I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)
Also, not quite sure if this is required but better safe than sorry, I do not own the following lines from William Shakespeare's King Lear [Act 1 Scene 2] - quotation is used as an addition to the plot, no copyright intended
-114 IsBPO-
'Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to th'legitimate. Fine word, 'legitimate'!
Well my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top th'legitimate-: I grow, I prosper;
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!'
-866 IsBPO-
JPOV
21:03. That was when it started.
Nine o'clock had edged towards us like the evening tide: slow and careful. After informing Croft of Vincent's revelation and deriving the best plan we could, Emyl and I set to work giving Vincent and Ibrahim a quick-fire Guardian lesson in Hamlet's enclosed back yard. For slightly obvious reasons, not all of the Moroi were going to go in on this ambush, but just throwing Emyl and I in was an equally idiotic idea. Thus, we compromised: since Ibrahim had proved himself capable of dealing with violent and deadly situations more than once throughout this little excursion, and not just using his quick wit, he was coming with us, along with everyone's favourite Brit. Honestly, I was sceptical allowing them anywhere near the base, as was Emyl. But our concerns were promptly shut down by the persuasive techniques employed by all four of our Moroi counterparts. Originally, they had all wanted to assist, but Emyl had dismissed that in an instant, refusing to hear Harriet's plight on how she could be of use. This led to a rather lengthy argument between the pair, which only with Hamlet suggesting that he and Harriet remain back, as the man of God didn't fancy a full frontal ambush either. This still left the problem of Vincent and Ibrahim, but I knew there was no reasoning with those two, so decided it would be best to give them some survival techniques. I was, however, quite surprised at how easily Croft was going along with it, given that leading Moroi into direct and certain danger was definitely breaking at least twelve of the fundamental Guardian rules; but, I think, really by this point all gloves were off and we were just going for it - to hell with the established edict.
The plan was simple: or at least, as simple as a plan could be in this situation. The four of us would split into pairs, Moroi and Dhampirs, and approach the base from one of the concealed backdoors and the secret underfloor one. With Vincent's address, Croft had woken up the surveillance team (who weren't particularly happy to be dragged from their slumber, but I don't think anyone cared) and had them bring up an image and floor plan of the warehouse. Hamlet had then crossed referenced it with the data he had on the city and we saw our way in:
The base was located within the city, but rather neatly tucked away in a few side streets, making it quiet enough to undergo terrorist activities and movements without detection whilst also holding a key central position making all of the above easier. This, rather paradoxically, managed to both complicate and make easier our role too - allowing us the cover of night and the crowds to slip in undetected, but also creating a stage of potential casualties as well as means of escape for them. They also had the benefit of the height as thanks to Ruth's satellite hack, we knew there were strategic look-out posts on the roof that faced all four corners of the building, looking out upon the streets below and across the city's skyline.
There was no denying it: these guys were good.
What we had, however, was the element of surprise combined with the glorious notion of back-up. With Hamlet and Harriet effectively sitting this one out, Hamlet was in charge of getting word out to their organisation's Istanbul contacts. They would be given the address after we had started our silent assault, so that we could cause as much damage as possible with minimal detection, before the brute force came in to storm the place.
So that was our mission: weaken it and then destroy it. In all, everything was good. There was just one small problem.
"So, who's going with who?"
When Emyl asked that question, he was blissfully ignorant over its significance. So, to an extent was Ibrahim.
Vincent however, had no excuse.
"Well, given the notable tension of our last encounter, I feel it is probably best to keep you two," the plucky Brit gestured between Ibrahim and Emyl, "separate. I fell Janine may have more of an incentive to keep Abe alive..."
Oh, I could have killed him.
Mercifully, his talent with wording made neither Emyl nor, thank God, Ibrahim suspect the double meaning that laced his words. Instead, they provoked a light chuckle from Ibrahim. "I am sure Guardian Burlatsky would not intentionally try to kill me."
"Still," Vincent said, his gaze drifting a little towards me, "best be on the safe side."
Emyl just looked a little bemused. "You know, I am capable of keeping my personal grievances in check."
Vincent shrugged. "I don't doubt it, I just thought it would make things easier." At to that, Emyl had no argument. He conceded and Vincent shot me a devious grin before wandering towards Emyl who had left the garden in search, no doubt, of Harriet.
Ibrahim cleared his throat. "Nice to see he considers our relationship a 'personal grievance'."
I rolled my eyes. "Can you blame him?"
He placed his hand over his heart and gaped over-dramatically. "Guardian Hathaway!? Please don't tell me that you too find my company burdensome!"
I couldn't help it, but I snorted very unattractively in my attempt to stop myself laughing. "Burdensome perhaps, but never boring."
He scowled a little. "Gee, I feel so much better."
"Sorry," I apologised. "Do you think your ego can spare itself this blow - your footing was wrong." I said, pointing down at his left leg.
He cast his gaze down and frowned. "It seems Burlatsky's teaching is perhaps not as fabulous as he believes it to be." his eyes flicked up to mine.
I scowled. "And you really wondered why he called you a burden?"
He smirked a little, his eyes softening into amusement. "My dear Janine, to turn a phrase, I am messing with you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Not appreciated."
"Noted."
"Right, when you're going in for a right hook, you need to put your leg here." I said, showing him. It was an interesting setting we found ourselves in: while the sun was still up, I could see it dipping down as the day had passed, acting as an eerie reminder of what was going to come when night finally came. However, the sheer beauty of Hamlet's perfectly kept garden, with its neat arrangement of complementing fiery flowers placed humbly within layers of rich green so they sat like candles in a room (seriously, how did he have time to manage that one), was a contrast enough to act as a somewhat calming element and really just lift the weight over the situation as a whole.
Ibrahim watched me closely and attempted to mimic. "So, like this…"
I blinked. "No, not even-what are you doing?" I said, taking a step back to get a better view on the situation.
He looked down. "What you did." he said, bemused.
"No, you look like you're doing some sort of ballet routine!" I replied.
He straightened up and countered. "Well, it works for me."
I placed my hands on my hips. "Need I remind you which of us has the appropriate training…" I said flatly.
He folded his arms across his chest. "Need I remind you which of us had the more experience in this particular field..."
I had to stop myself gaping. "Oh, you do not have grounds to trump me on this one."
"I am still alive." He pointed out.
"Honestly, I am putting that down to divine intervention." I quipped without missing a beat, provoking a slight smirk on his behalf, but he kept it under control. "Now, would you please listen to me and sort out your left foot."
"I am not convinced there is something to sort out." he said, redoing his swing with his bizarre footing.
"Right, hold it there." I commanded. He froze in his position and I crouched down in front of him, yanking his left foot forward.
"Hey!" He called out, stumbling a little.
"Oh, quit moaning," I said and pulled his foot, now considerably lighter as he had shift his weight back, to the correct place. "Now try."
He swung, not quite waiting for me to get out the way nor anticipating my rising up. On instinct, I held out my hand and caught his fist before it could his me in the face. His face, once filled with irritation, immediately changed to one of concern. "Are you alright?" He asked.
I was still watching my hand as though if I let go, his fist would suddenly come flying out again and actually hit me. With a flick of my eyes, I looked back at him and replied casually. "Yeah, fine."
The tension in his body lifted a little and I could see the makings of his smirk, but did not quite reach his eyes. "Okay, do you suppose I could have my hand back?"
I blinked. "Oh, crap, sorry." I said, letting go. He brought his fist down and cradled it in his other hand. I found myself asking, "Are you alright?" before I could fully comprehend what was happening.
He smiled and waved me off. "I'll be fine, you just have quite a forceful grip, Guardian Hathaway."
I grimaced a little. "Sorry. Do you want to try it again?"
He nodded. "I think that may be best."
This time, I did manage to get out of the way and he did manage to do it properly. Well, reasonably so: his foot, out of habit, was edging back towards his original position, but I managed to kick him out of it after the twenty-third try.
"Good enough?" he asked, panting a little but rather pathetically trying to cover it up.
I shrugged. "I suppose."
He sighed, exaggerating the sound out to make completely sure I understood his displeasure. "Excellent: I can now punch someone to your ridiculously high standards."
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest. "My 'high standards' are proven to be more effective. Didn't you feel the difference?" I asked.
"Janine," he said flatly, "as long as the other chap gets on the floor, I am not fussy about how he got there."
I tutted. I actually tutted. Shaking my head and turning away from him to head back inside, I found some middle ground. "Well, now you can get him there more effectively. Or at least you can, hypothetically."
I could almost feel his jaw drop. "Guardian Hathaway, I am perfectly capable of neutralizing an enemy!" I snorted, not really that fussed that he heard me. Though instead of responding verbally, he remained silent and I genuinely thought I had gotten away with it.
That was until a vine wrapped round my waist and pulled me back, tying me to a large tree.
I grunted on the impact and I found Ibrahim's smug expression as he approached me, placing his arms either side and boxing me in to prove his point. This new proximity gave me a clear look of his proud expression but there was a certain weariness behind it. I sighed. "Please try not to use up all your energy proving me wrong."
He cocked a brow, "Ah, so you concede."
I scowled. "Sure, now let me out."
He paused, inclining his head a little. "You know, I am quite enjoying having the upper hand." He said with his signature smirk.
I deepened my displeasure. "I am going to smack you."
His smile grew. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" he asked, whispering in my ear. I cast my gaze down and, indeed, my hands were restrained by the coiled plant. But he had missed one thing...
I gave him a smirk of my own and craned my head round so I could whisper my reply in his ear. "You forgot about my knee…" I trailed off, not needed to say anything more.
Ibrahim raised his brows and looked down, before surrendering. "It appears I have."
I nodded. "You going to let me out now."
"I think that may be best." And with that he stepped back; he waved his hand and the natural roping agent slithered away, allowing me freedom from the tree.
I straightened myself out and walked over to him, closing the gap between us so much so that I had to look up a little to meet his eyes. "A little health warning for you: don't do that again." I said, slapping him lightly on the cheek.
He flinched a little, but still smiled. "Noted." his voice was soft and low and drew my attention to just how close we actually were. Blinking rapidly, I stepped back, gave him one more scowl before walking into the house and leaving him standing out there.
I was now stressed out for an entirely different reason, one that had nothing to do with the impending life-threatening ambush that was happening in less than three hours. I forced myself to walk through the expansive corridors of Hamlet's home as my every internal instinct was telling me to go back and either punch Ibrahim or run back into his embrace, even if that entailed being tied to a tree again. I wasn't exactly sure where I was heading, but when I saw Vincent's frame in the kitchen, I spun around and made for any other place; I did not need him walking about in the fantasy I had running through my head. Dear God, I thought as I marched up the stairs; I felt like a fourteen year-old all over again-
"Janine?"
I staggered to a halt. "Harriet." I said as I met her perplexed expression. "Hey."
"Hi," she said with a frown. "You okay?"
"I little overwhelmed, I guess." That was an understatement, but it wasn't a lie.
"The mission?"
"Yeah." That was a lie. Though arguably not entirely, but my current emotional issues surrounding Ibrahim were winning over the emotional issues surrounding La Luz.
She smiled, ignorant still of my inner dilemma. "Yeah, me too. It's all a bit much, huh?"
I nodded, deciding that it was fruitless dwelling on what was probably just a minor crush when there were actual problems in my world. "How you holding up?" I asked, turning my attention to see if there was anything I could do to alleviate at least one of our burdens. "Didn't Emyl come here earlier?"
She shook her head. "No, he is teaching Vincent some shooting techniques. I was just lounging with Hamlet, but he had to make a phone call or something." she said, sitting down on the landing with her legs dangling down on the stairs. I was quick to join her. "I'm fine though. You must be terrified." she said, her kind eyes travelling to meet mine with a lingering fear and trepidation of what they would find.
I shrugged. "A little, but I'm mostly okay. Did you ask Croft about your mother?" When Emyl, Ibrahim, Vincent and I had left, Hamlet and Harriet kept the line to Croft open, so that Harriet could enquire after her mother.
She sighed, softly and sadly. "She's still at Court. So are Uncle Robert and Aunt Tamara, Guardian Croft believes. They are saying there are around 200 of them still there." she said, looking somewhat wistfully off.
Without overthinking it, I placed my arm around my friend, pulling her close. "We'll get them: we'll shut down this base, fly back to Pennsylvania and get them back free, destroying an international terrorist group along the way."
She laughed a little. "You make it sound so easy."
"Call it a gift."
That provoked more laughter and we sat there for a moment just enjoying each other's company. Hamlet, coming in from the front door, walked passed the staircase and did a double take to see us sitting there. After enquiring after our wellbeing, he invited us down for dinner before we set ourselves into motion.
Two hours later, we were in motion and on our way to the base…
It was a comparatively cold night, though it held nothing on the chill experienced first in Britain, then - and even more so - in Russia. In fact, I rather enjoyed the slightly cooler atmosphere given its contrast against the heating up that my rapidly beating heart was doing to my body. I had long since accepted that most of the stuff I was taught at St Vlads held nothing on the real world which only resulted in provoking a fear that my brain felt it could justify. Thankfully, I had stuck my Guardian mask up, so Ibrahim was none the wiser.
We had split up: myself and Ibrahim were to take the basement entrance, whilst Vincent and Emyl were going in through one of the concealed back doors. The four of us had each been given an earpiece. We were aware of the dangers of using them, particularly in their ability to be both traced and hacked, but we weren't taking any chances.
Ibrahim and I had taken cab, stopping a good few blocks away from our target and getting out to walk. Vincent and Emyl had done a similar thing, but as they were entering on the opposite side, we had taken different routes. We hadn't bothered with disguises: aside from the fact I could not bear to be put in another dress, perhaps for the rest of my life, it would be impractical. I did, however, tie a scarf round my bright ginger hair so as not to attract too much attention. Ibrahim looked as pristine as ever in his perfectly tailored suit, though this one seemed to be fitted with ample resources to move around in, lest we find ourselves in any sort of pickle.
And so we approached. I clocked the building from a way off, noting how it blended well with its surroundings yet still maintaining a notable degree of dominance. The crowds of the streets were still full, even if it was encroaching on nine in the evening, but for that I was slightly relieved. Though they did begin to dissipate the closer we got, there was still enough coverage to conceal us from the invariable look-outs on the roof. Silently, I nodded towards Ibrahim, who offered me a small smile. Together, we slipped into an alleyway, deserted mostly save the couple groping each other in the cover of darkness. I scrunched my nose and turned away, while Ibrahim just rolled his eyes. He pulled out the utility bar, and propped open the manhole, revealing the dark and dingy pit that lay beneath. I cast a quick look behind me, but the canoodling couple appeared completely oblivious to what we were doing - much to engrossed in their own activity. With a sigh followed by a deep inhale, I shrugged and pushed myself down underground.
The sewer was disgusting. Clearly not a main priority for the Istanbul City Council. From the light from above, I could see Ibrahim's face too crinkle in repulsion as he entered the dark tunnel. Using the bar to aid him, he slowly pulled back the manhole-cover until we were fully submerged in darkness.
"You did remember the torch?" he whispered. I rolled my eyes and pulled the device out my pocket, shining it in his face. "Just checking."
I shook my head and turned in the direction in which we were heading. Ibrahim followed closely behind, for once, actually sticking to the devised plan and not doing something on his own. For this, I was most grateful, but on edge all the same. We had learnt the route through the sewers by heart, so there was no need to consult a map. Not that you could, it was so cramped in there. For once, my short height was of some substantial use as I could see in the corner of my eye, Ibrahim having to duck down just so that he wouldn't hit his head on the ceiling. We remained as quiet as possible, not entirely sure just how effective the echo effect worked down here and it anyone could hear us from above, but we weren't taking any chances. Even our movements became lighter and quieter as we got closer to the warehouse, to the point where the only thing I could hear was the dripping of stale water and my own thudding heartbeat in my ears.
Obviously, the radio signal for our earpieces was going to be a little shit when we were underground, so those were promptly turned off to avoid any chance of unnecessary detection. We were to turn them on once we got inside the basement and cleared the area if necessary and make contact with Emyl and Vincent, cueing them to enter and also to give the signal back to Hamlet and Harriet to be ready with the 'S.W.A.T. team', as we were calling it. I had no idea who these people were, but apparently Ibrahim, Vincent and Hamlet knew them well and that was enough to satisfy both our little group and Croft, who's (let's face it) opinion was the important one here, so we were all good.
A flash of silver caught my eye, and I positioned my torch to make out its image: a ladder. A rusted, silver ladder leading up to the warehouse above. We were under the base. Directly under it. I paused and took a moment, taking a deep breath which, with hindsight, was probably not the best idea considering the rankness of the location we were in. I cleared my throat as lightly as I could before approaching the ladder.
I was stopped by a hand on my arm. Jerking my head up, I met Ibrahim's eyes, darkened by the blackness of the sewers. "Are you alright?" I asked as quietly as I could, realising that perhaps this was a little much for him. He was, after all, an excellent actor and proficient in the art of concealing true emotions - perhaps he had been hiding his fear all along.
He fumbled a bit before composing himself. "I'm fine, it's just should we fail-"
"We won't." I assured him as softly as I could. Whatever emotional issues I had going on in my head about the man, I was not about to deny him hope and a little bit of comfort, particular given our present status.
He smiled a little at my assurance. "But on the off chance that we do." he reasoned. He made to speak again, but stopped himself before resolving inwardly. "It has been a true pleasure, Guardian Hathaway." he whispered.
I smiled. "Likewise, Mr Mazur." I paused before deciding to add a little levity to the moment, in an effort to keep whatever fear he was concealing at bay. "Even if you did tie me to a tree."
His smile grew bold and bright, in spite of the darkness. I could tell he was struggling not to laugh, so instead he took my hand and brought it to his lips, smothering his amusement into a tender kiss. "You are a true friend, Janine." he spoke so softly, I could have missed it.
I was so taken aback by the gesture, that I could not think of what to say. Instead, I elected to spread my fingers out and entwine my hand with his. With a quick squeeze, I turned my smile into a smirk. "Okay, let's go destroy this base."
He responded with a smirk of his own and at exactly 21:03, we went in.
I eased open the trapdoor, poking my head above ground to survey the room like periscope on a submarine. It was empty. The darkened room showed no signs of life, such that the only thing that moved were the scattered dust particles. I lifted the door further to confirm my suspicion, before fully opening it and stepping out.
"Clear." I whispered.
Ibrahim poked his head out looking out and around like a perplexed meerkat. "Why'd you turn off the torch?" he asked, as he pushed himself to his feet.
"I may as well send off a flare: it'll attract too much attention." I said, casting my gaze round the room. I had replaced the torch in my hand with a gun. The cool metal of my stake was rubbing against my ankle and I had another gun hidden in my back pocket. Ibrahim was too armed, but I couldn't tell you how many he had or indeed where he had put them. I watched as he edged round the room, looking for any signs of movement. He negotiated the darkness well: we were surrounded by boxes, crates more accurately. I dreaded to think what was in them. Ibrahim too eyed them with some concern. With one final sweep, he finally concluded that the basement was empty. Clearly used as a place of storage under a complex defensive building, La Luz probably didn't want to waste valuable man-power guarding a room very unlikely to be breached.
Shame, really.
Well, regardless of this, we still had a plan to stick to. I flipped the switch and turned my radio earpiece on. Ibrahim did the same. As clearly as I could, I whispered into the set, "Hathaway to Burlatsky, clear."
After a few moments, I got a response. "Copy that." Emyl's voice too was lowered, but distinct enough to know that he had gotten the message.
This was it. They were going in.
With a glance towards Ibrahim, I gestured him behind me. He obeyed. Edging slowly around, I located and headed towards the door out of the basement. The stairs were in the corner and we approached with trepidation, expecting someone to jump out at any moment. It was only when we were standing inches away from the door and no-one had still come after us, that we thought that no-one probably would. I turned my attention to the door. Testing the handle, I found that it did not electrify me or blow the whole room up. With a firmer grip, I hooked my palm over the handle and pushed it down. It opened to a large expanse: an empty one at that. There were the makings of life all around - someone had clearly been in here, perhaps even moments ago. The lights were off and remained so - none of this motion-sensor activated nonsense, for which I was most relieved. The room was filled with cabinets that littered the side, more crates and a large desk. Curiosity drew me towards it, with Ibrahim in tow; what lay on top of it was a mess of papers with a mix of numbers and letters.
"Coordinates." Ibrahim said, nodding to the array of symbols at the bottom of each piece of paper.
"These are orders." I said upon realising.
Ibrahim nodded his affirmation, before casting his frowning gaze around the rest of the room, watching the door especially to see if anyone was coming. "We should probably move." he suggested and I agreed wholeheartedly. We left everything as it was, finding no value in taking what was essentially a shopping list with no address or reference to where they were going. That, clearly, was stored elsewhere. We wandered through the room and towards the door, passing the crates along the way. Ibrahim's frown increased as he continued to inspect the aforementioned objects, before refocusing on the next part.
We were lucky to have not run into anyone...yet. I had a feeling our luck was about to run out. Tentatively, I touched the handle and pushed the door open, catching sight of something that made me reach for my gun and want to fire. A camera. The walls were thick and the room was small so the subsequent echo would be minimal, but would've bound to have woken someone up. Therefore, I was almost thankful when Ibrahim pulled me back and instead sent a shockwave from his hand through the wall to shake the hanging camera off and smash against the floor.
I raised a brow. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"
He shrugged. "Didn't come up."
I rolled my eyes and we pressed on. The room, aside from the camera was much like the other: quiet, empty and dark. Clearly, the occupants were not so concerned about the lower floors. We weren't finding anything that we could use to cause chaos and shut them down: no computers or anything to that effect which had concrete and invaluable resources that would allow for a complete production standstill. I suspected that they were located on higher floors though and we were just pottering about the storage facilities. Hopefully, Emyl and Vincent were having more luck in that department.
There were two doors leading on from that room: one that lead back down and another that went outward. Without much pondering, both Ibrahim and I mutually agreed on the latter. Again, with painful hesitancy, I eased open the door. The sight that lay before me all but took my breath away: a large expanse, clearly central and was roofed only on the edges as the central block when on for what I imagined was the roof. Around it saw rings of metal railing and grated flooring going up for at least nine floors. I widened my eyes, I took a look up. The sheer vastness of the place was not conveyed well by the outside appearance. But in spite of its magnitude, there was one glaring thing that made both of our hearts stop for a moment:
It was empty.
Abandoned. The entire warehouse was a dark and eerie void, with crates and stock littered about aimlessly. It was clearly the right place, the huge amount of supply and the receipts from down below proved that Vincent was not wrong - but they had gone. No-one was here. They had all gone.
They knew.
They had known we were coming. The realisation hit Ibrahim at the same time and we locked eyes. We needed to get out of here, fast. No time to think how. No time to think why. We needed to flee. La Luz were not the type to leave any witnesses behind, so our lives were very much in danger. I made to inform our counter-parts, but Emyl had beat me to it.
"Janine, get out! It is a tra-"
And as he was cut off, a hail of bullets came down from above. Instinctively, I shoved Ibrahim into the wall, my body covering his as the bullets rained down behind us in a storm to conquer them all. Forget Noah and the ark, or Lear's bold defiance of the wrathful storm - this was the apocalypse thundering down in a violent crash in a single minute. The noise was deafening and the dread fierce. I could feel Ibrahim's heartbeat against my own, both in rapid fear. There was no point in denying it. I locked on his gaze and he found mine, before he glanced back the way we came.
But we couldn't go back. The door that lead to the previous rooms was too exposed and someone from above was shooting directly at it. We had wandered a little too far and now were forced to find a new way out. I noted the latter embedded on the wall beside us; it was all I could do to remember we were still technically below street level. We had no choice. We had to go up.
I signalled my intent to Ibrahim and he nodded, keeping a solid grip on my waist as we edged towards the ladder. Given the thundering noise around us, there was no way I could speak loud enough so he would here. Thus, I met his eyes gaze, begging him to stay put. His eyes clouded with something I knew not and his whole body tensed, but he nodded all the same.
It was with great reluctance that I let go, and began to climb up. The sound getting worse with every step. I reached the top of the ladder and thus the first floor, standing with my back to the wall and my feet on the metal grate, now not only hearing the gunfire, but feeling it too in the vibration underfoot. It was painful to say the least, but I wasn't dead. With a look down, I gestured Ibrahim come up. He complied instantly, scrambling carefully up the ladder to stand by me. We remained there for a second, our backs as far against the wall as we could manage. I turned my head, grabbing Ibrahim's hand and slowly shifted along the side, wincing frequently at the painful sound. How do they still have so many bullets!? I thought, before remembering that this was their bloody supply base.
Itching towards a door, I kicked it open, only to reveal trio of Dhampirs standing with machine guns. Ducking back, I managed to dodge their fire. Ibrahim honestly looked as though he could pass out at any point, but that was not the biggest issue of the moment. One of the Dhampirs came out the door and, without thinking, I shot him in the head. He fell down like a bag of potatoes and I had no time to process the trauma of just shooting someone at point-blank range as another came out. I repeated the action, before jumping over the now two bodies and back into the room to eliminate the other man. It was a swift and cold execution, but I had no time to fool around. I backed up and yanked Ibrahim in. He slapped himself and shook out his trembling fear in sharp inhales.
Just then, the door to my right burst open and three more vampire came out. But these weren't Dhampirs…
They were Strigoi.
Two men and a woman - they eyed Ibrahim with a lust and fury that seemed unmatched by anything I knew. I shoved him behind me, and fired my gun, knowing it wouldn't do much to harm them, but would successfully disorientate them. The woman came first - darting towards me with the same intensity as those bullets, she aimed straight for my neck. Clearly as youth, I was quick to yank out my stake and strike her in her heart. She gurgled and growled but eventually fell limp. I pulled my stake out and struck the other who had dared to come too close. He was stronger and recoiled back, not allowing me the full kill. The other came bounding towards me too and I struggled to fend both off, without exposing Ibrahim to danger. Hand to hand was getting me nowhere, particularly as they were both much stronger than me. So I decided to use their height against them - sliding on my knees and slicing their legs with my stake they both collapsed with calliopean screams. I plunged my stake into the first and kicked the second away. The first ceased moving instantly, but the second got back on his feet and hissed. Behind me, I heard the door open and the characteristic grunts of more Strigoi filled the room. For a second, I looked towards Ibrahim. He was on the floor and breathing loudly. He caught my eyes and glanced behind him, seeing the new troop coming in. I saw them too and my heart clutched at the realisation:
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't stop them. Not all of them. With an enraged fury I despatched of the second, but the new five that flooded in would be too much, I knew. But I wasn't going to let Ibrahim die without a fight. With a growl of my own, I pulled him back behind me - towards the door the first three had come from. Standing, just about, before them and re-clutched my stake a made to defend.
But instead, I fell.
The ground beneath me shook and it took me a moment to realise that the whole room was shaking. The Strigoi staggered, all uneasing on the ground, the collapsed and could not get up. I, struggling to stand anyway, was quick to fall, but found myself caught by Ibrahim, his arms cradling around me as his hand rested on the ground, causing it to rupture. It was a brief distraction, but that is all I needed. As soon as he let go, I jumped to my feet, pulling him up too. Sprinting, I half led, half dragged the Moroi into the room where the three had come. The five, considerably more disorientated, took their time getting to their feet, but when they did it was too late. I had slammed shut the door and Ibrahim and I pushed a large crate in front of it in such a way that no-one was getting in. They slammed against the door as we pushed another crate to reinforce it. I could see Ibrahim's exhaustion as he gulped for air. I desperately wished there was something I could do as I frantically searched for an exit. There was another door to my left but God only knew where it led. I was beginning to panic, and panic badly, when suddenly there was a quite literal change in the air…
It became heavier, more dense. Ibrahim noticed it too as he no longer needed to take huge gulps to keep himself oxygenated.
"What is that!?" I said, clutching my throat.
Ibrahim frowned deeply for a moment before revelation hit him like a bullet. "It's Vincent."
"Vincent!?"
"He's using air magic." he said, as though that would be all the information I needed.
"What for?" I asked. I knew that the Brit could feasibly, if a little more weakly, wield all the elements, but why he would choose to use air magic at this time made no sense.
Well, apparently it did to Ibrahim. "Oxygen, Janine."
"Oxygen? Why?"
He looked at me dead in the eye. "What needs oxygen to burn?"
And then it hit me.
Fire.
There was no defeating this swarm, not by hand that is. With bullets flying down from the ceiling and Strigoi and other Dhampirs lurking in the shadows, the four of us had no chance. Where the bloody 'S.W.A.T. team' was, I had no idea. But, it would be rather understandable to have heard the massive gunfire and decided against suicide.
Therefore, there was only one way we were getting out of this and Vincent had thought of it: he was going to blow it up.
So much for a simple computer hack and ambush, this was old school, dangerous, but effective all the same. The only issue is, we had to get out. With the Strigoi still raging at our barricaded door, the only way out was through the other. I tightened my grip on my stake, and retook Ibrahim's hand. "Stay close." I said, leading him behind me. He nodded, the oxygen acting as an unintended aid, but I could still see sparks of his weariness. With one quick prayer upward, I ran opened the door...
The room was empty. Thank the bloody Lord: the room was empty! I could've cried. Not only was it empty, but there was a window and that meant, a way out. I could hear the scrapes of the crates in the other room, telling me that the Strigoi were breaking loose. I sprung into action, running up to one of the crates, I yanked off the lid. Inside lay a vast arsenal of machine guns. I smirked, picking one up and smashing it against the glass. The whole pane shattered on impact, dissolving into thick, sharp shards. Regripping Ibrahim's hand, I dragged us both out. The street was empty and deserted, with the distant sound of sirens in the background; evidently the mass gunfire had scared away any passersby. The image of the couple canoodling entered my head, and I wondered if they had fled. God, I hope so. Because as soon as we touched the tarmac, I made us run. Run far. Run fast. My legs screamed at me to stop and I couldn't imagine Ibrahim's were holding up well.
But it was a bloody good thing that we did run. Because, not moments after we had left, the whole warehouse went up in flames…
