There is something heavy in my hand.
Where am I? My head is swirling in a sea of euphoria. My whole body is numb. The thing in my hand is the only thing I can feel. My eyes; blurry and unfocused. I don't feel sick, just having problems with my senses. I just know that is won't end well.
It's time to wake up.
HARDMAN STUDIOS PRESENTS:
My eyes open to a place alien. A golden room, with an entire wall a window to a beautiful seaside view. I'm standing in the middle of the room, in front of the golden desk. Besides the desk and the window, the room is simply decorated. The west wall is filled with photos, standing above a cabinet that had no pictures, just a vase with a rose. Several file cabinets laid on the other wall. A red carpet with golden lines went straight from the door, closed, to the desk.
I look down.
A pistol.
There is smoke billowing out of it.
A LAST MINUTE PRODUCTION:
I hold my breath. A smoking gun, in an office like this?
A hit?
I released the magazine, and checked it. 14 rounds left. This gun, a semi-automatic Perduto Menzogna 87, has a total of 18 rounds. So I fired four rounds…at what?
Wait.
I used this before? My memory is a bit fuzzy. Did I get some sort of head trauma? Ergh…this hurts.
BY SYLVIN WALLACE:
Okay, things are coming back. Must have some sort of a blackout. Good, I didn't have amnesia.
My name is Albert Simon. Named after a heretic. Makes sense, I'm a male healer, AKA the Heretic. I'm 28 years old, birthday happened two weeks ago, born in 7/07/86. Born in Bacon, Katsuragi, Remedial. Dad long gone, Mom still alive. Graduated from Zhuzhen University with a four-year degree. Went into the army, following in my father's footsteps. Served four years with the same unit with an honorable discharge. Wandered around for a year, without much of a purpose. Got a job working with a traveling free-clinic with two old friends. Salis the Dragon, and Charlotte the female Healer; we grew up together back in Bacon. Charlotte and I had a thing back in school, and now we're engaged. The wedding is in two months.
Wow. That hurt. Too much memories at once.
I looked at my body. No wounds, no blood on my clothes. I checked my pockets. Empty, didn't have any extra ammo. I'm fine. But wait…I missed something on the gun. Something red, with grey bits.
Blood. And brain matter.
I looked around the desk from where I stood. A pair of black leather shoes. Perfectly still.
I move. My legs are heavy. I'm starting to shake. But I get around the desk.
My god.
I killed the president.
The suit is new, but the face I knew. Young like a boy. Light brown hair. Strong facial structure. Small nose.
President Trevor.
With a bullet in his head and three in the chest.
THE WORLD…IS GOING TO CHANGE.
I hear people running outside. Two people.
Don't have to be a genius to know that they're aren't going to take prisoners.
I jumped over the desk, and hid in the foot area. Hopefully the guys weren't to go Rambo in this room. Didn't leave me with much room for plans. I still had the Perduto M87. I'm done killing. Shoot to stun, if needed. My army training included unarmed combat against armed opponents. I could take them, but being cramped under the desk wasn't the best place to be for that. I took in a huge intake of air. My nerves calmed down.
The door slammed against the wall, and the two guys (The sounds of the footfalls were too heavy to be a woman's.) ran and stopped, their machine guns locking and loading. A silence hung in the room. I couldn't even hear myself breathing. I held the gun tight in both hands. They mirrored each other going around the desk. Crap. The first thought they had was the same one I had.
No choice.
I leapt out from under the desk, first kicking the four-legged chair into the guy on the left, and then dived into the second guy. He landed on the floor, and a single punch knocked him out cold. The first guy recovered and pointed his gun at me. I grabbed a taser from the unconscious man, turned it on, and charged forward. I grappled with the man, and loosened a strap on the bulletproof vest to stab him in the chest with the taser, taking him down.
BECAUSE OF ONE MAN.
I just couldn't stay. These guys had S.W.A.T. uniforms. Heavy-duty, by the way. 14 rounds weren't going to keep me alive. These guys have some pretty good weapons. Take one, and at least take some extra ammo. To quote an old saying, 'Shi…
AAAGGHH!
What? The weapon shocked me? My hands are still tingling. Aahhh…
I thought of something. I kicked the gun at the other guy. His pelvis shot up and went down, like a defibrillator shocked him.
I think I know what it's going on here. DNA coded weapons. A new innovation in the field of defense. Government agencies would have their employees register their DNA into a central computer system, which would then be entered into the computers of every weapon, allowing the employee to use the weapons their job allows at a certain time (Like during a gunfight), the weapon is activated, just for them. Prevents terrorists from stealing government supplies, or from employees taking guns for the weekends.
…yeah. I'm a terrorist.
DEATH FOLLOWS THIS MAN.
The pistol will have to do.
I burst out the door. The hallway went west and east. The west was shorter to the next corner. Well, then. To the…
"THERE HE IS!"
East.
I duck as the officers unloaded their clips into the wall just two feet above my lowered head. Thankfully, the corner was clear when I rounded it. I have no idea where I am going. If these guys are using DNA weapons, this place would be a maze. The ground floor door is going to be impossible to get through. In order to escape, I'm going to have to be creative. I ran up a floor. Weird, you think that the President would be on the top, middle or ground floor. But a map says that I'm on the 4th floor of ten. But the place where I killed Trevor…
…why….
…had those pictures. He was in all of them. A second office, perhaps?
More S.W.A.T. officers. Armed with rifles. They look like crack-shots.
*BANG*
Yep.
None of the doors looked open. Besides, those were dead ends. Army training did teach you how to escape from heavy-guarded buildings and even survive high falls, but not from this height. A better question. Where is everyone? I just got up to the 5th floor, and haven't seen anyone besides the S.W.A.T. officers. It was summertime, so probably everyone was on vacation. No. That doesn't make sense. Trevor is here. The S.W.A.T. officers are here. Pretty fast reaction time, by the way. Or not. How long did my blackout last, if at all? I can't recall any period of time, or even whatever happened this morning. There wasn't a clock in the office.
Point. No clock in the office. Definitely something weird.
NO MATTER WHERE HE GOES…
The sixth floor now. Haven't seen…
…and there they are! Just three of them?
Wait, one is holding a remote and wearing a giant metal backpack with antenna. Something big is coming. The floor is shaking. The wall behind the soldiers is starting to crack. The spider-web got bigger. I grabbed the pistol. Would 14 rounds be enough for whatever is coming? The two other soldiers stepped back.
A giant two-legged pod machine destroyed the wall and stood behind the controller. Two large closed boxes laid on both sides of the pod; missiles. Two small red headlights were on the front of the pod; lasers?
Wait a minute. I was in a hurry to escape from the officers, I didn't have much time to notice every detail. The vests read S.W.A.T., but these guys are using guns that aren't available to any police force. These guns weren't even army issue. Private company issue. Like for mercenaries.
14 rounds would have to be spent very carefully. No holds barred.
Two shots, hitting the exposed shoulders of the two soldier on the side. They went down with a shout. They stayed down. As predicted, the pod shot lasers straight at me, hitting the wall behind where I stood before. The controller wised up and took cover behind his robot friend. He left his leg exposed though. One shot. He also screamed, but unlike his human friends, continued to work.
11 shots left.
The pod moved forward ten steps. I ran under the pod, avoiding the missiles and placing four bullets into the belly, and running around the corner before either the pod or the controller could react. A second salvo of missiles hit the corner wall, knocking the wounded soldier into the wall with debris in his back. The controller pulled out his own pistol and fired several rounds into the wall, hoping to get me though the wall…
….AUGH!
He got me in the left arm! Sonofva….
DEATH CONTINUES TO FOLLOW.
I grabbed the wound for pressure. The controller heard me. I can hear him trying to drag himself closer for the kill. His robot isn't moving, he forgot about it once he got me. Sadly, shooting him wouldn't be easy, he got my good arm.
Hey…the soldier dropped his gun…
One kick was enough to reach the controller, and the gun landed on top of the backpack. In seconds, the backpack exploded from the shock, leaving a very wounded man on the ground facedown, and his robotic pal shutting down.
Thankfully, one of the mercenaries had a first-aid kit handy. But I needed a bit more severe aid, this bullet needs to go now. A kitchen. Good.
The action seems to have quieted downstairs. Last thing I need is to be caught while trying to extract the bullet with a hot knife. Huh, place seems empty. For a place that the President was in, it seemed to very vacant. The hallways even seemed to be empty. If I went up higher, I would end up on a iron beam. Could it be that the President was just visiting the new office?
A steak knife works fine. First, a dishtowel to hold. It would hide my fingerprints, and I'll take it with me as a bandage. Yeah, they got a good look at me and my fingerprints would be on the DNA guns, the doorknobs, the desk, and the wall corners. But I needed to play smart now.
The ovens work. Good. I hold the knife tight in my covered hand. I get the knife close to the blue flame…
…and I remembered a bit more. My position in the army. Combat Medic of the 442nd Regiment. A rare job; very few men in the army's history has received it, mostly due to the tests. To qualify, you need to have a 85% success rating in the field for at least a year, excellent physical and mental reports from three different doctors, the ability to use high level healing magic, and the willing to run into anything to save anyone. ANYTHING and ANYONE. They expect you to run into a firing squad to grab a satanic dictator. I did that twice.
The first one in hundred years to pass with flying colors. Yep, the army's little mascot, that's me. Or used to be.
THE MAN DOESN'T INVITE DEATH. HE HAS NO CHOICE.
I placed my right hand on the wound. I muttered, under my breath, 'Heal.' A faint white and greenish light filled my hand, and a grey liquid came seeping out my arm and twirled around. I moved my hand, and the liquid followed. A whip of my hand, and the liquid ended up in the sink. Good-bye, bullet. I moved my hand back to the now bleeding empty wound. The light continued, and grew brighter until my wound sealed up, leaving only the dried blood. The spot was still tender, so I wrapped the cloth around. I could still use the knife as a last resort. I wrapped a second and third cloth around both of my hands, just in case. Besides, my hands were torn up from the rough chase, and holding the DNA weapons. The knife I placed in my black pocket, tearing a hole; creating a makeshift sheath.
It felt uncomfortable, but right now, I didn't care.
I ran out the other door, after checking through the crack to make sure that the soldiers weren't waiting. I feel lonely. Did they think I was killed?
Don't tempt fate. 7 shots left. I don't think shooting the pod did anything.
Up to the seventh floor. I guessed right. This place is halfway finished. I could see a concrete platform way above, a helicopter pad? This was the last complete and safe floor in the building.
A choice had to be made. I could go up to the pad and get out of here using a helicopter, the President wasn't going to leave anytime soon. But that place is a dead-end, like a office. If the President didn't arrive in a helicopter, or I couldn't get it to start, I had only one way down then, the same way I came up. The soldiers could easily pick me off on those tight stairs. Decisions…
…or….
The door is wooden, and half-painted. One kick was maybe too much for it.
There is a helicopter! Thank god. And someone left the key in the ignition. Good.
Ah. More memories returning. I flew a helicopter like this once. A emergency retreat after a hazardous mission. After completing the mission, the pilot was killed, and I was the only one who could fly the copter; having only received minor wounds. The co-pilot, missing a part of his shoulder, sent me through a crash course. Only ran into one thing once.
"HOLD IT!"
Of course.
"STEP OUT OF THE COPTER! HANDS UP!"
They didn't say anything about my pistol, which I placed in my back pocket. Just need the right moment to use it.
"ON THE GROUND!"
WHEN WILL IT END?
"GET DOWN!"
I got down off the copter. I held my hands up, in mock arrest. The mercenaries walked in slowly. Did they change their minds?
Or someone gave them different directions.
Definitely a whole lot more going on. Are there any Secret Service people here?
"DROP ANY WEAPONS YOU HAVE, AND GET ON YOUR KNEES!"
I need to wait just a moment. I can hear people stomping down below. I need a clear path down.
SSSSHHH-SSSSHHRRRAAAOOMMMM!
ARGH! Aaaahhh…..
The helicopter exploded? Damn, they WANTED me to go up to the helicopter! Shrapnel in my back. My original escape plan would be a lot harder now. I could pull it off.
Hhhaaaa….
I extracted the biggest shard from my back. About as big as my balled fist, with the rag wrapped around. Didn't go as deep as I thought; the blood was on the very tip. Throwing it away from anyone else, I continued, starting with the areas where the pain was the most severe. I couldn't get them all, just the big ones. The small ones would have to wait. The mercenaries had regained their footing and advanced, guns pointed. I was drained. It took too much to stay up on both legs. I couldn't get captured.
I need answers. All I got was a saving throw.
Adrenaline pumped hard and heavy, removing the pain and exhaust from my body. I took off, heading to the west edge. Gunfire hit the floor behind me. My breathing was heavy, but my legs were light and uncontrollable.
The plan was dangerous. Use the construction beams to jump down. Made even more dangerous by the fact I had a severe back wound and a enemy who was unpredictable.
No choice.
IT ENDS WITH HIM.
I landed and rolled on the 13th floor beam.(Counting the pad as the 14th floor.) My chest felt like it was going to tear in half. I hit the floor so hard after the explosion it silently broke a rib. Great. Now getting down would be even harder. I couldn't even tell how much pain I'm in, due to the adrenaline.
Speaking of, bullets hit all around me, so I moved. Sadly, the mercenaries got a better aim this time around. I was continuously got nicked, and bloody lines appeared over me. Adrenaline just dulled the pain, and kept me going. My eyesight started to get blurry due to blood loss. Damn adrenaline.
Thankfully (For once), construction had stopped, leaving behind several things. A beam stood in the middle of the two floors. I jumped down, not needing to roll and break another rib. 12th floor, and still had the seven shots left. I withdrew the pistol, despite my arm being torn up. I ducked as soon as my gun was in my hands, the gunfire began anew. I looked up…
There's a guy chasing me! Some man in a grey hoodie and blue jeans was jumping down like a frog, and gaining pretty fast. Then again, I was a wounded man, and his body structure indicated that he was a gymnast. I got down to the 11th floor before we meet face-to-face. He concealed his face with a white bird mask.
I didn't waste time with introductions. I unloaded two shots into his chest, and all it did was knock him back a bit. Of course. I tried to shoot a man who just jumped down three floors with little effort. He probably collects bullets. I think pushing him would be a better idea.
Actually, yeah.
One hard, unpredicted push was enough to knock him down to the lower level. I didn't bother to look, the mercenaries had managed to get down a single floor to get a better shot. I grabbed the beam and swung down to a hanging rope and somersaulted to the 10th floor. Three floors left. Actually, I just realized if they booby-trapped the helicopter, then the chances are that the stairs going down might be filled with soldiers. I could try to fight off the ones on my tail and climb down the building. Rock-climbing wasn't a favorite, but the army made everyone learn it. A construction site should have climbing gear.
HIM, THE SINNER.
AAGH!
Dammnit, shot again! Just in my shoulder. I'll live…damn…blood loss starting to…slow…down thoughts…
…guh. Can't make…it down to…another floor. Hurgh….
Gah! I'm falling!
The knife flies out of my pocket and into my hand, and the knife digs into a wooden board. My good arm is holding, but for how long?
I look down. The seventh floor looks closer. I'm in between the seventh and eight floors, so if I try to fix my leg with healing magic, I could drop down. I reach down my ragged arm to my legs.
AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!
Cough, cough.
God…shot in the back….ah…aah…
…huff…huff…huff…breathing is getting harder.
…
…
…
…
…
…
…HACK! Huha….huha…
Blood just shot out of my mouth like a cannon. It looked black.
They're just standing there. God…they're just…watching…
…my grip is going. I need to…hugha!...take a dive. The sea is seriously dangerous…but, hey…I got this far.
One…two….three…
Go.
I'm off.
THIS IS A CHAPTER IN HIS LIFE.
THE LIFE OF A SINNER.
Disgaea is owned by Nippon Ichi Software.
Shadow Hearts is owned by Midway/Azure/Nautilus/XSEED Games. (References)
Influences and character designs from Disgaea 3.