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Rain like soft black snow falling from the soot filled sky. The city it draped over scattered with fires. Lines of armed soldiers on guard near major city exits. Riots of humans running rampant across the board like ants after a child stepped on the sand hill. For any outsider, this situation looked to be an out of control civilization. Those viewing the events through media broadcasts being fed information of deceit and disorder. What the viewer doesn't know is the truth. The tests, the murders, the betrayal and lives damned to this system.

These humans only wanted out. They wanted to escape the chains their government had shackled them with. No one Wants to be a lab animal. That is exactly what these military higher-ups saw these innocent lives as. Streets filled with "opportunity", numbers on a chart. Like the infinite number of lives you get when you cheat in a video game. This was far beyond cheating. No one should be allowed to play with the lives of the innocent.

The World falling apart before them. These scared rioting civilians needed a mediator. They need someone to open the gates to freedom beyond this hell of a military test sight. There, in the center of this rapidly declining situation, stood a man. Hidden by his own hooded jacket. He stood among the raging citizens, unmoved by the violence before him. The crowd trying to press through the islands south, eastern bridge way. Their efforts all for naught. This military line was prepared for such an event. Proper equipment, just the right number of figures to handle a massive mob of poorly armed humans.

It was when a brick finally broke the soldiers line and popped off the window of an idling jeep, did the defense line turn to lethal methods. There was no out call or warning given by operations leader. Nothing the public can hear to prepare themselves. Just a storm of bullet fire striking through rows of civilians. Lines of tracer lights danced through the crowds, scarlet lines of human liquid slashed the ground and bodies that retreated. Shrieks of pain pierced the air, groups of civilians scampering to outrun death. Feet splashing through the blood that mixed with pools of rain water. Corpses dropping every few feet. Man, woman, or child, all comparable to a paper target on a training field. The hooded man had not budged, still holding his ground. Even after the head and torso of the man before him exploded with rifle fire. The man remained with his unmoved composure. Soaked in the blood of an innocent bystander who only wanted to escape the tyranny. By the time the gun blasting settled, there was a solid 50 yards between the civilian line and the military personnel. Only the hooded man and the bodies riddled with bullet holes filled between.

Apart from the rainfall, the sirens, and dying chatter of the retreated crowd, nothing broke the moment that fell. Guns of the armed line now smoking, the occasional sizzle of rain water vaporizing on the glowing hot barrels. Weapons were still raised. Even with the distance between the opposite minded crowds, these gunners did not have plans for ease. From his position, from under the hood, he could see the swaying movements of the military line. All sights where now on him. This was confirmed when one of the soldiers tune to their communications. Spouting off to some higher-up over his radio, words like unsettling and hood obvious details of the hooded figure himself. Affirmative. There it was, the man had his orders now. Not a single gun broke its line of sight as the line simultaneously reloaded. The coordination was strikingly impressive, though the intense atmosphere did not relent.

A zip, followed by a loud PING, shrapnel from the pavement scattered at the lower body of the hooded man. Oddly he did not hear the gunshot, but it was apparent that was meant for him. Targeting his legs if one were to assume. There was to let up, 3 loud cracks echoed through the street. Each shot pinged by, but the man in the hood didnt even flinch. As if he wasnt even aware of the situation he was in.

The next shot did not miss. The round punched through the figures shoulder with a blistering pop, exploded into a twisted mess behind him. Blood, muscle, bone, even this hooded figure now expected to be another casualty in this event was taking place in this city. Yet, those who watched from the crowd did not, and could not, comprehend what they were witnessing. All the gore that was expected to scatter across the 4 or 5 meters behind, remained frozen in the air. Still, the figure was unmoved by the damage, he did not even try with the massive wound his shoulder had turned into. Instead, the dismembered gibs all seemed to unravel like bloody black ribbons, rebuilding itself back into the shoulder that was once a mess of meat and pain.