Chapter 42 - Showdown

All the flaws whirled in his mind, and it was time to surprise these wretches.

The boss held up three fingers and shouted, looking at Miss Cera with a lecherous grin, "Ain't got all day, ya bloody wench! Three ticks o' the clock, and that's all ya get. THREE!"

This fucker.

Nevertheless, Vern disregarded his dissatisfaction instantly. Now wasn't the time.

He couldn't exactly follow all the flaws in an instant, but he had an order in mind. In his perception, he first pursued the notion that hovered over the man with a double barrel.

When the crack on the gun widened to its zenith, a very muted sound of clacking played in his mind. But it was negligible, and the man wouldn't suspect a thing without shooting the gun.

The process took less than an instant, and his veins began to throb intensely. He knew it was done, so he quickly moved onto the cloudy figurine of a carbine's muzzle that was floating in his mind.

"TWO!"

The spiral grooves etched in the barrel were made to be of a dark shade due to their complexity, while the outer edge of the muzzle was toned a brilliant white for its simplicity.

Unhesitatingly, he pursued the notion, and this crack also began to widen before quickly becoming so large it tore away the muzzle from his cognition. This one didn't generate any sound, as the changes were so insignificant.

The intricate network of his eyes pulsed with intense fervor, but he ignored them and moved onto the revolver whose chamber's rotational gears were shaded a slate black, its muzzle and triggers relatively bright.

And he unhesitatingly induced another instability. His brain seemed to grow dull, and the pain in his eyes made him want to scream.

Just one more. Just one more.

"ONE!"

Vern could hear Miss Cera's breathing grow heavy and rapid. Her footsteps shifted as she turned away, and a sudden quiet in her voice told him she was focused elsewhere. Must have been disappointed by his lack of action and scared demeanor.

Fuck! Just one more.

The umbrella had hundreds of gears to efficiently transfer the rotational energy from multiple sections. He chose two of them and grabbed hold of their basic flaws with desperate precision.

Allowing his lightheaded thoughts to follow this one to the end as well, a crack appeared, which drowned his perception—shattering the world of grays.

Then the universe seemed to hold its breath, and Vern managed to stay stable on his feet, shaking away the side-effects of his Visions.

Before he roared, "Miss Cera, Fire!"

"ZERO. KILL THE BITCH!"

BANGGGGGG

BANNG

BOOM

"AAAAAHHHH"

"AAHH FUCK!"

BANG

"I'll kill you! You bitch!"

A whirlwind of events unfolded simultaneously. Vern had already stepped to one side, forcing his bleary eyes open to get a better view of everything that transpired.

When the man shot his double barrel, it caused a jarring recoil that threw his aim wildly off target. The pellets sprayed in disparate directions, some embedding themselves in the wall, others clattering harmlessly on the floor. This left the man staggering, trying to regain control.

For the carbine it was a similar story. When the trigger was pulled, the bullet veered inexplicably off course as if some unseen force had nudged it at the last moment. The shot went wide, missing its intended target and striking the glass of a window instead. The shooter looked at his weapon in disbelief, bewildered by the sudden deviation in its performance.

At the same time, the man with a revolver, who had a sinister glint in his eyes, pulled the trigger—and a horrifying explosion replaced the expected bang of the shot. The cylinder had jammed, and the bullet, trapped in its confined space, exploded within the gun itself.

A flash of fire and smoke erupted from the weapon, and the man screamed in pain as shards of metal tore into his hand. The revolver's barrel split open like a flower, its twisted remains dropping on the paved ground.

"Help!!!! AGHGAAGHHH"

Yet, all this was merely a distraction. The boss was the one who held Vern's unwavering attention. The moment he was done counting, he had already turtled behind the umbrella, flourishing it in a manner that covered most of his body.

As expected, the top began to rotate in a whirlwind—but suddenly, the gears began to screech, and sparks flew everywhere. The gyrating top came to an abrupt halt, the gears whirling and grinding helplessly, falling out of their place.

And then, before anything else could happen, a black dot streaked across Vern's vision, piercing a hole in the brassy contraption—shattering its defense which was followed by the squeal of what seemed like a dying pig.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"AHHHH! THIS BITCH!"

Miss Cera's shot had connected! Not fatally, but it had made an impact. She had either understood what Vern was doing or had just shot out of spite.

However, the cause held little significance, she had done her part and there was more to do. This situation wasn't wrapped up just yet.

Vern swiveled back and aimed at the man who was bolting towards Miss Cera—a pipe in his hand.

BANGG

The bullet went quite off-mark, grazing the man's shoulders.

FUCK ME!

The man was moving too damn fast. He didn't have any clue how to aim at such a target. He would probably need to do some course correction alongside leading the shot a little—all of which was easier said than done.

"Vern! I will handle this guy. Please take care of that umbrella," yelled Miss Cera with a steely gaze as she turned around and did something to her revolver.

It looked like she knew what she was doing, and Vern was only happy to be given a chance to go after the only stable gun in the hands of his enemies.

She didn't need his protection, and he had to quickly double down on their advantage—the surprise factor won't last for long. The guys with the carbine and double barrel were still unharmed, after all.

So Vern ignored the man that was charging toward them and raced to the boss. He was lying collapsed on the ground, blood flowing from his leg. Clutching the umbrella in his trembling arm, he yelled, "BLAST IT! You worthless sacks of slop! What's the use of ya? ATTACK 'EM, NOW!"

The one with the shotgun yelled at the top of his lungs, "It's a rigged play, boss!? These fuckin’ guns are all bunged up! Ain't nothin' workin' right!"

Vern crisscrossed across the street, trying to throw off the boss who had closed the canopy of the umbrella and was attempting to aim its tip at him.

BANGG

A bullet streaked by his legs and hit the wall of a house, fizzling away uselessly. Apparently, Vern wasn't the only one who had a hard time aiming at moving targets.

BANGG

Another bullet went quite off mark as Vern ran right past the boss, who was sprawled on the road. The man tried to haphazardly direct the umbrella towards Vern, ignoring the river of blood that surged from his leg, but he wasn't quick enough.

This was why Vern had circled behind him. The boss would have to turn around to zero in on him. Using the brief respite from the fire of that umbrella, Vern gripped Ironsong and steadied his thundering heart with a deep breath.

With that vile face locked in his focus, marked by hollowed cheeks and sinister lines, he pulled the trigger.

BANG

"AAHHHHHH." A final moan escaped the man's lips as his sunken eyes lost their luster—his body hitting the ground with a thud. The bronze contraption slipped from his fingers and rolled on the ground.

It turned out that aiming at the head of a stationary target just a meter away wasn't as difficult as one might think. Vern took no pleasure in sight and shifted his gaze back to the surroundings.

"You've really stepped in it now, ya morons! Bishop Garmen ain't gonna let this slide. You're done for!"

SIZZLE

"AHH! MY HAND!!!!!!!"

Another shriek came from Miss Cera's vicinity, but Vern sped towards the umbrella, snatching it from the ground.

And then he heard Miss Cera say, "If either of you try anything funny, your fate won't be any different from these three." Looking up, Miss Cera had her gun aimed at the man with the carbine, who had been rapidly bolting it for another shot.

BANGG

"Why the fuck is this junk not shooting right? I just used it in the morning. What the hell happened."

"Fuck! Silo. Someone's messed with our weapons. It's time to—"

The moment their eyes met, it was as if they shared a single plan. Without hesitation, they rushed towards the nearest alleyway, fleeing with a breakneck urgency.

Vern wasn't ready to give up just yet, and so wasn't Miss Cera.

BANG

BANGG

BANGG

BANNGGG

BANGG

Shot after shot, he emptied his whole chamber while Miss Cera shot a few of her own. All of them missed.

FUCK! I really need to practice my shots.

Vern even aimed the umbrella in their direction and pulled a trigger-like mechanism protruding out of its shaft.

BANGG

A waste. This one had an even worse accuracy at long range. The round had completely missed the mark.

Miss Cera sidestepped the man who was holding his blistered arm and hastened towards the alleyway those two had fled into.

"They're too fast, Vern. Should we cut them off at the other exit?"

Adrenaline still pumping hard in his body, he scampered towards her and grabbed hold of her arm that was shaking wildly, "Miss Cera. It's enough. We need to get the hell out of here. They might have reinforcements nearby."

She seemed to break out of a reverie as the gun almost slipped out of her hand. Barely managing to not drop it, she followed Vern's lead.

There were two options in front of him right now. One was to run back to Silverthread district and retreat somewhere safe. But the greedy aspect of him wanted them to head towards Steamscript relay instead.

Yes, they had triggered the men of this Bishop Garmen, but his experience with Fulham borough told him that there should be multiple territories in this district, each controlled by a different group.

The relay station was quite a ways away from here, so it wouldn't be wrong to assume that they'd cross more than one territory in the meantime. Also, they were a bit too careless this time around, letting themselves get surrounded. However, it was easy to avoid such a situation as long as they were vigilant.

Having rationalized his choice, Vern pulled Miss Cera along. She was looking at the surroundings with a horrified gaze, her eyes glued to the man who was crying in agony, bones visible on his singed hand. Probably a result of a different mode of her vapor blaster.

Vern, however, didn't have one shred of remorse for any of them. This man in particular was the one that was passing all those nasty remarks not so long ago. If one practiced a strong-eat-weak ideology, then if the tables were turned, one must also be ready to face the consequences of their own philosophy.

Speeding past them, they crossed the other one, who was trying to seem as small as possible, attempting to pull shards of metal out of his palm to stop the bleeding.

Then trampling right next to the corpse of the boss, they ran deeper into Starfall Heights. A few bystanders that were looking on with interest backed away in panic, trying to stay away from them.

"Oh, Mother Asea. They killed the bishop's men."

"You go help that one. He seems alive. Bishop might reward you."

"No, get the hell away from here. Do you think I want to be interrogated by whoever comes after this mess? They'll flay me for all the information. I am getting the fuck outta here—"

Similar hushed exchanges entered his ears as his steps matched the pace of his heart, still thumping wildly.

After a while, he saw another group of men far in the distance, so he dragged Miss Cera over to one of the alleyways.

Passing through one narrow passage after another, his sense of direction began to muddle. So he exited over to the closest large street he found and reoriented himself.

Surprisingly, Miss Cera had been keeping up with him even in such a distraught state.

"Just a little farther, and we should be safe."

"Mhm," she assented amidst rapid breaths.

Assessing his options, he noticed a theater a dozen houses to the north. But there were a bunch of people in the streets. He didn't want anyone noticing them heading in there.

But it was a simple problem to solve in this city which had back alleys that branched more than a Carpus tree.

Diving back into the alleys, Vern followed one of them to the North and quickly reached the back entrance of the theater.

It looked completely lifeless—which was a good thing. Turning over the knob of the small decrepit door, he pushed it.

And it opened—just like that.

He was fully expecting to waste more than a few minutes trying to get this lock sorted out—by hook or by crook. But apparently, it had been left open. Not exactly the most impossible happening in this city where everything had been looted to some extent.

Vern let go of Miss Cera's hand and entered the building while she did the same, closing the door behind her—locking it shut.

"PHEW" He slumped against a wall and took deep breaths, turning the knob of his lamp as an orange glow illuminated the surroundings.

This should be good enough for now.