Chapter Eleven
No More Games
Everett, Seattle
July 13, 2059
8:30 am
"Spike? You flipped or something?" Nails wondered.
Spike struggle to stand was a daunting task. Fire surged through his chest with every breath he took while his mouth filled with blood from a dislodged tooth. Spike groaned and spat a mouthful of saliva and blood onto the floor. He gave a ragged cough, clutching his chest in pain.
"Are you going to answer me or are you going to stand there bleedin'?" Nails snapped.
Spike's eyes, full of hate and rage, glared back at her. "Give me you're gun?"
"Huh? I thought you hated guns. Not personal enough for you, remember?"
Spike lunged for her, but Nails took a step back. Spike snatched her before she could get away. "I said give me you're gun!" He cried, struggling to get the pistol out of her holster. When he finally pulled it free he gave Nails a look of disgust.
"What's the matter with you? Who kicked you're ass so bad? It wasn't me." Nails said, somewhat fearful for her life as Spike pulled back the pistol's action. "You would have liked it to much if I did it."
"Wasn't you, slitch. Was that tall bitch."
"You got beat up by our Johnson?" Nails mocked.
"That bitch is no more a Johnson than I am a pile of drek!"
"So what are you going to do?"
Spike held up the pistol. "Get Willis. I'm going to put things right. Nobody frags with me like that!"
8:35 am
Two women had entered the room.
Nightsky wiped the sweat from his eyes.
No, three women had entered the room. Imira towered over the other two. Her long, flowing hair crested around her waist. There was a patch of blood on the front of her clothes and a tear in the fabric on the small of her back. One of the other girls was Sand. She was carrying a pistol. Nightsky did not know the third girl. She looked young, but her elfish features made it hard to guess her age. She couldn't be that old because she was wearing a school uniform. The girl's hair was a fine lavender in color. It matched her pointed ears well. Something seemed wrong about this girl. She walked like she was sleeping or ignorant of the world around her. She didn't seem to really be paying attention. When Sand cuffed the girl's hand to the shackles on the wall she didn't even bat an eyelid.
Imira approached him. The closer she got the more stained blood Nightsky could see on her clothes. Was it her's or from her last victim? After all, a vampire needed blood to live. Actually, vampires needed something called "essence" to live. They derived this magical energy by the act of consuming blood from sentient beings. Nightsky found himself grinning. A few months ago he had gone to the Seattle Public Library and researched the subject for his own interest.
"I don't understand you, Michael." Imira crouched. "You were always such a bright kid when you were little. I know you loved you're family. Your mom and you're dad and me. That's what we were. Why don't you want a chance to have it all back again."
Nightsky frowned. "Because it's not the same."
"How is it not the same? A family is people who love and care about you and will do anything for you. The ragtag band of people you hang out with doesn't love you unconditionally like a family can. They don't support you. What possible reason could you have for staying with them?"
Nightsky closed his eyes. "Have you ever considered that I might not want anyone? That I might be happy with what I'm doing?"
"How can you be happy? All you have is you're hate and you're friends. The people you call friends aren't really your real friends you know. They either ant something from you or its just business."
"How do you know?"
"Because I knew you before you came to Seattle. I know you can't be happy here. You want back what you lost."
Nightsky thought about his parents. They seemed like such a distant memory now. Five years wasn't really that long, but time had a funny habit of blurring the faces of loved ones. Nightsky could barely picture his mother's face now. He couldn't remember what his father's voice sounded like. He felt detached for the first time. It was like he was an observer inside himself. "I don't want a family anymore."
"Michael, that doesn't sound like the boy I know."
Nightsky opened his eyes, staring blankly through her cold soul. "That boy is dead."
Imira frowned. Nightsky cringed, thinking she would slap him, but she didn't. Though she wasn't happy.
"Sand." Imira called. The girl stepped forward and lay the pistol in Imira's left hand and a single bullet in her right. The gun looked like Walther Palm Pistol on steroids. It had a over-under barrel style like the Palm Pistol had, but the shell Imira slipped into the lower barrel was anything except a hold-out round. "It's time for you to make you're choice, Michael."
Nightsky eyed the gun suspiciously. The round looked big enough to punch through the armor of his long coat. Then again, if Imira wanted to kill him, she could simply put the barrel to his head and pull the trigger.
"I don't think you know what kind of life you're setting yourself up for. The life I'm offering you won't have the problems you are going to face in the shadows."
Nightsky looked doubtful.
"Believe it or not. There are actually people willing to let a vampire.......use them for sustenance. Is it wrong to take their blood when they are willing to trade it? I don't think so. It's free will. Sand is a testament to that. We did not force her to come here. She gave herself willingly. However, things are different in the shadows. Sooner or later you're going to be faced with the choice of taking an innocent life." Imira spoke soundly, though she had no idea of the things Nightsky had already faced in the lifestyle he was living. "I'm going to speed up that choice." Imira gave a unnerving grin. "Do you like her?" She pointed to the elf girl with the lavender hair. "That's my daughter, Alona. I'll have to admit that she is a little naive. Her father died several months ago. He met with an accident in Tir Tairngire. So I look Alona to live with me here in Seattle." Imira would have said that Alona doesn't have any idea what has been going on. Indeed Alona still didn't know much, but the scene with Spike would be enough to unnerve her. Imira flinched as she remembered the spell she was keeping over Alona. She tightened her grip around her talisman for reassurance. "She's an innocent, Michael. Just like you were."
Nightsky thought Alona looked a little distracted. She hung loosely from her shackles. Her eyes were almost closed. Nightsky eyed Imira. "What's the gun for?"
Imira smiled. She placed the pistol into Nightsky's hand. "It's for you. I want you to see what kind of choices you are going to have to make. One day you'll have to decide to take an innocent life to do you're job. Will you be able to take that life and live with yourself? If you think so, then by all means pull the trigger and shoot my daughter. I'll let you go free and I'll never try to find you again." Imira gestured. "But there's an easier way. Put the gun on the floor and come with me. I know that you and Alona will be happy together. The three of us will be a family again. I've got money, Michael. You'll never have to worry about making this kind of choice in you're life."
Nightsky eyed Alona. She still seemed catatonic. "You'd risk your own daughter?" Nightsky asked doubtfully.
"If the two of you can't be together, then we will never be a family." Imira admitted. "All the work I've done up to this point will be useless. I would have wasted the last year of my life. The only risk I'm taking is with you. It's you're choice to shoot. You could shoot me if you wanted, but you would still hang on that wall."
Nightsky held the gun in his hands. The hard, rough metal felt comforting, like an old friend. Firearms, weapons, and shadows were the tools of his trade. He pictured the large bullet shattering Imira's skull. At the same time he didn't feel that he could bring himself to pull the trigger. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered his childhood. Imira had been like a second mother to him. A member of the family. Nightsky couldn't even bring himself to point the pistol in her direction.
Alona was a different story. Nightsky eyed her with a coldness that he had never felt before. A pull of the trigger would set him free. He would have the chance to get away from this place. That is all he really wanted now. The chance to get away. He raised the gun at Alona. A detached feeling came over him as his wrist and hand aligned to minimize the recoil of the shot. It was a reflex that he had developed from using handguns so much. His eyes focused, clearly estimating his target. Nightsky never made flashy shots for the head. He always aimed center mass for the greatest chance of hitting. His finger tightened on the trigger. It would take more force to pull than the Manhunter he was use to.
The image of the boy came to Nightsky's eyes. He was in the school. The boy stood before him. He was completely innocent, not doing a single thing wrong. The Roomsweeper was in his hands. The slide action ejected a spent casing onto the floor. A new one took its place. Nightsky felt himself squeeze the shotgun's trigger.
For the first time he noticed the look on the boy's face. It wasn't filled with shock. It was more solemn. Almost like the boy was expecting it. There was a sadness in his features as the muzzle blast drown out his face. Then he was gone.
Nightsky's eyes snapped wide. He stared at Alona, seeing her innocence for the first time. Just like the boy at the school. The boy he killed after he took away everything the child had. Just like the infected had done to him.
The pistol shook in his hand.
Was he becoming what he hated most?
"I can't do this." He whispered.
His whisper, a small breath in the stillness, was shattered by the boom of a gun. The Predator fired at point-blank range ripped through Imira's stomach. She crumpled over, dropping to her knee. The talisman she had been gripping fell from her hand and clattered ont he floor. The bullet sailed across the room and struck the shackle holding Nightsky to the wall. It pinged loudly as it hit the metal chain.
Spike stood in the doorway. "Nobody does that to me!"
Imira gripped her wound while Sand held a look of shock.
"What have you done!?" Sand shrieked.
Spike sent a bullet in Sand's direction. It caught the young girl on the shoulder and spun her around. She hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Alona suddenly seemed aware of what was going on around her. She screamed at the gunfire and blood that was filling the room. She pulled against her restraints in an attempt to get free.
Nightsky shook the shock from his mind. This would be the only chance he would get. He pulled against the weakened chain, bending the link free. He aimed the pistol at the other shackle. The .223 round shattered the metal like glass. With no time to waste he crossed the room in less time than it took to breath.
Imira was already rising. Her wound was slowly being closed by the unnatural powers that struggled to sustain her vile life. Spike brought the Predator around again. The heavy auto's intimidating barrel smoked lightly. Nightsky heard the bullet scream past his ear. Ducking, he flipped the pistol in his hand and rammed it's butt into Imira's chin, sending the woman back to the ground. No sooner had Imira falling than Nightsky through himself into a half spin, snapping his heel around just in time smash it into Spike's temple. The move put himself off balance which made for a less than graceful landing, but the move sent a whole knew world of pain surging through Spike's senses.
Nightsky untangled himself from the vampire woman and the crazed gutter punk. He half dragged, half scrambled his way into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and flipped the ancient tumbler lock down.
"What's going on?!"
Nightsky spotted the girl in the hall right after she spoke. Though she was dressed like a joygirl, Nightsky did not underestimate her. He was running on an adrenaline high. All of his senses were working overtime while his body flew through reflexes and moves that had saved his skin countless times in the shadows. At the same time his mind set to multitasking. One part calculated moves and a combination of blows that sent the girl, Nails, to the floor. Another part frantically tried to determine the most likely route of escape. Still a third was focused on where he was going to go if he made it out of here. He raced down the hall. An otherwise normal sprint made harder by the cramps in his legs. He burst through a door and darted up a flight of stairs.
Nightsky was so concerned with getting out that he didn't notice the slightly overweight gang punk step into his way. Hence he collided neatly with him, sending both in opposite directions.
"You!?" Nightsky blurted, seeing Willis. "You're the one that put me in this position!"
Willis held up his hands. He was about to say something when Nightsky's foot snapped his jaw up.
Willis brutally grabbed Nightsky by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Sparks flew into the adept's vision as the bulker gutterpunk used all of his weight to hold Nightsky still.
"I've got him!" Willis called.
Nightsky struggled to get free, but Willis was simply too big. He didn't have any weapons to use either. Then he remembered a lesson that Gideon had taught him months ago. He could almost hear the ork's words in his mind.
"Nightsky, remember, you don't have to be stronger than the other guy. You just have to be meaner. For example, it takes only five pounds of pressure to burst an eyeball."
Nightsky grinned and dug his thumb into Willis's right eye. There was a sick, squishy sound as the eye popped. The thumb slide into the cavity and grinded out the tissue, splatter wet goo everywhere. A sharp yank pulled the eyelid off. Willis screamed like a banshee, grasping his ruined visual organ, blood pouring from the gaping hole. Nightsky put an elbow into the cyclops's forehead before bring his fist crashing down on his temple. Willis fell as Nightsky smashed the punk's throat against his knee.
"And frag you!" Nightsky cursed before shoving Willis to the floor.
"I'll kill you!" Nails screamed as she leaped on Nightsky's back. The sudden impact and Nightsky's still cramping legs made him fall. His nose hit the floor with a painful thunk. Nails grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head against the floor again for good measure.
Nightsky managed to keep her from doing it a third time. He found her hand as she attempted to rip out a fistful of his hair. He locked her wrist and a few fingers, yanking them aside and off his back. He held Nails in a sharp lock. She struggled, but Nightsky kept her arm behind her. He was free now and no flatscanned gutterpunk was going to make him go back. Nails's arm could probably break if he had a tighter lock. She whimpered, feeling her arm start to give way.
Barnabas came out of no where. He brought a metal pipe smashing between Nightsky's shoulder blades. Nightsky dropped instantly. Edges of black crept into his vision. He took all of his will keep from passing out. He tried to stand, but Barnabas struck him barehanded. The strength behind the elf's blow was minimal compared to the pipe.
Nightsky could see Barnabas' legs just out of the corner of his eye. He locked his feet around those spindly appendages and rolled over. Barnabas gave a surprised gasp and fell flat. Nightsky barely got to his feet as the pipe clipped the air right in front of his nose.
Barnabas had a look of pure hate on his face. On some primitive level he seemed to be enjoying himself. The gleam in his eyes came from pure pleasure.
"What's so great about this?!" Nightsky demanded, grabbing the elf's hand that held the pipe. He brought his hand up, palm out, moments away from jabbing the elf's nose through his skull.
Barnabas growled, opening his mouth far wider that would have been humanly possible. Jagged teeth far more gruesome than a ghoul's let out an ear-shattering wail. Nightsky winched, grabbing his ears at the horrifying sound. The wail sent shivers through his bones and razors through his skin. He stumbled over his own feet. His ears felt like they were on fire. The burning pain and fear raging through his head made him ball up in a corner. The echoing wail in his mind drowned out anything that might be happening in the real world.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with." Barnabas gloated. "Let me show you the true form of fear."
Barnabas opened his mouth again, ready to pull real fear from the depths of his lungs and tear the very essence out of Nightsky.
Then a dikoted spur tore through his chest.
Barnabas gasped as the spur punctured his lung. The organ collapsed, cutting off any attempt at another wail. Barnabas managed to jerk the impaling object from his body. He turned to see the hulking ork standing just behind him. On the ork's metal arm was a spur. It dripped black blood.
"You?" Barnabas cursed. "What the hell are you doing? You're suppose to be watching the girl." The wound in his chest was starting to close.
The ork grunted. "Game's over."
"What have you done? You've signed your own death warrant." Barnabas spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. The hole in his lung hadn't repaired itself yet. "Don't you know you can't kill me? I'll regenerate!"
The ork grabbed Barnabas by the throat and raised his metal fist. "Regenerate this."