Von's legs crumpled.
He tripped over broken pavement, collapsing into the muddy puddle with a crash as the sound of crunching boots resounded behind. His lungs burned. His body screamed.
And once again, he heard the voice.
"Hardening Legs."
Von turned around—Bullet's figure charged at him through the fog, with every pounding step heavier than the last. His whole lower half now glinted with black iron shine.
There was nowhere left to run.
Von tensed, hands trembling.
Then a shadow fell over him.
A man dropped out of the sky like a comet.
CLANG!
The earth groaned open slightly under the shock of the landing, dust and debris billowing around Von as he shielded his face.
When the smoke had cleared, someone stood before him.
Tall. Wide-shouldered. Wearing silver and dark steel.
An eagle-shaped helmet covered his face—sharp-beaked, royal, with red eyes blazing under the visor.
From his back, there sprang forth two mighty wings of interlocked blades—teeth, glinting in the moonlight like the edge of death itself.
Von's breath stopped.
The bullet stopped firing.
The first time in combat, he faltered.
Then his voice rumbled low and furious:
"Marco."
The figure did not move.
But his voice thundered from outside the helmet, cold and sharp:
"This one's under our protection."
Bullet's eyes flashed. His fists clenched.
"You're a long way from your base, First Commander."
Marco raised one wing maybe an inch. Some of the blades folded—shing!—into position like a predator clawing out its talons.
"Then you understand how serious this is."
Von's adrenaline spiked, and he glared at the man—at Marco, whose name was whispered in rebellion underground like a legend.
First Commander of the Resistance.
The Blade-Winged Ghost.
The government's public enemy number one.
And now—his bodyguard.
Bullet snarled. "You're interfering with an active retrieval. That's a violation of Accord Code 7."
Marco stepped forward.
"And to test children is to violate all laws of humankind. But I suppose you already understand that."
Bullet said nothing.
The ground trembled a little as the two stood face to face—steel vs. blade.
Von stood tense, watching two giants about to clash.
Then—
Marco took a step back, wrapping one wing around Von defensively like a shield.
"This isn't the time. Not yet."
In a flash, his blades folded out and lengthened, forming into a sleek aerodynamic shape. His foot was rooted in the ground.
"Hold on."
"Wait, what are you—"
FWOOOSH.
Von was being pulled off the ground—stomach twisting as Marco exploded into the air, wings spreading like knives unzipping.
Gunfire behind them, but not one bullet struck them.
Bullet screamed below, furious and dwindling in the distance.
Above the Town
The town wall towered below them like a dying serpent. Von looked down over the city, the smoke, his prison home.
And upwards.
For freedom
He fainted in Marco's arms before he could even pose a single question.
But when he awoke —
Everything would be different.