SHOOT FIRST

Sarah was not having a good time.

The rush of a near death escape burned through her like bad gin – fast, intoxicating, and leaving a sting in its wake. The relief she felt had been ripped away by the hard, punctuated bark of gunfire from the club. Death moved in from both at the top of the staircase, a shoot out; at the bottom the waiting maw of the essence beast.

‘It would seem,’ the thought surfaced, ‘that the universe wants to kill me.’

And in that moment, she fully believed it. The logic was sound. Maybe she should just switch out. Call it a mission, and retreat to being an observer yet again. Or she could walk back downstairs, hide from The Jackal on the blood stained floor and wait, the universe would get bored and move on.

But she didn’t.

‘Why don’t we just leave?’ she sent the thought to the collective.

‘We can’t,’ Oaklen replied, steady as always. ‘We need to get Viracio out, only then can–

‘No. We don’t.’

Her anger surged, a tide she wouldn’t hold back. Oaklen was always like this – always the plan, the mission, the obligation. We have to do this. We have to do that. We need the Church’s protection, so suffer in silence. No choice. Never a choice.

And Thryssa? Thryssa bought into it. Hook line and sinker. Old hag.

‘We’re Brinn. We leave and no one finds us.’

‘Sarah, I get it,’ Oaklen sent, measured, like he always was. ‘But they know us. Not just our names and faces, but many of you were designed by them.’

‘That’s not the point, Oaklen!’ Her fists clenched, nails biting into skin. ‘I’ve watched you throw us into mess after mess after m-’

The basement doors flew off their hinges.

Victor’s presence brushed against hers. Warm, smooth, like a blanket. ‘Safety first. All you.”

She nodded, and cut the connection to everyone.

A cursed, cracking laugh echoed through the room before The Jackal’s elongated neck slithered through the door, jaws chittering in anticipation. The creature was too large to fit, but that didn’t stop it from trying. Muscles tensed, limbs coiled, its massive body strained against the doorway as if sheer will would give the beast its meal, but the door held.

She didn’t sigh in relief. The universe wanted them dead, it had more tricks.

Sarah watched, heartbeat hammering. Frustration bled into a deep rattling growl as The Jackal was unable to get through the threshold. A howl built in its throat.

She rushed toward Viracio, before it could let the deadly sound loose, driving her fist into his chest. The action was urgent and imprecise as essence surged through her hand and into his skin. Her gaze met The Jackal’s just as not so distance gunfire erupted once more.

Viracio paled, as the monster let out a deafening howl. The wave of energy rattling his entire body as the essence defused the forces just enough. He didn’t speak, understanding her intentions.

Through the commotion, carrying on the wind, she heard a commanding voice from far off. “The hell was that? Shit – Rick, Dadum you’re over there. Go check it out”

“Uhh boss. Did we have wolves down there?” one of the voices called back.

Sarah closed her eyes, reaching out. A flickering, unseen presence pulsed forward to grant her vision. The corridor was long, but it was only a passageway, making it simple to move to the other room. Shifting her vision she saw two men crouched by an open door, piled in the corner were the bodies of two dead guards, gun shot wounds to the head. She remembered their faces, they were the same ones that stopped Callum from leaving the basement.

One peaked out, a heavy tommy gun raised, spraying bullets through the doorway and out the shattered windows. The other man, carrying a simple revolver, took the covering fire to reach out and shut the door. With a breath of a momentary release the pair turned towards the staircase that led to the basement. She cursed. Rock and a hard place.

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Then, right on time with a flicker from the sensor, Callum dropped back into existence." Of course he did–they made a plan.

He dropped four feet straight down, landing with a startled thump. His eyes met the tommy gunner’s. One second.

Callum blinked out.

Tw-

The gun roared.

Callum wasn’t fast enough. The first bullet caught his shoulder, then he was gone.

Muzzle flashes strobed the stairs in violent bursts, illuminating the frozen, wide-eyed man with the revolver, followed by the three figures pressed into the stairwell that he was staring at. And beyond them the beast.

She wasn’t sure if what had just happened was bad luck or good windfall, but she did know that the revolver man, she guessed Dadum, froze, processing the information in front of him.

To his credit, he recovered quickly “MORE!” The man bellowed, “Switch!” he directed the man with the Tommy gun as he scanned the room for the teleporting man.

Fuck, she wasn’t a combatant. The machine gun would tear her apart. What could she–

Bellamy moved.

Sarah felt it – the rush of essence, the sudden pull in the air. A shift, like space folding in on itself. But she saw nothing. No ripple. No warning. Bellamy was next to her one moment, and the next he was at the top of the staircase. The movement was too seamless, too fast – it felt oddly similar to Callum’s ability. Strange. Bloodline didn’t determine ability type.

She didn’t question it. She had time for that later, she went to follow him, until Viracio’s hand tightened on her wrist. His face pale as he stared still down the stairs.

The Jackal hadn’t moved a muscle. Teeth gleamed in the dim light, its mouth just barely agape– waiting.

If she had let go it would’ve howled and Viracio would be red on the wall.

She hated it, but all she could do was trust that Bellamy could handle the two men upstairs. So she held her breath and watched through her ability.

Bellamy, she quickly realized, was a monster. She knew he was a talented fighter, but this?

She watched him step through air, body flickering into a new position as if space itself folded for him. He moved with impossible precision. His elbow snapped backward before he was even behind the man with the tommy gun – Rick she believed – as the blow struck the back of his neck with crushing force.

The machine gun tumbled from the man’s hands as he staggered, grasping out at empty air as the gun clattered to the ground.

“Four hostiles! They got essence!” Dadum bellowed, voice raw with urgency.

Dadum lunged for the fallen weapon, snatching it up as Rick dove to the side. A fresh hail of bullets erupted. Bellamy coated himself with essence, the bullets deforming against his second skin, but with each impact they got further and further through. He made a decision and concentrated essence around his vitals. Blood sprayed as rounds ripped through his limbs. Muscles tore, bones cracked and bullets caught, but Bellamy didn’t fall. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even break stride.

A monster.

There was a commotion on the other side of the door, as heavy foot falls got closer and closer.

Click. Click. Empty.

Rick yanked a fresh magazine from his bag, moving to help Dadum reload.

Bellamy glanced from Rick to the door, jaw tightening. He teleported to the chandelier, standing on top of it. With a heave he tore it from the ceiling where it landed with a crash as porcelain broke. He had attempted to aim it so that it would hit the men, but it came up short as they backed up to the room's edge, far from both the staircase and door.

As the chandelier crashed the noise drew The Jackals attention. Sarah spared a glance behind her to see it twitched. The doorway cracked just a little more as the monster continued trying to squeeze through.

With another heave Bellamy grabbed the chandelier with strength that could’ve killed a man in one punch, but was suspiciously absent from the blows he landed. Bellamy spun the chandelier. Once. Twice. Then hurled it. It crashed into the doorframe, jamming in the wall and sticking.

He didn’t have time to admire his handy work as another hail of bullets impacted him. This time the waves were more like pulses. Short precise shots that were aimed rather than sprayed. It seemed the man's favorite spot was Bellamy’s left leg, only occasionally sending a stray bullet at his head or chest, forcing Bellamy to keep essence focused on shielding his vitals. The panic was gone from the two now.

Individuals from outside slammed on the door, but the barricade held and a hail of gun shots sent the men at the door scrambling away. The two men inside the room cursed, but kept firing.

Bellamy began moving again – always moving. He closed the distance easily enough, but every time he flickered forward, dodging the machine gun, the revolver-wielding man was there, already adjusting, already firing.

The Volkov enforcers weren’t amateurs. They were trained. Disciplined. They fought with precision the moment they got their panic under control. They weren’t just hoping for the best. They were fighting an essence wielder with practiced efficiency and holding their own.

But eventually, they’d run out of bullets.

Or Bellamy would run out of essence.

It was a battle of attrition now.

Harbingers were powerful, but they were still human. Unless someone had an absurd amount of essence – or could replenish it faster than they used it – they would tire. Essence granted overwhelming power in close combat, but against firearms? Against trained soldiers who knew how to counter them? The battlefield was far more even.

She didn’t know how much essence Bellamy had left, and she wasn’t about to take chances. The feeling of helplessness from before pushed her to action as she came up with a plan to weigh the scales. It was one on two, but it didn’t have to be.

She just hoped Callum still trusted her after her last mistake.

Peering through her ability, she focused a cluster of five eyes into existence right in front of Dadum’s face, this time visible. They swiveled wild,y darting in every direction which resulted in a sickening disorienting blur of motion for both herself and the man holding the machine gun. He flinched, recoiling from the sudden invasion. It was only a second, but a second was enough.

She dismissed the eyes, forming another seven into an arrow, then an extra to mark where she needed Callum.

The gunfire faltered.

Bellamy seized the moment. He was in front of the dazed gunman in an instant, grabbing the still smoking muzzle of the tommy gun. The metal sizzled against his palm, burning flesh.

Rick moved to cover, swinging the revolver towards Bellamy’s head, and at the same moment Callum apparated to Rick’s side.

“Damn.” Callum grimaced, “Unlucky”

Both brothers moved. Their fist snapped forward in perfect uniform. The impacts cracked like gunfire, echoing down the staircase as each man received a haymaker to the chin. The impact spiked both men straight into the ground, bodies crumpling with a dull thud.

Bellamy exhaled. Callum cheered. As they basked in their brief moment of triumph.