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Description

Something fun.

The klaxon blared–danger. It’s monotone drone echoed off thick reinforced concrete walls in the bunker. Emergency lights, blood red, filled the dim corridors. Something was wrong. Captured and bound, the witches screamed in their alcoves, incoherent and raw, they shouted their warnings. Someone was coming. One of the prisoners had escaped.
Hard men, heavily armed and armored, marched to their assigned positions. Tight jawed they stood waiting at the gate. They had trained for this, but this was a first for all of them. There had never been an escape.
The klaxon died first. The inches thick steel door, inscribed and ensorcelled, was next. Metal bent, then buckled, crumpled apart like cheap wrapping paper before it was sent inwards. It hit two of the guards like a freight train, their bodies burst and were smeared stickily against the wall. Disciplined fire flew through the breach. Bullets ricocheted, pinged and powed off walls, off metal, into soft bodies. Not a single round found it’s target. Men hit by reflected rounds groaned on the floor a moment before the rest of them died.
Nervous fingers twitched, pulling tightly against metal hooks. Bullets streamed out racing into the hallway. Coronas of superheated gas illuminated the dark for brief seconds. The sound was enormous, but it was desperate, uncoordinated. He leapt at them. Split them apart, pulling at the very fabric of reality as he shattered them like glass. He didn’t kill them. He unmade them.

Description

Something fun.

The klaxon blared–danger. It’s monotone drone echoed off thick reinforced concrete walls in the bunker. Emergency lights, blood red, filled the dim corridors. Something was wrong. Captured and bound, the witches screamed in their alcoves, incoherent and raw, they shouted their warnings. Someone was coming. One of the prisoners had escaped.
Hard men, heavily armed and armored, marched to their assigned positions. Tight jawed they stood waiting at the gate. They had trained for this, but this was a first for all of them. There had never been an escape.
The klaxon died first. The inches thick steel door, inscribed and ensorcelled, was next. Metal bent, then buckled, crumpled apart like cheap wrapping paper before it was sent inwards. It hit two of the guards like a freight train, their bodies burst and were smeared stickily against the wall. Disciplined fire flew through the breach. Bullets ricocheted, pinged and powed off walls, off metal, into soft bodies. Not a single round found it’s target. Men hit by reflected rounds groaned on the floor a moment before the rest of them died.
Nervous fingers twitched, pulling tightly against metal hooks. Bullets streamed out racing into the hallway. Coronas of superheated gas illuminated the dark for brief seconds. The sound was enormous, but it was desperate, uncoordinated. He leapt at them. Split them apart, pulling at the very fabric of reality as he shattered them like glass. He didn’t kill them. He unmade them.