~~~
Intro
~~~
Somewhere in Ecuatorial Africa
The savannah stretched out to the horizon in a haze of golden yellow, dotted only with sparse trees and the occasional pillar of basalt - mighty monoliths that reared out of the Earth, bastions of solid grey rock.
Upon one of these a man stood, surveying the vast territory with an air of lionlike calmness and fortitude. How the man reached such an unattainable spot would be a mystery to anyone except a few, but there was nobody within a thousand miles to see him. In fact, that's why this very spot was chosen for the meeting.
The man wore a dark grey jumpsuit that matched the hue of the stone he stood upon - a massive buttress rising like a volcanic plug out of the thick savanna grass a hundred feet below. The man's eyes were shimmering blue-green, with tendrils of pure azure that gave him an attentive demeanor. He watched his surroundings like a hawk.
Finally his vigil was satisfied, for there was a flicker of movement, as if the air twisted and leapt with a crackle of invisible electricity. A person appeared out of nowhere, arching eyebrows full of curious light, arms outstretched as if to clear the way. The atmosphere around the newcomer pulsed outward, displaced by the sudden arrival of new matter. If one were to observe this strange event, their mind would start rationalizing, coming up with reasons for what just happened. But nobody was around to see it, and the savannah was quiet but for the chirping of cicadas.
The man who had been waiting turned to stare into the massive, sweltering red disk that hung low in the sky. Twilight was beginning to creep across the plains, and the orange-purplishness started to settle around the pillar.
"Tell me you have it," the man's voice was full of tension, mostly fear.
"Of course," the newcomer replied haughtily. "It was easy. Jump in, jump out."
"Were you followed?"
"Followed?" scoffed the newcomer. "What do you think I did? Take the bus here? Give me a break!"
The man turned to face the newcomer, his face stony. The newcomer quelled, noticing the flash of fiery anger in the man's eyes. "Did I, or did I not, remind you that this was a matter of utmost importance?"
The newcomer's eyes fell. "You did, sir."
"And did I," the man continued. "Or did I not, warn you that there are those of us who are working with the enemy?"
"You did, sir. But-"
"And did I instruct you that one can follow the jumpscar of another Jumper? That you can feel their destination lingering in the air just moments after they depart?"
"You did sir, and I-"
"Yet you are still soaked in your flippant arrogance," the man finished. "So I ask you again: Were you followed? Were you seen? Were you detected?"
"No, no, and no," the newcomer said nervously, less sure now. They found solid footing in their own curiosity, and piped up: "May I ask, sir, why you did not steal-"
The man laughed, a throaty chuckle. The corners of his eyes creased in bemusement, and he looked at his apprentice with what he suddenly realized was respect. He felt as if the line between 'master' and 'student' had been blurred after almost two years of working together, and was thus inclined to answer the newcomer's question.
"Because it won't be long now," came the reply, mysterious and foreboding.
"What's that supposed to mean?" the newcomer's voice was edgy, distraught. The stresses of the past week were starting to catch up with them.
"I had you steal it not for me," explained the master. "But for you. After I die, you will need it."
"After you- what?"
The man smiled, the half-sad smile of a man who is content with his life and understands that his part in nature must end. "One cannot fight against the Paladins and expect to live on unharmed," he explained. "Kill and be killed; it is a primal law of nature, it always has been and it always will. Our two groups cannot coexist, you know this. We Jumpers do not have it out against anyone, but there always those who want the power quelled. They want to take our magnicifent ability and destroy it, to grind it into the dust. These so-called 'Paladins', these religious warriors - they are passionate, fervent, merciless. Any deed can be brushed aside, for they have the 'permission' of the Deity. Any murder is justified, because 'only God should have the power to be in all places at once'. Because of the Paladins' unceasing hunt for the Jumpers, we must fight back. Many Jumpers enjoy their life, enjoy the ability. I do. You do. It is amazing, a gift from nature. But it comes at its price, and you know this better than most. We are the Jumpers who have the biggest burden, it is our self-imposed duty to exterminate the Paladins. My friend, a storm is coming. And when it does, you will be there, obsessively slaughtering our enemies. You are the next hope... you are the next Warrior."
~~~
Al-Qethr Cliff, Afghanistan
"Move in on three," hissed the voice in the Messenger's ear. "Two, one."
The Messenger disappeared with a flicker and reappeared at the bottom of the sloping hill of shale, in the midst of a flurry of bodies. The Messenger lashed out in a circular pattern, quickly and deadly like a panther who has locked onto their prey. Then the Messenger was gone. The men who were still conscious looked around confusedly.
One of the men, who carried himself with swagger, jabbered in Arabic, and the rest fell into line again, leaving their fallen comrades behind as they continued lugging a heavy chest toward a cave opening. The Messenger watched carefully from a nearby ridge.
Another flicker signaled the operative's arrival, and another half-second of lightning blows and rapid movement befell the terrorists. This time the Messenger stood alone amid a tangle of unconscious bodies, some perhaps dead, as their heads had smashed into the loose scree that tumbled on the slope.
The useful government agent surveyed the area. No movement. The zone was secure, for now. They shifted their attention to the large crate that now sat alone in the dust. It was fashioned of corrugated steel, with red Arabic markings scrawled along all of its faces. The Messenger grinned, and prepared to sweep it away with him/her back to the headquarters. A bomb squad was waiting to defuse any active explosives inside.
But not if a sniper from inside the cave had anything to say about it.
The terrorist sighted out the Messenger's head, smiling craftily as he pulled the trigger.
The Messenger heard the gunshot, and knew it was too late. The sniper was too close to miss, and with the Messenger's head in his crosshairs, the mission would seen be a failure.
But oddly enough, time seemed to be crawling by, the Messenger could even see the bullet spiraling through the turbulent air, leaving ripples of sound in its wake.
"Come with me," said a voice behind the Messenger. The operative veered around and beheld a fellow Jumper, standing calmly on the loose rocks.
"Come with me," the Reflex repeated. The Messenger could sense a bubble of flexing air, the space entrapped within the Reflex's ability to slow time. The Messenger glanced back toward the slowly-turning bullet, and the imported weaponry.
"But- my mission-"
"That is inconsequential," the Reflex replied, almost instantly, as if they knew what the Messenger was going to say. "You must come with me. Now."
"My mission-"
"You have a new mission now!" retorted the Reflex, strain coming into their voice. "It's hard enough for me to slow time, doing so with such a large volume is exponentially difficult. I am going to jump out of here in a matter of seconds. If you do not leave with me, time will speed up again and that bullet will fly right into your brain."
The Messenger nodded slowly.
Then in a flurry and a flash of blue light, they were gone, the bullet smashing harmlessly into the adjacent ridge.
~~~
Aix en Provence, France
"We'd just like to thank you again, Monsieur, for your kindly donation," the President Academia was bobbing his head in an effort to grace the 'philanthropist'.
"Philanthropist my a`ss," snorted the Shadow, eavesdropping from a shaded patch of the courtyard. They knew that Monsieur Carlo only donated to the university to get tax exempts for his shady businesses overseas. "Still, the dirtier the better," the thief added, slipping out of the courtyard and into his/her apartment, six thousand miles away (or ten thousand kilometers if you're so inclined).
Tokyo, Japan
The Shadow slipped everything they needed into the bag, and no more. The opulent highrise apartment was full of the kind of gadgets that would make an ordinary thief salivate in envy. But the Shadow was no ordinary thief. They hardly needed all of the stuff, but it did come in useful - sometimes a job was tough enough to the point where jumping alone couldn't pull it off. The Shadow suspected this would be one of those jobs.
Later that night
The Shadow stretched out a quivering hand. Silently, they reprimanded themselves, and withdrew the hand. The camera wipeout had gotten them this far, it was time to finish it. In front of the Shadow was a steel pedestal in which a small encrypted flash drive was plugged, humming with blue light at the connection point. It was a tiny object, and the flash drive itself was probably worth only ten bucks. But the data it contained was much, much more valuable. Access codes, passwords, account numbers, etc, all for various banks and deposit vaults across Europe, Asia and America. You would think it would take a very dumb rich person to keep all of that info in the same place, but of course there is a few. The Shadow did their research, and it paid off - they already had the necessary decryption algorithms, all they needed now was the flash drive.
The Shadow knew all about the alarms that would go off if the flash drive were removed without authorization. But all of those systems depended on the thief being in the same room ten seconds later.
The Shadow smiled and swiped the flash drive from the pedestal. By the time the light glowed red and the alarm horn blared, the Shadow was gone. The only hint that he/she had been there at all was etched in the sucking noise of the air as it rushed to fill the gap left by the thief.... and the missing flash drive of course.
~~~
Geneva, Switzerland
The man told yet another snowman joke, and the woman laughed like beautiful shards of tinkling glass. They eyed each other romantically, sexual tension vibrating across the link between their shining faces.
The Paramedic rolled his/her eyes. He/she hated being the third wheel. The group of friends was sitting at a table outside a small café, the Alps as a backdrop.
Finally, a relief from the awkwardness. The Paramedic's cell phone buzzed, and they snapped it open, relieved. The relief turned into a frown, and they quickly slipped the phone back into their pocket.
"Who was that?" asked the guy at the table.
"Uh, someone I know," the Paramedic. "They're in trouble, I need to go help."
"Trouble?"
"Like, uh, moving furniture sort of trouble," came the swift response. "Nothing huge. You know. Um, see you guys later." They got up and abandoned the couple, heading between two nearby buildings and out onto a busy street. It wasn't until the Paramedic was well out of sight of his/her friends that he/she flipped open the phone again. The automatic local news alert was still displayed, flashing brightly on the screen: Two Skiiers Caught in Avalanche!
The Paramedic sidled into an alleyway, glanced around quickly, then disappeared.
~~~
Luxor Hotel, Las Vegas Strip
The audience laughed, bellows of merriment rolling toward the stage. The Magnificent Marvolo soaked it in with a deep breath, and launched into his greatest escapade. His award-winning trick. Gamblers and amateur magicians studied it all day long, and were always baffled.
"My friends," Marvolo cried, his luxurious suit jacket swaying in the breeze of a distant ceiling fan. "Are you ready for the trick that has befuddled hundreds, dazzled thousands and flummoxed millions?"
The Geneticist watched bored from the stands. This was the third time they had watched the routine, and were now confident that Marvolo was indeed a Jumper. Of course, it could just be a very good magic trick.
"Why am I even spending time on this?" the Geneticist muttered to themselves, and with that, they left the performance hall, heading out of the Luxor and toward a small park wedged between two very large buildings. It was the peak of midnight, and the moon was blocked, leaving the park in inky darkness. The Geneticist reclined against a tree, deciding that it was time to return to their research. "But to which laboratory?" they wondered. "Madagascar or Seattle?"
While they pondered this, a sudden voice spoke in their head. In fact two voices, entwined and inseparable.
"Things are happening that you are larger than you, or us," the Yin/Yang spoke. "You must join the war, you must help us fight. The Paladins have infiltrated the Jumpers, and despite our aversion to violence, this conflict must come to an end. You will be invaluable to our exotic form of warfare."
~~~
In Africa, on the basalt pillar
"Why are you so sure that you're going to die-" the Warrior started, but a flash of noise interrupted him, and a third person appeared on the pillartop, growling like a savage beast as they hit the Warrior's master and tackled them to the edge of the cliff.
They knelt there, a hand crushing the master's windpipe, teeth bared in disgust and outrage. "Enjoy your final moments," the Paladin hissed.
"You are the one they call 'the Traitor'," the master spat, managing to put menace into his gasping voice. "How could you? How could you betray us?"
The Warrior watched this spectacle, momentarily paralyzed with shock. But they quickly recovered, and hit the enemy Paladin, this Traitor, in the midriff. In an instant, the Warrior had teleported hundreds of miles into the air straight above them. The Warrior and the Traitor grappled angrily, clouds flashing past, coating them in glittering drops of water.
Then the Jumper-turned-Paladin disappeared, and the Warrior fell too quickly - by the time they had judged the distance and teleported upward in the sky, the jumpscar was gone, and the Traitor had escaped.
The Warrior swore vehemently, casting their attention downward as they fell. They saw the basalt pillar, and the master atop it - fighting with the Traitor! The Warrior jumped down to their level, landing on top of the Traitor, knocking them to the hard volcanic stone.
The Traitor snarled and drew a knife from their side, plunging it upward, but the Warrior rolled out of the way. They glimpsed the master, who was laying prone a few feet away, ragged breaths trying to overcome the knife-hole in his chest. Blood soaked his torn shirt, and it was evident that he was dying. He had perhaps minutes to live.
"You-" the Warrior yelled in the Traitor's direction, and tackled him, jumping them both to the top of an icy mountain. There was more empty space than oxygen in the air, and cold blizzarding winds roared past.
"Everest!" the Traitor exclaimed with a throaty chuckle as the Warrior pinned him against the frosty ice. "How unoriginal! You don't think one of the first things any Jumper does when they find out is jump to the top of Everest?" He laughed again and they were gone, leaving only a mysterious bodyprint in the snow, perhaps to be interpreted as a yeti foot.
There they were in the starry Paris sky, falling past the Eiffel tower, fighting, lashing out, kicking, punching, chopping, blocking, headbutting.
"How dare you talk about Jumpers!" the Warrior shouted. "You are a disgrace to our order! You- oof!" he/she grunted in surprise as the Traitor jabbed them in the throat with his knuckles and then drew his knife. The Warrior growled and jumped them back to the pillar, throwing off the Traitor, watching him roll dangerously close to the edge. Though what did it matter if he fell? He could jump back up; he was a Jumper, working against the Jumpers - anger bubbled up inside the Warrior's throat, and they glanced toward their dying master, and a rage overcame them.
"Damn you!" the Warrior shouted again.
The Traitor glanced over sharply. "No," he seethed. "Damn you. Only the Deity should have omnipresence."
"Uh, what?" the Warrior replied. "Look at who you are! You're a Jumper too!"
"But I'm using my ability to stop more Jumpers," the Traitor said. "If my work is complete, I must die. Otherwise-"
"You must die now!" the Warrior yelled, and lunged at the Traitor. The Traitor disappeared in a flicker, but the Warrior followed through, and they found themselves atop the Sphinx.
The two Jumpers faced off across the sandy, dusty domed head of the great beast, arms loose and ready for combat. The Warrior flicked back to the pillar, saw that his/her master was in his final moments.
"Go!" the master barked. "Don't lose the traitor, don't let them... get away..." A bloody cough racked him, and his hand fell hard against the basalt. "The object... it's in good hands... use it... when you go back... the Traitor will be waiting... the anchor..."
Tears welled in the Warrior's eyes, and they couldn't stay to watch their master's demise.
They had Paladins to kill.
On the Sphinx's head, the Traitor chuckled as the Warrior reappeared.
"Checking up on your dear master?" he hissed. "Is he dead yet? I don't want him jumping away to some hospital..."
"He's too far gone for that," the Warrior spat, his/her eyes darkening and focusing on his/her target. The Traitor would pay, with his life.
"Well good," the Traitor said simply, disappearing and reappearing a millisecond later. They had a large, heavy weapon, aimed right at the Warrior. This is the moment the master had been warning about. The Paladins had developed a way to overcome the ability of Jumpers: if thousands of volts were coursing through a Jumper's nervous system, it was next to impossible to make a jump. With a lightning gun like the one held by the Traitor, a Paladin could incapacitate and then kill a Jumper.
But the Warrior was ready. The Traitor pulled the trigger, and blue arcs of lightning blasted from the flat metal nozzle - as the Warrior pulled a small, dull metal sphere from their pocket and tossed it to the right. The electricity veered to flow into the sphere, crackling with blue intensity. The spherical electromagnetic fell hard onto the Sphinx's head, and sat there humming softly with minute vibrations.
The Traitor hadn't had time to react before the Warrior leapt at him, wrestling the lightning gun away from his grip and maxing out the amp level.
"Would you like to feel a severe electric current running through your brain?" the Warrior seethed, and jabbed the metal plate against the Traitor's head. The Traitor had barely time to shout before the Warrior pulled the trigger, and the electric kickback arched their back into the charged air. The Traitor screamed in agony, their jaw twitching and smoking. The Warrior threw the lightning gun aside and tackled the Traitor off of the Sphinxhead, taking the pair of them toward the desert far below.
The Warrior, confident that the Traitor was unconscious, perhaps dead, teleported straight up, watching as the Traitor tumbled toward the sand.
Then the Warrior disappeared in a spark of azure.
~~~ [the epic trailer sets up for the following section]
The Brown Jug, Ann Arbor
The Intersect thanked the barman for his time and headed out into the sunlight. Another bar, another strange look. The person the Intersect was looking for hadn't been around.
Sighing, they looked around at their hometown of Ann Arbor, a beautiful Michigan city, charming and tree-filled.
Nobody was watching. The Intersect was gone.
They reappeared in London, England, in front of the Big Ben's massive clock. The sky was dark and broiling with thunder, stormclouds twisting and melding in the torrential vault. Rain lashed down like aqueous lightning, matched with real lightning that sparked across the heavens like Zeus's wrath. Thunder rumbled and shook the skies, and the Big Ben trembled with each eruption of light and noise.
"Never mind," the Intersect muttered. They had been looking to eat their 50-dollar Parisian croissant lunch here, but the weather was too volatile, the clocktower too slippery. They would spend more time falling and jumping back up than they would eating.
An instant later they were sitting on the couch in a richly expensive apartment. A massive plasma TV on the other side reflected their handsome face with an onyx quality, and their eye traveled to the pictures posted all over one wall and the stainless steel refrigerator. Norwegian Fjords, an abandoned subway in Hong Kong, a rooftop overlooking a busy Cairo market, the aerial view from the Empire State Building, a shot from the apex of the largest of the Great Pyramids of Giza, a tropical beach resort in Cancún, the interior of a bank vault, a picture of the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and hundreds more. From here the Intersect could go anywhere - just pick up a photo and BAM, they're halfway across the world.
They had no idea why they had the ability, or how it worked - they guessed it was genetic, but they didn't know and they didn't really care. All they had to do was focus on a new location - and they were there.
Banks had been robbed, with notes left behind promising to repay in full. The Intersect had a special room off of their main apartment that was only accessible by teleportation - the room held their cash. Currency from all parts of the world. Dollars, pesos, pounds, rupees, euros, yen, francs, even gold bars, they had it all. And lots of it.
It was a good life. An amazing life.
But today, it was all going to change.
~~~
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Elusive Robbery Division
The Federal Agent rubbed their temples warily. Hours of going through paperwork had resulted in nothing but a headache and swarms of meaningless numbers chasing themselves across his/her mind. They needed something concrete, something they could work with.
"I guess that's the point of Elusive Robbery Division," they muttered to themselves. At first they had been thankful and eager for the raise and job advancement, but it quickly became tedious and difficult. Possible leads usually ended in tantalizing loops or mysterious dead ends. The Federal Agent had a list of 'Unsolved Occurrences' they were trying to pin down, but no luck so far.
Ernie entered the office, holding a cup of steaming Starbucks and whispering to himself. He tossed a sheaf of papers on the Federal Agent's desk as he walked past, half asleep.
"What's this, Ernie?" It looked like some sort of file. More workload, or perhaps the results of a tedious and anticlimatic stakeout mission.
"Neither," said Ernie, reading the Federal Agent's expression. "Something new, something tangible. I think this could really be the lead we're looking for. Go on, open it."
The Federal Agent sighed but decided to give it a chance. They flipped open the file and began scanning the words. Quickly their face flushed and their breathing sped up.
"Dammit, the Shadow!" the Federal Agent gasped. "The Shadow struck in Aix en Provence, France, just yesterday. A monsieur Pierre Carlo was robbed of millions of dollars, possibly much more in federal bonds and laundered money... hmm, at least the Shadow is taking from the wealthy corrupt båstards."
"Kind of like Robin Hood," Ernie chuckled. "Except they don't give back to the poor."
"Yeah, just a teeny little difference there," the FA replied. "How did you even get this file, Ernie? International clearance isn't your strong suit."
"Carlo sent it to us himself," Ernie rolled his eyes. "Expects us to solve his problems. He knows the Shadow has struck before in the US, he assumes that we're on top of it and have all the answers. I had to give him the cold shoulder. He didn't like that... but I still took the file - it has some interesting stuff. Read it over while I go piss."
Ernie left the room and the Federal Agent focused on the pages. The European police had gathered a lot of good evidence and data. Stuff the FA could use. Stuff that applied to a more recent string of American (and probably international too, though that wasn't the FA's department) bank robberies. Someone was taking large amounts of money from bank vaults and disappearing. No traces left. No security systems bypassed, at least as good as they could tell. They were either very extremely professional... or they could teleport. The Federal Agent chuckled. Trapped up in the office all day was making them loony; they needed some fresh air. By the time Ernie returned, the FA was standing on the sidewalk by the J. Edgar Hoover building, watching the Washington D.C. traffic roll past.
One block away, the Shadow watched carefully.
~~~
Two Weeks Later
~~~
The End of the Intro
"I thought there was supposed to be a big wave coming in," the Intersect called, paddling up on their surfboard.
The Hawaiins grimaced. "It must've missed us... I heard they have 30 foot swells in Fiji..."
"Really? Fiji?" the Intersect grinned, and paddled back for shore.
Fiji
"Yaahaaaaahaa!" the Intersect cried as a massive tropical wave curled overhead, threatening to splash down with its oceanic might. The wall of shimmering water spilled over its brink and began crashing down - and the Intersect was gone.
The Sphinx, Egypt
Blissfully unaware of the vicious fight at this very spot two weeks ago between the Warrior and the Traitor, the Intersect sat munching a deli sandwich on a lawn chair, enjoying the baking Egyptian heat and infinite blue sky.
"Why settle in one place," the Intersect muttered. "When you can have the world?"
New York City
The Intersect nodded to the receptionist at the fancy hotel and headed over to the elevator. The Penthouse Apartment button flashed, and the elevator doors closed. Before they were fully shut, the Intersect disappeared with a flicker, reappearing at the top, in their apartment.
They knew something was wrong when the computers were off and the chair slightly adjusted.
They walked into the main room quietly, glancing around.
"Don't run."
The voice came from the balcony. The Intersect swiveled around in surprise, and a person approached, tall and menacing. They were donned in a black traveling cloak and carried a small dark baton at their side.
"What are you doing in my apartment?" the Intersect demanded, arms spread in surprised anger.
"We'll get to that," drawled the Crusader. "First, I want to know what kind of crook leaves IOU letters in the banks they rob." He/she held up a stack of letters that said things like 'I'll pay you back' and 'IOU 10 million'.
"I think I'd like to speak to my lawyers," the Jumper said adamantly, casting their gaze around in mild shock. How had they been caught?
"Oh, you're not under arrest. Anyone can rob a bank. What I want to know is, how you do it without opening a single door."
The Intersect paced away from this calmly menacing intruder. "If I'm not under arrest..." they pondered. "And you're not police... then I'd like you to leave." He/she pointed to the door, but the Crusader stood there with a half-smile on their face.
The Intersect started walking away from them, slowly at first, then a half-trot. They turned the handle on the door - but it was locked. He/she jiggled the handle a few more times, unsuccessfully.
"Been a while since you used a door?" the Crusader called.
The Intersect turned around as if struck by lightning.
"Yes, I know who you are," the Crusader continued. "I know what you are."
"What am I then?" the Intersect shouted, the whole surreal situation starting to inflame his/her brain. "Who are you?"
"You," the Crusader said, with a faint smile. "are a Jumper. And I am here to kill you."
He/she pulled what looked like a black and silver baton and pointed it in the Intersect's direction - before they could jump away, a bolt of searing electricity leapt from the Paladin's weapon and sent the Intersect tumbling across the floor, leaving a charred trail in their wake. The Crusader slammed the baton into the floor and withdrew another one, aiming it at the Intersect and shocking him/her again. The Intersect cried out in pain as they struggled to jump, but their brain couldn't focus on any one location.
The Crusader drove the other electric stave into the floor on the other side of the Jumper, a thin wire connecting the two batons. Lightning coursed through the wire, zapping the Intersect's nerves as they struggled and groaned and glowered. Their outline continually flickered as they tried to escape.
"How does it feel to have ten thousand volts of electricity blazing through your nervous system?" the Crusader asked casually. "Kind of hard to jump, isn't it?" They were pulling something out of their pocket, something wrapped in brown cloth. They began unwrapping it, and the serrated edge of a dull steel knife began to appear.
The Intersect gritted his/her teeth and reached down toward his/her ankle, fingers grasping wildly. A curved blade slipped from their shoe, and they sliced the wire, sparks flying as they chipped at its coiled strands. Finally the wire snapped back and the Intersect rolled to the side, disappearing with a flicker. As they reappeared on the balcony above, the Crusader turned and flung his/her baton, which smashed into the Intersect's chest and drove him/her against the wall.
The baton was connected via wire to another, and the Crusader reeled the Jumper in with a yank, using the centripedal force to slam them against the floor.
The Jumper scrambled to get to his/her hands and knees, without much luck. They were tangled in electrical wires that anchored them to one place... he/she glanced back nervously as the Crusader approached, holding his/her knife.
"You think you can go on like this," the Crusader seethed. The Intersect managed to get up, but the Crusader's boot crashed into their back and returned them to the floor. "Living life with no consequences." Another electric baton was smashed into the ground and live wire was dragged over the Intersect's body, trapping them on the hardwood.
"There are always consequences!" The knife came down with a blur.
A Jumper appeared out of nowhere, slamming into the Crusader, causing them both to tumble against the wall. Then they were both gone.
The Intersect barely noticed this, as they were tied to the floor, groaning and hissing in pain as pulses of lightning blasted through the wires.
Then their Jumper savior reappeared with a large set of hedge clippers and began snipping the wires, causing them to snap back and free the Intersect bit by bit.
Finally the Intersect was free, and he/she rolled away from the fizzling wires, gasping and clutching their side.
"Who the hell are you?" the Intersect said in a strained voice, trying to regain their composure.
"They just call me the Unknown," the Jumper said. "The person that almost killed you was a Paladin. Jumpers' enemies. You'll soon understand. But first, we don't have much time. The Rogue is after me."
"Paladins - Rogue - what?"
"Listen carefully," the Unknown hissed, glancing around. "You are the key to this whole thing. Specifically, your brain." They tapped the Intersect's head. "Trust me here, I just saved your life," they pulled something out of their pocket, an electrode of some sort, and stuck it onto the Intersect's head. It was connected to a small readout, and the Unknown frowned as they watched it.
"If I can get them all now-"
Another Jumper appeared, and as they did, time seemed to drift by slowly.
"You have to get out of here," the newcomer said quickly. "The Rogue probably followed my jumpscar. Come on!"
The Unknown hovered for a moment, indecisive, then snatched the electrode off of the Intersect's head (they felt a small tingle, nothing else).
"Dammit, I only got one," the Unknown said, and disappeared. The other Jumper jumped too, and the passage of time seemed to return to normal.
The Intersect staggered over to their couch and collapsed onto it, stunned. Their world had just been tipped upside down.
Another Jumper appeared briefly. "Was the Crusader here?" they snapped. The Intersect stared, nothing able to surprise them anymore. Finally, they nodded, and the newcomer (the Warrior) snarled in frustration.
"Welcome to the war," the Warrior gipped, then was gone.
Grand Canyon
"The Unknown dumped me off in the Grand Canyon," the Crusader muttered. "I need to be picked up."
"I'll send someone to go get you," said the voice on the other end. "How did you run into the Unknown?"
"They came out of nowhere, attacked me to save another Jumper," the Crusader explained. "Whom I now suspect is the Intersect. I wasn't able to kill them, unfortunately."
"Intersect? Kill the Intersect?" the speaker said, flabbergasted. "Are you out of your mind? We need the Intersect alive!"
"It's irrelevant now," the Crusader replied. "They're very much alive... but next time. Next time... the Intersect will be all yours, Head Paladin."
Jumper Mafia. Welcome to the war.
