"Keep your hands where I can see em!" The man shouted, unclicking the safety on his pistol as he advanced. His partner behind him kept her gun trained on the prostrate form of the ballerina-biologist before them, as she retrieved a pair of handcuffs from her belt and tossed them forwards to the man approaching Angie.
"Think she's one of them, Bill?" The other woman said through a held nose at the smell of the vomit.
"No way to be sure 'til they start shootin' magic fire at ya, Jones. Got a funny accent though." There was the staccato click of the cuffs coming open as he finally got within a couple metres of her. “Stand up, hands behind your back, no funny shit.”
Then, there is a moment. In this moment, things seem still briefly, and the night falls quiet around all three - four, counting the dead or dying - figures in the alley. It is the kind of moment where winds stop before they change, where traffic lights go dark before they turn green, where fates hang in the balance before their paths diverge.
It was the kind of moment where, very suddenly, you feel watched - where you realise in an instant that you aren’t alone after all, and perhaps never were.
Above Angie and Bill, from the metal frame of a fire escape, there came an audible creak.
“Wait… Bill-” the other cop got out, breaking the silence before there was suddenly somebody directly behind her and an arm wrapped tightly around her throat, choking her words in her mouth.
---
Angeline somehow drew the strength together to push herself to her feet, as per the instruction. She could feel her body trembling, despite the chill of the January morning she was well aware that it was not the cold that caused such shaking. Her shoulders protested as she drew her arms behind her back, body aches were something she was well accustomed to however, this was a deeper set pain, a shock that rippled her core. A witness to something no average citizen should have to experience. The world dripped in the same thick red that she saw on the cobblestones not moments earlier. She turned her back to the officer, her palms towards him. ‘Bill’. A human much like herself yet she had never felt so alienated from another human being. The person approaching her was not human, or at the very least not humane.
Before she could feel the cold, sharp shackles clasp around her wrists there was a moment of stillness, like time had paused. She felt a chill run up her spine,
something was about to happen but she wasn’t sure what yet. As if on cue a metallic groan came from the fire escape somewhere above her. Before either of the officers were able to react, a strange noise followed. A gargling sound perhaps? It sounded foreign to her, but one thing she was able to piece together was that this was her only chance to escape. Angeline wracked her mind, which of the officers had the gun? If she turned to fight would she just get shot? It wasn’t really a debate she could linger on for too long so she turned around, gathering her strength and attempted to push officer ‘Bill’ with what little strength she had left in her body. At least to gain some form of distance from the distance. There was too much to process, she couldn’t even process the face of the assailant who was providing a suitable distraction. A human figure, blurred features, the only clarity was between herself and… Bill.
Bill’s attention was torn away from Angie for a full second as his accomplice was assaulted.
“Fuck, Jones!” He was about to turn his gun on the attacker when he felt sweaty, vomit-slick hands, shoving him with more force than a woman as small as Angie had any right to push with. He was forced two steps backwards, soles nearly slipping on the damp of the alley street, and the ballerina made her distance.
He seemed confused for another split second by the sudden appearance of a choice - his partner, or the mage - when the decision was made for him.
Bill raised his gun at the traumatised form of Angeline, opening his mouth to say
something, hatred colouring his eyes - when another human form dropped from the fire escape above them, bringing a baseball bat down on his gun hand’s wrist. There is a gut-wrenching crunch as the pistol clattered to the floor, thankfully not discharging, and the cop began to scream.
--
Angeline could barely keep up with what was happening in front of her. As soon as she saw the gun in his hands and the hateful intent in his eyes she was able to put two and two together. Her brief moment of bravery would result in her joining her friend on the floor. What else could she expect? Well, certainly not what followed. She had pressed her eyes closed, at least she wouldn’t have to watch the decision be made but the sound that followed wasn’t a deafening gun shot, it was some strange clattering sound and an awful wooden-like clunk. As confusing as this collection of sounds were, all was explained when she opened her eyes and a figure with a baseball bat was before her.
Fighting wasn’t really her area of expertise and the two people who had just assaulted police officers definitely seemed a lot more comfortable in this area of work. She couldn’t help but consider the ramifications of what she was doing. Going against police orders. Witness to an assault. Harassing a police officer? But what other crimes would she be proven guilty of if she handed herself in? She was aware something was… Different within her and if the text was right then she would get a lot more than a prison sentence.
The man with the bat fell over with the impact of landing on the floor, but was quick to scramble to his feet and swing again, this time aiming for the cop’s knee. In the background, Angie could see the struggling forms of the other man and ‘Jones’ - though the struggle was brief for Jones.
“Pull a gun on a kid, huh? Feel fuckin’ brave, pig?!” The man with the bat roared as there was another audible crack - though duller, this time - from Bill’s knee, and the cop toppled over. Jones was pulled backwards over an outstretched leg and thrown onto her front, where she was disarmed and the chokehold continued, eerily and darkly silent.
Bill tried to reach for his gun with his one good hand, groaning and mumbling through the pain - but his assailant was quick to bring the bat down one more time on his head. It didn’t look like he was dead, necessarily - he was, after all, still making quite a lot of groaning and wheezing noises - but he wasn’t about to shoot anyone either.
“Mike, you good?” The bat guy turned to shout for his friend. It was at this point that Angie also noticed they were wearing ski masks, the kind you pull up from around your neck, and hoods. Their features had been a blur because they’d been obscured.
The other man - Mike - eventually got up from the motionless police officer, and reached to retrieve her gun and gear.
“No, my head is swimming. No more fast moving for me tonight. You?”
“Yeah. I’m alright.” The bat-guy turned to face the civilian body on the ground - a young looking man with shock blue eyes and a terrified, dead expression. “Fuck. Fuck.” he swore sharply under his breath, pressing a hand to his face and leaning forwards for a moment, then flinching with pain.
“
Fuck.”
“What’s up?”
“Cracked a rib on the fall.”
“This is gone to shit, we need to get out of here. I’ll go start the car, get the girl.” Mike stood and - dizzily - made his way to the neck of the alleyway, turning the corner and disappearing.
Another moment of silence - but calmer, this time. Like an ending, or a pause, rather than a moment of tension.
“Angeline, right?”
--
Angeline just stared, hollow and, well to put it simply: rather upset. Even if these police officers were going to kill her, one had been killed before her and the other-... Her eyes gazed to the crumpled figure on the floor, it was hard to say if he was dead or just dying. She didn’t know how to react. Frankly, she was scared if she moved they’d jump her too. She just stood, trying to regulate her breathing and her shaking hands. She was vaguely aware of a conversation. Seemed like both of them got injured during the altercation which wasn’t a surprise but she supposed it might make it easier for her if she needed to run away, or something.
It was only after a few seconds that she realised her name had been said, she lifted her head. Did she hear something about a car? Perhaps these were the people she was supposed to meet. She supposed they had just saved her life, so she gathered the courage to nod. For the most part she was too shocked and frightened to speak. She looked down the alleyway where one of them had disappeared to. After a few more seconds she could find enough courage to talk “Am I safe now?” It was a silly, innocent question from someone who frankly wished she had never woken up this morning.
“Not until we’re out of the city. Stick with us, and we’ll keep you safe.” The man gently laid his hand on Angie’s shoulder. He had blue eyes, and sounded very vaguely like he was from New York. “My name is Mark. The other guy is Mike. He’s from Tennessee, but don’t let that fool you, he’s really an ok guy.” Mark tried to crack an awkward smile, and failed as another wave of pain and nausea shot through him.
Through the fog of anxiety, Angie could hear the faint noise of a car engine as an SUV reversed into the alley and the driver door popped open.
“Come on, come on let’s fuckin’ go!”
The act of comfort was a relief for Angeline after everything she had been through this brief touch to her shoulder was a moment of ‘maybe everything will be okay’. Though as Mark was explaining himself and his partner she couldn’t help but feel concerned for the man, he appeared to be in a lot of pain. She offered her arm for him to hold onto for support, if he needed it and was shaken to action by the sound of the engine and the urging call. “Oh! I nearly forgot!” she scurried to get the duffel bag she had dropped in her panic at the opening of the alley way, despite the time stress then returned to Mark, offering her assistance once again.
She hurried over to the SUV and opened the back seat and hopped in, she would assume that Mark would take the front with his friend. She wouldn’t really be comfortable until the car started moving. At this point she could only assume these were her saviours, after all they had protected her until this point. In the silence she eventually managed to ask “Um, where are we going..?”
Mark slumped awkwardly into the driver’s seat with a groan and a sharp, pained twitch as he clasped his ribs, and Mike popped the truck to retrieve a big red jerry can.
“We’re leaving the city, heading somewhere we can lay low for a bit while we wait for shit to- ah
fuck me - to die down.”
Mike started emptying the can into the alley, and the world began to smell of petrol.
“Just need to get to the big multistorey parking lot, ain’t so far from here. Mike’ll know what to do when we’re there. We’ll be home free after that. God, I’m gonna need some fuckin’ painkillers to sleep tonight.”
Angeline was barely listening to Mark as she had craned around in her seat to watch Mike pour something around the alley, it wasn’t long before the scent hit her and she realised what he was pouring. She turned back around and managed a shaky breath, this was perhaps one too many crimes she wanted attached to her name. Parking lot… She knew where that was, somewhere in the depths of her foggy memory. “Home free.” She repeated and nodded to herself. That was a reassuring idea.
“Is it always going to be like… this?” questioned Angie, though she wasn’t sure quite what she meant by that, the crime or the running. Probably both, it was quite a lot to handle and still the early hours of the morning. This brief moment of quiet made her realise quite how tired she already was and she practically melted into the backseat. A good idea if people were on the lookout for her.
“Yes and no. Any luck and it won’t always be so hectic - a whole lotta luck an’ one day your kind won’t be treated like this any more,” Mark’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel for a moment, before relaxing a little, “but we’re gonna be hiding, and running, and fighting… well, for a while. It’s not just us three though, there’s a whole bunch of people I can’t wait for you to mee-”
Whoomf.A rush of heat, a blast of air, and the stink of burning. Gracefully beyond Angeline’s perception, out of earshot, one of the cops let out a final half-aware moan of agony and surprise before they were totally drowned in flame, body and mind both.
A second later, Mike slumped into the backseat beside Angie, slammed the door, and the car was away.
As the car sped out of the alley and Mark gave a whinge of pain as the sharp corner tweaked his ribs, Mike pulled down his mask and started to gasp for air. As the man next to Angie finally revealed his face, he also tore his gloves off his hands and stared down at them in horror.
Each knuckle was beginning to turn dark, black-blue with bruising and blood. From the looks of it, it was too much pain to either straighten or curl his fingers now.
“Ouch.” He finally growled through clenched teeth, before turning to give Angie a forced smile.
-----
Backlit by the wave of flames that eagerly lit up behind her Angeline looked back at it but couldn’t distinguish any figures or sounds over the light and roar of the fire. She sunk into the cushions and sighed, a life on the run, fighting and killing and dying. It wasn’t exactly the future she was anticipating. She’d rather hoped she would just go back to her career for the rest of her physically fit years, then move onto a nice, interesting job that she enjoyed.
Angie’s attention was piqued by the man who slid into the back of the car beside her, this must be ‘Mike’. She watched as he yanked down his mask, finally seeing a face which perhaps settled her a little. She could point him out in a police line-up, at least. As he spoke her attention was drawn to what he was in pain from, she observed the redness on his hands, fresh bruises she assumed from only moments before.
“That looks painful.”
It wasn’t particularly sensitive, nor did it help anyone very much but it was the first thing that had slipped out of her mouth.
“Yep. It ain’t the nicest way to spend an evenin’ that’s for sure.”
“It’s gonna get worse. We still need you for the exit, Mike.”
Mike’s face fell.
“Aw shit.”
“Yeah. But we don’t got a choice, buddy.”
Mike sighed.
“Yeah. I know.” Mike grimaced as the car went over a bump. They were heading towards the worse looking part of town; rife with poverty, broken windows, abandoned buildings, and destitution. It wasn’t the sort of place Angie had ever really figured she’d end up.
------
Angie tried to just ignore the ugly bruising that had grown across Mike’s knuckles and stared out the window, the further they drove the more run-down and beat up the place looked. She felt a little uncomfortable in such a place, she wasn’t particularly streetsmart, so her knowledge of streetsmarts was to simply avoid dangerous areas. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, and since these rough looking men were probably saving her she decidedly kept her mouth firmly shut. That and she was now, rather embarrassingly, aware of the stench of acid and bile on her breath. Sadly breath mints weren’t on the survival-emergency list.
Angeline could feel the tiredness in her body, she supposed for the rest of this short car trip she would just rest, closing her eyes and propping her head in her hands.
Just as she began to dream, the car stopped with a jerk.
“Wake up, sunshine.” Mark raised his voice just enough to rouse Angie. “We’re here.”
As Angie opened her eyes the surroundings came into focus, shifting from bleary eye blur to sharp, dark, contrasted image. Grey concrete and fluorescent light, pale and cold and unfriendly - and in the distance, looking out from the parking lot over the city, it seemed chaos still reigned from an ugly throne.
The time was 4:32AM. The sky was growing faintly, slightly, wightly brighter, like if silence were a colour.
Mike had gotten out of the car already, and was bent over by a fire escape door on the far side of the building; it looked like he was in the middle of being sick.
Angeline rubbed her face and opened the car door, stepping out and taking her bag, slinging it over a shoulder. She walked towards Mark, deciding to politely leave Mike to his… Business. She felt a little better after the very brief nap, decidedly more rested, at least. “Okay, so where is here? Or at least, where do we go from here?” She asked the second question tentatively in case this was it, the base of operations for some mage-saving company was localised in a car park in her area. It wasn’t very likely but she wasn’t one to assume. “And-... “ she cast a glance to Mike who seemed a little rough around the edges. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Well, here is a car park on the outskirts of the city, about two steps from total abandonment and three steps from outright demolition. Might not have been the one you were thinkin’ of when we mentioned it, but that was also kinda the point for anyone else listening in. Way I’ve heard it, this place used to be like, the place to be - at least, back in the 80s or something. The big department stores and malls and shit moved into the city when the financial crash hit and property became cheap. Or so I’m told.” He shrugged. “As for where we’re going? Well, at the bottom of that fire escape there’s an exit, and with Mike’s help it’ll be able to get us out of the city in no time at all.”
Mark’s expression grew worried.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s done a lot of magic tonight - more than I’ve ever seen the guy do in a single day before, for sure - but he’s a tough guy. He’ll probably be fine.”
With a wet, bileful retch, then a hoarse cough, Mike wiped his mouth and looked up.
“Ok. Let’s head on down.”
----
Angeline just nodded passively, an abandoned place leading to a passageway to safety. Definitely seemed the best place to hide it, she supposed. She followed Mike down the fire escape “What happens if you use too much magic?” She whispered, afraid she might insult Mike somehow, though this was all rather foreign and new to her so she wasn’t really sure where the boundaries were. She surveyed the area around them, it was a little gross and cracked and littered with graffiti, she clutched her bag close to her, even though there wasn’t another soul around who would yank it from her. It seemed to just be a fear response.
“Is it… Safe? The exit, that is.” Angeline mumbled, she wasn’t really in the mood for a whole lot more action. Even though she felt better physically she couldn’t shake the experiences from only an hour ago from her mind. She still felt unsettled and scared and she really didn’t need any more stress. In fact, she felt as if she might explode if so much as a spider were to land on her.
“Depends.” Mike said in return to her query. “Some folks get off kinda easy, some folks have it hard. Some can sorta, use more magic than others just in general. For the most part though the effects of using too much depend mostly on what it is you’re actually trying to do - that is to say, which spell you’re usin’.”
Six floors down. Seven floors down. The stink of urine and ammonia, the faint smell of decay, the eerie feeling of a doomed building.
“For me, I reckon it must be that when I do my thing and go between places without moving, little bits of me get left behind. That, or it’s just the strain of it, hurting my body.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be alright.”
Mike frowned.
“Course I will. Always am.”
Ten floors down now. Maybe in the basement, even.
Eventually the fire escape stops, and the three of them come out onto another landing of smooth concrete.
“Exit should be safe to use, yeah. I wasn’t the one who made it - that ain’t really my skillset, see - but I can turn it on. You’ll probably feel a lil unsettled or somethin’ when you go through, but…” Mike trailed off as he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples.
“Yeah. It’s safe, don’t worry, Angeline.” Mark finished for him.
After a short walk along inside the car park, they came to another apparent fire exit, whereupon Mike eyed up the fire alarm next to it anxiously.
“It’s time. Ready Mike?”
Mike sighed.
“No. But that don’t change nothin’.”
-----
Angeline followed the two just listening, she didn’t really have anything else to say, she didn’t even know what she didn’t know. But the somewhat lacking reply hardly filled her with confidence. She felt like they’d gone down hundreds of steps and that probably wasn’t far off. When they finally reached the exit, she was a little.... Underwhelmed, she supposed? She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, a secret code in the bricks, or a magical wall or something a bit more magical than just another fire exit.
She took a little step back, not sure what Mike was dreading so much but she supposed she didn’t want to get too close to whatever it was that was about to happen.
Mike reached out with his right hand, placing it gently on the red plastic housing of the fire alarm button, and closed his eyes.
His face almost immediately screwed up in pain, eyes clenched shut and mouth opening in a harsh gasp as smoke began to curl upwards from both his hands, starting at the fingertips and working its way down as the bruised skin blackened and charred, and then gave way to glowing embers as his fingers started to fall away.
There was a change in the air as his body started to shake, like the world around them had been moved about a foot in a direction that didn’t exist, all while they weren’t looking.
“Go! Mark, get the
fuckin door!”
“Come on Angie!” Mark shires as he kicked the fire door open and threw himself into the darkness beyond.
Angeline watched, not really sure what she was seeing but it made her uncomfortable. Then shaken into reality by Mike’s shouting she gathered her things up into her arms and followed Mark into the darkness.
For a brief second Angeline was overcome by the sensation of falling. Then, she was overcome for another second by the feeling of an incredible jerk upwards.
Then the falling again, this time for real.
Angie landed spreadeagled on a filthy, muddy, flagstone floor, surrounded by the shattered, mouldy-mossy remains of crates and shelves. It smelt of old wine, and rot, and earth.
Next to her, Mark was looking back at the doorway anxiously, the fluorescent light of the fire escape and the hallway they’d come from still visible through what was clearly now a cracked wooden doorframe in an ivy-ridden cellar wall.
“Mike.” He mumbled, before moving to clamber to his feet.
Before he could get up though, Mike fell through.
He collapsed with a groan into the semi-dark of the cellar, clasping blackened hands to his chest and breathing sharply through clenched teeth.
The dry darkness on him had spread until it was up to the heel of his hands, and he sank to his knees the very moment the doorway behind him closed, to reveal nothing more than a closet.
He held his hands up, the bruising having vanished along with the colour of his skin, now black, soft, and dry. For all the world his hands looked like they’d been dipped in ink and nothing more - but they still weren’t moving.
“Oh fuck, Mike!” Mark ran over to him.
“I can’t feel my hands.” Mike said dumbly. “I think they’re dead.”
---
Angeline laid on the floor for a moment staring at the old looking ceiling and breathing in the smell of damp old room. She needed a moment to gather herself after that foreign experience while Mark and Mike were talking in the background. She pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling the soft give of moss beneath her fingertips. She gazed about the room, what had once been a concrete parking lot was now some quaint perhaps a wine cellar which has since been abandoned judging by the greenery which had invaded the near area.
After a moment of gathering her thoughts and trying to comprehend the strange feeling this room gave her she finally drew her attention to Mark and Mike who appeared to be experiencing something rather unpleasant. She shuffled closer to them, not having enough trust in her stability to actually stand up but instead crawled over to the pair on her hands and knees. "What's happening to him? What is that on his hands?" She asked, not realising what it was she didn't quite understand the air of urgency around the pair.
“I’ve overdone it with the magic. The tissue on my hands is dying. Fuel to feed the fire.” He said, numbly, in return.
“It’s not the same for everyone. Not everyone gets it like this. He’s just unlucky. It’s possible that the underground can do something for him, but...” Mark trailed off as he turned back to stare down at the blackened form of Mike’s hands.
----
“Oh.” She said, dumbly, feeling a little at a loss for what she could possibly do about it, she gripped the moss between her fingers tightly, unable to fight off the strange sensation that there was in fact something she could do. Angeline looked at the moss between her fingers and was compelled to pull some out of the ground and as she did she stared between it and his hands as if some rusty, cobwebbed cogs were slowly churning into a rotation.
"I might have an idea, but also I might be crazy…" Angeline was fully ready to accept insanity as an option as she shuffled closer to Mike. She reached out for his… hands? They were pretty much unrecognisable, holding one, dry blackened hand in one hand and the fuzzy green fistful of moss in the other. Her "plan" was to pretty much rub them together and see what happens, she had a feeling deep inside her that these two could become one somehow. So she placed the moss on top of one Mike's blackened hand and covered his hand with both of hers and just hoped that whatever strange compulsion that willed her to do this would sort of carry out the rest of the work on its own. Just as expected, instinct took over and a very dim green glow emitted from the spaced between their hands. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she pulled away from Mike’s hand but a green moss-hand wasn’t really what she was hoping to happen. “Ah- Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Before you had a black hand but now you have a plant hand and- well I thought it would do something else, like.. I don’t know, the plant would die but your hand would live? But now you have-” she didn’t really want to say what she had given him as it was her fault after all.
“A hand.” He finished for her, bringing the soft construction of moss up to his face and touching his cheek with it. The structure of the hand flexed unnaturally and bonelessly against his jaw, but it held intact, and moved dextrously.
“Well, fuck me. That’s pretty smart.” Mark raised his eyebrows.
“Wonder if it’ll always be like this?” Mike formed a squishy moss fist, then relaxed his hand again.
Then he looked down at his other hand, still dead and inanimate, and started glancing around for something sturdier than moss.
“Hey, see if y’all can find like, some vines or some wood or something. Let’s see what else this can work with.”
Angeline nodded and stood up to look around. The cellar was mostly grown over and mossy but inspecting the ceiling revealed some roots creeping through the floorboards, forcing them apart which allowed some of the light that allowed them to see to creep in. She pushed an old looking bottle wooden crate and stepped on it cautiously, it started creaking and felt soft in the centre, so she placed her feet at the edges of the crate for a little more support. She reached up and grabbed the root and gave it a tug, it didn’t break but she was able to pull it down further so she could reach it without the bottle crate. “Well we could maybe try with this? If anyone has anything to cut it with?” She bent the root around, it was too flexible to break.
“Yeah, yeah here,” Mark began, reaching hastily for a knife in his pocket before wincing again with pain, “here you go, take care, I keep it sharp.” He finished after a moment, through clenched teeth, as he handed a well sharpened folding knife over.
Angie reached out and took it, carefully unfolding it as to not cut herself, then started sawing through the root, hacking at it until it is cut most of the way then giving it a yank to rip it off. She balls the flexible root up in her hand and walks over to Mike “We can try with this?” She sits down and looks at his blackened hand tentatively. She wrapped the root around his hand and then covered his hands with both of her own. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling she had felt just moments before, the urge to do anything to help even if what she was doing seemed crazy.
Mike would feel the root move and tighten around his palm and thin off-branches of root wrapping around his fingers until, when Angeline removed her hands, the roots had formed a knot of entangled roots wound around taking the form of a hand. Angeline looked a little tired, clearly this was all very new to her.
“Hoooooly shit.” Mike’s eyes lit up as he tentatively flexed the new hand. “That’s pretty impressive, Angie.”
With a groan, Mark climbed to his feet.
“Yeah. But we don’t got time to throw a party, much as you deserve one. Come on, folks, get up.” Mark said, as he made his way over to the door and threw it open, flooding the room with daylight.
“Local time is 10am. Welcome to Scotland, we won’t be here long.”
