The flames crackled as I stumbled backward, the intense heat searing my skin as I shielded myself from the glass shrapnel. I could taste the smoke on the back of my tongue, the acrid flavor mixing with the metallic tang of fear. The Molotov cocktail had missed me, exploding on the wall above my head and sending shards of glass flying through the air, but the fire was spreading fast, consuming everything in its path.

  I made a snap decision to turn around and run down the alleyway, away from the burning street. Luckily, the alley had another exit on the other end of a U-shape, which led to a side street that ran parallel to the one engulfed in chaos. As I sprinted down the alleyway, I could hear the sound of engines revving and people screaming. I would still have to return to the market and straight back into the fray, but hopefully, I could avoid any more close calls.

  The panicked cries of children echoed in my ears, urging me on as I burst through the alley and out onto the main street. People were scattering in all directions, screaming and shouting. I could barely make out shapes through the thickening smoke, but the roars of engines were unmistakable.

  What do I do? What can I do?!

  A sudden blast of wind caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of movement caught my attention — a glimpse of a pair of bikers, weaving recklessly through the crowd. They were heading right for me, their bikes screeching against the pavement as they swerved to avoid the debris and fleeing people. My heart lurched into my throat, but before I could move, a loud crack rang out.

  "Y'all think ya can come in here and pull up??!"

  I whipped my head around to see an elderly dark-skinned woman a couple of feet away from me. She was standing in front of a walker, leveling a gun at the bikers. She was wielding a large magnum revolver like it was second nature, her grip firm and confident. The first bullet caught the lead biker in the shoulder, causing him to lose control of his bike and swerve wildly. Her face was set in a grim determination, and her hands shook slightly as she gripped the weapon.

  The elderly black woman screamed, her eyes burning with fury. "Musta got the wrong idea about what this place is. Y'ALL SUMBITCHES!"

  The lead biker jerked violently, losing control of his bike. It skidded, throwing him off before crashing into a nearby trash bin with a loud clatter. The woman kept firing, emptying the chamber at the second rider. He swerved, trying to get out of her line of fire, but her aim was true. Bullets tore through his torso and head, and he slumped forward, the bike careening out of control and crashing into a nearby wall.

  The elderly woman's face was grim, her eyes hard as she reloaded. "I ain't goin' out without a fight, ya hear me, y'all bastards?! Waited twelve goddamned years to take back my home, I'll be damned if I let some punkass little shits take that from us!"

  Her voice carried over the chaos, a battle cry that seemed to echo through the burning streets. I was frozen for a moment, stunned by her ferocity and bravery. Several people in the crowd around me turned to look at her.

  "What are y'all lookin' at. What's wrong with you?! You gonna let these little bitches walk all over you?! Ain't we had enough of that?" she screamed. "Ain't none of you got sons, daughters, grandkids. Brothers and sisters to fight for?! I'm pushin' seventy and I'm tellin' y'all there ain't nothin' more important than family and home! If y'all don't stand up and fight for it, then who will?!"

  As the brave woman reloaded her revolver, I moved away from the screaming crowds my mind racing with options. This was no time to be a hero, but I couldn't just stand by and watch. She was right.

  "Rai-chan," I whispered, "I need something, anything that can help."

  There was a moment of silence before she replied, "Scanning the environment. I am detecting a network of security cameras nearby. I can tap into them for a tactical overview. This will take an estimated twenty-seven units."

  "Do it," I said, ducking behind another makeshift barricade as more chaos unfolded around me.

  "Commencing Hijack."

  I felt a draining sensation in my solar plexus as the HUD lit up, and a web of interconnected dots and lines overlaid my vision. A large display of screens appeared in midair before me, and I could see the gang members' movements. They were herding people, corralling them towards the armored trucks. I grimaced at the sight. It wasn't just an attack; they were capturing people, dragging them off like cattle.

  The brutality of it all made my blood boil. But anger wouldn't help anyone here.

  I needed to think, to act. I wasn't carrying a weapon, and well below a healthy weight for my age. I wasn't good for much in a head-on fight without the element of surprise.

  I was roughly seven minutes away from my home, a distance that, under normal circumstances, would have been a brisk walk. Now, the roads that would lead me toward it was on fire, and there were gangsters on both sides of the avenue.

  I had no choice but to head north, through the marketplace – away from the direction of my home, but it was the only viable option left. But the flames were beginning to envelop the structures around me, making the air thick with smoke and heat. The marketplace now felt like a labyrinth of terror - a massive contrast from the vibrant hub of colors and smells I'd started seeing it as.

  The marketplace was disorienting, filled with overturned stalls and abandoned goods. I stumbled over a fallen sign, catching myself just in time. The sound of my own heart thundered in my ears, louder than the chaos around me.

  "Situational update, Rai-chan?" I gasped out, ducking behind a deserted fruit stand.

  "Analyzing... There is a 78% probability that the gang members will intercept any movement towards the south or west. Your current trajectory is the most viable, but caution is advised," she advised, her voice in my head calming me amidst the bedlam. "Be extremely careful — there is no direction free from hostiles."

  Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and darted from behind the stand. The ground was slick with spilled produce, making it hard to keep my footing as I sprinted forward. My ribs still burned with pain — while I hadn't quite broken them at the incident in North End, they were still bruised and tender to the touch.

  I could hear the sounds of the gang members nearby – shouting, the revving of engines, the occasional gunshot. It was like being hunted, an unnerving realization that made my skin crawl.

  Suddenly, a shadow loomed ahead of me. I skidded to a stop, heart leaping into my throat. It was a gang member; his back turned to me as he scanned the chaos. I crouched down, trying to blend in with the debris around me.

  Rai-chan's HUD flickered, highlighting a narrow gap between two stalls. It was a tight squeeze, but it was my only chance. I took a deep breath and edged towards the gap, moving as silently as possible as I crept forward.

  The gang member turned, sensing my movement, as I looked up from behind a wooden crate. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, my entire being focused on that terrifying moment. Then, as quickly as it happened, he looked away, distracted by a shout from one of his comrades.

  I didn't waste a second. Slipping through the gap, I stared ahead at another narrow alleyway. My chest was pounding so hard I was sure it could be heard from a mile away as I half-stumbled and crawled between the stalls.

  Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Panic surged as I pressed myself against a stall wall, trying to become invisible in the shadows. Looking up, I saw two gang members, their eyes scanning the narrow space aggressively. I held my breath and prayed to every god I knew, hoping that they wouldn't spot me.

  Of course, I wouldn't be that lucky.

  A burly figure with a scar running down his cheek grinned as he spotted me. "Ha! I knew I wasn't imagining things. Looky, looky, I found us a rat."

  My heart sank; I was trapped.

  I felt a sharp sense of dread rush over me. I had no weapon, no way to defend myself. I was going to get hauled off to some shithole and worked to death, or maybe even killed on the spot. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. I'd seen the news reports and heard the stories from those who'd been trafficked. I'd rather die than end up with some of the fates I'd heard about.

  The scarred gangster lunged at me, his hand grabbing for my arm. Just as I braced myself for the worst, a figure darted out from behind a stall.

  For a split second, the smoke-filled air and the dim light made it impossible to identify my savior. He swung what looked like a crowbar and struck the gangster square in the ribs, sending him stumbling back in surprise. The other gangster pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the newcomer, but adrenaline overtook me as he looked away from me for a fateful second.

  I scrambled in his direction, shouting as I reared back for a soccer kick and aimed it directly at his groin. The gang member groaned, doubling over in pain as my foot connected solidly. It was a desperate move, but it bought us a precious moment. Two shots went off, and the pistol went flying, landing in a nearby gutter. The mysterious figure flowed into my attack, pressing the advantage with another two-handed swing at my assailant's head, sending him crashing to the ground.

  He ducked under the outstretched arm and slammed the crowbar against the man's temple. The gun clattered to the ground as the man crumpled like a folding chair.

  An ominous 'click' caused me to snap my attention behind me where I'd come. I only had a fraction of a second to realize the burly gang member had drawn a knife before my savior charged forward in a blur.

  The crowbar and the knife clashed, causing a sharp ring to echo through the alley. My heart raced, the scene unfolding like a nightmare. I could barely see through the smoke, but the noises were harrowing — the grunt of effort, the clink of metal, a pained gasp and hiss.

  Suddenly, the figure staggered backward, clutching his arm, where a dark stain spread rapidly through his denim jacket. The gang member with the knife advanced, sensing the kill.

  "Like hell!" I shouted, my voice hoarse with fear and desperation as I scrambled for a can on the floor and hurled it, hitting him square between his eyes.

  Seizing on the moment of distraction, my savior swung his crowbar with his off-hand, catching him in the side of the head. The gangster gurgled, blood gushing from his mouth as he hit the ground, his head hitting the pavement with a sickening crack. His knife clattered uselessly to the ground. He was unconscious or dead. I couldn't tell.

  I stood there, panting, adrenaline still pumping. The figure, his face finally visible in the flickering flames, was none other than Alex. His eyes were bright with adrenaline, and his face was smeared with ash and sweat. His usual stoic expression was twisted in a grimace of pain and exertion.

  "Alex!" I cried out, relief and worry mingling in my voice. "You're hurt! We've gotta get you patched up."

  He waved off my concern with a pained smile. "Ikki. We can't stay here," Alex said, his voice tight and controlled despite the open gashes on his arms.

  "But your arms," I protested, glancing at the wounds.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Alex shook his head, dismissing my concern. "It's fine. We need to move. Now! We can worry about it later."

  He grabbed my hand, pulling me along as we began to run. The chaos around us seemed to be reaching a crescendo, the fire and screams becoming a discordant symphony of destruction.

  I could feel the heat on my back. The smoke was growing thicker, making it harder to see and breathe. Alex kept a tight grip on my hand, guiding me through the labyrinth of burning stalls and debris. He hissed in pain, his injuries no doubt causing him immense agony, but he soldiered on, determined to get me out of this nightmare alive.

  I felt a surge of gratitude, mixed with guilt, that he had come back to save me. Those knife wounds looked bad, and we still weren't in the clear.

  A piercing scream cut through the chaos, drawing our attention to a cluster of stalls that had been smashed by a pair of armored vans that had barreled through the marketplace. A group of four gang members had rounded up a group of seven children, herding them toward one of the trucks.

  My heart sank at the sight, knowing what their fate would be. I hesitated, torn between the urge to help and the need to flee. The gang members were moving fast, grabbing the children and forcing them into the back of the van. I could see the terror in their eyes and hear their screams echoing through the smoke-filled air.

  Shouts filled the air as two men charged at the gang members. I recognized one of them as the stout man who'd tried to scam Mina yesterday. He was bellowing threats and curses as he swung a machete wildly.

  The other man, burly and with a wild look in his eyes, was charging forward at the gangsters with a piece of rebar in his hands.

  "Let 'em go, you fucking pieces of shit!" he screamed.

  Alex didn't hesitate, either. He let go of my arm, charging forward, his crowbar raised and ready to strike. I followed a few steps behind, my fear replaced by a wave of righteous anger. These gang members had no right to terrorize innocent children or anyone else.

  The children were huddled together in fear, tears streaming down their faces as they were shoved roughly into the back of the van.

  The stout merchant swung his machete, his face twisted in rage as he charged at the gang members. Unfortunately, his bravery was short-lived. One of the gang members stepped in, swinging his own crowbar at the man, connecting with a sickening crunch. The merchant stumbled back, blood pouring from his nose as the crowbar struck him again, this time in the head.

  The stout man fell to the ground, rolling to regain his balance. The burly man didn't fare any better, his rebar clattering to the ground as he took a knife to the armpit. Blood splattered on the pavement as he fell to his knees, clutching his wound.

  Alex charged forward, his crowbar arcing down with brutal precision as he caught a gang member in the side of the throat by surprise. There was a sickening crunch as the man's neck snapped and he crumpled to the ground in a limp pile. The van's engine roared as the remaining gang members rushed to get inside and escape. Alex moved with impressive speed, striking another gang member in the knee, causing him to stumble and fall with a cry of pain. But his friends pulled him up and hauled him into the back of the truck.

  The tires squealed as the driver slammed on the accelerator, and the van lurched forward. Alex, undeterred, jumped onto the van's side, gripping the door handle as the van lurched forward. I could see the tension in his body as he strained to hold on, his injured arm slipping slightly as he fought to keep his grip.

  "Rai-chan," I thought, reaching out to the symbiote as I trailed behind him. "Is there anything we can do?"

  Her voice echoed in my head, cold and analytical. "An analysis indicates the model contains vulnerabilities that can be exploited to interfere with ignition and control to momentarily activate braking systems. Shall I proceed?" she asked.

  "Do it!" I whispered harshly.

  Rai-chan's presence in my mind intensified as she worked her magic. The HUD displayed lines of code and schematics, her digital influence reaching the van's systems.

  The van's engine sputtered and died within moments, its lights flickering erratically. The gang members caught off guard, scrambled around, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Alex seized the opportunity, dashing over and pulling open the van's door. He yanked at the driver, dragging him out and slamming him into the pavement.

  The driver hit the ground with a heavy thud, but there was no time to celebrate. Two more gang members piled out of the other van, their faces contorted with rage and surprise. Alex, his arm bleeding profusely, swung out, catching a man who tried to take him from behind on his kneecap.

  Against my better judgment, I jumped into the fray, adrenaline pumping as I followed up on Alex's target with a jumping sidekick to the side of his knee. I was considerably smaller and lighter, but my momentum combined with his compromised stance, sent the man toppling to the ground. Alex followed up, his crowbar swinging in a deadly arc, hitting the gang member on the back of his skull with a sickening crunch.

  The second gang member lunged at me with a jagged piece of metal, and I ducked, barely dodging the blade. I drove up with my legs and countered with a short but heavy uppercut to his groin. The impact sent him staggering back, but another was already upon me from behind, yanking me into a headlock.

  Despite his injuries, Alex was giving them hell. A third gang member was on the ground, clutching his throat and gagging for air. But Alex was outnumbered, and the gangsters were relentless. He was struggling to keep up, and his movements were becoming increasingly sluggish as his injuries took their toll.

  And they kept coming. Another gang member swung a chain, the metal links whistling. Alex deflected it with his crowbar, but the chain wrapped around his arm, pulling him off balance. The gang member pounced, driving Alex to his knees.

  Time seemed to slow down as I saw another gang member with a jet-black mohawk raise a knife, aiming for Alex's exposed back. I dropped down into a drop shoulder throw, flinging the man who had put me into a sloppy headlock forward. Then, I rushed forward and tackled the charging gangster to the ground with all of my meager body weight, knocking the knife from his hand. We rolled on the ground, trading punches, each hit fueled by desperation and fear.

  I dimly noticed Alex, struggling against the chain, managed to free an arm. He swung his crowbar with a raw, primal scream, the metal connecting with another attacker's skull with a sickening crack. But the effort was too much. His face contorted with pain, and he staggered, his injured arm failing him.

  The realization that we were losing hit me harder than the resounding punches from the man on top of me. I was pinned beneath him, and his fist came down again. My head snapped to the side, my vision blurring from the force of the impact.

  I heard Alex shout my name, his voice filled with desperation and anger. But it was too late. My ears rang and my vision darkened, the world fading away briefly.

  I struggled beneath my opponent's weight, trying to push him off. But he was too strong; his fists rained down on me, each blow a burst of pain. The world zoomed in and out of focus, each blow making me feel weaker and more disoriented.

  Another punch landed, and I felt something in my jaw crack. My vision swam, and the world began to fade. But, I finally timed his punch and bucked my hips, slipping out from between his legs. He fell forward onto his hands, his face landing in the dirt.

  I felt something snap inside me, a primal survival instinct kicking in. I could have run away, but instead, I screamed and jumped on his back, quickly wrapping an arm around his throat and locking my legs around his waist in a figure-four. Just as my dad and the Doc drilled me to do over and over.

  I held on tight as he thrashed, trying to shake me off. But my grip was ironclad, and I could feel his struggles growing weaker. I snapped my head up and quickly realized Alex was being overwhelmed. Three gang members swarmed him, their fists and boots crashing against his body like a relentless storm.

  He fell to his knees, the crowbar slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. I wanted to scream, to do something, but the man beneath me continued to struggle, and my grip began to weaken. The sounds of the fight were drowned out by the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. Alex was fading fast, his movements growing slower, more labored.

  I could only yelp in surprise as I was suddenly pulled off of the man. My grip was torn away from his neck, and I was thrown to the ground. The shock of the impact knocked the wind out of me, and I lay there gasping for breath. The gang member I'd been grappling with loomed over me, his eyes gleaming with malice as he hacked and spit blood directly in my eye.

  Alex was crawling to reach the crowbar, but the man stomped on his hand, grinding his heel into his fingers before winding back a soccer kick at Alex's head. The van, its engine reviving, began to move again. I watched in horror as the men quickly piled in, slamming the door shut. The tires squealed, leaving dark streaks on the pavement as it sped away, the children's screams echoing through the air.

  They'd gotten away. The children were gone, and Alex had been left for dead, his body sprawled on the ground, his breathing shallow. The smoke from the burning stalls and buildings hung heavy in the air, and the sound of the peoples' screams still echoed through the streets.

  The gang members left us there, beaten and broken. I crawled to Alex's side, my own body screaming in pain. He was lying motionless, his breathing shallow, blood pooling around him.

  "Alex," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. "Alex, hey, stay with me. Please."

  His eyes fluttered open, focusing on me with difficulty. "Ikki," he murmured, his voice a faint whisper. "Those kids..."

  Tears welled in my eyes. All our efforts were for nothing. I could only curse my helplessness as I looked up to the sky with rage and despair burning in my heart.

  The stout stall merchant and the burly man who had tried to help us were lying on the ground not far from us, unconscious and bloody. Possibly worse.

  I blinked, wiping away the disgusting glob of spit and blood on my eye, and shook my head, and my vision began to blur and darken at the edges. I could feel my consciousness slipping, but I couldn't leave Alex here. He was hurt, and the children were gone. I had to do something, anything.

  But what? I couldn't even move, my body aching and weak.

  I looked at Alex, bloody and bruised, and I knew that I couldn't just leave him here. I had to get us somewhere safe.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried to stand up, but a sharp pain in my ribs sent me back to the ground. Footsteps approached, and I glanced up to see a group of gangsters closing in, their faces twisted with greed and violence. I tried to stand up again, but my body refused to cooperate.

  I looked around desperately, searching for anything I could use to defend us. But there was nothing. No real weapons, no help, just the cold, hard reality of our situation. The gangsters were almost upon us, their intentions clear. We were easy pickings, and they wouldn't hesitate to take advantage.

  I struggled to my knees. I couldn't give up — they were going to capture or kill us, or worse. I felt my heart pound in my chest as one of the gang members approached with a bundle of rope in hand. Alex's hand, slick with blood, reached out weakly, grasping for something, anything. But there was nothing. Only the acrid smoke and the relentless march of our captors.

  With a surge of desperation, I grabbed the crowbar that lay next to Alex and swung it at the closest attacker, connecting with his knee. He howled in pain and stumbled back, but another took his place, grabbing the crowbar and yanking it from my grasp. I tried to hold on, but my strength was no match for his.

  I felt a boot connect with my ribs, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. They were on me, their hands rough and cruel as they restrained me and dragged me to my feet, and I saw Alex being hauled up beside me.

  "We got a couple of fighters," one of the gangsters sneered.

  Just then, the air around us seemed to crackle strangely. I felt my hair stand on end as a surge of energy coursed through my chest, which me a second wind. Just enough to jump and headbutt the man trying to tie my hands. He cursed, dropping the rope, and I took the opportunity to slam my heel into his crotch.

  He doubled over, and the man holding Alex tried to grab me. But before he could touch me, I felt an overwhelming surge of power. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

  And then, a bright golden light streaked like a shooting star, descending rapidly toward us.

  The gang members paused, their malicious grins and sneers fading into confusion and fear as a figure shot through the air and dragged two of the men on Alex and me away like they were nothing. A single kick sent two others flying into the air and tumbling across the pavement.

  I stared at the sight before me, my eyes wide and disbelieving.

  "W-What?!" I managed to choke out. I blinked, focusing on the glowing figure floating above us as she tossed each of the men she was carrying with one arm each, sending them crashing into the stalls below.

  It was a young girl draped in robes of deep emerald that flowed around her like the canopy of an ancient jungle. She looked like she was right around my age, if not a bit younger.

  Intricate golden patterns adorned her attire, reminding me of stars dancing across the night sky. Her hair was a cascade of jade and gold that hovered around her like a celestial river, streaked with strands of silver that glinted like starlight.

  The light of the flames caught in her locks, creating a halo effect that seemed to radiate a soft, otherworldly glow. Her feathered wings matched the emerald robes, giving the impression of a bird out of legend that was majestic and untamed. The wings flexed with a life of their own, every movement sending ripples of light cascading through the air. Around her wrists and ankles were alternating bands of polished obsidian, jade, and gold, gleaming darkly against her light brown skin.

  She brandished something I'd best describe as a Chinese sword with a blade made of obsidian, which emitted a faint green aura. She landed gracefully in our midst, the ground beneath her barely disturbed by her presence. Her stance was poised, ready for action, yet a calmness about her belied the storm of her arrival.

  A flamboyant headdress that seemed to come straight out of an Eastern fantasy novel crowned her head; it was covered in red cotinga feathers with a core of gold and jade shaped into a phoenix crown, shimmering with the same starlike quality as her robes. Her eyes were heterochromatic, one a brilliant emerald green and the other a deep, fiery gold, shimmering with an ethereal light that seemed to reflect the depth of the universe.

  For a moment, the entire road down the marketplace fell still, with only the hiss and roar of the flames from the nearby stalls breaking the silence. The gang members, who were so full of bravado seconds ago, now looked like a deer caught in the headlights. They seemed unsure whether to attack, flee, or simply stand frozen by the regal figure before them.

  The girl's eyes swept over them, unwavering, a silent challenge that none of them dared to accept.

  "I am Magical Girl Xitelalikui," she proclaimed. “Courtesy name: Stellaris Vortexia.”

  Her voice resonated with an otherworldly echo that carried it down the streets, and her emerald robes flared out with golden constellations that seemed to move with a life of their own.

  With a fluid, almost otherworldly grace, she stepped forward. She held her obsidian sword at the men who'd been attacking us with effortless poise, reflecting the sunlight and casting a mesmerizing green light.

  "Evil shall find no refuge under the gaze of the sun and stars," she proclaimed, before puffing her chest out and sweeping her sword over the crowd surrounding us. "For let it be known to all. This city is now under my protection!"