a/n: part 2/3 updated today.
thirty six
IT REALLY SUCKED to have someone intent on killing you pummelling you with every punch imaginable to man out of a mist you couldn't see through. I'd fought to even stay upright, attempting to maintain my balance while shielding myself against Mistress' flurry of attacks.
A punch landed in my chest, robbing me of air. Another landed hard on my hip, a bruise surely already forming. I had a permanent scowl of pain on my face, sweat beading down my neck, covering my face.
My powers were bubbling, eager to be used. The little I had left of them. I'd let them regenerate, resting for the moment I had between my previous fight and this one. I know I'd need them all — knew Mistress wouldn't go down and stay down until I made sure to spend every ounce of my strength.
She hadn't said a word, not even a taunt or a jeer. We weren't the emotional types, either, and I knew she had refrained from commenting anything snarky because she was delivering the biggest insult of them all — actually beating me.
Think, Leo. You just have to find out where she is, how she's moving.
I reached for my powers, felt the warm glow of them surround me. I could sense every particle of sand, dust and dirt on the floor, could feel them moving in flurries from the ongoing battles.
Sense the shifts, Leo.
I dipped further, focusing hard. Whenever they were disturbed, I sensed it. When they moved, how they moved, why they moved — I tracked it. My eyes had turned fully yellow by now, my powers shrouding me as I focused everything on tracking their disturbances.
When it finally clicked into place, I fully closed my eyes.
The next punch out of the misty shroud was caught by my forearm. Mistress stumbled half a step, enough for me to sweep my leg straight into her feet, robbing her of her balance. She fell to the ground with a loud grunt, me using the opportunity to draw on my powers again. They formed a hard gauntlet around my fist, one I drove right into her stomach.
She grunted again, a cough rising in her throat. I threw my weight behind the next jab, sending it sailing into the side of her face. My eyes remained closed, my powers guiding me.
As I geared for another punch, she rolled to the side, scrambling to her feet.
"You're not going to win this," she coughed out, voice filled to the brim with fury.
We'll see about that.
She moved into the mist again, though I could sense where she moved now. Instead of remaining still, like I'd done before, I went after her.
I punched at her location, felt her duck to avoid it. She sent an elbow into the side of my ribcage, which made made bend down and wrench her shoulder back, throwing her weight backwards.
She tumbled onto the floor again, grunting in pain once more. Her form sprawled by the remains of a crate.
I opened my eyes, staring her down. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth. She reached up slowly, eyes burning with fury, before she wiped it off. I could tell what her look meant — she would kill me, sparing nothing.
My eyes darted to Josh, to where I thought he was, but her mist allowed me to see nothing but the shifting outline of figures battling. He was out there fighting six superpowered soldiers, all equipped with varying degrees of Nightspark's powers.
Clenching my fist, hard, I turned back to Mistress. I needed to help Josh, and to do so I had to wrap this up quickly. If I went with his plan of sparing her life, throwing her into jail ... well, in that case, that wouldn't happen. It would take eons longer to knock her out and subdue her than just tossing her behind into some roaring flames.
My eyes went to the building beyond us, going up in flames.
Please, Josh. Hold on a little longer.
Mistress had gotten to her feet by now, eyes flaring as she drew on her powers again. The mist thickened, turned cold and prickly as it stung my exposed skin. I held back a hiss, crouching down into position again as I leaned into my powers, using them to locate her.
But she didn't strike out at me again. No, she wasn't moving. My eyes fluttered open again. If she wasn't moving, I had no need to trust the instinct of my powers.
As my eyes opened, however, I realized why she wasn't moving. She'd been knocked on her ass by the shattered remains of a crate, the result of my previous fight with her security guards. By that crate, there'd been a gun.
A gun she was now holding, aiming steadily in my direction. I froze in place, the yellow glow of my powers pulsating as my adrenaline kicked up.
Mistress was breathing heavily. She cocked the gun, her expression not moving once.
"Coward," I shouted, the words barely carrying over the roar of the fires.
"If it means I win —" Mistress started, the gun shaking as she coughed, " — I'll take it."
Her eyes gleamed maliciously, giving me a look full of hatred. I saw it only for a few seconds before the blast of a gun being fired reached me, echoing around the room, blending into the disorienting roar of the flames.
The bullet didn't rip into me, however. She'd angled the gun into the fine mist right before firing,and it'd speared through the fine wall before a shout of pain echoed on the other side. My heart seized up.
Josh.
The mist parted, offering me a glimpse of Josh as he staggered, a visible bullet wound on the side of his torso. Adrenaline thrummed wildly, heart beating far more over my healthy limit.
I took several quick, running steps toward him, intent on helping, before the gun clicked again.
"I'd stop if I were you." Mistress called out, a calm grip on the gun, "I don't see how you'd be able to help him if you're shot, too."
My steps toward Josh ceased. His head swivelled, saw my pained look and frozen posture. His eyes shifted to the gun. Understanding clicked.
"Wow, you really stopped," Mistress commented casually, though she was still very much in pain from the way her balance occasionally wavered, "I did not expect you to value your partner that much."
"I'm not letting him die because of our fight, Gillian." I bit out, " — you wanted it to just be the two of us, right? One versus one. So let's go off, the two of us. Let's finish this."
"You say that now that I've gained the upper hand," Gillian remarked, cocking her head. The barrel of the gun was firmly directed in my direction now.
"I'm not letting anyone else get hurt because of our fight, Mistress." I repeated again.
"Now you're talking in circles, dear Nymph. You're just starting to lose the fight, but it seems you've lost your mind already."
But I hadn't repeated myself for Mistress' sake. I had done it for me, because a chilling, terrifying realization clicked as I started to understand what I would have to do to win this fight. What I would have to give up, to surrender, to win this fight.
What I would have to lose, to win this fight.
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The Undoing of Sidekicks | ✓
Ficção CientíficaSidekicks. The sad, ever-suffering excuses of heroes - a title you tack onto someone who's trying, just not hard enough. Few can shed this sad label and pave their own path. I intend to be one of them. The heroes are crowding enough of the spotlight...