Mask of Humanity

Bullets snapped around him, cratering the walls, chips of stone raining from where they impacted. None of them touched Nicolai. He was behind a column, a grin on his face.

Nicolai felt achingly, gloriously alive. The gunshots and the chips of stone pattering on his back and the smell of blood and the rapier floating beside him were all part and parcel, connected, wrapped in this beautiful moment. The Thrill had come to life and his Soul burned with it in endless, hungry delight.

The gunfire ended and he knew the Chosen leader was turning to run, because he could see her through his Soul Sense, which wrapped around the column. He lunged into a run, darting towards the next column in line, keeping pace with her.

‘Get them! Defend me!’ she screamed at the two men in front of her.

One of them just tossed a terrified look over his shoulder and ran all the harder, but the other turned and started back, raising a sword, a worried but determined look on his face. Nicolai saw the Chosen leader stop now she had a guard. She pulled her submachine-gun’s magazine out with shaking hands. She tossed it aside and dragged a new magazine out of her vest.

Nicolai had continued pursuing this whole time and once she’d stopped he closed the ground further, getting to the column nearest to her. Now, she was close to him. Far closer than she ought to be.

Nicolai swayed around the column, striding towards the guard whose eyes widened.

There was some blood on Nicolai’s shimmer poncho. He hadn’t been able to resist drawing in close before he’d struck, and thus some of his kills had left stains. He could cover them up if he folded the poncho a little, but he chose not to.

This was easy enough already.

Nicolai approached the guard, who stood with blade held high and ready. Nicolai could feel his fear. His new Soul Sense possessed powers he hadn’t realised until the beginning of this fight. It could sense emotions and perhaps more, and Nicolai could feel them, rising off the man before him like the stink of sweat. Fear and confusion. Nicolai kept walking, unworried, and raised his arm.

With a small gesture of his hand and a snap of his Soul Sense, the rapier launched out from beneath his sleeve and punched through the man’s head before he could react. The dead man relaxed as though with disappointment, his sword slipping from his hand to clatter on the ground. The corpse toppled over as Nicolai passed it by and Nicolai flicked his wrist, his rapier slipping back out and following after him.

Nicolai was within a few metres of his target, the woman coming into the range of his Soul Sense tendril. She was afraid, too, but less so than the man had been. Within her was a shade of determination. She’d stopped trying to reload her weapon. Instead she held her Seed in her hand, touching it against a bangle she wore on her arm, from which two little feathers emerged.

Nicolai could feel that Seed. It was a little network of energies, complex and interesting, but unfortunately that network was beyond his reach. It was wrapped in some kind of solid shell that protected it from his Soul Sense. He could attempt to peer into it and get an impression of it, but not reach inside, and had the impression that attempting to break through the shield would be similarly difficult and lengthy as his attempt to break through the Blue Hornet had been.

With a snap of his arm Nicolai launched the rapier. It darted through the air towards her, a hawk from the wrist. But he felt a pulse from her Seed where it touched the bangle, and a spherical shield shimmered into life around her. The rapier crashed into it then slid off, deflected. Nicolai gestured again, and again, the rapier a living missile that struck and struck at the shield. Meanwhile, he was holding an Oma crystal, replenishing his Node.

She was once more struggling to reload her submachine-gun with a new magazine. His Soul Sense had taken a peek inside and it was light, only half full with fifteen rounds. Her reload was slow, hands fumbling, the fear she felt spoiling her focus. She was still green, unused to real combat. The fact that her inexperience was causing such a problem for her told him that she didn’t have a proper Combat Chip, only a self-defence chip which was non-functional due to her earlier aggressive actions. Most anyone who wasn’t a merc, soldier, gangster, or simply rich, would be like her; unused to combat, no unlocked Combat Chip. She reminded him of comrades from long, long ago. All dead now.

Those who were too slow to adjust tended to die quickly.

Alas, green or not, her shield was strong. The shotgun he’d stolen had broken it the first time, but then the shotgun had run out of ammo. The rapier was less effective.

She slotted the magazine into place and raised her gun. Nicolai was already fading away, slipping back behind the column as she fired.

His rapier returned to him for a recharge, absorbing all of the Oma in his Node. One, two, three shots hissed and snapped either side of him, clacking into the wall behind.

He flicked the rapier away to float in the air and tugged out another Oma crystal, working to restore his Node.

The woman started running, so Nicolai dashed out and towards the next column. She turned to shoot as soon as she heard the scuff of his feet, but Nicolai arrived before she could start firing. He’d always been fast, but now he was faster than ever, passing between the columns in only a couple of seconds.

She fired two more shots and went back to running, but this time not towards the tunnel exit. Now she went directly away from the columns he was lurking behind, towards the other side of the room.

Nicolai smiled, pleased. Smart. The fire within him rose, burning brighter.

He dashed out after her while charging his glove, rapidly closing the distance. He wasn’t surprised when she skidded to a stop, snapped the submachine-gun up and fired at him—he was ready. Nicolai veered away, his shield shimmering into life before his upraised hand.

The first bullet hit at a good angle, deflecting. His shield received a crack but rapidly regenerated as he poured Oma into his glove, while sending his rapier out to stab at her shield, a distraction.

The next four shots missed completely as he dashed past her. Not her fault. It’s hard to hit a fast-moving target at close range, especially when it’s little more than a shimmering blur. He could hear her heavy breaths, feel her emotions, almost read her thoughts. There were four bullets left in the magazine, and she seemed to know that.

She raised the SMG as she turned, peering around, looking for him. Nicolai had folded the front of his poncho a little, hiding the bloodied spots. He’d lowered his shield and left the rapier to float aimlessly some distance from him.

She struggled to spot him. With a subtle gesture he had the rapier dart at her head, only to be intercepted by the shield. She flinched, and fired a bullet, and that was enough. The rapier lanced forward again, but she took a slow breath, and he felt her gathering herself, thinking. Her gaze focused, and turned to the floor, squinting as she turned her head in a slow circle. Hunting for the tell-tale twisted patterns that would reveal him. Her eyes landed on him and she paused. The SMG swung up.

Nicolai snapped his shield back up in time to catch the bullet she fired, and dodged sideways to avoid the second shot, then he kept moving, lunging in a circle around her.

One left.

She didn’t seem to realise that fact, as she attempted to track him and fired it off, too. It missed by a wide margin. Nicolai was faintly disappointed to realise the end of the fight was now inevitable. He couldn’t blame her. It was rare to encounter someone that kept count of every bullet fired. Not everyone could be as obsessive as him. He hoped she wouldn’t give up.

Her gun let out the dreaded dead man’s click, empty, as she tried to fire again. Nicolai relaxed. He took a step forward and his hand emerged from beneath the poncho to press against her shield while she stood there, staring down at her SMG as though it had betrayed her.

He’d been able to feel the shield earlier, through his Soul Sense, but he hadn’t learned much. Now, as his Soul directly touched it he felt it more clearly. It was less solid than he’d expected, and he began to think on how to break such a thing.

‘Come on then, you fuck,’ she snarled, and drew an axe. A quite nice looking axe. Modern make, not an undead find. More for breaching doors than killing people but still, very nice. She swung at his hand and Nicolai stepped back, chuckling, practically bouncing on the balls his feet, extremely glad that she was still fighting. He noted her axe passed through the shield without issue.

‘Good,’ he said, grinning. ‘Very good.’ The fire burning in his Soul liked her. She fought well, or at least well enough. She defeated her fear. She was a worthy opponent.

‘Fuck you,’ she snapped.

Nicolai pressed a button and his shimmer poncho deactivated. He unclipped the face-cover, lowered the hood, unzipped the poncho and shrugged it open at the front then raised his hand. The rapier, low on Oma, returned to land in his grip.

‘Fight me,’ he said, body tense and ready. His mouth tasted of blood.

Her face grew focused for a moment, then her stance changed. She’d chipped into something. Likely her self-defence chip had decided to reactivate. He supposed that the previous schema of her having a gun and him not had led it to review him as the defender, not the aggressor, but now that she was armed only with an axe and he was actively attacking, that had changed. Nicolai’s grin grew as the thrill rose, its fire swarming his body with a wonderful tingling that infused him with energy, that made the world vibrant and real and beautiful around him.

She attacked, stepping forwards and swinging two-handed. She was fast but so was he, and he found her chipped skills predictable, lacking. Regardless, he kept a safe distance away, slipping and stepping backward away from her strikes. He couldn’t attack her, only her shield, which shifted the ideal range.

He danced aside from the latest blow and stabbed back, and his rapier glanced off her shield. It was a good shield, but Nicolai could see the damage it was sustaining. He’d break it eventually, if he kept stabbing.

But Nicolai realised then that he didn’t want to do that. It might blunt his rapier and it would be boring. The thrill demanded more; something more efficient, more skilful, more perfect.

His Soul Sense curled gently around her shield, and he felt at it. His Soul Sense passed straight through, but once he was around it he could feel at the shield, and, just a little, he could press on it.

These pushes had little effect, but Nicolai wasn’t dissuaded. He felt that it was a matter of leverage. When he pushed with his Soul Sense, he was attempting to use his Soul to attack it, but only indirectly. His Soul Sense was like the fingers of his Soul, far weaker than the true thing. When he had touched the shield with his hand and directly put his Soul into contact with it, it had felt different to him. Breakable.

Nicolai stepped back as she came at him. In her, he saw cold fury restrained and funnelled into textbook strikes. She sent them out in a flurry, one that simply didn’t end as she looped the axe around and around endlessly.

Nicolai found each swing disappointingly predictable, but he appreciated that she was trying a new tactic.

He stepped away from each attack, not bothering to raise the rapier or create his own shield. He was focused on mirroring her movements, preserving the space between them.

She let out an angry yell with the next strike, a vicious slash aimed right at his face.

Nicolai stepped backwards again. He had a lot of room to repeatedly back away in this place, and he saw no reason not to abuse that. He was curious as to what she would try to do in the face of this strategy. She cursed him and swung again, stepping quickly after him.

He could see that she was becoming quite frustrated. It wasn’t just that he could predict her movements. Beyond that, their speed wasn’t quite even. She might have bionic arms and legs, which were slightly faster than his own, but the rest of her was human, and the force from each augment had to be channelled through her torso. As a result her movements were a little jerky, disconnected, and that slowed them.

She should’ve invested in some spine and core augmentations to help link it all together. Nicolai might have told her this, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well.

Meanwhile his entire body was stronger as a whole, as a unit, and every move he made was perfect, flowing, efficient, pleasing to him.

She snarled furiously and charged forward, swinging wildly, running almost flat-out after his backpedalling form. Nicolai laughed and lunged toward her, going slightly to the side to avoid the shield.

The axe was coming for him so he ducked low, tucking his head below the strike, and then he was behind her. He turned to face her, seeing her stumbling a step forward, and as she went he took a moment to slip his rapier into its sheath. As it slotted into place she finished twisting around to face him, a killing rage in her eyes. The axe was quick to come at him.

Sharp metal hissed through the air, a strike capable of splitting his head in two, but Nicolai wasn’t concerned. He had her measure, now; he knew how fast she swung, he knew how and where she would aim, and he had decided to stop running away. He stepped forward, coming toward the blow. In the moment where the axe emerged from behind her shield his hand lunged, faster than a biting snake, and he seized it by the top of its haft, just below the bladed head.

His body was set and ready as he wrenched on it, dragging her off balance as she clung tight to the haft. He bent his body out the way of her shield as he dragged her stumbling past him, meanwhile he reached out with his free hand and pressed his palm against the shield. The moment his hand touched it his Soul surged, a vicious lunge through the connection.

The Chosen’s shield sparkled and hummed, a brief sound of stress. Then she regained her footing, ripped the top of the axe from his grasp and swung again. Nicolai swayed out of the way.

He quickly returned, dodging and redirecting her blows, and he reached out again and again to strike the shield with his other. Avoiding her strikes was an enjoyable game and with each fleeting touch, Nicolai learned a little more, continuously refining his method, a little different every time.

He went from waiting until his Soul touched it to attack, to preparing his Soul for attack then striking out through his palm the moment he was touching it. He thought of this as a Soul Palm Strike. The shield rapidly weakened, each strike doing more and more damage as his method improved, the shield whining and cracking.

This culminated in him twisting aside from the latest blow then continuing that spin, striking with his palm at the same time as he struck with his Soul. The world blurred around him as he moved, and everything seemed to slow as the thrill blazed bright in his chest.

His hand drifted through the air and he saw his enemy beyond it. Cold eyes. The axe was already coming back; her previous swing had been a feint.

One of his hands swung up and caught the axe on its side, bumping it upwards, altering the trajectory. The axe went higher and higher, while Nicolai ducked lower.

It ruffled his hair as it went by,

His other hand crashed forwards, Soul Sense twisting at the air behind it, then his palm slammed into the shield and smashed it into motes of light and broken Oma.

The Chosen was panting for breath, staring at him with wide eyes, stumbling back. He straightened up and let out a slow hissing exhale as he watched her retreating, his face tensed up with a savage grin.

Glorious. That last move had been right, body and Soul moving together. He’d learned something new. The thrill howled with primal joy, anticipating the final, beautiful moment.

Nicolai touched a hand to his sheathed rapier, sending out a worm of charging Oma.

But then his opponent did something that shocked him.

‘Wait,’ she said, raising her hands. She threw the axe aside and it clanged and scraped on the ground, steel ringing.

His eyes watched it go then returned to her, the rest of his body frozen.

‘You win. Let’s talk.’ Her tongue darted out to lick at her lips, nervous, afraid.

Nicolai’s lips stretched into a furious grimace.

Her eyes widened.

The thrill screamed.

Everything in him had wanted to strike, to finish this, right up until the moment the axe left her hands. It was a good fight. It had been, until she ruined it by surrendering! Now, his mind was filled with dozens of thoughts from all kinds of places. His Mask twitched on his face, fighting back at the fire. It said: She could join the group. I don’t need to kill her. Killing her… would be a Not Very Human thing to do?

She’d attacked him. She was an enemy. It was right to kill your enemies. How could he trust her? He couldn’t. He didn’t trust any of the others, but at least now he’d purged the traitor he could trust in their desire to remain free from the Chosen.

Inviting a Chosen leader in would further muddy a situation he already found cloying, confusing, and annoying. Not to mention, she was strong with those arms and legs. Stronger than any of the others. She was no danger to him now. But given time to plot and plan, he could find himself in a situation where that had changed.

But his Mask, his Mask was determined. It wanted to do the right thing, and at that moment Nicolai was simply so shocked and distraught at how abruptly his perfect moment—the glorious ending of a beautiful fight—had been wrenched away from him, that he didn’t have the energy to push against the Mask and send the rapier out.

Whatever. She’d already ruined the fight.

‘Talk about what?’ he asked. His voice was distant, empty, crushed. He was barely aware of what he was saying. The disappointment was overwhelming. He felt close to tears.

‘I’ll join you,’ she said. ‘I’m done with the Chosen. I only joined them because they forced me to.’

Nicolai’s Soul Sense tendril was wrapped tight around her. He could feel her emotions, read her face, guess at her thoughts. Thus, he knew she was lying.

He snorted, which drew an uncertain frown from her. Ah well. Nicolai shoved his Mask out of the way, glad he wouldn’t have to argue with it, a smile flickering back into life on his face.

‘So you won’t betray us? You aren’t saying all this just to save your life, are you? You aren’t lying to me?’ He did his best to adopt a concerned expression, an unsure expression.

‘No, no, I’m serious.’ She spat on the ground to the side. ‘Fuck them.’ She put heavy emphasis on her words.

She was lying. Again.

Nicolai pushed some Oma into his rapier, charging it, making it ready.

A voice crackled out, interrupting them. Her radio.

‘This is Vikrum. Everyone, get back here. Now. We have a problem.’

Nicolai and the woman stared at the radio where it was attached to her tactical vest. Nicolai’s mind clicked and ticked. Interesting. Very interesting. His lingering depression evaporated as he replayed the words within his mind, heard the sound of the man’s voice again. Vikrum. ‘What do you think that’s about?’ he asked.

She shrugged, a weary, irritated expression that actually seemed honest appearing on her face. ‘There’s been trouble, recently. People upset. Someone found about these things called Soul Traps. That radio woman was talking about them.’

‘Oh?’ He couldn’t help but frown. Nicolai hadn’t heard this. It had been a little while since he’d last listened to the radio. This development was… unfortunate. He’d intended to sell Soul Traps, and still did. Only, it seemed he had a competitor. ‘Why are the Soul Traps upsetting people?’

‘Because Vikrum took almost everyone’s Seeds. We all thought that was the only way to finish a Seed, by feeding it others. Now, it turns out there was another way, all along. People started saying he didn’t even need their Seeds in the first place. They weren’t happy.’

‘You still have your Seed,’ observed Nicolai.

‘Yeah. He let some of us, the field leaders.’ He felt her sudden worry, and she spoke quickly to assure him, ‘But he would have taken it eventually. It was just temporary. I don’t want to lose mine, that’s why I wanna leave!’

Another lie in there somewhere, perhaps more than one. He was struggling to keep track because he didn’t really care anymore. ‘So the Chosen are weak, just now? Splintering?’

‘I… guess so. Yeah.’ She was frowning. She wasn’t sure how much to tell, he guessed. She wanted to keep the act up, but didn’t want to betray her people. Regardless of the Chosen’s current issues, she remained loyal. Unfortunate for her, but Nicolai was pleased.

Now he wouldn’t have to deal with his Mask’s whining.