The Hunter

Chapter 12 - Inner Tormoil

Slowly John came to his senses.

Where am I?

All he could see was black. At first he thought he was blindfolded but he felt nothing around his head. In fact, he didn’t feel anything. No ground….

No arms?

No legs?

The cold prickly feel of fear started to creep down his throat and into his chest.

Suddenly he was in a hallway. Light flickered ahead of him where the hallway curved upward. He turned the other way to find a wall of solid black stone.

Where is this place? How did I get here? And what happened to Godboy?

John felt a brush against his cheek and the soft sound of wind. He shuddered.

I won’t find anything just standing here. Come on John. Pick up your legs.

Shaking himself, he started forward. John didn’t know if it was the flickering light or the corridor itself but the walls waved as if he were drugged. It was disorienting enough to make him stumble.

Closing his eyes he gripped his head and steadied himself with his other hand against the closest wall. When he opened his eyes, he was in a different room.

The first thing he noticed was the twenty or so pillars of white spiraling marble that spanned upward. Tilting his head up, he saw that the pillars continued on into the void above. Taking a hesitant step forward, John saw flags in between each pillar to either side of him. The flags had different symbols and none of them repeated.

Other nations?

Above each flag was another flag, and then another, and another…until it was lost to the void above him. There must have been thousands, maybe even millions of flags.

What in the seven sins is…

He turned his head sharply to the door ahead. John hadn’t noticed the door before and he swore it hadn’t been there before.

Voices?

Warily he turned to look over his shoulder. To no surprise it was a stone wall.

Shrugging, he walked to the door.

It led to a balcony. Beyond the balcony was the void and there wasn’t a soul to be seen. But he still heard the voices. Curiosity getting the best of him, he walked as quietly to the rail as possible. When he looked down, he felt a cat dieing somewhere.

That’s… that’s impossible.

Below him was himself… talking to himself.

The two of him were in a room below, suspended in the void like an island. An iron fire pit was carved into the center of the room and the two John’s were at facing each other, the fire pit in between.

The first self was dressed in the finest of silks. Blacker than the void around them, the silks seemed alive. Occasionally a blood red tint could be seen.

And he had to admit, he looked good.

His other self was on his knees, growling. All he wore were plain white pants. Immediately John noticed the scars on the kneeling man, scars that he recognized as being healed long, long ago since his first Awakening. The two bracelets on his wrists were forcing him to his knees.

John unconsciously touched the bracelets he had almost forgotten about. Sikes had given them to him. They were designed to leech off all the excess spirit he produced. After the fifth Awakening, he started having trouble controlling his power. By the sixth one, he had found Sikes who had designed a bracelet to help him. And then the seventh one came and he had to get another bracelet.

In the back of his mind, he was terrified of the Awakenings starting up again. He now knew what he had done back in Ghidean. He had unleashed all the pent up spirit that had been growing inside of him… and that had only been after his third Awakening.

Shuddering off the feeling of dread, John watched the conversation unfold below him.

The white version of himself stopped growling under the black’s laughter. “You know whatever you do, you will not win.”

The black John tilted his head like a predatory bird. “Really? I say man, why don’t you get up and show me why I won’t. Oh wait. You can’t.”

The laughter started up again and the white John roared as he tried to shake away the two bracelets that appeared to weigh a lot more than they looked.

And then the black version of himself changed shape, his face melting into a black haired goddess. Pain stabbed at John’s heart.

Celia.

“You were too weak to protect me,” She said with a look of scorn.

It was her voice and body, but John knew it wasn’t her. Below, the white John stopped struggling.

“Please don’t,” he begged.

Celia grinned wickedly before her hair melted into red.

“You were always weak,” Mia whispered as she shook her head softly.

John felt tears threatening him. He had almost forgotten what they looked like… almost.

The man below who had his face hung his head and started to weep.

Mia’s face slowly melted into Anna’s. “Who is next to fall to your weakness?”

The man in white buried his face into the carpeted floor.

Anna’s face rippled again but this time John didn’t recognize the face. Something inside of him told John that this was the true face of the chameleon. It was a man… or so it seemed. He had black horns, and bloody red eyes.

The demon looked up to John’s balcony, and John felt his soul shudder.

“Weakness will get your killed.”

The brush against his cheek he had felt earlier stirred again, but this time it went against his shoulders too. And then his whole face.

“Do you understand?” the demonic man yelled up at him.

His white self cried out in great painful breaths. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t…”

Winds of great magnitude rushed passed his ears, blocking out anything else that the two below him would have said.

And then everything vanished.

Blackness.

John felt himself floating again, but this time his eyes fluttered open.

The ground?

“Oh shit!” John cried aloud.

He was falling to the ground and at a rapid rate. His body started spinning out of control as he struggled against nothingness.

John caught glimpses of Cohpa, the horizon, and the great cloudless blue sky as he spun wildly.

“John. Those papers you were wanting drafted up are completed. It took a lot of money to make it happen but--”

“You know Sikes. Not really a great time right now,” John growled at the mage over the mindlink. The sky tiled into view for the tenth time as he tried to wrestle his falling body out of the spin.

“It’s never a good time for you,” the mage scoffed. “Lola and Anna have been copped up all day in your room and I thought--”

“It’s not my bloody room,” John interrupted the mage.

Bloody hell! Why am I arguing at a time like this? John thought bitterly. I’m about to die for Gods’ sakes!

“You don’t have to be so snippy about it…” Sikes muttered.

“I’m sorry, I’m just three hundred spans above the Kitchens, falling to my death. Please, go on.” John said sarcastically.

Moving his body, he finally got his body balanced out so that he was looking down at Cohpa. It was growing bigger and bigger as every second ticked by.

“You’re doing wha--?!”

“Top? You there?” Jack’s voice interrupted Sike’s.

John wanted to laugh.

“Com silence.” He sent the message out to his team.

“JOHN?!” Sikes almost yelled.

“I’m falling to my death, not deaf, man.”

He was cracking jokes, which was a bad sign. John knew it meant his nerves were getting to him. Which he couldn’t blame himself… Cohpa was getting really big.

“If you exert enough force against the ground, you should soften the fall enough to survive. That is if you can exert enough force…” Sikes said more rationally. “It probably be best if you broke one of the bracel--“

“NO,” John said sharply. The image of himself, crying on the ground came to him.

Slowly the Kitchens came into view and John’s eyes latched onto a man on one of the many rooftops, looking up at him.

Godboy.

John vaguely remembered someone grabbing his shirt and tossing him up just before he pushed Tina out of the way.

Impossible, John thought. He’d have to be as strong as a hundred Hunters.

He felt for his inner spirit and reached for it. Shrouding himself like a blanket, he felt his blood hum.

Oh Gods, not now.

“Sikes, you know what to do if this doesn’t work.”

“John…”

He didn’t answer and Sikes seemed to think he needed the silence.

Ignoring the uncomfortable hum in his ears, he cloaked. Godboy below was grinning as he slowly tried to follow his decent, even though he couldn’t see John.

Snarling out of frustration, John tried to aim his body toward the kid. If he was going to die, he’d take the bastard down with him.

Ever so slowly, he found that his body was indeed falling toward the man. He found that he could actually glide and he thanked the stars for it. Preparing himself, he drew in as much energy as the bracelets would let him.

It has to be enough.

Fifty spans.

Forty spans.

Thirty spans.

John pushed all the spirit he could muster on top of the rooftop that Godboy was standing on.

Twenty spans.

Ever so slightly, he felt his body slow. Below John watched the rain catchers crumble down as if an invisible giant’s hand came crushing down on top of the rooftop.

Godboy who must have felt it looked up in alarm, but he wouldn’t be able to see Top and he wasn’t a Hunter so he would be affected by his spirit.

Ten spans.

John cried out silently as he pushed ever ounce of spirit down below him.

Five spans.

He closed his eyes and vaguely heard the water from the rain catchers bursting free. And a groan.

When John didn’t feel the roof digging into his skull, he opened his eyes.

The wooden shingles of the rooftop were mere inches from his nose, dented inwards and cracked into a million pieces. Cautiously John reached out and touched the rooftop. Lifting himself up, he broke off the spirit connection and found that he was in the middle of a crater. Godboy was flattened to the ground nearby, blood leaking out from his ears and mouth.

John quickly reached for the boy and found he was still breathing.

“Sikes, I need an interrogation room readied.”

Relief flooded through the mindlink.

“And Sikes. Don’t you ever tell Anna about this.”