Title: (Mis)Communication (Sun's Out, Guns Out 2017 Edition)
Description: "Sylvanas and Hammer make preparations of getting into the business world."
Notes1: So the majority of this chapter was done last week, but during that time my little slice of northern Illinois got bombarded with a number of storms that brought record levels of flooding. Dad Phoenix and I have been unable to fish at our usual haunts (but that didn't stop others from going waist-deep in the Fox River, where the current, last I checked, was incredibly strong, and we aren't that brave), so I've taken the past week up to now to type what I could in between heavy downpours and the occasional power outage. My house isn't on the river (I live five minutes, at most, from the local forest preserve, so I'm way up on high ground), but most places around that particular area and further south got slammed hard and are underwater, so barring all that we got lucky.
Notes2: On a lighter note, I managed to do Timewalking Black Temple on my main and still got to complete it in spite of the two power outages during the Illidan fight. I had to have been in there for about...almost five hours? The last time I was in an instance that long was way back during Cataclysm, when I tanked heroic Grim Batol and people were leaving left and right after wiping so many times on Drahga Shadowburner.
Notes3: Reviewer flowslikepixelz mentioned that this story should have a TVTropes page. I'd be honored to see it up there with the likes of my other (older and crappier) story, Oneless, a Super Smash Brothers story that got ridiculed on YouTube; I have not seen the video and have no intention to let it bring me down any time soon. The only problem I have is that the Heroes of the Storm page does not have a Fan Works tab. I do remember, at one point, that it did (or something of the sort), and it mentioned the Carbot Animation shorts...but it's Carbot; they have one giant leg-up over me, a piddly writer who tries not to follow the tried and tired fanfic trends of absurdly overpowered characters, harem cliches, and memes. This is certainly not the most popular story, but if you the reader feel it deserves a TVTropes page, then you have my full permission to try and get one up.
Notes4: Also, flowslikepixels was curious if there were Heroes that were minimally affected by the transition. I can answer it here: The transition is instantaneous the second a person is born or is pulled into the Nexus. It doesn't always manifest right away. It usually takes a couple days at best and seconds at worst, but once it takes root in the person's psyche, that's it - there's no getting rid of it (unless you are a Hero and get sent back to the default sector, and he/she can be stuck there for an hour to up to an unprecedented thousands of years; it really depends on how the Nexus feels). Its affects range from person to person, but it is enough to drive the Nexus into a state of almost perpetual economic struggle (because people can't stop getting into petty squabbles and blowing up shit outside of sanctioned fights that may or may not be related to the Hero League, depending on who's beefing). People that have temporal powers (Tracer, Chromie, Medivh) can be affected regardless if they're mortal or immortal. Even humans enhanced by cybernetics, like Genji, are affected all the same, although it remains to be seen if automatons/semi-auto robots like Probius can fit into this same category. However, outsiders that are on par with Heroes but are barred from participating in the Hero League, like Doodle and Shantae and many others non-Blizzard characters and OCs, are marked and of a different category, but that story - more or less - will not be told here.

"So, let's go over this one more time," said Hammer, turning briskly on her heel again. With that leg kicked up high in the air, Sylvanas thought she was going to punt someone into the water. But she didn't, and Hammer went about pacing back to where she had started that slow, swaggering goose step. In over-sized, tank-themed flip-flops, no less.

"Alright," Sylvanas harrumphed, and consulted the clipboard. "It needs to be big. About…six inches across and…twelve to thirteen inches long."

"Okay."

"It needs to be thick. It requires a five-second warm-up period before it's ready to go."

"Okay." Hammer made it to the end, stopped, whirled around, and walked.

"Lubrication for further warmth and…faster periods of ejaculation…can be acquired via manual stimulation."

"Okay."

"However, this can be delayed if one were to adjust his or her rhythm and…delay it. By doing so, it will make the projectiles bigger and come out in more powerful waves."

"Okay." Stop, whirl, walk.

"On the other hand, this rhythm needs to have a steady tempo. If it goes too fast, it will overload and…shoot its load prematurely. If it goes too slow, it will suffer internal damage and will need to be assessed for treatment."

"Okay." Stop, whirl, walk around, stop, whirl, and come back up front.

"If you time it just right and make the necessary calculations, a single projectile can go as far as…." Sylvanas hummed, undid the latch on her belt, placed the mini-comp on the clipboard, typed in some numbers. She blinked. "One thousand yards," she concluded.

"Okay!" Hammer smacked a fist into an open hand. Her grin was a grin that would put wolves to shame. "That's good. That's real good. Goddamn, Sylvanas, with that much power we'll be making these babies in no time!"

"Hmm. Suppose we have everything we needed to start production. As a rough estimate, how long do you think it'll take to make one that won't turn out defective, break down halfway on the belts, or turned away from investors?"

Hammer tapped a finger to her chin. "Hrrrrrmm…I'd say…give or take…nine months, if the aether storms are far and between. Maybe half that if we bribe 'em or put the fear of the Hole in the Holy Torpedo in 'em. Ain't nothing worse'n having your entire estate made into a crater!"

"What does procreation have to do with threatening people with apocalyptic annihilation?" asked the Spectre Nova, approaching them. Her hair—wilder and darker than her default—was pulled up a high ponytail. She had a two-piece black and brown swimsuit lined in orange; even outside of her suit, she still flaunted her affiliation.

Hammer looked at her—flinched back from her, Sylvanas noted—as though something invisible had suddenly emerged from the poolside. "Procreation? Girl, how the hell did you get that out of mass producing aether-powered water cannons?"

"Water…cannons?" said Nova, and she looked at the wheeled corkboard for the first time. A variety of water guns were tacked onto it, ranging from snub-posed pistols and Tommy guns to semiautomatics and assault-style rifles. Their make was both childishly plastic to tough, reinforced steel that made them appear eerily lifelike…if one were to ignore the subtly glowing battery casings on some of the larger guns, that is.

"Yeah, girl! Didcha really think we'd have used one of these babies to keep the stables running? Look at this one!" Hammer pointed to a long, single-barreled cannon that took up the lower portion of the corkboard. "That thing can shoot a speck of dust and it'll blow a bull into chunks of prime beef! Valla would want to mount my head on a wall! I hate to think what she'd do to you, Sylvanas!"

"She wouldn't, because I'd bludgeon her first and put her head up on the entrance archway for all to see," said the Banshee Queen. "You want a water gun?" she asked the Spectre. "There's a sniper rifle on the other side that's just about your size. Ammo packs are in the storage lockers in the building by the gymnasium. Unless you prefer shooting icepicks, instead; those are in the freezers out back." Her eyes roamed up and down Nova's body, face expressionless. "You look good in that. Better than being in that stuffy suit all day, don't you think?"

The Spectre Nova started and averted her gaze. A high, red color crept up her neck. "Uhh…thanks? I guess?" She scratched one cheek lightly. "I mean, it's a hot day and everyone's breaking out the booze and the fireworks and all that summer stuff. I-It's not like I put this on just to impress you or anything. Every girl needs a good suntan. Y-You never know when you'll need to distract someone on missions!"

Hammer nodded much too buoyantly. "Uh-huh. It's working alright. Never thought Sylvie here was a gorgon on top o' being a banshee. How do you do it, Sylvanas?"

"By getting my bitch game on and making them think I'm going to murder them," she said, matter-of-factly. "It makes their life flash before their eyes. Or, in this case, all the possibilities that could happen with but a single choice, regardless of any prior, questionably moral actions I have, may have, or will have taken in past, present, and future. Somehow, someway, whether or not I mean it, people hale and hearty come flocking for my hand."

"The bitchier the better! People love imagining others in leather pants!"

"But wouldn't it be better to imagine someone in a more revealing outfit?" asked Nova. "N-Not that I'm using myself as an example or anything!" she added hastily. "B-But I think if a person wants to be quickly appealed to someone, showing off more, er, skin, would probably be the way to do it."

"One way," said Sylvanas. "Take into account cultural differences and you will receive a different answer. Sometimes less is more."

"And that's why your fanbase will always be the biggest, girlfriend," said Hammer. "You don't do nothing if it don't fit the Sylvanas Windrunner agenda."

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day. Well done." She clapped her hand and clipboard against one another in sullen, halfhearted beats.

Nova appraised them with a quirk of an eyebrow. "You two really like to go off on random tangents, don't you? One minute it's about water cannons and the next it's diversities of visual attraction and how psychology plays into hero worship and cults of personality."

"Part and parcel of having the transition, honey," said Hammer. "Can't say it feels any different than how I usually am."

"You were born crazy," said Sylvanas.

"Damn tootin'! Why, I may as well be the first person to be immune to the transition! Imagine that!"

"Nah, that's Doodle and the dogs. You know, being reality warpers and all, but it's complicated."

"What about Tracer, Chromie, and Medivh?"

"They don't count. They're exceptions under special circumstances."

"And Malthael?"

Sylvanas scoffed and shrugged. "Who knows? I don't care to know and I don't want to. He won't talk, anyway."

"I want to know how you're going to pitch the idea of mass producing aether-powered water cannons to the public market if they can shoot up to a thousand yards," said the Spectre Nova, silently taking note that, indeed, they went from one topic to another just like that (and not a fuss was made of it, but that was okay). "Shouldn't you be getting in touch with the manufacturer and draw up a protection warranty?"

"'Course we are!" Hammer exclaimed. "But we gotta find someone first, and I ain't about to put my foot through any of the doors at Jeetilopolis if it's the last thing we do! Those bastards will 'remind' you," she put on air quotes, "on the phone to fork over your share of the gold once you put down the loan—every hour on the hour, and that ain't countin' the taxes the government takes out, either. They give ya a deadline, and at first they're pretty 'generous' about it, and that's all fine and dandy. But if ya keep faffin' around and don't pay up?" She raised a fist to her neck and drew her thumb across it, making a guttural, scratching sound in the back of her throat. Skreet!

Nova nodded understandingly.

"For now, we're just gonna go around King's Crest and scout out potential constituents. Take a portal or transport ship to Luxoria and do the same thing there. If worse comes t' worse, we'll hit up the boonies, get lucky, and maybe make poor ole Farmer Brown a billionaire. Brand new car, new house with thirty rooms no one will ever use and a big ass backyard that might lead ya up to a lake or river or eldritch tomb that Should Never Be Opened (as forewarned by your ancestor's memoirs), all the booze, women, and fields a man could sow his wild oats on and reap his reward." She snickered at the last part. "Hee. Wild oats."

"That's if you get the idea off the floor first," said Nova. "You have to convince your investors that they will spend their time and resources on it, that it will succeed and make it worth their while."

"Oh, we will," Hammer said, grinning.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Sylvanas asked, looking askance at her. "You're the one that came up with this silly idea and broke into my house before the crack of dawn just to tell me and make me your unofficial accountant."

"Sylvanas, we're going to be billionaires. We're gonna make a ton of money off this!"

"So will the manufacturer if we get sued for any potential accidents and fatalities it causes and we lose the case. Which, and I mean this totally offensively, will happen, given your track record with explosives and finances."

Hammer clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Y'all always gotta be so negative!"

"Someone needs to be the foil to your hat."

"Your hat's full o' holes an' tatters and water marks! Hats are so supposed to keep your head dry and clean while providin' a nice bowl shape when you take it off and you have an artist doin' portraits of ya to post on the Internet or framed at some fancy-shmancy museum!"

"But even a hat that's full of holes and tatters and water marks is still a decent hat," said the Spectre Nova. "It just requires a bit of stitching and patching and some tender loving—uh…" She grimaced and crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean! It needs a lot of care! CARE! Because if a hat is old but still has a decent shape—to protect your head!—then it can be repaired and still do its job of protection and geometrical conformities just the same. Isn't that right, Sylvanas?"

"Hell if I know." Sylvanas shrugged. "I wear hoods. Caps, too, but not for very long. I don't think hats fit my image."

"We'll make a conformist out of you yet, don't ya worry! Anyway, Nova," said Hammer, turning around from the severe frown the Banshee Queen aimed at her, "ya wanna try one of these bad boys out? We're gonna need a few people to do some trial runs and garner some results so we can get Sylvie here to draw up graphs and pie charts and all that stat-tistical mumbo-jumbo to show to the investors."

"You'll still need your protection warranty. How long are you going to make it good for?"

"Depends. Gotta take into account the size of the water gun, the type, what kind o' batteries it uses if it has any, the material used to make it, that kind o' thing. Somethin' like this one here," and Hammer indicated to the single-barreled water cannon again, "would probably require a warranty up to…what'd we calculate it up to again, Sylvanas?"

Sylvanas inquired the clipboard. "Eighteen to twenty years."

"Eighteen to twenty years?" Nova exclaimed. "People die every day in the Nexus! What good would a warranty that long do? You may as well target the in-betweener demographic; those people are the true definition of immortal!"

Hammer snapped her fingers. "Damn, I didn't think about that! Sylvanas, write that down! We gotta hit up the Underworlds!"

"Fine," she harrumphed and jotted it down, "but I hope you remember what happened the last time we went into one."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know spirits and aether conflict? I was innocent! A dindu-do-nuffin'!"

"By all that is dark and sacrilegious…." Sylvanas grumbled, trying not to sound disbelieving. "You're ignorant, Hammer."

"Eh? Ignorant?"

"That's right. You're ignorant, and your ignorance was the biggest crime of all. Nothing more. There." Sylvanas slid the pen back behind the clip. "We've got all of King's Crest, Luxoria, the third-world realms, and the Underworlds to tackle, with Jeetilopolis as a last resort if all else fails. How does that sound?"

Hammer clapped her hands once, and the sound of them smacking together rang clear and true. "Absolutely outstanding! When d'ya wanna start? Where'dja wanna hit up first, Echo Town?"

"As soon as these test runs yield conclusive results. I'd prefer Jeetilopolis because it's full of gnomes and goblins and ethereals and whatever took root over there; it has a very large, very competitive market that's growing each and every day." Sylvanas sighed, ran a hand through her hair. "But you said you're not interested, so my second option would be…hmm, either Echo City or any of the tourist-driven locales in Luxoria. Maybe New Scuttle Town, Gucchaga, Ani Ani…we could even try Maz'enka."

"Ah, Maz'enka! Where the money never runs dry, snow is nonexistent, a highroller is on ev'ry street corner, and the cliff racers never stop getting their Energizer Bunny on! We should stop there sometime, hit the tables and clear 'em out!"

"Legitimately," Sylvanas deadpanned.

"Whaddya mean, legitimately?"

"She means if you win too much and security footage doesn't prove you're cheating, they'll throw you out," said Nova. "Same goes if you're trying to take advantage, cheat, count cards, the way you set your dice or move your money. It varies depending on which casino—and which region—you're hitting up."

"Goddamn! What a bunch of sticklers! I'm not sure I wanna go there now!"

"They show you the door if you're good, Hammer," said Sylvanas, lazily waving the clipboard up and down, "and you're anything but."

"Hey! Give me a couple packs of cards, some chips, a bowl of guacamole and a big ole stein o' Jet Briggs' Green Label and I'll have your pretty little head spinning more circles than an owl can turn its neck!"

"That's not the kind of thing you want happening to me. The stump of my neck might grow legs and come nipping at your heels like a little dog."

Nova couldn't help but crack a grin at the image. Hammer threw her head back and guffawed. "I can just see it now! Sylvanas, the Headless Banshee! You get a free skillshot and deal damage over time while ya headless form runs around causing friendly fire and confusion among the enemy! Hey, you should let the Board know about it, like ya did with the Mind Control. It'd be the ace up your sleeve!"

"I think I'd prefer to keep my head where it's at, thank you very much."

"I agree," said the Spectre. "She, uh, she'd look better with it on than off—I mean, if it stayed there! That's what I meant!"

Hammer licked her lips. "Man, you must be thirsty."

"But I just had something to drink earlier."

"Oh my God." Hammer cocked a sly look at Sylvanas. "Listen to this girl. She doesn't even know. Ain't that cute?" Sylvanas said nothing. Her face was stony and the grip on the clipboard tight; Nova didn't have to read her mind to know she wanted to bang her head against it.

Nova shrugged. "What's so cute about drinking water?"

Hammer coughed into her first; all she could sense in the woman's thoughts were Oh that sweet summer child, she really doesn't know! Somebody, and I don't mean me, ought to educate her! How strange. "Never you mind, Spectre Nova. Let's try out the water guns. We're at a pool, after all, and if'n anythin' happens—well, at least someone'll get a really nice, really cold shower. Sylvanas, get the stopwatch out and set it. I wanna see how far it goes." She turned to the corkboard and removed the tacks one by one from the cannon.

"That's not heavy for you?" Nova asked.

"Nah, this thing's a lot lighter than it looks," Hammer said, easing it onto the tiled floor. "Zarya could pick up three of these if she wanted ta and not break a sweat. This is thrice-reinforced Nexian cosmere slate melted down all over the Gearfax mining facilities. A lot cheaper to manufacture compared to mimic wood."

Nova leaned across Sylvanas, ignoring the chill the woman gave off. It was pretty big, and she wasn't sure if Hammer's muscles and broad stature made it possible for her to lug the thing so easily, but after dusting off her hands she picked the cannon up by the handle at the top as though it were an empty basket or crate. There was a bulbous casing, shaped something like one of the round magazines found on Tommy guns from Ye Olde Prohibition Era, sticking out of its side and running underneath its chassis like an inflammation. Inside, an energy made a dark, bruised bluish-purple from the crimson shell hummed; every now and then, bolts of lightning spat and crackled soundlessly around a tube (whose shape was very hard to discern) that had to be the battery. "How do you operate it?" she asked.

"Very simple! You gotta warm it up by turnin' this here crank. You can adjust the settings (however you please) if you want it to be Antarctic or, my personal absolute favorite, scalding hot, but we're just gonna go with plain old cold because no one wants to do anythin' warm when the day's warm, too. A shame, really, but hey! I ain't one to judge." Hammer grabbed the crank juxtaposed from the battery and gave it a few, hearty spins. The light in the casing increased tenfold until it became a miniature sun and Nova had to turn away from it. A hum emerged from the cannon's depths as the water pumped and churned in its tubes and turbines, and the sound intensified the more the crank was spun. "'Course, you gotta fill 'er up with water if you want results. You can either put it through this hole here"— she pointed at a bumpy indentation at the top behind the crank—"or down at the bottom. Don't matter where; it'll go into th' chambers all the same.

"Right then, I think she's good to go! I'm-a put the rate of fire on single-shot. You got that stopwatch set up, Sylvie?"

"On your mark," said Sylvanas, holding it up in the air with her hand.

"Outstandin'! Now…where can we fire ya off…? Ah, there we go! Straight across the thoroughfare's the way! Gotta see if she goes as far as we mathematically deduced, eh, Watson?"

"Call me that again and I'll shove a light bulb so far up your ass not even the Original MC will want to touch it."

Hammer made a face. "Now that sounds right painful! Why'd I want an ass-light bulb when I have one in my head? It hurts enough as it is with all this critical thinkin'!"

"Just fire the damn thing. I'm here to record the time, not pose for a Presidential portrait."

Hammer tut-tutted. "So impatient! Nova, you're a Spectre, you have remote viewing, don'tcha?"

"Not exactly. It takes a lot of concentration and detachment from the outside to not be distracted. Only a few soldiers that I know of were able to master it."

"Eh, no biggie. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"And how will we know when it'll land?"

"Oh, you'll see," said Hammer, and winked. The grin on her face pulled the skin around her mouth to stretch as far as it could go. "WATCH OUT! FIRE FROM THE SKY!" she cried suddenly, and suppressed the trigger. The head of the barrel was pointed ahead of them at a forty-five degree angle, so when it coughed up the gout of water the cannon jumped in her arms, rocked and juked and jived so hard Nova thought it was going to fly from her hands and boogie-woogie on out of here and into the unknown. Hammer grunted and buckled her knees, and for a moment it seemed she was about to fall. Except she didn't, and the water bullet shot up in a great, ear-popping WHOOMPH and soared up, up, and away, and everyone in the pool and mingling around it shouted and ducked for cover. It quickly became a speck lost to the sky.

"Whoa!" Nova shouted, and shielded her eyes against the sun. Sylvanas grunted, eyes flicking between the stopwatch and the clear day.

"Yeah, baby! Look at 'im go!" Hammer set the water cannon down and joined Nova. "That's the feelin' mama likes! That right there, ladies, is Terran in-gen-nuity! Goblin grease monkeys ain't got nothin' on that!"

"Don't give Gazlowe another reason to kick out whatever humanoid workers he has left under contract and replace them with advanced automatons to hasten production on his service lines," said Sylvanas. "We want to get a leg up on the latest trending competitions, not inadvertently cause manslaughter."

"Death is only a delay for the disadvantaged! As for the resources…well, they can always recycle. Waste not, want not! Them goblins ain't stupid!"

Sylvanas scoffed but said nothing, averting her gaze toward the sky.

They stayed as they were, watching, waiting. The sounds of horseplay, laughter, people high diving off the board, and the general commotion bubbled around them like broth in many large, very wide cauldrons.

The locusts started up their loud, obnoxious droning, calling to one another.

The Spectre Nova blinked. She looked at Sylvanas, noting the increasing sourness taking precedence, and then looked at Hammer, whose grin slowly dipped into a smile and then into a confused frown. She looked at the sky. "Shouldn't it have landed by now?"

"Yes," Sylvanas said tightly.

"What time do you have on it?"

Sylvanas checked. "Ninety seconds and counting."

"I thought you said this thing was supposed to fire up to one thousand feet!" Nova said to Hammer.

"Well, uh, yeah. It's, uh, it's supposed to." Hammer scratched her head. "Huh. Maybe I cranked it too much—"

An explosion, like a clap of thunder, forced them—and everyone at the pool—to stop and look at the horizon. A mushroom cloud formed and blossomed into a fiery orange flower planted in a field of ash. The air took on a hazy, electrified quality; it tasted acrid, sulfuric, with a faint, underlying taste of boiling water.

Hammer stared at the unfolding formation with a slack-jawed, wide-eyed awe. "Wow…I'd paid to see what that crater looks like!"

"Hammer," Nova began cautiously, "this is a water cannon…right? It has to be."

"It better be," Sylvanas warned.

"Uh-uh-uh!" Hammer put up a hand. "This ain't just a water cannon, girl. It's a Hammer Cannon. One-hunner-percent cosmere, all heart, plenty of boom, no fallout! If there ain't any of it, you getcha money back, guaranteed!"

"I think there's going to be plenty of it in a few seconds! What'd you put in there, uranium?"

Hammer placed her arms akimbo. "Hon, this thing's powered by the aether. The aether. You know, that stuff that supposedly everyone's born with, keeps ev'rythin' afloat and all that esoteric hoopla! These babies need that extra kick!"

"I don't recall it being that volatile!"

"Not if it's in a controlled environment, but that's why any product you buy that uses aether as an energy source is so expensive. If you were to add anything else to it, like a liquid or a solid, the aether will assimilate it and adapt its properties." Sylvanas added, putting away the stopwatch. "Although knowing her, Hammer put in a gallon or a dozen of her 'super secret special' fuel that's solely and preferably reserved for Hero League matches. Am I right?"

"Now why in tarnation would I do that? Puttin' the whole thing in there with the aether will turn this whole place and the surroundin' area into Ground Zero!"

"But you did, didn't you?" Sylvanas let the stopwatch fall to her breast, gripped the clipboard in both hands, and leaned forward. Her eyes were two burning embers. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't mix your fuel with the aether."

Hammer shook her head fiercely. "Not at all!" She fidgeted. "Maybe a little," she amended. She broke out in a sweat. "Okay, maybe about a quart or so." She wrung her hands. "About a gallon." She sighed explosively. "I just wanted ta beat the competition, is all! I-It's not like aether takes on every chemical property, you know that! We'd never break bank if we followed the crowd! ARGH!" Her helmet rang with a dull, metal clap.

Sylvanas lowered the clipboard and stared hard at Hammer rubbing her head. There was a vertical line forming between her brow, and it stood out so prominently, like an exclamation point, that the skin around it had begun to crack. "Hammer…you know you're an idiot when I say Nova is smarter than you."

"Does that mean our partnership's over?" Hammer asked, wounded. "'Cause I'm, like, kinda…maybe…sorta…okay, I'm really bad at non-tank trajectory."

Sylvanas opened her mouth to answer, but the loud, booming voice with the demonic undertone overrode her and brought all activity at the pool to a standstill. "WHO HIT ME?! WHAT HIT ME? UGH! BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN, I'M SO COLD! MY WHOLE BACK IS PEELING OFF!"

All the color drained from Nova's face. "Oh dear God, you just hit Diablo."

"Archangel Diablo, for that matter," said Hammer.

"I'm going to get blamed for this, aren't I?" Sylvanas asked wearily.

"I DO NOT CARE WHO YOU ARE. I DO NOT CARE WHERE YOU ARE. BUT HEAVEN, HELL, AND SPACES HELP AND HIDE YOU, FOR I WILL FIND YOU. AND I. WILL. MAKE. YOU. BURN! RAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Now the air became humid, stifling, and the electric charge replaced with a smoky, acrid haze. Something shifted beneath Nova's feet, a sensation of the earth being misplaced, and for one wild moment she thought it was an earthquake. But earthquakes didn't emit blue light, she remembered when she looked down—nor did they display sigils of in an ancient language she couldn't make heads of.

The smell of cooked flesh and hot tile on her bare feet made her jump, both from the suddenness of pain and impending doom.

"Holy hamburger helper!" Hammer yelled. She was barely audible above the din of frightened, angry patrons climbing out of the pool and making a beeline for higher ground.

Sylvanas whirled around, snatched Nova by the wrist, and hauled her away in a breakneck run just as the world was engulfed in a blue inferno.