Song for the Misfortuned

Myth tells of winged women whose beautiful singing lured sailors into treacherous waters, leading to the wrecking of many ships.  If the men didn’t drown in the dangerous ocean currents they struggled to shore, drawn on by the enchanting power of the music.  Only when they reached the singers did the men understand their folly, for the creatures would rend the men apart and devour their flesh.  Surviving the deadly music depended on one of two things: silence, or a music more captivating than the siren’s song

Silent screams filled the corridors of the maze, muffled by many years of vacancy.  Grotesque splatters of blood stained the emotionless steel walls, giving the labyrinth a cruel undertone.  With their bodies wasted away from neglect and their minds driven to insanity from frustration only the voices of the past remained.  If one listened closely they could still hear the hysterical laughter and desperate pleas of the lost still echoing in the halls.

Of course Gideon heard none of this silence.

A cacophony of rapid fire gunshots accompanied with staccato footsteps filled the empty hall, composed by a submachine gun hanging from the ceiling.  The contraption supporting the gun clicked and whirred as it followed Gideon’s movements, forcing him to sprint.  Luckily it needed maintenance and he managed to stay a beat ahead of the bullets.  Without warning the machine fizzed and sparked before combusting into a small explosion and clattering to the ground.  The gun still fired rounds and not taking any chances Gideon ran on until he turned a corner.  He didn’t stop until the only sound he heard was the ragged rhythm of his heavy breathing.

Gideon leaned on the wall, pressing his face against the cold metal as he attempted to calm himself.  It caused his glasses to slide uncomfortably into a skewed position on his face.  He didn’t like the labyrinth’s confusing turns and various traps.  Earlier he found a pit.  He carefully leaned over it in an attempt to see the bottom but its depths appeared never ending.  Though he probably could’ve jumped the pit, he didn’t want to chance falling in.  After turning around he found out the walls moved.  The corridor he walked down to reach the hole no longer existed and instead he faced two new halls.  It made no sense.

In an effort to comfort himself he retied his ponytail of black hair and combed his fingers through his bangs, before straightening his black overcoat.  When he regained his breath Gideon continued his meandering walk through the maze.  Time felt distorted in the labyrinth and he couldn’t tell if he wandered for minutes or hours before he smelled something burning.  Now Gideon advanced with caution, ready for another kind of trap.

Smoke crawled along the ceiling, billowing and swirling until it filled the hallway.  It stung Gideon’s eyes and burnt his throat.  A man stepped out of the smoke, brushing off his long, black coat.  Blond hair covered half his face but his visible eye widened in surprise and delight at the sight of Gideon.  “Finally a vic—I mean, another person!  And here I thought the broad lied to me.”  He said with a laugh in his voice.  

Miss Fortune.  The thought caused Gideon to grimace.  “The redheaded siren manipulated you with her song?”  He taunted, eliciting an aggressive reaction; the blond straightened up and squared his shoulders, his expression shifting quickly from mischief to malice.  “Compose yourself, she caught me too.” Gideon said quickly, defensively taking a step backwards and bracing himself, waiting for the other man to attack.  “Gideon.”  He added on after a moment of no response.

“Jason.”   The other man said, still clenching his fists and trying hard to control his anger.  “You think she tricked us into coming here?” Jason asked hesitantly as he ran a hand through his blond hair.  His wary curiosity tempered his agitation.  

Gideon watched as Jason fidgeted slightly and he smiled, deliberately taking time to formulate a response, enjoying making Jason wait for the answer he wanted.  He peered over Jason’s shoulder and into the smoking hallway.  Thin, red beams of light crisscrossed the space, explaining the small holes in Jason’s jacket and the clean cut on his cheek. Another trap of the maze.

“Certainly.”  He said, finally replying to Jason’s question.  Gideon remembered how Miss Fortune threatened him with the prospect of an ambush by his enemies and then proposed to him the tantalizing offer of safety.  However, Gideon found out she had lied about the attack and instead of running into his former associates, Gideon lost himself in the maze.  “The sycophant dabbled in blackmail and deceit to lure me here, I have no doubt she also used false promises.”

“Hm.”  Jason murmured placing a hand on his chin, his thumb running along his jaw line. While he thought about the statement Gideon surreptitiously slipped his knife out of his sleeve with a gentle shake of his arm.  “Well,” Jason announced concluding his ponderings, “I’ll see what Miss Fortune has to say, but I think you’re right.”  Gideon gripped the knife’s familiar handle as Jason talked, waiting for a chance to strike.  “Now though, now we’ll have fun.”

“Indeed.”  Gideon replied dryly, darting forward and slashing at Jason with his blade.  The knife whistled through the air but didn’t meet its target; Gideon underestimated Jason’s speed.  The blond man jumped backwards, a manic look in his red eye, pleased at the prospect of a fight.  Jason took a deep breath and spat a burst of flame at Gideon.

It surprised Gideon and though he tried to dive away the fire caught his side.  At least he knew where the smoke came from.  He ran as Jason inhaled again, anticipating another fiery attack.  While he dashed down the hallway he patted his clothes, putting out the flames.

The experience reminded him of the fire eaters at the circus.  As a child he would watch as they played with the flames, controlling their element in the same way the beast master tamed his wild animals.  It frightened him and he used to hide behind his mother, clinging to her skirt for comfort, whenever the fire eaters tried to speak to him.  Eventually he learned more about their craft and lost his initial fear, but now he again ran from a fire wielding fiend.  It almost made him laugh.

Looking over his shoulder Gideon saw Jason chasing after him, a wide grin on his face.  He easily kept pace with Gideon.  In fact, Jason gained on him.  Gideon pursed his lips and returned his attention to the hall only to see the pitfall from before.  Hoping he imagined the obstacle he closed his eyes tightly and opened them, but the hole remained.  It didn’t belong there.  The halls had changed again.

Quickly he gauged the distance between himself and the hole, factored in his speed and then focused.  When he deemed himself close enough to the pit he launched into a forward flip, landing on his hands and using his momentum to carry his body into another flip.  This time Gideon landed on his feet, a few inches from the ledge.  With all his strength he vaulted over the pit, twisting in the air before landing precariously on the other side with his heels halfway off the edge.  Carefully he stepped away from the pit and turned around.

From the opposite side of the hole Jason glared back at him, dismayed.  Gideon gave a sarcastic, flourishing bow enjoying the enraged look on Jason’s face.  The other man cupped his hand, producing a ball of fire.  Not needing another warning Gideon darted down another hall before Jason could throw the fire.

In the safety of the new corridor Gideon relaxed and touched the side of his body Jason burnt with his fire.   Fortunately he took the hit on his right side and his skeletal arm remained completely unharmed, protected by the thick concentration of magic holding the bones together.  He touched his ribcage and flinched, the fire had done damage there, and the flames also licked up his neck and touched his cheek.  Taking off his glove Gideon used his knife to make a small cut on his thumb and used the drop of blood to draw a symbol on the charred flesh of his side.  He couldn’t waste energy on a healing spell for something minor, but a simple spell to numb the pain would suffice.

He sighed at the relief the spell brought and pulled the glove back onto his hand.  “Next time,” Gideon said quietly to himself as he walked through the maze, “gage your opponent’s strengths instead of hastily attacking.”  Though after another extended amount of time roaming the empty labyrinth he suspected no one else existed in the steel halls.

Finally he found a door.  Tired of the same scenery of blood stained, endless halls Gideon opened the door, ready for whatever trap awaited him.

First he saw the mirror at the other end of the room, though it looked more like a reflective window built into the wall; a one way mirror.  More mirrors, more unsatisfactory reflections of himself.  Then he saw Jason sitting on a tall barricade.  “Hah!”  He said jumping off the short wall.  Other walls filled the room in random places, curiously covered in scorch marks, much like the floor.   “What a coincidence, I wanted to see you again!  Now you can’t run away.”  Jason exclaimed, walking forward in a predatory manner.

Gideon didn’t want to return to the maze, but there was another door next to the mirror.  He needed to get past Jason.  “If Fate desires a confrontation I cannot deny her request.”  He said wearily, not thinking about the mention of Fate.  Jason scoffed at the topic.  Immediately Gideon’s eyes narrowed and he pushed his tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose.  Having met Fate he didn’t consider her a laughing matter.  “When you meet an abstract concept in corporeal form it tends to strengthen your belief in its existence.”

“Then again,” Gideon continued, “what kind of destiny could you possibly possess you imbecilic, pyroma—” A brand of flame lashed out at him, but now Gideon knew about Jason’s fire and he dove to the side, landing crouched behind  one of the walls.  Jason ran forward, vaulting over the barricade and landing beside Gideon.  “Irascible too, eh?”  Gideon said, deftly flipping the knife in his hand and jamming it into Jason’s leg.  In a swift motion Gideon jerked the knife up, cutting a deep, long gash in Jason’s flesh.  Immediately Gideon grasped at the blood with his magic, manipulating it into a fluid red stream.

Jason reacted faster than Gideon expected and created an incendiary blast of fire before Gideon could form the blood into a protective shield.  The flames bit at Gideon’s clothes and face, and he quickly rolled towards the center of the room, grunting in pain and letting Jason’s blood drop from the air and splatter onto the ground in thick drops.

“What?”  Jason muttered to himself, his red eye staring wonderingly at the trail of blood leading towards Gideon.  He didn’t understand Gideon’s ability but it fascinated him.  Because Gideon’s blade caused no pain it took him a moment to recognize his own blood.  Pressing a hand against the laceration on his leg, Jason tried to staunch the bleeding, still transfixed by the sight of the blood.  With a shake of his head Jason cleared away the disorientation and instead glowered at Gideon as the hemomancer stood and brushed himself off, wincing at the burns.  The movement woke the room and it hummed into life, panels on the walls opening to reveal machines made of long tubes ending in nozzles.  With a mechanical click the hoses moved forward.

Both men regarded the new features of the room with apprehension, though Jason smiled after a moment when he figured out the machines.  “Flamethrowers!”  He said, tilting his head and looking at Gideon.  As if responding to Jason’s words one of the machines hiccupped and a liquid spurted from its spout before it turned into a torrent of fire.

The scorch marks in the room made sense now.

Another flamethrower spewed fire directly at Jason, but the man made no move besides a quick gesture with his hand, directing the stream towards Gideon.  Groaning, Gideon ducked behind one of the walls and pressed his back against it, the heat of the flames seared him but the blockade provided shelter from the liquid fire.

Just as the last flamethrower halted its assault another one spit fire; this time at Gideon.  The man scrambled away, silently cursing irony as Jason’s laugh filled the room.  “They made my job too easy!”  Jason crowed, directing more flames toward Gideon.

With an angry growl Gideon jumped to his feet, arms moving in a wide arc as he lifted all the blood on the ground into the air. Moving his entire body in a graceful turn he formed the blood into sharp tendrils and sent them slicing through the machines in a frenzied storm of undulating blood trails. It rent open the hoses and punctured their tanks.  “Have I leveled the odds?”  Gideon asked in a haughty snarl, holding the blood ready to attack, but Jason remained unfazed.  The blond man smirked, raising an eyebrow as he examined the arena.

Too late Gideon realized his mistake.  Petrol leaked from the broken flamethrowers onto the ground, pooling across the entire floor.

Gideon drew all the blood he could close to his body as Jason set the fuel ablaze.

The resulting conflagration tore through the room, setting everything on fire.  Jason stood in the middle of the hellish blaze with his arms crossed in smug confidence and he shook with unhinged laughter.  The fire lapped at Jason but failed to harm him.  It created a vortex of wind as it hungrily devoured the oxygen in the air, but though the fire could not burn him it rapidly grew too large for Jason to control.

Curled up helplessly on the floor Gideon clung desperately to his blood making it into a shield and wrapping it tightly around his body to form a protective cocoon.  He could feel the overwhelming heat through the layers of blood but could do nothing more to fend off the flames.  The enclosed space suffocated him and threatened to cook him.

Suddenly the blood composing his shield weakened and slowly Gideon lost control of it.  In a panic Gideon frantically tried to keep the blood together but for some reason it had become diluted with water.    He could feel his magic fading and the blood slipped away, dripping into a large puddle on the floor.  Rain fell from the ceiling, drenching Gideon as he sat surrounded by dying flames and watered down blood.  He looked up in confusion and let out a small, laugh tinged with slight derangement.

Sprinklers.

The sprinkler system still worked.  It surprised both Gideon and Jason and they gazed blankly at the ceiling, wondering why the sprinklers existed.  Apparently the original occupants of the building wanted to keep their subjects alive and installed measures to save them from accidents.  Gideon stood up and his eyes traveled from the ceiling and rested on Jason.  At the same time the other man looked towards him.

“You!  You survived?”  Jason said, a look of livid disgust settling on his face wet face.  Water drenched them and even though only small remnants of the inferno remained the sprinklers continued to douse the room, drenching both men.  Blood still seeped from Jason’s wound, draining the color from his face.  His image on the mirror beside him reflected the pale color of his skin.

Jason raised his hands and Gideon ran toward him, not ready to subject himself to any more burns.  With a flick of his wrist Gideon manipulated the blood from Jason’s leg, making it into a binding attached to the floor, preventing the man from moving.  The water dampened the pyromaniac’s fire, making it weaker and easier to dodge.  This time when the fire flew towards Gideon he swerved out of the way, skidding on the watery ground and letting his speed carry him past Jason.

Reaching out Gideon took hold of Jason’s body with one hand and placed the blade of his knife against Jason’s throat.  Effortlessly he drew the knife across the other man’s neck, severing the carotid artery and letting the blood spray onto the mirror.

The act took less than a second, and Gideon let Jason’s body slump to the ground.  He looked at the mirror, now satisfied with his reflection.  Though burns ran up his right side and part of his face, and his hair and clothes looked singed, the blood on the mirror made him look better; a testament to his success in the fight.  Gideon looked down at Jason, his blond hair plastered against his white skin and his eyes wide and glazed.  His knife had cut through the chain of  Jason’s necklace and the trinket lay broken on the floor, next to its owner.

As Gideon walked towards the door at the other end of the room a movement in the mirror caught his eye.  He looked back, unnerved, but saw nothing.  He decided the water dripping down the mirror’s face had played with his imagination, but when he left he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling of being watched.