CHAPTER SIX: RENDEZVOUS

The morning of the Jade Festival, Cool Springs Elementary School was on lockdown deep in the suburbs of Coastal Astoria. For the students, this was a godsend - the day was already set to be a half day, but this meant that they all got to go home almost the moment they arrived. For the staff, this was a nightmare - there was a long list of problems they could handle or understand, ranging from bomb threats to sea serpents, but this was a new one for them. 

For Michael River, this was just another day at work. 

He approached the main entry to the school, waving off a few local Peacekeepers blocking the way amidst teachers and orange barriers with caution tape connecting them. He nods towards a woman in a very well fitted suit, her long dark-grey hair tied up into a large bun. 

“Principal Vanessa Hicks?” He asks, already feeling a series of eyes questioning him. 

“Yes?” Vanessa replies, hesitation in her voice. 

Michael sighs. While he had just reached his twenty-first birthday a few weeks prior, he seemed to be cursed with a perpetual baby face, always looking younger than he was. Or maybe he carried himself with more authority than his face could match. Either way, it led to him often being mistaken for an intern or a rookie, rather than the powerhouse he was. “My name is Michael River, I’m with the Peacekeepers. I was told you had something strange happen?” 

Vanessa maintains hesitant eye contact. “...Yes. I’m sorry, you’re just so young!” 

Michael feels a pang go through his side and contains a subsequent sigh. “Yeah, I’m a wunderkind,” he says automatically, his voice stained in enough sarcasm to keep the joke clear and the conversation moving, “Can you take me to where it happened?” 

“Of course, please, come with me.” 

The two enter the school, and Michael immediately feels a chill in the air. The electricity has almost completely cut out, leaving most of the lights out, minus a few that sparked on and off intermittently through the hallways. He glances towards Vanessa, and his earlier frustration turns to a more empathetic feeling - he feels a deep fear radiating off of her, despite her proud gait and stern expression. He lets her take a two step lead so he can take in the surroundings; the classrooms were clearly left in a hurry, half-finished worksheets covering tables and projectors flashing brief images of random lesson plans. He furrows his brow in thought, until Vanessa stops in front of him, pulling out a small flashlight from her pocket. 

“It’s here.” 

Michael turns to face the beam of light, and his gaze is met by a blackened mark on the wall, vaguely in the shape of a person. 

A Reach. 

“It’s breathing,” Vanessa manages to squeak out. 

“Huh?” 

“It’s breathing.”

Michael glances towards the Principal standing next to him, and can tell her confidence was quickly fading. He looks back to the Reach on the wall, squinting his eyes, and around the Reach’s “chest”, the wall is indeed bulging and compressing, ever so slightly. He nods. 

“Okay. Vanessa, you can head back outside if you’d like. You can do your job, and I can do mine, that sound good?” 

Vanessa, at first, doesn’t respond. She’s staring ahead at the Reach, watching it breathe. She closes her eyes, taking in a breath herself, and then lets it out. “I owe it to my staff and students to help deal with this thing.” 

Michael pauses, giving her a moment to take it back. When she doesn’t, he shrugs. “Sure. That sounds good too.” He says, clapping his hands together. As he pulls them apart, a series of teal crystals, seven in total, appear in the space between them. He flicks his wrists out to shake off the strain, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, one of his crystals turning to liquid and forming a case around the device. All of the other crystals hum in resonance, and snap in place in a semi circle around his head. 

“What’s all that?” Vanessa asks. 

“Work stuff.” He replies, focused on figuring out his best move. Each of his crystals could do pretty much anything - but they can only do the thing they’re assigned, and then they pop back into unreality, unable to be used until they recharge. So he had to be particular with each of them. 

ONE - DATA STORAGE. 

TWO - ASTRAL ENERGY FLUCTUATION MEASUREMENTS.. 

THREE - TEMPERATURE MEASUREMENTS.

FOUR - …

MIchael feels his face tighten. With all of the Reaches he had found before, the set up was easy. Record the area, scan for anything out of the ordinary, get pictures and video and commentary. 

But that was before the door. Before Abigail had found the phantom connected to that door, and that Reach. He felt a thought pounding through his head. Did they all have phantoms? And can I talk to them? How did Abigail do it? The question made him want to gag. Peacekeepers are selected from the best of the best, and to join Ian Crowley’s squad, the best of them. As far as the Peacekeepers at large were concerned, Abigail O’Hare was nothing more than a loud nuisance they’d eventually receive a phone call for, saying she had blown herself up one way or another. As far as Michael was concerned, they were completely correct. Every time he crossed paths with Abigail, she was always in the midst of something bigger than she was, and always had that massive grin on her face, even in the worst of circumstances. 

Still, Michael River, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, with credentials that would astound the common man, was not subject to that type of arrogance. He could be cocky, sure, and certainly knew of his capacity for greatness. But, youngest of five, his brothers and sisters kept him in check every step of the way. If he ran into a roadblock, he knew to accept the answers others had, even if they didn’t always make sense - four siblings could give him four avenues of advice, four directions to explore, four concepts to create. 

He just didn’t like it.

“Mr. River?” Vanessa asks, breaking a long and uncomfortable silence. 

Michael snaps back to reality, stares at the floor for a moment, and chuckles. 

ONE - DATA STORAGE. 

TWO - MICROPHONE. 

THREE - HEADPHONES. 

One of his crystals, the one around his phone, was already acting as data storage. Two of the crystals around his head start to melt into liquid as they take new forms, and the other four blink back into non-existence. One crystal twists on itself, coiling into a primitive facsimile of a microphone, and the other twists into a headband, each tip carrying a small beaded end acting as earbuds in a headset. He taps the microphone, and smiles when he hears it on the headphones. 

“Okay. Cool.” He points his attention to the Reach. “Good morning, uh, sir, or ma’am, or…” He pauses - improv was never his strong suit. “My name is Michael. Can you tell me your name?” he asks, pointing the microphone at the wall. 

He’s met with silence. 

“What happened to you? How did you end up here?” 

A light ringing hits his ears through the headset. 

“I’d really like to help you, if I can. If you can hear me, give me some sort of sign - “ 

The wall cracks, and he can hear it breathing now. 

“Okay. Can you say anything at all? Can you talk to me?” 

A rumbling. “Wh-wh…wh-wh…” A mumbling comes from the wall. 

Vanessa unconsciously takes a few steps back. 

“It’s okay, take your time, I’ll just ask a few questions and you answer what you can. Can you tell me your name?” 

“Wh-wh….”

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME.” 

Michael recoils and takes a half step back. “Just information - “

The wall starts to crack further, and the human shape of the Reach begins to bulge. “I DID ALL YOU ASKED. NOTHING MORE.”

“I just wanted to ask -”

One of the arms of the Reach breaks forward, a dripping mess of blood, brick, and concrete vaguely in the form of a human arm. The rest of the Reach’s body cracks in a spiderwebbed pattern, blood starting to drip from thin lines of crumbling infrastructure. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” It screams, a shockwave of energy shooting from where its mouth should be. It’s enough to almost knock Michael off his feet. 

“Shit!” He exclaims, summoning another three crystals. 

FOUR - SHIELD. 

FIVE - EMERGENCY EVACUATION. 

SIX - BLADE. 

His fourth crystal stretches itself out into a thin yet powerful shield, connecting to the fifth crystal, which forms into a set of self-propulsion boots. Both attach themselves to Vanessa, who gets yanked down the hall and away from the Reach, which is now causing all the lights around it to flicker uncontrollably and start to explode, one by one. 

The sixth crystal forms into a sharp, glowing teal blade - he thrusts his arm forward, and the blade impales the center of the Reach. He rotates his wrist, and the blade spirals through the wall, slicing the Reach, or whatever it was turning into, to pieces, where it lifelessly falls to the floor. Its death throes echo through the school, lighting and then exploding every single light across the building. 

Michael stands there panting, a series of emotions passing through him. He’d now used six of his seven crystals, and with the most recent three being used for combat, they would take longer to recharge. The first three would be ready to use again by that evening, but until then, he only had one - a position he never likes being in. 

He had also lost. Another unfavorable position. He would receive praise and credit for dealing with the Reach, and the Peacekeepers would help the school to replace all the broken lights. All would end well, but he had received no new information about the Reaches, and worse, had made the situation of this Reach in particular worse, even if he’s the only one who could recognize that fact. 

He was also in a third position he hated. 

Michael River, youngest of five, was fully capable of asking for help. 

But Michael River, youngest of five, only ever accepted help. He wasn’t one to seek it out. 

How the hell did Abigail O’Hare do it…?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon shone over the streets of Downtown Astoria, a pale blue reaching out from the heavens to gently illuminate the city below. The water by the Riverwalk glittered under its glow, gently splashing atop itself from a quiet current beneath. If you looked carefully, you could see a ways down the river where a battleship once stood, a museum to the wars of the past - now the battleship is gone, but on clear nights like tonight, the flickers of phantoms can be seen dancing a dozen feet above the water. 

These phantoms could be clearly seen, even at this distance, by the green eye of Arihiro - but his attention was not on these echoes of humanity. He was paying sole attention to Abigail O’Hare, who had seemingly popped up out of nowhere during a moment of weakness. They had been sitting beside each other for a few minutes, neither speaking a word. She didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon, but was also not forcing any conversation. He dared a glimpse in her direction, aiming to continue the silence, and took a moment to take in the person next to him. She gave off a very peaceful aura, but it was a peace well fought for - he could feel something simmering within her, a potential energy that could be aimed in any direction with an indeterminate amount of force. He felt both nervous and reassured by this. 

Abigail, on the other hand, didn’t need to take a look. She could feel all sorts of things radiating off of him, an unstable castle of sand ready to crumble at the slightest touch, yet still maintaining its detail and shape. If she hid a potential energy, this man was potential taking human form - she couldn’t parse what kind of strength he held, but knew something was there, something impenetrable. Something painful and dark. Looking out at the moonlight ahead, she kept her breathing slow and steady. Her eyes laid focused ahead, but not staring at anything in particular. 

Two powder kegs, fuses resting close to sparks. 

Behind the bench the two sat on, Carlos Dumaresq was keeping a safe distance. His left foot was partially submerged in the stone street below him, feeling out for any disturbances in the hustle around him. He planned to stay here as a back up in case something went wrong, but he was already finding that being a Freelancer with Abigail was going to come with a steep learning curve as a feeling creeped further and further up his leg. 

He knows I’m here. Carlos realizes, his eyes twitching into focus. Is it his Calling? Can he feel me reaching into the earth? He wonders, pulling his foot out of the ground. 

Arihiro’s green eye twitches in response. “Overprotective boyfriend?” He asks, cutting through the quiet. His voice is soft, gentle, but spoken with authority and a dash of danger. 

Abigail raises an eyebrow, and looks back to see Carlos sheepishly standing across the street, his cover blown. She smiles. “Nah, reasonably protective best friend,” she says, giving Carlos  a half nod to approach. 

Arihiro glares at her for a second, then allows himself to turn around too, and he feels a rush of relief as recognition washes over him. “Seriously, are you just everywhere in this city?” 

“I’m a little bit of everywhere, sure,” Carlos says, feeling more confident as he walks towards them. “You been doing okay after you just dipped without breakfast?” 

Arihiro shrugs. “Been alright. Thanks for, uh, not letting me rot out there, I guess.” His attention goes back to Abigail. “You two know each other?” 

“Been buds for a long time,” Abigail responds, watching Carlos circle to the front of the bench and squat down, resting on tip-toes, “He told me about what happened with those weird dragon freaks. Sounds like a fun night.” 

“Yeah, the best.” Arihiro says. 

“You must’ve really pissed them off if they tracked you down at a shitty bar,” Abigail says, trying to poke out some information. 

Arihiro stares at her for a moment, and Abigail tries to swallow down panic as distrust floods into his expression. “And here you are, tracking me down again.” He maintains eye contact with Abigail. “Hired to find me by the women I saved, right? Because you’re a Freelancer?” 

Carlos blinks. Ah, shit.

“Yeah, Freelancer,” Abigail replies, nodding slowly. 

“Well, you did it, job’s done, what do you want, a picture? Want me to sign a little autograph or something?” Arihiro asks, immediately standing up. “I’m not planning on sticking around much longer, especially now, so whatever you want from me, just spit it out.” 

“Arihiro - “

“Unless, of course, you weren’t hired by some random women, and maybe someone of a higher pay grade instead?” 

Abigail stands to follow Arihiro, who was slowly starting to back away. “Please, just - “ 

“Maybe some federally funded keepers of the peace who wanted someone who knows the area to track me down?” 

Abigail freezes, and a bitter chill floods her eyes. “Never. Never with them. I just wanted to talk.” 

Arihiro, taken aback by this sudden change in tone, straightens up. “Well, we’ve chatted, and what a pleasure it’s been to talk to a fool. If you really aren’t working with the Peacekeepers? Then you’re even more foolish.” He turns and begins a brisk walk away. “Stay away from me, Abigail. I mean it.” 

Carlos’ attention darts back from Arihiro to Abigail, attempting to send her an expression of ‘you did your best’, but she’s already marching towards Arihiro in opposition. “Abigail - “

“I wanted to find you because you need help,” Abigail says, her hands twitching to be balled into fists. “And I wanted to help you.” 

Arihiro pauses mid-step, starts to look back, and releases a deep sigh. “I don’t need help, Abigail. I need to d-” 

Abigail and Carlos are blasted back as Arihiro explodes, the lights stringing across lampposts above them flickering in response. Where he once stood is now a pillaring tower of black smoke, small embers of yellow wisping around the darkness. Abigail’s eyes widen, and she looks back at Carlos, who got shot backwards into one of the lampposts, gripping his head in pain. “Carlos!” She shouts, but a presence pulls her attention back in the other direction. A man creeps out from the darkness - well, something close to a man. A long, thin, stringy man, his nose completely torn off and his shirtless torso writhing, the skin above his stomach stretching as something far too large moves around within him. His arms are gangrenous, his hands coated in thick skin doubling up on itself like makeshift scales, his nails and teeth now long, sharp, and black. 

“Come on now, Arihiro, I know something like that couldn’t have killed you,” The man says, his voice deep and cracked, echoes of something inhuman singing the edges of his speech. “You deserve so, so much more after what you’ve done.” 

Abigail glances back at Carlos, who is barely functioning, but manages to look back up at Abigail, giving her a light nod. She twists back, flames beginning to form in her hands, but before they can fully ignite, the pillar of smoke blows back as Arihiro dashes out and straight at the Roku’ku standing in front of him. Except now, he was wielding a sword - bone white, thin and misshapen, but a sword nonetheless. Where in the world - ? What the hell is his Calling? Abigail wonders. 

Arihiro swings his blade at the Roku’ku, who catches it with a sudden mouth growing from his stomach - a long snout full of razor sharp teeth. “Couldn’t just skip town, tail between your legs?”

“Still more to pull from your bag of tricks, eh, Arihiro??” The Roku’ku shouts, small wings adorned with eyes and mouths sprouting from his shoulders, “Use whatever you want, hatchling. I have taken on Ryu-Djin’s will, and -” His grandstanding is interrupted by Arihiro throwing a fist through his face, knocking him back a couple dozen feet - but this is okay. 

His head splits open like an easter egg, and the parts of his skull that had been split apart begin to reform into a merging of human and dragon’s skulls, barely hanging onto the still human body below it. Arihiro charges again, his body twisting in a leap to deliver a more powerful slice that rips through the Roku’kus throat, and then another swing piercing the man-creature’s stomach. The Roku’ku screams out, his skin extending off his muscles to create gaping maws that fire off a massive stream of yellow flames. 

Arihiro pulls both of his arms up to guard, and everyone present is shocked to see the flames spiraling around him, reflecting off to either side. The Roku’ku snarls. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” He asks, ramping up the flames jetting out of him, “Where do you draw your blade? How do you reject Ryu’Djinn’s will so effortlessly?!” He gets angrier and angrier as he speaks, the flames heating up and beginning to sizzle his own remaining flesh. “HOW LONG DO YOU PLAN TO RESIST? YOUR ASHES HAVE BEEN PREDETERMINED!!” 

Arihiro keeps his arms up, then grimaces and forces his hands out, catching the flames in his them. He feels his lips pulling back as he grits his teeth harder, the flames getting hotter and more difficult to repel. He gasps when the Roku’ku suddenly leaps forward, clapping his draconic arms around Arihiro’s head, making him stagger for a moment - the Roku’ku seizes his opportunity and drives his fist into Arihiro’s gut, and follows with grabbing him with his tail. “Why would my tail be between my legs when it could be around your throat?” He asks, tightening his squeeze as Arihiro flails in response. He feels a grin growing across his elongated mouth. “What did you think would happen, hatchling? When you destroyed everything that made my world, did you think you could just walk away? Once the flames of our lord have chosen someone to burn to cinders, you will burn. If you take down the dragon king, he will rise through the ashes. I am those ashes, Arihiro. When you - “

The Roku’ku’s speech is again interrupted, but this time was of his own volition. Several dozen feet away, a woman stands, flames starting to ignite around her. Purple flames. “...it wasn’t his trick, was it?” He asks, starting to breathe heavier, “It wasn’t him…? Those flames…” His entire body is shaking, and his face contorts in rage. “IT WAS YOU!”

Arihiro is released by the Roku’ku’s tail, but this wasn’t a purposeful action. The Roku’ku’s entire body had suddenly snapped, his muscles weakening as he starts to fall - and then he crumples backwards as an arm rips out of his stomach. Abigail’s eyes widen, and she takes a couple steps back. Another arm reaches out, each far longer than the body they’d been stored in, and the Roku’ku’s body inverts on itself, flipping into his spine and out again through his guts as he begins to take a new form, one cultivated from inside his sack of flesh. He grows larger, his physical being stretching and snapping, the remains of his skin collecting on a vestigial limb hanging above his new head, now nearly fully draconic. Abigail’s head rises as she looks up at this new form, a massive 30 foot dragon with arms and legs growing from its back like spikes, extra eyes cresting around its neck in a frill like an ancient herbivore. His hands and feet were still strikingly human-like, but with rotted nails splitting through the center of each digit. 

The beast starts to laugh. “Ahhhh, thank you, young lady. I understand now. I understand my destiny, how my flame is supposed to burn. It starts with burning you, and Arihiro, and the city down to nothing. And then the world can be set alight, to smolder into something befitting our king.” 

Abigail grins. “All of this and you still ain’t the king, huh?” She asks, igniting her hands anew and sinking into a fighting position. 

The laughter stops. “The King could never be me. I only live to serve his will - a will I feel coursing through my veins now. He commands me still, and will command me until my fire goes out. I will play my part as the big, scary monster, and you will play yours…” The dragon says, slinking his giant head down to meet Abigail’s eyeline, “...as a corpse.” 

Her grin deepens. “Might have those backward there, bud.” She says, throwing a fist forward and shooting off a purple fireball. This flame is easily blocked by the dragon, but she uses this quick distraction to dash in close, flipping backwards in the air and kicking the beast on the bottom of its long, thick neck. 

Her leg is knocked back in response, no effect on the beast. She claps her hands together and fires a burst of condensed flame straight up at the neck again, but is grabbed by a massive draconic hand and thrown across the street, careening off the low roofs of buildings and smashing through a wall. 

Carlos barely manages to bring himself to his feet, and spits out a series of expletives as a massive tail flies down above him and slams into the ground. Underground, he can barely catch his breath, his throat filling with earth - he kicks the liquid earth around him, pushing him away just far enough to shoot from the ground and vomit up dirt. He looks above him and the creature doesn’t even notice him, the tail slamming just a physical response to a semi-recovered Arihiro shooting up from the ground and uppercutting the beast on the chin. He manages to lock eyes with Arihiro, who gives him a panicked look in response. 

“What are you doing?! RUN!” Arihiro shouts, his distraction immediately punished by the dragon’s jaws closing around his torso. He grips the lips on either side of him and pushes hard enough to keep from getting impaled by rotting fangs, roaring as his arms slowly yank the beast’s jaws open. His face drops when he feels heat gathering in the creature’s gullet, a massive wave of flame screaming from the creature’s mouth - Arihiro narrowly pushes himself out of the maw of the dragon in time to avoid total immolation. 

Abigail’s eyes open, and she can feel every bone in her body hurt. How far did that thing throw me…? She thinks, forcing herself to get up. She looks across the city in front of her, the music and lights from the Jade Festival starting to turn to screams and the masses running away. She glances back to the dragon, where Arihiro is clearly moving as fast as he can to try and strike the creature in its weak points. She winces, and looks down at her side - one of the Roku’kus claws had stabbed her in the hip, and she was bleeding heavily. She grunts and singes the wound closed with her flames before her feet ignite again, rocketing her back into the action. 

You could just leave, you know. Miki’s voice rings into her head. 

Abigail blasts a wave of purple flames at the dragon, but it has no effect as a massive wing knocks her back to the ground. 

You don’t owe these people anything. 

She pulls herself up to her feet with enough time to see Arihiro gripped by the gnarled hand and tossed behind her, leaving a crater in the ground where he lands. 

Abigail, I mean it. Don’t open it.

She glares up at the dragon, making eye contact. It roars and pulls its head back, a series of arms and mouths extending from the frill around its neck, forming a massive fireball above its head. Abigail sneers and pulls her arm back, preparing a blast of flame of her own. 

Don’t!!

Abigail’s arm erupts, the skin breaking from shoulder to fingertip like the dehydrated ground of the desert. Her eyes open wide, and her tears of blood begin to fruitlessly fall this time as her body loses all strength, falling to her knees. 

THE DOOR IS OPEN.

THE RAILING IS BROKEN.

THE CHANDELIER IS FALLING. 

Her lips tremble into a silent scream. 

The dragon’s head slams forward, the yellow fireball now fully charged. The laughter starts again, and the Roku’ku begins to try and say something before the flames can consume everything in front of him. 

Abigail closes her eyes in defeat. 

Carlos’ eyes open wider in surprise. 

The Roku’ku fires its final flames, but they will make no traction, nor burn anything in front of them. The dragon will no longer roar after this, and the will of Ryu’Djinn has vanished. 

A red beam of light, silent and unassuming, pokes through the center of the flames and the center of the dragon, before suddenly solidifying as it is replaced by a red beam of pure energy. The red beam screams across the city, across the ocean, into the atmosphere, off through infinity for just a second - but that second was enough. The yellow flames, the dragon, the building behind him, the clouds and air pierced by the energy, all freeze and start to dissolve to ribbons of light. 

As suddenly as it showed up, the Roku’ku was erased. Abigail opens her eyes in time to see the dragon fade into oblivion, panting and unable to catch her breath - but she follows the line backwards, back from space, from the clouds, from the building, from the dragon, to behind her, and to the outstretched finger gun of Arihiro’s left arm. She stares at his finger, and then to his eyes, and he looks back, exhausted and starting to lose consciousness. His hand is shaking, black veins extending from his finger through the rest of his arm, and presumably into his chest - his scarf had been knocked partially out of place, and she could tell the veins stretched into his neck, and into - 

“It seems Mr. River was correct about you, O’Hare!” A voice shouts from the distance. 

Abigail twists her head, her left arm gripping her torn up right arm, barely holding on to lucidity herself. 

“Perhaps you will let the Riverwalk burn down in your pursuit of victory. Well, no matter,” the voice continues, heavy boots echoing his every footstep, “This time, your callousness has paid off in spades. Dealing with our Roku’ku problem AND our Arihiro problem? Fantastic.” 

Ian Crowley, Maya Olvide, and Michael River walked their way down the street, towards Arihiro, who laid at the perfect halfway point between them and Abigail. On a street perpendicular, Lea slowly made her way towards the group as well, trying to keep a comfortable distance and avoid being noticed - but she is seen by Carlos, still sitting on the ground by a smashed crater where the dragon’s tail had crashed down. 

Abigail thins her eyes at the Peacekeepers, but is too weak to move or speak. 

“And what say you, Arihiro? Not going to greet an old friend? Or maybe feeling shy from some new faces over here?” Ian taunts, his usual cool demeanor replaced by a cold cruelty. “Or maybe you know it’s time you get what’s coming to you.” 

Abigail can barely keep her eyes open. Huh? What’s coming to him? Huh? 

“We’ve done this song and dance before, so as much as it hurts, let’s just do this the right way. By the book. I’ll do my part, you do yours, sound good?” Ian asks, continuing to march towards Arihiro. “Arihiro, no last name, belonging to and loved by no one, you have been accused and have been convicted for a series of crimes both of your own fault and the fault of circumstance. Thirteen dead Peacekeepers lay at your feet, along with one hundred and seventy three scientists, soldiers, and civilians at Montauk Island.” 

Montauk…? Where have I…

“For these crimes, you have been sentenced to death, and while you have managed to eke your way out of your fate for years, the time has finally come. Any last words?” 

Abigail looks over to Arihiro, and they make eye contact. His eyes suddenly roll back into his head, and his body crumples forward, vomiting out an alarming amount of puke, blood, and a black liquid Abigail couldn’t parse. He shakes as he forces breaths in and out, and his eyes meet Abigail’s again. 

“Abigail…” He mutters, and his eyes close as he falls forward. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon shines over the streets of Downtown Coastal Astoria, its pale blue glow illuminating the major players of this story. A cloud slowly drifts between the moon and the earth, dimming the light for just a moment, perhaps only a few seconds. 

Within those few seconds, all of these major players would find their fates altered. As Arihiro, barely on his knees, falls forwards into a puddle of his own blood and vomit, each of the Peacekeepers and Freelancers and Shopkeepers react differently, their reactions deciding how this path would open in front of them. 

Ian Crowley continues his march as he becomes flooded with confidence. Finally.

Michael River can barely contain a gasp. Wait, wait, wait, wait -

Maya Olvide is the only Peacekeeper with her eye on the prize, but she could never be fast enough to do anything about it. 

Carlos Dumaresq stares at Lea O’Hare, one of his closest friends and most trusted confidante, who stares back into his eyes, communicating a single word. 

Lea O’Hare is the one who knows exactly what’s about to happen, and the one taking steps to mitigate the damage as much as possible. She communicates to Carlos Dumaresq a single word. Abigail.

Abigail O’Hare, of course, isn’t thinking anything at all. She makes no plans, makes no conscious decision. 

She doesn’t have to. 

Her feet have already ignited.