“I know we’ve been losing a lot lately, Evelyn, but I don’t want you to forget this. God is real, and He loves you..”
–Marquise Jones, “Unnamed”. 2 Months After.
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Jesus-fucking-Christ.
Evelyn’s eyes widened behind the binoculars as she watched the Beholder camp get buried. “What the hell was that!?”
Chantelle clutched the radio to her ears. “I don’t know! They’re saying that the whole cliff just collapsed out of nowhere!”
“Isn’t Leah still inside?”
“I don’t know!” she shrieked.
Evelyn lowered the binoculars. How could this have happened? The chance of landslide forming naturally was rare enough on its own. One striking at a time like this was nothing short of divine intervention.
And against the Beholders too… At least that proved beyond a doubt that Abraham had been spinning lies. He was as much a victim of this disaster as Leah.
Chantelle gasped. “Wait, there’s something else!”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone’s coming!”
“Where!?”
A trio of armored trucks barreled into view, heading straight for the entrance to the Styx, east of their position. Evelyn watched in horror as they opened fire on the walls, launching a flurry of armor-piercing rounds into the small batch of troops that’d stayed behind. Within moments of engaging, the Styx security was on the retreat.
Then the main force arrived. From the cover of a dwindling night, a sea of cloaked rezzers flowed out from the darkness of surrounding buildings, their ranks a mix of black, brown, and white. So much white! Like maggots wriggling over a corpse, they rushed across the open asphalt expanse of the Styx.
Impossible! How could the Beholders have gotten so close without anyone catching them!?
The trucks rolled to a stop, and a troupe of Inquisitors stepped into the open, all equipped with RPGs. Their volley went off in unison, and the steel-plated gate wheezed as so many explosions rocked its frame at once. Another second, it collapsed altogether.
The majority of the Beholders moved for the open gate, but others began thrusting grappling hooks against the Styx. A few landed nearby, their owners scrambling to move up the rope. The grapples shook under the added weight, and Evelyn yanked a few free. The Beholders hissed as they plummeted back down.
But she couldn’t go quickly enough. For each rope she removed, two more flew up to replace them.
Evelyn drew her M4. “We have to move, Chantelle.”
“And do what? The others are still miles away!”
“I don’t know. Something!”
The pair scrambled down the stairs while more Styx security rushed to reinforce the gaps. Automatic fire flew from both sides, and crossbow bolts whizzed overhead.
The discomfort in her chest was gone, replaced by adrenaline overflowing. Whatever could be said for her perpetual stomach virus, nothing compared to the chaos erupting throughout.
Evelyn reached the bottom and realized how much worse this attack had become. More Beholders stormed in from behind, making for the Styx, where they’d secure the entrance. What few guards that remained were pinned on both fronts.
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A trio turned and came for Evelyn. Her brain lurched into attack mode as she removed the safety from her M4.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. When each set of shots hit their end, one of her attackers dropped, her rifle moving with instinctive precision from the heads of one to the next. Not that this stopped anyone. Her attackers moved without fear as she purged them, one after the next.
But no sooner were those Beholders dead that more turned their way. Evelyn jumped back into cover as crossbow bolts flew by. Chantelle screamed when one struck her shoulder, dropping the radio she’d been carrying. Evelyn yanked her behind the nearest wall. More bolts flew. Some of these guys were brandishing repeaters, pulling the hand crank up and down while their volleys moved at a speed of a semi-auto.
“Fuck!” she cursed. “There’s too many of them.”
Chantelle looked at her wounded shoulder and cringed. “What do we do?”
“Get back to Elysium. It’s the best place to defend!” She inched her head around the corner, only to see more enemies closing in. “Go first. I’ll cover you.”
Evelyn slipped her M4 to full auto and started laying into the Beholders. Chantelle used the opening to make her own escape, hobbling across the open streets with all her might. More bolts flew, but Evelyn was the better marksman and peppered their attackers before they could land a clean shot. Ichor burst free where she struck.
The Beholders moved into cover against her attack, and Evelyn used the chance to break free. Unlike them, she could move at peak human speed. Their return fire was unprepared for her agility and missed by miles. One got the bright idea of shooting a gun, but Evelyn had already escaped the block by then.
Only to see that the mayhem had surpassed the Styx. The humvees had already cleared the main gates by the time they’d rounded the bend, and more were coming. No shortage of guards was on the retreat, their own dark, worn cloaks and rotted skin a contradiction to the clean uniformity of their enemies. One humvee focused on the defectors and opened fire from its minigun turret. A cloud of bone and gore exploded from where the Pandemonium soldiers once stood.
Evelyn stumbled back as more of the crossfire fell her way, ducking behind a stone wall before it could land.
They weren’t far from Elysium. This area was where the bosses made their homes, so there was a myriad of obstacles to help give them cover. Evelyn yanked Chantelle from place to place as the two moved through tight alleys, out of sight.
And the Beholders continued their invasion without mercy. With the trucks clearing out all the heavy resistance, the remaining soldiers were uncoordinated and looking for an escape. What few who hadn’t been purged during the initial strike were just as shell-shocked as everyone else.
Then there were the citizens themselves. Workers and bosses alike ran every way they could. Those who could take refuge inside their homes did, with their armed guards laying shots against any who drew too close. Others tried to cling to the alleys and crevices, like Evelyn and Chantelle. Most were stuck out in the street, either because they had some handicap affecting their mobility, or because the Beholders got to them first. They were funneled into crowds and pushed onward.
Pandemonium was a city that thrived under chaos. With no legitimate police force, a decentralized government, and a financial system that drove the poorest to the brink on a constant basis, no one was surprised by how quickly violence blew up. Riots occurred like clockwork every couple of months, and plenty of power brokers attempted coups over the years. Evelyn had seen her fair share before leaving for Cheyenne. Sure, she’d been safe inside Mother’s Grace, but that insulation only went so far against the regular destruction that got levied.
This wasn’t that. What they were experiencing had never occurred before. Not another quarrel between residents, but a violent invasion of their home. Nobody broke through the Styx!
And with that veil of security shattered, the citizens of Pandemonium were ill-prepared to fight against the sheer power that an organized force could inflict. The workers continued to be on the run while the guards were finally experiencing what it felt like to be underdogs. Many tossed their weapons aside and surrendered before they could be purged. The Beholders took their arms with glee and marched them into the main crowd like every other shmuck.
“Maybe we should lay low?” Chantelle asked after ducking behind another trashcan. “It’s only a matter of time before Charon gets back.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. He’ll be too slow at this rate.”
“There’s so many of them though.”
“Trust me, Chantelle, you don’t stay put at a time.”
She blinked. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve lived through this before. We keep moving, or we die.”
Chantelle gulped and left her hiding spot.
Evelyn kept moving, her M4 shaking in hand. This wasn’t her first time being so powerless. She remembered a moment just like this one, back during the first days of the Hollowing…