"It'll be fine—advisor or not, moving again won't hurt you."
Camera.
A shaking screen.
Step-step-step—!
Two sets of footsteps overlapping. A dim, narrow hallway choked with debris. The air growing warmer with every meter.
Flickering lights slice across your features like passing windows. The hum of fans droning out your thoughts.
A running man glanced back at you, his gaze full of perseverance.
With a bang, he shoved the door open, then hurriedly pulled it shut behind him, a click followed when he disappeared behind it.
Your fingers twitch as something kneaded against your head. The door groaned and buckled, its latch engaging and disengaging.
THMP—!
Again.
The door gained dents for every attempt.
And again.
You step closer, almost on top of the door now. You tighten a hand, "clenching your hand hard enough to hurt.
THUD...SNAP!
The latch gave way and the latch bolt flew loose, the door bottoming out against the wall.
Blinding white light floods over your vision.
Heat followed right after, rolling over you in a wave that forces you to slow, your eyes narrowing to slits.
You raise an arm and push through the light, through the doorframe.
Immediately, the scenery shifts. The walls widened into an expanse of elevated catwalks stretching toward the horizon, filled with the muttering of the city above and the machinery below. You pick up the pace, each step ringing against the grated walkway.
In between it all, an exhausting smell pulled at your attention while sweat slipped from your face.
Bam!
Through another door, the walls extended into a long stretch, funneling your vision to the man farther ahead.
You barely catch the knocked-down shelf in time, stumbling over it and almost eating debris.
He kept running, shoving down whatever he could reach.
The floor cluttered with broken pieces and scrap. Yet for every step you take, the clutter shoved itself aside, clearing into a straight path towards him that hugged the walls.
Faster, faster, and faster until there's nothing left to shove aside.
That same kneading feeling returned.
Frustration, it nudged into your conscience.
You flick your wrist and three distortions surge forward—a tintinnabulate, a sound like metal vibrating, wind snapping your hair across your face. They miss by inches, scorching the wall in streaks of red right when he took a sharp right.
The hallway twists into a maze of bends and turns, one door splitting into many, slowing you down.
More and more hair strands clung to your cheek, apoplectic poisoning your mind.
Another door, and it becomes the last straw. The man didn't even have time to close it behind him before you willed it—the metal heeding your call instantly. The door pulled off its hinges and slamming forward, propelling him across the ground.
Sending him sprawling across the ground.
You flick a finger and a wight presses against your head. A streak of dull silver flies past you and bashed into back, knocking him down hard inside a small, empty clearing.
"Fuc—!"
He groans, but forces himself back up anyway.
Step. Step.
You lift a hand and a streak of grey flashes towards you, stopping just out of sight.
Step.
Figures emerge from the distance.
Without waiting, you snap your fingers and another three distortions surge past you, hotter than the last set. Expanding heat licks at your skin, the sweat evaporating in an instant.
FWOOOM—FWOOOM—!
Two miss.
FWOOOM! fssshh…
The last one disperses.
His backpack bounces erratically with every step he took. Willing it, you reach upon it, your eyes locking with it.
Only for it to be ripped from your hold.
—!
A sting flashes through your mind, stunning you for a moment. The pack jerks back toward the group, the man's feet skidding across the ground as he's dragged with it.
Glaring light.
An alarm trips in you.
THWIP—!
You pivot all at once, shifting direction just before a dull streak cuts past where you stood. A harsh thud lands somewhere to your side.
Your run slows into sidesteps, moving laterally instead of forward. Your heart pounds through your chest. The air cools again against your skin, your nose starts to run slightly.
The man shrugged off his backpack and threw it behind him. The bag skidded across the floor and vanished from view while four people stepped into place around him, their gazes fixed on you, their tools hanging loose in their grips.
A person half obscured by shadow grabbed the bookbag and turned to run. Before fully turning away, he flicked a finger toward you. The bracelet at his wrist caught the light, blinking once.
A pulse ripples outward from it.
The hairs on your body stand up. Then it's gone.
You stepped to the side, facing them, when the scent of burning chemicals wafted to your nose.
Your eyes dance down to your waist and see your own tool smoldering, a line of smoke curling up from it.
When you looked back up, the group was slowly closing in.
Sweat pooled along your cheek and slid down to your chin. Drip by drip, it soaked into your clothes while you made distance.
They stepped closer. Their silhouettes merged into a single mass, surrounding you.
You meet them with silence, their feature appearing on the shadow, a litany of races.
Your hand found the piece at your side, pulling it closer, keeping it tight against your body.
shff…
A lurch.
You moved right in one sharp motion and launched it at the rightmost figure. The object tore sideways through the air, propelled, slamming into him and tossing his body straight into the wall.
The second his body crashed into it, the mass broke apart and collapsed inward.
You ducked under the first swing and drove forward, shoulder-first, knocking both of you onto the ground.
Someone grabs at your collar and their fingers hook onto the fabric, cutting into your skin.
You twist and rake your nails across a face without thinking, they hissed while warmth spread forth from your fingertips.
Wind whistled.
Your hair snapped over your face and you found yourself skidding across the ground when a hand grasped your wrist. Twisting your arm painfully, instantaneously, you twisted it the opposite way, driving a knee into their groin.
They didn't let go as the rest hurriedly closed in, and without thinking anymore, you clawed at their face. You lunged forward and sank your teeth into their bare neck, jamming a finger into an eye.
They jerked back and let go right as someone clubbed at your back, knocking the air out of you, then tossing you onto the ground.
Copper, iron, salt.
It lingers on your lips and tongue.
Your vision flickered.
Something displaced the air and pressure gathered afar. The floor beneath your shoes vibrated for a split second. You sidestep just in time to see the ground split where you had been.
Across the room, the piece trembled where it had fallen. The tools attached to it rattled, metal ringing against metal.
One of them notices too late.
The piece ripped free from the ground and tore through the air, clanging violently with every spin. It smashed into someone's jaw with a crack and kept going, dragging him off his feet before ricocheting back toward you.
You managed to catch it. The momentum hauled you upright—only for your back to slam into the wall, the air knocked from you again.
It dropped onto the ground with a thud and you lifted it, your arm slightly straining.
After a second, it lifts itself off the ground, the kneading pressure returns behind your eyes.
It burns.
Your ribs ache. The piece hovers at your side, trembling with every breath you take.
The depot felt smaller with each passing second. Your eyes flicked to the bolted pallet rack lining the wall, stacked with crates.
A pause hung between all of you. Someone checked on the man with the ruined eye, blood slipping through his fingers.
Then it snaps like glass under pressure.
The lights above stutter.
Half of them cut out at once, plunging the room into uneven bands of shadow. The remaining bulbs buzz, casting broken patches of light.
Something whistles.
You willed the piece sideways, letting it pull you, and the floor where you had stood exploded with a violent crack, concrete splitting open like a jaw. Dust bloomed upward for a split second.
Steel flashes from your flank, a short sword drives towards your ribs. You jerk back, the tip of the short sword kissing the fabric instead.
A hammer of heavy air slams into your side and sends you skidding into wooden crates. They splinter under your weight and break apart, stabbing into your legs.
Your eyes snapped upward to the crate above, coldness in your gaze. A blade drove toward your throat. You tilted your head just enough for it to scrape along your collarbone instead, carving into the wood behind you. You grabbed their wrist, shoved the hand up, then slammed your forehead into theirs.
You quickly plant a palm on their chest and will it.
Bam!
They crash into a metal rack. You snap your fingers and the crate above shatters.
Again.
The fragments launch together, peppering whoever it was. Pieces jam into their throat, chest, groin.
WHAM!
The small generator inside that crate slammed into their chest. Spit and blood sprayed from their mouth, their eyes losing their light, gradually.
Your foot finds purchase.
Metal screaming.
The rack beneath you broke like ceramic. A brace dropped like a waiting hand, and you caught it, gripping it hard.
Your breathing slows down, you catch the remaining three already surrounding you.
You flick your fingers.
The piece tore free from where it had wedged itself and whipped back to your side. The cloth snagged over it dragged along, the fabric obscuring its outline.
Without looking, your fingers dig under the cloth. You find the handle and pull free a long knife—bordering on a short sword.
Its face glowed a dull silver under the broken light.
…tchk.
It straightens in your grip before carving through the air, meeting resistance and leaving your grasp. Metal grinded against metal, digging deeper.
You surged toward the remaining two. The metal racks behind you groaned, then bent under your will, snapping into jagged lengths that hung like crude daggers.
Your palm drives into their sternum while your hand hooks behind their knee. They stumble.
Your other hand slammed into their jaw and you willed the daggers through.
Crack.
Their head whipped sideways. The bent shard from the rack jerked forward and punched through their thigh, pinning them to the concrete. Again. And again. Their scream turned orchestral before their breath folded into a yell, slapping over you.
You turn—but too slow.
Another came in low, her blade flashing. You twisted to deflect, but the edge bit into your side.
Your pupils dilate, heating coursing through your veins.
Sweat clings to your face.
A sharp shove slams into your shoulder, throwing your balance off.
Their leg hooks behind yours and sweep you over, the floor becoming a ceiling.
Your hand snaps out and wills the piece beside you.
The attacker stumbled, their footing catching over it and you dragged them down with you. Their body crashed over the covered metal, the impact knocking a grunt from both of you.
You rolled, tossing them along, the piece rattling under the weight as you fought for leverage on the floor.
...click.
—BANG!
Her eyes widen.
BANG! BANG!
BANG!
Her irises shiver and dance, you slam your hand against the side of her head.
"Gasp!"
Your gaze lifts and the one-eyed man stands a few meters away, staring at his comrade pinned beneath you.
Gasping for air, you rose into a kneel and closed her eyes, your pistol still trained on the remaining one.
BANG!
Umf…
You lower yourself onto your piece, breathing deep and slouching your shoulders.
Golden silence.
One...two.
The dagger-pinned man's breathing echoes through. Your damp hair sticks in uneven strands along your cheek.
Without looking away, you dug beneath the cloth and pulled out a couple of medical supplies, tossing them toward him.
Then you stand.
You move through them one by one, searching their pockets.
Coins. A folded note. A bag of cookies.
By the time you do turn around and face him, his eyes have already gone dull.
In his pocket, your fingers find something stiffer than paper.
"...Hah..."