Axel closed his eyes and waited. Nothing happened. Then a gun shot rang out in the corridor. The monster scuttled away. Axel peeked outside. The room was empty again. Striker's scream stabbed Axel like a dagger in the heart.
When he was sure they were gone, he kicked open the supply closet door, scooped up a T-60, laser-based pistol and stopped at the exit. If he went after Striker, he might be able to save him. But given the choice, Striker would order him to save himself. That’s what he was going to do.
Turning on his heels, Axel ran at the doorway and took one last look in the direction of the corridor. He closed his eyes and threw himself over the balcony. He dangled himself down and let go. His feet collapsed to the floor. He cursed as his legs buckled beneath him. The sounds of burning and destruction had faded into silent ambiance and Axel was left with his thoughts.
He hobbled across the grounds. Was this the right choice? Could he help Striker? Even if he was still alive, how could he do it? If it were Striker in his shoes, he'd know what to do. But all Axel could think about was survival. Hadn't his father had always claimed life is always the right choice? He hoped that was true of his father now.
Explosions rang in the air behind him. Bombs whistled down. Axel ran through the field outside the Academy. Over his years living in Displincia, he had been taught the infrastructure inside and out. Wizan and his father had spent years teaching him how to access the underground. He knew all of the best places hidden across the city. He stopped at the end of the field. An orange glow beneath him offered an entrance to the underground.
Axel pushed aside the leaves to reveal a hidden keypad. He typed in a code. Neon lights flashed up and he lowered himself inside. Everything fell silent as he dropped into a dark stone corridor. Dim blue lights illuminated the way ahead.
Right on time, Axel's communication system beeped. Wizan projected in front of him. "I see you've entered the underground," he said.
"Is everyone ok? Things have gone mad,” Axel started but Wizan held up a hand to silence him.
"You must make your way back home, I've got some things packed," said Wizan. "Your father has been in touch. There's something you need to know. I'll explain when you get here."
Wizan ended communications.
Axel staggered slowly through the underground. Only the sound of his footsteps could be heard through the dense silence. None of this made sense. If his father had spoken to Wizan, why hadn't he called Axel? What stopped him from getting home? He hoped his Master would answer his questions honestly. If there was one thing he was grateful for it was the fact Wizan had survived. Maybe together they could work a way out of this mess. If they pooled together, they could survive. His Vaxorian Master was all he had left now.
The walk took him twenty long minutes. Axel lifted himself out of the hatch and closed it over behind him. He walked down the street, through the deep black fog. Usually full of activity, it was now dead. All of the houses had their blinds shut. They had either ran away or were cowering inside, huddled with their family. Preying it wouldn’t be the last time they could.
Wizan's mansion was at the top of the hill. Axel put his hand over his mouth and quickened his footsteps. As he came up to the top, he found the source of the smoke.
Where Wizan's mansion had once stood, a pile of rubble heaped up. He broke out into a run.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Wizan seemed fine half an hour ago and this destruction was fresh. There was no sign of the aliens or their spaceships. The houses on the slope leading up here had been untouched by the invasion fleet. It almost seemed as if the manor had been singled out.
The manor was barely distinguishable from the comfortable place he had once called home. He pushed through the ruins, was Wizan in there? If so, could he even be alive?
He made his way through to the place that would have been the living quarters. The room Wizan had contacted him from.
Axel flipped open his comms unit on his wrist and tried calling his Master. His heart sank as the muffled beep of Wizan's device rang out nearby.
He climbed over the debris and ran over to the source. Then shifted the rocks one at a time.
"Wizan! Can you hear me Wizan?" he called out, half hoping that Wizan would turn up stood behind him. A sly grin on his face.
It didn't happen. Half an hour passed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Tears stained his red face. Then he saw it. A plump Vaxorian hand with a wrist device still working. It couldn't belong to Wizan. But it looked like him. Axel had to be sure. He called again.
The battered device lit up. Axel collapsed to his knees and roared. Wizan didn't answer because Wizan would never answer again. His whole body shook as salty tears fell down his cheeks. He didn't know what to say. He was out of answers and all he could think of now was how much of a coward his father would think he was if he found out about what happened to Striker. He should have done something. Anything. Died a hero.
He wondered if the attack had happened just a little later would he be the one underneath the rubble too?
A beep got his attention. He checked his comms device stupidly hoping that it would be Wizan. It wasn't coming from his however, it was coming from his Master's.
Axel unstrapped it and took a look at the screen;
POWER DEPLETING!
He swiped away the obnoxious warning and was just about to throw it down when something else lit up on it. Wizan had started writing out a message to send someone. It read;
The enemy has found us. Check the hatch in the kitchen. Find Powerstorm. They are—
It cut off before the note finished.
Axel frowned. What was Powerstorm?
More importantly, what is in the hatch in the kitchen?
Axel pocketed the comms device and searched for the location where the hatch was located. He had seen Wizan go down there many times but never been allowed to go himself. Hungry for answers, he traced out where the kitchen should be in his head and found the marble flooring hidden by more debris.
At first he worried that it had been destroyed in the blast but breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to find the golden handle. It had a twisting pattern that worked itself around the grip with the symbol of a first in the centre. Axel pulled it open. This might be the only part of the entire manor which had survived the blast.
He walked slowly into the darkness, guided only by the lights which lined the cold brick walls. His breath turned into an icy cloud. The stairway led down into a little room. Paperwork strung upon the walls. Pictures of ships he'd never seen before. He focused in on one of the photos. It was an image of one of the creatures that attacked him. Why did Wizan have it? How did he know those things even existed? Axel walked over to a table filled with more documents. He found a collection of black bound folders. He picked one up and scanned through it. On another page, he saw the image of the red skinned man with four arms.
Above it was a heading; WHO ARE THE ENGEN'OZUS?
Axel frowned. If Wizan knew so much about these people, why did he hide it? Could he have prevented the attack? Who or what was Powerstorm?
Axel trailed his fingers across the sheets. Some of them had handwriting scrawled over them. He knew that writing well. It belonged to his father.
His communicator beeped. It was Striker.
Without hesitating, Axel flipped open the comms. Ready to ask how he had managed to escape. Instead he found himself face to face with the red-skinned man.
The man yelled at him in an alien language. The projection shifted to reveal Striker. Face bruised. Blood matted in his hair. Broken but alive.
"Run Ax, don't try and get me-" Striker shouted before one of the aliens slapped him. The red-skinned man faced him, said one last thing in his language and communications shut off abruptly. The comm link buzzed again and coordinates came up on a map.
While he didn't have a clue what the man was saying, it was clear that he wanted Axel to give himself in. He didn't know why that was, but he knew one thing for sure; he had let Striker down last time. He wasn't about to do it again.