The night is truly a treat to the eye. Men became ghostly, looming silhouettes. Streets seemed to grow more narrow in the fog, every thoroughfare becoming a lonely, dangerous alleyway. Ian shut his eyes in meditation, whispering of winds is the only sound he wanted to hear. The dark city at night was a place for the desperate and the foolhardy; tonight it was a land of swirling mystery and strange creatures. Awake when everyone sleeps.
'Strange creature I am.' Ian thought. He stood upon the ledge that ran around the lip of the flat-roofed lair. Shadowed buildings loomed in the night around him, and the cold made everything seem to shift and move in the darkness. Weak lights peeked from the occasional window, but the tiny beads of illumination were huddled frightened things.
A cool breeze slipped across the rooftop, shifting the haze, brushing against Ian's mist-wetted cheek like an exhaled breath. In days past—back before everything had gone wrong—he had always sought out a rooftop on the evening before a job, wishing to overlook the city. He didn't realize he was observing his old custom this night until he glanced to the side, expecting the HTF Ignition to be near; as planned.
He sighed and turned. Wally and Rick stood behind him on the rooftop. Both looked apprehensive to be out in the mists, but they dealt with their fear. A little bit of fear is necessary. Fear is what triggers your survival instincts.
Ian checked his strange gas mask that he including all hunter wore. His armour-like suit made up of a material similar to Nomex. His suit ready and bulletproof. His gauntlets and boot charged, he didn't carry any special firearm except a magnum pistol.
"That it?" Wally asked
"Yes, " replied Ian.
Wally nodded. "Good luck."
Mist curled in the air around him. Jiva flowed around his mystic network. The light emitted from the environment around him like it's the day, visible only to his eyes. He saw everything clearly. A blue light appeared beneath his feet, visible only to him. He looked at the light and pushed the ground with his feet, launching himself in the air.
His descent immediately stopped, and he was thrown back up into the air in the opposite direction along the blue line. He reached out to the side, selected a passing window clasp, and blue light appeared as the invisible force pushed him around, angling himself to the side. The careful nudge sent him up and over the lip of the building.
Ian landed with a lithe step, falling into a crouch and running across the building's peaked roof. He paused in the darkness at the other side, peering through the swirling air. He used more Jiva, enhancing his senses. Suddenly the mists seemed less deep. It wasn't that the night around him grew any lighter; his ability to perceive simply increased. In the distance to the north, he could just barely make out a large structure. Keep Venture.
Ian kept the flow of Jiva on—it took longer to extinguish, and he probably didn't need to worry about running out. As he stood, the darkness curled slightly around his body. They twisted and spun, running in a slight, barely noticeable current beside him. The darkness knew him; they claimed him. They could sense magic.
He jumped, Pushing against metal bars behind him, sending himself in a wide horizontal leap. He summoned blue light on his hands as he jumped, the tiny bit of metal flickering through the darkness and fog. He Pushed against the air before it hit the ground, the force of his weight driving it downward in a sharp motion. As soon as it hit the floor, Ian Pushing forced him upward, turning the second half of his leap into a graceful arc.
Ian landed on another peaked solid rooftop. pushing and pulling with magic were the first things that Mark had taught him. When you Push on something, it's like you're throwing your weight against it, the lunatic had said. And you can't change how much you weigh—you're a newbie, not some veteran like me. Don't Pull on something that weighs less than you unless you want it to come flying at you, and don't Push on something heavier than you unless you want to get tossed in the other direction.
Ian scratched his head, then pulled his gun tight as he crouched on the roof, the ground hitting his feet. He often wished that Jiva didn't enhance all of the senses—or, at least, not all of them at once. He needed the improved eyesight to see in the darkness, and he made good use of the improved hearing as well. However, burning tin made the night seem even more chilly to his overly sensitive skin, and his feet registered every pebble and rough ripple they touched.
The area was filled with old mansions, it was majestic—that much was visible simply from the architecture. While it maintained a defensive wall around the grounds, the keep itself was more an artistic construction than a fortification. Sturdy buttressing arched out from the sides, allowing for intricate windows and delicate spires. Brilliant stained-glass windows stretched high along the sides of the rectangular building, and they shone with light from within, giving the surrounding mists a variegated glow.
With a sudden jerk, he was yanked into the air.
Ian continued using Jiva, pulling himself toward the keep at a tremendous speed. Some rumours claimed that magicians could easily fly, but that was a wistful exaggeration. Pulling and Pushing against objects usually felt less like flying than it did like falling—only in the wrong direction. A hunter had to Pull hard to get the proper momentum, and this sent him hurtling toward his anchor at daunting speeds.
Ian shot toward the area, mists curling around him. He easily cleared the protective wall surrounding the grounds, but his body dropped slightly toward the ground as he moved. It was his pesky weight again; it tugged him down. Even the swiftest of arrows angled slightly toward the ground as it flew.
The drag of his weight meant that instead of shooting right up to the roof, he swung in an arc. He approached the keep wall several dozen feet below the rooftop, still travelling at a terrible speed.
Taking a deep breath, Ian increased the flow of Jiva, using it to enhance his physical strength much in the same way that tin enhanced his senses. He turned himself in the air, hitting the hard wall feet-first. Even his strengthened muscles protested at the treatment, but he stopped without breaking any bones. He immediately released his hold on the roof, pointed his hands towards the ground and Pushing against it even as he began to fall. He reached out, selecting object above him—one of the wire housings of a stained-glass window—and Pulled on it.
The push hit the ground below and was suddenly able to support his weight. Ian launched himself upward, Pushing and Pulling on the window at the same time. Then, extinguishing them, he let momentum carry him the last few feet up through the dark mists. Wind flapping quietly, he crested the lip of the keep's upper service walkway, flipped himself up over the railing, and landed quietly on the ledge.