Chapter 8
Supernatural
Something in the air changed.
Nia had only been wandering the observatory a half hour ago, reminiscing on some of the happiest days of her life. She was checking every shadowed corner, anticipating the threat of death. Ahead of her, Whiskey was strolling down the darkened corridor towards the observatory, sipping at a flask. The scent of honey and fire lingered in the air in her wake. Kaiser was walking behind her, but she had to check over her shoulder every few minutes to reassure herself. How the hell did someone so big move so quietly?
Whiskey came to an abrupt stop shy of the doorway into the observatory auditorium, leaning against the wall, she stood under the last veils of shadows that swallowed the path behind her. Nia and Kaiser caught up a few moments later, coming to a cautious stop.
“What? Do you see someone?” Nia whispered, resting her hand on Whiskey’s shoulder and craning her head to see into the room. The rows of folded chairs still sat in the bed between the entrance and the stage at the back. The screen was still down. She couldn’t see anybody inside.
“Listen.” Whiskey muttered back, quietly unscrewing her flask and taking another swig.
Nia closed her eyes and focused on listening. Little to no light or sound reached the depths of the observatory from the outside world. There was a fan on somewhere in the building. She dimly remembered there being air conditioning in the worker’s corridor where she had met the cleaner. Oh god, that cleaner was still in here somewhere.
“There are civilians here.” Nia softly spoke, turning her head slightly to face Kaiser as she spoke. “We need to make sure that they aren’t hurt.”
She slid past Whiskey, entering into the auditorium hall and walking down a few rows of seats. As she lined herself with the staircase that led to the worker’s wings, she saw a glint of light reflecting off of a lens, then a bullet whizzed past her head, puncturing the soft cushion of a seat behind her. Nia dove for cover. As soon as the first shot ringed through the auditorium, hell broke loose. The blaring light of gunfire illuminated the stairwells that led to the worker’s wings as bullets obliterated the quiet in the observatory.
Nia crawled underneath a row of seats, patting her ear and over her chest to check for any wounds. She hadn’t been hit. Fishing through her jacket pockets, she cursed at herself for not bringing any knives out with her. Underneath the currents of gunfire, she heard the hum of a resonance flaring to life. It sounded fraternal and messy, like the warm chorus of a sailor’s song. The gun-song came to a thundering halt as a vermillion light tore overhead and a heavy explosion roared through the hall.
Perking her head up from her temporary cover, Nia’s face froze. A brilliant flame had flowered at the top of the western stairwell. She started blinking rapidly. Each time Nia closed her eyes, she saw the silhouettes of burning buildings, blazing trees, blackened hands blossoming from the rubble of collapsed buildings. The ambush had stirred her to action, but as she stared at the blaze, she felt the first droplets of sweat start to form at her back.
Another streak of flames screamed into life at the eastern wing. Nia traced her eyes back to its source, where she saw Whiskey taking another drink from her flask.
Kaiser raced towards her, crouching low to check her over for a moment. “You’re not dead, right?” He clicked twice in front of her face, dragging Nia’s attention to him.
“Huh? No, no, I’m fine.” Nia pulled herself to her feet.
Whiskey craned her head to look past the screen on the stage. “You okay, Nia?” She called as she steadily walked to the centre of the room, spitting a pre-emptive fireball at the western stairs. Each one Whiskey launched looked like a firework as it flew through the air, a glowing sphere with a trail of light behind it. The second they hit the stairs they exploded. Even in the centre of the room, as far from the flames as she could get, Nia could smell the honeyed scent that clung to the fire.
As Nia nodded to Whiskey, her ears perked up. It was distant and quiet, drowned out by the crackle of flame, but she could hear the hum of another resonance. She looked to Kaiser, who was exploiting the temporary reprieve by fishing a bullet out from the cushion of the seat. As he examined it, he turned to his companions.
“Slugs. Shotgun, gotta be. Look, those rounds penetrated stone, large caliber, rifles.” He pointed to a backing wall as he spoke.
“Is that you?” Nia questioned.
Kaiser looked around in confusion for a second. “Is what me?”
Far above the trio, the glass window of the projector room shattered. Dozens of sharpened shards of ice flew through the air, emanating from the hands of a silhouetted figure stood in front of the projector above. Nia took shelter behind another row of chairs. Kaiser tilted his head to the side, letting the attack pass him by. Whiskey alone went on the offensive. Puffing her chest up and taking a deep breath in, she spat another ball of flames at the shattered window. The figure retreated deeper into the room. Nia could only make out the flash of light and the crackle of flames.
In the time that Whiskey had taken to address the new tuner, the ball of flames walling off the shooters in the eastern-wing had died down. Kaiser tackled her to the ground as another volley of gunfire poured out of the stairwell.
“Persistent fuckers, huh?” Whiskey smiled at Kaiser as she lay on top of him. “Thanks.” She rolled off of his chest, letting him shuffle a little closer to the chairs.
“Yeah, don't sweat it.” Kaiser pressed himself low. “Two or three on each wing I'd wager, another tuner upstairs.”
From the ground, Nia watched the fires in the projector room wilt and fade away nearly as quickly as they had arrived. Frost and steam spread around the ridge of the shattered window frame. The silhouette appeared again, accompanied by the hum that had previously preceded their resonance’s activation.
“Whiskey, up top!” Nia called, nodding to the window.
Whiskey poured another drink from her flask into her mouth, tilting her head off of the ground to aid in swallowing it before arching her back and facing up to the window. Her shanty resonance sounded out, and another ball of fire intercepted the blades of ice that were forming in the air above them. The projector room was drowned in flames again.
As Nia pressed her belly to the floor, she watched Whiskey pre-emptively down another shot, gearing up to counter another volley of ice from above. One resonance made fire, the other made ice. It seemed pretty obvious that Whiskey would have the advantage.
Nia started to count, waiting for the next volley. One, two, three, four. As the next storm of frozen weapons rained down, Whiskey released another shot. Steam from the rapidly boiled ice was starting to hang in the air around them.
One, two, three, four… Whiskey knocked back another drink, racing to counter the next volley. One or two chunks of ice sprayed against the floor this time; Nia saw a particularly sharp piece stab into the cushion of a nearby chair.
“This isn’t going to last!” Nia called out to Whiskey, crawling across the ground beneath the firing lines above her as she moved towards the blade of ice.
Whiskey didn’t reply. She slugged her next shot, face turning pale before spitting another fireball. The flames burst to life nearly immediately as they collided with the falling ice, mere feet above the prone tuners.
Nia reached the chair with the shard of ice buried in it and poked her head up as she tried to grab it. A well-placed bullet slashed across her forearm, opening a cut that immediately started to bleed, but she gritted her teeth and dragged the blade out of the chair.
Laying back down, she turned her attention to the window and waited. One, two, three, four. Ice fell. Fire raced up to meet it. The ever-thickening cloud of steam descended further. Tentatively, Nia reached a hand up into the fog. Despite the sounds of bullets overhead, none of them travelled near her. Reaching a little higher, she grimaced, expecting a bullet to hit her.
Nothing. They couldn’t see her.
Spinning the shard of ice in her hand, Nia took her best guess and aimed at where she hoped the tuner would be. Her Resonance hummed to life once again, force building between her and the ice. One, two, three. She shot a count early, her makeshift weapon rocketing into the steam. Above her, she heard a woman scream, then saw the arc of a flame travelling up and into the room.
With her opponent’s timing thrown off, Nia lurched to life and stood up, relying on the steam to cover her. Having crawled so far in, she couldn’t see either Kaiser or Whiskey, but Sil had taught her better than to miss a good opportunity by waiting for committee. She tore the seat off of the previously slashed chair, sitting it on the floor and squatting on it. “Fuck it, I’m gonna deal with this tuner!”
“That’s too dangerous!” Whiskey called back from the steam. Nia heard her, but as she saw a splatter of blood hit the ground from above, she gritted her teeth and channelled her resonance.
When Nia first figured out that she could use Gravity Well to pull something, she had assumed it was a pointless quirk of the resonance, a blunder made by a little girl who hadn’t clocked that if you could touch something, you probably didn’t need it to be any closer to you. She knew better now. The detached chair seat beneath her screamed as her resonance lifted it off of the ground and flung it into the air. Nia held her breath as it carried her off of the ground and into the air, the steam whipped past her face.
As soon as she saw the vague impression of a figure behind the veil, she kicked off with all her force, leaping from her makeshift platform and barrelling through the empty window frame of the projector room. As soon as her weight left the seat, it whizzed into the ceiling. Feather stuffing swirled and danced in the falling mist behind her.
Quickly scanning the room, Nia struggled to parse any details through the mist and smoke. The fires had been extinguished, and the door to the second-story corridor was open. Nia bolted out into the warm lighting of the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. There was nobody there. She whipped her head between each side, trying to figure out where the tuner would have gone.
“Fuck it.” She took off towards the library. On the ground floor, two stories below her, she heard Whiskey’s resonance detonate once more. At the very least, the two of them would be able to tackle the gunmen without this tuner raining down ice from above.
Nia spun around the corner and barged into the library. The room looked untouched, just as she had left it. Stood by the far door, with a pistol in his hand, a dark-haired man craned his head down the stairs towards the worker’s wings. He wore a cheap, blue shirt and a rain-mac, which he had opted to sling over his shoulders as opposed to putting his arms through the sleeves.
As Nia entered the room, he flicked his eyes to her, looked away, then looked back in shock. Both of them stared at each other in an awkward moment of confusion, then the man sprung to action.
He he whipped his gun towards Nia, a resonant hum emerged, and his right arm dissolved into teeming hundreds of horned beetles. Nia rolled, getting behind the large table in the centre of the room as his pistol cracked and released two bullets. The first clattered harmlessly into the far wall, while the second shattered the back of the nearest chair.
Nia peeked up from behind the table, then ducked down again to avoid the third shot. Pressing her palms to its surface, she readied herself to activate her resonance. The force started building around her palms and the hum began to intensify, but before she could fire it off, a powerful swarm of black bugs rushed across the ground and slammed into her chest, pushing her away from her cover and into the nearest bookshelf.
Nia gasped in pain as her back collided with the swarm. Looking over at the man, she saw him leaning against the wall, his right leg and much of his torso had vanished, while the swarm of insects had nearly tripled in size. Each beetle moved in a synchronised harmony, pooling around the floor and climbing atop one another to form a blunt spike that jutted into her stomach and held her in place against the bookshelf, even cracking the wooden case behind her.
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As Nia watched the man, she saw his collarbone and part of his neck dissolve, breaking down to join the swarm. She had braced her arm against her chest when the swarm first pinned her, but she could feel the pressure mounting higher as the additional insects reinforced the vice like pin. Each time she exhaled, the pressure grew stronger and stronger, further adding to the challenge of her next breath in. A woozy feeling started to overtake her. He was going to suffocate her to death.
As Nia pushed to free herself from her restraints, a mad grin started to form over her face. Things summoned by resonances were usually far stronger than their natural counterpart, sure, but this kind of strength? It wouldn’t be possible without a heavy restriction built into it.
Looking down, Nia noticed a small pool of dead beetles building around her feet, crushed by the swarm behind them. She flicked her eyes over to the man, and saw him wincing in pain as he exerted his ability. At first, Nia chalked his pained expression up to the missing body parts. His arm, his leg, and a part of his neck had vanished. Underneath his shirt, it even seemed as though bits of his torso had gone missing. Then again, if that was really dealing some kind of damage to him, it would more likely just have killed him…
Shaking her head to free her eyes from the blurriness, Nia grabbed the nearest book, a thick tome. Lining it up with the pillar of beetles, she flared her resonance to life and shot the book straight through them. Those in the centre of the books path were obliterated instantly, while the hoards of beetles on the perimeter were split in part or crushed against their peers as the hardback projectile shoved them aside. The man screamed in pain, and Nia’s took a deep breath in as the air flooded back into her lungs.
As the book hit the floor, it wiped out the pool of beetles that held up the pillar, causing the rest to fall to the ground, dropping Nia to the floor. Coughing, a thin line of blood splattered down her cheek, but she took off like a rocket, running straight towards the man, vaulting high to tear over the top of the table that obstructed her warpath.
“Hurts, huh!?” Nia called out as she leapt off of the table. Behind her, the surviving beetles raced to return to their source. Those nearest to the man reached him before Nia could jump upon him. Each crawled up his body, melding seamlessly back into flesh as soon as they found a place. The man prioritised the reconstitution of his right leg. As soon as his foot emerged from the leg of his trousers, he took his left arm off of the wall. No longer needing it to steady himself, he whipped his pistol towards Nia, who was hurtling towards him at a breakneck pace, and lined up a shot.
Before he could pull the trigger, Nia stomped on a nearby cluster of beetles. The man’s eyes widened immediately and another gasp of pain escaped him. In the crucial moments of distracted agony, Nia reached him. Rearing her fist back, she launched a vicious hook into the exposed part of the man’s torso. His shoulder twisted instinctually, as though he was trying to block the attack with an arm that he had yet to reconstitute. He had no means of shielding himself. As soon as Nia’s attack landed, she regretted it. Her hand tore straight through the fabric of his shirt, slick blood coated it, and she felt her fist make contact with his ribs nearly immediately. Her opponent buckled and collapsed, the remaining beetles falling still as he hit the ground.
Nia pulled her arm out of him with an awkward twist as he fell. Her sleeve was coated in gore and dead insects. “Come on! Bring the rest of them back in! You can still fix yourself!” She knelt down beside the man. His chest was quivering and his mouth was rapidly opening and closing, though no words escaped him. The beetles slowly crawled to his side. Racing to action, Nia scooped up a handful of bugs and pressed them into his now bleeding wounds, watching them slowly patch up a hole that she her punch had torn in his lung. The man gasped for air, his hand shooting to his throat. Weakly, he turned his head to Nia. Kneeling next to him, she could see the calling cards of a life in the Slouch. The first twinges of jaundice were taking root in the man’s face, inside his gasping jaw, she could see a few missing teeth.
“Stay down.” Nia continued dredging up whatever live beetles she could, patting them against the man’s wounds like she was reinforcing a sandcastle. “Why the fuck would you make a resonance like this? You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
The man said nothing while Nia supported him. The sheer volume of his swarm that had been crushed, either by his attacks or Nia’s, had left him unable to source the materials needed to rebuild his arm. Instead, he settled for restoring his torso and neck, creating a seamless layer of flesh skin over what had been exposed organs mere minutes before. Sitting up, the man looked down at the empty space where his right arm used to be. Taking his collar, Nia dragged him to the wall.
Fishing in her pockets, she pulled out her handcuffs – “Fuck!” – she had given them to Kaiser to restrain the gunner outside. Nia looked down at the man, then grabbed the collar of his shirt and started dragging him to the wall.
Leaving him slumped against a nearby bookcase, Nia moved and squatted before him. “Your Resonance, you feel whatever the beetles feel, right? That’s a pretty major weakness, especially if you’re already giving up body parts to make it work…”
Another of Whiskey’s fireballs echoed through the observatory below, snapping Nia out of her curiosity. “Regardless, you’re under arrest for attempted murder. Where’s the other tuner?”
The man stared daggers at Nia through his brow, then formed his face into a slight grin. “Which ‘other tuner?’”
As the words left his mouth, a thin layer of unease overtook Nia. She knew that whoever was making that ice had already been in a protracted contest with Whiskey, and that they’d at least been wounded by the knife that Nia had launched earlier. She had managed to immobilise the man before her with a single use of her resonance, but after launching the ice knife and then carrying herself up to the second floor with the broken chair, she only had one use left…
Pushing past the concern, she narrowed her eyes and growled at her captive. “Tell me where they are.”
A shaky but spiteful voice called from the doorway that Nia had entered the library through. “I’m right here.”
Nia whipped her head around to see a bald woman with tearstained eyes and a vertical cut running from her chin to her temple, a tattoo of a Crane atop her scalp. Her announcement was accompanied by the familiar hum of the ice-user’s resonance. Nia rolled instinctively as a series of sharp icicles crashed into the ground between her and her new captive.
Wounded and tired, Nia had no interest in a protracted battle. Snatching a sharp blade of ice before it shattered against the hardened floor, she grit her teeth and pushed past the pain of a new cut opening across her palm. Reaching her arm back, she lobbed the ice blade towards the woman, letting her resonance flare to life for a fourth, and final time.
The tattooed woman had no time to react. Before she could even put her arms in the way, the blade shot away from Nia’s hand and stabbed straight into the woman’s shoulder. The force tore her off of her feet, dragging her through the air as the ice caught on a dense part of her collarbone. The screaming tore out of her like a bat out of hell as the ice embedded itself into the bookcase behind her. She didn’t stay conscious for long. Nia heard her head crack against the stone, lolling forward idly before the ice shattered under the force of Nia’s resonance, dropping the unconscious woman to the ground.
Before she had even hit the floor, Nia was racing over to her side. The firefight downstairs had grown louder. Whatever Whiskey and Kaiser were doing, they were certainly gaining ground. Moving the woman into the recovery position, Nia checked for a pulse, finding a vein on the woman’s neck. She was still alive, but she was bleeding a lot. Nia’s knees were soaked in it, with small fragments of reddened ice clinging to her trousers.
“Oh fuck… Oh fuck…” Nia felt the back of the woman’s head, her fingers coming away slick and red. Why didn’t she just surrender? There was so much blood. Nia’s breath quickened as the honeyed scent of Whiskey’s fire wafted up the stairs of the worker’s wings and into the library. She had sat classes on medical care. Why couldn’t she remember what to do? Tearing her jacket off, Nia pressed the blue fabric into the wound on the woman’s shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding.
“Whiskey! I need—” Nia’s cry for help was cut short as she heard footsteps crunching over the shattered ice by the man she had just bested. Turning around, she saw a third figure. Standing over his fallen comrades was a tall, imposing man with a Crane tattoo spread across his bare chest. A pair of brass knuckle dusters clung to his fists, and his eyes were obscured by tinted shades. He wore his hair in a military cut, buzzed down until it was little more than a dark fuzz that coated the top of his head.
“Where the fuck do you keep coming from?” Nia forced out a strained grin as she stood up, turning to face the man. “Look around you. He nearly died, she still might. Do the smart thing; lay down and put your hands on your head.” Nia punctuated her threat, stepping closer to the man and pointing to his downed comrades.
For a moment, hope sparked in her chest as she watched the man study his two companions. It died as soon as he turned his attention back to her. His smooth and low voice seemed like an ill-fit for his thuggish appearance, but he made no attempt at kindness as he spoke. “You’re full of shit. Put ‘em up.”
Nia grimaced at his challenge. Whiskey and Kaiser were close, but they weren’t here yet. By the sounds of the gunshots downstairs, they were still occupied with the Cranes below. Could she run? If she made a break for it, she could probably get to the projector room before he caught her… She’d have to jump from the window. What if he didn’t chase her? What if he ambushed the others while they fought? Could she fight him? She had gassed out her Resonance. The adrenaline had done a lot to numb her pain, but she’d been shot in the forearm and crushed against a bookcase… She was in no position to fight…
Nia spat on the ground, took a deep breath and stared the man down. “Fuck it.” She sprinted towards him, drawing out every last ounce of strength that she had and throwing her heaviest punch. It didn’t even reach him.
As the cool brass of the knuckle duster collided with her temple, Nia's world went dark.
- - -
“That’s too dangerous!” Whiskey called back from the steam. Nia must not have heard her over the sound of gunfire. The next thing Whiskey heard was the sound of displaced air and the metal frame of an auditorium seat buckling against the ceiling.
“For fucks sake!” Whiskey shot up, taking a long gulp from her flask and spitting a fireball at the western stairwell. “She’s gone off alone! Kaiser, we’re going up the east wing, lets catch her up.”
Whiskey heard a grunt of approval and saw Kaiser’s silhouette shoot over the bullet-riddled seats of the auditorium floor as he made a break through the thick steam towards the stairs. Whiskey ran to keep up with him, turning only occasionally to spit another fireball towards the far stairwell, preventing any shooters from pursuing them.
Another swig, another fireball. Whiskey aimed up the eastern stairs, sending the blast careening into the worker’s wing. She heard screams of pain and saw silhouettes fleeing against the backdrop of the honeyed fire. The duo burst into the corridor. Kaiser acted first, ducking behind a nearby filing cabinet. As Whiskey followed him, a wave of dizziness hit her. Woozy, she wobbled amongst the fading fire of her resonance before Kaiser grabbed her arm and dragged her behind cover. The patter of bullets against the metal floor chased her, cutting through the air in her wake as she stumbled to safety.
Whiskey flashed Kaiser a lopsided grin, her eyes lidded and heavy. “Thanks!”
“You’re drunk.” Kaiser nodded at Whiskey, then turned his head into the corridor for a split second, yanking it back to cover as the shooting continued. “How many drinks have you had by now?”
“Lucky thirteeeen!” Whiskey chuckled as she pressed herself against the wall, sliding down it and resting her head in her hands. “’M fine, just need a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute.” Kaiser retorted matter-of-factly. Turning his attention down the corridor once more, Whiskey saw an annoyed look forming over his face. Slowly, the hum of his resonance started to come to life.
“Hey! Can it.” Whiskey grabbed the hem of his hoodie, pulling herself off of the floor. “Don show’em both of our resonances. I gottit.”
“Only thing you have is a steep tab.” Kaiser fixed Whiskey with a hard stare, offering her a hand which gets beat away as the woman shakily pulls herself to her feet.
Whiskey’s resonance sounded like merriment, like camaraderie and cheer. As she stood, a new sound started to emerge. Droning hums and discordant groans filled the eastern wing, and the colour started to return to Whiskey’s face. Kaiser narrowed his eyes, holding his temple in his hand for a moment before shaking his head. Kaiser refocused on the firing pattern, waiting for the moment when the shooters would need to reload. As the drone of Whiskey’s technique carried on, he saw the marks on the floor and wall left by the gunfire fade, having to intentionally keep his eyes on them else they'd fall into his peripheral vision.
Behind him, Whiskey stood up, fresh faced and grinning. “See? All better. How are you holding up, big fella?”
"Like I'm lighting a cig after a few shots." Kaiser narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his companion, who rewarded him with a sultry wink.
“You've had more than a few, so have they.” She nodded down the corridor. When Kaiser’s narrowed eyes turned to incredulous disbelief, Whiskey shrugged. “What? You think I got three stars by finishing every operation piss drunk?”
“Just thank your luck I can outdrink you.” Kaiser didn’t wait for the golden girl to retort due to the dimming gunfire.
Immediately, he sprinted out from behind his cover. The men at the end of the corridor were struggling to pull the large, drum magazines out of their rifles. Kaiser bore down on the first man immediately, Stomping on the side of the Crane’s knee, Kaiser forced him to kneel, then grabbed his head and slammed his own knee into the man’s nose. Not quick to let him recover, Kaiser raised his leg high and dropped it in a brutal, axe-like swing, crushing the man’s face and leaving him unconscious on the floor.
Behind him, he heard a magazine and a few bullets fall to the floor. Turning around, he saw the second shooter stumble to pick up his dropped ammunition. Sparing no time for fancy movements, Kaiser brought his foot back and kicked the man as hard as he could in his face. The rifle fell to the floor. It’s owner dropped like a sack of stones.
As Kaiser finished immobilising the shooters in the corridor, Whiskey heard hurried footsteps chasing through the steam in the auditorium below. Uncorking a second flask, she took two big gulps then spat a large fireball straight down the stairs, walling off the shooters that they had previously trapped within the western-wing of the building. She took off down the corridor, rushing to catch up to Kaiser.
“They’re gonna break through in a minute.” Whiskey nodded towards the door. “We need to get Nia and reposition. Can you go find her while I hold these dickheads off?” Whiskey launched another fireball down the corridor, expertly clipping the corner of the stairwell. A few men screamed, but she paid them no mind.
“Nah.” Kaiser shook his head, walking past Whiskey.
“The fuck you mean ‘nah?’” Whiskey widened her eyes in confusion.
“Go get Nia and deal with the ice fella. I’ve got this lot. They're small fries, distractions for what's actually happening here, I'll be fine.” Kaiser nodded down the corridor, pointing at the fading flames.
“You sure?” Whiskey tilted her head.
Kaiser looked back, a slight smirk on his face. "If I'm wrong I'll get your tab."
Before Whiskey could respond, up above her she heard some heavy object crash into the wall and a woman scream in agony.
“Okay, fuck it, you better be sure.”
As Whiskey took off to the third floor of the observatory, she turned her head only once. Kaiser was walking towards the stairwell, just around the corner from the group who had been firing on them since they entered the building. His resonance was preceded by a mournful solo, a high-pitched voice singing in memoriam. Black smoke pooled around his feet, dredging up into the air behind him. As Whiskey turned and left, a rotten eye opened to observe her absence.
