See All. That’s a name I feel like I haven’t seen in months. For the briefest of moments I wonder what happened to make it available for use again, but any thoughts that aren’t directly focused on the plane-dragon get violently swept away as the thing rounds the street corner to scream at me even louder than before. Obviously I’m not going to waste more than half of all the Worth I’ve got left on identifying the thing, so ‘See All’ gets to go on cooldown for god knows how much longer.

Multi Engine Passenger Dragonjet.

A large passenger plane given life by the magic of what humans call ‘the apocalypse’. Far more violent and dangerous than their smaller cousins, they possess a degree of control over Fire and Wind magic which can be amplified through the engines in their throat.

Observed Detail: the head contains most of the pre-transformation cockpit. Destroying it would not outright kill the creature, for the engines are what keep it alive.

Observed Skill: Read The Winds. Using a magical mockery of the technology within the plane, the Dragonjet can accurately place the locations of anything within a large radius that disturbs the air.

Observed Spell: Spewing Overheat. By overheating the engines in its throat with magic, the Dragonjet creates a plume of dirty flames that it propels outward. The magic protects the engines inside from harm, but if used for long enough, it could cause permanent damage.

“Oh, awesome. Pretty much everything we already figured out.” I mutter as I turn around and start running. “Pearl, do you have a lock on where it’s storing the fuel? And do you know if it’s actually consuming it?”

“Yes and no. Actually… probably yes and yes. From how the dragonjet is walking, and how much of an impact each of its steps has, its weight isn’t decreasing. Unless it sips whatever fuel it has, it isn’t consuming it. It’s probably magically empowering it.” She relays into my ear. “If I had to guess, I would say the fuel was transformed into ‘blood’ and now runs through every part of it. Or it’s all stored somewhere far enough away from the mouth and throat that it won’t catch fire.”

The dragonjet raises its head to the sky and lets out a deafening roar, then shoots forward with a titanic blast of air. I wince at the thought of all my prepared coins getting blown away uselessly, but my awareness says they’re still in place. For now.

“I thought you said you had a lock on where the fuel is?” I say over the dragonjet’s roaring engines. “I kind of need that information right now.”

“Not the tail, because it attacked us with it before. Not the stomach, either, since that’s too close to the engines.” Pearl looks around frantically for a second, then snaps her fingers. “The big fins on its back! They’re made of something that’s a slightly different colour, and they’re harder to focus on with my awareness. Ninety-nine percent of the time that means it’s more magical and important than everywhere else.”

I nod and ready myself to spring the traps. The wind is too strong to wait until the dragonjet is perfectly in place; I’ll have to hope that it’s too focused on me to register the coins before it’s too late. One skeletal coin starts to tremble. I set my jaw without looking back, feeling my coins with my awareness as they shake under the propulsive force of the monster bearing down on me. If I fail here, I can still get away. There’s really no stakes.

But… aw, hell, I want that Mind point. And even if the woman never even learns who I am, she’ll remember this for the rest of her life. That doesn’t happen if I run away.

“Aim for the fins.” I whisper as all the projectiles slightly alter themselves. Then I focus on the skeletons underneath. “Launch them into place. Last two, you take out the legs.”

Four skeletons load up with shields. They tremble under the oppressive winds, and just as they’re about to lose their grips on the iron fives on top of them, I force the spells to burst. Shields folded in half blink into existence, take aim at the dragonjet, and snap open with cracks loud enough to deafen the roar. The dragonjet falters for a split second, completely taken aback by the noise louder than its own, and that’s enough.

Projectiles soar into place. My awareness latches onto the destructive vortexes and detonates them just as the dragon-jet gets into place. Ten Worth of a spell rips free of each coin, utterly devouring the dragonjet from the fins downward. It screams and shrieks as metal and fuel flies about in a gory display of death metal. What’s left of it twitches and thrashes as it bathes in its own sparkling fuel, spattered about an entire city block around it.

Including me. My clothes get absolutely soaked with the spray of jet fuel and metal scrap. I can’t do anything but stand there in awe of the car-sized monstrocities I called forth, hanging still in the air like bundles of angelic sawblades waiting to descend on an unfortunate sinner. The other two shields explode into action, sending the last two projectile-filled coins clattering uselessly to the ground where I thought I’d need them.

Completed Quest: Close Your Eyes, Cold One 2/20.

Reward: one Mind.

Next Target: 15 threat.

After a few minutes to pick my jaw up off the floor, I manage to pull myself together and actually survey the destruction. My projectiles still whir along ceaselessly, and from the sensation my awareness gives me, they’ll keep going for at least a few more minutes. The raw destructive power contained in them scares the shit out of me, and that’s with a regular ghost quarter.

What the hell would they look like if I used a skeleton?

I shake the awe off and force all my projectiles to end as I walk up to the obviously dead dragonjet. Metal and fuel mingle with flame as readily as water mingles with dirt, but I can already see the sheen of magic dying away. In a few minutes, this will be nothing but another massive fire for the Preservation to clean up. And take credit for. Unless I can do something about it.

My fingers brush a piece of the thing’s head. It’s freezing cold. So is the magic. “Repurpose.”

The entire dragonjet shudders for a split second, then just… disappears. I blink in disbelief as a glass slate clatters to the ground in the middle of the destroyed road, glimmering like a diamond in the sun. Just looking at it is enough to give me a headache, but I would recognize it anywhere. I’m wearing two things made from those exact same schematic slates, after all.

I try to take a step closer. It feels like my brain’s about to rip itself in half. “Pearl. Can you memorize that schematic in less than five minutes?”

She pops out, mouth still hanging open in awe. So that’s why I didn’t hear from her until now.

“Um, yeah. Actually, I can do you one better.” She hops out of her shell and scurries down my shoulder, slides into the crater, and gets up right next to the slate. Her hand shimmers with every colour imaginable, and she presses it down on the slate. Symbols and colours flow up her arm for a few long moments, then she staggers back with a titanic sigh and flops down on the concrete.

My headache disappears at the exact same time. She looks up at me with a tired smile and waves her still colourful hand. “All done. Can you come pick me up? My legs aren’t really working right now.”

“Yeah, of course I can. What did you–” I freeze as sirens cut through the silence. A piercing noise for three seconds, a whoop for one, then repeat. “Shit, that’s the Preservation. Don’t use any magic until we’re far enough away.”

I hurry down and pick her up, press her to her shell, and start sprinting away from the crater. Pearl’s head lolls to the side as she lets out a giggle that almost sounds intoxicated, all the while struggling to get into her shell again. Even if she was in any shape to explain what she just did, it isn’t safe now. The Preservation might be able to hear us, and I don’t want them to know what I am. They’re tasked with disposing of any magical threat, after all.

System-born included.

----------------------------------------

“Come on, come on.” I mutter in frustration as I struggle with a crappy, almost dull key. “How did I ever put up with this garbage? I swear, if I–there!”

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The lock clicks open and I rush into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me and doing up every lock the old thing’s got. It’s only two, but somehow, just turning two levers is enough to make me feel a billion times safer. I sigh in relief and walk over to a raggedy couch, collapse into it, and kick my legs up over one arm rest while I use the other as a pillow.

“Can I talk now, Shelby?” Pearl pokes her head out of her shell with a whisper. She looks around with a frown, then groans and closes her eyes. “It’s too bright in here. I’m going back in my shell.”

I raise one hand to block the incandescent piece of crap in the light fixture that’s seven feet off the ground. The damn fan jiggles it loose, and it’s always me that has to change it, even though I never turn on the fan. That’s all Jazz trying to get some airflow in this crappy old apartment.

I chuckle and turn to my side, letting my hand fall in the process. I owe her one hell of an explanation, and I’m going to have to come up with it before she comes back from the evacuation. Because I’m sure as shit not telling her the truth.

“It’s fine to talk. Just don’t say anything about what happened.”

It’s a stretch to grab the handle of the fridge, and I strain to pull it open with just my fingertips. A chill wafts out as a mostly empty white inside is revealed, save for a bunch of diet soda and some cheap booze. I grab a can of cola and shut the fridge, then settle back into the comfort of the sofa.

“So, um, they can hear everything we say?”

“Eh.” I pop open my drink with a hiss of carbonation. “They’ve got a little bit of magic and a lot of tech monitoring the airwaves. The internet thinks they have it set to some key words about whatever goes down, but I think it’s a lot simpler.”

I pull my dead phone out of my purse and waggle it for emphasis. “These things are always on anyway, so they’re probably just listening in through them. Add in a little amplification magic, and you’ve got everyone running around with listening devices in their pockets.”

“Shouldn’t we get rid of yours, then?”

“Nah. It’s completely dead.” I press on the screen a few times to double check, then set it back in my purse. “No charge means there’s nothing it can work with. But we’ve got smart stuff all over the apartment, like that speaker over there or the big TV mounted to the wall. There’s only so much I can do without pissing Jazz off whenever she gets home.”

“So… annoy her. If it's our safety versus her comfort, I’ll choose us every time. Urgh.” Pearl rubs her temples and groans. “Doing that thing really took it out of me.”

“Hey, careful. We don’t want to set them on us, and you’re dangerously close to saying something they might pick up.” I remind her, then go in for a deep swig of carbonated goodness. It’s… nowhere near as good as I remember. Still good, but not… as good. “That’s disappointing. Wonder if they changed the formula since I last had one of these.”

Pearl raises an eyebrow in question. “In two weeks? Do companies ever move that fast?”

I shake my head and slightly squeeze the can with both hands. “No, they don’t.”

I’m more than aware that it’s whatever happened to my tastebuds doing this to my old friend diet cola, but I reserve the right to be in denial. This was my escape after a long day, and now I don’t even want to finish the can. I set it down on the table and spin my legs so I’m sitting up straight to actually take in my apartment for the first time in two weeks.

It’s small. And old. Two weeks ago, that’s all I would’ve been able to say about it. But now, I can see all the little bits of mold in the corners, the start of water damage on the ceiling, and all the dust that’s piled up pretty much everywhere the airflow isn’t good. The entire thing is a kitchen slash living room, two bedrooms, and one pretty big bathroom. No closet space, no washer and dryer, and no room to do… anything, really.

My can dribbles condensation onto the table below. So many dried on rings litter the table from years of no coasters, and all the scratches from the many times we’ve accidentally dragged something across it. I set my mouth to one side and hum with a mixture of emotions, grab a coaster from a box that still has the plastic on it, and stuff it under the can. I… don’t know why it didn’t bother me before, or why it bothers me now, but I can make it at least a little more presentable.

Not that I’m going to go around cleaning the place up. There’s way too many of Jazz’s clothes thrown around the place that she’d get pissed if I so much as touched, her laptop’s underneath the TV, and her phone’s still on the speaker’s dock. I flinch as it buzzes and brightens, then squint at the notifications that are piling up. Messages from her family, public safety alerts, and a bunch of popups from random apps that she never bothered to delete vye for space in a phone that she had to leave behind.

I glance down at my purse, and after a long few moments of hesitation, I pull out my phone and plug it into my charger that’s still right next to the microwave. It flashes when it gets the first sip of electricity, but I know it’ll be a few minutes before I can power it up and check all my notifications.

“Is that a good idea?” Pearl asks.

“Ha. Nope. But I have to do it.” I say with a small smile and set my phone down on the counter. Then I reach into my purse and fumble around until my fingers wrap around my keys once more. “I’ll pack my things, we can wait the Preservation out, and then we’ll… get moving, I guess. Don’t really know where we’ll go, but we can’t stay here.”

Pearl raises an eyebrow, then widens her eyes and nods. “Ah. Because the Preservation will eventually find us.”

I snort out a quick laugh and twirl the keys around my finger as I walk down the small hallway. “That’s one reason, yeah. The other reason is the people I told you about two from weeks ago. They were there for a reason, and I’m not sure if that reason is said and done with.”

“Okay. I don’t really have an opinion no matter what we do. But… I’m going to lie down now. If my voice sounds a little bit further away than normal, it’s because I’m further away than normal.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I twist the key in my bedroom door and wince at the click-click of a half broken lock. “Take a nap if you need it. We shouldn’t be in any danger for a while.”

Pearl yawns and mumbles agreement, then lets out quiet breaths until she drifts off to sleep. For some reason, I can hear her soft breathing in the back of my mind when I’d never been able to before. The calming sound follows me into my room, everything still in the exact same place as I’d left. My TV slash computer monitor mounted to the wall above my desk, all my clothes messily piled into a purple basket, and a bunch of makeup on my bedside table that’s just gathering dust. Couldn’t leave it in the bathroom or else Jazz would accidentally use it up in her six-am stupor.

Pretty sure there wasn’t any maliciousness there, but I can’t afford more eyeshadow with how she cakes it on. I grab a case and flick it open with my thumb, smile down at the half-used colour, and snap it closed once again. The thought of never having to wear it again brings me a lot of mixed feelings; a little relief, since I won’t have to waste half an hour every morning, and a little… excitement. Now, if I put on makeup, it’ll be for me and me alone.

I gather up all of it in one arm and fish around for one of the bags under my desk to throw it all in. It takes less than a minute to get everything crammed in–brushes, polishes, creams, and everything in between. My clothes take a little longer, since they’re unfolded, but even that’s done in half an hour. Then goes everything else. Into two duffel bags that I cross over my chest, heft up with a grunt, and sidestep out of my room. Everything I care about in two bags. Ready to go in less than an hour.

Maybe that’s a little pathetic to some people. But looking back into my room, seeing the white walls unmarred by posters or even a little paint… well, I guess I just never got attached to this place. It was supposed to be a stepping stone. Just for a year until I found something better.

I reach up and gently pat Pearl’s shell with a smile. It’s not what I imagined ‘something better’ looking like, but it’ll have to do. I swing by the kitchen and pull my charger off the wall to check my phone. There has to be a tidal wave of notifications and worried messages piling up because of how long I was away.

It blinks on after a few seconds of loading. A picture of a younger-looking me and Jazz without all the darkness under her eyes stares back at me. Along with exactly four notifications. One from work telling me that I’m fired. Another from school telling me that I need to get that job back, or else I lose my spot in the program. Those are about a week apart–and my job didn’t even fire me the first day I was gone. They waited a whole three days without contacting me for that.

The other two… well, one of them is a string of messages from Jazz worrying about me. Message after message pleading with me to tell her what’s happening, promising that she can cover me if it’s about rent, and just… being a good friend. They never taper off. The last one was sent at the exact same time the last notification came in, warning me about the alert and wishing that I was alright.

Then there’s the last notification. The emergency alert from about four hours ago warning about the dragonjet. Nothing from my friends, my teachers, or anyone at work. Nothing from my family. Nobody tried to contact me. Not mom, not dad, none of my brothers or sisters. I… I know we aren’t the most connected family… but… I mean… I’d like to think… I swallow hard around the uncomfortable truth.

They didn’t even know I was gone.

Knock, knock.

I swivel around at the sound of two distinct knocks spaced out by less than a quarter second. One light and polite, one heavy and intimidating. I unzip one duffel bag and stuff my phone into it, then grasp onto the thread of awareness that connects me to my contingency plan. There’s only three possibilities.

Jazz, but she would’ve just used her key.

The Preservation. They wouldn’t bother knocking if they know what I am.

Or the other two. The ones who pushed me towards the Class Coin in the first place.

I tap Pearl’s shell until she stirs. “Huh, wha?” She mumbles, then goes deathly still. “They’re powerful.”

That’s what I was afraid of. “How many?”

She shakes her head, and any remnants of the tired shellraiser from before is wiped away.

“Two.”