Quet stumbled along the road alongside Mark and Omet, her emergency matrix-blanket wrapped around the three of them. She pulled a stone out of her pocket and tapped it, revealing a digital clock interface. “Okay, so it was an eight, maybe nine-minute drive from our house to where you were, and that was as the crow flies… Maybe an hour?”

Waia, who was travelling a few feet behind the other three, looked back to see pinpricks of light silhouetted against the distant cloud cover. Her ears, given new clarity by the attention of the Servants, picked up the faintest traces of approaching rotors. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

Mark clenched his teeth and tried to steady his shaky heartbeat. “Hiding won’t work, they’ll just get more of those things…”

Omet sighed and glanced at Mark. “This’ll take a lot of explaining, but I’m starting to regret ditching that guy who was camped outside of our house.”

Before Mark could question Omet’s statement, a thin film pulled itself off of Omet’s cardigan and fell to the ground, rising and solidifying into the shape of a red-eyed Mark before them. “Did somebody say they miss me?”

Quet screamed and fell backwards, her blanket pulling Mark and Omet down with her. Waia immediately leapt forward and grabbed Rachna by the throat. In response, Rachna merely sniggered, his speech unaffected by the hand squeezing his windpipe. “I know you feel like asking, and yes, I was hiding because I knew this exact thing would happen.” He patted Waia’s arm. “It goes without saying by now, but you really are horrifyingly predictable. Even more so than the rest!”

Waia lifted Rachna off the ground. Rachna’s legs elongated so that he was still standing straight. In response, Waia tightened her grip. “It’s been a long couple hours, and I’m too tired to deal with whatever you’re doing right now. Who are you?”

Quet pulled herself from the ground and tapped Waia’s shoulder. “He’s the guy Omet mentioned just now. He’s harmless. We’re pretty sure.”

“You folks have plenty of people ‘trying’ to ‘kill’ you already,” said Rachna, making air quotes with his hands. “Felt like the scales could do with some balancing. Shame I can’t do that, but whatever.”

“Whatever you say,” muttered Waia, letting go of Rachna’s throat. She folded her arms as his legs returned to their normal length. “If you’re not here to ‘kill’ us–” She mockingly imitated his air quotes. “–what are you here for?”

“Can’t reverse the inevitable,” declared Rachna, “our favorite campfire made sure of that. All I can really do is make the trip through the teeth a little comfier for the five of…” He squinted at a spot to Mark’s right for a moment. “Sorry, for the four of you. Lazuli Breeze is still stacking kindling; he can’t be here. As I was saying, the oil spill is standing a mean average of three point seven one metres behind you and wants to scare you like I did in order to be funny. It won’t be.”

A scrawny-looking human stepped out from behind a tree, scowling at Rachna. “Really? You came all this way just to ruin my fun?”

“Eyes for an eye!” screamed Rachna, before hissing like a cat and melting into the soil.

“…Incoherent freak.” The human stranger turned to see Mark pointing his gun at their face. “Afternoon. If it helps, I’m a better conversationalist than that last guy.” They pulled their foot out of a mouth that had formed out of the ground beneath them. “Stop being disgusting! You don’t like me, I get it!”

“Just get to the point and identify yourself,” said Mark calmly.

“Okay, fine, I get it,” groaned the stranger. “You haven’t heard of me, but a couple of you have definitely seen me.” They paused and looked at the four people in front of them expectantly.

Quet shrugged while she dusted her blanket off on the ground. “I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“Same here,” said Waia, “ex-boyfriends don’t usually act so calm when they track me down, and that rules out most people I’ve spoken to in the last sixty-odd years.”

Quet raised an arm towards Waia in a silent request for a high five, which Waia obliged without taking her eyes off the person in front of her.

The stranger grimaced at Waia. “Seriously? Nothing? Don’t recognize the scar on the nose?” They looked at Mark. “Neither of you?”

“Don’t look at me,” said Mark, keeping the gun trained on the stranger’s chest.

The stranger groaned. “Okay, fine, I’m the one who greeted you two when you arrived in the city. Happy?”

“Not ringing a bell,” said Waia.

The stranger muttered something under their breath before regaining their composure. “Whatever. Call me Esparza. For the record, I don’t work for the Servants, contrary to current evidence.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Mark looked at the approaching lights, just visible through the dead branches. They were wasting time that they had never had to begin with. “Then why are you here? Talk faster.”

“Because I’m not too fond of the idea of those souped-up idiots winning,” said Esparza. “I’ve got my own reasons to be doing what I’m doing, but I’d rather you all be alive than dead, so you can lower the gun if you feel like it. There’s no world where you pull the trigger and make it to the end of the hour, I can assure you.”

Mark lowered his gun. “So, what are you, a Primus?”

“Nothing so grand, no.” Esparza stepped forward and flicked a speck of dust off of Quet’s blanket that she had missed. “As you just noticed, time is of the essence, so I’ll keep that in mind. All you need to know is that you’re being watched by a party interested in seeing you make it through this, and the Servants are complicating that matter right now. There’s a gassed-up and ready station wagon with the keys on the hood about three minutes that way.” They pointed off into the woods.

“I don’t trust you in the slightest,” said Waia.

“Good,” declared Esparza, grinning. “Means you’re making the right decisions. But I’ve said my piece, so unless you feel like fulfilling my prophecy, go ahead and take my little gift. I’m not coercing you, but as I’ve pointed out, you all make the right decisions. I’ll take my leave.” They spun around and walked into the woods, stumbling over an exposed root on their way out.

After a moment of silence, Mark threw his hands up and stormed off in the direction that Esparza had pointed in. “You know what? Why not. I could gamble with my life a little more. Who’s up for some invisible-strings-attached gifts?! I am!”

Quet picked her blanket up and tapped the glyph sown into the fabric, folding the blanket into a pebble which she stuffed inside her pocket. “I’m up. Gifts always come with strings anyway.”

Omet quickly followed suit, leaving Waia alone. “‘right decision’,” she muttered, before heading off to catch up with the others. “What decision?”

Mark realized that the baby-blue car was considerably closer than Esparza had stated, though everything else they had claimed was true. He took the keys off the hood, unlocked the car, and climbed inside the driver’s seat. “Haven’t been eaten yet. Better than I expected.” He inspected the glove compartment and cup holders, but stopped when he saw Quet open the backseat door. “Not yet.”

Quet watched Mark climb back out of the car and open the hood. “…What are you doing?”

Mark disconnected the car’s battery. “Agreeing with Waia. Do you have anything in your pockets that can detect electricity?”

Omet glanced in the direction of the approaching Servants. “Is now the right time to be this careful?”

Mark ignored them and took a stone from Quet, squeezing it and running it over the engine. “How do I tell if it detects anything?”

Quet blushed and tapped two fingers against her thigh. “Uh… You’ll know it when you see it.”

Mark spent a few moments holding the stone near every part of the car he could think of, receiving no response. He re-inserted the battery and gave the stone back to Quet, who sighed with relief. “If it isn’t clean, it’s magic, and I can’t be bothered to check for that. Get in, now.”

Omet climbed into the passenger seat next to Mark. “You know which way is east?”

“I have a vague idea,” mumbled Mark turning the keys in the ignition and bringing the engine to life.

Quet looked through the rear window and saw a helicopter-mounted spotlight approaching the car. “We need to get moving, they’re coming this way!”

Mark slammed his foot on the accelerator, but the spotlight found the car long before he could reach top speed. The car’s four inhabitants braced for impact, but the spotlight swiftly moved on without a moment’s lingering on the moving vehicle.

Omet watched the helicopter move forward into the distance. “Did… they… not see us?”

Mark kept his eyes fixed on the path in front of the car. “They had to have, we’re a moving blue spot on a brown background. They’re doing something.”

“Maybe they didn’t think we’d be in a car like this or something,” said Quet, “there are probably still a few people out here who haven’t signed up to the Servants.”

“They’re not gonna make an assumption like that at this point,” said Mark, “we’ve made too much of a scene for them to just let us go like that.”

Waia cracked her knuckles. “Well, if they still insist on trying to keep us down after everything they’ve thrown at us, I’m gonna show them–”

“You’re gonna show them nothing,” snapped Mark, gripping the steering wheel.

“Oh really?” Waia leaned between the front two seats. “Then what exactly is your grand plan, if you’re so confident that I’m gonna mess everything up? Huh?!”

“I don’t know,” said Mark tersely, glancing at Waia’s head next to him, “but can we please go five minutes without you derailing us to kill something? This is probably our last chance, so if you can’t–”

Omet grabbed the steering wheel. “Look out!”

Mark’s head snapped forward, just in time to see that the car was on a collision course with the side of a Servant ATV. He attempted to swerve, but failed to turn away in time. With a dull flash of blue light, the car passed clean through the side of the vehicle.

Waia looked out the window to see a cross-section of the ATV, with three Huntsmen sitting in the backseat, completely unaware of her presence. A split second later, the car had completely passed through the other end and was continuing down the road, undamaged. “…Huh.”

Mark tried to steady his breathing and shifted his grip on the steering wheel. “…We need to get back home. Now.”

Quet looked through the rear window to see the ATV continue on its own road, unaffected by the passage of a car straight through its middle. “Complete invisibility and intangibility, with no visual signifiers beforehand… Fascinating…”

“Fascinating how?” asked Omet, looking back at Quet.

“Fascinating in that someone around here knows what they’re doing. I’m getting the feeling that we wouldn’t have detected that beforehand, even if we had tried.”

“I’m liking this car less and less,” muttered Waia, shrinking back into her seat.

“I wouldn’t either,” agreed Quet, “if I were you.”