We're almost in Borsano. Shit. And I could have been at home, perhaps chilling in the bathtub with a beer in my hand. Instead, I'm unwillingly following the rookie, who turns the corner suspiciously looking around himself.
It all happens in a second. I see his eyes go wide as he pulls out the gun, but he gets landed on the sidewalk by someone who was behind the corner.
I turn the corner too and I see her with the butt of the grenade launcher still lifted.
- HEY! Mesis! What are you doing here? - I hear a faint moan coming from the ground, but I ignore it.
She looks at me and laughs. - Tears, you wild dog! I could ask you the same question! -
The rookie's hand raises from the ground. - Hey? I'm bleeding here. -
I grab his hand and pull him up without taking my eyes off Mesis' skintight tank top. He continues to complain but the trick is to not listen to him.
- I thought you only took care of Sin's calls, or maybe even this case has to do with him? - She says.
- Nah, I don't think so. Shelv gave me some good reasons to take care of this bullshit too. -
- A nice way to say that he forced you, - she grins.
****
A few minutes later we are in the old exhibition center, now in disuse. In here there are at least a dozen refugees: I can smell them.
- How many have we got here? - I ask. I'm watching from behind a column, clutching my Beretta. Electra is just behind me, and the rookie is right after her. We're all crouching.
- I don't know. I've already gotten seven of them. Intel from the Confederation was vague but my nose tells me there are about another twenty in here, - she says while recharging the grenade launcher. I wonder how they calculate her points after she shoots the refugees with that thing.
- Your nose? - The rookie asks.
- Refugees retain a metallic smell, due to the shock waves that get on you during the dimensional transition. - I explain him, but I don't look at him. I'm checking our surroundings. My gaze darts from one point to the other of the huge room of this factory, looking for good observation points and hiding places.
I hear him sniffing the air. - I can't smell anything, - he mumbles.
I shake my head. - It's not something you can smell if you don't know how. Let's just say that you learn how to do it in tim... -
I can't finish the sentence because a hail of bullets falls haphazardly all around us, and we're forced to flatten against the concrete wall.
- Damn it! Where the fuck did they arm themselves if they are civilians!? - I snap.
- Miscalculation error: they found my car, - she says.
- Shit! - I swear.
- Those idiots at the Confederation couldn't even give me a ballpark figure of the refugees! Had I known they were so many, I would have been more cautious! -
Another hail of bullets hits the floor, the wall, the concrete column and all the way up to the ceiling.
- And now here we are with a bunch of wimps randomly shooting with a World War III arsenal! -
- It's not such a big arsenal, - she replies huffily.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the rookie jumping back up on his feet, Glock in his right hand and badge in his left. - Intra Dimensional Shield Confederation! If you surrender now, you will only be returned to the second dimension! -
A hail of caliber 9 falls on us.
Electra leans towards the rookie. - If you do it again, I will shoot you myself. -
He doesn't reply, and stays with his back against the concrete wall.
I wait for the pause in this lead rain.
There is always a moment in which you have time to stand up and destroy everything. You just have to be patient and understand in advance when that moment will come. At that point, one of two things can happen, either you lose just a little blood or you lose so much of it that you won't have to worry about that. Nor about anything else...
It's the only way, unless you want to age behind your shelter waiting for them to get around you and kill you.
Besides, I never liked to wait too much.
The Beretta is not enough.
With an ear at the enemy shot frequency, I grab the gun I keep behind my back. I don't remember when was the last time I used it, and I shouldn't even have to use it anymore.
However, I understand that it's loaded from its weight.
I haven't even checked it once lately, not even to unload the magazine, and yet I keep taking it along. Luckily.
I take off the safety and here comes the moment I was waiting for.
****
Suddenly, Tears jumps up, turns around and starts shooting with a gun in each hand. Electra recharges her M32 and follows right after him. I turn and partially look out, just to spy on the situation as I reload my Glock.
With the protection provided by the fire of the two of them, I can finally see where the shots are coming from. And damn it, they are coming from different places.
Every now and then I see someone running right or left to change shelter, or to load up with bullets from elsewhere. They're not organized and this is their weak point. They are civilians, not mercenaries who cross over to this world and use their powers to overcome it. They are not even thieves trading in items from the third dimension, who had the chance of training with this kind of weapons. They're just civilians.
And I don't understand what they're doing here.
Mostly, I don't understand what I'm doing here. We allies are not supposed to fight against civilians. We would need tear gas, rubber bullets and anti-riot gears for this. Our usual targets are armed and well equipped refugees, or people like us, who's accustomed to fight.
People like us... or better, people like these two.
I'm just a thief, a fucking thief who ended up here because of my skills, obviously. Or I don't know, maybe because of my agility?
Or, more probably, because my mother has saved my ass, and instead of having me hanged she was able to place me among the allies.
I load the Glock and inhale annoyed. - Thanks, Mom, but I think that you have only delayed the inevitable. -
I go out and start shooting.
****
I hear the Glock shooting and I understand that the rookie stopped shitting his pants, cleaned his ass and decided to do something useful in his life. After all, he would have been as useless as the wall he was hiding behind, if he stayed there.
A clean shot in the forehead and a man that could have been an accountant falls in front of me. Before his body touches the floor, another three or four losers go keep him company.
A noise. I turn abruptly and shoot.
Two screams.
One is the voice of the rookie, the other is that of a woman who ends up in my gun sight, but this time I manage to stop my finger before pulling the trigger.
This time.
- Holy shit! - I grit my teeth as the blood of the kid I hit in the chest spills on the floor. A woman, surely the mother, runs out of nowhere and kneels next to him, screaming in a language unknown to me.
I keep her at gunpoint anyway while I use the other gun to keep on covering my back from the others.
Miscalculation.
Electra glances over at us. She looks annoyed as she raises an eyebrow and keeps reloading her shotgun.
Miscalculation, damn it!
Out of the corner of my eye I see Zendaru running towards the woman and child, who must be something, like, seven or eight. He speaks to them in that weird language. He tries to calm her down, but she listens to no reason. All the while he's putting pressure on the child's wound.
Fuck! Doesn't he get it? I must have hit a lung, he can't survive. What is he trying to do? Get the three of us killed?
Miscalculation: you go on and think about it later. Or you don't think about it at all, and then you drain a bottle of Jack Daniel's. It always works.
You don't find the answer, but at least you forget the question.
- Do you want to give him a funeral? Get your ass up and start shooting or we're gonna end up just like him! - I yell at him.
****
- FUCK YOU TEARS! - I shout.
I hear my own voice out of control. I'm becoming hysterical. I know, I'm bothering him. I am useless, but this is not my job. I'm not a murderer! And women and children are off limits!
I take the kid in my arms and I run to my former shelter. The girl follows me, screaming and crying, but I can't do anything else, except providing a momentary shelter. I don't even feel the bullet that hits my shoulder, I will feel that later.
- Shit, shit, shit. - Putting pressure on the wound is useless, and he's staring at me with glassy eyes. I think he wants to speak, but no sound is coming out of him. His hand drops, still clutching a gun too big for him and with the safety still on.
I punch the floor as the woman takes his body back, crying.
Tears comes running. - Get back on your ass and help us out, or it's gonna end badly. Did you hear me? -
I get up and bark back at him.
- And how are we supposed to make it out of here when there are tens of them, hidden and armed, and only three of us with no idea of where to go? -
- Just stop shitting in your pants like you're doing now, and pay attention to the smell! If you don't learn how to sense them, you'll be dead soon! -
- And that's all you're waiting for, to brag about how good you are, right? -
****
- What the fuck...? - What the fuck is he talking about?
- I kill them all. I sense them. I perceive them because I can smell them! Like you sensed that kid! Why don't you kill his mother too? Children, women, who cares, right!?
He's shaking. He looks like he's about to have a fit.
- What is it? PMS? - I don't understand this outburst.
I killed a child, okay. It wasn't my intention, but he's not the first and he won't probably be the last. How could I have known his age if he was sneaking behind my back?
He counts on his fingers. - NO, I DO NOT smell them. And these are civilians. So, NO AGAIN, I do not randomly shoot at them! - I look at him and I don't know what to say. He continues. - These are petty thieves, whores, TAX DODGERS! NOT MURDERERS LIKE YOU, WHO ARE WORTH KILLING! -
I lose control of my hand even before I realize it, and I slap him in the face.
A slap, not even a punch. I usually punch people, but maybe my subconscious believed I was facing a hysterical woman, I don't know. All I know is that he drove me round the bend.
He shuts up, so it worked.
I grind my teeth, and before he recovers, I understand why I got mad.
- Get a grip! You'll have time to freak out later. But right now, it's either us or them. And I can assure you that I could be facing God himself and I'd still shoot him in the face, because even if you believe that people like me are worth killing, I still care about my life. Now, if you want to die a hero saving tax evaders from the small town of Tarahsa, feel free to do so, but stay out of my way! -
****
He resumes shooting and I hear the shots more and more distant.
My head is empty.
I don't want to kill people who don't deserve it. I don't even want to kill those who deserve it.
This is the wrong place for me.
I don't want to end up killing a child by mistake like he just did. This is beyond doubt. But he's right, you can't tell who you're shooting at in a situation like this. If we had at least a kind of radar, something that would allow us to understand where they are, we could use those few seconds of advantage to understand whether or not it's a dangerous enemy that we're facing.
A radar.
I feel my brain getting back into gear...
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