There isn't much time...
We streak through the city, ignoring streetlights and shrieking horns of protest. Robert slams us around a corner, the breaks squeal, and my head smashes against the window.
"Ow!"
"Seat belts, Kathy!" He says cheerfully.
That loser--he's actually ENJOYING this! End of the world and all he can think of are cheap action movie tricks, and giving me a swift concussion before we even reach Empire Park.
"Hang on tight!"
The yellow school bus blares through the intersection at 5th and Lincoln. There's the park now--(thank God!)--and a glittering cage of blue arcs seems to sneer at our arrival. There isn't much time.
Robby parks with as much poetry as he drives; he just smashed it through the fence and up onto the curb. He opens the doors and we fly down the steps, expecting the worse--and boy, does it deliver!
The sparking field of blue is nearly at it's strongest point. Clinton (that traitorous dirtbag!) is inside along with the rest of the Conclave, working at fraying the very fabric that holds our reality together. There is no backup. We're all that's left.
There isn't much we can do, short of running full-force at the pure wall of magic. The shield won't bend no matter how hard we try. I could stand and flick curses all day--there would be no getting past that barrier.
I'm watching the scene before me, feeling the edges of Beyond tugging, straining--and Rob stares behind us regretfully as the engine on the bus smokes.
"Aw." He scratched the back of the neck, "I could have picked up loads of chicks in that..."
"Damn the schoolbus, Bob!" I lashed a finger at the pillar, "We've got BIGGER things to worry about!"
As though this were his cue, he starts forward with confidence I don't feel. He makes it to the wall of sparking blue, and attacks it with all his strength.
I expected him to be thrown back, a smoking shell of his human self, but he stands there and bears the sizzling magic, tearing it open with his bare hands. I'm not so quick to follow behind him--what is this? What has he done that he can so easily dismantle the Conclave's charm?
The field shatters--scraps of the magic turn to a sonic shockwave of sorts as the barrier falters, and finally collapses. The power sends me sprawling, and I hear cars slamming into other solid things behind me. No time. Must--
Rob is still standing--so are the thirteen figures who had previously been inside the cage of light.
I'm close enough that I can see Clinton's expression.
"Oh, hell." The thin-faced man swears, and Rob and I charge.
The other robed members of the Conclave meet us halfway, staffs in the air. There are bright flashes of white and I counter with a wave of my hand.
"The thing about me, boys..." I give a wane smile. They all look thunderstruck at my dismissal of their energy, "The same curse won't work on me twice. SUBSTANCE CONFORM!"
With a curled fist I lunge into position seven of the Haidruk Set. The kinetic energy around me coils and lances out at four of the nearest Conclave members--withering bolts of pure power.
Three were not fortunate enough to have memorized the counterspell. I slip into the following forms of the set and meet the other members as well as I can.
"You will not defeat us!" The tallest man swung his staff and brought it down on me, "WE ARE THE CHOSEN! WE--"
A tripping junks makes him stumble on his robes. I spring forward at his buddy, disarm him at once and flip him to the ground.
Rob had (of course) left me to do the housework and went straight for Clint. Clint knew Rob wanted blood--see, the two of us don't deal very well with traitors. As my partner charged the thin-faced man, you know what he did? Did he try to stand and fight? Did he turn back to the rune symbols on the ground, and try to finish what the Conclave started? No. The two-faced liar turned right around and tried to run away.
And then, a lot of things happened at once.
The remaining members of the Conclave gathered their wits enough to subdue me.
Rob pounced and pinned Clint to the ground--pistol shoved neatly to his temple.
"It's over."
nubbinownz 
