"Is this heaven?"
Kade's earnest question rang out in the empty streets; Dawn quickly avoided his gaze, gently lifting his head off her lap. She let the silence ring out before finally responding to his absurd inquiry.
"No, it's the waking world."
Kade silently stared up at the expanse of the night, a sigh escaping his lips before he urged his injured body up from the ground. "Makes sense; I doubt they would accept me at the gates anyway."
Dawn didn't answer him—not with words. Only watching him groan as he weakly stood up, the grimace in his eyes as he tried not to groan or curse from pain, she looked to see his shadow. Livelier than before, but clearly very hurt.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dawn asked.
Kade blinked slowly before fixing his mopey posture, trying to bring his usual cockiness into his voice and failing.
"No clue."
The awkward silence prevailed between the two, Kade quickly taking in his surroundings. 'I'm surprised I'm not dead after all that...' He took a quick glance at Dawn, a subtle grin hitting his lips.
"Thanks for whatever you did; being alive is great. I'm sure the dead are very envious of me."
Dawn bore the compliment; it was the most she could do. It wasn't really much; other than blocking a few daggers and dragging him to relative safety, she quickly glanced to her right down the street, the noise of blades clashing together echoing out.
'Leo seems to still be alive for now.' If not for him showing up, she would be dead, although if the assassin killed him and moved to hunt them again, she wouldn't owe him that much.
Kade followed her gaze to the street, hearing the same dance of blades echoing. "I'm guessing that's where our assassin friend is; he seems busy."
Dawn nodded. "For the most part, but the police or task force should be soon enough."
Kade chuckled.
"The one time I want to see them," rolling his shoulders back. "Still, we should check out what's happening before they show up."
"Why the hell should we do that?!" Dawn snapped. "You just barely survived—and now you want to test your luck again? Just... look at you!"
Kade tilted his head.
He was covered in shallow cuts and riddled with scratches, not to mention the patches upon patches of discolored bruises taking up his skin, it looked like he was thrown into a mosh pit and then into a boxing ring.
His shirt had been torn to shreds during the fight, and it had slipped off completely by the time Dawn dragged him behind the car—leaving every inch of his battered torso on full display.
Dawn's eyes lingered a second longer than they should have.
I thought people from the outskirts were supposed to be malnourished...
She quickly shook her head, brushed the thought away, and cleared her throat.
Dawn should not let herself be surprised by Kade being himself.
"Never mind...Do you want your coat back?"
Kade blinked again.
"Yes, actually, that would be great."
Dawn quickly removed the shaggy old coat and handed it over. At least for now, she was keeping him distracted from charging back into danger—buying time for backup to arrive.
She let out a mental sigh of relief once Kade finally covered up.
Kade tugged the sleeves over his wrists and popped the collar with a small grin. He'd missed the blasted old thing—fighting in it felt more right than anything else in this messy world.
His thoughts quickly drifted back to where he was when he first woke up.
"Hey, so about before..."
"No," Dawn replied, sharp and emotionless.
"You-"
"No"
Kade shrugged.
"Ok, suit yourself."
Kade took a few slow steps toward the road, boots crunching on the broken glass until the low rumble of approaching engines echoed down the street. He stopped just shy of the corner.
"Backup's here," he muttered, squinting past the flickering streetlamp. "Finally."
Behind him, Dawn stood quietly, wary eyes shifting toward the noise.
Without turning, Kade held out his hand. "Hey."
She blinked. "What?"
He looked over his shoulder, a grin pulling at his lips. "Can I borrow your hand?"
"…Why?"
"No time. Please?"
There was a long pause. Dawn stared, suspicion rising behind her eyes—but something in his voice wasn't joking this time.
"…Fine," she said, hesitantly placing her hand in his.
"Good choice."
And with that, he yanked her forward—just as a matte-black APC screeched around the corner. With one hand he caught the side handrail, momentum jerking them both off their feet as he vaulted up onto the side platform, dragging Dawn with him in a blur of motion.
She barely had time to gasp before her boots left the ground.
The wind roared. The engine growled. The world blurred.
And Kade laughed.
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In the broken street, two awakened of their own renown sought the other's life with a blade in hand. One accomplished in the domination of the waking world, a gruelling assassin who had seen the worst of life and aspired to embody it.
While the other was an accomplished duellist and broadcaster of the dreamscape, a skilled fighter who had many chances to collaborate and experiment with the evolution and adaptation of sword styles created in the new age.
But when it came to life and death, one of them clearly held the edge.
A sharp clang rang out as Leo parried a curved dagger, his boots sliding over fractured stone. He grimaced, barely catching the follow-up. Each block grew more desperate—each strike closer to ending him.
The assassin pressed forward, a relentless shadow in motion. His attacks flowed like a violent dance, blending vanishing steps with sudden, surgical strikes. He was efficient. Brutal. Smiling wider with every graze of Leo's flesh.
That grin had stretched so wide it threatened to split his cheeks. And still, Leo stood—his clothes soaked in blood, limbs trembling, breath ragged—but upright. Holding his blade. Glaring defiantly.
If nothing else, he had his pride.
And judging by the signal indicator pulsing on his wrist-held communicator.
He had a lot of viewers.
Maybe they were there chanting for his victory or wanting to be there when he finally fell.
Either way, they were watching, and that was what mattered.
"Cutting up an idiot like you is quite enjoyable... seems like the network likes watching it as well." The assassin cackled, sliding under Leo's horizontal slash and rocketing back up, his knives fashioned to gouge his eyes out.
Leo reacted fast, just turning his head in time for the daggers to cut against his helmet but not cut the dazzling azure makeup of the memory. At times like these Leo really appreciates spending a decent portion of his life savings on the armour set.
Without it, he would be very dead right now.
Gathering his slowly depleting courage, Leo roared into an overhead slash.
"They're watching to see you lose. You're the villain, and they're hungry for me to put you in your place!"
The strike parted the air with ferocity, plummeting down to cleave the assassin. The killer responds by bringing the two shadow daggers together to shield himself.
The two blades impacted with ferocity, the steel screaming with sparks that lit up the darkness, yet the rogue mid-clash brought his foot for a devastating front kick, his boot crashing into Leo's chest and sending him crashing to an empty pastry shop.
The impact sent pain lancing down his spine. Leo crashed into the tiles of an empty pastry shop, coughing as dust clouded the air and scratched at his throat. Grit stung his lungs, and through the haze of powder and debris…
Leo saw a silhouette stepping through, knives gleaming.
The assassin emerged through the haze, bloodlust simmering behind calm eyes. He knelt beside the broken broadcaster, gently pressing cold metal to Leo's throat.
"Despite your essence and skill, you're no different from the mundane cattle… Still ignorant of the truth of this world." The blade pressed closer, trembling with the promise of a final cut, eager to seek out the throat it longed to split.
But the assassin paused—hovering, as if craving to hear Leo's final words clearly, just so he could crush them with mockery before ending him.
Leo's life flashed before his eyes. He nearly let go. Nearly gave it all up. Until a voice pierced the broken silence—raw, desperate, and human.
"LEO, GET UP! I BELIEVE IN YOU! THE PEOPLE – THE STRIKE FORCE BELIEVES IN YOU!"
It was his cameraman—screaming his heart out for him.
That brilliant moron. He should've run while he had the chance. And yet, he stayed. Risked everything. Believing Leo could triumph again, just like always.
Leo smiled through the blood in his mouth. If these were to be his final moments, he'd direct them himself—with one last flourish.
He spat, a streak of blood cutting through the air and striking the assassin's eye.
The killer flinched, vision blinded just long enough. Leo dug his fingers into the cracked tile, grounded himself, and drove his iron boot straight into the assassin's chest—sending him flying from the fading dust cloud.
Leo rose from the ground—bloodied, broken, and smiling. His sword levelled forward, lips split in a daring grin-stained crimson with his own blood.
The assassin wiped the blood from his eyes and roared with fury.
"That's it; I'M GOING TO FUCKING END YOU!"
The daring dreamscape duellist prepared the final clash; he felt the beating of his heart, like the roaring of an engine... 'Wait, that's not my heart.'
Suddenly a 20-tonne APC burst through the dust cloud, roaring past Leo in a blink.
"BANG!
The bumper slammed into the assassin, the killer disappearing from sight on impact. Like unfortunate roadkill.
Leo stood there, still bleeding out in a vanishing dust cloud.
"..."
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"Did we hit a bump?" Kade asked, glancing back like nothing had happened.
The jolt had nearly thrown both him and Dawn off the APC. He barely managed to steady them; one arm hooked around the rail. And now, the military vehicle seemed to halt after the disturbance.
"I don't know!?" Dawn shouted. "Maybe tell me before you do something like that again!"
Hopping off his impromptu ride with Dawn grumbling behind him, Kade quickly scanned the area. No sign of the assassin. No sign of the aid that was supposed to be holding him off, either.
But the strike force had arrived.
The APC's rear doors hissed open, metal grinding softly as heat and smoke curled outward.
From the shadows stepped a woman—tall and rigid, clad in a military bodysuit beneath lightweight black plate armour. The air itself seemed to chill in her presence. Her icy blue eyes scanned the scene with quiet diligence.
Dawn's breath caught in her throat.
Even Kade, for all his bravado, went still.
It was a master. In the flesh.
Her gaze passed over the two of them for only a moment—yet in that fleeting glance, Kade swore he saw something in her bleak, sharp pupils… Intrigue?
But she didn't pause.
Without a word, she continued her measured, calculated strides—toward the slumped figure ahead.
The assassin was pushing himself up from the floor, his obsidian eyes brimming with hatred, locking onto her with venomous recognition.
"Jet", he said, her name laced with spite.
"Kurt," she replied—her powerful voice carrying across the ruined street, touched faintly with something unexpected.
A hint of sadness.
"Kurt", she said, steady but not unfeeling. "I know you've struggled with certain… realities of being Awakened. But this—" she motioned subtly to the carnage around them, "—this is unacceptable. If you surrender now, there's still a chance for redemption."
Kurt scoffed, the sound raw and venomous. Vitriol sharpened his words as he sneered up at her.
"What do you mean, struggled? I came out better than every one of those pompous brats. I'm living the good life—seeing more action and earning more credits than they'll ever see in their pathetic lives. You're their great protector now, aren't you? The shepherd of the NQSC's cattle."
Jet's face darkened.
"This isn't about politics or posturing," she said coldly. "You accepted an assassination contract. You attempted murder in front of civilians. There's no walking away from that. The government has given you two choices: surrender your freedom or your life."
Kurt gritted his teeth. Essence flared around him like a rising storm, condensing into the shape of four powerful echoes.
"Dirty fucking lapdog, you've gotten full of yourself, master or not. Do you think you have what it takes to kill ME?!"
Jet stared at him silently, her deadpan expression filling with a slight hint of remorse as she summoned a menacing, sombre glaive into her hands. The frozen hell of her irises growing colder.
"Yes, I do."