AM Chapter 7: No Mercy
From his mother's room Isaac pulled the red velvety curtain to the side to look down at the chaos of the city below.
“Armor frames?” Isaac whispered, his eyes round, jaw dropping at the sight of the neon-city under civil unrest.
Filling his entire view were fallen skyscrapers, ruined business, aircabs flying back and forth with drones hovering about as people below swarmed the front gate of Mercy Hospital.
Below, a crowd was amassing in front of the French Castellian walls that surrounded Mercy Hospital. A city attraction, the wall acted as both an homage to the city’s French roots and as a defense for the hospital.
On the walls were armed hospital security, EMTs dressed in white armor with some yelling through microphones to get the crowd to disperse as armored mobile walkers stood intimidatingly nearby.
Unfortunately, Isaac couldn’t hear anything thanks to the hospital’s sound proofing, but he could make out what was going on thanks to the context clues of the situation playing out before him.
“Honey? What’s going? Is everything ok?” Isaac’s mom asked, the woman unable to see out of the window thanks to Isaac’s body blocking the view. “Why are the hallway lights flashing?”
Suddenly the iron gate at the entrance gave way under the weight of the crowd, the tidal wave of humans flooding through like a tsunami that sent a shiver down Isaac’s spine.
“Its-” Isaac began before his hand slapped to his mouth, watching as the hospital guards below opened fire.
“Isaac?” Aleigh called out, the rhythmic machine monitoring her vitals beeping rapidly as she began to worry.
“It’s nothing ma. Just a… an accident outside,” Isaac said, shutting the blinds, "I'm going to see what's going on.”
“Ok, be careful,” Alright said, watching as her son rushed out of her hospital room.
****
Stumbling into the hallway, Isaac nearly ran into two armed EMTs as they passed.
“Mr. Carter,” Dr. Fern called out, the business suit bumping into Isaac. “Please return to your room, there is currently-”
“Not before you tell me what the fuck is going on outside!” Isaac demanded, grabbing the woman by her wrist as an EMT guard drew his pistol from his holster.
“Sir, the situation is being handled-”
“Handled by shooting unarmed civilians looking for aid?!” Isaac spat.
“Mr. Carter, our job at Mercy is the treatment and safety of our patients,” Dr. Fern said, “The moment those gutter rats stepped across the wall they were trespassing on private property. This is just business.”
“So you shoot them?! Those people were looking for help!”
At Isaac's snap the woman paled, taking a step back before composing herself.
“Mr. Carter, these men will escort you to your suite. Please remain inside until this crisis is averted,” Dr. Fern instructed as five EMTs in full combat gear surrounded Isaac.
****
“Damn it!” Isaac spat, slamming the hospital door as he entered his room.
Samantha spun, eyeing the man who cleaned up nicely in his suit.
“What's wrong?” Sam asked, putting down the phone.
“The guards…” Isaac said, sitting down on the bed, “They… they just shot a bunch of people.”
“In the hospital?!”
“No, outside. Injured people seeking aid, needing help and they just started shooting at them!”
Sam walked to the window, hitting a button on the side that raised the curtains to reveal the chaos of the world.
“Shit,” Sam let out, watching several army jets fly by.
Weird, what are T60s doing flying over the city?
“I can't believe they just did that… we need to call the cops! Report to the news, tell someone!” Isaac said, his eyes tracking the phone on the nightstand.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“It wouldn't do any good.” Samantha said, snapping up the phone as Isaac reached out.
“What?”
“As much as I don't like it, the hospital staff are within their rights to do what they did,” Sam said, much to Isaac’s aggravation.
“Right?” Isaac whispered before his face twisted with anger, “What the hell is right about gunning down unarmed people?!”
Taken aback by Isaac’s rage Sam went wide-eyed, suddenly finding herself reevaluating the man before her.
“Nothing,” Samantha said deadpan as she turned the TV on, revealing late night WWLTV channel with an EAS message on full display. “But legally they trespassed. And under the eyes of the law, the Corpos-”
“Always win…” Isaac said, shoulders slumping as he finished Sam's sentence, the Motto synonymous with the Corpos. “FUCK!”
Sam flinched as a nearby chair went flying and left a hole in the nearby wall.
The truth in Sam's words, Isaac knew it well. That's why he wanted so desperately to be one.
Fame. Fortune. Power. All these came with the position. Of course to Isaac these were all a side dish to him. If he could protect his family, if he could give them a better life…
Could he be the kind of person who could calmly call the slaughter of innocents… business?
Isaac didn't like the singular word that entered his mind.
“It's… still… not right,” Isaac whispered, his hand clenching the velvety sheets of the bed below him.
“It isn't, but that's the world we live in. Especially since New Orleans is about to be under martial law,” Sam said as she turned the volume up on the TV.
“Martial law?”
“Mhm. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but… seeing as you got me here so I can call my bosses and patched me up, the National guard is gonna be rolling in soon,” Sam said, hands on her hips, “Yup… soon this will all be over.”
Isaac turned his eyes to the TV screen, a frown on his face.
Somehow, Isaac had an ominous feeling that this was only just the beginning to something far worst.
He could feel it, a sickly taste in the air that hadn't left his mouth since his apartment collapsed from beneath him.
Something was coming… Isaac could only hope he was prepared as he opened his System screen.
****
2335 Hundred Hours.
Union, North America, Neo-New Orleans.
NNOPD: PO James Trapper.
*****
“Move! Get moving! Take only essentials! Not what you want or can carry! This area is an active fall zone!” Officer Trapper yelled from within his police cruiser using its audio systems to direct the flow of civilians rushing around debris.
He lowered his microphone, wiping his brow, the humidity making his new black police uniform stuffy even with the AC on full blast.
At 5’11, James Hawkeye Trapper was a blue-eyed 20 year old blonde man from Maine with a love of guns. A college drop out who forgoed a career as an engineer to become a cop to help people.
Of course this didn't sit well with his family who insisted he'd join the army since he wanted to “shoot” things, but he had no intentions of killing or fighting in some war for the Corpos. No, if he was gonna fight for something, it would be for the people.
At least that's what he told himself.
“Some first day…” Trapper muttered, lowering the radio receiver as his HUD registered a call from his training officer Sergeant Cane. “Sir?”
“How you doing in there kid?” The gruff deep voice of a southern black man asked.
“Hot,” Trapper replied, watching as a three men carrying TVs and other electronics ran past his cruiser. “Wow, right in fron-Uh… sir, I think there's a 211 in progress.”
“Let em be. Your jobs to direct traffic. Plus ASIS has them tagged. We'll have them in cuffs before long. In the meantime get the car ready, we're being redirected to Michoud Highway to evacuate civilians.”
“I thought the fuel refineries were protected against quakes?”
“It is, but apparently it's caused a major gas leak,” Cane called back. "National guard are rolling in as well, the captain is already in a bitch mood too."
Trapper slumped in his car seat, sighing as he eyed the carnage outside.
“What a goddamn mess…” Trapper said, tracking the trio of thieves running on their way and knocking down an elderly woman, “Fuck this.”
Trapper left his cruiser, yelling at the criminals who immediately took off.
“Delta-2 to control, Delta-2 is 10-43!” Trapper radioed in, drawing a response from Sergeant Cane who immediately began to call Trapper's HUD.
“ROOK! What the hell are you doing?! Didn't I tell you to stay put?!”
“Can't talk sir! Bad guys are getting away!”
“Goddamn it Trapper stay in the car!”
Trapper ran through the crowd of people, chasing the criminals down who began shouting as they realized their were being pursued.
"HALT! Police!" Trapper yelled, turning the corner after the trio where he-
*Bang*
“Fuc-”
The air left Trapper's lungs, an impact striking his chest that sent him careening to the hard asphalt ground.
Gasping for air and involuntarily curled up in a fetal position, the only thing Trapper could see were the three sets of shoes standing over him.
“Shit! You shot him!” a voice cried.
“What the fuck was I supposed to do?!” another voice spat.
“I don't know man! Fuck! Let's get out of here!”
Writhing in pain, Trapper managed to roll into his back, taking in short rapid breathes as pain flooded his body.
“Fucking… bastards…” Trapper hissed through clenched teeth, staring down at his hands that came back bloody. "Oh... that's not good."
“Trapper!” Sergeant Cane yelled, turning the corner and spotting the wounded officer on his back. “You fucking idiot! Control this is Delta-3, code three! Code three! Officer down! request EMT at Loyola and Bienville! Where are you hit?!”
“Chest!” Trapper let out, his voice pained as the middle-aged black man stood over him and immediately began tearing off Trapper’s Tac-vest.
Suddenly, Trapper felt a tingling sensation coursing through his veins. A feeling that was akin to a thousand ants crawling under his skin and attempting to bite their way out.
“What…” Came went wide-eyed, staring at the steam rising from Trapper's bare chest, “The hell?”
Sergeant Cane reached down, touching the wound that was rapidly closing.
Trapper sat up, eyes blinking rapidly as the words-
[System Online.]
-Overlayed over his HUD.