Out on the street, I wandered a few blocks away from the center of the high-class area. I wasn't sure my agreement was wise, but short of a bloodbath or leaving a trail of mind-wiped zombies, I wasn't sure what else I could have done. The man was brazen as heck, and I was not sure he would have backed down, even if he was fully aware of what he was dealing with.

I paused to look up at the ever-present holographic glow that permeated the spaces around the airways that couldn't afford to pay for their airspace not to be cluttered. Here, it was toned down in the better part of town, almost artistic. There were animated scenes projected in the air, sculptures of light, and, of course, advertisements. They were relatively tasteful, but people were selling things to people. The only places in the city that lacked such scenery at night were areas zoned as residences, government-owned land, and of course, the Blight.

My eyes slid over the ads. After a year of living here, I almost didn't see them, but my sight did register one of the art displays that included a rather pretty display of the time. I frowned as I realized I had only about thirty minutes to get to the Tower Plaza. This led to a puzzle in logistics as I weighed the pros and cons of waiting for a taxi or walking. In my mind, I imagined the location of where I was and where Tower Plaza was, and my frown deepened. I was almost directly on the other side of the Blight.

A taxi would be much faster than me walking there, but who knows how long it would take to get here, and it certainly would not cut through the Blight. I knew my way around the Blight enough to find the little hole in the walls that had a few underground book businesses going. That should suffice. I usually didn't go there at night, but the identity I used had enough of a reputation to keep most of the unsavory groups away from me. It shouldn't be too long if I went in a straight line.

My decision was made for me as a security orb silently floated down from the airways and started to strobe red and blue in my face. “Excuse me, sir. Do you have authorization for this zone?”

Glancing at the featureless silver ball hovering in front of me, I shrugged. “I was just leaving.” I looked back at the way I had come. I had thought I had left the high-security area, but it didn't matter. I was wandering in the direction of the Blight anyway; I may as well continue. The orb trailed me as I finally left the affluent area. It eventually stopped and floated as a sentinel against roaming strangers. The lights from the cars above and the advertising light show gradually dimmed and went out as I reached the edge of the Blight. Picking up my pace, I hurried on.

This area at night was almost pitch black. Occasionally, some homeless people who hadn't set up within one of the plentiful abandoned buildings arranged a merry fire burning what they could find. Other than this, there was no light. No street light illuminated the area, no building dared draw attention to itself by having light shine through its windows, even if by some miracle it had electricity, and naturally, no cars flew overhead. I had expected some traffic. Perhaps the news of the gang with the missiles had scared off even the more intrepid civilians.

A few people in the darkened alley moved towards me. They must have recognized me in the moonlight because they stopped and slunk back behind the detritus. Still, I started to feel uneasy. I generally don't feel this way without a clear and present danger, so I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. The minor clairvoyance I had managed to develop didn't really give me flashes of future events, though if I force myself into a trance, I can sometimes see some traumatic events in my near future. It's generally not worth the effort. And, of course, there are always vague, unhelpful prophetic dreams. I’m not too fond of those. However, when the probabilities converge, I can tell that something will happen.

To be honest, it's more of a parlor trick, but it does make it hard to take me by surprise unless I am preoccupied or thinking about some puzzle I read of, or... well I suppose it is generally not that useful now that I think of it. However, this one time at least, I knew there was danger in the air.

Looking around, I examined the broken buildings and rubble around me more carefully, slowing my pace minutely to allow a thorough inspection. That was probably the reason I saw the gun barrel nosing out of a shattered window on the third floor a few hundred feet away. I snorted a bit. I had thought I had demonstrated to the people in the area that shooting me was a bad idea. Oh well. I channeled a tiny bit of energy and reached out. The fellow with the gun had none of the resistances a supernatural or a psionic might have, and I immediately got a nice hold of him and dragged him with a quick jerk out of the window, smashing the remains of the frame on the way. Once the flailing figure was outside, I simply let him go. A three-story drop probably wouldn't kill him.

I quickened my speed back to what it was. I was going to be late. As I walked past the crumpled figure, I checked his aura briefly to ensure he wouldn’t expire due to the fall and continued onward—minor bone breaks. The free clinic on the south edge of the Blight would have that healed in a day.

I was about to congratulate myself for only being ten minutes late when I heard a shriek and grunting noises. Frowning, I looked towards the makeshift barricades in the cracked pavement that marked the ad hoc edge of the Blight and looked over to the alley I heard the fighting. Crap. Okay, twenty minutes late isn't so bad, is it?

I trudged over to the corridor of darkness where sounds of violence wafted on the night air with a certain amount of sulking. I didn't hear any modern weapons or see flashes of plasma, so it seemed pretty low-key, whatever it was.

I walked into the alley and knew reality didn't match my expectations right away. A badly bruised man in rags lay at the entrance, and five more stood facing away from me that didn't appear to be dressed any better. Two of them looked like they had just picked themselves up from the floor and hadn't quite gotten the hang of standing yet. In front of them stood a blond woman dressed in a flowing rich blue gown. With lace. She was holding in one hand a lantern with a hologram of a flame in it. Kind of retro, but I thought it was odder to see an obvious well-to-do woman in the Blight rather than her lighting preferences.

I was in a bit of a hurry, so I stepped over the fallen one, got my foot under the fellow, and with a careful bit of acceleration, launched him twenty feet out of the alley. It was more of a boost than a kick; I had to be cautious with humans. Turning around again, I grabbed the two closest to me by the belts of their pants and pitched them out to the same area. By the time I turned around, the remaining three had figured something was up and were turning to face me. I grabbed one more by his jacket and threw him into the street before the final two finally tackled me. I let them grab me and then, while they tried to manhandle me, launched the first one into the air, then the other in quick succession. I may have heard someone's bones crack as I threw one away; however, it wasn't mine, so I ignored it.

I popped a force bubble on the pile of groaning people in the street and turned around to the woman. Without the milling people in front of her, I noticed that she was a bit more striking than I had first noted. The cloth was a silk variant, and she wore some sort of diadem in her hair to keep her blond tresses in their place. I don't pay much attention to fashion, so the feature that most caught my attention was the angular fine-boned cheeks and, of course, the pointed ears.

“Elves?” I muttered to myself in a bit of shock. “I didn't think this dimension had real elves.” My mind went into overdrive as I thought about that. My home had a few dwarves and elves. Mostly poor SOBs that got stuck in the wrong side of a random dimensional portal. Since the apocalypse, my old home has had problems with wild magic. Some side effect of billions of people dying at once. Although they were significantly longer-lived than humans, they weren't that different otherwise.

Still, I am sure I would have noticed some mention of real elves during the year I was here. I suddenly had manic visions of newspaper headlines proclaiming elven ambassadors from newly exposed enclaves full of magic-wielding pointy-eared mortals and... and myself utterly oblivious to this since I eschewed watching the news or even being associated with virtual reality media delivery.

I grabbed hold of the reins of my imagination. Jeremy would have mentioned it or forwarded me a holo clip. It was why I had him on retainer. I knew I could be terribly nearsighted, and it was literally his job to rub my face in things he knew would interest me. My brain finally slowed. All this meant was that other races besides shifters and vampires were hiding and hadn't come out of the shadows yet.

“Thank you, stranger, but I was not in any danger,” the woman calmly offered, nervously thumbing her necklace. Perhaps that lantern wasn't as high-tech as I thought. If these elves stayed hidden this long, chances were they were either just visiting or had some pretty skilled magic users. I had almost found my tongue again and was working on a response when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. The woman looked behind me and called out. “Ah, Sir Faramond, I am most glad...”

That was all I heard. I had turned at the sound of the stomping just in time to see a mountain-sized man in full body armor straight out of the 14th century. I am pretty hard to surprise, but I think my brain was saturated at this point because I didn't notice the usual clairvoyant warning as a fist the size of a ham rocketed towards my face and launched me through the wall.

I am sure I didn't blackout. It would take a ground zero pocket nuke to make me blackout... or at least it would have if the ambient energy levels were high enough. Let’s just say I blinked due to the agonizing feeling of having my face compressed by some hulking brute in armor seven centuries out of date, packing enough power to level Hiroshima for the third time. When I landed, I was weighed down by tons of rubble. Groaning, I levered the rocks and broken permacrete off me while activating my force field and gathering energy for my psi swords. I wasn't scared. Truth be told, I was a bit too shell-shocked to feel much of anything except the need not to get my ass kicked again.

I moved the last of the debris off me and saw I was in an alley. The wall behind me had collapsed, which was the material I was presently climbing out of. In front of me was a gaping hole that I could see another wall with a hole in it, and another after that. My vision was still not completely steady, and I had a lot of blood on my face and pooling in my eyes, but I think I counted three entire buildings with their respective interiors wholly demolished in a wide, straight-line path.

I was surprised to see the twenty-foot-wide openings... I almost expected to see a silhouette matching my own throughout the buildings like some cheap cartoon. I started to stagger through the ad hoc tunnels, gaining speed and stability as I went. By the time I passed the second building, I could see straight, and the pools of energy in my hands were beginning to elongate into my absurdly huge swords. I saw a particularly large dumpster that looked promising and dumped a large lump of energy to boost it into the air and have it follow me, wobbling at first but rapidly gaining speed.

By the time I broke into the original alley that was my starting point, my shock had worn off, and I was deep into a delightful haze of anger that was doing an excellent job of covering up the pain in my face. The mad knight was still there and seemed to be vehemently arguing with the elf. There was definitely shouting and hand-waving.

I didn't pay much attention to the details since I was focused on delivering a payload of pain. My entrance drew the attention of both of them. The woman was still waving her arms, and my giant glowing swords must have somewhat threatened the brutish fellow because he pulled out his own sword that was about the same size. It seemed much smaller compared to his body mass.

I ran towards him, and he brought his sword to a guard position. Just before I reached him, I hit the ground flat. I have to say seeing his puzzled expression through his helmet slits was satisfying just before the dumpster sailed over me and barreled into him. The entire mass swept him off his feet and carried him through the wall behind him.

While he was doing his train wreck imitation, I noticed another dilapidated dumpster available in this alley and telekinetically grabbed hold of it and started to raise it straight up. I didn't have much hope of the dumpsters doing much damage. I knew he was a major supernatural entity from the damage this guy had done to my face. The walls I had been blown through were negligible compared to the initial impact. Doubtless, he was at least as durable as myself. Likely only my fists and swords would do much more than knock him around.

The woman was still yelling in my ear, which is very distracting when trying to focus on beating the crap out of someone. I was doing my best to ignore her when she stepped in front of me.

“Lady, you don't want to be there,” I coughed around my swollen lips. I started to sidestep to get a clear shot at the opening I punted the dark knight through.

“Stop fighting,” the elf shrieked. “It was a terrible accident!”

“Of course it was,” I responded, my voice sounding calm. “Just like it's going to be a terrible accident when I shove my sword up his tin-plated ass and make his eyes glow purple.” Okay, so maybe I had a bit of pent-up hostility.

“He thought you were one of my attackers and naturally took offense,” the lady frantically exclaimed.

I looked at her with lidded eyes. The force of that first hit would have practically vaporized a human’s head. It brought new meaning to the term overkill. “That’s a lot of offense to take.”

“Sir Faramond is most vociferous in defense of my honor as I wander through this city.”

“So I see,” I snarked before I realized what she had said. “Wait a minute. That's Faramond?”

“Aye,” she stated more calmly; now I wasn't marching towards the hole in the wall.

“The same Faramond that claims he got his powers from the fairies.”

“Yes,” she looked somewhat uncomfortable at this statement.

“He guards you and doesn't even know the difference between fairies and elves?”

“I am not truly an elf,” she stated with some embarrassment.

“Well, you sure ain't any fairy I know of.” I peered at her to verify her aura. She had a highly energetic aura, was probably a magic-user, and sure looked like an elf.

“I am of the álfar,” she stated solemnly.

I looked at her and frowned. Part of that was from searching my memory for the term, and some was due to the movement of rubble I heard in the next building over. “Isn't that a Norse elf?”

Now it was her turn to frown. “There is a distant relation; however, our ancestors are purer of blood.” Ah, a racist, elitist elf. I see now.

“Hmm. Fascinating. What brings you slumming to this world?” The thrashing sound had faded to be replaced by a stomping sound similar to what I heard before someone turned my face into hamburger. “And what can I call you?”

“I am known as Estella,” my eyebrows may have risen at this. I had to give her kudos for noticing under the layer of blood. “It's been millennia since we lived in Norway; what did you expect? Helga? What is your name?”

“Derek.” I silently did some rough calculations in my head and released the dumpster. “And what brings you here?” I prodded again. At that moment, the swordsman stormed out of the broken building and began a charge toward me. He was interrupted about ten feet away when the dumpster crashed on top of him. I am sure it stung at least a little from two hundred feet up. I was impressed that the elf didn't do more than flinch slightly.

“The roots of the World Tree pass through this territory. It is important to know the area at the boundary of our home.” I stared at her a moment, trying to dredge up the Norse lore I read and had discarded as not relevant.

“Does that mean there is a periodic gateway to your realm in the area?” I ventured cautiously.

“Aye,” she said distractedly, looking at the crumpled lump of metal and permacrete that now engulfed her wayward protector. I heard an uninterrupted string of coarse curses coming from it.

Well, how very convenient. I had theorized that one possible way to break the anchor rune was to use a portal to walk to another dimension rather than my usual direct teleport. It would either break the rune, kill me, or slingshot me straight to the anchor Mr. Evil had set up in this dimension. “When does the gate next materialize?” I asked, trying to hide my enthusiasm.

“In five years,” she replied. My eagerness vanished. That was less than helpful.

I heard more tearing from the mangled remnants, which brought my attention back to the psycho knight next to us. Supernatural creatures are resistant to direct manipulation from magic and psionics; however, indirect manipulation works pretty well. I telekinetically grabbed the dumpster again and lifted it up. Since it was wrapped around Sir Clueless, it lifted him without interference.

“Five years! Crap,” I exclaimed, somewhat put out. Eventually, the giant evil dragon would come to check on his experiment. Probably not too soon; ancient dragons are like the elders of most races. Their sense of time slowly goes by the wayside as the millennia stack up. Still, five years is a bit of a gamble. I looked up at the sky and tried to get an accurate estimate of the time while I patted my jacket for a handkerchief to mop some of the blood off my face. It was after twelve, which meant I was late to see the chief of the vampires. That can't be good.

A crash sounded from above, and an arm broke free of the improvised mold around Sir Idiot. As the dust and powder floated down, I set the floating mass spinning as fast as my waning energy could. I really should have been a little more conservative of my power, but I had been really pissed.

“So miss Hel... er, Estella, I noticed that you have some expertise with magic,” I subtly bring the conversation around to my interest while continuing to wipe the blood off my face. I think most of my face was back to normal, or at least I didn't feel any fresh blood, but my mouth felt like I had lost one of my eyeteeth. Crap. Did I mention that that crazy knight was the strongest thing I ever had the displeasure to meet?

“Yes, I have some expertise on elemental enchantment, and of course, all my kind are skilled in illusion. You look like you are still in pain. Would you like me to soothe it?”

I gave her a flat stare. Did she honestly think I would lower my innate spell defenses to anyone, let alone a stranger? A strange elf from Norway? Not happening.

“Eh, no thanks,” I muttered. A sharp pain was coming from one of my upper teeth. Yep, it was gone. A new one was already starting to form. Great, I was teething now. “Um, what kind of elemental magic?”

“I have trained to become one with the elements; to me, they are like a part of me, and I can...” the rest of her gushing faded away under my disappointed musings. Bah, it sounded like she was some sort of mystic. Become one with nature; she just does it. She is flipping useless to me. Though if I can ever find out enough to get past the basics, I may be able to reverse engineer those kinds of spells, given enough time.

As she continued on about the joys of nature, I fished through my torn coat and pulled out an extra card Jeremy had given me. Usually, there's a tiny holographic ad scrolling across it, but it must have gotten damaged in the flight through the last three buildings, or maybe my aura shorted it. Now it just shows Jeremy's basic contact information that’s written on the card. “I would love to hear about your spell stuff, but I am really late for an appointment.” I handed her the damaged card. “Give Jeremy a call when you want to talk some more.” I am sure elves can figure out the phone system on this planet. Unless the Nordic elves were the slow ones. I turned and started to walk away briskly. I think I hardly staggered at all.

“Goodbye, Derek,” she called after me, causing me to wince slightly. She seemed a bit too bubbly for having been a mugging victim, but then again, perhaps not having been the one slammed through a few buildings was good for her attitude.

I waved over my shoulder and called out, “Night, Helga.” I could tell when I left the range to manipulate the dumpster when I heard a loud thundering crash behind me. I know it probably didn't even scratch the moron's armor, but it did cheer me up a tiny bit.