Polis Telgrim, the man overseeing the 'emergency' government handling things in this strange… contracted, glued together, patchwork not-America, was likely a magus. There was no proof, but the suspicions were mounting on all levels of this impromptu society, so voiced by Felicity.
By strength of force, they enacted arbitrary rule, promising freedom through control; a careful lie using an element of truth. Just long enough that the man at the very top of the pile of rubble could reap his own benefits. And for those that resisted, he had his magecraft to make sure the cogs of society pun smoothly and chewed through their bones.
"The government's headquarters are in the Empire State Building," Felicity explained, nodding out the window towards one particularly pointed spire.
"A symbol embodying New York City, a crown jewel of America in the world's consciousness… it would be a good locus to install more powerful formalcraft rituals," O murmured to herself. "He might have something I'm here for."
"'Might'? You dropped into this crazy place just for something? Like what?"
O grimaced, but held out her hand. "I don't know precisely, but it's connected to these rings. They pulled me here."
Felicity sighed heavily, earning her a slight glare from her companion, "Magic rings, summoned spirits walking around in a city that's shrinking, controlled by someone who might be a wizard, and I'm talking to a bonafide witch-"
"We're magi. Witchcraft is one branch of study, get it right."
"Look, just my brain's cramped, okay? Let me just work this out," The blonde complained, fingers on her temples. "This whole city barely makes sense, and now you're telling me the best explanation is magic… ugh, told to me by some girl who dropped out of the sky with no memories. It's… it's like… a novel, or something!"
"Get used to it. I'm only telling you this much because this place is apparently cut off from the outside world enough that Telgrim is willing to blatantly show off his familiar. Magi are not nice people. You don't want to know what some of us do to stay secret."
O decided it wouldn't help adding that large parts of the Empire State Building would likely have been turned into a Workshop, defenses and all, with the way Felicity was acting. She didn't really need to know O intended to march towards near-certain death, or at least a much-abbreviated life as research components, all on the basis of a subconscious tugging on her fingers.
"Even if you want to go after Telgrim, what are you planning to do? Do you even know what you want? How do you even know he's the one who has it?"
"I'll know it when I see it," O cooly retorted. "I'm also sure a magus will be holding it. Even if there are others under Telgrim, your 'emergency coordinator' will likely want to keep hold of anything unique for himself, if only to look into replicating it. He'll have what I want."
O looked at Felicity with some curiosity, "You seem rather wary of this, for someone who seems to have little love left for this group."
"Hey, maybe I'm just worried that the first real idea that came out of a girl I've known for less than a day is, 'let's go attack the glorified warlord running this city'?" Felicity shot back. "Seriously, you're just one person! He's got an army, and that magic… big thing you keep mentioning. A familiar right?"
"It's not like I can put my trust in some armed uprising to handle all of that for me," O said, shrugging with one arm. "If there had been any other magus opposing Telgrim, I'm sure you would have had more success forcing the false government here to actually fix your problems."
Felicity frowned, deep in thought. Finally, hesitantly, a question came to her. "Are you planning to take off right this instant?"
O gave an amused snort. "Of course not. This body still needs a little more rest… but I think we're all running short on time, if Telgrim intends for this dust storm to eat this entire city."
"It's not like you're wrong…" Felicity murmured. "But I can't just let you waltz into danger…"
"I'm not going anywhere for now," was all O admitted.
And it was true. The attempted robbery and overblown response had kept the shrinking city on edge for a while, and O saw no reason to rock the boat. Over the course of weeks, the amnesiac magus kept to herself, occasionally heading up to the roof of Felicity's building to observe the city at large. On occasion, the giant girl would be seen between the buildings, carrying an axe as large as her, and keeping any second thoughts of the populace well and properly intimidated.
The interim also gave Felicity a chance to give an under-the-table examination of the amnesiac. Loss of the arm aside, the former medical student pronounced that her guest was, as far as she could tell, a healthy, relatively fit girl reaching her 20s. It also gave Felicity an excuse to saddle the magus with a routine of stretches and other light exercise that O chafed at, but begrudgingly followed when the blonde innocently implied O was not up to the task normal folk could easily do.
Still, that gave O the chance to listen to the radio. The broadcasts gave more info on the dust storm, and the fact it gained about a foot in distance each week. Not much, but knowing another ring of buildings at the edge of this miniscule world became weathered away, unbreathable and unusable, made the denizens of America shudder and fear. Another round of complaints came forth, some more violent than others, some directed at the emergency government, others directed at civilians. The Security Bureau came down on them all just the same. Few wanted to complain afterwards: they still had food and water to drink, for what it was worth. It was better than dying for a tenuous cause.
The city was boiling. But O had to spend time getting reoriented with her body. Better here, with food and bed, than those strange stone steps she had jumped away from.
The things she did on instinct slowly returned to her as knowledge. Things like the circuits in her body and the prana they created. She vaguely recalled runes, and mystic codes. Perhaps her rings counted as one. O suspected she should have had a Magic Crest. Magus lineages were tied to such. If she were an example, she should have inherited something, but all she could feel inside were a multitude of high quality circuits. Valuable, but commonplace.
It was something that Felicity wondered about, whenever she returned from work - Despite O's arrival, the need for pseudo-nurses at a nearby makeshift clinic had not ended.
Setting down a bag of rations and vegetables she had been supplied with, she asked, "Do you remember where you learned magi-"
O pointed a finger at her meaningfully.
"Magecraft. Where did you learn it, still? Some of the terms you mentioned seem kind of rigidly defined."
It was a good question, one that put fingers to O's chin as she tried to find any explanation for that. It stood to reason that a vocabulary was only used when it was gifted. Therefore…
Therefore…
"Maybe my family?" O's tone brokered more theory than fact. "I didn't emerge fully formed, you know."
She hoped. Her awakening was not exactly standard.
"Whoever I was raised by probably first showed me. Magecraft is insular. We don't hand this out to passing acquaintances."
"...But could you teach it?" Felicity asked.
O gave her a very dark stare. "Let me be blunt. You're asking someone who barely understands her own grounding in manipulating the laws of reality, to teach you, or perhaps other disgruntled members of society, to fight the armed forces of a magus who has better knowledge and resources. And no, there are no 'tips to start on your own'. Unless you want to create a formalcraft ritual that would go out of control and possibly destroy the entire city."
The medical woman sighed. "Just checking every possibility."
Still, O understood the resource she represented, and it wasn't like she could feign neutrality. Wait too long, and someone would come to make her join their Justified Revolution at gunpoint. And even if there were a hypothetical possibility of allying with Telgrim in exchange for access to his materials, there was nothing to say he wouldn't string her along with promises and lies until the city went up in sand and grit, according to his schedule.
No, she had to take what she wanted from him before the deadline, and that goal aligned with the grumblings in the streets to wrest power and force a solution - "if only there were a counter to the Security Bureau's 800-prana gorilla".
Three weeks after O's arrival, Felicity sat down across from her, while the magus thumbed through a decrepit copy of The Prisoner of Zenda. Any story that let her imagine another place was the only thing worth reading.
O peered over the top of Rudolf Rassendyll's latest ploy, and met Felicity's uncertain features.
"Yes?"
"...O… is it right to say that you're going to fight Telgrim?"
"I believe so," O admitted.
"I hate to say this, but you might really be able to help some of the people fight back… at the very least, it can't hurt to work together with them."
Could it be…?
"You've met these people?" O asked.
Felicity nodded. "I never thought I'd do this, but everything you've said: about the government, the way this city is shrinking, why you're here. I don't want you to fight, but you want to, and… it might actually help this city."
She sighed out her guilty conscience, to O's patient listening. Then the latter spoke up.
"What I'm doing is my own choice. I don't want you to feel responsible for that. Deciding to take advantage of the situation to help survive is not a crime, here. And if what you have can help me too, then I'll listen. What do these people want?"
"When I asked around a bit for people fighting the emergency government, some mentioned they managed to steal magic books and spells from the Security Bureau."
"And this city is still standing?" O sighed, incredulous due to her warnings.
"Thankfully, they can't get it to work," Felicity replied. "But apparently one of the spells they have is for summoning magic creatures. I think like the giant girl the government has. If we have one of our own… just taking that monster out would be a game changer."
That did sound promising. O wasn't sure how viable the familiar would be in fighting the government's, but worse come to worse, it would nominally be under O's control, so the profit would be on her end.
"Can you arrange a meeting with them, then?"
"They're already waiting for us. We just need to go to them."
O couldn't help but smirk. "You're being awfully eager."
"Heh, maybe I am," Felicity chuckled ruefully. "It's a bit sick, but maybe I'm getting excited by all this… being part of something secret, and something that might actually be worthwhile."
"If you're set on this course, then I shall follow," O said, rising from her seat to look for a coat to drape over herself as was becoming customary.
Felicity was no expert in subterfuge, no master of secret codes. She may have been furtive, but the city was all eyes and ears, knowing and reporting. They reached the wrong places.
They may have exited out the back of their apartment, and walked down narrow alleys out of sight of the main streets, but sooner or later, they had to cross an intersection. Try as they might to merge with the crowds, they were looking and waiting.
"Control, this is Watch Jupiter-Alfa-Nine," A mouth reported into a decidedly high-tech radio receiver hooked onto vest strap. Through the window of the car, they saw. "Two women sighted headed east along Yew Street, one positive ID for Felicity Bregia, the other matching APB subject, over."
"Watch Jupiter-Alfa-Nine, solid copy from Control." The radio crackled back. "All units in the vicinity, be advised, perform loose follow. Attain final destination, then await further instructions, Over."
The city only partially functioned at times, and many of the buildings that had been plucked haphazardly to share space with others didn't necessarily have any use, or the logistics to be usable. That left condemned and abandoned structures that were given little notice or care.
In the shadow of some unused office complexes was the lifeless carcass of an ice factory. In a world where even water was not entirely certain, ice was a needless luxury. Whatever heavy machinery it had was scavenged and disassembled, and what was left was draped in tarps for safekeeping.
And there it stood, free to bask in the sight of Felicity and O after passing through its outer gates and into its inner yard to look at the main factory building. Your everyday 19th century collection of brick and tile, with rotating frosted-glass windows running along the wall under the lip of the roof.
O wondered how to go about getting an introduction with whatever group apparently had holed themselves up here, but then the wooden loading gate at the front opened up to reveal a man holding a Garand, who walked up to the pair and asked, "Felicity? And this is the, uh, witch?"
The magus vaguely worried if this group was a tad too easy-going. It certainly helped her frown, to which the man looked at her confusedly.
"What?"
Felicity was quick to answer, "Don't call her a witch. She's a magus. They're strict about their vocabulary."
The man, your average good looking brunette in era-appropriate slacks and shirt, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Well, if it's the dame's say-so… I'm Levin. We better get inside before we catch any attention."
With that, the three hustled themselves onto the other side of the loading gate, which shut behind them. The inside of the former factory was a dusty and half empty expanse, retrofitted into something akin to a living space. The few real ice-making machinery left lay abandoned under heavy canvas tarps. Other furniture had been moved in. Standing partitions and cots gave an illusion of privacy for sleep. A table full of guns promised revolution. A few wood-fired stoves gave heat and solace, and a way to cook food. Scattered about were plenty of books and scattered games. A home away from home.
Around her, O saw a scattered mix of men and women who had kept watch from scaffolds and crates they used to look out the elevated windows. Many of them began to relax and lower their various guns, and began to congregate around the trio, or at least pay attention.
"All the people here want to take down that self-styled 'emergency government' that's got us on a leash."
"So I figured," O simply said.
"When we met Felicity, she said you could use…"
The woman in question gave Levin a pointed look.
"...Magecraft. Is it true?"
"If your asking for a demonstration, I'm not going to do sleight of hand for your amusement."
"Look, that monster the Security Bureau uses is one of their trump cards," Levin argued. "It's almost too good to be true to have you turn up and claim you can counter her."
"I didn't come to you; you asked for me," O countered. "You are the ones who happened upon this silver bullet; you just want someone to check if it can be used. So show me, and I will judge for you."
"You could always lie and steal it from us later," One of the men up on the scaffolding accused.
"I'm not going to waste that sort of effort to betray you and risk getting shot. Having magecraft does not make me omnipotent."
A part of her also reasoned that such subterfuge for this rabble was a greater insult to her. As if she were afraid of open conflict with these people.
Levin exhaled loudly, resigned for some reason, before waving the accuser off, and beckoning O and Felicity after him. "It's in the basement."
The two followed after the man, this first among equals, and stepped down into the dank underbelly of the facility as he explained himself.
"The Security Bureau has something called the Special Team. They're the ones who… do… well, you and them say you all use magecraft."
"Telgrim seems to have trouble shutting up about them," Felicity said from behind.
"Somehow, some of their stuff got stolen and put up on the black market here."
O tried not to be surprised. This city was on the verge of a breakdown, of course there would be an informal economy here, presided over by crooks, likely.
"And you bought it there? Does your buyer have a name?"
"Some guy who calls himself The Spider. Inventive, I know," Levin carelessly blathered. O supposed he was lucky he was talking to her, rather than anyone else.
Below, the basement proper was a claustrophobic space, with a low ceiling and real estate consumed by a variety of pipes and ducts to carry heat, water, or anything else to various places of the factory above. A few abandoned benches held stray maintenance equipment. A crate full of glass bottles that sat side by side with a metal canister labelled for gasoline was very telling. All of it was illuminated by several bare bulbs that hung from the wooden floorboards above, giving plenty of sickly yellow light, and an equal number of darkened shadows.
In this space, a large circle was scrawled out in several layers of white chalk, enough that nothing of the concrete underneath could be seen. Strange symbols ringed the inside and outside of the greater ring, and within a six-pointed star lay.
O stared at it, and a strange awe filled her. At first glance, it was as perfect as it could be drawn. The empty box of chalk nearby showed the amount of material and effort taken to create the magic pattern.
"We wanted to get it right the first time," Levin explained. "We don't know if it's the same spell that was used to create the Security's giant, but the book we got it from said it would summon a magic servant. We couldn't get it to work, then Felicity said she knew you… There's some sort of incantation for activating it-"
"I know this…" O murmured, loud enough for the other two to pick up.
"Do… do you remember something?" Felicity asked.
"I used to see this all the time. This isn't new…"
Levin's mouth quirked several times, unsure what was going on, before settling on a growing cheer, as he realised, "Then you know how to use-"
Above them, the roar of gunfire suddenly burst, and the trio's heads jerked up, while the revolutionary grabbed for his rifle.
Levin ran to the stairs and shouted upwards, "What's going on?"
"It's the Bureau! There here! They followed those two!" Someone shouted from above.
Felicity began to sway, suddenly very dizzy. "No… I was careful! Wasn't I careful…? I… they're here? They're going to kill everyone here…! Oh god, they're going to-"
Her head felt like it was going to disintegrate, and only O's firm hand wrapped around one of her biceps let her be gently lowered to sit in horror atop a nearby crate.
O made sure Felicity wasn't going to outright faint before looking up at Levin, whose glare was highly unfriendly.
"You can blame us later. You need to buy me time. I'll summon a familiar. It will kill anything the Security Bureau has right now."
Levin shook his head. "We don't have time. I need you up there, fighting."
"The familiar will do the most good. If I get killed up there, then this circle-"
The barrage of gunfire came again, louder.
Another voice sounded from above, a woman's. "Levin! We need you up here! Forget about those two!"
The man swore, gave one more derisive glare at the two, and then rushed up the steps.
"I'm so sorry… I caused this…!" Felicity babbled, something wet hitching in her voice.
"Be quiet," O snapped, and the girl flinched in guilt. "I'll fix this. I'll do this right. I know what to do."
She didn't know how. Whether it was some unconscious memory, or some greater force ordering her meat, O brought her hand up so she could bite into the bandage that had remained over injured arm all this time. Tearing the gauze, O twisted her head away, letting the white scraps fly away, revealing bare flesh and red marks atop her skin.
Felicity looked on in shock at the crimson patterns: a four pointed star sat at the centre of the back of O's hand, which was surrounded by a circle that protruded four sharp tips. Between each point were four more separate blade-like symbols, making the markings as a whole have an abstract impression of a starburst. It was far too orderly to be some scar or birthmark. "O, what is that!?"
"A Command Spell," the silver-haired girl said, with no further explanation, if she even knew one.
Instead, she thrust her reddened limb out at the circle, and gave it its orders.
"Let silver and steel be the essence.
"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
"Let my great master be the ancestor.
"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
"Let the four cardinal gates close.
"Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."
The white of the circle became brighter, beyond any gleam the chalk or the bulbs could give.
Levin had worked hard to get together the men and women he had, people he trusted. He had worked harder still to give them the tools they needed to fight Polis Telgrim's sick playhouse of a government. A year was both a long and short time, but he had hoped that what he had gathered, along with the witch's help, would have meant something.
Little more than a fantasy of a boy thinking he can push over an adult, who was looking on with patronising amusement. Before punching back.
The first of three military trucks slammed through the old gates, knocking them right out of their frames. As they approached, guns poking through the windows of the factory opened up, and the cabs glowed with sparks and ricochets. Yet none passed through, as heavy steel plates that had been welded over the driving compartments proved impenetrable.
In response, several of Levin's revolutionaries on the roof of the ice factory began throwing burning molotov cocktails, spreading flames across the yard. As the gas bombs burst on the gravel, the Security Bureau trucks screeched to a halt in a line before the inferno, while soldiers were disgorged from the rear.
They were everything more than anything Levin's party had. Every shotgun, every handgun, every bolt-action rifle that fired, was immediately drowned out in a torrent of automatic fire, as light machine guns, assault rifles, sub machine guns, and semi-automatic long guns immediately shattered the windows.
Many of Levin's men and women had to duck back under cover, while a few unlucky members who were slow on the draw shook and fell to the ground with sickening crunches, their chests and faces perforated.
The Security Bureau's weaponry were varied. They were of American make, Russian make, German make, even Israeli make, but one thing they all shared was that none were older than the 1970s. The olive-drab soldiers' gear were equally advanced, too, as they wore load-bearing vests packed with spare magazines, grenades, and ballistic plating, along with forward-thinking helmets.
There was ammunition to spare for Levin's make-believe insurgency, a thousand times over, and they wouldn't even need all of it.
The rear line of the Bureau squad produced a soldier, who came to bear with a stubby, fat tube of a weapon, which he pointed at the wooden loading gate at the front of the factory.
Felicity yelped at the sound of a deafening explosion, and the sound of screaming and moaning, followed by more blasts. She wanted to help. But what could she do if she ran up there? Could she take a pulse while dodging bullets? Wrap a wound at gunpoint?
All she could do was listen.
"Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill.
"Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.
"Let it be declared now;
"Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
"Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
"Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."
"Hurry, please! They're coming!" Felicity begged O, who was all but entranced by the gleaming lines of the spell, which wavered and dipped like an upside-down aurora.
The grenades had punched holes in the windows, making them unusable as cover. The force of the explosions had thrown people clear of the scaffolding and knocked them over, even crushing a few under the heavy metal bars and planks. The main entrance had been blasted open.
Levin swore as he rolled to his feet. Around him he heard no one on his side shooting. There was little time to act.
"Come on! Everyone get to cover! They're coming!"
He shouted hoarsely to the air, while those who still remained sensate staggered to their feet, trying to listen to his instructions and hide behind what machines still existed in the gutted factory.
Just as the last of them found firing positions, soldiers pushed through the gaps, rifles raised. They worked in an unsettling harmony, coldly taking aim and squeezing off single shots in a continual rhythm. They were better trained and less rattled; their aim was truer, and though gunfire was traded, it felt like only the insurgents were taking casualties. The moment a man or woman tried to peek from cover, a Bureau officer was already aiming at them, either to blow a hole through their body, or to force them back to safety. Each missed opportunity only allowed more of Telgrim's men to push inside, providing more guns and more angles of fire that slowly outflanked and outshot Levin's fast-evaporating cadre.
"An oath shall be sworn here.
"I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;
"I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."
Felicity's froze as she heard someone slam onto the floor of the basement, and she turned, to see Levin, gasping on the floor, clutching his bleeding stomach. As he forced himself to sit up, four or five of his comrades leapt down into the basement after him, narrowly dodging bullets that chipped the edges of the basement access. In return, they blindly fired back upwards, putting holes in the roof above, while they screamed in anguished defiance.
"Come and fucking get us! Just try! We're right here and we're not going to beg, you hear me! You and this city can fucking go to hell!"
Felicity only faintly heard this, as she had jumped to her feet to stand by O, whose voice rose with passion equalled by the brightness of the summoning circle.
"They're here! You have to finish! Or we're going to die!" Felicity screamed, none of which reached the amnesiac's ears.
"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power…"
A tell tale and mortifying thumping reached Felicity's, and she turned around, and saw several metal orbs fall into the basement.
"Grenade!" Levin shouted, and they all scrambled.
Felicity didn't even know what she was doing. All she knew was that someone she had helped was not even aware she was in danger, and the only thing the blonde could do was wrap her body around her patient.
"Come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the-"
O's reality collapsed, as she felt something slam into her from behind, and it was followed by the loud sound of another thunderous blast that made everything go dark.
Her ears were ringing. Her vision was a blur, and her body wasn't working. Everything hurt.
O slowly felt her limbs move again, and she drunkenly kicked out with her legs and and fumbled with her one arm.
The room was so much darker. The light of her spell was missing. She could barely see, save for one blinking bulb. As her vision regained clarity, she could see her limbs, and saw the way the sleeves and skirts were covered with tears, through which slices and gashes could be seen leaving bloody rivulets in her skin. With that, the pain came, and she clenched her teeth at the sudden feeling of air on her wound, like acid on the nerves.
She had been thrown clear to the other side of the circle, and she lay on the ground on her side.
And on the other side, Felicity lay on her back, dying.
Her side was a shredded mess that cut through all her clothes and stained it red. The former medical student was limp, the only signs of life being her morbid gurgles as blood spilled from stained teeth, as even her eyes were glazed over.
"Felicity…?" O whispered, voice wavering, as she sat on her knees, hand reaching out in shock. And she looked past her friend, and saw the crumpled and destroyed bodies of Levin and a few others. All dead. All hopelessly finished.
Their blood spread outwards, and some of it spilled over the edges of the chalk symbols. And the spell was still silent.
She failed again. Accomplishing nothing. Achieving nothing, for all her power. She had hoped, at least for herself, that she was capable of wielding the power she had been given. But no. She was useless.
Had that been Felicity who blocked the explosion from reaching her? And now… she was… All O had said and done, and Felicity was now…
Felicity tried to raise a hand towards O, before a gunshot rang out and the side of her skull exploded, and made the corpse well and truly limp.
O stared at the carnage, before slowly turning to look up at one of the many armed men who had swept into the darkened basement, the smell of gunpowder and char growing with their arrival.
The one half-aiming his M16 rifle had brought a hand to a radio set taped to the straps of his combat vest, and he spoke into it.
"Target Rapunzel has been sighted. Minor injuries, though she looks shaken. Looks like she was trying some sort of spell. Over"
"Affirmative," the radio's electric garble returned, "Detain her and bring her in for processing. Apply minimal force. Over"
"Good copy. We're bringing her in. Over."
O bowed her head, and a frustrated snarl left her throat as her lips peeled back so she could hiss at the ground below her.
Not like this…! Not like this!
Was it going to end this way? What spell could she use that could be spoken faster than a bullet? What resistance could she give with her injuries?
Why couldn't her spell work? Where was her servant, who should have helped them, nevermind herself?
A flash erupted in her mind, unbidden. Searing light. Desperation. A man, with that smile…
Not like this. Not when I hardly know who I am. Not when I've hardly accomplished anything! My Servant...my Servant! If you're there, then, please-
Something dripped. And dripped again.
The soldier blinked, as did O as a droplet hit the ground between them, in the dead centre of the sigil. Clear and colourless water spread across the floor, even as the dripping grew in intensity until everyone had to look up at the source of the leak. In the low ceiling of the basement, a sodden patch in the wood grew, as water beaded from it, growing so heavy that a layer of fluid began to hang from above.
Then a foot emerged.
"The fu…"
The soldier barely managed to eke out a fading curse, while O stared at the limbs starting to lower from the bizarre, watery object, like it was an upside-down pool.
Everyone watched, dumbfounded, as a body drifted down - the trim and svelte form of an Asian girl, a teenager in a black bodysuit, from foot to fingertip, all of her dripping with water. The black-clad body was also covered by an embroidered blue cape cinched around her waist, with the rest of her strapped down with belts and blue cords, several of which were wrapped around a sword that hung at her side, securing it tightly to her body.
Above her, the woman's long black ponytail, many strands of which were streaked blue all the way to her scalp, floated above her body, undulating as the rest of her sank towards the floor.
As the unknown interloper touched down, gravity took hold, letting the hair fall and point towards the ground, while the water that had been drenching her suddenly found itself in gravity's embrace. Much of it fell from her body, gushing to the hard floor below in a series of wet slaps.
She breathed, brought a hand up to wipe her face clean, and opened her eyes, so that the first thing she saw was a confused man with a gun, growing more frightened the longer he met her piercing blue gaze.
The soldier remembered something distant, an order about what to do when the silver-haired girl was accompanied by another who looked out of place, and followed through on his instinct.
He raised his M16 to point it at the Asian woman's face.
Light flashed, and the assault rifle split in two, while the hand that had been bracing it fell off his wrist, as the woman's katana arced upward through meat and bone and into the air in one hand.
"Jesus… fucking… my arm!" The soldier screamed, beginning to stagger back, as he dropped the other half of the gun to clutch the gushing stump.
Even as he did, even as the men around her raised their weapons, even with her sword still up in the air, the girl took in everything around her. The decrepit and seemingly incognito nature of the location. The spread of armed men who seemed to have all been aiming in this direction the entire time. The bodies on the ground that didn't match them.
Behind her, another girl kneeling on the ground, shocked and in a position of weakness before them all, who even now was anchoring her to the world.
The fact she was the only thing standing between this one outcast and the forces arrayed before her.
The Asian decided then and there.
"Alright, then."
Bringing her sword around, she stabbed downwards into the man's chest, blade ripping out his back and wet with another substance.
Everyone immediately turned their guns from the magus to the soaking elephant in the room.
"Open fire!"
With a sudden show of strength, the Asian didn't even bother tearing her sword out of her victim. Instead she just used her other hand to grab the man by the inside of his thigh, and then held up aloft by sword and leg, in order to rush forward with her dying shield, whose back exploded into gore as he soaked up his former comrade's fire.
As she closed in, she hurled her corpse shield at a group of men, bowling them over. In the brief reprieve, the teenager juked sideways behind a row of pipes, which sparked and clattered loudly under a spray of bullets. In the low lighting, the flash of the muzzle flare and the splashes of ricocheting rounds made it harder to track the warrior dressed in dark colours, while she rushed between pieces of machinery and crates.
One man, holding a handgun and wearing a beret instead of a helmet, shouted over the din, "I need more flashlights! Jenkins, try and call the guys upstairs-"
The girl lunged out of the darkness, tracking the voice of the ones likely to be a leader. Despite her lean frame, the swing of her blade was enough to tear the man's head off at the neck, causing more cries of rage and terror. Their bullets were fast, but the swordswoman simply acted faster, and was more agile than those standing around, shooting at movements in the dark.
One moment, she would leap over waist high ductwork, her slashes tearing men to pieces, leaving nothing but wet footsteps in her wake. In another, she slid past a trooper from behind, a flickering light the only warning before he toppled, crying as his legs fell apart. It continued like that, one group of soldiers after another being ambushed in the cramped spaces around the basement, where they had no time to turn and shoot the darting summoned being.
The Asian had almost casually leaned back from one man who swung his Ruger like a club, before darting forward to wrap her off hand hand around his neck, almost crushing it completely when she saw the stairs leading up out of the basement, along with the several dozen grenades bouncing down the steps with innocuous thuds, their safety levers flying off every one of them.
Sneering, the girl charged the stairs, before throwing her captive atop the arriving explosives, and herself atop him.
The soldiers above, while they had their automatics pointed down the narrow passage, flinched for a second at the blast of smoke and debris sweeping out at the noise of the explosion. They were slow on the draw as a woman, her legs covered in blood and gore, was thrown clear of the stairway, and was upon them in seconds, a twirl of her body sending a spray of liquid in every direction, while the soldiers were torn apart in the maelstrom.
Forgotten in the chaos below, O's head cautiously poked out from behind the cover she had rolled behind. Looking around her, she saw the growing pool of blood and guts, and covered her mouth and nose as the acrid smell hit her nose.
It wasn't like she was squeamish. Her ilk knew what death was, but the suddenness of the sheer carnage was enough to even catch her off-guard as it multiplied a thousandfold in a few seconds.
But this was what her actions had wrought. Above her was more screaming and gunfire, a girl quick as storm tearing through them in what may very well be her name. The die was cast, and she had to catch up to the summoned familiar lest it was the sort to run roughshod without a firm hand.
Taking a few steps forward, O looked down, and saw the crumpled and lifeless forms at her feet, one of which was a blonde woman who had taken her in, and gambled all for her allegiance.
O sighed, and shut her eyes. Not even time to let the mourning arrive.
I'm sorry, Felicity. All of you. Thank you for being by my side this short time. Maybe what will follow is your revenge.
Opening her eyes again, headed towards the stairs, doing what little best she could to avoid stepping in the puddles of blood.
The massacre's tide was turning.
Blood was spraying, painting the disused ice making machinery a brilliant bright red, and every step the soldiers took in retreat, fifty blurring footfalls forward was taken by the Asian, her every swing sending men flying. Some were granted the death of being cut, wholly in half or just in part. Others were given vicious punches and kicks that smashed them into paste against the walls or rusting technology, their bones crumpling and their organs exploding inside their bodies as they impacted brick and metal.
As the Asian rushed past a raised tarp that had been used to blanket a pair of machines, she turned to glance at it for a second, wondering.
Her concerns were proven true as the tarp exploded outward in a rush of gun thunder, a drum's worth of bullets slamming into the summoned being.
The Security officer who had hid himself under the impromptu tent charged out, snarling with his gun raised, before his heart fell through his guts in growing horror.
The Asian had her arms raised before her defensively, but her eyes were focused and unflinching, her act done by ritualistic meaning, rather than instinct.
Before her, dozens of solid slugs drifted aimlessly and harmlessly inside a wall of water that had risen between the two.
"What… what the hell…" The man stammered, before the Asian sword from the other side punched through the liquid barrier unhindered, blade sinking into his face.
As she tore her katana out through the side of the man's head, the water wall followed her motions and swung to the side to absorb more bullets effortlessly, while the men down the way desperately reloaded, or barring that, simply dropped their guns to pull out their sidearms.
"There are more wizards!?"
"She's a fucking freak!"
"We need open ground!"
"Send for back up! We have a hostile familiar on site! Call for the Special Team, ASAP!"
The girl charged forward, the water before her falling and splashing across the ground, and as she ran across it, the liquid grabbed the soles of her feet and hurled her forward so that she skated atop it like it was ice, and the distance between her and the soldiers disappeared in an instant. Before they knew it, another whole fireteam was mixing their blood with the water on the ground, and the nerve of the handful remaining shattered entirely.
The lucky few managed to break out of the confines of the facility, and ran for their lives for one of the transport trucks. It purred roughly, the driver frantically gunning the engine.
"The Thumper! Use it!", one of them shouted, and one brought up his breech-loading grenade launcher. It belched a streaming canister at the entrance of the ice factory, where the swordswoman slid into view, pursuing with all due viciousness.
They didn't even bother seeing what had happened, not even trusting in the din of the detonations. They just clambered into the truck, the leader of the few that remained hollering at the driver.
"Go! Go, go, go!"
The truck began to pull away, gaining speed as it headed towards the open front gates of the abandoned industrial centre.
In that moment, the roof of the ice factory burst apart, tile and wood flying in all directions while the Asian rose to the sky, aloft on a growing pillar of water swirling under her feet.
Down below she spied the escaping truck and narrowed her eyes as she pulled her sword back, grip in both hands.
"Princess of the Sea, Ninth Form!"
The pillar she rode on pulled itself into the sky, water coalescing about her sword in a bubbling sphere, roiling with prepared violence.
"Piercing Typhoon!"
With that, the Asian teenager thrust her katana forwards and downwards, and the water on it exploded forth, breaking into a spray of whistling drops.
When they fell down onto the truck, it tore through the canvas covering; it perforated the metal cabin and the hood. It burst the tires and punched holes through its flimsy chassis, water gushing from the wounds.
The truck, which had begun hitting thirty miles per hour, guttered to a wheeze and drifted to a halt. Underneath, a pool of gasoline and blood began spewing out.
The silence followed, almost hollow and unreal without the echoes of gunfire and explosions that had followed only seconds before.
O had reached the broken entrance of the factory building by then, and stared at the carnage she had summoned. Death and destruction in all directions, spread like the aftermath of a storm. In the silence there were sirens, wailing for reinforcements. It wouldn't be long before they arrived.
As she stood there, the familiar she called forth dropped from the sky, her feet crunching into the gravel like she had just skipped over.
Their eyes met, and O felt one of her feet slide back in caution. The Asian just swept her sword out to the side, and let the blood and grease on it fly off to leave an unblemished weapon to resheathe.
"A bit of a loud demonstration, but I think you know what you're getting into now," the girl said as she ambled forward, combing her hand through the bangs of her hair. The thick layer of blood on her body was no longer staining her, as it trickled away, mixing with the water that was beading off her until she was dry and spotless.
"By your summons, the Servant Saber has come forth. So Master…"
The Asian warrior - out of time, out of space, and certainly in the wrong place - sat down without a care on a nearby crate, looked to the side at O, and grinned.
"...You got yourself the right Servant?"
