Thunder

Chapter One - 4

Z9 runs against the driving rain along the train's chute. She grins as she gains on the staggering target. Everything seems more real, the world seems to be a part of her, and she of it. She hears each individual breath, feels blood pulsing through every vein in her body. She feels each strand of hair being blown out of place by the wind, strong in her face. It tries to force her to double over. Despite this, her vision doesn't blur; the adrenaline of the chase only heightens it. She closes in on him, almost there, plucking for his coat, lunging, desperately grasping for the flapping tails.

Z9 barrelled into her target with as much force as she had left in her. They fell in a tangled mass of limbs, a strange intimacy, as if they knew each other completely. The man aimed a fist to Z9's head, but she sensed his intentions, saw a mental target on her left cheek, and dodged the blow, before returning the shot and landing an elbow to his jaw. She pulled him to his feet and delivered a knee to the crotch. It impacted hard, but he took it well, reaching up to grab her hair and push her to the ground.

'I'm going to fucking kill you,' he spat in a deep, gruff voice. Z9 gritted her teeth as her face was forced down into the Magna-Trains basin, where the energy-lines would eventually appear before the train as it made its way along the course, flowing like a river. It hurt. Everything hurt. She was meant to be in charge. This was routine. Why did everything fucking hurt so much?

It wasn't meant to be like this. It bordered on humiliation.

'Fuck this shit.'

She launched an elbow back and up, and the man tucked his stomach back and out of the way. The grip on her head released a little, so she pushed off the metal ground and drew herself up into a little ball. Brought her legs closer. Her captor tried to regrip, keep her forced down, but the floor of the channel was getting slippery, her hair slick, and she managed to slide a hand free. She reached down and drew out Skull Man's gun. The man in black used a free hand and went for it. Z9 bucked at just the right time, when most weight was off her. She dropped to lie flat, rolled over, shot off the man's fingers.

There are some noises that no actor can reproduce. Reality is it's only habitat, and no vivarium has ever been created to house the noise the man in the black coat made as the ends of his fingers bubbled away in 2.37 seconds. Blood splattered his face. Somehow, all the blood and gore was better than the noise which escaped the hole in his face. Movie producers would have paid a fortune for a real scream like that.

In the horror and confusion, Z9 brought the barrel down and aimed at his chest. The man, more in pain and panic than through a sense of danger, flung himself out of the way, and the shot disappeared off into the rain and swirling winds where it dissipated. 'One shot left' Z9 thought to herself, 'better make it count.'

Z9 quickly got to her feet and aimed at the man's head. He stood stock still, blood dripping from bloody stumps by his side. Pain had given way to shock and the scream had stopped. Now he was calm.

'What are you waiting for?' he asked. 'Not going to shoot?'

Z9 held the gun there for several seconds, waiting for him to flinch. She was waiting for that slight tensing of muscles as he thought about an escape plan, that decisive moment of action. It was cruelty, she knew. Needless cruelty. An indulgence on her part that the voices speaking through the Halo-Chip in her ear would be ranting and raving over. But she was beyond caring. After this particular chase, she wanted a moment to fucking gloat, and she thought she was entitled to it.

Then the feeling faded and the annoyingly rational, business-minded side of her brain, kicked back in.

'I want the box,' she said.

'Everyone wants the box,' said the man. A slight smile played across his face. 'The box, the box, the box.' He breathed in slowly, then exhaled.

'Who are you working for?' Z9 asked.

'Why don't you ask your superiors? I'm sure they'll tell you.'

The ground began to rumble, and a hum began to fill Z9's ears. Either side of them, small blue rails flashed into life out of the night and shot off into the distance in a burst of lightning.

The man smiled.

'Thunder.'

Z9 burned a hole through his heart.

She ran to the body and snatched the box from his coat pocket. Then she ran, adrenaline and fear in equal quantities pulsing through her. The roar was growing louder. Screeching. No time to save the body. Never enough time. She felt mechanical breath behind her, tickling the hairs on her neck. I'm coming to devour you, Z9, coming to mow you down and chew you through my works, spitting out your bones as toothpicks at the other end. Run, z9. Run.

Z9 threw herself into a mechanic's cut-out, a small hole in the side of the track. The man in black's body was now firmly attached to the front of the train like a mascot, and would remain so until the next stop. Blood from the mangled torso flicked off as it passed her, splattering her blue dress. Then the train whistled past on its merry way to who knows where, completely oblivious.

Z9 stopped for a second, regaining her breath.

'Z9. Come in, Z9.'

'Target obtained.' She looked over Skull man's gun and slid it into her pocket. They could look at it after, maybe even use it for something.

'Good job. Hang fire there, we'll send someone for you.'

Z9 nodded, turned, and leant back against the wall. Exhaustion would start to run through her in five minutes time. She'd have to do some exercises to stop herself blacking out. Needed to get down from here, but that could wait. Too tired right now.

She caught sight of the blood on her dress. 'Fucks sake. This will never come out.'

Then she remembered the box in her hand. She lifted it up to the light to take a better look. It was small, lined with red velvet, as had been shown and described to her. It was made of some strange kind of wood it seemed like, rare in itself on Celestria. Patterns of a hundred galaxies were flecked into the box's exterior as decoration.

Z9 thumbed the two gold clasps open and looked inside.

Inside was a slip of paper with a smiley face on it. Underneath the face was a single word.

GOCHA

Z9 felt everything inside her begin to bubble. Her hand shook, fingertips whitening around the small, wedding-ring sized box as she fought every urge to throw the damn thing over the edge. With every ounce of calm she had left in the wash of fading adrenaline, she placed it by her side and awaited her next instructions.