Chapter 46: Dispatch
Click.
"...the three FBI agents have been located... multiple gunshot wounds... affirmative, all subjects expired..."
"-And another one of those demon things- no, not the one we're looking for- this one's dead..."
"Keep an eye out, Randal- for the loose demon, and for the fugitives. You are now authorized to open fire on subjects walking into the protected area. Randal, do you copy?"
Randal sighed, and tried to relax his incredibly tense shoulders. "Ten-Four. Er, copy that," he muttered, shooting a nervous glance off into the darkness, "Over and out."
Click.
Randal glared at the floorboards of his elevated platform, thinking about his fate. Why would they put someone like him on guard duty, when armed fugitives and a literal Demon from hell were on the loose? It was no secret that Randal regarded his suppressed Mp5 as a sort of chained up beast, and that he hated shooting it, especially when he had to shoot at another person. He had only ever shot a living being once, during his re-qualification process with the park rangers, when he shot a coyote in the heart with an AR-Carbine. (An incident which would haunt him at night for months to come.) He never intended to kill anything again and, normally, he wouldn't have to.
This case was different. There was some weird "supernatural" stuff going on behind the curtains, probably some sort of government research project gone rogue, and a bunch of the high-clearance Special Forces had been called in to deal with it and then sweep it under the rug before some religious news outlets came by to sensationalize it. By some terrible mistake, Randal found himself standing among the top brass of the FBI and DHS, working on a case which he barely understood.
Randal supposed that the universe was just cruel like that, and that there was no sense in being bitter; 'when you fret, you suffer twice,' his mother always used to say.
"Your mother said a lot of stupid things," a quiet, hissing voice somewhere in Randal's head said. Randal froze.
"What was that?"
He reached for his radio, clicked the button, and found that he could not hear the click.
In fact, he was probably just imagining things, but it seemed like everything got awful quiet all the sudden. The woods could get really quiet at night, but they weren't usually this quiet.
"Hello?" Randal said, glancing around concernedly. The sound of his voice failed to reach his ears. The utter silence continued.
Randal started to sweat. He was beginning to feel a swimming sensation in his head, causing him to sway on his feet. This was the loose demon thing, wasn't it? That thing had killed four men already, and Randal would be damned if he was next!
He let out a completely silent groan of frustration and sank to his knees, clutching at the bridge of his nose with his shaking hand.
He blinked, slowly, heavily. His eyes were watering now, and all he could hear was a faint ringing in his ears. His vision was blurring and contorting, but he knew that he saw something moving below...
Shaking with stress, Randal moved his thumb to switch the safety off his mp5. The small, black "safety" switch clicked right over the red image of a single bullet, and onto the one with a bunch of little bullets in a straight line. If he was going to fire, he was going to do it full auto.
Every muscle in Randal's body was clenching, but he still managed to let his sights fall onto...
Oh.
Oh no.
Randal snapped his head back and screamed into the night as his consciousness faded. He fell slowly onto the wooden planks below him.
-break-
The crazy part was how it had all started, and ended, so quickly. The eerily silent radio call from Agent Randal, and the sickening scream, followed almost immediately by nearly a dozen short bursts of popping- the distinct noise of a suppressed firearm being fired at a range.
The other agents said that 31 shots had been fired, but Agent Peter knew better. Somewhere in his incredibly sharp memory, Peter remembered Randal complaining about how hard it was to load a magazine with 31 9mm rounds into an mp5, during his explanation as to why his magazine was missing two bullets.
"Well, um, you know, I like slapping the charging handle to make it go back; I mean, why else would I use an mp5, right? But, that doesn't work when I put in 31. My instructor always told me I should just use 30 or 29, and I'm used to 29," had been his exact words. Randal was completely wrong, of course- 31 round magazines worked just fine, as long as you kept the bolt locked back before you put the magazine in.
"Which, he refused to do on grounds that it just wasn't as cool," Peter muttered, picking up the 29th and final 9mm casing. It was still warm, but not uncomfortably hot.
"Huh. I guess you were right. The entry holes kind of blend together, but... I only count 29 exit holes in the tree, and Randal was clearly making a conscious effort to hit it- I mean, based on the tightness of the grouping," said Agent Phineas, shining a flashlight at the bullet-riddled oak tree. Agent Peter shook his head.
"Not Randal. Someone else, someone who knew how to shoot," he replied. Agent Phineas raised an eyebrow.
"All right, Sherlock Holmes, slow down. What are you even talking about?"
Peter sighed, and dropped the 9mm round. Muttering under his breath, he jogged over to Randal's unconscious body, and pointed frantically up towards the platform he fell from.
"The platform is about 5 meters up. The tree is probably another... I'd say, 50 meters away. Even firing semi-auto, Randal wasn't a good enough shot to hit that tree 29 times with a 29 round magazine in the dark," said Peter. He paused for a moment, gauging Phineas's reaction. Phineas did not appear convinced.
"Well, as if that wasn't enough, the shots were fired in concentrated 3-round bursts, which runs counter to Randal's known 'full auto, all the time' policy, which I believe he intended to enact, based on the position of the switch. Someone calm enough to fire in 3-round bursts, and good enough to hit every shot, did this," Peter concluded. Phineas let out a deep breath, and shrugged.
"Alright. That makes sense. But- that opens so many questions! How did the demon do all of this so quickly- and why didn't he kill him? That demon already cut down three of our guys; this doesn't really seem like his style," Phineas asserted. Peter nodded.
"Right- so it wasn't the demon. If you had been listening to the radio earlier, you would've heard a vague warning about three fugitives who had recently killed three FBI men and were heading this way- I can only assume that this was them, though I don't know why they didn't just kill Agent Randal."
"Well, even if this wasn't the demon, the thing is still on the loose. Should we just... quit looking for him and search for these dipshits?" Phineas asked. Peter nodded.
"Absolutely. Now, hush up and let me call dispatch. They'll want to hear about all this..."
Click.
"Yes, Agent Peter speaking- call off the search for the loose demon- I believe that the... Atticus fugitives have entered the premises," Peter said. No one made a sound. "You know what to do; Over and out."
Click.
-Break-
"... You know what I've always wondered? I mean, I don't know what reminded me of this but- How do other countries feel about making fun of Americans? Like- you know, if I point at some poor Spanish dude and say something really dickish about tacos or something, I'd probably make like, half the country really upset," contemplated Leo. He paused for emphasis. "But, then, you hear all these American-burger jokes about how we're all obese and super racist and stuff coming from Europeans, and no one bats an eye." There was an uncomfortable pause. "I mean- I don't mind! It's kind of true. But- like- they get really offended when we make fun of them in our country. How's that work?"
Leo's father groaned. "Why the hell are you asking me? I'm not omniscient," he said irritatedly.
"I know- but, didn't you study cultural anthropology or something? You're supposed to be able to answer these questions!" Leo replied. His father rolled his eyes.
"You don't say, "Cultural Anthropology," it's implied. And, your question has a false premise- plenty of people get offended when Europeans make "America" jokes. Mostly Americans. But, I consider it to be a little different, since our attitude towards diplomacy mostly involves taking massive fiery shits on Islamic countries and saying that we're spreading democracy. I feel like we sort of deserve it," Leo's father replied. Leo frowned.
"Well, obviously, but, do we all deserve it? Like, if some really nice American moves to... I dunno, France to get away from all the crazy stuff, then gets ostracized by the community for being a war-loving, burger-eating American with a funny accent, is that fair?" Leo asked. His father shrugged.
"France probably isn't the best place to go if you're looking to get away- trust me, Paris is just New York with pretty architecture."
"That wasn't the point, though- I mean, I could have replaced it with just about any country. Do you think that discriminating against Americans for being Americans is okay?"
"That's- that's a completely nonexistent issue! There is no systemic oppression of Americans anywhere in Europe, just a lot of bored people making occasional jokes at our expense!"
Nicholas sighed, and clenched his fists. Now that he was getting wraps on his powers, he was tempted to try knocking both of them unconscious and leaving them behind before they could taint the air with more of their useless banter.
"Both of you, shut up," Nicholas said, holding up his hand. Everyone came to a full stop.
"I'm just saying, is all. Like, hypothetically-" Leo muttered. Nicholas cast him a withering scowl.
"Quiet! I sense another consciousness near here. I don't think it's human," Nicholas said. Leo and his father exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Is it a demon?" Leo's father asked. Nicholas shrugged.
"I don't know. It's mind seems to have some sort of... barrier in front of it. I don't even know exactly where it is."
Somewhere behind Leo, something moved silently. Nobody saw it.
"Awesome. Can you remind me why you confiscated our weapons again?" Leo asked.
"I- I don't know! It seemed decisive and- and, take-control-ish at the time! It was supposed to symbolize us not killing anything!"
Nicholas's frustrated stammering was just loud enough to conceal the conspicuous scraping noise of a metal blade being drawn in the dark.
"Well, congratulations, numb-nuts! That was a really cool trick you pulled off with that agent earlier, but you said yourself that now you're out of "psychics energy" or whatever. Without that, we're really screwed!"
Long, clawed fingers curled around the curved metal blade, and a bony red arm rose into the air, preparing to launch the projectile.
Suddenly, Leo's father punched Leo in the shoulder. "Hey- did you hear that? I definitely just heard something over there," he said, pointing over Leo's shoulder. Leo shrugged.
"Either you're paranoid or my hearing is bad- I didn't hear a thing," replied Leo.
Not a second later, something curved and immeasurably sharp started whirred through the air, before coming to a halt against Leo's spine.
Nicholas screamed and jumped backwards as Leo jerked violently and fell to the ground, completely stiff. The only sound he made as he hit the dead leaves was a quiet "crunch."
Immediately, Leo's father dropped to the ground beside his fallen son. "LEO! Leo, are you alright? Leo, please, please don't be dead!"
Nicholas closed his eyes, and tried very hard not to scream. Assess the situation. Don't scream, don't cry. Find the demon. He took a deep breath and scanned for minds.
Oh
Nicholas threw himself against the ground, falling prone next to Leo's sobbing father. The demon scythe cut through the space where Nicholas's head would have been, and embedded itself in a nearby tree. Slowly, Nicholas got back up, and stared towards the cold consciousness of his assailant.
Somewhere out of the tree line, the demon stepped into view, then stood ominously still. Nicholas could barely make it out through the dark of the nighttime forest, but he could see its glowing purple eyes and neon green skin. It was unlike any other demon he had ever seen.
Go AWAY! Nicholas screamed at the Demon's mind. It responded by walking forwards, still remaining utterly silent. Nicholas could see it clearly now: It was roughly the size of a man, and it carried a large, roughly-forged pitchfork in one hand. Its undersized black wings were folded up like a cape. It's eyes locked with Nicholas's, and he found himself frozen in place. Something about its gaze kept Nicholas's muscles from registering the signals which he was sending them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas saw Leo's father standing up. His fists were balled.
"Out of the way, Nick!" he growled. Nicholas could not speak, but he could still send psychic messages.
Stop, he whispered into the grieving father's mind, though he knew it was too late. Leo's father had already covered half the distance, and showed no signs of stopping. The demon continued to stare emotionlessly into Nicholas's soul, ignoring Leo's father completely.
"Hey- Look at me, bitch! Look into my eyes!" Leo's father screamed. The demon did not acknowledge him.
Shaking with rage, Leo's father wound back his arms and brought both of his fist's into the side of the demon's skull, producing a massive crack and throwing the demon onto the ground.
Guide gasped and stumbled to the ground as he regained control over his body. He tried to get up, but was met with a horrible, splitting headache and a wave of dizziness from the lack of oxygen intake while his lungs were frozen.
Up ahead, the demon yanked itself back up, seemingly by an invisible string attached to its head. It did not roar, nor did it scream. Its glare spoke a thousand words as it faced down Leo's father, who was winding up to kick the demon in the shin.
Nicholas winced as the pitchfork's spiked tip collided with the poor man's face, sending him reeling backwards. Before the demon could follow up the attack, Leo's father grabbed one of its long, bony arms and slammed it against his knee, tearing the ligaments and snapping it at the joint. The pitchfork fell into the leaves.
Immediately, the demon used its other hand to throw Leo's father onto his back. It's eyes began to glow brighter, and Leo's father froze in his place.
Working through the pain, Nicholas forced himself up, and grabbed a sizable, heavy rock.
Slowly, the demon picked up its pitchfork, and pointed it at the frozen form of Leo's father. As it wound its arm back, something hard smashed against its kidney, and it went down.
"Stay down!" Nicholas shouted, bringing the rock down on the demon's skull.
Before he could finish the motion, Nicholas found the demon's foot firmly planted in his solar plexus. It flapped its wings, throwing itself briefly into the air and sending Nicholas flying several feet backwards, and into a thick oak stump.
Everything seemed to slow down as the demon flew towards Nicholas, pitchfork outstretched. Surely, the thing would reach him in just a few seconds, and that would be it. He might have survived the initial injury, but he couldn't keep fighting after something like that.
However, as Nicholas accepted his fate, a volley of glowing green streaks scythed through the demon, starting at its thighs before climbing up and rupturing the creature's skull.
By the time it reached Nicholas, the demon had been reduced to a lifeless green sack, riddled with massive exit holes all over its body. Its face had been blown apart, and was currently leaking at Nicholas's feet.
"Hands up, both of you! I am authorized to shoot, so keep 'em where I can see them!" shouted a vaguely familiar voice. Removing his hands from his aching head, Nicholas slowly raised his arms.
"Please, help us- my friend has been hit in the spine by one of those demon scythes, and he needs immediate help!" Nicholas said, looking around desperately for his savior.
"Wait... Guide, is that you?" The man asked, stepping out from behind a tree and into plain view.
"Alex?" Nicholas asked, squinting intensely. He had been Guide's first player, and, despite his misgivings, Nicholas was relieved to see him alive in the real world. "Is that really you? I've gone through so many players, I- I almost didn't remember you!"
Alex nodded, and lowered his rifle. "Yeah. I certainly haven't forgotten about you. Ever since I got back from that... place, I couldn't stop thinking about it," Alex replied. He grimaced. "Damnit, now you've got me thinking about it again! I thought it was a dream at first, but then these... demons started showing up, and I decided that there must have been some truth to all of it."
"Hey, I don't know how you two know each other, but can you please help? My son is going to die if he doesn't get IMMEDIATE medical attention!" Leo's father said, pointing at his son's body. Alex bit his lip, and looked concernedly at Nicholas.
"Well... I'm supposed to shoot all of you, but, since I know you..." he started. Nicholas smiled.
"You'll make an exception. Thank you!" he replied. Alex shook his head.
"Now, wait one moment- now that I think about, you let me die back in Terraria! Why should I help you?" Alex asked, pointing his finger accusingly. Nicholas took a deep breath, and raised his hands in the air again.
"I am sincerely sorry about that. You were my first player, and I was absolutely devastated when I found out what happened to you. In fact, I very nearly ended my own life on the spot," Nicholas said. Alex appeared conflicted.
"What changed your mind?" Guide hesitated.
"... A very dear friend of mine, who I lost back in Terraria. If you don't help me, I'll lose this one too. He's- He's a bit of a buffoon, but he's all I have left," Nicholas said, his voice cracking. Alex coughed uncomfortably and looked at Leo, before turning back to Nicholas.
"... Fine. Fine, I'll help you, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to do! If he got hit in the spine, then he hasn't got much time left- I mean, I know first aid, but that's not going to help this poor kid," Alex said. Nicholas shook his head.
"I wasn't considering medical attention. I want you to bring us to the nearest portal," Nicholas replied. Alex raised an eyebrow.
"Well- I mean, there's one just over this hill, but nothing can go through those. Well, technically anything that's not from... oh." Alex stared uncomfortably at the ground.
"We're from Terraria, so we should be able to go through it. You could probably cross through too, if you wanted," Nicholas said. Alex shook his head.
"No, I'm just glad I'm alive in this world. But, if you think going back will save that kid, feel free- it's right this way."
Alex began wandering over the hilltop. Nicholas turned towards Leo's father, who had already scooped Leo into his arms. His eyes were still dripping tears.
"This had better work, Nicholas," He said, and fell in line behind Alex.
-Break-
The black portal loomed above Nicholas, hanging in the air like an ethereal door. It was as though someone had broken a perfect, rectangular hole in a computer screen displaying a forest background.
"Are you ready?" Alex asked, looking first at Nicholas and then at Leo's father.
"Yes."
"If there's not other option."
Suddenly, three FBI agents wielding rifles and sub machines emerged from the darkness behind Nicholas. He cursed himself for not spotting their minds sooner.
As the three men came into view, their red laser-sights danced across Nicholas's chest and face.
"Agent Alex, what's going on here? Who are these people?" asked one of the agents.
"Oh, hello Agent Phineas. These are-" Alex started.
"These are the fugitives. Why are they at the portal?" One of the other agents asked.
"Oh, well, see- I... I didn't know. I'm sorry, Agent Peter, I-" Alex said, looking at his feet.
"Open fire."
Nicholas screamed out as Peter and the two other Agents emptied their magazines into Alex, who fell face first onto the ground almost immediately. Nicholas's ears rang with the sound of 9mm gunfire.
"Grab the fugitives," Peter said, pointing his smoking weapon at Nicholas and Leo's father.
This was it. The last few seconds of Nicholas's stay in the Real World. Somehow, he felt cheated. But, there was nothing he could do about the approaching agents. He only really had one choice.
Before anyone could react, Nicholas yanked Leo's limp body from his father's hands, took a deep breath, and leapt headfirst into the dark portal.
"Goodbye, real world," Nicholas thought as his soul was torn from his Earthly body, and carried far, far away...
End of Arc 3
Author's Note: Arc 4 will start on December 20. From there onwards, the story will receive one chapter per day, until its closure around Christmas Day.
-Sensei200
