Aetheral Space

"What do we do?" said Ruth cautiously, looking a second away from summoning her armour as she glanced around the nearby crowds anxiously, waiting for attack.

"We move," said Skipper seriously, pushing past the rest of the group and beginning to stride towards Roz. "We'll grab him ourselves - can't afford to wait for security."

Despite the clear doubt on her face, Ruth followed after him, with Dragan and Bruno following soon after. The surprise of the Aether ping had messed up their formation somewhat, and now Bruno was the one heading up the back of the group, subtly holding his palms to the air as he maintained a forcefield behind them.

Roz looked up as they got closer, and his black eyes widened to the size of saucers as he saw four people directly approaching him with clear intent in their eyes. He scrambled to his feet, his chair dropping to the ground behind him, and turned to run.

"Ruth," said Skipper without hesitation.

There was a flare of red Aether from Ruth - and a second later, she was in full Skeletal Set, pinning Roz to the ground with one clawed hand. The Umbrant flailed on the ground, shouting and yelping with the fear of someone who thinks they're about to be killed.

"No!" he shouted. "No, no no no! I'm sorry! Someone help me! Y! Please!"

"We're not here to hurt you," hissed Ruth, voice turned hollow by the metal mask, but Roz's panic was such that he couldn't even hear her.

The crowd around them cleared some space once the altercation became obvious, but nobody came walking in to assist the obviously terrified Roz. Dragan found his faith in humanity growing every single day. Still, this was convenient for them. He stepped in closer to Ruth.

"Just knock him out or something," he said hurriedly. Whoever did that Aether ping would still be in the area, after all. They couldn't afford to sit around. "I saw security officers back there a little while ago - we'll have them help us transport the guy."

"Help! Help!" Roz went on, his voice becoming increasingly grating to Dragan's ears. "Someone! I'm being killed!"

Ruth glanced towards Skipper, face unreadable behind her mask. As she did, Dragan noticed a slight scuff on one of her shoulderplates, the slightest of dents as well. He frowned: that hadn't been there before.

Skipper nodded - and a swift chop from Ruth to the back of the neck stopped Roz's complaining. The reporter hung limp, and as Ruth stood back up she slung him over her shoulder.

While this had all been going on, Bruno had been keeping watch over the crowd, eyes alert and cloak hanging over his frame to conceal any movements he made.

"Security business!" he barked out, clearly doing his best to sound official. "No need to interfere!"

Some booing went through the crowd - a niain like this wasn't the kind of place you'd find many fans of law enforcement - but fortunately it seemed that truly nobody cared enough to intervene. Still, Dragan doubted anyone had bought that story - they weren't exactly wearing security uniforms, after all.

"Mr. Hadrien," said Skipper, voice firm, joining Bruno in watching the crowd. "You said you saw some security a little while ago?"

Dragan nodded. "Just a few corners back."

"Okay. You lead the way there, then. We don't have the time to wait for the undercover guys."

And with that, they started walking, their strange procession passing through the crowd like a ship on the ocean. Even as Dragan led the pack, he couldn't help but feel nervous, eyes flicking around as he expected an attack from any direction.

Security had been just a few streets away - but they were moving against the crowd, now, and progress was so much slower. Suddenly, Dragan took in a sharp intake of breath, and a burst of involuntary blue Aether hopped out of his skin for a moment.

"Another ping," said Bruno. "This one came from another direction."

"Lots of people are interested in our sleeping beauty here, huh?" said Skipper, making finger-guns with his hands. "That's fine. That's cool. If we could, uh, pick up the pace here, Mr. Hadrien?"

"I'm trying," grunted Dragan, regaining his composure. "There's people in the way, damnit. This shit isn't easy."

Skipper sighed, ran a metal hand over his face. "Fine. Okay."

And with that, he pointed a finger up towards the sky - and the boom of a Heartbeat Shotgun rang out. The crowd's babbling was instantly cut off, replaced by panicked shouting and screaming as people did their best to get away from the supposed gunman - and Dragan suddenly found his path forward very clear indeed.

"Not exactly subtle," said Bruno.

"If it works, it works," said Skipper. "Mr. Hadrien, if we could keep moving."

Dragan nodded hurriedly. He'd never heard Skipper sound so anxious before - not even when he'd been strapped to a wall missing one of his limbs. He didn't know that much about Skipper, true, but he knew enough to recognize they were in a bad situation.

He led them around the corner, almost running into the two security officers coming the other way - they were clearly responding to the gunshots they'd just heard. Spotting the unconscious body Ruth was carrying, the first of the two armoured officers raised his plasmabow and pointed the sharp crystal arrow towards their group.

"Drop him!" the officer commanded, voice deepened and distorted by his helmet.

Shit. So these guys weren't part of the recovery operation. From their perspective, they were just a gang of crazies that had knocked a guy out and were carrying them away.

Dragan glanced at the arrow, ignoring the second officer going for his radio. The material looked like hangite - a substance that became significantly more durable when fed a current. So long as the bow supplied the arrow with power, the plasma inside was secure, but the second it launched the arrow would smash and release it's payload with ease.

"Easy there," said Skipper, grinning unconvincingly. "This is all a misunderstanding, buddy."

"I said drop him!" the officer said, jerking his bow again.

Ruth shifted her body slightly, presumably to drop her burden on the floor - but she was interrupted by a quiet, but clear rattling sound coming from the ground.

Dragan looked down: there, right next to the officer's feet, a small pebble was rolling to a halt. He furrowed his brow, turned to look at the crowd around him: had someone thrown a rock at them?

"Move!" screamed Bruno.

Bruno grabbed Dragan with one hand, Ruth with the other, and pulled them away from the rock with all his strength - Skipper having already leapt away. The security officer pointed his bow at them again, barked some order, but his attention was quickly stolen by the pebble as well.

What happened took less than a second. The pebble began to shiver on the ground, that same hollow rattling coming from it, before coming to a sudden stop. Then, with a fiery red glow, it -

- exploded.

As Dragan was pulled away from what was now clearly a bomb, he saw a storm of chaotic red Aether burst out from within the rock, turning into fire and smoke soon after coming into contact with the air. The sound was deafening: the boom of the explosion was replaced near-instantly by a high-pitched ringing in Dragan's ears.

Bruno let go of Dragan, leaving him to fall backwards on the ground, and thrust his palms outwards - presumably creating a forcefield around their group.

The crowd went from an ocean to a river, panic driving them to flee the scene in record time, effigies and tents annihilated under the stampede. Before long, their group and Roz were the only ones left in sight - along with the charred remains of the two security officers, their armour partially melted.

Skipper said something to Bruno, pointing his fingers in opposite directions in preparation for Heartbeat Shotguns. That damn ringing meant that Dragan couldn't hear them, though, so he had to watch their lips closely to get some idea of what was being said.

Under attack. Do you see them? Bruno was saying something along those lines.

Skipper babbled so fast Dragan didn't catch any of it, then came out with Aether ping.

As the ringing cleared from Dragan's ears, he felt the now-familiar tingling of an Aether ping passing over him. Dragan clambered to his feet as the sound of burning raged around them.

"How many are there?" shouted Ruth, the volume of her voice proving that she still couldn't quite hear properly. Roz was still slung over her back.

"Skipper?" questioned Bruno, glancing towards his captain. Skipper must have been the one who released the Aether ping, then.

The man himself but his lip. "No clue," he said. "They must be cloaked…"

As he dusted himself off, Dragan looked at Skipper incredulously. "Cloaked?" he said, as if the word itself were ridiculous. "What do you mean cloaked?"

"They're using Aether to hide their Aether," said Bruno, moving his hands to keep the forcefield around them consistent. "Doesn't matter right now - Skipper, we need to move. Grab a vehicle and get out of here. We don't stand a chance out in the open like this."

Skipper nodded grimly. "You're absolutely right there, Bruno. We'll make a run for the nearest parking platform, improvise from there. Mr. Hadrien, Ruth, you guys good to move?"

Ruth nodded and, even as his body ached in complaint, Dragan did the same. Being pulled away from the explosion hadn't been the most pleasant rescue in history, but he'd take that over being blown up by another one of those bombs any day.

"Okay," said Skipper. "Keep up the shield behind us if you can, Bruno. Follow me - now!"

And with that, Skipper turned on his heel, emerald Aether flaring around him as he went for their escape route - a gap between two burning stalls that would take them outside the festival grounds.

That hope of escape existed for around three seconds, tops.

As Skipper went to enter the alley, there was a high-pitched whistling sound from the air - and a second later, a dozen bright-pink arrows buried themselves in the ground right in front of Skipper's feet. Immediately, he screeched to a halt, throwing his arms out to prevent the rest of his crew from coming too close to the attack.

The projectiles were huge - easily a meter long each, and dug into the concrete like fence-posts in soil.

"Running away?" said a clear voice from behind them. "That's kind of lame, you know?"

Dragan turned around. At the other end of this little corridor of stalls stood a young girl in a winter coat, blue hair matching her bright blue eyes. Cogitant. Ruth's body stiffened next to Dragan as she spotted the new arrival.

Next to the young Cogitant girl stood a much taller young man - her head barely reached his torso. He had ashen skin and grey hair tied back into an absurdly long ponytail. He held pebbles, just like the one that had exploded, one between each of his knuckles.

Three enemies, then, judging from the angles the arrows had been shot at. This girl, the bomber, and an unseen sniper.

With the arrival of enemies, Skipper stopped displaying any kind of anxiety. Instead, he lifted a hand and gave an easy wave. "Yo," he said, nodding his head towards the pink arrows. "These things yours?"

The girl chuckled. "Look at the angles on those things, old man. There's no way I could have shot them from over here."

"Ah," sighed Skipper, rubbing a hand over the back of his head. "You've got me there. What can I do for you kids?"

At the word 'kids', the girl's smug smirk turned into a frown. This was clearly someone who didn't like being underestimated.

Her gaze slid past Skipper, settled over the unconscious Umbrant on Ruth's back. "You've got something we need," the girl said, ice cold. "Hand him over and nobody needs to get hurt."

Dragan glanced at the corpses of the security officers on the ground nearby. Did they not count, then?

Again, Skipper sighed - and when he replied to the girl, he crouched down, as if to speak to her at eye level. Dragan watched as the girls pupils dilated slightly with anger and had to suppress his laughter; there was no way Skipper didn't know what he was doing.

"That's now you conduct a negotiation, kiddo," he said, wagging an admonishing finger. "Polite adults need to introduce themselves first, yeah? My name's Skipper. What's yours?"

The girl scoffed. "There's no way I'd -"

"My venerable self is Reyansh Patel," the man with the pebbles said, his voice buttery smooth. "This young maiden is Noel Edmunds. We work for the warrior known as the Citizen."

The girl named Noel cut in: "We work with the Citizen. And he wants that guy - hand him over."

Skipper raised an eyebrow. "Well, uh, that's nice and all, sweetie, but I don't think you've passed math yet. It's three against five - I mean, against four, you see. Those aren't good odds for you now that you've blown your surprise attack."

Noel chuckled, her smug smirk turning into a wicked grin. "Just three?"

Dragan suddenly became aware of the sounds of skittering in the shadows.

From between every crevice, from behind every broken stall, metal bodies moved into view. Both ground-based and airborne drones surrounded Noel - at least fifty in total - beeping and clicking as they communicated with each other in automatic-speak.

Dragan gulped. The telltale barrels of plasma blasters were visible between the mandibles of each airborne drone. Without a doubt, they could turn this place into a burning rainstorm in the space of a few seconds. He didn't even want to know what the ground-based ones could do, crawling around on the floor like spiders.

"Ah," said Skipper, eyes flicking from drone to drone. "I guess that could be a problem."

Noel cocked her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and swayed back and forth in what seemed like a disturbing attempt to look cute.

"You sure you know how to count, old man?" she said.