Chapter 6
The Prey
There was a pause as they all waited for the first move. Kane did his first, ran. Not away, but still ran fast enough to bring his pursuers in full sprint behind him. They went off in every direction possible, all fifteen of them acting to converge on him at once. But the Enforcer had them on his turf now: the streets.
Dashing down one specific alley, Kane leapt onto the first ladder and was on the roof seconds after, yanking out his two guns and standing with each facing a different end of the roof.
Vor was running without strain, but with no time. He switched on his headgear, searching for the wavelength specified for the Elite. He found a cracking "Hello?" and understood it to be Jim. "Hey, Jim, do you know where the site is? Did Tren give you the knew coordinates?"
He waited for the response. "Good, how fast can you get there?"
"Faster than you."
"Great. Only engage when you have to, I'll be there in another few minutes." He switched off the mike and sped up, pushing his limits now.
The street was narrow and dark, but lit up with fire and brimstone at each random explosion. Kane found himself jumping left, then right, then left again, finally rolling twice over the ground. He drew his smaller blaster and traded fire from where he lay with Arsen, then rolled his way back to his feet, his back to brick.
Kane felt the shockwave before it connected with the wall and he flung himself forward as the brick turned molten then ignited. Through the smoke and ash, gray blades flew. The Enforcer pushed off and sprang from the ground, watching his place be littered with spikes and knives. Once again on his feet, Kane drew his larger blaster as well, brandishing one in each hand, his eyes returning to the days of training...
They came like jet-infused gray bats from the smoke. Kane held the guns straight in front of him, paused, and opened fire. The guns backlashed in a solid, rapid rhythm, the beams knocking every oncoming knife or star off course. A few of them even stuck in the opposite walls. The endless knives continued, and Kane continued. Just like the simulator. A final volley sang forth, more concentrated than the last. His eyes narrowed.
He knocked down every knife save one, for which he cocked his slightly to the side to let it make a hard twink by his head. The onslaught thwarted, he volleyed as many shots as he could into the mist with both barrels; all of them his pipes. He was being shadowed. Kane noticed the small gunner, Arsen, on the roof above him taking aim.
"Damn it." Kane cursed and bolted down another dark path. Arsen was firing with the gun on its side, hoping for luck, but his shots could only fill the brick sliding right behind the Enforcer.
"Hammer?" Arsen yelled in his mike. Kane heard him, guessed, and leapt high. He was right. The ground was filled a miniature mushroom cloud. He flew and flipped twice over it, but landed with a tough thud on the thick dirt and broken pavement. Arsen jumped down from his perch and made careful adjustments to his aim. "See ya, Intervention." Out of nowhere, a blue and green blast detonated behind the assassin, rocking his footing. He whirled to it, then back around. Kane was gone. Arsen cursed inwardly.
Arsen put a finger to his ear and growled into his mike, "What the hell was that?"
"I do not know." Was Hammer's reply.
Tanker, who was watching the sky, clued them all in with one word, "Up."
All assassins not in combat gazed to the blue blanket overhead. There was one obstruction of the beauty, a bright figure almost blending in with his dark blue/black armor and jetpack.
Jim had his normal, run-of-the-mill plasma, missile-brandishing shotgun from the future armed and versatile. He took aim, whispering, "I believe it not a sin to defend." He let loose a shot. The dust near Arsen burst into fire, flinging the assassin, unharmed, a few feet. "To kill is a sin." The platform where Hammer crippled to pieces as a shockwave rocked its base. "So forgive me if I enter this valley of death." Slate bounded to the side from the blast, his sword sleeking over the pavement.
Slate was the only one to retaliate thoroughly. He hung his sword behind him, relaxing his wrist. In one swift bolt, he flung the sword like a discus into the air.
"Oh, dear." Jim whispered. His maneuver jets flared him down and to his right as the scimitar sang past. It turned back in an arch. Jim noticed at the last minute and hammered his directional buttons. The spinning blade of death zoomed down directly in front of him, only less than a foot from his bulky armor. It's only slice made to him was a few chunks of untrimmed hair. The sword landed diagonal in ground.
Slate ran past, picking up his sword as he came. He stopped momentarily to glare at the opposition in the sky.
"Hey!" Kane called to the assassin, then began firing on both cylinders. The assassin had the fastest reflexes next to Kane's, and spun, reflecting every shot off his massive sword. Fire ceasing, Slate began to barrel toward the Enforcer.
Kane's guns were exhausted. He told his small pistol to "RECHARGE" and it clicked and whurred away he holstered it. By that time, Slate was close enough to swing. Kane ducked, feeling what seemed to be a gale force wind flow over him. Slate swung again, lower. The Enforcer jumped, once again glimpsing the behemoth gray. Kane landed and coiled back, escaping a third slash with a minor cut across his chest. He then broke off into a run, Slate in hot pursuit.
There were two smaller ruins, a furnished bar connecting the two roofs; maybe for electrical purposes in the past. Whatever it was used for then, Kane used it now, springing up to it and grasping. Using the swing from the jump, he swung up onto the top and balanced on his feet.
Helpless, unbalanced prey. Slate flung the scimitar again as he had before. Kane leaned one way as it sliced near one foot, then leaned the other way on its way down. The Enforcer flipped forward off the descending pole, still motoring his legs, to continue running across the remaining pole end onto the roof. Slate simply jumped, soaring far over the needed altitude and pursuing.
Kane ran to the edge, leapt, and turned down. While upside down, his newly charged blaster discharged three times before he disappeared down the dark chasm. Slate blocked as he had before and followed, sword high.
Kane was suddenly yanked into the shadows with such force even he was knocked from his feet. He felt a body behind him, but before he could react, he also noticed the curved blade straddling his neck.
"Kane, right?" Scythe asked his name. Kane did not respond, standing completely still. "That's all right, your silence invokes a large 'yes'." Scythe loosened a bit, but held the scythe where it was. "Perhaps you're curious as to what's going on."
Kane gave the slightest nod.
"Very well. Bear with me, all right? Here goes: you and another boy intervened a little over a month ago in the Cinder operation. We were hired by one close to the operation to assassinate you, then the boy." Kane tensed at the mention of Cinder and Leon.
"Then, what...are you...waiting for?" Kane struggled out.
"With a flick of my wrist, your head will fly. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." Scythe sighed. "Thing is, I believe that what you did was right. These others don't look at the past for reasons, but you right to stop that massacre. So, I have a Proposition for you." He loosened the closeness of the blade further so Kane could speak clearly.
"I'm listening." Was all he said.
"Very well, I ask you to disappear. To vanish from this society and I will tell them I disposed of you as planned."
"And what about the boy?" Kane ventured.
"I'm sorry, but he will have to die."
"So you'll sacrifice the kid's life for my own?"
"Don't treat it like an all out massacre, it's just one kid."
"All the more reason for me to intervene again."
"I'm not like them." He answered angrily, jerking his head to outside search. "I haven't had the will and life beaten out of me to make me into a drone of Hunter's war. I won't kill him, but they will." He motioned to the lit, broken streets.
Hunter. Kane copied the name into his memory as Scythe continued. "I am higher, and better, because I chose not to give in. Even Slate was broken, even if he was more reluctant than the others." He dropped his Scythe, letting Kane free.
"You may be the only one of them with a soul, but if they're going to kill more, I can't allow it." Kane explained. "You understand, of course."
Scythe breathed in, then out. "I never thought an Enforcer would care."
"I don't. You don't have to care to have honor."
"Of course." And Scythe watched him dash into the light.
Lathe dropped down behind Scythe, contemplating. "Why didn't you kill him?" he asked angrily.
"He did not deserve it." Was the calm reply.
"You're a coward, you know that right?" Lathe got in his face.
"No," he turned his eyes to the other assassin, "Cowards fight only when they're paid to."
Lathe's face stiffened up as he searched for a comeback. All he could muster was, "We're not finished with you." As he rushed past him to the battlefield.
Kane had found Slate again, but they were not in combat. The Enforcer was by the pipe piece, marveling at its sharp ends. An idea surfaced. He picked it up like a javelin. Kill only if necessary, the order came back to him as he aimed the piece of long pipe. His aim was true.
The shaft sang as a whistle with its hollow center toward the assassin, but Slate was fast, trained for dodging this sort of desperate attack. He used his crossed sword to alter the course of the passing shaft, as his body had sped out of the way. He did not realize that Tanker was in that course.
The walking bazooka incinerated the shaft easily, firing twice, the second shot commencing right next to Slate. Tanker's eyes met Slate's momentarily. The blade assassin vanished from view. Kane was defenseless, his guns totally exhausted now. He was the perfect target. But Tanker just stood there. He doesn't think this is right either.
Kane stared at his opponent. He didn't stare long, however, because he soon was lying flat and dazed due to a wooden rod striking down on his head. Lathe tossed the rod behind him and took out his sword, ready to perform the death ritual of a warrior.
Vor' came into view over a building roof, taking out his new blaster. "Hey!" he yelled and began firing. Lathe didn't even have time to block before his body was riddled, pierced, and singed a thousand times by plasma streaks. His body twitched momentarily; then he fell alongside Tanker.
The new Elite leapt to a neighboring building and cast his eyes down at another assassin; the one they called Hammer. He had jet-black hair, wavy, going well with his dark clothing, as they all wore dark clothing. His weapon of choice at the moment was a heavy plasma cannon. He turned his sights on Vor. Vor drew faster, but his Shaft fizzled. Charged out. He cursed and flipped it to its back slot while drawing out his original Blaster. It's aim came down.
The gun flew from his hand to his left in pieces with a spark. He glared to his right to see yet another assassin, gun on him, charging up for another hit. Vor's claws extended. Two of them, I can handle that. One set of blades pointed at each assailant, he looked from the other to Hammer, then back. He leapt into a cartwheel over the side, dodging the second blast. Landing on a rock, his legs recoiled and carried him, flipping behind another as his previous rock exploded. The process continued three cycles more, when Vor leapt high enough to dig his claws into the top of an erected car pillar and spinning over the top. Upon landing, the charge hit, blowing up the dust cloud. Silence.
Hammer grinned with grim approval. The smoke billowed from the new crevice.
"Hhhheerrrrrrrraaaaaaa!" Vor flew through the smoke, the same way Trunks had done, "like a demon from hell", arms and claws outstretched in front. The laser barrel glowed for another blast, then shook, and died. Vor's claws were imbedded in the shaft; the Russian grinned at his surprised victim. He swung the rifle up, whapping the butt of the gun into Hammer's chin. Extracting his claws, he kicked the assassin down.
Dashing the remaining wires and pieces from his claws, he heard the hum of another gun. He ducked while taking back out the Shaft, the blast singing over him, turned, and loosed three independent shots. Two connected between the barrels of Arsen's guns, but he arched back enough for the third to just skim his shoulder.
He heard the soft shing of drawing blades, and he brought out his. Whirling and speeding forward, he blocked hundreds of singing daggers and stars by waving his claws in front in a rhythm, matching the timing of Ace's tactics. He was up to him in seconds, swiping twice with claws to knock the knives remaining in Ace's shaking fingers, bringing the claws up, arms crossed, to straddle the assassin's neck. He inched them a bit closer.
The barrel charged from behind. Vor turned his head and eyes to Arsen, still holding Ace. After studying his opposite opponent, his eyes and head ever so slowly found their victim. The Elite sprang up and kicked forward, knocking Ace down and flipping back through the air. Arsen followed him with shots, but Vor landed first, sliced the gun down, kicked again.
Arsen rolled yanked out his fourth blaster faster than Vor could block. A barrel discharged, another barrel exploded. Arsen looked from his gun's remnants to the horizon. A bulky armored figure with one hell of a gun waved back. Vor grinned at the odds. The assassin drew his fifth and sixth guns and bolted away from the two.
Jim's barrel radiated faster, loosing thousands of blasts. Arsen returned fire only twice, then took cover behind a large set of debris and used one gun to continue fire and the other to drive away Vor's presence. Neither worked. Arsen was torn and broken, unable to comprehend the turn of events. Lathe lay dead, Hammer looked on defenseless, but still experienced. Ace, Slate, and Scythe had disappeared from sight. Only he remained a fighting force in their mission.
I must succeed. He pulled out what looked like a small discus, except red and black, with a tiny blinking module in its center. He appeared over the top crate and flung the discus. The moment it connected with solid ground, one of its curved wings went inward, activating the explosion. Jim flung himself to the side and yelled to Vor, "Watch it, he's still packin' serious heat!"
"No crap!" Vor called back.
"Need some help?" came Tanker's crackled voice to Arsen. Arsen nearly had a heart attack. Two more explosions rocked the two Elite to the ground.
Arsen glimpsed over the box, they were unscathed. "Why aren't you killing them?"
"I'm only covering for your escape."
"If that's all you're doing, then how about a little help over here!" It was Slate. Jim had turned his fire on him, and Vor was checking the trajectory of the blasts. He saw the bulky assailant turning to the horizon. He understood now what was happening. Tanker looked on.
"Tanker! Where are you, you've got a great shot, I need help over here!" and still, Tanker looked at him.
"Why aren't you helping him?"
Tanker whirled and charged one bazooka to full. Vor was two feet ahead of the gun. He could be vaporized any time. He withdrew his claws to show he wouldn't attack, but Tanker didn't change position, although his expression softened. "He doesn't deserve help."
"He's your teammate."
"He's no one's teammate. His arrogance reinforces that."
"So what are you going to do."
Tanker didn't respond verbally, but he powered down completely. He unlatched each cannon separately, twisting them off each arm and letting each clank to the ground. I give up. He nodded toward the other defenseless assassin, Hammer. He had his arms up, showing his acceptance. With one look to Tanker, Vor went to Hammer.
Tanker drew a very small gun, but he didn't fire on Vor...
Hammer put down his hands, and said knowingly, as if death were certain, "May God have mercy on my soul."
Vor kept the gun level but eased off the trigger, "Don't worry, we were taught mercy when we were born. You haven't killed anyone here, you don't deserve to die."
"I haven't killed anyone here." Hammer reached inside his coat and pulled out a very small gun, and held it up, pointing to sky. Vor looked from him to the gun, then back, his eyes not understanding the gesture. Hammer turned his wrist, barrel facing his head.
"No!!" Vor dropped the gun and reached out.
Tpheeww! Hammer's body fell, Vor stared in shock, his eyes not able to blink. All over his body was shaking.
Arsen appeared on one old crate, holding both guns and spreading his arms, screaming to the heavens, "We will never be taken by life! Such is the code of the assassins!" and he commenced fire to Vor. Jim noticed Vor's shock and enabled his jetpack.
"Look out!" he tackled Vor out of the way and across the landscape as energy bolts filled his space. Arsen ceased and leapt back behind the crate. He unlatched the empty cartridges and took out two others.
"Last charge." He looked at the final two capsules before him, nearly breaking again.
"We're dealing with someone that doesn't fear his own death right now, that means he'll be just like a kamikaze. We're not kamikaze, how do we fight one?" Vor choked out.
"We match his intensity with Velocity. With the same fury, but not dredged madness. He thinks we're here to kill him, he thinks he's dead either way. That's why he's taking risks, that's why he's more dangerous than all the others." Jim took Vor by the shoulders and shook him, "We see this to the end and we remain here only to apprehend him."
"But," he took staggered breaths, "I, I'm so angry."
"I know, I know." He shook him again, "Keep your fury, but do not let in your rage. We don't kill, do you understand?"
"I-I-
"Vor! Do you understand?" Jim gripped him harder.
The Elite closed his eyes, took a breath and forced a very controlled, "Yes."
Jim looked him over momentarily, then looked behind him, searching for Arsen. "I'll head out first." His jet flared and he flew with his back to the ground, speeding along and darting his eyes around for Arsen. He realized his vulnerability and kicked into the dirt, turning his ascension upward. Jim could now look over nearly the full area of the site.
A shot seared past his head and he turned his sights to the trajectory. Nothing, there was no sign of him. Jim cursed inwardly.
Vor sensed it was his time to move. Jim could not hold out when he couldn't see his enemy. Drawing out his claws, Vor ducked down and ran across one of the trenches formed from Tanker, keeping his own visibility small, searching for the gunner. He spotted him, looting Hammer's body and finding two guns similar to his last two. No honor. "There! There, by the older one!" he called to Jim.
Arsen realized his mistake and took off. Jim had him now and would not lose track or sight. He took careful aim. Dirt exploded on either side of Arsen. Vor took out his long gun and aimed. Once again, the fire reigned on either side of the runner. "Your aims suck!" he laughed at them.
You want a shot, I'll give it to you. Vor took special aim, turning the gun sideways and aiming from the barrel, not the scope. The rock approximately a millimeter from Arsen's heel combusted, sending him sprawling. "Rrrraaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Arsen bellowed in aggravation and opened fire. Vor spun back into his trench, multiple beams spreading over his head. With Vor out of sight, both barrels lapsed toward Jim.
The jetpack didn't stand a chance, and split in half after four connections. All yours Vor. He thought as he descended. Arsen took his chance, dashed, and scaled to the last available roof. Vor sped up again and drew his claws. His arm blades dug into the red stone, giving him the leverage needed to scale just as fast.
Arsen was facing the rising sun, and drawing the same small, one-shot gun. Vor was faster than he thought he could be. There was a struggle. A barrel discharged.
Vor fell to his knees, clutching a bleeding shoulder. Arsen had wide eyes at him. "You-you're-not....you didn't...couldn't...it was supposed to be....supposed to be. No." Arsen continued to stammer, but they weren't words. And for the first time, he cried, also on his knees. Meanwhile, Vor blacked out just as Wing Cruisers arrived on the scene.
The Prey
There was a pause as they all waited for the first move. Kane did his first, ran. Not away, but still ran fast enough to bring his pursuers in full sprint behind him. They went off in every direction possible, all fifteen of them acting to converge on him at once. But the Enforcer had them on his turf now: the streets.
Dashing down one specific alley, Kane leapt onto the first ladder and was on the roof seconds after, yanking out his two guns and standing with each facing a different end of the roof.
Vor was running without strain, but with no time. He switched on his headgear, searching for the wavelength specified for the Elite. He found a cracking "Hello?" and understood it to be Jim. "Hey, Jim, do you know where the site is? Did Tren give you the knew coordinates?"
He waited for the response. "Good, how fast can you get there?"
"Faster than you."
"Great. Only engage when you have to, I'll be there in another few minutes." He switched off the mike and sped up, pushing his limits now.
The street was narrow and dark, but lit up with fire and brimstone at each random explosion. Kane found himself jumping left, then right, then left again, finally rolling twice over the ground. He drew his smaller blaster and traded fire from where he lay with Arsen, then rolled his way back to his feet, his back to brick.
Kane felt the shockwave before it connected with the wall and he flung himself forward as the brick turned molten then ignited. Through the smoke and ash, gray blades flew. The Enforcer pushed off and sprang from the ground, watching his place be littered with spikes and knives. Once again on his feet, Kane drew his larger blaster as well, brandishing one in each hand, his eyes returning to the days of training...
They came like jet-infused gray bats from the smoke. Kane held the guns straight in front of him, paused, and opened fire. The guns backlashed in a solid, rapid rhythm, the beams knocking every oncoming knife or star off course. A few of them even stuck in the opposite walls. The endless knives continued, and Kane continued. Just like the simulator. A final volley sang forth, more concentrated than the last. His eyes narrowed.
He knocked down every knife save one, for which he cocked his slightly to the side to let it make a hard twink by his head. The onslaught thwarted, he volleyed as many shots as he could into the mist with both barrels; all of them his pipes. He was being shadowed. Kane noticed the small gunner, Arsen, on the roof above him taking aim.
"Damn it." Kane cursed and bolted down another dark path. Arsen was firing with the gun on its side, hoping for luck, but his shots could only fill the brick sliding right behind the Enforcer.
"Hammer?" Arsen yelled in his mike. Kane heard him, guessed, and leapt high. He was right. The ground was filled a miniature mushroom cloud. He flew and flipped twice over it, but landed with a tough thud on the thick dirt and broken pavement. Arsen jumped down from his perch and made careful adjustments to his aim. "See ya, Intervention." Out of nowhere, a blue and green blast detonated behind the assassin, rocking his footing. He whirled to it, then back around. Kane was gone. Arsen cursed inwardly.
Arsen put a finger to his ear and growled into his mike, "What the hell was that?"
"I do not know." Was Hammer's reply.
Tanker, who was watching the sky, clued them all in with one word, "Up."
All assassins not in combat gazed to the blue blanket overhead. There was one obstruction of the beauty, a bright figure almost blending in with his dark blue/black armor and jetpack.
Jim had his normal, run-of-the-mill plasma, missile-brandishing shotgun from the future armed and versatile. He took aim, whispering, "I believe it not a sin to defend." He let loose a shot. The dust near Arsen burst into fire, flinging the assassin, unharmed, a few feet. "To kill is a sin." The platform where Hammer crippled to pieces as a shockwave rocked its base. "So forgive me if I enter this valley of death." Slate bounded to the side from the blast, his sword sleeking over the pavement.
Slate was the only one to retaliate thoroughly. He hung his sword behind him, relaxing his wrist. In one swift bolt, he flung the sword like a discus into the air.
"Oh, dear." Jim whispered. His maneuver jets flared him down and to his right as the scimitar sang past. It turned back in an arch. Jim noticed at the last minute and hammered his directional buttons. The spinning blade of death zoomed down directly in front of him, only less than a foot from his bulky armor. It's only slice made to him was a few chunks of untrimmed hair. The sword landed diagonal in ground.
Slate ran past, picking up his sword as he came. He stopped momentarily to glare at the opposition in the sky.
"Hey!" Kane called to the assassin, then began firing on both cylinders. The assassin had the fastest reflexes next to Kane's, and spun, reflecting every shot off his massive sword. Fire ceasing, Slate began to barrel toward the Enforcer.
Kane's guns were exhausted. He told his small pistol to "RECHARGE" and it clicked and whurred away he holstered it. By that time, Slate was close enough to swing. Kane ducked, feeling what seemed to be a gale force wind flow over him. Slate swung again, lower. The Enforcer jumped, once again glimpsing the behemoth gray. Kane landed and coiled back, escaping a third slash with a minor cut across his chest. He then broke off into a run, Slate in hot pursuit.
There were two smaller ruins, a furnished bar connecting the two roofs; maybe for electrical purposes in the past. Whatever it was used for then, Kane used it now, springing up to it and grasping. Using the swing from the jump, he swung up onto the top and balanced on his feet.
Helpless, unbalanced prey. Slate flung the scimitar again as he had before. Kane leaned one way as it sliced near one foot, then leaned the other way on its way down. The Enforcer flipped forward off the descending pole, still motoring his legs, to continue running across the remaining pole end onto the roof. Slate simply jumped, soaring far over the needed altitude and pursuing.
Kane ran to the edge, leapt, and turned down. While upside down, his newly charged blaster discharged three times before he disappeared down the dark chasm. Slate blocked as he had before and followed, sword high.
Kane was suddenly yanked into the shadows with such force even he was knocked from his feet. He felt a body behind him, but before he could react, he also noticed the curved blade straddling his neck.
"Kane, right?" Scythe asked his name. Kane did not respond, standing completely still. "That's all right, your silence invokes a large 'yes'." Scythe loosened a bit, but held the scythe where it was. "Perhaps you're curious as to what's going on."
Kane gave the slightest nod.
"Very well. Bear with me, all right? Here goes: you and another boy intervened a little over a month ago in the Cinder operation. We were hired by one close to the operation to assassinate you, then the boy." Kane tensed at the mention of Cinder and Leon.
"Then, what...are you...waiting for?" Kane struggled out.
"With a flick of my wrist, your head will fly. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." Scythe sighed. "Thing is, I believe that what you did was right. These others don't look at the past for reasons, but you right to stop that massacre. So, I have a Proposition for you." He loosened the closeness of the blade further so Kane could speak clearly.
"I'm listening." Was all he said.
"Very well, I ask you to disappear. To vanish from this society and I will tell them I disposed of you as planned."
"And what about the boy?" Kane ventured.
"I'm sorry, but he will have to die."
"So you'll sacrifice the kid's life for my own?"
"Don't treat it like an all out massacre, it's just one kid."
"All the more reason for me to intervene again."
"I'm not like them." He answered angrily, jerking his head to outside search. "I haven't had the will and life beaten out of me to make me into a drone of Hunter's war. I won't kill him, but they will." He motioned to the lit, broken streets.
Hunter. Kane copied the name into his memory as Scythe continued. "I am higher, and better, because I chose not to give in. Even Slate was broken, even if he was more reluctant than the others." He dropped his Scythe, letting Kane free.
"You may be the only one of them with a soul, but if they're going to kill more, I can't allow it." Kane explained. "You understand, of course."
Scythe breathed in, then out. "I never thought an Enforcer would care."
"I don't. You don't have to care to have honor."
"Of course." And Scythe watched him dash into the light.
Lathe dropped down behind Scythe, contemplating. "Why didn't you kill him?" he asked angrily.
"He did not deserve it." Was the calm reply.
"You're a coward, you know that right?" Lathe got in his face.
"No," he turned his eyes to the other assassin, "Cowards fight only when they're paid to."
Lathe's face stiffened up as he searched for a comeback. All he could muster was, "We're not finished with you." As he rushed past him to the battlefield.
Kane had found Slate again, but they were not in combat. The Enforcer was by the pipe piece, marveling at its sharp ends. An idea surfaced. He picked it up like a javelin. Kill only if necessary, the order came back to him as he aimed the piece of long pipe. His aim was true.
The shaft sang as a whistle with its hollow center toward the assassin, but Slate was fast, trained for dodging this sort of desperate attack. He used his crossed sword to alter the course of the passing shaft, as his body had sped out of the way. He did not realize that Tanker was in that course.
The walking bazooka incinerated the shaft easily, firing twice, the second shot commencing right next to Slate. Tanker's eyes met Slate's momentarily. The blade assassin vanished from view. Kane was defenseless, his guns totally exhausted now. He was the perfect target. But Tanker just stood there. He doesn't think this is right either.
Kane stared at his opponent. He didn't stare long, however, because he soon was lying flat and dazed due to a wooden rod striking down on his head. Lathe tossed the rod behind him and took out his sword, ready to perform the death ritual of a warrior.
Vor' came into view over a building roof, taking out his new blaster. "Hey!" he yelled and began firing. Lathe didn't even have time to block before his body was riddled, pierced, and singed a thousand times by plasma streaks. His body twitched momentarily; then he fell alongside Tanker.
The new Elite leapt to a neighboring building and cast his eyes down at another assassin; the one they called Hammer. He had jet-black hair, wavy, going well with his dark clothing, as they all wore dark clothing. His weapon of choice at the moment was a heavy plasma cannon. He turned his sights on Vor. Vor drew faster, but his Shaft fizzled. Charged out. He cursed and flipped it to its back slot while drawing out his original Blaster. It's aim came down.
The gun flew from his hand to his left in pieces with a spark. He glared to his right to see yet another assassin, gun on him, charging up for another hit. Vor's claws extended. Two of them, I can handle that. One set of blades pointed at each assailant, he looked from the other to Hammer, then back. He leapt into a cartwheel over the side, dodging the second blast. Landing on a rock, his legs recoiled and carried him, flipping behind another as his previous rock exploded. The process continued three cycles more, when Vor leapt high enough to dig his claws into the top of an erected car pillar and spinning over the top. Upon landing, the charge hit, blowing up the dust cloud. Silence.
Hammer grinned with grim approval. The smoke billowed from the new crevice.
"Hhhheerrrrrrrraaaaaaa!" Vor flew through the smoke, the same way Trunks had done, "like a demon from hell", arms and claws outstretched in front. The laser barrel glowed for another blast, then shook, and died. Vor's claws were imbedded in the shaft; the Russian grinned at his surprised victim. He swung the rifle up, whapping the butt of the gun into Hammer's chin. Extracting his claws, he kicked the assassin down.
Dashing the remaining wires and pieces from his claws, he heard the hum of another gun. He ducked while taking back out the Shaft, the blast singing over him, turned, and loosed three independent shots. Two connected between the barrels of Arsen's guns, but he arched back enough for the third to just skim his shoulder.
He heard the soft shing of drawing blades, and he brought out his. Whirling and speeding forward, he blocked hundreds of singing daggers and stars by waving his claws in front in a rhythm, matching the timing of Ace's tactics. He was up to him in seconds, swiping twice with claws to knock the knives remaining in Ace's shaking fingers, bringing the claws up, arms crossed, to straddle the assassin's neck. He inched them a bit closer.
The barrel charged from behind. Vor turned his head and eyes to Arsen, still holding Ace. After studying his opposite opponent, his eyes and head ever so slowly found their victim. The Elite sprang up and kicked forward, knocking Ace down and flipping back through the air. Arsen followed him with shots, but Vor landed first, sliced the gun down, kicked again.
Arsen rolled yanked out his fourth blaster faster than Vor could block. A barrel discharged, another barrel exploded. Arsen looked from his gun's remnants to the horizon. A bulky armored figure with one hell of a gun waved back. Vor grinned at the odds. The assassin drew his fifth and sixth guns and bolted away from the two.
Jim's barrel radiated faster, loosing thousands of blasts. Arsen returned fire only twice, then took cover behind a large set of debris and used one gun to continue fire and the other to drive away Vor's presence. Neither worked. Arsen was torn and broken, unable to comprehend the turn of events. Lathe lay dead, Hammer looked on defenseless, but still experienced. Ace, Slate, and Scythe had disappeared from sight. Only he remained a fighting force in their mission.
I must succeed. He pulled out what looked like a small discus, except red and black, with a tiny blinking module in its center. He appeared over the top crate and flung the discus. The moment it connected with solid ground, one of its curved wings went inward, activating the explosion. Jim flung himself to the side and yelled to Vor, "Watch it, he's still packin' serious heat!"
"No crap!" Vor called back.
"Need some help?" came Tanker's crackled voice to Arsen. Arsen nearly had a heart attack. Two more explosions rocked the two Elite to the ground.
Arsen glimpsed over the box, they were unscathed. "Why aren't you killing them?"
"I'm only covering for your escape."
"If that's all you're doing, then how about a little help over here!" It was Slate. Jim had turned his fire on him, and Vor was checking the trajectory of the blasts. He saw the bulky assailant turning to the horizon. He understood now what was happening. Tanker looked on.
"Tanker! Where are you, you've got a great shot, I need help over here!" and still, Tanker looked at him.
"Why aren't you helping him?"
Tanker whirled and charged one bazooka to full. Vor was two feet ahead of the gun. He could be vaporized any time. He withdrew his claws to show he wouldn't attack, but Tanker didn't change position, although his expression softened. "He doesn't deserve help."
"He's your teammate."
"He's no one's teammate. His arrogance reinforces that."
"So what are you going to do."
Tanker didn't respond verbally, but he powered down completely. He unlatched each cannon separately, twisting them off each arm and letting each clank to the ground. I give up. He nodded toward the other defenseless assassin, Hammer. He had his arms up, showing his acceptance. With one look to Tanker, Vor went to Hammer.
Tanker drew a very small gun, but he didn't fire on Vor...
Hammer put down his hands, and said knowingly, as if death were certain, "May God have mercy on my soul."
Vor kept the gun level but eased off the trigger, "Don't worry, we were taught mercy when we were born. You haven't killed anyone here, you don't deserve to die."
"I haven't killed anyone here." Hammer reached inside his coat and pulled out a very small gun, and held it up, pointing to sky. Vor looked from him to the gun, then back, his eyes not understanding the gesture. Hammer turned his wrist, barrel facing his head.
"No!!" Vor dropped the gun and reached out.
Tpheeww! Hammer's body fell, Vor stared in shock, his eyes not able to blink. All over his body was shaking.
Arsen appeared on one old crate, holding both guns and spreading his arms, screaming to the heavens, "We will never be taken by life! Such is the code of the assassins!" and he commenced fire to Vor. Jim noticed Vor's shock and enabled his jetpack.
"Look out!" he tackled Vor out of the way and across the landscape as energy bolts filled his space. Arsen ceased and leapt back behind the crate. He unlatched the empty cartridges and took out two others.
"Last charge." He looked at the final two capsules before him, nearly breaking again.
"We're dealing with someone that doesn't fear his own death right now, that means he'll be just like a kamikaze. We're not kamikaze, how do we fight one?" Vor choked out.
"We match his intensity with Velocity. With the same fury, but not dredged madness. He thinks we're here to kill him, he thinks he's dead either way. That's why he's taking risks, that's why he's more dangerous than all the others." Jim took Vor by the shoulders and shook him, "We see this to the end and we remain here only to apprehend him."
"But," he took staggered breaths, "I, I'm so angry."
"I know, I know." He shook him again, "Keep your fury, but do not let in your rage. We don't kill, do you understand?"
"I-I-
"Vor! Do you understand?" Jim gripped him harder.
The Elite closed his eyes, took a breath and forced a very controlled, "Yes."
Jim looked him over momentarily, then looked behind him, searching for Arsen. "I'll head out first." His jet flared and he flew with his back to the ground, speeding along and darting his eyes around for Arsen. He realized his vulnerability and kicked into the dirt, turning his ascension upward. Jim could now look over nearly the full area of the site.
A shot seared past his head and he turned his sights to the trajectory. Nothing, there was no sign of him. Jim cursed inwardly.
Vor sensed it was his time to move. Jim could not hold out when he couldn't see his enemy. Drawing out his claws, Vor ducked down and ran across one of the trenches formed from Tanker, keeping his own visibility small, searching for the gunner. He spotted him, looting Hammer's body and finding two guns similar to his last two. No honor. "There! There, by the older one!" he called to Jim.
Arsen realized his mistake and took off. Jim had him now and would not lose track or sight. He took careful aim. Dirt exploded on either side of Arsen. Vor took out his long gun and aimed. Once again, the fire reigned on either side of the runner. "Your aims suck!" he laughed at them.
You want a shot, I'll give it to you. Vor took special aim, turning the gun sideways and aiming from the barrel, not the scope. The rock approximately a millimeter from Arsen's heel combusted, sending him sprawling. "Rrrraaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Arsen bellowed in aggravation and opened fire. Vor spun back into his trench, multiple beams spreading over his head. With Vor out of sight, both barrels lapsed toward Jim.
The jetpack didn't stand a chance, and split in half after four connections. All yours Vor. He thought as he descended. Arsen took his chance, dashed, and scaled to the last available roof. Vor sped up again and drew his claws. His arm blades dug into the red stone, giving him the leverage needed to scale just as fast.
Arsen was facing the rising sun, and drawing the same small, one-shot gun. Vor was faster than he thought he could be. There was a struggle. A barrel discharged.
Vor fell to his knees, clutching a bleeding shoulder. Arsen had wide eyes at him. "You-you're-not....you didn't...couldn't...it was supposed to be....supposed to be. No." Arsen continued to stammer, but they weren't words. And for the first time, he cried, also on his knees. Meanwhile, Vor blacked out just as Wing Cruisers arrived on the scene.