Chapter 2
Tracy covered her ears, screaming, as the automatic fire ripped her mother to shreds, in front of her. Her father grabbed her, pulling her into the house and slamming the door. She cried hysterically, as the droids could be seen, from the window, coming down the street. They were just as Scott had described. Security droids.
Stan was in a blind rage, grabbing her by the hair. "This is all your fault, you stupid little bitch!" He screamed, punching her in the stomach. She gasped for air, when the punch came to her face, sending her against the wall. Pictures fell, breaking on her head and shoulders, causing her to bleed, heavily.
The droids were in the yard, now. But he didn't seem to care. He continued slapping and throwing her around the room. He grabbed Robbie and hurled him against the wall. The servbot squealed, then stumbled around, dizzy. "She's dead because of you!" He shouted, as he kicked her in the ribs.
The droids were almost to the door, when an engined revved. The red, 2085 Jeep smashed them, like bowling pins. Tracy heard the door open, as the snarling German Shepherd pounced onto her father, mauling at his head and arms. Stan tried to strike the dog, but Rush was too quick and angry. He yelled out, as he covered his face and neck, when he heard the sharp whistle. The canine ran to Scott's side, who stood, pointing the barrel of his handgun, at his father's blood-covered face.
"I will not hesitate to blow your brains out. So stay still." Scott said, holding the gun as steady as a pond. He was dead serious, for once, and Stan could see it, in his eyes.
Danica ran over to Tracy, helping her up. She limped over to the broken pictures, picking up Robbie, who was shaken by the days events. Scott tossed her a duffel bag, "Grab some of your things, Tron. We're on foot from here." He said as he stared down his father.
"What are you gonna do Scott?" Stan asked sarcastically. "Take your little gang on the run?" He scoffed, "You'll all be dead inside a week."
Scott kept the gun trained on his head, glancing out the window to the group of advancing machines. He looked back to his father, "Listen close, you piece of shit. We are leaving through the back. The way I see it, there are two options: Scotch is in the pantry, guns are upstairs. You have time to pick one, but if I see your fucking face so much as peak out that door, you lose it."
Tracy came back downstairs, bags packed. Scott kept the gun on Stan, until they were out the door, for the last time ever. When the machines broke in through the front, there were no signs of the residents. They stalked into the kitchen, to find Stan Bonne sitting at the table, holding a half-emptied bottle of Scotch. He put his bloody hands up, "I surren..." He started to say, before the fusion bolts riddled his body with scorched holes.
Crossing through the yards, the three were almost to the treeline, when Tracy heard a familiar scream. "Help! Oh my God, somebody help me, please!" Gina yelled, running from around the side of her house. Two swarmbots were in pursuit, frantically slicing the air around her.
"Scott!" Tracy shouted, pointing to her friend.
He turned to look, raising his sidearm. With two steadied shots, the bots burst into a cloud of sparks, falling to the ground. "C'mon!" He yelled, running to meet her, pulling her with them. With no patrols in sight, they ran into the woods.
Gina was crying and distressed, "They killed them all!" She said, "Just because my little brother threw a rock! He was only seven!" She sobbed, as Tracy pulled her close.
"What the hell is going on, guys?" She asked, with tears of her own in her eyes.
"We got the call in the middle of the night." Scott began, "Wily had some kind of psychotic break, killed everyone in his building, while they slept. The whole thing was caught on surveillance, and leaked to the military heads." He looked to Danica, "We were called in for an immediate strike in Nova Scotia, but before we even got to base, the droids were already dropping in over the coast, and a retreat was called." He looked down, "Everyone who made it to the island, was killed."
The girls were in shock. "What do we do, now?" Gina asked, still crying.
Danica answered this time, "Scott and I were contacted, not long ago, by a team of unofficial operatives. They're a small, covert, task force, called the Black Wraiths. We're planning to meet with them."
"Can we be sure that we can even trust these people?" Tracy asked, concerned.
Scott raised an eyebrow, "I would hope so. I was part of their outfit, once."
After the pandemonium had died down, the group emerged from the woods. They made haste across the highway, before stopping under an overpass. Scott turned and addressed the others, "Okay, on the other side of this hill, there is a grocery store. We'll grab some supplies, while we wait for The Wraiths to pick us up."
"Where are we going?" Asked Gina.
"Chesapeake." Scott replied, "They have a secure headquarters, there."
Danica tapped Scott's shoulder, "Glitch just sent another transmission. They'll be at the store in forty-five minutes, tops."
He nodded, "Let's move."
The doors opened, to a darkened supermarket. They slowly entered, listening for any sounds of machinery. Scott whispered, "Grab some baskets, people. Time to loot."
They split up, Tracy heading for the snacks and sodas, while Gina made her way to the cereal aisle. Not even a good, old-fashioned, free-for-all could raise their spirits, though. Danica and Rush rummaged through the canned goods, picking out all of the luxuries that they could never afford, before.
Scott scratched his head in the Pharmacy, trying to remember which antibiotics went to which infection. Things could get pretty bad. He thought, deciding to grab a few of everything, just in case. The sharp blow was quick, but only hurt for a moment, as he was plunged into vivid dreams.
Rush cocked his head, curiously, trotting toward the front of the store. "Where ya going, boy?" Danica called out. But the dog ignored her, something had his attention. She began to follow him, as he stalked into the Customer Service Office. The door slammed, shutting him in. A man with close-cropped, red hair stood up from under the counters. He held a pistol, aimed for her head, as he motioned for silence, with his finger.
When Scott came to, he was greeted with an atrocious migraine, accompanied by the uneasy sensation of being duct taped to a chair. When the blinding light subsided, he saw that he was in the Employee Lounge, and that he wasn't the only one. By the door, stood a short, muscular, bald black man wearing a black suit and tie. The other was a thin-framed, white male, in his mid-thirties. He had short, ruffled, brown hair, and the stubble of a man fresh off a three-day bender. He was dressed the same as the other guy, but had ditched the jacket, and rolled up the sleeves on his white, button-up shirt. Feds. Scott thought, scoffing.
When the skinny one noticed that he was awake, he put down Scott's wallet and holocards. He spoke surprisingly softly, with a melodic Louisianan accent. "So nice of you to join the living, Mr. Bonne." He began. "Are you aware, that theft of a controlled substance is a federal offense?" He asked, grinning.
Scott chuckled, "Are you serious, right now?" That's what this is about?" He said, motioning to his restraints. "What ever happened to due process?" He asked, sarcastically, joking with the detective.
The man chuckled along with him, "Of course not, just lightening up the mood." He began, "I'm turning you over to King Wily, for execution. I just tied you up to catch more flies, boy." He said, smile fading.
Scott's stomach dropped. "Where are my friends?" He asked, concernedly.
"They're just outside the door, my men are holding on to them, for now. And since you asked, when will your other friends be here?" The man asked.
"We have no one else. I'm just trying to get my family somewhere safe." Scott said, seriously. "We have no need to get involved with Wily's affairs, or the FBI's, Detective..."
"Shroud." The man replied, "Keen eye you have there, a lot like myself. So I'll tell you this once, if you lie to me again, I will slit the redhead's throat. That's your girlfriend, right? Danica Harris, same age, joined the Army same time as you did, used to live at the address next door to you. I'm thinking 'High school sweetheart'. Correct?"
Scott seethed, "Yes."
"I see." Shroud replied, "Here's how this works, I call this game 'Options'. How it works is, I tell you what I already know, and you fill in the details for me. I give you a set of options for what happens to the others, your answer will determine which option they receive." He smirked, evilly. "Are you ready?"
Scott breathed deeply, "We can help each other. The FBI is at just as much risk, here." He pleaded.
Shroud looked back at his partner, then back to Scott. "The FBI is no more, Mr. Bonne. Do you think the guys out there, with your friends are Feds?" He laughed, softly, "I work for King Wily, directly. There is no getting out of this shit for you, so play the game, help the others." He snapped to the large man, who opened the door.
A man with long black, greasy hair, dressed in baggy jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt entered. He threw Gina onto the floor, ripping the duct tape from her mouth. Shroud pointed to her, "Regina Collier. Fifteen years old, average grades, and I'm guessing she is the other teenager's friend, given her age and address. Now you may know her in a general sense, but I don't believe you are too close to her. That's why she gets to be first. So we can go ahead and purge all of your resistance and lying with her, but let you know I'm serious enough to kill a child."
"Stop this! What you are doing is psychotic and sick!" Scott yelled, "You got me, okay! Let them go!"
"There's that fighting passion!" Shroud replied, excitedly. He grabbed Gina's short hair, slamming her face into the table, splitting her eyebrow. "But let's not have anymore outbursts, Mr. Bonne. It's disrespectful." The detective adjusted his hair, and sat back down, across from Scott. "Gina has three options. One: Shane here has an affinity for the petite, spunky type. I personally think he's disgusting for it, but I'm only here to do a job. So taking that option, I would send her with him, wherever he may go." Shroud said, as Shane nodded his greasy head.
"Option Two: The girl is not very smart, or athletic. She's strong-willed, I'll giver her that, but there's no putting her to work for us. No amount of persuasion will break her will. And since I think Shane is a sick deviant, this option is to shoot her between the eyes, right here. A quick, painless death." Gina began to sob, as Shroud motioned her to be quiet.
"Option Three:" He said, lowering his brows to Scott, "Shane here escorts her to the highway, and has her run West, until he can't see her anymore."
"She'll die out there, Detective." Scott pleaded.
"I never said there would always be a good option." He responded, "Now let's begin."
