Closer and closer the child stumbled through the once beautiful streets as the mirror doors, and the eerily blinking lift light came into view. Just as she was about to come face to face with the silvery surface, a flash of light burst through her eyes, blinding the girl, pain wracked her body in rhythmic bouncing waves, the world felt like it was spinning, unable to see her charred form tumbling away from along the cobbled crystal road, smacking as she came to a sudden stop against a nearby light post, fluids splattering the floor as the wind was kicked from every cell in her body.
Coughing warm thick liquid, the child could not see or hear anything, blinded by pure white light, all she could do was feel the heat and pain trickle over her body, the smell of sulfur congealed within her nostrils. The girl’s bones ached, her skin stung, but the ringing in her ears was the first of the curses to be lifted as the sounds of reality slowly came back into focus. Clattering boots on cobblestones, was the first thing she heard, second was the shouting, the light and color flooded back into her burning eyes, she saw the mob that emerged from the rubble of the ruined lift, now a collapsed pile of crystal, metal, and shining stone. The first being to emerge (rather strongly) from the cloud of gray dust was the master herself. Konnie stood tall, ducking under a hanging edge of ruined metal, her body now clad in a black, strap riddled leather jacket device. Hints of metal plating peeking out from underneath woven fabric and leather bands, the rest of her frame swathed in a darkened baggy pants. The master stepped out, her favorite weapon, snaking tightly behind as her gloved hand gripped the handle with white knuckled determination, the figures that followed her eventually emerged as well.
Warriors, like those from before, Echelon of some obscure elite tier, clad in the same dark woven armor, creating a rally of visages most foul, their full faced, round windowed-eyed masks gave them an even more eerie and intimidating appearance. They all stood tall and straight, marching and crunching through the stinking rubble as if the explosion had not phased them in the slightest. Each brandished a fli-gun of various sizes and makes, some carried a drawn saber or curved short blade, others had multiple sheathed and strapped across their lower backs.
A small elite army had just emerged from the rubble of their cities' transportation, like a band of midnight insects they marched, but why were all these people here? Everyone important had already evacuated the girl wondered in her spinning pooling mind.
The child’s question was almost immediately resolved, as she slumped awkwardly against the post, swirling air to the right of her head surged as the atmosphere was crushed, blood erupted from the chest of a heavily armed Echelon, knocking them to a knee as pink viscera splattered, fanning out in the aftermath, their armor ripped to smithereens. The rest of the band took immediate combat formation, figures of darkness finding stable footholds in the cover of the ruins.
The unnamed child's bleeding eyes were blurred as she attempted to regain control of her body, however those very eyes did not deceive her as the girl watched the wounded Echelon soldier spring to their feet, the thing’s wound now plugged with woven wires and fibers, as they took their place in the formation. Both sides, the unknown, and the terrace Echelon exchanged shots, hammer driven fli-guns letting off piercing high temp rounds of photon slug. Others used modified fli-gun weapons, firing hot metal or steel rods. The child, almost caught in the middle, rolled onto her side, clutching the burning lacerations and puddling welts that covered her body, crawling to a nearby doorway.
Tears formed in her eyes as the whizzing of projectiles began crossing the now ruined street, not tears of fear or pain, but tears following the realization that she could not move her legs. The girl dragged her wounded body out of the path of fire, muscles screaming, shoulders tearing as the burden of her form, fatigue, and injuries took over. If one wanted to track the child down, they would only have to follow the trail of dark red smeared across the road, through glass and crystal shards, a trail of skin bits, and the occasional toe or fingernail. The child screamed out, almost louder than the gun fire around her, slumping in the metal frame of a shop's doorway, the once beautiful fortification now twisted and warped. Her eyes started to grow dark, and she resisted the urge to sleep or to look upon her body.
Boots clamored, stone and steel barked, the air was a-light as the evening sky drained of its illumination, the time passing seemed like hours but was truly only minutes. The child sat comatose unaware of the predators stalking up beside her. With a swift sense of urgency, and the fineness of a large cat, a figure kneeled before her, wrapping gloved hands around her arms, hoisting her right into a sling apparatus. The child was barely conscious, head lolling to the side, as the weight of her limbs kept them from moving. Her eyes were clearer now, she was able to spy a single visage of her captor, which consisted of a flat black mask, with two valves on either side, and two empty windows to protect the eyes, one however, shone with a brilliant red light. The hands were gentle, but the pain from her wounds could not have been made much worse at this point. Slumped in the womb like satchel, thrown over the shoulder of a strange being, she was scared, shaking as much as she could, tears of fear and rage rolled down red pearly cheeks.
They had been moving for some time now, the sounds and smells of musty stone and demonic gunfire howled through the atmosphere of their once quiet spire. There had been moments where the sound had died down, moments of screaming, and moments of fear. The child, however, was drawing strength back into her crippled form, as she incubated on the back of her captor. Fighting sounds dwindled to near chaotic silence, she decided this was her time to strike. Flailing screaming limbs, with a face clenched, engrossed in determination, the girl sought purchase with her animalistic facade, eventually twisting her bloodied body out of the sack and onto the cold crystal of the street below, with a delightfully moist crunch, her bag of flesh had tumbled to the earth.
First thing to assault the girl was the scents that assailed her nose, the smell of war, or what she imagined war to smell like, gas and chemicals burned her inner skull cavities, smoke and blood, the mildew of long unopened earth now turned, all congealed in the mix.
The next thing to assault her was sight, her eyes could see that the terrace was on fire, the once beautiful city of metal webbings, now shone a different type of beauty, a vile beauty. The terrace was alight, the fire spreading from the inner area closest to the spire, amber embers splitting their light through the crystalline structures, like a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and purples as the shines dyed the dastardly light in cooler shades of death.
The girl rolled observing her location in a frantic daze, matted hair and thick chains swinging with the movement of her head. Somehow, she had been carried to the upper terrace, the one she had only ever seen once, now everything crumbled, and the silhouettes of screaming citizens, wounded echelon, and insightful predators, could be seen dancing in the pyre that was this port town. As the child watched them dance, a chill swam up her spine, a sense of large foreboding stood behind her and it took every cell in her body to turn and face it. She shuffled her small frame and boney arms, coming face to face with the imposing white horse's head, the one whose own left eye shone crimson, while the other was dead as the grave.
The galleon stood there docked and dark, landing plates extended sitting mounted near mighty hooks embedded in metal and stone, like a web of steel binding the mighty ship to the mountain top. The heavens shuddered under the weight of the constructs at war, and the battle that waged.
The child sat up suddenly, looking around at the ragtag militia of invaders in their rugged short coats, tunics crisscrossed with ammo slings and holsters, leather and cloth, mashed together in the most haphazard of ways. The invaders began forming a half circle around the massive entrenched plate which sat buried into the stone of the terrace.
Fire, dust, brimstone, and ash swirled around the ruined streets, a spiraling vortex of past and present chaos with her in the middle. Eyes wide the child scanned the scene before her, spying other past chained denizens, the older stood as if rallying with their enslavers, the younger ones however, met her fear filled eyes with theirs. The invaders and their human prizes, had taken up a defense behind rubble, and cargo boxes, creating a barricade to defend the landing strip, as more invaders trailing their captives emerged from the orange clouds, erupting from the heart of the battlefield that was the terrace center. Turning her head the child jumped, only now seeing her captor looming over, as she laid in the carcass of the bag she had been held within. The glassy mask stared back at her with a piercing resolve.
The tall coat clad figure, reached up as the child flinched, the being hooked its dark fingers under the strange mask, and started to pull the midnight covering over its chin. Blood splattered the child's face in a viscera eruption, as the sound of fighting drummed up again, an obsidian whip ripping through the muscle and tissue of the captor’s arm, shredding the darkened leather to ribbons. The child's head twitched over, eyes tracing the strip of darkness to the figure of the master silhouetted in front of the darkened burning plume. Standing alongside the small army, her shape was imposing under the amber wash of sky.
The child almost broke a smile, for the master Konnie had arrived to save her in a parted sea of Echelon, each equipped with a wide foist shield, giving their overall darkened facade an even more vicious appearance. They moved, shields interlocked like one massive centipede, slithering over rubble and earth, through the ruined streets, ever closer to the boarding party.
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