Prologue
He was running. He couldn't remember now who – or what – he was running from, but damn if it wasn't the sprint of his short life. His boots pummeled against the newly wet pavement, both slower and faster than the tempo of gunshots starting to fade behind him as he rounded up a corner and skidded into a hopefully empty alley.
He could hear the haunting shrieks and yells of the last few remaining members of his group, his last hopes, his last friends, and quite possibly his last sight. They were telling him to save himself since he was the youngest of the group, but in their harsh bellows, he heard pleas to stay and fight them off and continue living off the streets. A horrid life.
He heard the mechanical whirs and beeps just on his heels and his heart beat against his chest even faster than it had before, begging to get out and save itself as to dying a dishonorable death. His breath was a harsh wheezing and he ignored the spittle fleeing his mouth and his sight was blurred and stinging with sweat, his skin was clammy and burning at the same time and his smell was of gasoline and soiled streets, rotting bodies and the nauseating scent of blood.
Perhaps his own.
He risked a glance back and nearly curled his toes in terror as a damaged Katon zeroed its dull, blue, electrical eyes that were an imitation of his own in on his face and he quickly whipped his head back around to the fire escape a few yards in front of him, not wanting it to identify him.
His own footsteps and the steel legs tickling the concrete of his buddy Katon were the only things that he could hear. Fuck, the fire escape was only about forty feet away from him now, so if he could shoot the damn thing before it-
He heard the cocking of the damn thing's blaster and leapt onto the fire escape latter, hoping to at least elope to the roof of the two story building and kill the thing from there. He snatched his gun from its place snuggled in his belt loop, struggling up the bars of the ladder so fast that his combats got stuck in them. He was beginning to get dizzy from his exertion as he climbed higher and higher, balancing his gun with two fingers in his right hand on top of the sidebar of the ladder. He heard it changing directions and fixing to climb up the wall as he reached the roof of the bulding and desperately groped for a ledge, dead body, something to grab onto and hoist himself up. He did just so and flipped the safety off and aimed where he last remembered the thing being, preparing to pull the trigger as the first traces of a smirk graced his sweaty face-
Something shoved him back a good ten feet, halfway across the roof. His jaw went slack in wonder and his pupils dilated while his brain turned to jam. All he could hear was a thick, heavy buzz. A buzz like the echo of hitting metal against metal. Pain. Severe pain. Hazily, he thought it was the worst he'd experienced. Was that his head? His vision doubled, tripled, quadrupled, and his head spun in a million different directions, his unfocused eyes trying to focus on the kaleidoscope of red bricks in front of him as rain started to pour down again.
Warm blood on the left side of his neck as he got over the first wave of shock and pain and unsteadily faced the Katon charging up another bullet. He stumbled back a few more steps and tried to aim at the three white, spinning forms of the robot-
Another gunshot was heard and all was silent except for the rain. Was that his own? He felt another gush of warm blood, this time funning father down his shoulder and broad chest. Yeah, it was. He lifted his index finger off the trigger of his cheap ol' Browning, letting the corners of his mouth turn up into a sleazy grin.
He stumbled back a few more steps as his adrenaline wiped itself from his system, a second, much more powerful wave of pain engulfing him and making him hoarsely yell and clutch at his head.
Oh, fuck, no – that felt worse than before – and he yelped and doubled over when he noticed that he was only hearing rain and his own breathing out of his right ear and clenched his fists between his thighs and the throbbing of his left ear wouldn't fade in any sort of way.
Help. Please, anybody. He needed help. But where to get it? His group was dead. They were all dead. Killed because they sacrificed themselves for him, so he could live a longer life in this shit world.
The branch group. He couldn't remember much right now, but he pictured a blonde ponytail and a huge white dog as he stumbled back to his feet, losing himself in a few more steps back. Where were they? What was it called? W…
His train of thought completely vanished as he gasped in pain and threw himself backwards to lean against the brick wall on the opposite side of the roof, finally resting.
Resting? He wasn't resting. It sure did feel like he was falling. Why would he be falling that far against a wall that was a few feet away…?
Was there even a wall?
I guess this is why they called me an idiot so often, he thought, flailing his arms around him for the cement roof he was once on.
But his hands never met the cement roof or the brick wall of a neighboring building. They met nothing, air, raindrops in his sweaty palms as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he opened his mouth to turn to his friend to ask what was going on. Where was he?
Everything went black as his hands finally met gravel, skin being torn open by it, but not the one that covered roofs.