Nagar’s entire fleet of rukh birds soared over the country of Panipuri toward the capital of Shahar, carrying a squadron of federal agents from the United Provinces of Losan under the control of agents Franco and Johnson. In the cabin on the back of the lead bird, the radio went off, and Franco answered. It was the chief of the Shahar police.
“You guys are federal agents from Losan, right?! This place is out of your jurisdiction!” the police chief shouted, his voice crackling over the radio’s static.
“Sorry, chief, but we’re here on orders to capture Shaska. And she’s been spotted in your city,” Franco said.
“What you’re doing is tantamount to a military incursion into a sovereign country! You can’t do this! Especially when we’re in the middle of a revolution and a coronation!”
“Take it up with President Gamaliel. The buck stops with him,” Franco responded. “I’m just following orders.”
“The future king will hear about this!” the police chief growled before he hung up.
“I wonder what that future king is doing, anyway,” said Johnson. “Under a circumstance like this, what the chief rightly described as basically a military incursion, he’d be the one we’d be talking to.”
“He’s got his coronation to worry about, I suppose,” Franco responded.
“But, surely, the armed uprising in the country is more important!” Johnson said.
“Maybe he’s got something up his sleeve,” said Franco. He paused, then said “and don’t call me Shirley.”
Johnson rolled his eyes, then asked “what do you know about Minus World?”
“You mean those insane revolutionaries? I know of them. That Fernandez guy we caught a while back was part of that group, but he was really tightlipped about who the boss was,” said Franco. “All he talked about was his ‘utopia’. Constant ranting about the evils of the Holy Order of Serenicus and the Provinces.”
“The Holy Order of Serenicus has done some shady things, though…” said Johnson. “There’s a reason there’s so many Serenist denominations these days. Especially after all those holy wars five hundred years ago.”
“Hey, don’t talk bad about the Order, Johnson,” said Franco, pulling the Serenist Noose out from under his armor. “My whole family and I are devout Serenists.”
“Hmph. Maybe if Serenicus and the Father Above were real, we wouldn’t have had such a cataclysmic global war.”
“The Father Above gave us free will, Johnson. Us mortals just squandered it. That’s all.”
Johnson rolled his eyes again. “Anyway, we know these assassins that are in the city are working for Minus World and Balthasar von Ragnar… I guess we know who the boss of Minus World is then.”
“Hah!” Franco laughed. “Serves them right for not using a secure transmission.”
“We should report on our findings to the boss,” said Johnson. “This is an important discovery.”
“After we catch Shaska,” Franco responded resolutely.
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Shaska stood in the wreckage of a building, bleeding and puffing on a cigar. She dropped the support beam she was holding with a loud clatter and sat down in the rubble.
“Phew… only a matter of time before the brat shows up again, but it’s good to get a brea–”
Her thought was interrupted by Tributelle Aether Flashing in out of nowhere next to her and kicking her through another building.
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As Schwarz and Cazimir dueled in the palace foyer, Samudra bolted through the halls looking for his brother, who was due to be crowned as the king soon. He heard shelling on the city walls, and began to panic. “Damn it, Ta’Gup! Where are you?! Your citizens are about to be slaughtered! Where’s the army?!”
After checking the throne room and Ta’Gup’s bedchambers, he found the one room that still had guards in front of it: the royal panic room, designed to be secure from intruders.
The guards crossed their spears in front of him.
“We’re sorry, former prince Samudra, but you are not welcome here,” said the first guard.
“We have exact orders from the prince to not let you in,” said the second. “You should be nowhere near the–”
“I don’t care about that!” Samudra shouted. “Barabar’s forces are attacking the city! And I have seen neither hide nor hair of the army!”
“That’s above our pay grade,” said the first guard.
Samudra said nothing, opting to blast the guards in the eyes with steam to incapacitate them. As the guards howled in pain, Samudra banged on the door with all his might.
“Ta’Gup! TA’GUP! Open up! I know you are in there, brother!”
“What do you want, Samudra?” came Ta’Gup’s voice over a speaker outside the door.
“Let me in! We need to talk! Now!”
“Why? So you can kill me, too?”
“SO WE CAN STOP THE SLAUGHTER OF SHAHAR!” Samudra shouted desperately.
There was a pause, and the door unlocked with a loud thunk. The guards tried to stop Samudra, but he blasted them with steam again. Samudra threw the door open and rushed inside. The royal panic room was ornately decorated, with supplies to last for several months. Inside was Ta’Gup… along with the brothers’ wives, Padma and Lakshmi, as well as Ta’Gup’s children. There was an air of dread.
“Uh oh…” Samudra said.
“Samudra!” Padma shouted. She was a beautiful woman in her late 20’s of around seven feet in height, wearing a dark blue dress with a gold sash. She had a red jewel embedded in her forehead.
“How dare you show your face around here again?!”
“Padma, my love, I can–”
“No! I have had it with your constant philandering! I am not your love! My parents were right about you! One affair was one thing, but it’s nothing but affairs from you! And now you’re involved with that Shaska?! Who murdered twenty thousand people?! What does she do for you?! Does she–”
“Padma, that is enough,” said Lakshmi, calmly.
“Lakshmi! Do not tell me you–” Padma tried to say, but Lakshmi interrupted her again.
“You have every right to be enraged, Padma. And I do insist you seek out a new husband. But we should hear what he has to say.”
“Thank… Thank you, Lady Lakshmi,” said Samudra.
“I am not a fan of yours either, Samudra,” Lakshmi responded coldly, making him wince.
“State your business, Samudra,” said Ta’Gup, who heavily resembled his brother, except with a beard. He pulled out a pocket watch. “I’ll give you five minutes.”
“Brother! Where is the army?!” Samudra cried. “Shahar is about to be overrun by Uncle Barabar’s forces! There are assassins in the city right now coming for your head!”
“I am not your brother,” said Ta’Gup. “We’ve discussed this. Your constant–”
“Yes, yes. Fine, Ta’Gup, where is the army?!”
“Gone.”
The word hit Samudra like a hammer. His mouth opened, but no words came.
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Ren bolted through the tight alleys of Shahar, each footfall echoing against the stone walls. Kandar’s bullets tore through the buildings around her like they were nothing, each shot so precise it felt like the city itself offered her no protection. She couldn’t hide. She couldn’t stop. Every missed shot was too close, the air itself seemed to buzz with the heat of his rifle fire.
Above, Kandar swung from rooftop to rooftop with ease, his grappling hook hissing through the air. The police were ants below him, shouting uselessly as he zipped out of their sight. He barely gave them a thought, his focus locked entirely on the girl below. “Hm, tricky little snot, ain’t ya?” he muttered to himself, reloading with a flick of his wrist as he kept pace.
“Think, Ren! How can I beat a guy who can see and shoot me from behind cover?!” she thought, stopping for a brief moment to catch her breath. “Think… What does a sniper hate more than being seen…?”
She got it. She slung her rifle over her shoulder again and drew her pistols, then started running back the way she came.
“What the heck is she doing?” Kandar asked, lowering his gun.
It was then she saw him poking his head out from on top of a temple.
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“Gotcha! I just need to bring the fight to him!” she thought as she pulled out her handguns.
“I dunno what she thinks she’s doing…” said Kandar. “But man, I’m coming doooown. Wish she hadn’t shot my pipe.”
He raised his rifle again, this time aiming at the palace.
“In the meantime… might as well do what I came here for. King Balthasar would be mighty cross if he found out I wasted all my ammo on some random teenage girl.”
He scanned the Aether auras in the palace, trying to find exactly where in the palace the crown prince was. In the foyer were the auras of Schwarz and Cazimir fighting. There were various others scattered throughout the palace: servants, priests, other assorted workers, but what looked like the bedchamber was empty.
Ren threw the doors of the temple open and ran inside, looking for roof access. The priest, understandably concerned about someone bursting in with guns drawn, ran away to call the police.
“Wait! Ah need–” Ren tried to say, but she quickly realized it was fruitless to try and explain when Kandar could zip off at a moment’s notice.
“Hmmm…” Kandar thought aloud, scanning the palace. “Shame Aether sensing only lets you see auras and not see what they actually look like… Nobody particularly ‘royal’ looking…”
He then found the royal family hiding in the panic room and laughed. He locked on the tallest figure there, which happened to be Ta’Gup.
Ren found the stairs and slowly crept up, trying not to make too much noise so Kandar wouldn’t take off.
Kandar laughed to himself, then said “stand still, prince… I got your crown right here…”
Ren drew closer and closer to the door.
“Alright, princey… let’s go… just gotta account for the wind this time…”
Ren threw the door open and found Kandar about to take the shot. Kandar, in turn, quickly jumped off the roof in a panic.
“Oh no you don’t!” she shouted as she gave chase and shot at him.
She shot six rounds at him… and four missed. But the two that hit were enough to make him miss his grappling hook and fall to the ground, landing with a loud thud.
Rather than run back down and risk him getting up and running away, Ren pulled a grenade off her belt and tossed it down. Thankfully, the people that were nearby fled when they saw a guy with a gun get shot, so bystanders getting hit with shrapnel wasn’t an issue. She made her way back down as the grenade fell.
“Ow… oooowwww…” Kandar whined as he pulled himself up. He chuckled to himself as he watched the grenade bounce next to him. “Well… ain’t that just my luck,” he laughed, his voice low and raspy. “Oh dear…”
The explosion came a split second later, a flash of light and heat that knocked him flat on his back. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, unconscious but still breathing.
A few moments later, Ren emerged from the temple, and stood over Kandar’s unconscious body.
“Alraht, buddy! Yer gonna start talkin’ and tell me who yer workin’ fer!” she said, crouching down.
Kandar said nothing.
Ren sighed, then said “c’mon, let’s go.” She holstered her guns and picked him up, something quite difficult due to their size difference and her lack of Aether. She was lucky that the police were busy dealing with the invaders.
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Lulupo and Gabo fought in the streets near the boutique, exchanging blow for blow. Lulupo tried to grab Gabo with his hair, but Gabo was too fast. However, he wasn’t fast enough to avoid a monstrous kick to the gut, knocking him back into the boutique with a loud crash. He threw off the pile of clothes he landed in and stood up to face Lulupo.
“Charlie, dear, why don’t you say we make things more interesting?”
Lulupo’s eyes shot open. “Damn, you mean…?”
“I’m sure you remember my potentia, Mundi Scaena?” Gabo asked, snapping his fingers.
A wooden stage extended out from under Gabo’s feet in a fifty foot circle, large enough so that Lulupo was comfortably on it.
“They call me ‘the Director’ for a reason, hon.”
“I’m not your ‘hon’, Gabo!” Lulupo shouted as he dashed toward Gabo.
Gabo snapped his fingers, and a show curtain appeared and slid out in front of him. The curtain opened again, revealing Gabo in full theatrical garb (a blue and red dress and a long blonde wig), carrying what appeared to be some sort of pretend sword.
Lulupo stopped dead; he couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I forgot how ridiculous you looked when you used your power! That outfit is simply dreadful, Gabo!”
“Stop. Using. My. Old. Name,” Gabo growled as he brandished the fake sword. “En garde!”
Gabo lunged forward, swinging the pretend sword like a madwoman(?). Lulupo simply dodged each slash, then caught Gabo’s arm with his hair.
“Gabo, you seem to forget that I know how your Mundi Scaena works. You only have complete control of your stage if someone goes along with your act.”
Lulupo then delivered a mighty chop to Gabo’s eyes, blinding him for a brief moment. He then swung Gabo around with his hair and slammed him down into the stage, leaving a noticeable crack.
As Gabo struggled to his feet, Lulupo was unimpressed. “Gabo, this cult you’re in has made you weak,” he said, looking at his nails.
“It’s not a cult!” Gabo shouted. “We’re an organization dedicated to bringing out utopia and world peace!’
“That’s exactly what a cultist would say…”
Gabo snapped his fingers. “Lights out!”
The area around the stage became pitch black. Gabo snapped his fingers again, and a spotlight shined down on Lulupo. Gabo lunged forward from the darkness. He swept at Lulupo’s feet, and as Lulupo fell, Gabo performed a rising knee strike to Lulupo’s chin, finishing with an elbow strike downward to the back of his head.
“How’s that for weak?!” Gabo shouted as he retreated back into the darkness.
Lulupo said nothing, and extended his hair along the stage to grab Gabo and bring him into the light. Gabo noticed this, and snapped his fingers again.
The spotlight came crashing down on Lulupo’s head, setting his hair on fire. He howled in pain as his scalp burned, and he retracted his hair immediately to minimize the damage.
As the darkness dissipated, Lulupo attempted to run off the stage, but Gabo snapped his fingers again. A giant vaudeville hook materialized from the remaining darkness and grabbed Lulupo, forcefully pulling him back to the stage.
“This is my theater, and you will stay for the full performance!”
The hook pulled Lulupo right in front of Gabo, who delivered an uppercut to Lulupo’s chin, followed by a roundhouse kick, smacking him off the stage. Gabo snapped his fingers again, pulling Lulupo back to the stage with another hook. Gabo repeated this process several times, leaving Lulupo battered and bruised. For good measure, Gabo dropped another stage light on his opponent’s head.
Lulupo struggled to get to his feet as blood dripped down his face. Gabo walked over and delivered a kick to his gut, sending Lulupo back down to his hands and knees.
“Tell me, hon, who’s weak again?” Gabo asked coyly.
“I’m not your hon!” Lulupo shouted.
He shot to his feet, then delivered a massive upward kick to Gabo’s jaw, sending him flying straight up. Lulupo jumped up to chase him, following with another kick to Gabo’s jaw, and sending him through the roof of the boutique. Lulupo kept following, though, jumping off the hole he made in the roof, then giving Gabo another kick upward.
Lulupo kept kicking Gabo upward, hopping off the Aether in the air as he did so. Eventually, they were higher than the tallest building in Shahar. As they floated, Lulupo bounced off the air to get even more height.
“Sashay. Away.”
He delivered a spinning heel drop to Gabo’s gut, sending him shooting straight down as if fired from a cannon. He crashed down into his stage, shattering it.
Lulupo began to fall back down, but he extended his hair to form a parasol, and he landed gingerly right next to Gabo as the broken stage vanished.
“Hi, my name’s Gabo!” he said, holding out his hand.
“Charles Lulupo, darling. I’m sure this will be the start of something beautiful.”
Lulupo stood over Gabo’s broken, unconscious body for a few moments, internally debating on whether he should be left for dead, or if he should be taken and given to the police. He eventually relented, and wrapped Gabo up in his hair.
As he left the boutique, Lulupo turned to the owner, who saw the whole thing.
“I’m sorry for the damages, darling. I’d say ‘send the bill to Worldwide Smoke,’ but I doubt my boss would actually pay for it.”
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Shaska groaned as she pulled herself up from the rubble, dust and debris falling from her shoulders. She straightened her jacket, puffing on her cigar as the smoke curled around her like a shield. Tributelle warped in with an Aether Flash, her broken wrists trembling but defiant, appearing right beside her.
“What’s your endgame, girl?” Shaska asked, blowing smoke. “It’s not like you can bring me in with your wrists broken like that.”
“My endgame is beating you senseless,” Tributelle responded. “Besides, I can always get the police or the feds to drag you off. I’ll still get the credit.”
“Mommy! Tributio and I are hungry!” cried a seven-year-old Tributelle.
“You’re merfolk. You can swim in the ocean and catch your own dinner,” Shaska responded. “Now leave me alone, I’ve got executive shit to do.”
Tributelle’s eyes widened. “But mommy! There’s sea monsters and–”
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ did you brats not understand?!” Shaska barked, voice cutting through their pleas like ice.
Tributelle’s jaw clenched so hard it felt like her teeth would shatter. Without another word, she leapt at her mother, aiming a fierce kick at Shaska’s head. But Shaska, faster than her daughter could react, caught the leg mid-air, her grip ironclad. With a grunt, she swung Tributelle down, slamming her hard into the ground. The impact sent cracks out from where she hit, the force rattling the streets.
Yet again, Tributelle struggled to her feet through her broken wrists, only to be punched through a building by Shaska.
Tributelle once again struggled to her feet, then warped behind her mother for an Aether-infused kick. Shaska dodged though, and continued to expertly dodge as her daughter went for a barrage of kicks. As Shaska attempted to grab her daughter’s leg though, she warped, then slashed Shaska’s back open with a blade of compressed Aether. Shaska spat out her cigar from the pain.
“Dammit! Why do they always go for my back?!” she cried.
Tributelle tried to follow up with another kick, but Shaska swiveled around and grabbed her leg. She threw Tributelle over her shoulder and slammed her into the ground yet again, this time leaving a visible crater.
Tributelle groaned, her body battered but still fighting to stand. Shaska, with a heavy sigh, shoved her daughter back down, pinning her beneath her weight. The ground cracked beneath them as Shaska sat atop her, cracking her knuckles slowly, deliberately.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Shaska muttered, her voice low. Tributelle’s face, bloodied and bruised, glared up at her with stubborn defiance. Shaska raised her fist, Aether gathering in her knuckles. Tributelle closed her eyes, her breath shallow but steady, waiting for the end.
Shaska stared down at her daughter with her fist raised, then a memory flashed before her eyes.
The hospital room swayed gently with the current, soft light filtering through the water. Eighteen-year-old Shaska lay in the bed, exhausted but curious as the nurse swam up with two bundles wrapped tightly in her arms. “Here they are, mommy,” the nurse said with a smile.
Young Shaska took the bundles, one in each arm, and cradled them gently. In each one was a baby merman, with light blue skin and tufts of purple hair on their heads.
The newborn Tributelle looked up at her mother and gave a toothless smile. Shaska was overcome with a wave of confusing emotions. First, was maternal love… which was soon followed by unyielding rage, as the babies looked exactly like their father.
Tributelle lay there, eyes closed, breathing heavily, waiting for her death. But, amid the sound of the revolutionary forces attacking the city on a cloudless day, she started to feel wet drops on her face. She slowly opened her eyes to find her mother, fist still raised, with tears pouring down her face.
“I can’t do it…” Shaska thought.
“I… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant sounds of revolution. She slammed her fist into the ground beside her daughter, the impact shaking the street and leaving a deep crater.
Shaska wiped her eyes angrily, refusing to let herself break down further. She grabbed her still lit cigar, took a long, shaky drag, and exhaled, calming herself.
“...you lucked out this time, brat,” she said as she walked away. “I’m gonna go to the palace. You.. just stay there and try not to get killed by the revolutionaries.”
Tributelle watched as Shaska’s back receded, her mother’s heavy footsteps echoing through the ruined streets. A part of her screamed to get up, to continue the fight. But her body refused to move. As she lay there, staring up at the sky, all she could feel was the sting of being left behind once again.