by Voss Foster
She forced her hands out again, and her snakes shot straight out all around her head at the same time, like the crown of Liberty. The wall of light went flying. It rushed forward, quaking the ground beneath my feet. It passed through trees, leaving them unscathed, and where people were standing…they weren't anymore.
"You're not hurting them, are you?"
"They're fine." Her voice was strained, jaw tight, blood dripping where fangs pierced her lips. "I'm pushing everyone out, and hopefully we can erect some sort of barrier…but the Mundane is proving more taxing than I had anticipated." She cringed against some invisible blow, and I got another nose full of ozone. "Or perhaps we just have company."
"I can handle that." I couldn't. But I could damn well play at being the big brave agent they were paying me to be. I held my M4 at the ready, did my best to block out the miniature earthquake, and kept my eyes and ears open for any sign of anything untoward.
Eventually, the wall of light dissipated. Vellius was still standing, but her knees shook, and she staggered over to me for support. "Someone really wanted to get in here."
"Well they didn't. Are we clear?"
She nodded. "Yes. As much as I could. Central Park really is large, and with the intruders…where are they? They should still be trying to get in."
"Maybe they gave up."
Gutt roared into the park, feet slamming against the ground. A gaggle of other agents followed behind, including Swift, King, and, oh yeah, an actual dragon. Bright green with black bands. Definitely a lesser dragon—he was only the size of a large horse—but I'd rather have a dragon in the fight than not have one.
Swift pulled ahead, and it was only then I realized every one of them was at the ready with a rifle or, in Gutt's case, bright blue magic balled around his fists. But Swift was the first of them to speak. "Where are they? Are you two all right?"
"We're fine."
Gutt next, hands still ensconced in energy. "Someone was blocking entry."
"It was me." Vellius finally let go of my shoulder and stood on her own. "I was clearing the area. I hope that wasn't an issue."
Gutt let his magic go, and a wave of relief passed over the whole amassed group. Me included, because at least the terrorists weren't pounding on the door.
Yet.
Swift nodded, dug in his pocket, and handed Vellius an earpiece and a mic. "Thank you. If we can convince you to stay around a while longer, I'm sure we could use the backup."
"I'm still between projects." She fitted the whole rig on with a little help from Gutt—though her hair didn't seem to love her latest accessories—and drew her shoulders up high. "What can I do?"
"Just hold a barrier around Central Park once we've got agents in place. We'll need Gutt on the inside, but we don't want any civilians getting in."
"I can do that." She walked off, already glowing snow white and working her hands in strange patterns again.
Swift whipped around and started to rattle off orders. "I need everyone spread out through this park, and I need it done yesterday. There's a chance the terrorists are already here." He quickly scanned the whole group and nodded. "I want ten yard sprays outward from where I'm standing now. Concentrate preets at the edges first, then the center, then fill in the middle with whoever's left and hope that nobody gets to them."
The strangers moved out on their own, leaving just me, Swift, King, and Gutt there. All around us, shimmering portals opened up, spilling agents out through the whole park.
Swift gestured to King. "You and me one team, Dash and Gutt a second."
"No." I wasn't letting that shit fly. Not for a second. "You two need a practitioner with you."
"We don't have time."
I scanned the nearby agents and snagged the nearest preet among them, an elf with black hair, shaved close to the scalp. "You any good at magic?"
"I like to think so."
I nodded and positioned him squarely between King and Swift. "There. Magic. Better."
King nodded. "Promise we won't let you die."
The elf shrugged. "If I die now, it's no different than dying when Jörmungandr is released."
With that sobering thought, Swift slipped his gas mask back on. We all followed suit. Swift pointed to himself and behind him, then to me and forward. So we went.
My heart rammed against my ribs so hard I was sure they would break, and my grip was numbingly tight on the rifle.
Swift's voice cracked into my ear. "Anything suspicious?"
I tapped on the mic. "Nothing yet. I'll let you know."
Then more silence, save for the crunching and swishing of our feet through the grass. I barely let myself blink, and had to remind myself to breathe. This wasn't just infiltrating some terrorists. This was…this was willingly walking into a vat of poison and expecting to fight your way out of it. Even with Gutt, armed with crackling orange fists of lightning next to me, I wasn't confident. How could we do anything? What was the plan? Why had I decided to come here at all?
Because there was nowhere else to go. There was no "running away" option. Not now. I was an OPA agent. That much was damn clear, even as my stomach tried to escape through my mouth. If I was still really a counterterrorism agent, I wouldn't be here, trudging through Central Park toward certain death. I wouldn't be tossing random elves at Swift and King to keep them alive. I wouldn't be doing any of this.
There was a very good chance I would be at home, kissing my ass goodbye and calling my parents and my brother and sister.
Of course, there was a very good chance I'd just be a stooge, not knowing one damn thing about any of this too. Because Swift kept the public from panicking as much as he could. Even after the press conference, no one knew that this was a genocide level problem. They only knew it was magical and scary.
Because if they knew, and we succeeded? The fallout could be impossible to spring back from.
"We might have something."
Gutt's voice over the earpiece crashed me back to the present reality full force, but even taking new stock of my surroundings, I didn't see anything. "Are we talking magic senses?"
"It's in the air. And there's a lot of it." His voice was strained, and I could see his own magic flickering, shrinking, trying to go out.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded. The orange glow around his hands fell to the ground, and he rolled his shoulders back. "I just can't hold anything at the ready for the time being."
Swift was on, now. "We're coming your way."
Gutt nodded. "We're still moving. I think this is the right direction. Flag down Dogar; a dragon isn't going to hurt."
Then more silence. Other than lacking his magic, Gutt seemed fine…except for the occasional stagger and waver in his steps. I still wouldn't have wanted to take him on in a fight, but then again I wasn't a massive death snake, or a Class-B ghoul with a serious hatred for the Mundane. And looking at how off he was, I was fucking worried.
"Gutt, can you handle this?"
"It's my job to handle this." It was in his voice, too. Still straining. "It's magical overload. I just can't use very much, but otherwise I'll be fine."
My heart met my throat. "How much is not very much?"
"Don't focus on me." He pointed ahead. "We're close."
I had to squint, but I did see something, caught a slightly antiseptic whiff of ozone. Through a copse of trees, there was a flash of bone white just barely visible. I knew that pure, clean white—poison gas.
Jörmungandr.
I looked at Gutt again, saw him practically shaking. "Do you need to wait?"
"We can't afford to wait."
"I know." He was looking worse and worse as we pulled closer. "But you're—"
"I'm fine!" It was vicious and harsh, and he whipped around, baring his fangs under the gas mask and pinning me with eyes like a wounded animal. "This is not my first time dealing with magic of significant power. The fact you can't seem to handle it—"
"Gutt, you can barely walk!"
"I will solve my own problems." And I guess to prove to me how wrong I was, he pulled himself up as straight as possible, even as his neck muscles tensed under the strain of it, and marched ahead, taking those same massive strides he normally took.
It wasn't like him to be quite that stubborn or confrontational. I stayed back, just in case this magical overload bullshit was going to make him do something completely out of character. I knew I wasn't about to tackle a three-hundred pound troll.
We stayed in that tense silence until we were almost at the treeline. Then Gutt took a knee…then another knee. I rushed to catch up. He wasn't taking a tactical position. He'd collapsed, and when I got up close, I could see his arms struggling to hold himself up. His whole body gleamed with a pale golden light.
"Gutt, you are not okay."
"They will not stop me." He shook his head, pointed at the ground. "I will not be felled by magical overload. Not this close."
We were close. The poison gas was maybe ten yards away. Well within firing range, if that was going to do any good. And I could make out some figures in black, all standing in a circle, and every one of them glowing like a little star fallen to the ground. The poison gas just barely skirted around their feet as it billowed from an opening in the center of their circle.
There was only one choice. Only one action we could take—I could take—before we lost any surprise we might have had. "Gutt, who do I shoot?"
"What? Guns do nothing, Dash."
"Maybe they're not focused." I kept an eye on them. "I don't have time to convince you, Gutt. Just tell me who to fucking shoot or I'm deciding for myself."
He struggled his head up, squinting as he peered through the trees. "To the left. He's channeling all their power into himself." He groaned like a nail was hammered into his spine. "They can't continue…without the lead practitioner."
To the left wasn't that fucking helpful until I actually looked. There was one figure glowing brighter than the rest. For my money? That was Selenus. And for even more of my money, he looked pretty damn distracted. Maybe enough that they weren't holding a barrier. Enough that I'd be able to get off a shot.
"If I shoot a ghoul in the heart, does it still die, Gutt?"
"As far as I know."
"Good." It wasn't a gun I was used to. There was no guarantee the bullet would actually fly straight, or that it wouldn't bounce off an invisible magical barrier. There was no guarantee of anything that might happen when I actually squeezed that trigger.
But there was a big scaly guarantee of what would happen if someone didn't do something. And that's what got me staring down the sight of that M4, lining it up center mass—I wasn't risking a headshot and missing, no matter how good I was with a gun. I slowed my breathing as much as I could, and my heart had already leapt out onto the ground from nerves.
I squeezed and took the kick. I squeezed and I held, because I wasn't going to be sad if I took out more than one of these terrorist bastards. And then I waited as the bullets traveled. I knew at least most of the shots were true, and it wasn't a great distance. The world slowed around me.
I watched the main glowy dude turn.
I watched metal rip into his shoulder, then his chest just below the neck, his other shoulder. He turned into the spray of bullets. You couldn't have asked for more.
But in that moment, I could have. I could have asked that he actually die. I could have asked that his magic not to leach off of him and into the ground. I could have asked the earth not to begin quaking under my feet.
I really, really could have asked not to see a ghostly forked tongue creep from a crag in the middle of the park.
I glanced to Gutt, and at the very least, he was back on his feet. But he wasn't grinning. This hadn't gone well at all. "That should have killed him."
"Maybe it's not Selenus."
"That should have killed anyone. Anyone but a dragon. You need armor piercing rounds for that."
"Well, we have a snake coming out, now, so I'd say it didn't fucking work." Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. It didn't work. Nothing worked. It was over. The seal was broken. Jörmungandr was loose. Already, a serpentine snout crested out of the ground. Translucent, shimmering, but there.
Swift, King, and their elf arrived just in time for a fireball to whizz past them and light the grass behind them ablaze. Swift locked eyes on me, and I just shook my head.
Then the trees lifted and moved aside on waves of earth, and the terrorists were on us. Bodies blazing, or glowing, or sparking electric. Some of them were larger than Gutt. None of them were smaller than a human, so there was no advantage in grappling.
Gutt swung his arms wide, clotheslining two of them. He spun and tossed those golden bands of light. But when they hit the nearest enemy, they didn't bind. Not this time. They tightened until bone shattered and a terrorist screamed.
Two black-clad figures headed for King, and her bullets bounced off. They were more prepared. I lunged, swinging my fist, and managed to do absolutely nothing as I bounced right off.
Well, not nothing. That one turned toward me instead of ganging up on Agent King. They pulled their gas mask aside, revealing…one ugly-ass sorcerer. "Perhaps you remember me?"
Oh, I did. That voice like gravel. The dead eyes. The awkward cadence. "Didn't we do this already?"
"That fight was unfair, human. Let's put it on more even ground." He raised his arms up high and the ground bucked me back to my feet. "You'll see what a truly superior individual can accomplish before you die."
I wasn't up in this fight. This bastard was over here slinging magic, and I had a gun that only maybe did something at point blank range. Maybe. Add to that the fact I couldn’t read one single move he was trying to make with that magic bullshit, and I was definitely not the front-runner.
But I leveled my gun and squeezed. Bullets flew off in all directions, crashing like meteors into the ground and one of them missing Swift and his wrestling partner by an inch.
The sorcerer shook his head. "You don't have any idea what you're doing, human." A flick of the wrist and I tumbled ass over tea kettle. He ripped the gun from my hands by magic and dragged it over to himself. "I'll save you the pain Jörmungandr has in store for you."
I bit my cheek as he pressed the muzzle flat against my forehead. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "I've been poisoned twice. It's not that bad."
"Really? Then enjoy." He moved the gun down and unloaded two bullets in my kneecap, like fire and acid pouring into me. "It won't be long, now."
He turned, tossing the rifle aside, and I clutched my knee. I could barely touch it, and I ignored the bloody shards of white littering the ground around it, and how I couldn't even move my toes anymore, how I couldn't feel my calf. Those magical bullets…I didn't look. I didn't want to see how little of my leg was left.
The elf locked eyes with me across the way, then opened a portal and stepped through to stand right next to me. He kneeled immediately and placed his hands on the knee. "Triage is easier when it's fresh."
I cringed as the fire raced out of my leg. I even saw it, wispy little lights, like a heat mirage hovering over my skin. My pants were in tatters, and my knee throbbed, but I had function again.
"How? The magical bullets—"
"It's hardly perfect. But point blank…at that range, magical or not magical doesn't make a huge difference. Blown apart is blown apart."
I nodded, forcing my breath to slow as much as possible. "Thank you."
"No one needs to die bleeding out when that is in our immediate future."
I followed his slender, tattooed finger over to that. Jörmungandr's entire head was out of the earth now, and it wasn't nearly as spectral as it had been before. There were massive scales of black and electric blue, all opalescent, creeping up the ghostly form. Muscle and skin beneath that, just a little higher. Bones a little higher than that. It was forming from the belly up, and the inside out.
Already, white smoke dripped from between partiall
y solidified fangs. Where it splashed on the ground, white fog rose up.
When I turned back, the elf was gone. I struggled to standing. Each step was fire, but I made for the gun. I even got my hand on it before the ground shook again, toppling me flat on my face into the dirt and grass.
I heard screaming.
I heard crunching.
When I turned back around, there was…a dragon. The green and black striped one that swooped out of the portal before. Up close, I could see some black straps around its forelegs, covered in runes, but no gas mask. I guess they didn't make them quite that large.
And it currently had three terrorists in its mouth. The others fled, some tossing magic back at the great winged lizard, others just running for their lives. But in that moment, we were safe. We were safe until Jörmungandr completed itself and spewed poison into the sky.
Well…unless someone did something insane.
There wasn't a lot of running with my leg in that condition, but I moved as quickly as I could until I reached the dragon, hands up. "You're OPA?"
He nodded and licked a bit of terrorist from his lips. "Dogar of Brandtbild. Minneapolis Field Office."
"Dogar. I need a ride over to that snake. Now."
Swift marched up. "You going to let me in on this plan?"
I shook my head. "Permission to do something monumentally stupid?"
"How stupid?"
"Pretty stupid." The dragon had already lowered himself down and I was scrabbling my way up onto his neck. "But if someone doesn't do something stupid, then everyone dies."
Swift eyed me up and down. "Are you gonna die doing this stupid thing?"
I was making no headway climbing up the dragon with a bum leg. "We'll see, won't we." I glanced to Jörmungandr again. Half a skull was already formed. "Gutt, I need up here."
There was a moment of stillness and silence, then Swift nodded and Gutt boosted me up by the butt. "What is this, Dash?"
I was already on the dragon. It would be hard to get me down. So it was safer to say something now. "Cover me, guys. Jörmungandr's brain is going to form around something." I patted Dogar's neck. "Let's go."
