The brick slammed into Nikolaj's helmet with a sickening thud. He staggered, vision swimming, then snapped his head up, rifle following. His eyes locked onto the crazed figure who had hurled the brick and was now trying to close the distance. Without hesitation, Nikolaj squeezed the trigger twice. The gunshots echoed through the debris-strewn room.
Smoke from the fire below filled the air, clawing at his lungs. He coughed violently, struggling for breath. The debris had been his saving grace; without it, the assailant would have been on him before he even realized. Confirming his target was down, Nikolaj gasped for air, fighting the urge to succumb to the smoke and chaos around him.
He limped across the room, each step toward the apartment exit a jolt of agony from his injured ankle. He'd dropped from the balcony above to escape the bathroom, where four of those beasts had cornered him, and the fall had taken its toll although he was happy he hadn’t missed the balcony for the paved sidewalk below. Gritting his teeth, he cursed and whimpered, desperation driving him forward. Nearing the door, he ensured it was locked before fishing the radio from his vest pocket, letting his rifle hang on its sling.
Pistol in one hand, radio in the other, he whispered a silent prayer and pressed the push-to-talk button. "Adrian, Mohammed, do you hear me?" The only response was static, confirming his worst fear: they'd been massacred in the alley where he'd last seen them. Adrian’s final act flashed in his mind—a grenade against himself to take out the mad men clawing at him with hammers and kitchen knives. Despite the shrapnel against his ballistic vest and the ringing in his ear he had received, that grenade was the only reason he was still alive, the blast had taken out a few of the assailants and had staggered the rest.
He put his radio back in its pocket before checking the state of his pistol. The magazine was half full, he had used it earlier when one had thrown himself on him and pinned him down before hitting him in the face with rocks. He had taken out his pistol and shot him in the head before he could be struck a second time.
Nikolaj and his squad had journeyed from central Stockholm to the outskirts of Skärholmen. Nine of them had started, but now it seemed he was the only one left alive. They had debated for hours about when and where to go, always hesitant to leave the city center. They had received orders a couple of weeks ago to hold the building of the ministry of defense, and to wait until they were relieved.
But the sight of a massive fire consuming the city, advancing street by street, house by house, had forced their hand. With no one to stop it, the blaze raged uncontrollably, driving everyone—refugees, soldiers, and mad men alike—to flee the city in a desperate, chaotic exodus.
Leaning against the door, he struggled to catch his breath, desperately trying to figure out what to do next. His frantic thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a violent slam from the other side. The sound of the radio must have given him away. He stepped back, rifle aimed at the door, scanning the room for any possible escape routes. The pounding on the door ceased suddenly. Nikolaj, limping and with blood trickling down his forehead into his eyes, cursed silently as he tried to wipe it away.
The stinging in his eyes was unbearable, but there was no time. The door crashed down with a deafening thud. A towering figure broke it down, at least 20 centimeters taller than Nikolaj, stepped through the doorway, followed closely by a small, agile woman who darted past him. Nikolaj's heart raced as he realized the dire situation he was in.
As he took her out, she collided with his lower body, sending him crashing to the ground. He landed hard, the impact jarring his senses. The thudding footsteps of the man advancing filled his ears. Panic surged as he raised his AK5C rifle, but before he could react, the man’s boot slammed down on it, striking Nikolaj in the mouth. Pain exploded through his face. The man pressed his foot onto Nikolaj’s arm, pinning it down, while his other foot stomped on the rifle, smashing it into Nikolaj’s face again. The agony was overwhelming, and Nikolaj could feel himself slipping, the situation spiraling out of control as the man crushed the rifle against his neck.
Nikolaj, fueled by sheer desperation, twisted his body sharply. With a swift, forceful motion, he kicked the man’s ankle, causing him to lose balance and topple over. As the man fell, Nikolaj seized the moment, using the brief distraction to wrestle himself free.
The two of them hit the ground hard, a chaotic tangle of limbs. Nikolaj grappled with the man, each struggling for dominance. He could feel the man’s brute strength as they rolled across the floor, their grunts and the sounds of their struggle echoing in the confined space. Nikolaj's vision blurred with sweat and blood, his muscles burning with exertion. He managed to get on top for a moment, but the man’s powerful arms shoved him off.
They continued to thrash and fight, neither willing to give an inch. Nikolaj's hand found the man's throat, squeezing with all his might, but a punch to his guts forced him to let go. The struggle was fierce, a desperate, primal battle for survival.
The man’s hands closed around Nikolaj’s throat, squeezing with brutal strength. Nikolaj’s vision darkened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Panic surged through him, but he fought to stay focused. His legs thrashed, searching for leverage.
With a desperate burst of energy, Nikolaj managed to swing his leg up, planting his foot against the man's hip. He pushed with all his might, straining every muscle. The pressure on his throat eased slightly as the man was forced to shift his weight.
Nikolaj pressed harder, leveraging his foot to pry the man's hands away from his neck. The man's grip faltered, and with a final, desperate shove, Nikolaj freed himself. He gasped for air, the rush of oxygen igniting a renewed sense of determination.
As the man recoiled, Nikolaj didn’t waste a second. He kicked again, this time targeting the man’s chest, sending him sprawling backward. Nikolaj scrambled to his feet, ready to finish the fight, his body coiled with the fierce will to survive.
As the man staggered to his feet, Nikolaj’s rifle hung awkwardly halfway on his back. He yanked it into his hands just as the man lunged for it. In a heartbeat, Nikolaj smashed his helmeted head into the man’s face. The crunch of breaking bone was immediate and sickening, amplified by the metallic sharp edges of his empty night vision mount.
The man staggered back, blood streaming from his nose. Nikolaj didn’t hesitate. He drove his boot into the man’s knee with a brutal stomp. Another crunch echoed in the air as the joint shattered. The man crumpled, his other knee hitting the ground hard. Desperation flashed in his red eyes as he tried to rise.
Nikolaj was relentless. He jammed the barrel of his rifle into the man’s bleeding face and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out, final and absolute. The man fell, lifeless, to the ground.
Nikolaj cached his breath. Blood pouring from his face and his gums as he was sure to have lost a teeth in that ordeal.
The crunch of broken glass in the doorway made Jonathan whirl around, lifting his rifle. He caught the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairway, as if someone had just fled the scene. Sensing the grave danger, Jonathan, with his barrel still trained on the stairway, began to slowly and painfully retreat towards one of the doors.
He pushed the lever down and slipped inside a small storage room with a trail of blood following him, barely managing to close the door behind him. Inside, he shoved a cleaning bucket out of the way and collapsed to the floor, his back against some hanging jackets. His heart pounded in his chest, every sense on high alert as he listened for any signs of pursuit. He turned on the headlight wrapped around his neck, lighting up the small room.
He checked the state of his rifle. He only had one magazine left, same for his pistol. Nikolaj threw his helmet away. He knew he wouldn’t make it out of this apartment block, so he didn’t want the extra discomfort.
Images from home flickered through Jonathan’s mind, bringing a calmness he hadn’t felt in a long time. He imagined being back in Torsby, surrounded by the familiar sights of summer barbecues near the lake with his parents and friends. A serene smile touched his lips as he inserted the magazine out of his rifle, noticing it was only halfway full. It didn’t matter now; he only needed one bullet. He inserted the mag back in the rifle and made sure a bullet was loaded in the chamber.
The sound of movement from the room he had just left barely registered. He took a deep breath, a sense of peace settled over him as he prepared for whatever came next. The memories of home were a comforting presence, easing his acceptance of the fate that awaited him.
He hoped his dog was alright; if not, they’d be reunited soon enough. Blood continued to flow from his mouth, a steady salty taste an unwelcome reminder of his dire situation. He wished he could be outside for this, where the open air might offer some solace.
He realized there was a mirror infront of him against the door. He admired his face. Nikolaj, at just twenty five beared the unmistakable marks of weeks long mental and physical exhaustion. His once-proud posture is now slightly hunched, weighed down by the relentless demands of his service. Standing at around 6 feet tall, his athletic build has become gaunt, with muscle definition giving way to a lean, worn-out frame due to the constant hunger and exhaustion.
His face, though still sharply defined, is etched with deep lines of fatigue and strain. His piercing blue eyes, once vibrant and intense, now look hollow and distant, reflecting the mental defeat. All made worse by the blue dark circles beneath his eyes.
Nikolaj’s short, blond hair is dishevelled, compared to the neatly groomed look of a more disciplined soldier he once was. His skin, while still fair, has lost its luster. Scars and bruises, once symbols of valor, now seem to serve as reminders of a heavy toll. He reminded himself how the scar on his right temple cause by a bicycle accident was the reason his ex-girlfriend had come to talk to him that one evening at that bar. Now his body was full of them.
His thoughts drifted to his ex-girlfriend in Ireland. She had left him for that distant country and another man. He hoped she was well; he hadn’t heard of any trouble from there. He imagined she was safe and content, as he faced his own fate with a sense of reluctant acceptance.
Time to get this over with he thought, he couldn’t bare the cold, the pain, the exhaustion. He wanted to wrap this up.
He pressed the rifle under his chin. Before he could press the trigger the door opened. As the door opened his eyes met the eyes of someone else.
Dark black eyes but human ones. An Asian woman about his age, straight dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, held a quiet intensity and was a flicker of hope for him.
She had a sharp, angular face with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that gave her a commanding presence. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were particularly captivating.
She signaled for him to lower the rifle, and after a moment's hesitation, Nikolaj slowly complied. Then, with a calm gesture, she indicated for him to stand up. He wavered, torn between the urge to end his suffering and the uncertainty of his situation.
Before he could decide, the woman grabbed him by the vest and effortlessly hauled him upright. Nikolaj was taken aback; despite his 80 kilos and the additional 30 kilos of gear, she managed to lift him with surprising ease. Pain shot through him as he shifted weight onto his injured ankle, causing him to wince in discomfort. She took notice of it. Looked at him before gesturing to his pistol in his holster. Nikolaj shook his head. She cursed at him something he couldn’t understand. He made it to be Chinese or Korean. He didn’t know. “I’m not giving you my pistol” Nikolaj answered.
She gave him a sharp look before answering, “I don’t speak Swedish, give it to me” In broken English. Nikolaj cursed before removing his pistol and handing it to him. Nikolaj was reminded of the fire as he saw the smoke rising outside from the floor below. The woman turned around towards the closet he had just exited. Grabbed his helmet and put it atop his head after wiping the blood on his forehead with her sleeve. They exchanged a look as she tried to clip the helmet strap shut. Their hands quickly met as he did in her stead. She took his left arm over her shoulder so that he could put his weight on her.
With each step, Nikolaj grimaced, his injured ankle throbbing with pain. The woman, unwavering in her resolve, supported him with a firm grip. Her strength was palpable as she guided him out of the apartment and down the smoke-choked stairwell, her movements steady despite the urgency.
As they descended, the fire's light flickered through the stairway’s gaps, illuminating the darkened space with intermittent bursts of harsh light. The stairwell was filled with the acrid stench of burning materials and the oppressive heat of the flames. Nikolaj leaned heavily on her, each step a battle against the pain and the encroaching smoke. As they walked by a corpse on the ground with his head bashed in the woman uttered a few words Nikolaj couldn’t understand “Tā yǐwéi tā kěyǐ fújí wǒ”.
The woman’s face was grim and focused, her eyes scanning ahead for any sign of danger while keeping a steady pace. Her practical clothing was smeared with soot, and she occasionally glanced back at Nikolaj to ensure he was still following.
With every agonizing step, the fire’s roar grew louder, but she maintained her focus, guiding him through the labyrinth of burning debris and smoke. As they reached the lower levels, the heat became almost unbearable, but the sight of the exit was a beacon of hope. Do Nikolaj didn’t know who’d be waiting on the other side.
Nikolaj signaled her to stop. He lifted up his rifle before slowly opening the door. A hurting ankle or not he had to be sure the street was secure. He pushed in front and exited the building swiftly rifle in hand scanning for dangers. He could see that the street was set upon a thick cloud of smoke. Swinging around with his eyes set on his scope he desperately tried to look out for any threat. Nikolaj made a wrong step on the bordure of the sidewalk, his ankle felt like it was fractured as he collapsed on against a nearby car. Ming quickly lowered her pistol and got closer to him again trying to lift him up.
Nikolaj resisted.
“What’s your name?” she asked. Staring at his ankle before meeting his eyes.
“Nikolaj, you?” He asked.
“Ming, now stand up Nikolaj” She answered lifting him up.
Amidst the choking haze of thick, acrid smog that blanketed Stockholm, Ming and Nikolaj stumbled out of the inferno. The smog swirled around them, a suffocating blanket of gray and orange that made the world look surreal and distant. The sky above was a canvas of ominous, dark clouds lit intermittently by the fiery glow of buildings burning and collapsing in the distance.
Ming, with her black hair sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead, moved with determined urgency. Her face, which had been hard and unyielding, now showed a rare flicker of worry focus as she guided Nikolaj out of the chaotic scene. Her hands, calloused and raw from years of hard labor, gripped his upper arm firmly but gently, her strength evident in every movement.
Nikolaj, visibly struggling, limped heavily beside her. His face, streaked with grime and pain, was contorted into a grimace as he tried to put weight on his injured ankle. Every step was a challenge, the pain shooting up his leg with each uneven stride. His uniform was tattered, bloodstained, and singed from the heat. The tattoo on his arm which he had gotten in a drunken night out in Spain, "The only easy day was yesterday," seemed a cruel reminder of the harsh reality they were escaping.
The street they emerged onto was eerily silent, save for the distant crackling of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. The once-bustling thoroughfare was now a wasteland of rubble and debris. Charred remnants of cars lay abandoned, their twisted frames a testament to the violence of the firestorm that passed just before they arrived. Storefronts were shattered, their contents strewn about like forgotten memories.
Ming guided Nikolaj up the street with unwavering resolve. She moved with a purpose, navigating around the debris and avoiding the smoldering remnants of what had been. Despite the chaos, her movements were fluid and practiced, as if she had long since learned to ignore the overwhelming conditions around her.
They made their way slowly, Ming’s steps careful and deliberate as she supported Nikolaj’s weight. His injured ankle, swollen and bruised, caused him to wince with every step, but he pressed on, driven by the sheer will to survive.
As they continued their arduous trek through the ravaged street, Ming kept her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, where the smoke began to thin out and the promise of safety seemed just within reach. The day was far from over, but for now, the most important thing was getting away from the inferno and finding a place where they could catch their breath and regroup before night arrived.
Before they could even see what it was, both Ming and Nikolaj threw themselves against the walls of a nearby building. They heard something moving down the street, making its way toward them, the sound growing louder and more menacing. Ming frantically tried to open a door to no avail as Nikolaj aimed his rifle down the street, his heart pounding.
The sound of footsteps grew closer. Before Nikolaj could think of what to do next, Ming grabbed him and dragged him under a lorry parked on the street. She slid under it with practiced ease, while Nikolaj had to awkwardly crawl, hampered by his injured ankle and the weight of his equipment.
As they settled on their stomachs, the noise grew even closer. They could see a mob advancing, the only sounds being their weapons hitting the ground or clanging against each other. Ming and Nikolaj held their breath, lying perfectly still as the mob moved past them, oblivious to their presence.
The tension was palpable as they waited for the danger to pass, every second feeling like an eternity. The mob's footsteps echoed around them, a cacophony of impending doom. Ming's grip on Nikolaj's arm tightened.
Finally, the noise began to recede, and the mob continued down the street. Ming and Nikolaj stayed hidden a moment longer, ensuring the danger had truly passed before they dared to move.
"Stay," Ming uttered as she squeezed Nikolaj's shoulder before swiftly crawling out. Nikolaj wondered what she was up to. Ming, on the other hand, went on her knees, trying to see where the mob went. If she knew their path, they could avoid meeting them again. She peeked back at Nikolaj and signaled for him to follow her. Nikolaj awkwardly made his way from under.
"Why are they going that way? The fire is coming from there," he silently asked.
"Maybe they heard all the noise you made," Ming replied, sending a chill down his spine.
"You know where we're going?" he asked Ming.
"Second street to the left, then we continue down a path that leads us west out of the city," Ming confidently answered.
The smog from the fire was still thick. She started coughing from it and desperately tried to stop. As she regained her breath, Nikolaj took out a neck gaiter like the one he was wearing from one of his pockets. She nodded without saying anything before putting it around her neck and up over her nose.
About two agonizing hours later, Nikolaj's ankle was burning fiercely, each step sending waves of pain up his leg. He was desperate to stop but hid his suffering from Ming. They had slowly but surely made their way out of Stockholm and were now in one of the furthest eastern suburbs. The smog had thinned, allowing them to see the city burning in the distance, a sight both haunting and awe-inspiring. The distant flames cast an eerie glow, and the faint sound of destruction still echoed in the night air.
Nikolaj clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving despite the searing pain. His breaths were shallow, and his vision blurred at the edges. Ming glanced back at him occasionally, her expression unreadable but her pace relentless. They couldn't afford to stop now, not when they had come this far.
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Every step felt like a battle, the weight of his gear pulling him down as if trying to drag him back into the inferno they had escaped. Ming on the other hand had nothing but his pistol and a hunting knife. Compared to Nikolaj combat pants and jacket, she walked around wearing a black pair of jeans and a dark north face rain jacket. The air was cooler here, but the tension was palpable. Both of them still jumped at every noise they heard.
The sight of Stockholm burning put them at awe, a city consumed by chaos and fire. The horizon flickered with orange and red, the smoke rising like dark specters against the night sky. They stood there for a moment and admired the hundreds of fire. With no one to stop it, the inferno was free to eat up everything.
Finally, they reached a small clearing, and Nikolaj couldn't hold back a wince as his foot struck a protruding root. He stumbled, and Ming was instantly by his side, her eyes sharp and assessing.
"We can't stop yet," she said, her voice a whisper of urgency. Nikolaj nodded as he swore a profanity she couldn’t understand. As Nikolaj retained his composure as he stood up, Ming looked around.
In the distance, a lone but imposing building emerged from the shadows, its silhouette stark against the evening sky. Part of its façade was lit up by the fire far away. Ming and Nikolaj exchanged a glance, silently agreeing that it could offer a much-needed respite. With caution in every step, they made their way toward the structure across its parking that laid empty, their eyes and ears alert for any sign of danger.
The building loomed larger as they approached, its architecture revealing itself as grand and ancient. The entrance was a heavy, wooden door, slightly ajar, creaking ominously as they pushed it open and slipped inside. The air within was cool and musty, a stark contrast to the burning city they had left behind.
As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they realized they had stepped into a museum dedicated to the Middle Ages and Vikings. The vast hall with its small lobby was filled with artifacts, from old weaponry and armor to detailed dioramas depicting Viking life. The silence was profound, the only sound their own footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls.
Nikolaj, his face etched with exhaustion and pain, leaned against a display case, trying to catch his breath. Ming quickly scanned the area, her eyes sharp and assessing. She spotted a door marked "Administrative Office" slightly ajar in a corner, and she gestured for Nikolaj to follow.
"Over here," she whispered, helping him toward the door. They slipped inside, and Ming quietly closed it behind them, ensuring it was locked. The office was small and cluttered with desks, chairs, and filing cabinets, but it offered a sense of security.
Nikolaj sank against a wall with a groan, finally allowing himself a moment to rest. Ming checked the room, making sure there were no other entrances and peering through the blinds to keep an eye on the hallway.
The office, though cramped and musty, provided a barrier against the chaos outside. For the first time in hours, they could let their guard down, if only slightly.
Nikolaj looked around at the cluttered office, papers strewn about and a computer monitor blinking idly. "A fucking history museum," he murmured, a hint of a smile touching his lips despite the pain. "Of all places."
Ming nodded, her expression softening for a moment. "We should rest here, but only for a short while. We can’t stay long."
Nikolaj nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. The pain in his ankle was relentless, but the sight of the mundane office surroundings reminded him of the normalcy they had lost. He took a deep breath, drawing strength from the brief moment of safety and from Ming’s unwavering presence beside him.
For now, they had a brief sanctuary in this office.
Nikolaj dropped his helmet with a muted thud before slowly peeling off his vest. The weight of the ballistic plates inside seemed to pull him down, each movement a reminder of the toll their ordeal had taken. With a sigh, he removed the vest and placed it carefully on the floor. The flat pouch on the back of the vest, bulging slightly, caught his attention. He unzipped it with a practiced motion and retrieved two protein bars, the crinkling of the wrappers breaking the oppressive silence.
As Ming watched him with her usual guarded demeanor, Nikolaj tossed the bars to her with a fluid but quiet motion. They landed neatly in her hands. She caught them effortlessly.
“Eat. It isn’t much, but it should keep you going for a while,” Nikolaj said, his voice carrying a note of concern despite his attempt to remain upbeat.
Ming raised an eyebrow but didn't immediately open the bars. “You keep one,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper, revealing a hint of her reluctance to take more than her share.
Nikolaj gave a tired smile, though his eyes still reflected the fatigue of their journey. “I had a huge banquet meal yesterday,” he said, the memory of their last meal bringing a brief moment of levity. “We ate everything we couldn’t carry. Besides,” he added with a hint of humor, “it looks like you could put on some weight.”
Ming accepted the bar with a nod of thanks, though she didn’t reciprocate his smile. Her focus was elsewhere, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger or possible resources. She tore open one of the protein bars and took a quick bite, chewing mechanically.
“Do you have a backpack?” Nikolaj asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern.
Ming’s face tightened for a moment as she chewed. “Lost it,” she finally said, her tone flat. “One of them grabbed me by it. He was twice my height, so I couldn’t risk getting it back.”
Nikolaj nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He reached into his own gear and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing it lightly towards her. The plastic crinkled softly as it hit the floor and rolled to a stop beside her.
“Here,” he said. “Water’s low, but it should help.”
Ming picked up the bottle and took a grateful sip, her eyes briefly meeting Nikolaj’s. She nodded again, her expression unreadable but her appreciation clear. They both knew that this brief respite was a rare opportunity to regain their strength.
Nikolaj leaned back, allowing himself a moment of respite as he watched Ming. The museum's cool air was a welcome change from the oppressive heat and smoke outside, but the danger was far from over. They would need to keep moving soon, and the brief sanctuary offered by the administrative office was just a temporary haven in their ongoing struggle.
“I’d better see if there’s more water anywhere here before I finish this bottle” Ming said as she stood up.
“If you see anyone, don’t be a hero and just run back here.” Nikolaj answered as Ming carefully opened the door to the office, the faint creak of the hinges seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness of the building. She stepped into the dimly lit hallway, her senses immediately heightened as she assessed her surroundings. The museum’s eerie silence was punctuated only by the distant, muffled sounds of the city’s destruction, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked outside.
The corridor was lined with more offices and storage rooms, the heavy doors bearing signs of past occupants. Ming moved quickly but quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the dusty floor. She passed by a series of locked doors, her fingers trailing lightly over their handles as she moved.
As she walked, Ming’s gaze occasionally drifted to the exhibits on either side. The museum was a repository of history, and the artifacts of ancient Sweden were a stark contrast to the modern city burning far outside. She paused briefly to admire a display of intricately carved runestones, their inscriptions telling stories of Viking legends and old Norse myths. The craftsmanship was remarkable, the stones bearing witness to a long-lost world of warriors and sagas.
Her reverie was short-lived as she continued her search for water. Her focus sharpened, eyes scanning for any sign of a break room, kitchen, or storage area where water might be kept. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered intermittently, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. Ming's breathing was steady but measured, her heart pounding quietly in her chest as she pressed on.
At the end of the corridor, she noticed a door marked “Supplies” with a faded sign. Ming approached with cautious optimism, her fingers curling around the handle. She turned it slowly, the lock giving way with a soft click. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
The room was a small, cluttered storage area filled with dusty shelves and outdated equipment. Ming’s eyes quickly scanned the shelves, looking for anything useful. Boxes of old documents and broken office equipment were piled haphazardly, but on one shelf, she spotted a few crates of bottled water.
She moved swiftly, grabbing several bottles and carefully placing them in her arms. As she turned to leave, she heard a faint noise from the hallway—an unsettling sound that made her freeze. Her instincts kicked in, and she held her breath, straining to hear. After a tense moment, the sound faded, and she resumed her careful exit.
Ming retraced her steps back to the administrative office, her pace quickening as she felt the weight of the water bottles pulling at her arms. She reached the office door and carefully opened it, slipping back inside and closing the door quietly behind her.
She set the bottles down on a desk with a sigh of relief, allowing herself a brief moment to catch her breath. Nikolaj looked up, his expression a mix of curiosity and gratitude.
“Found some,” Ming said tersely, her voice betraying none of the fatigue she felt. She handed him a bottle and then took one for herself, taking a long, drink of the lukewarm water.
As Nikolaj took the bottle with a nod of thanks, Ming allowed herself a brief moment to think about the displays she had seen. The ancient artifacts and the rich history of Sweden had been a stark contrast to the destruction they faced. She wondered if anything that survived the fire outside would also find its way into a museum long, long in the future.
Nikolaj’s eyes met hers with a silent acknowledgment of her effort. As they both drank, the brief respite in the administrative office felt even more like a precious gift, a chance to recover before they had to face whatever came next.
“Who were you with?” Nikolaj’s voice was rough, carrying a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Ming looked down at the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. “I stayed with a colleague for a few weeks as everything started to fall apart. He went outside one day and never came back.”
Nikolaj’s gaze was steady, trying to piece together her story. “You’re not from here, are you?”
Ming’s response was blunt, her tone clipped. “China.”
Nikolaj nodded, as if expecting this answer. “And who were you with before you... before you tried to shoot yourself?”
The question hit Nikolaj like a physical blow. His eyes shifted away, his gaze fixed on a distant corner of the room as if searching for an escape from the painful memories. Ming watched him closely, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. She began to regret pressing him for details, worried that she had overstepped.
Finally, Nikolaj’s voice broke the silence, heavy with the weight of his recollection. “My squad... we were tasked with holding a building. We were cut off from the rest of the unit. It was just us, and we stayed behind even after all the bureaucrats had evacuated.”
He paused, taking a deep breath as if summoning the strength to continue. “We held that position for maybe two weeks. Ammo was running low, and when the fires started spreading, we knew we had to leave. But it was chaos out there. We tried to get out, but we were picked off one by one in the streets. Those bastards had disabled our truck without us even realizing it. We had no choice but to walk.”
Nikolaj’s eyes were distant, clouded with the weight of what he had lost. His voice dropped to a low murmur, filled with frustration and a deep sense of betrayal. “We had to make it on foot, and by the time I finally found myself in that building, I didn’t see any other way out.”
Ming watched him, her expression softening. The harsh lines of her face seemed to relax, replaced by a look of empathy. She could see the toll the ordeal had taken on him, the emotional scars that were just as deep as the physical ones.
For a moment, the two shared a silence that spoke volumes. The stark realities of their situations were laid bare, and the brief connection formed in that silence was more powerful than any words could convey.
Ming’s gaze softened as she looked at Nikolaj, a small, approving smile tugging at her lips. “Well, you must be pretty tough to have made it through all of this,” she said, her tone laced with genuine admiration.
Nikolaj offered a faint smile in return, though it was tinged with weariness. “Yeah, if you want to put it that way,” he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ming nodded decisively, her posture firm and resolute. “You should get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”
Nikolaj’s expression softened with gratitude. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. He then turned and made his way to a nearby desk, the weight of exhaustion and pain on his ankle evident in his every step.
He moved his plate carrier slightly away so that he could lay down and rest his head on it, resting his head on its surface with a relieved sigh. The floor was cold and hard, but for Nikolaj, it was a welcome reprieve from the unrelenting strain of the past hours. His muscles relaxed, and he closed his eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion that had been gnawing at him.
Ming watched him settle, her own exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she took in the sight of Nikolaj finally allowing himself a moment of rest. She moved quietly to the door, her senses alert as she took up her position. The faint glow of the light outside cast shadows on the walls, and Ming’s gaze periodically swept over the darkened corridor outside, her mind both vigilant and reflective.
The stillness of the room was punctuated only by the occasional creak of the building or the distant rumble of the city’s chaos. Ming’s thoughts were a mix of concern for their immediate safety and a silent appreciation for the fragile calm they had managed to carve out.
As Nikolaj’s breathing evened out, signaling the onset of sleep, Ming’s focus sharpened on her role. She scanned the hallway.In the quiet of the office, amidst the distant echoes of destruction, Ming took her watch with a determined resolve, ensuring that Nikolaj could find some semblance of rest.
It could not have been later than 4 in the morning when Ming softly shook Nikolaj awake. The room was bathed in an eerie red glow from the distant fires, casting long shadows that danced across the walls.
Nikolaj jolted awake, his heart racing, but Ming’s hand was already covering his mouth. The sudden touch, combined with her firm grip, silenced any gasp or shout he might have made. He blinked, disoriented, and met her intense gaze.
Ming’s eyes were sharp and serious, a silent command in their depths. Even in the darkness with only the light of the burning city outside could he see it. She leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear as she pointed towards the door. Her fingers moved with purpose, clearly communicating urgency. With one hand, she held up a single finger, signaling the number one. Then, using her other hand, she mimed a pair of legs walking, her fingers moving in a deliberate, rhythmic motion.
Nikolaj’s mind raced to catch up. He nodded slowly, understanding her silent instructions. The signal was clear: one person, moving, that was more than enough to get Nikolaj heart racing like a cornered rabbit.
Ming’s expression remained stoic, her gaze never wavering from Nikolaj’s. She carefully removed her hand from his mouth, her movements deliberate to avoid making any noise. Nikolaj sat up quietly, feeling the chill of the early morning air against his skin as Ming’s warm hand left it, the red light outside casting an ominous hue over everything.
Nikolaj quietly rose from the floor, methodically putting on his ballistic vest and helmet. He moved with deliberate care, avoiding any noise. Approaching the window, he gently lifted one of the blinds with his fingers to peek outside. The red glow of the distant fires painted the museum in ominous hues, casting flickering shadows between the displays. He scanned the area intently, then lowered the blind back into place, his expression focused and resolute. Ming could only see his eyes who were lit up by the outside light. Nikolaj shook his head in confusion. Ming quietly but in anger pointed at him to look back outside towards the hallway and exhibit.
Nikolaj approached the window again with the utmost caution, his movements deliberate and silent. He gently pried the blind open just enough to peer through the narrow gap. The dim, red light from the distant fires outside cast an eerie glow across the museum, the fire exit lights flickering weakly near the doors.
At first, the museum appeared deserted, bathed in shadows and the unsettling flicker of distant flames. Nikolaj’s eyes searched the darkness, scanning for any sign of movement. The only sounds were the distant crackle of burning buildings and the occasional groan of the structure settling.
As he continued to watch, a shiver ran down his spine. In the far corner of his field of vision, he caught a glimpse of something unsettling. A dark figure, almost blending into the shadows, stood eerily still. The figure was staring directly at the room where Nikolaj and Ming were hiding, its eyes reflecting the red glow from the fires. The gaze was unnervingly intense, as if the figure was aware of their every move.
Nikolaj’s breath caught in his throat. He held perfectly still, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of the figure, cloaked in darkness and fixated on their position, heightened the tension in the room. The dim light only added to the chilling atmosphere, creating a stark contrast between the deceptive calm inside and the menacing threat outside.
Nikolaj took a final, cautious glance through the blinds before lowering them back into place. He turned to Ming, their silent exchange conveying the gravity of what he had seen. They stood in heavy silence, the tension in the room almost tangible. After a moment that felt like an eternity, Nikolaj peered through the blinds once more.
The figure outside was of average height, shirtless, and its chest heaved with each deep breath. It was as if the figure was bracing itself, preparing to either charge or pounce. The intensity of its gaze suggested it knew they were inside, aware of their presence.
Ming approached quietly, her warm hand landing on Nikolaj’s shoulder. Her breath was warm against his ear as she spoke, her voice low and tense. “Whatever we do, we have to leave that way.”
Her words drove home the severity of their situation. The windows in their office were too narrow to escape through, and their only option was to confront whatever threat lay beyond if they hoped to make it out alive.
“We can’t let it stay here,” Ming continued in her halting English, her stress evident in her faltering words. “Maybe it has friends coming to find more guys.”
Nikolaj nodded, acknowledging the truth in her statement. The figure could be a lookout, with others potentially searching for ‘reinforcements’, maybe even the mob they had seen earlier.
“Grab your stuff and follow me,” Nikolaj said, his voice firm as he prepared to move. He reached into his vest and pulled out the only grenade he had. With a steady hand, he handed it to Ming. “Be smart with this. Follow my lead.”. Injured ankle or not, he would have to take point. He looked as if he weighed twice her weight and he was the better armed of the two. If he got jumped by too many of them Ming could use the grenade in a bid to escape.
Ming took the grenade, her fingers closing around it with a mix of apprehension and fear. Nikolaj’s gaze was resolute as he checked his own gear, readying himself for the confrontation ahead. The air was thick with anticipation, every sound amplified in the tense stillness.
With a final nod, they prepared to face the unknown, their minds focused on the dangerous path that lay before them.
Ming put the grenade in her pocket and readied her pistol. Nikolaj filled with adrenaline opened the door and lifted his rifle directly at the figure.
Nikolaj stepped cautiously out into the dim hallway, his rifle aimed squarely at the figure standing motionless in the distance. The red glow from the fires outside cast ominous shadows across the figure’s shirtless form, its chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths.
“Move five steps towards me, now!” Nikolaj’s voice was firm, commanding. The figure’s only response was a deepening of its breath, its eyes locked onto Nikolaj with an unsettling intensity.
“Are you deaf? Take five steps towards me and turn around, or I’ll fill you with lead!” Nikolaj’s tone was edged with frustration. He took a deliberate step closer, his grip tightening on his rifle.
The moment Nikolaj advanced, the figure mirrored his movement, stepping forward a few paces in perfect unison. The motion was almost mechanical, a chilling imitation of Nikolaj’s own steps. Ming, who followed closely behind, could feel the weight of the figure’s gaze bearing down on them, a tangible menace in the dim light.
“Turn around and move towards my voice!” Nikolaj barked, his voice echoing down the corridor.
As he finished his command, another figure emerged from the darkness further to their right, its presence a sudden and startling revelation. The new figure stepped into the feeble light, its features obscured but its stance clearly aggressive.
Nikolaj and Ming flinched at the unexpected appearance, their startled reaction unmistakable. The figures noticed their fear, the slight recoiling not lost on them. The corridor seemed to close in around them as the figures’ gaze hardened, the danger of their situation becoming all too real.
“Let us pass and you will be spared!” Nikolaj shouted, his gloves felt soaked with sweat.
Ming swiftly moved to Nikolaj’s left, leveling her pistol at one of the figures. Nikolaj, recognizing her positioning, focused his rifle on the other. He could see the figure's mouth clearly, but the rest of its face was obscured by shadows. The crooked, toothless mouth of the figure sent a chill down Nikolaj’s spine, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as tension surged.
The standoff reached its peak, and Nikolaj’s senses were on high alert. A faint rustle to his right caught his attention. He whirled around just in time to see another shirtless figure crawling toward him between the displays with unnerving speed. Instinctively, he fired a shot. The tracer round whizzed past, striking the floor and ricocheting off the wall with a deafening clang.
The second shot found its mark, but the figure, undeterred, collided with Nikolaj at full force. The impact threw him off balance, and he struggled to regain his footing.
Ming, seizing the opportunity, fired at the figure she had been aiming at. The shot landed, but her inexperience with firearms was evident. The recoil from the pistol and the noise jolted her off balance, causing her to stagger. As she fought to steady herself, the second figure sprinted toward them, the sense of impending danger mounting as their predicament grew more dire.
Nikolaj hurled the assailant who had tried to attack him away like a ragdoll, sending him skidding several feet across the floor. As Ming aimed at the other figure, Nikolaj found himself too close to her to fire without risk. His eyes widened in alarm as the second attacker moved with astonishing speed—far quicker than anything he’d ever seen. The figure’s elbow smashed into Nikolaj’s face, sending him crashing to the ground.
Dazed but determined, Nikolaj tried to push himself up, but the assailant was already on Ming. He struck her hard, slamming her into a nearby glass display. The glass shattered on impact, fragments scattering across the floor as the figure pounded on her relentlessly.
Nikolaj’s rage boiled over. He scrambled to his feet, the sight of Ming being assaulted fueling his fury. Unable to risk a shot with Ming in the line of fire, he charged at the attacker. With a powerful grip, he seized the figure in a chokehold, the sheer force of his anger driving him as he threw the assailant aside. The attacker was flung away, crashing into a display case, and Nikolaj’s heart raced with a mix of adrenaline and protective fury.
His ankle didn’t hurt anymore, he wasn’t tired, his body felt anything but sore as he punched the man in the face. He then stomped him in the abdominal part. He turned around fast, his eyes set on something in the display that was just broken. Through the glass he took out a Poleaxe that was on display. He knew little of history but he knew this wasn’t a Nordic weapon. About 1.5 meters tall and it featured a long wooden shaft made of oak. The head of the poleaxe was equipped with a broad, curved axe blade for powerful strikes, a pointed spike for thrusting, and a hammer face. The poleaxe’s broad, gleaming axe blade caught the dim light of the fires outside, its edge honed for a devastating cut.
His movements were powerful and precise as he swung the poleaxe, its weight and balance feeling natural in his hands. He hit the figure who had stood up again in the ribs with the hammer. Judging by the sound, he must have crushed every rib he had on that side.
Nikolaj’s brown eyes, filled with focused intensity, tracked his last opponent with ruthless efficiency. His muscles, hardened by combat and strain, tensed as he maneuvered the poleaxe with skill he never knew he had. The contrast of his modern battle-worn military gear against the ancient, ornate weapon underscored the raw power and urgency of the moment.
As the figure kneeled after it was hit Nikolaj hit him in one of the knee. Again, the ill but well known sound of bones cracking could be heard. In some unexplainable rage, the figure tried to stand up again on his other leg. Keeping it at distance, Nikolaj used the sharp spike and pierced its chest at the level of the heart. As it was in he pushed the figure against a display behind it piercing its glass and the mad men’s heart and lungs with it.
Ming lay amidst the broken glass, disoriented and gasping for breath. She forced herself to push up on one elbow, the pain from her injuries sharp but manageable. Her vision was hazy, clouded by the shards of glass and the dim, flickering light from the fires outside. As she blinked rapidly to clear her sight, she saw Nikolaj in the thick of the fight, wielding the poleaxe with fierce determination.
With a determined effort, Ming steadied herself and pushed up to her knees, using a shattered display for support. She gripped her pistol tightly, shaking off the lingering dizziness. Her senses sharpened as adrenaline surged, and she prepared to back Nikolaj up.
Another mad men made its way into the building. Nikolaj saw it just in time. He pulled his poleaxe out of the carcass before swinging the pole axe. The axe side hitting the figure in the ear and lodging itself inside its skull. Nikolaj took a step forward, Poleaxe still in hand and still inside his adversary’s skull. He kicked the man and dislodged it from his poleaxe before it collapsed on the floor.
Nikolaj’s focus shifted to Ming as he approached her, his breath coming in deep, labored gasps. The adrenaline that had surged through him was fading, replaced by a deep weariness. He surveyed Ming’s battered form, noting the cuts and bruises marring her face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern. He reached out a steadying hand to her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of serious injury.
Ming met his gaze, her expression resolute despite the pain. “I’m okay,” she said, though her voice was strained. “Just need a moment to catch my breath.”
Nikolaj gave a brief nod, his own fatigue momentarily forgotten in the face of her determination. “The noise will draw more of them.”
He helped her to her feet, both of them moving towards the exit.
“Wait” she shouted. She turned around and opened one of the displays. Nikolaj laughed as he saw how she took out two short swords from it.