was good at…

The liquid finally ceasing from the bottle, Luke stopped his running as he was halfway from his original position and from the stables.

Digging into his pockets yet again, Luke pulled out a small box of matches, carrying the box with his right hand while wielding the match with his left. Striking the match, a small wooden splint gave birth to fire, creating a little spectacle for anyone to see.

Kneeling, he hovered the match over the rapidly moving air that was blanketed by the garlic crops.

(Mary in Luke’s thoughts) What did my son do this time?!

(Principal in Luke’s thoughts) He created the infamous hot lava experiment that’s been banned by many school districts. Despite the experiment destroying a couple of chairs, no one was hurt.

And in one single instant, the air and water that caressed the garlic crops soon went up in flames.

Leading a trail of fire, the escaping gas that plowed through the fields also was engulfed in the hellish inferno. Combined with the dryness of the air, and the soil having no humidity, it only fueled the flames of the little fire to grow geometrically.

Or rather too quickly.

Making his run, Luke looked back to see the flames soon swallowing up as many garlic crops as they could, the speed of the man-made fire barreling its way toward him. Pushing his feet, he closed his eyes as the flames and embers from behind started to creek up like a freight train.

(Luke’s thoughts) Shoot! The liquid methane is really mixing well with the oil of the garlic!

The embers and flame inches away from his back, Luke opened his eyes as he was just a couple of dozen feet away from the gravel road in front of him.

Come hell or high water, or rather hell or soaring embers, Luke pushed both of his heels off the ground just as the flames narrowly missed his feet. Lunging in the air, the flames reached the end of the field, as he flew in the air with one of his hands reaching toward Miles and Hope.

Instead of landing on the road, he landed a foot away from it, having his boots grazing the burning flames.

(Luke) Ah!

Taking another step forward, Luke tumbled out of the crop field, with a small fire growing from the end of his pants. Hope, who watched as Luke tried to pat the flame out with his right hand, ran out toward him with her hands swaying back and forth.

Patting the flame away, a small 2nd-degree burn sizzled near his ankle.

But with the glow of a soft light, Luke tilted his head back while gazing into Hope’s eyes with a panting face. Ignoring the hollow embers that were narrowly a foot away from his body, his entire body that lay on the gravel succumbed to its pebbles and rock.

(Luke) That feels great, thanks.

(Hope) I told you not to get yourself hurt!

(Luke) Come on, at least I didn’t die.

(Hope) Hmph.

Her cheeks puffed like a pufferfish, Hope turned her head away from the relaxed Luke who lay on the ground. Moving her hands away from his ankle, she brushed off bits of pebble and rock that clung to her pants, with some of the pebbles sprinkling on Luke’s right leg.

Miles had both of his hands on his sides, letting out a long sigh from his large burly chest. Luke, having his attention be directed into the dark-complected man, raised his hand to stick up his right thumb.

(Luke) That should give Sean an easy way to enter inside of the house now.

(Miles) Let’s just hope that Luna and the others won’t be caught up in the flames—

(???) Don’t you dare move.

The sounds of a trench gun locked and loaded can be heard.

To the south of them, Luke and the other two raised both of their hands high, while facing South. Their mouths sealed, Luke started to hear the hellish sound of a reverb service bell ringing in his soul, causing his hair to stick up.

Miles pushed his eyeballs to the left side of his eyes, glancing from behind to notice a middle-aged man having a turquoise bush mustache and flat cap. The man wearing a brown thin jacket, his stomach was extended and enlarged with his cheeks being widened to that of a chipmunk.

But what took them by surprise was that the man didn’t let the flames be of no bother, with ashes and sparks hitting against his chipmunk face like rubber.

(???) Seems like I finally caught you. This is payback for what you did to my tower a month prior.