2103:12:03:12:42:32

  The ride back was much calmer, my mentor’s exhaustion finally catching up to her. That, or she got saddle sore. Which she deserved.

  As I trotted up the final hill, the city revealed itself once more. The two skyscraper hotspots of Aberdeen and Bayside, the deep blue waters of Gray’s Harbor, the winding Hoquiam River and the expensive apartment buildings lining it, etcetera, etcetera. It would’ve been breathtaking if not for the dull weather, my poor horse-based vision, and the fact that there was something far more important going on.

  Crowsong spotted it first.

  “Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

  I startled and tried to say what? only for it to come out as a questioning huff.

  Crowsong, however, was a master interpreter. “Straight ahead. It’ll flare up any second now.”

  At the southeastern edge of Northside, at the border of Aberdeen and Riverside, the buildings suddenly sparkled an all-too-recognizable violet. It was one I’d seen as a crow, and under normal circumstances should not have been visible by human eyes – or a horse’s.

  The city’s shields had descended in the area, flashing bright every time something substantial impacted it. And boy was it flashing.

  I neighed in question.

  I felt Crowsong sway on my back in hesitation. She wasn’t at her best currently and if the signs were any indication, this was a time which needed us at our best. Which we weren’t.

  But, we were still heroes.

  “Of course we will,” Crowsong declared. “Go forth, noble steed! Hyah!” She dug her spurless heels into my flank. I dramatically reared up on my hind legs and dashed down the hill and towards the fight as fast I could.

  The closer we got to the scene of the battle, the more noise we heard. Sounds of crunching metals and cracking asphalt, of cars being flipped over and torn apart, of the shield humming and zapping as it threw off whatever was thrown at it; those and more revealed themselves with every step.

  And then, but a street or so away from the battle, buried deeper within as a background to all that noise, was a familiar humming. A vibration that made my bones ache in remembrance.

  But before I could confirm my suspicions, a familiar blur appeared at the next crossroad over, one street before I figured we would’ve reached ground zero. Like the humming, the sudden appearance of the figure was a familiar one.

  Accompanied by a purple streak following in her blazing speeds was the dark fencer herself: Acute Puncture, Drake’s killer and the first villain I ever fought.

  She looked weary, crouching on one knee and breathing deeply and hurriedly as she stared back into the street she’d dashed out of. Her fencing suit was torn in places, revealing led lacerations too clean to be claw marks. Whoever she’d been fighting, it had not been an easy battle.

  Without Crowsong having to say a word, I full-throttle galloped towards the villain. On my back, Crowsong stood up, the miniature knives in the soles of her shoes digging into my skin.

  Acute Puncture turned her head as she heard our approach, but it was too late. I slid to a full stop near-instantly, my hind legs lifting to carry the momentum over and trebuchet Crowsong towards the villain. Before I flipped over fully, I shifted and appeared back in base form, standing upright and watching as Crowsong flew towards Acute Puncture.

  The tackle was as perfect as it was violent. Before Acute Puncture could fully comprehend what was going on, Crowsong had struck the masked like a meteor. The two flipped and rolled a meter or two along the asphalt before coming to a stop, Acute Puncture’s rapier flung away in the scuffle and Crowsong sitting on top of her.

  A brief struggle ensued as Acute Puncture desperately tried to get out from under my mentor, but it was futile. Without her powers and her maker-made rapier, Acute Puncture was no match for my mentor’s combination of mundane techniques and knife-channeled combat mastery.

  I rushed over, less to help in the capture – Crowsong clearly had this in hand – and more to ward off any interference. I positioned myself between the struggling pair and the street she’d shot out from, gazing at what was waiting for us in the distance.

  “Got her?” I asked Crowsong just to be sure.

  I spotted three figures, but was difficult to see who they were at this range.

  “Not you fucking bitches agai-hmmph!” Acute Puncture tried, only to be gagged.

  But one was very recognizable and confirmed my earlier suspicions.

  “Got her!” Crowsong replied. “How’s it looking? Who’re we dealing with?”

  “Darkstar,” I said, recognizing the hovering figure surrounded by dozens of aggressively-humming gravitational spheres. “He’s fighting… someone in gold?” A glinting star buzzed around him, occasionally moving in to attack. It never lasted long as the figure was quickly pulled back by the pull of Darkstar’s orbs, but likewise the villain’s grip didn’t hold the golden hero for long. “And there’s another I can’t make out.” They were a dark smudge from this far away, and without powers I could easily recognize. Nevertheless, the fact that they were still standing while facing Darkstar must mean something.

  “See anyone Acute Puncture might’ve been fighting?”

  “Nope,” I said. “I don’t see-.”

  Before I could make a liar out of myself, a great wave of filthy-looking brown water flushed out of an alley a few dozen meters away. The tide crashed against the housing row on the other side, setting the city’s shields alight to ward off the impact.

  There weren’t many water-themed masked in Charm as far as I could remember. In fact, there were two: Rhennish, who couldn’t summon this volume; and-

  “Snorkel,” Crowsong said as she walked up next to me. I turned to look behind us and found Acute Puncture bound and gagged to a light pole, squirming against her restraints. Her sword was stuck into the ground meters away, its blade shoved through the rock to fix it in place.

  When I turned back, the great wave had already retreated back into the alley, leaving two figures in the street. An armored golden figure similar to the flying one engaging Darkstar, and a figure wearing a red himation, a pileus and a bronze, bearded face for a mask.

  “Charoniskos,” I said. I remembered reading about Dead Hive’s sole junior. A Greek-themed master-caller combo focused around the use of his unique summoned polemace, while also having a super sub-power that added a bit of strength and strong regeneration.

  “And Darion,” Crowsong added, referring to the golden figure. A hero of the Acolytes. “Which means the masked fighting Darkstar must be Irkalla and Darius.” The mentors of the two juniors.

  “What do-” As had become habit, I was interrupted.

  The wave returned, striking hard and fast at the rising young hero-villain pair and slamming them against the city’s shield. The water retreated again, dragging the pair along with it for a bit before leaving them on the pavement, surrounded by a shallow pool.

  “Focus on Snorkel,” she said as the water started coalescing again around the two. “Prevent him from striking while Darion and I deal with Charoniskos.”

  I nodded and took off, jumping and shifting mid-stride into ostrich form.

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  Meanwhile, the water started rising, attempting to drag the two masked up into the air. Charoniskos slammed his long polemace into the asphalt below, burying its spiraling flanges into the rock and twisting it to lock him in place. Yet while he remained grounded, the water altered as to form a column to surround him instead, threatening asphyxiation all the same.

  Darion was even less lucky. He struck out with his blade to do something similar, but he wasn’t quick enough. The column dragged him upwards and formed a ball around him. Invisible currents swirled and spun the boy around like a piece of cloth in a washing machine, attempting to squeeze the air out of his lungs.

  I sprinted toward the alley’s mouth at a slight angle. My ostrich-backed speed was too quick and the ground too slick for a proper turn, so rather than try, I jumped and shifted twice, ostrich to human to ferret.

  My ferrety feet hit the wall, tiny claws digging into the slightly-porous brick-and-mortar wall. With the added grip and ostrich-backed momentum, my tiny feet carried me along the wall and further into the alley toward Snorkel.

  Armored in a scuba suit with a fishbowl diving helmet and oxygen tank – the most practical costume I’d seen yet – Snorkel was fully focused on drowning Charoniskos and Darion. So busy was he with his gesturing and conducting the movements of the water, that the villain hadn’t spotted a ferret flying past the alley’s entrance.

  I ran as far as I could along the wall before pushing myself off against it, shifting back to base as I barreled toward the villain.

  “Shi-!” Snorkel tried to shout, but it was far too late. I struck him head-on.

  We collided and fell to the floor. I immediately set to pinning him in place, my legs wrapping around his as I buried my hands between the ground and his body. Once in position, I pulled and twisted, flipping him over to get him on his back.

  Before I could start securing him, a burst of water hit me from the side hard enough to throw me off of him deeper into the alley. Somehow, with either the barest or no gesture at all, the alter had managed to manipulate the water.

  The hard way it was.

  I quickly pushed myself off the ground and onto my feet. I turned to face him, only to dodge the left instantly as a meters-long, centimeters-thin spear of water headed right for my head.

  Yet for all that it was deadly, it also told me of his limitations. In my tackle, he’d lost control of his gathered quantities of water, with the rest of it already sluiced away into the drain. A water-spear was all that he could gather right now.

  I rushed Snorkel again, but even with so little water, Snorkel wasn’t down and out. With speed I didn’t know he possessed – the MaskiPedia page on him was sparse to put it lightly – he’d turned the prior spear of water around and struck me from behind.

  The force carried me forward and off the ground, and would’ve slammed me down if I hadn’t instantly shifted into a rat. Rat-me hit the ground and I immediately resumed my dash forward, jumping and shifting back to base the moment I neared him.

  Snorkel had circled the water around himself during my run, and now threw it forward like a wall. Before I could come in contact with it, Snorkel froze it solid, creating a shield of ice.

  No doubt he’d hoped he could stall for time and gather more water, but he’d clearly not read up on me. At the last moment of my dash, right before I struck the barrier, I jumped forward and shifted into rhino form.

  I hit the rock-hard, yet oddly warm and clear ice head-on and crashed through, bowling into Snorkel on the other end.

  Snorkel was thrown into a backwards tumble. Yet instead of skidding to a stop quickly, I watched Snorkel slide further and further away from me, heading for the open street I’d first come from. In his wake, he’d left a streak of ice on the asphalt.

  He was creating patches of ice ahead of himself in order to slide away from me. Clever.

  I shifted to base, then ostrich and ran after him.

  Snorkel gestured and created a ramp of ice, pushing him up mid-slide. Once standing, he gestured again and the ice melted, the water fanning out wide over the street. Another gesture and the ground between me and him refroze, turning it into an ice rink.

  I jumped high and quick-shifted until I was a crow to avoid the improvised trap altogether.

  Another gesture and the ice became water. It clumped together in a thin line underneath me, tendrils forming and reaching up to attack. And while my long experience with flying as a crow meant he couldn’t get a hold of me, he managed to stall for time and gather more and more water.

  I did a final flap of my wings forward before shifting to base. I crashed through the now comparatively diminutive grasping tendrils with ease and divebombed Snorkel.

  I tackled him to the ground once again, this time managing to flip him over during the maneuver. I quickly moved a knee into his back and grabbed his arms.

  Water came rushing in from all sides. Maybe he thought the force would overwhelm me, or maybe he figured his oxygen tank would help him outlast me, but it didn’t matter.

  I retrieved the zip-ties – already looped, just needed tightening – from my belt. Water squeezed and squirmed against me, but the attack was too unfocused and I too strong for it to stop me. I forced his hands through the loop and drew it tight. Then, I grabbed a pair of larger, still un-looped zip-ties to bind his legs together.

  Yet the rush of water didn’t stop. Either through his full-body squirming, the minimal movements of his leg, the manipulation of his fingers or all three combined, water kept rushing in. A dome of water grew with us at its center, slowly but steadily increasing in diameter.

  I moved to escape it, and instantly the water compacted. It didn’t become ice – that trick too intricate to do while tied up apparently – but what it lacked in rigidity, it more than made up for in weight and pressure. Like a thousand hands grasping, Snorkel forced me down held me into his grip as my breath began to deplete.

  Unfortunately for him, I had the solution.

  I shifted into a duck.

  The pressure dissipated as the focus of its ire disappeared, the confused currents crashing into each other and collapsing the pocket of air my disappearing body left in its wake.

  At the same time, duck-me’s natural buoyancy, oiled feathers and flipper-feet carried me up and up against the torrential waters. The water tried squeezing me from all sides, but the duck’s sleek form and design – and likely Snorkel’s own restricted movements – made it so anything from above and to the side slid off me, while the force from below only served to push me up faster.

  Who knew mastering duck form would be useful?

  I breached the surface and flapped my wings to get out, but Snorkel had cottoned on. A whirlpool started forming below my feet while the orb spread out above me to prevent my escape.

  Yet I’d cottoned on too. His command of water was too manual; quick changes disrupted his flow.

  So I shifted into base form and fell into the whirlpool – though not before quickly cycling the air my lungs. The currents were disrupted… but not enough to halt the drag.

  I shifted into a rhino, the force of my expansion disrupting Snorkel’s control of the water and weakening the currents further. Snorkel tried to compensate for it, but I’d already shifted to base again, and then to otter.

  But rather than swim out of the sphere, I swam deeper toward Snorkel. I needed to find a way to disable him or he’d just keep gathering more and more water. I couldn’t allow this to turn into a battle of attrition.

  So I did the only thing that made sense: I swam up to him and tried to bite through his oxygen tube. Maybe if he was at risk from his own power, he’d stop struggling.

  I failed. The tube was too thick, the material too strong for even the otter’s prodigious bite to crush or chew through it.

  Worse, Snorkel noticed the attempt. His struggling became more intense and focused in removing me from him. All the force he’d tried to bear down on me now did its best to try and pull me away from him.

  I held onto the tube as strongly as I could, but my otter hands weren’t strong enough. I was washed away.

  Snorkel seized the opportunity. I shifted back into base form, but though the water shifted to accommodate my new form, the pressure was too much for me to do anything. I shifted into a duck, but as he’d already wised up to the peculiarities of this form, he straight-up crushed downwards hard grind me against the ground hard enough to shatter bones – though not instantly kill me, thankfully.

  I quickly shifted twice to escape the pain and turned into a rhino, but again, while it provided brief respite, it was not enough. Whether he’d gathered more water to pressure me with or he’d gotten better at manipulating water while restricted, I didn’t know, but he managed to press me down onto the ground all the same.

  Breath continued to diminish as pressure continued to increase. My thoughts grew hazy as I continued to ask: what could I do? There was no form left for me to shift into that could break me out of this. I’d either drown or get crushed at some point. Even turning into the loathsome carp would only serve to get me pulped immediately and then drowned all the same.

  My mind frantically searched for a way to get out. My life’s memories flashed before my eyes, a desperate mind seeking for desperate solutions in unrelated memories. Memcordings whirred by on instinct, fast-forwarding in conjunction with my mind to grand me a hitherto unseen speed-viewing of all I knew and experienced.

  And then, both halted on different scenes.

  My mind showed me the memory of my time in the woods, stuck high above in a tree in an attempt to catch birds. I remembered falling meters down and winding up on the forest floor without feeling any of it. The only sensation then was that of wanting light, a desire to drink water and a vague feeling that I was a tree.

  In other words, I remembered my time as a branch.

  Then my memcordings got stuck on a non-memory. A moment where I’d had no eyes, no ears, no mouth, no skin, no anything. It was a place without light, without time, without space and without sense. The only thing that existed was a mind floating in the nothing, and the timer in my head notifying me of the seconds that had passed.

  It showed me the time I mimicked a blanket.

  I shifted back to base. The water shifted as it lost focus momentarily before it attempted to crush me once more. Bones ached and bruises formed, but it wasn’t an instant death.

  And in that precious moment, I focused my attention on the water. Something in me had expected the fluid to be difficult to grasp, either because of the size of the water dome or its nature, but no. My mimesis latched onto it with ease.

  A moment later, I shifted into water.

  Senses disappeared, but unlike with the blanket, it wasn’t that everything turned to nothing. All conventional senses were gone – time, light, sound, touch, temperature, balance; all gone.

  But in its place, there was something else. I sensed the water all around me, all of it connected through some invisible web.

  It left me feeling off. What even was I, exactly? I hadn’t shifted into an equal volume of water, nor was I the web – it spanned beyond the piece I occupied. I was perhaps a mouthful of water, but at the same time, I felt that wasn’t really me. I could move within it, and even move past it. Or maybe along it was a better word, like electricity running through a cable. Like I was a ghost possessing a specific volume of water.

  One capable of possessing others.

  According to my internal timer, it took me seconds to get used to this single-sense environment.

  Through the water-web, I felt Snorkel’s confusion as he sent out currents to figure out where I’d gone. Moments after he failed to find me, the water started concentrating on him, unseen manipulations moving the web into currents towards his body. All in an effort to free himself.

  I followed the current along the water-web outlined to where Snorkel was – a human-shaped bump of darkness, elevated from where I figured the ground was. I ghosted through the water hugging his form, finding where the water slipped through the gap between his body and the breathing tube. I tried to interact with it, move the water to crush the tube, but nothing happened. Leaving me with only one option.

  I aligned my water-ghost in the rough shape of how I’d wished to appear, and shifted back.

  All my senses returned, overwhelming me with nonsensical inputs and threatening to throw me off.

  But I kept my eyes on the prize. Before Snorkel could stop me, I grabbed the tubes and pulled it out of his helmet.

  Water quickly rushed in to try and crush me, but long before it could I slipped back into my water-ghost form.

  Water twisted and turned as Snorkel flailed in panic, trying his best to find my form again. Waves clashed as currents slipped past one another, but it had no effect on me. Then, as seconds passed into a full minute and the risk of drowning became ever more real, Snorkel pushed all the water away from him in panic.

  The web was torn apart, and I felt my ghostly form getting stretched thin to the point it was starting to hurt.

  So, I shifted back. I appeared a few meters away from Snorkel, disoriented and dizzy and nauseous – but nothing I wasn’t used to. What was more important was that the water sphere had exploded, the source of Snorkel’s power gone.

  I walked up to the junior villain.

  Snorkel coughed and spluttered. “Y-you,” he began weakly, “S-Sol won’t-”

  Instead of listening, I retrieved a small, thin, yet hyper-elastic string from my pouch and grabbed his bound legs and arms. I bound them together, leaving him hogtied on the floor.

  Snorkel gasped and squirmed on the floor. I saw the light coating of water on the floor move as he did his best to manipulate it, but it didn’t rise or coalesce together. As I waited to make sure that Snorkel wasn’t playing at being weak – or was so weak that hogtying would actually risk his life – I surveyed the battlefield.

  All the houses still stood, the shields having protected them more than adequately. The same could not be said for anything else. Flipped and outright burning cars littered the road. Trees had been uprooted and broken into a thousand pieces with branches, arm-sized splinters and uprooted trunks scattered everywhere.

  The streets themselves had just as rough of a time. Asphalt and more had been stripped away or cratered at places, with chunks of them leaning against the shields, lying on the roads or on the sidewalk. Likewise, tiles of the sidewalk had been ripped away in the battle, with the sand underneath it turning to mud and spreading all over thanks to Snorkel’s manmade tides.

  And amongst all the destruction was Crowsong, performing her deadly dance with Charoniskos.