Scene 7

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Maren had just reached the alley as a man soared backward into the main street. A quick glance into the alley gave Maren the gist of the situation: a Peace Keeper was twirling in the air, gathering flames along his arms, opposing two men wearing matching uniforms. 

Not exactly a difficult choice of whom to help: a Peace Keeper, or “city workers” who were likely abductors. 

The flying man hit the ground, then rolled to the far sidewalk. Evidenced by his erratic fumbling and pained groans, he seemed out for the count. But as Maren turned to help the Peace Keeper in the alley, the fumbling man rose. In a moment, small spheres of flame ignited his palms. 

Maren was the only other person on the street, yet he didn’t so much as glance at her as he started forward. Looked like his tunnel vision would give her an easy victory. 

She removed her warm blanket and took a wide stance, bracing herself. Water formed on both shoulders, which she channeled along the inside of her arms and chest. She held her hands before her, connecting the tips of her fingers with those on the other hand, focusing to form a pressurized funnel. As the Flame Dancer attempted to enter the alley, Maren blasted him with a stream stronger than one from a firefighter’s hose. 

He flew to the side, his fire extinguishing like a candle’s. The force pushed her back, but her braced position kept her standing. The man hit the ground and Maren ceased her stream, though kept water flowing over her upper body. 

That proved fruitful, as the man held another fireball even before he was back on his feet, flinging it to her as he rose. It was too fast for her to dodge, so she coated her arms in more water and held them before her face. 

TSSS! 

The flame hit her shield, evaporating most of her water. Then a second volley slammed into what remained of her shield. She exclaimed, bringing her arms back, as an intense heat scalded her forearms. 

The man took a labored breath. Looked like getting knocked on his bag twice caused him to lose his breath. Maren, shaking her arms to help cool them down, returned his glare with a smile. He brought both hands to his side, forming two more flaming spheres. 

“You’re very creative, aren’t you?” Maren said, mouth drying. 

Tendrils of water sprouted from her skin, arcing back and then whipping forward as the fireballs grew to their full size. Not that he could use them properly. Maren’s water lashed at the man in random places: his upper arms, abdomen, lower legs, and even his face. Skin growing red where the water whipped him, he flailed about as if trying to slap the water tendrils away. In his frenzy, the two spheres expelled from his palms, one hitting the street, the other a sign hanging from a building. Both left scorch marks. 

“What did the public property ever do to you?” Maren asked. 

But he was already creating more fire. Might as well end it before he damaged the city any further and she got in trouble with the law. She focused water into her palm, ready to shoot a powerful yet controlled blast to the man, hopefully to knock him out. But as she did, an explosion sounded from down the alley and steam slammed her in the side. The sudden force put her off-balance and out of control. Her stream was thinner and more forceful than she’d intended it to be. 

It hadn’t simply hit the man’s gut to injure him. It slid straight through it.