Aetheral Space

"You sure were talking a lot of shit back there, huh?" said Noel, cocking her head. "I'm the kind of person that takes that a teensy bit seriously, you know?"

Skipper bit his lip. Ah, shit. He'd thought pressing her buttons about the age thing would get her to act rashly, but with the clear amount of firepower the tyke had at her disposal, acting rashly was the last thing he wanted her to do.

"Heheh," he said, scratching his head. "Would you forgive me if I said I was sorry?"

"Nope."

Skipper caught Dragan giving him a murderous glare from the corner of his eye. Fine, fine, maybe this was a bad situation, and maybe it was partially completely his fault for getting them into it. But that didn't mean it was a situation they couldn't get out of.

Ignoring the drones - oh how he'd love to ignore the drones - there were at least three enemies. This kindergarten escapee named Noel, the pebble master named Reyansh, and an unseen sniper who used a bow and arrow.

Reyansh's Aether ability clearly involved turning those pebbles into high-yield bombs - most likely by using alteration to make their interiors highly unstable while leaving the outer layer unchanged.

With the strength of his explosions and the speed he could probably prime those pebbles - given the fact that he was holding a few of them with no worry of them exploding in his hand - he was most likely a powerful Aether user. Not Contender-level, of course, but probably just beneath someone like Atoy Muzazi.

The sniper, though, was harder to judge. The arrows that had lodged in the ground looked sturdy, so they couldn't be pure Aether - the stuff was trash when used as a projectile. They were most likely some other object that the sniper turned into arrows using Aether, then infused with even more to make them stronger.

In his experience, though, people capable of that level of Aether manipulation didn't go for simple strength. There'd be some kind of trick to the arrows.

That left this girl called Noel. Those drones looked like they were moving independently of each other, not following the same routes. There wasn't any kind of controller in her hands, and as far as he'd seen she hadn't contacted anyone else to make them move - so chances were that she was in control of them. Even for a Cogitant, though, that kind of multitasking would be absurd.

A mental Aether ability, then, giving her the capacity to control all those drones at once. That was the most likely option. When it came to Aether, mental abilities were like software that ran on your own mind, using your Aether as a medium to communicate. A mental ability couldn't do anything that was beyond the user's mental abilities, but it could automate it, make it so that the user didn't have to expend any effort.

There was a certain Special Officer capable of seeing a little while into the future - that was accomplished with a mental ability that automated his skill at reading muscle movements. Mental abilities could be terrifying like that, especially with Cogitants like this girl and that Officer. He doubted multitasking was the only thing she was capable of - he had to tread carefully here.

Noel smiled a sickly sweet smile. "If you'd like for your bodies to keep their consistency, I'd suggest you hand that guy over, yeah?"

"Fuck you," growled Ruth, still holding the unconscious Roz on her back.

Noel giggled. "Wow, you're mad, huh? I really felt bad about messing with you," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "But it was just so easy. I gave you a little fright, and you led me right to my prey. There's no shame in losing to me like that, you know? I'm simply above you mentally."

Ruth growled again, this time with the promise of blood in her voice, but trailed off as Dragan gave her a suspicious look.

"What is she talking about?" he said. "Did you already know her?"

"I, uh…" Ruth glanced away guiltily.

Okay, Ruth was keeping secrets now. That wasn't ideal, but he could hardly blame her given the example he'd set recently. Besides, this was hardly the time for an interrogation.

Noel sighed. "I'm getting really sick of waiting like this. Reyansh, if they don't hand Roz over in the next ten seconds, let's attack."

The young man named Reyansh nodded, holding one hand up in front of his face and the other behind his back as if he were some sort of ninja. "Of course. We shall do battle."

Noel's gaze moved to look up at Skipper, staring him right in the eyes. "Ten," she said, with an obvious glee lying just beneath the surface.

Shit. There was a time limit, now. Well, that was okay, actually. That was good, in fact - he always came up with his best ideas under pressure!

Unfortunately, none seemed to be popping up right now.

What would the Widow recommend in this kind of situation? He could almost see the hag now, delivering one of those lectures she was so good at:

"Advantages and disadvantages are dependent on your point of view," she would say in that thick accent of hers, all harsh consonants and sharp turns . "Make your enemies' resources benefit you. Then you will win. Easy peasy, yes?"

Again, in the corner of his eye, Skipper saw Dragan move, whispering something into the ear of a nodding Bruno. He wasn't the only one trying to come up with a plan, then.

"Fiiive." Noel drew the word out as if preparing for a game of hide and seek.

Oh, shit. She was still counting - Skipper had almost forgotten.

Okay, plan plan plan. Turn disadvantages into advantages. Well, Noel had about fifty advantages whizzing about their heads, and they seemed pretty loyal to her. The one standing next to her, though, Reyansh - he seemed like an honourable warrior type. Could he maybe challenge him to a duel, and have his crew escape while they were fighting?

No. One look at Noel's face confirmed that no matter how Reyansh felt, she didn't give two shits about honour. Even if Reyansh let his crew go, she'd shoot them in the back.

"Three."

Nothing else for it, then. A frontal assault - strength against strength, let the best man win. It was a strategy uncomfortably close to the Supremacy's philosophy, but he could see no other options here.

"Two."

Skipper lowered his body to the ground, curled up all his fingers save the index on both hands - preparing himself to use his Heartbeat Shotguns at maximum strength. He'd have to be careful firing them from his prosthetic hand; unless he adjusted the point where the sound exited his body a little, he risked firing one from his stump instead and destroying the new limb.

"Ooone." Noel's eyes narrowed in childish cruelty as she finished her countdown. Then, she shrugged, her drones subtly arranging themselves into combat positions around her. "Well, if you really want to die that bad, I guess that's -"

"HADRIEN!" roared a familiar voice.

Uh oh. Foolishly, Skipper had believed this situation couldn't get any worse, but he'd clearly underestimated the universe's capacity for dickery.

-

"HADRIEN!" roared a familiar voice.

Dragan couldn't help it. For a moment, the sheer rage in that voice made him forget what kind of situation he was in, and he turned his head to the side to look at the source. His eyes widened as he recognised his chances of dying in the next few minutes had somehow gotten higher.

Atoy Muzazi stood at the other end of the street of flaming stalls, that damn sword of his clutched in one hand. He was wearing old, dusty clothing - presumably some kind of disguise - but it was unmistakably him. Dragan would recognize that white-shining sword anywhere. Even now, the glow from it reflected off the puddles of rainwater beneath, illuminating the whole area. It was like a moon wandering the earth.

A thousand questions raced through Dragan's mind. What the hell was Muzazi doing here? What did he want (well, Dragan had some idea of that)? Was it just him? Most importantly - could Dragan get away?

Muzazi pointed his sword towards Dragan, ragged breath coming out in snarls. How far had he run to get here? Judging from his exhaustion, it must have been nearly the whole district.

"Dragan Hadrien," he panted. "I've been looking for you."

Noel looked down the street too from her position, countdown temporarily forgotten in the wake of the new arrival. "And you are?" she said, distinctly unimpressed.

His eyes flicked towards her, before going back to Dragan. "Atoy Muzazi, Special Officer of the Supremacy," he said through gritted teeth, completely defeating the purpose of a disguise. "I have business with Mr. Hadrien."

Noel laughed derisively. "Well, uh, you're welcome to have him, I guess. We just want the guy they've kidnapped."

Muzazi's nostrils flared as his gaze travelled to Roz, slung over Ruth's shoulder. "Kidnapped?" he muttered, danger in his voice. "Hadrien."

He took a step forward.

Fuck fuck fuck. He'd thought the situation was bad sixty seconds ago, but now it had somehow gotten multiple times worse. He'd intended for Bruno to project a ramp-like shield that would allow them to flee from the rooftops, but Muzazi's speed would now make that impossible.

Still, he had to do something, or else he was dead. A hollow anxiety began to settle in his lungs, like something in there was flailing angrily. He needed to think, but thinking was so hard with all this damn pressure.

He glanced at Skipper's hands. They were still readied for Heartbeat Shotguns, and his mouth was a flat line of preparation. He'd be ready to fire at the biggest threat the moment this inevitable fight began.

But Muzazi would still get through. Dragan just knew it.

His eyes flicked around as Muzazi continued his approach, sword dragging along the floor with a shower of angry sparks. He looked at Ruth, at Bruno, at Skipper, at Noel, at the drones, at the buildings, at Roz…

At Roz…?

There was a plan there. It was insane, and unlikely to work, but if he did it right then the disadvantages before him could be turned into advantages. But that was only if he did it right. That worry stayed his hand for a brief moment.

Well, that and the fact that it was morally very bad.

"Hadrien," said Muzazi, coming to a halt several meters away, holding his sword in one hand. There was the promise of a killing blow in his stance. "Come and face me! Explain your treason with strength!"

Dragan sighed and made as if stepping forward, shaking off Bruno when he tried to pull him back. The anger on Muzazi's face eased just a little bit as he saw Dragan acquiesce.

Well, seemingly acquiesce.

The moment Muzazi's concentration wavered, Dragan whirled around, pulled Roz from Ruth's back, and put a plasma pistol against the unconscious Umbrant's temple.

"Nobody fucking move!" he screamed, making sure his finger seemed unstable against the trigger.

Noel's eyes widened, her companion taking a step forward before being stopped by a tug on his arm. Dragan's companions save Bruno gave him uncertain looks - even Skipper didn't seem quite sure what he intended. Muzazi's face contorted with rage, the hand on his sword tightened, but he himself didn't move.

"Coward," he hissed, rage invading every syllable.

Dragan swung Roz around so that he could keep both Muzazi and Noel's group in his sight, using the Umbrant like a human shield.

"I said nobody fucking move," he repeated, making sure that no drones had moved away from Noel. "I'm serious. One wrong step and I'll melt his head off."

"Uh, Dragan," said Ruth, cautiously, from behind him. Her trepidation was understandable - she probably thought Dragan would actually do it. To be fair, Dragan wasn't sure if he would or not either.

"Not now," he said, still staring into Noel's eyes. The younger girl clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed.

The young man standing behind her, Reyansh, glared at him with obvious disdain. "You disgrace yourself, knave."

Knave? Was this guy serious?

"Let the hostage go," growled Muzazi, attracting Dragon's attention. "My quarrel is with you alone, Hadrien."

"Probably best I don't let him go, then," shot back Dragan. "You - drone girl, Noel, whatever."

Noel's hands were clenched into fists at her side. She'd clearly been enjoying controlling the situation, and now it had been stolen from her. "What?" she said, almost pouting.

"If that guy," Dragan said, waving his gun at Muzazi. "Comes anywhere near me, I'll kill Roz. The Citizen won't be happy if that happens, right?"

Noel looked as if she was going to offer some defiance, strike back in defense of her pride, but after a moment she simply sighed. Roughly half of the drones surrounding her turned to face Muzazi rather than Dragan's group.

Muzazi looked as if he were going to burst a blood vessel. "Fight your own battles, Hadrien!"

"And you, Mr. Muzazi," said Dragan, ignoring what the Special Officer had actually said. "If that girl or her friends try anything sneaky, I'll kill this guy. I'm sure that letting that happen would go against your honour or your justice or whatever."

Noel shot him a glare at the implied accusation.

"Oh please," said Dragan, rolling her eyes before she could even speak. "Don't think for a second that I trust you not to try something. Look, my trigger finger is getting itchy here, and this is turning into a stressful fucking night - so back off, all of you."

There was a moment of silence in the square, and for a few seconds Dragan worried that his bluff - if it was a bluff - hadn't worked. Then, both Muzazi and Noel's group took a few steps back, giving Dragan some space.

This wasn't bad. This wasn't bad at all. Somehow, he'd managed to set up a miniature cold war between the people who had come here to kill him. The stalemate wouldn't last long, but he didn't need it to last long.

Just long enough to get away from this mess.

"Okay," he said breathlessly. "Okay, that's better. Noel."

"What?" she said, her frustrated voice leaking through gritted teeth.

"Your guy, the sniper - you're in contact with him right now, yeah?"

Noel shrugged. "Maybe."

"Don't get cute with me," Dragan snarled, pushing the gun tighter against Roz's skull. "There's no way you'd let your guys do what they want. You tell your pink buddy to get me a car - a big one, with enough room to fit me and my buddies. Fast, too. Got it?"

"I can seek out the vehicle you seek," said Reyansh, taking a step forward. Dragan shot him a feral glance, and he stopped instantly.

"That's not what I asked," Dragan said. "You think I'm letting you and those bombs out of my sight? I'm not stupid, but try to trick me again and I might do something stupid."

Reyansh shut his eyes in resignation. "Very well. Forgive my trespass."

Forgive my trespass? Seriously? Dragan wondered how Muzazi felt, standing across from a parody of himself.

Noel put a hand to her ear. "Simeon?" she said, voice low. "You get that?"

There was a second of silence, and then she quietly nodded.

"He'll take a minute or two," she said.

"That's fine," Dragan said, still holding onto Roz, the Umbrant's legs flopping around this way and that every time Dragan turned. "We're all going to wait here together, like the good friends we are. Then we," he jerked his head towards Skipper, Bruno and Ruth. "Are going to leave. That make sense to you?"

Noel's eyes were full of humiliated resentment, but she nodded all the same. Dragan knew that, if he ever ran into her again, he'd have hell to pay for this. Still, there weren't exactly any other options - and what was done was done.

A low growl from Muzazi sent Dragan whirling to face him, shaking his gun as a warning. Truth be told, he was more frightened of Muzazi than Noel and all her drones put together. He'd seen what the Special Officer could do, after all. If Muzazi wanted to kill Dragan, he'd be helpless to resist - and if Muzazi wanted to take him back to the Supremacy, he wasn't in for a friendly reception.

"Dragan Hadrien," said Muzazi, looking like it was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to draw his sword and charge. "I won't forget this. Wherever you flee to, I will find you. You will face justice."

Again, Dragan didn't reply. Anything he said would only piss off Muzazi more, and he didn't want to aggravate him enough to break this stalemate.

"They won't let us go, you know," muttered Skipper, next to him. The man hadn't spoken for a while, as though observing Dragan's strategy.

"Shut up," said Dragan reflexively. He continued looking at their enemies as he spoke. "I know. I'll think of something."

"What?"

"Something."

The car arrived - a hijacked limousine, from the looks of it, with a long body and night-black hull. It floated over the stalls and landed just on the edge of the festival grounds, settling on the artificial grass.

The driver door opened and a young man with pink hair climbed out, his eyes cautious. The second he was out in the open, he put his hands up and moved around the edge of the street to join Noel's group, the white tuxedo he was wearing clearly out of place.

That must be the one Noel had called Simeon, then. There was something strange about that hair of his - it was long, but ragged at the edges, inconsistent, as though it had been cut by a knife rather than scissors. Sometime in the last couple of minutes too, judging by the indentations on the man's hands.

"Okay," said Dragan, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He began tugging Roz's body towards the limo, the rest of the crew forming a protective square around him. "Now you stand there and we-"

Something orange flashed past Dragan's vision, and a strange burning sensation erupted in his right hand, the hand that was holding the gun.

A second later, he realized it was pain.

His eyes flicked to his hand. There was something sticking out of the palm, impaling it like the stick of a kebab. As Ruth whirled around, slashed two more orange projectiles out of the air before they could strike, Dragan stared uncomprehendingly at his injured hand, at the object protruding from it.

It was … it was a swordfish? Something like an orange glass sculpture of a swordfish was sticking out of his wound, similarly orange Aether crackling around it. No … no, now that Dragan looked, he could see that the thing in his hand wasn't a sculpture. It was wiggling, just slightly, it's gills undulating.

He had no clue what it was, but the damn thing was alive.

His gun clattered to the ground, followed by Roz, and a scream of pain finally escaped Dragan's throat.

Nobody missed their chance. Muzazi charged forward, blade whipping out of its sheath, as nearly every single one of Noel's drones surged forward, each sensor fixed on Roz's unconscious body.

Skipper raised his fingers, ready to fire indiscriminately, as Bruno raised a forcefield to protect Dragan from further attacks and Ruth rushed forward to meet Muzazi's assault.

The real festival had finally begun.