A storm loomed on the horizon, black and consuming all light from a rising moon. Distant sounds of thunder were barely audible. A slight flash of light streamed across the sky every once in a while, but it was all drowned out from the city lights. Normally a bustling city, teeming with life and people, the streets were now barren due to the commotion from above. The area had been barricaded by police with a multitude of police cars. Over the sounds of hundreds of sirens, the thunder was all but drowned out. Outside of the barricade a large crowd had formed to watch the drama in the heavens unfold. A hushed murmur was all the noise to overlookers gave out. The sight above maintained their entire attention. Police megaphones began yelling out to a figure on the roof, but its response was covered in a veil of shadows.
Twenty stories up, a man stood, staring down at the abyss of lights and concrete. He held his chest tightly with his right arm, and let his head droop low. His mind absorbed the sounds of the world around him; the sounds of the sirens, the rumble and crackle of the bolts of lightning, the screaming of people yelling at him from below, the sound of his own heartbeat. As he stood on the edge, a new sound came upon him and he quickly opened his eyes. A strong breeze rushed across his body. It wasn't from the tempest that covered the horizon, but from a jet black helicopter that rose up from below the building itself. He turned around at this new noise, turned to give it a face, turned and ran. It was futile, he knew it was, but he still ran. He ran with all his might, pacing across the loose gravel of that rooftop, coming ever closer towards a small vent that would hide him from the chopper for the time being. There was nowhere to go, no hope of escape and he knew it. All he needed was time to think.
Ducking behind the small vent and planting his back on the grate, still tightly gripping his chest, he held his head low and stared at the contents in his left hand. His breath remained heavy and short, yet he managed to release a sigh of desperation. Slowly sliding down into an sitting position, his mind became flooded, chaotic with an array of thoughts. It wandered from the pain he felt, to his posession, to his current position and back to his pain.
A large flash lit up the sky as the helicopter turned on its spotlight and held it on the vent. It began to circle the building, still holding the light directly pointed at the figure trying to hide from the consequences of his decisions.
In the brightness, the man could see himself clearly, could see what he held, could see what had happened. He lifted up his right hand and glared at the bright red blood dripping from it. Even through the warmth of his crimson life-force spilling onto his hand, it still had become cold and numb. The world blurred in his vision for an instant. As he peered downwards, he realized fully his fate. The red had flowed from his once white collar down to his black pants. Cold beads of sweat continuously dripped from his bangs and landed on his arms, washing away the streaks of dried and darkened red that had formed. His world blurred again as he felt himself become flushed. His arms began to tremble from weakness and fear. His focus shifted from his own wounds to a small object which he still clutched tightly in his other hand.
Through the steady stream of the spotlight, the object was laid clear for him to see. He held a small computer chip, green with golden wires. A small LED light was attached to it and had been lit up since he had first recieved it. It had always troubled him how it was lit though, for the light had no apparent power source. It was barely a quarter the size of his palm and seemed like such an insignifigant thing. Certanly not worth all of this. The man closed his hand again, clenched his teeth at another surge of pain, letting out a horrendous wail.
The chopper pilot stopped circling the building and turned the hovering machine to face the man directly, staring him down from inside his cockpit. He gave the signal to shine a second light directly into the man's eyes, inflicting more fear into the huddled mass of blood and flesh.
The heat of the spotlights became unbearable. Even as he felt his body grow colder, the rage of the light lit a fire underneath skin. He could take it no longer. The man stood up, woozy and shaking. A rush of water drained from his hair at the sudden movement and ran more streaks through the dried blood, exposing his flushed and pale white skin. As his world became blurry again, he lifted up his shaking left arm, opened it and allowed its contents to drop to the rocky roof on which he stood.
"It... it didn't have... to end like this..." With those words, the blood-soaked man closed his eyes, picked up his foot and brought it down upon the small chip. The light attached to it flickered and went out. With nothing left and his body growing even colder, he shuffled toward the chopper. His legs had begun to loose feeling causing his gait to become slow and choppy. From the center of the roof, he made his way towards the edge, slowly and once again holding his wounds tightly. His vision once again blurred, but this time it did not return. The sights of the roof became meshed with the backdrop of other office complexes, the flashing lights of the sirens and the giant spotlight glaring right onto him all became as one. The world that had once been bustling with sounds had now gone silent. The noise of the sirens was gone. The roar of the thunder were gone. The scream of the helicopter as it stayed suspended, motionless in midair, was now wholly drowned out by an overwhelming quiet.
The streets below screamed with excitement as the figure re-emerged on the edge of the building once again. A small figure, consistent of nothing but a shadow that resembled a man, held his ground on the verge of that building.
Almost ready to collapse, he had finally made his way to the edge. He once again stared down into the silent abyss, now just a mesh of bright lights and dark shadows. Reds and blues, yellows and neons, whites and blacks, all nothing more than blotches on a canvass now. He closed his eyes, took as deep a breath as he could and spread his arms. His entire body ran through a final cold shock as he could no longer feel his arms or legs. A final rush of water drained over his face and down his arms, carving another path of skin through the new blood, as he inhaled and brushed his drenched hair back. The wind was stronger this time, for it did not come from the helicopter. As it rasped his whole body, he thought back.
He had done his job and his running was over. He no longer needed to fear the consequences, for they were upon him. He knew from his first day at this new experimental company that he would end up in a position like this. His boss said that it was his duty to protect this device until it was time or his own life was in danger. He mentioned how even though his last two experiments had failed, his first one hadn't just yet disappointed him. He wasn't even sure of what it had meant, but his could sense his own outcome. He had guarded that chip with his life, but now it was gone. Whatever his boss had in mind had been set into motion. Whatever new sick and twisted plan he had originally thought up had now begun. He knew this and did not want to see its outcome, whatever it may have been. Why his own company had put out a hit on him, he still didn't know, but it didn't matter now.
From the streets below, screams of horror from hundreds of pedestrians behind the barricade were drowned out by a storm which had slowly made its way to the city. As the sky began to drizzle, the streets below were bustling with commotion from the night's events. The crowd teemed with curiosity and police now shifted their attention to keeping the masses of people from rioting. With the first blasts of thunder the helicopter turned its spotlight off and flew off into the darkness from whence it had come. It was no longer needed.
Two hundred miles away, another man felt the effects of the events of that night. He felt it deep inside himself as it emerged out of the depths of his subconscious. It had unleashed something horrible inside him. A rage had been unleashed. A rage that had been planned three years ago. A rage purposefully instilled in him. A rage known to three people, two of whom still walked this world.