Next Up

Track 28

Marcello looked down; the controller and visor had vanished from his hand just seconds prior. His arm now hung a shattered mess of bone and tendon, blood oozing through the fabric of his dark suit, dripping in strings on the dusty ground. The limb, though meant to be straight, contorted at an unnatural angle, surpassing the limits of human flexibility.
 
Flying Banshee: Marcello spawns a remote-controlled airplane. Its wingspan is a foot long, and its length is eighteen inches. While using it, he must be completely stationary. If the plane is damaged, he will also receive damage equivalent. When activating the ability, a green visor appears over his eyes, and a controller appears in his hands. Flying Banshee cannot exceed fifteen meters from Marcello.
It has an infinite amount of ammo and a rapid-fire rate, making its accuracy very low. Despite their small size, the bullets are powerful, being able to penetrate concrete.
His right hand quickly found the chocolate brownie, fumbling it out of his pocket. He bit into it, not caring if he swallowed part of the saran wrap or not. While the treat had adopted room temperature in his pocket, within his mouth, it reached perfection. The brownie proved gooey and sweet, each chew accompanied by a crackling sensation, Mitani's energy bursting like pop-rocks inside the chocolate.
The sound of his bones cracking back into place bounced around the small room.
He looked at his left hand, opening and closing it several times. 'That's my one get-outta-jail-free card used. Thanks, Mitani.' Marcello got to his feet and stepped from behind a row of lockers. 'Even though I didn't get to figure out his ability, I now know he's very fast, strong, patient, and precise.'
He sprinted up the basement stairs and then through the hallway, seeing Poatan standing in the lobby.
A humorless smile crept across his face when he saw Marcello rounding the corner. "You showed up."
Like the surface of water, the glow from Marcello's energy rippled across the room.
"There we go!" Screamed Poatan in excitement as his aura exploded outward with a loud boom. He kicked out toward a support beam, buckling it with one swift motion, bringing the decrepit ceiling above crashing down.
Marcello spun, 'He completely deactivated his energy?' the falling debris and dust made it impossible to see more than a foot in front of him.
Poatan stopped in his tracks as a massive gust of air rushed through the room, instantly dispersing the dust.
Marcello turned. Seeing Poatan's surprised face, he pointed his fist toward him. The orange rock on his finger glowed brightly as the room's temperature rose rapidly.
Poatan braced himself as he was engulfed by the miniature sun. Inside his shell, he smiled, the realization that if he weren't as swift as he was, his eyes would've melted out of his head. Even though he was surrounded, it was still scorching.
Marcello's energy faltered as he looked on. The inferno dispersed as Poatan walked forward. Smoldering pieces of rock crumbled from his body as he did so, reabsorbing themselves back into his aura. His designer shirt hung loosely around him, and with one swift movement, he ripped it away, revealing a heavily tatted body.
Poatan charged forward. Rock started to form tightly around his fists.
Marcello was only able to remove one ring before having to dodge a punch from Poatan, who slapped away Marcello's left arm, jamming his fist into his ribs.
Marcello gasped. The jagged rock protruding from Poatan's fist scrapped against his side.
"You ain't got no hands, bruh!" Poatan taunted as he continued pummeling Marcello.
A massive gust of wind flowed through the room, launching Marcello back several yards.
"Oh," he moved closer, watching Marcello quickly remove two more of his plain rings.
Poatan, known as 'the stone man' or 'the pillar.' Poatan had extensive knowledge of rock and minerals as from the ages of eight to sixteen, everyday he slaved away in a rock mine. After escaping, he focused the entirety of his training on perfecting the attunement with the material. Of the five paths of energy, Manifestation, Manipulation, Alteration, Oddity, and Enhancement, he felt himself moved toward Manifestation. Most who go down that path concentrate on conjuring functional objects with shape. Poatan had reached the point where he had permanently blurred the line between his manifested and regular energy. Utilizing his past and talents, he is now using those skills to one day become a jeweler and own a store in the diamond district in New York.
Even when he doesn't have his energy activated, a thin layer of stone is constantly building up over his skin. If Poatan doesn't move for a while, he will resemble a statue. Every day, he wakes up in the morning by shattering a stone shell from the inside.
He can only bring the effect to his full potential when he enters an energy state of purpose. Stone plates will form from his skin. The thickness is contingent on how much energy he allocates to this process; the placement of the scales isn't arbitrary, as he ensures they won't hinder his movements.
Marcello hit him with another powerful blast of air directly to the chest. Even though he couldn't see it, Marcello could feel the golden grin plastered across Poatan's face.
Poatan can shape his energy's aura and create a rock mass by combining his ability with the energy path of alteration. Despite it being solid, he can move it like a fluid, shaping it according to his whims. Because the stone manifests where it goes and is unconjured when it leaves, Poatan can move it as if it were fluid.
He can recover most of his energy that went into manifestation by reabsorbing the conjured rock into his body, but physical touch is required.
Marcello removed his sixth ring.
Poatan's radiant aura washed over the floor, its illuminating blue light making it look like they were on a dance stage. From his energy, he jutted several spires, grazing the back of Marcello's shirt midair as he stretched to avoid them. Just as quickly as they appeared, they dispersed, the energy returning to Poatan as he sprinted over it, turning it into pillars under his feet and a sharp, short, jagged rock-knife.
Marcello spun, landing a hit that sent Poatan through the nearest wall, launching him into the gardens outside.
"What the-" Poatan sputtered, lifting his head from the rosebush. He turned as he spat out leaves and thorns. He glared at Marcello, who watched him from the gaping hole in the consulate.
A pause. The soothing hum of bugs and the rhythmic splashes of fish in a nearby manmade lake, their sounds weaving through the vandalized garden, mixing with the drone of their energy, made for a surreal symphony.
Marcello looked to the consulate floor, noticing Poatan's rock knife and the pillars hadn't yet disappeared. He dropped, landing beyond the bushes that encased the building.
Looking up, he saw Poatan admiring a long sword-like rock sculpture cradled in his hands. The weight of it compelled him to wield it with both hands, forcing powerful, sweeping motions.
Poatan thrust the pointed end deep into the earth, his right arm pulled back, conjuring a growing mass of stone in his palm.
With all his might, Poatan heaved the boulder.
Marcello froze as the mass sped toward him, uprooting plants as it flew overhead. In that pivotal second, the recollection dawned upon him—he had already removed his gravity ring.
Punch or run. 'Punch or run.' The thought seemed to loop endlessly as he stared wide-eyed at the boulder moving closer. 'Too late,' he heaved back and swung.
Poatan ripped his weapon from the ground and marched forward. The rock was large enough to where he couldn't see Marcello behind it.
Marcello dropped to one knee, feeling as if a blood vessel had burst in his eye. His vision dimmed, stars flashing before him. Blinking, he attempted to focus on something—anything! Moving his hands! His left was fine, but his right didn't move. It hurt, but it wasn't excruciating. Finally realizing he was forearm-deep into the boulder, Marcello grunted, trying to pull his hand back.
The boulder flowed around Poatan as he charged forward, stabbing his spire through the rock. As he moved forward, he saw the blurry figure of Marcello. The rock-sword's tip dug itself into the side of the consulate. Missing him.
As the boulder began to disintegrate, as well as Poatan's sword, stone plating began forming on his front side. Trying to protect himself in time.
Marcello flung himself forward, hitting Poatan directly in the stomach, sending him crashing to the stone path several yards away—no longer able to absorb what was left of his massive boulder and sword.
The shattered rock on his chest absorbed back into his aura as he slowly got to his feet, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "How- Okay," He gave a wide gold-toothed grin, though one of his front teeth was missing.
"I don't know why you're smiling," Marcello said casually. "You just lost."
'The fuck?' Poatan's mind raced, thinking back to everything that had just happened. He looked down at himself, making sure he didn't have some gaping hole in his chest that he somehow didn't notice. 'What is he talking about? Don't tell me this dude's got some other energy ability,' he thought.
Marcello noticed Poatan's eyes flicking from him to the boulder. Trying to figure out a way to get his energy back.
"What did you do?" Poatan squinted suspiciously, moving to circle Marcello.
"Nothing yet," Marcello admitted. "But I'm telling you right now that if you have some other ability, use it now because you won't have a chance to in a few minutes." He began fidgeting with his rings on his fingers, not even looking at Poatan, who warily approached him.
"You really like to hear yourself talk, huh?"
'Oh? He's still got something?' Marcello thought, bracing himself.
"Fine then," Poatan stopped, taking a deep breath. Calming his body, mind, and energy.
Marcello watched and glanced over, somewhat amused at what he was seeing.
Poatan felt the small minerals that was constantly building up over his skin. He concentrated, imagining the five main branches of energy. He hadn't had much occasion to try this, but he focused on Alteration.
Shards of jade grew from the body of Poatan, as he opened his eyes, taking another step toward Marcello. 'After a lot of concentration, I was able to crystalize my aura turning it to a much more durable material than stone. Jade, a green, slightly translucent mineral with comparable density but remarkable durability. Unlike the deceptive toughness of diamonds, this entails top-tier resistance to cracking, slicing, and blunt force. This resilience is attributed to the disordered crystal structure, which doesn't allow cracks to spread through the material as much as other minerals.'
He blinked the sweat from his eyes, and pointed a heavy hand toward the boy. "Keep talkin' shit! Why ain't you speaking?"
Suddenly, the jade shard shot from his knuckles, flying toward Marcello.