The aroma of roasted vegetables and simmering stew wafted through the air, a comforting symphony of scents that filled the dining hall with the promise of a hearty meal. The long tables were laden with steaming platters, their surfaces glistening with the golden sheen of candlelight. Jacob sat across from Susan, their plates piled high with food.
"He's quite the storyteller, isn't he" Susan remarked as she nodded to Alex, her voice soft, a hint of amusement in her tone.
Jacob idly twirled a strand of his purple hair, his gaze drifting towards the center of the room, where a group of students had gathered around Alex. Alex, with an almost theatrical flourish, was recounting the events of their recent adventure, his voice booming over the general din. His chair scraping against the floor as he bounced in his seat, his animated storytelling captivating a large group of students gathered around him. Most of them were girls.
"And then," he was saying, his voice echoing through the hall. "This hitman was about to shoot his energy beam at Jacob."
The students, enthralled by his dramatic delivery, leaned in closer, their eyes wide with a mix of fascination and fear.
"It would have been the end of Jacob," Alex continued, his voice laced with a dramatic tremor. "But I jumped in front of him, took the blast for him. Saved his life!"
He lifted his shirt, revealing the jagged scar that now marked his side, the pale, lifeless skin a stark contrast to his tanned chest. The other students gasped, a mix of awe and fear etched on their faces.
Jacob watched, a wry smile playing on his lips. He knew Alex wasn't exaggerating. The incident was undoubtedly a heroic moment, but Alex had a way of embellishing things, turning every encounter into a thrilling story. Susan, observing Jacob's amused expression, gave him a knowing smile. She knew how much Jacob appreciated Alex's boisterous spirit, the way he could bring light and laughter even to the most serious of situations.
Jacob nodded, "He certainly is. And he does have a knack for making himself the center of attention," he chuckled.
"Listen," Susan said as she finished her meal.
"Yeah?"
"About the you know…you and the hitman."
Jacob swallowed. "Yeah?"
"What happened? All of a sudden you guys took to the sky."
"I know right?" he managed a shaky laugh.
"I thought you only flew for short distances."
"I was actually surprised myself," he didn't want to tell her about his secret, yet.
"But it was actually cool."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I know you were angry and sometimes anger can be a weapon. But you need to control it, or otherwise it will control you."
"I supposed you're right," except that his anger could lead to an end of the world.
"Yeah." She nodded. She glanced across Jacob and caught sight of something.
Rubble, the brooding boy with brown eyes, was watching them, his expression unreadable. He had just finished his meal, his plate now empty, his gaze fixed on Susan. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange that sent a jolt of awareness through Susan's body. She felt a pull, an inexplicable connection, they were once a couple. Their relationship lasted only for a few months. She admits that they had a good time together, but everything got ruined when Rubble started insulting other women. He started believing a female should not be a sorcerer, and eventually he said that to her.
Rubble held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the bustling crowd. Susan, her heart beating a little faster, felt a strange mixture of feelings she couldn't quite express. She had always felt a connection with Rubble, even though they broke up.
"Susan?" Jacob's voice, soft and concerned, pulled her back to reality. "Are you alright?"
She blinked, her thoughts still lingering on Rubble. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about... well, everything that's happened lately."
Jacob was afraid that she might be thinking about Jacob's unexpected burst of power.
She excused herself, rising from her chair. "I'll be back in a moment," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Jacob watched her go, a slight frown creasing his brow. He knew something was different, but he couldn't quite place it. He glanced back at Alex, who was now gesturing wildly, mimicking the hitman's energy blasts with his hands, the students hanging onto his every word, their eyes wide with wonder. Jacob, watching Alex's performance, felt a pang of guilt. He knew the hitman was a terrifying person, and he had been consumed by rage when Alex nearly died. If his body wasn't battered and beat down, Sinister Jacob wouldn't have let go of his conscious early.
A girl with jet-black hair, her eyes piercing and sharp, approached Jacob's table and slid into the chair where Susan had been sitting just moments before. Jacob, startled by the sudden appearance of the girl with the jet-black hair, struggled to find his voice. He had never seen her before, and the intensity of her gaze made him feel strangely uncomfortable.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice a low, melodic murmur, her gaze fixed on Jacob, her expression unreadable.
"Sure, you're already seating on the chair," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"I'm Angela," she said, her voice smooth and alluring, her eyes holding his gaze with an intensity that made him feel exposed. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said. "You know, about the whole… fire thing. And about the hybrids. It's quite a story. Even though you're not that active in class… "
She leaned forward, her body radiating an almost tangible warmth, her eyes sparkling with an unreadable mixture of curiosity and something else, something that made Jacob's skin prickle with unease.
"I've always wanted to visit the dark forest," she continued, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "The stories, the legends, the secrets. What is it like? What secrets does it hold?"
He stammered a response, his words jumbled and incoherent. He was about to try and explain, to brush off her questions, when a familiar voice interrupted him.
"Jacob," Bernard called out, his voice booming across the room. "I need you for a moment."
Jacob, relieved by the interruption, looked up to see Bernard, his friend, standing by the entrance. He had a serious expression on his face, a look that suggested an urgent matter.
"Just a moment," Jacob said to Angela, already rising from his chair.
"Of course," Angela replied, her smile never wavering. "We'll talk some other time."
He walked toward Bernard, grateful for his interruption. Just as they disappeared from view, Bernard dropped the serious act.
"Thank you," Jacob said. "I owe you one."
Bernard chuckled. "So? Earlier today you said you wanted to speak to me?"
"Yes," he remembered. "I need you to train me."
Bernard frowned "Really?"
"Yes."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the best fighter and swordsman in camp."
Bernard did his best to hide his smile, he failed."You want to get stronger eh?"
"Yeah."
"Okay follow me."
Jacob frowned. "Now?"
"Yeah, I can teach you some of my techniques. But it has to be every night."
"Okay," he said as he followed Bernard into the training ground.
The training ground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, lay eerily quiet under the moonlight. Jacob stood in the center of the field, his hands clenched, his eyes fixed on the empty space before him. He had been waiting for Bernard for over ten minutes, a growing sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his mind.
"Jacob," Bernard's voice boomed across the field, breaking the silence. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Jacob turned, relief washing over him. Bernard was approaching, his face a mask of seriousness, his gait purposeful. He was holding something in his hand, a familiar object that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through Jacob's veins.
"Your dagger," Bernard said, his voice grave. "Can't believe you went to fight that hybrid without it."
He tossed the dagger into the air, a graceful arc that seemed to defy gravity. Jacob leaped, catching it in mid-air, the familiar weight of its handle comforting in his hand. He hadn't held this dagger since he had left Detroit. He traced his thumb along the inscription etched on its blade, a single word: "BW." It was a reminder of his father.
"I'm glad to have it back," Jacob said, his voice tight with emotion. He had missed it more than he had realized.
Bernard nodded, his expression softening. "I'm glad, too. But there's more than just sentimental value to this dagger. It's a part of you, Jacob. A tool. A weapon. And you need to know how to use it."
"Now…" he continued. "We start training."
He threw a swift, practiced punch towards Jacob. The air crackled with energy, and the wind from his fist ruffled Jacob's hair.
"No fire, no weapons. Just you and me. A good old-fashioned fistfight."
Jacob, caught off guard, barely managed to evade the blow. He knew that Bernard was right. The Oscuros, the hitman and the dark forest, all of these challenges required him to be at his best, to harness the power that surged within him. He was ready. He lunged and Bernard blocked. He tried a few punches but they were futile against Bernard's awesome reflexes. Bernard swayed from one punch and caught the next, then he darted closer to Jacob and shoved him to the ground. He took a few steps back.
"Have you seen it yet?" he asked.
"What?" Jacob asked as he rose himself up from the ground.
"Okay let's do it again," Bernard said.
Jacob swung at Bernard's head, a swift, powerful blow, but Bernard simply sidestepped, his movement a blur of effortless grace. Jacob, caught off guard by the ease with which Bernard had dodged his attack, shifted his weight, aiming for Bernard's chest. But Bernard anticipated his move, stepping back with a fluid motion, a smirk playing on his lips. Jacob tried again and again, each punch a flurry of energy, each strike aimed with calculated precision. He was using his fire-infused strength, his agility, his reflexes, yet Bernard remained an elusive target. He dodged each blow with a casual ease that made Jacob feel clumsy, clumsy and frustrated.
"Have you seen it yet?" he asked again.
Bernard's movements were fluid, his steps precise, his reflexes honed by years of training. He wasn't just dodging Jacob's attacks; he was predicting them, anticipating them, a living embodiment of calculated movement and controlled power. One moment Jacob thought he had Bernard cornered, the next he was sprawled on the ground, his momentum halted by a powerful shove that sent him sprawling across the grass. As he lay there, catching his breath, his face flushed with exertion and frustration, he watched Bernard, who stood over him, a calm smile on his face
"Have you seen it yet?" he asked once more.
"What are you even talking about…" Jacob's voice trailed off as a powerful realization came to him.
Bernard smiled. "Now you've seen it."
"You're too eager, Jacob," Bernard continued, his voice firm but kind. "You're trying too hard, rushing your attacks. You're relying on your strength, but you're forgetting the basics."
Jacob slowly rose from the ground.
"And that," he concluded. "Makes you predictable."
Jacob took a deep breath, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth in his core, the energy that surged through his veins. He could feel it now, a quiet, steady flow, a current of power waiting to be directed, to be channeled. He raised his head, a newfound understanding dawning on his face. He was ready. Purple flames burst as Jacob blurred towards Bernard, a trick he learned from his sinister self. He aimed a powerful kick at Bernard's chest. He blocked it and hopped back. He was smiling.
"Good," he said. "You used your powers, know that in battle you always have to make use of what you have. It doesn't matter if your opponent wants a good old fashioned fist fight. Unless you're in a game. Or a match with a set of rules, it doesn't matter, never let the enemy dictate your moves."
Bernard darted towards Jacob, closing in the distance between them in just a few strides. He lunged, and Jacob moved aside using his flames as a boost. Jacob swung and missed, then he doubled back and came shot straight at Bernard like a bullet. Bernard rolled to his side, he got up and clapped his hands that sent a shockwave directed at Jacob. Jacob was thrown off and landed on the ground with a backflip. He looked up, just in time to see Bernard dropping from the sky. He quickly evaded his hit. A small crater formed where Jacob had been seconds earlier.
"You're not holding back?" he remarked.
Bernard chuckled. "Why would I? In order to pull out the best in you, I have to be a bit harsh don't you think?"
"Hope you don't mean me." -Sinister Jacob.
Jacob did his best to ignore it and smiled. He was ready to learn, to refine his skills, to control the fire that burned within him. He was ready to become more than just a boy with fire. He was ready to become a seasoned warrior.
Jacob stumbled through the corridor, his muscles aching from the intense training session with Bernard. The sweat clung to his skin, and his chest heaved with each breath. He had learned a valuable lesson tonight, a lesson in control and precision, and his mind buzzed with newfound understanding. As he rounded a corner, his gaze fell upon a scene that stopped him in his tracks.
Rubble stood, his back against the wall, his arm around Susan's waist. Susan, her face pale and strained, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resignation, was looking at Rubble with a mixture of anger and confusion. Their lips were locked together, a forced kiss, a desperate attempt at affection. Susan's body tensed against his, her arms stiff by her side, her gaze distant and unfocused. Rubble, his eyes closed, was pressing his lips against hers with a fierce intensity, a desperation that was almost painful to witness.
It was clear that this kiss wasn't an expression of love, but a desperate attempt at control, a means of asserting dominance. Susan, despite her obvious resistance, seemed to be trapped in his embrace, unable to break free. Their eyes met for a split second, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. Susan's eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and fear, a desperate plea for help. The moment Jacob saw her eyes; the kiss was over. Rubble, his eyes snapping open, caught sight of Jacob standing there, his face a mask of shock and fury. He stepped back, releasing Susan, his expression dark and menacing. Susan, her body shaking with a mix of anger and relief, stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.
She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide with fear, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. The air crackled with tension. Jacob, still reeling from the sight he had witnessed, felt a surge of anger, a primal urge to protect Susan, to shield her from harm. He stepped forward, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity. He had seen enough. He remembered how Rubble used to insult her every chance he got. Now he's assaulting her?
"Kill him."- Sinister Jacob.
He did his best to ignore it.
"What the hell is happening here?" he demanded.
"It's none of your business," Rubble said, he too clutching his fists.
"Jacob I can explain," started Susan. "You see Rubble is…he's…"
"I'm her boyfriend," finished Rubble.
"Ex," she quickly corrected. "He's my ex-boyfriend."
Jacob's anger, though still simmering beneath the surface, began to subside, replaced by a wave of confusion. "Your ex?" he repeated, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "But… how?"
Susan hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "It's a long story," she said, her voice laced with a hint of sadness. "I know he's a jerk but he can be persuasive sometimes."
"She just can't resist my charm," Rubble said.
"Shut up," She paused, her eyes meeting Jacob's, a silent plea for understanding in their depths. "I know this doesn't make sense but please try to understand."
"What is he? Your boyfriend or something?" sneered Rubble.
"For the love of God please shut up."
Rubble eyed Jacob and left. Mumbling to himself.
"I'm not her boyfriend," Jacob said as he watched Rubble turning a corner and disappearing from view.
Jacob's eyes narrowed, recalling the scene he had witnessed in the cafeteria just a short while ago. He remembered how Susan had excused herself from the table, a sudden urgency in her voice, a strange apprehension in her eyes. He understood now. The encounter in the cafeteria, the way she had rushed out, the brief but intense exchange of glances, it all made sense. He hadn't been able to articulate it at the time, but he had felt a strange tension, a sense of unease, as if something was amiss.
He felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. He had been so focused on his own challenges, his own struggles with the darkness within him, that he hadn't noticed the silent torment that Susan was enduring. He had been blinded by his own concerns, oblivious to the pain she had been carrying. He took a step towards her, his fists unclenching, his anger replaced by a wave of compassion.
"Susan," he said softly. "I don't know what happened between you two and I know it's none of my business. I'm sorry."
Susan nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "It's okay," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's hard to explain. But… I'm glad it was you who saw us."
"Don't worry Susan," he said. "Your secret is safe with me."
"Thankyou."
As the teenager watched Jacob and Susan part ways, a sly smile spread across his face, he returned his camera into his pocket. He had always harbored feelings for Susan, and now he had a secret that could change everything. He quickly retreated into the shadows, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew that Susan would do anything to keep her secret from getting out, and he planned to use that to his advantage. With a newfound sense of determination, he began to formulate a plan to manipulate the situation to his favor.
He would stop at nothing until he has her all to himself, that purple head Jacob and that meat head Rubble won't be able to do anything, a wide ugly grin spread across his face as he vibrated through the wall.
It was Monday, four days since Jacob started training with Bernard. And to his satisfaction, he was already seeing improvements.
Bernard lunged and Jacob dodged, coming up with an uppercut. Bernard blocked and aimed kick to his side, Jacob blocked, but the force of impact instantly made him regret his decision. He dodged another kick, and thrust upwards as Bernard went for the lower kick. Jacob came back down with a hammer kick. Bernard caught it in the crook of his arm, swiftly he grabbed Jacob's leg, and swung him across the field. Purple flames burst as Jacob slowed his rate of descent, and flew straight back. If it was Sinister Jacob, he would've flown to the sky, but Jacob could only close in a few distances. He zipped past Bernard, muttering a curse as he changed course. He landed beside Bernard and swung at his head, Bernard blocked it and hit him with a sneaky punch to his ribs. Jacob knew he was trying his best not to shatter his bones, but he felt something pop as his breath left his lungs.
He doubled back, clutching his chest, breathing heavily.
"You okay?" Bernard asked.
"Yeah I'm good," he lied. "Let's continue."
It had been going on like this for many days, he was improving drastically. At least that's what Bernard said. He crushed his fitness test, and with a little help from Susan he was able to ace his history class. Sigil Mancy was a bit of a challenge, but due to Angela's unwavering knack to help, he was able to pass the exams.
Meanwhile CARL, was cooking up plans on how to use the information to force Susan into a relationship. He was bidding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim his prize.
Alex, on the other hand was frequently visiting the gym, working out two hours per every three days. Every time he went there, he met Jacob, who apparently works out every day. Everybody was doing their best to outperform each other. The Alchemists started spending more time in the brewery class, the Brutes were always present in the training ground alongside Tool users, Disciplinarians were cooped up in the library, trying to understand and come up with a discipline they want to train on, Necromancers, however few of them practiced every night Alex among them, Binders spent most of their days with Miss Clarabelle, even the Druids, laziest of them all, started practicing spells alongside Casters, the Energy throwers were practicing too, they're considered to be the most hard working group next to the Brutes.
Even the teachers admitted that this year's batch will make it to the top ranks and become seasoned sorcerers. Those who protect mankind from the dark creatures that lurked in the shadows…as well as Nightshade. Matthew Windsor, as well as the other teachers, had never been more satisfied.
"This might be the start of the next generation of great sorcerers," Miss Melisa said.
"Right you are," BRAD said. "I can't wait till they become full-fledged sorcerers."
"Me too," Rudolph said as he drank his tea.
"I see a bright fire in them," Miss Melisa said.
"Do you think they'll be able to take our place and defeat Nightshade?" CHRIS HAYES asked.
"Maybe," Miss Anya said. "I hope so."
"They will," Mr. Windsor said. "So? About that field trip…"
"Oh yes," said Brad, his eyes full of light.
"I was thinking of Montana," continued Mr. Windsor.
"Good, we have a base there," Miss Melisa said. "Horseback riding, fishing, hiking it will be fun."
"Especially the hot springs," Miss Anya said dreamily.
"Don't even get me started," Brad said.
Mr. Windsor chuckled. "Fine then. It is decided."
2 weeks ago….
In a dimly lit office in Liberia, the air hung heavily with humidity. AMELIA CLARK sat behind her cluttered desk. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and her sharp blue eyes scanned through the stacks of paperwork. She was dispatched to this location by White-clad, several years back. At first she thought that she was going to die, but as time progressed she grew used to it. She was mostly known in the international community for her tenacity and unwavering commitment to justice, and she was feared by many who opposed her because of the magic discipline she follows. Even though she got used to Liberia and its people, she wanted nothing but to return to her homeland and spend time with her sister, Elara Clark.
The knock on her door interrupted her concentration. She looked up to see a man standing there, his presence commanding attention. It was Johnny Walsh.
She quickly rose from her seat, and before Johnny could react, she had her arms around him and hugged him tightly, like a little girl hugging her big brother.
"Where have you been," her voice came out muffled.
"You know where I was," he said. "In America waiting for your return."
After a minute or two she let go of him and returned to her desk, she motioned for him to sit. He did so and sat at a chair in front of her desk. Something was off, "is he hurt?" she asked herself.
"Why the long face?" she asked. "Did Elara refused you proposal again?"
Something cold pierced inside of him as she mentioned her dead sister's name, she had yet to know, a lot has happened in the past month and Amelia has no clue. And he hated to be the one to tell her.
"No it's not about that," he said, his voice a mixture of fear and sorrow. "But it is about your sister."
Her smile slowly began to ebb. "What happened to her? Is she alright?"
"She…she uh-," he stammered with his words. "She's dead."
Amelia caught her breath, tears welled up in her eyes as she absorbed the news. Richard felt sorry, he never thought he'd lose Elara too, but he figured that the pain he felt is nothing compared to what Amelia is going through now.
"Where?" she asked, her voice low.
"Manhattan," he replied, his eyes full of tears.
"What happened, tell me everything. "
"Here goes," he informed her about everything, starting from the hybrid attack in Detroit.
"Nightshade?" she whispered. The name sent chills down her spine.
"Yes," he said as he looked down. His tears were dropping to the floor.
"A hitman they hired was able to break into our base three days after we defeated the hybrid," he continued.
"They know where our HQ was?"
"Yes," he nodded his face grim.
She rose from her seat, and went for her sword, which was hanging on the jacket stand in its scabbard. She grabbed her scabbard and looped it over her head so the strap hung diagonally across her chest.
Amelia wiped her tears, her grief transforming into resolve. "They killed my sister and attacked our base," she said, her voice steady. "Time for a little playback."
Johnny rose from his seat, his face etched with a frown. "You know the location of their headquarters?"
"No," she replied. "Not yet. But we have a location on one of their network bases here in Liberia." She smirked. "And we're going to attack it tonight."
"This might be it," Johnny said as he catches on. "From there we can access the information that can lead us straight into their HQ's location."
"Indeed," she said. "You in?"
Johnny smiled, his face reflecting his resolve. "Are you kidding? Count me in."
And so, in that small office, two determined souls forged an alliance. Amelia Clark, a Disciplinarian, and Johnny, the battle-hardened sorcerer, vowed to dismantle Nightshade—one piece at a time. The creators of the hybrid creature that had taken Elara's life would soon face their reckoning, and the one leading the organization that had orchestrated it would put to justice.
Eight hours after the agreement…
The stars glittered coldly. Moving slowly, Johnny crawled to the edge and looked down. The outpost was actually an old warehouse. Nightshade agents, as well as guards were everywhere, sitting around campfires, chatting and laughing. Their laughter wasn't cruel. But Johnny knew they were the bad guys, he wondered if that's how they view White-clad operatives. He crawled back, joining Amelia on the other side of the roof, where things were quiet and dark. Minutes later, a guard patrolled below them. Before Johnny could stop her, Amelia dropped on him. He didn't know if he were dead or just unconscious, but he didn't make a sound. Slowly, he lowered himself from the roof, and followed Amelia. They reached a door. He took a pair of lock picks from his jacket and started on the door.
"It would be fun if we just blow stuff up," Amelia said. "Don't you think?"
"First let's do this quietly," he replied. "After we get the information we need we'll blow stuff up."
"Yeepe."
"You don't sound excited," Johnny said, opening the door and putting his lock picks away.
"I want to get to the blowing up stuff right away." She unsheathed her sword.
"You haven't changed." He pulled out his silenced pistol.
They took the stairs to the third floor. The building was quiet, like it was holding its breath. They approached the power room's door and Johnny picked the lock silently. He nudged the door open a little. Nobody was there. They both entered and started pulling out electric wires. Within seconds the whole building got dark, they heard the agents complaining. Johnny and Amelia pulled on their night googles and stepped outside the power room. A guard was heading their way, holding a flash light. He turned a corner and froze, something cold and sharp thudded into his chest, he looked up as he dropped the flashlight from his suddenly numb fingers. It was a woman. Amelia pulled her sword free and moved on to the next. Johnny heard a few grunts, followed by sounds of sword piercing flesh, followed by a soft thud. Amelia was operating with deadly precision, cutting down anyone and everyone in her path. They quietly took the stairs, and ended up in the small corridor when the lights were back on. They were surrounded by Nightshade agents; it was as if time froze.
A moment dragged itself by as Johnny and Amelia internalized the fact that they're outnumbered. Amelia was the first to move, decapitating an enemy agent near her. And then the next thing Johnny knew, they were fighting for their lives.
"How did they…" Johnny shot an agent with his pistol and dodged a potion that was hurtled at him. "How did they get the lights on?"
"Maybe…" she sliced an agent's throat and swayed away as another one swung his blade. She sliced through his side and doubled back. "They had a backup generator."
Johnny dodged another potion, and shot it in mid-air, letting the strange mixture drop on the enemy agents, two of them caught on fire and they shrieked. Meanwhile Amelia sliced the Alchemist's hand and quickly finishes him off.
"Go to the computer room," she said as she decapitated another agent.
"I'm not leaving you behind," he said. He ran out of bullets and started throwing energy balls.
"Don't worry about me." She swung her sword in a semi-circle, catching three agents in one strike. "Backup's on its way."
He cursed under his breath and ran straight to the next row of stairs. He released concentrated blasts from the palm of his left hand at the agents in front of him, and dodged as another energy ball sizzled by his ear. It took him exactly twenty minutes to get to the computer room. He burst open a door, revealing a man in glasses carrying a bag. A bag which contained files and software that held the organization's secret. The location of their HQ.
"Please…" the man whimpered.
Johnny's hand blurred and the man in glasses dropped to the ground, unconscious. He picked up the bag and went back to where he left Amelia alone.
Meanwhile Amelia, blurred through the crowd of sorcerers, slicing them in her wake. She impaled her sword into a man's neck as another agent, this one a brute, threw himself at her, his impact sent both of them crashing through the window and fell into a pool below. The man grabbed her hair, a fistful of blonde, and yanked her head back. Her world spun, the turquoise water a dizzying blur. Pain exploded in her skull as he slammed it against the concrete bottom. Salt-water flooded her lungs, she heard a distant explosion from the building, which illuminated the pool.
Desperation clawed its way through the fog in her head. With a surge of raw energy, Amelia locked her gaze with the man's. She squeezed his wrist, the once powerful grip turning to mush in her hold. A horrifying shriek filled with bubbles ripped from his throat. His body, a grotesque marionette, began to fall into pieces. Chunks of flesh and bone laid on the concrete bottom, it was as if he was chopped into pieces by a huge knife. She swam back up, all around her were Nightshade agents fighting against…White-clad agents, backup has arrived. She coughed, her lungs burning, the echo of her own power leaving her shaky. Moments later, hands grabbed her and hauled her up to her feet, it was Johnny, his forehead was bleeding and his left eye was sore. She felt happy, she wanted to kiss him, but decided not to. He handed her her sword.
They continued their onslaught. She wondered if the head of the Nightshade organization was watching this through a camera or something. She visualized this leader, whoever he may be. "Have you seen it yet?" she asked him in her head, as she swung her sword and brought the enemy agents to their knees. Justice is coming. She will soon find out where the enemy's HQ is. She will stop at nothing to punish those who chose to create chaos, and to avenge her dead sister. She will soon find their mysterious leader.
The battle was finally over. Several agents were wounded, but none had died, which was good news. Amelia rested on a bunk near a table, where Johnny was working away at the little computer, which had a hard drive connected to it, tapping keys by the dim light of the screen. Few minutes later he cursed, then closed the computer.
"Nothing," he said. His voice tight.
"And the files?" Amelia asked.
"They only contain updates on the recent hybrid development, looks like they were sent here a few days after the female hybrid attacked Manhattan."
"What did those files say?"
"The body they used for the experiment was, Stephanie Neely."
"I remember her," she frowned. "She was one of the lucky few who got sent to Europe."
"She was."
"So they took a body, which belonged to a sorcerer who belonged to the adapter class."
"Mhm," he nodded.
"That explains why the hybrid adapted to your attacks so easily."
"Indeed. Imagine what they'd do if they get their hands on a stronger body?"
"A brute?"
"Possibly."
"Do you think they've already succeeded?"
"Maybe," he said, stretching. "They might be on their move as we speak."
"Who do you think they'll target next?" Amelia asked.
"There are a lot of options to choose," Johnny said.
But both of their thoughts lingered to one man, a hulk.
"We better inform the HQ fast," Amelia suggested.
"Yeah," Johnny nods.