Switched 1/2 (Writing Attack)

Switched

This is an attack on Wiki . I didn't finish the story (I'll be putting it in two separate blogs for length purposes anyway) but I plan on finishing it tommorow. Hopefully that's legal :sweat_smile: .

#ModernFantasyAttack

#WritingBattle2

#TeamModernFantasy

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prompt 6 :point_right: antagonist and protagonist live in a world where 95% of society have powers. Protagonist is apart of 95% until they suddenly find out one day their powers have disappeared. They find out that the antagonist had taken their powers. Protagonist tried to get their powers back but in the process starts to take pity for him and befriends him and soon a love blossoms between the two

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Word count: 2,268

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         “Alright, team,” Ross, our team captain, a Fire-Wielder, shouts over the thrum of the helicopter blades above us. Even over intercoms, the noise is intense. “You know what we’re doing. We’re investigating a magic artifact- simple stuff, easy to do. We’ve done it a hundred times, so this shouldn’t be any different- isolate the object, release it’s magic, give it to some museum or whatever, go home and take a nap. Job done.”

         Iris, a pretty girl with a bubblegum-colored pixie cut and the unfortunate talent of making things explode with a particularly vicious stare, cocks her head in confusion. She was our new recruit- seventeen, not too much younger than the rest of us, but still a rookie.

         Ross sighs, but explains anyway. “The unfortunate thing about magic existing in the world is that people can transfer onto an object. Magical objects grow more powerful over time, and it doesn’t manifest in an ability like it does in humans, it just is. The creator could have the ability to enchant quills to never run out of ink, imbue his favorite quill with all his magic, and suddenly, five hundred years later, someone else finds it and uses the raw power to add onto his own.”

         Iris nods sheepishly. “Right. That makes sense.”

         Lynx, our team’s shapeshifter, adds on. “Since, like, ninety five percent of the world has magic, there’s a lot of artifacts out there that shouldn’t exist, so our Saturday evenings get ruined and we’ve got to go find whatever old piece of crap they want us to.”

         “Easy there,” I scoff, shoving her lightly. “Management might hear you.”

         Lynx sticks her tongue out at me, but Ross cuts her off. “There’s more this go-round, though. Scout’s seen a gang around here, too, that looks like they want whatever artifact is hidden here.”

         Scout nods and takes the chance to speak. “They’re from the city, so they ain’t playin’. Black merchants or somethin’ is my guess, but they’re nasty regardless.”

         “Relax, Scout, you worry too much,” I say, propping my feet up on his lap and reclining back slightly. The helicopter is a small space, which only maximizes my ability to annoy. “It’s just another job, certainly not the most difficult one we’ve had. Let’s just get this over with.”

         Scout pushes me off with a scowl, but before I can retaliate, the pilot announces we’re landing and the craft takes a sharp turn downwards.

         This artifact was located in the middle of a desert- nothing strange in itself, the magicians that break laws usually don’t want their hard work reversed and go to great lengths to hide it.

          Here, though, there was an air of apprehension, as if the sand itself wasn’t sure it wanted to be hiding what it did. Every direction lay barren and flat- the only thing disrupting the uniformity of it all was the looming structure in front of us.

         It’s an entrance of some sort, all weather-beaten columns and shadowy spaces. It slants into the ground at an almost violent angle, a gaping maw of an arch surrounded by curlicues and statues so worn their features are barely discernible.

         Ross only shrugs and motions us in. “Whatever we need is in there. Let’s move. Keep your magic to a minimum- we don’t want to attract something we shouldn’t.”

         Without any more words, we descend into the darkness, down a staircase that leads far into the earth.

         It became clear rather quickly that this wasn’t anything ordinary we were after.

         “Ross,” Scout says slowly, looking around at the tall, blank ceiling and the featureless walls, so different from the entrance above. “You getting the same feeling I am?” Scout had the ability to detect magic and abilities specifically, something that came in handy most of the time. He wasn’t defenseless by any means, however- the man could draw his scimitars and slice you to bits before you’d even he was there at all.

         “Yeah,” Ross replied grimly. “Somebody thought it’d be a great idea to enchant the whole goddamn thing.”

         A chill went through the air. The amount of power it’d take to do so was already immense, and with no telling how old it is, the potential of what could be inside hung heavily over us.

         The hall blended into another, and another, and another. We were in a labyrinth of some sort. Already, after three turns, we’d lost all concept of where we had started.

         “Alright, everyone, stay together,” Ross instructed. “This place is massive- getting lost here is a death sentence. I don’t know how far our comms can travel, but it’s better not to test it.”

         I nod with every intention of doing so, as does everyone else.

         Unfortunately, this place has other ideas in mind.

         One moment, I’m holding backup at the rear of the group, minding my business, and the next the floor gives way from under me. I don’t hit the ground hard, luckily; I quickly summon my wings and sharpen my vision- or ‘glow up,’ as Ross puts it -which ensures a soft landing.

         “Shit,” I remark wisely, looking up. The hole had closed above me, leaving me in what would be total darkness if not for the faint glow from my wings and my hawk-gaze. I’d landed in some sort of hall that stretched out as far as I could see, with no exit in sight. “Ross, I fell somewhere, it might be a second before I meet back up with you guys.”

         There wasn’t a response, only the strange crackling of static.

         “Ross? Scout? Lynx? Hello? You hear me?” I cursed again, hearing nothing. They couldn’t have been more than a few dozen feet away, but something’s jamming my signal. It’s up to me to figure out how to get out of it.

         Seeing no better option, I start walking, sending my wings away and using the flashlight embedded in the arm of my uniform instead.

         The tunnel doesn’t change much for the half hour I walk it, which is infuriating. The heat, although less than it was on the surface, still radiates out from the bricks, and soon I’m drenched in a wonderful, crusty mixture of sweat and sand, my mouth dry as the air around me.

         “This is just great,” I scoff, punching the wall in front of me. I can almost hear Ross chiding me: keep your head, Zayde. Don’t panic, Zayde. Use logic, Zayde. Look where that got me.

         Instead of magically teleporting back to the rest of my team, all I’ve got is bruised knuckles, but it feels good, so I do it again.

         The brick clicks backward, like some hardened mud holding it in place had finally broken, and a door-sized section slides backward, soundlessly. A little push sends it swinging inward, revealing a large, brightly-lit room.

          Someone’s voice sounds from inside, agitated.

         “Of course, the one time they convince me to go on a mission is the time I get stuck in some damn temple,” the voice scoffs.

         Use your head, Zayde, rings in my mind again. Well, I’m using my damn head alright.

I slip into the room, soundlessly, moving across the wall.

         The room is large, empty of everything except for two circles on the ground, each more than big enough for someone to stand in. I round the wall, and there he is: the owner of the voice.

         He’s tall, slender, dressed in a long black coat, scarf to keep the sand out of his mouth and nose, and a large black sun hat. His hair is dark and unkempt, void of the streak that signifies an ability.

         “You show up in random labyrinths often?” He turns at the sound of my voice, facing me. His features are streamlined and sharp. Almond shaped eyes narrow at me, and his lip curls upward.

         “Just when things couldn’t get any worse,” he scoffs, shaking his head, British accent curling through the air. In any other situation, I might have invited him for a drink, and, later, my bed, but one has got to maintain professionalism, right?

         “What, not happy I’m here?” I lean up against the wall, crossing my arms. “You aren’t part of my team.”

         “How much of your brain cell did it take you to figure that out?” He gestures around the room, then stops and sighs. “It doesn’t matter. We’re both trapped in here.”

         “No we’re-” I turn, but the door I came through is gone. “Shit.”

         “Don’t bother looking around. I already have, there’s no way out.”

         “What about these weird circles here?” I stand on one, directly in the center. “Do these do anything?”

         It’s a few moments before he replies, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. Eventually, he regains his composure,sliding down the wall to sit, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.  “No.

          They’re just pretty decoration to look at while we lose our bloody minds.”

         An awkward silence fills the room. I don’t like awkward silences.

         “So, you're the bad guys, then?” Not the most intelligent thing to say, but it’s something.

         “Depends on who you ask, mate” he replies over the cigarette, breathing deeply and blowing the smoke towards me. “I’d say we’re just suppliers. Care for a smoke?”

         I shake my head, watching him. “Suppliers for what?”

         “Whoever wants whatever we come across. We thought this was more of a holding place, but I haven’t found anything yet, ‘sides you.” He glares up at me. “What are you supposed to do? Save the world from old rubbish?”

         “When you put it that way it doesn’t sound quite so cool.” I stride over, grabbing his hat and placing it over my helmet. As expected, it doesn’t fit well, but my shadow looks cool.

         “What in hell are you doing?” the man asks, like he’s not sure whether to be in a rage or laugh.

         “There’s enough evil vibes on you already, thought I deserved some. Besides, might as well look cool while I figure out what to do. Why, you want it back?” His face twists into a scowl, and I know the answer already. “You’re going to have to come and get it, Great Britain.”

         “You’re acting like a child,” he growls, but it only motivates me further.

         “So are you. Humor me- you can’t be all pessimistic this whole time.” I stand a few feet away from him, holding the hat in front of me. “We’ve got time to kill- might as well spend it looking for a way out.”

         “So why aren’t you looking?” He’s avoiding my gaze, but I know I’m winning.

         “I don’t like doing things alone. Makes me nervous.”

         “Clearly.”

         “Besides, isn’t this the part in the movie where the mortal enemies band together and learn life lessons while escaping the deadly dungeon?”

         “We aren’t mortal enemies. I don’t even know who you are.” He stands up and steps forward, scowl deepening, avoiding the circle on his side of the room. Something clicks in my head, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

         “Most people call me an asshole, but I prefer Zayde.” I hold my other hand out, tucking the hat behind my back.

         “Pleasure,” the man scoffs, but doesn’t move, eyes trained on my head, presumably on the bright white streak that runs through my hair.

          “That isn’t your only name, is it? Are you part of those damn hero squads that zip around, causing chaos?”

         “Come on, your turn. You don’t even have to come and get the hat. I’ll give it as a gift, for your name.” I swerve around the question. I like dramatic reveals, and just stating my title isn’t dramatic enough for me.

         “Harrison,” he says, reaching for the hat. I jerk it back, just out of reach. “Now what?”

         “There’s a way out of here. You know what it is.”

His eyes narrow again. “I already told you, I don’t.”

         “Come on, I may be childish, but I’m not stupid. What is it? Why are you avoiding it?”

         He pauses, but sighs and rolls up his pant leg. A long gash, still bleeding slightly, runs up his calf. “I stood on one, in the center, trying to figure it out. A spike shot up out of it. I don’t know why you can do it without anything happening.”

         I look down. I’m still on the circle. “Did you stand on this one?”

         He nods.

         I consider this for a moment, then go to step on the other one. Nothing happens, until I get to the center- almost immediately, a spike shoots up out of the ground, impaling the space I had stood only moments before. I’d be a kebab if it weren’t for my wings- I had summoned them and jumped just before the spike had shot up.

         “Interesting,” I say, very carefully maneuvering myself over the clear ground before dropping down and sending my wings away. We lock eyes for a moment, the same thought going through our heads.

         “What if you stood on that circle-” I start.

         “-and you stood on that one,” he finishes, nodding. Without another word, he does so, gingerly stepping on the circle and finally stopping in the center. No deadly spikes in sight. I do the same on the other.

         We hold our breath for a few seconds, not daring to move.

         Nothing happens.

         “Do that thing again, mate,” he gestures to me. "With the wings.”

         “Right,” I take a breath and call my wings.

         I don’t get a chance to anything after that.