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Fantasy World Epsilon 30-10
10.4 Sting Like a Butterfly

10.4 Sting Like a Butterfly

Jon managed to avoid the cam flies up to this point, and he could tell because Ril wasn’t rolling round in abject ecstasy on the street. As he passed over her, he stuck to the gantries and walkways strung between the trees. That was not going to last for very long. Ril had given the sorry cunt one hell of a literal ass whooping that sent him scuttling. If only I could run away from her too. Still, he was losing the bastard, and a long block of arboreal buildings obstructed Kay. It was up to him.

Adjusting the stunt vest, he sped up. The whole getup was all clammy and wet. Where his sweat ended, and the damp outside began was anyone’s guess. Plasma lugs were attached to key areas on his midsection so as to best cradle his centre of mass—the multipoint nylon loops allowed for a generous selection of opportune mounting points. Six of the buggers were fastened to him.

Secret testing in the HAS gave him proof of concept, and earlier practise during the pursuit gave him assured confidence as he ran headlong toward a ledge. The ground below was a substantial four-metre drop as he glanced over wood and rope railings.

Reaching just beyond his body, he found the plasma in each lug as they positively glowed in his psyche and then, according to his will, he sent the contents up. The plasma buoyed the cylinders they were in, and they, in turn, pulled on the vest, and the garment housed a person; specifically, an arsehole insane enough to try this in the first place.

The lift was inexorable, and he rapidly became lighter on his feet. A little more and he lost traction on the planks, so he supplemented with a slight forward vector. The edge approached, and he launched with one foot on a beam sending him up and over the edge. Then there was only air below him, damp ozone-filled air, but damn, he was soaring like a dream.

“Holy fuck, fuck, fuck, Kel! You arsehole! You cunt! You bitch ass fucking shitting cunt! How long did you know!” Ril screeched over comms. Obviously, she had him on video now.

Jon winced at the noise. I’m found out.

“Dear gods Master, you fly!” He had only shared his plans with Lee, that sick cunt was trustworthy. Ril was probably racing back to find him, served the capricious bitch right.

Some locals spied him, but he was above the lamplight. Anyone who did likely doubted their senses. At least that was the kind of stares he was getting: blank disbelief, and utter terror.

Jon kept elevation steady and worked with his momentum instead. Twisting and turning were variables under his control in the vest. Unlike a stunt man who had another bastard pulling on his wire for lift, Jon had direct and instant feedback. Plus there were no pesky pulleys or tangled cables to limit his swing: a parachute without the ‘chute’, or the ‘para’. He floated unhindered on infinite wirework. Buddha be praised! The Kung Fu movies made here would be epic!

Pumping in a bit of power raised his height between the second and third levels of Elgelica. That way bridges, railings obstructed less of his weightless drifting. The hulking trunks were perfect push-off points as he darted above the busy street below. Light wall-runs with push-offs around bends were the best way to change momentum.

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Jon opened discussion while he floated and dove in the half-light, he was gaining on the target once more. “Kay, has no one ever tried flying?”

“Flying is for birds, Master! You are simply insane.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “You haven’t had your Da Vinci yet have you?”

“Is it another one of your pills? I fail to see the relevance,” replied Kay.

His apprentice needed history lessons, not Romcoms and K-pop. I am to blame, I usually am.

“Your genius inventors and discoverers would have, or should have, managed this.”

“Our world is fractured between the races, Master. Unlike yours, they do not share history and knowledge. Rather it is coveted and secreted away. You are the only genius I know. Surely the only one mad enough to meld magics as you do.”

“Our magnificent little mad scientist!” said Ril, but she didn’t get a vote.

A disbelieving scoff escaped Jon’s lips. I’m a bloody low bar.

Kel didn’t have the kind of punch in Mage Power that Kay did. Finally having a way to test his power physically, let him measure around five hundred Watts; it topped out as he warmed up.

The test he devised was simple; he hooked a plasma lug to weights and saw how high he could lift the load in one second. Like horsepower was tested but without the horse. He could lift himself, but it was slow.

Am I complaining about being able to fucking levitate? My, how the mighty fall—technically ‘float’.

Regardless, stumbling upon the burst of energy Kay used for her jumps was an accident.

“I’m sorry girls I was testing out different Draw methods. Kay used Impulse Draw while I’m using the traditional Mage Power Draw.”

“You are telling us everything when we get back, Kel! Everything, you hear!” said Ril.

“Master, for once, I am in complete agreement with the goddess.” He wondered if pizza or cake would still appease Kay. Ril was a lost cause.

Pseudoflying made following the bowless bow dude a pedestrian affair. Jon found himself slowing so he would not overshoot. As he hovered almost above the man, he retrieved his sidearm.

It was a bulbous thing because it was not a gun per se. Lazily sighting just ahead of the perp’s path Jon squeezed the trigger. A neon blue splat hit the ground in front of the bowman, and he fell backwards in fright.

Next, he announced for the man to hear, “I know what you’re thinking: ‘Birds don’t shit neon blue.’ And ‘I just killed a man twice for the crime of wearing this colour.’”

The elf looked up, seeing Jon casually glide to a stop, standing on nothing.

“Light-Finger says ‘Hi’.”

A completely unhinged trilling scream gradually built and then bellowed from the shitless sod.

Some bystanders had similar reactions but none so visceral.

The bowman desperately scampered away on all-fours.

To sell it as no mere delusion, Jon drifted to the ground and gently touched down.

Bow Dude fled the scene like a cat scared by a cucumber.

The stunt harness had caught a bit under one leg, and Kel idly scratched his ass. Ahhh, that’s the spot.

“Kel, I can see you, you know,” said Ril.

“Yeah? Well, keep watching. Our Ebenezer has officially been visited upon by his ghosts. Four of them if you count Finger. Let’s see who he goes to for repentance, or sanctuary more like. Min get Sepha to put out an APB. Over.” He holstered the paint gun and made for the rendezvous.

“What the damned Gods does ‘over’ mean!” asked Kay.

“It means it’s over. Over.”

“Master!!!!”