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Author: Caleb Nova Story: That Terrifying Momentum Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 7 Words: 267,976
Not for the first time he envied Scott for his apparent indifference to temperature. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if the Kharadjai wore coats just for appearances sake. It was funny since Scott would sometimes complain or comment on the weather like everyone else, but while Scott agreed that it was cold out he didn’t even put his hands into his pockets. It was another example of when what Scott said and what he did didn’t match up. Harry felt like Scott wasn’t deliberately lying but rather that ‘normalcy’ was the default reaction for him, even when it didn’t really apply. “Not all that much better in here, huh,” Scott to Harry as they walked, compounding Harry’s inner thoughts. Scott frowned when Harry gave him an amused look. “What?” “You weren’t cold out there,” Harry stated. “You’re never cold.” “Yeah, well I still know what the temperature is,” Scott said defensively. “I’ve got skin, don’t I?” “I don’t know, do you?” “Yes, and unlike yours it’s actually seen some sun. You’re lucky Ginny is even paler than you are, some women wouldn’t touch that shit.” “Shut it.” Harry glared at Scott. The last thing he needed right now was to be reminded of Ginny. Despite Scott’s numerous jokes to the contrary, Harry hadn’t made any progress with her. “It must be those manly pectorals,” Scott continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “I know mine are better but I don’t showboat with my shirt off unlike some people.” “Name one time I’ve gone around without a shirt,” Harry demanded. “You do it all the time after Quidditch. Hoping she’ll show up?” “I have to change, you prick!” Harry half-shouted. Why couldn’t Scott just leave the subject of Ginny alone? Harry knew he was acting a bit like Ron, but Scott’s unrelenting jabs at his non-relationship with Ginny set Harry on edge. Like he didn’t have enough to worry about. “Will you just shut it about Ginny already?” “Alright, don’t hurt yourself,” Scott said easily. “Don’t give yourself a fucking aneurysm, I’d be out of a job.” “That’d be a shame,” Harry grumbled insincerely The portrait of the Fat Lady loomed into view and Harry spoke the password. “Inter Mundus.” “Yeah it would, they’d probably put me on probation for killing my Prime. What’s up, bitches?” Scott was greeting the rest of Harry’s friends, most of whom were preoccupied with homework that was immediately set aside when the snow soaked duo arrived. Neville, Ron and Hermione were revising essays together while Luna and Ginny compared fifth year notes. A fair amount of the other students must have retired to their dorms because the common room wasn’t crowded. “There you are!” Hermione exclaimed, clearly in full scolding mode. “Where have you been? It’s past curfew now!” “Where have we been? We were out in the snowy, dark cold reconnoitring while you chodes were sitting around the fire having a pyjama party,” Scott told her disdainfully. “We were scouting the edge of the forest,” Harry quickly supplied before Hermione could explode. “That’s all.” Rather than avert Hermione’s imminent rage his confession only served to spark it. “The forest?!” Hermione hissed. “Have you lost your mind? You went at night, after curfew, in the snow, and without us! You might have been killed, or got in serious trouble!” Dire fates were usually listed in the order of least to worst, and leave it to Hermione rate getting in trouble higher than dying on the scale of terrible things. Scott made the tremendous mistake of laughing at her. “Nothing in there is going to kill us. Shit, Los Angeles is more dangerous at night than the Forbidden Forest. At least nobody in the forest has a gat.” “You weren’t there when me and Harry went in second year,” Ron said, and he shivered. “There are definitely things in there that will kill you.” “I said ‘us’ meaning Harry and me, or more specifically Harry when I’m with him. You don’t have to worry about it, Hermione, I’m the most dangerous thing in the forest,” Scott boastfully assured her. Hermione crossed her arms, unforgiving. “I really don’t think it’s too much to ask,” she clipped out, “for you to kindly inform us that you’re wandering off to the Forbidden Forest!” “You might have noticed where we were going if you hadn’t been testing how receptive Ron’s mouth is to your tongue,” Scott responded cuttingly. “Maybe you could practice kissing with your eyes open?” On the topic of eyes, Harry briefly closed his. Why couldn’t Scott just keep his mouth shut whenever Hermione got all shirty? Fortunately Luna, of all people, came to the rescue. “I imagine that might hurt the experience,” she mused dreamily, “there’s not much to look at while kissing.” “Yeah,” Harry said quickly afterwards, “you’re probably right. Anyway, what are we working on?” “Potions,” Ron sighed. “It’s a nightmare of an essay, too. Well, mine is anyway. Bloody hell, look at that – I can’t rightly call that a sentence.” “It’s looking much better now,” Hermione said optimistically. “I don’t know what paper you’re looking at,” Ron sourly replied, “but mine’s a bleedin’ mess.” “And mine’s even worse,” Neville said sadly. Rather than go up to his dorm to get his own homework Harry seated himself by the fire as had been his original intention. He had little doubt it had been Hermione who had talked his friends into a Saturday night study session though he was surprised Ron and Ginny had gone along with it. Ron probably wouldn’t have if his relationship with Hermione hadn’t given her new sway over him, and as for Ginny, Harry never had any idea why she did things. Come Sunday the essay would still be there and he had just got back from being dragged through the snow by Scott. He’d earned a little rest. Apparently Scott felt the same. “Look at you dweebs, doing homework Saturday night,” he scoffed at them. “Let’s at least talk about something.” Ron eagerly set his papers aside. “Anything would be better than this. What do you want to talk about?” “I don’t know. Stuff. Hermione, how was your evening?” “I think you’ve already decided for yourself what kind of evening I’ve had,” Hermione snapped at him, clearly not having forgotten his previous comment. “Okay… Ginny, how was your evening?” “I wasn’t snogging anybody, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ginny responded sarcastically. Harry ignored the feeling of relief that came over him. “This could be going better,” Scott reflected matter-of-factly. “Harry, how was your evening?” “Is that supposed to be funny?” Harry said. “How about I tell a story?” Scott offered a bit desperately. “That sound good? Everybody likes stories.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “I take it you’re not going to let us do homework?” “You take correctly.” She closed her book with a loud snap. “Then you can tell us a story with two conditions – it has to be about you, and it has to be true,” she informed him. “You always have to make everything a lesson don’t you, Hermione.” Scott shook his head. “I’m very disappointed.” “I’m reopening my book.” “Fine! It’ll be about me, and it will be true. Satisfied?” “Yes,” Hermione said simply. She set her work aside and folded her hands on her lap patiently. Harry settled back into his chair expectantly. Anything that revealed more of Scott’s past was worth hearing. “Everybody on board with this?” Scott looked around, and seeing everyone looking back at him must have decided that they all were. “Something about me… Hmmm…” “Make it exciting,” Ron suggested with no small amount of bias. “Action? Adventure? Possibly women of questionable virtue? Sounds like a good time to me,” Scott said agreeably. He stared up at the ceiling for a second. “Okay, every Kharadjai starts out partnered with a veteran FA for combat missions. Somehow Lil ended up assigned to me, probably the Council’s idea of a joke…” ***---~**~---*** My Love for You Is Like a Truck The place was as silent as a tomb. Altogether appropriate, since it was a tomb. Kharan leaned against a delicately carved column of stone and hugged his gun to his armoured chest. If she had run into resistance there would have been shots fired. He forced himself to relax and not check up on her. Everything was going according to plan, or what little plan there was. Combat initiation training often seemed little more than a series of random encounters. No other level of Field Agents were required to go through it but the Primarius, the violence real combat being experienced simply for the sake of becoming accustomed to it. Still, so far it hadn’t been all that bad. Slinking through ruins wasn’t the most pleasant way to spend a day but it beat fighting through ruins. The Locust were sparse in this sector, the legacy of chemical weapons long since degraded into harmlessness. A memory wouldn’t be enough to keep them away should Kharan and his charge be spotted, but it was useful enough for now. Kharan wasn’t sure who or what the tomb housed but it served well as a temporary base of operations. The air was stale and dusty, some few shafts of light leaking in through crumbling stonework. There was an elegance about the rooms that time had yet to dim, a grandeur built of columns and engravings. The telltale sound of pebbles rolling across the chequered stone floor signalled Lila’s approach. She came sliding down a pile of rubble left by the collapse of a section of the ceiling, her skin protected from the rough rocks by her bulky armour. The sound of the metal plates grating against chunks of rock seemed deafening after the total silence of before, and Kharan gritted his teeth. “That’s some nice work broadcasting our presence,” he bit out, climbing to his feet. “I’ll recommend you for promotion to Dumbass First Class. “I was just on the roof, there’s no one around,” Lila told him, shrugging. “Are you really that retarded, or do you just do a great impression? There will be someone around if you keep pulling crap like that.” Lila put her hand to her mouth in fake shock. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I say there was no one around? I meant there wasn’t anyone around yet… Unless you count the squad of Locust heading right for this building.” So that was how it was. Kharan calmly thumbed the safety on his weapon. “Alright. Your assignment is to stay here and distract them while I go find ‘help’.” “I revolt and declare myself Queen of the Tomb. Bow to your Queen, worm.” “That was some interesting phrasing,” Kharan said. “If you really want to roleplay my Boots of Anti-Revolting +5 just owned you. And furthermore-” Kharan immediately stopped talking when a vocal thunder echoed through the corridor, shaking dust and gravel loose. A distant, thudding cadence became clear. “What is it?” Lila whispered, drawing her submachine gun. Another bellow, this one closer. The thudding was now identifiable as heavy footsteps. Kharan sighed soundlessly. “Well?” Lila asked again, more impatiently this time. “Don’t breathe,” Kharan said quietly. “Or move from this spot. I’ll be right back.” It was troublesome to make his footsteps soundless on the hard stone floor but he did his best in his cumbersome gear. When he turned the corner it was evident his initial assumption had been correct – an ominous shadow cast itself across the floor of one of the inner chambers. Something huge was lumbering about just out of sight. Kharan ducked back and returned to his sister. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said before yet another hideous roar cut him off. “Scratch that, here’s plan B… We run.” “I’m understanding the method of this plan,” Lila said dryly. “But perhaps it might help if we had somewhere to run?” The heavy footfalls picked up speed as whatever was coming towards them began to charge. “Move,” Kharan said shortly, just before the Berserker burst through the rubble and smashed into the opposite wall. Kharan whirled backwards from the force of the impact, dust filling his vision and lungs. “Lil! Go!” he choked out, firing his weapon blindly towards the last place he had seen the Berserker. The sound of the gunfire was deafening in the confined space. Briefly, Kharan wished his power wasn’t so constrained. Training operations were aimed at expanding not only combat skills but also familiarity with localisation, and the level of integration with the universe was too high to do anything drastic. Regret was useless in this situation. He turned and fled. “WHAT IS IT?!” Lila screeched over her shoulder as they took off down a columned hallway. The Berserker must have regained its footing because a furious war cry echoed after them. “A BERSERKER! AND STOP YELLING!” Kharan yelled. With a sound like a freight train the blind monster shot up between Kharan and Lila as they threw themselves to the side. Scrambling to his feet, Kharan sprinted to where Lila was doing the same and grabbed her arm, dragging her into another corridor. He decided speed was more important than stealth at this juncture and as such he sprinted away, Lila only a few steps behind. The Berserker careened off obstacles in its path or went straight through them as it blindly followed, drawn by the noise of their hurried flight. The creature was very fast but so were they, and the three of them moved together in a bizarre indoor footrace. The ludicrous nature of it was apparent even to those involved. “So,” Kharan huffed out as he and Lila hurdled a fallen section of ceiling. “Is this how you thought you’d spend your day?” “With you?” Lila panted back. “Always.” “Left!” The Kharadjai veered off in Kharan’s chosen direction but the Berserker didn’t need to understand English to follow them. Relying on smell and sound to replace any visual cues, the creature easily kept the pace. “Don’t worry! I have a marvellous plan!” Kharan told Lila. He couldn’t check while running at full speed but he was fairly certain Lila rolled her eyes when she responded, “Don’t you mean ‘adequate’?” “If I meant adequate I’d have said adequate, now take a right!” They clambered up and over a short ceremonial bulwark of statuettes and made for what had once been a large garden outside the back of the tomb. A loud crack and crumbling noises let them know the Berserker hadn’t bothered to climb over the artwork. Somewhere a large fire was burning – the smoke wafted across the cityscape and obscured their scent from the Berserker behind them. Without a clear sense of smell the creature could only depend on sound to indicate their general direction. All they needed was a little luck. If the smoke was stronger than the musty odours of the place where road became dirt, then Kharan’s plan had a good chance of succeeding. Quickly growing nearer in the distance was Kharan’s objective – a deep rift in a city street where a Locust emergence had ripped the ground apart. The chasm stretched across a wide portion of the landscape. Kharan gave Lila a quick glance. “How are your jumping legs?” he asked her. “Operable,” she replied, but her voice lacked its usual confidence. “That’s a pretty big hole.” It was concerning whether or not Lila could make the leap, but there wasn’t any time to cogitate. The edge of the precipice was under their feet within seconds, and Kharan hurled his body across the abyss. Just behind him the Berserker lunged forward in a grasping effort, only to find that solid ground was suddenly missing. With a strangely mournful wail the beast plunged downwards into the dark. Upon impact with the other side Kharan was relieved to see that Lila had made a successful landing, however ungraceful. She stood and dusted off her posterior, having used it to skid to an ungainly halt. “That was interesting,” she said noncommittally. “Let’s never do it again.” “Actually this experience was comparatively pleasant with a great deal of my past, but this really isn’t the place to reminisce,” Kharan said. “Let’s get out of here before she climbs back up.” “She?” “The Berserker is technically female. You know, kind of like you.” “I suppose we have a lot in common,” Lila said acidly, “seeing as how we both want to kill you.” ***---~**~---*** “After that me and Lil submitted conflicting reports and spent the better part of a day down at the Consist sorting it all out with the paper pushers,” Scott concluded anticlimactically. “And that’s how I ended up fighting with Lila instead of revising my statements like I should have.” “That happen a lot, does it?” Ron asked. “Having to work with my sister on a regular basis makes life’s little struggles just that much more uphill,” Scott dryly informed him. “I know exactly what you mean,” Ginny said, shooting Ron a glare. Somehow, Ron managed to ignore her. Hermione’s firm grip on his arm probably had a lot to do with that. “Blimey, you’ve had an exciting life haven’t you?” he remarked. “How many more stories like that you got?” “A lot. But it’s not like you qualify for the ‘Nothing Ever Happens to Me’ Club. You’ve had some crazy ass adventures,” Scott pointed out. “Now that you mention it, I do seem to end up running for my life unusually often.” Ron looked over at Harry. “How many times you think?” “Was I supposed to be keeping count?” Harry said wryly. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing when to run the hell away,” Scott said, “though I prefer to call it a ‘tactical withdrawal’. Besides, things aren’t always like that. Sometimes I’ll find myself without any missions and a lot of time on my hands.” “Really. Well judging by your stories, if they can be believed, your entire existence has been unremittingly violent,” Hermione said sarcastically. “I believe the word you’re looking for is intense,” Scott corrected her absently. “Intense and action-packed. You’re lucky I didn’t charge you for admission.” “I take it your next story has more gravitas?” “Hell, I don’t know. You tell me.” ***---~**~---*** “…And I’m All Out of Gum.” The group disappeared to face the final obstacle. Kharan watched them until they turned a corner and were no longer within his sight. He wished them the best of luck, and left to go and face his own fated encounter. The structure was a mashed tangle of debris sucked together to form a contorted and twisting edifice that was as mad as the mind of its maker. A hideous geometry of rust was the result. Sharp angles dominated the interior. The floor was uneven and sometimes missing entirely. Impossible lines and curves defined the place, randomness the only guiding architectural aesthetic. Ignoring his unsavoury surrounds, Kharan gripped what handholds he could and ascended the makeshift stairway that lead to the roof. High winds whipped across the shattered surface of the pinnacle, kicking up scraps of metal and fragmented wood. Kharan wondered if those lost pieces were drawn back to the building by the same force that had brought them there in the first place. The clouds overhead were swirling in a concentrated funnel, the focal point of which was centred directly above the monolith. The occasional skitter of feet and other appendages let Kharan know he was not alone, but the lesser denizens had learned their lesson previous to his second passing – they left him unmolested. With Kharan’s speed it wasn’t too far until he reached a more open space, a clearing of sorts on the southern edge of the construction. The unforgiving environment would lend itself to being a painful battleground. There was nothing to be done about it. Sometimes pain was unavoidable. Atma sat patiently across the expanse. The being had little need to approach Kharan. They both knew the score, and neither attempted to evade the coming confrontation. With the exception of its great eyes, Atma remained motionless as Kharan drew near to it. The Kharadjai halted twenty feet away. The cold wind blew through the silence as the soon to be opponents surveyed each other with a wary respect. The amount of the power they represented together was immeasurable, and they both knew it. The question was who contributed more to that scale. “The others are gone,” Kharan said slowly, breaking the standoff. “They’re going to finish it.” Atma nodded its enormous head, flashes of lightning from the gathering storm reflecting off its bunch of warped blue horns and the glossy mass of branching gold armour that seemed imbedded into its skin. “THEY WILL CAST DOWN THE DECIEVER.” Atma’s voice emerged as a dull rumble, rolling up from somewhere in its lumpy muscled torso. “THEIR POWER IS GREATER THAN THAT WHICH MADE THIS PLACE.” “We were sort of counting on that,” Kharan agreed. “And you call him the Deceiver, but you still tricked him into thinking you were on his side.” “THE GREATEST OF LIARS MAY BE LIED TO IN TURN. I AM NOT SHAPED IN SO PLEASING A MANNER AS YOU, WORLD-CROSSER.” Atma raised one of its four front limbs, flexing the sharp blue claws and peeling back its lipped muzzle to reveal rows of jagged golden teeth, some as long as width of one of Kharan’s hands, in a terrible equivalent of a smile. “IT IS EASY TO BELIEVE ME A MONSTER WITH NO THOUGHTS SAVE HUNGER.” “And you’re not?” “WHAT ARE YOU?” “I asked you first.” “I AM MUCH THE SAME AS YOU, WORLD-CROSSER-” Atma snorted, sending out a blast of hot air that blew rust flakes out in a red cloud. “-A MONSTER WITH MANY HUNGERS.” “But you’re not really on the wrong side here. You just want something that I have.” “AND I WILL HAVE IT.” “My point is that there’s no solid reason for this.” “DO YOU FEAR ME THEN?” Atma sounded amused. “I’ve got nothing to prove.” “AND YET YOU ARE HERE. LEAVE YOUR FEAR BEHIND, WORLD-CROSSER. SUBMIT TO THE CONTEST. IF YOU WALK AWAY YOU WILL BE STRONGER FOR IT.” “And if you walk away?” “THEN I WILL BE LIFTED FROM THIS PLACE. I WILL TAKE WHAT IS YOURS AND CROSS THE SPACES IN BETWEEN.” “You don’t know that’s what will happen. You don’t know if it can be done.” Atma’s head lowered menacingly. “I WILL DISCOVER THESE THINGS FOR MYSELF. FOR ALL YOUR TALK YOUR CONFIDENCE IS WEAK – WHEN HAVE YOU EVER DEFEATED MY EQUAL?” “Never,” Kharan admitted. “But you can’t kill me. Even if you win you’ll never take my abilities for yourself. It doesn’t work that way.” “MORE IMPOSSIBILITIES?” Atma scoffed. “AND HOW MANY CAN YOU PROVE? THERE IS ONLY ONE METHOD OF DECIDING WHAT IS TRUTH. YOU SEEK TO DELAY THE INEVITABLE.” “It is best to win without fighting.” “SOME CONFLICTS MUST BE FACED. IF YOU FLEE, YOU ABANDON YOUR COMPANIONS TO MEET ME ALONE. I WILL NOT ENJOY THEM. THEY ARE SMALL THINGS.” “You don’t really think I’m going to do that, do you.” “NO. YOU ARE THE WORLD-CROSSER, AND WILL TRY YOUR UTMOST TO DESTROY ME. FOR ONCE WE BOTH WILL FACE AN EQUAL.” “That remains to be seen,” Kharan said coldly. Atma laughed, a horrible ripping noise like a magnified bark. “FINALLY YOU SHOW YOUR PRIDE! YOU HAVE ALREADY SET YOURSELF AGAINST ME. YOU KNOW WHAT MUST BE DONE.” “Oh, of course.” Kharan’s face went blank. “I wouldn’t want to let you down.” The customary veiled threats had been exchanged, and the battle lines were drawn. There was nothing left but to act. With a bellow Atma charged like a thundering train, an impossible mass of flexing sinew and deadly natural weaponry. Kharan was silent, his face expressionless as he met the rush head on. The two combatants crashed together in a meeting that was more about fury than finesse. Atma’s great teeth snapped at Kharan’s limbs as he pummelled the creature with incredible blows. Ducking beneath Atma’s jaw, Kharan delivered a powerful kick to the throat that cut another of the monster’s bellows off with a rasping choke. Atma responded by lifting his head and swatting Kharan away with a forearm as thick as a telephone pole. Bouncing painfully off the jagged ground Kharan regained his footing just in time to avoid a follow up blow from Atma’s tail. The massive appendage whipped through the air and smashed with a concerted pattern that Kharan avoided only with sheer velocity. Sprinting past the tail just before it hit him, Kharan slid under a grasping claw and jammed his elbow into a soft section of Atma’s underbelly, feeling one huge rib crack and give way. Atma roared in pain, spinning with surprising speed considering his bulk and trying to gore Kharan with his horned head. The Kharadjai juked to the side and avoided the manoeuvre but Atma had expected this – its giant tail was already in motion and brutally caught Kharan across the back, hitting with enough force to split the skin. Kharan agonisingly rolled to a standing position and for a moment the enemies faced off again without speaking. It was a lull in the storm. They both caught their breath and prepared themselves for more pain, and then closed the attack again. The battle raged back and forth across the expanse of the tower without either of them having a clear advantage. Kharan swung a roundhouse blow that crack the horn off the tip of Atma’s muzzle and brought tears of agony to the eyes of the creature. Atma responded by blowing out an icy stream of air so cold it froze Kharan’s legs solid, fixing him to the ground. The monster took advantage of his momentary immobility and swung its great tail into his side, leaving a pair of brittle legs behind as his upper body was ripped from them. It was the work of a moment for Kharan’s legs to reappear as he regenerated them and rejoined the fray. Another lull came as both Atma and Kharan slowed to a halt. The fight had been dragging on interminably. Atma’s laboured breathing was audible even over the dull roar of the wind, and though Kharan’s was not it was only due to his size for he was inhaling with just as much difficulty. Both of them represented a physical history of the conflict up to that point. Atma’s golden armour was dented and tarnished with streaks of blood, both its and Kharan’s. Its mottled skin was darkened with bruises and other internal injuries, its front horn missing and most of its lower teeth revealed in a skeletal grin where much of its lower lip had been torn away. At least three fingers were missing from its forelimbs. When Atma moved it was with a low creaking sound emanating from the damage to its bones. Kharan’s clothing was shredded and soaked through with blood. His skin was riddled with clean white circles where he had been perforated by claws and had immediately healed the hole, as well as several still bleeding stabs that he was now too exhausted to expend energy on fixing. His left eye was a pulpy mass, swollen shut, his hair missing in places where raw lacerations crisscrossed his skull. A steady stream of blood trickled from his mouth from when his lungs had been pierced, a wound which was now remedied but the fluid had already collected within. “PERHAPS WE WILL DESTROY EACH OTHER,” Atma rumbled, though more subdued than it had been before. “It might be for the best,” Kharan mumbled through a mouthful of blood, leaning over to let it sluggishly ooze out in crimson strings. “Maybe some things are too powerful to exist.” Atma was silent for a moment. “YOU BELIEVE WE WERE FATED TO MEET HERE SO THAT WE MIGHT REMOVE ONE ANOTHER FOR THE GREATER GOOD?” “Anything is possible,” Kharan slurred. “I just wish dying didn’t hurt so much.” “THEN LET US END IT.” Now the fight was slower and more deliberate as Kharan and Atma pounded away at each other. It became a war of attrition as fatigue set in and energies were drained. Both contestants staggered when hit instead of immediately recovering, and it became increasingly difficult to maintain any sort of hold as both were slicked with blood and sweat. Atma moved ponderously, breathing like a great bellows and it was clear that Kharan was in better shape and still able to move quickly enough to dodge Atma’s clumsy blows. Until a fatal circumstance occurred. Sidestepping another swing of Atma’s tail, Kharan’s leg caught on a jagged piece of metal protruding from the ground. The obstruction tore into his skin and sent him sprawling, momentarily crippled. Atma saw its chance for victory, and with a mighty roar rushed Kharan where he lay. With a great bound of its hind legs Atma launched itself through the air in a deadly jump. The shadowy bulk of the creature descended on Kharan, a weight that would surely crush him if not countered. It was a split second decision – reaching down to where his leg lay caught on the spike, Kharan ripped it free of the roof and in the last moment before Atma hit held the makeshift weapon in both hands and extended his arms. With a horrible wet puncturing sound, Atma was impaled. Both of them screamed, Atma as its belly was stabbed deep and Kharan as his body was crushed beneath Atma’s mass. Kharan’s arms alone saved him from being completely flattened. Atma’s shriek trailed off into a deep moan, and the creature feebly wiggled its arms and legs as it tried to dislodge itself. The golden fan that spun within its setting near the back of Atma’s armour gave forth a different sound than its usual metallic hum as dark blood sprayed out from it, ringing the device with a spattered pattern. Kharan tried with all his might to lift the being off himself but could not – instead with his last ounce of strength he rolled both of them over and down through a hole in the roof next to where they lay. The two fell into the chamber and crashed on the floor. Though the fall had succeeded in moving Atma to lie beside Kharan instead of on top of him, the descending creature landed on his right arm. One of the spikes from Atma’s armour deeply pierced the skin. Gripping his right arm by the bicep, Kharan cried out as he pulled his arm out from underneath the beast, peeling it like some hideous fruit. The dead white skin stripped away to reveal mushy flesh beneath. Clutching the mangled remains of his arm to himself, he wrapped it in the bottom portion of his shirt and stumbled a few steps to collapse against the opposite wall, shaking from head to toe. His body was consumed in a burning agony that gradually slipped into numbness. He could feel his major organs succumbing to shock. He was hyperventilating, barely maintaining his consciousness. His breathing began to falter, and soon he felt like he was made of ice. “world-crosser.” Atma’s voice was dimmed, a weak murmur compared to before. “can you call this a victory? we are unmade.” “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Kharan forced out through chattering teeth. He was wracked with violent seizures. “Souls to ruin and minds to rust.” “dust and ashes,” Atma sighed wetly as a bloody froth trickled down its chin. “in the end, we return to the beginning. so long I thought to have left death behind me… but now I see that time is a lie, and no matter how long you linger on this side, there is only one way to cross.” Kharan closed his good eye and tried to swallow, but couldn’t. “Not yet.” “you are…” In mid-breath Atma’s eyes filmed over. And it did not speak again. Time passed. Minutes, maybe hours. Kharan could no longer feel any sensation other than a burning, raw heat from severed nerve endings that contrasted with the artic cold that had sunk into his pores. Coma sleep tugged at the edges of his mind. His failing body was shutting down one cell at a time as he barely clung to consciousness. Was that light in the sky real or only behind his eyelids? He heard thunder and saw heaven stretch across the empyrean while the Deceiver was cast down to lie on the ruin of his wings. A million voices sounded in triumph to mix with the howling gale. Forty days and forty nights of celebration… or rain? Someone was singing. Reality faded in and out until the sound of footsteps came echoing down to where he lay slumped against the wall. “Scott! Scott!” They were looking for him. This meant they had won, and that all would be well. Atma was dead and so was his self-proclaimed master. For the first time he could tell that the tower was fiercely shaking, swaying on its base. As the life of its maker came to an end so was the titanic construction itself falling down. There was no time to extract his battered body from the pit in which it was entombed. He knew what he had to do. “Scott!” He closed his eye and went still. A woman stood above him, her long green hair whipping in the wind. Her violet eyes widened in horror at the sight in the room below. “Scott!” she screamed. “Get up!” Kharan didn’t move. Any pleas on his part for her to run would be ignored. The tower gave another dying shudder. The sound of boots on metal let Kharan know she was trying to descend to him, and he felt a burst of frustration. Why wouldn’t she just go away? “What are you doing?” A new voice, a man’s this time. Another pair of shoes clattered over the roof to stop somewhere up above. “Oh, no…” “Help me get him!” “You can’t.” The man sounded harsh and desperate. “We can’t help him. We have to go, now!” “We can’t just leave him here!” “We don’t have a choice!” The man’s voice broke and his harshness was merely a facade. “We can’t stay here any longer.” An aborted intake of breath alerted Kharan to the fact that she was crying, and he felt a stab of regret. The woman sobbed. “I-” “We have to go,” the man said gently. “I’m sorry,” Kharan heard her whisper as the tall man pulled her back to the top. “I’m so sorry.” Then they were gone. The minutes crawled by. Somewhere far below he could hear the deep pings of metal being stressed beyond its limits. Screeches and tearing sounds reverberated through the walls. It was when the first massive boom rattled him that he realised the floors beneath were collapsing. The wind rose to a howling crescendo and he knew the end had arrived. The tower was ripping apart in a magical tornado, surrounding by a twisting, shrieking storm that tore the tower down plate by plate and sent them spinning into the vortex. A multitude of sparks from the fractured metal set anything flammable ablaze. The wall to the right of Kharan groaned under extreme pressure before being cleaved from its holding place and falling away into the void. The room became an air tunnel, filled with swirling debris and smoke. With his good arm Kharan reached over and took hold of a slightly protruding metal tile. The force of the wind pressed him into the barrier and held him there, and he watched as his blood slowly rippled its way across the surface of the wall like water over a windshield. Gradually the great bulk of Atma’s body gave way to the windstorm and began sliding over the floor. Kharan watched as the creature finally fell and quickly disappeared from sight. He knew it was only a matter of time until his handhold came loose. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. He let go, slipped over the edge, and vanished into the gale. ***---~**~---*** “I sort of remember falling but I don’t remember hitting the ground. Of course, given the wind speeds involved I was probably airborne for a good while so I might have passed out first,” Scott said, finishing his tale. “But, what happened after that? Surely there’s more,” Hermione insisted, looking like she didn’t entirely believe Scott’s story. “How did you survive?” “I didn’t. I got killed!” Scott leaned back in his chair and laughed loudly at his own jest. “I never get tired of that.” Hermione frowned at him. “Scott, you said these stories would be true!” “Who says I didn’t truly die?” Scott said with a wide grin. “You can’t prove I didn’t.” “Oh, please,” Hermione said irritably. “This is the last time I ever believe you when you say you’ll be telling the truth.” “Hermione, Hermione,” Scott said, shaking his head sadly. “You’re so quick to judge. Why can’t you be more like Atma and love me for who I am?” “It’s too bad you had to kill him,” Luna said softly. “He had it coming,” Scott told her with a dismissive wave of his hand. Harry knew what it was like to be forced into a confrontation, though he sort of hoped that if he survived fighting Voldemort it would be in better shape than Scott had been. The Kharadjai’s detailed descriptions of removing the skin from his right arm had left everyone a little pale. There was little doubt in Harry’s mind that had been Scott’s intention. “Sounds to me like Atma was a lot of trouble,” Neville chimed in, obviously trying to reassure Luna. “I wouldn’t feel too bad for him, Luna.” Scott nodded emphatically. “No doubt, man. Atma was easily many times tougher than the average Kharadjai.” “Then why didn’t you get someone to help you?” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, it was sort of a ‘single combat’ thing, you know?” Scott said, scratching the side of his head. “One on one, mano-a-mano. I wasn’t about to puss out.” “Boys,” Hermione sighed. “Hey, it’s my job to take on the worst the Multiverse has to offer, including some BOPs bad enough to swallow the Blue and keep coming. Why would I get someone else to do my job for me? I mean, unless I was feeling really lazy. Or more lazy than usual,” Scott amended. “B-O-P,” Hermione interrupted, “that would be...” “Being or Beings of Power.” “Okay, and swallow the what?” “Blue.” Hermione gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, I heard you the first time. What is that?” “It’s a colour.” When Hermione glared at him, Scott smiled and added, “It’s a weapon.” “What sort of weapon?” Scott sighed. “Okay, I think another story would best illustrate my point.” ***---~**~---*** If This Was a Movie, You’d Die in the Prologue The cavernous space was darkened, lined with tattered velvet and heavy with age, a musty feeling more than any smell. The air was not uncomfortable in temperature but the floor seemed hard and cold beneath his feet as if some chilling malice lay buried beneath the dusty layers of dark tiled stone. Leaves crunched under his heels as he walked below dead arches and skylights that had not revealed the sun for years uncounted. It was nearly silent in the manor. The only sounds were the slight rustling of the dry leaves, stirred by a faint breeze like the breath squeezed from a corpse. None of this bothered Scott Kharan. He was used to traversing places that most people would find uninviting, or in this case downright threatening and spooky. What brought him to these locales and this one in particular was not idle curiosity or the cheap thrill of breaking and entering but a newly acquired mission. He stopped, having reached the end of the hallway. Before him was a large door, set deep in the surrounding stonework. The building had obviously been a fortress of some kind in the past. It was heavily reinforced and built like a castle. With a mighty kick whatever locking mechanism might have held the door shut was shattered and it flew open to slam against the inside wall with a deafening bang. Dust and pebbles shook loose from the ceiling and walls to scatter across the already filthy floor. A cloud of dirt obscured the inside of the chamber before settling and allowing Kharan to peer within. It had been used as some sort of field hospital at one time. Yellowed bed sheets lay piled in one corner of the room, pillowcases in another. Rusted out folding cots were in a grim abundance, some stacked haphazardly, other strewn across the floor, and some few still intact and waiting for patients whose bodies were now as buried and forgotten as the place itself. It seemed to him that ghosts whispered along the windows sills, peering through cracked panes at a life now beyond reach. The place ached of dried out memories, old pain. Some dim sorrow caught in the back of the throat. A sadness, brittle, bleached and worn out like old bones. What was it, he wondered, about these morbid places that drew such people as those he hunted. They were scavengers, filled by the emptiness and seduced by the fading imprints of severed lives, licking old dried scabs in hopes of a mouthful of blood. The creature was hideous, of course. They always were. It was pink and hairless, its charred skin hugging its ribs and overlying a bone structure that looked sharp and unsymmetrical. Kharan caught a glimpse of teeth like needles as the thing smiled – about what, he wasn’t sure. A devil in the lips and tongue, it was innately disturbing. There was insanity in the smile, the shreds of a broken humanity hanging from a stripped mind. Just another person who had sold their soul for a power that twisted them up and tossed them aside like a used rag. Evil never came out second best in a deal. If people would stop and remember that, Kharan thought with humour, he would have a lot more free time. Kharan stopped in the middle of the room, gauging the distance between himself and the thing. It made no move to stop him, apparently content to let him approach. Kharan admired its self confidence and pitied its stupidity. The best move it could have made would have been to run. The creature was tense now, awaiting his next actions. Kharan didn’t see any point in trying to stare it down. He reached behind him and from his back pocket pulled a silver cylinder that looked akin to a cigar holder. The creature watched in silence as Kharan twisted the top off of it and held out a hand into which he tipped out a dull silvery bullet, seamlessly jacketed from the primer to the tip and striped around the middle with a bright blue line. He held it up. “Do you know what this is?” Predictably, there was no answer. That was fine with Kharan, he wasn’t in a hurry. The longer it took him to do something, the more it seemed like he had done some actual work. “It’s a bullet, obviously. But what’s important is what’s inside the bullet. I’ll spare you the trouble of trying to pronounce its scientific name. We call this Blue. More specifically, it is a .45 calibre round that uses Blue as both propellant and charge.” The creature impatiently edged forward. “Blue is a unique, naturally occurring element. It is mined and carefully packaged for processing back at our main armaments plant.” Kharan pulled a gun seemingly from nowhere, holding it forward for the creature’s perusal. “You know what this is, right?” The thing’s lips peeled back to reveal blackened gums. Kharan smiled back. “Ah, you do recognise guns then. And you’re smart enough to know that your magic will easily protect you from them.” Emboldened, the creature took a few more steps towards him. “But,” Kharan held up a finger, “this is where Blue comes in. Blue is a highly explosive, highly unstable substance that is difficult to refine and difficult to manage. But once you do, and place it into a firearms ready delivery device such as this bullet, its properties come to light. You see, Blue is the anti-everything.” The creature didn’t seem to care, approaching yet closer. “Blue breaks every barrier, penetrates every armour, bypasses every spell, ritual, or magic known to the Multiverse. It kills magical creatures that are practically invincible to conventional weaponry. It blows apart the toughest shields ever conceived. It smashes through any defensive powers that can be conjured. Essentially, Blue is a weapon that is effective against absolutely everything, from warlocks to tanks to demigods. But perhaps you don’t believe me.” The creature crouched to strike. “I regret to say that the full import of this demonstration will be lost on you.” Kharan loaded the bullet into the chamber and fired. The sound was louder than any conventional shot – instead of the typical crack of gunfire an ear splitting shriek of energy emanated from the weapon. The inside of the room was brilliantly lit as a six foot blast of blue flame exploded from the end of the barrel. For the barest millionth of a second a glowing blue projectile sliced through the air, leaving the reek of ozone behind it. The creature’s torso vanished, vaporised by the impact. What was left of it flew back to smack with hideous force into the opposite wall. As the sound faded, Kharan lowered the gun. He watched the spent shell bounce across the stone floor and, still glowing, begin to crumble into burning blue embers, the pieces floating away on slight gusts of air until nothing was left but a small pile of ash, the edges of which were slowing fading from blue to black. The creature’s remains were under a similar effect; the edges of the limbs that had at one time connected to the torso were also cauterised surfaces of slowly fading blue ashes. It was another part of the unique properties of the Blue substance, Kharan knew, since the ashes were not hot. Surveying his work, Kharan was satisfied that his conscience was clear. He wouldn’t be losing any sleep over this mission. Reaching into his back pocket he extracted a cell phone, hitting a speed dial button and bringing it to his ear. “What?” His sister’s voice came unexpectedly loud, though not unexpectedly bitchy. Not for the first time he seriously wondered if she was just on the rag. “It’s me. I finished up here.” “Oh, it’s you.” Only Lila could put so much into one word. He sighed. “Ring it in for me, would you?” “And why should I?” “Now that’s convincing.” Her voice however, softened somewhat. “Any casualties?” “Just the one. It was a clean job.” “Alright, I’ll call it in. Now get back here and cleanup the mess you left in my bathroom.” “You mean my bathroom.” She hung up on him. ***---~**~---*** “So then I had to go home and clean the bathroom, but the upshot of the whole thing was that I had some free time after such a short mission,” Scott finished. Hermione was frowning thoughtfully. “But what was it? The creature you killed.” Scott shrugged. “I was just passing through; you’d have to ask a Kharadjai more familiar with that universe, if there even is one.” “Wasn’t really much of a fight,” Ron commented, sounding slightly disappointed. “You just up and snuffed him. Must not have been very powerful, eh?” “Not really. But in his post-mortem defence, there’s not much in the Multiverse that can weather a direct hit from a low-yield load of Blue.” “Could Voldemort?” Harry asked tentatively, not certain he wanted to hear the answer. “Frankly I think a regular bullet would cancel his ass. Voldemort might have some considerable whiz in his wand but in the end he’s just a skinny white guy in a cloak. The fag,” Scott added unnecessarily. “I hate to interrupt,” Luna broke in absently, “but it’s getting rather late.” Neville looked up at the clock over the fireplace. “Wow, she’s right. I didn’t think it’d been that long.” The mood was broken as everyone shifted from their places and stretched out the stiffness born of sitting for too long. Harry realised he was in fact very tired, and yawned widely. It had been an interesting evening, in more ways than one. There was a lot to think about but for the moment what Harry really wanted to do was to go to sleep. “Who’s walking with Luna back to her tower? Neville, you got it? Alright, cool,” Scott said, standing up. “Teper my musyty spaty. Let’s hit the sheets.” On the way up the stairway to the dormitory Ron looked at Scott and said, “Next time Hermione has us doing homework feel free to tell some stories again. That was a lifesaver, mate.” “I exist to entertain,” Scott said magniloquently, before adding, “But how do you accept any of it?” To his credit, Ron wasn’t fazed. “You can’t just be lying about all of it – not after what you showed us. I figure at least some of it is true and then on top of that you’re totally mental, which is probably why you fit in so well around here.” Harry smiled in silent agreement. Everyone was at least a little crazy. Scott just raised the bar. “Well that’s good, I’d hate to think I was crazy without any redeeming purpose…” Scott trailed off as they reached the top of the stairs since some of the other boys were already in bed and probably asleep. “There’s more where that came from,” he continued in a whisper. “And you know what? It’s kind of cathartic.” “Cathar-what?” Scott shook his head. “Go to bed, you poof.” ***---~**~---*** ADDENDUM: The Basics of Blue Blue (Nitrodritostitonium) is an element that is unique to the Solus universe. It is a highly unstable compound that is mined in a variety of locations, existing as either a powder or a nonconductive soft, sheeted metal when in its naturally occurring form. Blue is unusual amongst all known elements and materials in that it is capable of bonding with matter through a violent chemical reaction, destroying both in the process. So destructive is the element that is has been considered by some to be an ‘antimatter’, though that is an inaccuracy. Blue is inert until activated through changes in heat or pressure. It is Blue’s reaction to energy, or rather the lack of reaction, that makes it especially useful in munitions. Regardless of the method or form of defence within a universe’s power, whether it is some type of magic, telepathy, supernatural manifestation or inbuilt extrasensory andor physical ability, Blue reacts directly with matter alone. It cannot be affected by anything other than physical means. Munitions Overview Blue is utilised in wide variety of offensive weaponry, which is due not only to its power but to its malleability. Depending on density and quantity, Blue may either burn or explode. Blue ammunition for small arms is produced in several different types, including armour piercing; tipped with a thin layer of ultra-dense Blue, the Blue ignites on impact and burns through whatever it touches until the element is expended. Explosive rounds use Blue as both propellant and warhead, consisting of a hollow bullet with a dense layer of Blue at the base and a varying amount of powdered or liquid* Blue in the tip which detonates upon hitting the target. Rockets and other heavy weapons for anti-vehicular use operate under the same principles. * Liquid Blue requires a Class VI weapons waiver to lawfully obtain and deploy. Melee Applications While it is true that Blue is a very unstable element, in the hands of expert technicians it can be combined with more workable materials to form new compounds. Many of these combinations render the Blue inert and therefore no longer useful, and many more result in detonation. However, certain materials of high density may be combined with Blue through a lengthy process that destroys a vast quantity of the original material but results in a small amount that is Blue-infused. The Blue in the metal no longer demonstrates its reactionary properties, and thus the composites produced by this process will not cut through armour or other solid corporeal protections but instead remain very resistant to energy. The compounds are not conductive, require a temperature to melt exponentially higher than that of the original base material, and reflect all known forms of radiation. In a melee weapon such as a knife these properties are useful in that they allow the user to bypass any power-based defensive measures employed by their opponent. Exposure to Blue If you believe that you have been exposed to Blue, call emergency services immediately for assistance. If you are unable to contact emergency services, please heed these important safety tips: * Do not attempt to brush, wipe, rub or blot the Blue. This will only apply pressure to it and may cause an explosion. * Do not try to wash the Blue off with any liquid substances including water. * Do not make any sudden or strong movements. * Do not inhale or otherwise ingest the Blue if at all possible. If some Blue is inadvertently ingested, do not induce vomiting. * Do not scream, shout or make loud noises that might cause vibration. * If the Blue absolutely must be removed without professional assistance then try to gently pick it up with your fingertips in very small portions. Ensure that whatever you remove is kept separated. * Try to relocate outdoors, preferably somewhere remote. This will minimise property damage in the event of an explosion. Excerpted from Field Agent Introductory Manual, Section IX Published and Distributed by the Imperiarchy Bureau of Information, Third Army Division Unauthorized reproduction or sale is strictly prohibited
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