That's it! The fucking chain! Nora hadn't felt this much relief since payday. At that point she'd diverted from her original course and aligned her trajectory to the path that would lead to the house on the hill. She could make out more of it's features without the aid of telescopic lenses now.

Even from this far she could see its white paint was chipped and cracked, the also white wood was weak from extended periods of low maintenance and repeated rainfall, earlier she'd noticed the roof had holes big enough to fit a wolf. The structure was one thunderstorm away from being a ragged pile of failure.

Nora pushed aside some blades of grass for the final time, her foot landed on more grass -leveled grass but she could feel the stones underneath. The path was standard exocolony width, enough to fit 2 vehicles or 4 horses, at this moment the only horse she was concerned with was the one that stepping out of the tall grass on the other side of the road.

Chains rattled and he swung the steed towards her. Strangely the mounted menace wasn't the source of the fear she felt, she was afraid her aim wouldn't remain true, the fear of failure always reigned supreme at times like this.

"Set jetpack propulsion to voice command." She said clutching her rifle.

It was like Deja vu; her rifle still on maximum, the horseman leaning to the side, twirling his wicked chain, trotting at a mocking pace. She prayed he'd opt for a stylish kill, after all he'd proven to be a showman first and an equestrian second.

The split second she’d been waiting on had arrived. This was the second time Nora had the view of the horseman's underbelly, she intended it to be the last.

A ring of fire spun next to the horseman’s tilted form. Nora's rifle pulsated with dark blue bubbles, her visor crosshairs were locked on right below the circular blaze and she'd switched to shotgun discharge so it displayed several spread out aims rather than one fixed target.

Streaks of blue plasmite shot past the horseman, the last time Nora tried to hit the rider with a maximum capacity shot he'd used the horse as a shield and the only discernible difference was a strange pile of dark violet smoke emanating from it's nostrils.

This time, one of the shots struck true and detached the spinning disc. The sudden shift of weight left the horseman hanging tightly to the steed's reins to avoid falling off. "Bitch!" said the horseman from a non existent mouth.

The resulting impact from the next barrage of shots sent the horseman flying off his mount. He landed about 4 feet away and Nora landed --boots first on his chest seconds later. She unsheathed his sword, Mao's sword, a slim blade inscribed with Hanzi inscriptions. Nora clutched the blade by its jade hilt and drove it through the horseman's chest multiple times before dislodging it and ascending with her jetpack landing about 50 feet from the house steps.

Nora hurriedly scanned the surroundings ignoring the pungent smell of decay, within these incomplete corpses of men, women and children, she’d spotted a couple of two fallen terrasuits. Nora surveyed the first suited corpse fumbling at the utility belt, hoping to find unused explosives, she found some. The gods of war were kind. We should've prayed to these ones, Mao.

Three of the dead man's plasmite bombs were latched unto her belt now, she grudgingly searched the deceased's other pouches hoping to find the accompanying detonator. She found plasmite power packs, a portable first aid kit, a Cascadium blade but no detonator.

Something sleek dirty and white rested not too far from the cadaver's fingertips. A rifle, outdated by at least 4 generations. Nora would know, she’d spent countless hours listening to Mao and Artwin geek out about ammunition.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The corpse's other fingertips were of more interest they were clasped shut, Nora thought it foolish to believe what she wanted to believe about the dead man's grip. She had no time to believe in it.

After all she could see the headless horseman limping to his surprisingly idle horse, for some reason she'd expected the contrived beast to have gone wild and ravenous.

If you can’t take down this barely standing structure… this… this homestead with two bombs and 2 rifles you might not be an Alchemist. She’d almost been convinced but another said it would be wise to make sure the whole weight of the building came crashing down. She pried the corpse’s fingers open unleashing a symphony of cracks, a slim oval disc rested on rotting flesh and bones

For the last time Nora scanned the area for anything salvageable, the hoverbikes nearby were not and for a split second she saw the second half her plan crumble until she spotted the rear of something very familiar behind the house. Okay now you guys are being too kind.

Nora suit broke through glass, wood and dust. The house's interior would've been marvelous in its heyday. A perfect setting for shared living. A large dining table and 12 seater couch solidified that fact.

Nora scanned the interior looking for anything akin to support beams or pillars, she settled for the corners and threw two explosives at them, the circular devices stuck the pillars at the corner of the house like pieces of gum under a wooden desk. Next was the floor. Please be a hollow basement. It definitely sounded like one when stomped, it had boomed and shifted so much she thought she’d the victim of her own plan. Nora tossed another bomb at the roof directly where she stood.

She’d expected a rude entrance by now. The horseman's tardiness granted her another slight respite, this whole time she thought she’d operating on borrowed time. She calmed her nerves, priming her mind. A rude awakening of timber and metal filled the room. Stained black hooves crashed through the door and landed on the already worn wooden floor, the sheer weight of the assailant's nudged Nora's prediction in the right direction.

"Your mine now you annoying little wench!" bellowed the horseman. How an alien came to know so many earthern slurs was the most confusing part of this hole debacle.

Nora’s fingers made a gesture and blue flames and timber filled the air, far more timber than before. Nora flew upwards past the debris and watched the wretched structure collapse into heap of wood.

No horseman in sight. For the first time in hours, that message bore positivity, before this she'd known he was more concealed than away. Nora hovered and landed next to the ruins, landing just by her means of escape. When she'd first sighted the hovercraft she'd prayed to whatever gods would listen for it to be functional. Plasmite as most prized mineral in the galaxy for a reason right?

She tapped the spot where the controls would be on newer models hoping an interface would light up. It did, it took its sweet time but it lit up.

Seems this was a public vehicle at the homestead. So there is no need for biometric authentication.

Nora felt too blessed these past few minutes. The last thing she wanted to do as rip off a bunch of arms to which one would unlock the hover.

She accessed the hoverbike's map and set a course for an eastern portion of the island, the tank was half full but with plasmite batteries that meant it could drive for twelve hours uninterrupted. The engines let out an uncomfortable whirr when Nora triggered ignition, usually plasmite powered bikes were as silent as lionesses stalking prey. The vehicle hadn't been used in so long, she had to let it warm up.

Every second she spent there felt a second too long. She envisioned the horseman's blade jutting out of the wreckage, signaling yet another quarry. She envisioned a more tranquil time when her team would have analyzed the house's carbon data, abandoned abodes were always a treat for Artwin.

Artwin, she didn't even see him die, nobody did he was on the ship when it exploded, a blast that sent some metal into a collision course with her helmet.

The thought made Nora wish for a another explosive. She settled for arson, switching her rifle to torch mode.

Nora was 2.67 miles away from her extraction point when the plume of smoke changed from grey to black. With any luck the salvo team would find her before the horseman.

Hoverbikes left no tracks, he'd have no idea where she was going but she'd learnt too much on this island to ever think in absolutes again.