Arc 3 - Chapter 17: Careful Steps II

“Who are you?”

Two guards had their barrels pointed at Luna.

Holding her hands up high, she surrendered, with metal batons having its edges facing the guards. Straightening her back, her butt sunk into the fertilized dirt, despite having a bead of sweat roll down her nose. And with Benn hiding amidst the field of crops, Chris hung right in back of her.

The silence only worsened. Their fingers on the triggers, Luna cocked her head to the right … to form a smug smile.

—“Just your typical ballerina.”—

Two blades spawned from the edges, as she clicked the center buttons.

In the speed of a slow bullet, two blades struck straight into the guards’ chests, but it wasn’t fatal. Taken aback, the two guards failed to shoot, but they didn’t drop their guns.

Yet it didn’t take long before two loud thumps shook their hair … as they slumped straight into the dirt.

Dropping their weapons, their rifles littered near the garlic crops. One man stood behind them, his lungs working overdrive on pushing out air.

“That was easy.”

“You bet it was. Come on, we have to turn off that lantern before somebody spots us.”

Because they were on the Southern crop fields, they were the most vulnerable for any openings.

From the Southern watchtower, the light from the lantern glowed in a repeated pattern. One guard took reign of the tower, a woman with short-hair who wore a sideways flat cap. Having a Springfield rifle within his hands, she squinted her eyes at the small disturbance.

Which gave her no choice but to raise her rifle upward. Sulking in a multitude of air, the laminated wood rested on her thin brown jacket.

“Now what do we have here?”

Chewing tobacco swirled like a washing machine in her mouth. Using her right eye, the scope that she settled took in both Chris and Luna, along with two resting guards. Looking like they were fiddling with the lantern, she then noticed another figure coming out from the crops.

It was a burly figure, whose skin was shaded in bluish gray.

Adjusting her rifle, she slowly moved her finger toward the trigger. Her scope and barrel aligning on the shark-human, she then spat it out.

‘Looks like I’ll be sending you to the fishes; where you belong.’

‘Nuh uh.’

Like a crackle of thunder, the gunshot traversed across the region and through the crops and roads. Every guard perking their ears up, they all stopped with sustained boots.

Behind a Joshua Tree, gunsmoke plowed from the barrel of a sniper. Sheltering a laid-back man, he softly smiled as the butt of the rifle was tucked into his armpit.

“What the hell?” Questioned Luna.

“Sounds like the cue.”

“Wait? The cue? Was that a sniper round? Just know?” Asked Chris.

“God damn it…”

Dropping her sniper rifle to the floor, it thunked the wood that was clastined in dark oak. Placing her right hand onto her shoulder, blood traveled down to her arm and wrist. Her jacket soaked with red, her knees sunk to the floor that was lavished in dark brown.

“Oh I’m not … I’m not dying today …”

Meanwhile, Luke and the others turned toward the ranch. Looking like noise and talking were frantic, Luke felt all of his face grow a deadly white.

And just like that, a low monotone alarm scorched through the air. The ranch being on full alert, Luke softly swayed his head before pinning his eyes on Sean.

“I don’t know if it made your job easier, or harder.”

“I could say the same thing to you. But compared to you and me, you guys have it in peaceful mode.”

“I highly doubt that. Anyway, just don’t get killed or shot.”

“Aww, so you do care. No probs cinnamon roll.”

Luke quivered his throat, as the sudden nickname blushed his cheeks a slight pinkish red. Swaying his head back and forth, he sneered.

—I’m not some cinnamon roll … only Hope or Luna calls me that.

Luke gruffed his eyes toward the stables, the ones in which they ran away from. Pointing towards them, he then turned his eyes toward Miles and Hope, who then glanced at the direction.

“You two. Make sure you run back into those stables. They could be a good use of cover.”

“Got it. But please Luke … remember what I said?”

“Every word, yeah I know. I won’t get injured, and I won’t die, so don’t you both worry.”

“ … Then you better not screw up.”

Both Miles and Hope gave him a nod, as they sprinted through the garlic field with heavy breaths. Seeing them pave the path forward, Hope had within her hands the lantern the guards used to carry. Not only that, but Miles carried the two guards like luggage.

Luke pushed his left hand into his pocket, and felt a glass bottle freeze his palm. Taking it out with little force, it was hard to tell in the dark, but he felt its contents squeeze his knuckles.

“What’s the matter? You did get the correct glass bottle right?” Questioned Sean.

“Of course. I’ll never screw up something so simple. It’s just uh …”

“It’s just what?”

“ … What will become of us if we pull this off?”

The alarm continued to ring, leaving the wind and air to grow deathly. Despite everyone being woken up, or on high alert, Sean scratched his unshaven left jawline.

“You tell me. I’m just following the name of our group. You should too.”

Instead of running toward the stables, Sean sprinted at an angle directed toward the ranch house. Turning toward Luke one last time, he gave him a peace sign, before leaving Luke alone in the field.

He focused his eyes on the garlic, a crop that had a similar weakness to many crops.

—Alright Luke, this is it. Don’t make Hope’s job harder than it is…

Having his fingers wrapped around the neck, he used his thumb to put pressure on the side. For a man who holds little strength, the cork shot out into the field. Which unveiled a trail of vapor to slither out.

[Luke! This is the second time that you started a fire! Wait until I tell your father about this!]

For a gas so slithery, it even caressed the top of his left hand knuckles. Feeling it prickle in frostbite, he grounded his teeth, and pushed his other hand on the bottle.

Pouring the liquid within the bottle randomly, more gas escaped. Touching the soil, the liquid and gas hissed, while shriveling up some of the crops that shielded away from the cold. Walking backward, he rubbed his left hand with his right, after he dropped the wine bottle to the dirt.

[I got another call! Your chemistry teacher says that he’s scared of you Luke!]

—I was always good with chemicals…

Softly nodding at his own work, he pushed his right hand into his pocket again. Taking out a small box, it was filled with matches, and he pulled out the smallest one he could find. Gripping the splintering wood, it didn’t take long before he swiped it; giving the shell its warmth and praise.

Kneeling down, he felt the vapors lay havoc on the crops.

[As Principal of the Clastine Institute of Science, I hereby declare any lab experiment to be monitored with care. Students who partake in the use of elements recklessly, will face expulsion in the given future.]

—In the end, I guess I was always a bit dangerous to…

In the snap of a finger, the vapor that molested the dirt … went up in flames. Creating a trail of fire, any part of the chemical or element was engulfed, and anything around it smoked in embers. Soil with no humidity, and the dryness of the air, the fuel of the fire grew exponentially. No. Factorially.

Sprinting back to the stables, he didn’t turn to glance at his destruction.

Feeling the heat grow on his back, it was like the flames were right behind him. Trying to chase him down, every step that he took was one and a half step forward for the flames. Come hell or soaring embers, he narrowed his eyes, and saw the stables grow larger by the second.

All of it being a blur, he lost count of how fast he was. But before he knew it, he was reaching the end of the field of garlic.

Jumping forward, the flames reached toward the edge of the field, at the same time Luke was in the air. Landing right on the edge of the road and field, his right boot … was indulged in flames for a split second.

“Ah!”

Fully jumbling into the gravel road, Luke glanced down at the small fire rippling the end of his pants. Fanning the flame away, Hope ran out from the stables to tend to him.

Once he finally fanned the flames away, a second degree burn laid waste. But once he felt the glow of yellow light, Luke arched his head back, and softly breathed. Ignoring the yellow embers near them, he felt like laying on the gravel like a bed.

“Thanks Hope, that feels great.”

“I told you not to get yourself hurt!”

“Hey come on … at least I didn’t die.”

“Hmph. Doesn’t make that any better.”

Puffing her cheeks like a pufferfish, Hope turned her head away from the relaxed Luke. Pulling her hands away from his ankle, bits of pebble and rock glued to her pants.

Miles walked out of the stables, his arms folded underneath his chest. Staring down at the shyly chuckling Luke, Miles only could gruff out a single ball of breath.

“All that and for what? What’s with you and chemical warfare?”

“At least that’ll direct a lot of attention.”

“Yeah, attention onto us. We should—”

—“Don’t move.”—

They heard the reload of a trench gun.

Hearing it from behind, Luke, Miles, and Hope all slowly raised their hands. Their mouths sealed, and their eyes facing South, Luke began to hear the reverb service bell ringing inside of him. His hair sticking up, all of his face began to be pasted in ghostly pale.

Miles took a small glance from behind, and noticed a single man pointing a trench gun at them. Being middle-aged, he wore a flat-cap, a thin brown jacket, and khaki pants. Looking like a guard, what was different was the golden chains that lavished his jacket and pants. Having a turquoise bush moustache, his hair was also cladded in that same color. Cheeks bigger than a puffed chipmunk, and having an overweight body, he was the pinnacle image of a noble.

“I have finally caught you, Luke Fenix. This is payback for what you did to my precious tower.”