Zhelir slipped out of the hanger and into the artificial night of L4. His feet hammered hard and loud in the night air as he made a mad dash for the office building his own office used to reside at the top of. The smug bastard had probably moved right in.
He heard indistinct voices all around him, along with gunshots to the east. News of his attack in the hanger had spread quickly enough, and Day was certainly doing just fine with his pick-off job. The only shots he could hear were that of a very high powered rifle. The pitch seemed to vary a bit, but it was bound to do that when echoing through buildings.
Finally, the office came into view, along with a dozen more soldiers, all armed to the teeth. Zhelir caught the briefest glimpse of a squad of men, all carrying assault rifles that he guessed had extremely high rates of fire, all wearing heavy body armor, and all raising their guns for him, as he flung himself into an alley, and none too soon. The defeaning staccato of bulletfire could be heard all through the section of the city they stood in, and the ground where Zhelir had been moments before had been reduced to chalky dust.
Zhelir, already having temporarily dropped his black Casull, pulled a flashbang from the depths of his trenchcoat. With a quick jerk of the pin, he hurled it out around the corner of the alley, narrowly avoiding having his hand shot off. He quickly averted his eyes to the opposite wall, as a bright flash of light obscured his periphrial vision. Confused shouts came back, though there weren't many -- one, maybe two tops.
He whirled out, collecting his fallen Casull as he went, and for one brief moment, thought it was all over. His eyes focused on two soldiers, seeming to have been completely uneffected by the blast -- probably shielded from it by the faceplates of the helmets they wore. Both of their weapons were levelled at him, and he knew, once his vision cleared, if he had the time, the rest would be in the same nature. But he wasn't going down without a fight.
He squeezed off seven shots. Four of them punched into the two before him, three into nothingness. He waited for the inevitable feel and sound of a thousand bullets tearing in and out of him. He waited to feel that briefest feeling of failure before his life was drowned out with lead. But the feeling never came. Nor did the end. As his vision cleared, he saw that the two he'd levelled had, in fact, been the only ones left. The rest lay almost in a perfect line, just as they'd been standing when he'd leapt behind the building.
Confused, Zhelir glanced around, before his eyes fell upon a lone, shadowy figure perched atop the roof of the building just behind where the squad had been. The figure took a step forward to reveal a young man. Long, shaggy blonde hair fell across a set of calm blue eyes, which sat within a rough, carved face. The man had a powerful build to him -- he stood at 6'2, had muscle to spare at all points visible, and standing out in the night was a bright gold-and-black tatoo.
"You bastard!" Zhelir called out to Day, "You could've popped the other two, stopped me from damn near shittin' myself!"
Day grinned and responded, "Hey, thought I'd leave you some fun. I ran out of playmates over on the east end of town."
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