Things had gotten exponentially more irritating the longer time went on. Firstly, his spirit gets disrupted out of nowhere. As if he's some two-bit conjurer with nary an ounce of true strength. Secondly, the guard detail was grossly undersold. This didn't feel like fighting Knight Errant, or it's castaways at least. Judging from their skill level and tactics, Maxwell guessed they must be a laid-off branch of Firewatch. No doubt about it. They must be. No other reason to explain why they are so well equipped and prepared. No good one for that matter.
The drones and guards unleashed a coordinated attack on Simone and Irris. Another barrage like that and they'll end up dead in the great shadow bar in the sky. With no other choice, he sticks himself outside the window he had opened earlier and casts a high force fireball down the road. Aiming to catch as many drones and soldiers in the blast without hitting his pals in the process. As Maxwell begins channeling the mana to work the spell, he feels something well up inside of him and wash over his very essence. It felt like... anger... power... hatred... and death all at once. He hadn't felt something this strong in years. Not since when he first Awakened and met his dark patron.
An obscenely heavy orb of bright, burning fire travels down the road and explodes into a mushroom cloud. Incinerating everything caught in the blast. Dust, dirt and debris were kicked-up and launched in every direction. The pavement caught fire in some places and the road down was scorched entirely black. Even a nearby greenhouse was set ablaze by the spell. He'd start and end every fight and every battle with magic like that. That is to say he would if it weren't for the massive Drain that microwaved his guts every time he went all out. Causing him to hack and cough up blood.
Going back inside the van, he rests himself against the leather seat. Out of one of the mirrors he catches a glimpse of himself. Except not himself at the same time. He could see, if only for a brief moment, two horrible glaring red eyes that shined through his ballistic mask. Accompanied by sparks and black smoke that poured out of his mouth with the few breaths he took. And then, suddenly, it was gone. As if it were only a mind trick. Maxwell rasps and coughs again. Still reeling from the Drain. While processing what he just saw he turns to Wheely to answer him back. "I'll live." He points a finger in the direction of the guards and wildfire. "They won't."
