Field of Vision

Chapter 13: Lights Out

Wilson was closing down the streets and heard thump sounds and electric currents buzzing. Electric batons and stun settings on plasma guns?

He found himself on a street with the brunette cornered behind a road block, a pistol peeping out and, although mere wildshots, missing his units just barely enough to scare the bravado back into the sewers. Wilson stepped forth, hurrying noiselessly on the right as his men ceased fire, turtling behind their cover. And they call themselves Nariens, he thought with an eyeroll as he rolled around the cover, his pistol seemingly magically appeared in-hand as he shoved it forth, and felt a similar feeling an instant sooner.

He paused for the gunshot, and apparently so did his superior, because they stared at the guns as if accepting their fate, before eyeing their adversary. Lucky him that things turned out this way. He had no intention of harming the brunette he'd seen ghoulishly sticking to the shadows and back alleys. He'd no intention of harming Lauren.

She'd come from the valley beyond Wilson during his time, and was relocated to continue her instruction around the central cities after it'd been taken over. He'd only met her in his unit, but he had immediately been deemed her rival. Both serious, excellent sharpshooters, disciplined, sarcastic.

He blinked away his old life, and as did Lauren. They eyed each other militaristically, and Wilson gave a grim smile at Lauren's remark. "I find myself in the face of the ultimate traitor, however, I have yet to succumb to the urge to pull my trigger. Speak for however long you have left, Wilson, if I still address you likewise."

"I rather prefer it to my past name, so I've kept it. I believe you're familiar with Black Light?"

"Is that why you're wearing that ridiculous armor?"

He continued to watch Lauren's facial features for sign of betrayal, and so didn't bother averting his focus. The men finally poked their noses out like dogs, and surrounded Lauren, hijacked weapons raised.

Wilson hold up one hand cautiously. "Let's not spill more blood than needed. Lauren, you and these fighters all swore an oath to Nara. We're protecting what's left of Nara, we're trying to bring back peace."

She spat in Wilson's face, quite literally so, before withdrawing her weapon and putting it back in her holster. "Don't lie to me. Peace comes in two years. You couldn't wait, I presume?"

Wilson withdrew his handgun as well, and he eyed her Eliminator. "That an old model now?"

She stood up, hands raised. "Let's save the conversation for after the war."

He rose with her, and they shook hands. "Blindfold and take to the camp, await further orders. No harassment, no bickering, stay serious." Wilson saluted to them, the spit still on his cheek, and they returned it in half-respect. They tore off a cloth from her leggings and blindfolded her, leading her down the sewer system. Wilson wiped the spit off his cheek as a clap on the back startled him.

"War isn't romantic, Will ol' pal."

The voice of the blue-toothed sniper from the Brother's Blood massacre rang throughout his head as he backtracked toward his sniping building. Cliché. He made his way to his post solemnly, Patrick in hot pursuit. "War is hell, and gods know everything we humans ever do is derived from the devils' wills. And it's Wilson!"

He crashed through the door and up the steps, Patrick, seemingly satisfied, slipped silently up the steps in a slowed pace. It was as though Patrick was Wilson's younger brother, in that he was always curious of what Wilson was up to.

The older partner stifled a groan as he scurried up the staircase, eventually reaching the floor with all of its windows plucked out so flawlessly, it seemed as easy to do as one would a chicken.