Armed Enlightenment V2

Rally

Altefest reclaimed its quay. Its men gathered the dead not out of respect or religion but because it was common decency for those stripping the corpses of their armor, and gave the gravediggers and cremators an easier time before disease spread.

Gunfire coming from the roof of the Trade Center continued battering the ships beyond the harbor. Though the building had been spared from the flames, it had not escaped greed's reach. Nails and studs on the walls had no paintings to hang. The blood was still fresh from a battle. Now, it was a refuge to those who pitched in and bled for it.

Adel knelt at the entrance and picked up a piece of spent casing—5.56. He flicked it aside and made way for a casualty crying drunk for someone with a burnt torso. It must've been around the time they shot everyone to hell that a third shooter eluded them.

He sighed. A few years of summer camp, and here he was, doorkicking. Even pipelines weren't that straightforward. Adel followed the stairs for two storeys, and footsteps came from above him. He backpedaled one floor, slung his rifle, and hid a pistol on his back.

Two soldiers appeared, relaxed as the situation allowed, talking. They gave him a nod as they turned and went on their way. Adel breathed a sigh of relief and continued. Eventually, the suppressed gunshots got louder. His breath caught at the sight of more soldiers standing between him and the last steps.

But just like the two earlier, they paid him no mind. He exchanged nods with them and skipped past one step as he put his back on them and reached a rooftop lounge. The fancy tea tables and the garden furniture told Adel enough deals had been made here.

Caught up in the heat of the battle, the shooter was so focused on firing their weapon that they neglected to watch their back. This allowed Adel to close the gap and get a clear look at the flecktarn pattern on the Suspicious Samaritan's clothing, the bag leaning against the rail, and the modern, bipod-mounted RPG-7 resting on the table.

Adel flashed his weapon light at them. "Put the gun down and turn around with your hands in the air."

The stranger slowly raised both hands and let out a low, gravelly sigh. It was a woman's voice. She turned, and the same steely gaze that pinned troublemakers where they stood from years ago stared back at him.

"Babysat you for years, and you still don't know when to stop flagging me."

A lump rose in his throat as memories flooded back. That voice echoed in his mind, calm and deceptively soothing, that many later associated with a fate worse than death to any proud teenager.

"Gaiter down!" he stuttered.

She did so, and his worst fears had been realized. "Lieutenant Koch... What are you–"

"Is this an interrogation or a reunion?"

She focused on the barrel. Adel moved it away from her.

"Can I lower my hands now?"

Adel nodded. Why was she here? The question eluded him from the multitude of answers. Then he raised his head and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

"Really," she approached, still training it on his head. "You found a familiar face and think that gave you an excuse to get sloppy?"

She was breathing on his face, dragging the calculated pause that elicited reflection, but in the corner of his mind, there was the reality that what he was seeing might be another trick. So he reached for his pistol. Adel hasn't shot from the hip before, but there's a first time for everything.

Her hand caught onto it, cutting off circulation to his hand.

"Already in your rebellious phase?" Her eyes flicked back to the harbor wall, where Avrora continued firing. "You even had someone laying down fire to prevent tipping me off to your approach. Not bad. A friend?"