RISE IN RESISTENCE

She was steadfast.

Steadfast in the explosion that erupted from the machinery in the far oil fields at the Leonard Petroleum refinery station.

“Another—catwalks!”

A sharp voice pierced through her headphones. “Call for fire?”

“Negative, Sanchez,” Amelia, holding a steady crimson wound, barked in a strained breath.

“Our intel is off. There are more gunmen than expected. I’ll rally local PD.”

“They won’t stand a chance against those guns!”

“Better you have a chance at not dying Violet!”

“In the way—God dammit!” Violet cried out as she drew hand away from her shoulder.

Everyone that was currently tangled in the firefight was beyond exhausted from the long battle. It was a crossfire between two different cartels in the soon to decommission plant. Sicarios traded bullets with each other, and Amelia had dropped into the center of the gunpowder where two stray Marshall agents, Sanchez and Miranda were located.

Morale had taken a hit to all sides. First responders were comprised of the agents and private security within the facility.

There was no winner.

Everyone knew that survival was paramount to end this.

“Violet, recommend we disengage.” Agent Sanchez forewarned as he snuck by near missing bullets. “Our timetable will get us killed before any type of reinforcements get here in the next ten minutes!”

“Hold, hold! We need to secure that office across the lot! I count at least three civilians still trapped inside. And they look of the engineering type, so we need them alive if this place goes to shit!”

“That’s why we need to disengage! We can’t risk having those people in the crossfire. Shift right and give us an opening to get local PD on scene!”

“…Do you really want us to bet that on the locals?”

“Ugh—fine. No.”

Covering her ears as more bullets tore apart the concrete barrier she was concealed behind, Amelia grumbled, “Move faster.” She said trying to find an opening. Her skin was growing paler by the minute as she lost blood from her shoulder, staining the white button down she wore.

“Amelia!” Miranda shouted from her patrol vehicle. A stream of blood dripped down her face. “We only have one chance at breaking through! If we can get to that vehicle on the far side of the wall, then we have just enough time to secure the building and evacuate the engineers!”

“Rational all right,” Amelia whispered. She grabbed her radio, “Use this dumbass, and I’ll do it.”

Miranda shook her head.

“Her radio is shot.” Sanchez commented.

“…Right?”

Amelia felt her eye twitch.

“Yeah,” Sanchez said. “Either way the best we can do is draw fire and make sure you can bolt over there. Use that new fancy power of yours, magus.”

“Put me on ice when this is all over. That or buy me a damn whiskey.”

Sanchez looked at Miranda.

“That’s a bad omen.”

“Stop being realistic.”

“Uh, sure.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

She felt herself laugh as more bullets pelted the surrounding parking lot hitting stationary cars shattering glass and setting off alarms.

It was eerily uncomfortable how easily her heart accepted that her life had already ended once. Nothing felt normal about this entire situation. The least she could do was make the most out of this second life and take away someone’s burdens.

For her the world had already ended. Amelia needed to reach the end again.

Nobody would mourn for her—not again—not when she had already passed. Her life was a blessing and a curse, and now she had a time limit to abide by. The reaper would come to collect once more. (—Not until I’m ready!) She gripped a knife and handgun till her knuckles were white.

She had forgotten the feeling of being alive. The last time she felt the steady beat in her heart was high in the sky, amongst the snow and heavens on the apartment roof. She had no choice but to accept her fate. I want to live… Her thoughts meant nothing.

If Alex saw her now, how would he react? She didn’t want to think what it would be like to see him in her current state—so being here—amongst Marshalls this put a hamper in her plan.

Her focus slipped as a bullet spat spall onto her face, cutting the tissue on her collar bones.

Amelia had waited long enough.

It was time to charge ahead. This plan of action needed resolution—she was amongst the best—nullification was the only way for her to counter magicians. And now she was going to use it against man.

Resignation. Confidence. Proudly standing before death and heading towards the end.

A subtle breath left her lips.

“Amelia?” Miranda called out to her on the radio. She was acting strangely.

“Get clear of the site, I’m going to destroy the fuel tanks,” Amelia advised as she stared at the metallic tanks. “Miranda, Sanchez, inform the Marshalls what’s going on.”

“Say again?”

“There will be a chemical spill!” She boomed bolting from the concrete barrier towards the gunmen.

“Amelia!”

Two bullets pierced her right thigh as she raised her handgun.

It was a losing battle. The blocky sights fell forward before she could squeeze the trigger. The sudden shock was all too much for her already bleeding body to handle. She slammed face first into the asphalt, blood leaking from her thigh.

It wouldn’t be long until she was dead. At most three to four minutes max.

“She’s down!”

“Can you confirm?”

Amelia let out a heavy breath. Her left hand tightened.

Stepping to the left a bearded sicario led with his AR-15 styled rifle. As he stood over her body, he looked up and to the right, momentarily refocusing on the two agents hiding behind the patrol car.

It was a fatal mistake.

Amelia’s upper body snapped up from the ground. She fired four bullets point blank into the man’s right arm before using a heightened amount of magical energy to shoot up from the asphalt.

She felt hot droplets of crimson blood spreading across her face as a bright purple light coiled around her left leg letting her pivot in the air. Using gravity, she instantly fell and swooped her blade directly into the sicario’s throat.

Recoiling from the sudden attack, the others raised their weapons.

With luck the blonde swore she could see the bullets miss her body.

Seven shooters in total, most of them being young men with some experience in gunshots. She herself was guaranteed dead even to just one of them. Her entire plan could be considered suicide. This relied on a single chance to release harmful chemicals that would either drown them in flammable gasoline or turn them into pulps of matter. She was willing to bet everything on this gamble, including this second life. She had endured fatal wounds. A time limit. Two minutes and counting to enact her plan, else everyone would die before this engagement was resolved. Magic was her ally. It flowed through her and gathered not only in her body, but into the bloodied knife she withdrew from her second kill in her life.

As her body violently convulsed, more blood shot from her wounds as she accelerated beyond her human means. A trail of red was left behind her as she pivoted low on the ground, her boots nearly collapsing against the pressure as she jumped from a car; the backblast moved it seven feet out of position, leaving a dent for all to see.

Swiftly followed by led rounds, she continued her charge.

A scream of pure agony shook everyone in the parking lot.

Half of Amelia’s face crisped over with purple-red energy.

Springing from the ground—her golden hair flew wildly in the wind—she slammed her left leg into one of the three tanks of hazardous liquid. Blood and saliva flew from her mouth and nose as the impact zone threw the tank from its support beams.

Three of the riflemen looked up to see the shadow of the tank. The first two men felt their bodies compressed under the weight of the tank. The malleable skin they had was squished inside out as bone, blood, and organs all became the same red paste. The final man only set halfway from under the tank had his legs crushed. The asphalt was sloshed with a pool of red with some sections turning purple from the sunlight reflecting across the surface.

The force sprayed upwards, creating a momentary rain of crimson all around the impact site.

Her golden hair was coated.

Stumbling as her boots touched the ground, a new wound spurted blood.

Launching herself head, she stabbed her knife into the chest of the next gunman.

She collapsed on top of the man as he began to throw repeated, heavy punches into the side of her head. Being thrown back, Amelia managed to keep her knife in her hands. Her body remained motionless as the man stood up tall, towering over her body.

“Fuck.” Removing a pistol from his jacket, he wore a small smile as he aligned the gunsights with her head.

Taking a deep breath, he let his handgun tilt forward. He didn’t need to know that within seconds he would’ve been shot dead with the large group approaching from the entrance.

“Thought you pigs—”

Clattering on the ground, the man raised both of his hands. He didn’t dare to move as a crowd of screaming cops emerged from their patrol cars aiming pistols, rifles, and tasers at him.

“Okay. You got me.”