When Hell Runs Cold

Chapter Ten

Alysia glanced at her phone, eyes widening at the text she had gotten.

Unknown Number: The uprising started. Be careful and watch your back- B.

Blanchard.

Eric had warned her about the uprising, saying that she'd be a primary target once it started, because according to him, 'A lot of people were pissed'. Pissed that she had gotten let off easy by Blanchard, they wanted to send a message.

She wasn't helping the gang anymore, and being a super, Blanchard would show no mercy. Usually.

But he'd let her go. Given her a warm-ish farewell.

However, Alysia couldn't forget the rest of Gevasi hated supers, which made her a primary target of the rebels. She quickly locked her door, before going to the windows, making sure every one of them was shut tight.

One thing was for sure, sleeping tonight just became a wistful fantasy. 

***

The ricocheting of bullets echoed through the streets. The surface of her gun felt cool against her palm as she sat on the edge of her living room couch. She glanced down at her hands.

She still hadn't gotten much control over her powers, but hopefully they'd show up if she got attacked. It would provide the adrenaline rush she needed for her to do what she had done that night at the Luddington Mansion.

Alysia passed the gun between her two hands, eyes flitting to the door with every gunshot. She had limited knowledge of a gun; Eric trained her in firearms years ago.

Alysia hoped it was just like riding a bike.

Probably not.

She pulled out her phone, opening up her chain of messages with April.

To Apes: Stay safe, okay? Lock all your doors and windows. Barricade them if you have to. You can't die on me yet.

She was about to put her phone away when her phone dinged again, but this time, it was a text from Eric.

From Expresso Boy: Rebellion's coming your way. Get out of your apartment. On Baker street.

"Shit." She muttered, leaping from her seat on the dusty couch. She grabbed her laptop, before lifting up her rug and placing it under her floorboards.

They couldn't take it.

She stuffed her phone into her bra, gripping tightly onto her gun, starting to head towards her door, freezing when she heard the thundering of multiple pairs of footsteps.

How were they already there?

She ran to her room, shutting and locking the door. She grabbed her getaway bags, filled with essentials, before she went over to open the window.  Taking deep breaths, she struggled to open the window. She flinched as she heard the banging on the door. "Come on, come on, come on." She muttered, desperation filling her voice.

The slam of the front door collapsing, and the shouts of her former "friends".

"Lockheart, we know you're here!" A gang member shouted, banging on her bedroom door. "Blanchard may not have had the guts, but we do!"

The shouts of agreement of the other gang members, filled her with dread, as well as gave her enough determination and strength to lift the window up. She swung a leg over the window sill, landing on the stairs of the fire-escape. 

Looking down to the alleyway below, Alysia noticed the hulking forms of gang enforcers meandering at the bottom, waiting. Alysia knew these men could kill her, having seen them throw full-grown adults out of Espresso like toddlers. No way she could face them. Turning, she ran up the fire escape, the rickety iron stairs clattering and groaning as she raced up them. Alysia heard the thundering of footsteps behind her, shouts of men. She had nowhere to run.

Once she got to the top of the fire escape, she jumped, gripping the edge of the rooftop, attempting to pull herself up by her slick fingers.

She felt one of the rebels grab one of her legs. "Got her!" he shouted.

Alysia's hold loosened for a second, before she let out a grunt and tightened her grip on the edge of the roof, throwing a kick into the man's face. When his grip around her leg relaxed, she kicked again. This time, he let go, and Alysia hauled herself up onto the roof.

She whirled around, shooting the shoulder of the rebel, before frantically looking for a way out. If she went down the stairs, there was a seventy-five percent chance that she would get intercepted.

And she couldn't go back down the fire escape, because the rebels were down there too. Alysia turned towards the fire-escape, letting out a small gasp when she saw multiple men hoisting themselves to the roof.

She didn't have a choice.

She ran to the edge of the rooftop, trying to scale the distance between her apartment complex and the one next to it. She looked down, gulping when she saw the drop. If she didn't make it, she would probably die.

But if she didn't try, she had no chance of surviving.

Alysia stood a few feet away from the edge of the cliff, taking deep breaths. She heard the men reach the rooftop. Taking one last breath, she stealed herself ,before running straight off the roof, and leapt into the open air.

She hissed as her elbow hit the rooftop, rolling to absorb some of the impact, sharp pieces of gravel sticking to her skin. Alysia stood up, glancing behind her, groaning when she saw that they were still following her. She shot two of them in the leg, giving her enough time to jump onto the next building.

Alysia looked out onto the street, sighing in relief when she saw her exit.

On the street below, stood a local who lived in Alysia's apartment complex, Greg. Luckily for her, the idiot always left his keys to his motorcycle in ignition. She could hear his motorcycle, and if she timed it right, he'd be getting off when she got down to the street.

She ran towards the door that led to the other floors, pulling it open, and locking it behind her. The pounding of fists on the door echoed from behind her, motivating her to run like she had never done before.

Once she got to the ground floor, she ducked under one of the rebel's arm, shoving him to the side. She grinned when she saw Greg get off his bike, his headphones seemingly blocking out the sound of the chaos that was taking place on the streets of Ziren City.

Greg wasn't the safest driver around, using his headphones, but for once, his horrible habit was helping her instead of harming her.

She bolted across the street, shoving Greg out of the way, and swinging her leg over the motorcycle seat.

Revving the engine, she looked back at the dumbstruck face of the wannabe bad-boy.

"Sorry Greg!" 

Ahh we're at 530 reads! I can't believe it! Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me so far! Shout out to the silent readers!

And thank you to everyone who voted and commented! It truly does make my day when I see the notifications pop up!

Okay, enough of me blabbing.

QOTD: What's your favorite sad song?

I always listen to sad songs so this is a little hard for me! My top two would be Ghost of You by Five Seconds of Summer and Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi.