The second thing that washed over him was the heat.

    Once he'd adjusted, he realized the first thing that hit his mind wasn't the stifling heat. It was anger.

    Standing up, he quickly ran through his memories. His mind led him through a series of events, starting off at a icy plain. He sifted through the scenes with inhuman speed; Lise, Grem, Eeza, Luke— all characters he'd met in this Horizon Net or whatever and nobody from before his first waking in the ice. The thought of frost and numbness brought him to his surroundings. This was definitely not the frozen terrain he'd woken up in before.

    Sand flew around him, whipped up by wind. Shards of material that looked like glass particles scraped past his body, leaving thin cuts across his limbs. In front of him lay a rough footprint path, the steps unnaturally placed, as if the owner had been running. Running... In this weather? Slate felt a drop of sweat make it's way down from his temple to his jaw.

    Wincing, Slate squinted to look at the sun. He was met with nothing but a bright, white sky. There was no orange orb that radiated heat, instead tightly-knit, intricate hexagons took it's place, each studded with thousands of tiny light bulbs. Laser-like beams shone down from the expanse of plates, each lightbulb twisting it's metal head around before focusing on Slate.

    "Avatar has been spotted. Commencing extermination sequence." A digital female voice sounded, her words echoing around in the boiling plain.

    Slate barely had time to react to the mysterious announcement before the ground began to shake and tremble. The footprints he'd seen earlier crumbled, becoming smudges of brown against the sandy surface. What was happening? And where was he?

    There was a large creaking sound as two large hexagon plates broke apart to reveal a gigantic black cannon. A nasty purple light lit up in it's center as it's mouth lowered to face him.

    "Entering into Main Sequence. Firing in 5. 4. 3—"

    Shoot. Slate swerved around and looked over the sand dunes, trying to find any evidence of civilization. There was no sign of the metal mountain Lise called the Brink, much less anyone he could see.

    "2—"

    Footprints. Without another thought, Slate ran to follow the path of smudges before they disappeared. Surely they would lead him somewhere with inhabitants.

    "1. Have a nice day." A beam of light flashed out from the cannon, missing him by mere millimeters. The sand had melted into a puddle of goo, and a musty stench rose from its steaming surface.

    Not giving it a second glance, Slate fled. The footprints were nearly gone now, the path to humanity unclear. As he sprinted through the sand, the cannon aimed yet again. He heard the clink of pieces contracting and a screeching sound of metal pierced the air. What in this world was happening?

    The footprints, although plenty, were getting harder and harder to follow. The earth shook and his balance rocked yet again.

    "Oof—" his foot gave in and sunk down into a small dune. To his horror, as soon as he wiggled it, the sand turned to writhing like snakes, and wrapped around his leg, making it sink deeper. As he tried to push himself out, the ropes made their way onto his arm; interlocking with his fingers and merging to ends to form bands that bound him.

    Behind him, the cannon was glowing once again, getting ready to take another shot. "Target was not exterminated. Second shot in 5. 4—"

    Slate's eyes widened as the light expanded. There was no moving his legs to run anymore, the coils of sand had a too firm grip on all four of his limbs.

    "3. 2—"

    He looked down to see the strands curl around his wrist snugly, as if saying hey, buddy, you suck at escaping.

    "1."

    No.

    "Fire."

    It all happened in a flash. The cannon shot at him, Slate closed his eyes and the next thing he knew he was in the claws of a flying creature who was cackling, "lunch!"

    Sharp talons dug into his shoulder, bony yellow fingers that tore through his shirt. Upon closer inspection, the hands lifting him up belonged to a strange creature, a mixture of a beautiful woman and a... crow? She held him below her tiny waist; her black hair merged into a pair of shiny large wings that shaded his head from the lights. The smudged path flew past below.

    She must be a witchling. Slate vaguely remembered the term that Lise had used when referring to 'witchling hour'. What had she said about witchling hour again?

    The witchling cackled again, this time letting out a string of sounds that sounded slightly like "lunch time for hungry witchlings."

    "It's almost witchling hour too. I hope they eat him." That was what Lise had said.

    Suddenly, the cackles seemed a lot more haunting.

Slate twisted and kicked in a late attempt to free himself from her clutches.

    "I wouldn't do that if I were you." The witchling looked down and flashed him a grin. Behind them, the cannon fired yet again.

    She dropped him and swooped out of the way of the shot, before latching on to him again. "Whoopsies, my hands slipped."

    "Let me go!"

    "Newborns to feed, delectable treat, you gamers are. Yes, yes." Her grip on him never faltered despite him struggling. "Once in a month do we get a feast, only once."

    "We know when you come out," Slate mentioned angrily as he bit down on her hand. Was charcoal a flavor?

    The witchling squawked indignantly. "They know? They think they know, oh yes. Why were you caught if they knew?"

    "I'm a newbie." Slate glanced around him frantically. Was there a way he could contact the people in the Brink before the witchling ate him? If only he had one of those fancy screens Grem carried. His mind raced to find a way out of his abduction. Gathering up his wits, Slate began his train of thought.

    If this was a world made of code, then it made sense to code. The only question was how? He didn't have a Syscreen on him, and there was limited time. Below, Slate could already see a black dot below that resembled a nest approaching fast.

    Above him, the witchling cackled again.

    Slate reached out with a hand and felt the air. Nope, nothing, zilch. There was nothing special about his surroundings at all. In fact, he felt rather stupid waving his arms through the air in the clutches of a bird-lady. He was just about to draw his arm back in when his left hand made contact with... nothing. A line of code flashed through his mind: <two_step_auth_command.bui>

    Currents.

    The code lines were in the air currents.

    "Number two!"

    A scream from the witchling entered his thoughts. Behind them, the cannon fired again, and Slate lost his connection as she dived down. "Wait!"

    As they drew near the ground, the dot of a nest became clearer and morphed into a figure. Slate squinted against the bright sand and realized that it was the person whom the footprints had led to... A Coder.

    "Help!" Slate clutched the witchling's claw and yelled desperately against the wind, hoping to catch his ally's attention.

    The Coder turned around, and after noticing the incoming witchling, screamed and ran faster. "Bloody Horizon, help me!"

    With an easy swoosh, the fellow fighter joined Slate in the witchling's claws.

    "Sniffling Sisyphus! You're that newbie Lise brought in, weren't you?" the Coder shot him a nervous look. He reached out to Slate awkwardly, as if unsure if that was the right move. "The name's Auden."

    "You're the Coder who laughed at my friend," Slate growled, ignoring his outstretched palm.

    "Nah, we were just playing around." Auden chuckled to himself.

    Slate gritted his teeth, bracing against the wind. Behind them, the metal cannon shifted it's pieces again, preparing to fire. "You wouldn't happen to have a Syscreen on you, would you?"

    Auden laughed, and action unfitting to their current situation. "It's fine, Speric. Just enjoy the ride."

    It occurred to Slate that there was a slight chance that Auden was positively mad. Maybe it was the way he'd shouted at Grem earlier, or the fact that he used a weird language that consisted of "bloody horizon", "sniffling sisyphus", and now "speric".

    "Excuse me for interrupting your enjoyment of the ride," Slate began, "but if you haven't noticed already, the witchling wants to eat us."

    As if to agree with his comment, the creature above them gave a happy hoot and squawked. "Ay, ay, ay!"

    Slate continued, glaring at Auden who was very obviously not paying attention to him. "I am new to this world, and there are many things I do not know. However, there is one fact that I am sure of, and that is I do not want to—"

    "DIE INTRUDER! Firing in 3," the cannon roared, shaking the earth and sand. Its shout emitted a powerful wave of heat that left Slate with sweat beading on his brow. The metal plates of the sky rattled shakily against each other.

    "Do something!" Slate yelled.

    "2."

    Auden's eyes widened, giving him a crazed look. "It's starting, Speric, it's starting."

    Slate wanted to strangle him out of pure frustration. "You are positively mad, the whole lot of you—"

    "1."

    The last thing he heard was Auden's maniacal laugh echoing through the arena.

    There was a jaw-breaking explosion that blew the two gamers away. Slate felt the witchling's grip on him loosen and eventually she dropped him. His ears were ringing, a high-pitched note that caused him to lose focus. He clapped his hands over his ears and looked around wildly. What had happened? Without finding the answer to his question, he fell the the ground writhing in a futile attempt to stop the ringing note.

    "Speric." Auden's voice echoed through his mind, chasing away the noise. "Move."

    What, Slate thought, what is it?

    "SPERIC, GET UP, NOW!" Mind-Auden roared, the end of his sentence crackling like an old radio with bad signal.

Slate opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet, just in time to dodge the body of the witchling. Her flesh was melting away, hissing and steaming. A musty stench rose in the air. She must have been hit by the fire.

    He scanned his surroundings quickly, taking in as much information as he could. He was standing on the metal mountain, the Brink as Lise called it. Below him, the sand snakes writhed, hissing as they rubbed against each other. The cannon was hanging in the sky, smoke billowing out of it's mouth.

    "Idiot! Down," Auden's voice came again.

    "What?" Slate retorted, mind still incoherent.

    "JUMP!" Auden bellowed. "JUMP, YOU USELESS SLAB! GET OUT OF THERE."

    Despite having no idea what he meant, Slate jumped.

    The metal surface of the Brink gave in and he dropped into a vertical tunnel. His heart lurched at the drop, his breath squeezed out of him. The howl of the wind soon faded away, replaced by the constant sound of metal pieces clinking against one and another. A shower of iron bugs brushed lightly past him, buzzing slightly as they fell.

    Slate glanced below to see the silver shards shift away to reveal a net. With a snap, he landed squarely in it's tangled mess.

    He was in the infirmary, the Killer's hideout. This must have been the pile of rope he'd seen in the corner of the room before Luke shot him.

    "Speric, you got in," Auden's voice came from behind him. He turned around quickly to see him get up from one of the beds.

    "I didn't think you'd make it back, honest," a familiar voice said. The person who had been sitting next to Auden raised his head up from the book in his hand.

    Slate hissed when their eyes made contact. "You tried to kill me."

    "Sorry, buddy," Luke set down his novel and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Someone's got to do the job."

    Slate envisioned his fist connecting with Luke's jaw, but before that idea could be turned into a reality, a large force struck the windows, causing for the three of them to stagger. Their gazes turned to the window, just in time to see a large metal foot aim a kick at them.

    "I always love this part of the Chase," Auden raised his palm and shot Luke a look, who slapped his hand in return.

    The large hanging light from the silver ceiling swung dangerously, casting an eery glow around the room. The windows rattled carelessly as Auden and Luke snorted in laughter.

    "It can't get in," Slate puffed out a breath of air. "Anyone care to explain?"

    "Slate! You're back!"

    A fur clothed figure hurled herself at him cheerily. Her hood fell away to reveal Lise, cheeks red and eyes sparkling.

    "Yes, I'm not dead." He instinctively froze, locking his features coldly. "Thanks for everything."

    At this comment, Lise's face fell slightly, her smile fading faster than it had appeared. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you what Luke was going to do."

    "Correction," Luke's voice weaseled its way into the conversation from the corner in which he was standing with Auden, "what Luke had to do. Had."

    Lise let go of Slate as if he had burned her. She looked at him curiously. "It was a test. To see if you could make it back."

    "Yeah, which you passed." Grem stepped out from behind her. "Although, I've never seen a new initiate brought in by a witching and get chased by the Stratos Cannon on his way back," he mused. "Usually they get eaten or blown up and reappear frozen at the starting portal."

    As if in response to it's name, the cannon outside the Brink kicked the glass windows again with a large rusty foot.

    BOOM.

    A huge vibration ran through the whole mountain. The windows rattled and a high-pitched hissing noise seemed to emit from the plated walls. However, like the first assault, there seemed to be no lasting damage done to the dome. Seeming discouraged and slightly disappointed, the Stratos Cannon took a step back and retracted its legs. Metal against rust, the whole machine screeched as the cannon head turned towards the ground and curled into a giant metal ball. The sand dunes shook shakily as it rolled away into the distance, leaving a deep trail in the dust.

    Luke strutted back over to his bed where they all had crowded around during the attack. "'Scuse me, but I'd really fancy a good nap after all the excitement," he drawled.

    "Party's over folks, slunks. Time to get back to work," Auden reappeared with his wide-eyed grin. "Let's go, Killers."

    Lise bristled at the comment strangely. Looking through slits, she glared at him. "Killers aren't on challenge duty today," she hissed.

    Cooly ignoring her angry response, Auden cocked his head towards Slate in acknowledgement and sauntered towards the door, sneering at Grem on his way out. He gave a slight pause at the doorway, casting a chilly glance over his shoulder. "Pity," he whispered low enough only for Slate to hear. With a shower of silver bugs, Auden disappeared.

    The room was filled with unnerving silence for a moment, before Grem decided to break it by laughing quietly. "The Hackers just got back from Ice Gathering, so I better go down and help with the storage before Ross skins my lazy Hacker hide." Seeing Lise's dark expression, he too scurried away in retreat.

    Luke sat up from his cot with a large fake smile plastered on his face. "Well? Aren't you slabs going to go somewhere else and contribute to society?"

    "Yes, because that's exactly what you're doing," Lise retorted with a bit too much emphasis. She grabbed Slate by the shoulder and close to hurled him through the gateway.

Votes or constructive/encouraging comments are highly appreciated. Thanks :)