The two boys dash out into the open space, eyes scanning for their target. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker as their adrenaline pumps.
Adam carefully slides a $5 bill into the vending machine. A loud vacuum suction hisses in the air, as it sucks the bill into the unknown. He carefully glances all over the mall, and everyone is still snoozing around him.
Step 1 complete–outside the tech store, Adam dramatically narrates to himself, watching as the vending machine rejects his crumpled-up bill. Step 2–get her outside the store.
Pinching the ends of his money, he straightens the crumpled piece of paper on the edges of the machine. Seth carefully hides in a secure area, waiting for the perfect time to strike. The air thickens as heavy footsteps echo, the sound of each step dragging farther away from the last.
"She's taking the bait," Adam mutters quietly, almost a whisper. Inserting the money, he patiently waits for the vendor to give him his soda. He glares at EMP's figure in the glass reflection. As the soda machine rattles violently, the tension grows silent.
With a blur of colors, EMP jumps forward like a distorted frame. Her arm crashes through the vendor's glass covering. Looking down, EMP sees Adam bent below her, grasping a soda bottle. Throwing her fist, she lands with a sick crack on the gleaming tiles.
Leaping forward, Adam sprints for his life. His heart slams against his ribs like it is trying to escape. She nearly had—one more second, he would be a bloodied graffiti on the floor.
Use up all your code, Adam's expression grows cold, his gaze narrow. This is going to be a long cat-and–mouse game.
Turning his back, he sees EMP firing towards him like a colorful electric blur. Extending his hand forward, he summons his broadsword in his hand. Using the flat end, he thwarts her attack. The shockwave rattles his bones, and he stumbles on his feet.
Bending her knees, she slices the air in a perfect crescent, her foot whipping through the humid air. Her heel arced fluidly like a pendulum before snapping forward around Adam's neck. Crashing to the ground, Adam throws his arms trying to protect himself.
Slowly, deliberately, she lifts her leg, every intent of her movement charged. Then down-came with a stomp, a thunderous boom that shakes the ground beneath her feet. As the dust clears, the world holds its breath.
EMP's expression grows sharper and angrier across her eyes as she looks down—the wide, flat side of a gleaming sword pressed firmly against her boot. It had absorbed the blow, halting the stomp mid–attack.
"Why you?" EMP sneers. She stomped again. And again. Each strike thundered like a war drum, and the earth trembled below with a fury.
"By the oath I swore in silence," Adam taunts, his tone grand and bold. "I will end you."
"Oh really now?" EMP fakely chuckles, pressing her foot onto Adam's neck. "Swore to this." Her boot slowly crushes his airways, his lips starting to turn blue. Out of the assassin's gaze, Adam signals Seth with his fingers.
Ducked behind a pillar, Seth triggers a sharp tone, piercing through the mall's PA. The sudden noise echoes through the empty halls and stores. EMP paused momentarily.
Grabbing a steel water battle, Seth hurls it at the assassin. Turning her head, EMP sees a silver blur cut through the air. Caught off guard, EMP twists and glitches sideways, phasing mid-dodge. The bottle crashes onto the tile floor like a gunshot.
Adam gasps for air as her foot lifts for a split second.
"There we go," He smirks, clenching his airways. "Time for tactical retreat."
Unsummoning his broadsword, Adam and Seth sprint into the food court, their steps pushing off one another. Every stride pulses with exhilaration and desperation.
"She's wasting her energy," Adam analyzes, his fingers wrapped tightly around his hilt. His breath came in ragged gasps—sharp and shallow. He inhaled for three steps, exhaled for two.
"What's next in the plan?" Seth inquires. The rhythm of his steps mirrors the intensity of the situation.
"Don't let her hit you," Adam bluntly explains, clenching the side of his chest. "That's how you get caught and die."
Seth stares dumbfounded as he looks over his shoulder–EMP coming towards them, her body breaking into jagged fragments of light. Her movements were not smooth but a wave of fury.
"THAT'S NOT A PLAN," Seth shouts back, waving his hands frantically as if signaling a lifeguard. His voice echoes across the hollow mall like a siren. Adam playfully jumps over many decorations and tables as if he is a part of a video game.
"Of course it's not a plan. I made it up," Adam remarks, with a wide grin across his face. "Life is nuts, Seth."
"YOU ARE GOING TO GET US KILLED," Seth runs faster, his voice high-pitched. They enter the food court like panicked video game characters.
"You're not escaping me," EMP utters, her voice menacing and dripping with conviction.
"We're not," Adam dramatically points his finger. "This will be an emotional goodbye." Seth pushes a food tray into the assassin's path. She cartwheels over it, grabbing a flying corn dog mid-spin, and hurls it back. The wooden stick impales itself in Adam's shoulder as the mustard and ketchup dressing stain his suit.
"Ahh!" Adam screams out, clenching his shoulder as ketchup stains the floor like a crime scene.
Seth grimaces. "Adam!"
Waving his hand dramatically, Adam stares off like an over-the-top action hero. "It's just a scratch…I don't know about the same for you."
"Oh really," EMP jerks forward in a burst, before briefly settling in a smooth flow, only to glitch once more. Her distorted fist appears right in front of Adam's face. "How are you going to do that?"
Adam smirks. A fizzy eruption bursts underneath, and the carbonated bubbles explode upwards. Soda soaking EMP head to toe, leaving the floor a wet, cascading sugary mess.
"Really," EMP blinks almost as if reconsidering her life choices. Her body short-circuits across her body, dancing erratically. Her expression falters as the realization hits.
"Now," Adam dramatically raises his hand in the air, signaling Seth. As he scans the food court, Seth spots a huge stack of unused food trays begging for a creative use. He yanks a tray and spins it like a frisbee. The tray clunks loudly against her distorted form, sparks flying out and briefly stunning her.
Swinging his arm, Adam resumes his broadsword, his fingers gripping the hilt tightly. The broad blade gleams in the air as the weight effortlessly cuts through it. EMP raises her hands, her edges pixelating and tearing apart. Her body bends and warps as the blade slices through her.
Her body spasms–one moment solid and fierce, the second stuttering with no rhythm. Each time Adam's strikes land, her body momentarily shifts into shards of light, trying to deflect the blow. Seth joins in on the frenzy, unsheathing his blade.
EMP staggers, her distorted features twisting in momentary confusion. Together, Adam and Seth form an unbreakable pincer. With each time Adam's broadsword hammers down, Seth leads with a quick thrust through the opening.
Seth's strikes are now more controlled, landing with purpose and weight. His slender blade dances like lightning–fast jabs that snake around EMP's defense. Sparks erupt over her body, carving glowing trails that fracture her essence.
Seth's blade meets Adam's in a perfect rhythm–a second heartbeat that the battle depended on. Adam pivots without looking—trusting Seth will fill the gap. Sparks erupt where his strike lands; EMP's gaze flickers to Seth.
"Why you?" EMP screams out, smacking Seth in the face with her backhand. His body snaps, whipping in the opposite direction. Sliding across the floor, he comes to an abrupt stop against the glass guardrail.
What a pain, EMP sneers to herself. She folds the short distance around Adam, a shimmer ripples around her outline as if heat waves are rising off her skin. Her fists snap back to reality with a concussive snap, lasting only a millisecond of each blow.
Her body splits into a rapid–fire sequence of overlapping silhouettes, each throwing a different combination of strikes. By the time Adam lifts his guard, the real hook slams from behind, followed by an uppercut materializing from his shadow.
As she lands with another hook, her body twitches forward—first a blur, then a jagged skip like a corrupted file. Circuits crackle. Adam winks, his boot crunching the empty soda bottle.
Steel howls through the air, each swing flowing into the next like verses of a violent hymn. He leaves with sweeping crescents, darting around like vipers, cracking through her defense.
Each strike pushes EMP further and further back, overwhelmed by the unyielding pressure of Adam's onslaught. A storm of calculation that left no room for retaliation.
"Fortune favors those whose belief stays true," Adam mocks, his boot anchored in churned dust, muscles coiling and releasing with a tireless rhythm. Rolling aside as EMP's system falters, he swallows her with the tide of his strike, his gaze never lingering on the impact. "I don't know about you."
"Shut up," EMP's screams, her voice warping into broken, distorted clicks and warped static. Before she can react, Seth slides beneath her, a shadow slipping between the flickers of her glitching light. A whisper of steel slices through her, disrupting her rhythm.
A sharp jolt snaps EMP's attention back into focus. A warm heat radiated outward, her nerves firing that something was wrong. She looked down at her body, a visible wound present. For a split second, everything slowed.
What the? Her pupils dilated, and a sharp intake of breath caught in the back of her throat. Her mouth parted slightly, almost trying to make a response.
Adam smirks, his fingers curl around the hilt with a fierce determination of iron forged in fire. The hilt was no longer a weapon—an extension of his will, grasping tightly against the chaos.
EMP's eyes widened–she had nothing to phase with. Her body crackled and shuddered like a broken electronic device. She turns her head to see that she is now backed up next to the glass guardrail. Turning her gaze, she sees Adam swinging his broadsword in a powerful, wide arc–he wasn't hesitating.
The blade crashed into her shoulder like a sledgehammer, the weight of the attack pushing her to the ground. Not wasting any time, Adam kicks her in the face, the force pushes EMP off the guardrail. Her body flipped over and fell to the unforgiving floor.
"Oh my god," Seth screams out, shocked by what Adam just did.
EMP's body flails all over the place, trying to phase. Her body crashed onto the unforgiving floor as her neck snapped on the edge of the wishing fountain. Adam's eyes were wide, stunned by the outcome of the battle.
"Is she dead?" Seth questions, peeking his head from the guardrail. He sees EMP's lifeless body lying next to the wishing fountain below. Her arms were cold and lifeless.
Flicking his wrist, Adam throws an empty can at her like a kid would poke a stick at a dead animal. The soda can bounced off her body and landed perfectly on the wishing fountain edge. Adam paces back and forth, trying to comprehend the situation. He takes one more step to look down at the floor below him.
"Yo," Adam screams out, throwing his hands into a sign emphasizing his words. He turns his gaze, looking awkwardly at Seth. "Oh yeah, she's very dead."
Seth looks cautiously at Adam but he breathes a sigh of relief that the enemy is no more. The veil around the mall starts to dissipate as Adam picks a $5 bill from a man's wallet. He carefully places it into the vending machine.
Everyone who was once asleep from the veil rises from the ground with a drowsy motion. The first thing they see from their nice nap is a dead body lying next to the wishing fountain.
The people closest to EMP scream out with fear, taken aback by what they just saw. Adam gives Seth a soda bottle as they start to cautiously leave the premises. They lower their heads, trying not to attract any unnecessary attention.
"Wait, Adam," Seth utters, remembering something crucial. "Your fingerprints were on the soda can that you just threw."
"That means we have to walk faster," Adam coldly says, gripping his soda. They start to pace themselves faster, away from the carnage behind them. The only thing they could hear was the screams of the scared civilians and the dialing of their phones.
Assassin: EMP
Status: Dead
Cause of death: Falling 25 feet to the ground; snapped neck.
The world fell silent as the afternoon hustle faded as the day went on. By early evening, the city had quieted, and the streetlights flickered one by one. The streets were bathed in a golden orange light as they welcomed an unseen breeze.
Tucked deep between the mountains, the American Warden Temple rests quietly, looming overhead the tranquil peaks. Kiara opens her eyes, flicking her wrists in the air. As she catches the spinning dagger in the air, she leans back carefully in her seat.
She watches the sunset drawing beneath the earth as Anby sketches the beautiful scenery around her. Nearby, many recruits huddle closely together, some hands covering their mouths while others look on with wide-eyed curiosity.
"Heard those two fought and killed an assassin," one recruit mutters. "A cannibal of all people."
"That's impossible–there were no other attacks earlier today," another sneers. "A cannibal? What a joke."
Kiara rolls her eyes and lies in her seat as if she were a dying Victorian child.
"I could have gotten ripped in half," Kiara chuckles playfully, despite herself. "That was so scary."
"How could you ever laugh at that?" Anby slowly puts down her notebook, squirming at the thought. "I could lose my appetite imagining myself ripped apart."
"I could imagine myself like one of those old dummies in horror movies," Kiara narrates in a mock-horror tone. Her shoulders and chest rise up and down with the exaggerated panting, "Like my blood and guts spray everywhere on the camera."
"You know he was not joking, right?" Anby comments.
"Oh yeah, he was not joking," Kiara's expression drops, "But if he did." She puts her hands together and mimes yanking her spine. She dramatically screams out in mock pain as she pulls her hands further and further apart.
Anby takes a deep breath, tired of the whole situation. Kiara slowly rises like a vampire from those old vintage films as she notices Adam and Seth walking towards them.
"God damn," Kiara muses, leaning her head on her hand. "What happened to you two?"
"We explored a mall and we got ambushed by an assassin," Seth remarks, playfully pushing aside the dirt on his shoulders. "Nothing too crazy."
"I unceremoniously killed a woman," Adam bluntly utters, almost detached.
"A man tried to skin and eat us," Anby reports, raising her hand as if asking a question. "Kiara kicked him into the open road, and he accidentally got run over."
"Bottom line–we're alive. They're not. Because we're awesome," Adam raises his hand ready for a high five, waggling his fingers like a gameshow host, "Let's take the W– up top." No one moved. The air stayed dead.
Kiara shakes her head, lifting the blade of her hand and drawing it across her throat to cut Adam off. Seth puts his hands around his hips as Anby's gaze draws back to her sketchbook. The wind rattles a loose shutter.
"Too soon?" Adam quietly mutters.
"Too soon," Kiara deadpans. Adam lets out a defeated sigh as he and Seth sit right next to Anby and Kiara.
Meanwhile, Zhang watches quietly inside his barracks–the dim light casting long shadows. His expression is calm and unmoving, yet something pressed against him.
"They've barely escaped with their lives," Zhang says quietly to himself. "Yet they're treating this like a game."
"Let them have their moment," the Arbiter comments, reclining in a wooden chair. "They're only kids after all. They don't understand that the world doesn't give second chances."
"Was it just luck?" Zhang's tone drops, filled with doubt and reluctant hope.
"That's for you to decide," the Arbiter utters, looking over the reports and newsletters around the world. "Shape them to the generation we need to maintain the balance."
"I need them to respect me first," Zhang cuts back, raising his hands in the air in frustration. "I can't do that with Adam's reckless antics and Kiara's unpredictable nature–they're both difficult to control."
"Their antics are weaknesses that will get them–and you—killed if left unchecked," the Arbiter's gaze sharpens, folding the napkin steeple-like. "You're their superior. Do not mistake respect for friendship."
"Of course I'm not," Zhang presses his lips together.
"Lose your edge and the boogeyman comes out of the children's closets," the Arbiter's words lower, heavy with warning. He meets Zhang's eyes steadily and unyielding. "One misstep and you become the very thing you swore to destroy. Poetic, really."
Zhang exhales, the weight of responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. He looks over his shoulder, a dark shadow looming over his face. "I understand very well."
Lowering his head, the Arbiter's expression drops as he puts his hands together. As the bells of time echo through the temple, the hours drip by like honey, slow and sweet. It falls into an eerie silence as the recruits make their way to their barracks.
Neon lights glaze the rain-slick streets, flashing like shards of glass. Pedestrians surge across the sidewalks–couples walking down lovingly and delivery cyclists balanced on a knife edge between haste and collision.
In the heartbeat, the neon lights dim to reveal a tall figure walking to a large, inconspicuous building. His steps send ripples through the puddles, staining the floor.
Thomas casually walks into the headquarters with a cold professionalism. His black coat billowed around him, slicing through the air like an unseen current. The secretary's gaze darts, and the donut in his mouth falls out, slapping the desk.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Thomas' detached gaze locks with the secretary.
"Can I help you, sir?" the secretary mutters, reaching for his weapon underneath the desk. "Y-you need clearance."
Thomas narrows his eyes, unamused by the secretary. "I have it. Ten claws worth." Opening his gauntlet, he uses the sharp edges to grab and twist the man's shoulder.
Cartilage pops.
The assassin rotates the sharp claws of his gauntlet as the secretary winces in pain. His arm twisted far with surgical precision.
"I want the gate key," Thomas warns, his tone icy and professional. "Open the gate to the warden temple."
Holding the man captive, Thomas digs his claws deeper into the man's shoulder as the secretary inserts the key into the elevator panel. A multi color portal appears instead of the cabin, blowing against Thomas with its intense speed.
"We have powerful wardens, assassin. You won't get away with this," the secretary warns, trying to show a sense of pride. "Whatever you are planning, it won't—"
Thomas's hand sizzles and bubbles, radiating a toxic bright green color. He lets out an annoyed, bored sigh, melting the man's arm off. The man screams out in pain as Thomas effortlessly grabs him by the face.
"No more talking," Thomas calmly warns, his gauntlet starting to sizzle and burn. The man squirms around violently before his flailing arms fall down lifeless and stiff. The man falls onto the ground like a discarded toy as Thomas looks on with an unamused, disconnected expression.
"He probably was a good man," Thomas nonchalantly mutters, entering the portal. In a blinding white flash, he opens his eyes. He is met with the serene beauty of the temple—crickets stitch an unseen rhythm into the hush while the moonlight bathes every surface in its soft glow.
In the ringing silence, the shadows sculpt fresh architecture, pooling thickly at the foot of marble stone. Thomas' gaze narrows as he carefully walks in the sacred grounds around.