TATTOO YOUR SOUL
"So, you finally found us…"
Geoff savored the words, rolling them around on his tongue, but knowing these strange assailants from the STN-C couldn't understand him. He allowed the man to shout back, saying something indistinguishable, but still holding the pistol to the base of the bartender's neck, allowing cold steel to speak volumes that transcended language. The man understood the feel of a gun to his flesh, the cool grace of the metal, the hole of the barrel. He knew what those feelings meant. He knew it even better when the clearly aggravated STN-C operative cocked the gun, sending a small shiver down the pistol.
The bartender sighed, standing. "And I didn't get my coffee." The man who had been tending the dining car crouched low behind the counter; Geoff looking to him, a sort of wild twinkle in the foreigner's eye. "Make it to go."
He whirled around in a heartbeat, sending a wave of pure energy with the motion. The power of his Craft poured from Geoff, down and towards these men who dared attack. They were knocked back, into the ground and the walls. Geoff turned towards the man huddled behind the counter, who had now, very clearly, peed himself.
"Coffee. To. Go."
How horrible Americans are. When one cannot translate, nor figure out any better way to convey one's wishes, the words are suddenly slowed and spoken far louder. At any other time, Geoff knew Nycole would kick him in the butt for even trying that trick to get the waiter to understand him.
The agents rallied, taking up their arms.
Bullets of Orbo, glowing bright and green, flew through the air, screaming towards Geoff. The bartender raised a hand, stopping them with a lime splatter. He frowned at the spent shells that fell to the ground before him.
"You're going to have to do better than that."
Geoff shouldn't have said anything. The next bullet that soared to meet him, didn't stop. The American had to duck out of the way to avoid it, slowing to watch as it passed. This was the same, ugly, marked, brass-looking slug they'd pulled from Kristo's shoulder. A witch-killing bullet, Robin had told them. The hot metal imbedded itself in the cabinets behind the bartender with a snap of plastic shards and splinters.
The STN-C operatives smiled at the sudden insight that Geoff could not stop the witch-killers.
"Shit."
The witch hurled his body into the air, jerking wildly to one side. For a moment, the movement seemed awkward and ungraceful, but, then, Geoff reached out with his mind. The man grabbed at nothing, at the very air and wind its self, tucking, rolling and landing heavily behind the counter with the waiter. He landed just in time for a barrage of bullets to fly overhead, shattering glasses and sending down a rain of sparkling, bits of broken glass. The Chinese man threw up his arms in terror and trembled, but Geoff just dusted himself off and pointed towards the coffee pot and the Styrofoam cups as he crouched behind the counter.
"Coffee."
The man glanced behind him as more of the witch-killing bullets were volleyed overhead, and into the cabinets. He ducked, covering his head with his hands. Geoff just rolled his eyes, grabbing the coffee cup and handing it to the terrified man. Fearful of retribution from the demon, the witch, the waiter immediately turned to fill up a Styrofoam cup.
Geoff took his chance. This stranger didn't have to witness this, didn't have to know about the dark world lurking beneath reality and everything mundane. Hell, if the bartender could have chosen to remain ignorant and live out his life somewhere in the boondocks of Atlanta, he would have stayed there, quite content to life. However, there were some things in this world that would not allow Geoff that luxury. Geoff's blood, in truth, was one of them.
That, and Geoff NEEDED a cup of coffee.
Once the waiter's back was turned, Geoff rose, immediately cutting loose. Massive energy reserves were set free, exploding out with terrible force. Dams were broken down, shattered and smashed by will alone, and energy ran rampant.
Geoff set everything within him free.
There were screams.
And, then, there was silence.
xxxx
Robin awoke with a start.
Screaming. There was screaming. It pierced the night, calling out to her. There was terror, shrieking in higher, more horrific pitches than the actual, vocalizations. There was pain and torment.
The Craft user jumped up, immediately waking Bear and Raven. The two tried to go back to sleep, but Robin wouldn't let them. The girl starting shaking each and every one of them, shucking off their last hopes of restful slumber and relaxation with that fear in her emerald eyes. She ripped all of them out of their sleep, and into the dark reality of the bullet train car. The teenager ignored their arguments and mumbled protests as she reached out of the box and dragged Kristo back in.
"Something's happened."
Kristo tensed, the shadows looming behind him menacingly. "Where's Geoff?"
xxxx
Energy is a beautiful thing, even if you can't see it.
Energy is all around, produced by every living and non-living thing in the world. Everything is comprised of atoms, and each atom is comprised of subatomic particles. To those subatomic particles, is the electron, a small, swiftly moving, and negatively charged particle. The movement of electrons causes electricity and electromagnetic fields. Now, while that is all good to know and understand, seeing and feeling energy is an entirely different can of worms.
In Geoff's case, at that moment, the energy of his Craft was beautiful. Serene, yellow light cascaded down from him, towards the men who had attacked him. Geoff felt the world, felt every heartbeat, every breath. He felt the energy of billions of life forms, like little stars burning in the night sky. The man used the energy of his own star, pouring it out upon the agents.
They fell back, blinded by the light.
Geoff altered his focus. Their guns exploded with a sort of gaseous cloud, de-atomized by the witch who stood before them. The bullets and extra clips in the operative's coats were useless to them with those dust pistols.
And, then, Geoff's focus severed.
His energy was spent, and the man was drained.
The bartender fell to his knees. The world spun right around again, turning as if to right everything. His heart contracted and ached with sharp pangs, struggling to pump, but righting itself. Kathain had once told Geoff that was a side effect to the use of high magicks, that there had to be some sort of equivalent exchange. He believed the precognitive, but, in that instance, Geoff didn't want to believe.
The operatives took their chance.
One of them struck Geoff soundly on his temple, knocking the witch down. Sparks of excess energy, left over from such a massive venting, danced across the floor of the diner car. Geoff reached out with his mind, drawing that tiny bit of energy back towards him, pulling from the very electricity of the train and the high-speed rails themselves. The sparks shifted before returning to their sender,
"That…." Geoff spat, thankful not to see blood or teeth skittering across the floor. "Was a stupid, stupid idea."
xxxx
They ran.
Kristo led, drawing his sword from the shadows and the abyss, tossing his wakazashi up in the air so that Brent could take it up, before pulling his tonto from the darkness. The swordsman rushed on soft, barely audible footsteps, practiced and light. He crossed the train cars easily, with Brett and the others hot on his heels.
Brett carried the wakazashi surely. He had owned a katana and tonto set at one point, while his friend kept the wakazashi from the set. Nycole and Kathain had both seen the act of separating the set as a sin. However, in this case, Nycole was willing to make the exception. She ran just behind Brett, careful of the wakazashi he carried.
It was a good thing.
The lights in the hall dimmed and flickered, and, in a flash, a wave of energy surged down the car, sending the entire group flying back to the ground.
"Jesus…."
They quickly recovered, leaping to their feet and continuing on, bursting into the dining car. There, stood Geoff, a thin spot of blood falling from his nose from the exertion. Seven fallen men, all clad in similar uniforms to the STN-J, lay sprawled on the floor. Sakaki gasped, recognizing them from the sister agency to the STN-J. These, were hunters, fallen by Geoff.
The bartender stumbled towards them with a drained, staggered step. "I think… I need coffee."
Kristo caught his friend before Geoff fell. "You push too hard."
"I know…" Geoff sounded displeased.
Robin held her breath as she checked the STN-C agents for a pulse, and, thankfully found one on each of them. "They're still alive."
"We need to find a new form of transportation," the swordsman informed the others.
Geoff smiled weakly, clearly spent from the energy burst. "Sorry."
"You did good," Brett corrected. "I would have done the same thing." He sighed. "And we still have to get out of here." The fire elemental looked to Kristo. "If you would?"
The night swallowed up the travelers under Kristo's control, leaving behind one rather confused waiter and a steadily cooling cup of coffee sitting on the counter. Somewhere, in the ether, Geoff was mentally cursing himself for leaving the steaming brew behind. It would have been nice to savor a cup of Columbian nectar.
Who knew when they'd next get the chance?
xxxx
Hmm…. So the STN-C is now on the witches' trail. Sux0r.
