Hearing this Genesis groaned.
"Of course you are,"
She muttered.
"Absolute fucking idiot."
The system window pulsed once more before fading.
GOOD LUCK, 'HERO'
You're really going to need it.
I bared my teeth, blood dripping off my chin, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the pain for half a second.
"VALHALLA, HERE I FUCKING COME!"
I slammed my shoulder into the doors and charged. The wood burst inward with a crack, hinges screaming as I forced my way through. Dust exploded into the air.
The smell hit first, mold, rot, old blood, gunpowder. My boots skidded on debris as I crossed the threshold at a dead sprint. First thing I saw.
Was the partially collapsed second floor, concrete slab hanging at a crooked angle, rebar exposed like snapped ribs.
A Fallen crouched behind stacked wooden crates up there, firing his ugly, welded-together pistol upwards. Muzzle flash strobed the gloom. Each shot sent splinters raining.
"ROOM ON YOUR RIGHT!"
Genesis screamed, volume cranked straight into pain. I didn't think. I reacted. I cut hard right, boots slamming against cracked tile as I sprinted, pistol already coming up.
I fired while moving, five shots in fast, panicked succession, because the fallen already noticed me and was bringing his gun downwards at me. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
His return fire cracked past my head as I dove through the doorway.
The "room" was actually a narrow corridor, running parallel to the entrance, half-collapsed ceiling and blown-out doors lining it like broken teeth.
While one of my lucky rounds caught him center mass. Another punched him in the neck. He dropped backwards behind the crates, weapon clattering. A chime rang in my head.
KILLED A FALLEN+XP
I stared for half a heartbeat, shocked.
Holy fuck… I actually hit him.
I thought as all of a sudden, pain detonated. White-hot. Blinding. Like someone had jammed a red-hot iron straight into my left upper arm.
"FUCK!"
My pistol almost slipped from my grip as my arm spasmed. I stumbled sideways into the corridor wall, slamming my shoulder into concrete just as rounds tore into the doorway I'd just crossed. Bullets punched the wall inches from my face. Wood exploded. Dust filled my mouth. I dropped behind cover, gasping, vision tunneling. Blood was already soaking my sleeve. Warm. Fast.
Genesis roared.
"YOU'VE GOT FORTY SECONDS BEFORE YOU LOSE CONSCIOUSNESS FROM BLOOD LOSS. GET THAT TOURNIQUET ON. NOW."
My hands were shaking. Fingers numb, slick with blood, but the training and experience was still there. I fumbled in my pocket with the tourniquet like an idiot.
Nearly dropping it twice before I managed to yank It out of my pocket.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
I yanked it around my arm, shoved it as high as I could toward the shoulder, teeth clenched so hard my jaw screamed, and started turning the windlass. Pain spiked.
"AH... FUCK... SON OF A...!"
"TURN IT,"
Genesis snarled, floating right in front of my face now, eyes blazing.
"TURN IT UNTIL IT FEELS LIKE YOURE FUCKIGN ARM IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF, YOU FUCKING PUSSY, OR DO YOU WANT TO DIE?!"
I snarled back through gritted teeth and cranked it harder. The world tilted.
My old drill sergeant's voice built like a fucking tank from decades ago, when I was still a twenty year old little shit fresh from school, echoed in my skull, clear as day.
Listen up worthless pieces of shit, if you want to save youre buddy then hes lying there all bloody screaming his arse off, you turn that bloody tourniquet until the unlucky cunt starts screaming 'motherfucker what are you doing,' then you turn it a few more times for good measure, just to be fuckign sure and if that doesnt help then you put on another one., questions? No! Start!
I growled and twisted. Once. Twice. Again. My arm felt like it was being crushed in a vice. My vision flickered. I wanted to scream. Instinct kicked in, I sucked in a breath, ready to shout the time as I secured the windlass. I glanced at my wrist where an electric wristwatch should have been.
It was fuckign empty, because current me was still just an eighteen year old losser.
"…fuck."
"Gen,"
I rasped, teeth chattering, blood trailing down my entire arm, down my fingertips and falling to the dirty floor.
"How much time before my arm goes numb?"
"A few minutes,"
She snapped.
"That's all I need."
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. Slow. The gunfire above stuttered, then paused. This meant that the fucker who was just shooting was reloading, probably, but considering they weren't the brightest bunch, the probability of this being a trap was low.
I raised my pistol with both hands, left arm screaming in protest, braced against the wall. I leaned out just enough to see and for my arms to stick out. There he was. Third floor.
Leaning over the broken railing. Focused on his weapon. I lined up the iron sights. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Controlled. Tight. Every shot punched into him like a hammer.
He jerked back, dropped his pistol, and toppled over the edge. He hit the rubble below with a wet crack and didn't move.
Silence slammed down, thick and ringing, like the building itself was holding its breath. I didn't. I turned immediately, pistol dropping to low-ready, elbows tucked tight against my ribs the way mental memory demanded, even if the muscles themselves were screaming In protest.
My left arm felt wrong already. Heavy. Distant. Like it belonged to someone else.
"Youre on a timer meat sack so you better move It"
Genesis said, sharp and clipped. No sarcasm now. Pure function. I moved backwards. The corridor stretched ahead, narrow and dim, dust hanging in the air like smoke.
I advanced heel-to-toe, breathing through my nose, pistol tracking with my eyes. Every doorway a mouth. Every shadow a threat. I rounded the corner and a female Fallen burst out of a room not three meters ahead of me. Wild eyes. Matted hair.
A self-made pistol already coming up in her hands. She didn't get a shot. Because I dropped into a kneel on pure instinct, extended my arms, and emptied the magazine.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.
The recoil was brutal, my numb left arm barely keeping up, but at that distance it didn't matter. Rounds tore into her chest, her shoulder, her neck.
She slammed backward into the doorframe, paint and blood exploding together, then folded onto the floor in a twitching heap just as. CLICK. Slide locked back. A chime cut through the ringing.
KILL A FALLEN +XP
I didn't look at the body again.
"Reload,"
Genesis snapped. Already doing it. I slapped in a fresh magazine while moving, thumb hit the slide release and my stomach dropped.
Fuck. Last mag.
The thought hit hard, cold and unwelcome, but there was no time to dwell. I cleared the room with a quick glance, then pushed back into the corridor and immediately clocked the partially collapsed stairwell ahead. Second floor access. Narrow. Dangerous.
"Up,"
I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. I took the stairs fast, skipping every other step, boots crunching over debris. My breathing was getting ragged now.
My left arm was almost completely numb, no pain, just pressure and a dull, dead weight hanging off my shoulder, but for someone reason I felt like my combat effectiveness was Increasing with each second, like the more I thought the faster and stronger I became while my hit rate Increased.
Genesis noticed that too.
"Hey"
She said.
"Theres somenthing weird going on with you, youre obviously dying but why does It feel like youre becoming more and more like youre old self."
"Isnt that you?"
I whispered.
"No..."
Genesis hesitated for a second.
"...Its not me"
At the top, I slowed. Room on the right. I cut the pie, inch by inch, muzzle leading, slicing the corner with small controlled steps. No movement. No immediate threat. I burst through. Cleared left. Cleared right. I pressed myself flat against the left wall, shoulder scraping concrete, and began creeping forward, each step measured, pistol steady despite the tremor creeping into my hands.
Then I heard it. Deranged shouting. Wet, animal sounds. The sound of meat being worked over with enthusiasm. I edged forward until I could see into the room ahead. Two male Fallen. Both shirtless. Both lean and corded with muscle warped wrong by mutation. They were hacking at a survivor's corpse on the floor with cold weapons, pipes, blades, something sharpened and jagged.
Laughing and shrieking as they reduced it to gore. My jaw clenched, just as I was about to pull the trigger, Genesis spoke up.
"Gas canister,"
Genesis said suddenly.
"Between them. Red. Half-hidden."
I followed her cue. There it was. A dented industrial canister wedged between crates, paint chipped but unmistakable. I set my sights on it. BANG. The first round punched into the metal.