(Bellamy POV)
Shura's preferred hunting grounds were heavily wooded areas surrounding a small clearing like the one we found ourselves in, a place where he had the greatest home ground advantage. I was determined that he would not enjoy it today. Losing no time, I whipped out a pair of breath and water dials and cranked both up to the maximum output, sending a cloud of mist billowing in every direction and revealing what I had already suspected.
Shura's strings.
Everywhere.
Still, this temporary visibility would not last long. There's a sudden cacophony of musket fire, Fuza swerving this way and that, dancing through a hail of bullets. Burying my hands in my bag, I pull out what I need…and jump into the air.
Higher than the trees, higher than Shura until for a brief moment I am floating above the forest, looking down at everything. I can see the confused faces watching me bring my hands together in a clapping motion before shouts of surprise reach my ears when flour erupts from my hands, drizzling down onto the ground below. Layers and layers of flour, on the trees, on the ground and most importantly, on the strings, dressing them in a thin white coat.
It's a good start. It isn't enough.
Again.
Another leap is needed.
"Oh no, you don't!"
Shura closes in rapidly, ignoring River's shot, his red hot lance bursting through the cloud of flour aiming for my chest. The resulting explosion rocks the air, trees shaking in the aftermath as I flip to land on my feet. Above us, smoke is wafting off of Shura, but barely a hair is singed on his head, only his pride.
"You DARE!" And for one who had reigned nearly supreme over his lessers, the damage done to his pride was the greatest indignity he must suffered in a long, long time. Meaning he was angry now, truly enraged in fact, but I could work with that. Anger rarely made good decisions, reducing rational beings to mere beasts. Sadly, beasts did have something going for them that humans typically did not. Instinct.
"Eat lead!" Jerking Fuza around, Shura locks his sight onto his target and dives, lightly evading having a hole punched into his chest. And as the storm of bullets dwindles, screaming ensues as Shura scatters the Shandians like a wolf amongst sheep.
By the time I had sprung into action, three warriors had already been skewered like dango. The smell of iron is everywhere, bile rising in my throat, but I swallow it down, channeling my fear into a right hook. It misses.
The counter catches me in the chest like a sledgehammer, but I roll with the blow, letting it carry me off my feet to reduce the impact before springing back up seconds later. Then Shura is nearly on top of me and I'm scrambling to get away. A packet of flour garners me some breathing room, Shura retreating out of range, unwilling to risk another explosion. When the expected cloud does not manifest he goes red though whether it is out of anger or embarrassment I do not know.
Slowly, we circled each other, probing and looking for an opening. Ostensibly I should have the advantage, surrounded by allied combatants as I was, but the wave of warriors who rushed Shura in the hopes that he was sufficiently distracted, quickly learned that he was not. Screams of pain, screams of anger, screams of fear. The ground dyes itself crimson red. And through it all, I saw no opening I could exploit but I cannot just stand aside and watch the Shandians get murdered one by one. My spring snipe is easily sidestepped, Shura swinging his fist in the same motion to catch me with a backhand and diverting me into a tree. My lower face goes numb.
By the time I've pulled myself out of the wood to face him again, Shura has lazily pinned another man to the ground, his gaze never leaving mine. A flurry of jabs meets my charge, forcing me to dodge and weave like a maniac, every lunge aiming for a vital part of my body. However, unlike before, he doesn't see Kamakiri sneaking up behind him nor the firing squad.
Kamakiri is all grace and power as he lays into Shura, his spear flashing here stabbing there, never giving the priest a moment's pause. Free for the moment, I take a breath and spare a glance around the clearing, looking for Shura's bird Fuza, before finding him on the other side of the clearing, wings bowling the Shandians over like misshapen bowling pins. Kamakiri can handle Shura for the moment, and from the looks of it I'd just get in the way. In which case, I decide to take Fuza out of the fight. If I take out Fuza, Shura is grounded and only half as dangerous.
"Use the nets!" The order is repeated over and over like a relay, the warriors doing their best to corner the bird before casting weighted webbing at Fuza. In this, the strings are a hindrance and a boon, for as long as we know where they are, we know where the bird will run. Especially as the Shandians are hunters by trade, and this is no different from a hunt. It's just a bird. Just a big bird with fire.
My final pack of flour busts open just as Fuza burns the nets to ashes. The acrid smell of burning feathers fills the air along with a series of painful squawks as Fuza stumbles and falls.
A rapid tap tap taptaptap reaches my ears, my instincts throwing me to the ground as I narrowly avoid Shura's lance. For once he ignores me, more focused on his ride.
He's not reaching his bird.
A spring powered punch forces him to swerve to the side or have his head knocked clean off and Kamakiri doesn't give him time to recover, carefully pincering Shura between himself and I.
I can hear my heartbeat pulsing in my ear, the adrenalin, the rush. And despite the situation, I feel free, freer than I've ever been. Redoubling my efforts, I lunge at my enemy, my fist smashing into his lance. For the first time, some uncertainty enters Shura's eyes but it's gone before I can register it a snarl, reminiscent of a wounded animal, he heaves, knocking me away like I weigh nothing. Kamakiri is next, a devastating roundhouse kick sending him skipping across the clearing.
Then he's amongst the Shandians, fighting like a lion to free his bird.
Resistance is brushed aside, nets are rend asunder and he's in the sky before I can stop him.
We regroup while they hover, Kamakiri digging himself out of his hole. He's dirty and bruised but he's alive which is more than I can say for many of his subordinates. Above, Shura is circling again, seeking an opening while our boys futilely try to shoot him down. He's too agile in the sky and it's clear that I need to trap him where he can't escape. But that's easier said than done.
I need a plan and I need it now.
(Rivers POV)
Shura was a monster. Rivers had no other way to describe him. What else did you call someone who could fight off dozens of hardened warriors and his captain at the same time?
The fight had entered a bit of a stalemate after the initial bouts. They would shoot at Shura for a bit then run whenever Shura tried to pick them off. Then Shura would be driven off by his captain and Kamakiri. Sometimes they'd be fast enough, sometimes not and some unlucky sod would get a new chest cavity.
Thankfully, Rivers had been left in peace until now, never being quite worth the hassle to hunt down. Taking another potshot, Rivers dives back behind his tree, frantically reloading his rifle.
The captain was trading blows with Shura again, his arms a blur as he tries to break through Shura's guard. For his part, the priest will lash out without warning, his lance seeking blood. It's a savage competition, neither side giving any ground, neither able to land a decisive blow.
Kamakiri is organizing the gunners again, establishing interlocking fields of fire. Upon his signal, River pulls the trigger, his captain moving out of the way just in time to let the bullets pass over him. Then he's back in the action, buying time for everyone to reload, though Rivers isn't certain how useful they're being.
It's more difficult to see Shura's strings now, the flour having long been knocked off during the course of the fight. But his captain either hasn't noticed yet or doesn't care for the increasing danger. Instead, he's smiling like a child told that his birthday came early this year.
But time was running out.
If Shura was allowed to return to his bird again, they may not get another chance to trap him. And with their supply of flour exhausted, it is far more likely that they'll be the ones trapped, caught in his web of invisible strings.
Slowly, carefully, Rivers makes his way over to where the bird is crushing its most recent victim beneath its talons. He tries to swallow but his mouth is so dry, ever so dry. In hindsight, this had to be the most stupid thing he's ever done.
With leap, Rivers lands on the bird's back, his arms wrapping tightly around its neck and holding on for dear life as it tries to buck him off. He doesn't let go even as it rolls all over the ground, smashing into trees and eventually takes flight. Regardless of the wind rushing through his hair, buffeting his face or the feathers tickling his nose, Rivers rides the bird up and down, up and down for several long minutes.
And the moment he gets a brief window of opportunity, he stuffs the bird's beak with his last remaining snacks.
The bird calms down near immediately, for such was the power of North Blue Fruit Pops.
"Taste good, don't they?" he asks. The South-Pointing bird understood human language. This one probably did too. "I've got a whole bunch more at our ship. If you stick with me and stay out of the fight, they're yours."
He may just be imagining this, but the bird nods and trillers in agreement before making more sounds of contentment and culinary bliss. It hurts having to part with his treasures, but under the circumstances it's a small price to pay.
Rivers turns the bird around and flies back to the clearing, only to be met by the sight of Shura running his lance through his captain's chest.
(Sarquiss POV)
Sarquiss did not consider himself a good person. He was not even a nice person. But Satori was the devil with angel wings.
Things had gone to hell right from the beginning. Explosions everywhere, poisonous snakes and animals jumping you whenever you got to close to one of his stupid balls and that incessant laughter!
"Ho, ho hooo!"
Worse yet, nothing could touch this guy. Three dozen guns blaring, experienced hunters sniping at him from all directions and this guy was dancing. How was he this nimble anyway? He was wider than five Lily's put together.
Sarquiss had tried to lunge at him from his blind spot, but Satori had just grabbed him by face before something rattled his brain. Likely one of these impact dials. He hadn't tried again since. Instead Sarquiss would just content himself with clearing away some of these trapped balls. If he cut the wires, they'll float away, right?
Lily hadn't fared much better, though unlike him, she managed to get a series of blows in, forcing the fatty to retreat to another ball. Her victory was short-lived however, as the one she was left standing on popped, sending her crashing to the ground. Again, unlike Sarquiss, she didn't give up and dashed back in for another go.
Sad thing was, nobody else even got close to touching the fatty. If they tried to close the distance, Satori would lead them into a trap or outright pummel them into the ground.
"Ho, ho hooo! Aren't we having fun?"
And if they tried to keep their distance and snipe at him? He'd come looking and pummel you then.
How'd somebody beat this guy?
(Lily POV)
This was so fucking annoying!
"Stop dodging, asshole, and let me punch you!"
Half their escort was already down and all she'd managed to achieve was get thrown into a tree. Sarquiss had apparently given up attacking Satori entirely and had started hacking away at the wires holding the ball clouds in place like a lunatic. Nice idea, horrible execution. So far, he hadn't made a dent and at this rate, it's was going to take him forever to remove the balls from the fight.
Laki's attempt to club Satori from behind leaves her with no rifle and a cracked rib, forcing the woman to her knees gasping in pain. Gritting her teeth, Lily pursues Satori as he jumps from ball to ball, leaving explosions in his wake. She'd shed her coat long ago as it only slowed her down which was something she could not afford.
Satori was toying with them, that much was obvious. Indignant anger bubbles up from her gut and she channels all that anger into her speed. Faster and faster, boxing at what feels like a shadow, shifting, smashing her fist into a waiting palm.
Another ball pops nearby, splattering three Shandians onto the trees. For him, she isn't even worth his full attention, but that's what's keeping her alive. That and his amusement.
"Ho, ho hooo! Such artistic dedication! I love it!"
Right. Left. Hook. Feint! Grabbing his arm, she brings her knee up towards his groin, but he sweeps her left leg out from under her.
As she's sent tumbling again, Lily urgently crosses her arms, knowing from experience what is coming next. Her bones creak as they absorb the blow meant for her head, but much to her relief her guard holds firm.
Then suddenly her skull is ringing, and her legs collapse out from under her, her vision swimming in and out of focus. It's utterly humiliating how Satori negligently shoves her off his perch with his foot.
Sarquiss is looking over here, shock apparent on his face. Huh, so the shithead did manage to cut a wire after all. Good for him.
Someone catches her before she can hit the ground and for that she is grateful. That probably would have hurt.
"Wait. You're one of the…" she slurs.
Everything goes dark.
(Sarquiss POV)
When he sees Lily collapse like a puppet with its strings cut, Sarquiss sees red. Only the fact that he can see her breathing lets his rational mind mount a token of resistance against the onslaught of utter all-consuming rage.
He was going to kill the bastard. Brutalize him. Annihilate. Destroy. Murder. Slaughter. Crush. Slay.
KILL! !
It's but the work of a moment to gather half a dozen satchels filled with gunpowder and sling them around himself. Then he's off, racing towards his prey.
Dodge one ball. Two. Couldn't evade the third but it doesn't matter. T'is only a scratch.
Satori is still smiling, but he won't be for much longer.
Leap onto a ball, don't stop, never stop. Another explosion buffets his back, but Sarquiss doesn't care. He's so close.
Satori is still smiling, one arm outstretched, palms open. One final jump brings him into range and Sarquiss raises his knife above his head, seemingly ready to plunge it into Satori's neck.
But he doesn't. Instead, he releases his knife to grasp Satori's right arm and hold on for dear life, even as a shock wave passes through his body. It should hurt. It doesn't. Satori is not smiling anymore.
Sarquiss grins.
"Boom."
His knife sinks into the cloud beneath his feet.
When he comes to, it's to pain, more pain and curly brows staring down at him. His throat feels dry.
"Lily?" he croaks out. It's barely audible but curly brows gives him an understanding look.
"Safe. She's currently sleeping."
"Satori?"
"Out for the count. Your stunt messed with his shitty mantra so I could deck him from behind. Shitty priest won't be getting up anytime soon."
"Alive?"
"Yes, of course."
"Need to kill him."
A hand covers his eyes. "What you need, is rest. Sleep for a bit and leave the rest to us."
Sleep sounds good.
"Just for…a bit…gotta…watch…Lil…y"
"Sleep."
Only for a minute.