As I’m gathering a few more crops, I hear the faint sound of footsteps. If it were anything concerning, the guards surely would have noticed. Nonchalantly, I continue my task. Then, I hear a far more concerning sound. Deafening me to all else, an alarm begins to resonate through the city. My body seizes up immediately and I search for the quickest way back to the main gate. I don’t know how close they are.
I hear movement all around me as people within the city race to their battle positions. Outside the wall, the attackers have decided to rush forward with reckless abandon. They’re clearly aware that we know they’re here, but they’re confident enough to charge forward.
There’s nowhere I can hide out here. I expected more warning. I don’t know why I was stupid enough to believe I could even succeed in gathering vegetables. I should have hidden in my house until all of this was over.
I take a deep breath. It’s not too late to find a solution. If I stay out here, I’ll get in people’s way – they’ll have to try to protect me. While I may not be able to reach the front gate before the battle breaks out, my options are not entirely exhausted. Refuge outside of the walls is still available, but I’ll have to find somewhere to hide. Our security isn’t impenetrable, though. While I do believe the walls are high enough to deter invaders from easily climbing them, I can’t deny my athletic prowess. With a leap from the cart, all I’ll need is a few steps up the wall to reach the top. However, I’m not sure I can pull off even a simple stunt like that. My palms are dripping in sweat and my legs are trembling.
I have to calm myself down, but the sounds of approaching footsteps weigh down on my mind. Screams radiate from the village as people start to race to meet their enemies. I hear the clinking of metal as those without battle focused powers turn to weapons. The war is beginning, and I’m stuck in the battleground. At the moment, the fighting is contained to the front gate, but I know the tendency of death to spread.
My pulse increases as does my breathing. Subconsciously, I turn toward the gate. I can’t see around the curvature, but I can hear the terrifying sounds of battle. Deceiving me, my eyes start to replay the scene back in Sanctuary. I see people attacked with their own bullets and others mauled by shapeshifters. The blood is everywhere, and I know my new home will soon look the same. Bodies will pollute the entrance, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces because I was too afraid to help them. Even if I wanted to, though, I couldn’t.
In my last fight, I’d focused exclusively on the most powerful enemy. Perhaps my services could at the very least pick off some of the weaker fighters. Maybe it’s time I overcome my fear and help. I try to take a step toward the gate – to put my life on the line like so many others are doing. Suddenly, though, all of the muscle within them seems to have drained out. Of course, when I decide to turn and run, they regain their strength immediately.
Without much thought, I run and leap from the ground. Using the fruit cart to propel myself, I launch toward the wall. The cart tips up, giving me a second step in the air. When I reach the wall, it only requires one solid push downward with my left foot to give me enough strength to reach the top. Quickly, I vault over the wall and dive to the floor on the other side, rolling over my shoulder and jumping to my feet.
Looking around the village, I try to search for something I can do to help which won’t require directly facing my fear. Perhaps I can gather weapons or warn our warriors. They’ve been waiting, and the battle has already begun. If I’d used an ounce of foresight, I could have used my superior hearing to at least alert the fighters sooner. Scolding myself, I punch the wall and mutter under my breath. Once again, I’ve proven my ineptitude in a battle.
“Lance,” Hashim calls, running past me. Regretfully, I look up and catch his eye. Somehow, he either doesn’t sense the terror in mine or simply doesn’t care. With a complete disregard for firearm safety, he tosses a loaded gun at me. Carefully, I catch it and avoid a misfire.
“That could have been bad,” I scold him, my instincts for protecting my friends kicking in and overtaking my trembling voice.
“Not with your reflexes,” he counters, glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, they need us.”
I try to follow him. Perhaps a gun is the best way for me to provide support. This would allow me to stay on the back line and avoid danger while also helping the others. Though I have minimal experience with firearms, I do believe it’s something which would come naturally to me. Thanks to my power, I can practically sense the air resistance the bullet will experience on its trajectory. All I need is to steady my hand.
Holding the gun in my left arm, I hold my right in front of me. Shaking vigorously, the hand threatens to drop anything I place in it. I can’t trust myself to not shoot my friends if I actually bring this weapon onto the battlefield. Entrusting me with anything deadly is a stroke of insanity. Hashim’s faith in me is appreciated, but it’s completely misguided. Apparently realizing I’m not following him, Hashim slows to a standstill and looks over his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” he orders inquisitively. I don’t see an ounce of fear or concern in his eyes – merely confusion. The young man in front of me has no idea why I’m not following him. Somehow, his trust in me has blinded him to my quite apparent terror, and he still believes I’d be an asset in this battle. I don’t know what he sees in me, but it isn’t there anymore. Perhaps once I was courageous – but that was another life. Another Lance. Hashim needs to let go of that illusion and go do what he can, because dragging along a lot cause like myself will only put everyone at risk.
Still, I can’t entirely understand what the look in his eye is doing to me. It’s almost like his confidence is contagious – awakening a part in me that I try to bury. Hashim is smart – and he isn’t completely oblivious. If he has so much faith in me, maybe I’m the one who’s wrong. Maybe I’m not beyond salvation. I can’t stand back and let everyone else put their lives on the line. I can’t live with myself if I let other people die for me without trying. Especially someone like Hashim, who still sees that light in me. I don’t want to corrupt his vision like I’ve corrupted my own.
Finally, I’m able to push my legs. A gun gives me range – maybe that was the advantage which pushed Carson over the edge. With this power on my side, I know I can at least provide support. Besides, it keeps me off of the front lines, which means I’m not in such immediate danger. That should be enough to calm the nerves which grow more powerful with each step I take toward the gate.
When I see the first enemy, though, the lie I’ve told myself to get here begins to crumble. My legs once again stop responding to my commands, pulling me to a complete stop. Unaware of my reluctance to proceed, Hashim charges forward, finding some cover before providing support. I lift the gun, trying to aim, but everything is moving too fast. I can’t pinpoint a target without risking someone on my side. Looking through the sight, I am unable to stabilize the gun enough to choose a target. Wildly trembling, my arms refuse to hold the weapon still. Taking a step back, I drop the gun and stare at the scene in front of me.
People with super strength have taken the front line, but our enemies all have weapons. Swords and spears with technology I’ve never seen before slash gaping wounds in my friends. The front line is forced to retreat, but the spears are ranged weapons as well. Archers populate the back line of the attackers. I can’t tell what any of their powers are, because each of them is armed with a weapon. Compared to our farming tools, they’re wildly overprepared. We don’t stand a chance. Just like last time – we’re completely outmatched. At this point, retreat is the only option – but there’s nowhere to run. I have no idea why the Outsiders want us dead, but they’re going to get their wish.
I continue backing away until I sense something behind me. Rather than reacting according to my training, my body freezes up. If someone has broken past the wall, I’m dead. I can’t even turn to face the attacker as I’m overridden with sheer terror.
“Get out there and help them,” Danny growls, stepping around me. “Or leave. Don’t get in the way.”
“I can’t,” I stammer.
“You don’t even realize how powerful you are, Lance,” Danny snaps. “With you, they might actually stand a chance out there.”
Clearly, Danny has had enough of my cowardice. I wish I could show him the side of me he wishes still exists, but it died. I have nothing left – no courage to stand on. No, I’m not a warrior. I’m broken.
“I don’t have time to talk you off of the ledge while are friends are out there dying,” Danny grunts. Without another word, he races forward, transforming his good arm into a blade. The wounded arm takes the form of a shield, but I’m not sure how much impact he’ll be able to block with it.
I try to step forward and help him, but I can’t move. No, Danny is more powerful than I ever was. He can transform his entire body into a weapon – no Outsider stands a chance against someone like him. He’s the one who should lead them. I hate that he’s lost his faith in me, but that’s the only healthy way for him to react. To keep believing in me would only lead to disappointment.
Instantaneously, Danny turns the tide of the battle. With his blade-arm, he intercepts a swipe which is about to cut into one of our warriors. Parrying the blow, he creates an opening for the fighter to punch the Outsider in the face, launching him a few hundred feet away. Another swordsman comes up behind Danny, and I try to call out, but my voice catches in my throat. Regardless, a bullet pierces the other swordsman’s back, taking him to the ground. I see a spear flying through the air, but Danny responds quickly enough to defend himself. With his shield, he deflects the spear before it has a chance to open and pierce his body. When the spear collides with the ground, the head embeds itself in the ground.
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The fight seems to play out in slow motion for me as I watch every movement. Every disturbance in the air – every sound and every motion – triggers my power. I feel my eyes darting between every fighter and perceiving every possible threat. I watch as some people discern the threats quickly enough to dodge while others aren’t as fortunate. People on both sides drop to the ground, even with Danny racing through the battleground doing everything he can to protect our warriors. He’s amazing, but he can’t be everywhere at once.
I wish I could help him. If nothing else, I could tell him where to go – who is in the most danger. Even my voice is proving useless, though, as I watch the horror unfold before me. Everything races back to my mind and I know that once again, I’m going to fail to save the people I care about. I already am. Dante would never let this happen.
Except he did. He failed too. Even Dante wasn’t good enough – yet I thought I could be.
Still, I’m told Dante fought to the end. No one can win every battle – but a hero places his life on the line for others. That’s what they were training me to be – a hero.
That’s what I was. I tried to stop Carson. I tried to end the war, and I was ready to sacrifice myself. When the moment came, though, I was terrified. Maybe I could have pinned him down and stopped him from shielding himself. The roof could have fallen on us both – but I was afraid. Instead, I dove to safety, barely saving myself in time. I was no hero. Not like Dante. Not like Danny.
Finally, the enemies start to overwhelm Danny. I watch in horror as a serrated blade cuts into his shield, the fortitude of which appears to be breaking down. Danny stumbles backward, clearly dizzy. There’s something in their weapons which is rendering him paralyzed.
Unable to dodge the next attack, Danny stands still as a spear flies through the air. I can’t do anything but watch as it slowly falls, piercing his thigh. The head completely clears through him, pulling him to his knees and digging into the ground. He’s immobilized, and the enemy knows he’s our strongest fighter. More spears start to fly toward him. Danny is going to die.
Danny is giving his life to fight for our home – even after what happened. With everything I’ve been through, I’m too afraid, but Danny has had the same experience. Still, he’s facing death yet again. He’s a hero.
I try to convince myself that this time is different. There is no all-powerful enemy. There is only technology and fighters. I’ve been trained for this, and my power could be useful on the battlefield. Still, I’m not as brave as Danny. It doesn’t matter how different this battle is – only that it reminds me of that fear. It puts me back in that place where I was too afraid to act, and now I’m paralyzed. All I can do is watch the spear fly toward Danny’s chest. No one is close enough to stop it, and shooting it out of the sky is nearly impossible.
I don’t feel anything. My body goes completely numb. I’ve failed him again. For some reason, though, Danny appears to be growing closer. I wonder if he’s found a way to retreat. No, a spear still pins him to the ground. His eyes are wavering, barely able to stay open as his death approaches him.
I have to find a way to stop this, but I can’t. I’m scared. It doesn’t matter. I’m not a new Lance. My name is Lance Quill, and I’m the only one who can stop this. If I don’t overcome my failure, I’m going to watch everyone I know die again. History doesn’t have to repeat itself. It ends here.
As I try to find a way to stop the attack, I notice that the spear is growing larger too. The entire battlefield seems to be rushing toward me. Confused, I drop my eyes. Once again, my legs have chosen to ignore the commands of my brain. This time, though, they’re bringing me toward the battle. They haven’t frozen up, but have rather forced me to act.
When I reach Danny, I jump into the air. Arrows fly toward me, probably shot by outsiders who noticed my approach. Turning to the side and spinning through the air, I narrowly avoid the arrows. As I do, I catch the spear and hold it tightly as I move. I’m barely able to avoid scratching Danny with the spearhead as I turn it around and toss it back toward its thrower. Careful to avoid senseless death, I make sure the spear embeds itself in the ground in front of the Outsider.
“The next one won’t miss,” I declare as I land on my feet in front of Danny.
“You’re back,” he mutters deliriously.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder and smiling at him. Despite his desperate state, he manages to smile as well.
“Lance!” He warns, probably instinctively. Nothing he’s noticed can surprise me. Without looking away from him, I catch an arrow before it impales me. Using that arrow, I parry another before dropping it to the ground.
“Blake,” I call out, drawing the attention of a nearby Brawn. The young man runs toward me with reckless abandon, not at all concerned with arrows raining down around him. Two swordsman race after him as well, but his enhanced strength gives him more power in his legs and keeps him out of range. I step away from Danny and intercept the two swordsman. As I give Blake orders, I avoid every swipe from each other them. “Break the spear. Pull him toward you, I don’t want you pulling the head through his leg again. Run him back to town. Make sure he’s safe, then I need you to start evacuating the injured.”
“There are still so many enemies,” Blake argues.
“Go!”
“Yes, sir,” he replies, breaking the shaft of the spear. Finally, I see an opening to intercept one of the blades. Weaving backward, I narrowly avoid a strike. I catch his arm and control it, placing a hand on his elbow and locking his joints. Using his sword, I parry an attack from the other and ride the blade to the attacker’s hand. Cutting into his knuckles forces him to drop the blade and clutch his hand. Then, I push against the elbow I’m holding, snapping it in two. That assailant drops his blade as well.
The archers are going to prove to be more of a problem. I can’t allow them to keep providing ranged support. Charging forward, I’m careful to sidestep and pirouette around every arrow. When I reach the back line, they start trying to fight me off in closer quarters. A few of the archers drop their bows entirely in favor of knives, while others try to attack me with bladed edges on the bows.
My eyes are going to be my downfall. They’re going to convince me things are worse than they are, and they’re going to picture the last battle. I don’t need them to know what’s happening around me. Breathing slowly, I close my eyes and dodge the strikes of the archers. I duck under one blade and land an uppercut on the attacker. As I weave back, I avoid another attack. A backhandspring frees up my feet, allowing me to kick one of the attackers. When I land, I execute a turning heel kick, spinning around on one foot and driving my heel into the temple of another archer. As I do, I lean back just enough to avoid the swipe of his knife.
I lose count of how many of them there are. Allowing my instincts to guide me, I avoid attacks and break elbows and knees. I don’t want to kill anyone. Senseless killing is what got us into this mess, and we aren’t going to be the people who perpetuate it. Therefore, I’m careful to only wound them enough to incapacitate them.
Finally, I allow my eyes to flutter open. Ten people writhe on the ground around me in pain. Two are fleeing while three more have arms of injured friends wrapped around their shoulders and are backing away. I glance over my shoulder to assess the situation on the front line. Without archers to support them, the warriors have been overwhelmed by the citizens of my town. Blake and a few runners are tending to the wounded while the front line continues to fight back. I have to end this before more people die – on either side.
One opportunistic attacker takes the chance I’ve given him by looking away. Somehow, he doesn’t realize that I’ve already proven to him that looking at his attack isn’t a necessity for me to dodge. I step in and intercept the strike, ducking under his arm and snapping the elbow. As he cries out in pain, I push my hips backward, sending him stumbling backward.
“Leave,” I command, turning to face him. “We don’t want to take your lives. I don’t know your qualm with my people, but we are not killers. Leave and don’t come back.”
The attacker bares his teeth and mutters, but his antagonism fades and he drops his head. Joining his friends, he stumbles backward and turns to flee. Paying them no further mind, I race back to the front lines. I place myself between a swordsman and a Brawn, parrying attacks from both. I kick the swordsman and turn my attention to the warrior on my side.
“No more killing. They’re retreating,” I tell him. Looking around, the warrior nods and takes a step back. Refusing his chance to leave, the swordsman steps toward me and slashes his blade. I’m still close enough to my comrade that if I dodge, he’s in harm’s way. Therefore, I choose to close the distance and kick my attacker back. I’m barely able to react quickly enough to push him away before his blade connects with my flesh.
“This battle ends now,” I call out more loudly, drawing the attention of everyone on the battlefield. “My man, step back. If any of the enemy still feels the need to attack, direct your aggression toward me.”
Everyone appears confused, but my soldiers follow my orders. Some of the swordsmen pursue them, but most scoff at my confidence and turn their attention toward me. I kick a blade from the ground and catch it in my right hand. In the brief moment I have before my assailants fall upon me, I notice the steadiness in my hand.
Parrying one strike, I kick my foot behind me and stop an attack mid-swing. With so many blades flying around me, even I start to have trouble dodging. However, what’s far easier is using their numbers against them. If they all attack simultaneously, they get in each other’s way and give me a blind spot to retreat to. One by one, I pick them off by cutting at their legs, kicking out their knees, or knocking them unconscious with quick and calculated blows to the neck. Before long, I’ve rendered seven swordsmen unable to fight and the rest have started to stumble backward.
“Take your wounded. I won’t stop you,” I offer. To show good faith, I drop the blade and step backward.
“You think this changes anything, you freak?” One of the brave Oustiders spits at me.
“Well, I’m not going to lie, I did harbor that hope.”
“You mutants took enough from us. Your perfect city isn’t enough anymore?”
I’m not sure exactly how to respond. My head starts reeling as it tries to process the subtext of his words. It can’t possibly be true, but my only conclusion is that they are all Powerless. It explains the dependence on weapons, the lack of apparent superhuman ability such as speed or enhanced strength, and his vernacular. Still, I thought humanity had taken up lodging in Sanctuary after the war.
I can’t think about this. I won’t allow myself to get distracted or look confused. It will appear as a sign of weakness, and I have to make sure these people don’t come back. I allow his tone and insults to roll off my shoulders as I try to respond calmly.
“We are outcasts,” I reply truthfully. “We are not here to take – merely to survive. I hope the cost of that isn’t more bloodshed, but I won’t stray from it if you make it necessary.”
Grumbling, the man picks up one of his friends and stumbles away. Other soldiers capable of walking and supporting friends do so as well, and I stand in the middle of the battlefield until the enemy army has completed their retreat. Finally, I hear rapid and excited footsteps approaching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirm my suspicion that Hashim is jogging toward me.
“Lance, that was amazing,” he cheers.
“No, that was late,” I sigh. “Come on, let’s tend to our wounded.”