Mark fished the folder out of his hoodie pocket. “Okay, help should be here in a few minutes. You wanna see what exactly it is that we made off with?”
Waia shrugged. “Not much else to do.” Her presently-human eyes were drowned out by orange light, filling the pipe with an angry glow.
Mark pulled a sheet of thick paper out of the folder and unfolded it, revealing a map of the area surrounding Mexico City, which included Cuernavaca and the Aztec house. A point a few miles south of the house was circled by a permanent marker. Next to the circle was a line of compact, swirly sigils.
Mark squinted. “D… Den…” He brought the map up to Waia’s face. “You recognize what that says?”
Waia shook her head. “Not translating for me. Must be code, or one of those magic-y languages that wizards have.”
Mark grunted and put the map back into his pocket, discarding the folder. “Figures. Guess we’re gonna have to make that Quet’s problem. And whatever it is, I bet it’s important, seeing as how Torch made this whole show of giving it to the Prophet-Suleman-whoever. Ugh, it hasn’t been long enough since I’ve had a day this weird… Hey, uh, remember whe–?”
Waia held a hand up to silence Mark and furrowed her brow, eyes dimming back to normal. “I just heard a footstep.”
Mark squinted and peered into the darkness. He heard nothing. “Anything else?”
“No, it’s gone qui…” Waia pushed Mark towards the pipe entrance. “Out. Now.”
Mark clambered out of the pipe and dropped to the ground, followed immediately by Waia. By the time he noticed that he could also hear the footsteps approaching, their source had already made itself visible.
An indistinct, four legged creature the size of a car leapt over Mark and Waia’s head and onto the top of the pipe, pushing the metal down so that the entrance was sealed off. The creature turned and pounced at Waia, but got caught in the throat by an uppercut from the Primus.
As Waia brought her arm up into the would-be ambusher, she shifted into her true form. The brief rush of upward motion only added to her recently-acquired superhuman strength, and was more than enough to take the creature’s head clean off.
The creature’s two parts sailed into the darkness, but Waia heard more sounds approach her and Mark before her first victim landed. She swept one leg in a wide arc across the ground, scooping up a chunk of dirt which flowed up her body and around her hands. She flexed, and the gloves of soil glowed orange with heat. “More of them. Get behind me.”
Mark pressed the button on the handle of his gun and unfolded it into the shape of a submachine gun, with a flashlight shining from the tip. “Not a chance.”
“Alright man, your funera–.”
A patch of dirt between Waia’s feet split apart and a fanged maw emerged. Waia attempted to leap away from the tunneling Chosen, but the creature’s serpentine tail struck out and wrapped itself around her ankle, pulling her harshly to the ground.
The serpentine Chosen yanked Waia along the ground, mouth unhinging to reveal needle-thin fangs whose tips glowed with rainbow light. Six spindly arms unfolded from behind the Chosen’s back, the eight talons on each hand glinting in the light of the fangs.
As she was pulled forward, Waia felt the dirt around her hands cool down and slide to the ground. Whatever caused that, it would likely prove to be an issue in future. But for now, she didn’t really need it.
Waia pushed herself off the ground and lunged at the Chosen. It attempted to dart out of the way, but her right hand still managed to slam into its rubbery chest and crush whatever organs might have been in there at that point.
The creature’s tail unwrapped itself from Waia’s ankle as the Chosen thrashed on the ground in pain and screeched uncontrollably. Waia scrambled away from the Chosen and stood up. She glanced at Mark, who had his gun pointed in the air and was sweeping the treetops with his flashlight. “See another one?”
“At least one,” mumbled Mark. “Can’t get a good look at ‘em. You okay?”
“Never better,” said Waia. She noticed the serpentine Chosen crawling away on its six frail arms. “Be right back.” She stomped towards the moaning, twitching abomination. “These Servants think these things are so spooky, huh…?”
As Waia left to finish off the Chosen, Mark heard a cracking noise behind him. He whipped around to look at the tree that he had turned his back to. The trunk bent at unnatural angles as branches flexed jerkily, the tips splitting apart to form fingers. The base of the tree split in two and pulled itself out of the ground, revealing two gnarled feet. An impossibly tall mouth filled with far too many teeth opened horizontally ten feet above Mark’s head, and the third Chosen opened its eyes.
Waia was in the middle of grinding the serpent Chosen’s face into the dirt with the heel of her boot when she heard Mark open fire behind her. Before she was able to turn around to see what he was shooting at, however, something grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her into the air.
As Waia was dragged over the dead treetops and away from the muzzle flashes of Mark’s gunfire, her ears were filled with the deafening drone of insectoid wings. A drone that she had heard twice before.
“You!” Waia twisted in her embrace in an attempt to free herself from the mandibles holding her in place. After a few ineffectual swipes, she attempted to grab the Chosen’s tail when the tip was brought in front of her. Her hand was stopped inches from wrapping around the tail by a stream of compressed air that flowed out of the tip and hurled her hand away.
The stream of air ignited, bathing Waia in fire that left the Chosen holding her unscathed. This experience was far from new for Waia; she had been set on fire more times than she could count. Something was, however, off about the experience this time: It actually hurt. Not much, but enough to catch her off-guard.
The Chosen released Waia’s jacket after a second of holding her in the path of the fire. Still on fire, she plummeted fifty feet and broke through a tree before landing roughly on the ground. She struggled to get to her feet, grabbing a tree for support. By the time she let go, the fire engulfing her as-of-yet undamaged body had spread to the bone-dry wood, lighting up the darkness around her.
Waia looked up to see the Chosen swooping down towards her, tail pulled back like a scorpion prepared to strike. She noticed a green light pass behind the creature, but ignored it and grabbed a stone from the ground and stared the approaching beast in the eye. “That all you got?!”
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The Chosen dove out of the way of the stone that Waia hurled at it, then released another river of fire at the Primus on the ground. Every tree and dead leaf within thirty feet of Waia lit up like a torch, but Waia stood resolutely in the middle of the inferno.
“Have it your way, then.” Waia grabbed the burning tree next to her and ripped it out of the ground, severing the brittle trunk from its roots with ease. She pulled the tree back and hurled it at the Chosen like a javelin. The Chosen attempted to dodge the flaming tree, but one of the branches clipped its side and sent it tumbling down among the burning trees.
“Here we go…” Waia began to walk towards where the Chosen had landed, but stopped when she heard footsteps coming from the opposite direction. She turned to see Mark stumbling into the circle of flaming trees, shielding his face with one hand and clutching his side with the other.
Mark stumbled towards Waia. “What happened? I–I didn’t see you– I just heard– Why is everything on fire? Why are you on fire?!”
Waia ignored him and continued in the direction of the fallen Chosen. “In a minute. Still got one to finish… off…”
She looked up to see a rusty, dented pickup truck haloed by green light descending from the sky. Omet leaned out of the passenger-side window and waved to the two people on the ground. “Hi, is this a good time? Also, is Waia supposed to be on fire?”
Mark sighed with relief and waved the car down. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting from a rescue, but I’ll take anything at this point.” He lowered the hand on his side and glanced at a bloodstained hole in his hoodie. “That better not be poisoned.”
Mark climbed into the truck’s cargo bed. “Alright, we can…” He looked back to see Waia staring out into the blazing woods. “C’mon, we’ve gotten too lucky as it is!”
Waia barely even heard Mark’s protest. Her eyes were fixed on a team of Huntsmen advancing past the growing periphery of the forest fire. When the masked, shotgun-toting soldiers spotted her, the entire group stopped in its tracks and stared warily and the burning colossus before them.
“You’ve done enough already,” insisted Mark.
Waia turned to look Mark in the eye. “I say when I’ve done enough.” Nevertheless, she shifted into her human form and climbed into the cargo bed with Mark. She knocked on the roof of the driver’s compartment. “Take us home.”
The truck took off with a protracted honk, spinning around and heading back the way it came. Omet looked out of her door window and up at Waia. “I assume the rock and the fire-tree were yours?”
Waia spread her arms out as Mark configured his gun into a fire extinguisher-esque device and sprayed her down. “Got it in one.”
“I should use this thing more often,” mumbled Mark.
“Okay then,” said Omet, “looks like we could’ve had worse ti–”
An ear-splitting hiss cut Omet off. From the center of the ring of fire half a mile away came a thick cloud of yellow smoke that spread out over hundreds of feet, blanketing the ground in impenetrable fog.
Omet stared. “The… Ye– they… Is that chlorine?! These people are using mustard gas?!”
Waia sighed and stared at the dark cloud. “Can’t say it wouldn’t work.” She sighed and looked away. “Whackjobs, all of ‘em. First those little science experiments that they sicced on us, now they’re going back to the world wars. I can’t…” Her eyes drifted down to the ground.
Mark followed her gaze. He noticed the sole remaining Chosen rising out of the forest, desperately trying to catch up with the flying car that was readily outpacing it.
Mark’s eyes met Waia’s. “Don’t. Please. We’re done.”
“Good for you. I’m not.” Waia vaulted over the side of the cargo bed and plummeted down to meet the Chosen.
Mark desperately tried to stop Waia as she went over the side. His arm dangled uselessly while he watched her fall towards her quarry. He groaned and leaned over to the passenger-side window. “Turn us around, she’s being an idiot again.”
-
The Chosen looked up and, seeing Waia fall towards it, gurgled and rose to meet her.
Waia pulled her arm back, twisted around the stream of fire that the Chosen sent up at her, grabbed it by the throat and pulled it down with her. The two slammed into the ground, Waia’s grip on the Chosen’s throat releasing upon impact.
Waia rolled and expertly came to her feet within a second of landing, while the Chosen tumbled across the ground before striking the tree and coming to a stop. Waia watched the limbless Chosen attempt to pick itself up for a moment, then knelt down and scooped a fist-sized chunk of dirt out of the ground.
Waia slowly walked towards the Chosen, which had evidently gotten one of its translucent wings trapped under a chunk of wood. “You know, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where I’ve seen you from. After all, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting a look at that mug every night for the past two months.”
The dirt in her hands glowed yellow and flowed around her fingers, forming glowing earthen talons. “Scaring a few hundred of your buddies to death hasn’t exactly done it for me, but I’m hoping that I can end up feeling better after a more personal talk.”
The trapped Chosen pointed its tail at Waia, but before anything could come out, she darted forward and sliced the end of the tail to pieces. Fire jetted out of the stump that remained in a wide arc, only for Waia to stomp down on it and keep it stuck in place.
The Chosen continued to struggle against its restraints. In response, Waia raked her claws across its chest, leaving four trails of sizzling blood in her. The Chosen snapped its mandibles, clearly insensible to the pain. Waia grabbed its throat with her uncovered hand, pinned its head to the ground and tore at its face with her claws. In moments, the creature’s head was strewn across six square feet of ground and a good deal of Waia’s upper body.
Waia pounded the ground and screamed into the darkness. She knelt in front of the dead Chosen in silence, staring blankly at the mess she had made while the second fire grew out of control behind her. Waia was only pulled from her stupor when the flying truck’s horn blared in her ears, signaling its descent.
The truck was twenty feet off the ground when Quet suddenly swerved to the right. A split second later, an artillery shell ripped through the truck’s roof, snuffing out its green aura and sending it tumbling to the ground.
Mark was flung from the cargo bed and thrown against a tree before landing on the ground, face-down. The truck itself, meanwhile, rolled across the ground before coming to a halt upside-down.
Waia ran over to pull Mark to his feet. He struggled to stand upright, wincing as he put his weight on his left leg. Once he was sure that he could stand, he hurried over to the overturned truck.
Omet pushed an airbag out of their face and unbuckled themself from their seat, falling onto the crushed ceiling of the truck. With some difficulty, they crawled through the shattered door window and out of the truck. Gold streamed down their forehead and trickled down their nose.
They turned to see Mark trying to help a frozen Quet out of her own side of the truck, pulling her onto the ground. Her arms were pulled close to her chest, her eyes were wide, and she wasn’t breathing.
Omet hurried over and knelt next to their sister, taking one locked-up hand. “You, uh, okay? J–J–Just b–breathe, okay?” They took a deep, shaky breath through their nose, then motioned for Quet to do the same.
Quet gasped for air for a few moments, then shut her eyes for a moment and attempted to swallow.
Omet squeezed her hand. “Y–You better? Can you move?”
Quet nodded.
Mark helped Omet to their feet, who in turn pulled up Quet. “She’s still in shock. All three of– of us are. We need to m–move, they’ll come to finish. U–Us.” He looked around at the nearby trees before fixating on the fire a few dozen feet away. “We came… from…” He spun in place and began limping off. “This w–way.”
Waia followed the other three. “Hang on, I thought we were going to–”
Mark shot a glare at Waia before continuing on his way. Waia decided to stop talking. Not much needed to be said.