Chương 104: 103: A Shift In Perspective II

The children continued staring long after Butter disappeared above the rooftops, happily munching on the fairy's sweets. Silence lingered. Finally, the freckled boy adjusted his oversized glasses while nibbling a chocolate bar.

"…I still think she was a fairy." The braided girl nodded between bites of a cookie.

"A magic candy fairy."

"She wasn't," his older sister declared confidently.

"Fairies don't throw flying cars."

"You don't know that."

"I absolutely know that."

"Mum," the little blonde boy asked through a mouthful of caramel, "can I have another one?"

"One more," she sighed.

"You'll spoil your teeth."

"I've only had three."

"…Five," his older sister corrected. A little blond boy bounced excitedly beside his mother, still clutching another unopened packet of sweets.

"When I grow up, I wanna be a Stepper!" His mother smiled, smoothing his unruly hair.

"That'll take a lot of work, Owen."

"And a great deal of training," his father added.

"Even if you made it that far, you'd still have to survive the Magpie Serum." Owen's grin wavered.

"Does it hurt?"

"So I've heard," his mother admitted.

"Most applicants never even qualify."

"But…" She squeezed his shoulder.

"The pay's excellent." His father laughed.

"And the gadgets are pretty cool." Owen's smile returned instantly.

"I want the shoulder guns!"

"You've got another fifteen years before you start asking recruiters about those."

"Do Steppers get free candy?" His father snorted.

"They absolutely do not." Across the street, the elderly neighbour who had watched Screw repair the car rested both forearms atop his white picket fence.

"Today's been busy," he muttered. Another man, watering his roses nearby, looked toward the distant fortress where smoke still drifted into the sky.

"Busier than usual." He scratched his beard.

"Wonder what's going on over there." The old man shrugged lazily.

"Above my pay grade." He waved a hand.

"Out of my jurisdiction." Behind them, the children were already arguing over whose sweets tasted best, trading chocolates for cookies as their parents repeatedly reminded them not to eat too much before dinner. Somewhere high above, another distant explosion echoed across the district. None of them looked particularly concerned. Life in the Syndicate carried on....

A gap-toothed dark-skinned woman in a white shirt and brown leather jacket stepped onto the neighbouring porch, a digital briefcase tucked beneath one arm. Her braided hair remained pinned into a tidy bun, though several loose strands framed her face after the commotion.

"It is rather unusual," she observed.

"Conflicts almost never reach Executive Housing." Everyone nodded. This district was considered safe. Architects. Accountants. Lawyers. Administrators. Logistics officers. Human Resources. Ordinary people who kept the Syndicate functioning without ever stepping inside a laboratory. Close enough to matter. Far enough away to sleep peacefully. She adjusted her glasses.

"Although…" She hesitated.

"I did meet Korhess once." Every adult looked toward her. Even the children stopped talking.

"You did?" the elderly man asked. She nodded slowly.

"I was overseeing documentation for a containment expansion."

"What was she like?" Her eyes drifted back toward the smoking fortress.

"…Beautiful." The word escaped before she could replace it.

"She spoke like one of the old goddesses from mythology. Every sentence sounded impossibly ancient." She laughed quietly.

"I remember walking away feeling as though I'd accidentally interrupted history itself."

"She scary?" Owen whispered.

"Oh… unquestionably." She folded her arms.

"You could feel how powerful she was without her moving a single muscle." The children exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"Whoa…"

"I've never seen an abom-" Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. His father gently interrupted.

"Experiment." The boy blinked.

"Huh?"

"They're called Syndicate experiments." He crouched beside him."'Abomination' is a slur."

"The experiments sometimes call themselves that."

"We don't." The boy nodded solemnly.

"…Oh."

"Good." The elderly neighbour rubbed his chin.

"I saw Thornburgh last week." Several people turned.

"You what?" He shivered despite the sunshine.

"Enormous fellow." He lifted one hand well above his head.

"Even in human form he was intimidating." The suited woman smiled faintly.

"I forget people like that actually exist."

"So do I," Owen's father admitted.

"Most days we file paperwork, approve budgets and attend meetings. Every now and then you remember there are monsters living beyond those walls."

"Heroes too," his wife corrected gently. He smiled.

"…Heroes too." The neighbourhood settled into silence once more. Another distant explosion rolled across the area. Nobody flinched. Life simply continued. The old man returned to watering his roses. The suited woman checked the time, sighed about an afternoon compliance meeting, and hurried toward her parked flyer. Owen scooped up the football.

"Last one to the mailbox is a rotten egg!" The children burst into laughter and raced down the street. Their father watched them for a moment before opening his newly repaired garage. He smiled at the pristine flying car.

"Well…"

"…I suppose I ought to thank that fairy if I ever run into her again."

"You probably won't." The unfamiliar voice came from the pavement. He turned. A young woman in a neat charcoal business suit stood beside the mailbox, a leather satchel tucked beneath one arm. Her cherry-red hair fell across her face, rectangular glasses perched low on her nose, and an identification badge bearing the Syndicate seal swung gently against her jacket. His children reached her first.

"Miss Nadia!"

"Morning!"

"Did you see the fairy?" She blinked.

"Fairy?"

"The really strong one!"

"She smashed a car on somebody!"

"She said sorry!"

"She was really nice!" Nadia stared for a moment, processing far more information than she'd expected before quietly asking, in an oddly measured tone,"…Would any of you happen to know the direction in which this... fairy... departed?" The children all pointed down the same street.

"That way!"

"She was getting chased by Steppers!"

"And she had a monkey lemur. He fixed dad's car!"

"…I see." She let out the smallest sigh.

"Thank you." The father almost chuckled. Tracking anyone inside the fortress district was an exercise in frustration. Apis resonance distorted sensors, confused navigation systems and subtly warped spatial perception. Entire residential sectors felt like labyrinths stitched together by an architect with an unusual sense of humour. Residents learned very quickly to stay on their assigned floor. Wander far enough and you could become hopelessly lost......

or stumble into an area reserved for something considerably less friendly than neighbours. That was why Steppers manned checkpoints throughout the complex, patiently directing civilians who took a wrong turn. Apparently...... the fairy hadn't needed directions. A sudden squeak shattered the thought. Something brown and white shot through the garage.

"WHA!" The father jerked one leg into the air as a tiny weasel sprinted frantic circles around his boots, nose pressed to the floor, sniffing every toolbox, tyre and shelf with relentless determination.

"Squeak!"

"What in the...?" The little creature paused beneath the repaired flying car, sniffed once more, gave an approving chirp, then darted back outside before anyone could react.

"Coconut!" The weasel bounded up the legs of a small girl standing in the street and scrambled onto her shoulder with practiced ease. Kiri absently scratched beneath his chin as though this happened every day.

"It appears," she said politely, "he wished to verify the repairs." The father stared.

"…He... inspected my garage?"

"He takes quality assurance rather seriously." Coconut puffed out his tiny chest. Kiri pressed two fingers against the device fastened around her wrist. Click. A faint blue projection flickered above it for a heartbeat before disappearing. She looked toward the father.

"You possess a remarkably cool automobile." A brief pause.

"I quite approve." Before he could think of a response, her wings unfolded with a metallic whisper. One powerful beat. She launched skyward, Coconut clinging comfortably to her shoulder as they disappeared between the towering buildings. The father remained standing in the garage doorway. After several long seconds, he slowly looked back at his perfectly repaired flying car.

"…She complimented my car." He folded his arms.

"… I'm telling everyone at work." — Butter burst into another unfamiliar corridor. White marble stretched in both directions, polished until it reflected the ceiling lights like still water. Broad pillars stood at even intervals, supporting a high vaulted ceiling that disappeared into soft shadows. The passage was immaculate, almost serene, more like the hallway of a luxurious estate than a fortress built to wage war. Katherine's trick kept her Gloom flowing. Crescendo. A trickle became a lake.

A whisper became a scream. Maintaining it wasn't easy. It never had been. A relentless migraine pounded behind her eyes, throbbing in time with the music that never truly stopped. Her magic could mend broken bones and torn flesh, but it couldn't ease the strain of forcing reality to believe a lie. The pain worsened. Butter slowed to a halt, one hand rising instinctively to her temple. It had become unbearable.

She'd maintained Crescendo carefully, feeding it only enough Gloom to keep it alive without draining her reserves. The backlash, however, seemed to be the cost of cheating reality itself. The spell was no longer consuming her magic. It was consuming her. She'd tried locating Korhess and Thornburgh several times, but the pair moved too quickly to follow. Every trail she found was already obsolete. One moment they were deep inside the fortress.

The next they were kilometres away outside it, only to vanish again before she could lock onto them. Eventually...... she gave up. Korhess was strong. If anyone could handle that wolf...... it was her. Besides, Katherine had already destroyed the Twin Chambers. That changed everything. Even if Thornburgh won, he couldn't simply return again and again. The music continued. She heard it now, not with her ears but with something deeper. The Gloom had learned to warn her. A trumpet meant a blade. A drum meant a bullet.

A flute whispered of a hidden Stepper stalking nearby. Every instrument carried meaning. She read them as naturally as other people read words. Suddenly...... the melody changed. A trombone. The low, discordant note made her teeth ache. A warning. Butter froze. An ash-and-yellow disc shrieked into existence, its metallic song rising into a piercing whistle as it raced through the corridor at a significant fraction of the speed of light. A Nightingale. She leaned aside.

The drone skimmed past her cheek, close enough to stir her hair. At the same instant, an Ice Egg bounced beneath her feet. KRRRSHHHH! Butter sprang upward as the sphere burst apart, erupting into a forest of razor-sharp ice that swallowed the marble floor in an instant. Kiri struck before Butter reached the peak of her jump. Cyan lenses locked onto Butter as electric-blue circuitry flared through her folded poly-carbon wings.

She rocketed upward like a hunting falcon, tucked into a spin mid-flight, and the hooked talons built into her boots scythed toward Butter's face. Too slow. Butter caught her ankle. Momentum seemed to hesitate. For the briefest instant, both of them hung weightless above the forest of ice, suspended in the heartbeat between cause and consequence.

"I have you now." Kiri tilted her head with almost lazy amusement. One hand was already raised. Two fingers pointed directly at Butter's throat.

"No, you don't." KZAKT. Something no larger than a coin clamped against Butter's neck and discharged instantly. The drone...... it had fired this. While she'd been occupied with the Ice Egg and Kiri's attack, the Nightingale had launched the tiny device at a significant fraction of the speed of light, matching its own relativistic velocity. She hadn't even seen it happen. White-hot current flooded her nervous system. She hated these things. Rashida had used the very same weapon against her. Motion-triggered.

Neurospikes. The instant they sensed movement, they released a single, overwhelming burst directly into the nervous system. A normal human died where they stood. Most supernatural beings simply seized up, every muscle locking as paralysis stole their bodies for minutes. Abominations were too resilient for that. The discharge couldn't kill them or hold them for long. It only had to stagger them. Just long enough...... for the real attack to land. Her hand spasmed. The involuntary jerk twisted Kiri sideways.

The air cannon arrived a heartbeat later. The blast slammed into Butter's chest instead of her face, redirected only because her body had jerked at the last instant. The moment she'd grabbed Kiri's leg...... her strength had begun draining away. The Hummingbird suit awakened around the little figure. A long, black sensor beak extended from her helmet while the kinetic scales coating her armour shifted from bruised violet to blazing orange, stored momentum surging across them like liquid fire.

Thin veins of electric blue raced beneath the metallic feathers folded against her back, feeding the suit as it drank. Butter felt it. The armour carried a kinetic siphon that activated whenever an opponent maintained hostile physical contact. Strength poured from Butter in a steady stream, flowing through her hand and into the little hunter she held. Her grip weakened. The blast struck home. KRA - THOOOM! Her ribs became questions. Her lungs became empty rooms. Already airborne, Butter had nowhere to brace.

The cannon simply claimed her. BOOM! The first marble wall exploded around her. KRAASH! Another wall vanished into a storm of shattered stone. THOOOOM! A third collapsed in her wake. Pillars erupted into clouds of white marble as Butter tore through corridor after corridor, a human comet driven by a force that refused to let her stop.