I and the captain share a quick glance before I step out first, showing the news hasn’t yet been spread further than the cockpit considering the peaceful atmosphere. At least this was the case until the captain barged through the door and started throwing out orders.
“Everyone! Battle stations!” She roars, forcing ingrained muscle memory to make men and women move like clockwork. Suppose the Stigma isn’t one of the top vehicles for nothing, its crew is part of its success.
We hurry towards the front, passing blast doors and running guards as they move towards their assigned positions.
Forcing our way into the cockpit through the main entrance shows panicking crewmembers running left and right trying to get a grip of the situation.
“Stop the convoy immediately and take a defensive circle formation!” Rosethorn yells over the chaotic atmosphere, once more leaving people gaining control over their emotions.
“Get me up to speed on the situation!”
“Yes captain,” A familiar lieutenant salutes. What was his name again? “There are a large number of lifeforms spotted on our right”
Tom? Thomas? “From what we can see it appears to be a very large group of mutants heading our way.”
“Approximately?” She questions while taking her seat.
Right, Johnson.
“five thousand.” He remarks, leaving both me and Rosethorn stunned for a brief second as my train of thought is brought to a halt.
“So we have a horde on our hands.” Gregg responds. “No matter, with our firepower we should be able to blast through the center if most pass us.”
My agreement with him falls short soon after, as a whistling sound meets my ears.
“Get down!” I manage to yell, covering the captain with my bulk as bodies hit the floor.
What follows next, rather than explosive blasts as I expected, is my body taking a shock of force from the impact and lights shutting down as electronics malfunction, leaving the room in the dark a split second before emergency generators restart the system. Red lights cover the chamber as everyone slowly starts getting up from their sprawled positions.
“Status?” The captain asks as I get off of her, tapping several buttons on the side of her chair with no effect.
“Communications are down, most electric systems have either broken down or are acting up.” One of the staff manages to reply first.
“Shit, Miss if we don’t get those guns back up that stampede is goin’ to plow through us like no tomorrow. I’ve seen beasts like that tear through steel with just their teeth.”
“Thomson!” Ah, that was it. “Get out there and make sure we get into formation, set the civilians up behind the Stigma, get a line of cruisers in front.”
I watch him leave through the side door as she continues screaming her lungs out, trying to get everything under control.
“Get those generators back under control, I want cannons to fire upon that horde before-“
Once more, whistling fills the air as another blast hits the Stigma leaving me tumbling across the floor as systems are frazzled.
“Fuck!” Rosethorn yells as we try to recuperate from the second shock wave.
“Captain!” I call out through the confusion. “We need to get you the hell out of this vehicle before more of this artillery starts targeting us!”
“I’m not leaving the Stigma that easily!” She screams back, getting out of her seat contrary to her prior statement.
Her actions leave me befuddled for a short while before she pulls out her revolver. Taking a closer look through the red lighting I can finally see it for what it is. Two rails are connected at its base where a cylindrical feeding mechanism sits. It didn’t fully hit me previously on what it was until I remembered the design of my friend’s sniper. Now he told me all about rail guns over the time we spent together, so I might as well consider myself an expert. Considering this, everything about the gun she’s pointing towards the throng of mutants closing in while moving through the side door screams to me that her firing that with one hand isn’t gonna end well.
Through the doorway, however, my expectations are subverted, as she fires shot after shot into the approaching mass, her muscles straining under the pressure.
Picking myself up off the floor I finally careen after her where I find the sound of bullets being chambered once more as she reloads the gun.
“Captain, it’s too damn dangerous out here for you to be standin’ on this spot”
Looking around I try to cover for her while searching for the characteristics of a scope in the distance, Gregg following in close behind as he turns on his visor’s night vision.
Gunfire fills the air as people already started firing upon the approaching horde, using most of the weaponry we were given by the priests.
“Shut up and start firing on those damned creatures. Thomson! How are the rest doing?”
Looking down over the railing I find the lieutenant saluting towards our commander.
“The backline appears to be unaffected by the EMP! It must be very focused rather than affecting a large area. Almost all of our energy weaponry has been fried however, I’m afraid.”
Another shot rings out from next to me as she continues discharging the firearm, felling down multiple beasts at a time.
“We need to get those mounted guns back online or we’re screwed.” Chewing her lips she returns back inside, heading back towards the briefing room. “Glimpse, get a group of mechanics and move over to the generators to see whatever you can do. Use the emergency battery packs located in the storage area if you have to. Blue, you’re with me. I forgot something in my office which I’ll need.”
During our trip another wave hits, finally knocking out the emergency supply of energy. With a hefty heave, I pull open the now-closed blast door which finally reveals the briefing room, which is in a rather tumultuous state. Ignoring the plight of crew stumbling through the dark my quarry heads straight towards her office, Illuminated only by a flashlight.
“The hell did you need anyways?” I ask as she moves with brisk steps. “The only thing left in this office is- Oh.”
Turns out that her ceremonial saber was less ceremonial than I thought as she pulls it off the wall and attaches it to her side. Rosethorn pulls it out, performing a few test cuts against the air before sheathing the blade, appeased by its performance.
“I’m just gonna stop questionin’ these things, Captain.”
“A wise decision, Blueberry— for once.” She remarks with a smile as we step back out.
“Don’t make me regret it.” My voice growls after her.
Screams from outside denote the frontrunners finally arriving, tearing into the barricade set up outside.
Rushing towards an exit shows the outside from above, filled with flashes of gunpowder and mutants having closed in already.
“It’s too damn dark!” a nearby guard yells trying to look for targets through the pitch-black desert.
“Just keep firing!” I shout back, “As long as you aim your gun forward you’ll hit something!”
And my words ring true, for the ever-increasing amount of beasts closing in isn’t stopping any time soon without the main batteries on the Stigma back online.
“Let’s get back inside captain, it definitely ain’t safe out here.”
To prove my point, I watch as guns firing light up a man getting torn to shreds by some kind of large cat creature before it pounces on another. It’s slit-like pupils meet mine with a glowing hatred. With a menacing roar it leaps off of its previous prey and leaps up towards where we are standing.
“Watch out!” I hear Rosethorn yell out as she ducks behind the railing.
Just before it reaches us I pull an ace out of my jacket with swift hands and a thundering boom resounds throughout the area, its head blasted in half as smoke is left to rise from one of the barrels. The corpse slams into the side of the carriage as I look down and fire another shot into it just to be sure.
I eject the shells out my shotgun before fiddling with the reload for a bit, trying to get the hang of it. “Yeah, definitely not safe.”
“I can’t leave my men to die out there without supporting them Jack.” She still manages to say after that display, grabbing her saber and starting down the stairs.
Grabbing her shoulder halts her valiant charge.
“What are you doing?” My predicament admonishes as I take a once over at the crew fighting with only the first lout of harassers.
“Hey cap, why do you think these fellas are dying right now?”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t you figure that it’d be pretty dumb if the thing you’re tryin’ to protect would run straight into the fire?”
“I like to lead from the front rather than sit in the back like some pen pusher, understood?”
My grip doesn’t leave her as she tries to wrestle herself free, even after her reprimands, forcing her to turn towards me.
“Well miss, I’m afraid that as your bodyguard I’m gonna have to force a second opinion. Considering the fact that we still have a force of bandits somewhere out there with unknown capabilities makes me believe that you should sit tight inside while the muscle gets rough. That’s what we’re for anyways, we all signed our contracts.”
Roars ring out once more as rhinoks, large creatures that were once called rhino’s, now mutated into charging bulks of mass sturdier than a tank, crash through the line of cruisers, flinging cars and people left and right.
“Ah shit, I think this is the moment to get inside captain.”
Gregg suddenly arrives behind us looking through the entryway, readying his sniper as he sees the current situation.
“Ah, hello there captain, I think we managed it.” He remarks, setting his gun up against the railing and aiming at one of the rampaging beasts.
“Managed what?” I query before blinding light erupts from the Stigma, followed shortly by erupting gunfire emitting from the side following my friend’s.
A broadside of any leftover working laser guns blasts swathes of heat through the lines of animals close by, while top-mounted railguns shred through those still hundreds of meters away. Even through this chaos the cannon on top turning catches my eye as energy gathers inside of it. A massive beam of ionized atoms instantly superheats any caught matter and vaporizes a large part of our problem, leaving nothing but molten glass.
“HQ, status on the location of the enemy.”
Beside me, Rosethorn holds a hand up to a still-functioning communication device planted on the wall as she seemingly talks with the officers still present in the cockpit. I find myself unable to hear the conversation over the gunfire as I try to pick out spots that are in need of support.
A few nods later, while Gregg manages to empty a magazine of ammunition into anything he can get his sights on, she drops her arm.
“My officers are currently calculating their position through their firing arc now that the systems are back online. We need to hold on for just a few more minutes before we find it. The big fear is that if they have any more of those EMP’s then we’re royally screwed, but we didn’t have a choice considering the horde.”
With the combined firepower of the Stigma and the remainder of survivors, the mutants slowly start getting pushed back. Piles of corpses create barriers forcing most of them to move along the sides past the convoy.
“Let’s get back inside captain, we have to find out where they are before we can do anything else.” Gregg says as I take a look at the groups of people below. I point towards one part that looks to be having a lot more trouble than others as the lasers have malfunctioned nearby.
“Hey Glimpse, keep her safe for a bit, would you? I’m gonna help out those folk over there.”
Before they can even bother giving an answer I hop over the railing, landing on the sand beneath with a heavy thud. A quick thumbs-up between me and my partner has them moving back inside at my friend’s urging.
Slowly I start making my way over towards where several people are surrounding a lit up giant scorpion that managed to break through the line. It’s large claws sweep left and right as the gunfire leaves it relatively unharmed, leaving no fractures being left on the carapace. Cracking my knuckles, dopamine once more flows through my system along with other enhancing drugs, fueling growing rage as I make my way over.
A slow gait allows me to psyche myself up, strategizing how to deal with the beast currently ripping a man in half. Its relatively thin tail flings men left and right, poisoned men still groaning on the surrounding ground.
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Nothing like brute force.
Finally arriving within striking distance a claw reflexively tries to backhand me away, leaving it surprised as I take the brunt of the force, sliding back through the sand. Taking a better hold of the pincer while stabilizing myself allows me to drive a palm strike into the bottom of the joint connecting the left appendage, fracturing the carapace.
A grating screech pierces the air as the limb falls limp to the floor.
Dodging to the side, the rush of wind reveals a stinger embedded where I was just seconds ago. Black hateful eyes stare at mine as it takes a once-over of his new opponent.
“C’mon you big ugly son of a bitch.” My hand raises to goad the beast.
With an angry shriek, it speeds forwards me. A smirk on my face leaves me following a corresponding action, charging towards it. A heavy punch into the approaching still functioning pincer leaves my bones rattled as it redirects towards the sky, snapping shut just above my head. Enough time to let me run towards its right arm, intent on ripping it straight off. This is gonna hurt, sucker.
The speed at which it turns leaves me grabbing at empty air however, the arm moving away from my vision as something slams into my back leaving me flying.
Ringing ears and blurred vision greet me as glass and metal crunches underneath my weight. Trying to get my bearings reveals the inside of a cruiser where I landed.
A quick look through newly created opening now present in the side of the vehicle shows a very angry insect rampaging towards me, its stinger ominously leering above. Its left pincer seems in even worse shape than before, having had a wonderful meeting with my spine. The hell is up with these things, they’re fighting like rabid dogs.
Stepping out of the debris I tear into one of the doors on the cruiser. A bit of pulling later leaves me with a makeshift shield as its stinger shoots forward, intent on skewering me. A heavy grunt leaves me as I redirect the stinger off to the side, the sound of it crashing into the car ringing behind me. Its following pincer is quickly occupied by the doorframe as I shove it into the beasts grasp, taking the opportunity to dash past the claw. The crunching of metal is all I need to know about the grasping strength of those things while I reach for the right front leg.
Shoulder checking it staggers the scorpion, allowing me to get a good hold on the limb. Kicking my foot into its side tears the limb off in brutal fashion, blue blood spewing out from the wound. I quickly manage to adjust myself into facing it, reaching into my jacket.
With fury clouding its mind the thing’s ugly mug shows itself to me, trying to bite off my head with mandibles the size of my arm.
“Eat this.”
Rather than delicious flesh, buckshot meets hideous visage as the kickback of my sawed-off has me stumbling back. Its horrid wail cries out as it thrashes around, trying desperately to get the pain out of its mouth by scraping at it with its pincer. Another shot from my weapon does little but scratch the thing's skin, but its slowly halting motions leave me content as the surrounding soldiers continue firing until it stops breathing.
Reloading allows me to once more look over the battlefield, similar scenes playing out all over. Turned over vehicles and bodies tossed around by thrashing animals covered by bright floodlights from the Stigma. Those bandits aren’t going to let us wear out the storm this easily.
My musings are briefly interrupted by a charging ram-type creature. With its circular horns faced forwards it tries to land a headbutt square on me. Its handles, however, make the task of absorbing the blow and snapping its neck easier than expected.
It isn’t until a minute of savage butchery later that a new occurrence transforms the atmosphere. Red light illuminates the sky painting a gruesome bloom across the carnage wrought throughout the sands. The flare is immediately followed by the discordant sound of the roaring of engines.
“Shit, keep point men!” I yell out, gaining a returning “Oorah!” from the regular soldiers, accompanied by disgruntled replies, before starting to run back. Sand covers my shoes as I make my way up the clanging stairs of the carriage, shaking off some of the grains.
It isn’t until a familiar whistling noise reaches my ears that I truly realize our situation. Aww heck.
The final blow of an EMP round hitting the Stigma blackens the surroundings and ceases the torrent of gunfire. Only the dimming scarlet irradiation coming from the flare up above perceives the crunching of bone and mauling of flesh as screaming reverberates through the iron walls.
I rush my way inside past panicking men towards the cockpit to help protect the captain from the assured final assault. Incongruous fanciful furnishing dampen my footsteps as I near the front, already hearing commands being yelled, a cacophony of noise following suit outside.
Passing the last entryway shows me chaos as a glorious view unveils itself in front of me through the window. From this high up it would look like a sight to cherish if it wasn’t that the line of ramshackle cars and buggies coming in from the horizon are murderous marauders coming to take our lives.
Gregg gives me an uncertain shrug from next to Rosethorn, who appears to be ripping out her hairs over the vision trying to come up with a new plan.
“Gregg, plan B!” I roar as I pick up the captain from her seat, tossing her over my shoulder, legs waving ahead of me.
Nodding at my actions he steps in front of me giving cover as we make our way to the back.
“Unhand me you brute!” I expectedly hear screamed into my ear as she futilely struggles in my grasp.
“Sorry captain, our mission is to keep you safe, nothing else.”
My rebuttal does not seem to please her any more than picking her up did as she reaches for her gun. The crashing of glass behind us leaves a better reason for firing it, as looking behind me reveals a strange tiger with six legs which starts tearing into the staff.
It takes her a bit to stabilize as I hasten my steps, but the firing of a gun and the sound of wailing shows her aim as true while we chase after my partner.
An explosion rings out from where we came from stumbling me and my partner, barely managing to save myself from falling over. They’re not playing nice anymore it seems.
A railgun firing beside my head inflames my feet, speeding up my pace as we start running through broken doorways being covered by the sound of gunfire outside.
On our venture we pass the bar, where we find the old bartender. Unlike the other staff, he seems a bit better off as his hunting rifle firing runs through the ape creature he’s fighting, though not before an arm tears through the wall, gripping him and pulling his crushed form outside.
“What the fuck is that thing!” Gregg yells out ahead of me, shooting through the hole created while continuing to run.
“Who cares, let’s get the fuck out of here!”
“Jack hand me some fucking cartridges!” Screams a voice beside me.
“What?” I exclaim while dodging past roaring animals filling the halls, choke slamming a leaping tiger into mush as my steps ring onto metal frames rather than cushiony furs. Almost there.
“On my waist! I can’t reach it from here!”
Finding the offending speed loader after some blind grabbing shows eight rounds of rather sharp-tipped looking ammo, which is quickly handed to the redhead.
Right on time, I remark in my head as the roof above me caves in, the earlier seen arm of a rather large looking gorilla coming through.
I toss my cargo forwards into the arms of Gregg as he turns around, tumbling to the ground. The bone-crushing grip on my shoulder tells me enough to know that this is gonna suck. My head wakes back up after hitting the floor once more, blinking away the spots out of my eyes. Turning onto my back shows a very me shaped dent in the ceiling where an eye now stares down at me. A railgun discharging precedes the roar of a large son of a monkey as its eye bursts into red.
“Geez, you look like shit. Although that’s even before that sucker beat you up.” My friend mentions as he helps me up, lending me a hand.
“Yeah well, rough mornings. You know what it’s like.” I groggily tell him with a smirk, followed by a coughing fit as my lungs try to stabilize from the impact.
“where the hell are we going anyways?” A shrill voice remarks as we resume our pace.
“We’re going towards a storage room we found, we figured it was the safest place in here if it came to an emergency.” Gregg helpfully tells her while I figure out which way is up and which is down.
“Phew. Okay, I think I’m good to go.”
“After this is over I’m going to have a hell of a time berating the two of you.” She manages to tell us as we continue moving deeper in.
A while of uneventful running later leaves our mark ahead on our right, a storage room filled with power tools and other equipment. Once we’re in there, the reinforced walls should keep us safe while the single entrance can hold off anyone else.
“In here!” I yell before stumbling with the others against the wall, the floor shifting sideways as something rams into the Stigma. Slightly ahead of me I can see the captain standing up behind my friend, right in front of the impact spot.
Screeching metal to my left shows the night and enhances the sound of guns as a breach is created, showing an old friend who is now missing an eye, staring right at the captain.
With a mighty heave, a whole chunk of the Stigma is ripped away, leaving torn metal and ripped piping in its wake, leaving apt room for the ape to try and take a large bite out of our quarry.
Time slows down, Gregg firing his gun into the beast’s side with little effect as it slowly approaches our stunned leader. Teeth the size of swords slowly encroach, surrounding a black gaping maw spelling the end.
Enraged, she unsheathes her sword from its scabbard and stabs it straight into the bottom of the creature’s neck, closing her eyes in feign hope.
Seconds tick by as she finally dares open her eyes to blood trickling on her cheeks, a chuckle escaping me as I take a look at her face almost spelling “Did it work?”.
“Yeah, it worked. Sort of.” I tell her, my right forearm stuck in its toothy jaws, blocking its way to a tastier treat.
“J-Jack.” She stammers, her saber slowly reclining out of its throat.
My left hand finds my shotgun still in my jacket, pulling it out and aiming it at the still functioning eye.
Yeah, this is really gonna suck.
Blood splashes my face as the large boom of my sawed-off firing echoes through the air, ringing my ears. Pain streaks through my right arm as the gorilla's last motor functions cause the ugly mug’s mouth to shut tight, ripping through flesh and bone as it pulls back.
Withdrawing myself I trip against the wall with a thud and slowly sit down, taking a heavy breather.
“Holy shit, Jack!” I hear beside me as Gregg runs over.
I try to hold him off with my right hand, but find nothing but a bloody stump where my forearm used to be. Well, shit.
“Hold still.”
He quickly pulls out a kit from his waist, filled with bandages, syringes and other first-aid necessities. A strap finds itself around my arm, tightening against flesh to help stop the bleeding. I bite my teeth as alcohol is haphazardly thrown onto the wound. Sterile dressing quickly covers it, makeshift, but enough for now. The blood is already coagulating anyways, expedited hemostasis was one of the features of my upgrades.
“That’s enough Gregg, we need to get in that damn room.”
Holding still for a second to gauge the situation, he gives me a nod before tossing my unwounded arm over his shoulder, lifting me up.
Passing the blast door reveals equipment haphazardly strewn around, covered by tossed wire shelves. Thick metal walls and floors protect a rather small room meant for only essentials and valuables.
“Gregg, we’ll hole up here. See if you can find any other survivors.” My hand waves him away while I try to pick up one of the shelves with my one arm, misjudging the balance for a second with my phantom arm.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be fine?”
“I’ll help him if anything worse happens, I’m indebted to him now anyways.” Rosethorn mentions from the side, helping me as I almost fall over.
“Alright that’s enough princess, I got this, it’s my job after all.”
“Like hell you have this. Although you look better than I expected, you just lost an arm. How are you going to do anything like that?”
“I’ll uh, figure it out.” I try to encourage myself, practicing mock shadow boxing. Invisible punches pelt me from angles now open only proving her point. A final left hook in my jaw brings me back to reality as I breathe a deep sigh, letting myself fall against the wall.
“Fine, but while I adjust we’ll at least fortify this position. Meanwhile, as I said earlier, go check on any survivors Gregg. We need any help we can get at this point.”
“Hey and Gregg,” He stops at the doorway, peeking back inside. “good luck pal.”
I bump my chest with my fist, seeing him follow suit before fleeting away into the darkness of night.
Looking back at our captain shows her futilely trying to pick up one of the metal shelves.
“Heh, looks like you’re the one that needs some help.”
“Shut up! I have this.” She remarks, taking a deadlift stance. Muscles strain as she pulls it off the floor. The clanging of tools meeting metal sounds out as she slowly but surely lifts it onto its side.
“Really impressive,” I tell her, trying to give applause but finding myself missing an appendage to do so. “but next time consider throwing the tools off of the shelf before trying to lift it.” I chuckle out as her face paints red.
“Here, let me help.”
Picking myself up off of the floor I head over to one of the other shelves, picking it up off the floor with a heave of my left arm and setting it upright, using my feet to balance it.
Over time we manage to set up a reasonable barricade in front of the door. With a single push, the entrance would become blocked by a heavy chest filled with power-tools, ensuring nothing can get in or out. The waiting is on Gregg to return, however, so we sit in the dark waiting for the bestial storm to weather so we can try and get out before the bandits fully surround us.
“So why are we sitting here holed up in this room exactly?” Rosethorn asks the magic question while I try to remember not to lean on my right arm against the wall.
“You see the tools in this room? A lot of it is as expensive as can be, all sorts of power-tools nowadays are with electricity being such a luxury. There’s only a few places still making these, which means that this room is the safest place to be.”
I bang my fist on the wall, the metal responding with a clear ringing sound.
“With walls like these, it’s closer to a safe than a storage room.”
“Uh-huh, and what about the, you know, bandits coming in any second now to blow up our heads?”
“We uh,” Scratching my head I try to remember the plan that Gregg told me all about. “I think we just kind of, leave before that happens?”
“You’re not bringing in a very good case blueberry.”
“Ugh, look, we’ll be fine. Gregg has a plan all cooked up and he’ll be back any second now.”
A head peeking in shows me right as a familiar now blood-stained visor stares back at me, together with an annoying lieutenant.
“See, he’s right there, hey Gregg about that plan-“
“Yeah, Jack? Forget about it. We’re staying here.”
My confusion must be all too clear on my face because the thirty plus steps of preparation that just got tossed out of the window isn’t the best decision I’ve ever heard from my partner.
“Well, I just found out what got these animals to go haywire in the first place. We couldn’t see it because of the dark of night, but there’s a sandstorm approaching.”
“A what!?” Rosethorn yells out from the other side of the room. Just can’t get a break, can we
“Glimpse is correct,” Thomson follows up. “Currently we are destined to collide with the sandstorm within fifteen minutes unless we move.”
Wiping my hand off of my face, I try to ascertain our best next move. It isn’t until a shockwave swipes me off my feet and an explosion rings out in the hallway where they are standing that my mind returns.
I watch as their forms are blown past the doorway to the right, leaving only smoke and rubble in their wake.
“Gregg!” I yell out, trying to push my way past the fallen shelves and boxes blocking my way.
“Stop it Jack! We need to close the door before those marauders get here!” She hangs onto me like dead weight, pulling on my shirt.
“Like hell I’m leaving him out there! Don’t you wanna save Tommy!?” I push my way past and nearly pass the threshold, looking through to see the situation.
“Close the damn door Jack! The job before anything else!” I hear from my friend down the hallway, allowing me to take a look at him. The blast did him in rough, showing him at the end of the passage, blood slowly pooling underneath him. His favorite sniper lies across from him, its scope cracked from the impact. A broken pipe looks to be pierced through his side, sticking out from the front.
What’s next to him appears to be whatever is left of poor Thomson.
Unlike what I was supposed to feel, my mind stays surprisingly calm at his broken form lying on the ground.
These fucking chemicals, not now.
Not following my survival instincts, I almost step outside before a cut on my cheek stops in my tracks.
The smoke clears behind me, the firing of a gun only just now registering. Looking past the smoking barrel of a lackey shows a group of marauders with cocky grins and readied guns in a blasted open doorframe. A man steps forward past the others, although he could be clearly seen looking over their heads already. A name springs up in my mind at the reminder of wanted posters. This man would be commonly known as Marco Terras, the desert scourge, holding an empty rocket tube.
His muscled body towers over his trash heap of a group, with various leathers and furs covering him, together with makeshift bling scrounged together from scrap iron. Various amounts of scars litter his arms and face as he tosses away the spent stovepipe.
My mind pulls at strings trying to figure out what to do, how to pulp the man called Marco or how to save my friend first, and then pulp Marco. Taking another look at my lifelong friend bleeding out he gives me a wicked grin, taking out his sidearm and mouthing out an unheard word. “Go.”
Getting pulled into the room makes my decision for me as Rosethorn slams an emergency lever, sealing the door shut, quickly followed by tossing any available blockade in front of it.
“Gregg!” I yell out trying to stop her from continuing her task.
“Jack stop you damned idiot! He’s gone!”
“Gone my ass! He’s still alive out there, can’t you hear the gunfire still going on!?”
Assuredly, just as I marked, gunfire rings out, energizing my actions. Getting through the tossed over crates and boxes is tough work but anything is worth it to get my bud out of there.
But this relief lasts only for a few short seconds before silence is conveyed through the walls.
Slowly but surely, my frenzied clamoring stops, leaving me standing with Rosethorn still holding me back. It doesn’t take long before she finally backs off into the room. Not even the comfortable feeling of fury is there to comfort me, adrenaline having long faded, leaving only the silence of footsteps beyond the door to remind me.
“You figure you can get this door open?” I hear a baritone voice ask.
“Sure, but it’ll take about twenty minutes.” A higher-pitched voice responds.
“Tch, we won’t make it before the storm hits. Consider yourself lucky in there for now friends! We’ll make sure to find you after this is done, as is our courtesy! If you survive the storm that is!”
Laughter follows Marco’s exclamation, fading away as they proceed back with thudding steps on the metal flooring.