Same deal as before, any ideas or criticism are welcome. Oh, and of course, I do not own anything to do with Prototype. Enjoy.
Chapter2
John awoke a couple hours later. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares. And for some reason he was too wound up to try and sleep again. He sat up and put his helmet back on. Then swung his legs off the bed and dropped to the floor. The sound of his boots hitting the ground cut through the silence within the room. John stood, fixed to the spot, hardly breathing. He realized why he couldn't sleep. Silence.
John turned his head slowly, his mask automatically compensating for the darkness of the dorm. Allowing him to see clearly. All the bunks were empty and most weren't made. This is wrong. He took a look around, listening for any sign of life. But everything was still. He took a deep breath before making his way to the main room. The secretary from earlier was gone as well. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...
He grabbed the rifle that he knew was stashed under the desk before making his way outside. Where is everyone? He saw the tank down the street and made his way over. Trying to keep his steps as light as possible. Past the tank, he saw the remains of the infected, and the shell casings littering the ground. He looked back to the tank, the hatch was open and the barrel was pointed away from the slaughter, towards one of the buildings. His eyes shot to the right, scanning the buildings across the street. Several of the windows were gone. But even his mask couldn't pierce the shadows.
After another cursory glance he turned his attention back to the tank. He climbed up the side and made his way to the hatch. He took another deep breath, readied the rifle, and leaned over the hatch. He then promptly fell on his ass. The tank was full of bodies, Blackwatch and infected alike. He started panting and muttering curses and prayers under his breath. After nearly a full minute passed, he began to rise on unsteady legs, still muttering to himself.
Once he was on his feet, he started to make his way down off the tank. He managed to get down without too much trouble, only stumbling when he jumped off. Get a hold of yourself. You've seen more bodies than that before. But none of those bodies were Blackwatch. It doesn't matter... He continued the internal argument with himself as he began to walk away. Leaving the tank and outpost behind. It took him a while to realize he was heading towards the base Twitch had mentioned. And that his mask must have masked the scent of all the corpses.
He had gone about a hundred meters before a soft sound reached his ears. He immediately turned around, pointing his gun at every shadow, but could distinguish nothing of interest among the debris of the ruined city. The sound had scared him. It told him of danger, but he couldn't quite place it. He remained still for several minutes, listening, watching, but nothing revealed itself. He slowly straightened up, and released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He was about to turn around when the hairs on his neck stood on end. Then he felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his neck. He froze. A gun meant people. Which meant safety. He lowered his weapon and slowly began to turn. "2nd Lt. John Danden." He announced while he turned. The barrel pulled back from his neck slightly. He took this as a sign to continue.
"My base has been wiped out," he said while turning "I believe I am the only survivor. Could you please identify-" His voice cut out has he was finally able to see the figure behind him.
The man, for he assumed it was a man, was obviously Blackwatch. No one else had masks like that. But this one was different. He'd never seen anyone dressed similarly. The man had the same kind of hood drawn up over his helmet. His goggles had three separate lenses. None of them glowed the way his did, however, they were black. It didn't seem to catch any reflection. Unlike the plates on his own shoulder, this man had none. The armour was covered by a dark, digital camouflage pattern. It looked as hard as steel, yet seemed to mold to the man's shape and move with him. The man wore no form of identification. His armour was interrupted only at the joints, where it looked as though multiple plates overlapped like chitin. He also had no arm-guard. The gloves were padded with the same material on top, but the inside was much thinner. His chest piece was made in a similar overlapping chitin around the abdomen. But was much more solid around his ribs. He wore no belt, but seemed to have a pistol holsters built into the armour on each side of his hips. He could see the handles of two handguns protruding. The knees had the same chitin and the shins appeared to be more heavily armoured. Flowing smoothly into his boots. Where there were combat knives on each side. The armour was completely unreflective. And flowed together so seamlessly that it appeared to be one solid piece. The suit was obviously meant for stealth, and even at point blank range he occasionally lost track of where the body ended or began.
He looked back into the mans goggles and again said "Please, identify yourself." Again the man just looked at him. The man cocked his head to the side and John assumed he was consulting with his superiors. Suddenly, he shook his head violently, like he was trying to shoo a fly. He then looked back into John's eyes and whispered "I'm sorry." John was puzzled for a moment, then he saw the mans finger begin to squeeze the trigger.
The shot tore through John's throat and severed his spinal cord. He was dead before he hit the ground.