The Oracle's Prophecy

10

Kamran sprinted out of a back-alley onto the street near the old opera house where Metropolitan Fifteen's gateway was housed. The street was already crowded with the late afternoon traffic. Among the horses and carts, the city's citizens trudged home from work in the last light of day, their ankles deep in thick smog.

Glancing back at the reflection on a dirt-smeared window, Kamran saw a brilliant flash of light appear. Out of it sprinted his pursuer, a man in a black cloak with a silver mask covering his face.

A Myrmidon.

Panicked, Kamran created the spark and hurled it over his shoulder before bursting into the crowd of commuters. His throw was poor and his pursuer ducked out of the lightning bolt's path with ease.

"Myrmidons! Myrmidons!"

Kamran cried out as he clawed his way through the lines of hot bodies. It had its intended effect. Bowed heads looked up with surprise at the mention of the Directory's boogeymen, and they saw four of them approaching, all with a sword in one hand, the spark in the other.

A Myrmidon spotted Kamran and hurled the blue electric bolt.

Diving out of its way, Kamran heard it crackle as it passed over his head. The crowd saw it strike an ordinary citizen in the chest, and for a second they all let out a collective gasp as they watched the man fall to the ground in an electrocuted seizure. Then panicked, they scattered.

Rolling onto his back to clear himself from the path of a runaway carriage, Kamran saw a dark figure hovering a hundred feet above the streets above him. Surrounding the figure's body was what appeared to be a dense, black cloud.

As he watched an explosive pain erupted from behind Kamran's temples; someone, somewhere was trying to break into his mind.

He needed to get out of the open. Through his blurred vision, he saw a mechanic's shop he knew well no more than thirty yards away. Forcing himself to focus, he switched into it and knocked over a rack of tools as he stepped out of the teleport, the rich smells of oil and grease filling his nostrils.

"How'd you get in here?" The shop-owner demanded with wide-eyed surprise as he watched Kamran attempt to get up on his feet.

Before he could, a muscle spasm squeezed in his chest and Kamran sank back onto his knees. He was old, weak and unused to using his abilities to such a degree. If he did another switch like that he'd be in danger of completely exhausting himself.

"I said, how'd do you get in here?" The mechanic repeated himself but before Kamran could answer the shop window at his back exploded inward and showered them both in glass.

Clutching at his chest with one hand and badly slashing the palm of his other, Kamran got back on his feet and ran to the back door that led out into an alley.

What was he doing? He knew he couldn't outrun the Myrmidons. There were too many and they were all far more powerful than him. Even if he could find a place to hide, the Myrmidons would have snoopers with them. The telepaths were probably already monitoring his thoughts.

In a locket around his neck was a poison pill. He knew he should take it and quickly, there were too many secrets he had to protect. Yet, suddenly facing death, he realized how much he wanted to live.

He recalled that underneath an old hotel not far from him was a secret passageway that smugglers used. If he could make it underground, the snoopers would have a harder time tracking him.

The first arrow pierced his back by his shoulder blade and drove him off his feet into a stagnant pool of water. The second dug into the fat of his right thigh. He wanted to switch away but the arrow heads must've been dipped in sting and he felt his abilities become suppressed.