Chapter 4
This wasn't good. There were two things that had gone wrong in the same second. A gun to his face, and the man behind the gun. The face of the man was scarred and disfigured, his lips twisted into a permanent sneer. He snorted, and smiled. "Well, Well, Well, look what I have found". His smile quickly turned into a frown. Akira Had a flashback of the fateful battle in which his private hell had started.
A huge battle raged on in the background. But they were oblivious to it. It was just the two of them, engaged in battle, vying for supremacy. A scarred and battered Zaku dominated the GM. Quickly shoving its arms into the chest of the GM, he ripped out many vital components. Akira was startled. It wasn't dying, there was no sign of damage. Though missing one arm, it picked him up and threw him. His Zaku crashed into a nearby building. The Gm grabbed a MP-80 and fired with great precision at the cockpit of Akiras' suit. Bullets ripped into the armor surrounding the pilot, barely leaving room to breathe. There was a heat hawk in the corner of Akiras' eye. With the GM barreling at him, time seemed to slow. He grabbed the heat hawk and started to bring it up as the GM slammed into him. The Heat Hawk had been just at the right angle. It sliced through the engines of the GM, setting it on fire. The screams of the pilot had been audible as he went up in flames. He saw that face, even though it was for a split second through the flames. When they came to look at it later... they found no body, no signs that there had ever been a pilot. They assumed he had been painfully cremated.
But he knew that there was one now. It was standing right in front of is face. The cold hard reality of the man set in. This guy was one not to mess with. "Turn around! And put your hands on the wall". The man quickly frisked him, finding a small pistol in his pocket. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who you tried to kill? You tried to kill me. I was defeated by a weakling! One without power! I am all powerful! There is no way for you to beat me again!". The mans eyes were bloodshot, red to the core. This man was definitely insane. There was no doubt about that fact. But maybe he could use it to his advantage to get out of this situation. If only he could think just a little faster.
Sergeant Johnson stumbled over a small body on the ground. Not knowing what it was, he only took a quick look. He started to walk away, but then on a random impulse he turned and had another look. Lying there on the encrusted ground was a frail but living Kasumi. "You scared the living hell out of me, dammit". He smiled in relief. He wouldn't have to take a body back. He picked her up and with his remaining strength he walked towards the city. There had to be someone else that is alive, and when they found him, he hoped to dear God that it would be the right one.
Night started to fall as he carried her into the outskirts of the city. Their fight in the jungle had brought them over from their starting point. That had been shoddy job. They could have done better. He had noticed early into the day that Kasumi had a hangover. And yet he still let her come. He should have kept her back, to make an example of her in front of the troops. But for some reason he had not been able to bring himself to do it. He had weakened over the years.
All the stress of the fighting, the stress of his first encounter with the bomb. He had spent years trying to keep a hold of his sanity. He no longer could hold it off. He just hoped he wouldn't bring someone down with him. He shook it off, taking one small task at a time. Such as getting Kasumi to shelter. Her breathing was getting erratic. "This could end badly, he thought".
Akira
He was running out of options. He had tried to bargain with him. This man was fragile. He needed to be very careful. His head was still fuzzy. He still couldn't think right. Glancing at the man ranting in front of him, he noticed something that he had previously missed. The mans right knee was bleeding. The bone showed through the exposed skin. He slowly moved his leg closer to the mans leg. As the man continued ranting, he lifted his foot slowly. Quickly he slammed his foot into the mans knee, displacing bones and crushing others. As his foot remained in the air, the man bent over at the waist. He raised his other foot into the air and kicked the man in the head. Landing on his first foot, he spun around and ran in the direction that the man had come from.