Chapter 27: Rampaging Demons

Harley traced his thumb across a photo. Three stars glinted on his shoulder flap—he recalled it had been taken mere days before his sudden promotion. His arm was looped through Melissa's. She was beaming despite her father's serious expression. Knowing her, she was probably up and about, treating the wounded by the dozen.

Harley raised his thumb. A bloody fingerprint lingered between father and daughter. The police chief hastily rubbed at the stain with the bottom of his uniform, smudging his photographed face.

Meters away, the European Operative shifted a block of C4. The explosives were connected in a large chain spanning across the road—filament-thin wires snaking under abandoned cars and winding around sputtering lampposts. He tugged on the web. The LEDs attached to the detonator lit his gas mask with a menacing glow.

The Operative rose to his feet and inspected his work. Satisfied, he turned and strode back to the station, picking his way over the scattered bodies.

Bloody guns had been gathered in small piles across the defensive line of squad cars and jeeps. Antithesis Operatives and police officers sifted listlessly through the impromptu arsenals. Antithesis medics hurried from squad to squad, tending to the lying defenders. Nobody spoke.

The European Operative trudged through to Harley and Aidan, and presented a detonator.

"Charges set. One push, many booms."

"Good." Aidan rested his FNC on one shoulder. "I still haven't gotten any reports from Adriel and Ivo, which means their next assault is a ways away. We're making good time."

"Let's leave the explosives as a last resort. Those charges rupture the gas lines, we won't be able to stop the fires." Harley feigned strength as he picked up an M4 with his working arm. "And, I'll be frank, some of these buildings were never up to code. We don't want to be picking our men out of piles of rubble."

"If there's fire, they won't be able to push forward. If there's rubble, we'll finally have some decent cover." The European crossed his arms. "We know what we're doing. Do you?"

With that, he turned on his heel and strode to a different position. Aidan leaned towards Harley.

"Yeah, that's Wolfgang for ya. He doesn't like idiots. Speaking of idiots..." Aidan took the M4 out of Harley's grip. "Leave these for the guys with two hands."

Before Harley could complain, Aidan drew a Beretta PX4 from his holster and offered the handle to him.

"Look. I get that you wanna help out, but we've been stockpiling materiel and training personnel since the last war." He gestured the sidearm toward the fortifications. "If what we have isn't enough, one more rifle on the front lines won't make a difference. You just focus on staying alive and not making dumb calls, yeah?"

Harley looked at the weapon briefly, then back up at Aidan. "Keep your gun. I have my own."

"Fuck right off with that 'calming down' bullshit!"

Commotion in the back ranks drew Harley's attention. He looked toward the ruined entrance of the station, where a small mob of civilians was pushing against Dempsey. Dempsey was slowly losing ground.

"You saw what happened to those people on the TV! We're not going to wait here just so we can get cornered and killed off!" The man yelled. "Let us out, goddamnit!"

"Sir, if there was a safe way out of this, we would've already taken it," Dempsey pleaded at the doorway. "We can't protect you if you leave these premises!"

"Maybe you should take your friendly neighborhood cop's advice." Aidan closed the distance between himself and the instigator, his features hardening. "In case you haven't noticed, we're armed… and you're not."

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" The lead civilian's voice cracked on the last word. "Y-you threatening us now?!"

"Stand down, Dempsey. You too, Aidan." Harley stepped forward. "If they want to leave so badly, they're free to go."

Dempsey's eyes widened a little. "Sir, I don't think-"

In his moment of hesitation, the civilians surged past the one-man barricade, spilling out onto the sidewalk. The instigator at the front quickly stood, a volatile mixture of panic and anger flickering across his eyes.

Harley stood his ground.

"It's no secret that we're severely outmanned and outgunned. We might not be able to protect you all, and I'm sorry about that. But each one of you is a liability. The fewer civilians we have to protect, the better."

Harley offered his pistol's grip to the civilian. "You'll need to protect yourselves out there, so take this. We appreciate your sacrifice."

The male civilian at the front stared at the gun, then at the bloodied man holding it. He raised his hand towards the piece slowly, and then his courage failed—he pulled back completely and retreated back into the safety of the station, his head hung. As everyone watched his ignominious retreat, another hand nonchalantly wrapped around the pistol grip.

"Thanks." A young woman with short, black hair said, taking it out of Harley's hand. "The sooner we get to the manholes, the better."

Harley's eyes narrowed. "Manholes?"

"Huh." The young woman cocked her head. "You don't know about the manholes?"

"Nice." Aidan raised his eyebrows at Harley. "You gave a nutcase a loaded gun."

She rolled her eyes. "There's an accessible sewage line out of the main square into the outskirts of SIN. We need to get these civilians out of the hot zone, ASAP."

"Okay, you think you're so smart, huh?" Aidan did his best to ignore Harley's judgemental gaze as he met the woman's. He kicked open a nearby manhole cover, revealing caved-in walls. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but we already plugged this one up. Didn't need any AAHW undermining our position with explosions."

The woman's gaze hardened. "Did you fill up the one a half-klick south of the station, at the intersection?"

Aidan stared at her, poker-faced. He finally looked at Harley.

"There's another manhole?"

"Oh thank God, you're incompetent." She deeply exhaled. "Come on, there's no time to waste, let's go-"

Aidan's radio crackled to life with Ivo's voice."Python Actual, this is Python One. I have eyes on AAHW transports and air support—one chopper and what looks like five technicals and at least a hundred foot mobiles. ETA ten minutes. Python Three is on his way back and I'm in position."

Wolfgang pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on.

"HVT is secure. The civilians will find their own way. The longer we hold this RZ, the more people we're going to lose." Wolfgang raised his detonator. "I'll blow the charges. That should give us all the time we need to bring the HVT somewhere safer."

"Not yet, Wolf." Aidan placed a hand on his chin as he turned to the woman. "I misjudged you, girl. You seem to know what you're doing. Can you get the civilians out of here before those terrorists figure out your plan?"

"Not unless we leave the weak and wounded behind. Even then…" She then shook her head. "No. Once they figure we're making a run for the sewer line, they'd block us off at the other end. We'd be trapped."

Without a moment's hesitation, Aidan turned to face his Operatives.

"Defensive positions!"

The Antithesis Operatives came alive at the order, moving with a purpose as it was echoed throughout their ranks. The barrel of a sniper rifle poked between the sandbags haphazardly piled on the rooftop. Two men, swaddled in stained bandages, hauled boxes filled with glistening brass towards a pair of fifty-caliber machine guns.

Aidan pointed past the woman. "We'll hold the door open for you, but not for long. Hurry."

With a nod, she faced the weary eyes behind her.

"You heard him, we're running out of time here!" The woman pointed the barrel of Harley's gun south of the station. "We have to get to that manhole, now! Move, move!"

The civilians scrambled as they heard her order, starting from the wounded. Harley tapped her shoulder.

"Miss?"

"What is it?"

Harley exposed his hand, face slightly sheepish. "Could I please have my gun back?"

Neither of the two budged. Harley spoke up again.

"I… didn't actually expect anyone to-"

"Just take it, officer."

"Intel suggests the target is behind this door," An Advanced Engineer pointed at the doorway leading into the lab.

One of the three accompanying Advanced Agents turned a corpse over with his foot. "Never would have guessed."

The Engineer held up a flashbang. "Breaching positions, on my mark."

The Agents readied themselves. The Engineer pulled the pin and raised his arm…

A boom reverberated through the air as a spindly crack spread across the wall in front of them, freezing the squad in place. The second boom blasted a hole in the weakened concrete.

Hank burst through the smoke and the debris, his back slamming into the opposite corner of the hallway. In his surprise, the Engineer dropped his flashbang. He had time only to look down and realize his mistake before it went off.

The blinded squad fired in front of them in a panicked frenzy. The first thing they saw when their vision returned was a ghastly, skull-like visage, wreathed in scathing white flames. A row of canines, each tooth the length of a broadsword and sharpened to a lethal point, accompanied soulless, glazed eyes that bored into its victims. Clawed hands burst through the wall; one crushed a stunned Agent into pulp while the other gouged its talons into the concrete floor.

"HOLY-!"

The behemoth seized the Engineer in its maw. Its teeth cleaved tendon and bone as it tore into the soldier's flesh and ground his body into sizzling yellow paste. The remaining two Agents backpedaled frantically, emptying what remained of their magazines into the abomination and fumbling for new ones. Unfazed, it balled one immense hand and backhanded one Agent into the wall. The other fist bashed into the last Agent, sending his broken body flying.

Hank clambered to his feet, jabbing his finger against the button to call the elevator. The sound of a body crunching into a locker behind him brought his attention back to the chaos. The veteran grabbed the shotgun that popped out of the ruined container. The elevator doors opened with a pleasant ding and he threw himself inside, conscious of a cold sweat he hadn't felt in years.

He frantically pressed for the doors to close. Tricky's clawed hands managed to catch them before they could shut.

By mechanical reflex, the doors reopened.

"HAAAAAAAAAAANK!"

The roar rang through Hank's ears. His mind racing, Hank jumped back through the opened elevator shaft just as Tricky vomited fire onto the ground beneath him.

Hank pressed his back against a wall, feeling the elevator rattle as Tricky charged through the blaze. He cocked his shotgun with one hand and wrapped the other around the elevator cable. He aimed at the straining wire.

Straight down to Hell.

He fired, severing the cord. The elevator plummeted into the depths; he watched the monster's figure grow smaller through the shaft. Its roar grew distant as fire enveloped the demon. Flames far below him fiercely burned, filling the narrow space with a dim, yet lurid glow.

Hank swung himself from the wire to the edge of the elevator door at the ground floor. Every muscle in his forearms screamed as his fingers pulled at the crack between the doors.

"Why isn't this damn thing working?" A voice from the other side exposed itself.

Before the doors fully parted, Hank wedged the shotgun into the gap and fired again. Buckshot scythed through two of the three Agents. The third dropped his rifle as pellets ripped into his forearm. He scrambled backwards, seeking cover.

"Target spotted, floor 14A!" The distinctive, modulated voice of an Engineer yelled.

Hank pried the door open with the shotgun and pounced on the injured Agent, wrapping his arm around the Agent's neck. Using the Agent as a meatshield, Hank pulled the Agent's sidearm from its holster and fired twice at the Engineer's mask. The Engineer's head jerked back as he slumped to the ground, coating the wall in yellow blood. The other Agent raised his weapon—Hank sent his hostage stumbling into him and fired once. The bullet ripped through both Agents' heads, and together they crumpled to the ground.

The facility's exit door opened again. Three more Engineers rushed in, rifles braced, and Hank took aim at them. A sudden jolt tripped their footing, just before the vertigo kicked in.

Everyone's feet levitated three inches off the ground.

Amidst the enemy's confusion, Hank fired across the hallway. The Engineers let out one last collection of screams before their limp bodies drifted off.

Still floating, Hank pushed off a wall in the direction of the exit. He slapped the button to automatically open the door, pulling himself outside blindly. He felt a blast of air in the same moment his mind registered the dark orange clouds that surrounded him.

He was in free-fall.

All his mental energy dedicated itself to life-or-death calculation.

Sand. 500 meters. 12 seconds to impact.

Wind whipped past him as he tore off his coat. Air blasted under its fabric, forming into a makeshift parachute that barely slowed his descent. Sand burst around him as he crashed into the desert.

Behind Hank, the building plowed into the once-featureless desert. An immense plume of sand erupted from the dunes.

Footsteps of another Advanced platoon hurried down the cracked sidewalk. From the shadows of an alleyway the soldiers had just passed, Sanford peeked out to check both directions.

"Damn it!" Deimos stood behind Sanford's outstretched hand. "How much longer are we gonna lurk around in this piss-stained alleyway? We can take these guys!"

"And do what?" Sanford pulled away from the corner and looked at Deimos. "Start a gunfight right next to where they're keeping the hostages?"

"I get that, but is standing around here with our thumbs up our asses really gonna get us any closer to saving anyone?" Deimos pointed past Sanford with his rifle. "It's nearly pitch black and the place is literally right there. We can sneak in before they know what hit 'em, so what the hell are we waiting for?"

Sanford looked back at their destination. There was still enough light to identify the aged building as a school. At each corner of its rooftop, an Engineer scanned the area below. On ground level, three Agents held their position by the entranceway.

"For nightfall. It'll be our best opportunity," Sanford looked at Deimos again. "To kill Daniel."

"Wha-?"

"Hank probably doesn't realize it, but new intel suggests there's a very good chance that bastard's in there, hiding behind those hostages." With a hand, Sanford shook the Scrambler he'd nabbed from Deimos. "We're going to take him down."

"No, we wait for Hank! Like we promised him!" Deimos snatched the device back from him. "And don't take my stuff without my permission!"

Sanford glowered. "If you understand what threat that man poses, then you know we can't afford to-"

"Sanford." Perhaps it was because of the dark, but Deimos's face lacked its usual, excited radiance. "Do you really think Hank's gonna appreciate his friends backstabbing him right now?"

Silence lasted a few seconds as each man held his gaze. Sanford sighed.

"Look. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, we should worry about crossing the street without those guards seeing us."

Deimos looked past Sanford's shoulder. "What guards?"

"What do you mean, what guards?" Sanford turned to the school. "They're standing right-!"

The demolitionist froze when he realized he was looking at a brick wall, without a soul in sight.

"Well, there's your window," Deimos checked his rifle. "If we're gonna lie to Hank, then let's be quick about it."

"Deimos, wait!" Sanford kept his eyes on the roof as he blocked his partner's path again. "Something's not right."

"Ugh, what now-?!"

Shadows shifted on the rooftop amidst the growing darkness.

"Who the hell's that?" Sanford squinted. "Reinforcements from HQ?"

Deimos looked down at the Scrambler. He shook his head.

"Not quite…"

Agent 00133-Lambda ambled down the school's deserted hallways, gritting his teeth to suppress an encroaching yawn. The first twelve hours of his short, artificial life had been spent immersed in the utter darkness of a cloning vat. Yet, his surroundings were so lacking in visual stimuli that he would have much rather been back in the tube.

Between dusty and molding maroon floors, crusty beige walls spotted with tack holes, and rusted pipes almost too grimy to make out in the dark, his excitement wasn't exactly bursting at the seams. If he was lucky, he could spot an abandoned tack protruding from a wall once in a while and try to guess the original color of the faded plastic nub. If he was even luckier, an old piece of paper would remain attached to one of the tacks, which he could spend a few seconds perusing, potentially yielding a mentally stimulating experience.

The slow, clacking steps down the corridor brought him back to reality; he was a soldier, and he would die before he let a dissenter escape these halls. Lambda held his submachine gun at low ready. Familiar adrenaline pumped through engineered veins as he pressed a button on the left temple of his glasses.

The unknown figure materialized on his night vision…

"Stand down, Agent."

The Engineer's voice swept the rush away.

"Sorry, sir." Lambda lowered his weapon and sighed. "Only so much I can do with shitty night vision glasses that need to recharge every three minutes."

"It's to save costs. And the mistake wasn't because of your gear." The Engineer pointed past him. "You're supposed to be guarding the path down there. Did you forget?"

"Oh, uh-"

"We can switch positions." The Engineer strode past him. "Your negligence is going to get us both killed. Don't make this mistake again."

The Agent said nothing as his superior faded into the dark. After he was certain the Engineer out of earshot, he snorted.

"The hell are you complaining about? You get the better gear anyways." Lambda mumbled to himself. "Spitting image of our prick leader. Does yellow blood really turn you into a dick…?"

A loud thud from the direction the Engineer had walked off jolted Lambda.

"Oh, so now you're trying to scare me, huh?" Lambda turned around, scowling. "I heard you, loud and clear. I'm not gonna make the same mistake again, knock it off!"

Dead silence soothed his nerves. Then, dead silence rattled them.

"... Hello? Sir?"

Lambda activated his night vision again. He saw a puddle, legs, a torso...

Both his heart rate and weapon rose. Lambda went into a shooting stance, eyes darting around erratically. The tack-filled walls, dirty floor and pipes lost any sense of fragile familiarity. A clatter near the Engineer's body shifted his focus onto the fresh corpse. Logic overcame fear as the Agent pressed another button on his glasses.

When his mouth searched for words, black leather clamped over his lips, fingers gripping his cheeks. He felt a knife under his chin, and then nothing.

The killer eased the body down and looked towards the dead Engineer with his three-eyed, neon-green goggles. Two minutes had passed.

On schedule.

"Clear," he said, his voice weathered.

Another intruder melted out of the shadows. Only the color of the blood on their facemasks contrasted him and the first assassin.

"Second Drive's mobile, sir."

Daniel stared at the PDA's screen. Of the three white dots on the display, two remained stationary. The third, moving dot flickered with the rhythm of a faint heartbeat, as the PDA rapidly updated its path along the digitized topography.

"The Clown's in the desert? That's miles away from the lab… and miles closer to the Third Drive." Daniel's grip on the device tightened. "It can already manipulate Hammerspace?"

"Affirmative. It's likely the influx of Improbability in the atmosphere resulted in the unexpected mutation."

"'Unexpected' is an understatement. Its execution was completely premature." Daniel shoved the PDA at the Engineer's chest. "If it's being lured by the Third Drive, then waiting any longer at the Tent is utterly pointless."

"Your orders, sir?"

"Reorganize." Daniel's walkie-talkie came alive in a harsh buzz of static. He raised it, reading the speaker's name on the LCD display. "Bravo-4? What is it?"

He let go of the push-to-talk button and waited for an answer. None came. Daniel pressed it again.

"Bravo-2, Bravo-4. Sitrep."

Still no response. Daniel stared off into the empty, dimly lit upper level of seats. Whispers filled the room as Daniel moved a hand to his side.

Three claps of thunder went hand in hand with the three bullets that ripped into his head. Daniel fell. It took every person in the auditorium at least two more seconds to register what had just occurred—enough time for the shooters to gun down two more Agents and an Engineer.

Shrieks erupted as flashes of gunfire briefly revealed the bloody kevlar of the infiltrators. By the time the Agents and Engineers had activated their night vision, the intruders had already taken defensive positions, their scalps peering over rows of chairs like the fins of sharks in deep water. Projectiles shredded the seats' aged cushioning, but from below, it was impossible for the guards to tell if they hit anything other than furniture. At random intervals and positions, the attackers took turns peeking out of cover, raining lead, then returning back to cover in well-practiced motions.

"All units, the Tent's been compromised! Intruders located in the auditorium!" One Engineer shouted as he dragged the body of a fallen Agent. "Repeat, intruders located-!"

Another stray bullet splintered the Engineer's visor. At the center of the room, one word passed through Daniel's mind.

Predictable.

A click came from his hand. From the upper level, a beeping red light attached to a package of C4 caught one of the infiltrators' attention at the last second.

An explosive smokescreen of dust, splinters, and cushioning blinded every pair of eyes at the lower level. The entire upper level had caved in, crushing an unsuspecting cluster of hostages. The gunfire ceased, but the screaming had not.

Daniel slowly rose to his feet, wet clicks and gurgles shuddering out of his throat. He gained most of the crowd's attention by stepping forward, and their silence when their collective eyes met his own. At the sight, some of the hostages collapsed into unconsciousness. Daniel pressed the palm of one hand against his face, rubbing it against the front of his skull with wet squishes. A brief moment later, the natural inflection of his voice returned with a long exhale, as if he had just downed a refreshing drink.

He glanced down at the body of the Engineer he had been speaking to just a couple of minutes ago.

"Hellooo?" Daniel asked, whimsically. "Are you dead?"

Daniel prodded the corpse with a foot, and received his answer. He clicked his tongue and turned to an Agent. Judging from the Agent's unbalanced swaying, the man was clearly in a daze.

Better dazed than deafened. Or dead.

"You," Daniel said.

"M-me?" the Agent readjusted his glasses as he stammered.

"How many of you are able to stand?"

"I don't…" the Agent shook his head. "There were at least thirty men patrolling the hallways. If they got this far, most of them are dead."

Daniel folded his arms. "Gather those who remain and return here."

"How? The way out is blocked."

"Dig." Daniel pointed at the wreckage. Hysterical hostages clawed desperately, calling names. "The civilians are already doing half your job for you."

The Agent saluted shakily and hurried toward the detritus. A sharp pain rattled Daniel's nerves as he gasped, hunching him over, and his hands flew to his head. Lava poured between the folds of his brain, but the burning faded as swiftly as it had come.

"Created without creativity…" Daniel spat at where the Agent once stood. "You clones are no better than your predecessors."

A massive plume of sand erupted in the distance—large enough for anyone at the police station to see. The rumble followed soon after, like the growling of some awakened, starving beast. As the line stumbled to a halt, murmurs of fear and discontent escalated into an unruly cacophony. In the horizon, sunlight settled into a murkier shade of orange before disappearing entirely.

A civilian pointed at the sight. "What the hell is that?!"

"Forget about it and get a move on!" The woman with short black hair shoved him towards the opened manhole. "You're holding up the line!"

The civilian yelped as he toppled into the sewers. The man behind him did not hesitate and neither did the women and children who followed. As the civilians moved, so too did the Agents and Engineers; two black, armored vans burst from the AAHW lines, shrugging off torrents of small-arms fire as they hurtled towards the station.

"LAUNCHERS, ON THE DOUBLE!" Wolfgang roared.

Two Operatives popped out from opposite ends of the street in response, RPGs braced against their shoulders. They fired together; one missed, smashing into a building in a massive plume of smoke and pulverized concrete. The other smashed into the rearmost van; the vehicle's riveted metal plates crumpled as the subsequent explosion peeled open its steel skin. Two Engineers tumbled from the breach, their bodies riddled with white-hot shrapnel.

"Shoot the driver!" Dempsey yelled.

Every defender within earshot focused fire on the remaining van's windshield. Fractures spiderwebbed across the bulletproof glass as the van still continued its advance. At the far right flank of the defensive line, an Operative fed a belt of ammunition into the heavy machine gun as fast as she could, gritting her teeth.

"Ready!" she yelled, slamming the receiver closed. "Target at one o'clock, moving fast!"

Adriel adjusted his aim, his gunsights aligning with the vehicle. He held the trigger down, struggling with the recoil as .50 BMG rounds tore through air, punched through the van's windshield, and ripped through the driver and passenger, plastering the interior with gore.

"JEBUS CHRIST!" Harley pressed himself as far into the barricade as he could, his voice drowned out by weapons fire.

The driving Engineer's headless body slammed onto the van's horn, honking until the van crashed into the defensive roadblock. Its weakened chassis crumpled against one of the police cruisers. A squad of AAHW soldiers, bloodied and shell-shocked, clambered out of the wrecked van. Aidan's rifle bucked, knocking down three Agents scrambling for cover in a long burst.

Perched on one of the rooftops, Ivo trained his scope on an Engineer hidden behind the van, who was getting ready to throw a grenade. He fired as the enemy in his crosshairs pulled the pin, splattering yellow blood on the ground. Ivo watched with satisfaction as the grenade fell to the ground and detonated, taking with it the huddled group of Agents and Engineers nearby. He readjusted his aim until he found an Agent crawling out of the first van's burning wreckage, flailing and screaming as his suit burst aflame.

Ivo pulled away from his scope as his headset came alive.

"Didn't see those bastards." Aidan's voice came through. "Good shooting!"

"Thanks, but don't get too cocky. I think the next wave's already-"

An unmistakable, shrill whistle sent Aidan diving for cover. Across the defensive line, dozens of Operatives followed suit. A squad of police officers stood, their ears ringing, their blood running hot. They held their ground, unaware of the mortal peril which awaited them.

The ground shook as the mortar shells slammed into the fortifications. Each detonation drowned the defenders in more dust, debris, and death. When the clouds of soot cleared, any Operatives and officers foolish enough to stand and fight laid scattered across the line, maimed or lifeless.

"Ivo! Ivo, are you there?!" Aidan screamed into his headset. He lowered his gaze and clenched his fists. "Damn it, Ivo..."

Harley stared at the carnage, his words caught in his dry throat. He recognized faces among the dead.

They were pinned against the wall, like cornered rats. Now, the enemy sought to kill all of them from afar, with no chance for retaliation. An assault on the AAHW lines to reach their artillery was suicidal, at best. The enemy could sit back and fire over and over, until only smoldering craters remained.

Harley imagined the AAHW spotters grinning as they watched the mortar shells pummeling the defensive lines.

"... Chief! Chief!"

Perhaps it was the tinnitus, but he could hear Dempsey's voice growing in volume.

"HARLEY!"

Dempsey yanked at Harley's broken arm, forcing him back to reality with the pain, reminding him that he was still alive.

"Just don't look over there, okay?" Dempsey's voice came back into focus, although it wavered from its usual strength. As he scrunched his face in anger, the tears he held back squeezed themselves out of his eyes and down his cheeks. "Look in front of you! We have to kill these motherfuckers or everyone else ends up the same way!"

His gaze still weak and lost, Harley did as he was told. Down the road, the second wave had emerged from a smokescreen and was already halfway to the station. Four armored vans rolled forward slowly to match their walking pace, with foot soldiers using them as moving cover. They laid suppressive fire with their advance, just enough to immobilize Antithesis rocketeers.

"Aidan," Wolfgang's voice rang out in Aidan's headset. "We're running blind. We should blow-"

"No! We're not finished yet!" Aidan yelled into the mic. "Valkyrie! Rip and tear!"

On cue, a helicopter emerged from behind the police station and soared towards the vans, high enough to avoid the attackers' line of sight. A Nexus News logo was emblazoned on its side, a light machine gun mounted crudely on its camera swivel. Before anyone realized they weren't a news network, its LMG gunned down a trio of Agents.

"You guys have a helicopter?!" Harley shouted with renewed vitality as he stared at Valkyrie.

"We made one combat-worthy," Aidan replied. "Modern problems require modern solutions."

In shock, the marching infantry turned their focus away from the station and its defenses. The Antithesis RPGs peeked back out of cover and fired. The leading two vans burst into flames, stopping the push. The Agents and Engineers behind the damaged vehicles spilled out of formation, like bees from a startled hive.

"Harley, right? I'm going to give you a piece of advice. Think about the living during the fight." Aidan's focus remained with the battlefield. "Think about the dead if you survive it."

Dempsey wiped away the tears on his face with the palms of his hands. Harley placed a hand on Dempsey's shoulder. Newfound confidence merged with the Chief's glare, displacing his fear.

"I know." Both Harley's trigger finger, along with his aim at the enemy, hardened. "I know, son."

He fired. The bullet travelled its course across half the distance of a football field before smashing into the head of an Agent too far out of cover. An Engineer next to the slain Agent activated his own line of communication.

"Sierra-4 to Augustus! We're pinned down by Resistance air support!" The Engineer pushed himself deeper into his cover as a projectile pinged against the side of his van. "Requesting reinforcements!"

"Deploy a smokescreen with whoever you have left." Daniel's voice crackled through the static. "They will not survive what's coming."

The Engineer turned to his men. "Smoke off our retreat! Let them think we gave them some ground."

Fuming canisters popped off in front of the vans. A few Agents attempted to break formation and run before the fog thickened. Antithesis fire trained on the retreaters' backs, exposing their organs and poor choices. The hum of Valkyrie's gun hissed to a steaming halt as it hovered over the newly-formed wall of smoke.

The remaining defenders held their fire. Those who cowered slowly raised their heads above the bullet-ripped blockade of squad cars, staring at the colossal cloud in front of them. The air became still as the defenders collectively held their breath, until one finally dared to shout:

"We got 'em on the run!"

Anxiety along the defensive line shattered into joy. Cheers erupted from the survivors, rippling from the frontliners raising their weapons in jubilance, to the civilians outside the sewers. Harley let out a sigh of relief, just as Aidan slapped him on the back.

"You're a natural," Aidan said.

The veteran's compliment didn't alleviate the restlessness boiling inside the police chief's chest.

Aidan faced Wolfgang. "What did I tell ya, Wolfy? Tell ya what, I'll go and help you collect those explosives later. Might as well save 'em for when we need 'em!"

Wolfgang flipped him off. Aidan laughed, turning to the station.

"Now, time to get a shovel and dig Ivo out." He strode off, pulling at the back of his neck with the palms of his hands. "Need more'n some cheap mortar strike to kill the stubborn motherfucker…"

Harley stared as Aidan's figure and voice grew distant. Raspy breathing to his left caught his attention, reminding him of Dempsey's presence.

The Chief placed a hand on his subordinate's shivering ones. "You alright?"

"These people." Still shaking, Dempsey jerked his head at the remaining Operatives. "How can they be like that? I'm half a step away from vomiting my guts out."

He followed Dempsey's eyes. In contrast to the officers, the Operatives still had some energy to rejoice.

"We can't be upset," Harley said. "We'd all be dead if they weren't here."

"I'm not angry." The indignance in Dempsey's tone confused his words. "I'm just… I don't know. This isn't normal—this isn't human." Dempsey's gaze melted into one similar to a lost child's. His voice humbled to a whisper. "I want to go home. I want to go home and never have to crawl out again."

Harley drew a breath and tried to find the right words. Adriel stood nearby, his face feigning apathy. The smoke down the road finally faded, but the lack of natural light made it hard to see what was past it. It wasn't until Adriel squinted his eyes that he noticed the shadows looming from the depths of the smog. The sloshing of heavy rubber over pulverized concrete became louder and louder, soon overtaking the sounds of Antithesis celebration.

"Aidan!"

Aidan turned around; if Adriel's tone didn't make the warning clear, two pairs of dim, yellow rays piercing through the smoke did.

A mechanical thrum echoed from the lights, just before autocannon rounds punched whorls through the smoke. Three shells crashed into Valkyrie, crumpling its fuselage and rupturing its fuel tank. The engines of the craft struggled and strained before bursting into flames. The craft's corpse sprayed burning components and warped scrap metal as it plummeted into the street. Tongues of fire licked at the Nexus News logo.

Adriel's machine gun roared back to life. Glowering tracers streaked into the smoke, only to ricochet off of the shrouded behemoths.

The shadows fired again. The sudden carnage was louder than the screams. A rocketeer poked his head from cover, only for a hurtling, fist-sized chunk of debris to rip his head from his shoulders. One of the cruisers exploded, igniting two Operatives caught in its blast radius. They dove to the ground, crying, until another autocannon round burst between them, tearing their limbs apart. The .50 cal had stopped firing; Adriel had abandoned his post.

"That ain't fair! That ain't fair, you cowards!" Aidan ducked, turning towards the European Operative to give any kind of signal. "Wolf-!"

Wolfgang's upper half was splayed meters apart from its lower half. Aidan moved a few inches out of cover, his eyes focused on the dropped detonator. Gunfire forced him back.

Left and right, defenders surrendered their positions, escaping towards the manhole. In front, turrets atop the APCs never stopped firing, swivelling from target to target. Advanced soldiers marched beside the vehicles, unstoppable and unforgiving in their methodical massacre.

Harley pushed himself off the asphalt.

"Dempsey!" The uproar of gunfire swallowed his screams as he blindly felt the ground. His fingers brushed across damp fabric. "Dempsey!"

Harley's eyes readjusted themselves. Crimson puddles poured from bodies scattered over each other. Red stained the uniform his fingers rested on.

He flipped the body, his throat dry. Blood pooled past his hand. His knees were glued onto the pavement as his eyes were on the body. Harley's stillness reflected Dempsey's.

"... Hey!" Aidan shouted for the umpteenth time as he pulled at Harley. "Get up! Let's go!"

The Chief's eyes drifted to Aidan's. Harley shakily withdrew his arm into his pocket, where he traced the small photo. Its creases and tears grew in severity. Any more and the picture would fall apart.

He pressed it into one of Aidan's palms. By reflex, Aidan tightened his fist, looking down before meeting the Chief's eyes again.

"What're you doing?"

Harley's answer flowed like water.

"Thinking about the living."

He broke free from Aidan's grip and ran, all his focus on one object. He ignored Aidan's yells, forming an unfamiliar numbness in his heart that spread into the furthest reaches of his body.

His feet sunk deeper into the ground with every step. Sand replaced asphalt, and the carnage beside him, replaced by a vermillion ocean swallowing the sun. The detonator—a pale conch. Beyond that, a brunette, beautifully identical to the young girl holding her hand. For the briefest moment, Chief Harley Evanson was granted a sight forbidden by worldly laws.

When he was just a few paces away from the conch, a thunderous crash came from the ocean.

Everything collapsed under him as the taste of iron exploded in his mouth. He stretched his hand towards the two girls as they faded into smoke.

Harley smiled as he watched them go.

All strength left his arm, but not before it clasped the conch. In half a second, cold voids climbed the soles of his feet, consuming all hope in its journey to the center of his brain. And as the last neurons fizzled out and died, the spirit dimming from his eyes transformed into one last squeeze of the conch's sides.

Beneath the soldiers and APCs, a chain reaction disassembled everything in its path. The gas lines ruptured and ignited. A few flyers from SIN building inspectors fluttered in the wind as the blast wave shattered windows. The venerable establishments toppled inwards, their aged superstructures crumpling and burying dozens of Agents under mountains of rebar and concrete. A yawning fissure split the road between the station and those who dared to transgress the boundary. Though flames illuminated the darkness, the night was thick enough to buy the crippled retreaters just enough cover to complete their desperate rout.

Somewhere in Nevada, hospital lights flickered over the head of a nurse, praying to see her father again.

(Original) A/N: Okay, that's the end of Chapter 27. I'm sorry this was mainly a filler-chapter, but I felt that it was necessary to talk about the story behind why Cathy had betrayed Hank, Sanford, and Deimos. In fact, it is necessary if you think about it. I want people to feel completely satisfied by the answers I give them, and confusion of the plot to reach little above nothing.

I'm sorry for slow updates. My grandmother had just passed away a little while back, so humor wasn't really consistent in this chapter. I don't know how I managed it, but I typed this up, ready for reading.

Let's just go to Reviewer's Credit.

Sackrum: Thanks dude for your advice. I took it into consideration, but like I said, I don't think changing the chapter title now would be a good idea. It would cause way too much confusion and I doubt people would appreciate it. Also, I was thinking about using an image for this story, but you have to have written permission to use whatever artwork you're using. So, I'm not going to risk this story just for some stupid picture.

Thanks, and again, I appreciate your review. (lol, and it can't be over 9000!)

Nikolai247: Thank you for saying that! I'm glad you enjoyed the emotion from the last chapter, because I was planning on using it as one of those dramatic moments in a fanfic. Don't worry about the special present: it will definitely be revealed soon enough.

Special thanks go to you for being such an awesome supporter bro.

Xenophobic: They say the truth hurts, but damn dude! You made it sound hilarious as hell! And yep, that's Dan in a nutshell for ya.

Okay, Credits over. Read and review guys, and like I said, I will mention your name when you review a chapter as long as this story is still in-progress. Still, I will reply back to any account reviews via PM'ing so we can keep in touch. You guys are an awesome crowd, so please keep this up. We've reached the 900 view-mark, and that is awesome for a MC fanfic. Sorry I sound so depressed right now. I promise I'll try to get over things by the next chapter.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Final Salvation, and I will do my best to satisfy your thirst for MC.

Later.

~Spirit9871

(New) A/N: … I don't know where to begin, to be honest. It's bizarre to see how in my original Author's Note, I apologized for slow updates on my end. I actually still remember the time I typed that all up, really. Now, I don't think an apology alone would suffice. I'll try and give you all the important details.

The last half of 2019 was probably the closest I've come to ending my life. My anxiety and depression skyrocketed to a point where things started to feel out of my control. This was largely the reason why it took me so long to update… anything, really. If there's one thing I can admit, it's that as a writer, it's near-impossible to write anything meaningful with emotional characters if your own emotions are lost.

I graduated from college at the end of last year (I finished a term early thanks to transfer credits from my high school courses). If my celebration sounds a bit lackluster, it's because to be honest, I don't think I've done anything really significant in the last four years of my life. Yes, I did well in my classes and I got the degree I wanted… but as a person, I don't feel like I've genuinely grown. Some things about me felt inconsistent and I think these inconsistencies evolved into doubts that affected the way I respected myself and other people. I frequently questioned to myself if this was really the proper way I should be living my life.

Ironically, this year's quarantine was actually a blessing for me. Even though I myself caught COVID a few months ago, that wasn't the biggest thing that I was tackling. What I was tackling was something I didn't come to terms with for more than half of my life: my depression.

I seeked out therapy, which helped on my road to recovery. It would take a few more months of serious self-reflection and continued treatment, but over time, I started to understand certain themes and patterns in my life that led to my self-destruction. I think that's what it was that devastated me the most; the realization that I had absolutely no fundamental and honest understanding of what right from wrong means and what it means to be alive for the sake of yourself and other people.

These realizations piled on to eliminate bad habits and even replace them with good ones. It's by doing so that I found a lot more value in my life and I finally understood what was holding me back for so long: hypocrisy. And in that understanding, for the first time in my life, I feel I'm living as the ideal self I always wanted to live. It took a year and a lot of support from my friends and family, but I'm here.

From here on out, I hope that the mental fog I've cleared will not only show in the quantity of chapters I'll deliver, but also in the quality. You may notice certain subtle changes in my writing, but… well, you'll see for yourselves when the time comes.

Let's get to the standard stuff of the rewrite, shall we?

Changelog:

1 - Chapter title changed from: "Sacrifices and Flashbacks" to "Rampaging Demons". It amazes me as to how little creativity I used back then for these titles.

2 - Station defense has a lot more at stake. Give the cops a reason to fight… with some new allies. Speaking of:

3 - Antithesis Operatives offer their help. Albeit begrudgingly...

4 - Even more of the Black Snake boys, Sanford, and Deimos. They're not just here for the name drop and be prepared to see more.

5 - An unknown woman helps them too. Who could she be…?

6 - Many characters fight many demons. Demons birthed from skill and science, their forms vehicular and Improbable in nature. One of them goes out… with a much bigger bang than the original.

7 - Spelling and grammatical errors removed.

8 - Narration and dialogue improved.

9 - Diction enhanced.

10 - The universe is a better place.

And that settles the changes.

I know I've been gone for so long and I completely understand if people's interest in the stories have dwindled significantly. But I wanted to at least let you guys know it wasn't for nothing, and those of you still around, supporting me; I want to reward you guys in the best way possible. If you remember my promise, it's that I wouldn't start a story without finishing it. At the very least, I plan on staying true to that.

A huge special thanks to all the editors involved in this chapter: Alias, Bravo, Sacrom. Those three are the reason why we were able to make the quality of this return so high and they were involved with my progression on both a literary and personal level.

There's not much else I want to say. If anything, I want to upload this chapter a lot more right now, so I'll leave it here. I've made my peace.

It is currently Saturday, July 25th; almost one year after my last update, but certainly not the final. Thank you all for reading and your continued support; I'll let the results I've gained with the help of the people around me speak for themselves. :)

We hope you enjoyed this rewritten chapter of Final Salvation!

~Spirit