Kyle the Apprentice Warlock

“Oh Shiiiit!”  Jim’s scream came out breathy and he tried not to lose consciousness.  Sky howled past him, his journey deafening.  His unprepared exit from the plane had resulted in him being in a sideways position.  Off in the distance, the horizon was a vertical line from his current orientation.

He was falling and the ground was far, far away but it was also entirely too close.  Because it was everywhere below him.  Everywhere.  Remembering that the least he could do was document what was happening, Jim pulled his splayed arms to his chest and carefully braced the camera securely strapped into his white-knuckled grip to his eye so he could focus it.  After filming a few seconds of the ground, he windmilled his arms and flipped himself onto his back.

There the plane was flying away in the near distance.  Already further away than he’d like even if it was entirely too late to get back inside.  As he watched, Camina seemed to fall out of the opening in the rear of the fuselage.  Brown hair streaming behind her, the distant woman spread her arms and maneuvered away from the retreating aircraft which began banking almost as soon as she was clear.

A golden light enveloped the woman gradually coalescing into armor.  Glistening pearlescent in the bright sunlight, the summoned armor transformed her clothing around her.  Or maybe it covered her clothing.  Honestly, he couldn’t remember if that had been covered in any of Camina’s interviews before.  Right now, it didn’t matter what the nitty gritty was, just that he was watching, and filming, the magnificent transformation of The Harbinger of Light.

Yep.  He was fanboying out hard core while trying to keep his camera steady.  A full body suit of what looked like powered mechanical armor out of some kind of science fiction movie.  Instead of being powered by some kind of convenient unobtainium MacGuffin, the Saint of Warriors Armor of God’s General was powered by magic and divinity channeled through the warlock pact with the archangel Michael.  It was based, vaguely, on the armor her patron wore in battle.  Though, historical renderings made Michael’s look decidedly less technological.

What had been the knife strapped to her forearm enlarged and morphed into a giant rifle mounted on the pearly white metal of her gauntlet.  All the segments around her joints and her waist were covered in some kind of flexible gold scale alloy.  Then Camina’s body spasmed, her spine arching and her appendages splaying wide as her wings erupted from her back in a spectacular display.  Multi-segmented wings made up of huge shimmering armored plates shaped like feathers.  The individual pieces were jointed together with golden divine magic.

Despite the edges of his vision trying to darken, the journalist fought his body’s desire to faint.  These were the moments he lived for.  The shots no one else would get, the stories no one else would tell.  Camina’s eyes were covered by the sleek white helmet of her armor behind the reflective polarized visor.  Her wings flexed as she slowed in the air and Jim saw the distance between them had begun to widen. 

Just as quickly though, she’d tucked the wings close and dove after him.  Drawing near, she swooped to match velocities with the plummeting man.  Tracking her relentlessly, Jim never took his camera off the armored woman.  Even as she approached and seemed to hover beside him, taking the time to de-polarize her visor and smile at him before holding out her arms to very carefully cradle his falling form.  Ever so slowly, Jim Thafesh felt resistance against the pull of gravity pressing him into the mech armor.

Once she arrested their uncontrolled fall, Camina started flying.

It was glorious.

They were still high up and the ground was still rushing toward them but not nearly as fast as it had been before.  Now they were soaring, gliding on air currents.  Towering skyscrapers solidified out of the blurry landscape.  Then smaller buildings, the river, tarmac and streets.  Vehicles and things that had once been vehicles.

They began slowing and the scents and sounds of the city hit Jim even as he continued filming.  Smoke, trash, the acrid stench of jet fuel and too much magic filled the air.  Sirens were wailing both near and far.  An emergency response vehicle lodged upside down in a second story window gallery overlooking the airport tarmac was making an intermittent ‘whoop’, ‘whoop’ as it tried to sound its siren.  Its light flashed periodically from beneath it, reflecting eerily from the shaded walls of the terminal. 

The intact windows of the terminal were polarized and reflective, so it was impossible to see if there were any injured people around the damage.  Roaring and crashing came from further on beyond the weird angular construction of the airport terminal.  Whatever it was, was massive.  Especially if they could see glimpses of its limbs over the roof of the building and hear it over the rushing wind and the hum of Camina’s powered armor.

With what felt like not nearly enough caution, Camina set down on the closer side of the terminal roof.  Thankfully, she’d chosen an area that was still structurally sound.  Relieved to touch a flat surface again, Jim almost forgot that he was filming.  Her face showing just the right amount of concern, Camina opened her visor. 

“You alright, Mr. Thafesh?”  Eyebrows raised in inquiry; Camina spoke quietly to avoid drawing attention to them before she was ready.  The woman somehow managed to convey the image of friendly neighbor…clad in magical armor and toting a giant pulse rifle that could transform into a wicked lance or sword.  Nodding, Jim responded haltingly.

“Yes…yes, Ma’am.”  He’d started straightening his clothing without thinking about it with one hand while the other was still trying to keep his camera steady.

“Excellent.  Let’s go take a look at what is making such a racket, shall we?”  Camina’s wings retracted into her suit.  Crouching, she gestured for the journalist to follow her to the side of the building where the monster was actively moving around.