by Drew Hayes
Everyone looked a tad relieved. Even having two magic-users of their own, keeping the mystic arts out of battle made things more predictable. A potent magical-meta could really throw normal fights for a loop, their results often only outdone by the reality warpers like Captain Bullshit. Despite that, technically speaking, his power wasn’t magic. He’d once turned almost the entire world into living stuffed animals for an hour, though, so it was certainly something.
“No magic means we can sling a few spells ourselves, unless that generator will cause you issues?” Morgana wore her blood-red armor tonight, markedly different simply in that she was the only one of the three who had come to this soiree in different clothes. Xelas favored the natural steel look, and Arcanicus seemed like the kind of man born in his draping wizard robes. Sometimes Ivan wondered where Morgana got the blood to start her costumes, but he’d been around long enough to know that there were questions best left unanswered.
The question earned a scoff from Arcanicus. “I am no paltry practitioner just learning his spells. My magic can more than hold up to such technology, certainly long enough to see the task through.”
While Arcanicus was showing his age, and had been for some while, no one questioned the claim. In his prime, he’d been one of the most formidable casting metas the world had ever seen. Even weakened by the bastard known as time, his arcane knowledge was among the most well-developed in the world. Whatever estimations he made of his power, they were going to be accurate.
“Two entrances. Let’s assume both are guarded. Morgana goes with Arcanicus, who magics them sneakily up to the front while I come tearing in through the back. We punch in, taking out enemies and hunting the package. Pseudonym stays out here with the rescue team. Any enemies get out, he picks them off. If we discover the package is in danger, we relay a location to Pseudonym, who will secure it and then hand it off to the rescue team, covering their exit while the rest of us finish the job. Any questions?”
New members sometimes wondered why an entity as seemingly half-cracked as Xelas was in a position of leadership. The older ones knew better. They’d been around long enough to see what happened when Xelas stopped laughing. Once she got serious, the bodies piled up fast.
“Do we have any more information on the one we’re supposed to spare besides the name and the fact he’s big?” Morgana asked.
Pseudonym shook his head. “That was all she had time to tell me. From the footage of the kidnapping, there appears to only be the one. If it becomes a problem...”
“I know. Nicety, not a priority. He’s still lumped in with these blood sacks.” Morgana held out her hand, a chunk of red armor on her arm re-liquefying and curling up, shaping itself into a sword before it hardened once more. “Councilors, are you ready?”
“Ready.” Arcanicus already had a spell half-woven in his hands, tendrils of blue light winding around him and Morgana both.
“Ready.” Xelas’s eyes lit up, and several panels on her body shifted alignment. When the assault came, few even had a chance to see which of her weapons was the one that struck them down.
“Ready.” Pseudonym cast his eyes to the new guild members. Bahamut was clutching a suitcase tightly to her scaly chest. They were scared for their friend, and not without good reason. But they were also scared for what was about to happen. Large-scale slaughter still affected them. Deep down, Ivan envied that.
Morgana tilted her blade toward the building. “Let’s go show these bastards what happens to any who challenge our guild.”
A pair of twos. All day playing intermittent poker to pass the time, and this was one of the better hands he’d gotten. Darius was starting to wonder if he’d busted a mirror recently, because luck did not seem to be with him.
With one eye always on Deacon, as a good bodyguard should, he raised some paperclips. Playing with cash was impractical, especially around other criminals, so cheap office supplies had long ago become the stand-in. One of the many tricks he’d found in his years doing this sort of work.
TV was favored by many to pass the hours, but Darius found it too dangerous. Anything that lulled a brain into complacency was working against them. Games, especially ones with stakes, kept minds active and sharp. Losing focus meant losing money, and this was not the sort of crowd to easily part with their pennies. Sometimes, punches were thrown, yet even that was good to keep the blood pumping, so long as the tussles were ended swiftly.
Across the table, his opponents were examining their own options. Did they look nervous? Keeping his expectations in check, Darius wondered if this might actually be a stronger hand than he’d known. If they were weak, this could be the time to push, to put that luck of his to the test for—
The explosion came from the rear entrance without warning. Too loud, far too loud for what would have been required to knock out that door. And if something had been approaching, unless it was coming stupid fast, their guy watching the cameras would have noticed. Had... had someone fired a missile into their door? That seemed crazy, yet it was the only explanation that made immediate sense.
Moving on instinct, Darius was already up, shielding Deacon with his considerable size. “Boss, we need to go.”
“One explosion doesn’t mean the fight is lost,” Deacon protested. “We’ve got weaponry these capes aren’t expecting; our battle has only just begun.” As he spoke, the others were already scrambling for their borrowed gear—heaps of cobbled-together components shaped roughly into usable tools. A few were already turned on, letting out low-level hums or gaining glows along their blades.
Maybe, if it had been capes, Deacon would have been right. It didn’t matter, though, as something that used to be a person came stumbling into the room before Darius’s eyes. Half its flesh was roasted off; crackling sparks ran along its exposed bone, until balance failed and it landed in a heap of smoking bones and meat. The final vestiges of life faded as its skinless hand reached for them, finally falling limp.
“Capes don’t kill people like that. We have to go now.”
Not waiting for permission, Darius scooped his employer up and raced deeper into the building. He was just around the corner when he heard the front door—in the room where they’d been playing cards moments before—slam heavily open. After that, it was hard to make out anything over the screaming. Instant, horrific, and impossibly sustained. Whatever was happening, someone was making it hurt.
“She was right. Fuck me, she was right the whole time.” Rumors. Whispers. Stories that big crime bosses tell up-and-coming conquerors to keep them in line. Except this wasn’t a cape raid. Darius had seen plenty of those, had even been rounded up in a few. The AHC didn’t come in melting flesh and exploding doors. This left only one plausible explanation: the stories were true, and the guild wasn’t as out of commission as he’d thought.
“That woman did this?” Deacon snapped, trying to look up from his position under Darius’s arm.
“More like she knew it would happen.” Zipping around a corner, Darius heard horrified yells coming from the left, and silence from the right. Right it was, then. He took the turn with minimal loss of momentum. Without realizing it, Darius had put himself on a path to Emory’s quarters. As the only two decent metas and bodyguards, they had the best chance of fighting their way out, minimal though that was starting to seem.
Perhaps there was another way. Tori hadn’t been especially subtle, hinting that she knew more than she was letting on. If it wasn’t all fake, wasn’t all just shit-talking, then maybe she could do something, say something. He was grasping at straws and was perfectly aware of that, but straws were all he had to grab in the moment.
Darius slapped open Emory’s door, shattering the lock and revealing a room with a spray of clothing and bedsheets coating its floor. The noise must have woken Emory up, and he’d gone looking for them. Damn it. No time to search, not without a lead. They’d head for Tori’s cell and hope to run into him on the way.
“Don’t worry, boss, I got you. We’ll mak
e it through this.” Wishing he felt even a fraction as sure as his voice sounded, Darius sprinted off once more, hoping against hope that his shitty luck had worn itself out on the poker table.
The clucking “tsks” sounded not quite right as Nexus strolled along the near empty hallway, stepping over a smoldering leg. Too easy, that was the problem. These goons might have had top-tier concealment tech, but the weapons they’d been sold weren’t nearly of the same caliber. Against average metas, sure, a double-chamber anti-ion blast would do some real damage. Facing down three councilors of the guild? A white flag would give one a better chance of survival. In some versions, they got the really good stuff, and while those fights ended the same, they were at least more fun to watch.
Reaching a hand out, Nexus ran his fingertips along the walls. Where they touched, a seam opened, revealing a swirling mass of colors and chaos not unlike his kaleidoscope eyes. From the shifting realms came a form, big as a wolf, long like a snake, armored like an insect, and with many-toothed mouths at both ends. One end opened, firing a stream of pink liquid that bubbled and hissed the moment it touched concrete, dissolving the material in seconds. More beings followed, some locking mouths, working together, rolling and slithering in a wholly unnatural way as they scattered throughout the building.
These would certainly not be enough to make any difference in the fight. Nexus reeled at the memories of what it actually took to put down these three. Other worlds, other days, he’d seen the carnage they could call upon when threatened. Eventually, they wore down, yet the results always had major, lasting consequences on that iteration. Universes like this one, versions with multiple Singulars, had to be managed more delicately. One true indulgence today might cost years of entertainment down the line. This was just something to add a little spice to the morning’s events.
Nexus continued along the hallway, ignoring the sounds of slithering invaders as he headed to his next viewing location. There were still a few turning points left to observe, and he loathed coming in late to these things. It never felt as good as catching it from the start.
Chapter 30
Picking off survivors was far from Morgana’s idea of a good time, or even a sporting challenge, but then, that’s why this wasn’t a job for the heroic metas.
From behind a wall, two men came leaping, both holding technological weaponry. It made no difference. She’d already felt the blood in their veins long before drawing close, and as they moved, she took control of it, turning their inner liquid into blades and spears that came bursting out of their flesh. Morgana took care to mangle their bodies, ensuring that an autopsy would give nothing away. There was a time to work in secret, a time to leave a trace, and knowing the difference often defined who went to jail versus who walked free.
A new noise came from behind her. Whipping around, Morgana formed a shield of blood out of the two bodies’ contribution to her pool. Pink liquid struck, popping and sizzling, actually managing to burn through some of her defenses.
“What in the hells...?” A single glance answered her question. Three unnatural creatures, slapping and rolling and slithering with disgusting speed, were coming to join a fourth with a drip of pink liquid falling from its front mouth—or at least, the mouth that was in front at this particular moment. Neither seemed especially dominant, and worse, whatever was in these otherworldly creatures wasn’t blood.
“Arcanicus, looks like we’ve got interlopers. Maybe part of their defense, but it wouldn’t be my bet. Can you send word out to Pseudonym that things might get complicated?”
“Of course.” Arcanicus raised his hands, creating a circle of white fire around the four monsters. In moments, the fire rushed inward, surging over all of them. It took a full minute for them to burn, by the end of which Arcanicus had completed sending his mystical message. Given that they were walking into a place blocking all tech, magical relay had made the most sense for communicating.
His gaze turned worried as he looked on, noting the smoldering remains. “These things are hardier than they look. Bonefire would cook a normal human in seconds, someone like Thuggernaut in a half-minute, tops.”
Sudden, strange creatures appearing on the scene fit several old metas’ methods, but those would all be a stretch. The most obvious answer was usually right, and with this, Nexus may as well have signed his name on one of the creatures. He very well might have, in fact; it wasn’t like he cared much for subtlety.
“Should we find Xelas?” Since their robotic colleague was entirely formed of technology, her ability to interact with magic was limited, and that included mystical messages. It was a risk they’d realized going in; however, given the limitations of the job, there was no avoiding it.
Arcanicus stroked his beard twice, then his head shook. “If I can handle them, she’ll be fine. The larger job is purging these things before any make their way to the package. I doubt they will show a kidnapper’s restraint.”
“Pushing on it is.” Morgana reached out, feeling the next sacks of waiting blood. She’d have to be more careful now; there were entities in the mix she couldn’t instantly destroy. There might have been, perhaps, a hint of a smile on Morgana’s face as she adjusted the grip on her sword.
Now this was a little more entertaining.
The clang of the door unlocking startled Tori. She had no way of gauging the time precisely, but it had been long enough that she knew the moment was drawing close. Though this felt early, it was also a good sign. The capes must be here to set her free. Affecting a weary, scared expression was harder than she expected, especially when she had to hurry to compose herself as the door pushed open. She didn’t end up doing a very good job, not that it mattered. The man standing before her was certainly not a cape.
“They put you in this one? Curious. Usually, you’re a few doors down.” Nexus stepped back, checking the hallway like a lost tourist, then shrugging in acceptance. “Oh well. The surprises are what make it interesting.”
“Why do you always show up at the worst times?” Tori wasn’t sure when the madman’s presence had turned from shocking development to occasional annoyance. Maybe she just didn’t have the spare energy to spend on him right now.
He wagged a finger at her, something she’d only seen from old professors and bad television. “Not the worst parts, the fun parts. The bits worth seeing. True, some are better than others, but even on the rewatch, I don’t like to skip anything… especially since the details are never quite the same. Don’t worry. You rarely die in all this.”
The door began to close once more, going just slow enough for her to hear Nexus’s parting words. “Of course, I also don’t usually bring along acid-spitting friends. I wonder how that will impact things.”
The door shut loudly; however, there was no sound of it locking. Nexus wasn’t worried about her escaping—wasn’t worried about anything at all, most likely. More force of nature than person, he was a long-standing thorn that countless wanted to pull out, yet no one had succeeded. Today wasn’t the time to worry about Nexus. More concerning was whatever it was he’d let loose, and how it was going to impact the rescue mission.
Taking a deep breath, Tori forced herself to stay calm and ignore her now unlocked door. This wasn’t about escape; a door could never have held her if she’d opted to leave. It was about building a story, a message, and an alibi all in one go. The others had her back. She just needed to trust that they’d be able to handle whatever bumps Nexus put in the way.
It wasn’t a terribly hard leap of faith, knowing her guild and its power. If anything, she started to wonder what was taking so long.
“Come on... come on... finally!” Xelas pulled her finger from the massive computer tower, a USB port vanishing as her digit reformed. Though there were receivers and components spread throughout the building, she’d needed to find the digital heart for her side mission. There was no shame in someone else creating tech that rivaled the guild’s; such was the nature of progress and innovation. However, there was
no way they were dealing with this a second time. Xelas had just downloaded all the software and schematics, her ocular sensors scanning every component that wasn’t shielded. They’d have to do a little guesswork here and there, but that was no major hurdle for her and Doctor Mechaniacal.
One piece caught her attention in particular. Directly at the center of the machine, buried deep in its core, was a box that read like a black hole. It was so shielded and dense that it had to be intentional, some sort of lure meant to draw in the too-curious. Another time, she might have probed further. Today was not the time to risk a trap, however. One of their own had been taken, and they needed to make clear why that was a horrendous idea.
Xelas turned the corner just in time to see a pair of tube-like monsters joined at the mouth slide past the door she’d exited. The pair slapped around, what looked like nine tongues coming out of each mouth to taste the air, walls, and concrete. No reaction. Probably didn’t distinguish her as a life form. It wasn’t uncommon with interlopers; they reacted to the biological because it was what they were familiar with.
Choosing a midrange weapon, Xelas shot the one on the right, the bolt from her shoulder searing and wounding it, but not finishing the job. Tough little bastards; that would have gone clean through a car. Pink liquid shot out from the left one’s mouth, a stream that Xelas easily dodged. This time, she picked something with more stopping power. A flash of yellow as the beam struck, and now the one on the left was sliced cleanly in two.