Nightmare Realm Summoner

The hatred in Brandon’s eyes burned with such an intensity that it sliced through the smoke curling around Wess like a razor. His knuckles turned white as his hands clenched at his sides, wrapped so tightly around his bow that the weapon itself was quaking.

Screams split the air. Magic crashed and the smell of ozone and viscera filled the air in a thick, sickly haze. Metal rang, bells heralding the Outworlders all around Wess onward into the afterlife — or whatever the hell it was that came after this life.

And Brandon didn’t seem to notice any of it. His eyes were fixed firmly on Wess with vitriol of such intensity that it could have only been matched by the shared gaze of a couple madly in love.

Brandon didn’t see Glint tearing through his men off to the side, shredding them apart like a child with scissors let loose in a fabric shop. He hadn’t realized that Hazel was staging a coup and his own people were slaughtering each other.

“I’m going to kill you,” Brandon whispered. His words weren’t anywhere near loud enough to cut through the din filling the room, but they didn’t need to be. Wess could feel the hatred dripping from the man’s voice. The trembling fury was so evident that it could have been heard even in the vacuum of space.

“Would you be surprised to hear that’s far from the first time I’ve heard that?” Wess asked, his lips splitting into a crooked grin as he raised his gun to take aim at Brandon. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re far from my first. That cherry’s been popped about a hundred times over already. Though — Wait. I don’t think that’s how it works, is it? I might need a better—”

Brandon screamed.

Then he blurred.

The ground where he’d been standing shattered, sending fragments of stone flying free as he accelerated toward Wess. Two molten red streaks of energy trailed where his eyes had been.

Power screamed through Wess’ gun. Blue magic twisted through the barrel and ignited at the tip of the muzzle. A flash of brilliant blue split the air as he pulled the trigger. The shot sliced through the air toward the charging Outworlder.

Brandon twisted to the side. The stream of energy cut right past him, missing entirely. The man barely even missed a step. He didn’t even unblur, continuing straight toward Wess in a streak of red-eyed fury.

Whoopsie. I might have laid it on a bit too—

A ringing crack cut through Wess’ thoughts.

At some point a moment later, he realized the world was spinning. His body had taken several stumbling steps back that he hadn’t even been aware of, and he was staring up at the ceiling rather than straight ahead.

Pain pounded in his skull. Something wet filled his mouth — as did a few hard chunks. A thick, foggy haze enveloped his thoughts in an abrupt hug. Darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, threatening to swallow it —

Wess’ head snapped to the side. A piercing spike of agony tore through his confusion and he staggered. The ringing confusion in his skull swirled like fake snow trapped in a snow globe, shifting around his thoughts just long enough for him to gather then again.

He doubled over, blood — along with several teeth — splattering to the ground before him. Pain and darkness threatened to swallow his thoughts entirely, but Wess forced his gaze upward. Brandon stood just before him, blood dripping from his knuckles.

“You won’t escape,” Brandon hissed, taking a step toward Wess. “Not this time. I am so fucking fed up with this planet. This is the last mistake you’ll make.”

Wess’s lips pulled into a crooked, bloodied grin. He spat the blood re-filling his mouth onto the ground before him. “With a punch like that, you really should have skipped the bow altogether.”

Brandon blurred.

Wess shifted, but he wasn’t anywhere near fast enough. Another blow crashed into his cheek. He reeled to the side, staggering and nearly tripping over his own feet before he managed to catch himself against a wall.

“Keep quipping,” Brandon hissed, stalking toward Wess. “We’ll see how long that lasts. And we’ll see what good that gun of yours does when I’m up close.”

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“Have you tried looking around the room?” Wess asked as he wiped the blood from his face with the back of a hand. “You might have bigger problems to deal with.”

“I don’t care,” Brandon snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “I’m so fucking fed up with this world. This assignment has been a complete shitshow from the very start. Incompetent fucking soldiers. Traitorous, power-hungry grubs. And you. I gave you a job, you coward. A purpose! I should have put you down like the rat you are. You were nothing without me. I saved you!”

“Oh, please,” Wess said. He lowered into a fighting stance. Brandon had been right about one thing. His Big Fucking Gun wasn’t going to be particularly useful at this range. “I was doing perfectly okay in that cell. I’d have found my way out sooner or later. You just happened to pop up at a good time.”

Brandon blurred again.

Wess dove to the side — only to find Brandon’s knee accelerating toward his face.

Oh, yeah. He’s got a hell of a lot more training than me, doesn’t he?

A brilliant crack rang out. Wess’ nose shattered. Stars exploded before his eyes. His head snapped back. He hit the ground in a roll. The ceiling and floor spun to replace each other before he skidded to a stop several feet away.

He pushed himself up with one hand, only for Brandon’s foot to slam down on his back. Wess’ head cracked against the floor. He coughed up blood, along with another tooth. He was going to run out of them at this rate.

Darkness flashed before his eyes. He spotted his hat laying a foot away in a pool of his own blood. The weight on his back vanished, only to be replaced by a hand tightening around his hair.

Brandon pulled Wess up onto the air until their faces were only inches away from each other. The molten red light in the Outworlder’s eyes burned so brightly that it threatened to sear itself into Wess’ soul.

“I should have done this long ago, you insufferable little shit,” Brandon hissed.

Pain exploded through Wess’s stomach. Blood splattered against the wall behind him. He let out an agonized wheeze, his fading vision flicked down. Brandon arm was driven into his stomach up to the elbow.

Words tried to form on Wess’ lips, but the only thing that bubbled up was blood. Brandon’s lips pulled into a cruel sneer and he pulled his arm free in a spray of viscera. Wess screamed.

“What was that?” Brandon snarled. “Something you wanted to say? A joke, perhaps? Or do you want to tell me that someone’s behind me? Some other little plan? No. I don’t think so. Spit it out, you worthless little shit. Your next words will be your last. Make them count.”

Wess’ fingers twitched. He reached for his magic through the foggy haze of his mind. Everything was distant. The world itself had collapsed down to a pinpoint, and the only thing he could still make out was the rapidly distancing visage of Brandon’s fury-filled features.

And that was absolutely no way to go out at all.

“That…” Wess gurgled through the blood filling his mouth, “is a good name.”

A flicker of confusion passed over Brandon’s features. Perhaps he’d been expecting ga plea — or, at the very least, another snarky quip. “What?”

“Little Shit,” Wess said. “It’s a good name.”

A loud bang tore through the air.

The hand wrapped around Wess’ hair loosened. Brandon took a staggering step back. His gaze lowered, his lips parting. Then his eyes went wide. A hole smoked just to the left of the center of his chest, right where his heart was.

“You can’t be serious,” Brandon said, staring in disbelief. Blood bubbled up from his lips to drip from the sides of his mouth.

Wess’ lips curled into a weak smile. Then he raised his arms. He held a sleek ivory pistol in both hands. The one in his right was smoking, shimmers of pale blue energy still wafting from its muzzle.

“Dead,” Wess replied.

A second bang cut through the air.

Brandon stumbled back. A smoking hole appeared right between his eyes, in the center of his forehead. For a moment, neither of them moved. Brandon just swayed, his eyes still affixed with Wess’. The two of them were perfectly still in the chaos of the battle raging all around them.

Then the Outworlder’s lips curled into a sneer.

“That’s it? That’s what your last hurrah was? Two tiny shots?” Brandon asked. “Did you really think that would be enough?”

Wess hooked his foot under his fallen hat and flicked it into the air in a clearly practiced motion. It landed on his head, slightly askew to the side.

“No,” Wess replied. “But this will be.”

A blurred streak of silver flashed through Brandon.

The man blinked. He looked down, only to find the lower half of his body sliding away from him. Brandon’s upper part crashed to the ground by his own feet, staring sightlessly up at the looming form of Glint standing behind him.

His lips parted. “I—”

A final bang cut through the air, and a second smoking hole appeared in Brandon’s forehead. Any final words he might have tried to say were cut short as the life poured from the Outworlder’s eyes to spill across the bloodied ground around him.

Wess lowered his guns.

“What?” he asked, catching Glint’s glassy gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. What if he put a curse on me in his final words? Can’t go around letting people curse you. It’s bad luck.”

Glint didn’t respond. The monster just stared at him.

Wess sighed. He jerked his chin toward the remnants of the fighting. “Go finish that shit up, would you? I’ve got a body to loot.”