Mirage

Chapter Fourteen

"No." Ryder said flatly, then squeezed the trigger. At this range, the damage was extensive. Her head exploded as the pulser round tore the top half of her face off, splattering the guard behind her with gore, chunks of her skull and blood. What was left of Niceto's brain inside the skull cavity spilled out onto the road as her body hit the ground with a heavy thunk and twitched a few times.

The pulser round had traveled through Niceto's head, barely missed the guard standing behind woman to her left, and now it had left a nice little hole in the opposite wall. The stunned silence was broken by an angry howl.

Ryder hit the ground.

The guards had been expecting him to run for The Needles like most Crow's would. They'd raised their guns for the nearest ledge and moved towards it slightly, not expecting him to stand and fight. Ryder wasn't a Crow.

He swept the nearest persons legs out from under them, firing off another round as the body fell. A sudden hail of rounds splattered the area he was in. Then he dove to the side, rolling up to throw himself at another guard. The man's eyes went wide and he tried to stumble backwards to put distance between them but Ryder fired off another shot, this one was point blank into his abdomen. He dove to the right, putting the man between him and the rest of the guards, his back to the wall.

An overeager guard squeezed off a shot and it caught the man in the shoulder as he fell, screaming. His hands and torso were covered in blood. As the man fell Ryder picked his next target and squeezed off a shot. Another body fell.

Time to close the distance.

Ryder tackled the nearest guard, going for their knees. He bowled them off their feet even as he heard a low pop. Their knee had more than likely been dislocated. He'd shoved his gun back in its holster and now palmed his knife. The blade sank into the person's thigh and hot arterial blood exploded as he spun to the side. He let out a low grunt as he slid into a one-handed cartwheel of sorts, twisting to catch the next guard in the jaw. Something popped and a strangled scream left the man's throat.

Then his feet were on solid ground again and he spun to kick the man stumbling away in the groin as he threw his knife at another guard leveling their gun at him. In the same movement his hand dropped back to his blaster and he palmed it, taking a step forwards and lunging to gain the momentum he needed to drop into a slide. The stone scraped against the fabric of his clothing as he slid on his knees for a foot as he fired off his next shot, catching broken jaw man in the head with a pulser round.

The woman who'd taken the knife to the throat was falling, her body hitting the ground a second before the other man's.

Ryder rose to his feet, throwing himself to the side slightly as he fired off another shot at the last guard on his left. The round caught her in the chest, finding her heart. She let out a strangled gasp and hit the ground. He sucked in a deep breath as he felt the heat of a round brush past his spine and then he palmed his second blaster as he fired at the person directly to his right.

It had all happened in the span of less than thirty seconds and as Ryder turned his attention to remaining guard the man's face paled with terror and he dropped his gun, his hands in the air as he silently surrendered, tears pooling in his eyes. This was above his pay grade and experience.

He'd come across strong fighters in his life but the smaller, slimmer man that stood in front of him was on another level. Watching the man fight had been like watching a dancer. Almost like everything had been choreographed and they were all just little pawns in his macabre dance.

Ryder shot him in the head.

He glanced around to make sure everyone was in fact dead and then calmly walked towards the smaller group he'd passed by earlier. He was breathing a little heavier than normal and a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

He could faintly hear the sounds of the sirens from the Peace Corps now.

The sound spurred him into action. He took off running, maneuvering through the back alley and taking a left then a right. As he ran, he reloaded his chrono-pulse blaster. His fingers found the release mechanism in the dark by muscle memory, and he caught the cartridge as it fell, shoved it in one of his pockets and snagged another cartridge, this one full, and jammed it in the slot.

The smaller group, of three members, never saw him coming. He rounded the corner and raised his weapon. The angry hum filled the air and three bodies dropped. The man in the middle went first. He was slightly ahead of the other two and as his head exploded the other two on his left and right froze. the one to his left dropped next and the remaining gangster was turning around when the round caught him in the temple.

Ryder sprinted past, careful to avoid the pools of blood. He leapt for a scaffolding, scrambled up a few feet and then traversed the planks, careful not to disturb the bodies or blood. He was breathing heavier now. His body wasn't at a hundred percent after leaving the hospital and he could feel it.

The sirens grew closer. As Ryder traversed the scaffolding, he kept a keen eye out for any of Whisper's traps. He may have placed a few traps up in The Needles in case any of The Jackel members got any ideas. As Ryder had suspected he caught sight of a small wire to his left. His eyes went wide, and he reached for the scaffolding above him. He knew if he put his foot on the board in front of him, he'd be blown to hell. His fingers caught on the edge of the scaffolding, and he grunted as he used his momentum to swing himself across.

It was one of Whisper's base traps, something he resorted too when he was cornered and rushed. It involved rigging a piece of scaffolding with a small amount of explosive triggered by pressure. The tripwire had been placed for show, even if it was hidden.

Whisper was an expert at creating explosives and he shuddered to think what ingredients the other man had swiped from the store they'd been in to concoct the explosive. There was probably pieces of metal in the explosive device.

Up ahead the sounds of combat grew closer. He could hear Whisper sneering in defiance and a few yells from opposing Jackel members. Ryder grimaced. With all the trash talk and noise they probably couldn't hear the sirens yet.

Street thugs were pathetic.

He rounded the corner and leapt from the scaffolding. The fall was only thirty feet. The wind rushed around him as he spotted the remaining Jackel members. There were five of them left. As he fell he managed to pick off two. Then he hit the ground rolling. By the time he came up the remaining two were dead. Whisper had taken advantage of the distraction to blast the remaining Jackels into Swiss cheese.

Ryder slipped his gun back in his holster and held up his hands, palms facing out to denote he wasn't a threat. He didn't want to get blasted because Whisper was feeling jumpy.

Whisper stood in the alleyway, his face and clothes covered in blood. He grinned, his razor-sharp teeth covered in blood, and then spat out a chunk of something white which Ryder assumed was bone. At his feet lay several dead bodies that looked like they'd been mauled by a frenzied animal, with whole chunks of skin and muscle missing. One of the faces was entirely unrecognizable.

Ryder said nothing, glad for his mask which obscured his face. Hi stomach churned uncomfortably for a moment, and he swore he tasted blood and flesh in his mouth. He gagged slightly.

Whisper let out a low, sadistic chuckle as he stared at Ryder, a gleam in his eyes like he was wondering how Ryder tasted. He holstered his own gun and let out a low feral groan.

"The Peace Corps is almost here. Let's move." Ryder ordered. It was the only way he knew how to keep moving. Under normal circumstances Whisper would have throttled him until he was half dead, but he just made a noncommittal noise to show he'd understood and then wiped the blood from his face.