"She's dead".

I could smell the stench of a dead person very accurately now, after all these years in combat.

"Found her"

Scarcely a whisper, Jess informed me that she had found the corpse. I sneaked into her room, careful not to make any more noise than I would have if this was a burglary. We had got in via the back door, after picking the lock. As our contact hadn't come to our meeting place, we had decided to investigate her house fearing the worst.

"Here, take a look at this."

Gesturing to the corpse, I notice her concern; our contact hadn't died because of multiple stab wounds or club impacts. Instead, there was just a single bullet wound, still warm.

In her forehead.

I lean back, knowing that there was something not right. My fingers brushed against something, small and metall

A cartridge.

I pick up the tiny cylinder, feeling it's tiny dimensions. It felt familiar. Uncannily familiar.

"She wasn't armed" Jess whispers across in nervous tones. "And her orders are strewn everywhere" indicating to the papers littering the floor.

The cartridge. Republic standard issue.

Shot. The SFF had barely the ammo to supply their troops.

In the front of the head. Executed expensively.

Still warm. The killing was recent.

Her orders. The assassin knew we would come looking for her.

Whoever the Republican assassin was, he was still here.

Waiting.

Schlick

The cold, metallic click of a hammer being pulled back, cut through the silence like a cold knife. In an instant, I spin round to the noise, arms outstretched to catch the weapon. In the darkness, my hand slapped into someone, and clenching my other hands fist, caught the assassin with a punch to the stomach.

He winced, and as the weapon fell, the weapon gave a huge bang, as the jolt to the floor dislodged the pulled back hammer. The bullet broke the old floorboards with a splintering snap, easily audible from streets away.

The cops would be here soon, I didn't have long.

Catching the assailant by the throat, I grabbed his throat with both hands, and fired my first question, slowly tightening my grip on his bulging windpipe as he gasped for air.

"Who are you working for?"

A faint squelching noise. I loosen my grip, and he gasps for air.

"The Republic"
"Bullshit! I work for the republic, you bloody idiot!"
"You betrayed your country, swine!"

A look of frantic defiance crosses his face.

"What?!" I question.

"You and the other special forces. You were working with the commies. You destroyed London. You..."
"What?!"

I release my grip, just a bit. In a desperate last attempt, he slapped me across the face with a free arm, which was promptly thrown back against the wall by Jess, who threw the next question.

"What happened in London?"
"You knew what happened, you people planned it! You special forces led by Marshall Horthnan collaborated with the bloody commies and stole a Russian missile. You detonated the missile in the Thames, destroyed Westminster and now are trying to kill General King and Chancellor Nicola! You swines tryed to..."

The rest of his words were lost in a barrage if internal monologue; who, what, why, how? Nothing made any sense. Marshall Horthnan would never betray his people, everyone knew that; he'd been loyal to the government since the days of the infection, and as the commander in chief of the armed forces, as well as head of the special operations division, why would he work with the SFF?

And why was Nicola acting as chancellor? She was head of the second party, and according to pubic opinion nowhere near power for a long time. How had she declared herself dictator?

And General King... I didn't even want to answer that one. My gut told me not to even try.

That, was personal.

Blam! The sound of the front door shattering yelled that our time was up. I took the soldier's head, and brought it with a thwack against the wall, before threatening him:

"You come after us, I swear I will batter your head against that wall till it falls to bloody bits. Understand?!"

A frantic nod.

Jess was already searching for a weapon. Despite our chances, I didn't want to kill the poor coppers.

Unless they had guns...

I wrench a piece of shelf off a wall, and headed for the bathroom. There was a window there, and if the cops didn't spot us slip in, the lock might just hold them off...

Frantically, I began peeling away at the old, slimy feeling sealant around the pane. Finding a screwdriver discarded, Jess joined me, pulling away at the rubbery plastic until the pane was just about leverable. Pulling at it as fast as we dared, the old square of glass soon, with a sucking plop, gave way. Dropping it to the floor, there was a huge crash, and an iron crowbar appeared through the door.

Almost hurling ourselves out of the window, we hit the soaking paving slabs arkwardly, jumped to our feet and started off towards the wall at the side of the garden.

Boom! A shotgun goes off upstairs, and buckshot splattered at our feet, chipping the old moss covered bricks of the wall, and pinging off the slabs. Hurriedly, before the cop had time to recover from the recoil, I had leapt over the wall, Jess following just after. Sprinting along the wall, we dashed along the alleyway, blocking out the sounds of feet running behind us, the blowing of whistles, and shouting voices. Taking a sharp right, we slip into each other as we rounded the corner and into what looked like a carpark.

Instantly, the sound of shooting broke through the air, as a stream of pistol rounds ambushed us from a black defender. As we dived for cover, the familiar boom of the shotgun rang out, followed by more pistol rounds. Of course! The republican soldier's ride was now being attacked by the commie police, who were both also trying to kill us.

Not confusing in the slightest.

Another copper turned up, armed with an ornamental looking hunting rifle. He put one bullet into the asphalt, and dived for cover. Seizing the opportunity, I made a wild dash for the vehicle, my fists readied for combat. The soldier just had time to register a brief look of surprise on his face, before he was out the open door of the land rover. Yanking on the door, I ducked as another .22 calibre round pinged off the metalwork of the car. Jess had already slid the great machine into gear, and with a great roar, started off out of the carpark. More shots broke the windscreen into deadly shards, held in place by a thin layer of plastic reinforcement.

Spinning the wheel, and sending another cop diving into the gutter, we sped off, more confused, desperate and concerned than when we had come in...