A Delicate Web (gxg) | ONC2020 |

6. the warehouse

chapter six: the warehouse

word count: 1441

Dressed once again as the vigilante—as the Black Mamba, I suppose—I pick my way through holographic militia tape and the crumbling remnants of metal and glass until I'm standing on the edge of the rooftop of Neilson's trade building. A cold wind whips against the folds of my jacket as I survey the damage.

There's a hollowed out crater that extends two or three stories down. Every visible surface is covered in scorch marks, and the smell of smoke stings my eyes and nose even through the air filters placed in my helmet.

Kicking my lifters into gear, I float to the gaping hole approximately where the portal was and adjust so I can hover there in place, swaying and readjusting with every breeze that throws me off balance.

I suck in a deep breath of air that tastes charred and burned, trying to push away the surge of memories that always comes with the smell of smoke or fire. I can't be distracted now.

I rub my hands together, then extend them out in front of me, moving slowly forwards. I force myself to close my eyes and focus despite the nauseating feeling of floating through the air with nothing solid beneath my feet.

Then I feel it, a prickling in the very end of my fingertips. Residue magic.

I clench my hands in a fist.

"Trace," I whisper.

Glowing filaments stretch from my gloves, and I shudder, sickened by the way they push through my skin like insects crawling out from under my nails. They converge on the spot where the magical residue is most concentrated and begin to search it out in long, luminescent strands of blue light. Where it finds traces of magic, the spell swirls there, lighting up the spot. The path Neilson took begins to illuminate, traced in a long, glowing arc across the sky. It twists off between buildings and the glittering pedestrian skybridges, heading for the abandoned sector of Capital before disappearing in the haze of darkness that clouds that part of town.

I sigh. I'll want to retrieve my aeropod in order to travel that far out.

—

The glowing trail leads me to the abandoned sector, ending in a frayed waterfall of sparks that hover over a huge, dilapidated warehouse. I bring my aeropod to a halt, the sleek side of the hovering black vehicle reflecting the lights of the city behind us. I don't like being this far out of the inhabited parts of town. The choking darkness is unnatural.

I get off of the aeropod and let it idle in place, approaching the towering, sliding door of the warehouse. Everything around me is in a state of disrepair—skyscrapers have been reduced to skeletal remains, like the ribcages of colossal beasts sticking up into the sky. When I search for a lock screen on the doorframe, I find instead the trappings of a padlock. Old mechanisms that no one uses anymore, only here to attest to the state of this part of Capital.

The lock itself is nowhere to be found, until I take a step closer and my foot crunches on something. The rusted, flaking remains of the metal locking gear sit there, crumbled and in pieces with age.

Or, possibly, vandalism. Neilson's portal led to here, so someone else has probably been around.

I lift the warehouse door with a screech of worn, aging metal, and step inside.

The interior smells of dust and steel. And I don't need a flashlight to see, because something huge and glowing is on the floor, illuminating the entire inside of the building in brilliant orange. I draw closer, squinting against the flood of light.

It's a complex, criss-crossing ring that takes up most of the available floor space, buzzing and humming like unstable machinery. Or, more accurately, the way the portal from two days ago did right before it exploded. This is some sort of dark magic, a spell. But what for?

The only warning I get is a single footfall on the gravel outside. Then I'm hit with a wave of force that sends me flying into the glowing circle, which roars and lunges like fire after a log is tossed on to it. The warehouse floor shudders, and a spiderweb of cracks splays out from under my fingers. I scramble back to my feet, ignoring the way the cement beneath me continues to rumble ominously and the heat of dark magic sears me through my clothing.

Neilson is there, silhouetted in the wide doorway against the blue night sky of Capital beyond.

"Deflect!" I manage to gasp out, throwing up closed fists in front of my face seconds before he throws a hand forward and sends another rolling burst of energy toward me.A spectral shield flashes around my form for a moment, absorbing most of the blow. The heels of my boots crunch on the crumbling floor as some of the force reaches me anyways, shoving me a few inches backwards. The ground spasms.

"You shouldn't be here!" He screams, face red with rage and the exertion of using dark magic. Neilson doesn't look like the businessman who'd sit at our long, glass table, discussing economics with my mother and father late into the night. His streaked hair is unkempt, and his face shows the marks of first degree burns. He's sweating and trembling from head to toe, either from exertion or power. Dark magic is beginning to take its toll on him.

"Neilson, you need to shut this down," I reply, keeping my voice steady over the rumbling of the warehouse's foundation. "This whole building will be destroyed."

"Not now. Not when I'm so close."

"Close? Close to what?"

His hands move in the air, and before I can get out of the way or prepare a spell of my own, something suddenly constricts around my throat. I let out a choked gasp, grabbing at the invisible hold that squeezes like a fist around my neck. There's a sudden lack of air in my lungs and I squirm wildly as I'm jerked off my feet and into the air, dangling above the glowing rune on the floor. I try to wheeze out a counterspell, but can't manage to force out anything more than pained gasps.

Then Neilson is tackled from behind. Through the dark spots beginning to cloud my vision, I watch him his the ground hard and roll, a smaller shape lunging down to land on him and pelt him with blows. The force around my throat disappears and I hit the ground with a burst of pain that surges upwards from my ankles. I climb to my feet just in time to see what's happened.

Someone has attacked Neilson, a small, dark shape in the mouth of the warehouse. Their element of surprise is gone now, however, and even as I try to regain my balance and stumble forward to help, Neilson gives a mighty grunt, gets a hand around their throat, and throws them bodily in my direction.

We collide hard, the top of their head hitting the unhelmeted underside of my jaw roughly enough to make my teeth clack together painfully. The cracks spread out with an ominous groan, forming a circle beneath the glowing sigil. The floor settles, creaking and unsteady beneath me where we've been thrown to the ground.

I grab the other's shoulder blindly, scrambling for the edge of the glowing circle. I pass through the wash of neon orange light just as the entire section of floor drops.

I whirl and throw myself downwards. My chest smacks against concrete, holding my weight even as the entire world seems to shift and break apart. My palm hits their wrist and I grab it, then reach down my other hand to wrap around their arm. Their weight threatens to drag me over the edge, but I resist, squeezing my eyes shut against the falling debris that rains on my head. The whole warehouse groans as the ground crumples inwards.

Then everything settles. I crack open my eyes, peering through the visor of my helmet. The glowing, buzzing circle is so bright now it hurts to look at, but it's suspended in the air. The floor beneath it is gone, swallowed by a massive black hole that drops off into nothingness.

I adjust my grip and look down at the person hanging from my hands.

"Gemini?" I gasp, out of breath and with adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

"Hi," she says, giving me a shaky grin from where she dangles precariously above the open pit. "We've got to stop meeting like this."