The stillness in Konrad Bach's hallway was a fragile thing, held together by the rhythmic, mocking tick of the grandfather clock and the heavy, suffocating silence of the fog pressing against the windows. The house, usually a sanctuary of solitude, now felt like a pressure cooker waiting to blow.
Ruben stood by the coat rack, adjusting his sleeves, his movements jerky and agitated. He turned to the old man, who was standing stiffly by the parlour entrance, looking at the mud on Ruben's boots with a pained expression.
"Listen to me, Konrad," Ruben said, his voice low and urgent. "When they come in, and they are coming in, you don't know us. You didn't invite us in for tea. You didn't offer us beds."
Ruben stepped closer, ensuring the old man met his eyes. "You tell them we broke in. You tell them we threatened you. You say you were terrified and you just wanted us to leave. You play the victim, alright? It keeps you out of jail."
Konrad sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to rattle in his chest. He adjusted his square spectacles, looking around at his pristine, empty home. "This is a great disturbance of my peace, Mr. Rayo. I spent years ensuring that no one looked at this house, and now you are inviting the entire state apparatus into my foyer."
"Yeah, well, it's not exactly the time to bother with such crap, old man," Corbin snapped from the stairs. He was pacing, his muscles coiled tight, his eyes darting to the windows every few seconds. "Peace is over. Survival is the menu today."
Oscar was sitting on the bottom step, hugging his knees. He looked smaller than ever, his face pale and streaked with dried tears. He looked between the three men, his eyes wide with a terror that went beyond simple fear, it was the terror of a child who knew pain was a tangible thing that walked through doors.
"What is going on?" Oscar whispered, his voice trembling. "Why are you talking like that? Is Paul coming?"
Ruben crouched down in front of the boy, forcing a calm he didn't feel onto his face. "Hey. Don't worry. Something bad is going to happen, okay? I'm not going to lie to you. But you're going to be alright. We have a plan."
It was a flimsy lie, but it was all he had. Ruben could see the kid spiralling, the panic rising in his chest. If Oscar panicked, the gas would come. If the gas came, they were all dead before the Paladins even knocked.
"I need you to focus, Oscar," Ruben said, trying to distract him. "Tell me about your Ego. When it... when it happens. How does it feel? How do you know it's coming?"
Oscar sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He looked down at his chest. "It... it bubbles. Like hot water inside my tummy. And then it gets tight. Really tight. I try to hold it in, but it hurts, and I feel scared and angry that I can't stop it."
"Like a bubble, huh?" Ruben smiled, a crooked, forced expression. "So, basically... it's like holding in a really bad fart in a quiet room. You know? Like when you're in the library and you just know it's going to be loud?"
Corbin, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, let out a sharp, surprised snort of laughter. He covered his mouth, shaking his head.
Oscar blinked, his mouth dropping open slightly. He looked as if he had just received whiplash from the tonal shift. "A... a fart?"
"Exactly," Ruben said, keeping the grin plastered on his face. "Just a really angry, dangerous fart. Takes the edge off if you think about it that way, right?"
Konrad looked appalled. "Mr. Rayo, really. There is a child present."
"I'm just saying," Ruben shrugged, standing up. "Biology is biology."
"Will there be major damage to my home?" Konrad asked suddenly, his voice losing its scolding tone and becoming quiet, almost resigned. He looked at the walls, the wainscoting he kept polished. "I do not have insurance for... Paranormal events."
"We hope not," Ruben said softly. "But keep your head down."
Ruben turned back to Oscar. He needed a failsafe. He raised his hand, focusing his mind. The air shimmered, gold light coalescing in his palm. A small dragon, no larger than a sparrow, materialized. It wasn't a combat construct, it was tiny, detailed, and warm, its scales glowing with a soft amber light.
"Here," Ruben said, letting the tiny creature hop onto Oscar's knee. "If everything goes wrong... if we get separated... this little guy stays with you. I can find him anywhere. As long as you have him, I can find you."
The dragon curled up, its tail flicking, and then scampered into the large front pocket of Oscar's hoodie.
Oscar palmed his pocket, feeling the warmth of the magic against his stomach. For the first time in hours, his shoulders dropped an inch. "Thank you, Ruben."
"Don't mention it," Ruben murmured.
Then, the air changed.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a smell. It was a pressure, a sudden, localized drop in atmospheric density that made their ears pop. The hair on Ruben's arms stood up. It was the feeling of a predator stepping into the room, invisible but undeniable.
Corbin felt it too. His Ego, Boost, reacted instantly to the spike in danger. His pupils dilated, his heart rate doubling in a fraction of a second.
"UP!" Corbin roared, looking toward the large bay window at the front of the house.
Through the glass, through the swirling gray fog, they saw him.
Paul Strahm stood on the hood of a parked car across the street. He looked calm. He wore a heavy gray coat that blended perfectly with the mist.
He was looking right at them. And he was smiling, a bastardly, thin-lipped smirk that promised absolute ruin.
Paul raised his hands. He didn't hold a weapon. He held nothing. But his posture shifted. He widened his stance, bracing his right leg back. He raised his right arm to his shoulder, his hands cupped around an invisible tube. His left hand mimed gripping a trigger mechanism.
It was the unmistakable pantomime of a Rocket Propelled Grenade.
"Here goes the damage," Paul muttered, the words lost to the distance but the intent screaming through the air.
Paul's finger twitched on the invisible trigger. He jerked back, miming the massive recoil of the launch.
WHOOSH.
The air screamed. A tunnel of distorted force, visible only as a blurring ripple in the rain, tore across the street. It smashed through the iron fence, shredded the rose bushes, and slammed into the front of Konrad's house.
"RUBEN!" Corbin shouted, tackling Konrad to the floor behind the sofa.
Ruben didn't dive. He threw his hands out. Forge.
He didn't have time to summon a beast. He summoned a wall. A thick, jagged slab of dragon-scales erupted from the floorboards just as the invisible rocket impacted. Ruben didn't even know he could do that.
BOOM.
The explosion was deafening. The bay window disintegrated into a cloud of diamond dust. The wall of the house groaned and buckled inward. The force of Paul's telekinetic blast hit Ruben's shield with the weight of a freight train.
Ruben gritted his teeth, sliding backward across the polished wood, his boots carving grooves into the floor. The shield held, barely. The shockwave rattled his bones, blowing the pictures off the walls and shattering every vase in the room.
Dust and plaster rained down. Oscar screamed, curled into a ball under the stairs where he had scrambled.
"He's reloading!" Corbin yelled, scrambling up from the debris. "He's gonna bring the roof down!"
But before Paul could mime another attack, before Ruben could even drop his shield to catch his breath, the world exploded from the other side.
The heavy oak front doors, the ones Konrad had kept locked and polished were obliterated.
A lance of pure, condensed kinetic energy smashed the hinges, blowing the wood inward in a shower of splinters. The doors flew across the hallway, embedding themselves in the plaster of the far wall.
The fog swirled into the house, thick and cold.
And through the breach, three figures stepped in.
First was Lea Lantern. Her silver armour gleamed dull in the diffuse light, her face a mask of conflict. She held her weapon raised, but her eyes... her eyes found Ruben instantly, and in them, he saw a desperate apology.
Behind her, flanked like the wings of a judgment angel, were the others.
Elise Vogel floated inches above the floor, her cape billowing in the wind from the broken door. Her Qiang spear was levelled, the gold etching glowing with lethal intent. Her expression was severe, cold, and utterly merciless.
And to her right, Rosette St. Jon. The Red Paladin. She stepped over the wreckage of the door frame with a predator's grace. Her crimson eyes swept the room, taking in the cowering child, the old man on the floor, and finally landing on Ruben and Corbin with a look of terrifying satisfaction.
Ruben lowered his shield, his chest heaving. He looked at Corbin.
"This is it," Ruben whispered. "The trap is sprung."
Elise Vogel's voice rang out, cutting through the ringing in their ears, sharper than the shattered glass on the floor.
"RUBEN RAYO. CORBIN MONET. BY ORDER OF THE OSTARA BPA, YOU ARE SURROUNDED."
She slammed the butt of her spear onto the floor, a pulse of green energy rippling out.
"SURRENDER NOW, OR BE PURGED."
The grandfather clock exploded into a shower of splinters and brass gears.
Elise Vogel's voice cut through the destruction, triumphant and dripping with accusation. "I knew it! Collusion! You were working with Strahm all along! The sighting, the hostage, it was all a setup to consolidate your forces!"
Ruben blinked, wiping plaster dust from his cheek, momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of the deduction. "What?" he muttered, looking at Corbin. "Is she serious?"
Corbin, despite the ringing in his ears, let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Wow. That's a leap. Did you pull that one out of a hat, or do you just naturally assume the worst possible scenario?"
"Silence!" Elise barked, levelling her spear. She didn't wait for a denial. In her mind, the narrative was set, the Gresham fugitives were terrorists, and they had just been caught in the same room as the city's most wanted man.
"St. Jon!" Elise commanded, her eyes never leaving Paul Strahm, who was calmly reloading his invisible RPG across the street. "Do not take your eyes off those two. If they move, you put them down."
Rosette's crimson eyes narrowed, a cruel smile touching her lips. "With pleasure, Ma'am."
"Lantern!" Elise shouted over the rising wind. "Secure the child and the civilian! Get them to extraction. I will neutralize Strahm."
Before Lea could even acknowledge the order, the air outside the ruined bay window warped again.
Paul Strahm didn't speak. He simply adjusted his mime, widening the invisible barrel of his
weapon. He pulled the trigger.
WHOOSH.
"SCATTER!" Corbin yelled, diving to the left.
The second blast hit the center of the room. It wasn't an explosion of fire, but pure kinetic force. The floorboards erupted upward like a geyser of wood and nails. The ceiling groaned and cracked, raining down chunks of plaster the size of dinner plates.
Ruben rolled, coming up on one knee. He saw Lea hesitating near the doorway, her eyes darting between him and the child cowering under the stairs.
She can't fight us and save them, Ruben realized. We have to give her the opening.
"Go!" Ruben hissed to his dragons, invisible to the naked eye until they chose to manifest.
Two of his sleek, serpentine constructs materialized from the dust, shimmering into existence. They didn't roar, they were silent as shadows. With fluid grace, they scooped up Oscar and Konrad, who was frozen in shock, and deposited them unceremoniously at Lea's feet, away from the collapsing center of the room.
Ruben looked at Corbin and nodded toward the hole in the wall. "Now, Corbin. We leave."
"Right behind you," Corbin grunted.
They turned to sprint for the gap, but a flash of red light intercepted them.
Rosette St. Jon was there.
She moved faster than should have been possible in the heavy coat. Her Ego lashed out. A beam of solidified, blood-red energy formed a long, gleaming polearm in her hands. She swung it in a vicious, decapitating arc.
Ruben ducked, feeling the wind of the weapon slice the air hairs above his dreads.
Corbin flipped backward, his boots skidding on the debris. "Bitch," he whispered, his voice low and venomous.
Corbin planted his feet and punched the air. Boost surged through him. The shockwave of his fist compressed the atmosphere, firing a cannonball of pressurized air straight at Rosette.
At the same time, Ruben swept his leg, sending a silent, low-flying dragon construct to swipe at her ankles.
Rosette didn't flinch. She leaped, impossibly high, dodging Ruben's sweep and spinning in mid-air to avoid Corbin's blast. She landed on the banister, her red hair flowing around her like a living thing.
"You are slow," she taunted, her voice cool and imperious.
She extended a hand. The red aura around her flared. Her hair, the cascading inferno, suddenly elongated, shooting forward like a nest of vipers. The crimson strands wrapped around Ruben's waist and Corbin's arms, tightening like steel cables.
"Let me remind you," Rosette declared, her voice ringing out over the chaos of the collapsing house. "My goal is to become the Warlord of Ostara. The strongest. It is inevitable that I will either catch you or put you down. You are just stepping stones."
She yanked, pulling them off balance.
"Inevitable, my ass!" Corbin snarled, straining against the bind.
Ruben focused.
A small, razor-sharp dragon materialized directly on Rosette's hair. With a silent snap of its jaws, it severed the crimson strands.
The tension broke instantly. Ruben and Corbin stumbled back, free.
Corbin rubbed his arm, grinning through the dust. "Nice haircut, Princess. But let me remind you, I'm the one who's gonna be the Warlord. At best you're just gonna warm up my seat."
Rosette's eyes flashed with genuine anger. "A criminal cannot be Warlord."
"Watch me," Corbin spat.
"We have to go!" Ruben yelled, grabbing Corbin's shoulder. "We can't do this here!"
A high-pitched scream cut through their banter.
Ruben looked down into the crater of the living room. Paul Strahm had bypassed Elise. He was miming a heavy net, dragging it through the air. Oscar was sliding across the floor, screaming, pulled by an invisible force toward the hole in the wall where Paul waited.
"No!" Oscar shrieked, clawing at the floorboards.
"Come here, you!" Paul muttered from the street, his face twisted in concentration.
Suddenly, a pile of rubble exploded outward. Elise Vogel burst from the debris, her silver spear glowing. She slammed the butt of the weapon into the ground, shattering Paul's concentration and breaking the invisible net. Oscar stopped sliding, sobbing in relief.
Ruben watched, his heart hammering. He's relentless. If we stay, we just add to the body count.
"RUBEN!" Corbin shouted, snapping him back to reality.
Rosette was charging again, her blood-polearm re-forming.
Ruben didn't think. He acted. He grabbed the ruined banister of the stairs and vaulted himself upward, flipping over Rosette's head as she thrust the weapon where his chest had been a second before.
He landed behind her, crouched low. He cupped his hands.
"Up!" Ruben commanded.
Corbin didn't hesitate. He ran, jumped, and landed one foot in Ruben's cupped palms.
Ruben groaned under the weight. He threw Corbin upward with everything he had.
Corbin soared through the hole in the roof caused by the second blast, disappearing into the fog.
Rosette spun around to strike Ruben, but he was already moving. A large, winged dragon construct materialized beneath him, lifting him into the air in a silent rush of wind. He shot up through the hole, leaving the Red Paladin cursing in the dust below.
They broke through the roof and into the morning air.
For a second, there was silence. The fog was thinner up here, the sky a pale, bruised purple. They were free. They were high above the chaos.
"Trust Lea!" Corbin yelled over the wind, drifting slightly as he reached the apex of his jump. "She's got the kid!"
Ruben nodded, his dragon banking to catch Corbin. "We made it! We just need to..."
"Whoopsies."
The voice was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly close.
Ruben froze.
Floating behind them, sitting casually on a piece of floating masonry as if it were a throne, was Lance Onida.
He looked impeccable. His black suit was unruffled, his silky hair perfectly groomed. He held a hand to his ear as if listening to music, his silver eyes twinkling with lazy amusement.
Lance smiled, a slow, predatory expression that didn't reach his eyes.
"You boys really thought you could just hop away?" Lance drawled. "Gravity is such a harsh mistress, isn't she?"
He pointed a single, manicured finger at them.
"Down you go."