A shock-wave of sound shredded through the still air, nearly knocking Simon to the ground if not for the chair nearby. It hit Flick too, but not nearly as severely, his years of surviving the elevators jolts made balancing child’s play. Without looking back at his friend, Flick darted off towards the source of explosion, heart pounding in his chest. A mixture of adrenaline and fear drove him,

  That place he thought as he ran,

  That’s near the orphanage isn’t it?

  His heart skipped a little faster at the idea of the orphanage being in flames. But as his legs carried him round a corner it was clear that the school wasn’t the target, nor was it even close. Just a butchers shop, one that could’ve been mistaken for any other in the pillar.

  Soon others crowded around, hobbling over each other to catch glimpses of the damage. Shopkeepers, children, elderly women and their dogs, all of them scuttled around the now towering inferno. The heat was suffocating, like an invisible poison that singed the lining of Flick’s throat. It melded with the moving lights, making it near impossible to see anything without the image being burned into the retinas of any who bore witness.

  And the smell… Animal flesh cooking on rusty floors, sizzling on old hooks and mingling with the scent of fire. It was hard to believe that a simple butcher shop stood here just moments prior, all that stood now was a ball of commanding fury. So commanding in fact, that Flick had hardly noticed Simon yelling in his ear.

  “The hell happened here?!” He too couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight “Was there an accident or something?”

  An old and rickety man nearby shuffled up to the pair, overhearing Simon’s question, “I’ve heard it was some kind of bombing run! Some kind of new weapon called an inv-“

  “-version bomb,” Flick interrupted, “This was an inversion bomb”

  Flick stood unflinchingly, analysing the flames with incredible fascination he rarely tended to show. Even from a glance it was clear he knew something, something he didn’t like.

  Sensing both Simon and the old man looking at him for answers, he continued, “It’s a bomb that implodes in on itself to create a shock-wave”

  Simon furrowed his brow, not taking his gaze off of Flicks unusual penance-like state.

  Since when does he know how an implosion bomb works?

  Before he had the chance to ask, Flick quickly went on “They’re used by SMILE most of the time, creates huge waves of snow dust, easiest thing to hide in usually… But why would they use one here of all places?”

  He talked aloud but he didn’t expect any real answer from his small audience, though a part of him did hope they would know something. Instead, Simon and the old man kept silent, quietly watching the fire do its work.

  Flick was intimately aware of what SMILE could do; their repeated bombings of cutter platoons made him vigilant to their calling signs and methodology. But those cases made sense, inversion bombs didn’t cause traditional explosions, only shock-waves. It was always most ideal for carbon snow avalanches or knocking over the old buildings that littered the planet. Using something like that for a butchers shop was not just wasteful, it was actively pointless. Someone would have to set up smaller explosives around the inversion bomb to create a chain reaction, it was the only way a fire like this could be as great as it was.

  But why an inversion bomb here? Setting the place on fire would’ve been way more efficient than using a bomb like this.

  Beneath the noise of the crowd’s muttering and the fires ferocious roar, Flick heard the cracking of burnt steel coming from the alley just left of the shop, followed by a surge of flames. There was something pushing through them, wading through the inferno, attempting to leave. Instinctively he moved to inspect, twisting his body around the lashings of fire that stretched out of the burning building. At first, he figured it must’ve been some poor soul caught in the explosion, somehow still alive enough to move.

  What he saw staring back instead, as he turned the corner to see what was happening, was a small but thin figure. It was donned with a darkened mask, spray painted a poor yellow, with black, smiling curves in the shape of a face.

  The face of a SMILE member.

  The two locked eyes for a brief moment, standing in perfect stillness as they both tried to make sense of what they were seeing. The masked figure darted away, just as soon as Flick realised who it was he was looking at, leaving nothing but dust and the blur of his tattered cloak behind. Without stopping to inform Simon or anyone else, Flick followed after the assailant. He had daydreamed about this very moment. About how the adrenaline would surge through him and he would take the member down with ease and style to boot. SMILE had caused him far too much paranoia in his working days to let them get away, and the prize money for catching a member wasn’t bad either.

  Even if he didn’t want to pursue however, he knew the twisting pipes of the back alleys more than anyone. Growing up in their suffocating grasp made him numb to their contradictions, their twists and turns, and in the moment he was the only one truly capable of catching the bomber. Whether he like it or not, he had to give chase. Luckily the idea of being the new hero of pillar 7 made Flick more than willing to at least try.

  Both of their bodies effortlessly contorted through the alleys, dodging steaming vents and vaulting over small ledges, neither Flick or the bomber lost speed for even a second. Flick had heard about how hard SMILE was to catch, but even he didn’t expect them to be this nimble.

  Flick thought to himself about how he could get them to slow down, if even by a little bit, and then came to an epiphany.

  He parsed his lips to yell, “Stop, uh…. Criminal!”

  In a sudden jerk the bomber dived to his left, through an open shanty window and into a house. Flick followed suit, throwing himself into the house. Before long the SMILE member was darting through the room, which appeared to be some kind of kitchen, not showing any signs of being slowed.

  Flick sighed, annoyed at the seemingly endless energy this person had, and tried his best to continue. He slid himself across a table and bounded after the bomber, following him through a doorway that led towards the main entrance. The figure suddenly reached out for a small vase, sitting innocently on a set of drawers, and chucked it over his shoulder.

  Flicks eyes widened, moving as fast as he possibly could he ducked away but slammed himself into the tightly packed walls in the process. The vase arched past him, but his shoulder now shad a dull pain that made him flinch. Even worse, it made him slow down just a tiny bit, enough for the bomber to reach the door.

  However, the person suddenly stopped and turned, instead running up the hazardous stairs to the second floor.

  Flick had to force his body to move faster, to react faster than the bomber could, but in his bigger and older body he couldn’t move exactly the way he used to as a kid. Nevertheless, he kicked himself into a higher gear, pushing his body back to its youthful limit and shaking off any pain he once had. He swiftly clambered up the stairs after them, managing to catch a glimpse of them leaping from yet another window, down to the alleys below.

  Flick leapt too, clearing the glassless frame and managing to roll smoothly on the metal ground below.

  “COULD… YOU…” Flick panted, whenever he was sure the mysterious person could hear him, “…STOP!”

  In time he finally started to gain up to the bomber, jumping off of cornering walls and flipping over the piping with a newfound vigour. Flick was just a breath’s distance away and gaining fast.

  This was before the SMILE member, with only a single hand, grabbed one of the nearby pipes sitting at just about waist level and rolled over it. He somehow curled his whole body into 1/3 of its size, practically becoming a small ball as he vaulted. In one smooth motion, as he rolled over of the pipe, he flung a piece of scrap metal with his remaining free hand directly at Flick’s neck with laser precision. Flick’s body barely managed to register what had happened before it reflexively snapped him sharply to the left, slamming his head directly into a stray metal column. Even though he had managed to avoid a fatal wound his neck still bled profusely from where the screw scraped by. Unclear whether or not it had hit a major artery or not, his now concussed brain scrambled to regain its composure.

  By the time it did he had long since lost sight of the runaway. That was until a nearby vent shuddered as though it was recently moved.

  Flinging the grating far behind his back, Flick found that within the ventilation shaft was a small, almost corridor like space that could easily fit three or four people side by side inside of its enclosure. Flick had no time to wonder about why the vents were this large, or why he didn’t think to explore them sooner. Instead he dropped inside, hoping to find any trace of where the bomber might’ve gone.

  Beyond him the corridor seemed to curve in an endless, constant manner, draped by a myriad of neatly organised pipes and wires that followed along its outside. They occasionally hummed white or blue with electricity, like giant grey veins.

  He guessed that the curve was from the rim of pillar 7, meaning this corridor was sandwiched right between the safety of the inner buildings and the outside. Flick carefully stepped to the other end of the corridor, where the pipes and wires laid in unison, and planted his ear against the wall.

  Nothing. Other than the sound of machinery, nothing. It was a gut feeling he had before, but now he knew. Beyond that wall was the void of the earth.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  In the distance he could hear the frantic clunking of metal moving farther away from him.

  The bombers still here? He thought to himself,

  Flick picked up his pace again. With no obstacles blocking his path he could gain momentum much quicker than he did in the alleys. In only seconds he felt like his legs were carrying him building lengths with each stride. This was his moment to close the distance between them. He forced his head down and charged a little harder, confident that nothing could get in his way this time. All he had to do was focus on running.

  In his completely focused state however, he failed to notice that the footsteps had suddenly stopped and now only his could be heard echoing down the hallway, alone. Suddenly a single leg stuck itself out from a crevice in the wall and caught Flick by surprise. In an instant he was flipped over, tumbling along the ground. He stretched his limbs along the harsh metal floor to slow his roll, hoping that even the tips of fingers could suffice. In the end, his elbows and hands did the job, bloodied from the friction.

  He flipped himself onto his back just in time to see the SMILE bomber coming down on him, with something wrapped in his hands. Tucking his legs into his chest, Flick rolled backwards onto his feet. A silver blur slammed into the ground, denting the panelling and carving through it like paper. Flick patted himself down, no wounds to speak of.

  The two found themselves staring at each other, both of their fatigue beginning to set. In the stillness Flick could now see what he was almost struck by, and he didn’t like what it potentially meant for him.

  An Engine Blade!?

  As the bomber wrenched his sword out from the floor a burst of steam came from its hilt, cementing it as being the real thing. Although, even from a glance Flick knew it couldn’t be anything but the real thing. Its handle was covered in all sorts of pipes and gears that shuddered with energy, and its hefty weight was clear by the way it hung in the air. Just like everything described them.

  An engine blade was not to be taken lightly; Flick knew that much from the stories he heard of the pillar war growing up, however this had been the first time Flick had seen one up close and functional. From what he had heard these were usually only used by the military, and were specifically designed to kill and maim anything that stood in their way. Maiming side of the design was actually much more prevalent than the killing one. It was meant to send nothing but fear into its enemies, a horror story of war brought to life. Its engine-like design meant that it was multi-purpose, that also meant that any engine blade could have different effects and techniques. From boiling you alive to stuffing you full of sand, each one was entirely unique.

  The engine blade in front of him could do anything, even from where he stood it could incinerate him as long as it had the capability to do so. The only advantage Flick did had was knowing a blade couldn’t hold any more than two functions, but that did little good in a situation where he knew neither of them.

  Another thing though, is that it was immediately clear to Flick that this wasn’t a new engine blade. Probably one harvested from junk heaps or dead soldier platoons, aged in metal decay from years past. But regardless of the rust building up on its edges, it was still more than enough to eviscerate anything that stood in its way.

  Flick had always looked up to the comic book heroes that could stand against such overwhelming odds, but never actually expected himself to be in the same position. Especially not against someone wielding an engine blade, of all things.

  He was afraid.

  Seeing the fear in his eyes, the bomber lunged at Flick again, his sword humming ever louder as it moved through the air. It pierced into the wall behind Flick, barely missing his torso. Flick noticed something strange about the tip of his weapon, the way it sizzled with the metal in the wall and lit it up a faint red.

  One of its functions, he reckoned. An engine blade that could superheat its edge, even a single nick would boil his blood for sure. For Flick, it was just another thing to panic about.

  It was evident that the SMILE bomber was confident, even the way his body moved was like that of a professional. He withdrew his sword comfortably, and returned it to an airtight stance, ready to lunge again at a moment’s notice. Flick had no choice but fight back, but fighting unarmed would be a death sentence. Edging slowly to where the engine blade was last stuck, he pulled at the loose pipe-lined wall managing to yank free a reasonably long piece of a steel pipe. Twirling the pipe in one hand Flick paced around his target, who stared back at him with the tip of his blade pointed at his throat steadily.

  The pipe wouldn’t last very long against an engine blade, but if he could just knock the blade away from the bombers hand he might stand a chance, even with his limited fighting experience.

  That was… If he could knock it away from him, without losing a limb of course.

  The next attack came without warning, a wide swing at Flick’s torso with blistering speed. The bomber was aiming for him to block, on instinct, so that the pipe could be done away with quickly and effectively. Unexpectedly however, instead of blocking traditionally Flick brought his pipe up to meet the engine blade at the midpoint of the swing. Using the hooked end of the pipe and the soldered rings on its edge, he pulled the engine blade upwards towards his neck.

  In an instant Flick ducked underneath and used the attackers momentum to push the blade away to his other side, leaving his opponent wide open to attack. Flick wasn’t aware, but this was only possible due to his own flexibility and speed, the one thing he had as an advantage over most. Reflex, that was all it was. But, to the SMILE member, it was indistinguishable from polished skill.

  The Bomber clicked his tongue,

  Flick could feel the pipe heating up in his bare hand with each second, even that brief moment of contact was enough to make his weapon almost un-wieldable. However, Flick now had his opening. Just one quick jab, with the tip of his pipe at the bombers arms would be more than enough to knock them off balance.

  Just as Flick poised his arm to strike, the bomber twisted his body unexpectedly. Instead of retracting his outstretched reach back into a defensive position, like Flick expected him to do, he pointed the tip of the engine blade backwards towards Flick’s neck.

  The engine blade’s gears spun hastily and steam flushed out of the hilt in billows, sending the blade flying out of its base at bullet like speed. Flick choked back the air in his throat jutted his head forward, leaning into the lunge that was already in motion, but it wasn’t quite enough to avoid the sword. It sliced past his nape leaving a shallow cut behind. Not deadly, but the glowing heat of the engine blade made the wound sizzle and burn.

  Flick hit the floor, clutching the back of his neck in writhing pain, his attack having never met his target.

  The engine blade, still attached to the hilt by a loose steel chain, buzzed with satisfaction. But the SMILE bomber wasn’t done, he reeled his arm far back and commanded the chain like a whip. It lashed about the ground like a tethered beast before flying high up above. Then, with a fierce crack that echoed down the metal halls, it flew back down, intending to split Flick straight down the middle.

  He grit his teeth through the pulsing pain in his neck and rolled to the side, avoiding the chained sword as it lashed against the ground. The bomber pressed something on his hilt, and the sound of churning gears rang clear once more. Whirring cogs and pulleys whistled as they towed the blade back its base, with the SMILE bomber locking his arm back to stab down a killing blow.

  Flick grasped his pipe with all of his remaining strength and brought it up just as the engine blade came careening down, skimming it’s metal surface and heading straight for the bomber’s jaw. With a meaty thunk the pipe made contact, blasting the man’s face skyward. The engine blade narrowly passed Flick’s shoulder with collision, instead cutting the floor below as the bomber stumbled backwards into the wall.

  Flick saw this as an opportunity to strike again, a clear moment for him to swing with full strength. However, it showed only too clearly his inexperience in swordplay. The bomber dizzily stepped out of the way, predicting the attack and kicking Flick in his side, causing him to collapse to the ground again.

  Surprisingly, the man didn’t attack again. instead, he checked his wrist that donned two separate watches then faced his back to Flick, aiming his sword at the outer wall.

  Flick furrowed his brows as he watched the bomber trace an outline in the air carefully, when the realisation suddenly dawned on him. He jammed his pipe into a crevices in the wall, forming a handlebar that he clutched to for dear life.

  The bomber then took five slashes to the wall; two up from the floor, one to bridge the two cuts and finally two more to form an X across the middle. Pulling his leg to his chest, the bomber kicked with full strength, breaking it apart instantly and exposing the interior of the vent to the void outside of the pillar.

  In a huge gust of wind the attacker vanished outside, sucked out to the void along with the air and loose scrapings of metal. Flick only managed to catch a glimpse of their body being flung into the dark before he felt the torrential pull on his own. He clenched with all the strength he could, praying that the void wouldn’t claim him too.

  It didn’t take long for the pillar to automatically seal off the exposed hole in its side, with alarms blaring in high tones, “BREACH… BREACH”

  Hundreds of steel plates spiralled around where the bomber cut, swallowing the hole and serving as a placeholder until the wall was fully repaired. Even still, Flick was still clutching to his pipe, gasping for breath and recovering the wounds he had sustained.

  He didn’t realise how much time had passed before Simon found him in the vents, whether it was five minutes or fifty, all of his senses blended together in lethargy and fatigue. Simon, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. His face was contorted with fear and anguish but there was something else there as well, something that Flick didn’t understand until Simon began to talk, monotone and defeated.

  “…There was another bomb,”

  What?

  “They-“Simon stopped himself to get his breathing under control “They got to my office. There was another bomb, Flick…”

  Simon hoisted Flick over his shoulder and hobbled him out to the factory district, the smell of smoke and debris already singeing Flick’s nose. The firemen were already on scene assessing the damage, their sirens blaring loud enough to wake half the pillar.

  The two could barely believe their eyes, the spire that they were in just moments prior was now nothing but ash and rubble beneath them. Simon took it the hardest, seeing the destruction with his own eyes for the first time was unbearable. He dropped Flick and rushed to the centre of the debris with tears in his eyes, tearing at the ground for something to salvage. Flick couldn’t tell if he was looking for anything in particular, all he could see was the determined look in his eyes, one of pure despair he hadn’t seen before. He wanted to help in some way, move a layer of broken wall or two, but Since he could barely walk Flick just looked at the destruction before him.

  Was the butchers a decoy?

  He felt conflicted, torn between whether or not his prior chase was worth it, or if it even mattered.

  Strangely enough some items survived the blast more than others, such as the freezer room which stood miraculously intact, only with its doors blasted wide open. It was the only shred of hope amongst the grisly sight before him, one he couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for.

  Finally, Simon found something buried beneath the corpses of his own research, the mechanical box. He immediately hugged it as though it were his own child, curling over it with tears streaming from his eyes. The sight was enough to soothe Flick’s woes somewhat, at least enough to focus on how to move forward.

  However it was then he noticed Simons look of absolute horror, gazing off into the rubble eastwards. When Flick followed his eyes he too froze.

  A figure stood amongst the ashes. A woman, covered in soot and draped in rags that were clearly found amongst the tattered remains of the office. Flick didn’t quite know why he felt horrified, until he recognised her eyes. The same eyes that once stared back at him from an eerie pod in the freezer.