Riding the Wave diff

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**"Riding the Wave"** is the sixth episode of Season Two and the eighteenth episode of Template:TDL.

## Synopsis

The Port City Eight find refuge with old friends of Wen Li. The search party become involved with the affairs of an Aiolan town.

## Narrative

### **Part I**

Blackmore rested his elbows against the bow of the ferry as he took a drag of his cigarette. Staring into the sunrise through the smoke, he contemplated what he had listened to in the night they departed. Guard duty, he had told them, but their conversation was just too enticing to depart from. *Possessions. Dream Eaters. What a marvel to hear.* Blackmore reflected on the individuals he had met. He would have liked to know Samuel Brownlee further.

"Enough of that." He snapped himself out of it. Aiola was now in sight, and with that, peace and quiet. Once the ferry docked, they would be near the city of Nirvana, a place famous due to its history with a group named Nirvanists, religious historians dedicated to documenting the world and its creation. From there, they would have an easy journey, with the Chang Monastery, a place where Li deemed it safe to rest due to his long history with the residents, located in the mountains next to the city.

The large red and white accented ferry docked. Stairs were let down for passengers to exit onto the boardwalk. The first off was Zade. He let in a deep breath, smelling the salty air before walking forward. He was followed by Blackmore, with Marshall toting the group's heavy luggage behind him. Atticus, Blossom, Chris, and Li departed and met up with the rest of the group.

Noticeable as one exited, an unusually large Halan junk — the *Second Wind* — was docked nearby. It seemed to be built with a mix of woods — elm, teak, bamboo, and various softwoods. Three masts jutted from the deck, two large towards the front, one smaller one over the steering cabin.

"Well, we don't have Samuel anymore. Hopefully, we're not screwed without him," Chris commented.

Li took in the sights of the city. Months, maybe years, had passed between his last visit, but little had changed. "I'm sure we'll do fine without him."

"I'm sure Mister Li will do fine guiding us through this, Chris," Marshall confirmed.

"Come," Li hobbled forward to the front of the group. "Much awaits us."

As Marshall made it to the top of the steps, he set the suitcases down. Lagging a bit behind the rest of the group, he had reached the small plateau where the monastery stood. In the distance, the city of Nirvana seemed incredibly small. Two large ornate gates were hinged upon a wall, with gold symbols decorating it. The monastery was octagonal with black shingle roofing lining the wall. The group stood on a small stone platform carved into the mountain thousands of years ago.

To the right of the gates was a bell attached to a rope pulley. Li pulled on it.

*Ding dong.*

The gates opened, revealing two monks on the other side, as well as a tall, dark-skinned man. He wore a dark gi with specialized gold lettering and black shoulder pauldrons.

"Welcome back, Wen," the man said. "And your guests?"

"Are Marisol and Robert in? I need to see them, Isaiah," Li rushed.

"Yes," he answered. "Come in, but you will have to leave your weapons outside."

"Are you sure this place is safe, Mister Li?" Blossom asked, reaching her hand into her brown jacket and pulling out a pair of knives and a gun. She slowly placed them on the ground in front of her.

"It is the safest place there is."

Blackmore sighed. He opened his jacket, removing both a small switchblade and a long hunting knife, as well as one of his submachine guns. "Fascists."

With the group now unarmed, Isaiah led them inside. Within the tall walls, there were over one hundred monks, standing orderly and chanting. Behind them, a large temple with orange roofing and red and teal accents stood.

"Whoa," Marshall gasped.

"Nice place," Blackmore said.

"It is not mine, however, it is the Changs'," Isaiah explained. "However, I am the lead monk here."

"Where are the Changs right now?" Chris wondered. "We have some urgent business with them."

"They are in the meditation room having tea. I'll take you to them," Isaiah answered.

He led them through the main courtyard and to the main temple. Sliding a shoji open, they entered and done a hallway made it to the room. Within, a Halan couple, both with long black hair and well-defined cheekbones and jaws, sat facing one another with a teapot and two cups between them.

"Hello, Wen. I see you brought some friends," the man, Robert, welcomed.

"Yes. Speaking of which, could you all leave the room?" Li asked, turning to face the group.

"I'll take them to the artifact room," Isaiah responded.

As they left the room, Atticus could hear a faint "we need your help" from Li.

The artifact room contained a great many objects of note, most displayed on pedestals with a small nameplate beneath them. An ancient golden sickle-sword covered in markings in an unfamiliar language bore the label "Great King Nzulk's Blade." Next to it was an open manuscript, its pages water-damaged and its cover dusty. Its nameplate read, "Codex Seventy-Five, 20 TP."

"I really hope we can stay here for more than a few days," Atticus said. "We've spent so much time going from place to place, one after another."

"I wouldn't bet on anything," replied Blackmore. He leaned against a tall podium. "If there's anything our road trip has taught me, it's to expect the worst."

"So, what do we do now?" Chris wondered.

"We just wait," Atticus replied as he pulled a large book off a shelf and began to open it.

*Dasim's life was naught but service to the mighty Power Xeren. As he was skilled in the art of war, Dasim quickly rose to become one of the highest commanders of Xeren's forces. His rank and devotion did not go unnoticed by Xeren, who allowed him to be one of the few who could speak to his god at his leisure.*

*While Dasim was aware of the great abilities Xeren possessed and his apparent invulnerability, he was still concerned that his god would go out into the field. He did not bring this up to Xeren for quite a long time, but eventually, it became too great for him to ignore. Dasim finally brought the matter before Xeren at one of their meetings.*

*In response, Xeren got up from his throne. "Dasim, there is something I must show you."*

*The Power led Dasim from the throne room to a part of the palace which was rarely used. It was a large, spacious room that held a great collection of weapons. Bows, arrows, swords, and axes were all hung up on the walls. Xeren directed Dasim to a particular longsword. It was unremarkable in design, only distinguished by the crown etched onto its hilt.*

*"Why have you shown me this, my lord?" Dasim asked. "What am I to learn from seeing this sword?"*

*Xeren took the sword and held it. The steel blade abruptly turned into rocky soil, which could not maintain its shape. A sharp, icy interior was revealed beneath it. Xeren switched hands. The ice turned to smoke, then into a burning flame. The fire became something Dasim could not quite make out. He felt a pain in the back of his head when he tried to squint at it.*

*"This sword is* Ahriman*," the god explained. "You asked what would be done if I were to be defeated in battle? The answer is simple: I would begin the next battle with this in hand."*

Atticus skipped ahead a few pages.

*...and the court of the gods found that Xeren had committed crimes so numerous and unforgivable that execution was deemed a necessity. Palvatar, the giant who carried a scythe gifted by the Shephard of Souls, was to carry out the execution.*

*When the soul of Xeren was torn from his body, it split into two halves. Of the first, nothing is known. Of the second, a luminescent red sphere appeared in the skies of Euclid. It circled the world time and time again, never changing the speed or direction of its orbit.*

Atticus paused at this line. A red sphere streaking across the sky — that sounded familiar. He had seen it twice before. Once in Thales, once in Muné.

*If it were to be claimed, the soul could imbue its possessor with unimaginable control over reality itself, akin to that of a Power.*

"Hey, Chris, Marshall?" Atticus began. "Do you remember that light we've seen a few times? The red one?"

"Of course we remember that!" Chris exclaimed. "I mean, how could we not? It was sure quite an unusual thing to see in the sky."

"Well, remember how Steven told us that were theories it was connected to some hidden leader? This book claims that it's the soul of the god, or well, Power Xeren and that he was killed by others like him."

"What's this about a light?" Zade asked as he walked over, holding his hiking stick tightly in his hands.

As Chris explained the conversation, Zade began to wince. "Ah yes, I've heard of this light before, back in the days where I still lived in Muné."

"Why do you guys still care about this garbage?" Marshall asked, finally breaking his silence. "We're not on vacation here, this is life-or-death. Why do we keep going on about this shit? The Dream Eaters, the red comet and all this other shit doesn't matter. Can we not take this seriously?"

No one responded before Marshall threw their bags down and stomped out of the room.

Li departed from his meeting with the Changs in high spirits. He was almost to the artifact room when he spotted Marshall walking away from the room.

"What is wrong?" he asked. Marshall only shot a glare in his direction.

Concerned, the man entered the room and saw the group. As he approached, Li noticed something strange. From this angle, Atticus bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel. Atticus was younger, of course, but his face was uncannily close and his eyes were the same light green.

"Mister Li?" Blossom spoke up after noticing Li standing in the doorway. "What did they say?"

Li snapped out of his stupor and walked over to the group. "They said we can stay. We'll be going to our rooms soon."

### **Part II**

Savannah watched the waves crashing up against the stern. To her right, Lisa watched the golden sunset. Charles was to her left. He was imitating the girls by staring straight ahead, his mechanical eyes not focused on anything in particular. Behind them, Jordan sat, reading. They heard nothing but light sea breeze, the waves and the running motor of the vessel.

"Hey, listen up," They turned as Dexter exited the cabin."Small change of plans: we're not going straight there. We're going to stay the night in a nearby town and then head to Nirvana in the morning."

"Why the delay?" Jordan asked.

"The ship's behind schedule. They're saving time dropping us off here."

"Have you even been there before?" Lisa asked. "I don't know if it would be a good idea for us to stop in unfamiliar places."

"Can't be that bad," Dexter shrugged. "Sampi's supposed to be one of the safest places in Muné."

The vessel docked at a beach and the party departed. Lights shone from nearby buildings, yet the beach was empty and lifeless. The passengers proceeded over a bridge to the town. The town streets were much like the beach.

"Where is everyone?" Savannah asked.

"It's getting dark, they're probably asleep," Florence adjusted his fedora and continued.

The party kept walking for a few more minutes until a light abruptly shone on their faces.

"What are you doing outside?" A vested, balding man asked. He held a flashlight in his right hand and a switchblade in his left. "Curfew started hours ago!"

"We're sorry about that, sir. We didn't know about any curfew, we're new to town." Jordan explained.

"Well, you know now. Try not to forget," the man started. "It's a good thing you all ran into me first since the younger watchmen are all wound up. Best you get settled in soon."

"Can you point us to the nearest inn?" Florence asked.

The man scratched his beard. "Well, I gotta finish my shift. Then I gotta report all you curfew violators unless you give up, let's say, 40 phoenixes to let it slide? I'll show you to that inn for an extra 20."

"60 phoenixes? You're kidding," Dexter replied.

"You don't have to give me anything. But I assume you don't want any harm to come to these children, do you?"

"Oh, nothing's gonna happen to my boy," Mary was reaching into her satchel to grab her sidearm when Florence took out his wallet.

"Look, we don't want any trouble. Here's the money," he gave six thick coins to the watchman.

The man pocketed the coins and pointed to his left. "Thanks. Inn's that way." He walked away without another word.

The group saw a building with faintly visible signage reading "Nettlefold Inn." They proceeded into the lobby, where a few patrons sat around a fireplace or watched a small television. A child spun around with her toy airplane as her father read a newspaper. She appeared to be the only person in the room without a lethargic appearance. The attendant at the front desk was typing something as they approached. His nametag read "Gerald."

Jordan warily walked up to the front desk, "Hello, sir. Well, a man with a switchblade threatened us about a curfew and demanded money. He said that he was part of the neighborhood watch. Do you know anything about this?"

Gerald looked up from his computer. "You must be new here. He wasn't lying. Be glad he was only looking for cash: they've done far worse for far less."

"What?" Lisa asked, shocked. "You think it's normal for watchmen to extort people?"

"It's normal around here," the attendant clarified. "Although they aren't exactly normal watchmen. Our mayor created the watch to give his old buddies in the mafia a more legitimate name."

Savannah glanced at the group, then back at Gerald. "No offense, but that sounds a bit far-fetched."

"It is, yeah. The only reason I feel comfortable saying it is that I have personal experience with them."

"You've had multiple run-ins with these gangsters," Jordan assumed.

Gerald lowered his voice. "I used to be one of them. Quit when Lempo went from being the boss to being the mayor."

"Lempo. I think I know that name," Florence paused. "Klaus Lempo. Aiolan businessman. Moved to Silivia for a few years. There were a lot of rumors he was with the Svatovid."

"You have no idea," the attendant laughed. "The Svatovid wouldn't be in Silivia today without him."

"Good to know," Mary spoke up. "Now, can we get two rooms?"

Ten phoenixes were exchanged for two room keys. "Hold on," Dexter set his suitcase aside. He spoke to a few people around the Inn's lobby as the group waited.

"We have to do something about this," he said when he returned. "I asked around to make sure that the ex-ganger wasn't lying. Everyone told me the same thing he did. This town, these people. Their situation is horrid. We can't just let them keep suffering."

"Getting involved in this town's business would be stupid, Wellington," Lisa began. "We should just move on, we're not Union agents."

"Not like we need to rely on the Union for everything," Mary noted. "Do they even know what's going on here?"

Jordan spoke up next. "Well, if they don't know, why don't we tell them?"

"I could call Rosington," Florence said. "Ask him to pass along what we know to the other ministers."

"That sounds good," Dexter said. "Do that."

"Let's hope they listen," Savannah added.

The following morning, as they were leaving, Dexter noted an absence at the attendant's desk. Gerald was gone. At the same time, a man with a brown suit and jeans approached Florence.

"Sir, I'd like to talk to you for a moment," he said. "My name is Klaus Lempo. I'm the mayor of this fine city." He stuck out his hand.

Florence shook. "Florence Carnation."

"Right. I would like to apologize, Mister Carnation, on behalf of the neighborhood watch program. We were unaware that the man who robbed you was abusing his power," Lempo retrieved a stack of phoenixes from his pocket. He handed it to the detective. "Here is your money back. Please don't let this unfortunate experience affect your opinion of our city."

"Thanks. We'll be—"

"Wait, hang on," Dexter said. "Do you know what happened to the guy at the front desk?"

"I was going to explain," Lempo responded. "A concerned citizen informed us he was spreading lurid rumors about his former colleagues and myself."

"Well, everyone I asked seemed to be in agreement about those 'lurid rumors.' If I may be blunt, it's getting really hard to take you seriously."

Lempo glared. "You're right, Wellington."

Dexter froze. "Um, who would that be? Are you confusing me with someone else?"

"You aren't going to play my game so I won't play yours," Lempo's expression changed to smug satisfaction. "We know who you are, Dexter Wellington. I happen to know quite a few people who'd like to have a discussion with you and Mrs. Walesh about what happened at her establishment."

"We knew that last part already," Mary replied. "Get to the point."

"I want your assurance that, when you leave the city, all of you will keep quiet about what happened here."

"You have my word," Florence said. "There will be no trouble from us."

Dexter considered his options before replying, simply, "No."

"Fine," Lempo shrugged. "If you want to reconsider, my door is always open. Just don't think about calling anyone, or leaving the city. My men will know."

The mayor left. Dexter looked to the others, who glared back.

"Really?" Lisa asked. "You thought that was a good idea?"

"I, uh, well," Dexter sputtered. "I wasn't gonna just let him get away with it."

"My plan was that we'd lie and contact Rosington once we reached Nirvana," Florence said. "I thought you'd catch on, sorry."

"Fooled me, honestly," Savannah countered. "Still, I'm agreeing with Lisa for once."

"You're all being too harsh," Jordan said. "Do we all make perfectly sane choices when under that much stress?"

"Jordan is correct. Dexter should be excused for his lack of foresight, given the situation," Charles concluded. "We should focus on the matter of how to proceed. I propose we meet with Lempo and tell him, truthfully or otherwise, that we agree to his terms."

"We should all go together," Mary opined. "Well, you, Florence and Charles at least. He might try to pull something."

"I'll go alone," Dexter decided. "I'm the one who screwed up here. No reason to drag anyone along. Nobody I talked to said they have anything more than knives and bats. They'll crumple after seeing a gun."

"It is one of my primary objectives to assure the survival of our group," Charles noted. "I would not be fulfilling that purpose sufficiently if you proceed on your own."

"Alright, but no one else."

"Good luck," Florence said. "We'll be waiting for you at the park we passed on the way here."

"If we take too long, don't wait up," Dexter responded.

Charles and Dexter made their way into the town hall. It was quite large and well-maintained. Every surface seemed to have a slight shine to it from the lights streaming in outside. Men and women of various apparel walked about the foyer, usually in small groups of three to four. Dexter walked towards an elevator, Charles following.

Breaking from one of the groups, a tall dark-skinned man approached the two of them. Placing his hand on the elevator door, he grinned. "Do you have business here?"

"We plan to meet with the Mayor," Charles explained.

The man reached down into his pocket and pulled out a knife. "That's some good shit, dude," the man began to laugh. "We should have you tell jokes at our dinners."

"We mean you no harm. There is no reason to resort to violence." Charles activated his sword in case there were any sudden movements. The weapon was concealed beneath his jumpsuit sleeve for the moment.

"Oh, there won't be any violence," the man sneered. "And you won't be meeting with the mayor. He's a busy man, and today he has a full schedule."

Dexter began to back away. "Oh, I understand. We'll come back tomorrow."

When he assumed he was out of the man's earshot, Dexter whispered to Charles, "We're taking the stairs."

"No, you aren't."

An older, vested man with scruffy dark brown hair, tan skin and a white suit blocked the stairwell. He held a spiked bat in his hands. Dexter retrieved his pistol and took aim at the thug.

"I thought you didn't want a fight," Dexter retrieved his pistol and took aim at the obese man.

A disheveled mobster entered behind the fat man, expertly twirling a balisong. "You thought wrong, my good bitch."

"We are armed as well, I wouldn't recommend that," Charles replied, now displaying his blade.

The gangsters continued towards them, undeterred by the warning. Dexter shot at the fat man.

"Is this the best you can do?" The man chuckled. "Ain't nobody gonna take Big Ladder down!"

Charles swiftly impaled the mobster with his sword. "I believe you were incorrect," he explained to the dying thug as he bled out on the floor.

Charles then slashed the other mobster, slicing it into his cheek. The man scowled. He pushed Charles down as Dexter put some space between him and the gangster. Charles began to sit up, only for the attacker to bring him back down by slamming the bat into his torso.

Dexter had pocketed the pistol and retrieved Natalya's shotgun from his pack. The thug was taking a second to examine Charles, noticing that he did not bleed and that the sword really was part of his arm. Dexter was about to take the chance when the man took his eyes off Charles. This gave him just enough time to dodge to his left. The gangster was laughing off Dexter's aim when a bullet went straight into his eye. He fell to the ground with a great thud.

After only a moment to recover his functions, Charles stood right back up. "More hostiles on stairs," he noted.

Dexter nodded. Behind the group, a loud gunshot could be heard. With all eyes turning, the man who had stopped Dexter and Charles at the elevator could be seen wielding a rifle.

"Quit lollygagging, boys," he said to the other hostiles. "Unless you want me to have all the fun."

The remainder of the group had moved to the nearby park. Savannah, Jordan and Lisa sat together, exchanging very few words as nervous thoughts about their friends plagued them. Finally, Savannah spoke.

"Do you think we're going to find them in Nirvana?" she asked. "That's not exactly a small area to search."

Jordan turned his head over to Savannah. "It's a lot narrower than what the GU has to check, even with all their resources. We have a head start, even with today's holdup."

"Right, but they've been continent-hopping since the attack. I doubt they're gonna stay in Sampi for too long."

"That's what Charles is for. If they try to run, we'll know. That might even help us pin down where they're headed.

"Assuming he didn't just run into a trap," Lisa stated.

"Well, even without him, we're the ones who knew them better than anyone," Jordan replied.

"Do we really know them?" Lisa asked. "The Atticus that we knew wouldn't fake his death for months and return as a terrorist insurgent. And Savannah... only knew most of them for a day or so."

"Sorry for being optimistic," Jordan grumbled.

They went back to silence after that exchange. On another bench, Florence wrote in his notebook, occasionally stopping to review his prior notes. There was little news to report, but he could not find anything else to occupy his time.

"Hey, Carnation," Mary began. "Can I ask you something about this investigation?"

"Obviously," he responded, still writing.

"Have you found out anything about my brother?"

The detective stopped to flip through the previous pages. "There were some claims that he was organizing 'resistance' within Alchemilia leading up to the attack. Nothing directly connects him to the Eight's activities at Remnant Rock."

"...That sounds like John," Mary eventually admitted. "After the angel attack, he had more grievances with Arsene than Dexter. He wasn't like that before. That gave me some hope he wasn't really involved."

"My condolences," Florence stopped at a particular entry. "Unfortunately, my sources weren't especially keen on pursuing evidence of his involvement."

"'More important to investigate the known perpetrators than rumors and hearsay a dead man can't refute,'" she read from the notes.

"That's an exact quote," the detective claimed.

Mary could not really blame anyone for thinking that. She had decided that her brother did not need to be reported to the authorities. Why would she? John had not disclosed to her what he was planning. As far as she knew, he was no different from Dexter. There was a lingering thought, regardless, that she could have stopped all of this had she paid more attention to her brother. Mary mulled over this as she continued to read.

Florence was becoming occupied with a more immediate concern: a group of six approaching them. They were led by a man with a black coat and slicked-back hair. The detective recognized the vested man who had confronted the party for being out past curfew among the group.

"Excuse me," the leader began. "My name is Terrance Mann. We're with the watch."

This time, Florence did not stop Mary from retrieving her weapon. "There's no need for that, ma'am. We're just here to ask about your friends."

"What about them?" Florence inquired.

"We'd like to know why they've been causing a stir at town hall. That's it."

Florence calmly stood up and reached into his jacket. A mechanical clicking was heard as he revealed a long revolver. “I have a question too.” He pointed it towards the group of mobsters. "You know what happens to thugs like you?"

The thugs scattered. Three fell in quick succession. An especially confident attacker attempted to strike Florence from behind with a sledgehammer. He was struck with a projectile launched from Mary's coilgun. The hammer fell.

From a safe distance, Terrance took a handheld transceiver from his pocket. The line was flooded with desperate calls from town hall. He still felt the need to add, "Anyone by the park, we need backup too!"

This missive received plenty of aggravated responses. That did not matter. Support was still inbound.

Terrance surveyed the scene. The teenagers and adults both took cover behind their respective benches. The declining number of mobsters was also on the defensive, although none had fled.

Behind the bench, Jordan tried to slow his labored breathing. It was going to give their position away, he knew. His heart raced. Lisa peeked through the slits: Florence and Mary were taking shots at the gangsters. They were taking care not to leave themselves exposed.

Savannah's thoughts were racing. They needed to get further away from the danger. There was another bench, not far from their current location but further from the mobsters. As more answered Terrance's call for assistance, the desire to make her move became ever greater. Yet she still stayed in place and remained mute to the others. It was hard to find the words or work up the will to move. Was the risk too great?

Then the decision made itself. Savannah was behind the other bench. She had not moved, however, she knew that was not what everyone else had seen. The familiar pain in her forehead gave it away.

*What just happened?* She remembered the strange occurrence at Manta, how Baptiste's gun had suddenly appeared in her hand. More questions flooded her mind. *How did I pull that off? Why did it happen again?*

Then she noticed him.

A man with a fire axe had (as far as he knew) spotted Savannah making her way to the second bench. He had approached the lone target and raised his axe to strike.

Whatever had happened, it had saved her once only to get her killed now. The girl screamed as the attacker brought his axe down. She tightly shut her eyes.

Dexter shot the only armed mobster right after he made his announcement. That split the other gangsters between trying to avenge their associate and taking hold of his rifle.

Charles picked up the shotgun with his free hand. Managing the weapon's recoil was trivial for an advanced combat android like himself. As he tore through the approaching attackers, Dexter kept his attention on the stairs. Anyone who took the rifle met the same fate as its original user.

No matter how many fell, there still seemed to be more approaching. They had gotten the idea about the rifle, so Dexter took his chances taking care of the few entering from outside. Then he heard a ding.

A new combatant stepped out of the elevator on the second floor. He had thick ceramic armor and a helmet. The regular watchmen made space for him, many seemingly more scared of the new arrival than Charles and Dexter.

One of the few that was actually happy for their backup grinned. "Oh, you've fucked up now," she said.

Dexter was inclined to agree. He had only ever seen this armor before on television. This was a Nuyo-Dyavol Coalition riot control officer. He had a stylized depiction of a horse on his armor. This was the national symbol of Ilion, a pre-war country that was the first Aiolan state to join the Coalition. Sampi seceded from Ilion, then spent the next two centuries reclaiming its territory for the Global Union until it was dissolved.

Lempo was far more ambitious and capable than Dexter had initially assumed. The man had carved out a tiny microcosm of Ilion not far from Nirvana. This was well above the pay grade of their small search party.

Charles understood none of the significance behind the new arrival and continued up the stairs. The mobsters did not bother to fight back, making space for Charles as he approached the officer. Dexter wanted to yell at Charles to stop, yet he knew the officer would only take advantage of that.

When Charles reached the top of the stairs, the officer took out a gunmetal gray automatic shotgun with a silver finish. Charles was unfazed, continuing to step closer to the elevator the officer had exited.

The shots came so quickly that Charles had no time to process them. The officer started by blasting apart the connection between one of Charles' upper arms and shoulder. His gun fell along with the mechanical limb itself.

Charles was knocked back by the force of the shots, then he began to move back further. The remaining rounds still heavily impacted his torso and impaired his functions even further.

When the magazine depleted, Charles barely remained upright. His jumpsuit was riddled with holes. Bare mechanical components were now exposed to the assembled crowd. If his most important components were in the affected areas, he would have become inanimate. He still struggled to maintain his systems with the damage sustained.

That did not mean he did not persist, as the officer recognized. He cursed himself for not investing in a drum magazine or more powerful shells. Not that he had any reason to believe he would be fighting an android any time soon. Still, he had a spare magazine to empty into Charles to permanently take him out of commission.

Dexter desperately shot at the officer. This was a needlessly risky maneuver, but he could not think of any way to keep Charles safe. The bullet barely cracked the officer's visor. The mobsters were turning their attention to Dexter as well, two taking the opportunity to seize the dropped rifle and Natalya's shotgun.

Luckily for Dexter, Charles had just enough time to restore his functions to acceptable parameters. He rushed at the officer, who was helpless to react before Charles repaid him for the loss of an arm. Not that Charles intended to get his revenge: the exact spot happened to be recognized as a weak point in his armor.

The now one-armed officer was taken out of the battle permanently when Charles slashed at his knee. That limb was not severed, although the man was already severely bleeding. Charles had no understanding of sympathy and immediately turned his attention to the mobsters.

Many of them were now fleeing. Some of the few that did not thought they could defend themselves with their pilfered guns. Charles took the automatic shotgun from the officer, along with the spare magazine. He had targets left to terminate.

A clang of metal against metal. Savannah discovered she was holding a long, steel sword. Its blade was engulfed in flame. The man stepped back a bit. Savannah winced as the headache worsened.

"Hey, over here!" The attacker yelled to his compatriots. "This one's got a weapon!"

Savannah tried to strike the man's leg. The weight of the sword was too great. She ended up slicing the axe into two pieces. This should have been to her advantage. The man only grinned and grabbed a knife, which he cut down her arm. She cried out in pain and finally stabbed him. He fell, but not before slashing at her leg. Savannah turned around before she saw the blood pooling around his body.

*Don't think about it,* she thought, *it was either you or him.*

Savannah struggled to stand as she faced a second mobster: a muscular woman with a crowbar. She scowled at Savannah. The thug tried to charge at her, hoping to deliver a blow while she still struggled to keep upright. Savannah dropped to her knees. The gangster only struck the empty air. The girl used the chance to swipe at her opponent, who failed to dodge. With much effort, Savannah was eventually able to get back on her feet.

Lisa whispered to Jordan, "We could help them."

"What?" he replied. "That's a terrible idea."

"I know. Just hear me out."

"Fine."

"These guys are just like the militiamen in Skipton: they look tough, but they aren't prepared for a real fight. Except that the militiamen were trained feral demon hunters. These clowns? All they do is shake down hapless civilians. They don't even have guns."

"Which is why we should let Mom and Florence take care of them and get Savannah back here."

"See how Savannah's split their attention?" the girl pointed. "The adults could get overwhelmed if they're all centered on one target. We can spread them out."

"We'd get overwhelmed ourselves."

"I'll risk it."

Jordan continued to protest as Lisa stood up and ran to grab the dropped sledgehammer. She struggled at first to pick it up while rethinking whether it was the best choice of weapon. She had just pointed out her attackers were more focused on looking tough and here she was, choosing this imposing yet impractical armament while the knife was right there.

Her indecision was interrupted when she noticed an approaching mobster. She had not been planning to connect the head of the hammer with the head of the attacker. It would have been preferable to knock him down like Savannah did. Lisa, however, did not have any time to prepare and made a choice she would immediately regret.

There were more coming. She could not afford to focus on the bloody mess at her feet or the sudden urge to vomit. Lisa raised the hammer as Jordan rushed to help, snatching the crowbar on the way. He promptly used it against the first watchman who approached them, knocking him out cold.

The watch's attention was now split between three groups, although Savannah was making her way to Jordan and Lisa. Florence and Mary provided covering fire where they could, while still keeping their own position defended. Terrance knew he had to act fast.

The mobster leader had been making his way around the arena. His plan was to strike while the gunners had their backs turned. This was his opportunity. He motioned at a compatriot for assistance. Terrance rushed Florence while the other man separated them from Mary. His heavy metal helmet could not stop a bullet, let alone a coil. The distraction still bought Terrance enough time to push the detective to the ground, the revolver wretched from his hand.

Still aiming at the detective and still glaring at Mary, he took out the transceiver. "The situation at the park is about to be resolved. Send everyone to town hall."

As he prepared to shoot, the mobster was suddenly pushed to the ground. Florence retrieved his revolver from Terrance and shot him in the stomach.

“See,” the detective said. “That’s what happens.”

With their leader slain and backup called off, the remaining watchmen either retreated or were dispatched soon after Terrance.

"It's over," Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. "We did it."

No one said much else as the adults reunited with the teenagers. They were all glad the danger was over. Glad that no one had died.

None of them noticed that one among them had silently slipped away.

Not too far away, a few pedestrians were out walking. They kept their distance as a girl with a sword ran by. They could only assume she was a member of the watch, chasing someone down. It was better to stay out of it, for their own safety. Strangely, the girl's sword seemed to glow a bright orange, as if it was perpetually aflame.

Savannah knew the others would take issue with her rushing over to help Charles and Dexter. They needed help and she would only be wasting time staying behind to argue.

When she finally reached town hall, she saw Charles and Dexter in the foyer. The two were surrounded by the bodies of slain or unconscious gangsters, some still bleeding out. Charles was sitting on the ground, eyes closed, as Dexter kept watch for new arrivals. He briefly took aim at Savannah as she entered but quickly set the pistol back at his side.

"They went after the others too," he sighed. "Bastards."

"What's with Charles?" Savannah asked.

"Took a few too many hits. Needs a second to recover," Dexter paused. "Cool sword. Did one of the mobsters drop it?"

"Yeah," she lied. Savannah wondered how many times she would need to repeat that lie.

The two waited in silence for a few moments before Charles stood up.

"System functionality restored. Shall we proceed?"

"Yeah. Let's get going," Dexter responded.

"Surely you can spare *someone*," Lempo pleaded. "This is the closest territory to Awgalahaga."

The mayor was on a video call with Leonid Gryaz, his liaison to the Coalition. The wall behind him displayed a map of Sampi, with some small areas highlighted. Crehambraugh had the darkest shade, alongside Awgalahaga. The map displayed which areas were under effective Coalition control, mostly those with a strong Svatovid presence. Under ideal circumstances, those areas would make up a reformed Ilion by year's end.

That ideal was becoming less tenable by the minute as the Coalition refused to cooperate.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's out of my control," the liaison began. "Everyone I've talked to says a mobilization would only alert authorities in Nirvana."

"Carnation is a confidant of Silivia's governor," the mayor countered. "He'll alert them before that."

"Well, sir, the problem is…" Gryaz trailed off. "No one here can spare any men because—and this is what they're saying. I don't agree, but—Crehambraugh is too small. Too much expense for too little territory. That's what they're saying."

Lempo sighed. "…alright. Tell them this, Leonid: one of the attackers has a flaming sword."

"What kind of sword, sir?"

"A sword with the blade set alight," Lempo could tell Gryaz still did not completely understand. "It's on fire."

"Um, is that true?" the liaison asked. "That sounds—"

"It's absolutely true," the mayor interjected. "You tell them that. Make sure they take it seriously. This needs to go all the way up to the top. The very top."

"Okay. I'll tell that to my superiors," Gryaz replied, still clearly confused. "Can I ask how this is supposed to change their minds?"

"No. We don't have any more time," Lempo responded. "Get this news to Cicero himself by any means necessary. That'll keep the Union out of Crehambraugh. Get going."

The liaison was not able to ask any more questions as the mayor abruptly ended the call. He turned the transceiver back on, hoping for any update. The line was still dead.

Not long after, three people burst into Lempo's office.

"Drop the weapons!"

The two guards standing at each end of Lempo's desk did not last long. Savannah slashed at the arm of the one to her left. He dropped the weapon while the other prepared to open fire. Before he could, the pistol was abruptly removed from his hands. Dexter shot the man in the leg. With the officers dealt with, the group turned their attention to the man they had been protecting.

"Please, don't kill me!" Lempo cowered in his seat. "I'll disband the watch! I'll force the Svatovid out of Crehambruagh!"

The trio was unsure how to proceed. Dexter was glad to see the smug look off the bastard's face, yet deep down he had to admit he had been hoping to do so by other means. He was expecting the gangster mayor to be armed, probably not with a submachine gun, but that was definitely the image that came to mind. There should have been tense negotiations followed by a final showdown. Lempo was not supposed to immediately give up and surrender.

In his younger years, Lempo had become desensitized to the idea of his own death. That was a necessity in his line of work. Yet as he ascended the mob hierarchy, he had grown increasingly complacent. He was too respected as the boss for anyone to think of clipping him. He was too feared as the mayor for anyone to try anything stupid.

Now he was confronted with his own morality by a group who had no respect or fear of him. They had torn through all of his defenses. There was no way anyone in the Coalition would take Leonid seriously, let alone inform the one man who could.

"I'll resign!" The mayor was almost crying now. "What else do you want? I'll let the Union's courts judge me! I'll—I'll—"

"Shut up," Savannah demanded. "Shut the *fuck* up right now." She stepped forward, sword drawn.

Dexter tried to hold her back, but Savannah did not stop her approach. Lempo had put them through more than enough to justify what she was about to do.

She lodged the sword into his stomach. The weight of what she had done began to wash over Savannah, as another headache flared up. She tightly shut her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, the office of Lempo was gone. Savannah stood in a grassy field. A body lay in front of her: a man in light armor, with some metal reinforcements. Those reinforcements evidently did not stop a sword from rending the chest piece. His left arm and the sword it held had been violently amputated. Some blood pooled around the body, but the wounds had been cauterized. The hazel-gold eyes of the dead man were frozen in shock. White, dove-like wings protruded from his back.

A congregation of winged people was amassed behind the deceased. The angels closest to their presumed leader wore similar armor, while those further back used boiled leather. They were silent in shock. A few had broken down into tears. Savannah felt a tinge of recognition from their leader, although she was not sure where she had seen him before.

Behind Savannah, cheering erupted. She turned to see a crowd of creatures howling and chanting at her victory. The noise deafened them as they turned to look at something above her. A circular viewpoint had appeared in the sky. The area beyond first appeared to be little more than a mess of colors and sounds. It turned into a great chamber with many seats. The occupants of the seats were still hard to discern, but a few looked humanoid. Savannah noted one particular entity among them: a man in workwear sitting near the far end of the chamber. He looked disappointed.

Recognizing him as Tuisco reminded her of the beings he had shown at what he claimed was the beginning of the universe. Three of them were sitting near Tuisco. She involuntarily turned back to the crowd behind her. An armored beast with the head of a goat stepped forward as Savannah unsheathed the flaming sword. Her arms were covered by white metal, the same as the final Power.

"Dasim, take Ahriman," a masculine voice spoke from Savannah's mouth. "No matter what happens next, never forget what I have told you."

Dasim nodded and took the sword. Savannah turned around. In a flash of light, she vanished.

It was over. She was back in the mayor's office. The dead angel was now the dead mayor. Police sirens blared in the distance.

"Hey, you alright?" Dexter asked. "You blacked out for a second there."

"Yeah," Savannah replied. "Well, I’m not alright. I am conscious."

"We can talk later. Let’s get going."

"Hold on," Charles interrupted. "Do you hear that?"

"We can hear the sirens, yeah," Savannah responded. "We’re not deaf."

"Are you sure your functions were restored?" Dexter asked.

"Not the sirens," Charles pointed to the videocomputer. "Lempo is receiving a call."

"Must be his superiors in the Coalition," Dexter replied. "Don’t answer it."

"They should know what has happened to Lempo. That would dissuade them from attempting anything before the Union arrives."

Dexter could not stop Charles from pressing a round button on the videocomputer. Savannah stepped out of frame right as the two callers appeared on screen: one was Gryaz, the other was obscured. They were re-routing their signal to conceal their location.

The liaison was aghast at the sight. "Well,"’he tried to retain his composure. "That is the sword Lempo described, sir."

"He’s not gonna like this," the other caller commented.

Another voice chimed in, sharper than the last. "Give me that," he demanded. A small crackle came through the speakers as the transponder was evidently passed to the second speaker. "That is the very same that disappeared from the armory as well." He seemed to consider his next words very carefully. "Mind telling us how you pulled that off?"

"I did not take this sword from any armory," Charles replied. "I did not use it to kill Lempo, either. One of my companions did."

"Yet they don’t want to come forward and take credit."

The police were entering the building, as the trio observed through the window. "We need to get go, *now.*" Dexter whispered. Charles followed, however Savannah stayed.

She cautiously stepped up to the camera. "I didn’t steal the sword. One of Lempo’s thugs dropped it."

The caller chuckled. "You’re just as amusing as I remember."

"You're, uh, confusing me with someone else."

"Oh, I know exactly who you are—who you used to be, at least. Clearly things have changed quite a bit since we last met."

The vision she had received of the sword’s previous owner played over again in her head. She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, "Dasim?"

"So, you only want to joke. Given that and the state of our mutual friend, our relationship isn't what it used to be either." He sighed. "Gryaz, inform all of our assets in Sampi that this woman is to be brought to the Copperhead as soon as feasible. She is to be alive and unharmed, as are her companions."

“Understood, sir,” Gryaz replied.

"Good man," the second speaker began. "As for the one on Lempo’s camera, I may as well ask for your new name."

A chill went down Savannah’s spine. She did not answer. Even if she wanted to provide a firm refusal to comply (which she did), she was totally out of breath.

"Fine. We’ll have plenty of time to talk in person. Be seeing you."

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