The Hooded Magician's Flight
“Y-you...”
The hooded magician stammered in panic. But in the next instant, he swiftly swung the pistol he'd been aiming at the detectives toward Roque.
A sharp bang echoed down the long hospital corridor.
“Kuh!”
The magician's pistol flew off with a ting, and he clutched his bleeding right hand as he staggered back. His eyes caught sight of Roque, who had already drawn his revolver.
Through the wisp of smoke rising from the revolver's barrel, Roque's black eyes stared indifferently in his direction.
As the magician stumbled backward, the binding that had frozen everyone in the hospital corridor broke free. Regaining control of their minds and bodies, the people looked around in bewilderment.
Then they spotted Roque with his revolver drawn and the bleeding hooded magician.
“G-gun!”
That scream-like cry sent everyone scattering in terror. The hooded magician quickly blended into the fleeing crowd.
Roque cocked the revolver's hammer, then clicked his tongue lightly at the chaotic throng and holstered it.
“Wh-what the hell was that?”
“Ugh, my head...”
Harry and Daniel clutched their heads, staggering. Roque grabbed the two and shoved them toward the hospital security guards rushing over. The bewildered pair were dragged along helplessly by Roque's grip and collided with the guards.
“Ugh!”
“Ow! Roque! What the—!”
Leaving them tumbling in the corridor, Roque gave chase to the fleeing magician. Far ahead amid the panicked crowd, he spotted the hooded figure and the drone bobbing along. People screamed first at the mention of a gun, then again at the drone.
Harry, who had crashed into the security guards but scrambled up quickly, spotted it too.
“Damn it!”
He hauled the still-dazed Daniel to his feet and flashed his badge at the guards.
“MLPD! We're on an urgent investigation—cooperate!”
Silencing the security team, Harry and Daniel hurried after Roque.
The magician leading the escape glanced back. His eyes widened beneath the hood. Roque had closed the distance in a flash. He wove through the chaotic crowd like water flowing smoothly, without the slightest hesitation.
His speed was such that some people only startled after he'd already brushed past them.
“Damn it!”
Muttering in a thin voice, the magician yanked a cart a nurse was pushing and toppled it. Drugs and supplies spilled out in a crash.
Roque simply leaped over the scattered pill bottles and surgical tools littering the corridor. The nurse, who had crouched to gather them, gaped as Roque's coat fluttered over her head.
Thus, the magician and Roque tore down the hospital corridor, sowing chaos. Well, the magician did. Toppling carts, scattering objects, knocking over patients. Roque effortlessly vaulted them all, sticking close to the magician's heels. The floor they raced through grew noisy with commotion.
Of course, no matter how hard the magician ran, he couldn't shake Roque. Soon, Roque's hand was nearly at his collar. Feeling a chill on his neck, the magician veered sharply around a corner.
Roque followed—and someone suddenly lunged at him. Reflexively grabbing the arm and twisting it with a crack, he saw a middle-aged man in a doctor's coat, face contorted in agony.
“M-my hand's moving on its own!”
Without a second thought, Roque snapped the man's forearm and shoved him aside. The man screamed and collapsed.
Clearing him, Roque looked up to see the magician at the window overlooking the outside, staring back, purple lights flickering on his drone. And a crowd was charging toward him.
“Agh! What the hell!”
“M-my hand's moving by itself!”
“Uwaaa!”
Terror, confusion, or desperate struggle etched their faces as their limbs moved against their will, barreling toward Roque. The magician had hacked them in that brief moment.
It wasn't the long-lasting freeze from before, but if he didn't want to cut them all down, it was a damn threatening move.
Roque smirked faintly.
“Gonna work up a sweat, huh.”
Of course, he didn't need to go that far. As an Aura Master, he'd trained not just swordsmanship but every martial art imaginable to wield that glowing lightsaber. Naturally, he was a master of grappling and jujitsu too.
A terrified orc security guard swung a pot-lid-sized fist. It whirred faintly—reinforced implant, probably. Roque caught and twisted it, flipping him over.
As the orc face-planted with a thud, a wide-eyed nurse jabbed a ballpoint pen at him. Surprisingly menacing tip. Roque twisted her wrist, tripped her leg; she dropped the pen and fell.
Behind her, a burly patient with casts on both arms hurled himself forward. Roque caught the flying mass and redirected him backward.
Grabbing, redirecting, twisting down, tripping—Roque advanced relentlessly. The crowd, surging against their will, tumbled like toys under his hands.
“What the...”
The magician muttered in disbelief, then snapped to. His eyes gleamed. Running wouldn't work anymore.
One of the two drones hovering over his shoulders—the right one—whirred, extending a long barrel.
Biting his lip at the people tangled with Roque, he raised his left hand, index and middle fingers extended in a finger-gun. A round chambered in the drone's barrel with a click.
But just before it fired, Roque—having felled the last obstacle—snapped up his left hand.
An invisible, immense force crushed the hovering drone from all sides. It crumpled into an ugly metal ball. No shot fired—the barrel bent, internals shattered.
The magician, aiming his left hand at Roque, stared dumbly as his drone became scrap. Sparks flew from it.
The next instant, the wrecked internals couldn't hold, and it exploded. The blast hurled the magician down beside it.
“Hm.”
Roque, who hadn't touched it, casually brushed his coat collar. Then he addressed the slumped, head-bowed magician.
“Younger than I thought.”
The magician looked up. The hood had burned off, revealing long hair. A woman in her early twenties glared at him, eyes wide.
“...Who the hell are you?”
“Dunno. Right now, you should worry less about who I am and more about your sentence.”
She sneered.
“Why should I pay for killing a few pieces of trash?”
“Trash, huh. Fine for the five Black Viper goons, but the others? They weren't even connected to them.”
Her smile trembled faintly.
“You know that much...”
Clutching her bleeding hand, she curled up and continued.
“You don't look like cops, but what'd MLPD say? Some psycho bitch massacring innocent civilians?”
“Wasn't it?”
She shook her long hair, head shaking.
“No. I only killed those who deserved it. Black Vipers were obvious trash. The others? Just not publicized, but no ordinary scum. Fraud, stock manipulation, black market deals, prostitution, hit jobs. Hiding behind 'Midland citizens' while doing filthy shit. You know the councilman's wife who pushed the cops to act? Guess why I took her out.”
Roque said nothing, just watched. Her eyes glowed purple—rage and disgust mixed.
“She was an old Black Viper client. Got drugs and boys for her bed. Kept her hobby going with other gangs after they fell. Couldn't stand it, so I ended her. Know who else? James from Midland Central Bank—”
Her torrent halted. Roque was yawning—obviously fake.
As she stopped, he feigned interest.
“Oh, done already?”
“...You think this is funny?”
Hands in coat pockets, Roque replied.
“Anyone can rant about how dirty and disgusting the world is. Just puke out your feelings on what you see. If it's your heroic tales... well, that works too. Stirred up the Midland media, anyway.”
His eyes flicked to the groaning people behind him. Grimacing in pain, they sneaked away from the standoff. Patients peeking from rooms, others huddled. Luckily, she had no time to hack them again.
“Anyway, make any money off it?”
“What?”
She startled visibly, quickly masking it—but couldn't meet his eyes.
“Your brother's got a deep illness. Rare disease—gonna cost a fortune.”
“My brother's got nothing to do with this!”
Her composure cracked again at his words.
“Cops investigating—everything'll come out. How a comatose rare-disease kid affords this hospital.”
Her face paled. Lips trembled.
“If anything happens to my brother because of you...”
“It's already happened—thanks to you.”
“...”
Her eyes darkened deeply. Roque met her gaze steadily.
“Roque! The bastard's...”
Then Harry and Daniel burst from the corner behind him. They halted at the wrecked corridor and the slumped woman.
Her purple eyes turned to them.
The detectives drew pistols instantly. Barrels pointed forward—at Roque. Faces twisting, they cried out.
“Body's moving on its—”
“Roque!”
In that split second, much happened.
No shots from the detectives. Roque's speed beat their triggers. Before fingers squeezed, his hands snapped their arms with cracks and kicks. Daniel yelped.
But with one body, as they moved, he couldn't catch the magician smashing the window and leaping out.
Even his telekinesis, stronger from cyberdives, missed. Her remaining drone blocked between him and the window, top hatch opening to unleash dozens of micro-missiles.
Roque's eyes noted the people still inside. He focused on the incoming warheads.
Some force blocked them; sensitive tips detonated. Flames roared, devouring space. Onlookers' eyes reflected orange.
“Oh...”
“My god...”
But the heat never reached them. An invisible wall separated blast from people. All fire and shock funneled out the broken window. From outside, it looked like a dragon's breath.
Flames and smoke vanished outside in seconds. People stared blankly at the charred, hollow wall.
Harry and Daniel, clutching pained arms, gawked too. Then turned to Roque, surely the cause.
Roque dusted his hands, felt their stares, and looked back.
“Looks like double the bounty won't cut it. Prep triple.”
Without waiting, he leaped through the gaping wall. Harry and Daniel gawked mutely at each other.