Chapter 14

John took a steadying breath and checked his weapon again, adjusting his position in an attempt to relieve the pressure on his ribs, his breath ghosting in front of him in the darkness. He was laying on his stomach on the roof of a building, propped up on his elbows, the rifle taken from Sophie in his hands, trained on the door of the warehouse opposite. Beside him, within easy reach, were the other weapons that had been taken from the gangsters at the church. They were all loaded, checked, and checked again. The plan had been gone over and over, but really what it would come down to was going to be speed and luck, John hadn't been in possession of much of either recently.

He looked down at the street below. A block down he could see Dorian, barely visible in the moonlight, his back pressed up against the wall of the alley he was hidden in. John caught his eye and Dorian gave him a nod. That was it then, no going back. Dorian disappeared from view and John turned his gaze back to the door of the warehouse opposite, and the two armed men patrolling outside. He'd shot people before, but never in cold blood like this. He had to remind himself of the stakes; these people were terrorists, and without doing this, there was no telling how many people would be killed. He took a deep breath, held it, and then gently squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out, echoing down the quiet streets and the first of the two armed men fell. The second gave a shout and then looked around frantically, swinging his weapon around frantically. The guard had a radio and John waited to allow him to call for back up before he took a breath, held it, and fired again, just like being at the range. But the man moved and the bullet hit the concrete and skidded away harmlessly. The man glanced up and fired a volley of shots up at where John was hidden. The hail of gunfire came close, barely missing his head which was the only thing sticking out over the parapet. One got close enough to skim his hair. But perversely, the close call made him focus and the next bullet was a headshot.

There was more shouting and three more people came running round the corner. They fanned out and searched the rooftops frantically. John shot again and as one fell, the others fired up at him. There were shouts, radio calls and more kept coming. John fired off a couple more shots but there were too many of them now. It was time to move.

The rifle he was holding had only one shot left so he fired it and managed to hit one more in the shoulder before discarding it and pushing himself up to his knee. He picked up the other rifle, slung it over his back and tucked the handgun into the back of his jeans. He grabbed his crutches and got to his feet, appreciating the absurdity of what was about to be one of the slowest getaways in history. He swung himself over to the route he'd prearranged with Dorian earlier. The first was to get off the roof, but he knew the InSyndicate guards would be coming up the stairs.

They'd found a couple of wooden planks earlier in one of the loading bays, and between them they'd nailed them together so that they were three abreast and long enough to bridge the gap between this building and the next. It sounded plausible at the time but now that John was looking at it, he was terrified. He stood at the edge and placed the ends of his crutches onto the planks. As he shifted his weight onto them, he felt the planks creak and bow. "This is the lamest parkour ever!" He muttered under his breath as he started to hobble across the planks. He wasn't normally afraid of heights, but this was ridiculous. He wanted to not look down, but he had to watch where he was placing his crutches, it was really narrow. At four floors up, survival was possible, he surmised, but then what? Lie there with a broken leg or back until he was recaptured or someone put a bullet in him?

It was the shouting from down below that pressed him on, they'd be up there in no time and then they'd be putting a bullet in him anyway, so he swung himself forward onto the planks and tried to ignore them shifting as he hurried across. When he got to the other side he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The other building had a foot high wall surrounding the edge of the roof, so he clambered down and started to pull the planks across. The plan had been hide the planks behind the wall so there was no indication that he'd made it over. In addition, they'd made a similarly constructed bridge on the other side of the first building so that it looked like he'd gone left instead of right. Hide the planks, hide himself and have them look for him in the wrong direction. Great in theory, he started to pull the makeshift bridge towards him, but as the far end of it left the edge of the building, the weight of it caused it to swing down. John held onto it valiantly, feeling splinters from the rough wood enter his hands, but the thing was just too heavy and it slipped from his grip and clattered into the alleyway below. As it hit the ground it smashed into a dozen pieces, loudly.

There was no way that they wouldn't have heard it, so he'd have to find a new plan. He could hear gunfire down below and assumed that Dorian and Sandra had engaged the last guards. He was on his own now, and had to make the plan work. He dashed as quickly as he could across the roof, aiming for the fire escape that he'd scouted out when they were coming up with this plan. He got there just as the first of the InSyndicate men burst out onto the first rooftop. He could hear them pause as they realised with disbelief that they were chasing a one-legged man, but then there were shouts and John was sprayed with gunfire. John threw himself onto the fire escape, hitting the metal staircase with his shoulder and rolled down a couple of steps. The structure creaked under his weight and the aging bolts that held it to the wall slid out partway. He hauled himself upright using the railings, pulled the handgun from his belt and fired a few shots back.

To his horror, he watched as one of them raced across the rooftop and leapt the gap. He caught the ledge with both hands and hauled himself up. John shot at him, but missed as the man zigged and zagged, getting closer and closer. He could've killed John easily, but their orders must have been to take him alive as the man made it to him and leapt down onto the fire escape with him. But the metal staircase was ancient and rusted and the brick it was attached to was crumbling. The high-speed addition of a second person was enough to completely wrench the bolts from the wall. The fire escape began to fall away from the building it had been attached to and out across the street. The man who had leapt onto it was pitched over the railings by the sudden movement and the situation was so unexpected he didn't have a chance to catch himself. He went sailing through the air and landed with a sickening splat on the faded crosswalk below.

John had already been clinging to the railings in an attempt to keep himself upright, so he wrapped both his arms round the rusted metal and clung on for dear life as he rode the iron framework to the ground. As it crashed into the floor, the metal buckled and the reverberations flung him loose but he hit the ground on his back, having only been in freefall the width of a staircase rather than four floors. There was no time to waste so he pulled himself up, ignoring pain in his battered body. One of his crutches had been crushed under the metal, but miraculously, the other had survived intact.

There were more gunshots and the screeching of tyres, John had lost the handgun in the fall so he readied his last weapon, the rifle on his back. As a black pick-up truck careened into view, John almost shot at it until he recognised Dorian leaning far out of the passenger window and firing behind them. It came to an abrupt halt beside him and Sandra yelled, "Get in!" from the driver's seat. John threw his last rifle and remaining crutch into the back and then hauled himself up and in after them. He had barely levered himself over the edge when Sandra put her foot to the floor and they took off at great speed, dodging the strewn bits of metal all over the street and heading away from the warehouse. Dorian was sat in the open window, facing behind them, holding on with one hand and firing his handgun with the other. Sandra swerved down a side street and away from the cache, leaving the chaos in their wake.

As they turn down a side street and out of sight of their pursuers there was a huge bang that made John almost jump out of his skin. He looked around in panic, a wild look in his eyes but when he looked at Dorian for confirmation he saw the android had a grim yet satisfied smile on his face. Even though he realised that the explosion must have been engineered by his friends, he found it hard to control his racing heart. He hated explosions, or any loud, sudden noises really, hated his inevitable reaction of panic and fear. His mandated therapist had said it was to be expected, and he'd come a long way from hiding under his duvet on the Fourth of July or ducking for cover whenever his toast popped up, but for a while he'd wondered if he'd ever be able to fire his weapon again, and it had taken many hours at the range to be able to even consider being able to return to duty without being a nervous wreck.

John lay in the back of the pick-up trying to catch his breath, he could see thick black smoke billowing into the overcast night sky now and feel the heat of the flames, even though there were a few streets between them and the fire now. As he looked around him he saw that it had been packed with a couple of magazines for both 9mm handguns and assault rifles like the one he carried. There was also a big cardboard box, the top of it was torn and flapping open revealing blocks of what looked like grey modelling clay. Old fashioned C4, and lots of it, against the odds, the first part of the plan was complete and they'd managed to deal an even heavier blow to InSyndicate than originally intended.

"You okay?" Dorian asked, clambering from the cab window and into the back to crouch by John's side, without Sandra ever letting up on the speed.

John propped himself up on his elbows, but it hurt so he lay back down and tried to ignore the way he could feel every little bump in the road. "Never let me pull a crazy stunt like that again." He said through gritted teeth. He could taste blood in his mouth, hoped it was just where he'd bitten his tongue in the fall and not a sign of something worse.

The truck came to a halt and Sandra stepped down from the cab. She came round to the back and peered in, folding her arms over the side and resting her chin on them. "It worked." She said, scrutinising her friend for further injury. "We got everything we need. You pulled enough of them away that getting in was relatively easy."

"Wish I'd had chance to see the looks on their faces as they realised they were involved in a rooftop chase with a cripple." He smiled. "They're not going to be so underprepared next time though. We should hit the DRN warehouse now before they have a chance to step up security."

Dorian shook his head. "Not yet. We've got to regroup, catch our breath."

"That won't be the only warehouse of weapons." John pointed out. "If we give them enough time, they'll come back with more firepower and more guards and taking out our next target will be impossible. They'll have ID'd me by now, they have to realise we're planning on doing more."

Sandra frowned at him as she thought the suggestion over. Dorian looked alarmed, almost frightened, at the idea, reminding John that he was running low on charge and that his emotional responses were likely to become erratic if they couldn't get him charged soon.

"John," Dorian had that face on where he looked like he was about to tear up and his lip was quivering. "You're not well. You need to rest, you need to heal. What they did to you…"

John hated outward displays of emotion, especially when he was feeling so tired and burnt out himself. He ran a hand over his face and tried to ignore the way it trembled. "Dorian, you are right. I'm not well. My injuries are going to take months to heal, I'm missing a goddamn leg. I'm not fit to do this, but if we don't get you charged soon, neither will you be. We need to do this while you're still with us, and if we go back home for reinforcements…? Well I know how InSyndicate works, they'll take the fight to us and innocent people will get killed."

Dorian and John looked to Sandra for the deciding vote. She reached over and gave John's shoulder a comforting squeeze but looked up at Dorian. "Let's finish this!"

Authors Note: It's gonna be relentless from here on in. If you're with us, let us know. X