Qyro quelled his panic, keeping himself
together. But either way, he knew that the hopes for the Nyon
temple were slim: they would interrogate him anyway. And there was
no telling how much he would be able to endure before he snapped
and told them everything.
He tried controlling himself, slowing his
breathing. And then, getting a grasp of his mystic mind powers, he
tried searching for a way out. His powers would be of little use
against the iron shackles, which he knew were far too strong to
break. But Qyro was well aware that escaping wasn’t his plan at all
… his plan was inevitable now that he was caught and to be
interrogated. His plan was relatively easier to carry out. But tons
harder to contemplate…
His plan was
suicide
.
He needed to kill himself, or the entire
brotherhood would fall to attack. And he needed to do it before the
interrogation begun.
As Qyro accepted it, he felt an unnatural
sense of calm. The fact that he was dying with a purpose, for the
greater good … it erased the despair of the situation, and allowed
warmth to flower inside.
He braced himself, gulping sharp breaths of
air. His captors had left him gagged, bound and unable to move at
all. But they hadn’t been aware of one crucially important thing:
he was a mystic. Using his powers, he could snap a vital nerve, or
even stop his heart.
But nobody said it would be painless.
Qyro continued breathing for a few seconds,
before steadying himself … Bracing himself boldly. The target was a
vital nerve in his neck. It needed to be severed, and all problems
would end. The task of severing the nerve would require a meek
sliver of his powers. Qyro shut his eyes, hoping it could be
quick.
All right, here we go…
He tapped into the flow of mystic energy in
his mind, which came rushing out, ready to do what must be
done…
But the door opposite to him blasted open,
alarming him and cutting the flow of his mystic energy. A rebel,
cloaked in white, stood at the entrance, a Sparkler in hand.
Before Qyro could do anything more, the rebel
raised his Sparkler and shot.
A crisp electric noise filled the room as a
jet of blue streaked across and hit Qyro, tossing his body back. As
he smashed onto the wall behind him, a brutal crippling sensation
coursed through his whole body … paralysing him.
It’s a freeze Sparkler!
Qyro realised,
panic stricken. I
’ve been frozen!
The freeze Sparkler was meant to paralyse the
target with a crippling pain that seized his whole body … But the
effect of this pain reached the target’s mind as well, leaving it
paralysed. As a result, a mystic’s powers trickled past his grasp
under the effect of this crippling pain.
I’m too late.
Lying helplessly against
the wall, unable to move his body, Qyro watched with widened eyes
and growing horror.
The masked rebel walked into the room, along
with a whole bunch of others. The white cloaked figures spread
about the room, all of their masked faces holding Qyro steady in
their glare.
The man who had shot him stood a foot or two
before him, his Sparkler tucked into his belt.
He turned to another rebel who stood behind
him. “Shall we?”
The rebel nodded, and walked forward. He was
holding two guns by either hand. One of them was a Sparkler, and
the other wasn’t. Qyro’s eyes fell on the other gun, and as he
recognised it, a surge of panic raced through him.
That’s … the
Stinger.
The ultimate torture weapon.
The rebel handed the Stinger to the man in
front of Qyro. Turning towards Qyro, the man bent down over him
again, and pulled his gag off.
“I’m going to ask this just once,” he
breathed into Qyro’s face. “Co operate with us and tell us
everything we need to know. Because otherwise…”
He brought the Stinger to a dead aim onto
Qyro’s chest. Qyro felt something pound inside of where the Stinger
pointed, as though trying to escape this body, which now seconds
from being wrecked and wasted.
He mustered every ounce of resolve lying
within him, and kept himself steady. Fighting the effect of the
freeze shot, he formed words with a bare movement of his paralysed
lips: “Go on … I ain’t scared.”
The man stayed as he was, bent before Qyro,
staring into him for a long second. His Stinger stayed aimed over
Qyro, who kept his fear contained.
Then, the man lowered the Stinger, drew back
up and laughed coldly. “It’s not
you
that you should be
scared for.”
A shuffling noise drew from outside, and a
third rebel entered the room, dragging something over the floor. A
body.
It was Vestra.
She was bound the same way Qyro was, but her
eyes were closed. She stirred faintly, as the rebel tossed her body
to the side of the man who stood before Qyro.
She’s alive.
thought Qyro, but his
relief extinguished almost immediately. The rebel turned his head
to his side, where she lay, half conscious. His hand clenched the
Stinger tight, one finger resting over the gun’s trigger. His gaze
lingered for a second over her before moving back to Qyro.
“So what do you say to sparing your dear
friend here some pain?” he asked, holding the Stinger aimed at the
body next to him.
Qyro ground his teeth, fury piercing his mind
like a cold dagger.
“Let her go,” he breathed, struggling through
the paralysed effect to speak.
“Only you have the power to do that,” said
the man. “Or you can watch as he screams … and we’ll make both of
you die slowly.”
Qyro bore into him with his eyes, letting the
seconds ebb by. Silence doused the entire room for many lengthy
seconds. The two of them glared into each other, both of them in
completely opposite positions. One in a state of utter dominance,
the other completely helpless, subject to the other’s will. One
armed and deadly, the other defenseless, paralysed. One ready to
die, the other ready to kill…
The rebel finally shook his head and gave a
cold chuckle.
“So be it, then.” he said, his soft words
clear over the silence of the room. He held the Stinger steady over
Vestra’s body, his finger ready to squeeze the trigger. “Enjoy
hearing her scream.”
The voice that spoke wasn’t Qyro’s.
“Enjoy hearing your
own
.” Vestra
bolted upright as she said it, throwing off the unconscious
pretence. As alarm seized the room, she ran her elbow into the
man’s shin, making him fall forward, groaning in pain. The Sparkler
and the Stinger slipped off his grasp.
The other rebels stood on the spot at the
back of the room, temporarily stumped by the sudden turn of events.
Then one of them opened fire, sending a jet of blue at Vestra, who
threw her bound arms in front of her. The iron bindings around her
arms took the impact of the shot and shattered. She reached for the
iron shackles on her feet and sheared them off.
As the other rebels broke to their senses and
raised their guns, they were a little slow to the realisation that
it was too late. Vestra had jumped right amidst the five of them in
one swift, elegant leap. As they slowly turned around to face her
and refix their guns’ aims, she sent one of them flying with a
sharp blow of her knuckles. By the time the rebels had found her in
their aim, another one was sent flying with the force of her kick.
The last three rebels fired, and Vestra threw herself off the way
of the three shots.
Her lightning speed was no match for the
three rebels, though they were armed. She dodged their shots
fierily, and then sent her wrist pounding one of them in the chest,
sending him airborne. Spinning around, she slashed her leg across
the air. It hit one of the rebels by his head, taking him off his
feat. The last rebel had finally awoken to the realisation that he
was fighting something beyond normal boundaries of combat … that he
was fighting a mystic. He stood on the spot, his outline rippling
in terror for a second. Then, he turned in a wild attempt to bolt.
But Vestra caught him by the neck of his robes, swung him about and
sent his body smashing against the wall. He toppled off and slid to
the floor, unconscious just like the rest of them.
Turning around, Vestra picked up a fallen
Sparkler, aimed and fired at Qyro. The jet of blue hit Qyro’s iron
shackles, blasting them apart. He tried to heave himself up, only
to slide over and fall to the ground. The freeze shot’s effect was
wearing, but Qyro still couldn’t move fully. He could only barely
speak:
“I’ve been frozen.” he told Vestra, who
tucked the Sparkler into her robe pocket and ran over. She helped
him up, and slid one of his hands over her shoulder, allowing him
to limp along by her side.
“What do we do with the object we came here
for?” asked Qyro, as they reached the door.
“Forget the object!” Vestra squealed.
“Getting out of here alive itself would take nothing short of a
miracle.”
Qyro nodded in agreement, and the two of them
emerged out the door into a long corridor. As they limped down the
corridor, a sudden flash of blue came from behind, and then a jet
of light streaked past them … The two of them turned back, wild
with shock.
A batch of Rash-cons came storming towards
them from the other end of the corridor. They sent another jet of
light at the two of them. Vestra dropped Qyro, and threw herself
aside, saving both of them from the shot at a split second’s
notice.
“Go!” ordered Qyro, choked with panic. “You
can’t save both of us. Go!”
“I don’t think so.” Vestra held out her
sparkle and shot wildly, sending streaks of blue across the
corridor. Of the six robots, three of them fell to the shots,
blasted backwards. But the other three jumped out of the way of the
shots, pressing themselves by the both sides of the corridor’s
walls.
Vestra threw the Sparkler and sprinted
towards them. Before they had even raised their Sparklers, she had
sent one of them soaring back with a heavy pound of her fist. As
the other two opened fire, she dodged back, missing one of the jets
of blue by a mere, deadly whisker. She then threw both hands
forward in a swift, waving motion. A heat wave like disturbance
filled the air ahead of her hands, and glided forward towards the
two robots. The
smash
collided with the robots with a loud
bang, shattering them, and sending their splintered remains flying
backwards. Vestra turned and ran back to Qyro.
“Save yourself,” Qyro pleaded with her, as
she helped him up. “You’ll get both of us killed!”
As if on cue, a faint pattering of footsteps
came from somewhere nearby in the building. And it was coming
towards them … they stopped and turned back. The corridor sprouted
into two adjacent ones at the end, and a large party was storming
down the adjacent hallways…
Vestra’s grip on Qyro’s hand, slung around
her neck, slackened. She turned to look at him … and for a second,
Qyro thought he saw helplessness in the depths of her black
eyes.
“Save yourself.” Qyro whispered, as the
footsteps drew closer. “Go…”
Without a word, she dropped his hand by her
side, turned and pelted off down the corridor. Qyro stared after
her for a second as she vanished at the end of the corridor. Then,
his head spun about to face the other end, where the footsteps grew
louder. The effect of the freeze shot still strong, his legs
wobbled, unwilling to take his weight. His knees buckled and he hit
the ground again. He turned to where Vestra had disappeared, at the
other end of the corridor.
She did the right thing…
He only hoped that his sacrifice was worth
it, and that she made it out of the village alive. He sighed,
feeling his doom close upon him in the sound of the loudening
footsteps. Then, his eyes went wide: Vestra had returned at the
corridor’s end, holding some things in both hands. Qyro realised
she hadn’t abandoned him after all.
“What’re you doing?” asked Qyro. “I told you
to leave me and -”
“Oh, shut up! We both know that’s not
happening.” she panted, arriving by Qyro’s side, and dropping the
two stick like objects held in her hand … their swords!
“Where’d you find them?”
“They had taken and kept them in the room
where they held me.” said Vestra. “Wonder why, though. Not like
they could use them the way we could.”
There was a third, gun like device she had
acquired. Qyro recognised it. “That’s an electrifier. What’re you
gonna do with-”
To his surprise, Vestra held the gun aimed at
him, and squeezed the trigger. A crisp white bolt, like that of
frozen lightning, sprang from the gun’s tip and hit Qyro. For that
one moment, Qyro felt every pore in his body screech in agony, as a
thousand volts of electricity seized him … And the next moment, as
relief swept across his body, he realised the effect of the freeze
shot was gone. He was now free.
“Always remember,” said Vestra, responding to
his puzzled look. “high voltage gets rid of the freeze shot’s
effect.”