Chosen Through Fire

it all went to hell

"Kat, let's go." The young thief melted into the darkened hallway, his profile only illuminated as he cracked open a door and checked for people in the room. No one there. Then, he crept further down the rich cherrywood hall.

"Hold on," Katya replied testily. She had an age advantage on him and was going to use every bit of it if she needed. "I gotta get one more charge hooked up." She crouched under a table that matched the floor, fighting the dim light and pointedly not rushing.

The man tugged at her frayed and dusty black flak jacket. "Come on, Kat, we gotta go."

She shrugged off his hand and focused on her work, thankful that her small stature gave her more room to maneuver under the table. "But they'll only be one blast on the way out if we—"

He broke in before she could finish her sentence, "We'll be fine." He gave up waiting for Katya and snuck to the next door, opening it just wide enough to see inside. "Let's go get the fuckin' book and get outta here." The thief peeked through the cracked door nervously.

"Fine, Kerry. We'll do it your way." She sighed as she left the explosives behind, wishing that, for once, she could trust her teammates not to get her locked up or killed. But that would involve being in a group she trusted at all. She crawled out from under the heavy wooden table and tugged down her armored vest. "Where to?"

He waved her into a room where wooden shelves carved with grapes and vines covered the walls and encased a repository of dusty old tomes. "Over here," he whispered. "Should be somewhere on one of these shelves." He turned on his flashlight and searched for his quarry.

Katya shook her head. "Would you just keep it down?" She searched the lower shelves but kept glancing back at the door to check for unwanted company. Wood creaked softly behind them. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He briefly looked over at her. "You're hearin' things." Kerry went back to searching, ignoring the possible danger behind him. "Now where's that damn book?"

Katya's self-preservation kicked in, and she clicked off her flashlight. "I know I heard something, and I don't want to be shot in the back. I'm checkin' it out." She unholstered a pistol and snuck to the doorway.

Kerry stood on his tiptoes to see the topmost shelf and hissed, "Kat, don't split before we get the payload!"

The shadow by the wall provided her convenient cover, her deep umber skin not betraying her to the light. She peered around the corner; two guards slowly swept their way up hall. "Hey," she whispered, "we got trouble. Two of 'em."

Kerry ignored her and waved her off. He ran his hand along the shelf as he searched. "Just hold on a sec, the guys'll keep 'em busy. Hey. Hey, I got—"

Before he could finish speaking, the guards rounded the corner, guns drawn. One sported a black polymer and metal mechanized hand with wireless software connecting his pistol to his hand for ultimate attack potential—and the man intended to use every bit of that potential if need be. "Hey, what are you doing in here!" Both guards' weapons homed in on the thief by the book shelves.

"Absolutely nothing," Katya hissed as she detonated a charge in the hall, blasting the guards to the ground. Trim and plaster rained down on them. "Run!" She burst out of the darkness and fired wildly in their direction as she dashed past.

A guard reached up from where he lay sprawled on the ground and fired. The thief by the bookcases fell to the floor, dead. Katya, running out the door, spoke into her comm link, "Yo', guys! Kerry's down. We need outta here now!" She hoped they had not fallen into similar trouble.

Her comm link stuttered with gunfire and a voice yelled over the noise, "Katya, we're under fire out—" The voice on the line turned to a gurgle.

She holstered her gun and slid under the table where she had left the partially-wired charge, then finished up the explosive for detonation while trying not to think of her other team members. After all, the saying was, 'Survive now, think later.'

The two guards stood unsteadily and staggered into the hallway, dust covering them head to toe. She threw the charge at them and flipped over the table to use as a shield. The blast fired under the guards, maiming them and ramming the table back into her. Glass from photo frames in the hall tinkled as it hit the ground and dust choked the air. The black hand lay by the wall, sheared from its body at the elbow and coated red, still holding its weapon.

Katya remembered a precious rear exit sat just beyond the hallway from her secondary planned escape route. She drew both her pistols with a click from their holsters, hoping she had enough time to get out. A gruff voice from the other side of the door boomed, "Stand down in there!"

She whispered, "Light 'em up," as her bullets ripped through the wood and slammed into the people on the other side. She yanked open what was left of the door and said in a rush, "Sorry, boys, gotta jet." Then she leapt over the three stunned and injured guards and tore into the back street.

The injured guards rounded on her and fired, burying bullets into her armor and sending shrapnel flying from the surrounding concrete and brick walls, spraying her face and close-cropped black hair with rubble.

"I've gotta get out of this business," she mumbled as another thud hit her chest and she stumbled forward. "I'm thirty, for fuck's sake! You'd think I'd have already figured that out. It's already 2070 and I was supposed to be out of the business by now." Another round whizzed by her head and she sighed at herself. This was not the time for self-reflection. This was kick-ass time. Kick ass and run like hell, that is.

She holstered her pistols and quickly surveyed her options. There was an alley that she didn't have a chance to scope out before the job, and the route she had marked as her escape. Her planned route out echoed with shouts and gunfire. "Alley it is." She took off running and checked behind herself for followers, toppling a stack of boxes onto the ground in the process. While she dodged the soldiers and ducked at the bullets, she marveled that she was going through all of this shit just to make a living. At least long ago she'd had a steady place to sleep and food to eat. Not so much as of late. And once again, I'm on my own with another pissed off Smith. Why he wanted their payload didn't make sense, but in essence all the Smiths were the same: willing to pay for dangerous services rendered. Nothing new. Acceptable job application for the trade: does the job on time; doesn't ask questions.

Muffled voices closed in on her as sirens wailed up the block. Ahead lay a few doors inset into the walls. The first had a reinforced digital lock. Nope, ain't gonna work. The second one looked promising, but the third was definitely usable. She kicked in the last door and immediately caught a glimpse of her pursuers scouring the sidewalk on the other side of the empty shop's front door. She footed it back into the alley, then went back to focus on the second door.

"Oh my, a physical lock. Long time no see." She fumbled with a small key from her assortment of pockets. The guards came closer. "A little love and"—she hit the key in the lock with her pistol grip and quickly turned it. The door popped open with a satisfying thud—"I'm in." She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, then muttered, "Now, where the hell am I?"