Victors Quill

We made our way down from the rooftop just after sunrise, I teleported to the ground, I yawned as I watched Plor float down in the air.

The dellumite followed behind her like a school of fish, each feverishly chasing after her as she descended.

It was quieter than it had been the day before. No wind howling around buildings, no echoing calls of distant birds. Just silence, and the steady sound my boots—or in Plor's case, the soft flutter of her coat.

When she finally stepped down onto the street, the sun had slightly climbed over the horizon, casting long bars of light between leaning buildings. Moss coated the lower floors like rot, and trees burst from places no roots should've reached—windows, ceiling tiles, rusted vehicle hoods.

She glanced back at me over her shoulder.

"Kael, what's the first thing you're eating when we get back?"

I blinked, caught off guard. 

"You mean if I could eat anything?"

She scoffed. 

"Well, yeah let's say you could eat anything. What would it be?"

What did I even use to like eating?

"…Salad." I said finally. 

"Just fresh, delicious salad. Actually, no chicken salad. Something refreshing."

Plor grinned. 

"Salad? Seriously? I'm making a stew. Thick, spicy, and hot. With some meat of course."

"You have meat?"

"I have dried meat, we can look for some fresh meat on the way back."

I raised an eyebrow. 

"That better be a promise."

She didn't answer. Just walked ahead slightly, arms behind her head, the dellumite gliding behind her like a procession of silent guardians.

The road turned up ahead, where a half-collapsed overpass had crushed a strip of shops and sent chunks of debris cascading across the lane. I could see a path through, half-covered in vines and glass.

"How long until this meaty feast?" I asked. 

I stepped over a crumpled sign that read 'SAFE ZONE' in faded letters.

"Two days, maybe one and a bit if you don't whine." Plor said. 

"Soon as we hit the canal, we can cut north and—"

Something slammed into the ground ahead of us with a thunderous crack.

A split-second of silence followed. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that sucked all the air out of the world.

Dust bloomed outward like a ripple of ash.

A metal pole, thick as a man's thigh, was embedded into the cracked road, still humming faintly with kinetic force.

"What the fu—" I started.

Shortly after someone slid down from above, riding down the hunk of metal, slowing only at the last second. His boots hit the ground with a thud.

He was dressed in stuff that simply didn't fit the environment, scarf across the lower half of his face, bronze goggles reflecting the sky, tattered cloak of cloth fluttering. Strange black tattoos twisted along his arms, it looked like a viper of some sort?

Behind us, someone else moved.

Plor tapped a dellumite bar midair with two fingers, it snapped out of view turning into a blur.

I turned just in time to briefly see a figure sprinting from the alley—

Then he vanished, the bar struck him in the gut, launching him into a rusted vehicle so hard it caved the door inward. He had a clean hole through his stomach, organs spilled out of him, crimson blood flowing out like a waterfall onto the ground.

What the fuck…

My heart thumped, adrenaline starting to course through my veins.

Badump, badump, badump.

Plor didn't look at him. Her eyes were scanning rooftops now, expression flat, as if she didn't just remove someone's stomach.

"Ambush." She muttered. 

She looked at me, her face stern. 

"Kael, run." 

Her voice was cold, commanding. Goosebumps crawled across my skin.

I looked around—nothing on the ground yet. But shadows flickered above, dancing between radio dishes and collapsed scaffolding.

"I'm not leaving you behind."

She clenched her jaw, the veins on her forehead pulsing. Then she stared at me, ferocity dancing behind her eyes. 

"Kael, you're deadweight. Fuck off."

And then they dropped.

They didn't descend all at once.

Some jumped from the buildings. Others emerged from behind shattered walls, from under tarp-covered wrecks, from pits and alleys and doorways we hadn't even registered.

…She's right I'm useless, but I can pull my weight.

There was a dozen, at least.

More with each second.

Some wore gear like the first, all loose cloth, layered armor, pouches strapped tight to limbs. Others had reinforced plating or masks that looked welded in place. Scarves curled around faces like they were choking themselves.

The street shrank.

The space between me and Plor stretched thin, just a few meters apart but already filling with movement.

Plor didn't flinch.

She touched another bar and it snapped forward, whipping through the air like lightning. It didn't matter who was in front of her, one man thudded to the ground unconscious, the bar had torn straight through his shoulder, his arm was meters away, limp and lifeless.

Someone behind him lit up—literally. A blinding-white light lit up from his fingers.

I threw my arm over my eyes.

Plor didn't get the chance.

The light hit her straight on, forcing her eyes shut. She hissed, hand snapping onto a wall beside her. She slammed a push force into it, tearing down the wall, while hurling herself inside the building.

The moment she stopped, another enemy was already standing in front of her. Not physically attacking, just standing there, motionless.

I looked towards the strange guy, he just stood there motionless outside where Plor was.

I saw her through the side of the building she tore out. She kept her eyes clenched, lashes flicking as if weighing whether to trust them again.

What's she doing?

As I stared at the man, the world instantly turned black, I had been swallowed by nothing? Or something? 

I instinctively teleported, finding myself across the street inside a building staring at Plor and the assailants.

A scream ripped through the air—like feedback off metal. One of them had a voice like a weapon, and it was slicing my ears, shattering the glass windows in front of me. My knees buckled, and I staggered dropping below the window sill.

Plor didn't have the luxury of cover. She crouched where she was, she was blind, deaf and surrounded.

But she didn't panic.

Instead, she shifted her stance, spread both her hands and charged the earth beneath her.

The ground pulsed.

A burst of energy sent her flying upward at a wild angle, she flung her self through the building appearing out its side, flipping once mid-air as she flung a bar straight down at the source of the sound. All I heard was a wet crunch, then silence.

She landed heavy, gasped, blinked hard.

Someone had thrown a chain—thin but sharp, looped with hooks. It hit an invisible force around her arm, never truly sinking into her flesh.

Two attackers tried to pull her down at once.

Stupid.

She touched the end of the chain, applying a pull force to it. The chains snapped tait in reverse, dragging its owners towards her instead.

They didn't even have time to scream.

She caught one in the chest with a knee, the other she grabbed by the shirt and hurled into the floor, an invisible force dragged them fiercely across the concrete.

I turned—

There was a man.

He didn't shout or rush. Just walked towards me deliberate, head cocked slightly. He wore a heavier version of the others' gear. Cleaner. His cloak was double-layered, his hood pressed flat. No face covering. No goggles.

Just cold, precise eyes.

Time to show I can pull my own weight.

I took out my sickles, hitting them together with a screech.

Then I teleported behind him.

I swung my right arm down with all my force.

He lifted a hand. That was it, I felt a strange numbness in my right arm. I looked down, my forearm had snapped in half. Both my sickles were locked in place, unmoving. All the force I put into my swing had gone straight back into my bone.

I winced in agony, letting go of my blades and teleporting back a couple of paces. 

My forearm screeched in pain, hanging limp and bent in a way that it simply shouldn't be.

And yet, the sickles were still frozen in place behind him. As if still waiting to reap his life.

He turned slowly, like this was a game he'd played a hundred times already.

"You're pretty fucking weak for someone hanging out with Plor, she find a new charity case?"

"…Who are you?" I said between gritted teeth.

"Does it matter?" He shrugged.

Only my weapons stopped, his power can't stop everything. Otherwise he would've just stopped me, and I'd be dead. So what is it, metal?

I picked up a rock in my left hand.

"Hmmm… so you can think, is that why Plor is baby sitting you?"

"Does that matter?" I said, sarcastically shrugging my shoulders.

A menacing grin stretched across his face.

"Hahaha… I'm gonna like this."