I Wish You Were Never Reborn

Tyvan Valorum relaxed in the passenger seat, his post-meal euphoria only marginally detracted by Rook’s erratic driving.

It was a welcome coincidence that Briar Rose prepared a number of Lizard Burger combination meals just before their foray.

It was odd, though, that she implied that three orders of the ‘special’ were for him. He only ate two, with Rook and Bishop having one-and-a-half, each.

Tyvan checked the visor mirror to ensure his attire remained presentable and free of stains. Perfect, as usual.

Rook switched gears, his truck bounding up and past angry shouts in Mandarin. Then, he adjusted his dark, wide-brimmed hat before saying, “Y’all better hold on!”

Fair advice. Tyvan secured himself via the handle above the door.

And so, Rook’s pickup truck smashed through the low brick wall and the recently-installed windows of what appeared to be an in-construction supermarket.

Tyvan unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out, facing an assemblage of assumedly Arrow Group ruffians. They stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at their extravagant entrance.

Tyvan activated his ⌈Time Lock⌋ spell.

The hood of Rook’s truck had received only a few superficial scratches. It had a most resilient design.

There were less than a dozen humans in the immediate vicinity. No obvious weaponry. Concealed, perhaps? But apart from one, the few wearing suits sorely needed custom-fitting.

If the situation did prove precarious, the truck remained viable as a means of retreat. Tyvan highly doubted that would be necessary, though.

Rook stood next to the driver-side door in a proper suit, a black bandana over his nose and mouth, and a black, felt ‘cowboy’ hat. He wielded a pair of short axes in either hand that could potentially dissuade their targets from open aggression.

Bishop had posted atop the truck’s roof, sitting relaxedly with crossed legs. He, too, wore a dark suit with protective enchantments lined into the fabric. He’d forgone his dark sunglasses in favor of a simple cloth bandana that hid his eyes and facial features.

Amongst the crowd, Tyvan identified only one potential threat. He recognised him: a Mister Kuen Luo, wearing a smart and fashionable grey suit and an incredulous expression.

And... following his gaze led to a grisly sight.

Rook’s reckless driving had inflicted a casualty, an unconscious young man who suffered two broken legs. That person felt familiar, but the bloody mop of hair and the broken teeth made it difficult to discern their identity.

No matter.

As the duration of ⌈Time Lock⌋ expired, Tyvan raised his arms in a convivial manner.

--but Mister Luo’s concerns outweighed his decorum.

“You just RAN OVER the YOUNG MASTER!!”

“Awesome!” Bishop laughed, “Boss, Rook and I are one and one!”

Tyvan wasn’t quite sure as to what he was referencing.

“Hold on now,” Rook kept his body facing the Arrow Group’s thugs, but he shot Bishop a sidelong glare. “He’ll be alright. He’s still breathin’, ain’t he?”

“You Westerners are INSANE!!” Luo yelled.

Tyvan had no proper response to that, so he went on with his prepared speech:

“Gentlemen! There are rules in our fair city of Archangel. Those who flaunt or break those rules must be dealt with in a succinct and appropriate fashion.”

Despite the confusion that swept through his ranks, Luo gnashed his teeth, taking his time to deliberate a response. Finally, he jut out his chest, standing proud.

“We haven’t broken any of your rules, sir. Everything here’s legal.”

Polite enough. Tyvan took no issue with that.

However, it was a weak, flimsy declaration, contrary to the confidence behind it. A mere look at the circumstances, so many capable fighters loitering in an abandoned site after-hours suggested something between misconduct and depravity.

“The rules of the surface world have limitations,” Tyvan said. “The rules of ❴The Kingdom❵, however, govern the various factions in Archangel. Your pills, Mister Luo, have become a gross concern to the powers that be.”

“You-- you can’t outlaw pill creation, Westerner!” Luo said, “Our sect has been making pills for centuries!”

His cries ignited the spirits of his hesitant warriors. They stretched their muscles, lowered their bodies, and glared with undisguised hostility.

Rook and his bestial instincts-- that fellow had adopted a grin in anticipation of so much blood to be spilled.

Tyvan glanced over, giving him a minute head-shake of disapproval before continuing.

“The problem, Mister Luo, is that one or more pills produced by your organisation have found their way to the public sector.”

Luo winced, his posture straightening subconsciously. “That...”

“There were incidents, gentle sir,” Tyvan said, “from something I believe your people call a burst pill. What say you?”

“Baseless accusations,” Luo growled, “and it seems you don’t know how pills work, Westerner. You need a cauldron to make a pill. This is a construction site. The mixers outside are used to make cement. Or does your kingdom claim those are illegal, too?”

Tyvan’s gaze swept the insides of the empty building.

Boxes of junk. Construction tools and bags of material leaking sand and gravel.

It certainly didn’t look like a sterilised environment appropriate for conjuring medicine.

But further scrutiny of their surroundings was appropriate, especially for what laid beyond the room dividers on the far--

One of those dividers toppled over, revealing...

Yan Xue?

She held a suspicious-looking clay pot over her head. In her opposite hand, she held a pair of scissors. An odd length of rope was spilling down her person, coiling at her feet.

“Found one!” she yelled.

A cauldron-- how convenient. But why in the seven hells was that young woman present, at all?

Bah.

Tyvan gestured forward, “Break them.”

Still atop the truck roof, Bishop stood up to his full, intimidating height. With a sweeping kick, the distant room dividers broke apart, decimating them and everything behind.

Yan Xue screamed and ducked down-- which was ludicrous because the attack was well away from where she stood.

At the same time, Luo began barking orders in Mandarin.

Rook stepped up to face him.

“You might wanna rethink that,” he said. “You really gon’ risk it for the biscuit?”

Luo engaged with a flurry of punches and kicks, putting Rook on the defensive with his handaxes. That fellow was wholeheartedly risking his well-being on behalf of a metaphorical, round, and flat sweet cake.

Bishop somersaulted into the fray, towering over his opponents. His unique magic extended his already overencompassing natural reach, allowing him to deliver swift, debilitating chops to the throats of Luo’s minions.

Tyvan grabbed the upper arm of a larger fellow rushing toward Rook. He swung him around, dropped him to the rough foundation, and wrenched their arm with the full rotation of his body.

He retrieved his pistol from the inside of his coat, pointing it at the doors.

“No, wait!!” Luo shouted.

More men burst through the doors-- men carrying weapons.

Three pistols at first glance. One rifle.

Tyvan clicked off the safety.

He pulled the trigger.

He fired thrice more in quick succession.

More were on the way. He felt the pounding of their distant footsteps through the floor.

“Rook!” he yelled aside.

“I’ll get her!” he shouted back.

Shay took cover behind the thickest, boxiest pill forge.

Her hands couldn’t stop shaking. She wiped her blurry vision with her wrist, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Everything was her fault!

She just-- she just wanted to look around.

But-- but gunshots.

Tyvan had arrived-- but so had people with guns.

She held her gardening shears tightly in her hands. It wasn’t useful for anything, but it held the tiniest spark of hope that she desperately needed to hold onto.

And then... a savior arrived?

A... cowboy with a black bandana over his mouth ran her way, sliding to cover right next to her.

The genre had changed again!

He pulled down his face cover, revealing an angular face with an honest grin.

And he was... pretty? Cowboys were supposed to be rugged. Pass.

“Howdy,” he said. “Name’s Rook. Ain’t got much time for pleasantries.”

Blue eyes.

Shay found her voice stuck in her throat, so she just nodded hurriedly.

Those blue, piercing eyes didn’t calm her down at all.

Rook stood up, throwing something heavy that cut through the air.

Someone screamed-- a blood-filled, bloodcurdling scream.

So many people were screaming. And so many screams were being cut ominously short.

Shay curled up, pulling her knees in. She closed her eyes. She covered her ears.

She didn’t know what to do.

Just how badly did she fuck everything up?!

Rook took one hand away from her ear, “Stay with me now.”

He pointed over to the side door-- the door she used to come in.

“On my signal, I’mma need you to book it to right over there. You gotta stay low. Crawl if ya have to.”

Shay shook her head. She couldn’t feel her legs-- she’d have to crawl like a slug in order to get anywhere!

Rook chuckled like there weren’t literal bullets bouncing off the walls.

“Ain’t no helpin’ it then.”

He looked up and he yelled, “CovER ME!!”

Shay screamed again as a series of explosive bursts shattered all the remaining pill forges.

Rook was carrying her in his arms.

He was moving.

Gunshots.

Explosions.

Desperate shouts in Mandarin.

And... laughter.

Who was laughing?

Why was he laughing?

Rook placed her down in the dark side-room.

“Hey. You’re okay,” he said. “All in one piece.”

Shay tried to calm her beating heart.

The gunshots had stopped.

Why did they stop?