Subject 15

CHAPTER 5 - Seth

I was still lurking in the Old Faction, finding solitude in the highest points in the buildings. They were deemed the most unstable and hazardous places in the Old Faction because of their incredible heights and tearing wind that constantly blew through the shattered windows. But it was just perfect for me – no one else usually went up there, and security was at a bare minimum, the perfect resting place for a fugitive.

I was on my way to my favorite hiding place, a small office in an abandoned tower, when a cry rang through the air. The Old Faction, not only housing druggies and outcasts, housed the highest number of rival gangs in the southern FPS.

I looked over my shoulder, into a darker alley to see four such members surrounding a boy, most likely close to my age. "Why'd you do it man?" shouted one of the members, shoving the boy back into the wall.

"I didn't do anything!" replied the boy, his hands flying up to protect his face.

Another member of the gang pushed him as they said, "You told T he was out, and so he booked it before the hit came!"

"I didn't do anything!" said the boy again, weakly blocking a punch aimed at his stomach.

"Then where the hell is T?" roared the ringleader, slamming the boy back into the wall.

"Don't do anything stupid," said a voce right next to me. I spun around, too fast for any normal man, instinctively kicking low. The person jumped back, my kick barely missing their shin. The person, now in the shadows, darker than what I could see, said, "It's a good way to get yourself killed if you get into a fight when them."

I, not knowing what to do, stood petrified, my Mask blank and white in my horror and inaction, turning from the voice to the boy.

It was then that the boy looked at me, terror in his eyes, bruises growing on his body as one of the other men drew a sharpened steel blade, the weapon rough and jagged. In the boy's eyes was desperation not foreign to me – the desperation of being cornered and having no way out – the horror of staring your own death in the face.

It was then that I knew what I must do.

Unconsciously keeping my Mask blank and white, I rushed at the members with the silent footsteps of a hunter. Just as the ringleader grabbed the boy's shirt did I attack, kicking the back of one of the men's knees so that he fell back. As he fell, I grabbed his wrist, and in one fluid motion I spun around and flung him over my shoulder, slamming him into the concrete.

Turn. In a trance, I faced the gang again, kicking off the tight walls, jumping between them like they were springs, towards the two other members. While they turned around, expecting to find me near their fallen companion, I landed in between the ringleader and the boy, the leader's head sharply turning at the boy's surprised cry. Acting out of sheer instinct, I aimed three punches at the man, two aimed at his chest, while the last was aimed at the soft underbelly of his jaw.

Right, left, right, they each connected like I had envisioned they would before my hands even started to move. There was an audible crack at all three punches, and it sent the man flying, falling backward like a fallen tree.

The last two charged at me with naked blades, roaring in defense of their fallen comrades and to convince themselves that they felt no fear. In a cold, calculating trance, I grabbed the first man when he came too close, spinning him around to ram him into his partner, twisting his arm behind his back. The man bellowed in pain, and with a final, deafening crash, I slammed my open palm into the man's ear, deafening him.

I showed no pity for the last man standing, forming my wings with a horrible ripping sound as they burst through the back of my shirt, instantly petrifying the man. As he stared in horror, I kicked his knee with bone-crunching force, and grabbed the man's neck in an iron grip.

Kill came the command. My hand twitched, and I shook my head, for the first time seeing the terrified men. I let go of the man, holding my head as the Demon roared again Kill! I heard the scrape of metal, then a blazing pain erupted in my left side, in between my ribs. I roared in pain, smacking the man with the back of my hand, sending him flying out of the alley. He didn't get up after that.

I gripped the crude steel blade in one hand, blood starting to run down my side. Punctured lung, the AI in my Mask told me, but no damage to the heart. If the blade is not removed quickly, the risk of infection is dramatically increased. However, removing the blade will cause–

I gritted my teeth and in a quick motion yanked the blade out of my body. I groaned and fell to my knees. Stop the bleeding, said the AI, almost panicked. You won't have long. I ripped off a long tatter from my shirt and placed the cloth against the wound. Blood still poured, but not as fast – my body was trying to mend itself.

I took a moment to exhale the breath I was holding in, slowly inhaling and exhaling, every breath coming short and pained. As I focused on controlling the bleeding, I heard a hushed whisper behind me. With my wings grazing the sides of the narrow alleyway, I looked behind me at the terrified young man, huddling in the corner, wide brown eyes focused on me as if one blink and I would disappear. When I turned to look at him, he cowered in fear, trying to press himself farther away from me.

I tried standing, a bloodied hand pressing against the wall of the alley, only to have the world spin, slamming my wings and back into the wall. I slid against the wall, the rough concrete tearing into my wings and back. Lack of energy, a voice whispered as my wings slowly turned to dust.

The boy, eyes wide and lips sealed tight, hesitantly took a step toward me, still terrified, but now curious. His eyes darted to my wound, and he quietly said, "That's bad."

I nodded slightly, saying, "I'll be fine."

The boy slightly shook his head, saying, "I dunno man... it's not looking good."

I slowly stood up, and the boy supported me as I stepped out into the street, the world swimming. "I'll be fine," I repeated, but I knew that if I didn't rest soon, and at least patch myself up, I wouldn't be.

"What are you going to do?" asked the boy.

Act fast, said the Demon. Your system will shut down in two minutes.

I gritted my teeth and ripped off my shirt with a forceful pull, the sharp sound making the boy jump back. I tossed away my blood-soaked shirt and makeshift bandage and looked at the wound.

The boy sucked in a breath before saying, "Shit..."

The cut was about an inch and a half wide, but at least three inches deep, right in between my sixth and seventh rib. I had to close the wound, and now.

I looked up into the sky, my hiding spot, my home, highin the sky, inaccessible. There was no way I would make it before my system shut down. I fell to a knee, my hand over my wound, trying to stop the bleeding, when the voice hissed, No more time. 30 seconds. I could already feel myself blacking out, everything becoming slow and murky. The boy gave a muffled cry as I fell to the concrete. The last thing I remember was the soft sounds of footsteps and a gentle light, like an angel stepping out of the darkness.