Rock Bottom was a city of contradictions. Existing between of two great empires does that to a place. Even from a distance, the skyline of the city of fifty thousand was a mix of regal stone architecture of the northern protectorate and the more practical mud brick designs of the Alliance.

As their sloop pulled into port, a beautiful clock tower twenty stories high announced it was 11AM. Each gong echoed down dozens of streets and off the stone faces of their many buildings, multiplying the sound a hundred times over.

The greyed stone spire stood out; an immovable beacon of civilization against a bleary and unforgiving desert. Around it, all manner of stone buildings had sprung up. The entire city seemed to rise upward toward the structure as if a mythical giant had gathered them all and pressed them into a tight bundle.

Their blood plastered ship creaked to a stop as the sails were furled and anchor dropped. A soft thump reverberated through the wood hull as Jim successfully slid the ship sideways into the dock pylons. Two workers wearing head to toe white garb, no doubt to protect against daily work in the unforgiving sun, grabbed the lines thrown to them and secured the small vessel to the dock with haste.

Jim and Sasha made their way down the ship’s bowing gangway. Passing a few small black coins to each man, Jim whispered, “We had a run in with some cannibals. My friend and I left a bit of a mess. Go ahead and clean it up, would you?” The workers stared wide eyed at the crimson stained deck behind him.

Seeing their wary glances, Sasha stepped forward and dropped a few more coins into their eager hands. “And we’d appreciate it if you kept out of the hold. We have goods for trade that we’d rather avoid disturbing.”

The first of the dockworkers glanced over the railing and whistled in amazement. Scratching the back of his neck, he began a very practiced inquiry, “I’m afraid the Rock Bottom Port Authority requires that we search the holds of all incoming ships for contraband and ensure their contents are both legal and safe. In accordance with paragraph-”

“Would ten more black coin help us to bypass such a lengthy inspection?”, Jim asked as he slipped a second bonus of money between them. A satisfied smile washed over the two workers’ faces as they bowed slightly and scurried up the gangway to begin their duties.

The group had decided earlier that it would be in everyone’s best interest to keep Henry out of sight. Much as he would have relished at the chance for socialization, showing up at a port town - even a free one - with a clockwork man would raise far too many questions. Henry stayed behind in the hold, somber and resigned.

Jim and Sasha made their way toward the dockmaster’s office. As they walked, Jim tried to lighten Sasha’s mood. “First things first, kid. We won’t make it two blocks without getting mugged or killed unless we do something about that hair of yours.” Jim chuckled. “After we fill out some paperwork with the dockmaster, it’s straight to the barber for you.”

Jim’s proposal drew a thankful smile from Sasha, “Now that sounds like a terrific idea.” The young man glanced up at his hair, again crossing his eyes. Jim couldn’t hold back his laughter this time.

***

Rock Bottom was certainly not descriptive of the city. As they made their way up the main street, sand gave way to polished cobblestone. After a few more minutes of walking, the areas between buildings were packed with the many distractions of city life. All around them, the air was filled with laughter, music, and conversation.

Women, wearing dresses that seemed uncomfortably tight in the midsection but opened up to flow freely upon the ground, walked past, chattering as they went. All about the street, gentlemen with top hats and doubly bothersome looking black overcoats wandered around with regal gait.

Jim could never understand why anyone would torture themselves by wearing such uncomfortable clothes in the middle of the desert.

Cigar smoke, mixed with the smell of burning manzawood and garlic, added to the frenetic procession that was Main Street Market.

Vendors peddled every type of desert spice. At some stands, insects, and plants from every corner of Ruin were on display. Jim spotted a stand selling hundreds of steamed scorpions, with the poisonous gland and stinger removed of course. Each hung from a small line of twine.

For those who could afford it, fruits, berries, and even Auroch meat adorned the tables of some of the more luxurious vendors. Next to them, hired guards stood watch, weapons in hand, ready to dissuade any would be thief.

Some held poorly cared for muskets. Most opted for axes, swords, and other sharpened weapons. Judging by the looks on their faces, little was left to the imagination concerning what they would do to anyone stupid enough to steal from their client.

Men on unwieldy bicycles with enormous front wheels wobbled their way down the middle of the street while children ran underfoot, deeply invested in whatever imaginary adventure they fancied for the day. They squealed and giggled as they played.

Overhead, some of the privileged upper class pedaled by on zip balloons, their boredom of affluent life quite obvious in their dull faces. The small three meter contraptions they rode were nothing more than miniature burners feeding a steady supply of black-crystal steam into a balloon, suspending a propeller driven bicycle from small steel straps.

Jim and Sasha made their way to the barbershop. The entrance was nearly choked out by vendor carts. One man, balding and sporting a perfectly twisted mustache shouted at a nearby pair of cart operators vending strange colored fruits to anyone who would pay attention.

As Jim and Sasha approached the entrance, four men in vertical striped suits were belting out a tight harmony. The song was a mix of the controlled grand vocal music of the Protectorate performance halls and the wild conflagration of 'Iizalatan peasant chants.

The pair stopped and watched the men sing for a minute.

In the good ol’ summertime. When the skies were blue.

You held your hand in mine, and you said you’d always be true.

But those days have come and gone, and you’ve left me standing here.

Now I look to the sky with eyes that cry and…

Jim shook his head and laughed to himself, What the hell is good about the summer? She probably left him to go hide in a cool dark hole in the ground until Autumn.

Finally, squeezing by the last obstacle (and after dropping a few coins in the hat of one of the singers), Jim and Sasha made their way inside. The door shut behind them, and instantly the bedlam of the outside world was dulled. Jim let out a deep sigh. “Now you see why I avoid cities like a plague.”

Sasha was beaming. “Are you kidding me!? That was incredible. The streets of Togsov were dreary and outright scary sometimes. Here? This place is alive!”

Jim just shook his head. “I’ll take the deck of my ship and a sea of stars any day.” He attempted to drive away the ringing with a finger in his ear.

Just then, the bell above the door rang as a plump mustached man squeezed through backward, still shouting at the men outside. The door slammed behind him as he huffed across the barbershop floor.

“Damn vultures! How am I supposed to stay in business with the likes of them clogging up my shopfront?” Taking a breath, he spotted the pair and painted on a well practiced smile, “Ah! Jim, my good man. It has been quite some time.” The man offered Jim a strong handshake. “What brings you back to rock b- GODS ABOVE BOY. What in blazes kind of haircut is that!?”

Jim tried not to laugh again but failed...miserably. Seeing the red tint crossing Sasha’s face, He cleared his throat and addressed the barber, “Cherum, this is Sasha. Sasha, Cherum.”

The man smiled warmly as he shook the suddenly sheepish boy’s hand. “Sorry lad. I meant no offense. I can only assume you’ve come here to correct that… that monstrosity.” Sasha nodded, blushing.

Cherum made his way to a worn barber chair and gestured. “Please, sit.”

***

The priest smelled it. Faint in the air, the unique call of an awakened, no...two of them. He closed his eyes to focus his second sight. Rock Bottom was teaming with noise and life but, he was searching for two very unique individuals among thousands of inconsequential trash piles.

Walking slowly, with eyes closed, he was careful to keep his hood up. Rock Bottom was a free port and representatives of the Prophetess were outlawed except in rare cases involving diplomatic meetings.

The man mused as he searched, Let them try and stop us. The time is so near now. Soon, Ruin will crumble under her mighty heel, then the world will be hers for the taking. Praise be to her - “OOF”.

The man was suddenly knocked off balance by a food cart in his path. Some of the fruit rolled onto the ground with a thud. A mercenary assigned to guard the cart shuffled his overweight body into the priest’s path. He stank of sweat and sex. Where he spent his daily wages was obvious.

Pushing his way past the towering guard, the cart operator shouted at him, “Watch it you old fool! Are you blind or just a moron? I’m trying to conduct business here, and people like you -” The man’s voice faded into the background as the priest ignored him. To him, unawakened were little more than barely intelligent animals. Not worth his time or attention. He continued on.

Suddenly, the distinct sound of two awakened individuals rose above the chaos. There! I can smell them. Oh! By her name, there is an awakened of earth among them! To capture one of those...my reward will be significant, he thought, nearly bouncing up and down with glee.

Ahead of him, the sign of a barber hung above a store building with its curtains drawn shut.

***

Within a few minutes, the skillful craftsman had transformed Sasha’s bowl cut to something resembling the socially acceptable slicked back look of modern society gentlemen. Satisfied with his work, Cherum turned back to Jim, who was half dozing in a waiting chair.

“Well, as always, I’m truly a miracle worker,” Cherum stated proudly.

Jim sat up and smiled at the man’s self compliment. “If you do say so yourself,” he replied.

“Damn right, my boy. However, I doubt you navigated the wastes and floated into town just to get some kid a haircut.” He turned to Sasha and added, “No offense lad, but I’ve known Jim for quite a few years, and friends aren’t something he does well.”

Sasha was still examining his new look in the wall mirror and smiling, “Sir, after fixing the mess on my head, you’d have to make a serious effort to offend me.”

The jolly barber laughed heartily. After catching his breath, he turned to Jim. “So, now that business is handled, let’s get down to even more business, shall we?” Jim nodded silently.

Cherum sat in one of his barber chairs and continued, “I assume you need something. You aren’t the type for social calls. What can this humble barber do for you today, my strong and far too silent friend?”

Jim leaned forward and replied quietly, “I need to make a trade in a sizeable amount of black. Can you line someone up for us? There’s a ten percent finder's fee in it if you do.”

Cherum’s face betrayed more than a little mischief. “Ahh! So it’s that kind of business? Let’s make this meeting a bit more private, shall we?” He drew a second set of blackout curtains from hidden dropout panels above the windows.

The sound of the outside world was nearly silenced. After locking the door, Cherum made his way back over to the table. Jim overheard him mumbling, “It’s not like I’ll attract any customers with those damn vermin gracing my doorstep anyhow.”

Outside, the busy city life continued, oblivious to the barber’s grievances.

Finally, satisfied with his security precautions, Cherum dragged a foldable chair into the waiting area. Motioning for Sasha to join them, he leaned back, potbelly nearly bursting through his unwashed, once white shirt.

“Ten percent you say? Jim, you are a snake, as always! You know my fee is fifteen percent. Don’t mistake my kind demeanor with charity. I’ve never heard of the word.” Jim stole a sly grin at Sasha, who was watching the exchange with amusement.

Cherum added, “That reminds me, that’ll be six bits for the boy’s hair cut. Miracles aren’t cheap, you know.”

Jim feigned deep thought as he stroked his chin. Finally, feeling that he had led the man on long enough, he leaned in. “Very well, fifteen percent it is. And here’s your coin.” Handing the man his payment, Jim pressed the money between their palms and shook Cherum’s hand.

Shaking a person’s hand as means of depositing money into it was common practice in most cities of Ruin. It was considered a sign of trust between buyer and seller. It also worked quite well at hiding the true sum of money for the purpose of bribes and tips. In his case, Jim slipped two more black crystal bits in as a “thank you”.

The deal done, Jim lowered his voice. “We need to get our hands on about a thousand kilos of unrefined black crystal. We need it by early morning tomorrow too.”

Cherum stared at the pair for a moment, eyes wide. “One thousand? What in the bloody wastes do you need that much for? You could lift a damn building for a month with that much black.”

Black was common slang for black crystal in the less than legal circles of trade.

“Also, since when did you work with… well, anyone?”, he asked, glancing at Sasha before adding, “You’ve been a loner ever since you first wandered in here oh… nearly a decade ago now, I think.”

“Sasha here is a… business partner.” Even in a city of free trade, Jim knew, it was best to keep information about oneself and others to a minimum. “And you know better than to ask. As for the quantity, I just need to know if it’s possible, otherwise, we can easily search out another finder.”

Jim had performed this dance with Cherum and countless other black market dealers for years. The dealer would first inflate the value of their business prowess. Jim would threaten to find another buyer, and finally, the dealer would decide “grudgingly” to work with him.

He’d always considered it a waste of time and effort, but despite his distaste for conversation and people, Jim knew sometimes, you just had to play the game.

Now it was Cherum’s move. The half barber, half black market dealer waved away Jim’s suggestion. “No no no, I can find you a dealer. I just get curious, is all. Being cooped up in this place all day gets a bit boring.”

Jim nodded, and Sasha sat silently. Clandestine dealings were beyond the young man’s skillset. He was soaking in all he could though as he watched the two talk.

Cherum lowered his voice even more. Jim and Sasha leaned in as the barber spoke, “Ok, tonight, midnight at the Blue Belly Saloon. Your contact will be there. Wait at the table next to the piano.”

Loud music offered a perfect blanket of sound to conceal less than legal business conversations. Jim sighed, not fond of spending more time in a sea of people. Finally, he stuck out a hand. “Deal.”

***

Priest Holar. What have you found?

Even this far north, her voice was powerful in the priest’s mind. He swayed as he stumbled to an alleyway to speak to his prophetess away from the public’s gaze. Quickly locating an empty nook between two buildings, he slipped between the structures.

Your Grace, I have located two awakened here in Rock Bottom. One of them is likely a runaway. His powers are weak but show signs of our instruction. The other is an awakened of earth, and a feral one at that!

A sudden wave of nausea overcame him as the prophetess’ voice boomed through his mind.

What? Is it the runner?

No, Your Grace. This is a new one. His power is incredible. Possibly the most powerful awakened of earth that has ever lived.

The priest could feel her hunger, even from so far away.

I must have him. Take him alive.

Your will be done, my Prophetess.

***

Ragtime music filled the Blue Belly Saloon. As promised, Jim and Sasha were expected. Their table in the corner next to the piano was empty. In an overcrowded saloon, it stood out like an island. Not too subtle, Cherum, Jim thought as he made his way anxiously through the crowd.

The pair made their way through a shoulder to shoulder sea of humanity. Most had gathered around the bar to watch the daily Battle of Champions - two contenders attempting to drink each other under the table. This evening’s combatants were an odd pair.

One, a hairy man of enormous size and weight, probably a mercenary, swayed as he struggled to find his stein of spiced beer. The other, a much smaller, wild eyed woman, threw back another gulp with little effort - each time eliciting renewed cheers from the crowd.

A very poorly stuffed, giant bluebelly lizard protruded from the wall above the bar, its face twisted into what the taxidermist must have assumed was a snarl. To Jim, it looked more like a cross eyed comic character from the Sunday paper. He glanced at Sasha, who was laughing and pointing. He’d reached the same conclusion.

Finally, pushing past the last of the onlookers, they squeezed into their booth. A loud thud from the bar announced the large man had soundly lost the drinking contest. For a moment, the raucous cheer overwhelmed the piano music. The veteran pianist played on without missing a beat.

Jim sighed and leaned back against the uncomfortable wooden booth seat. It was all too noisy and too crowded. Sasha on the other hand was all smiles. “I like this place, Jim. And that lizard. Oh man. I’m dying!”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s too noisy. How can a person think?”

Sasha clapped his hands in time to the wild tune filling their saloon. “Oh come on, Jim. You and I both know, saloons aren’t for thinking. They’re for drinking!” To drive the point home, he threw back a gulp of beer. Some of it missed and spilled down his shirt. He laughed and shrugged off the infraction.

Jim had never been comfortable in crowds. In social situations, he felt unsure of himself. Every time he’d sip his beverage, change positions, or do anything, a voice inside him would question, “Did you do that right? Are people watching you? If you sit wrong, drink wrong, talk wrong, everyone is going to notice and you will stick out like a sore thumb.”

If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was attention.

Sasha finished the beer and followed it with a wet burp. He immediately regretted it. Spiced beer was powerful and burned all the way down. In Sasha’s case, all the way back up.

Jim laughed at his sputtering friend, thankful for the distraction. “Well, I’ll leave the drinking to you. It’s obvious, you're the professional here.”

Sasha glared at him for a moment. After cleaning himself up and apologizing to the waitress with a coin placed in her hand, he sat down for a slower attempt in round two.

It didn’t take long for their contact to show up. The man was short but built like a steel press. He reminded Jim of the Liberator’s lead deckhand, Harol. As he pushed himself into the cramped booth next to Sasha, the man held out a dirt covered hand. Jim reluctantly took it.

As the man squeezed, Jim’s face twisted into a grimace. He and Harol should have a contest. I wonder who could press a diamond out of coal the fastest, he thought as he rubbed the numbness from his hand.

The stranger began, “Name’s Joe. I hear you’re lookin’ for some black.”

Jim replied as quietly as the music permitted, which landed somewhere around a low shout, “Yeah. One thousand kilos.”

Joe whistled in mock surprise. Jim was sure Cherum had already shared the details of their request but again, he had to play the game.

Leaning back, Joe locked his grimy fingers behind his head and feigned deep thought. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, he responded, “I can get you a thousand kilos but, that’s a serious haul. My usual clientele are typically in the market for a handful of the stuff for coin counterfeiting or who the hell knows what else. But this...”

The man let another awkward moment slip before continuing, “What do you need so much crystal for if I may ask?”

This time, Sasha spoke up, “You may not actually. We don’t ask how you get it, and you don’t ask why we need it. That’s how these things work.” Jim kept himself from grinning at Sasha’s newfound acting talent. Not bad, kid. You learn quickly, he thought with a tinge of pride.

The gruff man stretched. He was a powerful built man. Jim guessed he’d spent most of his adult life in the crystal mines. Putting a hand up, Joe replied, “Yeah yeah, I know the drill. Ok. Back to business. What do you offer in trade?”

Jim nodded at Sasha. He’s on a roll. Might as well let him keep going, he thought.

Sasha stayed in character as he replied, “My partner and I have a thousand kilos of pushstone. Even trade.”

The worker shook his head. “Even trade my ass,” he replied with a snort. “You’ll have to do better than that. Much better.” He appeared annoyed. Jim wasn’t sure if it was an act or genuine. He glanced at Sasha, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.

Sasha’s head tilted sideways, “But, pushstone is made from refined black. The process of manufacturing them is quite expensive. We’re saving you the work and selling the product to you in its completed state.”

The game of trade began. Joe fired the opening shots, “Listen kid, pushstone is just glorified concrete mixed with black crystal dust. Hardly a rare find. You are basically asking to trade a thousand kilos of pure black crystal for eight hundred kilos of rock and two hundred black. Sweet deal for you. Not me.”

Sasha nodded and replied, “Very well, we can throw in perhaps a hundred kilos of dehydrated cactus fruit.” He did his best to make it seem that he was sacrificing much by adding to the deal.

Joe stared blankly at the young man. Sighing, Sasha continued, “And of course, a couple hundred kilos of assorted spices from the eastern desert.”

The miner chuckled, “That’s better. We got pushstone comin’ out our ears here. Spices though. Worth their weight in gold when trading with the northern tribesmen.”

“It’s agreed then,” Sasha reached to shake the man’s hand again. Jim smiled inwardly at the flash of pain on the boy’s face. To his credit though, he didn’t break character.

With their deal concluded, Joe stood up. He had work to do. Dismissing himself, he quickly plodded through the crowd and out the door.

“So,” Sasha sipped his beer with his uncrushed hand, “now that that’s all done, let’s enjoy some music and drinks. Bartender! Another round for my… business partner and myself.”

Jim sighed. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night but, hell, the kid earned it.

***

It was nearly 4AM as they made their way back to the ship. Even at such a late hour, the city was alive. Life simply migrated from the merchant quarter to back alleys and “watering holes.” Saloon music and laughter poured out from a dozen buildings within earshot.

After midnight, the gas fed street lamps were extinguished, but it did little to slow the nightlife. Men and women staggered to and fro with smaller Manza oil lamps, or candles in hand. Some took their chances feeling around in the dark.

Turning down a quiet alleyway, Sasha, a bit tipsy, tried to engage the stoic Jim in more conversation. “Well, that went well enough.”

Jim nodded as they plodded on. Their footsteps echoed off the cobblestone alley and brick buildings. “The trade or the beer?” he asked.

Sasha laughed, “Both!” They continued on for a while down a quieter alley.

Sasha tried again, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your… abilities.” Jim’s pace didn’t slow. He wouldn’t be comfortable until he was back on a ship again, far from people.

Not entirely sober himself, Jim decided to entertain Sasha’s request. “Go ahead and ask, but I’m not sure I’ll be much help. It’s all pretty new to me.”

Sasha asked excitedly, “What was your awakening like? I mean, I’ve been told, most people whose awakenings trigger from a near death experience almost always die from the intense explosion of power. The instructors back at the monastery called you… them, ferals.”

Jim considered that for a few moments before replying, “Imagine sticking your hand into a hot fire. The heat is so intense, it goes from burning agony to needle like pain, then, almost a… cold as the flesh is burned away.” He couldn’t see well in the darkness of the back alleys, but he was pretty sure Sasha was listening intently.

When Jim said no more, Sasha continued eagerly, “They say that your initial awakening is the most powerful you will ever be, that people die from it because it’s the absolute limit of your body’s abilities. I’m not so sure though. After all, that display back on the ship was pretty impressive.”

Jim thought back to their earlier encounter on The Liberator. “Yeah I’m not really sure how I did it. My life was in danger and, suddenly, I knew what to do. It’s like the earth itself was… speaking to me. Strange, I know.”

Sasha chortled, “No, not so strange. It’s the same for a fire awakened. I only had a few months of training, but my instructors at the monastery taught me, controlling your given element is like having a conversation. We command it do something, and they do it.”

“You should have stayed in school, boy. We could have taught you so much more.”

An unfamiliar voice pierced the darkness. Acting on instinct, Jim reached to his side for a gun that wasn’t there. Entering the city required one to surrender any weapons or leave them behind on your ship. The only exception was for mercenaries and hired thugs, of which Jim and Sasha were neither.

Back to back now, they scanned the darkness for the source of the voice.

The man spoke again. As he did, his shadowy figure emerged from an dark alley behind them. “Calm yourselves,” he began. “I intend no harm. Believe me, had I meant to, killing you would have been quite easy. Feral or not.”

The man stepped fully into the moonlight and removed his hood, revealing a somewhat lined face of fifty or sixty years. His hair was platinum blonde and cut very short. His receding hairline failed to cover a pasty alabaster complexion. Behind his white-grey eyes, evil swam, barely contained.

Jim felt it, this guy is bad bad news.

Sasha spoke first, trying his best to sound confident, “What the hell is a priest doing here? You know the law against your type in this place.” Jim attributed his outburst to liquid courage. From day one, acolytes were taught to fear and respect their trainers.

A momentary rage flashed over the man’s face but was quickly replaced with practiced calm. “Boy, the law does not ban my type. Were that the case, you too would be trespassing. It simply keeps us from involving ourselves in government affairs or establishing a monastery here.”

He sighed and added, unconvincingly, “I am but an old priest, here to talk with fellow awakened. Surely there’s no crime in that.”

Sarcasm notwithstanding, Jim decided to humor him. “So, talk. And make it fast. We have places to be.” Sasha was shaking next to Jim. He kept his hands buried deep in his pockets. Fear crept over the boys face.

What did they do to him in that monastery? Jim wondered. He made a mental note to strike up that conversation later.

The priest began his speech, “My children, you are lost. The Prophetess in her generous benevolence wants only your safety, from yourselves as much as others. As an awakened of air, I sensed your presence within the city and felt it only right to find and help you. If you would but return with me to our monastery in Golden Spire, I would be-”

“Monastery my ass! Those places are cages where you brainwash other awakened so they can be controlled.” Sasha was shaking. His hands were still in his pockets. Jim noted it for later discussion. I really need to find out what that’s all about.

The priest shot an annoyed glance at Sasha and asked, “Young man, tell me. Does the bird perceive his cage as a restriction, or rather as protection from a dangerous world of predators? Surely, when you release him from his cage, it’s only a matter of time before he’s killed by a vicious creature looking for an easy meal. We offer to you that same comforting protection. You see, you two are a danger to others. We can help you hone those abilities to enrich the world around you.”

Jim could sense the man’s patience was growing thin. His words were coming quicker and through grit teeth.

Sasha finally stopped fiddling in his pockets as he spoke again, “It isn’t until the beast is caged that he forgets to survive the real world. You and your damned prophetess seek only dominance over those like us.”

Sasha’s eyes suddenly glowed a bright orange as he added, “I’ll never live in a cage again.”

From his pockets, Sasha drew a lighter. With one quick motion, he struck the engaging lever. A small flame emerged, but it was all he needed. Sparing no moment, he thrust his open palm toward the priest.

Quickly, the flame jumped from the lighter to form a ball that levitated centimeters from Sasha’s hand. Before the priest could react, Sasha willed the ball into a wall of red plasma. The wall moved quickly, taking the priest by surprise, thrusting him backward into the side of a nearby stone residence.

“Run!” Sasha shouted. Jim didn’t need to be told twice.

The pair sprinted for their lives. As they ran, their steps echoed off the walls around them. Ahead, the coming sun had just to transform the eastern sky with deep purples and orange. Warm colors played upon the stone street beneath their feet. Giving aid to their flight.

The older man must have been in excellent physical condition. From behind, they could hear his pursuing steps as he gained ground quickly. He roared at them with fury. Rounding the last alleyway, they burst onto Main Street.

The merchant quarter was still quiet. Most of its residents were still sleeping off the last of the evening’s merriments.

Jim began to hope.Their sloop was in sight. Only a few hundred paces away, the small triangular sail was black against the waking sky. All around him, Jim could feel the air electrifying. His hairs were on end as arcs of lightning began to leap from the metallic street lamps.

Stealing a glance backwards, he could see the old man in full youthful sprint, arms outstretched. From his hands, lightning reached out, clinging to anything metallic. Lamps, window frames, sewer covers, doorknobs. All were merely lightning rods for his awakened power.

Sasha, breathing heavily started to slow his pace. His pyrotechnic display had instantly drained him. Being a low level awakened of fire, it took very little to do so.

Wrapping one arm under his struggling friend, Jim quickened the pace.

The lightning was nearly upon them. From ahead, two quick flashes blinked from somewhere within their ship. Two zips past Jim’s ear were followed quickly by a pop pop. It could only be Henry. I’m going to have to ask him where he found guns, he thought.

The familiar sound of bullet hitting flesh was followed by a grunt. Suddenly, the lightning ceased. Jim didn’t stop to investigate. The authorities would no doubt be on the way.

It was time to get out of Rock Bottom.