[writing] Project Chaos - Chapter Six

[djtenku]

Title: Chase
Word Count: 2766
Summary: Desperation. Burn. Targets.

Racre Xander heard the faint shouts of clamor from the outside of the iron door, waking him from a painful slumber. His body and mind screamed at him all at once as he sat up from the cold steel floor, coughing violently. He could see only darkness, let alone his own two hands.

“Why me?” he asked aloud, voice cracked from a sore throat. He was being interrogated –so to speak- by that savage Xiong Lang after all, screaming for dear and sacred life. To his dismay he wasn’t killed, unlike Bonol Fargo. “They need him, not me!” he wailed, his voice echoing and falling on deaf walls. It didn’t make any sense; Xander was the president of Grasino – the electronics maker company- not the weapons company!

“You bastard!” he screamed. He yelped as he attempted to stand; the effort failed and he crashed to the floor onto his back, the same way he had been thrown in.

Xander sniffled, trying his best not to let the mucus and blood run freely and thus, staining his already smudged shirt. He could barely move his arms; they were bound tightly enough to cause a joint lock. He could’ve sworn that he had some cracked, even broken ribs; his chest was bruised and crack from the amount of abuse he took. His bony face was dotted with perfectly round scorch marks, with the largest being centered on his forehead.

“Secure the premises! Don’t let them through here at any cost!” a voice bellowed beyond the walls.

What’s happening? Xander asked himself. Is there some kind of invasion? Who is it? The dull claxon he had heard before was now clear and squawking. It certainly didn’t help his headache much. He hoped for someone to come along and rescue him from the hellhole called Greenland as he felt the icy wind filtered through the open door.

His hope was dashed and turned into a nightmare as he saw that dreaded figure again. “No, please! No more!” Xander hollered, scooting across the floor. He bumped into the wall and stared at it with wide eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Xander,” Xiong Lang said, voice that of a hungry beast. “Once again, we’re gonna have a little talk. This time however, you’re going to be answering to someone else.” Another figure stepped into view; shorter but almost stockier than him, carrying glimmering thin wires – ten in all. One thing that Xander immediately noticed was that two shimmering silver orbs were staring at him with an empty gaze.

He’s blind! Xander screamed in his mind.

Lang smiled wolfishly. “Mr. Xander, this is Taka. I leave you with him.”

“The honor is mine,” Taka said quietly as the door shut behind him.

-


Sol piqued up after his failed attempted to block out the squawking claxon and the sight of the guards scrambling past him. He snapped the lighter shut and rose from his seat. “What’s going on here?” he called out.

“Intrusion, sir!” someone answered.

How the hell did this happen? Better yet, where was Roya? But finally, there was something interesting going on for a change. That and this was his time to do something about it, though he couldn’t decide whether or not to don the M2A1 flamethrower; the intruders could be a bit troublesome.

It has been a while since he actually scorched something.

At this pondering, he saw out of the corner of his hazel eye Roya, who was grasping her shoulder. Her white gown was stained with crimson. “Roya!” Sol exclaimed as she hobbled towards him. Though she looked unwilling, he sat her down at his chair. “What happened?”

“The enemy got the better of me,” she said hesitantly, gazing at the floor.

“All three?”

“No, just one.” Roya then sighed. “He told me it wouldn’t be fair to fight me when I’m injured.”

“What kind of…” Sol quickly batted away the question, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. “Y’know what he looks like?”

“Remember two nights ago, before we left when we saw those people?”

“Well Roya, there were a lot of people we saw,” he pointed out. “I can’t remember anyone in particular. I only know of Taka stopping Lang from fighting someone.” He blinked as the woman looked at him with disappointment. Sol also noticed that she was gripping her shoulder a lot harder than she did earlier. “Lemme look at it,” he said suddenly.

A glimmer of fear flashed across Roya’s face before she nodded. She slipped out of her sleeve and removed her scarf, tucking it under her arm; she glanced at Sol as he inspected her wound. So that’s what this weather can do, Sol thought. The blood was a crystalized lump, about the size of his barbaric hands completely flat. He whistled. “Damn, that was a clean hit. What do you want me to do?”

She gave him a meaningful glance. “Melt it and…” She trailed off, glancing at the floor again. “...burn it.”

“Burn it?” Sol echoed, nearly shouting. “You’ll get a scar!”

“Your point being? I have scars; it’ll just be another one.”

Sol fought his words. But you’re too… “Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it. You’ll be sore for a while though.” To his chagrin, Roya didn’t say anything the whole time while he melted and evaporated the blood away. Carefully, with his index finger, he cauterized the wound from both sides, all of which took him two minutes. He took note of the old and faded scars on her olive skin; too many for him. “What happened there?” he asked softly as she slipped back into her sleeve.

“Several things,” Roya replied hastily. “If I told you, you would only get upset; you wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I don’t want your sympathy, Sol.” She rose uneasily and traveled up the stairs, eventually disappearing from view.

Sol snorted. “You’re welcome,” he called after her, with every bit of acid in his voice. Sol trudged past the frantic guards and to outside, hearing the dogs barking and growling in the distance. He crossed south towards the cluster of buildings; a large building that was three stories high, and two small one story buildings. Through the back door, he entered the three story building and climbed the escape ladder unto a small catwalk leading to another door.

There, beside it, laid his M2A1 flamethrower. It was rather bulky; it was the obsolete model from the 1970’s, a decade before his time. It had and still served him well; there had been no incidents or jams of any sort and no backfires – so to speak. It had three tanks instead of the normal, in which one was filled with his special formula, never before tested. To make up for the extra tank, he added another cylinder.

Sol strapped it on to his back and opened up the door, welcoming the rush of hot and humid air and the familiar smell of burned objects. The catwalk extended and branched out, supported by the chains that hung from the ceiling; a few were winding down towards the thin second level and the platformic first level. Below the first was a glowing red pit of molten stuff, artificial lava. The whole building’s purpose was to heat the entire base. The slow rhythm of the gears and machinery working together echoed, giving a sense – to him at least- it was alive, and therefore he was alive.

Anyone who dared entered his realm would be dead in to time. Sol smiled at this.

-

Rowan dashed across the field and down to the slope, easily passing by the guards. They’ve got to be here somewhere, otherwise all this noise would’ve been silence. He approached a small one story building and climbed the fire escape ladder. There he got a good view of the base landscape, but he would ; have to do that later; quickly he found a ledge facing southeast were the most noise was generated and kneeled.

He assembled the Dragunov and scoped everything below until he saw the posts – seven he counted – and with a well placed round, he dispatched the guards stationed there, lessening some of the noise. Twenty-two. The only sound that reached his ears was distant barking.

Barking?

Rowan trailed a running pack until he saw more grouped together, surrounding something, someone. “Is that…” he asked himself. He already knew the answer and smiled wryly. He watched as one of the dogs leaped up; to him it hung in the air like a target frozen in time. He ejected the empty round from a previous shot, by the time it reached the ground, the loaded round was sailing towards its intended target.

“Twenty-one.”

-

The wolf-dog was about a foot and a half away from tearing flesh apart when the bullet punched its side. The sudden force was enough to knock it away to the side, not even giving enough time to shriek. The growling pack gave whines of confusion.

“What the hell just happened?” Shin whispered.

Kento grinned. “Back up happened.” It was at that point that the dogs regained their composure; they barred their teeth and edged closer slowly, grey hackles standing. “Shin, we gotta split,” he whispered. “Try to move towards that hole over there. On my count, run.”

“I figured that much,” she said dryly as she inched to the right. She slipped the Glock into his hand as she passed. “Who will they go for?”

“Doesn’t matter; once they set on something, they won’t let go, especially if a fellow pack member is dead.”

“Oh, that’s real comforting to know,” Shin remarked. She neared the edge of the circle were there was only one dog. Before she knew it, it had surged forward and lunged away from it.

“Run!”

-

“I’ve got twenty-one left,” Rowan said coolly as he watched them break away, “and there’s six trailing you. I’ll cover until you get into one of those buildings.” He jammed in a fresh clip into the Dragunov, and settled back down. “Till then, you two gotta survive.”

-


The dogs were still snapping at his heels as he dashed towards the semi-cluster of buildings twenty five meters away. To him, it felt like each step did not take him anywhere. Other bullets ricocheted off of the surfaces; a yelp rang out as another round ended a wolf-dog’s life. As it fell, Kento made a sharp right turn into the building complex, temporarily losing the dogs as they trailed past. “Which one?” he said aloud. It didn’t matter; the dogs were coming back, but this time it sounded like they came from every angle.

They were; he looked everywhere for an entrance, saw only high windows and steel plated buildings. Damn the luck that he only had a single clip left and he didn’t want to use it, not now anyway. He ran back towards the direction he came from upon sight of the dogs regrouping together, out of the complex. Another yelp rang out – four more left, and pissed off more than ever. One of them came from the left, body outstretched. Kento stopped abruptly and leaned back; the dog sailed past and continued onwards, cutting corners and dodging.

At last, he found an opening beside the small two story building, albeit a frozen door caked with ice and snow. He glanced over his shoulder and found the dogs were not behind him anymore; he paused at the door and chipped away at the knob with the Glock. Why didn’t I grab a frag grenade? As it came loose, the dogs returned, charging at different angles behind him. He pushed and shoved the door, with all seventy-six kilos. The door protested, but soon gave away with a sudden pop. He crashed into the entrance, barely keeping his balance.

Kento realized the dogs were a good three meters away and scrambled for the door, shoving it back. The old hinges creaked with resistance as he struggled to get it closed. The arctic wind suddenly blew its violent words as well, coupled with the wolf-dogs barking and howling. With a final push, Kento got the steel door shut, in time to block out the dogs.


-

Shin, however, took a direct route and went straight for the three stories building in the farthest corner of the complex; she heard two cries of dogs off in the distance but ignored it. She saw the double door entrance partially opened- one side open and one shut. She didn’t care if it was a trap, as long as it kept some distance from the dogs. She sprinted through the door and met a surge of warm air. The thin hallway was lit with a dull red light, increasing as she got closer.

Shin stopped suddenly as she stepped foot on the metallic surface. Beneath the floor, about five meters below her, was a pit of molten lava. Occasional flares of fire jumped from one spot to another. There was also the faint aroma of oil and petroleum…

She turned at the sound of barking and took cover behind a tall metal crate, one of several that lined the floor and against the wall, and stooped, bringing out her M9, peeking around the corner. The wolf-dogs arrived and were barking, but soon that gave way to fevered whines of confusion. What was happening? They sniffed the air and shirked until they left, one-by-one.

Cautious, Shin rose. How odd…

+You guys found a place?+ Rowan asked casually.

+It’s a bit dark and cramped, but I’ll manage,+ Kento replied.

“It’s a lot warmer where I’m at,” Shin said, walking into the open. “I’m puzzled though, the dogs were spooked about something. There could be something in here. At least it’s one less thing to worry about.” She glanced upwards as she saw a light flicker above her.

+I suppose,+ she heard Rowan say with a sigh. +We’ve still have the vanguard, the dogs, and the security.+

+That means we’re gonna be separated a bit longer. Once we get a feel for this place, we meet elsewhere and get the hostage later. Right now, we’ve got to stay low until this whole thing blows over.+

“Well, we need weapons; a few rounds and a prayer doesn’t get far you know,” Shin said.

+That’s my point…+ The link suddenly cut out and was filled with static before she closed it out. “Not again,” she said aloud. Shin sighed. “Might as well look around.”

The crates scattered on the ground, both towering and little, almost formed a maze when she walked further in, almost linear. She became more aware of the constant light blinking above her and glanced up again, seeing the second and the nearly obscure catwalk just a few feet above, supported by chains.

Shin whirled around when she heard a loud bang from behind her as she walked into a crossway of crates. She readied her M9 and held it close as she eased her steps. The rapid rush of heat from the right of her caught her attention and she turned to it. There, she saw a brown-haired man wearing nothing more than a green vest full of pockets, and solid green pants where a belt of silver tubes hung loosely at his hip, smiling at her. He also donned a flamethrower strapped to his back, with his right hand resting on the grip of the nozzle, which leaked out small drops of liquid gas. The unforgiving aroma of pure petroleum made her dizzy and nauseated.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, voice slighted with a Nordic accent. “I see a little lost faerie! I wonder what she is doing here, in a dangerous place such as this?” He frowned as Shin pointed her gun at him. “You’re not a faerie, are you? More of a vixen, yeah. Hmph, we can’t have that, now can we?” His hazel eyes flashed as he squeezed the trigger, sending forth a stream of fire and flame in her direction.

Shin flung herself out of the stream’s path, feeling the fingers of it brushing her uniform and face as it shot past her. She went to shoot the man but realized her gun was on the ground, hot from the blast of fire. “Aw, lost it have you?”

Shin looked up at the crate in front of her to see the man looking down on her with a sympathetic look. “That’s no good, I tell you,” he said. His voice then changed into a macabre tone. “That makes it all the worthwhile.”