෴Raz෴

෴Hex෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Promise

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Raz whipped his head toward the sound and raked his gaze over the area for the threat, dropping into the slow time as he prepared to unleash white fire.

He realized the sound had come from a middle-aged woman rolling over in her bunk in time to avoid any unfortunate actions.

Get a hold of yourself, man! Know your target and what’s beyond it!

Raz took a deep breath as the woman opened her eyes.

“Good evening. Take whichever bunk you like.” She closed her eyes.

Hex pointed to the sensing device on her forearm and nodded. “Are you Dr. Nicolette Stilt?” she ventured.

The woman muttered something under her breath so quiet even Raz couldn’t catch it, then took a long breath and sighed. “I guess I am. I just got comfy. Can it wait ‘til morning?”

Raz cleared his throat. “I’m honestly not sure it can. We have a message for you.”

She grunted. “Well, if it increases the chance of getting out of this madhouse, I’m all for it.” She sat up, revealing she was fully dressed under the blankets. “What’s the message?”

Raz pulled out the envelope and approached her. She flinched back when he got close. He read her unease and didn’t get too close. “Here's the message. He said it had become rather more urgent just since last night.”

He set the envelope down on the bunk next to hers. “I’ve agreed to wait a reasonable time for your reply, and take it back with me.”

She laughed, a harsh barking sound. “Good luck with that. The soldiers won't let you leave. They’re good kids, or they were. Most of them are off their rockers at this point. The Incursion grew, and changed recently. It started emitting something a few days ago. The instruments don’t pick it up, but anyone can feel it. It’s doing something to them. They’re a disciplined, well-trained bunch, but they're falling apart.”

She accepted the envelope. “Brock!?” she exclaimed. “Oh thank god.”

Tearing into the envelope, she started reading the letter.

Raz spotted an unused double bunk across the room that was a little ways off from the other singles. It looked far enough from Dr. Stilt to allow them some privacy. He set the case on the floor below the bunk and sat down on the bed. Hex joined him, and soon they had snuggled up and leaned back against the wall.

“I just woke up a few hours ago, and then I had a nap! It feels like mid-morning, not the middle of the night. So I don’t see much sleep in my near future. I don’t know how all this teleporting around doesn't give you the worst jet lag.” Raz whispered to Hex.

She made a soft chuckle in the back of her throat. “I’ve gotten good at sleeping when I’m tired, or when I should be asleep. But really, my secret is keeping as much of me as possible in close time zones. An hour or two off is no biggy, half the planet away makes me have a bad time.”

She shifted around until she was laying her head on his lap. “Ten to fifteen hours ahead is hard to deal with if I have to stay there. Usually, it doesn't matter, I’m just there to do something, then I’m out. No jet lag because I’m not trying to adjust to local times.”

He laid one arm across her. “I want to hear all about your adventures sometime.”

She smiled up at him. “You might have the wrong idea about me. I’m not an adventurer or anything. I’ve kept away from the fieldwork with WD40 until very recently, when this guy I know got himself in trouble.”

He laughed. “I get it, but there is obviously more to your story. I heard what those people, the parents of your instructor? Said to you. They called you the medicine woman army, and said something about a miracle. That sounds like an adventure to me.”

Her eyes darkened as her smile turned into a tight, pinched frown. “That—That was a tough time. I’m glad I could help those people, but I sometimes still have nightmares about those days.”

Raz glanced around the room, confirming that Dr. Stilt was still reading the letter, and they were still otherwise alone. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m here for you. Tell me whatever you want to share, I’ll just listen.”

She closed her eyes. “I think I’d like that. But it’s hard to explain. Maybe impossible. I was still new to my abilities. Midnight had helped me get stabilized, but I was—I wasn’t all that good with them, and I hadn’t had some of the breakthroughs I’ve had since then that made my life easier.”

Raz sat there in silence for several long minutes. Her breathing slowed and became more regular. Just when he was nearly sure she’d dozed off, she started her story.

She told him how she’d met her martial arts instructor while working as a one-woman smuggling ring of lightweight aid items, moving needed goods in and out of the interdicted war-torn areas of the world.

“The main thing that was different that day, was the sheer quantity of medicine they needed to get to this village. This was nothing I could just toss in a backpack. It was crates of medical supplies and IV bags of medicine, I don’t recall the name. I couldn't teleport as nearly as far, or carry as much, back then. I don’t know if it was just me being a white person or because I was a stranger, or what, but every one of the soldiers that spotted me shot at me right away. It was like the worst game of tag ever. I could barely move the crates, so I’d teleport, then carry it as far as I could, then teleport again. I got killed and hurt a lot that day.”

She paused again, opening and closing her mouth several times as though unsure what to say next. “I’m not good at telling what happened. I managed to get the medicine there, but it was terrifying, and hard. One of the worst days of my life. Like I said before, I’m glad to have done it, and I’d do it again. But nothing I can say really captures what it’s like to choke to death on your own blood, or step on a land mine and survive, and then release the aspect, teleport back, and hope I don’t get killed again. I know in my head that an aspect dying isn’t the end of the world, but when it’s happening, it’s just as terrifying and horrible for me as anyone. Even knowing I’ll be ok, there’s just something viscerally disturbing about knowing you’re dying.”

She pursed her lips, eyes still closed. “Actually, maybe I’m not up to any more talking about that. How about another topic?” she whispered.

Not an adventurer, sure. You glossed over the details, but I can tell you’ve got a lot more stories like that when you care to share them.

Struck by an upswell of love, affection, and a surge of protectiveness for her, Raz pulled her in tight and held her there for several seconds before he trusted himself to speak. “Never again! I’m not going to let that happen to you anymore! I’ll protect you no matter what it takes.” His voice broke and he had to swallow a few times before continuing. “I’m getting stronger as fast as I can. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

She smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. “You’re silly. It might suck but losing an aspect is way less permanent than losing you.” She smiled and sighed happily. “But, I can’t deny it, I love hearing that. I like the idea of not always having to be the one everyone is counting on. Feels like a weight off my neck.”

He drew a line along her jaw with a fingertip. “Good. You deserve to have someone looking out for you. I’m still going to be counting on you, but you’re not expendable, and I’m not going to let you die!”

His fierce tone took her aback. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m not really in any danger though. So you can relax babe.” she turned her head to kiss his hand.

You don’t know that!

“I’m serious. I’m going to protect you no matter what. You’ve already died too much, too many times. As far as I’m concerned, never again.”

She smiled, but then looked up at him with a deadly serious expression. “Babe, I love you so much. I can’t even tell you how great that is to hear. But, I need you to promise me that if we’re ever in a situation where I can save you by sacrificing an aspect, you won't stop to argue, or make that sacrifice a waste by not leaving me to do what I can. I’m glad you don’t see me as expendable, but compared to you, in the sense of any single aspect, I am expendable.”

Not if I can help it.

He leaned down and kissed her deeply. “You know I hate that scene in movies, with the big ‘heroic self-sacrifice because there’s no time for anything else’, and then everyone wants to turn it into a debate, and they spend so much time arguing that they probably actually could have done something else.”

She pulled him down for another kiss and ran her fingers through his beard. “You’re turning into such a mountain man! You really need to get this thing under control, get a trim at least.” Her gaze turned serious again. “I mean it. I want your word. I need to hear you promise that you’ll let me protect you if it comes to that.”

A half-formed thought about his recent nightmare crossed his mind. Raz clenched his jaw tightly then forced himself to relax. “Ok, I’ll promise that. I’ll give you my solemn word of honor. You know I take a promise seriously. But I’ll only give you that promise if you make the same promise to me.”

She started to shake her head in disagreement but stopped when she realized how serious he was. “Babe, I’m pretty hard to do any real damage to. If I lose an aspect I can come back. I can’t just make that—”

He gently cut her off with a fingertip over her lips, “Honey, you don’t know that. You can’t know that. In all the world, there are probably abilities that can shut you down, that wouldn't affect me. So if it comes to that, or however the situation unfolds, if you want my promise, you need to give me yours.”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “Besides, you’re much better at getting reinforcements than I am.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for nearly a minute before she nodded. “Ok, I promise,” she whispered.

“Good. Me too. Now let's try to make sure that we don't ever need to worry about that.”

“You’re reminding me of the day I knew I was hopelessly, endlessly, completely wrecked over you,” she murmured.

“What do you mean? Was it when you caught a glimpse of me in my cuffed leather boots, mysteriously tight pantaloons, a shirt strategically both 2 sizes too small, and somehow opened to show off my six-pack killer abs?” He asked matter of factly.

“What are you even talking about?” She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Hmm, Yes, I can see how that wouldn’t narrow things down enough. I believe I had a pair of swords on my back, and I was at the helm of a ship at the time.” he continued.

She snorted. “Are you describing a romance novel cover?”

“Why?” he smirked down at her. “Are you starting to feel romantic?”

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. “You wish. But I’ll admit you’re making a good start on that whole long flowing locks of hair thing that romance novel guys always seem to have going on.” She gave his hair a gentle tug. “The reddish blonde roots are a weird look though. But no. Outside of your fantasy land, there was no moment of love at first sight.”

He clutched at his chest. “You wound me! I was sure you took one look at my chiseled jaw and rippling muscles and were forever ruined for all other men.”

She shook her head, “Oh please, ego much?” she saw something behind his flippant grin, and her tone went serious. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll admit that I always thought you were good-looking, and lately you’re really moving into that slightly disheveled caveman hotty territory.”

What does that even mean? You know what, just take the compliment.

“So if it wasn’t me doing my imaginary pirate cosplay, when was it that you found yourself so smitten?”

She stroked her fingers from his hair down along his jawline. “Do you remember that homeless guy you helped out?”

Where is she going with this?

“Which one?”

Her eyes widened. “There’s more than one?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Well, if the only criterion is—homeless guy I helped out—then yeah, there’s a lot more than one.”

She pulled him down for a kiss. “Now see, that's what I’m talking about! How is it I never heard about the others?”

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know, it always seemed like just something I could do, so I help when I can. I don’t like to bring attention to it. I was just doing the right thing.”

“That's what I mean! You’re too good fo—”

Across the room, Dr. Stilt cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt.”

“Then don't!” Hex whispered just loud enough for Raz to catch it.

The two reluctantly untangled from each other and sat up to talk with her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to tell you this reply might take a while. I’m not sure how you’ll get the message out of here, but you might as well get some rest while you wait if you can.” She said.

“Ok. I guess we’ll try and rest for a while.”

They both felt the mood had shifted, so they snuggled up on the slightly oversized bunk. Hex fell asleep within minutes. Raz couldn’t seem to relax and finally decided to get up. After carefully extricating himself from the bed without waking her, he went over to the dimly lit kitchen area with the aluminum-skinned case.

Thinking back to what Brock had said, he donned the gauntlets, then took a look at the other items in the case.

It was clear that the vambraces and arm and back armor would be required to attach the cestus, so Raz set the weapon aside and looked at the armor. The vambraces were segmented, articulated, plates of the same black material the armored gloves were made of. At the bottom of the ‘sleeves’ they wrapped around the gauntlet and socketed in tight. At first, the arm armor flopped around loosely. Once both sleeves were attached to the gloves the armor activated, shifting into position and aligning with his body.

[This gear is consuming a small amount of your energy.]

The C-shaped segments held tight to his arms, unmoving from their position despite nothing appearing to directly hold them in place. The broad back and shoulder plate rested against his back without appearing to attach anywhere, but it also remained tightly in place. He pushed at the armor to see if it would shift and expose his arm. He could slip a finger underneath it to scratch an itch, but when he tried to move it out of position, it resisted this movement strongly.

[The total energy consumed is still trivial, but your efforts at dislodging the armor are increasing the rate at which the armor drains your energy.]

Raz nodded to himself and engaged an energy refill procedure. As his energy topped up again, the armor started to emit a soft, almost subliminal hum.

[This equipment is draining your energy.]

Is it? Or is it just absorbing the extra? Brock said something about his gear having deep reserves. Maybe I just need to charge it up.

[That is possible.]

Well, let me know if you detect anything weird or bad happening.

The soft hum continued. With no change there, Raz left the regen process in place and turned his attention to the weapon.

The cestus was almost self-explanatory, and simply a much better version of other fist and unarmed style weapons he’d used in Braithwaite’s sick little games. Combined, it became an extra-heavy armored fist and forearm attached to a long sharp elbow blade with a secondary wicked stabbing point.

The cestus could be used on one hand, or split into two pieces to allow for a heavy striking and defensive hand and the other side being more offensive with the blade having available attachment methods to extend from his fist or elbow. The spike also protruded from the cestus elbow. It looked like it was built to punch holes through armor.

This is a really intricate system of movable parts. If I hadn’t already seen how durable it was, I’d be worried about it being overcomplicated and delicate.

[We need to determine how much energy this system needs and ensure your regen is up to the task.]

That shouldn't be too much of a problem should it? You can manage simultaneous multiple procedural chains now, so how about this. Unless there’s a reason not to, keep one of those running at all times. In fact, let's apply some logic. If I’m already full, use the fuel cell process, with as much or little of my body as the surface area as needed to stay full with only a little extra coming in. That way I won't get overfilled, but I’ll stay full up. If things start going sideways, or I end up using a lot of energy, shift to the fastest regen process.

There was a long pause.

Can you do it?

[Yes. I am codifying the logic and setting up what you might call ‘macros’ for this behavior so that it should work without requiring your attention.]

Perfect. That is exactly what I’m after. I’m going for a gentle upward pressure on my fuel tank, without blowing a gasket or whatever, and more importantly, I don’t want to reach for power and discover the tank is empty.

[I understand.]

So that will work? No sudden gotchas?

[Within reason and some limitations, it will be as though you ordered it at the time. I foresee no issues.]

That seemed almost too easy. I wonder what else I could do with a little self automation. I can’t decide if this is awesome or a little scary. Oh, can you apply Somatic Restoration if I get hurt?

[No. Well maybe. It has severe limitations regarding the requirements of knowledge to use it. Let me try something.]

The buzzing in his head droned on for several seconds.

[We won’t really know how good that is until it’s needed, so right now it will only happen if you are somehow unable to use Somatic Restoration yourself.]

Good plan, in that case, let’s also trigger active Recovery if I’m ever hurt and somehow incapacitated. It’s from your tree, so you have to be able to handle that.

[I can, it’s done.]

He practiced moving around in the light armor. The articulated segments followed his movements silently and without resistance. As he moved through slow katas with his eyes closed he opened his sensoria one sense at a time.

The sounds of the camp washed over him. Despite it being nighttime, it sounded like Hex and Dr. Stilt might be the only ones actually asleep in the camp. Focusing harder, he could hear the measured breathing of one other person who might have been sleeping. Several soldiers were exchanging improbable stories of past exploits. To the north, a pair of diesel generators idled along, near the guard towers. Somewhere away from the rest, Captain Davis was muttering a low stream of consciousness angry murmur directed at "the Major". The guard tower gunners were each handling their duty rotation differently. One of them was muttering to himself all the ways he’d like to kill someone he kept referring to as ‘Davy’ and the other was making periodic ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ sounds as though he were imagining firing the heavy machine gun out into the darkness. The third watchtower guard was reciting bible verses, while the fourth was muttering something that had the sound of rote memorization, in what sounded like Hebrew.

Shortly after opening his olfactory sensoria, Raz snapped it shut again. The sharp tang of an entire camp of men who’d gone far too long without a shower all but overshadowed the scent of gasoline and diesel, gunpowder, oil, glass, metal, sewage, and blood.

Blood? Hmm, pretty faint. I guess you can’t have this many people in a small area and no minor injuries.

He took several more long inhalations before deciding the blood scent was too minor to be concerned with and moved to the next sense.

I need a name for when I’m sensing white fire energy.

The new sense that came with white fire showed a camp sketched out by lines. To the north, two brightly glowing vortexes spun. Radiating out from them in lines were lit beams of energy, flowing and swirling out into the camp.

He continued his movements, only allowing the White Fire sense and his proprioception as practice. Soon he noticed that something felt a little off about his movements.

I feel weird. I know it’s going to sound dumb, but am I stronger, or maybe faster?

[As this armor absorbs more energy, it does appear to be enhancing several physical traits. The increase is minor at this time.]

Hmm. Starting to see why people pay so much for this gear, and why they would steal it. There are hidden depths here. Too bad it doesn't come with a manual.

Once Raz finished running through another kata, he decided to meditate for a few minutes. He detached then removed the armor pieces and stowed them in their shaped foam cutouts in the aluminum skinned case. As he put the last piece in, a small sheaf of papers came loose from where they’d been pressed between the side of the case and the padding. The loose pages appeared to be a brief manual. The brief summary at the front tantalized him with several promising sections to read up on.

I stand corrected! Need to make time to read this soon. If even half of these claims are true, they really are kind of a big deal.

He’d planned to meditate while working on his white fire control, but let out a yawn instead.

I suppose catching up on more rest wouldn't be the worst thing if I can fall asleep.

After sliding the brushed metal carrying case under the bed, he lay down next to Hex, listening to her soft breaths as he thought about what the next day would bring. Soon after he closed his eyes and slept.

*** *** ***

The sounds of wailing and muffled babies crying filled the air. The scent of blood, raw sewage, and infection smothered him. Raz looked around for a familiar face. He found two. Both his parents were laying in the ditches, looking up at him. He reached for their outstretched hands, but couldn't seem to bridge the gulf between him and the two of them.

“Why did you let me die?” His mother asked in a plaintive voice.

Raz tried to respond, but something in his throat made it impossible to speak.

His father shook his head in disappointment. “You had so much potential! You could have done anything! Why did you let us die without even trying to help? Now we’re just like them!” His father pointed at the miserable crowd around him.

The bloated, filthy faces surrounding him were all the same in that they showed nothing but pain and despair. A shrill whistle rang out, and the sound of flowing liquid surrounded him. What he’d thought were ditches in the ground were recessed troughs. A sickly sweet smell now competed with the other stenches of the flesh farm.

Raz dipped a finger into the trough of liquid. He smelled and then tasted it. A sweet, thin mixture of corn and grains in a sugary syrup.

Suddenly, he understood. Just as he realized what this was, a giant pair of talon-tipped hands hoisted him up and threw him onto a shoulder as though he were a small child. The tall figure walked away from the feeding lines at a leisurely pace that ate up the distance with long strides.

The scent of blood quickly became the dominant odor. Raz caught a glimpse of himself in a sheet of glossy metal. For a moment he didn’t realize he was seeing himself. It just looked like a human carrying a fattened piglet to slaughter.

Then he realized the piglet was him.

*** *** ***

Soft, almost subliminal sounds and a new scent that did not belong caused Raz to snap awake. The HUD informed him he’d been dozing for under an hour. He lay there, very still, all senses on alert. A moment and a few sniffs later the suspicion that had roused him was confirmed. He rolled over and gently put his hand over Hex’s mouth “Wake up.”

Her eyes popped open. He pulled his hand away from her face. “Something’s wrong.”

He rolled out of bed and crept over toward a window. The camp was quieter now. Within seconds of starting to listen, he realized he could no longer hear the tower guard reciting the bible or the one talking about ‘Davy’. Somewhere very faint and in the distance, he could hear the sound of two large diesel engines idling.

He looked to Hex, who was looking out the window at her rifle and shaking her head. “Sounds like two trucks, way out in the distance, and two of the guard towers have—”

The guard reciting something that sounded like hebrew was cut off with a choking gurgle. Raz looked at that tower. The guard was still standing at the heavy machine gun, silent, and very still. As he watched, a shadow detached from that tower and dropped to the ground. The landing was inaudible even with his sensoria wide open. The shadow paused and glanced around before creeping along the wall toward the final guard tower. Even as the figure passed through a weak beam of indirect light, it somehow remained a shadow.

“Scratch that. Three of four guard towers down. I can sort of see who’s doing it. Some kind of stealth ability. Might want to pop out there and get your weapon before things heat up.”

She shook her head. “No popping till daylight at the soonest. Hate those doors.”

Raz shared his perceptions with Hex. “How about now?”

She nodded once, then blinked to her rifle. At the weapon rack, she grabbed her rifle then picked up several small objects and stuffed them into her plate carrier pockets before teleporting back.

Raz noticed that in his peripheral vision. He’d kept the shadowy figure in view, for fear of losing it in the darkness. His fears turned out to be justified as he nearly lost sight of the creeping figure several times even looking right at it. Hex hurried back to the civilian sleeping area and swapped out her magazine in the rifle before she took aim from inside the room through the open window. The figure reached the ladder to the fourth tower.

“Even with a suppressor and subsonic rounds, this is going to be loud in here,” she warned, before pulling the trigger twice.

Outside the dorm-style sleeping area, the sound was like a pair of loud, sharp, coughs and small sonic cracks.

The shadowy figure was halfway up the ladder to the fourth guard tower when the first bullet hit center of mass with a sharp thump and a grunt from the target. The second bullet hit lower on the torso with a wet pop. The high-pitched scream followed by a thud were both louder out in the camp than the rifle shots.

Inside the civilian sleeping area, it was another story. The two hypersonic rounds were suppressed, but still quite loud for sounds in the middle of the night. Dr. Stilt startled awake and fell out of bed with a whimper.

Hex kept her eyes on the target while Raz looked around. “Target is down, no movement.”

Raz didn't see or hear anything, but something told him this sneaky type wouldn't be here alone. “I don’t hear anything, but the camp soldiers should be reacting to those shots and that scream if nothing else. We need to go.”

“What’s happening?” Dr. Stilt whispered, fear in her voice.

Raz and Hex both ignored her, scanning outside, trying to make sense of what the situation was.

Finally, Hex spoke. “I agree, if you can spot a safe path, we should bail. Anyone confident in attacking a US military outpost isn’t going to balk at killing some random civilians at the same time.”

“What’s happening out there?” Dr. Stilt asked again, sounding close to panic.

Raz leaned over to Hex. “Can you get her calmed down? I’ll keep an eye out.”

Hex handed Raz the rifle and crawled over to the cowering scientist. They started talking. Raz could easily hear it, but tuned them out in favor of any sounds from the camp. The camp outside had become very quiet.

This time, ‘too quiet’ is exactly right.

He turned away from the window and crawled over to the women. “Dr. Stilt—”

“It’s Ivaldison.” She interrupted.

“What?” He whispered furiously.

“Stilt is my maiden name. I only use it professionally. My legal name is—”

“Shut up,” Raz said flatly. “There is literally nothing less important you could have brought up at this moment. Beyond you being the recipient of the message, I don’t care what your name is. This place is falling or has fallen, if we run for the portal we might die. If we stay, our chances are worse, and our fate is in the hands of whoever is attacking."

He peered out the window into the growing darkness as lights went out in the camp. "We were going to wait for your reply, but as far as I’m concerned, you can give him the reply in person. This is now an extraction.”