Two Strangers.

One hour ago, we came upon an alleyway that filled Blair with trepidation; the alleyway xe had been dreaming about.

Ten minutes later, that nightmare looked to be a warning, or a premonition. I saw them coming, and barely had the time to warn Blair.

They were upon us – four against three, if one counts Windmill as a fighter, and I certainly do now. I have never seen such a ferocious animal, and considering how docile he seems to be around Blair, I was badly taken by surprise.

All four of them quickly pegged Windmill as a threat, it seemed. They drew weapons – long, thin blades that could have been easily disguised as simple pens. Two kept on Blair and me, and two went after Windmill.

That seemed to trigger something, in Blair.

Xe displayed strength I hadn’t realized xe possessed – xe slammed the man grappling with him, xir elbow lodging against his windpipe and driving him against the alley wall. He choked, out of breath and pained, clearly dizzy, giving Blair the time to turn xir attention to the pair of Martyrs attempting to harm xir horse.

I couldn’t tell you whether it was foolish or brave, but xe all but threw xirself against them, ignoring the blades and with xir own pointed towards the two. Windmill was kicking, sending one sprawling back, and I could tell they had landed a hit on Blair…but xe didn’t care. Xe seemed to ignore it completely, like a man possessed; all xe cared was driving them back from xir horse.

It was incredible.

I had been negligent of my own assailant, and I paid the price. My back met concrete as he shoved me down, and painful nausea rocketed up my throat as his knees hit my stomach, kneeling on me to keep me to the ground. He hadn’t bothered with a blade, and while he could have gone for a quick and easy kill, he instead seized my face, going for my eyes.

The Mauser’s handle slammed into the back of his head, and he slumped forward on me. I threw him off, and allowed Blair to help me up.

For a moment, it seemed as though we would come out of this fight with no more injuries than what we’d already sustained.

Then all four of them got back up, fixing their clothing and hair with dangerous, dead eyes.

Blair blanched, and I could nearly see xir thought process – if xe fired the Mauser, that would draw the attention of the police a block or so away. It was already miraculous that Windmill hadn’t brought in a crowd. Perhaps they weren’t able to hear him over their sirens, but a gunshot would still be plainly audible over it all.

That was when she appeared. A blonde young women, dressed in blue, black, and grey. At first glance, I would not have thought of her as much more than a pretty face, perhaps a student judging by her bag.

She dropped it as she ran, just outside the alley. I thought, perhaps, it was from shock, and that she would run to the police…but I was wrong, again. She charged at us, drawing a wide-bladed knife from a sheath sewn into one of her pockets.

No one questioned it. She had to be the young woman from Blair’s dream, and we stood a far better chance with a third person. The Martyrs hadn’t even flinched, still attacking us with their narrow knives. Two were advancing on me; the other two were struggling with Blair, the blonde, and Windmill.

I lost track of what was happening, with the others, so focused on my own fight. They had a plain advantage, and twice, I was sure I was a breath away from never taking another.

The strangest thing was, for a split second (the first time) I was sure I remembered something. I’d had a flash of recollection, and then the Martyrs were several feet back, as though they were thrown.

The second time, someone had done that for me. I glanced back, caught a glimpse of blue, and carried on for a moment. I’d assumed it was the young woman; for yet one more time, I was incorrect.

The point of a rapier was hovering over my left shoulder, being wielded by a figure in a deep blue raincoat. He can’t have been very old, but there were aged streaks in his hair and his eyelids were heavy and black. And, by god, I had never seen anyone so pale.

“You may want to move aside,” he told me, and I hardly had the time to realize why. Flames were licking my face as the rapier heated, and in retrospect, I realize that he was the one producing them.

He pushed past me, and burned his way through the Martyrs. They scarcely had the time to make a sound.

All three of us could only try to catch our breath and stare, bleeding and bruised, while the male stranger put away his weapon. He looked to the fallen Martyrs (they were smoking and burning, still, and the smell was ungodly) before giving a greeting nod in Blair’s direction.

“Oh, Blair,” he sounded unsurprised to see him. “Hi. Thought I’d find you here.”

In contrast, Blair looked entirely caught off guard, staring at him blankly.

“We ain’t met, have we?” xe didn’t sound so certain, now.

The stranger shrugged, and hemmed over the answer. “Yes, in a sense…sort of. Not exactly, no.”

Xe appeared unsure whether to thank the stranger, or accuse him of some kind of treachery. Indeed, xe had yet to put xir knife away, but xir lips were starting to form the words.

However, xe didn’t have the time. I’m uncertain how the stranger managed to vanish so quickly, or where he went. However, before he did leave, his parting words gave me such a sinking feeling they continue to replay in my head:

“They’ll only get tougher, from this point on.”