The Storm

Matthew’s fist rammed into Hawkin’s ribcage, throwing him off his feet. He lashed out with another punch, Hawkins rolling to narrowly avoid the blow. Hawkins leapt to his feet, scrambling for his gun.

Spitting blood, Matthew kicked it across the room, meeting Hawkins head-on, slamming into with his full bulk. Hawkins caught him by the throat, unleashing a flurry of punches to his gut. Matthew staggered backwards, heaving and coughing. He trembled dangerously, nearly falling over.

“Mr. Matthew!” Esper cried, weakly supporting himself with his arms. Blood was gushing from his leg, scarlet staining his pants.

“Don't worry, Esper, I'll take care of you,” Matthew rasped, teeth grit. His fingers wrapped around his wrist, blue runes flaring to life, inscribed deep into the skin.

Someone put a magic sealing spell on him? Hawkins thought, taking a step back, breathing growing rapid. Is this…?

Magic flooded through the spell, the runes bursting with a sharp snap. Matthew twitched, static traveling down his body as his eyes illuminated with pure energy.

The windows of the warehouse grew dark, a blanket of black clouds gathering in the sky. Thunder roared, and Hawkins began to quiver.

Matthew was at his full power.

“Jürgen, Jürgen, please-” Hawkins whispered, sweat running down his neck as he held up his hands, “We can- You can-”

“Shut up!”

The windows exploded in a sea of glass, vicious wind rushing inside the warehouse. Hawkins flung himself to the ground, covering his head, feeling shrapnel cut his hands and back.

A gust of wind caught him by the torso, flinging him across the room, slamming him into a pillar. Hawkins recovered within seconds, black spots tugging at his vision. Only a few feet away, he saw Pilate lying motionless, blood pooling around his chest.

But he had bigger problems. Matthew was staggering towards him, silver magic pouring out of his nose and ears, running down his neck. Outside, the storm was in full force, rain beating on the walls and wind shaking the structure, making the metal groan.

Hawkins felt himself freeze, staring Matthew straight in the eyes. A new kind of fear traveled through him.

He was going to die.

He knew he had to act. In the corner of his eye, he spotted Pilate, helpless on the floor. He had to get Matthew away from him.

Hawkins was running before he even had a plan, anything to get distance between them. He was approaching a flimsy metal ladder, stretching up to scaffolding that hugged the inside walls. He didn't have a choice. His only other option was a dead end.

The steps trembled as Hawkins climbed up, the glass-covered floor growing farther and farther down. Above him, Hawkins could hear the ceiling creaking with strain, bending dangerously with each gust of wind.

Hawkins grabbed the railing for support, biting his lip as he struggled to remain standing. He was sure he had broken a rib, and the cut on his head gushed blood.

Matthew stood at the foot of the stairs, one eye clenched shut and veins bulging on his neck. He was almost doubled-over, but advanced towards Hawkins regardless. Lightning flashed, and a support beam dropped from the ceiling, crashing into a mound of cardboard. The building was coming apart.

“Jürgen, you gotta listen to me, please-”

Matthew swung a clumsy punch, Hawkins snatching his fist from the air and attempted to shove him down. With every blow, the scaffolding shook, throwing Hawkins off balance. He struck Matthew in the ribs, knocking him back against the railing.

Snap!

Rusted metal tore apart behind him, Matthew gasped as he scrambled to grab the platform, locking eyes with Hawkins as he fell back. Hawkins covered his mouth, unable to move as he watched his former friend hit the ground with a wet thud.

The storm stopped. It was like the weather had been switched off.

He stood there, dumbfounded, as he gazed down, Matthew’s head twisted at a sickening angle, glassy eyes fixed on him.

A chunk of metal falling from the ceiling brought him from his stupor, narrowly missing Pilate. He didn't have time to waste. It was all about to come down.

Slipping down the ladder, Hawkins couldn't bring himself to look at Matthew. He wanted to mourn, to hold him, but…that was in the past.

He lifted Pilate in his arms, letting his limp head fall against his chest. Pilate was his responsibility now.

And he was going to keep him safe.

Author's Note-

i swear it gets better