Diana's eyes widened in horror as the throned green plant-man's fists concluded pummeling with Nathaniel's bleeding and bruised face. The FBI agent slumped onto the snow covered pavement - unconscious and useless. Kicking the downed agent for good measure, the green man turned to face Diana. Golden sap-blood leaked down from the nine millimeter hole in his forehead, spilling over his face and slowly dripping down his chin. His eyes were wild and unfocused, his words slurred and his movements erratic.
"ou," he slurred, drool mixing with yellow sap, "thizz izz… or… vault"
"Please, please," begged Diana, rolling back her wheelchair through the snow, "I'm just a kid."
"I don car." replied the green man, drunkenly limping towards Diana. His injuries made him slow however he continued to advance closer to the girl.
"You don't have to do this" tried Diana, cold tears running down her face as she continued to roll away from her attacker, "please don't do this."
"Nuh, uh," growled the advancing man, thorns slowly growing larger out of his skin as the hole in his forehead shrunk.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" screamed Diana. One wheel of her wheelchair slipped off the pavement onto the icy road below. She tumbled out of the wheelchair, laying sprawled on her side looking up at the green plant-man.
The man chuckled, or at least attempted to. Between the golden sap-blood dripping down his face and drool leaking from his mouth it sounded more like a gargle than a chuckle. "Or zo preeeteee" he whispered as he bent down on one knee and reached to grab Diana's blue dyed hair with one hand. The smell of sickly sweet sap burnt Diana's nose as the green man drew closer.
Diana flung out one arm and quickly snatched a sharp piece of broken glass. The weapon cut deeply into her hand - blood instantly erupting from the wound. But Diana ignored the pain. With all her might she drove the piece of shattered glass into the exposed neck of the green man.
"Ou fucka" croaked the man before collapsing on top of Diana. She scrambled to free herself underneath the immense weight of the plant-man, scraping and cutting herself on shards of glass. Finally she sat upright, supporting herself with one arm as she looked down at the first human she had ever killed. The winter wind softly blew, stirring up the lightest of snowflakes that melted as they encountered the heat that radiated from the dozens of exploded cars on the street. [If this Angel's powers were plant based,] thought Diana, [then how did he manage to explode all of the-] Diana's question was cut short by a foreign voice that echoed down the street.
"Hey Isaiah, where are ya?" called out the voice of a man that sounded much younger than the dead plant-man. "You can't keep hiding whenever I get back like this."
Diana froze. The plant-man had not been alone. [Of course he had not been alone,] she realised, [very few survivours could survive on their own - they'd need someone to keep an eye on Undead when sleeping or simply someone to watch their back]. Diana looked at Nathaniel. The snow around him was a dark crimson. His body was riddled with cuts and slowly forming bruises. [He may have failed but he at least tried], she thought before vowing, [so I have to try to].
Silently wincing, Diana crawled towards the van where the unconscious FBI agent lay sprawled.
"Isaiah! This isn't funny man," continued the younger masculine voice, much closer this time as the man walked down the street unknowingly advancing towards Diana. "Come out and let's cook up some food. I'm starving."
Diana pried Nathaniel's glock from his freezing cold fingers. She then dragged Nathaniel and herself underneath the van, making sure that neither of them were visible.
"I swear you do this every time. Just come out already or else I'll just eat all the food myself." called out the man, now extremely close to Diana. She could see his snow hiking boots as he walked casually down the street, pausing occasionally to look around.
Diana crawled to the edge of the van, peering out from underneath. The man was facing away from her and wore a heavy winter's coat. He appeared unarmed but Diana knew better, an Angel on their own could be classed as a weapon. She wasn't going to take any chances.
Taking a deep breath, Diana settled her nerves. She held the handgun with two hands, aiming at the man. She gently squeezed the trigger, unleashing a single round from the glock on a collision course with the man. The bullet hurled through the air, the explosion echoing throughout the street as it narrowly missed the man's head. Instantly the man turned, burning eyes of molten lava searching for his assailant. The recoil from the handgun overpowered Diana and flung the firearm back, smacking the first-time marksman in the face. Her eyes watered as she tried to regain her vision. The man with molten eyes spotted the green plant-man, racing over towards his fallen comrade. Diana blinked rapidly, vaguely making out the fuzzy blob of the man running closer. Steeling herself and tensing her arms, she pulled the glock's trigger rapidly until the gun clicked empty.
Most of the bullets missed their mark. Only two managed to hit the man at all. It was enough however. One round drove itself through the side of the man's left knee and the other deep into his shoulder. His limbs immediately spasmed and the continued forward momentum caused him to crash head first into the ice-covered asphalt road. He screamed, molten lava bleeding from his wounds and melting the snow and even asphalt around him. Grimacing, he turned towards the van where the bullets originated from and spotted Diana. The man muttered something, sparks igniting in his eyes before fizzling out. He cursed, struggling to stand upright again.
Diana rolled back underneath the van, clutching the handgun tightly. [His powers are heat based and his weakness is the cold,] rationalised Diana, [his eyes are molten like lava, he can probably somehow project flames somehow through them]. She tried to reload the glock but failed - fumbling and scattering the bullets everywhere. They rolled along the icy road, almost out of reach. Her hands desperately scrambled for the ammunition, managing to only grab one round. Sighing she reached into her hoodie pocket and withdrew the golden blood-sap covered piece of shattered glass from earlier. She clutched it and the handgun in a tactical manner, handgun with both hands and glass shard sticking out like a blade.
The man with molten eyes finally reached the van, leaning down to face his attacker. He was met with a prepared Diana who fired her single round at the man's face and then thrusted the makeshift blade deep into his eye socket. The man collapsed and molten blood exploded out of his skull, burning Diana's left hand in the process. She rolled away to the over side of the van near Nathaniel, the shard of glass still in hand. Diana watched as the fiery light in the man's eyes went dark and he breathed his last. There was no time for celebration though.
Diana, despite her exhaustion, she army crawled over to the toppled wheelchair. With one hand she stood it upright, hauling herself in. Pausing for a second, the teenager caught her breath. [Fuck I'm tired,] she thought, [but fuck I killed two bandits on my own].
Rolling over to Nathaniel, she grabbed his arm and rested it over her lap. This was going to be the hard part. Slowly but surely, she shuffled Nathaniel onto the wheelchair and across her lap in a sort of wheelchair-fireman's carry. Panting from effort, Diana gripped the wheels of her wheelchair and rolled the both of them forward. Slowly she built momentum as they traversed the snow-covered roads back to the car Nathaniel and hid the unconscious soldier in. Diana approached the vehicle cautiously, slowly rolling her wheelchair forward with one hand and aiming with the Glock in her other.
"Hey," she croaked, clearing her throat before repeating herself, "HEY!"
No answer. The soldier was either gone or still passed out.
Cursing under her ragged breath, Diana unlocked the car door.
The soldier remained slumped in the car, undisturbed and unchanged since stowed away. Diana whisked out a water bottle from the inbuilt storage in her wheelchair. Hesitating, she paused for a moment. [This is risky], she thought, [but it is the best option for Nathaniel's survival - the only option]. Diana uncapped the water bottle's lid and doused the unconscious soldier's face with the near-freezing liquid. Instantly, the soldier's eyes snapped open with shock and confusion. He struggled to sit up and attempted to speak before Diana cut him off.
"GET YOUR FUCKINGS HANDS UP!" screamed Diana, pointing her heavy handgun at the poor man's head.
Dazed, the soldier complied. His hands exploded upwards and behind his head. The glassiness in his eyes began to fade as he drank in his surroundings.
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" demanded Diana, gun hand trembling.
"Michael," replied the soldier, "My name is Michael."
Michael's vision fully cleared and he could finally see his attacker. It was the girl with the man who he presumed knocked him out earlier. [Her hands are trembling], he realised, [the man is bleeding heavily too].
"Your friend's hurt," he offered, "put the gun down, we'll need to take him back to base if he's going to live."
"What?" asked Diana, caught off-guard by the soldier's statement.
"You're back because you need help. You guys can't be all terrible, you didn't kill me and you clearly care enough about that man to risk death to save him. I'm a soldier, not a monster. I'm here to keep people safe, we're trying to keep everyone indoors because our base doesn't have the capacity yet for the thousands of survivours around. Come, let's save your friend." replied the soldier, lowering his hands down to his sides.
Diana started to cry, tears welling up in her eyes and running down her bruised face.