Trent & Hope
Before Trent could open his mouth, Hope grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the back wall. The wooden tables collapsed under his weight, leaving him groaning with splinters in his chest.
He struggled to get up and coughed. “Miss Hastings, I see you’re doing well. As always, you’ve got quite the penchant for timing.”
Hope tightened her arm brace into a wrist and a blade the size of a small sword flicked out in one quick motion. She pressed it against his throat until he bled. The visor masked her expression but Trent could picture a murderous scowl behind it pretty well.
“That’s new.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t hear me saying this often but boy am I glad to see you.”
“Quit it.” She sunk the blade even deeper into his skin.
“Alright. Alright. In case you haven’t noticed, we are under attack.”
As if on cue, a chandelier dropped right next to them with enough force to level an apartment. Hope’s fingers did not budge an inch.
“Okay, you’ve made your point. Now, let go so we can get the hell out of here.”
“I am not leaving until you’ve paid for everything you’ve-”
Before Hope could finish her death threat, Trent spotted an Elite Guard aiming at her. His arm hairs stood on ends. His back was killing him and the rest of his body wasn’t far behind. There was no time to warn her. Besides, he had tricked her one too many times. The odds of her trusting him were not in his favor.
Seeing no choice, he pushed through the pain and tackled her to the floor as the bullets flew right past them. As the Elite Guard, cocked his rifle for a quick reload, he rolled across the floor, snatched a rifle from a corpse, and fired a clean shot between his eyes. The Order’s armor was nigh impenetrable but he knew its weak spots better than anyone. The soldier dropped dead with a metallic clank.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “we are under attack. If you would be so kind as to wait a few minutes, I will gladly pay for everything I’ve done.”
Hope jumped to her feet and strafed backward; her gun aimed squarely at his face. Her fingers quivered with fear. Trent knew that she didn’t have it in her to pull the trigger. The old him would have exploited that weakness and made her bend to his will. But today, he wanted to be better than that.
He dropped his rifle, kicked it away, and raised his arms in surrender. Hope was taken aback. Her gaze demanded a meaning to this new trickery. She was greeted by nothing but eyes drowning in fatigue. He sighed and spoke in a somber voice. “I know I’ve wronged you. But right now, I am of more use to you alive than dead.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because I have nothing to gain. I am tired, Miss Hastings. Whether I die here or a few days later, it makes no difference to me. So, I’m begging you, let me do this one thing. Help me save Roland and I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.”
“If you try to run-”
“I won’t,” he said impatiently, then took a deep breath, and spoke with conviction. “I will not run. Not this time.”
Hope lowered her gun and pressed a finger to her headset. “What do you think, Seb?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Sebastian answered from the other side. “You know what he’s done.”
His words cut into Trent’s skin deeper than any blade. He could spend a lifetime repenting and not pay for half of his sins. And yet, he felt lighter. Like he’d been trapped in the woods, running in circles for ages, and for the first time, he could see the path ahead clearly. His apology meant nothing to them. But as long as he was still drawing breath, he’d be damned to hell and back if there wasn’t a chance.
“Listen, kids. I don’t care what you think of me but time is not on our side and this clearly isn’t helping anyone. If we don’t get our shit together, Roland will die alongside countless innocents. Call me a monster if that helps you sleep at night but I’m not giving up while I can still do something to stop that. Now, are you with me or not?”
Hope pressed her headset and whispered something to Sebastian. The two remained locked in argument while the screams of trapped civilians went off behind the curtains. That appeared to speed up their discussion. It took forever but Sebastian finally closed it with an exasperated sigh to the tune of “fine, you win” and ended the call. Hope pulled the pistol away from Trent’s face and he finally breathed a sigh of relief. But before he could get comfortable, she crossed her arms and spoke with an abrasive tone, “You do realize this is suicide, right? There’s like a whole army out there.”
He shrugged. “What do I care? I’m dead either way.”
“Of course.” She slapped her face plate. “So, what’s the plan, hotshot?”
“Yes, what is the plan, hotshot?” Roland chimed in and the two suddenly became aware that he’d been standing behind them the whole time. He waved his hand in a carefree gesture and gave Hope a slight nod. “Vega, we finally meet,” he spoke with begrudged tolerance.
“We do, indeed,” Hope responded in kind. Before the conversation could turn sour, she turned to Trent for the strategy. “So, what do we know about them?”
The former Knight rubbed his chin in thought and let out a soft hum. His eyebrows tightened into a furrow as he recalled every last bit of information about Norton’s personal guard. He’d been their leader at a time but he doubted that they would care for sentimentality. Even so, he knew them like no one else. Even if he lacked the numbers, he had the tactical upper hand.
Yes, there was a chance. A one-in-a-million chance but a chance nonetheless.
He exhaled sharply, stretched his back for the last time, and narrated his plan. “As a unit, they’ve got no weaknesses. We try to take them head-on, we get fucked harder than a cow in heat.”
“So, what’s our approach?” Hope asked.
“We isolate and pick off. Miss Hastings, I know your reservations about killing but-”
“You get their attention, I’ll subdue them.”
“Very well,” he said respectfully. “Justin, how many hostages are we looking at?”
“Let’s see. The convention center was designed to house around two hundred people so counting the ones that would’ve sneaked in, you can expect around… five hundred.”
“Wow!” Trent and Hope exclaimed in unison.
“Hey, it’s free publicity.” He shrugged.
Trent groaned and continued, “So, rescuing them one by one is not an option. Plus, they’ve got the entrance on lockdown. So, that’s a dead end.”
“Not necessarily,” Hope added. “Seb’s got the cameras. He told me it’s just a lock and a chain. If we create a distraction, Ren can pick the lock and the civilians can get out that way.”
Trent felt his heart skip a beat. “Ren is here?” he asked softly. The kid he had rescued all those years ago, the one person he’d thought free from his poison, the one person he’d allowed himself to love after his family, was still alive. He could not contain his joy. But then, he recalled his fingers coiled around Ren’s throat and felt like the scum of the earth.
My boy is alive.
He was close to hyperventilating when Hope slapped him back to reality. “Hey! Focus.”
“My apologies.” He shook his head. “I forgot to mention, there is one thing we need to be extremely wary of: their leader, Nathan Sharp.”
“Shit,” Roland cursed. “That Sharp? I thought he died ages ago.”
“If only we were so lucky. He’s a sick fuck both inside and outside the battlefield. Whatever you do, do not engage him.”
“How will I recognize him?” Hope inquired.
“Trust me, Miss Hastings. You’ll know when you see him. Speaking of which, do you think you can get your friend to manipulate the lights?”
“You mean, Seb? Yeah, I think so. Why?”
Trent’s lips curled up into a sly grin. “I think I might have found our way out of this mess.”
∆∆∆
Perched atop a pillar in the darkness, waiting for her chance to pounce upon unsuspecting villains, Hope felt exactly like her idol, Atomic Fairy. However, she was certain that Atomic Fairy never had to rely upon the villains to save the day. Her leg was still injured from the previous mission. While her recently fixed armor (courtesy of Seb) provided enough cushion to support her movement, the pain made her want to shoot pills and not leave the bed for a week. Sadly, that would have to wait.
“No sign of him?” One of the guards called out below her.
A team of twelve armed men encircled the hostages near the entrance atop the seats. Trapped in the middle, they looked like a flock of sheep getting growled at by vicious dogs.
Hope had to give them credit. Their plan was rock-solid. The layout of the theater let them keep an eye on everything. They would see Roland coming from a mile away. Their formations were tight as a vacuum seal: four men patrolling each block rotating out every five minutes, snipers on the top floor with iron sights aimed at the curtains. Moreover, since they were yet to issue any demands or send more men to “fetch” Roland, Hope had a decent estimate of their goal.
They wanted to flush him out. And the moment he stepped through the curtains, he’d be dead before he could say, “Pickles.” Trent was right. These people were good. But that didn’t mean they were impossible to take down.
She prayed she wasn’t wrong.
As is commonly observed, the worst situations in life tend to bring out both the most brilliant and the most irrational ideas in human beings. As such, a man in a Blinking Foxes t-shirt decided that the hostages weren’t being treated appropriately and resolved to confront the guards on the matter. He placed two chunky hands upon his ample waist, scrunched up his face, and spoke with supreme confidence, “Well, excuuuse me, mister! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you haven’t been good sports about this whole terrorist-hostage dynamic.”
The baffled soldier shook his head and kept the gun aimed squarely at his face.
It didn’t seem to bother the man in the slightest. Hope had a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Now, the thing is, first of all, you guys don’t even look like real terrorists. I mean, come on! Who are you kidding with that sci-fi ass armor? I bet those peashooters aren’t even real guns.”
“Sit back down, kid. That’s an order,” the guard commanded.
“Whoa! Is that a Lucidean accent I hear? Ha! I knew it. You folks are fake. Hear that everyone? These aren’t real terrorists. They’re paid actors. This is all just a huge game to hype up the second season of Blinking Foxes baybee! Seriously, talk about bad advertising, guys.”
A high-caliber bullet flew across the air and struck him between the legs. The man fell to the floor with an ear-splitting cry.
The guards parted to reveal a bulky man carrying a massive gun. Hope tried getting a better look with her visor but his face was covered by a tactical mask. He grabbed the injured guy by his hair and held him up to his face. The weight of his voice made the young man piss his pants. “Does it look like a game, now?”
The young man burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean it. I swear. Please help me.”
“Zip it! Here’s something you should know. I don’t waste bullets on the likes of you.”
“W-w-what do you mean?”
“Scream. It turns me the fuck on.” He shoved a fist into the man’s genitals and ripped out the bullet covered in blood and skin. The young man squealed until he passed out from blood loss. The rest of the hostages did not make a sound after that.
That has to be Sharp.
Hope gulped and shivered as the man wiped the bullet with the young man’s t-shirt and loaded it back into his gun. “Don’t tell them to be quiet. Show them what happens if they don’t.”
“Yes, sir!” his subordinate answered promptly.
“I want another full sweep of the theater. If Roland gets away, I’ll chop off your dick and shove it down your throat. I want eyes on him at all times. Him and that bastard Morningstar. Send two men to scout them out from a distance. If you get a clear shot, take it and rid us of their miserable existence.”
“Understood, sir!”
“The rest of you.” He looked around with hungry, prowling eyes and spoke in a voice that set Hope’s nerves on fire, “bring me the head of that bitch on the pillar.”
Crap.
Hope leaped from the pillar as the concrete was riddled with bullets. She tossed a smoke bomb at the guards and ziplined across the theater.
“Don’t you dare let her get away!” Sharp yelled. Once the smoke cleared, his men gave chase, leaving the hostages unattended.
Bullets flew toward Hope from every direction. This was not part of the plan. The Vega suit was bulletproof… to a degree. It could take pistol rounds, no problem. It could even withstand some semi-automatics, but anything larger than that and she’d be spending the weekend in the infirmary. The rounds used by the Elite Guard were as thick as shotgun shells. If she were to get hit by a single stray bullet, it could cripple her for life. Fortunately, she had enough practice in evading gunshots that she could do it with her hands tied behind her back.
That was before her injury. While her suit provided enough cushion that the wound wasn’t a constant issue, jumping around still hurt like hell. And even that was before her recently reduced vision. With her field of view cut in half, she had no choice but to swerve around twice as much to spot everyone aiming at her. Not to mention, her depth perception was now worse than a newborn's. Every so often, she found herself aiming a few inches off to where she’d intended and require mid-air readjustment.
“This. Was. Not. The. Plan.” She groaned.
“Hopie! Great job. The plan worked like a charm,” said Sebastian over the speaker. “Ren’s headed for the entrance right now. Make sure to keep their eyes away from him.”
“And what about your play, genius?” she demanded with understandable anger.
“Coming right up. Just need a few more seconds to get this setting right.”
“Okay, just warn me ahead of time. It’s hard enough to dodge these numbskulls without having to do it in-”
“All done. Commencing Pitch Black Protocol… now.” A soft jingle echoed from Sebastian’s side of the speaker and the entire theater went dark.
“Why do I even try?” She groaned as she missed her target and fell down to the seats.
∆∆∆
“Where’s the signal?” Trent demanded.
“I don’t think there’s going to be a signal, my friend,” Roland answered.
The evening had been a trying time for him, to say the least. But since he had neither the combat chops to lead an assault nor the supernatural athleticism of a high-tech suit, he found himself with an unexpected amount of free time. He tried making small talk with Trent but he was rather fixated on helping everyone get out alive. He tried whistling before Trent got annoyed and told him to shut up. In a last-ditch effort, he tried playing with his tie but even that was rendered moot after the blackout.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“The plan was: she oversees the guards and gives a signal when there’s an opening, I jump in to get their attention, then her idiot friend turns off the light, and then and only then, she picks off the soldiers one by one. So, what gives?”
“Maybe, she got bored of waiting and skipped straight to the final step?” Roland inquired politely.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Something’s gone wrong. I have to help her.”
As Trent jumped from his seat to rush out the curtains, he was stopped by the sound of Roland’s laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing, I just... I used to think you were the last person on earth capable of change. But if you, of all people, can do it, maybe there’s hope for everybody. Maybe even the Order, one day.”
Trent pursed his lips and sighed. “I don’t know if you’re right but… God, I hope you are. About me, I mean. The rest is just poppycock.”
“Go save them, you son of a bitch.”
Pulling the curtains aside, Trent was blinded by an onslaught of flashing lights. He darted to take cover behind the stage props. To his surprise, he was met with complete silence. There was no laser sight on his forehead, no barking of orders or reloading of assault rifles. It was just him on the stage with a spotlight following his every movement. His chest was wheezing like a chimney, his body was in no condition to fight, and the cough was killing him.
Even then, the voice of Nathan Sharp ringing in his ears was the most painful thing to assault his senses. “And what do we have here? Traitor to the family. Kinslayer. The lapdog who never listens.”
“What do you want, Sharp?” asked Trent.
“Don’t tell me I need to spell it out for ya, Morningstar. Save us both a few seconds and haul your ass over here.”
“Oh, nice offer. Unfortunately., I’ll have to refuse on account of not being a fucking idiot.”
A sniper’s bullet tore through the prop cover and missed Trent’s skull by a quarter of an inch. He suddenly felt compelled to act nicer.
“I wasn’t asking,” said Sharp. “Come on top or your skank gets it.”
Trent’s heart was in his mouth. No. No no no.
“You’re bluffing.” Trent prayed that he was right.
“Don’t try my patience. I have none, to begin with. But, perhaps a show of cards.”
Trent looked over the cover as another spotlight was shined on Sharp atop the staircase. He had Hope tied up on the ground by his side. Trent felt sick to his stomach.
“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her!” He raised his voice.
Sharp laughed menacingly. “That is entirely up to you, Morningstar. Every minute you’re not here, I break another bone in her body. Starting… now.”
He stepped on her leg until a crackling sound echoed all over the theater. She cried in helpless agony.
Trent thought of every time she had helped him and winced. If it wasn’t for her, his plan would have never taken off. She had helped him get this close to his goal and what did that get her? Same as everyone who’d ever trusted him.
Trent walked out of the cover, raised his arms, and spoke with his head bowed in shame, “You win. Just don’t hurt her.”
Sharp raised his foot and smirked. “Smart. Now, hurry on up before I change my mind.”
With a heavy heart, Trent did as he was told. He walked up the stairs with twenty guns trained on him. Hope had taken out a handful of men, but it wasn’t enough. If he tried to pull something, he’d be gunned down on the spot.
In the end, he had achieved nothing. Once he was out of the picture, Sharp would kill Roland. He didn’t even know if the bastard was going to let Hope walk away, or any of the hostages, for that matter. All he had done was buy them a few more minutes.
He wondered if he could take Sharp in a fight. That thought passed away the moment he stood next to him. The leader of the Elite Guard stood a foot and a half taller than him. As the spotlight shined upon his bulky frame, his body cast a shadow that engulfed the theater in a menacing aura.
“Any chance I can interest you in a duel?” Trent joked as he looked around. The hostages were not surrounded by anyone and yet, they didn’t seem to have any interest in moving. There was a row of armed guards in front of them but still, the gate, though locked shut, was completely unguarded. Not that he could see the bloody thing in the dark but he knew that Hope had thinned their numbers enough that priorities had changed.
That’s when he realized it. Sharp had shaken them to the core. If they hadn’t given up when held at gunpoint by masked men, his little “show” had broken them. Even if they had a chance to fight back, they lacked the willpower.
“Nice try,” said Sharp. “But I have better things to do than indulge your pointless fantasies. Come now, hands where I can see ‘em.”
Trent sighed and lowered his head. He looked at Hope, still in her Vega suit, curled up on the ground with her arms tied behind her back. This time, he could not guess her expression in the slightest. Was she disappointed in him for giving up so easily? Or angry that he chose now, of all times, to start caring about her? It did not matter. He cared for her and there was no way he was going to let her die, not while he still had a chance.
“Show’s over, Morningstar. Tell me, is it everything you hoped for?” Sharp taunted him.
“It’s decent, alright.” He smiled at Hope. “But I’m sure it can be improved. Perhaps, with a little element of surprise?”
At some point during his ascent up the stairs, Trent had realized that he was forgetting about one piece of the puzzle. Something small yet powerful enough to turn the battle in their favor. The plan was still active. It was like he himself used to say, “Improv is the most crucial piece at the center of any successful heist.”
“You might want to stand back for this.”
He gestured for Hope to run like her life depended on it. It started as a small cylinder with neon blue lines on one side. No one noticed as this insignificant little canister rolled through the Elite Guard's legs before finally resting between Sharp’s team and the hostages.
It’s time.
The cylinder burst into a cataclysmic roar of ice that tore the place asunder. The Elite Guard was sent flying across the theater as massive spears of ice rained all over the convention center. The canister itself turned into a wall of ice between the hostages and the remaining guards.
Nathan Sharp was foaming at the mouth. He watched in horror as the people rushed out of the theater before his eyes. He slammed the ice with angry helpless fists until they bled while screaming all manner of curses.
Once the crowd had thinned, Ren emerged from the other side with the most precious grin on his face. Sharp looked ready to bite his way through the wall. “You, you little shit. Wait till I get my hands on you. I will fucking end you!”
“I welcome you to try,” he said with open arms. His smile faded at the sight of Trent.
“Thank you, kid,” said Trent, placing a hand on the wall.
“I did not do it for you,” he answered coldly.
“I know. And I-”
Ren gestured for him to shut up. “Save your apologies for those who would have them. We have a mission to complete. I played my part. It is time you played yours.”
Trent nodded emptily. There was no salvaging this relationship but he was happy for Ren. The kid would be better off without him. He’d have no one poisoning him. He deserved better. All of them did. Even so, for some reason that he did not understand, a part of him was sadder than he’d ever been in his life.
Before Ren stepped out of the theater, he worked up the courage to raise his voice and said his final words to the boy he had rescued all those years ago, “Ren! I am proud of you. I always have been. You deserve to know that as much as you deserve to be happy.”
Ren stopped for a moment and looked back. “Thank you. You may not believe me but I do not regret the day I met you. Not one bit. Goodbye, Sir Trent. I hope you can find your peace.”
He wiped a single tear from his cheeks and kept walking until he disappeared behind the wall of ice.
Nathan Sharp looked like he was on the verge of exploding. His knuckles were red from punching the wall, his eyes were bloodshot, and his teeth looked ready to crush everything in sight. “You…” he spoke with venom. “I will grind your bones into dust if it’s the last damn thing I do.”
Hope cut open the restraints with her arm-blade and jumped at him with drawn pistols. Before she could lunge at him, Trent stepped in the way and winked at her with a playful smile. “Allow me, Miss Hastings. You have done enough.”
“You sure? There’s no reason to not double-team him.”
“Positive. Get Roland and evacuate. There might be some stragglers on the way. Do you think you can handle them?”
“Just don’t die on me.” She slid down the staircase while Sharp kept his glare fixated on Trent.
“So, captain.” Trent chuckled, drawing the Charon. “How are you feeling about that duel now?”
Without saying a word, Sharp reached into his holster and pulled out what looked to be a ceremonial dagger. It bore an intricate pattern on its hilt that suggested Order smithing and a blade that looked more fit for dicing vegetables than the heat of combat.
“Dear me, how shall I ever conquer such a formidable weapon?” Trent mocked him.
Sharp pressed a single button on the hilt and the dagger started growing. It became longer and more curved until the weapon resembled a ceremonial saber. Trent still felt confident in his abilities. After all, it was just a sword. He could easily outrange it with his Charon. All he had to do was keep his distance and wait for openings. Sharp was a large man. He swung with unmatched brutality but even he was bound to leave himself open sooner or later.
Right…?
Sharp giggled in a way that sent a shiver down Trent’s spine. “Perhaps, you don’t know this but after you left, they finally gave me a nickname.”
“Did they, now?” Trent spoke with nervous laughter.
Sharp grabbed the saber by its blade until his fingers bled and twisted it such that the blade was perpendicular to the hilt. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled the edge of the blade and tugged at it until the hilt was a pole nearly seven feet in length. He slammed the pole’s base on the ground with such frightful power that the tiles cracked beneath his feet.
His weapon was an executioner’s scythe. “Grimm. Just Grimm. No need for honorifics, sonny.”
He swung the blade at Trent with lethal intent. Trent jumped back to dodge but the tip managed to graze him.
Shit.
He touched his cheeks and found drops of blood that made Sharp giggle in delight. He was bleeding after the very first strike. He dodged another swing by the skin of his teeth and raced down the steps. Sharp gave chase with beastly anger. Each swing of his scythe was wide enough to cleave a small car in half. Trent shuddered to think what it could do to his neck.
“Can’t run, Morningstar!”
“Who says I’m running, dipshit? Just getting a better arena so I can kick your ass proper.”
Trent jumped onto the stage with a backflip to avoid a scythe strike. Despite his outward confidence, his body was tearing apart at the seams. He prayed he could keep up the act until Roland escaped. He kicked a prop bush toward Sharp who cut through it with ease.
Trent strafed back to get some distance and fired a bullet at Sharp’s chest. It bounced right off his armor.
Of course.
“Feeling like a hero yet, Morningstar? No friends, no family. Nobody to visit your grave. Pappy Norton’s favorite brat all alone in the world. How does it feel?”
Trent wiped the blood from his cheeks and smirked. “Eh, I could go for a smoke.”
Sharp lunged forth with a sweeping blow which Trent ducked under and struck his chest plate. The two fighters clashed weapons with neither getting the upper hand. Trent was no match for Sharp’s raw strength but Sharp struggled to keep up with Trent’s agility. Metal clanked and rang true in the air as Sharp did everything in his power to finish off his opponent.
Trent, on the other hand, was running on fumes. With most of his former strength gone, he had to rely upon dodging and weaving to get his strikes in. Even then, it was closer than he would’ve liked. If he made one wrong move, his head would come flying off his shoulders. It was not a prospect he relished.
His body was on the verge of giving up. His hands were quivering, his chest hurt, his feet were ready to collapse at any moment, and he was coughing up literal puddles of blood. His ears rang like church bells and his sight had never been worse. He would give everything in the world for the slightest bit of reprieve from his pain.
Hopefully, they’ve gotten away by now.
He could not take it anymore. This was never his battle to win. He’d known that from the start. He looked at Sharp. The monster was covered in cuts and wheezing as he struggled even to hold his weapon. There was no way he’d be able to give chase to Hope and Roland in that condition. Trent smiled with ease and let his weapon drop to the ground.
He had played his part.
“Giving… up… already?” Sharp asked in between gasps for breath.
“Yeah,” Trent coughed as his legs gave in and he dropped to his knees. “I’m about spent.”
“I expected more from the famous Red Death.” He spat.
Trent held his chest in pain. “You’re a bit late for that. You see, that fellow died a while ago.”
“As disappointing in death as he was in life. It’s a fitting end for you, Morningstar.”
“Perhaps. But it’s the one I chose. Now, do us both a favor and rid me of your ugly mug.”
“Gladly.” Sharp stepped forward and positioned his weapon over Trent’s neck.
As he pulled back his arm to swing the weapon, he was bombarded with a million volts of electric current. He passed out in seconds and fell to the floor with an earth-shattering thud. Trent raised his neck and saw Lawrence standing over his body. He was holding a stun gun in his tiny shaking hands
Trent’s jaw was on the floor.
“Oh my, that was stronger than I expected. Are you alright, sir?”
Trent had lost the ability to make words.
Lawrence outstretched an arm to lift him off the floor. “Oh God, he is a big man. I-I didn’t kill him, did I?”
“Lawrence, how the hell did you get here?” Trent demanded.
Lawrence shrugged innocently. “I’m Mr. Roland’s personal assistant. I go wherever he goes.”
Trent did not believe a word out of his mouth and his gaze ensured Lawrence knew that perfectly well.
That was too much for Lawrence. The poor man fell to his knees and held Trent’s hands like he was some sort of deity. “I’m so sorry, sir. They took me hostage. I-I had no idea what to do. Then, that ice thing went off and I got separated from everyone else and I-I saw this stun gun lying around a-and then I saw you and I knew I had to do something. I mean no offense but you’re not really a good person and you got me stuck in this horrible job but Mr. Roland was really nice to me but he’s got a few screws loose himself but I couldn’t just stand around and do nothing, you know what I mean? What if something happened to you and I could’ve stopped it?”
Trent wrapped Lawrence in a bear hug. The bespectacled man was taken aback by his sudden display and responded with awkward pats on his shoulder. “Oh… oh, sir. I really don’t… Okay.”
“Let’s get you out of here, Lawrence.” Trent slapped his back and smiled. He was still alive. He had accomplished his mission and he was going to walk away with his life. Every organ in his body was crying out in pain but he was the happiest he had been in ages.
I did it. Goddamn, I actually did it.
“I um also found these lying around on one of them. Thought you might need these.” Lawrence handed him a pair of handcuffs with the Order’s sigil engraved on them.
Trent immediately put them on Sharp. He might have been unconscious but he was not taking any chances. To his surprise, they actually managed to fit over his beefy arms.
“So, what now, sir?”
“Now, we go home, Lawrence. Now, we go home.”
∆∆∆
When Hope had jumped down the staircase to escort Roland out of the nightmare theater, she’d thought that the worst was behind her. As it turns out, her begrudging relationship with luck had no intention of letting up in the slightest. She had walked precisely two steps in his direction when she found her path blocked by a whole platoon of Elite Guards who were completely uninjured by the ice explosion. While Trent was busy putting on a show, she was occupied fighting tooth and nail against enemies who were infinitely better equipped than her.
Ultimately, it was spite that had carried her to victory. That and a healthy sampling of impotent rage. Once she was done, she practically dragged Roland up the stairs while muttering, “You had better be worth the trouble, you bastard.”
Coincidentally, Trent was done around the same time as them. From atop the stairs, she could see him and Lawrence in the spotlight on the stage, resting over the biggest man she had ever seen. She let Roland do the talking. Her body was about ready to slip into a week-long coma to recuperate.
“Hey, gents!” He cupped his mouth and yelled to get their attention. “About time we blew this joint, eh?”
The answer came in Sharp’s voice. “I agree.”
Hope felt a creeping sense of dread all over her body. She promptly zoomed in on Sharp and noticed a switch in his cuffed hands. It was a deep-red button with a skull insignia on the side. Hope had seen its kind before.
She wished she hadn’t.
She could feel her blood pressure rising as she jumped to warn the others. But there was no time.
There was simply no time.
She watched helplessly as he pressed it, and the floor gave out beneath her feet. Explosives went off all over the theater, engulfing the convention center in an inferno of death and destruction.
She grabbed Roland before he fell and ziplined to the roof before the flames could burn them both to a crisp.
“Oh, dear. Oh god. Oh shit!” Roland screamed his heart out as Hope flew them all over the place while narrowly avoiding the fire. “Bastards rigged the place as a failsafe. Just how long were they planning this?”
“Where are the others?” Hope asked. Her vision was obscured by a cloud of black smoke.
“By the bottom seats!” Roland pointed through watery eyes and a wheezing cough. “Give me one of your ice bomb things and drop me by the entrance. I’ll clear a path for us. You get the boys”
Hope found a safe area near the top of the stairs and dropped him as gently as she could. The ice wall had completely melted. In its place, a ring of fire stood blocking the path to the entrance. She handed Roland an ice grenade canister with some hesitation. “You sure you know how to use one of these?”
“No, I’m just trying to be brave- Of course, I know! Now, hurry up.”
Hope tried ziplining to the bottom of the stairs but halfway through the swing, the ceiling gave out. Her cape shielded her from the flames as she went tumbling down the stairs.
And they think the cape is just for show.
At any other point, she would’ve been screaming bloody murder but today, her body had gone numb a while ago. She was limping but a small part of her was still thankful that things were not as bad as they could’ve been.
She fired an ice grenade to clear a path through the bits of the falling ceiling. Trent was standing on the other end of the aisle. He was carrying Lawrence on his back.
They met in the middle. Trent was covered in soot and coughing with every breath and yet, his eyes radiated a fierce determination.
“He passed out from the smoke,” Trent told her.
“What about Sharp?”
“Disappeared the moment the blast went down. There’s no time!”
She nodded and fired an ice grenade at the stairs. The flames dissipated to give way to a half-charred wooden staircase. They ran with every last ounce of their strength. Hope no longer felt the pain of her broken bones or the wound on her leg. The visor filtered her air but she was still gasping for breath. Adrenaline pumped through her blood like a reactor core and gave her a final burst of energy that carried them through the staircase.
What awaited them was a sight that neither of them wanted to admit was real. Partly because they knew they might have been hallucinating because of the lack of oxygen. Mostly because they were too hurt and exhausted to get through another hurdle. Sharp was holding Roland by the throat right in front of the entrance.
Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
“Your play, dumbshits! Stay back or he gets it.” Sharp warned them, tightening his grip. The cuffs were still dangling from his beefy arm. Roland tried breaking free but to no avail.
Hope’s brain had gone completely blank. She was out of options, out of tools, and out of energy. This was the end of the road and her path was blocked by a man she had no chance of beating in combat. And that was if she managed to get Roland free while somehow navigating through a burning theater that could come crashing down on her head at any moment.
Hope cursed her luck. She cursed everyone who had ever tried to stop her from doing the right thing. She cursed her father too because might as well. She was going to die anyway.
She felt a strange sense of comfort in that fact. If there was nothing she could do, what was the point of being afraid? Why fear what cannot be stopped? Why spend your last moments cursing everyone who’s wronged you when you could spend them thinking about the people you love?
She shut her eyes and thought of Sebastian and his joyous laughter. Even after everything they’d been through, he had never left her side. She thought of Ren and his antics. He was a bit weird and not good at expressing himself but he’d come through when it mattered the most. He’d stopped her from doing something she might have regretted for the rest of her life. She thought of Aliyah and her smile and her attitude and her snide remarks and the taste of her lips. Their time together was short but she had given Hope the most important gift of all: she had taught her to love herself a little more than before.
She was not afraid. Not anymore.
“Take care of Lawrence, will you, Miss Hastings?” Trent dumped the skinny man over her shoulder and threw his blade at Sharp’s leg. It pierced his bone and the large man fell over in agony, dropping Roland in the process.
Before he could get a firm footing, Trent ran up and kicked him in the jaw. Sharp was barely fazed. “Take them and go. Run!”
In one effortless movement, he grabbed Trent by his ponytail and yanked him to the ground. The former Knight cushioned his chin with his elbow. “What are you waiting for? Go already!”
Hope helped Roland to his feet, carried the unconscious Lawrence over her back, and raced toward the entrance. The moment they crossed over, Trent pulled the blade from Sharp’s feet and tossed it at the ceiling. Massive chunks of burning wood fell to the floor and blocked their path ahead.
Trent and Sharp were trapped inside the burning building.
Realizing what had happened, Sharp roared with anger and threw himself at his opponent. Trent jumped out of the way and let him eat the charred dust of the carpets.
Hope cried out from the other side as Roland stopped her from jumping back in. “What are you doing, you moron?”
Trent looked at her through the flames. His blood-red eyes were as peaceful and still as the Mitsurugi waters. He was smiling more brightly than she had ever seen him smile. “Miss Hastings, it turns out you were right, after all.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“The truck problem. This is the win condition. Take care.”
Hope could do nothing as he disappeared inside the inferno.