“When will the whistlers attack again? I hope it’s soon I’m tired of waiting.” Said Myles in a mocking tone directed squarely at himself.

At least the marauding pink bastards with a cosmic Oedipus complex were doing something useful. They had been killing all other fae that had come through. They were dominating whatever gates these things used and were piling into the town and bumping the competition off. However, their target was not the people of the town, but Myles himself. When he realised what was happening Myles had dashed home and his Charlies cocoon in the basement.

The rest of the day had been chaos. Myles had been trying to pick them off one at a time but there was always more. So many more. He had led them a merry chase through the town streets. Fortunately, people had begun to ‘notice’ was a bit strong maybe. But things were now off enough that many were just staying home. Food would become an issue very soon. The chase had run right through a deserted town centre, Myles getting stuck on a statue of the town founder for several minutes until a thrown Neon Thunder Spear had been able to ignite the petrol tank of a parked Vauxhall Corsa. The resulting explosion had cleared a path, albeit a hot and smokey one, to escape. Things became facial around Benny Hill, it was big and steep enough enabling Myles to loop around it several times with the whistlers hot on his heels.

The abandoned warehouse district was coming into its own on this occasion. Myles enjoyed the open spaces of the quarry or the park. He could let loose a bit more without damage and abandoned or not, Myles feared a large bill in the post if he knocked the wrong thing over. But for the sizeable horde that was after him it was perfect. More densely packed with cover than the Harvest site, the abandoned warehouses allowed Myles to go full hit and run guerrilla mode.

A group of five Whistlers were milling about having lost the white rabbit. There was something like an argument going on, short high pitched whistles shot between the group, arms raised in anger, pointing in various directions. The steel girder that hit three of then came as a complete surprise. It was normally variations of water that fell from the sky, not mixtures of still and carbon with a zinc outer coating. The two whistlers looked down in horror at the fallen brethren. This was when they failed to notice a rapidly descending white blur land atop the first of the pair causing it to crumple into a mass of broken bones and pain.

“Oh, I was looking for that, I dropped it earlier.” Said Myles stepping off the broken fae and retrieving his girder.

Myles had gotten to know a little of how whistlers think and their general patterns. So as the last of the five as lunged, Myles was swinging with all of his Trigger enhanced strength. The Whistler was belted up and over the roof on a nearby warehouse and landed with a crunch. The various impacts drew the whistlers attention but Myles was off like a shot before they could marshal a response.

A team of four whistlers were investigating inside one of the warehouses. One of their number had seen a flash of white, so in a way, they had all seen a flash of white. It had been agreed upon that these four would investigate. Through the dark they crept, eyes wary. Another flash of white and then the sound of footsteps footsteps heading away from them. Cautiously they followed. The whistler came to a stop as one one of them bent down to pick something up. A detached arm was on the floor, its owner no where in sight. The Whistlers tooted angrily to each other before one of the four noticed something. The arm they were crowded around was dead centre on a large X. It was often said that fairies possessed a weakness to iron. Myles found that debatable because most things are weak to iron if it is big enough and traveling at high enough speed. Thus the whistlers found themselves staggeringly weak to the sizeable crane on its swing right through their team. The last impression the remaining collective received before those whistlers went forever dark was red thunder.

A powerfully built whistler stalked after the blasphemous fiend. That It refused its place in the natural order as prey as affront enough. But the wretched being had twice now said unforgivable things about the Mother. It had refused its rebuke like an ignorant shit filth. This whistler was ready however, it has called in favours and armed itself. What it wore was no golden armour but that sacred relic had been given to a buffoon who barely managed to kill an animal before its shameful death. What this whistler wore was black, practical and it had made sure would protect him from whatever the enemy of Mother could bring to bear. He had heard it was quick, but he was keeping pace just fine. The white clad fiend ran into the dark as if that would save it. He picked up the pace, sprinting hard to run the filth down like the animal it was. The impact was sudden. It took a moment to process what had happened. There was a sharp pain in its neck but everything below was numb. The red glow was small at first, but it illuminated the area enough for the Whistler to see a long spear, shaft, braced against the floor, and its tip running through the bottom of its neck and out where its spine lay. As the red glow intensified and red sparks jolted about the whistler thought that maybe the bearer go the golden armour had not been a buffoon after all.

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Myles had spent most of the day running, fighting and quite often both at the same time. He was knackered. He has expected some form of assault, but these numbers were beyond anything he thought they would have sent. He was currently perched out of sight on a warehouse roof. Evening was looming but he thought he had whittled the numbers down enough that he might be able to get into a straight fight. But he was not going to be that stupid. Myles was sure as soon as he attempted a direct confrontation some big bugger would appear out of nowhere and he had neither the Johns nor a handy clean up crew as back up. He was shaken out of his thoughts by a resounding boom. It must have rattles every roof tile in the town. Whoever it was had sent a ripple across the sky. Myles had a bad feeling about that, whatever was strong enough to batter physical reality about like it was cheap plasticine was something he would prefer tot avoid. A louder boom, followed by a bigger ripple across the purple sky knocked him back around to trip and fall from the roof. Myles managed a graceless landing his knees would be paying for later, but he was unharmed, intact and in full view of the remaining Whistlers who took little time in charging towards him.

“Bollocks.” said Myles. Summoning the Neon Thunder Spear. Whatever was about to happen, it could happen at the business end end of his pointy thunder death stick. Rocketing forward, Myles led with the blade of his spear… It was really more of a glaive, he would have to see about changing its name on the menu. Myles ducked a swipe from a tall thin whistler, turned it into a spin and removed the offending limb. A much fatter whistler barrelled into him and bounced him with its gut, slamming Myles into a warehouse wall. This was exactly what Myles had spent the day trying to avoid, picking them off in small numbers was much more preferably to a one vs however many brawl. The horde of whistlers surrounded him, there were making their angry whistler noises, Myles had long stopped being curious as his contempt for their kind had risen. Myles drew back his blade, holding it like more like a sword than a spear. He waited for the whistlers to move. Myles had taken note of several things in his fights with the creepy pink bastards. First they loved to pounce, maybe it was some deeply ingrained predator instinct or maybe they all just did too much of whatever the fae equivalent of cocaine was. Second they got stupid and predictable the madder they got and Myles had been making sure to keep them as mad as all hell. The whistlers pounced, maybe not completely in sync but close. To most prey the sight of a massive predator looming down on them would cause them to freeze. It was probably what the whole mechanic was about thought Myles. The other thought Myles had been holding onto was how once things are in the air and in motion they suddenly have a lot less agency to manoeuvre. Myles put his legs, hips and arms into the well timed swing. He moved like a greased whippet, slicing the blade through the Whistlers and rolling under airborne tide to face his remaining foes. dead sea thunked and flumped to the ground behind him.

“Boom incoming Myles. Jump” said Llex with uncharacteristic urgency.

Willing power into the suit legs Myles spread his feet slightly, bent at the knees and pushed himself skywards. Since he started training he was adding a decent amount of hight to his jumps. The boom came as Llex had predicted, followed by the same ripple in the sky. The boom unbalanced the whistlers but propelled Myles back down. He managed to land on a handy enemy combatant. What wasn’t snapped was stabbed. The melee that followed was swift and brutal, mostly because Myles was stabbing fallen whistlers in the back on the head before they could get back up. Partially risen whistlers took a boot to the face and then got stabbed.

One whistler was still standing it was turning red with rage. How cold it not, it had witnessed the filth of earth slaughter the children of Mother like it was somehow better than them. It held aloft the gift it had been bestowed by Mothers priests. A glowing golden orb. It squeezed, cracks traveled over the surface of the sphere. It shattered drenching the whistler in luminous golden ooze.

Myles watched in horror. He had been ready to dodge the orb, expecting some kind of grenade. what he saw was the golden liquid be absorbed into the fae and the fae grew. Not big like you wouldn’t not spill his pint, but big like he could step over buildings. Myles was tired of running that was for sure. He was however not tired of living. Myles was away and running before and oversized foot came crashing back down.

Myles scarpered hough the wooded area at the back of the warehouse district, heading right for the quarry. The least he could do was lead the big bloody thing away. There was another boom, but Myles did not look up, he was concentrating on running.

“Left” said Llex

Myles went left and avoided the stomp that had been heading for him.

“Right” said Llex, “Right again”

Myles continued like that until he reached the quarry. At the very least he was sure Sweetbright had built in some protections to its underground operation. Maybe he could wait out whatever had inflated the whistler to Big Ben proportions. There was zero chance of dodging the next attack, the whistler kicked up the sones and rubble of the quarry. Myles was flung forward and hit multiple times by rocks and debris. Landing awkwardly Myles looking up to see the Whistler bearing down on him. The whistler reared back, readying a punch that would turn him into paste. Boom. The sky quaked. Boom. no long wait this time sky boomed and rippled. Boom. Boom. Booooooom. The sky churned and roiled as a giant silver bat broke through the purple sky. Correct that myles thought a giant silver robot bat. The Whistler no longer paid Myles any attention, this was the bigger threat.

The robot bat descended rapidly and then did another surprising thing. It unfolded. First legs, then arms, it twisted and before Myles knew it a giant humanoid robot had landed in the quarry sending more dust and debris up in the air. The whistler took a defensive stance. This had not been part of its plan.

“I can’t leave you alone for ten bloody minutes can I Endeavour” said Zara over whatever sound system her giant robot bat possessed.

Animalbion Silver had arrived.