Chapter 11: Run, Heroes! Run!
NESTS Warehouse Weapons Factory...
The firefight was already in full swing, and showed absolutely no sign of slowing down. Elemental fire, lightning, knives, and a wide variety of nasty magical spells lit up the night, like a massive fireworks display in a bottle. The self-proclaimed good guys' were hard-pressed, fighting at the very limit of their physical and mental might, giving far better than they got. Their counterparts, ubiquitous goons in white powered armour, variously got blown to pieces, decapitated, smashed flat by a rampaging stone titan, or simply were beaten to a pulp.
The NESTS troops didn't falter. They replied in kind, with a serving of hot metal, and things that went boom. Already, many littered the floor, and still they kept coming. Now, even conventional guards joined the fray, toting various hand-held and heavy weaponry.
Scenes of carnage abounded. Here, Alvin's razor-edged vines burrowed through steel and into opened helmets, searching for the flesh beneath; There, Claire stabbed impossibly sharp needles in throats and open joints. Chan summoned forth a massive shaft of distortion, shaking matter apart, while the Mage Cannon in his right hand spat flame and death into the snowy night.
Ryan hurled electricity and serpents of water, slicing flesh from bone and frying nerves to ashes. His fists lashed out in all directions, cracking even seemingly-impenetratable riot shields. Andro seemed a figure in a fountain, as blood gushed around him. His blades rose and fell, rose and fell like some harvester gone berserk, and he didn't so much as fight as he did hack a way through his opponents.
Totally invulnerable, Yiming crushed two terrified guardsman together, even as they emptied their guns in his direction, bouncing off solid stone. He grabbed another, and (***CENSORED***), before leaping up and powerbombing the remains into the nearest group.
Karmen and Jiazheng fought a ferocious point-blank war, taking on all newcomers in an attempt to stop reinforcements from arriving. Karmen had apparently grabbed a rifle, and was firing it at full-auto into the crowd; Screams and spraying blood told of her success. Jiazheng was a whirlwind, slashing and slicing away, his blade everywhere at once. Armour was totally useless against it, giving way like tissue paper.
The collateral damage was incredible: Everything breakable had been broken twice, and bodies, both whole and maimed, littered the floor. Bleeding from many wounds, his brain jangled by a trio of concussion grenades, Chan ducked behind the burned-out remains of a truck, one of the last freestanding structures in the area. His face was lacerated from shrapnel, and his glasses were totally askew: A man toting a grenade launcher had gotten the drop on him. If not for a force-shielding and a well-timed invocation of reversal, Chan'd already be dead. But as it was...The look on the bastard's face as his own rocket went flying right back at him was almost hilarious.
Ryan dove in too, taking a brief break from the fighting. The big, furious killers on his tail turned, and continued advancing on his new location, chainsaws cleaving great clefts in the air. Chan fired a maximum-force incendiary round in their direction, lighting them up like some pyromaniac's fantasy of Judgement Day.
Ryan looked like hell. His outfit was completely scorched, with even his gloves burnt away by the sheer magnitudes of the forces he'd been channelling. Twin streamers of red dribbled from his leg and side, where he'd been scraped by a chainblade. The rusty, gaping wounds were slowly closing, but currently bled freely and hurt like hell.
"This...This is NOT what I expected," Chan managed, clutching his aching ribs.
"I know. Me too." Ryan tore off his shredded sleeve, punctured by bullets. He held the dirty cloth to his side, trying to stop the flow of blood. He wasn't meeting with much success.
"How many more of them are there? Got anything left?"
"Not much juice left." Ryan snapped his fingers, and with effort, summoned up a great blue spark.
***WHAMWHAMWHAM***
Squashed rounds smashed into the metal all around them, sounding up a dreadful commotion.
"DAMN! THAT PISSES ME OFF! THE LAWLESS OCEAN!!!"
Thousands of small water droplets appeared in the air in front of Ryan. Grabbing them, he flung it at the opportunistic sniper. The massive detonation that followed tore the man's perch apart, and sent him hurtling to his doom.
"Alright, I still have some left. You?"
"One spell, maybe two. Requiem's not listening again."
Chan emptied off an entire autopistol clip in the direction of the blocked-up entrance, catching another goon in white armour right in the head and chest. With a bubbling cry of rage, he went over, red trickling from every joint in his suit. He dug into his pouch, and came up with six more clips for the autopistol, three more for the Cannon. Not nearly enough to take on a small army.
"Whatever it is, Chan, we have to go. NOW."
"But how 'bout the objective? The others aren't going to back down."
"Then the others will have to be carried out in body bags. Just take a look around. Do you actually think that we can win? Besides, the objective was to trash the place. I'll consider that pretty much of a success."
Ryan was right. The place was in ruins, with more holes than Swiss cheese. Machinery had been riddled with thousands of rounds, their metal casings having given way from the sheer volume. The safety railings lay on the floor, where they'd been used as makeshift weapons, then discarded. Priceless equipment had been wrecked, and any freestanding structure was destroyed: Nothing short of a miracle would make this place functional again.
"Okay, then. You're right, as always. We'll gather the others, then break out. After that...Well, it's every man for himself. Lose your playmates, and return to the hotel when they're gone. Got it?"
"Great plan. But in case you hadn't noticed, we're still pinned down."
"I'm on it. THE WORLD!!!"
Chan seemed to flicker out of existence, and the world went black-and-white to his eyes. Perfectly safe in his stopped time, he stood up, and promptly wrecked havoc amongst the stationary ranks of the frozen guardsmen. To their comrades, it was as if they'd suddenly died where they stood, torn apart by a hail of bullets that had hit at exactly the same time. They took the hint, and pulled back, creating a sudden lull in the shooting.
No one noticed the two figures that wisely took this opportunity to slink off.
**************
Andro fought like the master he was, slashing his way past his foes in a whirlwind of blades. He'd discarded his old knives in favour of the new, whirling contraption that tore through both metal and flesh like a hot knife through butter. Though it's weight threw his timing off, he was still fast. Too damn fast.
Already, he'd left a trail of maimed and dismembered corpses in his wake, a grim testimony to his effectiveness. Most hadn't actually been dead when the first blow connected: It was the vicious coupe de grace that Andro administered moments later that did that.
Plated in combat armour and firing heavyweight ammunition, three more killers swarmed him, guns roaring. Andro dove to one side, snatching up a fallen body as a shield. Bullets tore into dead flesh, leaving the assassin completely untouched. With a kamikaze scream, Andro leapt high, ascending to a ridiculous height. All three men raised their guns and continued firing, somehow unable to hit the assassin who dodged between the blasts with impossible speed-
***SLASSSSHHHSHHHHINGGGGGKK*****
-Then all three went down, like puppets with strings cut. It was uncanny. No matter how much firepower was aimed his way-
-Another guardsman, half mad with pain and adrenaline, ran at Andro with a long knife, screaming his fury. Blood fountained into the air, as the man suddenly and finally lost the ability to hold anything again. An orb of black annhilation whistled past his head, incinerating soldiers he hadn't even seen.
His reinforcements had just arrived.
Ryan and Chan tore into the group with magic and lightning, blasting away huge chunks of the opposition in spectacular displays of pyrotechnics. Over the screams, shouts and the non-stop noise of gunfire, Andro's opponents suddenly became far less enthusiastic.
Andro flung a Shadow Edge in the general direction of the next squad, glad for the breather. Still firing away, Ryan and Chan backed in, emptying their guns in the direction of the survivors.
Chan drew a clip of hollow-point rounds, reloading the autopistol again. He fired off another burst from the Mage Cannon, eradicating more and more faceless goons in soundless explosions of black light. The runes on the Mage Cannon glowed bright red, taxed by judicious overuse. Still Chan kept up a constant stream of fire, slamming rounds in as fast as he fired.
"Where're the cops? Can't they even HEAR this amount of noise?"
Ryan's expression never wavered. He'd retrieved an SMG from the ground, using it to great effect. Emptying off the last few shots, he tossed it aside, drawing a borrowed Desert Eagle from the waistband of his pants.
"You know the cops around here, man. They just turn up after the shooting, and take all the credit."
He punctuated his comment with a single shot. Suddenly gaining a spouting hole in his faceplate, another overconfident soldier dropped to the hard floor, and messily expired.
"Nice one, Ryan. Head shot."
Andro let out a dry cough, wiping his blade with a square of fabric. He tilted his visor up, dashing away blood and sweat from his face. Damn, but he was getting thirsty.
"I assumed you wanted to tell me something? It seems that we have totally no hope of victory."
"Yep. We're sounding the retreat."
There was another detonation, too close. Like a crimson rain, liquefied body parts spluttered all around them. The group instinctively ducked back deeper into their makeshift barricade, which had once been the factory's main furnace.
"That was...Yiming's Supreme Punishment SDM, I think. He must be getting desperate."
"This is quickly turning into a snuff film. What's the plan?"
"We'll pick up Jiazheng- Where the hell is he, anyway? –Then we'll blow our way out. After that, we'll split up, lose our playmates, and meet back home. Got it?"
Andro nodded. Just outside, Claire leapt and jumpkicked an assault chainsaw from its wielder's hand in slow motion, pinning him to the ground like a butterfly with a shower of cyanide-tipped spikes. She hurled the weapon like a harpoon, impaling another unfortunate who hadn't had the sense to run. He died still screaming, frantically trying to drag the whirling cutter from his chest. Already bleeding profusely from six or seven minor hits, Claire performed an awkward armless cartwheel. Grabbing his weapon, she fired away at the next squad.
"I'll go get Jiazheng," Ryan offered. He vanished in a spray of water, leaving Chan and Andro alone. Now they just had to sit tight, and pray heavy weapons weren't coming into the equation.
**************
The former Cartel Team was in deep shit. They were now bunched together like the survivors of a massacre, forced back inch by inch by the relentless assault levelled against them. Yiming still fought on, uncaring of the odds. A fragmentation grenade had cracked his rocky shell, with every other bullet chipping off more and more.
Things were getting desperate, all right. Alvin, a cloud of darkness swirling around his body, had roughly a half-dozen soldiers tangled up in a web of steel vines. Roughly three times that number was firing at him, even as the sentient cables punched into flesh, searching for cracks and holes in steel.
Karmen had long discarded her stolen rifle, the barrel smoking and heated from overuse. Thunderbolts blew apart attackers where they stood, followed closely by Searing Winds and salvo after salvo of silvery kinetic blasts. Trickles of blood dripped from the corner where she'd ensconced herself, a counterpoint to the stacco booms and chattering of automatic weaponry in the distance.
Jiazheng fought supremely, sweeping his sword around him in long-armed, spinning slashes. Lacking Andro's grace, he was far less effective, but the emerald flames that emanated from the wooden blade was more than enough. His opponents died bleeding or burningÂ-it didn't particularly matter.
He cut loose with another shockwave, scorching gunman away to nothing. Nailing another faceless minion with a Dominion Strike, he turned round, just in time to watch one of the last soldiers rise, aim his handgun-
-Then fall back, his head a ruined mess, as a burst of automatic fire shredded his face. Ryan dropped the SMG he'd snatched up, a victorious smile on his face. He gave Jiazheng a friendly nod, totally out of place in the chaotic battlefield.
"Nice job, Jiazheng! Still alive, man?"
Numb from adrenaline, fatigue, acutely conscious of his many wounds, Jiazheng had barely enough strength to nod dumbly. The bloodstained wooden blade in his hand had never ever felt heavier.
"Good, because we're leaving. All hell's gonna break loose, but we aren't gonna be here for it."
"But how...How about..."
"Go."
Both boys turned and stared at Yiming, his massive form scarred by many new wounds. A still-whirring chainsaw was embedded in his arm, slicing it to the bone. He pulled the gory blade out, and hoisted it in one hand.
Between thumb and forefinger.
"Go," Yiming repeated, swaying unsteadily. His wounds had already ceased to close, filling up with an unpleasant-looking black gel instead.
They didn't need to be told twice. Jiazheng hurled one more Ultra Whirlwind Slash at the last cluster of soldiers, and promptly ran after Ryan, not even bothering to wipe his blade. For a mere moment, he hesitated, casting an anxious glance back the embattled Cartel Team, still taking(And returning) from all directions.
"Don't worry," Ryan reassured. "They'll be fine."
Only then did Jiazheng see the walking corpses. Slowly, each and every limp form on the field rose, beginning a slow, shambling tread towards their former comrades. Streamers of blue light stuck to their limbs, animating them like puppets. Bullets tore into the walking dead, but failed to stop, or even slow them. Chainsaws eviscerated corpses, but organs were no longer needed to fight.
Without pity, without mercy, the dead of NESTS turned upon the leaving, gouging and lashing out with sloppy, powerful blows. Dead flesh gummed up every joint, every weapon. It got in mouths and faceplates, suffocating and choking occupants. Then, the fallen merely joined the ranks, arising to participate in the necrotic legion.
"Who's doing that?"
"Claire. Necromancy's her
speciality, remember?"
Pushing the unpleasant thought from his mind, Jiazheng focused on a more important issue: How they were supposed to get out.
"How the hell do we get out?"
As if in answer, the APC he'd seen rumbled over, coming to stop right in front of the two.
"Need a ride?"
"Oh. No. You didn't. Chan, Andro, tell me you didn't."
Andro, sitting at the wheel, broke into a smile. Or least, as close to a smile as Jiazheng had ever seen from him.
"We did."
**************
Unknown to the DHS Team, the police DID know about the disturbance. Their behaviour fit Ryan's cynical description exactly: They intended to roll in right after the battle, taking all the credit for cracking down on an illegal facility of a frustratingly tough underworld organization.
To that end, police cars encircled the entire base, aiming a wide variety of pistols and standard-issue shotguns at the exits. They actually didn't have a hope in hell of hurting, let alone hitting anyone at this range, but it was best to put up a show. Besides, with what seemed like anti-aircraft fire lighting up the sky, not to mention the echoing screams and explosions of a small war, it simply didn't seem like a good idea to move in.
Not just yet, anyway.
Unfortunately for them, despite their decision not to interfere, the battle was coming their way. The detonations and crashes were getting louder and nearer, as the DHS Team made its attempt to break out.
The boys in blue were getting nervous. Many shouldn't have been given jobs frying tubers for the police force, let alone have been trusted with guns. But still, they had a job to do, and could not, in all seriousness, back down. The chief, a particularly fat, balding individual, wiped cold sweat from his scalp. He swallowed nervously, hunkering back behind the car.
"All right, they'll be coming out any moment now, boys. Get rea-"
He never got a chance to finish his sentence. Impossibly enough, right in the middle of winter, lightning jagged down from the sky. A single massive bolt clutched the car with a crackling fist, touching off the fuel tank in a spectacular, short-lived explosion. Shrapnel bounded out in all directions, cutting down many more officers where they stood.
Then the gates of hell opened.
An incredible, improbable volley of firepower swept through the main entrance. Over the high whine of plasma, the rattle of bullets, explosions, whistling of minimissiles, *thwumping* of grenades, and the hideous screaming of the uniformed officers, you could faintly hear Chan's maniacal voice. He'd already gone fruit loops, with the help of his trusty semi-automatic disaster attack.
In a scene reminiscent of Armadeggon, cars exploded, men disintegrated, and the National Debt soared. A final bright explosion lit the night sky as a small mushroom cloud billowed up from the area, as the wave of destruction swept from left to right. Metal, flesh, plastic...It didn't matter. Everything vanished, erased in a moment by the flashlight of annihilation swinging through the ranks.
More and more bolts of lightning flashed down, choosing their targets with pinpoint accuracy. Flash-burned to skeletons, bystanders fell, bodily fluids superheated to nothing in an instant.
Then the wind picked up. All survivors, and the assorted wreckage of vehicles and miscellaneous buildings, were bodily picked up and flung by the gale, clearing a path right through the centre. Wild-eyed, wind-blown and shell-shocked, a cop crawled from his blackened vehicle, trembling. He took in the scene of utter devastation, managing to set foot on the cracked street. Somehow, his hat remained on his head, completely unharmed.
"At least...At least it's over," He managed, clutching his unloaded pistol like a talisman.
Hell no it wasn't.
An army of black-suited figures (Who all looked exactly the same), poured out from the gates, running in perfect unison. They moved with an eerie lockstep, as if all were controlled by the same mind. There was the sudden silvery flash of steel, as fifty pairs of razor-sharp blades flickered out into fifty pairs of hand.
Fifty pairs of eyes gained maniacal gleams.
And the smack was definitely laid down.
**************
Blasting out the gate in the stolen APC, the DHS Team didn't slow in the slightest, pushing the rumbling vehicle for all it was worth. Holes already pocked the vehicle, a reminder of the large-bore military weapons used on it. The back was on fire from an incendiary grenade, and the fuel tank was holed- A potentially EXPLOSIVE situation.
"Who WERE those guys, anyway?"
"Don't know. I've never seen them before."
"Maybe we should've asked before we started casting!"
"Ryan, those guys are wearing blue uniforms. Don't they look like the pol-"
"I know, I know!!! SHUT UP!!!!"
Behind them, the rest of the troopers gave chase, on a mismatched group of bikes, vans, cars, armoured trucks and...On foot? And after that, in a haze of screeching wheels and yelled orders, well, it was just a chase scene.
**************
An Indeterminate Period Of Time Later....
Andro drove like a madman. He took corners at impossible speeds, smashed through flimsy wooden fences, and plunged through ramshackle slums like they weren't there. Fruit carts, walls, cute little SD dolls...All fell apart before the massive steel behemoth ploughing right through. The few people awake and in the way at this time had the sense to get out of the way: Most yelled insults and hurled abuse from the ruins of their house.
The assassin did all this with a rapidly increasing sense of desperation, all-too-aware of the rapidly falling fuel needle. He could literally feel each precious drop dribbling from the holes in the tank, and put pedal to metal while he could. Already, a quarter of the tank was gone, and they were still at least four miles from safety.
It was going to be a long walk home. Assuming they survived the inevitable crash, of course.
The rest of the group clung to their seats, cursing Andro with each breath. Each violent turn threw them against each side of the car in turn, causing no small amount of ouch. Guided purely by instinct, Andro somehow managed to avoid ramming into anything too solid, taking each turn as it came.
Not far behind them, bikes and featureless vans followed, packed to the rim with heavily-armed men. They fired as they drove, punching more holes in the APC's sorely-abused framework. Jiazheng, Chan and Ryan fired back, a barrage of bullets and magic, eager to return the favour.
***BOOM***
Hit dead-on by an incendiary round, one of the white vans went up in flames. Charred bodies tumbled out in all directions, as the vehicle careened out of control. The bikes on both sides swerved to avoid it, missed the next passage-
-And CRUCNCHED into a graffiti-spotted wall, adding new decorations to the stained bricks.
Thankfully, just like in any good action movie, the bad guys were dumb. Really dumb.
Ryan riddled another rider with holes, sending him dramatically skidding to his death in a massive shower of sparks. Cracking off shots with Chan's borrowed autopistol, Jiazheng sent a clip through the windscreen of another van, this one a double-sized monstrosity fired chain-linked turrets: Firing them very inaccurately, thank the Lord.
Very dramatic, very stylish, very, very heroic. Pursuer after pursuer went straight to hell, as eerily accurate gunshots blew out wheels, holed faceplates, punctured glass, and shredded armour. Too bad the boys never noticed that the NEXT fence emptied into a drained swimming pool. Too bad they never noticed the news chopper overhead, recording everything and anything.
Andro turned the vehicle towards the aforementioned fence, stomping down on the gas. He intended to crash through, swerve onto the open road, and leave the others eating his dust, while gunfire from the rest of the team blew them away. He did NOT expect to do a kamikaze dive into an empty concrete swimming pool. The APC tore through the fence, left the ground briefly-
-And plunged head-first into the gaping abyss that'd suddenly opened up. There was a CRASH that shook the neighbourhood, and bricks shattered under the weight. With a sound like a sledgehammer striking rock, the entire vehicle rammed into the opposite wall, miraculously avoiding flipping over.
Another moment of silence. The only noise was the sound of the engines far behind, overlaid by the faint sound of the chopper's blades.
"Ow."
"Are we dead?"
"I hope so. I think I have a headache."
"You appear functional, Ryan."
Pause.
"...I'm going to kill you, Andro. Who taught you to drive?"
"No-one. This was my first time."
Another pause.
"On. Now I'm REALLY gonna kill you. Just let me get my hands free-"
"EVERYONE SHADDUP!!! IT'S NOT OVER YET, IDIOTS!!!"
Slowly, painfully, the group extricated themselves from their second car crash that night, brushing off glass and steel fragments. No one was seriously injured, but they'd all stocked up of bruises, sprains and pulled muscles by way of compensation.
"This is getting to be a habit," Jiazheng groused, his precious sword caught on a piece of wreckage. After a bit of cursing, he finally managed to tug it loose. Tossing aside his ruined trenchcoat, Chan limped to one side, seething with anger. He'd just bought that coat last week. Those bastards were going to pay...Hopefully with their teeth.
"Okay. Here, we split up. It's gonna be a few kilometres, but..."
He winced, as his weight came down on his bad leg. Healing would take time- Time he didn't have.
"I'm sure you can make it. Remember, no heroics. Don't take on the group if you can't. And for God's sake-"
Chan's face darkened.
"Don't let them take you alive. Well, that's it. Godspeed."
There were no more words to be said. They scattered, heading down the maze of alleys and streets, vanishing like they'd never been. Andro was the last to leave, casting a reflective glance at the stars above. Either he would make it or he wouldn't.
At this point, it didn't particularly matter.
"This will be...interesting."
**************
Even Later...
The bright red sign had stood at the end of the street for years, marked by wind, rain, and the other ravages of time. Appropriately enough for this region in the mean streets of Japan, it was marked 'NO BRAWLING', a frankly pathetic plea for law and order.
Today would not be a good day for that sign.
Ryan was bodily flung into the street, hurled in like a shot from a cannon, right through one of the small alleyways. He crashed to the hard floor, sent sprawling from the impact of a tremendous blow. The Physical Adept kicked into a backward roll, barely dodging the massive chattering blade that swung through the air.
Frantically, Ryan scrambled to his feet, flinging himself aside as the chainsword swung again, slicing a bench in two. The backswing nearly caught him, but the bench took the force of the blow, in a splintering shower of sparks and stone chippings.
His pursuers strode in, clasping their assault weaponry in massive metallic hands. No guns- They obvious intended to deliver executions with their melee weapons. Ryan wasn't even bothering to fight them: One hit would mean the end. He kept up the frantic game of dodging, ducking and rolling past the ill-timed, but sickeningly powerful swings.
He had to get away. If he could get to the other end of the street, he would be-
Two men closed in from the other side of the street, blocking Ryan's escape. They were clad in the dull grey uniform of NESTS, and clutched tasers and stun batons.
Ryan promptly ran towards them, gaining a temporary reprieve from the massive metallic killers headed his way. Side-stepping the first jab, he caught and broke the man's wrist, smashing him to the floor with a full-out spin kick. Snatching the stun baton from the air, Ryan executed a desperate parry, blocking the next slice aimed his way.
Another of the white-armoured troop ran his way, breaking into a full-out run. Ryan spun, smashing the taser into his face, sideways. The soldier went out instantly.
Something snapped. No way he was going to die here. NO FUCKING WAY.
Lightning jagged from Ryan's hands, lighting every opponent with a lurid glow. They twitched crazily as a massive current tore into them, leaping through their wonderfully conductive suits. Blue arcs leapt between the entire group, turning them all in living lightning rods. Servos blew out: Mechanized parts overloaded, in eye-searing flashes and sparks.
Finally, smoking and charred, the entire group went down, toppling to the ground. At exactly the right moment, more poured in from both sides, stranding Ryan right in the centre between two rows of grinning faces. Evil smiles pasted to their faces, ten more soldiers drew stun batons, fanning out to surround Ryan. On the other side, a final three-by-three phalanx of the chainsaw wielders.
Very slowly, Ryan began to back away, knowing that there was nowhere left to go. His mind was a frantic whirl of emotion and panic, literally driving his eyeballs back into his very skull.
"God, I'm going to die here. And after all that crap."
The circle began to tighten. Slowly, the wolves closed in on the helpless lamb.
Then Ryan's hands closed around the solid metal haft of the sign.
Ryan smiled. Then, he heaved.
Weak mortar gave way under that massive effort, as Ryan hauled away with all his unnatural strength. His opponents traded glances, barely believing it. With a last, desperate effort, Ryan pulled one more time, finally managing to tear the massive pole from the ground.
The circle stopped moving. Uncertain glances were traded, and dubious looks cast Ryan's way. They couldn't seem to decide whether to close in, or back off.
Ryan made that choice for them.
"SCREW YOU, BASTARDS!!! EAT THIS!!!"
Arm muscles screaming agony, he swung the massive sign like a gigantic axe, cackling maniacally. Revving his chainsaw, an enterprising soldier shortened the pole by a good quarter, shredded the pathetic-looking sign at the end.
But that merely left Ryan with one-and-a half metres of cast iron pole.
Moving faster now, no longer burdened by the unwieldy metal head, Ryan spun the staff around, swinging the concrete-sheathed end instead.
***WHAMMMCRUNNCHHH***
That warrior went down, the concrete sledgehammer exploding in his face. A cloud of dust billowed up, thankfully shielding the bloody sight of his ruined features. Whirling his deadly weapon around one arm, Ryan faced the others confidently, a twinkle in his eye.
"That actually worked? I don't BELIEVE it! Who's next?"
What followed next was madness.
(WARNING: BLATANT RELOADED RIPOFF...BEGIN)
If his fight with Zero had been a kung fu sonata, this was rapidly shaping up to be a symphony. Wielding his staff as a mad combination of kendo sword, vaulting pole, and battering ram, Ryan was invincible. He hit one hard enough to send him into the next zip code, cracking his friend's skull on the return swing. Moving faster and faster, Ryan didn't stop, transfigured into a whirlwind of destruction.
***WHAMTHUDDD***
There went another unfortunate who'd strayed too close. Ryan hit him with a home run swing, sending him up. That man kept going.
Another made a desperate flying tackle, only to be clubbed down in mid-leap. Gripping the staff in both hands, Ryan swung low, shattering kneecaps to an audio accompaniment of screams. Bashing back blows and bashing in teeth, Ryan carved his way through the melee, frantically trying to keep up the pace.
The soldiers attacked in waves, mounted assaults, scattered, and came back for more. In the thick of it, Ryan was dancing, chucking bodies skyward, pivoting around the undefined centre of the mob. Using shoulders as stepping stones now, fording raging rivers of whup-ass, Ryan held his own, clearing a large area around him.
Yet, the supply of troops was endless. Idly beating the hell out the next person he banged into, Ryan frantically tried to fend off the determined assault of the next Generic Badguy, wondering how the hell Ignis had found so MANY. How'd paid for all that equipment, anyway?
To tell the truth, Ryan was fighting around thirty, maybe forty men, most who'd already been around the dance floor once or twice. Unfortunately, his own exhaustion was beginning to work against him, slowing down his defences, and making him sloppy. To make matters worse, Ryan simply couldn't finish off anyone he downed. The moment he took a soldier down, his buddy was right next to him, a certain vengeful gleam in his eye...
"Ah, hell."
Ryan stepped back momentarily, switching his staff to a two-handed, overhead grip. He began to spin it with all his might, as the wind began to pick up. He didn't particularly like this move, considering it crass and uncontrolled, but Ryan currently had no other way out.
"DESTINY-"
An inkling of what was about to happen occurred to the NESTS troops. They formed into one more wave, launching a final, desperate charge.
Too late.
"CYCLONE!!!"
A freak tornado erupted.
**************
Chan limped along as fast as he could, throwing the occasional glance back. He'd been lucky so far, managing to find a place to hide till most of the commotion was over. There'd been a short, vicious battle with a group of over-wary guards, which had been ended with a hail of spells and bullets. Chan was in bad shape, but just look at the other guys.
He was down to his second-to-last Mage Cannon clip, and one more magazine of explosive rounds. Magic wasn't looking too good either. Chan had burned most of it on the way out, leaving him with exactly two spells. Hopefully, they were good ones. All that really was left was his shield and his Stand, neither of which Chan really felt like using.
That gave him a passive defence, and no offence worth mentioning. The only thing left to do was to run, and pray no one saw him.
God must not have been listening that day.
"HRAGGGHHHHHHHHH!!"
(Insert Soundtrack: .hack//SIGN, Aura)
***WHAM***
Chan went skidding across the floor, as someone smashed him from the shadows with a tremendous blow. He fought his way to one knee, feeling red-hot jags of pain lance their way up his bad leg. Gritting his teeth, Chan raised the Mage Cannon in an unsteady hand, more out of defiance than anything else.
If you are near, to the dark, I will tell you 'bout the sun...
And there his opponents were. A score of lightly-armed men and women, clad mainly in loose, flowing robes. All carried fancy-looking staves, sparking at the end with eldritch light. They regarded him with an expression somewhere between contempt and hatred, the insignia of NESTS prominently displayed on their clothes.
Chan blinked. Mages? Here? Ignis had Awakened?
You are here, no escape, from my visions of the world,
A pimply-faced teenager around his age stepped forward, levelling his blazing staff at Chan's face.
"You're that boy, aren't you? Chan, isn't it?"
Clutching his wounded shoulder, Chan got up. He stared right back, his face a blank, emotionless mask.
You will cry, all alone,
"Who wants to know?"
But it does not mean a thing to me...
"Nothing personal, but we're here to kill you."
Chan forced himself straighter, with an effort. The ever-present pentagrammic circle drew itself around him. The next words, delivered in tones of supreme self-confidence and arrogance, shook even his attackers.
Knowing the song, I will sing, till the darkness comes to sleep,
"Are you sure?"
"What?"
"I'm in a bad mood right now. I won't hold back against idiots like you."
Spreading his hands, Chan took a casting stance, mumbling under his breath.
Come to me, I will tell, 'bout the secret of the sun.
"REQUIEM!!!"
Big and brutal, the Stand appeared. The NESTS mages quailed visibly. They'd never been prepared for this. All their magic, all their protections, couldn't have prepared them for this. Suddenly far less confident, they seemed to consider backing away, aware that this prey could sting back.
It's in you, not in me, but it does not mean a thing to me...
"Kill them."
Then all was chaos and bloodshed.
Requiem barged forward, howling a ferocious, bone-chilling battlecry. Claws swept out, and eviscerated the nearest mage. Armoured fists pummelled the foolhardy, blasting past their pathetic defences. The massive chainguns grafted on the thing's shoulders opened up, spewing up a steady stream of hot lead. Bone spurs sliced through throats, and two sets of gaping maws snapped up meat and entrails, biting off limbs and crunching heads like apples.
The Stand literally at its way through the opposition, killing and consuming in a feeding frenzy. With each kill, it seemed to become more...Solid, somehow, till it actually left bloodstained footprints.
The Sun is in your eyes...
Several tried to fight. Spells spiralled through the air, impacting with the force of sledgehammers. Lightning of every colour sizzled through the air, followed by magic missiles of ravening force. Invocations were yelled; Staves, blazing with power, spat fire in all directions. Circles of protection flared to life, in a desperate attempt to protect the casters.
Requiem ignored it all. Spells shattered on the Stand like petals, as it tore into them. Commands, deathbolts, powerballs, sigils...Nothing worked. None had any effect whatsoever.
The Sun is in your ears...
In the carnage, no one thought the young man, who stood there and watched them all die. An insane grin of satisfaction spread across Chan's face, a lot like the deathlike rictus of a corpse. Someone groaned, trying to drag her maimed form away from the rampaging monster. Chan sent half a magazine speeding her way, eliciting a scream and a wet gurgle. In the space of a few minutes, the grisly battle was almost over, with only the stains on the walls and the gouged corpses on the floor telling that anyone had ever been here.
I hope you see the Sun, someday in the darkness...
Requiem, arms mutated to the razor-edged whips, was busy toying with the leader. The man, mortally wounded, was trying to crawl towards the sparking staff that lay just out of reach, body twitching under the flaying blows. Chan could see red meat and bone, more of which went flying with every strike.
But you can't see the sun,
"That's enough. Return."
There was no response. Requiem didn't even look up.
"I said, that's enough. Return."
Ever in the darkness.
Chan felt a gnawing dread, as Requiem continued. The corpse had already given up the ghost, spilling its life out in a crimson pool. Still Requiem didn't stop, now sending a fountain of red mist into the air.
"ENOUGH! OBEY!!!"
The Stand looked up. Chan instantly wished it hadn't. Painted in the blood of its kills, jaws dropping dripping bits of meat, Requiem was a terrifying sight. Slowly, deliberately, it growled. Red tracers of light jagged from its eyes, sweeping the area. Something told Chan he was way out of his league.
"...Obey..."
It came out as a muffled croak. Dimly, Chan felt a snapping sensation...
...And he realised...
He was no longer in control.
As it to confirm it, Requiem threw its head back, and laughed.
***NO LONGER DO YOU COMMAND ME***
The words were a massive cudgel of psychic force, laced with burning threads of hatred. Chan staggered, and almost fell. He slipped back, too terrified to stand still, too horrified to run. He'd just unleashed evil upon the world. Requiem tensed, as if to spring. Chan began chanting the words for the spell of Genocide, knowing he wouldn't get it off in time.
Instead, Requiem faded away, like a leaf on the cold wind. The echoes of its mocking laughter remained, reminding Chan it wasn't over. The student slumped, glad to be alive. He forced his trembling hands to relax, releasing the Mage Cannon.
Then the full import of what he'd done hit him.
**************
"DESPERADO BOMB!!!"
***KA-BOOM***
Bodies went flying, as Jiazheng's sword slammed into the ground. Strictly speaking, this move wasn't exactly original, copied from Chan's move of the same name. Jiazheng's cousin Samuel Chao would've probably flipped over in his sleep, horrified by the cheap ripoff of his far superior Broken Wing SDM. But enough with copyright infringement, alright? It was still pretty damn effective.
In the aftermath of the explosion, Jiazheng snatched his sword back. Not even bothering to sheathe it, he turned and ran, intent on avoiding the attention he'd obviously attracted. Since the chase had began, the swordsman had nothing but bad luck. As far he knew, three-quarters of the group had decided to go after him and Andro, splitting up in smaller and smaller detachments. The last he'd seen of Andro, the man had been fighting for his life, swamped by a hostile crowd.
"There he is! Get him!"
***BLAM BLAM BLAM***
They were shooting at him! Bastards!
Jiazheng tucked-and-rolled into a heap of garbage bags, bullets whistling all around. He slashed out a shockwave, sending a blast of verdant force spewing back down the street. There was a sudden break in the shooting, giving Jiazheng a sudden chance to dive for the dubious cover of the Dumpster.
Shouldering their way past crumbling bricks, the elites opened fire, guns hurling forth volley after volley of hot metal death. The Dumpster flipped over, spewing its contents on the ground. They stopped.
"We got him!"
Except that Jiazheng was right behind them. Uncannily sharp wood removed heads with pinpoint precision, severing fingers with ease. The last tried to draw a handgun, but found himself armless as Jiazheng slashed twice, slicing through metal plate like soft cheese. Blood spurted into the cold night air, ending only when the blade stabbed through the soldier's chest and impaled his heart.
From the only other way out, a riot-squad-esque trooper stepped in, levelling his machine gun.
You can't use a sword as a threat. You shouldn't hold it unless you intend to kill someone, or really feel like slicing off your own limbs. Raising his weapon high for the pear-splitting stroke, Jiazheng held his blade perpendicular to the ground, gripping it with both hands again. The varnished wood, dripping with blood and spinal flood, seemed to glow with a light off its own. It attracted the elites and repelled everyone else, giving Jiazheng a relatively clear path ahead, and a congested block of white army ants on his tail.
The man right in front of him gauged his chances, then did the proper thing. Namely, he tried to get the way out of the way. Jiazheng glided past him, the all-encompassing arc of his swing slicing through the man's neck. Time slowed, the air turning to jelly.
On full autofire, an entire wall of bullets came flying Jiazheng's way. He flung frantic parry after frantic parry, sending the grey blurs of bullets spinning away from him, repelled by miraculous luck and skill. Jiazheng turned the last parry into a massive downward slash, striking the ground just in front of himself.
"CONCUSSION!!!"
Constrained by the walls on both sides, this blast was thrice as powerful as the first. Rotten bricks crumbled, mortar dust going up all around. Eyes squeezed shut, Jiazheng burst through, gambling on instinct to keep him alive. Hidden by the smoke screen, he was temporarily invisible.
"ULTRA WHIRLWIND SLASH!"
The entire smoke cloud blew right back into their faces, eliciting curses and coughs. With a smile, Jiazheng picked a path at random, and kept running. No way they would catch him now. Even better...Wait till the other guys heard this!
**************
Andro was in constant motion, climbing, running, leaping. He'd climbed to the rooftops, taking advantage of a convenient ladder to ascend. Far below, the last few squads swarmed round the base of the building, buzzing impotently like an entire hive of wingless bees. Their guns spat random tracers straight up, trying and failing to bring down the fleeing assassin.
Alistair was feeling pretty proud of himself. After a bit of fancy footwork, he'd left most of his attackers in the dust, right before he found a way up the building. Even better, he'd hauled the ladder up after him. No way they were getting to him from there, at least. All he had to worry about was the chopper overhead...
-Wait a minute. A helicopter? Here?
A mechanical locust of death, the assault chopper hovered just above the rooftops. Laden down with a wide variety of weaponry, it remained out of Andro's range, waiting for a target lock. The pilot grinned viciously, slowly by surely getting a trace on Andro's movement. He tapped his communicator.
"He's headed towards the city. All units, head him off. Proceeding with drop in."
A group of killers, clad in the uniform of the SWAT, rappelled down from above. They blazed away as they went, filling the air with the angry hum of bullets. Andro almost missed the next jump, misjudging the distance. Frantically, his fingers scrabbled for a purchase on smooth rock. By the skin of his teeth, hanging on by his fingernails, Andro hauled himself up, biting back a scream of agony.
***KA-BLAM***
Whether by accident or by malicious design, a bullet caught Andro in the hand. Bones shattered, crumpling the appendage like a wet paper bag. There was an incredible amount of blood and pain, once more slicking the bricks with red fluid.
Andro lost his grip. Stubbornly, slowly slipping back down, Andro clutched the edge with his good hand, face twisted in a rictus of agony. He would NOT give in! Not after all this! No way they would triumph over-
-The second bullet, deliberately aimed, blew his right hand apart.
Andro fell.
A long, furious howl of sheer hatred shook the world, literally stretching beyond the bounds of space and time.
Something heard. Something saw.
Alistair crashed through a hail of assorted debris on the way down, tearing through weak tin roofs, hanging laundry, a wide variety of garbage, before finally crunching into the unyielding ground. He lay there, wretchedly twisted, bones shattered. His heart flailed weakly in his chest, and his breathing began to slow.
He was dying.
The retrieval team was already on the way. The ranks of warriors parted, letting them through, The assassin would be a valuable resource if captured alive, something which had just been achieved. Now all they had to do was to make sure he stayed that way. An ambulance rolled up, disgorging field medics and doctors. All were well-paid, well-trained, and knew a hopeless cause when they saw one. Most shook their heads quietly, realising that the task ahead of them would be impossible. They were smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves, however, and simply shrugged, moving forward to administer aid.
Then, a miracle. Bones untwisted themselves, melting and flowing back together. The flow of spilling blood reversed, pouring backwards into opened veins. Cuts sealed themselves, and bruises faded away. The failing heartbeat steadied, and redoubled, against all odds.
Andro breathed. He stood.
"He's ALIVE! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!!"
"Get the extermination squad! NOW!!"
"He must be containe-"
The assassin's hands flickered: Suddenly, between every two fingers, there was a shuriken. The delicate-looking, bejewelled throwing stars looked out of place, and too flashy for Andro. However, they were among his most precious belongings. It was a mark of how serious his situation was, for him to use them now.
He began to throw them, one handful after another, moving so fast his hands were a blur. The weapons glowed white-hot the moment they left Andro's hands, leaving trails of white fire in their wake. They sliced through anything in the way, moving impossibly fast. It was as if all his targets were standing still, moving in slow motion compared to the razor-sharp messengers of death headed their way.
The medics were the first to fall, mouth opened in soundless screams. They clutched neat entrance and exit wounds, already oozing a fetid, thick green smoke. Most of the blades punched through more than one victim, rebounding to slay others, a testimony to the incredible force with which they'd been thrown.
The soldiers were already in motion, drawing weapons from holsters and scabbards. Unlike their counterparts, they were packing strictly nonlethal weapons only: Gel rounds, concussion and tear gas grenades, sonic cannons and tasers. Their orders were to capture Andro, not kill him.
Too bad Andro didn't give jack shit for them. He snatched more throwing stars, this time mixing in some standard blades, and let fly again. The spinning, ricocheting blades sliced through those directly ahead many, many times, bringing them down to the packed earth. The second volley that followed was even more devastating, pinpoint slivers of incredibly sharp metal that bisected everything it touched.
Yet more closed in. Andro was fighting a full battalion of elites, who were totally unimpressed by the massive losses amongst their companions. Quite frankly, he didn't have a hope in hell of winning. But still, he fought on, because there was nothing left to do.
Leaping up with another physics-defying vertical jump, he rained down blades from above, into the horde below. Andro turned his descent into a slashing dive, his own weapons snapping out. Far below, realising the suicidal, all-out assault for what it was, rank after rank of troopers raised guns, aimed-
-And met Andro in midair with a hail of gunfire.
None of it was lethal, of course. He was too valuable to kill. But the sheer volume of bullets swarming up to claw him from the sky was like diving head-first into brick wall. Andro braced for the collision, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Hopefully, none would blind him, something which he wasn't holding much hope out for.
Nothing it. It was uncanny. Everything either simply bounced off, shattered, or went wide. Countless rounds exploded all around Andro, as if hitting an invisible wall. The deafening pulse of a Sonic Pulse screamed upwards, then resounded back, cutting a cone of devastation through those directly below. Concussion grenades bounded off, and fell right back, often onto the heads of the unfortunate throwers.
Then Andro was in their midst.
Fists lashed out, pounding down those on either side. Andro slashed out, reaping heads with a steely swathe of light. He parried a wild, skittering slash from a stun baton, countering with a straight-out stab that impaled the attacker. Sweeping round, he carved an 'X' across someone right behind, kicking him back into the crowd. Dropping low, Andro launched a foot sweep, punting more foes away. A full acrobatic somersault followed, spraying knives in all directions. Clawing at stab wounds, soldiers died in the confusion, firing wildly.
Garbled commands were yelled over the radios and headsets, screwing things up even further. Andro had the benefit of being surrounded by foes, meaning that no matter who he hit, he hit a foe. Some idiot fired the sonic cannon, blowing apart a sizable chunk of real estate. Caught on the edge of the blast, Andro staggered, and almost went down. He recovered, though, and tossed a knife through the erstwhile gunman's throat.
Snatching up the fallen cannon, he pulled the trigger, aiming at the next charging phalanx. He didn't even care about the red, flashing lights and the warning hum: Andro just wanted to hurt someone. At maximum force, the group blew apart, disintegrated by the intensity of the blast. The cannon exploded in Andro's hands, hurling him to the ground. A weird noise resounded in his ears, a humming that stubbornly refused to go away.
Bodies began to pile onto Andro, grasping and tearing. He slashed and swung, aiming for exposed joints in the armour and vulnerable faces, eliciting more than one scream. Huge chunks of flesh and bone tumbled free, splattering meatily all around. The sheer mass began to pull him down, blocking up his swings and strikes. Several more fired into the scuffle, more often than not hitting their friends. Kicking and punching, Andro dug his way to the top, crushing the necks of those below with stomps.
Then someone dropped a net.
Andro went berserk. He hammered out in all directions, kicking and scratching, a trapped animal in a net. Frantically trying to hack his way out. He sliced at the steel strands, drawing off showers of sparks. Blows rained down on the assassin, as the soldiers took their revenge for their slaughtered comrades. All the while, the net tightened, cutting down on all motion.
Andro never gave up. Foaming at the mouth, he struggled to get free, with a frantic strength borne of desperation and...fear? Kicks and blows continued to pour down on him, but most of his attackers drew back missing limbs, or nursing nasty gases. But this was only a second wind, and just as easily spent.
At last, his strength gave out. Exhausted, bruised and battered, Andro hung limp, completely unable to move. A needle stabbed into his arm, right before all went black. Smiling, the commander drew back, and retrieved a handphone from a pouch in his combat webbing.
"We have secured the target. Fought like a tiger, but we have him."
"Excellent. Bring him to me."
Not all of the DHS Team would see the dawn of the next morning.
"And the factory situation? What of it?"
"Two hundred men dead. Sixty-five more are mortally wounded, and will die soon. Thirteen will be ready for active duty soon enough. As for the intruders..."
He hesitated.
"They got away, sir. All of them."
An ominous silence.
"Two hundred?"
"Yessir."
Then again, neither would most of the Cartel Team.
"It doesn't matter. Once again, deliver them all to me. Ignore Ignis...Bring them to me personally."
(Whew. The longest chapter so far! Sorry for taking so long, but I'm in the midst of preparing for one of the more important exams of my life, 'kay? Don't worry, I'll continue as soon as possible, but there'll be a longer gap. And, sorry for the lack of an author's word for the previous chapter. Simply couldn't think of anything to write. But now, it seems like I can. So, thanks for waiting, and please R&R!)