Sixty

The violent breeze sweeps over me right before the actual hit, and that is somewhat confusing but I roll on the floor as he hits the wall at full force, leaving behind a hole big enough that a person can huddle inside it. Relief washes over me, right before another surge of adrenaline rushes through me, reminding me of what's at stake. My life.

Crawling to my feet, I sprung towards the table. A sharp whistle cuts through the air, and I glance over my shoulder and see sharp wooden splinters cresting the air at breakneck speed.

In one swift move, I drop to the floor, covering my head and hear them impale in the wall. Something clatters to the floor and I hear the telltale sign of ceramic shattering into a million pieces.

And there goes my trap. Bollocks.

And then I realise.

" It was you," I say mumbling into the floor, and he laughs wickedly. He somehow has the ability to affect my powers. But he stayed away when I was around Mason because of the deal he had with Micah.

Now, the deal is off and it's open season.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With a groan, I push myself off the floor and hunt for the next container. It doesn't have to contain him for long, just enough to find a new one, powerful enough to contain this little sucker.

When nothing catches my eye, I look for cover. Somewhere where he can't get to me. The problem is that he is air, and he can fucking get anywhere.

I need to get out of the room.

With a few long leaps, I sprint for the window. I have no idea how high this is or where I'll land but staying inside is certain death. I'll take my chances outside.

The window pane shatters around me, and shards of glass slice into my skin as I tumble aimlessly out of the window and into the waning sunlight.

A few passers-by look up and promptly begin to scream while a gust of air hits me in the back propelling me even further out of my trajectory and into the next building.

I hit the wall with a bone-crunching sickening thud but manage to grapple the bannister of the balcony on my right. My nose is broken and judging by the stabbing pain in my back, a few ribs.

With great effort I peel off the wall and drag myself onto the balcony while the air around me begins to swirl violently, kicking up fallen leaves, dust and various debris.

Swallowing down the pangs of agonising pain, I crash through yet another window and emerge into a living room richly furnished and decorated with various colourful kitchen items.

" Eureka," I groan and lunge for the first jar I see. It contains bits and bobs. Little colourful pebbles, pearls, and glitter. I empty the jar on the floor and turn towards the window where my opponent is still gaining momentum for his next attack.

Swiping a bedazzled baton off the table, I grip it with a shaky hand bring it in front of me, and turn to face my opponent

Slowly, I sleep the jar on the table and turn to face my opponent. One false move and I'm screwed.

He laughs at my false bravado, mostly because of the bedazzled stick I've chosen to use as a weapon. His laughter travels further this time around, its echoes carried by the wind far and wide.

But despite his increasing amusement, he doesn't lose focus and charges towards me, and for once I feel grateful for the existence of dust and dirt in general.

The debris swirling around makes him visible, and a target. Whether he is aware of it or not, it doesn't matter. Widening my stance I brace for impact and breathe slowly to quiet my wildly beating heart. It's a fifty-fifty chance, but I won't die as a coward. I'll die fighting.

Now that I've finally found my courage, it doesn't feel so terrifying anymore.

Do not fear failure. Failure teaches perseverance, and ingenuity, and offers a better understanding of where things went tits up.

When the slightest breeze hits me, I chuck the baton to the floor and swipe the jar off the table with one hand and the lid with the other.

Judging by his current speed, he is moving too fast to stop or change course. When the breeze begins to bite into my skin that's when I bring the jar in front of me, and he slides right in. In one feel sweep, I slide the lid over it and seal it shut. The jar is thick enough to hold him for a while, and the lid is airtight. He is not going anywhere anytime soon.

The door swings open, and a lady wearing a very loose dress with a psychedelic print appears in the doorway looking at me and then at the jar in my hand, horrified.

Lifting the jar," I like the jar. I just had to have it. Mind if I keep it," I jiggle the jar and a frustrated grunt, vibrates through the thick glass. It won't take long before he figures out how to escape, so I best be on my way.

Her face falls," Sure, of course. Help yourself," She stammers a bit frantically gesticulating with her hands.

" Sweet. Thank you," I give him a bloodied smile and she pales, turning as white as a sheet of paper.

" I best be on my way then," I make my way towards the door where she is standing. She glues herself to the wall, practically becoming one with it.

" By the way...where am I?" I figure might as well ask her before I stumble into the streets looking like I've committed homicide.

" I...uhm...," She gives me a nervous smile and I relish in the fear she is experiencing, " Per...," She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts, and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at her," Perdova...K-K-,

" Kush," I fill in the blank because she is taking too long to say two bloody words.

She nods in assent, and I raise my hand to wave but she flinches and I have no energy to deal with her anymore.

" Have a lovely day," I say as I step into the hallway of what appears to be an apartment building. I need to find a shop of some sort and get myself a sturdier container if I'm going to keep this sucker as my war prisoner.

That right I'm at war.