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So here's my first attempt at writing a Mistborn fanfic. NOTE: This is set in our world, somewhere in the U.S.

Read, enjoy, and comment!


Syl crouched in the lobby of the abortion mill, waiting for the doctors to arrive and open it up. It would be any minute now.

“Coming of the blooders!” whispered Eagle. A Tin Compounder, Eagle’s remarkable senses had earned him both his nickname and his place as this crew’s scout.

Grasping her spear pendant, Syl closed her eyes for a quick prayer: Oh Kelsier, who once laid down your life that your people might be free and safe, guide and ward us now as we carry out your work. In your name, and that of the Ascendant Warrior, and of the True Emperor, so be it.

Opening her eyes, she saw the murderous doctor walking up the path. She waited a couple of heartbeats to ensure he was within range, and then she lit her cadmium. It burned with redoubled strength, as though permanently flared. With a mere thought, the power leapt out of her and latched onto the very fabric of time around her, bringing it down to the tiniest crawl. With a glance, she confirmed that her time-bubble had enveloped the entire building, and a great deal of the lot it was built on. A quick glance at the state of her power showed that she was dragging as hard as she could on the flow of time. For every minute that passed for her, two full hours would pass outside, and she had enough cadmium to last for several of her hours.

But though the world outside was a mere surreal blur behind the ripple of the speed bubble, the slayer was still striding up the path. To ensure that they couldn’t be seen easily from outside, the crewmembers took up positions on either side of the door. As the target stepped in through the door, Varsk leapt up in a pewter-fueled charge, slamming his goldmind bracers into the enemy’s face. The murderer fell on his back with a thud. As the target’s dazed eyes refocused, he saw Varsk’s obsidian blade at his throat.

“As it was before, so it is again. As in the days of the Survivor, you murder and are not punished. And just as the Survivor struck, so shall I!”

With that, Varsk rammed a second dagger into his target’s heart. Syl winced. Varsk’s sect, the Quellions, varied so much from hers that it was sometimes hard to believe they followed the same god. Still, she had to admit that his fanaticism had value in cases like this.

A mere couple of minutes later, there was a sort of ripple as a dozen men in thick green armor snapped in at the outer edge of her bubble.


“The fools are using metal weapons!” crowed Drex. “Shall I show our hand?”

“Yes!” said Varsk, with a broad grin.

The soldiers outside screamed and gasped in astonishment as every scrap of metal on their bodies was shoved backwards. Weapons flew out of hands, clothes pushed against bodies, and they went flying back out through the bubble…and seemed to rebound against it, so fast did they pour in. They came attacking now, hurling grenades loaded with some sort of gas. But Drex’s Steel repelled the grenades, and they went whooshing back out the speed-bubble, quickly followed by the men.

There was a brief pause, perhaps a minute or two of her time. The sun rose up through the sky like a balloon, peaked, and began to go down. Then more men came pouring in. These were armed with wooden rods and ceramic knives.

“Rust and Ruin!” hissed Drex. “They’ve caught on. None of those men has any metals.”

“My turn, then,” replied Varsk.

“Shooting of the firsts,” insisted Eagle, as he poked his airgun out the window. With a hiss, one of the men dropped. The darts loaded into the gun weren’t lethal-they didn’t want to hurt men for doing their job-but the sedative had been designed for Thugs. That man wouldn’t wake up for weeks.

Before the soldiers could reach the door, Eagle had dropped two more. As they yanked open the door, they were confronted by Varsk, holding a bloody knife in each hand.

“I warn you,” Varsk said, “that this is your final chance to save your lives. Until now, we have respected your duty and your work, and have not killed. Those men who lie outside are only unconscious. But when the lawkeepers uphold evil, they are themselves implicated. Turn back now, refuse to fight in defense of these murderers, and we will hold you guiltless of their sins. But one more step, and you take on yourselves their guilt, and their punishment.” With a sweep of his knife, he indicated the bloody corpse that lay behind him.

For almost thirty seconds everyone stood motionless, waiting for someone else to make the next move. Syl was elated. Each second of delay was worth almost two minutes outside. Then it snapped. One of the soldiers lunged at Varsk, who lunged right back. The doorway was immediately full of chaos. Ignoring the gashes and blows from the soldiers, Varsk slashed and stabbed. In a few seconds, two soldiers lay dead in the doorway, and the rest were briefly held at bay. Varsk threw himself flat on the floor, and a spray of metal cut through the space he had just occupied. Knives, curretes, syringes, and other instruments of murder dug into the soldiers.

Varsk lunged back up, wounds already healed by his Feruchemy, and brandished his knives threateningly. The soldiers looked uncertain. Several hesitated, looking nervously at the scars that, just seconds before, had been open wounds.

Suddenly, a shot rang out!


Edited by ReaderAt2046
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  • 2 weeks later...

Part 2.

Suddenly, a shot rang out!

There was a spray of noise, dust, and blood as hundreds of bullets seemed to strike at once, ramming into everything from the ground to the walls to the windows to the soldiers. Several soldiers fell, but, amazingly, none of the bullets hit any member of the crew.

Thank you, Lord Kelsier, thought Syl.

The volley of bullets was the last straw. The soldiers broke and ran off for the edge of the bubble. The Crew was happy to let them go.

There was a sort of explosion of darkness as night abruptly fell. Though there was enough illumination to see, it was still quite dim. After a few tense minutes, the sun blossomed again on the horizon, shooting up into the sky like a bottle rocket. Abruptly, thick, purplish smoke began to billow up from near the edge of the speed-bubble.

“Throughing of the poke of tubes,” reported Eagle.

“Now what?” inquired Varsk.

“We wait until the last possible moment, I drop my bubble, and we jump out,” replied Syl, fingering the glowing crystal disk in her pocket. When the disk was broken, the runes inscribed on it would instantly translate her and her fellows to a van a few blocks away, where two allies waited to drive them out.

“We can get at least fifteen more minutes in here,” Syl continued. “Fifteen minutes of our time makes over a day of theirs.”

The Crew quickly locked and sealed the doors and windows, and retreated to the center of the place. There they waited. Minute after minute ticked by, with apparently nothing happening. Finally, thick wisps of purple smoke began to trickle in through the doors.

“Now!” yelled Syl. The others grabbed onto her as she extinguished her cadmium. She grabbed the fragile disk and smashed it with the hilt of a dagger. With a blinding flash, the Dor leapt out and wrenched space.

Syl and her crew rematerialized in the back of a truck. With a screech, the gray figure in the front gunned the engine, and the crew raced away towards their safehouse.

A voice whispered in the back of Syl's mind. Well done, my good and faithful servant

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