Breachers

Breachers – Path of Steel

36

I

Gas and Light

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Marcus froze and just stared at the man for a moment, gaze fixed on the absence of the man’s right arm and the chaotic brown marks on the remaining flesh. ‘An Original,’ Marcus thought, assessing the threat. ‘How strong is he? How fast?’ Marcus's thoughts raced, a flurry of escape plans taking shape—darting between throwing debris, using the terrain for cover, or even risking a sprint towards the Sphere's edge, all the while hoping that Specter would pick up on his predicament. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, ignoring the man’s comment about him being a rat.

The man's expression turned into a wolfish grin, each step bringing him closer to Marcus. The tension thickened, and Marcus eyed the gas canisters strapped to the man’s waist belt, accompanied by a menacing knife that made him feel insecure about his own weapon that he was still holding onto with his hands raised up in the air. “A breacher that you pissed off,” the man remarked, advancing toward Marcus and snatching his backpack. “Drop the knife or I’ll break your arms,” he ordered, watching Marcus hesitate before tossing the knife down the hole. The man shook his head, his eyes fixed on the billowing smoke rising from the hole. His expression revealed a mix of curiosity and wariness. He then opened Marcus’s backpack, carefully extracting items—a sleeping bag, an improvised steel spear, a small gas stove, a first aid kit, and more. Eventually, he pulled out a plastic bag containing three Glass pieces. “There we have it,” he said, toying with the Glass. “So, is this your thing? Going in, killing two or three monsters, and selling the Glass?”

"What the hell are you talking about? I’m not selling Glass," Marcus protested, his eyes narrowing on the man as he considered his options.

“This bag in my hand tells a different story,” the man said, tossing the plastic bag and other items back into the backpack. He then turned his attention to Marcus’s steel spear, a mix of curiosity and irritation on his face. “Where’s the rest of the crew you’re running with?” He glanced at the hole leading to the tunnel Marcus had crawled out of, observing the billowing smoke. “Are the other rats still down there?”

“I’m not part of any crew, but feel free to go down there and see for yourself. Be sure to take long and deep breaths,” Marcus said with a cold edge, getting to his feet and gesturing at his gear. “How about you start by giving me my stuff back and telling me who the hell you—”

“What the hell is this?” The one-armed man abruptly said as he bent Marcus’s steel spear, as if folding a paper straw, while shaking his head.

“A spear.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” the man scoffed, dumping the ruined weapon on the ground and spitting on the ground next to it. He then picked up the backpack, shaking it as he pointed it at Marcus. “Why are you out here without proper gear or weapons? Wait—” The man paused before he suddenly shot forward at an unnatural speed, yanking the hood of Marcus’s hoodie back, revealing his black marks before Marcus could react. “What the hell is an Original doing on his own with shit equipment? What’s your rank?”

Marcus shook free, taking a few steps back before giving the man the middle finger and flashing a nervous smile. “This is my rank. Would you like to see the other—” He didn’t have the chance to finish as he noticed the man take a single step forward, blue mist pouring out of the marks on his right side, hinting at the sudden surge of Mana within the man’s body. ‘Crap... he’s strong. He’s giving me the same vibe as my sister had done back in her guildhall. There’s no way I can win in a fight,’ he thought as he quickly changed tactics. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I’m just here for the monsters. That’s it. You can have the Glass if you want,” Marcus said, slowly backing off further and moving closer to the edge.

“Oh no. You’re coming with me,” the man declared, closing the distance and placing his hand on Marcus’s shoulder while still holding onto the straps of the backpack. “My brother will know what to do with you,” he said, pressing his hand harder onto Marcus’s shoulder, highlighting the clear difference in raw power between them.

“Alright,” Marcus said, his voice soft in that moment. “Just don’t hurt me.” The moment the one-armed breacher opened his mouth to respond, Marcus suddenly stepped in as fast as he could, grabbing the man’s wrist with his right hand while moving his left underneath the man’s armpit as a lever. He lifted him upwards, pressing up with his legs, swiftly throwing the man over his shoulder and down the slope of debris and filth. The second it happened, Marcus spun on his heel, rushing the other way. He quickly ran down the slope before tripping and rolling the rest of the way, battering his body even further. He slid to a halt in the mud and filth at the bottom, his already bruised body now accumulating a fresh layer of aches, scrapes and discoloration as he set off, rushing toward the edge of the Sphere as fast as he could.

A furious roar echoed in the distance, jolting Marcus into an instant change of direction, zigzagging between sections of the junkyard, desperate to get away from the Breacher. ‘There’s no way I could’ve stood a chance against that freak in a straight up fight,’ he thought, his lungs burning as he sped away. ‘I got lucky because of the elevated location and the fact that he only had one arm to grab things.’ The edge of the Sphere loomed in the distance, close to the main entrance. ‘To hell with this place. I need to get out, fast. Specter’s got a full charge just mere minutes ago. He’ll probably be able to keep hidden for a while and make it out later.’ Passing a row of cars, Marcus neared the Barrier, only to spot a man moving out of cover behind a burnt-out car, aiming a weapon at him. ‘Who the hell—’ A bang echoed while something big and heavy slammed into Marcus’s chest, halting his movements and folding him to the ground like a pretzel. Wheezing, he looked around, disoriented and in pain, spotting a strange object on the ground next to him. ‘A Beanbag?’ he thought, glancing at it while the man reloaded and advanced.

“You might want to stay down and play dead, buddy. The way my brother’s roaring, you’ve done a good job of getting on his nerves,” the man warned, holding the weapon trained on Marcus.

“That... stings,” Marcus grumbled, finally finding his voice after a minute of groaning and struggling to breathe properly again. He ran a hand across his chest, wincing at the pain. “Do you... always... shoot first... talk later?” he asked as he stared at the man, seeing the tactical gear he was wearing. ‘Another Breacher?’

“Oh, I bet it stings.” The man's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing a glint of amusement in his eyes. “The rules of chivalry don’t apply in a Sphere. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Why don’t you try and ask nicely?” Marcus quipped, easing into a sitting position, eyes on the shotgun aimed at him.

“That’s cute," the man replied, moving around Marcus, checking for any concealed weapons. “Want another shot at answering again, or should we try an ‘accidental’ slip of my trigger finger to try to jolt your memory?”

Dismissing the man’s words with a headshake, Marcus just rubbed his chest again. “Just let me... catch my breath first,” he said before he felt a surge of adrenaline and fear when he heard another distant roar in the distance. In response, he noticed the man’s hand moving toward a flare gun on his hip, raising it and firing a bright flare into the sky to signal his position. Seizing the opportunity, Marcus shot forward, charging at the shotgun’s with his left shoulder and tanking the shot before colliding with the startled man. The shotgun clattered to the ground as Marcus’s opponent swiftly jabbed the tip of the flare gun into his ribs. In response, Marcus retaliated by smashing his forehead into the man’s face with enough force to break his nose. As the man dropped the flare gun, staggering backward with blood streaming from his nose, Marcus seized the moment, delivering a punch to the man’s stomach. However, Marcus paid the price by receiving a vicious hook to the side of his face, near his eye. The pain made him back off for a moment as he shook off the blow before lunging forward again and dodging the man’s next attack.

‘He’s had decent training. But he’s rusty,’ Marcus thought as he blocked a few blows and a nasty leg swipe before returning two of his own that managed to do some damage. Sensing his moment, Marcus closed the distance after faking a jab, quickly grabbing the man and pulling him as close to himself as he could. ‘Is he even a Breacher? I feel like I’m faster and stronger than him.’ They punched and clawed at one another for a few seconds, with Marcus receiving a nasty elbow to his face but retaliated by seizing the man’s arm and neck, initiating a chokehold. Applying gradual pressure, he hissed, “Just go to sleep.” The man, however, resisted, continuing to strike and claw at Marcus’s arms and face. “I said, go to—” Marcus’s command was cut short when he heard a thunderous impact reverberate through the junkyard. His eyes widened as he spotted the one-armed Breacher wearing a gasmask and kneeling on a destroyed car a short distance away, partially shrouded in a cloud of dust. Before Marcus even had a chance to consider how screwed he was, the one armed Breacher shot forwards like a bolt of lightning, closing the distance with alarming speed, an impending storm of rage and violence. ‘Oh, shit,’ Marcus thought, letting go of the man he was choking, afterwards slamming his foot in the man’s stomach before making a break for it.

After only a few steps, the one-armed Breacher snagged the back of Marcus’s hoodie, pulling him down on the ground with more force than the shotgun blast had managed before, knocking the wind out of him. Marcus could barely blink twice before the angered Breacher snatched his ankle, giving him a violent spin before releasing him. The young man skidded across the ground, colliding into a burnt-out car with enough force to dent the door. “You think you can hurt my brother and live?” The Breacher hissed through his gas mask, the distorted voice sending shivers down Marcus’s spine.

“Sebastian, don’t kill him,” the man on his knees urged, one arm nursing his ribs, the other tending to his broken nose.

‘This is it. I’m dead,’ Marcus thought, his heart pounding as Sebastian approached menacingly slow, unnatural blue mist swirling around him, turning his presence into something almost demonic. “No,” Marcus muttered just before feeling Sebastian’s hand wrap around his throat, effortlessly lifting him off the ground as if he were nothing.

“No one hurts my brother,” Sebastian growled, his voice distorted but seething with anger. Even behind the gas mask, Marcus could see the man’s wide eyes, like he was driven by pure rage. The anger in his eyes felt old, as if he harbored an age-old wrath that surpassed Marcus. The grip on his throat tightened, suffocating Marcus through pure pressure.

“Brother, stop,” the man urged while limping toward them. “Let’s all just calm down for a second and—“ he stopped talking as Marcus suddenly bit his own tongue with enough force to draw blood, afterwards spitting it all over the Breacher’s gas mask, effectively blinding him. “Oh no,” the brother managed to say before witnessing Marcus land a forceful kick to the blinded Sebastian’s groin, breaking free. Marcus hit the ground, finally able to gulp down painful breaths. He eyed the stunned Breacher who was holding onto his sore bits. Despite his exhaustion, the young man got up again and went for an uppercut to the man’s chin. Before it could connect, the limping brother intervened, kicking Marcus against the side of the head and slamming him away from Sebastian.

After the impact, Marcus lay on the grimy ground, vision fading, ears ringing, blood pooling in his mouth. The darkness made him feel like he was on the verge of passing out, his body begging him to just give in and ease into it. Then, a memory surged—a boxing ring, his father on the other side, pounding the mat, urging him to get up before the countdown. Marcus remembered the way his father’s lips moved, uttering something he couldn’t hear, but his heart understood. ‘Get up,’ he roared in his mind. Fighting against his body’s instinct to stay down, he ignored the pain, grabbed a handful of dirt, he rose, and assumed a defensive stance. His opponent limped towards him, his brother, Sebastian, was still hunched over a few paces behind him, gas mask now atop his head and breathing slowly.

“You’re tough as nails, I’ll give you that,” the Breacher’s brother remarked, inching closer to Marcus, eying him wearily. “Things could be a lot easier if we all just cool it. I prefer calm logic over chaotic—” Before he could finish, Marcus flung a handful of dirt into his face, turning his words into a mess of curses and groans. Seizing the opportunity, Marcus lunged with a swift right punch to the man’s temple, halted abruptly as Sebastian surged forward with a speed that defied logic, catching Marcus’s hand just before it connected. The sheer amount of pressure the one-armed Breacher was applying was beyond anything Marcus had ever felt before.

Marcus was abruptly yanked forward, Sebastian’s knee slamming into his stomach, folding him to the ground and draining the last of his fight. He was pulled upright again, forced to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “You’re going to pay, you little shit,” the Breacher warned. Marcus, desperate, swung his left fist at the side of Sebastian’s head. Instead, he only succeeded in knocking the man’s gas mask off and hurting his own hand as the Breacher seemed to just shrug off the damage. “Pathetic,” the man said calmly.

“I think... I’m ready to... talk now,” Marcus muttered, forcing out the painful words while wearing a bloody grin on his features. However, another knee to his stomach cut his words short and sent him to the ground again. Sebastian and his brother then loomed over him, discussing who he might be and what Sebastian had found in his backpack. Marcus just remained doubled over, each dry heave echoing the turmoil within him. Their conversation, a murky river of threats and questions, only added to the churning discomfort. ‘Who the hell are these people?’

A minute later, Sebastian seized Marcus by the back of his neck, hoisting him up before dragging him toward the Sphere’s edge while his brother limped after him. “Sebastian, look at him. He’s clearly done! And we’re too close to the entrance. We’ll get spotted too,” his brother warned, but Sebastian ignored him, continuing to drag Marcus.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian hissed, reaching the edge and slamming Marcus’s head against the barrier with enough force to make the barrier feel solid. As he did so, the Breacher maintained a constant pressure to keep Marcus’s head from passing through. “Why are you in the Sphere?” he demanded, barely letting the young man process the question before easing the pressure and pushing his head forward to sink into the gel-like membrane, keeping him trapped like that. Moments later, the parts of Marcus outside the barrier thrashed around in a panic, kicking and punching at random. A few seconds later, Sebastian released Marcus, allowing the young man to free his head and breathe again. “Talk, now!”

Marcus breathed rapidly, eyes wide in terror as he fought to suppress it all, to maintain some semblance of control. Unable to do so, he responded like he usually did when he had his back to the wall. “Ask your... sister,” he hissed, pouring verbal gasoline over an already lit flame. The instant he did so, Sebastian slammed Marcus’s face into the barrier again at high speed, making it feel like he was hitting concrete. After feeling like his skull was about to be cracked, the pressure lessened and Marcus sank back through the Sphere’s barrier again and held there for a torturous long minute. From within the barrier, he could make out guards in the distance approaching their position, clearly noticing something was happening inside the Sphere, despite the darkness.

The Breacher then slowly pulled Marcus back out, turned him around, and slammed his back into the barrier, a hand pressing against his chest. Marcus blinked, seeing both brothers standing in front of him as he focused on just his breathing now that he still had the chance. “I don’t have a sister," Sebastian hissed in response, leaning in while Marcus could practically feel the man’s heat.

“Really? Then... what do... you call… that?” Marcus remarked, gesturing at the man’s brother, knowing full well it would set him off again. He sported a shit-eating grin and closed his eyes, hoping for a quick knockout rather than enduring another bout of torture that was essentially some sort of Sphere waterboarding.

“I’m gonna rip out your heart!” Sebastian’s hiss echoed, but his brother stepped in, restraining him with a hand on his arm. The man snarled, redirecting his fury to his brother. “Back off, Benedict! Don’t get soft on me now. This prick deserves it.”

“Brother, look at him. He’s just a kid and he’s barely conscious,” Benedict said as he shifted his gaze to Marcus, seeing the black Marks on the right side of his face as well as all the bruises. In that moment he seemed to notice how young Marcus actually looked. “What’s your name?”

“You first,” Marcus countered, a bloody smirk on his face that didn’t match the fear that was gripping his heart.

“I’m Benedict. This grumpy one next to me that wants to rip out your heart is my brother, Sebastian,” he stated, observing the young man’s appearance and shaking his head. “What’s your name?”

“I forgot,” Marcus said before groaning as he felt Sebastian push him harder against the Sphere’s barrier. “It’s kinda hard... to remember after... getting kicked in the face... and getting... tortured.”

Benedict motioned to his brother, signaling him to let go before turning his attention back to the young man. “Look, all of this could’ve gone so much easier if you didn’t throw hands with us. Let’s just—” Benedict said before pausing suddenly for a moment. “We’ll go first. See where that gets us. There’ve been signs of unauthorized entry into Spheres in the area, and Glass being collected without government oversight. I doubt I need to spell out the potential risks of such a situation. And here you are, inside a Sphere, covered in monster blood, and according to my brother, you had three Glass pieces on you.”

“Got any proof of that? Who says I didn’t just take a lively stroll at night and just got lost?” Marcus retorted. The second he did so, the one-armed Breacher snagged the front of his ruined hoodie, pulling him in closer and glaring venomously into his eyes.

“Sebastian, please,” Benedict said as he moved closer to the two men, placing a hand on his brother’s arm to calm him down again. “Kid, we don’t know why you are doing what you are doing, or what you planned to do with the Glass. Just tell us, and perhaps we’ll be able to work something out. Because the moment we step outside of this Sphere, that isn’t an option anymore,” he said as he pointed at the barrier behind him where Marcus could see the distorted sight of several confused security guards standing on the other side and pointing at them. “And why did you loot a sleeping bag and a gas stove? That stuff is worthless. Are you some sort of scavenger?”

“I’m not a scavenger,” Marcus admitted, body slowly hunching over as he rubbed his ribs, leaning against Sebastian’s muscular frame. “I brought it with me.”

“With you?” Benedict’s eyebrow lifted, then his eyes widened a second later. “Wait, kid, you’re not suggesting you actually slept inside a—”

“Hey, are these important?” Marcus interrupted while straightening again. In his right hand, two safety pins glistened. He smiled as he saw the expression of both brothers change at seeing them and realizing what it meant. Before they could move or speak, tear gas erupted from two of the canisters on Sebastian’s belt. It enveloped them in seconds, turning the trio into a mix of pain, confusion, and tears. Marcus just leaned back, sinking through the Sphere’s barrier. The brothers pursued, kicking and punching him until they too passed through the crystalline edge. ‘I’m properly screwed,’ Marcus thought, tears streaming as he forced his irritated eyes open to spot the security guards on the other side. The gel-like substance suddenly shattered into a billion fragments, and Marcus, along with the two angry brothers, immediately shot forward, slamming into the ground and sliding to a halt in front of the security guards. The tear gas unfurled like a malevolent spirit, its tendrils now curling around the guards as well. Coughs and muffled curses mingled with the acrid scent as the fumes enveloped them, with a guard even doubling over before puking.

Two other guards hurried over, wielding hoses and spraying water on those that were afflicted. Cursing, Sebastian ripped off his belt and tossed it away as far as he could to prevent even more chaos. As the situation slowly calmed down a bit and Marcus was even able to open his eyes, he suddenly noticed how the Sphere was coming apart right in front of him. He blinked, watching the Sphere’s blue hue fade away amongst the millions of disintegrating fragments. “It’s gone?” Marcus whispered, staring at the aftermath, his eyes ignoring the pain. ‘How?’ he thought as dozens of questions came rushing to the surface. He could feel guards pulling him and the other two men up on their feet, yelling at them and demanding an explanation.

“Who the hell is that?” a guard exclaimed, pointing at something inside the junkyard. In the distance, atop the twisted tower of dirt and metal where the Orb was located, a figure stood at the edge, covered in black layers of clothing. The person, otherwise barely visible in the darkness, held a pulsating blue light up in their right hand, its glow diminishing over time. Time stretched, feeling like an eternity in the gaze of onlookers, as the figure slowly tucked the pulsating Orb into the folds of their clothing, forcing darkness to consume them and the tower once more.

Marcus, squinting against the irritation in his eyes, wondering what the hell he had just witnessed before hearing the distant police sirens and the gradual approach of flashing lights rushing towards their location. ‘Here we go,’ he thought before the guards led him and the two brothers away from the scene, all the while thinking about his last night’s conversation he had with Specter about him always messing up and doing the wrong thing.

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Copyright: OsiriumWrites