Part Seven: Ascent

The gunner stood still for a moment, realizing with a sinking feeling that his belt was empty—no more grenades left. The once-powerful arsenal that had given him so much confidence was now gone. His eyes flicked to the flickering lights overhead and then to Jesse, who had a sharp grin on his face.

Jesse didn't hesitate. "You're out of options, pal," he said, his voice taunting.

The gunner's hands twitched, as though he were considering whether to make a run at Jesse, or to try something more desperate. He took a step forward, narrowing his eyes at Jesse as if he were weighing his opponent.

"You think you can take me without your little toys?" the gunner growled, cracking his neck.

Jesse didn't answer. He just slid his hand into his flannel pocket, fingers brushing the familiar shape of the coins he had grabbed from the fountain. With one swift motion, he flicked one of them through the air. 

Freeze. Another thrown as he moved, a normal throw. He threw another. Freeze. He activated the first coin. Un-freeze. 

The coin flew with deadly accuracy, slicing through the air toward the gunner's face. The man barely dodged, his head jerking to the side at the last second. The coin slicing the gunner's cheek. But he was slower than Jesse expected. The gunner rushed forward with a bellow, trying to make up for the missed moment. But Jesse was already on him. He moved like lightning—dashing into close range, faster than the man could react. Jesse grabbed the gunner's wrist before he could land a punch and twisted his body, throwing him off balance. 

The gunner stumbled but quickly regained his footing, spinning around to face Jesse.

"You're quick, I'll give you that," the gunner muttered, wiping blood from his face. "But you're still just a kid."

Jesse's eyes glinted with amusement. "Maybe. But you're a washed-up soldier with no tricks left." He flicked another coin, this time aiming for the gunner's legs. Freeze. He threw another towards the face, normal speed. The gunner swatted it away but Jesse released the other coin aimed at the legs. Un-Freeze. The coin flew true, catching him in the side of his knee. The impact was enough to make him stagger, and for a split second, Jesse saw his opening.

With a sharp move, Jesse dove into the gap, using his speed to his advantage. He kicked the gunner's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

The gunner scrambled to get back up, but Jesse was ready. 

Un-Freeze. Jesse released the second coin he had thrown from the start, it had been vibrating in air for a good while now. It shot out creating a backblast of pressure right at the chest of the gunner. It pierced his armor, and he started at the hole in his chest before dropping to the floor. 

"You're done," Jesse said, stepping back and wiping his hands clean as if he'd just finished with a minor inconvenience. 

Jesse turned his back on him, already scanning the room for the others. He could hear the sounds of battle still raging around him. He didn't have time to waste, his team was in trouble and Jesse didn't look back. 

The sound came first—a low hum, like the sky itself was vibrating, followed by a deep rumble that shook the floors beneath their feet. Jesse and Lance paused mid-motion, their senses snapping to attention as the air thickened with tension.

A shadow cast itself over the Atrium. They looked up just in time to see it—a massive hovership looming above them, its sleek metallic body reflecting the dimming lights of the mall. The ship was colossal, casting an eerie pall over the central atrium as it descended slowly, almost as though it were hovering there like a predator circling its prey.

Then the blast came.

With a thunderous roar, a bolt of energy shot down from the bottom of the ship. It cut through the air like a streak of lightning and smashed through the glass dome of the Atrium, sending shards raining down like a storm of jagged ice. The air was filled with the deafening sound of cracking glass, screams from bystanders, and the sharp scent of burning ozone.

Lance and Jesse barely had time to react. Lance threw his arm over his head, shielding himself from the shards, while Jesse grabbed the nearest debris, using it to shield himself as well. The floor beneath them trembled, a low vibration spreading through the building as the hovership hovered just above the wreckage, its underside now visible—a sleek, armored belly with a faint red star glowing emblem at the center.

Everything seemed to slow as they watched the destruction unfold, but it wasn't the explosion that had them frozen in place—it was the sight that came next.

Out of the cloud of dust and smoke, the staff-wielding commander appeared, his face locked in that same cold, calculating expression as he stood by the wreckage of the shattered glass. He had his staff in hand, gripping it with ease, but it wasn't his weapon that caught their attention.

It was the figure dangling unconscious from a metallic line attached to the underside of the ship.

I—their teammate—was suspended in the air, limp and unconscious, like a ragdoll.

Jesse's heart skipped a beat. His eyes locked onto the still form of their teammate. The sight of me being lifted up by the line sent a jolt of panic through him.

"What the hell?!" Jesse snarled, already on the move.

Lance's fist clenched at his side. "They're taking him!"

The commander stood calmly under the falling debris, seemingly unaffected by the chaos around him, and gestured with a flick of his hand. The line began retracting, pulling him and I both up slowly toward the hovership.

"No time to wait for a rescue team," Jesse gritted, already darting toward the wreckage, trying to cut off the distance between them and the ship. 

Lance followed suit, but his gaze was still locked on the staff-wielder, his muscles tense. "Don't think we're getting close to that ship."

A second later, the commander turned his head toward them, the faintest smile curling his lips. His pulsating eyes—cold and distant—were fixed on the two of them.

"You really think you can stop an ascension, stop a Visitor's will?" he called out, his voice a low, mocking drawl. He didn't even seem to flinch as the ship continued its low hover above them, its massive frame casting the Atrium in darkness.

The metal line now stretched taut, and the commander and I were halfway lifted off the ground, my body still hanging lifelessly. It was clear they were running out of time. Jesse and Lance exchanged a glance, the unspoken message clear: Get me back. 

Suddenly, the air snapped with a sharp, almost surreal whistle—the distinct sound of something cutting through the atmosphere at incredible speed. Jesse and Lance barely had a chance to react when, out of nowhere, a mysterious sniper shot rang out, the bullet striking the metal wire holding me suspended in air.

The wire snapped, I plummeted downward like a ragdoll, my body twisting in the air, limp and unconscious.

"Shit!" Lance cursed, his feet pounding the broken tiles as he broke into a run, with Jesse hot on his heels. They didn't even think—just acted, trusting that if they worked together, they could catch me.

Lance leapt first, his golden aura flickering around his arms like a barrier, and Jesse followed, his body moving with unnatural agility to get under me.

The momentum of the fall was almost too much to handle. Jesse barely managed to get under me, and Lance was still in the air. They gritted their teeth, bracing themselves as they skidded to a halt, Lance landed early, their feet dragging across the floor.

For a split second, it felt like time had stopped.

Something… strange happened.

My body, which had been descending so rapidly moments before, came to an impossibly slow stop in mid-air. It was like the force of gravity itself had been interrupted. My limp form hovered above them, completely still, suspended by an invisible force, almost like I was floating in a pocket of air.

"What the hell is happening?" Jesse muttered, his eyes scanning the area, looking for the source of the disturbance. Lance did the same, his hands now gripping my descending body as he tried to make sense of the impossible situation.

A flicker of motion caught Jesse's eye, and his gaze snapped upward. Up on the roof of the building, hidden in the shadows of one of the higher balconies, a figure stood—motionless, watching them through the scope of a sniper rifle.

The sniper's presence was the only thing that made sense. The shot had come from above, a clean hit that severed the wire holding Nathan. But it wasn't just a lucky shot.

Jesse's eyes narrowed. This wasn't a normal sniper. 

It was Markus, callsign: Hoax.