Mwahahaha. Round and round they go, where they stop nobody knows. Will White kill Alec? Will Alec kill White? Will Lela kill both of them? Will Max liven up her wardrobe with some spring colors? Read on and find out. Just remember, it might be an illusion, or it might be real (in the figurative way). They can do anything with mirrors and smoke. Don't worry, be happy.
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Blood flows copiously from the slash across my forearm. The pain is nothing to me, not with this much adrenaline in my system. Unfortunately the liquid makes my hands slick and I fear losing my grip on the nine-millimeter which has become my lifeline.
I really hated guns two weeks ago, and I still hated them yesterday. Now I'm beginning to feel like Mole, this chunk of metal is not only a necessary evil, but a dear friend. A smirk of triumph passes my pale lips, most of the others on the battlefield have lost their piece or run out of munitions, but not me.
Fear fills me and the smirk disappears. Am I becoming a monster? The predators of my lineage burn my blood like poison. I crawl behind an upturned dumpster for shelter and collect my thoughts.
The battle has only been going on for ten hours and already I've begun reverting to my baser instincts. I'd killed or incapacitated twenty-six familiars since sunrise, now the sun must be somewhere overhead, though the downpour of constant rain shields it.
One hand snakes out involuntarily and smushes a damp, lank lock of hair behind my ear, smearing blood and dirt across my cheek. Peering out from behind my safehaven I take stock of our situation.
Kate had been right, when faced with a peril to their family, my people had pulled together. Neither side gained any ground, matching each other casualty for casualty. Most injuries were non-fatal, not only had most of us gained a sense of morals since our escape, but both of our species were damned difficult to kill.
During the first three hours, 494 had clung to my side, protecting me, but eventually the rip-tide of battle had separated us. I could feel the flow of blood from my arm begin to slow and I knew that it was time to re-enter the fray.
Damn-it, the mixture of muck and gore soaked everyone like paint, and it was becoming too difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Biggs. I caught sight of Biggs across the field, fighting a losing battle against two large women.
By indiscriminately shoving people out of my way, I managed to reach his side before one of the super-chics managed to plant their knife in his side. Foot flailing out, I managed to catch one of his attackers in the head. I was about to smash an uppercut into the other woman's nose, when a scream rang out freezing all of the action around us.
"NO! You're dead. We all saw you die." White stood in the center of the battlefield like a nightmare incarnation. Pointing his gun at CeCe, he motioned the cringing man behind him to step forward.
Otto cleared his throat nervously. "If, hm, if 494 will come forward, Commander White will finish the fight between them. If he doesn't come, then this woman dies.
CeCe's eyes only widen a bit, the rest of her body remains immobile. Fear for her life fills me, 494's only real loyalty was to me, and he mightn't sacrifice himself for another person.
White's finger tightens on the trigger. The wild quality in his eyes tells me that this has gone beyond duty and into personal revenge.
"I'm here." 494 slides calmly through the parting masses. He slips for a moment in the thick mud, his hands burying to the wrists in the ground, before righting himself and coming to stand before Otto.
"Commander White asks if you will fight him fairly, without weapons."
This is a trap, the knowledge crawls through the back of my head; but I can see 494 weighing the advantages of fighting hand to hand with a weaker opponent.
"I agree."
Otto chucks a thumb at CeCe. "She will check the commander for weapons, while I check you." After a thorough padding down both CeCe and Otto nod, and with a look of extreme reluctance the men hand over their guns.
As soon as Otto is clear, White flies through the air in a full body tackle. 494 drops to the ground and curls his legs in, flipping White over his head. Both men flip to their feet and circle one another, searching fan an opening.
In a blur of motion, 494 rolls forward and sweeps White's legs out from under him, pinning him to the ground. He manages to get in four nasty looking punches to the face and stomach before White scissors his legs back and knocks him off.
White puffs air as he rises, from his posture it looked like 494's last hit had broken a few of his ribs. Most of the combatants had stopped to watch the fight, standing in an impenetrable circle around their two best warriors. By our mutual codes of honor, neither side will help either man until one of them lies dead.
Flurries of punches and kicks are thrown and blocked, but the men are too evenly matched in strength. White is beginning to slow, if 494 can just hold out for a few more minutes he might have a chance.
The fight has degraded into a puppy-dog tussle, as both men try to get a hold on the other.
As one body they fall to the ground.
White chuckles soundlessly and rises shakily to his feet.
He wasn't moving, why the hell wasn't he moving?
My panicked eyes fluttered over him, but I couldn't see any injuries large enough to slow him.
Stumbling over to the body of a fallen familiar, White padded him down and pulled a gun from the man's pocket. His lips shaped soundless words.
"You thought you were so smart didn't you, you didn't see that one coming though."
As though it were a great struggle for him, 494 pulled himself forward to rest on his knees. Finally, I spotted the dart, embedded just above his left hip. I had to admit that poison seemed a little too subtle to be White's style.
494's movements seemed to startle White, his eyes narrowed and he glanced wildly through the crowd. White must have been frightened, without wasting the usual amount of time gloating, he raised his gun.
Adrenalin pumped through my system. I had to do something, but my hands were tied.
Three shots rang out, cutting the dank silence like a knife.
494 jerked onto his back, his body sinking slowly into the mud.
Stepping forward, White knelt before him and raised his gun again.
"See, all of you, no matter what step you take. No matter how good you think you are. We are better, better soldiers with pure blood, and all you will ever be is a bunch of…" His words choked off there and he clapped his hand to his back. An expression of consternation passed his face, and then in a sudden movement 494 rose up and wrapped his arms around White.
One second, then two; the men embraced, then both slid weakly to the ground in opposite directions, White's stomach slit from hip to hip.
Realization was slow. Otto had called 494 out to save CeCe's life. He had slipped in the mud while walking down the hill, an impossibly clumsy maneuver for a super-soldier. For a few moments his hands had been buried in the mire. He had taken that opportunity to submerge his pocket knife in the sodden ground.
Otto cleared his throat, "It seems that neither side will win today. As leader by default I offer a temporary truce, on the condition that we are allowed to remove our wounded."
I nod once before turning away, there is nothing to gain by refusing and everything to lose. Without hope I drop to the ground and take his wrist.
Against all odds, a tiny rhythm flutters beneath my fingers.