It is never a great feeling to have little to no control over your body. Momentum, movement, resistance; all these things are taken for granted due to their constant relevance to our natural graces on the ground. You can second guess yourself, you can adjust yourself, and you can even go backwards with relative ease when your body is in its natural place on the ground. Those options are revoked, and inaccessible when hurtling through the air, three stories above the nearest safe space, with nothing but your momentum and gravity moving you in an direction.

Thoughts like “I wonder what it is going to be like to pick a fight with the ground below!” or “There is no way I am actually going to make this!” are great at distracting from your focus, causing your instincts to run wild. Instincts are intended to keep you upright and stable with your feet on the ground. When you have no ground to stand on, and no other control over your forward momentum, panic will generally make a mess out of what would have otherwise ended with a nice, graceful landing.

Contrary to popular imagery, wind milling your arms through the air will not convince your body to move just a little bit further. Flailing your legs will not create a place for your feet to stand on while traveling through the air. Shifting your body without purpose will almost always unalign your position for landing. These things happen, they take focus and practice to control.

My initial launch was great, or so I thought. I have done my fair share of parkour. I would consider myself athletic. Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have attempted the jump, but I would have thought I could probably make it. It wasn’t till a few half seconds in the air that my brain screamed at me that I had made a mistake. I should have ignored it. Sometimes it is just better to listen to rational thinking instead of the instinctual tendency to avert risk.

I panicked and lost control of my arms as I fell, instinctively preparing to meet the wall, convinced that I was going to short my landing. As I released my rifle, it fell at much the same rate as myself. Instead of landing with a proper tumble, I landed as if I was going to attempt to catch the wall and crumpled like a tumbleweed into a sheet metal air vent on the roof.

Positive points for making the jump, negative points for the sloppy landing.

My rifle clattered along the roof and clanged hard against the metal siding of a vent further in. I was stunned, and not entirely certain about the damage. I assumed and hoped that it was simple bruising. As I picked myself up with a moan, Baxter rocketed himself from the same balcony. He used far more strength and power in his jump and flew like an Olympic long jumper, in total control of himself. He even held tight to the shotgun as he tucked into rolled with his landing.

Three men moved into positions on the balcony following Baxter and they opened fire on us as one very obvious cyber man took to the sky in a jump similar to Baxter’s. I scrambled into a roll taking cover behind one of the metal vents to avoid the gun fire peppering the ground and twanging against the metal around us, while Baxter rolled to his side taking cover behind another vent shouting, “Augs!”

The Rig hit the ground in a run, but Baxter quickly popped out of cover and pounded a round of flechette into him. The hit threw the Rig backwards off the roof amidst a splash of sparks, blood, and a pain filled scream. As Baxter retreated behind his cover under a shower of bullets, I took advantage of my opening to dash with a limp to my rifle. I scooped it up and dropped to a roll behind another air duct that was billowing steam from a running fan.

Taking aim, I gave Baxter some cover fire and managed to tag one of the gun men in the shoulder. The other two hid, and Baxter made his way behind the roof access shed leading down into the building. Using the cover of the steam, I rushed after him. It didn’t hurt so much as it just felt uncomfortable to use my left leg. Baxter noticed almost immediately, and I assured him I was fine.

“That way. We stay on the roofs as long as we can and hope we don’t run into them.” He pointed in the direction of the lift.

I nodded, and we ran. Baxter kept pace with me. We moved from vent to vent, and roof access to roof access, to make us a little harder to hit. We did have to make three very uncomfortable jumps. The second jump had us avoiding gun fire from below as we moved. It confirmed that they seemed to know precisely where we were moving, and our assailants were most assuredly trying to head us off.

I had to fire behind us several times at a few gunmen that made their way to the roofs and had to reload twice. To reach the third story of roof three, we needed to take a ladder. Baxter kept the guys behind us busy while I climbed it first, and I returned the favor as he jumped and pulled himself up the wall. It was close, I didn’t think he was going to be able to do it, but he did.

As we approached the roof access for roof three, the door flew open as it was kicked outward. Baxter didn’t hesitate, he planted his shoulder hard into the door and slammed it shut with a whomping thud against whoever was hurriedly exiting. As quickly as he hit the door, Baxter moved to the side taking aim with the shotgun. Flechette shredded the door from within as several shots were fired. Baxter pumped two rounds into whoever was on the other side. With a snarl, he entered the doorway and pounded another round into the guy who had been hit with the door sending what was left of him into the air and down the stairs.

Baxter’s tech-10 hissed as he vented the magazine, ejecting it with a metallic twang. He had an ear-to-ear smile on his face.

“This gun is pretty cool Don.”

“Glad you enjoy it. We do have to get rid of these before we get to the lift so don’t get used to it.” I gave him an uneasy smirk.

I took aim back the way we had come and fired a few more rounds forcing one of the gun men off the ladder. As I reloaded the rifle, a guy launched himself into the air using his cyber arms a few feet from the ladder. He hit the ground in a roll as I backed away toward roof four. He moved quickly in between cover as he dashed toward me, and as I raised my freshly loaded rifle to take a shot, he almost got to me before Baxter planted a solid deafening blast from the Tech-10 into the rig’s side.

The rig’s left arm ripped off its torso, along with a good portion of his chest as he flew backwards denting one of the metal vents with a deep body print. He screamed in agony, despite half of his torso was missing.

“I love this gun!” Baxter laughed.

I held my rifle in my armpit, and hurried toward roof four, attempting to sync the PDA with my GOD Network identification via my mediband. Fortunately, the roof was only a meter or so higher than the one we were currently running on, and we made the transition without any problems. A chime in my earpiece told me that the PDA finally synced, and I promptly discovered that the PDA adopted my old default settings I had changed several months ago.

“Damn it!” I shouted under my breath as attempted to call Tiara, kicking myself for utilizing one of the ancient rotary phone applications for my dialer settings.

I had originally picked that option for Ginger. “Let me dial my manservant”, said in a snooty, thick accent, or something along those lines. The whole thing was a joke, much like my temporary voicemail messages. It got giggles from Ginger, eye rolls from Tiara, and I was generally treated with apathetic opinions from other folks. I was kicking myself (figuratively speaking) as I tried to dial Tiara’s number on the damn pad.

“You still have that stupid dialer application active?!” Baxter shouted.

“Shut it Baxter!” I snapped, as I did my best to focus on the PDA while running. I messed up, growled to myself, and tried again. “Default settings!” Messed up again, “I had already changed this crap on my PDA!”

“Did I not say something like this would happen when you activated that?”

“Not the time Baxter!” I shouted through panting breath.

It took a little effort, but the dialer finally got the correct numbers in order. I hit send and reseated the PDA back in the sheath at my hip, waiting for the system to connect.

“Where the hell is the Order when you need them?! How in the world has no one reported these gunshots to anyone yet!?” I shouted to Baxter.

In response, several shots peppered the walls we passed from new assailants that approached from our right. Baxter fired a thooming shot off in their direction, as I fired without aiming in their direction as well. None of the shots hit anyone, and they were not meant to. All we needed was a little more time to get out of sight and to the next roof.

The “bedoop” of a connecting sound finally rang in my ear, and I there was no end to relief when I heard Tiara’s disgruntled and tired moan.

“What do you want Don…?”

“I’ve got a big problem and I need help STAT.” I spoke louder than I wanted, and sounded out of breath,

“Don, you knew I was tired today, and I am trying to go to sleep. You are lucky I am not yelling at you… Are you running?”

We approached the edge of the roof, a waist high wall of mortar and metal. Several segments of the wall had fallen apart, been knocked over, or had debris resting against them. I wanted to make the jump, but I saw two men ready and aiming rifles at us as we approached.

“Crap!” I shouted, and threw myself to the ground, sliding on grit and debris till I came to a halt with my back against an intact segment of the wall with an “Umph!”

Gunshots peppered the wall as I arrived.

“Don!?” Tiara exclaimed.

“Baxter! Two left!” I shouted as I kept an eye on any potential shooters from behind us.

“On it!”

“Don!” Tiara shouted in my ear.

“Moment Tiara!” as I fired my rifle in the two guys’ direction.

Baxter made a rushing leap from the side, and landed on the roof with ease, pumping two thunderous rounds from his Tech-10, one decimating a shooter and missing the other who fell to the ground avoiding the shot. Baxter had it under control, and before the guy could pick himself up, Baxter was on top of him, pounding him unconscious.

I had moment of uncertainty as I saw our pursuers coming from behind and opened fire on them before rushing to make a jump from the wall, I had taken cover on. I slipped and let go of my gun again. My chest hit the shoulder of the wall and my elbows, chin and wrists slammed into the ground of the roof I had attempted to jump onto. I didn’t have a firm grip on anything and struggled to prevent myself from falling. Fortunately, the gun hit the ground on the roof, and Baxter was close enough to help.

He fired his Tech-10 two times over me.

“Gotcha!” He assured me, before taking a firm grip of my duster and armor on my back and hauling me up. He vented the clip again with another hiss, before ejecting it and reloading.

“Tiara we need help, and we need it fast!” I spoke loudly,

There was a crashing noise from what I assumed to be the lamp next to her bed, followed by falling books from a shelf and a thump to the floor, before Tiara said, “Shit!”

“We are in it big time! I need an ETA Tiara!”

“Don where are you?!” Tiara sounded less in control than she normally was.

“Unders, roughly half a kilo from a lift station, in the slums of district fourteen!”

We approached another roof access and I noticed someone waiting behind the shed.

“Baxter Shed!” I pointed.

“Left!” He called back.

He darted right as the guy popped out from his hiding place. I took cover behind a metal vent as gun fire twanged off it. Where I initially thought he was prompting me to move left, I noticed a gunman maneuvering into position to take a shot at Baxter. I lined up a shot, but after two pulls of the trigger, I noticed that he was augmented and going to need a few more shots to put down.

I obliged.

Confident that the rig was not going to be a further threat, I moved along the length of the vent and said, “I am going to send my coordinates. We need a pickup or a damn intervention here now!”

As I fervently punched in my coordinate codes to send, Tiara complained, “I am going as fast as I can Don! You kinda caught me at a bad time!”

I rolled my eyes as I hit send.

“I am so sorry to inconvenience you.”

Gunfire from my right got my attention, and it was followed by a familiar thoom from Baxter’s Tech-10.

“I’m, keeping this gun, Don!” He shouted.

“That would be illegal Baxter!”

“What’s illegal?” Tiara questioned.

“Focus Tiara! Coordinates! Did you receive them?!”

“Yes, yes, I got them.” She confirmed hurriedly.

Both Baxter and I linked up again moving as fast as I could to the end of the roof.

“Where the hell is the Order? I can see the damn lift from up here!” I demanded.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“My hands are tied Don! I am off duty right now, and there isn’t a single dispatched patrol in your general area.” Tiara replied, frustration pervading her tone.

We arrived at the edge of the roof. There was no way I was going to be able to make the jump. To our left, street side, was a rather prominent sign indicating a convenience store. It buzzed with life, and that worried me. We were near potential bystanders in the area, and they were the last people I wanted to have accidents happen to from this group’s weapons fire, or our own.

I cursed under my breath.

“Don, what is going on? Who is shooting at you?!” Tiara asked.

“How is that possible Tiara?!” I complained, “There isn’t a single patrol anywhere?!”

“No one. They are either stationed or dispatched to other locations around the area. It’s a large open space with no direct influence leading up to the lift station.”

“You need to fire your on-staff coordinator!”

“Give me a minute Don.” Tiara took a breath.

I looked back and saw our pursuers making their way toward us.

“Trade!” I shouted to Baxter.

We exchanged weapons, and he proceeded to showcase his marksmanship with controlled rounds taking out one of the guys and causing the rest to scatter.

“We don’t have a minute Tiara…” I complained.

I looked back over the side; no one was below on the stairs. The stairway below lead up to our right and snaked its way around toward a higher elevated road still heading to the lift. To my left a few feet away was a fire escape, which would leave us a bit open, but would give us access to a safer route down to the stairs.

“Baxter! Fire escape!”

Instead of using the ladder, I slipped over the side, hung down, and dropped to the metal scaffold. Baxter simply hopped over, greaves clanging loudly against the metal. We hurried around and down the stairs in time to see two more men appear from around the corner street side in the alley roughly twenty feet away.

“Cripes, how many of them are there?!” I complained.

Baxter took hold of me from behind and threw himself to the side. We crashed through a boarded-up window into a bedroom as bullets panged off the metal scaffold. No sooner did we hit the ground; the entire floor buckled under us and collapsed under our weight. We fell through, we screamed and then crashed through another floor below landing in the convenience store below.

A black-haired woman screamed, a short portly man with cybernetic augments to the left side of his face shouted profanities and sentences I couldn’t immediately translate at the time. One person was caught under the debris from the ceiling behind us and was not moving, while another had fallen up against the wall to my right, wide eyed, jaw slacked, and staring.

“I am so tired of falling today Don…” Baxter coughed.

I picked myself up sluggishly, Tiara screaming in my ear, “Don! Are you alright?!”

I coughed through all the dust in the air and answered them both, “Yeah…”

I pointed the shotgun to the rig yelling at me and demanded, “Get down now!”

Bullets punched into the room from the window on the street side. The screaming woman stopped screaming and fell to the floor, blood pooling under her. Thank fate for the ceramics in my armor because I took another bullet, and it knocked me to the ground too. The store clerk fell behind his counter, and both Baxter and I scrambled for cover behind the displays. From our position we were not going to be able to get a clean shot outside the window, and clearly the most stable protection we would have was the walls along the sides of the windows.

“Don, there isn’t a patrol I can contact! I don’t have access to tactical from my desk!” Tiara sounded scared and frustrated.

“Busy Tiara! Baxter! Trade!” I shouted.

I threw the shotgun to him, and he threw the rifle to me, shouting “Reload Don!”

I did, and as he pumped two rounds from the shotgun out the window, I made my way low to the ground to the side. With our backs to the wall, we would have protection from folks at the window, and still be able to keep sight on the hole in the ceiling. I gave cover fire for Baxter so he could make his way to the opposing side, but had to pull back to hiding amidst a new hail of bullets. There must have been at least five guns shooting at us from outside, but I couldn’t make an actual count. We were completely outnumbered, and I had one more clip of ammo left in my belt.

An epiphany set in, and I spoke with calm clarity over the shots pounding the wall at my back, “Dispatch an apprehension team!”

She protested, “What?”

“Both Baxter and I have illegal firearms!” I shouted. I looked to Baxter, “We have killed what?!”

“Fifteen… No, seventeen!” Baxter pondered out loud.

I returned to my conversation with Tiara, “Killed twenty people!”

Baxter took a quick moment to unleash a thooming shot out the window.

“Do it Tiara! We need to be arrested!”

She didn’t respond, I opened fire at a guy I felt was trying for the door to Baxter’s left. He backed off.

“Are you serious?!” Baxter snapped.

He fired another shot from his Tech-10

“We get an armed escort out of here, of course I’m serious!”

“They are on their way Don.” Tiara sounded in my ear. “They don’t know who they are arresting exactly, but they know a fight has broken out in the area. They will be coming in hot, when they get there, you need to disarm immediately.”

A man dropped into the store from the hole, and I unloaded a few bursts into him in case he was augmented. He wasn’t. After that, the gunfire stopped. It didn’t make sense, unless they had the same ammo problem we did.

Not likely.

“ETA Tiara?” I sounded a little worried.

“One moment.”

“She says one moment!” I laughed to Baxter.

He rolled his eyes and fired a shot that connected with an unfortunate bastard making an attempt for the window.

We both heard several loud thunks of heavy metal objects digging through concrete.

The coarse voice of a woman shouted from outside, “Detective! Come out and we will make this quick!”

I was curious and took a peak. Our would-be assassins were relatively connected regarding their equipment. While I wasn’t exactly certain how they would have come across six Order Shield walls, they had them deployed, and I had guessed they were finally tired of losing men in their efforts. Were we winning?

I smiled.

The woman in question was using one of the shields as cover, along with at least eight others that I could immediately verify. I returned to hiding, and mouthed “Nine”

Baxter shook his head and held up his fist, opened it to five fingers, then close it and repeated. Ten…

Crap…

“If making it quick means you surrender, then by all means we will come out.” I responded.

She sounded tired of the drama, “There are three men on the roof, four at the back of the building, and you have me and my gang here in front. You are surrounded, give up.”

“You sure those numbers are correct?” I chided.

“Detective…” Her patience was corroding, you could hear it,

“Look lady! I have re-enforcements on their way, right now.” I announced.

Without missing a beat, she responded, “No… You don’t.”

Baxter must have been thinking the same thing I was, he began looking all over trying to listen for signs of something amiss. She could be sending people like Tuekoe in here for all we knew, we had already dealt with three rigs.

I continued talking, “Yeah, I do, and I guarantee they are not going to be happy to see you stole their shields. They’ll want those back. I am also connected.”

“I don’t think you realize just how connected our group is Detective. There is no helping coming. We have made sure this area is open.” She scolded.

It made a lot of sense at that point.

“T, ETA?” I spoke quietly.

“Six minutes Don. Don’t be out in the open when they arrive. I talked this one up. They should be there soon.”

I gave a look to Baxter. He shrugged.

I took a deep breath and shouted, “Look you’re going to have to come in here and get us. There is no way in hell we are coming out there. Nice try though.”

Silence was my response. The seconds ticked down, and they felt like they passed forever. No gunfire, no more attempts to enter the room from the hole in the ceiling, or from the backdoor that Baxter could see. I was about to make a snarky comment; you know, to coerce irrational behavior out of our assailants. Before I could say or do anything, an orb flew through the window, hit the display across from me and rolled up to my feet.

Baxter’s eyes were probably about as wide as mine. It was a concussion grenade. While not the biggest one I had seen before, explosive-wise, it was big enough to wreck the front of the store. The vibrations from the explosion would rip both Baxter and me apart with me being the focal point of the explosion. A big boom that would minimize damage to the structure but maximize damage to the contents. The things strictly vibrate the very air around them with an incredibly potent explosion of force.

A lot of things ran through my head at that moment. One of which, involved wondering “How long did they cook this thing?” Everything seemed to slow into the moment. My eyes focused on the grenade like my world revolved around it. There was no honorable thing with these things. I couldn’t save Baxter by diving on it. I couldn’t stop what was going to happen. The likelihood of the damn thing failing to work was virtually zero. All things considered; fate had finally turned their smile upside down.

I stopped thinking and exercised my only real option. I was dead anyway. I scooped the grenade up off the floor and pitched it back out the window. Gunfire erupted as I took a dive to the ground. Baxter dove toward the doorway that had oddly enough not been breached yet. I screamed.

The grenade detonated maybe six meters outside the window. Sound became a bizarre and disconnected thing as a visual distortion of pressure erupted from the device. Relatively speaking, the expanse of that pressure started slowly and then just shot out in an intense force. It pummeled me hard, and I felt like I was being repeatedly punched all over my body as it threw me in the air toward the back of the store. The wall of the building was pressed inward like an invisible wrecking ball punched through it sending debris in my direction as well.

My back hit a display shelf that lifted off the ground with me and I hit my head. It may have been two to four minutes that I had blacked out before my vision came to focus and the world spun around me. I was disoriented and my left eye stung from some liquid I couldn’t readily identify running down my face. There was a ringing in my ears that was constant and pitched with accompanying warbling sounds. I was dazed and incapable of moving as I lay there.

What sounded like my name being shouted through the warbling sound came a little clearer, but got drowned out by a few dull vooms. My ears felt like they were leaking. I blinked a few times, completely not sure if it was even safe to try and move. I no longer knew where I was. Sensations returned slowly.

I am not sure when I became aware of what was going on around me. I regained my senses, as Baxter set me down, my back against the attendant side of the store owner’s counter. Baxter seemed on the verge of panic as he shouted my name repeatedly. He pulled my last magazine from my ammo belt and loaded the rifle. Baxter shouted my name some more as he resumed a defensive position against the counter pumping rounds toward what was left of the window.

The rig store owner was still alive and fumbling for something under the counter. The wet feeling on my face was bothering me as was the burn in my eye. I rubbed my eye with the palm of my hand. My glove was coated in blood. Baxter noticed movement and took cover behind the counter as gunfire erupted and bullets peppered the counter and wall. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Don?!”

“Baxter…” I croaked.

He pulled my face toward his and made a “V” with his fingers. Concern, panic, and fear riddled his face as he made quick twists of his wrists to point to his eyes, then mine, then his.

I batted his hand away and grumbled loudly, “Fine Baxter…”

The store owner shouted pointing to the hole in the ceiling. Baxter dropped the rifle at my side and collected his shotgun. He rose from the counter quickly and pounded a shot from the Tech-10 into someone, before dropping back down.

I wanted to go to sleep. I felt like someone had picked me up and violently shook me for several minutes. I leaned over to pick up the rifle, but Baxter firmly planted his hand on my chest and forced me back against the counter.

I spoke loudly through a cough, “I’m fine Baxter!”

The fear in his voice caused it to crack, “Your bleeding!”

His ears perked and with a snarl he wiped the tech-10 up firing it at someone that got too close. I forced myself to grab the rifle, as the door behind the counter blew inward. I managed to get the rifle in line with the doorway as a man with a tech-10 snapped around ready to fire on Baxter. I pulled the trigger. While I didn’t kill the guy, I did buy Baxter enough time to turn and blast him.

I needed an ETA.

“Tiara?”

No response.

“Tiara! ETA please!”

“Don! Rifle! Reload the shotgun!” Baxter insisted.

He snatched the rifle from me and dropped the Tech-10 in my lap. I took hold of the grip and pulled the receiver release, bending it with a snap to vent the magazine. While it cooled, I checked the PDA. It was completely destroyed.

Bummer, no ETA.

“Magazine Baxter?” I demanded.

He dropped his belt on me and I quickly ejected the old and reloaded the new. Baxter returned fire on our attackers as a woman entered from the back door. She was visibly a Rig. The keyword there being “was”. I already had the gun in a position aimed toward the door, but I did not have a good grip on it. The Tech-10 fired and bucked out of my grip. The blast hit the woman at her hip, ripping through her leg like it was cheap fiber plastic, and sending her in a violent spin before she fell to the floor.

Baxter moved quickly on all fours to maintain cover of the counter. He was on top of the girl before she could get her gun ready. The way she seemed to ignore what had happened to her told me she was far more heavily augmented than her initial appearance would have shown. Baxter tossed the rifle back toward me and took hold of her weapon before grabbing the right side of her head. She didn’t have time to stop him, and he slammed her head against the ground repeatedly until sparks erupted from her circuitry and her limbs began to spaz erratically.

The woman screamed after her rig popped, and part of her voice cracked and popped with a digital sounding static. Her legs fell limp as Baxter destroyed the rig in her head. Gunfire erupted from outside along with several panicked shouts.

A loudspeaker roared from outside with a demanding male voice, “Everyone drop your weapons, and lay on the ground with their hands on your heads. You are all under arrest, and no mercy will be given to those that resist!”

Baxter had a wash of relief and excitement as he pulled the rig behind the counter with us. The store attendant looked terrified and undid whatever he was doing under the counter.

“What are you doing?” I asked the attendant, as I checked the rifle for rounds (it had nine left)

“The hell I am going to let the Order take me. I will take my chances out there!” he shouted, half restraining his volume.

He pulled several plastic satchels and a few plastic cards out of his hiding space and almost knocked Baxter over as he bolted for the back door. I wasn’t about to stop him. Personally, I could have cared less and figured it was best not to know what he was doing. It could have been something to do with his cybernetics, or something else.

Baxter sat next to me and checked the new rifle, “Don, you sure you are ok? That wound on your head looks pretty bad.”

“Tired Baxter… I am just tired.” I replied.

“We need to get that cleaned and taken care of.” He added.

I held my rifle, and forced myself into a position where I could stand and fire if needed, “We are heading to a hospital after this. I will get it taken care of when we get there.”

“We can use a trauma kit from the Order.” Baxter insisted.

I wiped my eye with my sleeve. The blood was fresh and still running, both the wound and my eye still burning. I gave Baxter a defeated look, “You’re probably right.”

He leaned over toward me, cocked an eyebrow, and gave me an insisting look, “I am right.”

Baxter’s ears lay against the back of his head as he peaked over the counter. The gunfire quickly abated with only a few shots sounding from down the street away from the store.

“They took care of them pretty quick.” Baxter sounded impressed.

“We softened them up.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the counter.

“Wake up Don! I can’t have you going to sleep until we get you looked at.” He slapped me on the shoulder with a quick jolt.

An altered voice shouted into the store from the window.

“Drop your weapons! Hands up and where I can see them! Move slowly and exit the building! Now!”

Deep breath.

It had been a while since I was arrested, and I did not remember the experience being pleasant. It wasn’t for any charges or anything, I just happened to be in the wrong area at the wrong time. I stood up, along with Baxter. Through the dust in the air, I recognized the armor the four officers were wearing almost immediately.

I sighed.

The officer in the front kept his suppression rifle trained on both Baxter and me as he made a gesture with two fingers pointing to the other side of the store with the hole in the ceiling. Two of his companions readied themselves and moved into the store, ready to take care of anyone that may surprise them. The front officer touched the side of his head and his visor raised into his helmet revealing the smiling face of Basden. Of all the people she had to dispatch, Tiara gave me Basden.

“I was about to say I owe Tiara a good dinner… I take it back.” I spoke quietly to Baxter.

Baxter’s expression drooped into a dead pan stare at Basden.

“Kenter! Fancy finding you here.” Basden spoke loud enough to be heard from across the street.

I returned a fake smile, as I pointed my finger in a joking fashion to him, “Basden! Man do I owe you a box of dough…”

Basden didn’t let me finish. His rifle vented an electric discharge as a cloud of bright, arching, electrically charged particles erupted from its barrel. The spherical cloud left a trail of thin blue electric bolts of light that ran from the gun barrel and followed the sphere until it exploded against my chest. The whole thing happened in less than a second, I had no time to react or move.

My entire body tensed, and my muscles cramped. Everything the particles touched, from my chin down to my arms, to my crotch, felt like bee stings through my armor. Electricity arched all over me with subtle burning sensations as small static shocks that repeatedly and rapidly popped. My words erupted in a shrill “hurk”, which devolved into a gurgle as I fell straight backwards to the ground like someone pushed over a manikin.

I heard Baxter roar and heard a similar electric discharge that resulted in a loud crash to the ground with a persistent yelp and snarl. I assumed Baxter was hit mid lunge over the counter. My body twitched persistently, uncontrollably, and all I could do was take shallow erratic breaths.

I had finally had enough.

The last thought I can remember was, “I hate Basden so much…” before I passed out.