4:22 AM September 14th, 2026

Outside the New York Preparatory Academy Ice Bubble

Twelve hours. That’s how long he’d spent looking for Anna and Jones. After nearly frying his brain performing a mage killer spell that he never should have attempted, Kyle had collapsed on the destroyed and crumpled asphalt of a New York City street. There he’d lain until someone had worked up the courage to run out from shelter and see if he was still alive.

Surprise, surprise, yes, he was still alive and kind of wishing he wasn’t. Sure, everyone told you that performing mage killer spells was a bad idea because if you didn’t have enough stored magic it was going to kill you. But nobody told you that performing them even when there was enough ambient magic to use them without fearing death was still going to hurt like you’d just mainlined a sack of bricks.

The kid who had run out to help him had been none other than crazy selfie guy. And he had saved Kyle hours of agony with a pretty decent quality healing potion. Not museum or Magicorps field kit quality, but better than he’d been expecting someone to have on hand for general first aid. It had done the trick and gotten him up and moving again with a groan of regret.

“Oh, God.” He’d wondered while working the cotton sensation out of his mouth and waiting for his head to clear. “Is this what a hangover feels like? Because gross!” After thanking the kid and declining a second photo op because he was too burnt out to conjure the armor again, Kyle started hobbling back in the direction of the Plaza de Saint Germaine hotel.

It was time to get his sister and head home. When Kyle arrived at the hotel he was stopped by the regular soldiers and then was hustled over to the remaining students and faculty who had been evacuated from the New York Preparatory Academy. He could recognize a few of the students there and knew that they were all individuals who resided within the city. The kids he knew didn’t live in the city were all gone.

His sister was gone too and when he inquired as to her location, he’d been told that she had been evacuated to her home…in the suburbs.

Which was a lie.

“Anna Wattkins doesn’t live in the suburbs.” He’d snarled at the lieutenant who was referring to the list in front of him. “My sister and parents live in New York. It’s close enough to this hotel that Anna could have walked there in under twenty minutes on a normal day. Why – ” his hands slammed down on the folding desk and it sank three inches on the front side as the metal legs bent beneath the weight of Kyle’s anger “ – was she taken out of the city?”

“It’s possible that she wasn’t sir.” The Lieutenant offered helpfully. “If her home is as close as you say it is, she may have been taken home if it was deemed safe enough.” This mollified Kyle a bit even though he was still pissed off.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Okay. Then I’ll go see if she’s there. Could you point me in the direction of the museum vehicle that Anna’s security was driving? It’s got all my gear in it.” A pained expression passed over the lieutenant’s face as he wet his lips uncomfortably.

“Ah. Your… ah… vehicle and the gear it contains has been… commandeered for rescue and evacuation efforts.”

“Sonofanecromancer!” Kyle’s tossed his hands up in frustration. “Do you have any idea how much one of thos – never mind.” He’d cut himself off midsentence and thought furiously. How safe would it be to hoof it alone to his parent’s apartment? Maybe.

His own place was in the opposite direction in the museum employee housing complex, and it was possible that Anna had herself taken there. Of anywhere in the city, the museum complex and the museum itself inside Central Park were the safest places to be. So, she could have gone home or there. Snow Cone had a spare key.

However, there was a third option. As unlikely as it was, Anna could have had herself evacuated to their grandparents’ house. Which set, he was unsure of. But his mom’s parents, who were actual fighters, were the logical choice. Though… the Wattkins did live further from the city and would therefore be safer.

Frustrated and pissed off that Jones had allowed himself to be separated from the museum’s vehicle, Kyle waved goodbye to the officer who’d been helping him and then headed out toward his parent's townhouse. In less than half an hour he’d know if Anna had made it home. When the jeep full of soldiers decked out in alchemy munitions, wands, and the yellow berets of the Magicorps pulled up next to him to warn him that it was dangerous and that he should get indoors, Kyle almost lost his shit.

It was a good thing that he was too tired to channel more magic because the young warlock was one stupid question away from committing murder. Today had been rough and it wasn’t ending anytime soon. So, he gritted his teeth, put on a wary but reassuring smile, and let the concerned soldiers know that he was fine, he was with the museum but that his vehicle had been commandeered.

A few exchanges later, Kyle was crawling into the back of the jeep. He was crawling because every overworked muscle screamed with agony. The smiling soldiers reached down, and he was pulled into the vehicle by multiple hands.

“Wizards.” One scoffed as he took his seat and gave a friendly nudge to let Kyle know that he wasn’t making fun of the class of mage. “All the wizards in our unit have been casting every major spell they use for high magic zone engagements, and they look like they’re on death's door until they have a chance to recover.

“I just need a better-quality healing potion.” Kyle waved dismissively. “There was a bunch in my gear but the entire vehicle and all the weapons and gear inside it had been commandeered before I was able to reunite with the evacuation group, I was buying… time… for.”

The soldiers glanced at one another as Kyle’s sentence devolved into a dry hacking coughing fit. His voice had been thin, hoarse, and reedy as he spoke and the blisters on his lips betrayed the nature of the spells he’d been casting.

“Buying time, eh?” Tears had filled Kyle’s eyes as he coughed, and he blinked them tightly to clear his vision as he nodded. When his eyes cleared, Kyle realized it was the team medic who was speaking to him. He had that speculative analytic look in his eyes that all medical professionals give you when they realized you were downplaying what was wrong, but they weren’t quite sure why. “Don’t worry. We’ve got the good stuff.”