Black Equation - The Gifted Ones

Number Twenty-Three

“The worst things come unexpected.”

 

Number Twenty-Three

The man with gray eyes longingly stared at the image on the monitor. His left hand moved automatically to the gun strapped on his leg, a reassurance, a comfort – his friend.

Death. He could almost taste it. The screams. He could hear it. Yes, he could. He thirsted for it.

He stroked the cold barrel of his gun, then its long cylinder, idly, slowly, memorizing each curve and edge like a lover’s body. He relished the exhilaration trickling through his veins. Fingers itching to pull the trigger.

Blood.

Blood.

His friend screamed for blood.

No one paid attention to him as he slipped through the shadowed alley, footsteps as silent as a phantom’s. The man with gray eyes maneuvered through the building without effort. With swift movements, he left the building, tipping his head in acknowledgment of the assigned guards.

Pity.

Nineteen lives would die prematurely. It would have been fantastic if they could survive long enough to see the main attraction. But sacrifices were necessary; they would have to live with the disappointment.

“Hey you, where do you think you’re going, doughnut?”

The heavily accented, abnormally jovial voice came from no other than ex-agent Ivan Ilyinsky. Laced with threat, the subtle command was not lost on him. It was a question he could not afford to ignore.

The man with gray eyes turned around to face the ex-agent. His young face was withdrawn of any emotions, not that he was capable of any other than bloodlust. Ivan Ilyinsky was leaning casually against the stiff shoulder of one of the unfortunate guards.

“Following my gut feeling,” he answered coolly, aware that even though they were several yards away, he could still hear him.

“Gut feeling?” Ivan Ilyinsky repeated with a tilted head, looking ridiculous with his lanky height. He removed his weight from the guard and took a measly one step forward.

He glanced at the darkening sky where the airships of the Light where visible, like flecks of dust near the horizon. They were still a distance away, too far to deal physical damage but near enough to cause agitation among the agents and families residing in the island.

Ivan Ilyinsky studied him with his mismatched eyes, oddly reminding him of a cat that just caught its prey. “Really?” the ex-agent sang in a silly tone. “Care to enlighten me?”

He briefly glanced at his watch, and saw that the second hand had ticked beyond the 11th mark. Suddenly, the silence of the Shelter was shattered by a soft click, followed by a huge mind-numbing explosion. Debris, boulders and dust flew haphazardly, blanketing the entire area with black clouds of smoke. Heat surged outward in waves before giant orange flames engulfed the entirety of the building and the surrounding structures.

Just as the impact blew Ivan Ilyinsky’s balance off, the man with gray eyes lunged at him.

And he was no more.

The sirens’ shriek tore through the air like a knife. With the barriers down, the island became a sitting target for the Light’s airships. The agents moved as if they were pulled by strings. Everyone was running, but there was no chaos, no uproar. Just grim determination.

Protect the island. Protect Creed. Master Vladimir had devised a back-up plan, and all they had to do was follow it.

The Gifted agents formed battalions, by rank and by ability and by area. The Higher Bases stepped up to be the team leaders, efficiently giving orders and ensuring utmost safety. The non-Gifted agents were given extra ammunition and sniping jobs. Families were escorted to the underground reservoir of the island – where a gigantic submarine awaited for its virgin voyage.

No attack of this scale and degree had occurred within the last one and a half decade, and that alone marked the significance of this battle in Creed’s history. There was so much to be lost and a lot of lives hanging on the balance.

Even Abcidee could taste it in the air, no words required.

Words were confirmation.

Words were bad news.

Kreuz stood up; his demeanor a complete opposite of the warm, gentle man she used to know as a woman came running to them with the devil’s words of deliverance.

"They're here," she said breathlessly, brows puckered in concentration, "and the communication center is hacked. Diego and Bryan are working on it, but it may take us half an hour to restore the damage. The Southern part is under seige. The Shelter has fallen."

“01, take her and escape," Kreuz Creed ordered in a no nonsense voice, pushing his daughter forward. 

Abcidee’s eyes widened.

“No, dad! I’m not leaving!” she yelled the moment the brief status report of the woman who burst into the room sunk into her brain. “I’m coming with you!”

The woman snarled in offense. “I’m not babysitting her! I am needed in the frontlines!”

Kreuz barked an angry order in another language, and the woman called 01 responded heatedly. He snapped another command, and this time, 01 hastily left, not before flashing Abcidee a gloating smirk.

“What’s that about?” she demanded.

“Wait here,” her father said as he expertly checked and reloaded his gun. “I don’t want you out of here until Arashi picks you up.”

“Dad!” He could not do this to her! "I want to fight alongside everyone! I'm Gifted as well. I know I can help --"

“This is an order, not a request.”

“And I’m not your agent!” she said, exasperated. “You can’t just bully me around. I’m your daughter!”

“More reason for you to stay here,” there was a finality that allowed no arguments in his tone. “Stay.”

Reluctantly, Abcidee clamped her mouth shut and threw the force of her glare to the tip of her shoe. She refused to raise her head until she heard him mutter a curse. His footsteps were nonexistent, and it took her a few seconds to realize that she was alone.

Protected, again.

However, if there was one thing that Faye Summers and Abcidee Reeds shared, it was their stubborn streak.

As soon as Kreuz was out of sight, she collected several useful-looking items from the room – a gun, extra magazines, a couple of scary-looking knives, a bomb thingy, a tablet-like gadget and what appeared to be a wireless earpiece.

When she felt that she’s sufficiently equipped, she shrugged her black top off and switched into a dreary gray shirt tucked into one of the drawers… and then she blended in with the crowd.

Sorry if it's short! I will likely upload the next part of the chapter within a couple of days. =)

Comments? Violent reactions?