Sparrow

_-Riley Zane_Hands=-_

I don't think I've ever seen so much food in the same place. There was a long table pushed up against the wall closest to the stage and it was absolutely packed full of all the finger food you could imagine. The chocolates and cheeses were practically begging me to walk over and the glinting bowl of blood-red punch winked in the room's candlelight. Sam, Lex and I exchanged a glance and just as the music came to a crescendo we rushed to pick up the way-to-small plates that were stacked neatly at the far end of the table. Lex picked just the smallest little bits of everything, forever the picky eater but just as hungry as the rest of us. Sam all but shoved everything into her mouth, barely chewing before moving on to the next section of the table. I simply skipped to the best part, the sugary goodness that was punch.

The solo cups stacked beside the bowl seemed a little out-of-place given that everything else on the table looked at least 50% gold, but they did the job of indulging my sugary desires just fine. The punch was better than everything else at the table I was sure; it left my mind in a strange buzz and the music that filled the room almost seemed to fade away. I'm sure that I looked a little crazy staring between the red cup and the punch bowl like I had discovered the cure to all the world's problems. You are my new best friend; I thought as I chugged another cup, and another, and another, and another, and another.

This punch had me in a death grip, the pleasant buzz in the back of my mind became more of an excited ring. It was when my vision went a little cross-eyed that I paused for a moment. I leaned against the table which gave under my weight a little too much for comfort. So I stood up, or attempted to. My heels seemed incredibly precarious suddenly and my arms windmilled to right myself. I teetered back and forth. It seemed I had lost my ability to stand. Come on, I thought, balance you stupid heels. A star must've fallen into place right then because just as I thought it my jittery stilettos stilled. I glared at the devilish things for a minute, daring them to wiggle or wink.

Then the room was black.

I couldn't see my shoes anymore. I shook my head disappointedly, they must've run away. Cowards. I was tired. I was exhausted actually. The darkness surrounding me was swirling, writhing, turning over itself in this mesmerising pattern like water. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, it felt like something was crawling up my throat. Vaguely, I remember walking forward, reaching for the churning black. Someone was screaming. Yeah, someone was screaming, lots of people were screaming. It was strange. I bumped into someone. "Sorry," they murmured. A calloused hand grabbed my forearm. I flinched.

"Hey — Oh God! Get down!"

"What? Why!" I shouted in response. I frowned at the volume of my voice. Too loud. There was an ocean in my ears. A dull thud rang true behind me.

"Gun! There's a damn crazy in the hotel with a gun!"

"Gun?" My voice was too quiet this time. I could hear church bells.

"Yes, g—... are you drunk?" I stared at the hand on my forearm, or the hand's general location—when did the music stop? I couldn't see.

"It's dark." The hand yanked me down. A squeak escaped my lips. The screaming hadn't stopped yet. The hand moved from my arm to my shoulder. I twisted to get it off.

"Hey—what are you doing? Why — get under the table!" The hand tightened, that hurt. "—what is wrong with you!"

Let go! I thought, the words caught in my throat. Let go, please. Please, — I promise — please.

"Why did the music stop?"

-3049__-

Cortez was missing the face bits of his head and I was very upset. This wasn't supposed to happen. Well, that's not true entirely. Cortez was supposed to die tonight. Just not in the middle of a crowd of thousands.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." Oh, this bloke. The man in black still had me by the shoulders and shook me back and forth angrily. That needed to be fixed. I drove my knee into his groin. The man slumped over in pain, and an elbow to his face ended the problem. I frowned, my jacket had blood on it. The smell burned my nose.

"Hey!" shouted a comically deep voice from the crowd.

"Shit." I muttered. I broke into a run. Heavier footsteps echoed mine. Of course, of course they worked Innova. The best thing about darkness was that I could see them and not vice versa. Innova, or better said, Altrax, always needed to make things more difficult. How they got the orders out so fast was beyond me. I ran out one of the mahogany doors and up into a stairwell. Several of the men gave chase. The stairwell was just concrete, very plain compared to the rest of the hotel. It spiralled up further than I could see, the steps seemingly endless. The stairs weren't even.

The footsteps behind me were too close. They were just too close— it wasn't fair. I lost. Soldiers who lose die. I reached over the bannister and pulled a pipe loose from the concrete walls. It wasn't the dying that bothered me. I didn't really mind that. It was the ridicule. The parading me around and screaming to the crowds of all my failures. Berlin, Auckland, Chernobyl of all places. I could hear the man's clothing rustling as he ran up the stairs. My peers — no, my competition. They would just stare. The same blank gaze that I hated, a face of stone. Perfect rows of emotionless eyes. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. The man turned the bend in the spiral staircase. I brought the pipe down on his head, then to his knees. His hip smacked against the railing with a dull ringing thud. My vision went blurry. Swinging blindly, all the years of training seemed to melt away. The pipe came down on his head, over and over and over again. I didn't notice he'd stopped moving until there wasn't a head for me to beat anymore. Pummelled into the concrete.

My hands were slippery.

I ran up to the next landing and forced the door open. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. What felt like a wall rammed into my side. My head cracked against the floor.

"I got him!" shouted the man. He had me pinned, my wrists pressed to the carpeted hallway and my face pressed into the itchy tussles of the floor. He smelled like rubbing alcohol. The ugly carpeted hallway underneath me transformed. I was in the facility, pinned to the cold tile, a needle in my neck. My chest grew heavy, lungs refusing to expand. I could hear the deep rumble of blood rushing through my ears.

Faraway voices shouted at me. "Hey, who'd you kill! What the fuck is wrong with you!" Pain blossomed across my cheek. "You retarded or something, bitch!" I slipped my hand out of the man's grasp and twisted onto my back. Nothing's wrong with me, I thought. The painfully bright overhead lights in the white room were painful. It was very rude to assume there was something wrong. With my free hand I clocked the man in the face and rolled out from underneath him. I was fine. A steady buzz of the electricity rushing through the walls echoed around me. My foot came down on his throat. The man's rasp of pain followed me as I ran towards his comrades. Nothing's fucking wrong with me.