Chương 110: 7.12 No Return without Receipt or Label

2104: 04: 16: 11: 54: 50 Barring Enmon's cringe-inducing line – even his teammates groaned at it – the real plan was, in essence, similar to that time I participated in the heroes' attack against the Jannacht, except more. Prince Enmon's role was obviously field command, using his powers to instruct everyone as much as he could on their next action during the battle, and so hopefully lead us to total victory. Armamentarium would stay outside with Prince Enmon and the real Mauvist.

Arma would make and give specific weapons per Enmon's instruction to the Mauvist clones, which the purple ex-villain would continuously send into the battlefield. Their target was primarily taking out the henchies and drones, and after aid anyone needing backup. Blade Eater, Doombell, Crowsong and Antrustion were to target the Rajaparang's divine twins, hoping for a quick knockout strike against the semi-unknown variables.

As long as there was no distance for Lugal to teleport away and use his ranged weapons, the fight would resolve itself solely to close-quarters. With three masters specialized in precisely that, Antrustion sniping at them with his caster abilities and Doombell disorienting them, it was one fight that would hopefully wrap up quickly. Mantellan, Aetherna and I were set to target Blazin and Blazin alone.

Mantellan and Aetherna would cast whatever spells they had prepared while I would bomb him with a charged anti-gravity blast. A three-way bombardment might look excessive, but the fear was that upon hearing the slightest sound of an attack, Blazin would immediately create a fire and try to expand it. Since the man's control over and perception through his flames were absolute, enclosed spaces were his forte.

If allowed to do as he pleased, the Motorgang head could blanket the entire building in his fire and set it to only harm the Sentinels, basically winning the fight single-handedly. And even if that didn't succeed due to, say, countermeasures provided by Mantellan and Aetherna, Blazin could still use the fire and smoke to obscure his comrades from our sight, allowing them all to escape and us to leave empty-handed. So no, it wasn't excessive in the slightest.

Which left Rhennish, March and Changelinger with the unenviable task of tackling every other masked: Chroming Hand, Dieselpriest, Deathride, Husk Carl and Kinetic Drive. A daunting task, and one that they hopefully wouldn't have to tackle by themselves for long. Enmon's power informed him that this and the other plans he kept in his back pocket were, in order of priority: the safest, quickest, and most decisive way for us to win this battle.

In the ideal scenario, my group would capture Blazin in a single attack while Mauvist – who'd already called a dozen clones armed with a wide variety of stun guns, tazers, beanbag rounds, netguns and even an anti-material rifle – would likewise swiftly take care of the henchies and drones. From there we'd support Rhennish's group first, and Crowsong's group second. And just like that, the whole fight could wrap up in under a minute without casualties or much in the way of bloodshed.

Enmon also warned us what each of us could've guessed: that it wasn't likely to turn out that way. Everyone knew, and even my own comparatively limited personal experience confirmed, that everything after the first few seconds in battle would inevitably default to improvisation. An improvisation informed by training, experience and guidance from Enmon, sure; but improvisation nevertheless. But there was nothing that could be done about that, and so everyone took their positions.

My group above, aiming to enter by blowing through the skylights; Crowsong's breaching a hole through the wall on the east side, courtesy of a powered knife from Blade Eater's arsenal; Rhennish's group going through the backdoor; and lastly Mauvist's clones entering from all sides, though primarily from reception at the front.

"Okay. Front and back, start moving in," Enmon ordered. While the meeting center wasn't overly large, there was still a reception hall and a storage in the back, so they needed to move in first. Not stealthily though; I could already hear the sounds they made alarming those inside. While Motorgang hadn't stationed anyone at the back and front to prevent us from sneaking in, it would be highly unlikely they hadn't at least set up a tripwire laser or something.

As for why Motorgang hadn't stationed anyone there, likely for the same reason they hadn't place a watch on top of the building: they might get spotted by the cars passing by outside, or the rare drone (or hero) flying overhead. I thought the cars and bikes would likely betray their presence either way, but it wasn't like theirs were the only vehicles in the lot. People working nearby used the space for free parking, or so I figured at least.

Either way, Mauvist and Rhennish group ahead of us until Enmon, "Everyone else: go in now!" gave us the signal. With only a quick sidelong glance and a nod at Mantellan and Aetherna, I jumped, shifted into the anti-grav drone and crashed my metal body through the glass ceiling while pre-charging my gravity bomb. In that split second as I fall, I saw the battlefield had begun to move.

Stars growing red as Motorgang drones charged their payload and got ready to release concentrated heat; gun steel flashing in the lamplight as henchies raised and pointed them at the front door; Mauvist bursting through the building's seams, ready to unload whatever weapon they had on hand; and dozens of glowing lights from masked getting ready to unleash their powers. Twisting barely-responsive rotors and turning those few wings still functional, I turned my drone and made to aim for Blazin.

An odd sense of instructive revelation guided me through the motions, pointing out invisible tells on where Blazin was, which way he'd be going, and how I needed to catch him regardless; Enmon's power helping me to home in on my target. And home in I did, firing less than a tenth of a second after. A purple ball of energy hurtled downward at an angle through the air, hitting the ground at Blazin's feet right as he took his first step.

And as the recoil threw me back and spun me around, I witnessed complete pandemonium being unleashed. Muzzles flashed as bullets and red beams struck the Mauvist clones. Half a dozen replicas vanished in purple smoke instantly while the remainder's weapons barked, sparked with electricity, fired nets and beanbags and whatever else they carried.

Chrome-colored beams and a wave of black sludge clashed against Rhennish hydro-beam in a struggle for dominance while three white-blue ghostly ball of light erupted from the death-masked Deathride's staff struck the floor, racing low across the ground to hit Rhennish's group. Rhennish, March, and Changelinger vanished as said light struck, revealing them to be a glamour from Changelinger.

Two zombie-looking ghostly apparitions in power armor looking like Dark Age mercenaries sprang from March's ringing of the bells, heading for Kinetic Drive and Husk Carl, the former's counterattacks doing nothing against the spectral beings while the latter had already gotten his brains blown out by the Mauvist with the anti-material rifle.

The four bladewielding Sentinels were rushing towards the divine twins, Blade Eater parrying an arrow from Lugal's bow in a shower of hail (for whatever reason) as Crowsong and Meslam locked blades. Doombell conjured up her signature bell and struck it, hoping to disable the Rajaparang in a concentrated version of her dizzying alter effect before engaging herself. Near Blazin's floating form a fire had already come into existing, alighting the trail laid by Dieselpriest's power as it clashed with Rhennish's.

Yet before that trail could blossom into an inferno, Mantellan's spell struck and froze it in time, sacrificing (what else) a pocket watch to do so. Aetherna's seven white rings glowed and released a follow-up to target Dieselpriest, aiming to capture him in a single go. It was a battlefield impossible for me to comprehend, let alone navigate. Fortunately, I had help. As I clattered to the floor and briefly shifted back to base, "Jester! Seven o'clock rope!" Enmon said, his timing perfect.

Without a second's hesitation, I leaped and became a sparrow, turned the desired angle, then quick-shifted into the rope drone. I saw Deathride stand there in her death mask and funerary robes, raising a many-pronged metal rod into the air as a grand aura of deathly-pale blue-and-white intensified its flow. Naturally I blasted her, the rope coiling around her without issue, dimming the aura as it interrupted her spellcasting. I shifted back to base, "-follow the water trail!"

right on time to hear a second set of instructions from Enmon. I quickly locked in on the remnants of Rhennish's hydro-blasts and shifted into water. Ghosting along the trail, hidden from sight, I was interrupted by a boot stepping into the puddle. Figuring that to be a sign, I shifted back. Right in front of me was a henchie, eyes wide in shock behind his balaclava as I appeared right in front of his face.

Without further ado, I clocked him right on the jaw and "-Jester-" quick-shifted to the rope drone, fired and shifted back just in time to hear, "-Deathride's free!" I whirled around to look at the villain. While my rope had briefly restrained her, it'd 'died' not long after. Though from what – Kinetic Drive? Lugal's arrow? A Hexkey drone or maybe the villain's own powers? – I couldn't tell, but the villain looked worse for wear by whatever did it.

Her white robes were torn to pieces in places, and her side was painted red with blood. Either way, the villain was building up her glow again, and from the looks of it was nearly done. I rapidly shifted into a cat and dashed to interrupt her spell but, though hurt, the villain was able to finish her casting.

Deathride struck the floor with the butt of her scepter, her aura turning in on itself and vanishing for a split second before a deluge of blue-white flames erupted out of her, quickly crawling along the floor to flood the entire battlefield in its ghastly glow. I tried to leap over the spectral wave, but it reached out to me like it had a mind of its own, striking me. Rather than setting me aflame, I was forcibly shifted out of cat form in midair, sending me plummeting. Did you know this story is from Royal Road?

Read the official version for free and support the author. My metal mask scraped the stone floor as I fell flat on my face, nose and cheeks smushing painfully against the metal. Carried over momentum from my cattish leap meant I skidded along, my face and mask turning an unwilling skateboard, hurting my neck for good measure.

"-Aetherna, the flames!" Enmon yelled.

"Mantellan on Dieselpriest! Doombell, hit-!" Instinct or Enmon's powered guidance (if that was indeed how it worked) told me to roll over on my back. I obeyed and managed to narrowly dodge the top of Deathride's staff striking where I'd just been, white sparks erupting from the clash. The familiar crack of Kinetic Drive's railgunned ball bearings echoed through the room and, "Agh!" Doombell cried out in pain – agony, even. Yet despite that, she still managed to hit her summoned gong for the second time.

Deathride wasn't done however. She made to strike, but a quick shift into a cat – my powers still worked, thank God – meant it hit the floor again. Yet rather than sparks, another, albeit much smaller wave of white fire leaped from the point of impact, grabbing ahold of my cat form and forcibly turning me human again.

"-can't hold the fire for-!" Aetherna said over the comms. Disoriented by the forceful depowerment, I had only a second to obey Enmon's powered guidance telling me to cross my arms and capture the next blow on my arms.

"Lugal and Meslam down!" Antrustion said, followed by Enmon ordering, "Get Dieselpriest!" Deathride's strike hurt only a little, but while the pain itself was nothing I felt my superpowered strength being drained. Deathride, using her weight and superior position, leaned against her staff to force further contact between the staff and my body, the many branches springing from its sides hooking my arms.

A beam of chrome-silver briefly flew overhead behind Deathride, only for a white pin-stripe thin one to answer it in rebuke.

"Chroming Hand's done!" Blade Eater said, laughing. Deathride had made a mistake, however. She was clearly not experienced with using her staff as an actual weapon, as the hook gave me the exact thing I needed: grip. I flexed every muscle my body possessed and twisted to the side. Hooked as I was, the weapon became like a lever with me on the operating end.

"Got Dieselpriest!" Crowsong shouted through the comms. With barely an effort, I threw Deathride's scepter off me. She backed off to create some distance between us, but I shifted into a cat again and raced that final length toward Deathride, the sound of a gong striking for the third time as I did. Deathride tried to strike me with her staff again, and while I could have dodged and weaved it with ease, that same guidance from before told me to jump on the staff instead.

Scepter struck floor and a fiery tornado briefly sprang into existence around Deathride and, by extension, myself. The villain's other hand made to grab me by the scruff of my neck, but a quick swipe of my claws warded off the effort just long enough for my next move. I braced, aimed, then jumped diagonally through her legs to wind up behind her. Before she could turn, I quickly shifted from cat to base-"-hostages-!" -and right into gorilla.

With dismissive ease I ripped the rod out of Deathride's hand and threw it away. She tried to dodge, but it was too late; I'd already placed her firmly in my grip. Wait, hostages? Was that advice aimed at- The sound of glass shattering was followed by an explosive whooshing filling the battlefield, sounding like a hurricane being forced through a skyscraper-lined straight-and-narrow road.

The room was bathed in an orange glow, then just as quickly turned red as a blast of heat singed a few hairs on my gorilla hide – but notably, nothing more. Instinctively I pressed Deathride into my chest and held her close, though exactly for whose protection I didn't know. Then came the flames proper. Red, angry and roaring, it swallowed everything in its wake, obscuring everything and everyone around me.

It wasn't unlike the other two times I'd seen Blazin use his power, but there was difference too: no thick black smog nor heat intense enough to melt steel. But still, there was a weight to it, a sense of menace threatening that, in less than a second, it could become all those things – to devastating consequence.

"Clever, clever," Blazin's joyful voice echoed through- no, with the inferno.

"But not clever enough!" This time it had a real bite to it, before levity returned just as quick.

"Were you invited to this party? Tut, tut; I expected better from my friends – both old and new." The room sighed, flames brightening to orange.

"But! It is my fault for not expecting it. So, go on. Have a seat." The flames became less encompassing at the villain's command, crawling away from all the people in the room to settle on the edges, in the rafters, on the walls and floor. With the fire obscuring all features of the room but the people, it was like we were in a different world entire, an elemental plane of strangely room-temperature flame with twenty-seven individuals its sole inhabitants.

The only thing other than the masked and henchies still visible was the large, rectangular table with chairs on opposite ends. Nobody moved to obey Blazin's orders as despite the otherworldly scene and show of force, it revealed the very real circumstances of our battle. Barring Blazin, who was nowhere to be seen, all the other villains and henchies were down and captured. Four Mauvist clones guarded the henchies and the flailing, headless form of Husk Carl.

March had Kinetic Drive held by her two power-armored soldiers, the villain slack and seemingly unconscious in their grip. Dieselpriest was wrapped in Crowsong's war-cloak, my mentor's blades poised (and itching) at his neck for a literal decapitating strike. Chroming Hand cradled a pierced knee in agony while a panting Blade Eater hovered over him, his pure white rapier a sword of Damocles.

Lugal and Meslam's bloodied forms were stacked one on top of the other and sat upon by a wounded Antrustion, though he kept his blade ready. And of course, Deathride was caught in my gorilla-powered bear hug. For our side, Doombell lay wounded on the ground, clutching her right side where, I presumed, Kinetic Drive had clipped her with her railgun. Changelinger was caught in Dieselpriest's black flammable muck, though thankfully unhurt at not set alight.

Rhennish's legs and right arm were transmogrified into chrome by Chroming Hand – a thankfully temporary effect since his skin hadn't been hit dead-on. Mantellan and Aetherna were likewise on the floor, the former groaning and clutching his head while the latter looked drained – as did her normally-sparkling enchanted jewelry, perhaps sapped by Deathride. Overall I'd call the operation a great success, if it weren't for the fact that Mantellan, Aetherna and I had failed in disabling Blazin.

"I said: have a seat!" The flames flared in intensity with Blazin's words. I felt the bottom of my feet itch with the heat. But again, nobody moved. We were stuck in a stalemate; either side could kill the other near-instantly.

"No negations? Not even an attempt?" The heat burrowed deeper, the pain sending cold sweat pouring out. From the yelps, groans and cries of all the other Sentinels, it was clear they were experiencing the same thing, though the villains were just as clearly not. Blazin laughed at the scene and threatened, "You really believe I cannot, will not burn every single one of you Sentinels alive right now?"

"You do that and we kill every villain here," Rhennish, despite being downed, threatened in a shockingly cold, clinical voice – not sounding Rhennish at all. He could be authoritative when he needed to be, true; but never cold. What was going on?

"You die either way," Blazin promised with murderous cheer.

"All of you will. Oooo, you think I won't? You daring me? Daring. Me?" I might not like negotiating with villains, but even I knew we were in a bad spot, and I'd rather not have the standoff resolve in some sort of twisted, impromptu murder-suicide pact.

"Do it then," Rhennish said.

"Do it, and your gang will die. And you'll be joining them not long after." Silence reigned for a moment, the only sound the gentle flickering of flames. Then that gentle sound grew stronger as Blazin's breathing grew rapid, the inferno following him. The breeze turned to mild gusts as the flames turned brighter while keeping the color to the same red. Black smoke began to materialize as an odd creaking, groaning, straining noise emerged from all sides. Yet still the winds remained gentle.

There was an almost hyperventilating movement to it, a quaking and expanding-contracting of the flames as if barely holding back its rage. Temperatures continued to increase, eyes grew dryer by the second, but as of yet no-one burned. Then came a tipping point, one reached as something broke outside of our encasement in Blazin's false elemental plane. The low groaning of the surrounding building became a tearing, screeching and a deafening roar.

The shallow-breath gusts transformed instantly into hurricane-level winds as the building tore itself apart under the strain, air rushing in to fuel Blazin's demand for more, more, more! For the briefest moment the sun appeared, but was soon swallowed by Blazin's fire along with everything else. A fire thick and rapidly becoming brighter, becoming hotter, becoming louder, becoming blue.

The familiar whine of the city's shield settling in was audible for only a second until the pressure of his flames became too much, shattering the forcefield like glass. The flames exploded upward and outward, slagging what remained of the building, the parking lot, the cars and motorcycles; everything but the road where the civilians in their cars all pressed their brakes in panic.

Most were only barely prevented from crashing into each other by smart systems interfacing with one another, but a few unlucky ones hit the curb too hard, or struck a tree, lamppost or stoplight. Stark bright pillars of roaring blue flames remained, reaching and reaching up to sky to get its due from God, fate, destiny, stars, sun and moon, or whatever else was out there Blazin believed was denying him his due.

"Oh, accursed ye, spiteful morality!" Blazin cursed.

"What do the youth always say? Born in the wrong era, I was – or something akin. That dream of men, of Man; the need to conquer, to rule, to empireize something of my own; denied to me by the ill timing of my birth!" The pillars gradually lowered, becoming first that blue of before, then yellow, then simple red before becoming that deep, unnatural red of Blazin in absolute control.

"What sorry lot I've bean dealt." From one of these patches, Blazin stepped.

"All I wished was a city of my own; is that too much to ask?" Blazin raised his flame-pattern bandana and spat napalm to the already-slagged asphalt. He turned not to Rhennish, but to Enmon standing unperturbed on his untouched patch of parking lot.

"Now then, Prince, I already know what you want – or what Mantellan wants, eh? The old relic. Or what Rhennish, or what all of you miserable, pathetic Sentinel has-beens want; what all y'all have always wanted!" He laughed the laugh of the mad, trailing off into a sad one slowly.

"So again, here is my offer to you: me, in exchange for everyone else."

"You and the twins," Enmon countered.

"And Dieselpriest," Crowsong said coolly. But from looking at her, I saw her blades locked in too tight a grip, and her posture screamed a tenseness counter to her tone.

"Don't," Blazin snarled, pointing a finger at my mentor as the fires blazed blue for a quick second, calming down just as fast.

"Don't push your luck just because of some yesteryear's petty revenge." Even from ten meters away I saw Amber's chest rise and fall in repressed anger. She clearly didn't want to let go. Yet, in the end, what choice was there? The situation was precarious enough already. She symbolically retracted her blades. Blazin turned back to Enmon.

"Deal." From underneath Antrustion, "You dare- agh!" the less-bloodied of the two Rajaparang masked tried to complain, only for a nearby patch of fire to brighten and snake its way up to them, kissing his skin with a fiery whip-stroke.

"Shut the fuck up," Blazin said coldly.

"You think I'm fucking stupid? That I don't know why you're here, what Rajaparang wants, huh?!" A gesture and the fires lashed again, eliciting another cry from whom I believed was Lugal.

"Don't act like this," he pointed to himself and them, "could end any other way. Shut your mouth before you become something worse than a tax write-off." The masked wisely kept their mouths shut. Enmon gazed at Rhennish. Whether or not anything was said over the comms I couldn't say, but eventually Rhennish nodded.

"Let them go." I hesitated for a second, fearing that Blazin would simply turn around and betray the deal the moment we let go of our leverage. But ultimately, as everyone else slowly obeyed the order, there was little else to do than trust in Rhennish and Enmon. I released Deathride who, after some annoyed grumblings and picking up her scepter, joined the rest of Motorgang's masked and henchies. They walked away, their wounded carried between them.

Then they began running once they realized that Blazin had burned their bikes into oblivion, and the heroes were undoubtedly on their way here. Blazin himself stood stock still, ready to strike in the off chance that we would break the deal and start hunting his people down. Then, when they were deemed safely out of reach, he relaxed, sat down on the ground with arms crossed, looking a lot like a child who'd just gotten his toys snatched away. X The aftermath took near-twenty times as long as the battle itself.

The Wardens and Guardians came in and wanted their piece, then Charm's DLE arrived not even a minute after and we had to tell them our story as well. Then we returned to Sentinels HQ and got to discussing events internally as well. It wasn't until 19: 00 that I finally came home, and as Mom greeted me with a, "There's my hero!" and a crushing bear hug, I knew I had to give my story one last time. Which I did over dinner, sparing no detail.

"You know, you don't sound enthused," Mom said between bites of chicken parm. I rolled my eyes.

"I've already told the story like, four times." She waved it off.

"Not that – I meant the results." I sighed.

"I mean, we barely caught anyone. All that effort we went through to catch them and we just let them leave? It's frustrating in a depressed sort of way."

"But you got Blazin," Mom said, confused.

"Don't you know how big of a deal that is? He's been with Motorgang since before we came to Charm!" She took a quick bite of her dinner.

"It's- well, it was all but impossible to capture one of Motorgang's masked whenever he was there. It only happened, like, a handful of times in what? Three decades?" I idly poked the chicken with my fork.

"Well, we didn't succeed either."

"I think Lugal and Meslam count in this instance," Mom countered.

"I know, I know. It's just…" I let the silence hang for a second, thinking.

"I guess it all just feels like a mess. I mean, I barely, barely had an idea of what was going on the entire fight." I let out a huff in frustration.

"Like, Mantellan got knocked unconscious, Rhennish got chromed, Doombell got shot, Changelinger had some nasty burns at the end of it – and I didn't even notice!"

"It was thirteen against nine; of course things got confusing," Mom argued back.

"Yeah, but when compared to, like, that Jannacht strike we did together it feels so… I don't know. Disappointing? A waste of time?" Mom shrugged.

"We needed to have two augurs and a master to coordinate all that, and even then, we all had team heads and outnumbered the villains nearly two-to-one in total. The group fights were also smaller, and in general the Wardens and Guardians have plenty of unpowered support, equipment, information, etcetera. I don't think its right to compare."

"I guess," I said sullenly.

"I'd just expected… well, more." More what, exactly? More villains captured? Three in a single fight wasn't nothing, even if two of them were out-of-towners. More damage dealt against Motorgang? Blazin had been Motorgang's leader for over two decades, we cut off their connection with Rajaparang, and since Dead Hive's integration was fairly new Motorgang might split or even cease to exist. What more could I want? Dieselpriest?

Even Amber, however begrudgingly, had accepted that outcome in the end – and she was the one with the personal beef! What right did I really have to complain about? That the battle was messy and out of my control? That it felt like I barely had any impact? Was I that egotistical?

"You did a good thing, Sam. A very good thing," Mom said.

"You should be proud of yourself – I certainly am." She took a sip of her wine. I blushed a little, uncomfortable at the praise. Still, I knew she was right, and the words did settle something in me. Enough so that after dinner ended and I got to texting and calling with my friends, I could share in their congratulations more genuinely.