Sable woke to the sound of chirping.
Not distressed. Not alarmed. *Indignant*.
His eyes opened. The ceiling of his old room stared back—water-stained plaster, cracks spiderwebbing from the corner like frozen lightning. For three seconds he couldn't remember where he was. Then memory caught up: Prulla. Elvor's house. Safety that didn't feel safe.
The chirping continued.
Sable sat up. His burnt arm throbbed—a deep, constant ache that the borrowed regeneration Grace couldn't quite eliminate. The bandages had stuck to weeping tissue overnight. He'd need to change them.
Across the room, near the window, Ellaya sat cross-legged on the floor.
Second stood in front of her. Small. Grey. One wing still crooked.
And Ellaya was holding a cracker just out of reach.
"No," she said. Her voice was firm. Mimicking something she'd heard. "You only get food when you *listen*."
Second hopped forward. Chirped. *Feed me.*
Ellaya pulled the cracker back. "I said no. You have to—you have to sit first."
The bird tilted his head. Confused. He'd never had to *earn* food before. Sable just gave it to him. That's how it worked.
"Sit," Ellaya commanded.
Second hopped in a circle. Chirped louder. *What does that mean? I'm a bird. I don't sit. FEED ME.*
"You're not listening." Ellaya's jaw tightened. She broke off a tiny piece of cracker. Held it closer. "Look. See? This is what you get if you just—"
Second *lunged*. Wings beating. Snatched the piece mid-air.
Landed three feet away. Swallowed it whole. Looked back at her. *More.*
Ellaya's face flushed. "That's not—you're supposed to wait—"
Second hopped toward her again. Faster. More insistent. Chirping between each hop like he was explaining something very obvious to someone very slow.
She held the cracker higher. "No! Bad bird! You have to—"
Second launched. Flew directly at her face. Talons extended. Not attacking—just *determined*.
Ellaya shrieked. Threw the cracker. It hit the wall.
Second changed trajectory mid-flight. Caught the cracker before it hit the ground. Landed on the windowsill. Ate it in two bites.
Looked at Ellaya. Chirped once. *Thank you.*
Then pecked at the window frame, completely ignoring her.
Ellaya sat there. Breathing hard. Her small hands curled into fists. "You're supposed to listen to me."
Second found a bug underneath the peeling paint. Ate it. Made a satisfied trill.
"I said—" Her voice cracked. "You're supposed to—"
She stopped. Turned her head.
Found Sable watching from the floor.
Her face changed instantly. The frustration vanished. Replaced by careful neutrality.
"Good morning, Sable," she said quietly.
Sable swung his legs off the mattress. His boots touched cold floor. "What were you doing?"
"Playing." The word came out too quick.
"Looked like training."
Ellaya's eyes dropped. "I just wanted to see if he'd listen. Like he listens to you."
"He doesn't listen to me. He just knows I feed him." Sable stood. Walked to the window. Second hopped onto his shoulder immediately. Settled in. *Home.* "You can't train a bird like a dog, Ellaya. They don't work that way."
"Oh." She looked at her hands. Small. Disappointed. "I didn't know."
Second pecked Sable's ear. Gentle. *Good morning. I'm hungry. That girl is weird.*
Despite everything—the exhaustion, the burnt arm, the knowledge that today would probably end badly—Sable's mouth twitched.
Almost a smile.
"Get ready," he said. "We're leaving soon."
-----
The living room was different.
Sable stopped in the doorway. Stared.
The bottles were gone. The stim packets cleared. The table had been wiped clean—the water rings still visible but the surface no longer sticky. The couch cushions had been straightened. The floor swept.
Elvor stood at the small kitchen counter. Cooking.
Not reheating. Not opening packets. Actually *cooking*. The smell of eggs—real eggs, not protein paste—filled the air.
He'd changed clothes too. The stained jumpsuit replaced by a faded blue shirt and grey pants. Clean. Pressed at some point in their history. His black hair was combed. Still thin. Still showing scalp in places. But organized.
Elvor caught Sable's reflection in the small mirror above the stove. Turned.
"Oh. Sable." His voice was careful. Quiet. "I made eggs. They're on the stove. Not much, but—" He gestured vaguely. "Thought you and the girl might be hungry."
Sable walked past him. Toward the kitchen. Found two plates on the counter. Scrambled eggs. Actual eggs.
"Where did you get these?" Sable's voice came out flat.
"Saved them. From before." Elvor stayed by the stove. Keeping distance. "I don't eat much anymore. Thought—thought you could use them."
Sable picked up a fork. Ate standing up. The eggs were overcooked. Rubbery. But warm. Real.
Ellaya appeared in the doorway. Brown eyes tracking between Sable and Elvor. Reading the tension. She walked to the counter. Took the second plate. Didn't say thank you. Just ate.
Silence filled the room. Just the sound of forks scraping plates.
Then Elvor spoke. Quiet. Almost to himself. "I got the pass. Like you asked."
Sable's head snapped up.
"It's on the table. By the door." Elvor didn't turn around. "Defense house pass. I could only afford one. The evacuation zones are full. Not taking anyone else. Even with money."
Sable set down his plate. Walked to the table.
The pass lay there. Orange plastic. Holographic text that shifted in the light: **PRULLA DEFENSE HOUSE 7. ADMIT ONE.**
"How much did this cost?"
"Fifteen hundred ilards." Elvor's voice stayed flat. "Prices went up overnight. Everyone's desperate. The five hundred you gave me wasn't enough so I used—" He gestured at the now-clean living room. "Sold some things. The bottles had deposits. The furniture's worth something if you know who to ask."
Sable stared at the pass. At the single admission. "You said you could only get one."
"They're not allowing two passes per household anymore. I tried. Offered double. They said no." Elvor finally turned. "But I have my own pass. From before. When I first moved here four years ago. I can give it to the girl."
He looked at Ellaya. Tried to smile. The expression sat wrong on his gaunt face. "What's your name, little one?"
Ellaya swallowed her eggs. Looked at him with brown eyes. Measuring.
Sable's mind was already calculating. Running scenarios. *Two passes. Ellaya and Elvor safe. Me outside. Need to find another way. Steal? No—guards are too alert during evacuation. Everyone's watching. Can't manipulate my way through like before. Options narrowing. Time running out.*
"Ellaya," she said finally.
"That's a pretty name." Elvor's smile became more genuine. Almost reached his eyes. "You can have my pass, Ellaya. I'll make sure you get to the defense house safely."
"What about Sable?" Her voice was small. Worried.
"I'll find another way," Sable said. The lie came out smooth. Easy. He'd had practice.
Elvor's face tightened. "Sable, you can't—"
"I said I'll find another way." His voice went cold. Final. "You take her to House Seven. Keep her safe. That's the deal."
"But—"
"*That's the deal.*"
Elvor's mouth closed. He turned back to the stove. His hands were shaking.
Sable pocketed the single pass. Looked at Ellaya. "Finish eating. We leave in ten minutes."
-----
The streets of Prulla were organized chaos.
People moved with purpose. Families stayed together. Merchants were closing shops with practiced speed, securing barricades that had been installed after the first Rain. Evacuation markers covered the walls—blue circles with white centers, arrows pointing toward defense houses.
The sky was grey. Getting darker.
Sable walked with Ellaya's hand in his. Second rode his shoulder. His blue eye catalogued everything—escape routes, crowd density, guard positions. His brown eye just saw people trying not to die.
Three blocks from Elvor's house, Sable stopped.
A fountain stood in the small plaza. Decorative. Old. The water had been drained—replaced by black rainwater from the first cycle that no one had bothered to pump out. It sat there like a wound. Stagnant. Wrong.
Around the fountain: guards. Local security. Eight of them. Armored. Alert. Watching the crowd with the paranoid intensity of people who knew something bad was coming and couldn't stop it.
*Can't steal here. Too visible. Too organized.*
Sable's jaw tightened.
"Sable?" Ellaya's voice was small. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Another lie. "Just thinking."
His mind raced. *Wait for the Rain. Wait for chaos. Everyone running. Guards distracted. That's when—*
A drop hit his hand.
Not water. Thicker. Warmer.
Black.
He looked up.
The Ashen Veins were opening. Slowly. Like wounds being pulled apart from inside.
Black rain began to fall.
Another drop hit his face. His arm. The liquid was *wrong*—not just color, but texture. It clung. Slid upward against gravity for half a second before surrendering to physics.
Then the alarm.
A sound like the city itself screaming.
**WHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR—**
"THE CALAMITY RAIN IS HERE!"
The crowd *erupted*.
People scattered. Families running together. Merchants abandoning their shops. Guards shouting directions that nobody heard.
Even fear was organized here. But only barely.
Sable grabbed Ellaya. Lifted her. She was heavier than yesterday—or he was weaker. Probably both.
"Hold on," he said.
Her arms wrapped around his neck. Second launched from the bench to his shoulder. Talons dug in. Ready.
At the fountain, Elvor appeared. Running. Looking sideways. Behind. Searching.
Their eyes met.
Elvor's face flooded with relief. "Sable! The defense house—it's at the far right! Show them your pass!"
Sable looked at him. At this broken man who'd tried to clean up. Who'd sold his furniture. Who'd cooked eggs.
Made a decision.
He pulled the orange pass from his pocket. Extended it toward Ellaya.
"Take this."
"But—"
"*Take it.*" His voice was hard. Final. He pressed it into her small hand. Closed her fingers around it. "Defense House Seven. Elvor knows where it is."
"What about you?" Her brown eyes were wide. Terrified.
"I'll find another way."
"But—"
"Ellaya." He made himself meet her eyes. Made himself lie with conviction. "I'll be fine. I'll find you after. I promise."
The words tasted like ash.
Elvor reached them. Breathing hard. "Sable, what are you—"
"Take her. Defense House Seven. Keep her safe." Sable looked at him. At the man who used to read him textbooks at night. Who'd hit him hard enough to crack bone. "That's all I'm asking."
"You don't have a pass—"
"I said I'll find another way." Sable's jaw tightened. "Go. *Now.*"
Around them, the rain was getting heavier. Viscous. Like running through oil. People were screaming. Running. Scattering toward marked buildings.
Elvor grabbed Ellaya's hand. Pulled her away from Sable.
She looked back. Small face. Wet with rain and tears. "Sable—"
"I'll find you," he said.
Then they were gone. Disappeared into the crowd.
Sable stood there for three seconds.
Alone.
Second chirped on his shoulder. Questioning. *Where are they going? Why aren't we following?*
"Change of plans," Sable muttered.
His blue eye scanned the crowd. Searching. Calculating. Looking for—
There.
Twenty meters away. A man. Orange hair. Sharp features. Running toward the nearest defense house.
Orange plastic visible in his pocket.
A pass.
Sable's hand moved to his chain. The multipurpose tool he'd looped through his coat collar. Pulled it. Felt the weight. The sharp edge of the inner hook.
*Simple math. He has what I need. I'm faster. Stronger. More desperate.*
He moved.
-----
The chase lasted forty seconds.
Sable closed distance fast. The crowd was scattering—some toward defense houses, some just away from the Rain—and the orange-haired man was focused on survival, not checking behind him.
Twenty meters.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The man turned a corner. Into a side street. Less crowded. Darker.
*Perfect.*
Sable followed.
The alley was narrow. Flooded. Black water ankle-deep and rising. The man was splashing through it, boots throwing up spray.
Five meters.
Three.
Sable lunged.
Tackled him from behind. They hit the water together. The impact drove air from both their lungs.
The orange-haired man twisted. Threw an elbow. Caught Sable's jaw. Stars exploded across his vision.
His hand found the pass. Fingers closing around plastic—
The man's knee came up. Hit Sable's burnt arm.
White-hot pain exploded through his shoulder. Bandages tore. Fresh blood mixed with rain.
"*Ahh*—*fuck*—"
The man kicked. Connected with Sable's ribs. Something warned. Not broke. Just *flexed* wrong.
Sable rolled. Grabbed the metal rod lying in the gutter. Maintenance tool. Rusted. Heavy enough.
The man was on his feet now. Pass clutched tight. Blood running from his nose. "Stay down, Dredge scum! I *need* this!"
"So do I." Sable's voice came out flat. Empty.
He swung.
The rod connected with the man's knee. *Crack*. Not broken but damaged. The man went down screaming.
Sable moved forward. Reached for the pass—
The man's palm came up. Aimed at Sable's face.
Light *erupted*.
Not metaphorical. Literal. Pure white brilliance that turned the world into bleached nothing. Sable's vision went blank. Complete. His blue eye couldn't compensate. His brown eye couldn't adjust.
Just white.
*Borrowed Grace. Light emission. Blinding. Fuck—*
The sound of scrambling. Boots splashing through water. Getting distance.
Sable swung blind. The rod cut through empty air.
"Can't see me now, can you?" The man's voice. Closer than expected. To the left? Right? "Borrowed Grace, asshole! Seventy-two hours of this shit! All I gotta do is keep you blind for thirty seconds and I'm *gone*—"
Footsteps. Circling. Hunting.
Sable's back hit a wall. He hadn't meant to retreat. Hadn't registered the movement.
*Blind. He can see. I can't. Tactical disadvantage. Need to—*
The man charged.
Sable heard it—boots splashing through water, getting louder—and swung.
The rod connected. Solid impact. The man grunted. Stumbled.
But didn't fall.
"Lucky hit!" Pain in his voice. Injury. But functioning. "Won't happen again!"
Sable's vision was returning. Slowly. White bleeding to grey. Shapes emerging. But blurry. Unfocused.
The man's palm came up again.
*Flash.*
Blank. Pure white. His retinas screaming.
This time Sable was ready. Eyes already closing. Not completely blind. Just—
The fist came from his right. Caught his jaw. His head snapped sideways. Blood in his mouth. Copper. Warm.
He swung back. Connected with something soft. Stomach? Chest?
The man wheezed. "You *fuck*—"
Another flash. Point-blank. The light seared through Sable's eyelids.
His hands shot out. Grabbed. Found fabric. An arm.
*There.*
He didn't think. Didn't calculate.
His fingers found the contours of the man's face. Traced upward. Found the eye socket.
His thumb *drove*.
The scream was inhuman.
The light cut off instantly. Not fading. *Gone*.
The man's hands flew to his face. "MY EYES—*FUCK*—MY EYES—"
Sable's vision cleared. Grey shapes resolving into concrete reality.
The man on the ground. Both hands pressed to his ruined eye socket. Blood pulsing between fingers. Terrified. Understanding.
The orange pass lay two meters away. In a puddle.
Sable walked over. Picked it up. Pocketed it.
Behind him: "Please—please I need—my mother's in House Four—she can't walk—I need to—"
**[Truth Evasion: ACTIVE]**
**[VERDICT: FALSE]**
Sable stopped.
Turned.
The man was trying to stand. One hand still pressed to his face. The other braced against the wall. "I need that pass—you don't understand—she's alone—she's *dying*—"
A sound. Wet. Skittering.
Sable's blue eye tracked automatically.
A Dropling emerged from the collapsed drainage pipe. Rat-sized. Four legs. Teeth like broken glass.
It smelled blood.
The man didn't see it. Couldn't see it. Both of his eyes were bleeding. squeezed shut against pain. His hands shaking.
"Don't—don't leave me—please—"
Two more Droplings appeared. Then four.
The man felt them. The tiny legs on his boots. Climbing. "No—no—*fuck*—what is this—WHAT IS THIS—"
He started backing away. Limping. His injured eyes weeping blood down his neck.
Sable looked at him.
At the desperation. The fear. The same expression he'd worn a hundred times in the Dredge.
*He's just like me. Lying to justify it. Doing whatever it takes.*
The thought lasted half a second.
Then died.
Because the difference was simple:
Sable had won.
He turned. Started walking.
Behind him: "NO—NO PLEASE—DON'T—*HELP ME*—"
The screaming intensified. Wet sounds. Tearing. The Droplings didn't kill quickly. They fed.
Then gurgling.
Then nothing.
Cold text burned across Sable's vision:
**[REDEMPTIVE WRATH: ACTIVE]**
**[YOU HAVE SLAIN A THIEF]**
**[SINS +30]**
**[CURRENT BALANCE: 530/10,000]**
**[THE SIN OF WRATH IS PLEASED]**
**[THE SIN OF ENVY NOTES YOUR EFFICIENCY]**
Sable kept walking.
Didn't look back.
Pass clutched in his fist.
His survival secured.
At the cost of a mother who would wait forever for a son who wasn't coming home.
Second chirped on his shoulder. Soft. Worried.
Sable reached up. Touched the bird's head gently.
"It's okay," he whispered.
But his hand was shaking.
-----
The streets were worse now.
Black water knee-deep in most places. Bodies floated—human and Torrent-born, after enough time in the water it became impossible to tell which was which.
The rain hammered down. Viscous. Warm as blood. It soaked through Sable's coat, his hair, ran down his face mixing with something that might have been tears or might have just been rain.
He couldn't tell anymore.
Defense house markers covered the walls. Blue circles with white centers. Arrows pointing in multiple directions.
**HOUSE 3 → EAST**
**HOUSE 7 → NORTH**
**HOUSE 4 → WEST**
Sable turned north. Toward Seven. Toward Ellaya.
The water was rising. What had been ankle-deep five minutes ago was now mid-calf. The current pulled. Subtle. Insistent. Trying to drag him toward drainage grates that led to places worse than the surface.
Second launched from his shoulder. Flew ahead. Scouting.
Sable followed.
Three blocks. The water rose to his knees.
Four blocks. A Torrent-born emerged from a collapsed storefront. Human-sized. Too many joints in its arms. Face smooth where eyes should be. Mouth vertical. Lined with children's teeth.
It turned toward him.
Sable ran.
Not gracefully. Not with any kind of plan. Just pure animal panic, boots splashing through black water, shoulder slamming into walls when corners came too fast.
The Torrent-born *moved*.
Not running. Just—*existing* in spaces that had been empty a heartbeat ago. Reality folding around it.
Five blocks.
Sable's lungs burned. His vision tunneled at the edges. Medical training tried to catalogue his own degradation—*heart rate elevated, muscle glycogen depleted, coordination compromised*—but he shoved it down.
*Move. Just move.*
Six blocks.
Second shrieked. Warning. Different pitch.
Sable looked up.
The street ended. Dead end. He'd taken a wrong turn. Somewhere. Somehow.
Behind him: the Torrent-born. Getting closer. Not rushing. Just—*patient*. Like it had all the time in the world.
To his left: collapsed building. No entrance.
To his right: flooded alley. Too narrow. He'd be trapped.
Straight ahead: concrete wall. Twenty feet high. No handholds.
*No way out.*
Sable's back hit the wall. His hand found the chain. Drew it. The sharp inner hook gleaming wet in the grey light.
The Torrent-born stopped ten meters away. Its eyeless face tilted. Curious.
Then it *moved*—
Second shrieked. Louder. Desperate.
The Torrent-born was five meters away. Three. Close enough that Sable could smell it—ozone and rot and something organic breaking down wrong.
Its vertical mouth opened. Children's teeth. Hundreds of them.
Sable raised the chain. His hand shaking. His burnt arm screaming. His chest too tight.
*This is it.*
*This is how it ends.*
Anger started to flood through him—not for the thief, not for surviving, for *leaving*—for choosing his own life over staying with Ellaya—for breaking the promise—for—
Thunder cracked concrete.
**BOOM.**
The Torrent-born's head *exploded*.
Not cut. Not torn. *EXPLODED*. Chunks of skull and brain matter and something that might have been black blood painted the alley wall in a pattern that looked almost artistic.
Sable's working eye tracked backward. Traced the trajectory. Found—
Nothing.
The alley was empty except for the headless corpse still twitching on the ground.
Then a hand grabbed his collar and *yanked*.
Sable's feet left the ground. His stomach lurched. The world blurred—not from speed, from explosive *acceleration*—
**BOOM.**
They landed twenty meters away. On a rooftop. Sable's knees buckled. His burnt arm screamed.
The hand released him.
Sable spun, hand reaching for his chain—
The man stood there grinning.
Red hair. Pale silver eyes. A scar bisected his throat and split his lower lip, giving his smile a lopsided, manic quality.
He was wearing black long sleeved shirt that's partially burnt at the sides. Boots. Heavy. Steel-toed. Scorched black at the soles.
Smoke still rising from them.
"Yo," the man said. "You looked stuck."
Behind them—down in the alley—Droplings were emerging. Skittering toward the headless Torrent-born corpse. Eight of them. Ten. A dozen.
The red-haired man glanced back. His grin widened.
"Oh, these little shits again."
He raised his right foot. Casual. Like preparing to kick a ball.
"Watch this."
**BOOM.**
The explosion erupted from his boot sole. The kick whistled through air—didn't *touch* the nearest Dropling—
The shockwave hit it like a hammer.
The creature *exploded*. Literally. Shattered into wet chunks that splattered across three different walls.
"HA!" The man landed, already spinning into the next kick. "One!"
**BOOM.**
"Two!"
**BOOM.**
"Three!"
Another Dropling disintegrated.
**BOOM. BOOM.**
"Four! Five!"
Two more.
Sable stood there. Staring.
His blue eye was trying to analyze: *trajectory angles, force dispersion, explosive yield, Grace manifestation at localized points, kinetic energy transfer—*
His brown eye just thought: *What the fuck.*
The red-haired man landed. Turned back. Still grinning. Breathing easy. Not even winded.
The Droplings were regrouping. The survivors backing away. Reconsidering.
The man raised his boot again.
**BOOM.**
A warning shot. The explosion cratered the ground between him and the creatures.
The Droplings scattered. Disappeared into shadows.
The man lowered his foot. Dusted off his hands like he'd just finished a minor chore.
"Anyway." He turned to face Sable fully. Extended his hand. "You lost?"
Sable looked at the offered hand.
At the scorched boots still smoking slightly.
At the eight Dropling corpses decorating the alley below.
At the man's lopsided grin that somehow made the scar look like punctuation instead of damage.
At the casual competence. The ease. The way he'd just *saved* Sable without explanation or expectation.
"…Yeah," Sable said finally. His voice came out rough. Raw. "I'm lost."
The man's grin widened. "Figured. You got that 'about to die' look. See it a lot."
He was still extending his hand.
Sable took it.
The shake was hard. Firm. The kind of grip that said *I'm real, you're real, we're both here.*
Second landed on Sable's shoulder. Chirped. Loud. Indignant at being ignored.
The red-haired man's eyes widened.
"Oh *shit*." He leaned closer. Peered at Second. "You have a bird!"
"…Yes."
"What's his name?"
"Second."
The man blinked. "That's a stupid name."
"I know."
"I *love* it." His grin somehow got wider. He looked at Second. "You're cool, bird. You're very cool."
Second puffed up. Proud. Chirped agreement.
The man looked back at Sable. "Okay. I like you. You're coming with me."
"I need to reach Defense House Seven—"
The grin faltered. Just slightly. "Yeah. You're not doing that."
"What?"
"House Seven is eight blocks north through Torrent central." He pointed. "You'll be paste in three. Maybe two if you're unlucky and they're hungry."
A distant screech echoed through the flooded streets. Something big. Getting closer.
More screeches answered. From different directions. Converging.
The man's expression didn't change. "See? They heard my kicks. They always do." He said it like commenting on weather. "That's the thing about explosions. Very loud. Very *noticeable*."
"Then why—"
"Because I don't give a *fuck*." His grin returned. Full force. "Let them come. I'll kick them all."
Another screech. Closer.
Sable looked in the direction of House Seven.
Thought about Ellaya. About Elvor. About the promise he'd made.
*I'll find you after.*
Thought about the Torrent-born screeches multiplying in the dark. About his burnt arm. His exhaustion. About the simple math: dead people can't keep promises.
"I need—" His voice cracked. "I need to find her. The girl. She's seven. She's at House Seven. She's—"
"Hey." The man's voice went quieter. Not soft. Just—*present*. "You want to find her?"
"Yes."
"Then stay alive." He clapped Sable's shoulder. "Can't find anyone if you're dead."
The words hit like a fist.
The man was already turning. Looking at the surrounding rooftops. Calculating. "We need to move. Higher ground. More visibility. Those screeches mean big ones are coming."
"I don't even know who you are—"
The man stopped. Turned back.
His silver eyes caught the light. The scar on his lip twisted as his grin turned sharp. Dangerous. *Alive*.
He raised his right boot. Brought it down on a Dropling that had been crawling up the rooftop edge.
**BOOM.**
The creature *disintegrated*. Nothing left but a red smear and fragments.
The man looked Sable dead in the eye.
"THE NAME'S BANG!"
His voice carried. Echoed off buildings. Rang through the flooded streets like a declaration.
Like a *challenge*.
"I'm Sable." Sable replied.
The screeches that answered weren't distant anymore.
They were *here*.
From every direction. Dozens. Hundreds.
Drawn by the sound. Drawn by the explosions. Drawn by the noise.
Bang's grin didn't falter.
"Oops," he said. "They heard that."
The screeches got *louder*.
Closer.
Coming *fast*.
Bang looked at Sable. At the expression on his face. At the realization settling in—*we're about to be swarmed.*
He laughed.
Actually *laughed*.
"This is gonna be *fun*!" he shouted over the approaching horde.
Then grabbed Sable's coat.
"HOLD ON!"
**BOOM.**
They launched into the air.
Behind them, the rooftop exploded with movement as Torrent-borns climbed, leaped, *flew* toward where they'd been standing.
Ahead: more rooftops. More buildings. More vertical space.
More distance from death.
Below: the horde. Converging. Hunting.
And Bang was *laughing* as they flew through the rain.
His voice carried back through the wind and explosions and screaming:
"THIS IS *EXACTLY* WHAT I NEEDED TODAY!"
Sable held on.
And thought:
*I'm going to die with a lunatic.*
**BOOM.**
Another building.
**BOOM.**
Another.
The screeches followed.
Multiplying.
Growing.
Endless.