Posted: December 25, 2007 in Brawl, Dark, Fiction, Sci-Fi

Chapter 21

Two minutes of running along the wall towards the distant gunfire leads Sol and I to a high vantage point looking down on the battle.
Cat, Diana, and Adam all look exhausted, weapons limp by their sides. Surrounding them are about ten Officers; the rest are dead, bodies riddled by crossbow bolts or deep, dark wounds made from Adam’s axes.
I see Squire, and I feel a pang of loss, even guilt; he’s lying on his side in the mud with the other dead soldiers. For a moment, intense pain coupled with the other emotions I’m feeling courses through me, like an electrical current flowing through my body.
I double over for a moment, caught by something that’s almost a stomach cramp.
Sol claps me on the back and I cough. The pain subsides and I straighten, noticing the trio of girls that had run ahead. They appear to be setting up some large and collapsible black structure. From a large box bolted to the rampart they draw a long ammo belt of crossbow bolts, huge ones that are apparently going to be driven into the treacherous bodies of the Officers.
Down below, the Officers are taking their time, not noticing the assault building up on the wall before them. They slowly advance, tightening around the three Saints with malicious intent, rifles and shotguns held high.
Shit. I frantically glance at the machine-gun emplacement that the girls are setting up. Not enough time. Cat’s soldiers are going to get killed if we don’t do something.
I glare down at the neo-Nazis as they close in on the Saints below.
Fuck this.
I leap up and balance myself on the edge of the wall. Sol notices this and cries out a warning.
I don’t care.
I’m a fucking god.
The fall down to the ground is a long one, the air rushing around me almost suspending me completely. I feel as though I’m one with the air, stupid as it sounds.
I hit the muddy soil in front of the gate, feel my legs break and I collapse. Already they’re healing as I run to the first Officer. I jump and slam an elbow into the back of his head; his body snaps forward almost comically and crunches into the ground.
In two seconds I’m pinned to the ground; all the rifles are trained on me. Sure, I can’t be hurt, but that doesn’t mean I’m stronger than ten pissed-off Nazis.
One of the pricks shoves the barrel of his gun into the side of my head and grins. A thin line of saliva spurts through his teeth and hits me in the face.
I struggle mightily to get free from the firm grips of the Officers. They can’t hurt me, so I wonder what the point of this is. Maybe they don’t know.
About three Officers detach themselves from the group surrounding me and train their rifles on the three Saints near the gate.
Apparently they haven’t noticed Sol and the others standing above them, or they don’t view them as threats. All four Saints seem paralyzed as I glare up at them.
I wonder now why the Officers haven’t bothered to shoot me, as I’m still struggling.
The asshole that spat on me now draws a thin, black object. It folds open to reveal a pocket knife and the man marches over to Cat, grabs him roughly and tosses him to the group surrounding me. He walks back to us with a slow deliberation and grips Cat’s right forearm with unnecessary force.
Cat’s calm brown eyes meet my own with an almost comforting gaze.
The knife falls on Cat’s hand; a bright, red chasm splits the pale skin and quickly crosses to form a bloody X. With a split-second delay, I feel a sharp and throbbing pain forming on my right hand.
One of the Officers shoves my hand into view and I see the same crimson X dripping slowly down my arm.
I gape at the wound and feel something more terrible than the pain.
I’m scared.
They can kill me.
The asshole grins and moves the blade to Cat’s throat. He’s really enjoying this.
Then a crack, and he freezes.
His smile flips and he slowly falls to the ground.
Buried in his back is a fat steel spike.
Above us, Sasha raises her second pistol and takes aim.


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