Extraction Point
Mission:
- Survive Again
- Again
- Again
- And Again
- And Again
Clash!
The impact rang out like a thunderclap, weapons locking in a shower of sparks. We both recoiled, breath ragged, eyes locked in mutual defiance. Mari recovered first, rolling forward with blinding speed into a relentless combo—each swing a blur of crimson fury that drove me to my knees. The ground cracked under the force.
I slammed my fist into the earth, channeling my Perk. Rock erupted beneath her like a geyser, hurling her skyward. Seizing the moment, I leaped and brought the mallet down hard, slamming her back to the ground in a plume of dust.
She swept my legs with surgical precision. I tumbled, but she was already up, unleashing vertical strikes that rained like meteors. I blocked each one, arms aching from the vibration, blood flinging from her wounds with every motion. The metallic tang of heated blood and scorched air filled my nostrils, thick and nauseating.
Clang—clash—crack! I countered, swinging the mallet into her kneecap. She yelped, a sharp cry that echoed across the ruins. Two more blows followed—to each side of her jaw—then a Perk-infused strike that drove her head into the dirt. She bounced upward; mid-air, I grabbed her midsection and hurled her into a towering pile of splintered wood.
The crash bought me a heartbeat of opportunity. I rocketed toward her, mallet raised. But instinct—or raw fear—propelled her to roll aside at the last instant. The pile detonated into a cloud of dust and timber, the shockwave rippling outward.
She retaliated instantly, firing four energy blasts in quick succession. I raised my arm, absorbing each one.
Closing the gap, she unleashed two feints—up, then down. I blocked both, falling for the ruse. Her kick connected with devastating force, launching me five hundred feet across the shattered terrain. Invisible spikes of debris shredded my back as I skidded, fire racing along my spine.
When momentum finally died, my gaze landed on the bent pole she'd crashed into earlier. A hollow chuckle escaped my throat—bitter, involuntary—amid the absurdity of survival.
It took precious seconds to register the massive fireball hurtling toward my head. In a surge of perplexity and panic, I dodged left, then wrenched the pole free and flung it back at her.
She raised an arm; the pole bent like tinfoil on impact, then spun wildly toward me. I latched on, yanking it hard. It wrenched her forward. With a swift leg sweep, I tripped her mid-flight, sending her arcing over my head before I hammered her down with the mallet.
I rained blows then—methodical, merciless—each strike forcing fresh blood from her body, the mallet humming with power. But repetition breeds adaptation.
She caught my wrist mid-swing, her rufous eyes narrowing in cold focus. An uppercut exploded through my chin, lifting me off my feet. She followed seamlessly: two jabs, a left hook, a right, an elbow driving my face into her rising knee, then a chest-shattering blow that hurled me through multiple piles of wood and into a shattered fountain.
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The mallet slipped from my grasp, clattering to the ground and reverting to its wand form. No one warned me these MP weapons had the lifespan of fresh fish.
Mari landed with a ground-shaking thud, her body crackling with electricity as she advanced, wheezing through bloodied lips. “It all ends the same way, Connor,” she rasped. “Just make it easier on yourself.”
“No…” I groaned, struggling upright. My legs betrayed me, skidding uselessly on the rough ground like ice skates on gravel. I clutched the wand tighter, knuckles white.
“Think back to the day you killed him,” she ordered, voice trembling with raw grief. “Tell me every detail. How long did it take? How much did he suffer? Then imagine that pain—multiplied.”
I gripped the wand harder, heart pounding.
“Visualize it.”
I screamed, the memory searing like acid.
“Everything you picture,” she continued, “I’ll make you feel a hundred times over. I studied your Perk. My father—perhaps he mentioned ADA-4 to you—let me copy abilities and master them instantly.”
I stayed silent, barely moving, every breath a labor.
“But knowledge alone isn’t enough. You must wield it against the user. It takes precision, timing… everything. I’ll admit—you’re tougher than expected.” Her lips curled faintly. “But that changes nothing now.”
Her body ignited in red luminescence. Electricity spiraled around her like a living storm, arms extended despite the blood pouring from countless wounds. “Maybe the TSA will still want you in pieces,” she chuckled darkly.
Before she could unleash whatever cataclysmic blast she'd summoned, I swung the wand in desperate hope. The mallet did not return.
Instead, a colossal blue blast erupted—a planetary surge of azure energy roaring toward her. My eyes widened in a whirlwind of shock, fear, concern, surprise, excitement, and utter confusion. How was I doing this? Why was my Perk blue? Was this even mine anymore?
She braced, arms shaking violently. The red glow faltered, retreating inward as she shrieked in agony. “What is—” Her sentence died unfinished.
I clamped my other hand on the wand, forcing the torrent forward. She held for agonizing seconds, skin charring to ashen black. Terror flashed across her face as she glanced down.
Then her arms buckled. The blast slammed her into the ground, detonating in a vast blue explosion that engulfed the area. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the heat still scorched my skin like a furnace wind.
Silence fell.
Smoke whispered through the ruins. Ash sighed in the breeze.
I opened my eyes slowly, disoriented. The raging fires that had consumed the extraction point—gone. The once-bustling cityscape had been reduced to a desolate field of rubble and craters. In the distance, a convoy approached: vehicles and helicopters streaking forward, their black-and-yellow markings gleaming like beacons of salvation. Relief washed over me, warm and unexpected.
I sighed, a single tear tracing down my cheek. Collapsing onto a heap of debris, I stared downward, letting time blur as engines roared closer and rotor blades thrummed overhead. Soon, vehicles encircled the site.
YMPA agents in full tactical gear spilled out, shouts and orders cutting through the air like commands from the heavens. Then, without warning, a massive spasm of red lightning erupted from the ground.
I tried to stand—stumbled—and tumbled down the mound. Agents cried out as stray bolts struck nearby vehicles, sending sparks flying.
I hit the ground hard, wincing. But there she was: Mari, rising unsteadily on awkwardly bent legs, her body scorched and grotesque. She resembled something from nightmares—closer to Freddy Krueger than human, skin ripped and blackened, hands and face a horror that would haunt children for years.
I wobbled to my feet, legs glowing faintly red with residual Perk energy.
“Whoa—hey!” agents shouted, weapons snapping up to target her.
Mari glanced around, breaths slow and labored, mouth agape, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. She was ringed by YMPA forces—wands and blasters trained to annihilate at a moment's notice.
After scanning the circle of inevitable defeat, her gaze settled on me. Four deep breaths. Teeth gritted. Fists that could barely clench.
Then—a smirk.
She slammed her palm to the ground. A shockwave of air exploded outward, slamming into us like a hurricane. I thrust both hands forward, channeling every ounce of strength to hold the vehicles and helicopters steady, preventing a new junkyard of wreckage. Fatigue surged through my veins as the gale persisted.
When the smoke finally cleared, Mari was gone.
She had made her escape—obnoxious, defiant, and impossibly alive.
“Where’s Mari?” agents barked into radios, scrambling for any trace—direction, signature, erratic movement patterns.
I staggered through the scene, the sun finally cresting the mountains and bathing the carnage in golden light. From the side, more agents and medics rushed toward me, stretchers at the ready.
I sighed—comfortably, deeply—for the first time in what felt like eternity.
Then I fell.