Published at 8th of March 2024 7:44 am

Chapter Thirty Four

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I scrambled off the corpse of the warlock, doing my best to keep myself from vomiting due to stress. I’d just killed NINE FUCKING PEOPLE—Get a grip, Colm. You can panic after you kill more of these motherfuckers and escape. First, we gotta help Alice and the prisoners.

I ran to the edge of the roof, towards where the lightning was coming. I had intended to slide to a stop near the edge but my clawed feet just bit into the surface and brought me to a halt. It happened so abruptly that I almost tumbled off the top of the damned ziggurat. Instead I kind of gripped the surface of the roof with my toe claws and just awkwardly leaned forward like I was doing an impromptu Michael Jackson impression. Which shouldn’t work? All the weight was balanced on the front of my foot, I should still topple forward—

My train of thought was interrupted as I noticed the scene below. Dozens of pirates were dead on the ground, most with zigzag burns marking their bodies. Many were smoking. Some were still alive, hiding behind the odd pile of boxes or using the sickly trees for cover. Occasionally one would lean out and squeeze off a round, then quickly hide.

Some hundred yards away Alice hid behind the carcass of an old European car, rusted beyond my ability to identify. She was turned away from the pirates, scanning her surroundings. The chain she had around her waist earlier was held loosely in her hands, but now it was alive. And bigger. The chain had grown in length and thickness, and one end had morphed into what looked to be a dragon skull. It hovered above her like a cobra, glaring evilly at the pirates. Lightning played along the entire length of the chain until it built up in the mouth of the skull. It suddenly “barked” out a lightning bolt at one of the pirates, taking out a basketball-sized chunk of their cover.

The reason Alice wasn’t focused on the pirates appeared right after the strike. He literally appeared, as if he had teleported. Mr. Forgettable appeared with no fanfare mere inches from Alice. The two exchanged a series of blows which culminated in another lightning strike, this one from the end of the chair Alice held. Just before the energy left her hands, Mr. Bland disappeared again, the lightning shooting off and setting a bush ablaze.

It was then I noticed how rough Alice looked. Blood was pouring down her face, from her nose and a cut on her eyebrow. She favored her left side and wasn’t putting any weight on her right leg.

I quickly brought out my tentacles and pulled myself back from hanging over the edge of the roof, then ran back to where I had dropped the rifles. I scooped one up, ejecting the mag while I searched one of the bodies of the guards for more. I found two, which should be enough.

I took a moment to familiarize myself with the rifle. It was an M4 variant, in pretty good condition. I was vaguely familiar with its operation thanks to the M16 my father had me train with, though the M16 I’d used hadn’t been fully automatic. I slammed the mag home and pulled back the charging handle, praying to whoever listened that the gun wouldn’t jam.

I ran back to the edge of the ziggurat, this time prepared for my suddenly improved traction. I fell into a shooter's crouch, took three deep breaths to steady my hands and sighted on the pirate furthest from me that I could still see clearly. Switching the gun to single-fire, I exhaled and squeezed the trigger.

My shot was a little low. Instead of a chest shot, I hit him in the side of the stomach. I put another round in him to make sure to take him out of the fight before switching to the next target.

I got four pirates before they cottoned on to the fact that they were being shot from behind. I switched to automatic and started firing bursts, getting another two before the return fire forced me to drop back. I swapped mags and ran for the stairs, snatching up a knife from the ground at the last instant.

Hopefully, that gave Alice more room to breathe. I needed to get the hostages moving towards town while she was distracting everyone with her showy magic, then I could join her and kick Mr. Forgettable’s ass.

I practically flew down the stairs. Only two guards had remained with the prisoners, and they didn’t see me in time to avoid taking a tentacle each in the throat. I lifted them into the air and threw them behind me, not wanting them to accidentally fire into the prisoners as they died. The prisoners reacted to my sudden arrival like you’d expect to react to a nearly seven-foot-tall monster man with claws and tentacles; terror and surprise. Thank God I figured out how to keep my eyes normal.

I locked eyes with one of the men who seemed to be keeping it together. He had the look of a veteran. He met my gaze without flinching, and I knew I had my man. I walked over to him and cut his bonds with the dead warlocks knife, the blade cutting through the hemp rope admirably. Confusion entered the old man's eyes as I reversed the grip on the knife and handed it to him.

“Start freeing everyone,” I said, then pointed down the road toward town. “Then gather everyone up and head down the road towards town. There’ll be a French lady named Ida giving orders and she’s your ride outta here.”

“W-what? Who are you?” The man asked, taking the knife from me.

“Colm,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Gregory,” he replied, his confusion turning to suspicion.

“Greg,” I said, gesturing at the other prisoners. “I need you to get these people to town, while I go and kill the sons of bitches that brought us here. Can you do that?”

Suddenly I could see the old soldier instincts—or whatever they were, I don’t know if he’s actually a veteran. He just had The Look. But something hardened in his gaze and he gave me a curt nod. I hesitated, then gave him my rifle. They might meet more pirates on the way to town.

“Remember,” I said as he took the rifle. “Short, French lady named Ida. Last I saw her she was using an AK. Don’t fucking shoot her,” the last I said while pointing at him.

He nodded and moved to free the rest of the prisoners. I watched to make sure everything was progressing before turning and heading toward the fight.

It took about thirty seconds to reach the first pirate that was surrounding Alice. He turned just in time to catch my fist with his face. I felt and heard a meaty crunch as his cheekbone shattered against my first two knuckles, his head slamming back into the tree he was using for cover. I picked up his rifle—an old bolt action—and a couple of clips from his pocket before moving on. From there, I started to whittle down the pirate forces. I’d shoot a pirate in the back and run before they could pin down my position. My night vision was so good I sometimes forgot that other people couldn’t see in the dark, and with that knowledge I became much more aggressive in dealing with the pirates.

The only times they’d see me is in the instant the muzzle flash of my gun lit up my profile, but by the time they oriented their guns on me, I’d be moving. In two minutes I had shot ten pirates (only missing twice) and that’s when their morale broke and they turned and fled. I let the couple dozen pirate flee, rushing forward to help Alice.

As I broke cover, Alice’s chain dragon oriented on me and began to gather lightning. “WHOA! Alice!”

My shout caught her attention and she turned to look at me. She frowned in concentration and the dragon bit back the lightning bolt it was about to shoot, looking somewhat like it had been forced to swallow something unpleasant.

My distraction cost her, however. The warlock appeared and punched her right below the ear, sending her to the ground in a boneless flop. I screamed in anger and charged the smaller man, covering the hundred feet in moments.

He looked up at my scream, a brief look of surprise on his face. The surprise turned to mild amusement as he drew his arms up and dropped into a fighting crouch, waiting for me to reach him. He had a few burns on his hands and arms, which I assume are from Alice’s lightning. His normally bored eyes were alight with interest, his breathing fast and excited. I slowed my rush as I drew near, stutter-stepping. As much as I wanted to just wail on this guy, I knew he was too good to not take seriously. Plus, what if he had a weird transformation like Knife Guy?

He deflected my first combination of punches, retaliating with a kick to my inner thigh that I didn’t defend against. The blow landed and hurt a little, but the LotOS was covering every inch of my legs by this point. The kick wouldn’t even leave a bruise. The amused look on his face turned curious.

We exchanged more blows, but this time he wasn’t able to land as many as he had during our first fight. This time I was able to keep him from engaging fully with my tentacles, which he respected enough to avoid completely with that weird teleporting power of his. For some reason, it interfered with my precognition, which I had noted in our last fight but had been too panicked and exhausted to really examine. Not only could my precog not guess when he was going to teleport, but every time he did it also reset it like it was starting anew. It was really irritating. It felt like my brain was hiccuping every time he teleported.

Finally, I had a piece of luck. I maneuvered him into a position where he couldn’t deflect one of my punches and had to block fully. I dug my toes into the soil and put my whole body behind the blow, my form pure and as textbook as I could make it.

My fist connected to his forearm as he brought it up to protect his head, a snap ringing through the night air. My fist continued on, slamming his arm into his head and knocking him off his feet. I moved forward to take advantage of the downed warlock but he disappeared and reappeared some dozen feet away, cradling his injured arm and on his feet.

I snarled my frustration and followed after him, resisting the urge to go into a charge. I had to play this smart and not get impatient. He was inured now, and it’d slow him down—

Suddenly my precog flat-lined. It stopped entirely as a weird distortion covered Mr. Forgettable. It only lasted a few seconds, but at the end, my precog suddenly came back and the warlock was no longer holding his injured arm. Not only that, the burns he received from Alice were no longer in evidence as well. Can he heal?

No, I doubt it. The thing he did to the knife guy on the boat, it looked like he had reversed time. Can he?

I groaned as the warlock rolled his shoulders and dropped into a fighting crouch. “You can control time, can’t you?” I said.

The background extra smiled thinly and inclined his head. “Something like that.”

Fuck.

This is going to take all night.

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