NOTE: The second to last chapter (more than likely). To answer a question, Samuil and the Vultures are both original. As for the Praetorian Guard, that is what Alice calls them and they are in no way whatsoever related to Caesar's Legion, just to let you know. Thank you all for reading this far into it, hope you enjoy.
"This is your last chance," warned Samuil through his megaphone. "Surrender yourselves now or die horribly like the rats that you are." The Vulture leader took a short pause, waiting for the masked man and I to reply.
The man and I remained silent. We would not be surrendering.
"Then so be it," snarled Samuil. He barked his orders to the restless crowd. The raiders cheered a barbaric war cry for soon their bloodlust would be satisfied.
The raiders opened fire.
I ducked as low as I could as the rounds struck the wood like hail above me, tearing deeper and deeper into the desk with each consecutive hit. The raiders concentrated their gunfire, maintaining a suppressive surge of bullets that prevented the masked man from returning fire. Free of retaliation the raiders drew closer to the building where the man and I took shelter. Soon they would swarm into the lobby like the locust they were.
Samuil and his Praetorian Guard held back and watched the carnage unfold.
"What are we going to do?" I asked the man, yelling to be heard over the gunfire. In seconds we would be captured. The raiders would do atrocious, unspeakable things to us. They would brutalize me like that man had attempted just hours earlier.
Except this time the faceless man would not come to my rescue.
In response to my question the man held up a fragmentation grenade. He wasted no time in pulling the pin, counting to three, and tossing it above the splintered desk and towards the building's entrance. Several raiders screamed out in panic as they were consumed by the ensuing explosion. In the chaos that followed the masked man dragged me from behind the desk and we made way for a nearby corridor.
Samuil could be heard barking his orders. The raiders pushed pass their fallen brethren and flooded into the lobby, firing uselessly at the man and I as they gave chase. A door ahead of us flew open as more raiders broke into the building. Not slowing, we detoured down another hall. Another door flew open as more raiders spilled into the hall and opened fire. The man pulled me away from the gunfire and we fell through an open door and into a dimly lit stairwell.
There was no other option other than to go up.
I was dragged up the stairs as the man took the steps two, sometimes three at a time. The doorway leading to the second floor was blocked by fallen debris so we continued upward to the third floor, which was also blocked. The man threw his weight against the fourth floor entrance but the heavy wooden doors refused to budge even an inch. By now I could hear the pursuing raiders pounding up the steps after us, shouting threats and curses as they went. The man tossed down more grenade to discourage their advance and we moved on to the fifth floor.
To my relief – and amazement – the doors stood wide open.
We ran through a dusty office workplace that had once held dozens of diligent employees. Dilapidated computers sat useless on tarnished desks, overseen by posters denouncing communism and corporate espionage. Scavengers had ransacked every filing cabinet, spilling their contents to the floor. Discarded papers crunched under our feet as we ran blindly through the building seeking escape.
A door set into the wall opposite us broke open, jarring the doorframe out of place with an audible crack. Samuil's two Praetorian Guards entered, their weapons raised and ready to strike. The masked man was quick to fire his rifle. The lead Praetorian spun out of harms way and fell to the side; the second leaped forward, plunging his wicked blade downwards in a vicious arc. The masked man sidestepped this attack with ease. He took hold of the raider and spun him hard, flinging him across a nearby desk and through a battered computer. The remaining Praetorian thrust his spear forward in an attempt to skewer the masked man. My protector pushed the blade away and brought his knee up into the raider's gut. With a firm grip on his rifle the man swung the weapon upwards, slamming the butt of the firearm under the raider's chin and sending him flying back into the air. The Praetorian landed with a thud, dazed and confused and, without a doubt, in pain.
The masked man took me by the hand and we sprinted pass the fallen guards and through the door that they had so kindly opened for us. We ran into a lounge and the man stopped long enough to close the door behind us. As a failsafe he blocked it by tipping a conveniently placed Nuka-Cola vending machine. We exited the room through another door and sped down a dark corridor. I looked back to see the lethal blade of a spear tear into the lounge door, piercing the heavy wood with ease. The door was ripped apart and the vending machine kicked aside. The Praetorian led the charge after us, followed by the horde of bloodthirsty raiders.
There was a second stairwell. Samuil could be heard from below, barking more orders to his men as they ascended. Again there was no choice other than to flee upwards, and again I was dragged up the steps by the masked man.
My eyes burned as we stepped into the blinding sunlight, leaving the building's interior and setting foot atop the roof. I could hear the raiders behind us: their footsteps, their yells, their cheers. Samuil led the surge, opening fire with his short assault rifle the moment he saw us. The man and I ran in full sprint, quickly running out of building. My feet left the ground and I was carried by the masked man who sped towards the edge with no intent on slowing.
I screamed as we left solid footing and soared freely into the air.
We landed hard, rolling into a heap atop of an adjacent building. I stared up blankly into the blue sky above, my head throbbing and my mind disoriented. The masked man picked himself up beside me, shaking his head clear.
We were both alive. A little worse for wear, but alive nonetheless.
Samuil stared down at us from across the street, yelling angrily at his subordinates with a mixture of rage and disbelief splayed out across his square face. Showing their true finesse, Samuil's Praetorian Guard followed our flight path over the divide, leaping with their arms spread wide like the wings of the vulture painted across their chests.
The masked man drew back the bolt of his hunting rifle and fired, striking one Praetorian in midair. The injured raider struck his head on the cement with enough force to snap his neck. The surviving Praetorian rolled onto his feet and lunged forward, driving his spear ahead with deadly intent. The masked man only just dodged the attack. The raider swung his blade in a deadly dance, the tip of the spear catching the masked man's rifle and tearing it away from his grasp. It skidded to a halt near where I lay. The Praetorian swung wide in a killer circle. The man grabbed onto the smooth metal of the shaft, stopping the attack cold. A backhand sent the raider reeling, who then retaliated with a punch of his own. The faceless man spun on his heels, avoiding the blow and driving his foot into the raider's chest with a debilitating back kick. The man continued into his spin, ripping the spear from the raider's hand and driving the wicked blade into the Praetorian Guard's stomach. The mortally wounded raider held onto the shaft, desperate to prevent the inevitable. A final push by the masked man plunged the spear completely through the Praetorian, sending him stumbling back and falling to his demise off the building.
Samuil howled with rage. The raiders that had taken up firing positions along the roof of the office building opened fire. The masked man spun away from the firing squad and sped to where I lay. He grabbed his rifle and hauled me up to my feet, and we both ran as bullets pockmarked the cement around us. A triangular skylight protruding from the roof offered us a means of escape. The masked man leaped feet first, his boots shattering the glass with a deafening crash. I jumped through the hole he had made, falling fifteen feet into the room below.
I opened my eyes sometime later. The faceless man was crouching above me. His gloved hand was pressed to my throat, checking for a pulse. I smiled, my own reflection smiling back at me from the man's mask.
"I'm still alive," I croaked. I was battered and sore beyond belief, not to mention far more worse for wear, but I was alive. As a bonus nothing felt broken.
The man nodded once and helped me to my feet. Looking around I could tell we were in a penthouse or hotel suite of sorts, though its lavish appeal had long since faded. A large bed had cushioned the man's fall while I, on the other hand, had landed on the hardwood floor. I cursed my luck and followed the man as he kicked down the nearest door, knocking it free of its hinges. We proceeded through the decrepit hall and descended down the nearest stairwell. Soon the EXIT sign that hung above the first level doorway came into view and I chimed excitedly.
The exit blew open as an armed raider barged into the stairwell. "There you..." The masked man shot the raider dead before he could finish his exclamation. His comrades, unwilling to share his fate, fired blindly from behind cover. The man and I retreated back up the steps and to the second floor.
"There!" I yelled pointing to a sunlit skywalk.
The man and I tore across the skyway. Glass windows exploded like shrapnel as raiders fired upon us from below. I covered my head with my hands and ducked low enough to avoid being hit. The masked man showed no such concern and sprinted full speed ahead, the gunfire seemingly unable to touch him.
"Use the Rockwell!" shouted someone from down below.
I glanced over at the mob gathered below us. A heavily armored raider approached his brethren and hefted a large metal tube so that it rested heavily on his shoulder. An enormous fireball erupted from one end – the end pointed at us – as he fired.
A massive explosion sent shock waves rippling through the structure as the rocket impacted the skywalk behind me. The bridge's frame buckled from the strain, collapsing as large cracks radiated from the impact's epicenter. Raiders dove for cover as chunks of concrete fell down to the street below. Still intact windows exploded from the pressure as the walls warped around me. The masked man reached the safety of the building and turned to face me.
I reached out to him as the floor gave way beneath my feet.
The man grabbed my hand as I fell along with the bridge, dust rising up to consume me. My body acted as a pendulum, I was the weight and he was the string, and I slammed into the side of the building. I could taste the iron in my blood as it dripped down from my nose. Their meal denied, the Vultures below us opened fire. Standing precariously close to the edge, the man hauled me up into the safety of the building.
I stared into my own reflection, thankful that the faceless man had once again rescued me from certain doom. He must have known what I was thinking because he nodded once, as if acknowledging my thanks.
I smiled my crooked smile.
His mask sparked as a bullet struck his head.
The man fell back, motionless before my eyes.