Planatae

Struggle

The fight that raged within the Purists' prison was not a battle to be proud of. Although the prisoners were weak from captivity, the cultists lacked the military forces of a true government, and so it quickly became a tangled mess of grappling bodies.

Ricardia ducked as a Purist jabbed at her, the staff arcing above her head. Then she twisted, backpedaling, as a different Cultist rushed past, their stun-gun emitting a wild barrage of shots.

"Go for the guns!" she heard someone say, and her body reacted. Getting in close had worked with the hacker, so she threw herself towards the cultist, tackling him from behind. They slammed to the floor, Ricardia hissing in pain as she was pelted by the stray kicking of the fighters around her.

The Purist tried to roll over, hoping to get a clear shot on her, but she was faster, using both hands to pin the gun to the ground.

It was a risky bid, diverting all her attention on one target, but despite the weapons, the prisoners almost doubled the Purists in numbers - and only half of them had guns.

The gamble seemed to pay off - Ricarcia hooked her legs around the Purist using muscles honed by years of dancing. Inch by inch, while keeping them pinned, she pried the gun out of the hand of her shouting, thrashing opponent without any interference. A moment later and it dropped to the ground, Ricardia pouncing on it immediately.

There was an awful moment of limbo where they both scrambled on the ground, dodging legs and feet to claim control of the weapon, but Ricardia managed to hook her finger around the trigger. Then she turned and blasted the Purist point-blank in the face.

There was a yelp of pain, accompanied by an expression of deep surprise, and then the cultist fell back, limbs twitching.

Ricardia didn't even allow herself a breath to recover. She scrambled to her feet, gun gripped in her hand, and sought out her next opponent. Adrenaline was pumping through her now, and with a shock, she realized she was relishing the chaos of the fight.

But during her brief struggle, the dynamic of the battle had changed. The prisoners had managed to take the cultists by surprise; it seemed the group hadn't been expecting much of a resistance. She could see that a few others had managed to seize staffs and guns as well, and although many of their own were lifeless heaps on the floor, the number of Purists left standing was significantly less.

She felt a warm spark alight within her as she surveyed the scene. The battle, while far from over, was not the massacre she expected.

A Purist, staff swinging, suddenly popped into her line of sight. Driven purely by reflex, she lifted the stun-gun and fired, nailing them in the midriff with a bolt of energy.

One less to worry about. Even as she dropped to the floor again to avoid a hail of energy bolts, her satisfaction could not be dampened.

Rolling backwards, Ricardia sought to give herself some space from the conflict. Pulling back would have given the perfect opportunity to release her Factor, but she reined it in. She still didn't know if her light was strong enough to overcome the lenses and disorient and blind the remnants of the Purist force, but it wasn't worth trying. She'd end up causing just as much damage to the prisoners as well.

In the corner of her vision, she spied a trio of prisoners making their way around the outskirts of the room as they headed towards the exit. The sight gave her a rush of hope; there were enough gaps in the Purist defense that attempts to escape had now begun.

Still, she owed it to Jacobi and the others to see this through, so she turned her attention back to the fight and lifted her gun to take aim. But it quickly became apparent that shooting someone point-blank was a very different scenario than trying to pick off moving targets as they darted about the room.

The two forces were about even now - the discarded weapons had evened the odds. She'd expected a much faster fight, thanks to the guns, but most people were having just as much trouble as her at landing a hit. The staffs were much more potent in the relatively small room, and Ricarida took care to stay out of the way of the dueling fighters, shards of power shooting into the air every time the weapons crashed against each other.

Turning, she spotted Jacobi as he stumbled, under heavy assault by a Purist who was far more skilled at wielding the staff. She launched a few bolts in their direction, most of them missing, but one managed to land a hit on the cultist's leg and they quickly retreated, hopping backwards on their one good limb.

Jacobi gave her a nod, but his face was tight with worry. "Why aren't there more Purists?" He shouted over the noise. She shook her head, having no answer to give him.

"We have to finish this," she shouted back. He was right. Although she'd been unconscious during her trip to the cells, Ricardia had no doubt that there were far, far more Purists than the meager amount that had challenged them.

Then there was a shout, and her attention flickered towards the exit for just a moment, but it was enough for her to catch the source.

She watched as Dr. Ito lurched forwards, into her view, his momentum taking him back inside the cell cluster. The rest of the battle faded away as he looked up, and his eyes found hers.

He changed course, took a step in her direction - but then a flood of Purists emerged from the exit behind him. Numbering about four or five, their presence elicited shouts of dismay and shock from the prisoners who noticed, but Ricardia was focused on the doctor before her, and his tumble to the ground as one of the cultists jabbed him from behind with a staff.

Jerking, flailing, he collapsed, but still somehow managed to keep his gaze focused on her. Ricardia couldn't move, transfixed by the sight.

They began to drag him back towards the exit, the rest of their group providing cover in case any prisoner decided to interfere.

Dr. Ito's eyes flickered wildly now, rolling back in his head. He's trying to use his feed, she thought. The staff's shock must have disrupted the connection.

Then he stilled, his attention turning back to her for one last moment.

Help us, he mouthed, the words painfully clear dispute the distance. Help-

But he was cut off, disappearing through the entryway. Her positioning, and the dimness of the space beyond cut off any further view.

They'll kill me if I don't continue my research, he'd written that to her during her time in imprisonment. For a split-second, she entertained the idea of just ignoring him. She had herself to worry about, after all - some half-baked kindness wasn't enough for her to feel for a man who'd never been confined to a cell.

But then another voice echoed in her mind, and this time it was her own.

All that it will cost will be my death!

That's what she had said to her mother when faced with the most important role in recent Caedish history. She knew nothing about the doctor's past, but intuition told her he'd come to Onyx seeking refuge, just like her. He might have been treated better, but they both had ended up as tools for the Purists. If she abandoned him now... then she had no right to ever look Sana in the eyes again.

Just like her, Ricardia would be better than this place, than the darkness it held within itself like the rotten core of a fruit.

Her feet moved faster than her brain, and before she'd truly made up her mind, Ricardia found herself running full tilt at the dark gap in the walls.

Tactically, it was a terrible strategy, but Ricardia had no qualms about her chances. If the hallways outside the prison system were anything like the ones within, she had no shot at picking them off one-by-one. There was only one gamble she had left.

Ricardia passed over the threshold, still moving at full speed. There was a quick glimpse of Purists, all surrounding a larger, red-faced man. Ito and two other figures were splayed out on the floor, immobile.

The man saw her then, his face twisting with surprise. Ricarida noted with a dark glee that his eyes were fully exposed to the elements.

No hesitation, then.

She exploded with light, pushing herself to the absolute limit. She needed to be stronger than starlight, stronger than the flare of the hottest fire.

Strong enough to blast right through those dark lenses of the cultists.