In Situ
Chapter II
BAM!
My heart jumped into my throat with the sound.
I un-curled from the fetal position, realizing that I had not just died. That wasn't exactly a relief.
The shot, as it turned out, was to destroy the cell-phone that had skidded out of my grasp when I hit the floor.
The agent who had fired the shot stooped down and was suddenly on top of me, lifting me slightly off the ground in a two-fisted lapel grab.
He had put his nose about a half-inch from mine; I could see every pore in his digitally projected face. The sneer told me that he didn't like touching humans, with the lip curled and the nose scrunched like he smelled something awful.
From my dual reflections in his sunglasses, I could see that I wasn't hiding my fear well.
As if that mattered now.
"Mr. Cotton," he hissed. "You are going to tell me something. And then you are going to die."
He put emphasis on "die" and tightened his grip.
"I have observed you many times, on your rebel 'missions'."
"And?" I choked, in a pitiful attempt at defiance.
"And what is your objective!? You make no attempts at finding recruits. You do not go to any militarily sensitive areas. You do nothing!"
He paused, waiting for me to respond.
I didn't.
Instead, I trapped his hands where they where with my arm, and whipped my left leg up and around his head, to hook it over his shoulder.
Using my newfound leverage, I flipped the agent over and let him receive his buddies' bullets.
Snatching the gun from his pocket before he could turn back into whatever innocent civilian he had commandeered, I emptied the clip into two Agent's chests.
As the clip fell out, I jumped off my back and kicked it so that it caught another one in the face.
Guns are only projectile weapons to the creatively impaired; they can also be used to enhance your punching efficiency.
Gripping it tightly by the handle, I served a nearby enemy a spear-hand to the chest. Correction: through the chest.
Sensing an attack from behind, I quickly withdrew my arm from the Agent's chest and whipped the bloody gun behind me, shuriken style. I spun around just in time to see him dodge the gun, letting it fly into the wall behind him and take a chunk out of the cement.
Once again, time slowed down to a stop. Jumping up to above the last Agent, I gripped his head between my feet. A quick jerk upward and I did a back flip, with his body trailing from my feet like a tail from a kite. I released him just before I landed, and he hit the cement wall like a limp rag-doll.
I shuddered. What was I becoming? What kind of monster would do what I had just done?
All the energy drained from my body as I realized that the bodies at my feet were no longer the evil machine programs. They were innocent people.
Then, I began to know the meaning of fear. Not about death, but about after I die.
"No time, Bones." I began regaining my composure.
I drew my gaze away from the crumpled forms on the ground. For now, I would have to use the same advice I was given when I did my first simulated building jump: don't look down.
Chapter II
BAM!
My heart jumped into my throat with the sound.
I un-curled from the fetal position, realizing that I had not just died. That wasn't exactly a relief.
The shot, as it turned out, was to destroy the cell-phone that had skidded out of my grasp when I hit the floor.
The agent who had fired the shot stooped down and was suddenly on top of me, lifting me slightly off the ground in a two-fisted lapel grab.
He had put his nose about a half-inch from mine; I could see every pore in his digitally projected face. The sneer told me that he didn't like touching humans, with the lip curled and the nose scrunched like he smelled something awful.
From my dual reflections in his sunglasses, I could see that I wasn't hiding my fear well.
As if that mattered now.
"Mr. Cotton," he hissed. "You are going to tell me something. And then you are going to die."
He put emphasis on "die" and tightened his grip.
"I have observed you many times, on your rebel 'missions'."
"And?" I choked, in a pitiful attempt at defiance.
"And what is your objective!? You make no attempts at finding recruits. You do not go to any militarily sensitive areas. You do nothing!"
He paused, waiting for me to respond.
I didn't.
Instead, I trapped his hands where they where with my arm, and whipped my left leg up and around his head, to hook it over his shoulder.
Using my newfound leverage, I flipped the agent over and let him receive his buddies' bullets.
Snatching the gun from his pocket before he could turn back into whatever innocent civilian he had commandeered, I emptied the clip into two Agent's chests.
As the clip fell out, I jumped off my back and kicked it so that it caught another one in the face.
Guns are only projectile weapons to the creatively impaired; they can also be used to enhance your punching efficiency.
Gripping it tightly by the handle, I served a nearby enemy a spear-hand to the chest. Correction: through the chest.
Sensing an attack from behind, I quickly withdrew my arm from the Agent's chest and whipped the bloody gun behind me, shuriken style. I spun around just in time to see him dodge the gun, letting it fly into the wall behind him and take a chunk out of the cement.
Once again, time slowed down to a stop. Jumping up to above the last Agent, I gripped his head between my feet. A quick jerk upward and I did a back flip, with his body trailing from my feet like a tail from a kite. I released him just before I landed, and he hit the cement wall like a limp rag-doll.
I shuddered. What was I becoming? What kind of monster would do what I had just done?
All the energy drained from my body as I realized that the bodies at my feet were no longer the evil machine programs. They were innocent people.
Then, I began to know the meaning of fear. Not about death, but about after I die.
"No time, Bones." I began regaining my composure.
I drew my gaze away from the crumpled forms on the ground. For now, I would have to use the same advice I was given when I did my first simulated building jump: don't look down.