Episode 2 (part 3): She’s Crazy

A part of me knows I'm about to die. It's the eerie feeling you get before taking a massive shit. You know that bitch is going to hurt like hell when you squeeze, but it must be done no matter what. Shit must go on. This is just going to be another hurdle I overcum.

Zara's frame is robust and lean, she is wearing her skin tight undersuit from her mech. I gotta give it to her, that move she did with detaching herself from the mech with just the helmet was pretty cunning. The academy taught her well, but she ain't got the street smarts of hell. 

Her tall lanky figure looms over me as the fog veils my body slowly tensing up to launch myself at her. Her balance is composed and her stance confident. My breath shakes as my nerves break through. Damn, how is she so sure of herself?

I jump into the pocket of battle and lunge my fist into her abdomen. Her body feels soft, like the sorry ass peakie that she is. If the punch had hurt, her face didn't show it. Of course it didn't show, it was covered by the helmet. Normally a strike from me would easily blast a hole through someone, but she just rolls with the punch and seems to be unharmed.

A smooth knee collided with my face at lightning speed. I don't feel the pain because my body is tougher than adamantium steel but I am momentarily blinded by the knee obstructing my vision. A glowing blade slides into my abs. 

It only glances off. Even enchanted blades have a difficult time penetrating my skin. I reach out with both of my arms to trap her but there's nothing to grab. The fog obstructs my view but my eyes have been enhanced enough to see heat. Still I don't see her anywhere.

Damnation, where the hell did she go? I frantically look around to gauge where she may have fled to. There are no crevices or caves along the reef of this part in the abyss. I've traversed the abyss often enough to recognize certain regions. This is my playground, she cannot use her witt against me. There are no angles in which this battle will result in her pulling a trick on me.

My heightened hearing picks up the crackling sound of an intercom nearby. I rush towards it and find her helmet lying on the ground. I grew too confident and eager, I may have just played myself. Picking up the helmet, I gulp as I bring it closer to my ear to hear what it's saying.

Zara: Tyde of the hellcoast, we have your people captive. If you do not turn yourself in, we will kill the child named Tito along with the rest of them. Come to the surface.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. I bolt at inhumane speeds towards the surface. Enhanced blood courses through my muscles that prevent lactic acid from building up, allowing me to sprint without growing tired. My lungs not only breathe in the fog but can increase the capacity at which it fuels my body. I'm like a mad hellspawn beast, eager to pounce at its prey.

Dior: Tyde, no! It's a trap, you have to let this go. I'll be there to assist you, just please don't meet them there. We can find another way to-

I pull out the gadget from my ear and triple my pace. There's no way in hell I'm going to keep allowing myself to watch the people I'm supposed to protect be slaughtered. I am not my father, I am not a hero, I haven't been able to protect anyone but myself but that needs to change.

If I can't save them from the ghouls or the fog, I should at least guard them against the peak elites. That is what will set me apart from my father. I will not bend the knee to some peakies.

I break free from the abyssal fog and my vision adjusts to the scene before me. Dozens of the slum kids that I've known from the coast for many years are tied in bundles. Tossed into a pile, drenched in oil. A torch is held in the mouth of a blind folded boy, and he is forced to balance on one leg standing on a tall pole above the pile of bodies.

One glance at his spiked red hair I knew it was Tito; and if he fell, the entire group would light up in flames.

Zara: Ah there you are, great protector! These people claim you as their hero. Tyde of the hellcoast, the promised savior that will turn the tide against ghouls and elites.

Her face is mesmerizing and excruciatingly beautiful. What the fuck am I thinking in this nightmare of a situation. Her long dark hair in contrast to her robust frame in that tight suit accentuates her perfect features. I can't believe I'm lost in her dark brown eyes. They're like a warm embrace from autumn leaves and a hint of sunlight.

Gods that was close. A second longer of me staring and I might've lost eight years of progress. What is wrong with me? I need to save my people and kill that pretty woman. I must stay focused.

Titus: Let go of them, or you will die just like the rest of your comrades.

I survey what's around me and notice that she is the only one up here besides the pile of coastal people. She did this on her own, in the midst of fighting me? Her blessing must be super speed. How else would she have done all of this so quickly?

Zara: What, by impaling me through my ass? I have to say, that was very impressive. I would've recruited you for your cunning battle tactics but unfortunately I don't forgive murderers.

Titus: That's ironic coming from you. What do you think you're doing to my people right now? 

Zara: Oh this? Burning a few lowly coastals? I'm merely cleansing this dump of a wasteland of the disgusting slum rats.

My feet move under me at rapid speeds. I have no second thoughts about demolishing this puny girl. She might be pretty, and she may be physically taller and bigger than I am, but she is not an enhanced vessel of the demon of Lust. I will crack her open and leave her entrails behind me on the way to freeing my people.

I reach her throat in an instant and open my jaw to bite down on her jugular but my eye catches a horrifying sight by the pile of struggling bodies ahead of me. Zara is standing there with a torch in her hand, grinning from ear to ear.

A clone? Is she a vessel with a duplicate blessing? What the hell am I biting down on right now? The texture of flesh and blood does not enter my mouth. The Zara I was trying to kill vanished before me and the only one that remained was dropping the torch onto the pile of squirming coastal people.