The last to go

2

Just minutes before the evacuation had started, Kyra had chased one of the terrorists into a building and cornered him.

"You can't stop me!" he kept on shouting in his two voices. Kyra vaguely remembered the Obsol, a race with obsidian hair and luminescent blue eyes. They were slippery and cunning with abilities that gave them an infamous reputation.

Kyra decided to take her chances and jumped to him. He was strong, way too strong for her two years of mandatory training. His punches landed, his kicks were faster than hers and his ocular ability gave her migraines. Kyra's vision turned white when the pain became unbearable. Her markings started glowing alarmingly. She crumpled, holding her head instead of defending herself.

Taking his chance, the terrorist kicked her through a table and almost through a wall. Bricks made of mud crumbled and fell down around her. Petals drifted down and landed on her. Gasping for air, Kyra tried to sit up and form a plan. Her head pounded, thoughts scattered around. She wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat running down her neck. Among her incoherent thoughts, the memory of her physical education teacher telling her to always get back up her feet came to her. He would've been disappointed to see Kyra down after a just a kick. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked around.

A flash of light caught her eye. A glass globe that had shattered upon impact laid near her feet. Large, curved shards glittered in the light, casting rainbows on the floor. The edges were razor thin and sharp. 

It was perfect. 

The terrorist laughed at her and turned away to grab his remote control. He either hadn't seen the glass or he believed she would never reach him in time. If it was the latter, then he had clearly never met a Vescal or he was confident that his giant rifle or his gleaming machete would be enough to protect him. He wasn't wrong. Fear almost paralyzed Kyra. Her heart beat in her throat and she had to keep herself from looking at the exit. This was no time to run. 

She picked the largest shard. It looked hilariously small in her large hands. She looked up at the man and was overcome with doubt. For all her training, she had never been prepared to kill someone. Kyra gulped and tasted blood. Smothering her coughs, she shrunk back against the wall. The Obsol was looking for the remote control. It must've fallen down during their fight. 

Time was ticking. 

Her free hand touched something smooth and cold. Kyra glanced to her side and saw that she had landed near one of the bombs, a transparent capsule with a bubbling green mass inside. A little blue marble drifted in the center. With one press of the remote, the marble would explode and the two chemicals would mix. The explosion of a single one would have vaporized Kyra. There were four next to each other. 

Kyra took a deep breath and scrambled up. Her decision was made. Her knees were still weak. A little voice told her that there was something very wrong with her head. The room spun around and she had to bite her tongue. In her hand she held a large shard of glass. Her knees were weak and she spread her feet to gain more balance. He didn't hear her footsteps as she neared him. When she got close enough to see the scales on the back of his neck, Kyra braced herself. With a strained yell she jumped towards him.

The man turned around in an instant, thrusting his machete forward. They were both too fast and too slow. Kyra's arm came down in a sideways motion. The sharp end of the glass hit its mark. The terrorist stumbled back, clutching his neck. Kyra gasped in pain, holding the machete as she landed on the ground. The tip had wedged itself between her lower ribs and moved upwards before she managed to grab the end of the weapon. Her head snapped up and she bared her teeth. The red marks were shining bright, warning her enemy. Fury gave her immense strength. 

It was unnecessary though. The fight was over.

Blood ran passed the man's lips and over his hands as he tried to staunch the flow. His eyes were wide with disbelief. His irises twirled around again, though much slower than before. Kyra could feel faint flares of pain in the back of her head but they soon died down. His hand dropped from his neck. Blood sprayed over her uniform and her face.The terrorist took a gurgling breath and collapsed against a table, falling underneath it. His foot shook a little and then it stopped.

Kyra laughed and spat some blood on the ground. The wound throbbed and made something as small as breathing painful. Her free hand reached for the laser attached to her belt and she cut the large part of the weapon off, careful not to burn herself. Her team's medic had drilled into each and every one of them to not pull out the weapon. She turned her comm on and send a voice message to the medic, asking for an extra pillow in her hospital bed.

Leaning against a wall, Kyra then called her captain and told him what she had accomplished. The terrorist had almost wiped out half of the city. Kyra was just in time. Her captain wanted to reply but had to put her on hold. When he returned, he wiped the smile clean off her face.

Another party had mingled in. They had decided to just blow up the entire city. The message was relayed to all the troops, in her captain's strangled voice. The commandant couldn't even be bothered to announce it himself. Her captain broke protocol and contacted her privately. 

"I'm sorry." he said before immediately disconnecting. 

Kyra wanted to throttle him as she coughed and spit out blood. It wasn't his fault but it still stung. Her moment of pride, of dying like a hero, it was all gone in the wind.