Knock Three Times

30. Fire & Water

                 JENNIFER JENSON THREW HERSELF into the madness, becoming one with the chaos. Under swooping blades, and over swift enemies she slid, jumped and dodged through the onslaught of ravenous enemies, blood spraying about with every swipe of her curved blades. A cursed sword came at her with a fierce war cry, but with a slight wrist movement, the points of her daggers were lodged in her enemy's chest like a pin cushion, and she was gone before their knees hit the floor. Another approached from her left, and another to her right, but the nimble detective was too quick for either of them, and her enemies fell with sizzling wounds, gushing gashes and severed limbs. Bitter cries of agony and instant death followed her like a wedding dress train through the crowd, each meeting their demise with the intense swiftness of her perfectly executed blows.

    It seemed in that moment that Jennifer Jenson was born to end lives—her badge and basic principles a leash worn of her own choosing, now removed, and God help anyone who stood in her path. The innate craft of inflicting pain and claiming souls for the Grim Reaper came to her as easy as breathing.

    She fought courageously with every ounce of strength and agility she could summon, pushing toward the stage with a fierce determination that struck terror in the eyes of her enemies. Some were faces she recognized, and others would be easily forgotten, but neither would gain her quarter. Jenson had drawn a line in the sand seconds before stepping into the chaos, deciding that a cloaked man was a dead man, period. The trained killer went straight for main arteries, jugulars and crucial tendons, leaping off the backs of the slain and onto the next poor soul who couldn't have possibly seen it coming. Each strike was like a blur, most dead before their knees touched the ground, and before she knew it, a blood soaked cop neared the front of the structure.

    Jennifer looked up from still and open eyes at her feet for but a second before her heart suddenly wedged itself into her throat. Dawson stood high above the crowd, his bloody lips quivering, eyes drooping as a hollow hole glistened in his chest.

    'Lenny.' she barely whispered, catching his gaze glaring into oblivion as he reached longingly for something no one could see but him. 'DAWSON!' Jenson screamed out in grief, her valiant efforts not quite quick enough to save his life, the look in his eyes more than she could bear.

    Dawson's body was suddenly booted from the edge of the platform, tumbling limp like a rag doll to her feet, his body landing amongst a sea of fallen faces and bloodied corpses.

    Jenson sobbed as she reach forth and shut her partner's eyes. Loss hitting her like an oncoming vehicle. In that moment, she truly felt cursed, as her peers had suggested earlier—that anyone foolish enough to partner with Detective Jenson was a dead man walking. The wrist-sized hole spouted its last pressurized pour from a still and breathless chest, the zombie managing to punctured right though his Kevlar vest, and the Procielus encrypted garments alike. Jennifer reach to hold his hand one last time, but her fingers met more than flesh, but the solid steel texture of brass knuckles, marked with the Templar cross.

    Slipping the weapon over her fingers, Jenson's jaw tightened like a vice, her hard steely eyes and straightened brow rising to meet Jason Rhoads with a fury in her soul she had not thought possible. The chilling dead glare of a charred and broken man stared back unfeeling—merciless and inhuman in every sense of the word. His days of protecting the innocent were long gone, any hope of humanity lost. The man she once knew was nowhere to be seen, a once honourable soul blackened to soot and replaced with a sinister hellion she did not recognize.

    'You are nothing to me.' Jennifer spoke with gritted teeth, and even though the chaos of war raged on all around them, the dead man could hear every word. 'You will die this night, if it's the last thing I do.' she swore with balled fists as Jason grinned with pleasure, enjoying every ounce of her grief before turning his attention elsewhere.