The feeling of a pulse blast ruffles my hair and clothes. Clyde had expertly thrown a pulse blast detonator underneath Den of Lions. It causes a condensed force of intangible energy to disperse at a quick rate, making an area devoid of air for a brief moment. Den of Lions is broken into a million pieces, and Feather Flight flies over me and skids along the concrete leaving a trail of blood streaming from his nose.
"A pulse bomb?" I ask.
"Just one," Clyde says, his teeth flapping around as he says. I nearly throw up watching him talk.
"Only one? That might've been the best chance we had."
"Sorry, but I don't get to pick the loadout for a mission," he says as more blood splashes out of his open cheek.
Feather Flight heaves himself up, his legs are wobbly and his balance is weak. "That's the last hit you'll ever get on me. I promise." Den of Lions comes back underneath his crotch once more. He's risen as the mount reasserts itself as the most powerful being in the room. Its eyes exchange between Clyde and me, my nerves feel the gaze every time.
I scatter like a scared feral behind a shelf the moment I see its toe twitch. Clyde does the same, climbing through the shelves and getting behind the supplies. Den of Lions goes after him, clawing through the hole he crawled through and barely missing him.
The shelf I hide behind has confetti poppers for when the hotel hosts balls or expensive birthdays. I grab an armful and rush over to the butt of the lion. Popping them at point-blank range makes some of its body disappear, and in turn, become unmanifested.
We spent all fight hiding from the wind, but now we need our own to beat this guy. "Clyde, find something with massive wind power!" Den of Lion's back leg bucks out and kicks me in the chest, my armload of poppers falling to the floor and me flying backward.
"The fan!" Clyde yells.
With no hesitation, Den of Lions sprints to the fan and destroys it with a single swipe of its paw. Admittedly, it's incredible to watch power like that destroy something as durable as an industrial fan. It crumbled like the lion was stepping on a sand castle rather than metal.
Clyde jumps out of his hiding place with a leaf blower. I look around for something else I can use. There's nothing obvious, but some items do catch my eye. A tarp, a crate of metal hangers, rubber bands, and a pair of scissors. I'm sorry, Clyde, but this is going to take a moment.
The leaf blower's motor starts up, and Den of Lions quickly pounces away and clings to the corner of the ceiling and wall. "How long until that runs out of juice just like the vacuum?" Feather Flight asks.
"Should be long enough for me to curb stomp your face into the second dimension."
"Just try it, Den of Lions won't let you come near me!"
Feather Flight quickly jumps from his spot and lands right in front of Clyde. The lion starts to fade away with the leaf blower's wind, but it launches Feather Flight out of the saddle and high up in the air. When he comes down, he tries to pounce Clyde, but it doesn't work. Clyde throws a kick and scoops Feather Flight's body in an arc, making him fly away until Den of Lions catches him before he hits the ground.
"Keep hiding behind that leaf blower, it's the only move you've got."
"Troy, I could really use your help right now."
"I can't, I'm bleeding over here!" I can't let Feather Flight know what I'm doing over here, I don't want to risk getting interrupted. Let's see, a bend here, a snip there. I have to do this right and fast before Clyde gets his head chomped off.
Den of Lions tries to swipe at Clyde's leaf blower, but its paw disappears when it almost makes contact. Clyde continues to back up until he hits a wall, but he never bothers looking for an escape route. He's too concentrated on defending himself. Feather Flight instead tries to knock over one of the tall shelves to squish Clyde, but he gets out of the way in time.
Clyde starts to climb on top of more supplies, and Den of Lions gives a close chase; clawing at his feet and just narrowly missing by a few inches. He can't aim the leaf blower while running away, and he's less agile than an actual beast. It catches him by the boot and throws him down to the floor. Before his head can hit the concrete, he moves his arm behind it to lessen the brain damage.
The lion throws itself from atop the shelves and tries to squish him with its body. The leaf blower dissipates it before it can land, making Feather Flight fall on top of Clyde instead. Clyde quickly wrestles him into an arm lock, but before he can break his other arm, Den of Lions manifest behind them and grabs Clyde by the back of the shirt, tossing him at my hiding place and knocking my supplies all over the floor.
"Dammit!"
Poor Clyde can't even ask for help anymore. He's so tired, woozy, and fatigued from the lack of blood. His left eye is still slit, still pouring blood every now and then. He's been fighting with one eye closed this entire time. The leaf blower stops working, damaged from the throw.
"I'm…ugh—," he gurgles.
"You're not dying! Not right now!"
"The gel…only one. Didn't…until now."
"I'll never forget it, and I won't let you regret it. Help is almost here."
His body is dragged away from me, I have to stop myself from reaching out for him. Den of Lions has him between its jaws, all it has to do is bite down, and Clyde will be severed in half. Not even the nanobots can keep him from dying if that happens.
"Agent Hearth, I have your partner," Feather Flight says, "I have him hanging by a thread. One bite and his life is over in a bloody and painful mess. There's a chance you can spare both of you the agony."
"Let me guess: come out slowly and you'll kill us quickly?"
"Cliches are cliche because they always work. I'd rather you didn't experience Hell on Earth before going there when it's over. Kneel in front of me and I'll stab your brains in just the right spot. I promise you won't feel a thing."
"That's tempting. After all, since this Afterburner business, every mission has been nothing but pain and torment. I'd like a break from that, though I can't speak for my partner."
"If he was responsive, he'd be begging for you to take that deal. I'm sure he's had his fill of pain for the night." Clyde's body twitches as Den of Lions makes subtle moves, shifting on its paws waiting to chomp on its treat. "I'm sure you have, too. Den of Lions is made to inflict non-lethal, but painful wounds that add up to a bleed-out. You must be feeling awful yourself."
"Not in the best shape, I admit. Is that offer of cuddling under a blanket still on the table? I'll take that option now. Mmm, but I want decaf coffee, not hot cocoa."
"Jokes!? Damn Ispio agents won't let anyone have the last laugh. Come out of there, or I'll pounce that shelf right on top of you. You'll be diced like cubed meat."
"You really want me to come out right now? Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Right. Now!"
I stand up and reveal myself from the shelf. My body still drips a little blood from my wounds, but the major cuts are gone. In my hand is a makeshift arts and crafts project I finally finished after all of Clyde's distractions.
"What is that?"
I hold it up. "What? This? Oh, it's just a self-made air bazooka. Want to see how it works?"
"Air bazooka?"
It's shaped like a cylinder, the tarp has been cut up to fit the metal wiring I made out of the hangers. It makes a cone that I can pull back and let go like a slingshot, the hollow middle of it allows for condensed air to be fired like a cannon.
I pull it back, aim for the lion, and let it loose. The bazooka makes a popping sound, ringing throughout the whole room, and Den of Lions is completely blown away, making Feather Flight fall down.
"How!?"
"Air."
"I know that!"
Clyde's body is dropped to the concrete, and the sudden jolt makes him wake up a little. He looks around to see Feather Flight without his steed, then he tries to sit up. He winces and grunts, but he ends up back on his feet.
Den of Lions tries to reform its body, but another blast from my bazooka makes sure it doesn't happen. Feather Flight starts to cry and whine, doing his best to resummon his curse. The slightest shape of it gets blown away, I won't let it come back. Clyde finally catches on to what's happening, then holds his hand out so he can use the cannon.
I give it to him, and he gives me his gun.
"Do you really mean it, Clyde?"
"She's all yours. But give her back when you're done." He shoots another blast of wind, Feather Flight just doesn't give up.
Conviction is heavier and a higher caliber than mine. It's meant to put holes in people. It feels big in my hands, and the recoil, from what I remember, has got a kick like a stallion. I point it at Feather Flight who now cowers behind his hands and falls to his butt. Clyde constantly shooting the cannon means he's still trying to kill us, so no mercy can be shown here.
"Wait! Wait, not a fucking magnum! Please!"
"Where has all that confidence you strolled on the street with gone? Besides, your version of mercy was killing us with less suffering. That's pretty much what we're going to do here."
I shoot him in the leg, I just couldn't help myself. I put another one in his kneecap, then I go back to the first leg and cap that one too. Then I put one in his stomach; gut shots will kill in a slow and very painful way. He's dead already, but he's still got some time before he bleeds out.
"Jesus, Troy," Clyde says.
"Judge me on the plane ride home. I hate this guy and his stupid cat."
I give Clyde his gun back, putting it in his holster for him rather than handing it back. He's still shooting the cannon at Den of Lions, I don't want him to be distracted.
"What are you doing, Troy? He's still alive. Put one in his head, let this be over with."
Every piece of me is burning with all the cuts he's given me in one night. My anger boils as the tastiest picture of revenge envelops my mind. I hover over his crawling body and forcefully sit on his hips to keep him in place, then my hands wrap around his throat.
"It's funny that air was your method of attack. Now you'll die from a lack of it."
Tighter and tighter, I squeeze the oxygen out of him. If he's trying to beg for his life, the only thing coming out are gurgles and babbles. His tongue sticks out, trying to taste the last bit of air he'll ever know. His eyes roll back, the red veins follow the pupil and pulse brightly. My whole upper body weight presses down on his throat as I lean on him. His hands cramp up as his nose turns blue. Finally, the veins in his neck pop out, and his face is frozen in terror as his body stops trembling.
Clyde isn't shooting the cannon anymore. I get off of him and take a deep breath, run my hands through my hair. My head is throbbing, and I have this feeling of indifference running through my heart. I don't want to look at Clyde, I don't need his judging glare.
"Anyway, we should get to the hospital. These cuts can be treated locally, maybe not your eye though."
"Or your ear," Clyde says.
I gently rub the nub where it used to be. "Or your face. Not an insult, I can literally see your teeth. Is your mouth closed?"
"Yeah. Watch this." He slides his tongue through his exposed teeth.
"Gross."
"Should we just go home then?"
"But I'm sleepy."
"Sleep on the plane."
"Okay."
Feather Flight said he lived a dull and unfulfilling life until Den of Lions chose him to be its master. It's a tragedy to realize he was just some young adult looking for a direction to go, and The Key were the ones to point him in one. I imagine he was never a bad or evil guy, but rather a wayward mind that might've been too shy to take life by the reigns.
The Key ruined a young person's life, and they made us end it. We'd already stormed the Science Center where we first found them only to see that they'd changed locations without a hint of where. If that wasn't the case, we would've seized the relic from them and assassinated all of the staff.
More lives will be cut short, and there's nothing I can personally do to dim the numbers. Until then, we keep searching. It's a race to take out one another, and the betting pot is the lives they choose to play with.
Relic Victim: Feather Flight
Curse: Den of Lions
Type: Elemental Manipulation
Status: Deceased