The inferno continued to spread around them, conquering stacks of files and papers as it crossed from cube to cube with a volcanic intensity. Smoldering envelopes burst and crackled from the heat and pressure, sending embers towards the untouched areas. Sooner or later, the fire might even reach the walls and ceiling, threatening to collapse the entire building. And if that happened, then Kieran would’ve died in vain.
Yes, he was dead. Isaac threw himself further into the mission to keep his head clear. Due to all the cubicles, there wasn’t a whole lot of space for maneuvering. The only way through the room would be down one of the few passageways between the rows of cubicles, so Babs led the way down one. She kept her eyes peeled and tilted her head back and forth as she scanned, conveniently looking everywhere except for back at Isaac.
Right as she passed by an otherwise nondescript cubical, she whipped her head and then dove out of the way. The air blurred in front of Isaac as a spear thrusted into the air right where Babs previously stood. A moment later, a blast of wind kept Isaac frozen in place as the cultivator emerged from the cubicle.
Just like the other Restorationists, this cultivator wore the yellow straw hat along with modern military fatigues. Tanned and tall, he held a qiang - the Zhanghai-style spear - in his hands, wielding it with ease and grace. The red tassel below the blade jostled around as the cultivator thrusted towards Babs’s stomach. She nimbly sidestepped it, then whistled a tune Isaac hadn’t heard before it. A column of air suddenly blasted out from in front of her, but the cultivator swiped it away with his spear.
By focusing on Babs, the cultivator left his back open to Isaac entirely. As Isaac charged up a fist, flames flickered from the ceiling above him, then the whole thing collapsed. Isaac dove out of the way, bursting right through the plaster wall of a cubical. He ended up entangled in a pile of papers; he tucked some into his jacket to save as potential enemy intelligence, then rolled out of the way when more of the ceiling fell.
The sudden destruction separated him from Babs. He could just barely make out the sounds of spear crashing against wind through the flames, so he circled back down a passageway, trying to link up with them. However, he then heard a man crying - in one of the cubicles, a man struggled in vain to get his arm free from a fallen beam.
Sparing no time, Isaac immediately slid next to him and gripped the steel beam across his legs. Compared to fighting, this was a mere contest of physical strength - and after everything he saw so far today, this was a fight he had a snowball’s chance in hell of losing. He grunted as he lifted the steel beam, ignoring the stinging sensations the heated beams gave his hands. After fighting so many cultivators, this was a new feeling for Isaac - the feeling of saving somebody. No longer was he fighting strangers - he was saving them. He lost Kieran today, but at least this person would get to live.
With a final push, Isaac pulled the beam off the man’s arm. With his limb freed, the man immediately dove out to safety, landing with a thud next to Isaac in the passageway. Flames flickered across his face - his trapped arm had been holding a sawed-off shotgun. He pumped it and fired directly at Isaac’s chest.
Isaac dropped the beam in front of him, the flaming pile of debris shielding him from the incoming slug. He had gone out of the way to save a stranger, and this was the thanks he got? This man would’ve been killed if it weren’t for Isaac, and he responded by trying to murder him.
With his powered fist, Isaac delivered a haymaker to the debris in front of him, sending a storm of flaming shards towards the man. Unlike Isaac, he wasn’t fast enough to dodge; he just brought his arms in front of him, which did little to shield himself from the oncoming barrage. Cuts and tears opened across his body, but he remained standing. Once the blast ended, he regrouped and aimed his shotgun, but Isaac was already on him.
The barrel felt almost as hot as the steel beam, but Isaac ignored that feeling entirely as he gripped it tightly and forced it upwards. By the time the man had his finger on the trigger, the shotgun pointed at the ceiling. Isaac put his weight into it and drove the shotgun further backwards; the barrel of the shotgun reminded Isaac of a predator’s snout. The man struggled to aim the gun back at Isaac, but the shotgun pointed so far back now that it arrived below the man’s own jaw. Isaac slipped down his spare hand and pulled the trigger.
Blood exploded onto Isaac’s face. The headless corpse fell to the ground and the shotgun clattered away. Isaac wasn’t sure if he felt satisfied with the sight or not. Home and a movie, that’s what Lynn wanted when they got to the lobby. Maybe she had the right idea.
Between all the chaos and destruction, Isaac struggled to think. He plodded towards the sound of Babs’ whistle, but then he heard more cries. The ceiling continued to collapse; another steel beam now laid across a woman’s legs, trapping her on the ground. Her face was mere inches away from a burning pile of papers and her wide eyes reflected the flicker of the flames. The shotgun-man immediately came to mind. Isaac was done getting betrayed and he didn’t want to die. He would succeed in the mission, which involved defeating Sam and the other cultivator for information. This woman likely didn’t know anything. Therefore, she served no purpose in terms of the mission. It made no difference if she lived or died. And why risk getting blasted in the face again?
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The woman screamed out as Isaac continued on, passing by her. The sight of the flames, the heat of the inferno, and the sound of the carnage blocked out all notice of the trapped woman. It was like she never existed.
Except she did. Cursing himself for his foolishness, Isaac returned to her side and crouched next to her. Assuming his best squat form, he gripped the beam with both arms and slowly raised it off of her. Concrete and wood were attached to the beam, making it far heavier than the one from before. He had to put everything into lifting it upwards; he was utterly defenseless if she tried anything. Once the beam was up, the woman army-crawled to safety, arriving in the passageway next to Isaac. She looked at him for a moment; Isaac expected a gun to appear in her hands, but she instead clapped them together and ducked her head in gratitude.
Right as the pain and strain of the beam on his hands and body reached a crescendo, Isaac tossed it away. “Can you stand?” he shouted through the carnage. When she nodded, he helped her to her feet, then directed her towards the exit to the lobby. She stumbled off, disappearing into the growing smoke. Isaac prayed for her safety; it did make a difference if she lived or died. Between Harburg and the shotgun-man, Isaac had faced evil today, enough evil to nearly sour him on humanity as a whole. But he did not wish death upon innocents, nor would he allow it if he could do something about it.
The ceiling continued to collapse and debris rained down upon him. As he dodged and weaved his way through the rain of fragments and shards, he realized there was the danger of being walled-off and trapped. He needed to regroup with Babs, but a layer of smoke started to settle around him. Had he not been a cultivator, the smoke would’ve been too much, but his breathing techniques and the Rddhi coursing through him allowed him to filter much of the smoke. Much to his frustration, some still got through to his lungs and slowed his progress, not to mention the smoke as a whole threatened to cover his vision.
Something touched his foot. A garter snake slithered and coiled around it, then darted off into the mounds of ash and burning papers. A moment later, Oksana emerged through the smoke. Though dismay covered her face, at least she looked focused for once.
“Dan and Demetrius are securing the civilians,” she informed him, casually swatting away a falling chunk of ceiling with a snake-covered fist. “They will join us afterwards. In the meantime, I will work on gathering what information I can from the surviving files. Oksana will guide you towards Babs.”
Isaac wasn’t sure why Oksana referred to herself in the third person, but then he realized she meant the returning snake from before. It (she?) hissed up at Isaac as an invitation to follow.
Just as Isaac was about to dash off, Oksana spoke again. “Kieran is dead.”
“...yeah.”
She didn’t say anything else, instead choosing to send an array of garter snakes out from the sleeves of her jackets. Nearly a dozen of them slithered into the inferno; just as Isaac lost sight of her, one snake was already returning with a pile of papers held tightly in its jaw.
Every time Isaac lost the snake in the smoke and fire, red energy radiated outward, shining brighter than the flames around it. The snake never slowed down, moving forward fearlessly; Isaac almost struggled to keep up. When the snake slithered below a beam, Isaac had to duck his head to get under it; when he arrived on the other side, he found Babs staring down the enemy cultivator from before. Both of them could use wind powers, and they had evidently used them a lot; they breathed heavily, and their battle formed a large clearing in the center of the office. Isaac expected the snake to return to Oksana, but instead, it slithered up his pant leg (fortunately, on the outside), until arriving on his shoulder. Isaac had no idea if this thing was really alive or just autonomous; he wondered if Oksana wanted to watch the battle and keep an eye on them through the snake’s vision.
“Isaac,” Babs called out, the first time she acknowledged him since they left Harburg’s illusion prison. She kept her eyes on her opponent, however. “I want you to know something.”
The cultivator charged with his qiang, propelling himself to move even faster using his air powers. Babs punched the air in front of her with quick jabs; blasts of air struck the cultivator, forcing him to sidestep them as he charged. This gave Babs the opportunity to circle around the clearing, staying out of reach of the cultivator’s spear.
“I’m not Kassandra,” she called out, strands of red hair falling across her face. “I’m not some replacement. I’m me!”
The cultivator reached her. Right as the spear was about to plunge through her chest, she delivered an uppercut to the bottom of the blade. The top half of the qiang snapped off, flying into the air.
“My name is Babs Morang! I fight for justice! AND DON’T YOU EVER FORGET THAT!”
She whistled, and a sharp breeze took control of the blade mid-air. It suddenly changed direction and flew downwards. Babs stuck the cultivator’s face with the pointy end with enough force for it to come out the other side. The cultivator dropped his broken spear and fell backwards onto the floor. He wasn’t getting up again.
“Shit,” Babs cursed sharply once she realized she killed him. She looked in the other direction, presumably towards where Mackenzie was, then finally gazed back at Isaac. She pushed the loose strands off her face as a smile appeared.
Isaac realized his mind finally felt clear. He smiled right back.
“I won’t.”