Tag: The Fall of New Brooklyn

By JKolasch

Xander stood in the center of a group of twenty or so other Conduits. They were standing on a small hill. A hill which Fin realized was really the rubble and remains of a collapsed building. Swords planted in the ground, the Conduits and Xander made a striking image. Black and silver coats were buffeted by the wind as they all pointed in unison and fired silver beams that coalesced together, combining their power, and sliced through the now thinning horde of Thieves.

            The relief Fin had initially felt was short lived. He was still pressing hard onto Carl’s wound, attempting to slow the loss of blood. But that was a fight he was rapidly loosing. “Grace! I need you!”

            Grace’s head finally shifted and Fin could see the silver streaks of light flying past them reflected in her wide eyes. She looked over to Fin, her face ashen, save the scarlet stream of blood that was starting to crust on her face. Her eyes were still wide, almost glassen and unseeing like a doll.

            “Grace! Snap out of it! Come on!” Fin desperately wanted to go over to her, but he knew he couldn’t leave Carl. And even if his sword wasn’t broken, he was nowhere near as gifted at healing as Grace was.

            Mills strode over to Grace, Callie at his heel. She was limping and her steel fur was covered in a muddy white: the gore of her own wounds mixed with torn viscera and flesh of the Thieves. Mills knelt down and grabbed Grace’s face. “Hey, your friends need you. You good?”

            Grace stared into Mills’s face for a moment. Then she blinked. And blinked again. She gently shook her head as Mills let go of her face. “I… Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” She took Mills offered hand and let him help her stand.

            “Go. Carl’s hurt bad.”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Four, 9:07 am”

By JKolasch

Mills was like the conductor of a symphony. He stood in the center of a whirling inferno of smoke and fire, a blue tornado of destruction. It was a ring of protection around the three people on the ground. Three people who had tried to stand against a tsunami of Thieves. Callie was crouched near Fin, her eyes fixed on Mills, but ready to protect the fallen Conduit and his companions at a moment’s notice. Mills’s face was calm, even as his torrent of elemental power ripped around him, thrashing his hair and trench coat. His eyes were fixed on the horde in front of him. With a flick of his wrist, he shot a tendril of fire into the mass, like a whip. It cracked through the ash bodies, cleanly separating torsos from legs. The Thieves made little effort to move forward or attack but Mills knew better than to give them the opportunity.

            “How they doing, Call?” Mills kept his eyes forward, his attention on the Thieves.

            Callie whined softly.

            “What I figured. Let’s get them moving. Surprised no Soulless have showed up to this party yet.” Mills sent two more tendril whips into the mass. It didn’t seem like it was doing anything to thin their numbers. Mills risked a quick glance back and saw Fin stirring again. “You gotta get up, Conduit! We’re sitting ducks here.”

            Fin struggled, but he managed to sit up this time. His head was throbbing, pain ran through his entire body, and his throat still felt like it had been torn apart. He looked over at Grace and Carl: they were both stirring and starting to get up. They looked beat to hell. Hair matted to bloody and sweaty foreheads. But they were moving. He heard a soft whine at his side, and he turned to see the dog, Callie sitting next to him. He reached out, but hesitated, unsure how she would respond. Callie ducked her head toward his hand. Fin smiled and scratched between her ears. He groaned to his feet, but he was up and standing. He heard the fire whip cracks from Mills’s attacks.

            Fin was momentarily frozen in awe. The shear power the man was wielding, and so casually. Even still, Fin couldn’t help but notice that for as effective as the Elementalist’s attacks were, there was no visible dent in the Thieves before them. No. Fin’s eyes narrowed as he looked beyond the whirling ring of fire surrounding him, Grace, Carl, the man, and his dog. Thieves were surrounding them. Of course. It’s not like the creatures would stay on one front while getting attacked. They would reposition and work to regain a tactical advantage. For as mindless as these creatures seemed, they possessed a wicked and carnal intelligence.

            “Who the hell is that?” Grace asked. “And is that a dog?”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Four, 8:21 am”

By JKolasch

“Dragon event?” Grace broke the silence.

            “Does that mean what I think it does?” Fin’s eyes were glassy orbs staring past the phone screen still held up for them to read. His voice was calm, but not the calm of a still pond. It was the calm of sail without wind.

            Carl nodded, tapping at the phone’s screen. “Based on how you just asked, I’m assuming you’re at least a little familiar with the dragon.”

            “I’ve read some stories. Saw snippets of damaged footage that was salvaged.”

            “Wait, wait.” Grace was shaking her head. Her arms matched the motion, cutting against each other. “Is this why the Soulless have been gathering? To summon one of those things?”

            “Very likely,” Carl said. “I may have been a lot younger the first time around, but it’s basically the Soulless’s M.O.”

            “So you weren’t just there when New York was destroyed.” Fin was still calm.

            Carl looked at Fin for a moment before answering, eyes scanning over the Conduit’s passive face. “No, I wasn’t.” There was an ache in the way those words pushed out of Carl’s lungs. “I am a veteran of the War of Souls. I lost family and friends then, and I’ve lost family and friends now. No escape it seems.” Carl’s lips tucked together. Clearly, he was trying to smile to pass it off, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

            “Oh Carl, I’m so sorry.” Grace reached out gingerly, as if to comfort Carl, but stopped and pulled her arms back, hugging herself tightly.

            “Just figured once was enough, you know?” Carl walked over and grabbed his rifle from by the door. He pointed at the swords. “Might want to grab those, we need to get going.”

            Fin nodded, going to retrieve both swords. He paused. “Hold on. How are you getting this kind of information? We haven’t heard anything from headquarters.”

            “Well, we haven’t exactly checked in, either.” Grace had gotten their swords. She held Fin’s out for him.

            Carl looked back and forth between the two. “Seriously? That gives me loads of questions. But first, we know because we share information. We’ve got people all over the city keeping an eye on things and fighting.”

            “Speaking of more questions,” Fin started.

            Carl cut him off with a flutter from his hand. “It feels like you’re implying that you guys can’t talk to each unless you are actively trying to talk to each other. Which is crazy.”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Four, 6:13 am”

By JKolasch

Fin woke to someone standing over him, something long and metallic pressing into his chest. It was cold, even through the layers of his uniform. He couldn’t quite make out any details about who was standing over him, the lights of the room haloed the figure in a blurry haze. As far the object pressing into his chest, Fin was pretty sure it was a gun. The end felt too blunt to be anything else. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear the sleep and to acclimate to the light.

            “What are you doing in my room?” The voice was gruff.

            Fin blinked. “Your room? I… We…” He glanced over to see Grace sitting on the couch. Her eyes met his and glanced from the gun at Fin’s chest to the something else he couldn’t quite see. But he could guess.

            “And don’t even think about going for those pigstickers you lot like to brandish about.”

            Even if Fin had wanted to, his sword was across the room. It was propped up against the wall by the door, alongside Grace’s sword. He almost spoke, but thought better of telling the man currently pinning him down with a firearm that he didn’t need his sword to use magic. True, he would be limited. But against what appeared to just be a normal person?

            “I’ll ask again.” The tip of the barrel drove into Fin’s chest, emphasizing the man’s words. “What are you doing in my room?”

            “We needed a place to stay,” Fin said.

            The man guffawed. “Really? No shit! But in a hotel full of rooms, why’d you pick mine?”

            Fin stared blankly into the man’s face. He could finally make out details: a nose that had obviously been broken before (likely several times); sunken, but very alert, grey eyes; weathered skin that was starting to show signs of wrinkling; and dark hair with a salt and pepper beard. “It was just the room we went into.”

            The man sighed, glancing over at Grace who was still sitting on the couch. He waggled his hand holding the pistol at her.

            “He’s not wrong, “ she said. “Most of the other rooms we tried were locked. The door to this one was propped open.”

            The man titled his head at her. “You are Conduits, right?” He waggled the pistol from Grace to the swords by the door. “I mean, I imagine a lock would be pretty minor. Hell, if you didn’t want to magic a door open, you’ve got a friggin’ sword.”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Four, 5:03 am”

By JKolasch

The Soulless were a ring of white bodies tinged with the flaming red of their hair around the cratered remains of what used to be Times Square. They all stood perfectly still, facing inward, with the hint of their mouths whispering. It was hard to tell from this distance what they were doing. But gatherings of Soulless like this were never good.

            Fin ducked back behind the once yellow and twisted remains of the taxi cab. He tried to ignore the black and bloody remnants in the seats. His head swam, momentarily overwhelmed by the acrid scent hanging in the air, the constant overwhelming reminders of death and defeat at every turn. He and Grace had slowly picked their way across the ruins of New Brooklyn from the Conduit bunker on their way back to Times Square. The sun was low on the horizon, but the brilliance of the sunset was lost in the glow of a city on fire. It was oddly quiet and still, considering the level of destruction around them and the horde of Soulless chanting in a circle several hundred yards from Fin’s position behind the taxi.

            “We have to keep moving.” Grace’s voice was low, barely audible in the oppressive silence around them.

            Fin glanced toward the Soulless again and opened his mouth to answer her. He simply nodded instead. He glanced around for a path forward that didn’t lead them to the Soulless. While most of the area was reduced to rubble, some buildings still partially stood. Not much had survived the earlier aerial assault and subsequent massacre the Soulless responded with.

            “There,” Fin pointed. A smoldering bus (Fin fought to keep the thought of what all was actually still burning out of his mind) provided cover to a small hill of rubble and a relatively intact building. It would provide enough cover to navigate around the Soulless. They seemed to be oblivious to their surroundings, but Fin didn’t want to take any chances.

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Three, 9:00pm”

By JKolasch

“Where do we start?” Fin was packing his bag: clothing, food, and other items they would need.

            “Honestly? I have no idea what Magister Rochester expects us to find.”

            Fin stuffed an extra ration into his bag and closed it. He looked at Grace, searching for her violet eyes in the dim bunker lighting. “It does seem like a bit of a longshot. But this Elementalist could really help us.”

            Grace finished packing her own bag and turned toward Fin. Her hair shrouded her face in as much shadow as the minimal light. “He could. If we could find him. If he exists.” She shouldered her bag. “Fin, the truth is, we don’t know what we’re looking for or where.”

            Fin dropped his gaze and briefly nodded. “He saved us in Times Square. That might be as a good a place as any to start looking.”

            A soft thump caused Fin to glance at Grace. She had set her bag down on the floor and was sitting on one of the benches in the locker room. He shifted his weight, eyes darting toward the empty bench space next to Grace.

            “Times Square isn’t exactly close to this bunker. Even if it was, you heard them. It sounds like the Soulless have overrun the city. Even if we can make it to Times Square, there’s still no guarantee the Elementalist would be there. And why would he? You remember what that place was like. The death, the destruction…”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Three, 1:30pm”

By JKolasch

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this book is unique.”  Rochester leafed through the pages.

They were in an empty room of the underground complex.  There was a small, wooden desk, and a few chairs.  Grace and Fin were sitting close to the desk.

“And, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, there are other forms of magic and creatures you’ve never heard of.”  Rochester slid the book over to them.  It was open to the page on Elementalists.  “When the order of Conduits was created, the original Magister thought this knowledge would prove dangerous, and undermine the authority he had won with his Conduits.”

“Why would the knowledge of other magic be dangerous?” Fin asked.

“Magic had always been at the fringe of society.  Yes, it was accepted, but it wasn’t until the defeat of the Soulless that the general populace understood that magic could be used to protect them.  Older magics are more primal.  They didn’t have a governing society controlling them, and people were afraid of what would happen with individuals possessing that much power.”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Three, 1:00pm”

By JKolasch

Fin woke to a room dimly lit with red lights.  The dull thuds of explosions echoed against the walls, causing them to rattle.  He felt a body next to his, and turning his head he saw Grace sleeping next to him.  He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, and his body tensed against the pain from the abuse he had put it through.  He had pushed himself to the absolute limit, and the constant concussive forces he had been exposed to had not been kind either.  Across the small room, in another bed next to the wall, he saw Xander.  Xander stirred, and slowly sat up, looking back at Fin.

“Looks like we’re in a bunker.”  Xander glanced around at the concrete walls.

Fin nodded.  “Just a question of where.”  He stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back and neck.  “Any idea how we got here?”

“No idea.  Maybe faeries whisked us away.”

Fin smirked.  “I swear I remember a dog,” he muttered.

“Hmm?  A dog?  I think the faeries are more likely.”

Fin slid to the edge of the bed and let his feet rest on the cold concrete floor.  “I think it was a German Shepherd?  Someone saved us.  Had a dog that attacked a Soulless about to kill me.  And then the guy burned the Soulless and killed it.  Pushed the rest of them back.”

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Three, 7:12am”

By JKolasch

Three silver smears appeared on an empty street strewn with rubble.  Fin drew his sword, and the other two followed suit.  They walked silently across the broken street, alert.

Fin touched the diamond in the hilt of his sword.  <Times Square is just past that building.>

What was left of the building.  It was half collapsed, and littered the street with broken bricks, wires, couches, office desks, chairs, beds…  Fin’s boot stepped on something crunching and he almost slipped.  Looking down, he saw a hand.  Just a hand.  The skin was charred and crisp, and it had slid off of the ragged muscle and bone.  He froze.  Looking closer, he saw that burned and bloody corpses littered the debris, intertwined with broken beds and sheets torn apart.  He retched as the smell finally registered.  Cooked meat and the rancid, almost sweet, smell of death.  He closed his eyes, trying to keep his head from reeling out of control.  He felt hands grab a hold of him and steady him.  He opened his eyes and saw violet.  Grace’s face was smooth.  Her lips were pale and tight, almost like they were drawn on.

Her lips moved, mouthing words he almost didn’t catch.  We’ll get the bastards.

Fin nodded, and followed Grace across the rest of the debris, trying his best not to look at what was crunching and snapping under his feet.  Xander had gone ahead, and was crouched near the wall that was left, facing Times Square.  As Fin knelt down next to them, he remembered what Matthias had said.  There had been no evacuations.  Not even any attempts.  They…no, we, didn’t do anything to save anyone, he thought.  He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought.  A distant rumble, like thunder, echoed from the distance.  The jets were getting close.

Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day Two, 6:36pm”