Ten feet back, the three fragments are left trapped in the doorframe of a tavern’s back entrance. Dust from shattered bricks sending two biological lungs into fits of coughing, the Gunslinger blindly firing his .357 magnum revolver from around the unseen corner.
A rate of fire preposterously slow through a sluggish double action, a limited capacity of six in the cylinder only containing a short five before the simple sidearm coughs out its last bullet.
Behind him the Mage slams his hands into the steel door, an augmented strength brutally ripping through metal as the small form tears the obstacle right off its hinges. A path of escape through the building interiors created, glowing blue eyes scanning the darkness ahead in a preventive push forward. He turns, facing both a sibling and a defined hostile Gunslinger. “Through here.”
The Gunslinger transmits the quiet words, a preaching voice resounding through the roar of gunfire. “Over here!”
She moves to save him, a multi-barreled weapon holstered away from danger.
“Gods damn you’re heavy Gramps…” The Bandit grunts, looping the Judge’s arm around her shoulder as she carries the limp body up.
A killing field, ten feet of distance between safety and death.
“Wait…” The Judge orders, reaching into his chest carrier.
Hands finding the grenade, the triangular device familiarly hostile to armored gloves. A texturing of abyssal alloy held tight as he depresses the hidden button upon its side, activation in seconds.
A near instantaneous glow of pale blue, the Judge weakly tossing the thing into the alleyway. Fallen onto its flat side, eyes watch as projections of gravity are caught by immense energy fields; a utility from destruction sealing off an entire structure, path cleared ahead for a precious few seconds.
“Go.”
Musculature struggles against armor, gear, and flesh; the Bandit hobbling through the shattered remains of the building as the Gunslinger meets her halfway. A burden split between two, the old man attempting to assist as legs weakly push through the remaining pain within his torso.
A doorway poorly lit from within, an escape vector taken as they all dive into darkness. Ceramic tiles echoing footsteps as gunfire resumes from behind, the debris of scattered inventory and dead end doors to back rooms all beneath decayed lights.
Religious symbology scrawled upon ancient, overpainted walls: the five pointed star of divinity alongside heretic symbology of six. Of saviors to come, hopes of a new era mistranslated into a rejection of the true gods above.
One single mage at the very front of the group leading through a maze of architecture; the construction of slums and commercial fronts utterly destroying any resemblance of logic in the rooms within. Observa augmentation forging a path forward, a primary objective of escape left towards just one as the boy crashes through another shut door.
A three wide form holding behind the pair of siblings, the Gunslinger and Bandit carrying the Judge between them.
All followed from behind: a Being keeping pace as legs locomote the body.
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Through a slummed residence, a family of two parents and two children jumps at the armed intruders falling into their home. A single bed and table, clothing hung on wires strung between the space turning the entire space claustrophobic. Lighting provided by a barred window facing the street beyond, the presence of five armed intruders inducing screams and curses from raw fear.
A simple muzzle loaded handgun reached for within a drawer, the father’s defensive movement stopped by the Mage’s reaction. A burst of gravitons sends him flying into the wall, bones slamming against concrete as he falls through the mess of his own existence.
Question screamed out through adrenaline and burning lungs, the Bandit pausing as the building itself shakes from an impacting anti-tank warhead. “Where are we going?!”
“Away.” The Mage replies coldly as he extends his hand towards the window.
A slam of hands together rips through architecture, a circular projection of gravitons cuts through matter as concrete literally explodes out into the opposite end of the street. Gunfire echoing from a single building away, a transfer of firepower as the Mage and Gunner continues forth.
Bullet purses dug through, two souls speaking forth the same line with different wording.
The Bandit smiles cheekily. “Sorry ‘bout blowing up your place.”
The Gunslinger states his own acknowledgement with more respect. “Sorry for… everything.”
A twelve millimeter incendiary anti-material round from the Bandit’s own collection and a fistful of various rifle bullets from the Gunslinger’s purse, a compensation doubled as they recklessly toss currency towards two prepubescent children.
Continuing into the street, a chase extended as they follow circumstantial comrades.
A through street southward based on the stilled forms of five suns above and the lack of leyline tower in the field of view, the sibling pair running through the loose crowd of individuals as three and one follow after them.
Spirits of crafted souls complete their duty, the Judge taking a full breath as legs return to usage. A mind affixed on escape, the Bandit and Gunslinger pair releasing him as he now carries upon himself his own weight. A divine weapon still somehow remaining in his possession, the old form cycling in a new round with the lever action.
The City of March stands beneath five dead suns.
A network of streets interconnecting the blocks of humanity together, the lifeless neural net of a world sending through pulses of remnant energy through sleeves of metal. A search extended by an order deep within the earth beneath their feet, the power deflected away from fragments by the existence of one.
Citizens watch the six forms sprint through commercial facades and ruined habitation blocks. The rejected tired, poor, and forgotten masses of humanity staring with hostile gazes. A group of heroes and villains; representations of order and chaos united beneath the gaze of the hunt.
Natural lungs burn, musculature roaring in pain as the Mage guides the group through another alleyway, another street crossed beneath the pale lighting of disrepaired infrastructure. Disconnected power lines strung with drying clothes; the brokenness of the old city beginning to creep alongside the ice cold gale from the night beyond.
Families within buildings unaware of the passing death, the roar of gunfire as normative as the everyday life in a world of rage and hatred.
They still move, even as the crackle of gunfire ceases far behind them. Holy warriors in realization of an escaped quarry through the fog of war, the Judge reaching towards the radio upon his shoulder for backup.
“There were police with them!” The Gunslinger advises as he spots the movement.
The Judge nods coldly in response, an ancient wisdom instead tuning the radio towards new frequencies. A multi-channel stored with an unknown memory, a single finger upon the unbroken orange ring carving its way through the airwaves.
He catches the voice, harshly through an identity covering mask as the mechanism automatically rips through encrypted frequencies. Savior they got away, we got no bodies here.
Another, more commanding tone in response. Seal off this entire block. NOW! KILL EVERYONE WHO RESISTS!
Absolute conviction in the order, servants of sleeping saviors now the harbingers of a new world free of the vengeance of old gods.
A failure to be punished later, for now fighting for their lives as the Five escape into the darkness of a decaying universe.