* * *
Location: Paragon City
Date: December 31 2010
Time: 23:56:08
* * *
Once again, the temporal shock hit my system like a sledgehammer wielded by a demented Norse deity. But the combat drug I'd taken earlier, if that frame of reference still applied, took the edge off the pain.
Barely.
But it was enough.
I managed to stay on my feet as the wave of agony washed over my body. Around me, people were starting to react, both party-goers and Skulls. I couldn't tell if I'd gone forward or backward, but the latter was more likely.
This time, it seemed I'd been displaced in time but not apparent spatial location. That was worrying in and of itself, since simple rotation of the Earth would have posed a problem if that was all that had gone on.
Still, all I could observe was the result. I was standing more or less where I'd been a subjective second ago, in the middle of the club's dance floor. In front of me, a girl in a tight dress and ripped leggings was just starting to struggle against a Bone Daddy and his Skull compatriots.
I lifted my rifle, fingers curling around the familiar grip. In a matter of moments, my past self would come crashing through the club doors, and then there'd be two of me. Between both of us, we could...
Wait.
No. That wasn't right. The way the Ouroboros device was configured, I would have displaced my previous time-travelling self when stepping back a second time. It took finer settings than I had the patience for to permit multiple time-travelling incarnations of the same individual without causing some kind of paradox. I used simple displacement most of the time, because it was damn well safer.
So if the device was working correctly, it would be me in the club...and just me.
Sure, I had a counterpart native to this time. But if I remembered correctly, I'd been cleaning out a Council cell in the Rogue Isles. That version of me was nowhere near Paragon.
Yet I'd seen myself standing over the girl. How was that possible? Unless her own mutant powers had interfered...
But I didn't have time to consider the problem. The Skulls were already reacting to my presence. From their point of view, it probably looked like I'd teleported into their midst...right out in the open and without any cover. I was exposed. Never a good place to be.
Fatigue slowed my movements, but I managed to dodge the first blast of dark energy unleashed by the Bone Daddy, the cloud of necromantic magic raging past to no effect. His second shot clipped me on the shoulder, but it was the same arm that had the red-hot Ouroboros bracer on it. That limb was already halfway useless, so the fresh stab of pain was no great loss.
Firing an assault rifle one-handed isn't the most advisable trick in the book. Particularly if you're shooting from the hip. Especially if the weapon is set to burst rather than single shot. Most individuals, even professional soldiers, can't hit anything that way. I managed all the same, sketching a jagged line of six rounds across the Bone Daddy's centre of mass.
I was certain at least some of the rounds over-penetrated. Sloppy work, well below my usual standards. At this point, though, I was willing to accept certain compromises to quality control.
The man was still standing, albeit unsteadily, so I closed the distance and kicked him hard, knowing that some trained necromancers could shrug off normally fatal wounds to their body. Then I gave him a quick treatment with the bayonet, before turning to his friends.
If it's inadvisable to fire from the hip, it's even more stupid to try bayonet work when you don't have the weapon properly braced. But a rifle isn't a terribly good close-quarters tool. The angles are just all wrong.
I knew my wrist and elbow would hurt terribly in the morning. But I had other concerns at the time.
The second Skull dropped, his head a mess. I turned quickly and fired at a third. Again, I wasn't where the bullet had gone, possibly ricocheting off the ceiling, possibly lodging in the man's torso. That was the sort of thing I usually tried to keep track of, but I was tired and in a great deal of pain.
With my immediate vicinity clear, the remaining Skulls were considerably easier to deal with. I even managed to coax some life into my injured arm, so I could assume a grotesque parody of a proper shoulder position for a couple of good shots.
It made aiming much simpler.
Given I'd just fired off several rounds indoors at close proximity, I wasn't really expecting the girl or any of the other civilians to actually hear me when I spoke. My own ears were protected, but the bystanders didn't have that luxury. Still, I had to make the attempt.
The Ouroboros bracer on my left forearm was burning hot, the metal scorching. It probably would have literally burned me if it'd been strapped directly to bare skin. As it was, even with the padding, it came close.
I ignored the sensation with an effort of will, forcing the arm into motion. Clumsily, I ripped the mask off my face and let it hang loosely around my neck. Even if she couldn't hear me, perhaps she could at least read my lips.
There were other civilians milling around, just starting to respond in shock to my brutal solution of the Skull problem. I also knew there were more Skulls outside the club. This wasn't quite over. But the immediate problem was the mutant girl. I had to deal with that first.
Priorities, always priorities.
As my eyes adjusted from the artificially coloured view provided by the mask lenses to the dim interior light of the club, I could tell the girl was staring blankly, her face stretched into a picture of sheer terror. I couldn't tell what was on her dress, since it was dark, perhaps black. But there were distinct blotches of fluid on her face, bare arms, and her legs. Blood, most likely someone else's.
I knew there was some of the same on my own outfit, but I was used to that sort of thing. The girl probably wasn't. Her reaction gave that away.
She collapsed to her hands and knees, breathing heavily.
"Are you okay," I asked, trying my best to sound gentle. I didn't do a very good job of it. It was a silly question anyway, since the answer was obvious.
She screamed.
Once more, the world froze. The bracer on my arm spiked another few degrees, to the point where I could feel my own flesh searing. My perceptions slowed, but as far as I could determine the other shocked patrons of the club were completely motionless in comparison.
"Shit," I mouthed, though no sound escaped my lips.
Her powers had activated anyway. Apparently, mental trauma had done the job...one way or another.
This clearly wasn't my finest hour.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see people starting to visibly wither. I wasn't sure whether that was starvation, dehydration, or simple old age catching up with each of the frozen forms, but either way it wasn't good.
My options were limited. I knew that. Maybe I could risk another trip through time, but with the way the Ouroboros device was acting? My chances of surviving were...low. I didn't have the knowledge or training to calculate exactly how low, but I didn't need to be a genius to figure the general way things were heading.
I lifted my weapon, finger closing on the trigger. I had no idea how a gunshot would work inside the temporal distortion field. I had no idea if killing the girl would end the effect, or if this would continue after she died. Maybe shooting her would simply make it worse.
I had to try.
No choice, now.
"Sorry," I said.
As it turned out, gunfire did work within the temporal field. I discovered this first-hand. But I didn't reach that conclusion on my own. I never pulled the trigger. I was just about to draw it back when someone else shot me.
I weathered the impact a lot better than the girl probably would have. The bullet didn't penetrate my ballistic armour, but it hit hard enough to send me to the ground in slow motion. The feeling of hitting concrete when stretched out over a few subjective moments was...interesting, albeit not an experience I was eager to repeat.
Gasping, I pried myself off the floor, lifting my head, scanning for this new threat. It didn't take long to spot the shooter. After all, he was the only other moving figure in the club besides me and the girl.
He was about my height, dressed in very similar combat gear. Full body fatigues with protective plating, skeletal battle order webbing crossed over his waist and torso, and an assault rifle. The brass Ouroboros bracer on his arm gleamed dully in the club's erratic lightning as he crossed the dance floor.
He wasn't me.
The resemblance was close, but the colours and camo pattern were wrong. My own low-light gear was a midnight blue, this interloper was dressed in dark green. The equipment was similar, but there were obvious deviations. A newer model of gas mask and goggles covered his face. Plus the rifle he was using was Vanguard issue, an entirely different make from my own Arachnos-built weapon.
"What the hell," I hissed. Intellectually, I knew my half-hearted whisper wouldn't be audible, given the time-controlling girl was busy screaming her lungs out just a few feet away.
The guy ignored me, instead crouching beside the mutant girl. He pulled something from his belt. It looked a lot like a police taser of some kind until he switched it on...and it crackled with an angry blue nimbus that hurt my eyes to look at. The colour was familiar, though I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before.
He pressed it to the back of the girl's neck. The girl spasmed, her body twitching like a seizure victim as the wave of energy overwhelmed her body. Then she went completely limp, lying face down on the dance floor.
Slowly, methodically, the guy in green checked her pulse and other vitals. Then he stood up, and finally turned to me.
Around our little space on the club floor, people were once again starting to move. They didn't look altogether healthy, many dropping much like the girl had done. But they looked alive, or at least a reasonably intact and non-decayed level of dead.
The only people completely still were the Skulls, and I knew for a fact they were dead. My brain was fuzzy, but my sanity wasn't that far gone. Not just yet.
"The hell," I repeated, as I glared at the stranger.
The man shook his head. "Don't try your portal again," he said, conversationally, "you've lost connection with the Pillar of Ice and Flame. It's a small miracle you made it back here."
"Thank you, I try," I said sarcastically, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. Choking for breath, I got back to my feet. While I knew this new guy could still be a threat, the adrenaline and artificial substances I had flowing through my body was starting to fade. I knew I was crashing, hard, and in danger of passing out.
I couldn't see the other guy's face, but I had the impression he was grinning. "You're a hard man to follow, you know that? Come on, let's go."
I pointed the muzzle of my own weapon at the prone mutant. "What about the girl," I spat, challengingly.
"Oh, don't worry. She's neutralised," the green-clad soldier said, "I'm guessing you've realised that...killing her would have been a mistake. You already made it once. Not that you remember."
"This time travel shit is giving me a headache," I grumbled. But I lowered my rifle, flicking the safety lever back on. There was no sense in antagonising this stranger. After all, he was holding all the proverbial cards.
As if expecting this reaction from me, he nodded, then tapped his forearm. Before us, an Ouroboros portal sprang into being with a flood of golden power, the interlocking serpent emblem tracing its way across the floor.
Ignoring the bewildered crowd and the unconscious girl lying on the floor, we stepped through and vanished.
-- Acyl