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back across the room.
“Well stop—” Tora yelled between a swing. “—helpin’” Another swing. “—the guy” Another. “—tryin’ t’off us” A fist slam this time. “—and help ME! Shit!” He slipped, hit the electric floor. The golem’s fist came swiftly into view.
“Miss Bandi!” He heard FPS cry but didn’t see.
What he did see was a tiny stone dog appear from nowhere, leaping mid-air before the golem’s fist and carrying a very powerful looking electric sword.
The golem hit the sword—or the sword hit the golem? Either way, the result was Timmy being blasted backwards as the little dog golem landed before Tora, magic sword in tow.
“Bork!” It nudged the sword towards him.
Baffled, but grateful, Tora took it. “Good dog,” he said.
“That’s IT!” Rakak yelled triumphantly. “Her dogs! Of course!”
Shit.
The old boy typed in the password. Tora didn’t need to look to know that it was some combination of zeros and ones. It worked, and just as it did, FPS popped the lid off and grabbed the amulet.
He didn’t get far—Rakak shrieked for Timmy, and in turn, Timmy teleported back to FPS. Thinking fast, Tora threw the sword towards FPS just after Timmy disappeared. It didn’t stop him sending FPS flying across the room again, but he did get another massive shock the minute he teleported back into view.
The tiny dog vanished too, grabbing the sword and giving it back to Tora. Did it have time powers too? It had to.
In the corner of his eye, he saw FPS struggle to get back up with more difficulty this time. The amulet had been knocked out of his hands, spiralling across the floor before him. Tora ran after it. Rakak didn’t, instead running in a different direction. The reason why didn’t become clear until he had the golden metal of the cubic necklace in his grasp again.
The data crystal of its core was missing.
Old boy Rakak had it, glistening between his fingertips. With a triumphant laugh, he sped back to his work, slammed the core into the tube and went back to the console.
The thief panicked, took his pistol and fired the last two bullets: one for Rakak’s hand and the other his foot. Both hit the mark, but despite his pained cries, Rakak barely slowed down—he only needed one good hand to type in four keys after all.
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