Kyle the Apprentice Warlock

12:30PM September 13^th 2026

Manhattan North International Airport, New York, NY

Jim’s legs had almost given out when Camina first set him down.  It was Sheer adrenaline alone that kept him standing.  The rush.  His heart was jackhammering in his chest so loud he was certain that every monster on the island could probably hear it.  But that woman didn’t make a big deal out of it.  She didn’t call attention to how green he was at this.

When she realized he wasn’t following her over to the edge of the rooftop because he was scared shitless, Camina had just given him a kind, mothering smile and encouraged him to follow her with a nod in the direction that sounds of destruction and horror were coming from.  There were screams.  So many screams under the sound of crumbling concrete and the screeching of metal tearing apart.  Glass crunching.

The screams were quiet compared to the angry roars of the monster.

Camina got down on all fours and crawled to the low wall that lined the edge of the rooftop they were on.  Summoning his courage, Jim followed with his camera recording.  The gravel and debris bit into his elbows despite the reinforced patches on his jacket.  And his armpits chaffed as he tried to keep the camera steady through his crawl.  This.  Was.  Not.  Fun.

The midday sun was beating down on his back while rivers of sweat were saturating his shirt.  Scorching heat rose up from the tacky tarred roof that he stuck to, just a little bit, with each forward motion.  Hot, rich, and volatilely resinous, the scent of tar filled his senses until there was no room for any other sensation during the long tedious crawl toward danger.  Or at least he thought it had, until he inched his head slowly up to see over the wall and got smacked in the face by the updraft off the tarmac. 

Dry air clogged his throat and left the young journalist gasping for air while trying to stifle his body’s autonomic desire to cough.  Smothering his mouth against an arm, Jim convulsed with his silent struggle.  When his tearing vision cleared after a few blinks, he was staring at a canteen or a water bottle mere inches from his face held in Camina’s outstretched hand.

Yep.  Now she knows you’re an amateur, stupid.  The disappointed thought popped into his head.  Didn’t think to bring anything but my camera gear.

The woman didn’t say anything.  She wasn’t even looking at him.  Those eyes of her’s were focused on the thing that really mattered.  Not some kid wannabe reporter catching his breath, but on the people who genuinely needed her help.  Jim took the vessel and drank, quickly.  Opening, sipping, and closing the lid took only moment before he placed it back in the waiting hand that closed reflexively around it.

She didn’t even have to look to return it to where it belonged as it disappeared smoothly into a clip on her white and gold armor.  Feeling less dizzy and back to himself, Jim Thafesh made a second attempt to do the job he was here to do.  Taking slow careful breaths, Jim peeked his head up above wall he was behind…

…and wished he had stayed on the plane.

It was huge.  The monster looked like it used to be a plane.  A big one.  It had sprouted small hindlegs, mostly walking on its wings like a wyvern, and the glass of the cockpit window was gone.  The behemoth had a jaw that opened wide low on what had been the nose, filled with sharp jagged metal teeth.  Eyes were located to either side of that.

The clawed wings were burrowing into one of the terminals across the way from the building they were located on top of.  Short sharp retorts from the weapons of security guards rang out.  Shooting was futile, but they were trying anyways.  Bright flashes from wand thrown spells spilled around the contours of the metal horror.

Holding up the camera strapped to his hand so he could zoom through the lens, Jim was astounded to see what looked like a few regular civilian passengers standing side by side with the airport security.  A valiant last stand while those without magic fled deeper into the maze of corridors in the terminal.

“There’s civilians working along side TSA agents and airport security trying to hold off the class four monster attacking North Manhattan airport.”  He began narrating quietly into the mic for the benefit of anyone who might watch later.

“None of those spells are a high enough level to do any damage to a class four monster.”  Camina commented beside him.

“Do you think that they waited too long to try taking it out instead of destroying it while it was a lower class?”  Jim cleared his throat trying to sound more professional for the recording as he swung the camera around to focus on her, The Valkyrie still had her faceplate open and she never bothered to look at him as she shook her head in denial.

“No.  Look…”  One gauntleted hand pointed down and swept across the loading and unloading area where a cluster of cargo carrying vehicles were strewn about in pieces.  Red and pink smears were interspersed among the destruction.  “…I think they didn’t have enough time once the transformation had begun.  Even if they had, the monster’s skin is still that of a plane.  Its mass is even greater now as it fills in with magical organics.  They just don’t have enough firepower.”

As she was speaking a rumbling started in the distance.  Growing loud quickly, Jim recognized the sound of a jet and turned his camera swiftly to catch it as it flew overhead.  There was only one model of plane magically hardened enough to come that low, the ARC-17 Aegis Magically Enhanced fighter.  Two more screamed past just as loudly but not faster than mach.  A tickle of fear ran through Jim as he briefly wondered if the country had just written off New York and decided to ‘sterilize’ Manhattan from the sky.

“Oh.  Look who’s here.”  Though her voice was light and calm, the grimace of disgust Jim saw on Camina’s face out of the corner of his eyes said a lot.  He was very careful not to get it on camera.  “I’ll go take care of this.  Those guys are just here for recon.”  She stood suddenly and the journalist startled as the woman beside him stepped away to make room for her wings.

“You sure?”  God damn it.  He’d tried so hard not to say it even as the words were elbowing their way out of his mouth.

“About what?  It’s just a class four.”  Then Camina’s visor snapped shut and her wings sprung open.  She launched herself high enough into the air and turned herself into a blazing comet fired at the monster across the way. 

“Holy fucking shit!”  The force of her passage knocked Jim from his knees onto his ass but he miraculously managed to keep the camera trained on the rocketing woman as she punched through the monster with a screech of tearing metal.  Bellowing the transmogrified jetliner reared up on its tiny hind legs, ichor and hydraulic fluid gushing from the Camina-sized wound in it.

Furious but unhindered, it began searching for the thing that had hurt it.  Jim wanted to get a shot of the reactions from the brave mages who had been trying to hold it off, yet he also didn’t want to miss a moment of the fight.  He was riveted anyways.  Where had Camina gone?  She’d gone through the former plane and out the other side.  Her passage had left a gushing hole.

She was lost to his sight.  A distant cheer let him know that the famous warlock must still be fine and in view of the people she was rescuing.  Hoping that Camina was okay, the journalist focused his camera on the monster which was humping its body weirdly.  Twisting and hopping from its center as if it couldn’t quite lay down because there was something beneath it.  That something was a certain warlock as she lifted the monster over her head and flung it away from the building it had been ravaging with a mighty heave.

It arced through the air hundreds of feet high but still low compared to the size of its body.  Landing stunned it momentarily as it cracked the tarmac in a spiderweb tracery that was probably a lot more damage than it looked like from so far away.  However, it wasn’t long before the wounded creature began wiggling on its back to right itself. 

Focusing his shot back to Camina, Jim was just in time to catch the distant figure in armor spreading its wings.  She launched into the air.  He was expecting another inferno run but instead she drew her pact item weapon, Ascalon, the dragon-slaying lance of Saint George.  A transforming, shapeshifting weapon so powerful, that it could kill dragons. 

Dragons, the most magical creatures on the planet.  These monsters plaguing the city were nothing compared to the magic contained in a single proper dragon.  The lance in her hand thickened as it became a heavy laser rifle.  Jim zoomed in, mesmerized.  Thank the Gods he had splurged on the good and expensive magically hardened cameras with the best zoom ever.

Camina had never taken the time to darken her faceplate again, so he was able to catch every nuanced micro expression as the woman took aim at her target.  The hate and rage she clearly felt drained away as Jim watched.  Replacing it was a still kind of calm that he’d never really seen on anyone before.  No animosity, just someone so engaged in what they were doing that there was no room for any other thought or feeling.  Then, ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed, and that calm was replaced with a vicious teeth baring snarl in the split second instant before her visor darkened.

“Oh shit.”  Flinging his free arm up, the hopeful journalist covered his eyes and face just in time before a searing light ruptured existence from the muzzle of the weapon Camina was holding.

The roaring explosion was fast.  Wind buffeted him with debris.  Then it was quiet, and he looked again hoping against hope that he’d managed to catch that on film.  Dust and rocks were falling around the blast site and as it cleared, a hovering figure appeared out of the cloud.  It turned and flew over to him, not fast but not slowly either.  When she reached him, Camina opened her faceplate and smiled in a bittersweet way.

“Let’s move on to the next one.  We’ve got a city to clear.”