Alternate Dimension - Ch. 1: The Shunter

WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS TO THINGS ONLY IN KINGDOM OF THE WICKED.

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1.

THE SHUNTER

The man in the finely tailored suit streaked through the rain and leaped over the fence with ease. Zathract perused him, pulling himself over the same fence with some difficulty and cursing as he did so. He leaped down from the fence, rolled, came up and ran onwards. Bathed in moonlight, the two ran; Zathract the pursuer, the man the perused.

This man was a Dimensional Shunter, one of the few left in the world and one out of two in Australia. However, this Dimensional Shunter had used his powers to obtain several weapons of mass destruction from alternate dimensions and fully intended to use them to bring the world to its knees under chaos. His name was Jason Intention and he was also, as of late, the number one most wanted criminal in Australia.

And Zathract Mist was currently the one chasing him through the streets of Sydney at midnight.

Jason Intention leaped into the air, slid over the roof of a car covered in moonlight and darkness in odd places and vanished from view. Zathract jumped over the same car, putting a small dent in the roof, and landed back on the ground, looking around for Jason. But he was gone.

Cursing, Zathract wheeled around and scanned the places that were most concealed from view. Bushy hedges, large trees, the houses that lined the streets. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

A deafening roar split the air and Zathract instinctively threw himself to the ground and rolled sideways for extra cover. Rightly so, it seemed, for when he looked up again, Jason was standing a few dozen metres away with a futuristic-looking flamethrower that was generating a green flame-stream, engulfing the place he had been seconds ago. Zathract leaped up from his place of cover and seized the pistol he kept inside his jacket and took aim at Jason’s right leg. He shot three times and they all hit, taking the Dimensional Shunter to the ground, screaming.  He saw Jason use one arm for support and the other to feel inside his own suit for something. Not wanting to give his enemy a chance to do anything else, Zathract shot four more bullets, making sure to miss the man but keeping them close enough to, hopefully, scare him.

It worked and, while he was distracted, Zathract ran forwards again, towards the man, ready to strike. He reached Jason and let his leg fly out in a kick which collided with his chin and the man fell backwards.

Zathract held the gun steady, aimed at Jason Intention’s head and glared, waiting for him to look up and see the weapon. When he did, Zathract was glad to see he slowly raised his hands next to his head where he lay and stopped moving. Panting slightly, Zathract used his free hand to grab a pair of steel handcuffs from the inside of his jacket.

“You’re under arrest,” he said, kneeling down and grabbing one of Jason’s hands. “I’m sure you don’t really want me to go through that whole professional speech thing.”

Jason didn’t speak, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips before Zathract cuffed his hands together, binding his magic and trapping it inside him. He searched every pocket the criminal had and pulled out of the search with seven different guns, none of which even officially existed in this reality yet, four simple knives, and a lot of money, some that meant things and the rest that didn’t. It seemed that Jason spent a lot of time in other realities as well.

Zathract pocketed the stuff for now, and stood up, bringing the Shunter with him, then stooped and picked up the flamethrower thing that Jason had used earlier. Jason had to grab Zathract’s shoulder to stay upright and still wobbled violently where he stood. The three bullets Zathract had put in his leg was evidently taking its toll. Not wanting to waste even one of the leaves he had on the criminal, Zathract did not do anything to help him and started walking back towards the Sanctuary, not bothering to call for a car. It was a long walk back, but he didn’t particularly care if it meant that Jason was being punished for his crimes already.

The walk back to the Sanctuary was a long one, though, and it was dark, and raining. These three factors together was not a good thing. Fatigue made people forget things. Darkness hides things from sight. Heavy rain can makes things appear as others. And while Zathract was not one to forget things due to lack of rest, the next two disadvantages were things he had no control over.

So Zathract was not exactly surprised when he rounded a corner he thought he knew and found himself in complete alien territory. There had been no conversation during the journey, but that had been no halts while they walked either, so it was this sudden pause that made Jason leap into action.

In one swift motion, Jason Intention had swung his bound hands up and hit Zathract hard against his temple. He stumbled sideways, accidentally letting go of the cuffs as he did so.

With a flame already in his hand, Zathract spun back around, cursing himself, Jason and just about everything else as he did so. The criminal, despite his apparently crippled leg, flipped high over the fireball which quickly dissipated in the rain and landed again on one leg. Fed up with him, Zathract reached into his jacket and pulled out one of the unknown guns Jason had had on him and fired at the Shunter. The gun flashed red, let out a loud beep and Zathract was almost pushed back off his feet as the explosion erupted from the weapon. Over the roar, Zathract heard Jason swear a moment before a second explosion tore through the air. He shook his head, clearing it, and located Jason through the fire and flames. This gun would be no use to him right now; his objective was to arrest, not to kill.

He put the gun back in his jacket, and bought his own one back out, taking aim once again. He let three bullets fly through the air, but Jason had moved again and they missed him. He saw the Shunter trying to run off again, but his injured leg was slowing him down too much to be a challenge, so it was for Zathract give chase. He grabbed Jason’s shoulder and spun him around before bring his second hand push forward as a fist. Zathract let go of him and Jason stumbled back, dazed, but only slightly. Once he had recovered, the criminal glared and tried to punch Zathract, but his pain was apparent, and his technique was sloppy. Zathract battered the fist away and came forwards with his elbow, getting Jason squarely in the chest, taking the air out of him.

He felt Jason grab his jacket, and pulled himself out of the attack. But the Shunter was already holding his ground and starting to pull Zathract one way. Too late, Zathract couldn’t do much as he was pulled backwards, and earned himself a knee to the gut for his troubles. Trying to breathe, Zathract didn’t stop Jason take a swipe at his jacket again, and grab something out of the pockets. Assuming it was one of the weapons, Zathract rolled away from the Shunter and got to his feet again, ready to leap away further if needed. But there was no need to run. Because Jason had not grabbed a weapon.

Zathract swore loudly when he saw the cuffs fall to the ground, off of Jason’s wrists, and grabbed one of his daggers as he ran back in. But with his hands free, it seemed that Jason was a rather capable fighter, his injured leg aside. His fist was parried, and somehow Zathract was pulled into a lock, and then pushed to the floor. Not bothering to try to understand what had just happened, Zathract rolled sideways, knowing it would break whatever hold Jason had on him, and spun around quickly, hitting the Shunter in the face with a roundhouse kick.

Now Jason was on the ground, and Zathract quickly placed on his feet on Jason’s hand, and the other on his head.

“You going to come quietly now?” Zathract asked Jason as the rain pounded them from above.

“Not yet,” Jason laughed, and Zathract saw his free hand grabbing the leg that was on his head. He made to pull away, but it was too late. He saw the world flicker around him for a moment, and felt the panic rise up inside him.

And then the world changed. The rain stopped abruptly. The street changed completely, and the fire and craters from their battle vanished.

At once, Zathract knew what had happened. Not really knowing what he was doing, he stepped off Jason, who rose to his feet at once afterwards. Before he had known what had happened, Jason had grabbed most of the money from Zathract’s jacket, all the guns and two of the knives.

Zathract’s glare leaped onto his face and he made a grab for the man as he begun to flicker again, but it was a second too late, and Jason Intention vanished from his view.

And Zathract Mist was left in this new dimension that he didn’t understand.

For a long time, Zathract stood in the street blankly, not knowing what to think, not knowing what to do. After an hour, he managed to grab hold of the fact that he was in a new dimension. But after that, he started to think again.

It was a parallel dimension. If his research that he had done in the Sanctuary previously was true, all dimensions are parallel. Which meant that there would be changes in this new world, to the Earth he knew. Zathract turned and ran towards the end of the street and looked around. The houses looked different. They were all the size of a standard apartment, but he saw, as he peered in a window, that technology existed.

Good. This dimension was not too far off what he knew, then. Since it was the dead of night, Zathract did not have to worry about people seeing his sudden appearance. What he had to do now, was to find the Australian Sanctuary, if there was one. They should know about Shunters. Probably.

At once, he set off, running through the streets, looking for someone out at night. But after an hour of searching, it seemed that everyone was asleep.

He came across a large, wire fence with a sign on it.

NO NOT ENTER: INDENTIFICATION NEEDED. TRESPASSERS WILL BE EXECUTED.

Recklessly guessing that a Sanctuary may hidden in a subtle/non subtle place like this, Zathract ignored the sign, and jumped the fence, letting his gloves, jacket and pants absorb the inflictions of the spiked wire. It was desperate and foolish, but right now, Zathract was both of these things.

It wasn’t barbed wire, but probably something unique from this dimension. He landed, and walked on. The ground beyond the fence was blackened rubble that made crunching noises as he walked across it. Up ahead, Zathract could see a small building. Hoping this may be an entrance to the Sanctuary, he hurried his pace.

The all-to-familiar sound of a knife being drawn made him halt again. He was not afraid, though. Zathract’s brow was furrowed. The sound was very distinct, one he had heard often back home.

Then the sounds of the crunching of the rubble, approaching him from behind. At first, he thought of a Cleaver, but then realised that, since he was not meant to be here, a Cleaver would simply had killed him on the stop. Plus, Cleavers had scythes, not knives. Slowly, Zathract turned around to face the approaching person. The darkness and distance hid her face.

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” Zathract said, not moving. “But I’m looking for help.”

She did not reply, but continued walking closer.

Deciding that this time was desperate, considering he did not know if would be able to hold his own against this person he did not know, he spoke again.

“Please,” he said. “Do you know where the Australian Sanctuary is?”

Her pace faltered, but only for a second, before continuing forward again.

She did know.

Zathract could tell. This probably meant that that small building he had seen before was the entrance. And she was probably a Sanctuary official.

She drew ever closer, and the moonlight begun to reveal her identity. The more he saw, the more he realised he already knew. Zathract knew the brown hair. He knew the makhaira she held.

And when she finally spoke, Zathract already knew who she was.

“You’re under arrest for trespassing,” said Sparky Braginski. “'I recommend not running, I have tendency to show no mercy after that.”