Aetheral Space-Chapter 436:14.10: Cheese Course

9:45

"H," mumbled Morgan, and then a moment’s hesitation later: "A."

The effect of the Amplified Heal/Hurt on Jamilu Aguta was immediate. The sheen of sweat created by the ability’s initial activation intensified into frenzied thrashing, the warrior’s eyes rolling beneath their lids. In a way, Morgan supposed it was a blessing that the man was unconscious. He certainly wouldn’t want to experience this awake.

He kept the ability active for about five seconds before taking his hand away from Jamilu’s forehead and looking up at Rufus.

"His body should pick up the slack from there," he explained. "It won’t bring his finger back or completely repair his arm, but he’ll be able to move around, at least."

They’d broken into one of the shopping centre’s furniture stores to get Jamilu a sickbed -- and now the pilfered bed looked completely out of place, resting next to the inactive water fountain at the building’s heart. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Morgan might even have smiled at the absurd scene.

The tension was thick in the air. Ruth Blaine sat a short distance away with the del Sed’s and another girl Morgan didn’t recognise. Rufus stood watch over Aguta, arms crossed, ready to defend with his body the moment any attack came. Muzazi, for his part, stood high above -- on a walkway overlooking the building’s central plaza. Was he keeping watch, too, or did he just need time to think?

Nobody’s expression held much promise.

"So," Morgan said, standing up, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. "What’s the plan from here? How are we getting out of here?"

It wouldn’t be easy. They were surrounded, after all. Morgan had felt it as he’d come in -- eyes were on this place, eyes from every angle. The bounty hunters had already known this was the place where they would gather.

How long left until they decided nobody else was coming, and finally launched their attack?

Rufus clicked his tongue. "That…" he began, before shaking his head. "That I need to talk to Jamilu about… when he wakes up."

"Talk to me about it, then," said Jamilu Aguta.

Morgan’s eyes widened as his head snapped down to the man in the sickbed. He’d expected Aguta to be out of commission for a few more hours yet. They really did build these Nebula differently, didn’t they?

Jamilu Aguta had obviously seen better days -- he looked like he was remaining conscious through sheer force of will -- but still he had the strength to turn his head to Rufus.

"The Ultraviolets should have prepared us a ship," he said quietly. "What’s the issue?"

Rufus breathed in deep through his nose. "They were taken out before we got here. There aren’t any bodies, but there’s blood on the roof -- only explanation I can see."

"I see," Jamilu closed his eyes for a moment. "And the ship?"

"Whoever was here did a number on it. The repair automatics are already on the job… but it’s gonna take a while."

"How long?"

"Six hours," Rufus sighed. "Maybe seven."

Hearing that, Jamilu went to get up -- only to be pushed back down onto the bed by Rufus’ firm hand.

"No," the Pugnant said in a tone that permitted no argument.

"We can’t just wait here for seven hours," Jamilu said seriously. "They’ll begin their attack sooner or later. We need to find another way off --"

"It’s too late," Rufus said. "We’re stuck here. Only half of us are in any condition to move, and we’re already surrounded. We try to leave at this point, and we’re fucked."

Jamilu groaned, pressing a hand against his face. For a moment, Morgan thought he might try and get up again… but no. He slumped back down.

"Fine," Jamilu finally said to Rufus. "This place should have security automatics. Get into the security office and get them activated. Hopefully, they’ll give us some breathing room if the bounty hunters try and get in.’

Rufus nodded, turning without another word and running off to the administrative section of the building. Morgan watched him go before looking back down at Nebula Two.

"How about the rest of us?" he asked.

"Well," Jamilu ran a weary hand over a weary face. "Sit and wait… I guess."

11:02

"This is the place?" Gretchen asked.

Baltay nodded.

"How do you know?"

Baltay gave no answer.

Emerald Aether flowed into his eyes as he took in the battlefield before him. It was strange to call the shopping centre a battlefield, as no fighting had actually happened yet, but Baltay knew it to be true all the same. He could already see the aftermath of a dozen slaughters overlayed over reality here.

Frowning, he wiped Leviathan clean of blood with a handkerchief. The remnants of the Crimson Carnival had claimed several buildings surrounding the Alyn Grace Memorial Shopping Centre, and Baltay’s forecasts had indicated the assassins at this construction site would be the easiest to dispatch. They’d been accurate in this case.

"You still haven’t explained," Gretchen said softly.

How did you get out of the asylum?

"Explained what?" Baltay asked, for Gretchen’s benefit.

"How did you get out of the asylum?"

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, infusion leaving his electric-blue eyes. "The Supreme ordered me released," he said quietly. "That’s why you were working with him, wasn’t it?"

Gretchen’s eyes widened fractionally. "Seriously?" she said. "So he still considers us allied?"

"Is that a surprise?"

"Of course it’s a surprise!" Gretchen snapped, running her hands through her hair. "What are we even doing then, sneaking around like this?! If Hadri -- if the Supreme considers me his ally, he won’t have put me on the hit list for the Banquet!"

"Naturally."

"So what are we doing here, Baltay?!" Gretchen threw her hands up. "At this point, we shouldn’t have anything to do with this! Let’s just go home and watch Muzazi get killed on the news or something. Do you really want to kill him yourself that bad?"

Lying never ended well in this situation -- and besides, Baltay didn’t like the idea of lying to Gretchen. No matter how she had done it, she had stuck by him all this time. He owed her at least a sliver of honesty.

"I don’t want to kill Muzazi," he said.

Gretchen frowned. "What?"

"I don’t want to kill Muzazi," Baltay repeated in his calm monotone. "But he and I have unfinished business. That’s business I intend to conclude before I leave."

Gretchen rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, clearly fending off a headache. "I… just…" she began, before sighing. "What kind of business?"

"There’ll be a fight here -- here, in this building -- within the next few hours. It’s paramount that I win that fight. Will you help me?"

There was no good reason for Gretchen to say yes. Baltay was being bizarre. Had his time in the asylum actually affected his mind? He’d just gotten out of there, after all. Maybe he needed rest before he should be up and about like this.

By all means, she should say no.

But… when she’d been alone, Baltay Kojirough had extended a hand to her.

But… when she’d been ignored, Baltay Kojirough had believed in her ideas.

But…

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"Okay," she said softly.

…not once in her life had Gretchen Hail been able to say no to BALTAY KOJIROUGH.

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12:17

"Ionir…" Muzazi muttered, looking out over the dark garden of the shopping centre.

"Yep," Morgan said, standing alongside him atop the bridge. His hands clutched the railing in front of him tight, as if it was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. Muzazi didn’t bother: he knew he was already at the current’s mercy.

"You’re sure?" Muzazi asked. "You’re sure he’s… gone?"

"We were together a long time," Morgan said, narrowing his eyes wistfully. "Even when we separated, I could… feel him, I guess? An itch at the back of my skull. I don’t feel that anymore."

"And…" Muzazi took in a deep breath. "Gretchen Hail was the one who did it?"

Morgan nodded. "Hapgrass was Hail. I guess she must have used some sort of Aether Armament to change her appearance. I don’t know how she did it… but yeah, she did it. He nearly took her out too, but… she did it." He blinked tears out of his eyes. "She killed him."

"I see."

Muzazi closed his eyes -- and hot anger rushed through cold veins.

It seems vengeance lies in my hands now, Gretchen Hail. Don’t worry. I’ll hand it back to you soon.

Morgan was still talking, even as Muzazi’s thundering heartbeat threatened to drown out his voice. "I don’t know what happened to Silversaint, but I’m thinking Gregori took him out… I-I was fighting Aclima, so I don’t know what exactly happened, but… that’s what I figure." He looked up at Muzazi, his eyes grave. "And… Baltay is out."

Muzazi blinked -- and that thunderous heartbeat skipped a beat. "What?" he asked, his mouth dry.

Morgan nodded seriously. "When the S4 captured us, he broke into the train they were using and slaughtered them. He got us out -- me and Hail."

Muzazi’s frown deepened. "He just let you go?"

"He was being really weird," Morgan said hesitantly, drumming his fingers along the railing. "Really weird. From what he was saying, he seemed to think he could use me as bait for you." He shrugged lightly. "Guess that didn’t work out, huh?"

"So he wants to settle the score," Muzazi said, voice dull.

Morgan nodded. "I’d guess so… yeah."

Revenge and revenge and revenge. Where does it end, Marie? Does it ever end?

12:49

"Hoo boy," Wu Ming said, perched on the central spire of a skyscraper, looking down at the shopping centre through a pair of thread-woven binoculars. "That’s a ten-outta-ten shit show waiting to happen right there. I’d hate to be those guys. Well, if I was normal, I’d hate to be them. Same difference."

Mereloco slowly rose into view beside him, arms crossed as he floated with an application of Unchained. The stoic man grunted as he inspected the cityscape before him as well, eyes sparking with purple Aether.

"Fool," he said, glancing over at the former Fourth Contender. "You don’t need those. Just infuse your eyes."

Wu Ming grinned, dropping the binoculars from his eye and swinging them by a loose thread. "Well, I know that. Of course I know that. What do you take me for?"

"Fool," Mereloco repeated. "Clown. Deviant."

"Ah, your words are harsh," Wu Ming sighed theatrically, raising the binoculars once again. "But I’ve heard harsher. You should have heard some of the stuff ol’ Avaman came out with. Real poetic stuff -- all killer, no filler, y’know?"

Mereloco just glared. It seemed Wu Ming had reached the limits of the back-and-forth the other man was willing to entertain. He sighed again, slightly more genuinely.

"If you must know," he said. "These binoculars are special -- an Armament of my own design. I mean, I designed and made them around two minutes ago, but they’re still a Wu Ming Original."

"A life sensor?" Mereloco raised an eyebrow.

"Close…" Wu Ming pinched his thumb and forefinger together. "It’s a thought sensor. People can Aether cloak and hide all sorts of vital signs, but I haven’t met many people who can stop thinking on command. I can see all these little schemers in all these little buildings."

"You can read their thoughts?" Mereloco asked, a trace of interest entering his voice despite his best efforts.

"No," Wu Ming admitted. "But I can read the fact that they’re thinking. Not too shabby, huh?"

Mereloco gave no response. The conversation, it seemed, was over. Wu Ming unravelled the binoculars, letting the strings fade away as he turned his head to look down at the balcony below.

"How’re the kids doing?" he asked.

Nael Manron had elected to stand guard over Aclima down below -- and Gregori Hazzard was still there too, for some reason. How odd. Did he think he was part of the team or something? He was free to leave. Well, Aclima was free to leave too, but being surrounded by hostile bounty hunters didn’t make that a very tempting kind of freedom.

"Kids," Mereloco snorted derisively.

"Hey," Wu Ming replied with mock-outrage. "I’m trying to be accommodating here! I assumed we’d all look like children to a two-hundred year old man."

"Mm."

Was that denial or acknowledgement? A request to keep going or a demand to shut up? Or perhaps it was just a grunt? How wonderful. These were the sorts of people that Wu Ming liked to speak with above all others -- the sorts of people that didn’t like to speak to him.

"Have you noticed?" Mereloco said, dull eyes fixed on Aclima.

"Yup," Wu Ming said, pirouetting on the spire.

Mereloco narrowed his eyes. "Something hellish is attached to that girl."

"That it is. My bet? Some kind of revenge ability from the Kennelmaster. It’s probably waiting for an opportune moment -- and it’ll definitely get one once things kick off. I’m looking forward to it showing itself. You?"

"If it’s going to be a threat," Mereloco said, glaring down at Aclima’s distant figure. "We should just kill the girl now. I --"

He looked back up, and he stopped. The look in Wu Ming’s eyes had changed utterly, levity banished in an instant. They weren’t just cold, they were ice.

"No," the Clown said darkly. "That thing’s mine."

They waited.

They rested.

They healed.

They waited.

They repaired.

They prepared.

They waited.

They feared.

They dreaded.

They waited.

And

17:49

Atoy Muzazi, Ruth Blaine, the Headhunter, Rufus von Frostburn, Jamilu Aguta, and Morgan Nacht.

Appointment had confirmed the presence of five targets within the Alyn Grace Shopping Centre. As the hours stretched on, it was becoming increasingly unlikely that others would appear. He’d hoped that Aclima might make an effort to reunite with her treacherous bodyguards, but that didn’t seem likely.

If he was going to do this, now was the time. The sun was sinking below the horizon once more.

He’d have to be careful with his opening strikes. Fortunately, he’d already tapped into the building’s surveillance systems -- he’d be able to line up his initial shots without collateral damage. An initial volley of missiles to blast through the roof, then separate explosive shots for each of his targets. If he executed the maneuver correctly, he could be in and out within fifteen seconds.

There was a whirring sound as segments of his Chassis rearranged themselves, plates gathering on his left arm to form a cannon. Within ten seconds, he’d --

He’d --

Appointment’s eyes widened as he saw the situation developing on the surveillance.

Damn you, Anduan!

17:52

It was time to move.

Security automatics had posted themselves at each door -- tall, humanoid machines with huge saucer-like heads. They were only equipped with basic firearms and stun sticks, but they would still suffice to delay any attackers. Morgan had wrapped some of them in armour of Amplified Fog, too, which would boost their durability.

"Is the ship ready?" Muzazi asked, running towards the stairwell along the group.

"Not yet," Rufus grunted. Jamilu was slung over one of his shoulders, the del Sed’s over the other. "But soon. We don’t wanna waste any time once we’re ready to go."

"If anyone’s watching us," Morgan said, sticking to Muzazi’s side. "They might take us doing this as their go-signal."

"We…" Jamilu muttered, hanging off Rufus’ shoulder, barely conscious. "We need to make a move at some point… anyway. We can’t just wait forever."

Ruth Blaine just ran in silence -- the same with the blonde girl next to her. Their expressions couldn’t have been any different. Ruth Blaine’s eyes had hardened into killer diamonds, while the other girl’s earlier confidence -- or arrogance -- seemed to have utterly crumbled.

Muzazi closed his eyes for a moment as they passed between the two automatics at the door. "Whatever the case," he said. "We --"

Crash.

Everyone moved at once.

When Muzazi opened his eyes, not even a second later, he was the centerpiece of a tableau of conflict. Morgan was charging towards him, smoke-sword drawn. Rufus was whirling around, eyes wide in alarm, the legs of his cargo flapping in the air. Ruth had drawn her claws, sparks frozen in the air around her. The girl had cried out, pushed behind Ruth with a foot.

And the head of the automatic next to Muzazi had burst. Something had been inside it, nesting there, waiting for their chance. An emaciated man, his mouth wide open, leaping towards Muzazi like a hungry missile. At this distance, with these injuries… the chance to dodge had come and gone.

"Fella’s gotta eat!"

Sharp teeth flew for Muzazi’s throat --

Schedule Breaker.

-- but never reached it.

A pillar of roaring red light scorched right through the ceiling, utterly engulfing the man in mid-air. There was the briefest scream of pain, the briefest stink of burning flesh… and then the light vanished, replaced by a pile of charred-black bones. They tumbled down into the hole the attack had burnt -- the hole it had burnt all the way through the building.

"Huh," said Morgan.

There was the briefest silence…

…and then chaos descended upon the world.