A city in floods

Prologue

Grievous thuds of thunder mingled in the background. Cold drops of rain littered onto Javier's skin, they felt like crawling insects trying to bite him. Aromas of salt and petrol occupied the air. Flickers of feebly lit bulbs guided his vision. "Javier, wake up lad!" a brittle voice hollered. It was Sanchez, his commander. "We need to claim that supply before the Caylads do!" Sanchez barked.

Their group was on a  labyrinth of metal catwalks. Rain thicker than mud swarmed them in every direction. Beneath them was a vast abyss of seawater. The gang were on a low level of the oil-rig they called home, it was big enough to house an entire metropolis. None of them had set foot on land before, not many settlements existed on rock. Around a week before Sanchez had heard a rumor that a rival gang was storing drugs on some disused catwalks towards the bottom of the rig. Javier was a loyal member of the acosador-muerte as he needed the money, but even he was doubtful that anyone on the rig would want to go to somewhere this secluded. 

As they hiked on the catwalk, the group heard an ear-piercing bang. "We've got company" screeched Sanchez. Diving to the ground for cover, Javier rapidly realised how wrong he had been. Having no gun of his own, he kept low as his gangmates returned the gun fire. The crossfire sounded like barking dogs. Their assailants were only a lorry's length away, under the heavy rain it was tedious to pinpoint exactly where. 

Looking up Sanchez could see what caused the disturbance. Between the two groups there was a smaller catwalk that held multiple crates. "Everyone take cover behind the crates, they wouldn't shoot at their own cargo". Like a pack of dogs hunting prey the ensemble dashed towards the crates. Javier heard a horrific scream that followed after the gunfire, he refused to see who got hit, he was just grateful that it wasn't him. Sliding behind a grey cube, Javier rolled up like an imploded building. 

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity in hell the gun shots subsided. "The Caylads are all gone boys, everyone on their feet!" belted Sanchez. Standing on his feet, Javier observed the carnage. At least eight of them were alive. Refusing to meet anyone's gaze he stared at Sanchez. Around a dozen cubes as big as furniture were mounted on the catwalk. "Not a lot of men for this much cargo" remarked Sanchez in confusion. Scuttling like a rabbit in a burrow a hooded man emerged from between the boxes. "Looks like another Caylad" yelled one of Javier's gangmates. "You there!" roared Sanchez. The man looked up, he held a smaller crate and darted in the direction that the acosador-muerte had originally came from. 

A sudden flash of lightning highlighted his cloaked figure. Before the beat of thunder could follow an array of bullets rained onto them. "Boys we got more Caylads coming through,. Everyone get back to cover!  Javier after him!" "On it Sanchez" called out Javier.

Sprinting on the catwalk, Javier's steps against the steel sounded like a tambourine being played. Ahead of him, Javier could only see the slightly human figure dart through the rain. "Oi! That cargo is ours". Endlessly the jogging the man took a corner. Following him like puppy after it's owner, Javier turned after him. Coming into a dead end.  Javier took his chance. The man faced Javier. "The box now!" aggressively requested Javier. Idly watching Javier, he made no effort to interact. 

Javier sunk his hand into his pocket so that he could feel the grip on his switchblade. Just as he gripped the knife Javier felt a sudden quake in the ground. His surroundings rumbled as he felt the surface beneath him give way. Then all went black.