Alistair… ran.
He had escaped out the wave, and just ran with haste.
Such power and control existed beyond his grasp. Staying any longer meant certain death, especially since it wasn't just a single person.
Never fight team battles without a team, narrow field, or sufficient enough information. Their subtractions added to chances of death, a bet not worth the hassle.
"There was," Alistair glanced back, eyes trembling. "A woman… an old lady."
…
A short memory replayed. Deep blue waters flowed. Light, a far luxury within its confines.
But movements, vibrations of a moving figure spread. Alistair's head snapped to its source.
It was a wrong decision.
Face to face, he observed a wrinkled, silicone-like figure an inch away. Those cracked eyes glowed cyan, hair floated rampantly as if living. Most importantly, an enemy too close for safety.
Fair, boney white hands strayed close to his neck, seeking to break, reap.
