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The yellow, dark blue, and red colors of the Vigil Organization plastered the bikes on the side of the road, nestled between vintage American brands and the sleek, electric mopeds favored by douchebag tech heads. They were at the entrance to a famous venue in an upside-down cathedral called the Cage. Two college kids wearing elastic, Vigil-colored track jackets were checking people in through the line out front.
Lane and Sanchez looked over the U-shaped entrance to the cathedral with wide eyes- Alloton may be chaotic, but its patchwork architecture could be surrealistically beautiful. They stepped onto the wire-frame bridge that led to the cathedral’s entrance. Its belfry and once-upper floors plunged down on either side, held in place by a dizzying web of red girders and suspension cords. Four held her breath. She had always hated the way this place swayed while hosting an event.
“Tickets?” The attendant at the gate held out his hand to take the three slips of paper from Four. He sniffed as he looked them over, scratching his ratty mustache. “O-kay, seems like you three are good t’go. Just remember: no magic or Roots. The tech can react badly.” He looked over Four’s leporine features. “Uh, you should be fine. Just make sure you ask before you touch anything.”
“I figured.” Four glanced back as the three headed inside. She saw no tuxedo- or facsimile thereof- among the polo-clad engineering students and entrepreneurs lined up behind her. That was some small relief, considering Beech’s inability to dredge up information on the mushroom-man.
The inside of the Cage was just as magnificently chaotic as the outside. The worn floor of the cathedral acted as the roof twenty feet above, with pews and altars bolted onto it. The actual floor space of the venue consisted of metal walkways connected in a grid over the curved basement that once was a vaulted ceiling. Stained glass and murals of saints gathered dust deep below, lit by candles hanging underneath the walkways.
In between the grid-like walkways, steel cords held booths and displays, where collectors, both Savari- pale green, four-armed, humanoid aliens with a single, cyclopean eye- and human, were discussing their technology. A stage was set in the far end of the walkways, where a presentation was being set up that would feature a six-foot, cylindrical object hidden under a large tarp. The Suit Demo, Four remembered Bryce saying.
By the time that Four had looked around the place for dangers and vantage points, Sanchez had rushed up to one of the booths suspended between the walkways. “Is that a first series core link?” Her voice glittered with an interest that Four hadn’t heard from her before.
The Savari woman turned over to Sanchez. “Yes, I believe it is.” She spoke in a slow, plodding manner. “My associates in Beijing discovered these links in the Tomb of the Blazing Horse.”
Sanchez mimed reaching for the small, unassuming piece of gray tech. “May I?”
“Of course!” The Savari said, gesturing with one of her four arms. “Would you be interested in its appraisal? Our prices are more than fair…”
The expo dragged on for some time, with Four rapidly accumulating more and more cardstock bags filled with strange bits of alien technology. The alien energy the tech emitted turned to static against her False Root, keeping her fur on end. Still, even the occasional jolt was preferable to seeing the mushroom man again- in spite of his insistence at the restaurant, Bryce wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Sanchez and Lane were sitting at the Cage’s bar- a series of confession booths cut down to straddle the sides of the convention hall- waiting for the Suit Demo to start in a few minutes nearby. Four got a call from Beech- still listed as “Two” in her contacts. A pang of worry shot through the assassin- Beech never called.
Four excused herself from the red-faced Lane, stepping away from the bar. Her ear curled down to catch the audio from the phone beside her head. “Beech? What’s the problem-”
“You’re in danger.”
Four’s blood ran cold. She could feel the tremor in his voice over the phone. “What did you find?”
“RRB encrypted this well. I finally found a backdoor.” The man spoke fast. Panicked. “The person you saw was Bryce Nevin, or Monochrome. Australian Vigilant, but he wasn’t covered in mushrooms before.”
“And? False Rooted Vigilants aren’t unprecedented.”
“Four, his Vigil was wiped out two years ago. You met a corpse.” Beech’s words were laced with worry. “I think you’re dealing with a controller-type Rooted. Those mushrooms are their control vector. Anyone could be puppetted by them.”
A blaring sting of music cut through the air. On the stage, a Savari Vigilant pulled the cloth away from the object stored there to unveil a complex, robotic suit with four arms inside a glass dome. Its face was wasp-like, with gray and blue accents running across its body. “And now, the Suit Demonstration!” The Savari called out. A thin chain connected to the top of the dome and up to a pulley. It slowly lifted up. “The result of a collaboration between Chinese and Australian Vigils, this unique combat suit has never seen the market- until today!”
The crowd of techies rushed past the hare-woman, crowding around the railways around the stage. Sanchez and a wobbly Lane stood among them.
“Beech. You said this was a controller-type?” Four stomped her prosthetic on its heel, popping open its hidden compartment. Reaching behind her knee, she grabbed the unveiled, curved grip of her stored pistol. “It just controls people, right?”
Beech hummed for a second. “Well, not necessarily.” He said. “It puppets limbs. Could do anything articulated, I guess. Why?”
The robotic suit jerked as the glass was halfway off, ducking out from beneath its glass dome. The crowd whispered excitedly, and only Four read the look of worry on the announcer’s face.
“Just my luck.” Four sighed, stuffing the phone back into her pocket. She made quick strides towards her charges.
The alien on stage covered her lapel mic and leaned in towards the suit, whispering something urgently to it. A flash of movement, and her whispering stopped. Her hands fell limp. A whine of feedback and an unpleasant, gurgling noise echoed from the speakers. Shock held the crowd in place.
The robotic suit’s hand had punched through the announcer’s neck. Black blood seeped across her jacket and across the blue and gray metal of the robot’s glove. Her dead weight collapsed unceremoniously across the stage as the Savari suit yanked its arm back.
Chaos erupted across the crowd. Ugly screams echoed across the vaulted space of the Cage, and the people surged towards the exit in a wave. The suit had lunged into the crowd. Bones crunched in its mechanical grasp.
Four’s senses sharpened to a razor point. Her ears twisted back against the wind as she launched herself through the crowd, her powerful legs denting the metal walkway. She barreled through a panicked man, who was trampled beneath the fleeing techies.
Sanchez and Lane had leapt behind the bar by the time Four reached them. The rippling distortion of magic surrounded Lane like a veil as she knelt beside her partner. “Damnit, Rosa!” She swore. Sanchez’s boot had been crushed in the trampling- she leaned against the bar in pain.
Four unlatched her gun’s safety, ducking behind the bar with them. “Can you run?”
“Does it look like she can run, you furry fuck!?” Lane growled.
The hare-woman jutted her chin towards the kitchen doors. “There’s an employee exit there!” She’d cased this venue before. “I’ll hold that thing off.”
The woman gritted her teeth. She obviously wanted to fight. “I’m coming back.” She insisted.
“Just get Sanchez out!” Four didn’t know she could sound commanding. She’d never had to before.
Lane grumbled, but helped Sanchez limp into the backrooms. Four looked back over the bar.
Corpses dangled between the railings. The Savari suit was painted red and black, and stood, expectantly, near the center of the venue, while the panicked attendees crammed their way through the small entryway. It turned its insectoid head towards the assassin.
Something pierced into Four’s mind. The small of her back ached, and a burning sensation ran up her spine and to the base of her skull. Superimposed over the bloody robot, a vision formed- the man in the mushroom suit, with the blank, round face. She winced, and fired a shot through the man's neck. It deflected off of the suit harmlessly.
Alison. Four felt an electric thrill run through her body. The thought- in her voice, but not the way she normally hears her thoughts- came unbidden. I’m not here for you. I’m here for the Wolf. He is lying to you.
Four’s limbs stuck, as if caught in molasses. She adjusted her aim at the immobile suit. “What the fuck are you?”
Her thoughts held an eerily happy inflection. I am rot unceasing. I am what they all deserve. The arms of the suit and the superimposed Bryce stretched out in Four’s vision. I am a grieving father.
She squeezed the trigger again. The bullet pierced the thin mesh at the Savari Suit’s shoulder, causing the arm to fall limply to the side. Tendrils of lichen writhed inside, along with a plume of white spores. “You’re a monster. I won’t let you near him.”
Somehow, the vision of the thing that called itself Bryce conveyed sadness. What do you truly remember, Alison? It asked through her. Saved by the Wolf. Harmed by the Vigilants. I will dampen the Wolf’s control.
The thoughts welled up. The slaver’s ship, sailing across the sunken ruins of the United States. She felt the cold shackles on her arms, but… they weren’t cold. They pierced. An IV. She was in a hospital. Who was that, lingering beside the steel-framed bed?
Four shook her head, her ears whipping around her. “Get out of my head!” She growled.
A head crunched beneath the talons of the suit as it approached her. Another shot, and another arm slumped to its side. The thing cocked its head, as if curious. I cannot create what is not already there. It told her. I can only guide your mind.
It was only a yard away when Four fired the second-to-last shot in the small revolver. Its leg crumpled, and it fell to the side. The illusion of Bryce still stood. Run then. Go back to your captor. Four felt a sickening jolt, and the loud snapping of steel cables outside of the venue. The truth is not easily forgotten.
Something tore from Four’s back, leaving strands of numb pinpricks across her spine. She could move. A palm was on her back. “HEY! FOUR!” A shrill shriek pounded the rabbit-woman out of her stupor. She looked dumbly back. The stars on Lane’s cheeks were smudged with soot and sweat as she shook Four out of her trance. She was holding a nasty length of black mycelium that had been embedded in Four’s spine. “This place is falling! Get us out of here!”
Behind her, Sanchez leaned against the slanted wall, stumbling out of the backrooms. A cabinet had fallen over the employee exit.
Run. Instinct kicked in. She was beside Sanchez before she realized she had kicked off the bar. The gun was tucked into her skirt. Run. Run. Her hands were around the woman’s waist, hauling her in a fireman’s carry. Another leap- this time, towards the door. Run run runrunrunrun. Her thoughts blended. The crawling mess of the suit clambered onto the bar. A kick smashed in its helmet, leaving a plume of white spores in its place. It fell away from with the rest of the corpses as the building began to tilt further.
She didn’t know where Sanchez found the strength to hoist Lane by her arm, but Four suspected that the muttered spell Sanchez was weaving had something to do with it. The alien magic she practices generally affects bodies more than the environment, like human magic. Four took it in stride, letting her hold Lane as she held up Sanchez.
The bar tumbled away, and hundreds of pieces of Savari tech collapsed into the darkness of the listing cathedral. A leap, and Four landed on the edge of the stage as it snapped almost entirely vertical. Another sliding jump landed her on the sideways altar pinned to the place’s now-sideways ceiling. The archway was tantalizingly close, but too high at this angle. She could see the flashes of sirens and screams of a crowd outside. Stained glass shattered below them.
An idea struck. “That spell- from the restaurant.” She asked down to Lane as Sanchez let go of her. “How much momentum can you redirect?”
“Ugh, what? Well, as much as hits my hand-” She realized what Four was suggesting.
“There’s a gun in my pocket. I’ll pull the trigger- just make it count.” The altar creaked precariously.
The gun was in her hand as Lane scrambled behind her. The pews behind them tumbled down. The Savari Suit clung, headless and flailing, on the opposite side of the sideways cathedral. Lane planted her feet, and wrapped hands around her waist. “A tai-” She cut herself off. “Not the time. Ready?”
The two knelt down, ready to leap. Four pointed the pistol at the back of Lane’s hand on her stomach. If this didn’t work, the bullet would go through the hand and into her gut. “On three,” the cathedral lurched. “One! Two!
“Three!”
She squeezed the trigger and leapt as hard as she could. The gun kicked back with a piercing bang, but the pressure never touched her stomach. Instead, Lane’s body slammed into the small of Four’s back, painfully squishing her tail. She felt like a rocket, the force of the bullet propelling her further than the empowered leap could- and up to the edge of the entrance. A foot on the lip of the worn stone, she saw the edge of the street a few yards above her. Doable.
This last leap crumpled Four’s prosthetic and something in her leg popped. Her stomach hit the edge of the street. Her arms scrambled out to find purchase- instead finding a strong hand grasping her forearm. “Another got out! Help me with them!” She heard an unfamiliar voice call.
A small mob helped pull the three women up and onto the street. Behind them, the cathedral snapped and sagged. Its belfry fell first, collapsing into the stygian darkness of Alloton’s heart. Then, with gasps and shrieks from the crowd, the final, straining webs of metal that held it up gave way. The entire structure fell unceremoniously into the shadows below. The shattering cacophony of the fallen Cage silenced even the crowd for a while.
The three women collapsed onto the asphalt, exhausted. Paramedics, clad in sturdy, light-blue gear, rushed to their aid- first worrying over Four, then over to Sanchez when they realized her crumpled leg was metal. The Vigilants that checked them in directed the crowd with surprising authority for their age. The person who pulled them up knelt down beside Four. “What was going on in there? Was anyone else alive when you left?”
Four’s ears twitched as she looked the woman over. She was in casual clothes, though the logo on her scarf and loose jacket branded her as a Vigilant. She wore bulky gloves striated with a green metal, and a certain cold chill washed from her blue eyes. Four recognized her- a skilled Vigilant and ice mage. Sleet Scythe.
Her target from the theater.
Scythe’s eyes rolled. “Yes, yes. I can autograph later.” She waved away Four’s misread apprehension. “You’re the last person who was in there. What did you see?”
“I didn’t see anybody else moving in there.” Four finally said. “Except the Savari Suit. I don’t know who was piloting it.”
The woman nodded. She had a phone in her hands, jotting down notes with a stylus. “Good, good. Anything you can tell me about the attack?”
Four’s lips tightened to a line. “I’m not sure…” She saw the paramedics beginning to splint Sanchez’ leg, but they weren’t taking her. No more room on the ambulance carts. She turned back to the Vigilant. “I don’t think that Gate Vigilant made it. It, uh, it went for the throat.”
Scythe nodded sadly. She’d already heard. “Still, good on you to get these two out intact.” She said. “We’ll send people to retrieve the bodies and possessions soon, once we’ve secured the stability of this floor.”
Lane kept her mouth shut next to Four, cradling her hand- the gunshot hadn’t pierced it, but clearly broke a finger or two. After a few more questions, Scythe moved to the next group of people, and the mage leaned in. “Fucking Shackle.” She growled.
Four hadn’t heard that one in a while- an insult for those who studied ice magic, usually reserved for slavers. Four placed a hand on Lane’s shoulder. “Easy, there.” She whispered. “We don’t want to start a fight now. We’re all hurt.”
“You got that right.” The woman winced as she massaged her hand. “But, you most of all. Look.” She opened up her palm, revealing the squirming strand of hair-like growths- black and sinuous. “This was growing on your back when I found you. There’s still more there.”
The growth looked like the mushrooms that made up the striped ‘suit’ on Bryce. She felt the small of her back. A bump of material still poked out painfully. “Shit.” She swore. “What’s it doing?”
“Nothing, now.” Lane tucked the lichen back into her sleeve. “I think it was growing all day, since we bumped into that fucker on the railcar.” The medics moved away from Sanchez, and the two women walked up to her- Lane supporting Four on her left. “Can you walk, Rosa?”
She answered by standing unsteadily. The plastic cast was large, but still mobile. “Honestly, the spell fatigue is worse than my foot. Nothing broken.”
“Well, at least one of us can say that.” Four nodded towards the motorbikes, where the crowd was thinner. “I’ll get someone to pick us up. We have some trusted docs.”