From above one of the boney walls of the palace —Which I had climbed out of stubbornness and while announcing my authority as a Retriever because getting shot wasn’t on my plans for the day— I spotted her taking a jump to land a downwards strike on her enemy, a nimble enhancer that was ostensibly on the side of the rebels. The man reminded me to the ones selling rings on those few Old Buenos Aires photos we saw on history class. That made him easier to follow, as his black skin contrasted with the pale heads of the masses. The man moved like a demon, bob and weaving though the barrage of attacks Revvie launched his way. I hurried back down and ran until I happened upon the barrier of officers, having to push and shove my way through a sea of uniformed and powerless cops that held their guns at the ready. “Excuse me, excuse me… Excuse you, you fat motherfucker. You ate your whole squad or what? Whatever. Retriever passing through, my team member is engaged and needs support…” I reached the clash front, and in the little crack between two shields I could see the face-off directly in front of me.

  Revvie could have been a porn actress by the way she was taking a pounding. Each jab from the black man sent her reeling a few steps, and then she regained her footing , summoned the might of her ferret sluts—for she was the ferret pimp— and headed straight back into the fray. She expected to win out of stubbornness, and by the faces of the people around me, she had probably threatened to turn anyone who dared put her to shame —read as: help her— into a knot scout groups would be proud of.

  But her ego was knot my problem, and I wanted a chance to bother people with my illusion powers. Three minor illusion modules couldn’t do much, but it just took a tiny nudge in the raight direction to destabilize a brain. Aconessi had told me that powerful illusionist was a walking nightmare. But a weak one could still become a creeping dread. And, unlike Aconessi, I didn’t have to learn what made most people tick. For him ssome sounds or sensations could have been enough, he had found out the hard way that there are men out for which subtle sensations don’t exist.

  I locked my gaze on the man as he danced through the hooks and jabs of Revvie, moving just enough to avoid the attacks. He barely turned his chest over its axis to avoid a punch, or shifted his weight in such a way that it gave him a millimetric berth and the chance to use his palms to hit one of Revvie’s exposed joints or soft spots. He fought bare-chested, which meant he felt the air currents generated by Revv’s attacks upon his skin. I could use that to my advantage: you didn’t make the focus of such a man waver by being loud or touching him on the shoulder. His aims were set on battle, and by making battle an alien experience would the path to victory reveal itself to me. To us.

  Revekka noticed me, acknowledged my stare if only for a second, in some instant of respite, while both of the combatants restored their positions and planned for the bout to come. Her expression betrayed no feelings, but I could sense the warning. Do not interfere. This was her trial, and she had to get through it alone.

  Baloney. It was as good of a chance for me as it was for her, and more so considering I had not needed to use my powers to stir up the pot, and was aching to practice just a bit. First I needed to observe and come up with a plan to aid Revvie whilst my magic remained undetected. Causing sensations onto the skin of the black man would have been blunt as a bat with rusted nails sticking out of it and barbed wire wrapped like cotton candy around the top. I needed another clue, and judging by the way they were circling each other, I would soon get a golden opportunity to take a closer look at the man.

  Their steps were measured, feet moving with great intent as they sought an opening. Revvie led with her right elbow, the shine of a sacromotor she didn’t bother to hide causing her skin to glisten. The man was a stone, a boulder, a great wall ready to forestall the advance of the uniformed witch. Impassive, he waited till the last second to meet her elbow with his palm and rotate his whole body to the side, sneaking a lightning jab under Rev’s ribs.

  Rev ribs. I got a craving now.

  Gabbing her wounded side and struggling to remain in place, Rev turned, the light of her sacromotor flickering. The ferrets quickly transitioning to failets. Her hair matted, sweaty locks sticking to a dirty face. her breath ragged. That was something I could use.

  I called for my crows to pay mind to what I had to tell them; willed to muffle a sound with one of my modules, and to imitate it with another. My aim lay solely in affecting Revvie’s rival, to confuse him and not her. Now, Aconessi had told me to take care with that which I changed, because the perception of others was a whole alien planet, and we were just earthlings immersed in our own organoleptic Earth. To learn to properly lie and to learn to properly live, to him, presented as similar challenges. And he couldn’t be more right.

  It was a slight desynchronization I had caused, only perceptible for those outside of Revvie’s body: She had far more organoleptic feedback than anyone else about her own breathing, and she was more likely to ignore it, at the same time. One does not focus on their own breathing often. Now you do. Yes. In, out. It’s not automatic anymore. Fucker.

  The combatants clashed again, Revvie managing to smuggle in a lucky blow onto the spry man’s stomach. But he didn’t falter, and slapped her aout of the way,s ending her reeling to the floor and in front of me. Then he gave me the signal I had been expecting: a little scratching of his temple, a moment of doubt and reconsideration. A double take.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Revvie rolled onto her side and out of the way, standing once more, cheek red and swollen. , the light of her enhancement flickering again.

  “This is pathetic, young lass. Run back to your superiors and tell them to send a proper rank C to do the dirty job at the least. Your enhancement could be enough with proper technique, and your lack of talent could be worked around with brute force. But you have neither.” He remained calm, the tone of his voice not a reprimand but a wise advice. “Desist before you force my hand. I am here to defend the righteous and punish the wicked, and while you wear their uniform, I think you find yourself closer to the former than to the later.” That’s when he spotted me standing behind two cops. IT was imperative to halt the illusion in the immediate, and so I did.

  He extended one unshaking finger as he waltzed up to the trembling officers in front of me. “You are ununiformed and unafraid. Why?”

  “Your punching bag happens to be part of my team. Punching bag, a dog person, and the peerless motherfucker Saon Ladius. That’s us.” I humbled out, my left hand hanging from a scared policeman’s shoulder.

  “What’s your witchery all about then, you rickety punk?”

  The world went still for a second. I had been waiting all day for that question. “I am a bit of everything. Like that classic Meredith Brooks song!”

  “That sounds like a name from before the Advent.” One of the policemen mumbled. Not the one I was leaning on, though. Support Shaft was being an excellent dude all around, supporting me and stuff.

  The enemy enhancer nodded. “indeed. And unlike in your partner, I can sense great darkness inside you, boy. There’s something about you that makes my stomach squirm like a worm.”

  “I can sense great darkness all around you.” I retorted. “Wait no, that’s just the melanin.”

  “Ah, now we are being racist. Are you aware I could crush this line of shields? “He cracked his knuckles, thinking himself menacing. “And tear your trachea out, squash it into a formless mass. Would you be able to talk shit after that?”

  “No, it’s pretty hard to be mildly racist If I lie on the floor eviscerated. I concede that.”

  “Enough of a break. I am your adversary.” Revvie spat barely holding over her legs like a newborn fawn. “You are not going to cast me into your cold shadow, Saon.”

  “You lost, Revekka, this nice gentleman beat your sorry ferret-loving ass.” I informed her, in short and with the most formal language available to me.

  “Your companion speaks wisdom among his nonsense, girl. Leave, you two. Let someone else handle me—if they wish to.” As he talked, I managed to make out what the scent he gave off was: artificial mosquito repellent. Judging by the time of the year and the average daily temperature inside the dome, he either worked at a place that let the buggers breed like crazy indoors or had some underlying reason to wear a substance that wasn’t either pleasant to wear or cheap to acquire.

  And, don’t get me wrong: I hate the damn buggers just as much as the next person. But I don’t go out of my way to avoid them in the cold months, and as an Antarctic nation the Meanders get a lot of those. Mosquitos are an afterthought, a worry only in select moments during the height of summer, where we get to some comfy twenty-three degrees.

  But the prior year we had registered a few isolated cases of Dengue fever. And while we had vaccines for it, they weren’t included in the obligatory schedule, and thus were a paid privilege. Most didn’t bother with it, as the vector of the disease wasn’t a widespread menace in our city.

  In addition to that, this man spoke with a slight accent, that I had until then associated with an upbringing on the poor neighborhoods near the wall, but could come about by hailing from the lands by the northern shores of Deuterogondwana, or some of their islands. Or maybe from the Argentinian archipelago.

  Now this all didn’t really matter for my ends. It was information, and relevant information was power, but this bunch consisted of merely possible explanations for the behavior observed. Afn the behavior observed was an attempt at avoiding mosquitoes for reasons unknown.

  What’s a mosquito? A dipteran insect, commonly known for the females becoming ectoparasites of certain vertebrates —including humans— as part of their reproductive cycle. That’s an almost text book answer. But that isn’t an illusionist’s answer.

  What’s a mosquito? A mosquito’s a buzz in one on your ears, somewhere closer, somewhere further. A mosquito is an unexplained itch in your fingers or arms or legs as you hear said sound. A mosquito is slapping perfectly healthy patches of skin because you think something stepped there. A mosquito is, my darlings, a vibes-based menace. Sort of.

  A mosquito was, then, the perfect weapon to test against our melanated friend. If a mosquito was the constant buzzing, then a module would take charge of said buzzing. And if a mosquito was a tickle on an out of sight part of one’s skin, then a module would take charge of the tickle. If a mosquito is an itch you cannot ever scratch, then the third module would become this mundane nightmare.

  He was getting in position, ready for another charge of the Revosaurus, left hand forwarded, palm open; right hand retracted, making a gesture I had seen in mostly in paintings of deities a rather numerous deal of people believed in in times long gone.

  To generate a sound with the illusion modules was rather easy: you weren’t moving the air, that was the job of some matter manipulators. You weren’t rattling the timpani, second verse same as the first. You were sending out a violent yet subtle message to a brain, backdooring it. The buzzing would be heard on his left, but it wouldn’t be anywhere to be found in the world. You were hacking, and most brains were lousy in matters of cybersecurity. Even my own, as a rookie illusionist.

  Tact… now, tactile feedback wasn’t my specialty, I hadn’t had much of a practice with it, but I could recreate it for myself, for example, in the occasion I managed to lie myself and the parcel of air I occupied into believing I had a cigar. A slight touch, without any love or care, couldn’t be that hard to attain.

  Revvie rushed him again, fist ready to go under the man’s defenses and deliver a devastating uppercut. I had no more time to plan how to make a man paranoid about mosquitoes.

  And so I acted, and the buzzing begun, as soft and ominous as it often does.