Your Game Is Far From Over

Cropped Line 2

10:30 PM Day Two

Surrounded by six F.L.E.A.R. agents inside a dank and abandoned warehouse in the Razorback District, Mizayla was cornered. The overpowering scent of wood from the dilapidated crates and barrels littering the storage house diluted the smell of fear permeating from each agent’s pores. Mizayla knew she had them right where she wanted them.

Come on boys, she thought, grinning with the passing of every inch. Just a little closer.

She allowed her Paranormal abilities to take control of her body as the agents aggressively closed in; her eyes shined whiter than the Sisters of Night glowing outside.

“We know who you are,” one of the agents beckoned. “And we know you were behind the heinous tragedies at the Ro’koren Match. There’s been enough excitement in this city for one night. No need for any more bloodshed. I repeat, STAND DOWN!”

“You fools don’t know how wrong you are,” Mizayla pointed her boney, pale finger. “We had nothing to do with the issues you experienced at Hawdrac Lake. You see, we don’t just have a little evil inside us. No, we’re evil incarnate.” She stood proudly with a smile so sinister it would be the envy of every scary clown. “If we were behind those events, instead of only creating a few scrapes and bruises and chilling memories, no one would be alive. But clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with,” she snickered. “I am Mizayla Martins and this,” her black shroud-covered arms flew out wide, revealing her lackeys as they magically materialized beside her, “is Kane and Boudreaux Lamont. Remember our names…for it’ll be the last things you hear.”

With a quick twitch of her thin brow, Mizayla and her accomplices vanished. Just as the twins began to rush out under their supernatural cover of invisibility, Mizayla snagged their checkered trench coats, halting them in their tracks. Instead of escaping, the trio smugly stood by watching the F.L.E.A.R. agents rapidly scan the storehouse perplexed.

Mizayla crossed her arms. Unbelievable…these swine are so stupid.

“Damn Paranormals,” muttered one of the agents. “Never make things easy.”

“Tre’Varro, Braddot, Bellamy,” their leading commander nodded to each, “flush them out.” He circled the room with his finger. “Only you Paranormals can cancel their cloaking.”

There we go. Now it’s getting interesting. She signaled to prepare for battle.

The three named agents followed orders, disappearing into thin air. All of a sudden, the torches fastened to the warehouse walls flickered with azure, white, and charcoal-colored flames, filling the warehouse with an ominous glow. Each colored flame separated from the torch, streaming around the warehouse in hectic and sporadic patterns.

After a few short moments, the flames returned back to their respective torches, burning taller and brighter than before. The infernos flickered, and then returned to their normal bright orange color. As quickly as they disappeared, all six Paranormals materialized.

Mizayla again sneered. “Took you boys long enough.”

“Dey ain’t no good,” Boudreaux chuckled. “We got dem, brodda.” He winked at Kane.

The twins previnated, and flew in opposite directions from each other as black smoky masses. Instead of splitting, the officers stood firm with their backs to each other, maintaining a steadfast and defensive circle.

“Stay together,” the commander barked. “Y’all have trained for this kinda thing.”

“If you won’t disperse, then I’m gonna have to make you,” Mizayla growled, blasting lightening from her hands.

Kane and Boudreaux followed suit, only briefly stopping their prevination to send electrified bolts of their own. Remaining calm, the six agents collected the lightning in their hands, molded the kinetic energy into orbs, and threw them back at their attackers; after being struck by the returned fire, Kane collided with a stack of barrels, causing them to explode and cascade their liquored contents across the ground like a garnet tsunami.

I’ve had enough of this. Mizayla dropped to one knee, magically forcing her hands through the stone floor until she felt the chilly soil beneath the warehouse foundation.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, reciting a spell from long ago. “Force these walls to break upon these agents with a mighty quake.”

Moments after the last word left Mizayla’s lips, the entire warehouse floor began to shutter; the F.L.E.A.R. officers braced themselves as the shaking became ever more violent. Unexpectedly, all the torches exploded like fire-breathing dragons, then sputtered out leaving the beams of intense moonlight serving as spotlights shining through the warehouse windows.

Mizayla stood up, putting an end to the rumbling. She narrowed her gaze. The twins returned to her side.

The warehouse doors suddenly burst open, crashing against the walls. Without warning, two agents went flying through the air; Mizayla couldn’t help but smirk as they screamed and flailed about before blasting through a window. Two more fell to the ground unconscious, and then slid across the floor as if being pulled by their ankles out of the warehouse; the heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them.

 

Mizayla couldn’t see who it was ambushing them, but she knew she needed to prepare for the worst. Eagen, she thought. Maybe I reignited his fire last night and he’s back to show it.

In defense, the F.L.E.A.R. commander conjured a powerful sphere of chartreuse electricity which grew and roared as he swirled his hands around it. As he drew his arms back to send the punishing blow, a series of icy blasts resembling arctic dragons glided through the air and wrapped around the final two agents, freezing them instantly.

“That was to show you just how strong I’ve become since our last meeting,” a familiar voice ricocheted off the walls.

Mizayla sighed, her eyes fiercely scanning the warehouse as she swiveled round and round. “I should’ve known it was you the moment I saw those ice wraiths twist around those pathetic F.L.E.A.R. agents. Very few men in this world are strong enough to conjure something like that. Now show yourself,” she demanded.

“I don’t take my orders from you, Mizayla,” the voice whispered from behind.

She spun around, but there was no one there.

“But know this,” the voice continued, “your work here is not finished. There’s still much left for you to do.”

“I said show yourself! Prove to me it’s really you.”

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching from a corner of the warehouse rang in her ears; she couldn’t see the man as the darkness kept the man shrouded in mystery. The man finally stepped into the light, revealing himself.

I knew it! She skeptically eyed the man. “Leslie. How are you alive? I killed you not fifteen hours ago.” Her malicious words were like daggers. “No way you’ve turned this fast.”

Leslie smugly winked. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. There are forces at work greater here than you could ever imagine. Now heed my warning. You must flee this city and don’t return. You cannot draw any more attention to yourselves as your game is far from over. Leave now. You’ll be summoned when the time is right.”

Leslie suddenly vanished, leaving Mizayla to digest his words. She stared at the twins, and for the first time in a long time, she felt completely out of control. Without saying a word, she began her exodus with Boudreaux and Kane following closely behind.

 

Owen Skovic charged into the warehouse followed by a small army of F.L.E.A.R. officers. He pointed to each torch, magically reigniting them. As light flooded the storehouse, they tended to their fallen colleagues.

What in the hell happened here? Owen narrowed his eyes, surveying the scene. “Thaw out these men,” he ordered, racing to the open back alley doors.

As he exited, he saw the blackest of carriages depart from the shadows and make way for the heart of the city.

Jeremy Shory
@JeremyShory
Jeremy@TheOrionChronicles.com

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