Triton Prism - Prologue. Prologue

CHAPTER ONE: PROLOGUE

Light from a patrol boat swept across the concrete, cranes and storage crates. Ski-masked men in black policed the outside while a deal was being made in the warehouse. It was pitch dark until the spotlight made its routine sweep. Crouching from atop the tin roof, Douglas had to admit there was more of them than he'd thought.

The black-haired youth fiddled with his ear-piece, picking up snippets of conversation through static. He needed a better spot; waiting until the beam of white passed overhead before jumping. Cold air whipping by and he fell into a roll atop a red crate, rolling back into a crouch. He could see the subtle lapping of the dark ocean and smell salty air. The spotlight passed over the area again. Douglas fiddled with his ear-piece some more, wondering if coming here alone had been a bad idea.

On an adjacent blue crate was graffiti, someone had tagged: Titania. Douglas noticed that none of the gang members were carrying guns, and yet Elise had been killed by bullets on her last mission.

A wind-whip noise, Douglas somersaulted off the crate as a black ninja-star flew through the space. He landed on concrete and the star embedded itself in the crane. The guards whipped around, the spotlight landed on him. Douglas raised his black eyes, still crouching as the guards strolled over.

"Looks like we got an intruder boys…"

"He's pretty young. Did you come here alone?"

"Yes." As Douglas straightened he saw half-a-dozen ski-masked men surrounding him, black swords and knives sprouting from their hands.

"Don't you know who we are, stupid kid? We're the Titania gang."

One of the guys rushed him, slashing a black katana overhead as Douglas raised his forearm. A loud clang, he threw the guy off him and he took a few steps back.

"What the…? Hey he's one of us!"

A black metal armguard gleamed. Douglas flexed his other hand as metal filaments sprouted, clenching the fist of a now spiked gauntlet. Lunging forward at a guy with two knives, blocking an upper-slash with his armguard then punching the guy out with a spray of blood. Quickly turning and catching another's sword-swing with his metal glove. Then high-kicking him in the jaw. Douglas turned and deflected another throwing-star with the sword, ramming the handle backwards into a guard's cheek.

"His reflexes are fast, isn't he just a teenager!?" more guards were running over as the fighting continued.

Douglas spun back and forth, fending off the attacks and landing his own with martial arts and spiked punches. The finger-tips of his gauntlet were pointed and gleamed in the spotlight. When they all stepped back he raised his hand and a curved blade sprouted, the hilt arched to connect with the end of the handle, several thin spikes poking outward. They looked at the ornate design of his weapon, took notice of his superior fighting skills at such a young age.

"You don't think he's… a first generation crusher do you?"

"One of Lysander's?"

"Someone get Reburn!"

Douglas turned with his scimitar in hand, eying the men gathered in a wide circle. His black eyes spotted movement, the crowd toward the warehouse parting as a big man strolled through. He wasn't covered like the others, only wearing a singlet, trousers and boots. He was bald and fit, it was hard to see in the lighting but something on his chest glimmered. He stopped at the edge of the circle, knuckles cracking as he clenched them into fists.

"Nobody else get in the way. This is my fight." He spoke in a deep baritone. He was a Goliath, towering over the other heads.

"Are you Reburn? Leader of the Titania gang?" Douglas finally spoke.

Sheets of black metal spawned and spread, stretching and building and spiking. His loud breaths echoed against metal, he was quickly encased in a full suit of spiked, black armour. From his hand grew a long, rectangular blade, the ends of it curling back. It was like standing before a hellish soldier of death. The detailing and the spikes, if this was the infamous Reburn – leader of the city's biggest criminal gang of Triton clan members, he was stronger than Douglas ever imagined.

"Elise was a Dranglic crusher," Douglas continued as he stepped carefully to the side. All the other men were moving far back. "One of Lysander's crushers. One month ago we were on a mission to stop your guys getting away after a bank heist. Then someone shot Elise and killed her."

Reburn lunged forward and swung his enormous blade down. Douglas quickly sprouted a hexagonal shield and it withstood the blow. He backed off as the tall man stalked closer, relentlessly swinging his blade and Douglas blocked but each impact made his bones rattle. He backed into a crate and panicked. The black knight swung his sword to decapitate him. Douglas dropped, the weapon carved through steel, leaving a gash.

He sprung up, gripped the top of the crate and scampered over just as the blade sliced into its top edge. He ran and jumped to the next blue crate, landed and pressed on, running its length then jumping to a green one. A black chain whipped out the darkness, binding his leg and tripping him. Douglas winced, quickly sitting up to free himself.

Below stood Reburn, the knight raised his hand and something impossible happened. Individual metal parts spawned into existence in the air, quickly assembling until he was holding a black handgun. He raised it and started firing, Douglas rolled away and dropped off the other side. He landed and moved to peer around the edge.

"What the hell was that…?" he couldn't help murmuring aloud. He could hear the other men yelling and scrambling.

"Bag all the stuff and get it on the truck!"

"Where is he? We need more light!"

Douglas ran to the back of another crate, when he looked around again his mouth dropped.

Reburn had both hands extended upward and something was building magically above him. Clicking and whirring and spinning, all the pieces fitting into their slots. Then a heavy black machine gun landed in his arms. The cannon end rotated and Douglas quickly hid, bullets sprayed the whole area. Light poured from the overhead holes. Douglas pushed off and ran around a stack of planks and another crate. Reburn stood with his smoking, empty weapon. Everyone was scanning the surroundings for a sign of Douglas.

"You can't be from the Triton clan…" he couldn't help saying, the knight's helmet turned in his direction. "You have to be something else… you have to be…" But the shade and texture of his black armour was the same as Douglas's, the same as the gang members, the same as any Triton clan descendant.

Part of the machine gun dislodged, Reburn raised his arm as the pieces bent back in angles into a long-nozzle gun. He fired and the bullet whizzed over Douglas's shoulder. Turning he ran to the wharf's other side, bullets sparked against the surrounding junk. He jumped off and dived into icy water, started swimming and made his escape.