Inside his cell at Silver Haven, Constantine paced back and forth, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, and his heart pounding with anticipation. He was a newcomer to this world of magic, thrust into its depths without any warning or guidance. Aether surged through his veins, a power he barely comprehended, coupled with a minor control over space and time that proved as unpredictable as it was powerful. Yet, despite the daunting effects of his captivity, there was a wild exhilaration that coursed through him, a manic energy that urged him to break free and revel in the sweet taste of liberty once more.
As he plotted his escape, Constantine's ears caught the faint echo of approaching footsteps - the sign of the mages who served as guards in the hospital. They were coming for him; time to get this show on the road. With a surge of adrenaline, Constantine sprang into action, utilizing his nascent control over space and time to warp outside of his cell, as far from the mages as he could. But his powers remained untrained, his movements erratic, leaving him vulnerable; the mages immediately noticed him and started pursuing him.
Constantine raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart drumming in his chest. He ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the spells and enchantments hurled his way. Yet, despite his efforts, he could feel his strength waning, his powers faltering under the strain. He twisted and turned through the corridors, his movements fluid yet erratic as he defied the laws of physics. Doors flew open before him as he ran, randomly disappearing and reappearing in different places but always staying in motion. The mages pursued him relentlessly, their spells tearing through the air, but Constantine was somehow always one step ahead of them.
With a burst of energy, he propelled himself forward, hurtling through a portal he had created with a mere thought. On the other side, he found himself in a dimly lit hallway, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter with each passing moment. But Constantine knew he couldn't afford to slow down, not when his freedom hang in the balance. He pressed on, his senses heightened as he navigated the corridors of the hospital. At every turn, he encountered more mages waiting to ambush him.
"Wizards sure are paranoid," he mumbled.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged into the moonlit courtyard of the hospital, the cool night air washing over him like a welcome embrace. But his respite was short-lived; standing in front of him were two men, carrying weapons, looking at him bewildered.
The first was a middle-aged man, his hair streaked with strands of silver, his dark blue eyes sharp and penetrating. In his hand, he wielded a rapier that shimmered with otherworldly energy. Beside him stood another man, tall and aloof, with slick black hair and green eyes that gleamed with intensity. In his hands, he brandished twin daggers.
"The mages are closing in, Marcus!" the tall one said, his voice steady and resolute. "We need to move, now."
"Hold on!" Constantine shouted. I'm not a "mage", I'm a fucking prisoner!"
"Are you Constantine St. John,?" the middle-aged man asked, his voice weary.
"Yes! Who the hell are you people?" Constantine exclaimed.
"We are people with abilities just like yours; it might be hard to trust two strangers, but I promise you that we're here to help. The two of us will fight off the mages, go hide out of view and wait for us," he said. "We came here to rescue you, after all."
Confusion and disbelief warred within Constantine's mind as he struggled to comprehend the truth of their words. But, as he looked into their eyes, he saw a glimmer of sincerity; and, besides, they were his only viable option at the moment. Constantine nodded, his lips curling into a defiant smile.
"I'm no princess waiting to be rescued," he replied. "They locked me up and wanted to turn me into their lab rat. They wanna fight? Fine, let's not keep them waiting!" he declared, his eyes looking slightly deranged.
Marcus thought that this must be his Cost. However, he also knew that arguing was a luxury they couldn't afford right now.
"Can you fight?" the tall one asked Constantine.
"I'm good with hand to hand, I've been training since high school," Constantine said.
"Not ideal but it's the bare minimum," he replied.
"Fine," the middle-aged one said. "Stay close to both of us and do your best to help, but don't go overboard; run immediately if you get overwhelmed. Let your instincts guide you."
"Alright," Constantine said, looking at the incoming mages with a wide grin.
Together, the three of them stood against the tide of mages that descended upon them, their powers intertwining. Constantine attempted to fight alongside them, using a mix of Krav Maga and whatever control he could muster from his abilities. Yet, his powers often flickered and failed, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
"Stay close, Constantine," the man with the twin daggers called out, his voice somewhat reassuring amidst the chaos.
The courtyard erupted into a whirlwind of spells and blades. The middle-aged man weaved intricate patterns with his rapier, each movement showing speed and finesse. With a flick of his wrist, he sent arcs of spatial energy slicing through the air, tearing through the ranks of their adversaries with surgical precision.
Beside him, the man with the slicked-back hair moved with an eerie grace. With a deft twist of his fingers, he conjured illusions that confounded and disoriented their foes, leaving them vulnerable to their attacks. The middle-aged man and his companion danced through the fray with a grace and skill that left Constantine in awe. He tried his best to follow up, using his powers to teleport near his opponents and hit them with aggressive and swift, precise strikes on their vitals, but several days of enclosure and sleeplessness had left him weak. Still, he managed to take a few down by himself, which felt really satisfying.
Together, the three of them pressed on. However, as the battle raged on, Constantine felt the last reserves of his strength waning, his powers failing under the strain of the fight. With each passing moment, he grew more exhausted, his movements growing sluggish as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him.
Just when it seemed as though they would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of their enemies, a surge of energy coursed through Constantine's veins, rejuvenating him with newfound strength. With a defiant roar, he unleashed a torrent of aether that surged forth like a tidal wave, sweeping aside their enemies with irresistible force. The two men exchanged surprised glances, their eyes widening in astonishment at the raw power displayed by their newfound ally.
As the last of their enemies fell before them, Constantine felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, his limbs heavy with fatigue. With trembling breath, he looked to the two men who had fought by his side, gratitude swelling within his chest.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a hoarse murmur.
And then, as if the weight of his ordeal had finally caught up with him, Constantine's vision blurred, the world spinning dizzily around him. With a soft groan, he collapsed to the ground, darkness enveloping him as he slipped into unconsciousness.