“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Avery had noted his discomfort, “It’s up to you to straighten me out.”
“As a child, something happened to me. I lost my father, I lost my other, and I lost my brother. It hurt, a lot. For a long time, I was alone, I basked in my loneliness, and went to some dark places. There was one man who saved him, a Sabre then. He kept checking on me, even when I wanted to slip away, he didn’t let me die. I want to be that person, but for other people. I want to help people.”
“Is that all?” Avery asked. “If you wanted to help people, why not become a doctor? Why not a teacher? As a Sabre, you could end up hurting yourself and needing to hurt other people. Can you align that with your goals, Tyrone?”
“Yes.” Tyrone replied, “I can.”
“The Legion is no place for wannabe heroes, I have to warn you here. Your ideas are lofty, it’s up to you to keep that torch burning.” Avery looked him up and down. Tyrone had nodded, nervously chewing his lip.
“Welcome to the Sabres.”
* * *
Today.
Battle in Rulo.
Tyrone vs Alfred
I cannot allow him to get away!
That thought reverberated through Tyrone’s head as he stood up and faced the monstrous killer.
In a second, he had assessed his options. The nearest Shunt Port was a while away and damaged, so he couldn’t call for backup and expect them to find him in time. Similarly, Eva and Deidre weren’t close by either, he could call them over the radio, but they could very well be in their own mess now. No, he was going to have to deal with this by himself.
“Sir,” Tyrone said, shifting his weight, “I’m going to have to ask you to put down your mask and come with me quietly. We might have some questions for you back at HQ.”
“Oh?” The man replied, “Are you arresting me? What if I were to refuse?”
“Then I’ll have to use force to get you to comply.”
“What a threat, kid.” The man laughed. “You’re shaking in your boots, barely able to look me in the eye, and then you tell me that you can use force to take me down?”
“If it comes to that.”
“Well said.” He placed a hand on his mask, sliding it over his face, his satchel dropping to the ground behind him, “The name’s Alfred. Pleased to meet you.”
“Why are you telling me that now?” Tyrone asked, his equipment bag similarly discarded.
“Well,” Alfred’s mask began to integrate with his body. His arms bulged out somewhat grotesquely as his biceps and triceps expanded. His voice had dropped, sounding deeper now, and fur spouted around his exposed limbs. It was a gorilla mask, Tyrone finally made sense of the design. “I prefer to tell the people I kill, the name of the man who killed them. Is that so wrong?”
“It’s a little sadistic.” With that said, Tyrone charged forward, Alfred did too.
While Tyrone had engaged in several practice and training battles, he had yet to actually fight against a live opponent in the wild. Doing it without backup, or their squad present wasn’t exactly ideal. But he had trained for this, and he would put his best foot forward.
Art of Restraint: Crucifix!
The binding spell left his arm and struck Alfred in the chest, almost immediately, his arms and legs were splayed out in the air as if he was suspended on an invisible cross.
Alfred flexed his muscles once more, arms bulging, pecs swelling, a show of raw power. The invisible crucifix shattered like it was made of glass, and he leapt towards Tyrone. A swipe with his left arm sent Tyrone sprawling through the brush and crashing through a window. He barely dodged out of the way as Alfred crushed the ground with his next blow.
Shunting a fair distance away, he began to run towards his opponent again, after preparing another spell.
Art of Assault: Rampage Shot!
As Tyrone struck Alfred in the chest, a barrage of Industria projectiles followed, exploding on contact. Rampage shot was one of the control techniques they were taught at the academy. The Industria output from that had knocked many a trainee out.
Once more, Alfred stood. Tyrone froze for a moment, wondering if he was harmed. A glancing blow to his side showed him he had been too optimistic.
“Disappointing,” Alfred growled, “I thought you were going to show me a good time. Just ask the guys at the gate how I feel about disappointment.”
Noticing Tyrone’s glare, he scoffed. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s even worth putting a mask on you. We drained enough Industria from this town already.”
“We?” Tyrone asked, “So you aren’t acting alone?”
“Clever boy, but I’m not answering your questions.”
Alfred charged towards him, his massive arm arching forward. In a split second, Tyrone noted how the force of the blow caused the dust under him to shift.
Savage Swing!
Tyrone countered, blocking the strike, he felt the bones in his arms crack. The raw power was nearly beyond the limits of what he could handle. Another hand came down, he blocked it, and the two men began to exchange blows. Tyrone, enhancing his punches with industria, Alfred with just brute strength.
They separated, leaping away from each other. Tyrone twisted in the hair, his throbbing hands making a scythe-like motion through the air.
Wind Slicer!
He fired off his own attack, the air twisting itself as the blade carved its own path through the ground. Alfred evaded to the right, then once more to the left as another wind blade sliced there as well.
He smiled to himself, it had grazed him, cutting a little of his left arm as it had gone past. The kid may have been a rookie, but he wasn’t that bad at fighting. Killing him would be more satisfying than the others. He hated the Sabres with a passion. It didn’t matter whether he knew why he was dying or not. All that he knew was that this man was pissing him off. And he would die, as soon as he was done playing with him.
Tyrone shunted, appearing behind in an instant behin him. His fingers forming a gun shape. He fired.
Wind Railgun!
An endless buffet of invisible air bullets slammed into Alfred. It wasn’t enough. Alfred’s back muscles were too thick. He grabbed his arm and slammed him into the ground.
“Come on man, entertain me more,” Alfred growled, his face dangerously close. “Are you going to die like that?”
Tyrone remained tight-lipped.
Alfred squeezed tighter, Tyrone felt his ribs give way.
“Answer me, boy.”
“Get off me.” The Sabre erupted.
Art of Assault: Shock!
The minor shockwave broke Alfred’s grip enough for Tyrone to slip away, a flashbang grenade stunned him further.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked around. Tyrone was gone.
“Fine,” He said, “I can play that too.”
Hiding behind a house, Tyrone reflected. Fighting was getting him nowhere. He couldn’t call for backup, but if he retreated, he could be attacked and killed as he fled.
Alfred took a deep breath. Then he allowed his mask to take him over fully. The second stage of beast mask possession.
Gorilla Mask: Anwanwu!
His veins bulged as more and more Industria was drawn into the mask. His arms more than doubled in size, become disproportionately sized in contrast to his body. This was the raw strength he had chosen the gorilla mask for. He could only maintain the Anwanwu form for about a few minutes. But it would be enough to find and kill his opponent. He sniffed the air.
“I can smell you.” Alfred looked more beast than man now. He was looking directly at the building Tyrone was crouched behind.
His chest muscles rippled as he spread his arms apart, then brought them together as he clapped.
Savage Shockwave.
The air pulsed as the force of the shockwave shattered the building from a distance. Tyrone had leapt into the air, boosting himself with Industria, as he had sensed the danger.
“Don’t think you’re safe,” Alfr
ed growled, “Anwanwu enhances my spell-casting abilities too.”
Art of Assault: ShatterShot!
From his left hand, a powerful industria beam lanced out. Tyrone barely managed to release a counter-spell before being blown away by the shockwave. As his vision cleared, a solid muscular wall of black was in front of him. Another defence spell, cast by pure reflex this time. But it wasn’t enough. Alfred’s blow tore through his shield, sending him flying some distance away. He wheezed as he stood up. Under him, the shadow grew as Alfred approached the ground, having leapt after him.
Savage Slam.
He barely escaped as the ground he had just lain on was pulverised by the blow.
Tyrone’s mind was working fast as he dodged attacks, despite all this.
He can cast spells, he can use Industria. He’s a trained soldier.
“Please tell me when you’ve had enough, so I can end your suffering.” Alfred gloated. Another glancing blow sent Tyrone spinning into a wall.
Blood dripped from his mouth again. He was losing, and badly.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” air swirled around, pulling itself into Tyrone’s hand, compressing and reforming into a ball, and the compressing even further. Wiping the blood from his lips as he struggled to his knees, he looked into Alfred’s black eyes and continued, “Whatever you say doesn’t matter anymore. Whether you kill me doesn’t matter anymore. All I know is that I cannot allow you to leave here.”
“Neither can I,” Alfred’s left arm deflated as his right arm grew, and grew again. It was now twice his originally enhanced size.
Taking a deep breath, both men charged at each other as if in sync. Alfred struck first.
Savage Strike!
His enlarged fist struck Tyrone head-on, crushing bones and cracking ribs. With his free hand, the other man had cast a defensive spell over his torso, that had taken the brunt of the blow, yet it hadn’t been enough. It was like being hit full on with a truck. He grinned, expecting Tyrone to fall to the ground. But Tyrone didn’t move backwards, he gritted his teeth and moved through the pain. He felt his bones move, and liquid in his lungs, turning his breathing into a wheeze. He ignored all of it. All he needed was one final push. One more step.
Pain is something a hero feels, so no one else has to.
That had been his motto. Something passed down from Tom. And as his attack was driven into Alfred’s torso, it flashed through his mind.
Wind Ball!
The compressed air exploded outwards from the ball, tearing into Alfred. The shockwave crushed his insides, sending him flying through several buildings with the force of a focused hurricane until he came to a stop. Tyrone didn’t check to see if he was unconscious or dead. Or rather, he couldn’t. Gripping his damaged arm, he fell to his knees and passed out.
Chapter 5 - What James Lost
Tyrone awoke in pain. His arm felt like a mass of pure pain. His chest too. He was lucky to be alive when he recalled the blows he had received. He was lying in the middle of the street, limbs splayed out. The buildings still bore the scars of the damage of their battle.
It was getting dark, he didn’t know how long he had been out like that but he felt lucky to be alive. He didn’t recognise the part of the town he was in. Strange. Perhaps he had been blown back farther than he thought. Perhaps he was simply suffering a concussion.
He got up slowly, wincing with each small movement, then became more alert as his mind cleared.
Alfred!
Thoughts of the gorilla man flooded his mind, giving context to his wounds. From a cursory glance around, Alfred was nowhere to be seen. He had either blown him too far away, or he had absconded. Both options seemed likely, if the other man was still alive, the chances of Tyrone having woken up were slim.
Either was fine, Tyrone didn’t think he could go another round with him. He gripped his chest tight with one hand, with the other, he reached for h is supply pouch for a regen pill.
The regen pills were the bread and butter of Legionnaire’s who got into sticky situations. With three of them, you could restore your body back to tip-top shape three times. It ate at your industria reserves, and taking more than three in one day was said to have dire consequences. His fingers hurt too much, he could barely get the pouch open.
Fine. He reached behind him for his radio, hoping to call for help. That was not to be. It had been shattered in the battle.
“Typical,” he said to himself. His knees gave out underneath him and he fell to the ground again.
He stood again and then collapsed just as quickly.
“Hey.” A man’s voice came. He sounded as if he was nearby, but just out of sight. Tyrone could sort of make him out as he peeked out from behind a wall. “How are you feeling?”
His pain forgotten, Tyrone shunted as the man finished speaking, grabbing him and pinning him to a wall. He had pulled out the small knife strapped to the inside of his thigh and held it to the unknown man’s throat.
“Who are you?” He said, his heart pounding. “I won’t be taken by surprise this time, make one move and I’m slitting your throat.”
In response, the man squeezed his arm causing Tyrone to drop his knife. Pain threatened to send him under again. A solid stomp on his foot, a crunch as the man’s forehead met the bridge of his nose, and Tyrone released him.
I really am in bad shape…and now I’m dead.
He grabbed his throbbing arm with the arm throbbing less, then looked up, expecting to see another monstrosity. Instead, he saw a scared man in his forties, hands held upwards, palms facing out, tears streaming down his eyes.
Oh no! He’s not one of them!
“It’s ok…I’m here to help…” Tyrone muttered as he realised his mistake. “it’s ok…” He trailed off as he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * *
A warm towel had been placed on his head. He was now in a room, whether it was in the man’s house — James— he remembered him saying through a haze — or perhaps it was someone else’s. It didn’t particularly matter. They were the only two left alive in the town, no one would be there to complain.
“I saw to your bones while you were asleep, crushed and fed you one of those regen pills too. It helped a lot. That guy really did a number on you.”
Tyrone nodded. The dull pain in his arms had subsided, and the healing process would accelerate now that he was awake.
“Why are you helping me?” He asked. “You don’t even know me. I attacked you.”
James still sat facing the window as he answered.
“I am— I was — a doctor. When the attack happened, I didn’t know what to do. I ran, I hid outside town. Perhaps that saved me, but I couldn’t be here for my family, my parents, my sister, all are dead and gone. I don’t know how they did it, but they got everyone.”
He turned with his face now tear-stained, “When you came, I hid again. I thought you were one of them, I thought that you would come for me. Then you started fighting, and I knew you weren’t. I couldn’t do anything but watch, and drag you away when you collapsed. Even guys like you get scared after something like that, I figured that’s why you attacked me.”
“Thank you.” Tyrone said, “You saved my life.”
“I didn’t. You’d probably have survived anyway. I couldn’t save Catherine. I couldn’t help my mother, my father, my uncle, my son. I couldn’t even die with them. As a person, I’m a failure.”
“But you helped me.” Tyrone said, “You were brave then, you can be brave later.”
“I was a failure for the ones that mattered when they needed me most.”
“You would have died with them, James.” Tyrone reached out and touched his hand lightly.
“It would have been a good death.” The doctor mused. Then he shushed Tyrone as he continued his treatment.
As the regen pill worked its magic, Tyrone listened to James talk about his family. His smart wife. His handsome son who was about to get married as well. His wise mother. His doting
father. Their friends.
Tyrone didn’t say anything. He just let him talk. He could reassure the man that it wasn’t his fault, but as he knew when his parents and brother had died when he was younger, it wouldn’t help. Eventually, he had blocked their memories from his mind and the healing process had begun. James would learn too, in time.
“Rulo isn’t — wasn’t a bad place,” James continued, “It was a decent place, full of decent people, with good hearts. We didn’t deserve this…”
“Doctor.” Tyrone had finally stood, he clasped a hand over his shoulder. “I’ll be going now.”
“Nonsense, you’re in no shape to go anywhere,” James shook his head, as he tried to push Tyrone back. “Don’t remember what happened to you last time? If you face someone else like that before you completely heal up, it’ll be the end for you.”
“I know that, and I’m ready for that.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“If I have to die to save just one person, then I’ll do it wholeheartedly. I know where they’re going next, I can’t just leave them to do as they like.”
“Very well. Go kill yourself, do as you wish.”
“We’ll come back for you tomorrow.” Tyrone grinned, “I promise, it’ll all be alright.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” James returned his smile. “It’ll all be alright in the end. That’s something Catherine always used to say.”
The next few minutes were spent packing Tyrone’s gear which had been strewn across town. He still had a paper map, and James was able to point him in the right direction.
Later, as Tyrone left the town at full speed, James wished him good luck, and under his breath — goodbye. Returning to his own house, he opened the fridge. The bourbon was still there. He poured a full glass, smashed the bottle. The glass from the bottle would be enough for his purpose.
It’ll be alright.
What a fool. He’d be killed, and they’d be back for him soon after. He didn’t want that to happen.
I promise. It’ll be alright.
“No it won’t.” James steadied himself on a chair, focusing on the task at hand. “Catherine. Samuel, I’ll be joining you soon.”
Masked Page 3
