This entry is part 8 of 13 in the series (Vexing) Devil's Advocate

378127_10150441621792624_1477312954_nConcrete shrapnel whistled by my head as a blast of energy narrowly missed me, taking a chunk out of the alley I was running down instead. If I needed any more motivation to keep sprinting through the pain, that certainly provided it. I couldn’t take too many more hits like that.

“Calm down, Eric. Assess the situation. Look for advantages,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to keep up the pace of my sprint. Panic wasn’t going to do me any good, I needed to break things down into manageable bits.

Well, I was bleeding from a gash across my stomach that would have eviscerated me had it been an inch deeper, so that should probably be looked at. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, my head was pounding with a dull throb that made focusing nearly impossible, and the softly glowing purple runes wreathed around my left hand reminded me that I wasn’t going to be getting any more power without a bit of pain first. Lyzolda, my right hand girl, was banished from my thoughts by some nasty blue spell and I couldn’t remember how to call her despite my best efforts. Meaning I was entirely on my own.

Oh, and the Vendilion Clique was chasing me down some crappy back alley in Ravnica. Meanwhile, their neck-bearded overseer cackled from… Somewhere way behind me.

Yup, I’m pretty much f#%^ed.

God, do I hate blue.

God, do I hate blue.

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