The Storm Part 3

A loud boom shook the orphanage. Debris could be heard pelting the walls. A pink glow surrounding Vivian illuminated the otherwise pitch black room. Tendrils of fuchsia light lashed out at the air. 

The furthest right window rattled, then opened.

Two Consulate scouts stepped into the room. They locked eyes with Vivian then each other. Yellow light surrounded them. One of them approached Vivian, her wings on full display.

The other scout disappeared.

Vivian smiled. Her eyes were devoid of emotion and her posture was relaxed. “Did Belzinth ever tell you what happened to the last people they sent to capture me. Maybe he’s too young to know or maybe that boring old bitch Grimhildoir was still around to tell you and just decided she didn’t feel like it.”

“We are very well aware of who you are, Miss Vivian, greatest dispeller.” The visible scout held out his staff, a yellow light circling around it.

“Then you know you won’t win, so just kill yourselves and save me the trouble.” Vivian shrugged.

“Truth be told, you're shorter than I thought you’d be. Are you really her?” The scout tried to goad her.

“And you talk a lot for a walking corpse.” She looked bored.

Another, closer boom, rocked the orphanage slamming the window shut. Flames consumed the building.

A look of concern spread across the scout’s face.

“It’s a shame you weren’t out there still, would have made my job a lot easier.” She noticed the scout’s hesitation. “What, your plan already failed?”

“We can still capture you. NOW!”

The invisible scout revealed himself behind Vivian. Yellow light formed an orb at the top of their staffs and shot towards her. Fuschia tendrils swatted at the beams of light, dispersing them on contact.

Vivian lowered her grip on her staff.

The scout in front of her took a step back, yellow light dancing around his staff.

A crack echoed throughout the room as she swung her staff upward.

The scout dodged just in time for the strike to miss, but was still knocked off balance by a rush of displaced air.

The pink glow surrounding Vivian ate the lights circling his staff.

Another crack drowned out the sound of Vivian's staff cleaving through the scout and leaving a large diagonal gap in his body.

A smashed chunk of flesh and bones squelched onto the floor. The scout’s arm, what remained of his upper body, and his lower body fell to the ground.

The other scout fired three fireballs into Vivian. Each of them merged with the pink glow.

Yellow light surrounded him as he started to turn invisible.

A rush of magenta flew towards him, lifting him off the ground by his head and surrounding him in a miasma of magic eating pink.

Vivian carried him to the window, opening it with her other hand and floating through.

The scout struggled, throwing punch after punch and kick after kick to no avail. Her magic was too strong to overcome with physical might.

She dangled him off the building.

The occasional yellow glow tried to circle around his staff.

“P-please don’t do this. Just let me go. I’ll fake my death, run away from everything. You’ll never see me again.” The wind drowned out his panicked voice.

Vivian snapped his staff in half as a surge of yellow tried to flee it.

His eyes went wide as pink flowed from Vivian through his body. “You-you monster.”

Pinkish black Crystals crept up his legs and arms.

Vivian watched, a look of boredom on her face, as though she’d seen this many times before.

“If you don’t let go of me, the crystals will spread to you!” The scout laughed, expecting to take her down with him. He screamed, the pink coursing through his body turned to black as he began to cough up blood.

The crimson liquid evaporated upon contact with the glow.

She crushed his head with her hand as though she were squeezing a stick of softened butter. The crystal consumed the rest of his body as it fell to the ground below, shattering on impact.

Vivian saw a crystalline corpse behind where Mary fought two soldiers. “Looks like she had the same idea.”

One soldier fell to the ground. Another got up. Mary wasted no time knocking him back down.

A jagged column of light struck her as she prepared to finish them off. She stumbled then collapsed to the ground.

“F***.” Vivian sighed.

———————————————————————————————————————

A slight, dull pain, similar to pinching one’s arm, coursed through Mary’s entire body. A rush of clean air filled her lungs, confirming that her respirator worked after the strike. The blues filling her vision confirmed the same was true for her goggles. She lifted herself off the ground and checked her device. All of its functions still worked.

A cold, metallic weight rested around her fingers and in her hands. She looked down. She managed to keep a hold of her modified apache revolvers, or rather the electricity that surged through her wouldn’t allow her to let go of them. The outline of her knives could be seen resting in the mud where she dropped them earlier.

Mary finished standing up.

Vivian watched the fog from the second floor of the orphanage, her pink aura invisible to Mary’s thermal vision. Off in the distance, two yellow and red blobs headed northeast. She picked up her knives and chased after them despite her already ragged breath.

———————————————————————————————————————

The splash and squelch of boots running through mud could be heard behind them.

Sergeant Zivot turned around. He couldn’t make out anything through the mist, but the noise kept getting louder. “Can you move on your own now?”

A wave of pain shot through Dusty’s head as he heard his voice. “Y-yeah. I think so. Why?”

“I need you to run in a straight line from here NOW!” Sergeant Zivot shoved him forward. His sword nearly flew out of his scabbard. White light circled around a staff held behind him to prevent it from being broken in a fight.

The squelching noise softened and slowed down as the faint shadow of a figure could be seen through the fog.

“If you want to get to the boy you’ll have to go through me." He turned his head towards Dusty. "RUN ALREADY KID!”

A jolt of electricity shot from his staff, striking the figure in the chest.

It kept walking forward.

White light circled around his staff once again.

Dusty looked back at Sergeant Zivot one last time before running off. 

Nineteen fox plushes were added to the pile in his brain, tallying his failures.

The creature was right. He stared at the ground as he ran.

———————————————————————————————————————

The figure walked into the range of Sergeant Zivot’s sword, as if baiting him to strike.

He backed off.

An icicle shot out of his staff.

The figure tilted its head to dodge it.

White light circled his staff again.

The figure disappeared into the mist.

He spun around while pacing backwards towards the north east.

A knife lunged towards his exposed throat. The figure was now close enough to see.

He blocked the knife with his sword. The hilts of each blade rubbed against each other. “You should be dead.”

“You will be.” The first words he ever heard her say left her mouth. Her voice was softer than he thought it would be.

I would have expected that voice to come out of a caretaker or teacher, not a murderer. He brushed his thoughts aside and surged forward and up with his sword, breaking the stalemate, but leaving him open to a counterattack that never came.

His arm was too tired to do anything other than allow the sword to fall by his side.

The woman stood there. Her breathing was heavy, like she recently had the wind knocked out of her.

Sergeant Zivot noticed how heavy his breathing was as well. He pointed the staff at her, glowing orb atop it.

She looked at him, then at it.

A barrage of sharp stones slammed into her chest, causing her to stagger backwards.

His staff fell to the ground. 

No more thunder roared. The rain stopped. The wind was now only a slight breeze. Even the fog began to lift. Moonlight pierced through the final remnants of the fog revealing the woman.

Stone shards stuck out of her coat.

She looked down. Her hand brushed the shards to the ground.

Sergeant Zivot stared at her. He fell to his knees. The fight was still in him, but his body refused to stay standing.

He expected to see blood, but her coat had barely been pierced by his final gambit.

The woman staggered towards him. One step. Then another, pausing after each step to catch her balance.

He reached for his sword but abandoned the idea when a sharp pain shot through his arm.

One last squelch placed her in front of him. A fist struck his face.

It was a weak punch, but still strong enough to knock him onto his back, the weight of the woman's own punch causing her to fall with him.

“What… are you?” Sergeant Zivot said between breaths.

She took a deep breath in. “Vengeance.” Her knife sank into his throat as she breathed out.

Dusty escaped. The mission wasn't a complete failure then. Sergeant Zivot closed his eyes one last time.