The Atlantian System: Creation

A hand on his shoulder nearly had him jumping out of his skin as Huda grabbed his shirt and nearly flung him backwards as she pushed forward with a determined stare.

In her hand was an almost futuristic looking weapon that was clearly a firearm of some type based on the way she held it and the obvious barrel that promised whatever shot out of it would quickly make any bad guys weigh a lot less.

It was evident from her quick and efficient actions that she was very familiar with the weapon as she loaded the magazine and took aim.

The Night Mare’s snapping maw was in arm’s reach when she pulled the trigger. The scent of steel and blood was so strong that its sharp flavor remained on their tongues. Vigo was not prepared for the devastation the compact but powerful weapon created.

Neither were the Night Mares, for that matter.

The last thing the snapping creature saw of this world was the darkened barrel of the gun and the fierce look in Huda’s eyes as she bared her white teeth before a spray of bullets tore past its scales and through its skull.

Vigo covered his ears, his shouted expletive drowned out by the rapid ‘tat-tat-tat’ of the weapon and the screams of the Night Mares as they were mowed down. The ones in the back attempted to dig their clawed paws into the pavement, trying to slow down and maybe gallop out of the direct path of the projectiles, but it was futile.

Huda made a sweeping motion back and forth, initially causing chaos among the stampede before targeting the stragglers.

The gun kicked in short bursts as she peppered them with 28 milometer long rounds, the ammunition powerful enough that large chunks of flesh, muscle, and bone went flying before the creatures ever had a chance to protest.

At last, the final Night Mare brayed in anguish like a predator mourning the loss of its prey before the creature’s legs gave underneath them and it rolled onto pavement, its monstrous body becoming a smaller and smaller speck as the minibus sped away.

Vigo looked back at Huda in shock, his ears still ringing and his voice too loud as he shouted, “What the hell is that?”

Huda looked down at the firearm in her hands, as if to ensure that he was talking about her gun.

“FN-P90 sub-machine gun.” She replied matter-of-fact, “A lot of Blessed have thick enough skin that guns won’t penetrate, but Night Mares are not one of them. Those scales are more for intimidation than defense.”

“Why the hell did you tell me to use the crossbow if you had that?” He huffed incredulously, the energy keeping him upright during the encounter seeming to have left him.

Huda raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were well versed in assembling a sub-machine gun while under pressure. My apologies.”

Afra chanced a quick look back to ensure that everyone was accounted for before grabbing the walkie-talkie, “10-26 with the Night Mares. What’s the status of the rest of the crew?”

“Blessed are about to breech the Sect,” Koa answered, “But the fire is preventing them from doing a full assault. We’ve got a group breaking off hoping to out-flank us, but we’ve got such a speed advantage that they won’t intercept us.”

“Fabulous.” Afra let out a relieved sigh before clicking the walkie-talkie back on, “How much longer till we’re out of the bubble?”

There was a slight crackling on the other side of the line before Samuel’s voice came through. “Another few kilometers. Messages from Allister show they made it to the Vault, but I’m still unable to send anything back.”

Another shuffling on the other side before Koa spoke, “Continue the course. Keep your eyes peeled for anything back there.”

“10-4, boss.” She put the walkie-talkie back as Huda hobbled past a gobsmacked Vigo and squeezed into the passenger seat. Disassembling the firearm she’d used looked like second nature to her, and was completed much faster than when the minibus had been rattling wildly over the rough dirt road.

“What the actual hell…” Vigo breathed, then grunted as the minibus hit a shallow hole in the road and he found himself scrambling to grip the line, tethering him to the vehicle.

“Steady, son.” Theodore gripped the young man’s shoulder. “Are you able to shut the doors?”

“U-Uh.” He blinked a few times as if his brain was having a hard time processing spoken words. “Yeah. Um, yeah. Hold on.”

The sudden quiet in the vehicle after he scooted forward on his knees and pulled the doors closed was almost painful, as everyone had a moment to take a breath.

“So…” Theodore broke the silence, “The Mares of Diomedes were… dragons?”

Vigo’s chuckle was rough as he tried to steady his drumming heart.

“I’m realizing a lot of the descriptions in the myths were off.” He shook his head before leaning against the side of the minibus. “This whole thing is messed up.”

Theodore sighed, his expression showing that he was just as surprised at the situation, before handing the crossbow he’d been loading to Vigo, who put it back in the floor compartment.

“Well, son. We’ve apparently got some time on our hands, but we’ll need to stay vigilant. It sounds like we’re not out of the woods yet. Both literally and physically.”

Vigo nodded, his eyes roaming the thing brush around them as if he fully expected another monster to jump out at them. “That about sums it up.”

“Well.” Theodore clapped his hands. “It’s never good to stew on things. The lovely doctor back there said I’d been out for almost a full 24 hours, and by the looks of things, a lot has happened. Get me up to speed and tell me what’s going on. Oh! And do you happen to have any crisps or anything on you? I woke up absolutely famished.”