Terminal

Chapter 9

How come things always end up differently than how I expect it to go?

A week passes. Time for me to head back. I wasn't wearing the outfit I wore last time, as short after I get my intel I would be laying siege to yet another city. I had both my gauntlets and Kamira; Kamira mainly for the pistols, and my gauntlets for melee. My gauntlets had ranged capability, but I tended not to rely on them much, as it was still a work in progress. I hated going without a ranged weapon of some sorts, and the same held true for melee. Kamira also had melee capabilities, but I wasn't going to leave my gauntlets lying around in the open. I set my plane in the same spot before, and pull the hood over my head again. Something felt off. Besides the fact that the sun was still setting, something was different in the air, and a feeling of unease washes over me as I approach the club. The lights were off, and an eerie silence hung in the air. Perhaps it was closed, which was unlikely. I try the handle. Locked. I shoot at it, and kick down the door. There was still a smell of cigarette smoke, but it was stale. The only light I had was the remaining sunlight seeping through behind me. A piece of paper lay on the floor, and I pick it up, stepping outside to look at it better. The handwriting was rushed, but I could still pick out what it said:

"Sasha. The sirens went off today. Everyone is panicking, except for the people here. They think that they can drink their problems away, but even I know that is not possible. I am running now, the info you need is under th-"

The ink cuts off abruptly, trailing sharply off to the right. There was a dark red stain in the bottom left corner, and I let the paper float down from my hand. I step back inside. I could probably guess where Sam hid it at, and I was right. I lift the whiskey bottle, and underneath, multiple sheets of paper of what I needed. I grab them, and started sifting through them when I suddenly heard gunshots ring behind me. I wasn't alone, like I had hoped. I quickly shove the papers inside a pocket, and ran outside. I climbed a nearby building, and crouched on the rooftop, looking for the source of the shots.

"Let's go." A police officer waved his hand at a a group of officers, and they walked down the street, rifles ready to fire. I follow them with my eyes, and drop down from the building the second they were out of sight. I was making my way back to my plane, slipping in and out of alleyways, and keeping on high alert for the police. The sounds of bones cracking arouses my attention, and I raise a pistol, ready to pull the trigger at a moment's notice. A shadow slips on the walls, and I change my stance ever so slightly as the figure approaches around the corner. Some of the unease leaves me as I identify the figure: it was only a dog. But that still doesn't explain the bone crunching sounds. My question was soon answered as another figure leaps on top of the dog, ripping it to shreds. The dog howls in pain, and my eyes were glued to the scene in horror as I watch its legs torn off and devoured by the figure on top of it. The howls were cut short as the dog's neck finally snaps. Fear coursed through me, something I haven't felt in a long time, as the figure finishes consuming its prey. My hand clutches the pistol tighter as it snaps its head around, gazing at me with ravaging eyes. It finally dawns on me that it was another person, but it was almost unrecognizable: hair was drenched in blood, clothes soaked in a crimson color, eyes bloodshot. Without further ado, it straggles towards me at a blinding speed, and I fire, the shot landing in its leg, but that didn't seem to slow it down at all. I quickly bring out my other pistol, and I continue firing multiple shots at it, and it finally stops moving a couple of feet away from me. I wasn't one to waste ammo, but I kept firing at it long after it died. Of course, my shots didn't go unnoticed.

"Open fire!" the police officer I saw earlier yelled, and I was greeted by a barrage of bullets. I quickly switch my pistols to swords, and I make my way to an alley, deflecting as many bullets as I could. Footsteps echoed behind me, and I break into a dead sprint. I climb another building, but it was no use. Searchlights hit my eyes as I ran across the rooftops. The helicopter following me opened fire, and I quickly flip backwards, facing the other way and heading towards the heli instead. I roll to the side, avoiding its line of fire, and the heli stops shooting, forced to swing around. By then, I've gained some distance. I'm about to get away when the building in front of me explodes, and I skid to a stop. More buildings surrounding the area explode. I look behind me to see the heli catch back up to me. Fuck. It starts firing again when it suddenly explodes in a fireball, a red and black plane passing by it. The plane drops more bombs, destroying more buildings, and I jump off the roof I was currently on. I needed to get out of here. I manage my way to reach the outskirts of the city when I find myself in a dead end: the police beat me to the outside. Their rifles were aimed at me, lasers appeared on my shirt. I was surrounded. Outnumbered. Outsmarted. Outgunned. I'm screwed.