The stairwell echoes with the tapping of my shoes as I rush down the steps, my mind focused on figuring a path out of the building. So far, it seems like only a small squad of agents were sent out to capture me, but I've no idea what's waiting for me outside, so I need to gather what information I can. Pushing open the door to floor ten, I make my way down the corridor, stopping by a glass wall and looking down. My heart drops as I find a large gathering of government vehicles, blue and red flashing up at me, lighting my face.
Checking the road, I see both ends of the street blocked off, with blue barriers preventing crowds of pedestrians from getting close, their phones in hand, probably recording. Turning away, I work my way back down the corridor, trying the doors of the apartments as I go, the locked handles rattling, before one finally opens to me. It opens silently, creating a small gap that I spy through; a homely, red-walled hallway revealing itself to me, a long, cotton rug lining it, with a wooden coat rack to the side.
Detecting the Chi of a person further in, I slowly open the door and enter, softly closing it behind me and turning the lock. Reaching down, I pull my shoes off and start to sneak down the stretch, heel-to-toe, my focus on the homeowner, her position slightly lower then mine; possibly lying down. Hugging the corner, I peek around, laying eyes on the back of a woman, her hair black and curly, sitting on long sofa and watching TV, its large frame hung up on her fireplace wall.
As I go to move round, the contents of her TV catches my attention; a live news report outside the very building I'm being hunted in. Placing my sight on it, I see a bald, black man in wire-frame glasses on screen, a microphone in hand, "–er-Man, seen fighting against two enhanced individuals, their identities unknown as of this moment. From what we've managed to gather here on the scene, one of the enhanced has been taken into custody, while the other, a woman, is still at large.
"She is presently under pursuit by agents of the DODC, that's the Department of Damage Control, the government agency responsible for tackling so-called superpowered people. According to one officer I spoke to, the unnamed woman is armed and incredibly dangerous, with evidence pointing to her having murdered multiple people in a short amount of time," a CCTV-captured image of my suited form appears on screen, standing in a lift looking up at the camera, Jian drawn, "Residents are cautioned to lock their doors and report any suspicious activity to the police.
"A press release detailing the situation is to be issued in the next few minutes by Andrew Carter, a representative of the New York branch of the DODC, recently promo–" the TV is switched off by the raised remote of the woman before me as she talks to herself, unaware of my presence behind her,
"Jesus, what is this city coming to?" Carefully moving up behind her as she goes to stand, I lightly, but quickly, jab her on the back of her neck with a Chi poke, putting her to sleep. Catching her slumped body, I lay her down on the sofa, making sure to position her in a natural way, then move around her kitchen island. Standing before the sink, I turn on the tap and wash the dried blood from my face, then grab a glass from her cupboard and fill it, downing it in three gulps. Washing and drying it, I place it back where I found it and start to search for her bedroom.
After opening up a few doors, I eventually find it; its queen size bed placed opposite the door, next to a glass wall, with a large walk-in closet to the right. Entering the closet, I search through for what I need, quickly finding a large, dark green gym bag, a pair of black and white trainers a size too small for me, and a black, hooded tracksuit. Undressing down to my underwear, I empty my backpack full of goodies and my folded, bloody suit into the bag, then put on the stolen clothes.
Disguise donned, I turn to leave, plucking a black baseball cap off the back of the door and a hair tie from a shelf on my way out, then walk back into the living room. Checking on the sleeping woman and finding that she's still out for the count, I take a seat next to her on the sofa and lean back, sinking into it. Letting out a deep sigh, I glance to the woman and confess to her, "This has really gotten out of hand."
Turning my head to ceiling, I pull the cap over my face and close my eyes, considering my options. I'm pretty sure I can escape without engaging or having to kill anyone, though it will be difficult. I could also try and take them out one-by-one, dispatching them without notice, but I don't like my chances of success. Another option is to give the sorcerer's a call and have them portal me out, but that's a choice I don't really want to make. If I can't evade a simple, mundane organisation, then do I really deserve to call myself a cultivator?
As I run through my options, a spark of inspiration hits me, my eyes snapping open as I bolt up, my hat falling off my face. Looking at the woman, I praise myself shamelessly, "I think I'm a genius." Seeing no response from her, I pick up the hat and place it back on my head, pulling my hair through the back hole and tying it up. Standing, I move the round the coffee table and stand between it and the TV, then start to project my Chi, wrapping it around me.
Placing my hands out to my sides, palms down, I bend my knees and jump slightly, manipulating my Chi as I descend, slowing my fall. I land on the rug-topped, wooden plank floor lightly, then repeat, jumping up and down and experimenting. After a couple of minutes, I feel that I've got it down pat, so move to the sofa and start fixing it up, removing evidence of my being here. With a final check on the woman, I re-enter the hallway and stop by the front door, sensing for the agents, finding them a few floors above, having finished clearing two more in the time I've been here.
Leaving the apartment, I close the door softly and begin to look for an out of the way window, one that no one will notice anytime soon. Finding one at the end of the corridor, a little to the left, I move to it and stare down at the roof of the building five floors below, its surface relatively flat and lacking in clutter. Drawing Jian, I cut a little circle in the glass at hip height, then push it out, hearing it land in the alley below. Gripping the hole with my left hand, I start to cut up and over from it, working my way round and down, then under and up, finishing at the circle.
Kicking it slightly at the bottom, I pull the pane of glass to me and carefully lay it against the wall, making sure not to shatter it. I step to the edge and look out, holding my hat down as the wind buffets me, evaluating the roof below and gauging the distance. Looking around for any obvious observers but seeing none, I throw my bag out below and move back. Pulling up my hood, I start to run, placing a foot on the ledge and leaping, rotating my arms for balance, starting to fall down at speed.
Utilising my new technique, I slow my descent as best I can, landing with force and rolling to bleed off my momentum, coming to a stop in a crouch. Healing the bruises I can feel forming, I go to the bag and sling it over me, then move to the side of the building opposite from the street and lean over. Calculating a path, I step off, grabbing onto handholds to catch myself, dropping in chunks until my feet hit the ground on bent knees. With a little breath, I pull the bag in front of me and unzip it, then place the sheathed Jian inside, not wanting to attract any more unnecessary attention.
Casting out my senses, I pull my hat low and set off, passing through the alley and out into the street, making a mental note of the position of my hunters and of anyone who pays more then a seconds attention to me. After walking down a few streets, putting distance between myself and the building, I slip into a small clothing store and buy a grey scarf, then wrap it around my lower-face and continue on, trying not to stand out. The nearing sound of sirens sees me hiding behind a pole of a sidewalk shed and pulling out my flip-phone, keeping my head low as I pretend to use it.
Glancing up as the patrol car speeds past, I watch it take a corner and move away from me, then pocket my phone and push off the pole. I cross the road, taking a side-street and stepping onto 8th Avenue, then walk down it, passing by Madison Square Garden and entering Lower Manhattan. Taking a diagonal road, another ten minutes leads me to the entrance to the Sanctum, the doors opening up to me as I approach, the hall welcoming me.
Entering, I climb the stairs and go to my room, throwing my hat over to my desk and giving Splinter a wave, then unzip the bag and empty its contents on my bed. Grabbing Jian in one hand and bundling my bloodstained suit in the other, I move back to the ground floor and take the steps down to the basement. Flicking the power switches on the wall, I turn on the overhead lights and illuminate the exposed brick of the room, the appliances beeping to life.
Walking to washer, I place Jian on the floor before it and slip off my trainers, then pull off my hoodie and slide out of my bottoms, leaving me in my simple, black underwear. Throwing everything in, I start it up and step back, sitting down cross-legged on the concrete floor, my head resting on my fist, watching as it fills and spins. Staring at the swirl of cloth and water, I find my mind starting to wander, thinking over my recent actions, such as; why has my response when confronted by an enemy to be to try and kill them?
If the Sarah of yesteryear could see me now, could see who I've become, she'd be furious; be ashamed. Although she never thought she was morally superior to others simply because she had a level mind and wished for people to live well, she at least believed that she was a good person. She was against the gathering of power for the lording over others, and feared the thought of becoming anything like that; but the Sarah of now, the one who fought her way out literal Hell… She likes having power, feeling powerful.
I can't pinpoint when my mentality started to change as it has, if there even is a turning point, except that it's been a gradual process, happening over a number of years. I can feel with certainty that my core personality, who I truly am, hasn't changed; just as I can feel all the same that my morals have loosened, at least in regards to murder. Whether it's some kind of corrupting feedback from my connection to the Heavenly Dao, or a shift in perspective after killing over a hundred demons in a fight for survival, the source is irrelevant.
The fact of the matter is, for better or worse, I'm a changed woman, different from my previous mortal self; better suited now to pursuing the Tao and fighting whatever this universe throws at me, be it gods or monsters. As my sudden bout of introspection ends, my thoughts settling as I come to an understanding with myself, I feel a shift in my spirit, a sudden lightening overcoming my body as my Chi cycles with newfound ease. The abrupt clattering of metal on stone sounding next to me gets my attention, my sight casting to the side, my eyes widening at what I find.
The sheathed form of Jian is vibrating slightly, shaking in its home, as if trying to break out. Sitting up straight, I manipulate the Chi around it and summon it me, catching it in hand and placing it over my knees. Channelling my Chi into it, I draw it slightly, a hint of its blade appearing to me, sharp, green lines running over its metal. Unsheathing it completely, I hold it before me and look into my reflected golden eyes, when they suddenly blink back at me.
A wide smile stretches over my face, my heart filling with happiness as I watch the colours of the eyes invert, the black of the pupils and the gold of irises swapping places. Parting my dry lips, an awe-filled whisper leaves me and falls on the sword, "…Hello." The eyes fade as the sword floats from my hands, coming to a stand before me, its tip pointed down. It starts to circle me, spinning all the while, a faint spark of Chi forming in it as it completes its loop, a single flash of green Chi shooting down the spine of its blade.
A string of heated runes burn into its metal, the space around Jian fluctuating as it descends back into my hands. Laying atop my palms, it's newly-born spirit connects to and intertwines with mine, the meaning of the runes echoing out in my mind; reality around me quaking,
'Carving through; all falling before. An eternal path; travelled entwine.'
A single, green-glowing imprint of a rune rises off the sword and floats over to me, passing through the skin of my left breast and touching upon my heart, fusing with my Middle Dantian. The rune expands, extending out into the infinite space of the Dantian and fading from existence, understanding coming to me as it does, a notification appearing,
[The Way, sought by all; steps taken, the journey shared;
Name – Purpose
Type – Spiritual Weapon (Natal, Sword)
Functions – [Soul-Bound (Sarah Worthington)], [Inner-Body Storing],[Regeneration], [Independent Flight],[Supernatural Slicing]
History – Once an ordinary sword created for war, Jian was acquired by a newborn cultivator in a time of personal crisis. After accompanying the woman through the passing of years, always by her side, aiding her in many a battle; a desire for growth started to spawn within its emerging soul. During battle with demons of Hell, its spirit started to resonate with that of its master, the feedback of her creative force sparking an inner light within it and revealing her own desire to it.
Understanding the path its master treads, and wishing to follow her always, Jian called itself into existence, undergoing a metamorphosis of spirit. Rending its soul apart, it offered it to the heavens, a ritual sacrifice in the hopes of change, the Tao responding with empathy. Gifted with an elevated spirit, Jian was enlightened to a path of its own choosing, giving itself a new name, one that represents its Tao;
Purpose.]
Laying a soft touch to the handle of Ji– of Purpose, I raise it before me, stroking along its edge, a trail of green Chi lighting under my finger as I softly speak, "It's nice to finally meet you, partner." A faint, lingering emotion touches my mind, given to me by new, and equally old, friend; a feeling of security and strength filling me at it does. Lifting its sheath, I slide it inside with care, then lay it down beside me, when the inquiring voice of Stephen, spoken from upstairs, reaches me,
"Sarah?" he shouts.
Turning my head to the stairs, I shout back, "In the basement!" My words hang in the room until the rapid footfalls of the Sorcerer Supreme close in on me, bouncing along the steps, a robed man rushing down them. He enters my sight, words on the tip on his tongue, when he sees my state of undress and chokes up, turning away with an apology,
"I'm sorry, I didn't expect…" he keeps his back to me as he trails off, sighing, "Care to tell me why your face is all over the news?"
A chuckle escapes me as I stare at him and start to stand, getting my feet under me, "You can turn around, Stephen. You're not my type anyway," I see his shoulders slump before he gathers himself and faces me, his eyes not leaving mine. Smiling at his manners, I explain, "I assisted Spider-Man in taking down a Darkforce-empowered criminal while out looking for something, and had to put down a couple of his mindless subordinates. Did you not read my note?" I ask.
His expression grows serious at my mention of Darkforce, before he glares at me, "You mean the note that simply said, 'gone hunting'? Yeah, real informative," he rolls his eyes at me as his yellow-gloved hands alight with magic, dark grey shorts and a black t-shirt appearing in them, "When you next feel like revolting against the government, would you kindly leave us with some forewarning? What if you were tracked back to the Sanctum?" He throws the clothing over to me as I think on his words.
Thanking him, I pull the top over and slide the shorts on, then suddenly bow to him, saying, my tone sorry, "That wasn't my intention, nor was it my fault; but I apologise all the same." Straightening, I see him nod in acceptance, my sincerity reaching him. Taking a few steps, I ask him as I move towards the stairs, my eyes on him, "I saw a few snippets of a news report while making my way back here, are they still searching that building for me?"
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch the shake of his head as we climb, reaching the hall, "Not any more, they seem to have finally figured out that you've escaped." Finishing the steps to the first floor, I wait for him to catch up, then gesture for him to take the lead,
"After you." I say, arm held out to the side, then follow after him as he moves down a corridor and opens up a door. Walking inside, we enter into a living room, its contents a mixture of ancient and modern. Wood-panelled flooring covered by a Tibetan rub, a Seal of the Vishanti design on it, with renaissance-era looking furniture placed around the room. Under the far left, windowed wall from the entrance, sits a flat-screen TV, about forty-inches, I'd say?
I take seat in a chair, tucking my feet under me, as Stephen clicks his fingers, the TV coming to life. He sits on a sofa to my right, flicking through channels with gesture, the room filling with broken sound clips, until he stops on a news program, NY1. An average-looking white man in a dark suit sits behind a desk, a shifting blue graphic behind him as he talks, a small picture appearing in the corner of the screen,
"–ust joined us, new information regarding the recent attack on the vigilante known as Spider-Man has moments ago been released by the DODC. The female enhanced, codenamed 'Amazon' according to reports revealed to us here at NY1 by sources in the government, has successfully escaped pursuit," the picture expands to take up half the screen, its details coming into focus, displaying a short clip of me getting thrown through a wall.
A snort of laughter leaves Stephen as he looks upon it, causing me to glare at him, before turning back to the screen, "–evading police and cameras alike. The New York City Police Department is asking anyone with information regarding Amazon to please call them on their tip line at 800-577-TIPS, or to contact them through their website," finished, he shuffles some papers on his desk as the picture moves off screen, then carries on, "In other news, championship winner, Mr. Biggles, is due to make an appea–"
With a sigh, I turn to Stephen with dissatisfaction, "Is that the best they could come up with, seriously?" He looks away from the TV and gives me a once over, then stares me in my eyes and raises an eyebrow. Giving him a smirk, I say, pride in my voice, "Well, yeah, obviously, but come on," hopping off the chair, I strike a pose and look down my nose at him, a narcissistic expression on my face, "What about 'Golden Goddess!', or," I summon Purpose from my Dantian and hold it before me, "'Dastardly Decapitator!', you know? Something that focuses on my best qualities?"
Stephen laughs at me as I complain, sitting up from his lounging position and giving Purpose a glance, then offers, "If they knew you, I'm sure they'd give you a more on the nose name, perhaps something like 'Arrogant Englishwoman', or… maybe 'Terrible Troublemaker'?" Narrowing my eyes at him, I turn away with a huff and move to the entrance, informing him,
"I'm telling Wong that you're being mean to me." The scraping of wood on wood reaches me as Stephen bolts up. Closing the door shut with a bang, I run away as I hear the start of his muffled complaints,
"Seriously, Sarah? Are you really this petty?" With a peal of laughter following me, I skip to the hall and shout, my voice echoing out,
"Wong, Strange is being rude!" A rush of footsteps chases me as I sprint up the stairs, contentment filling me.
This place might not be my home, but it'll do for now.