The helicopters are violently shaking, their frames rattling as if they might come apart at any moment. Amidst the deafening roar of gunfire, the panicked screams of soldiers and personnel pierce through the chaos. I sit there, eyes closed, a smirk playing on my lips, enveloped in the cacophony of pandemonium.
"This is great," I muse to myself, feeling the helicopter dip and swerve as pilots struggle to maintain control. The sensation is almost like a perverse lullaby, rocking me in the midst of mayhem.
I can hear the frenzied commands shouted over the intercom, soldiers' voices strained with urgency and fear. "Contact left!" "Brace for impact!" "Keep firing!" Their words are almost drowned out by the relentless barrage of gunfire, each shot echoing through the cabin like thunder.
Outside, the sky is a blur of dark shapes swooping and diving – monstrous forms, silhouetted against the clouds, attacking with ferocious speed and agility. Every now and then, a sharp jolt shakes the helicopter, a direct hit or a near-miss, sending shivers through the metal.
I can feel the tension in the air, the electric charge of adrenaline and terror. The soldiers are fighting for their lives, their weapons blazing in a desperate attempt to fend off the onslaught. The sound of bullets whizzing past, the thud of heavy bodies hitting the helicopter's exterior, the shattering of glass – it's all part of this symphony of destruction.
Through it all, I remain detached, a spectator in this theatre of war. "I don't have to do a single thing," I reassure myself. Let the others deal with the monsters. Jenna, Saxon, Mia, Draken – they're all capable fighters. They'll handle it.
Every so often, the helicopter lurches, a monster's claw scraping against the hull or a wing. The pilots are doing their best to navigate through this airborne battlefield, but it's like trying to dance in a hurricane.
Despite the chaos around me, there's a strange sense of calm within. The danger is real, the threat of death ever-present, but for now, I'm just an observer, cocooned in the eye of the storm. The others will fight, they'll survive or they won't, but either way, I'm just along for the ride.
As the helicopter continues its turbulent journey through the chaos, Dolura leans heavily against me, her presence an unwelcome intrusion into my personal space. "Tsk, can't she just keep her distance?" I think irritably, trying to shift away subtly. Dolura, either oblivious to my discomfort or too scared to care, remains glued to my side.
To add to my annoyance, Aeliana, sitting across from us, fixates on Dolura and me with a curious gaze. "Are you two close?" she asks, her tone laced with genuine curiosity. The question irks me further. "Close? She's nothing but a parasite, always clinging to me," I want to snap back but restrain myself. I don't need to start a scene, not here, not now.
Instead, I decide to let it slide, focusing on the relative peace of the ride, or at least what passes for peace in this flying fortress under siege. "Just enjoy the ride," I tell myself, trying to tune out the chaos and Dolura's unwelcome proximity.
But the universe seems to have other plans. Just as I start to relax, a flying monster, a grotesque creature with leathery wings and gnashing teeth, bursts into the helicopter. It's a sudden, startling intrusion, and everyone's attention snaps to the new threat.
"Tsk, what a pain in the ass," I mutter under my breath. I'm ready to let the others deal with it, fully expecting a frantic scramble of gunfire and shouts.
However, before anyone can react, Aeliana, with a calmness that belies the situation, flicks her hand nonchalantly. In a swift, almost graceful motion, the monster's head is severed from its body, rolling out of the helicopter as if it were nothing more than a discarded apple core.
Blinking in surprise, I watch as the decapitated head of the monster rolls out of the helicopter. "What? It just... fell off?" I mutter to myself, incredulous. Aeliana's ability is a mystery to me. The general had mentioned her powers, but I hadn't expected anything like this. What kind of ability allows someone to dispatch a monster with such ease and precision?
Suppressing a yawn, I lean back in my seat. "Whatever, it's not my problem to care about," I think, feeling a sense of relief. Aeliana's effortless handling of the situation suggests she's somehow gotten her ability under control, which is good news for us. Less hassle to deal with during this chaotic ride.
Glancing at Dolura, who is still clinging to me despite my earlier complaints, I comment dryly, "See, that's how you use an ability. Quick and efficient." I hope she picks up a thing or two from Aeliana. Maybe then she won't be such a burden, constantly relying on others.
Just as I settle into a more relaxed state, the sound of frantic yelling and gunfire fills the air once again. The soldiers are screaming about a strong monster, their voices tense with fear. But then, another soldier's voice cuts through the panic, reassuring his comrades that the hunters will deal with it.
-
The helicopters make their descent, the rotors slowly coming to a halt as we touch down on a seemingly ordinary plot of land. Aeliana steps out first, urging us to follow. "Come on, we're going to check out the new place," she announces, her tone assertive yet oddly calm given the circumstances.
We all disembark, our eyes taking in the surrounding area. It's a school, or at least it appears to be one. The building stands silent and imposing, a stark contrast to the chaos we've just flown through.
General Harlan, taking charge as usual, commands, "Alright, let's head inside." The soldiers, who had accompanied us, immediately spring into action, systematically clearing any remnants of monsters in the vicinity. Their gunfire echoes through the area, a harsh reminder of the reality we're in.
I stand there, watching the scene unfold, wondering about Harlan's intentions. "Hmmm, is he really waiting until the place is completely cleared out? Where the hell is the entrance?" The school looks deceptively normal, but there's an air of secrecy that suggests more than meets the eye. It's obviously an entrance to an underground base, but Harlan's patience indicates there's something we're not seeing.
As the last of the shots die down, a soldier approaches Harlan, saluting sharply. "Sir! The area has been completely cleared, Sir!" he reports, his voice firm and clear.
In response, Harlan taps on his watch, and suddenly the ground begins to shake. Astonishingly, the school splits apart, revealing a massive building beneath. High fences emerge from the ground, encircling the area, and towers rise up, creating a fortified perimeter.
Standing amidst the unfolding spectacle, Harlan sighs, a mix of exhaustion and resolve in his voice. "Things have gotten a bit complicated," he states, a hint of understatement in his tone.
As we step inside the newly revealed structure, General Harlan mutters, "I hope nothing is broken." His words hang in the air, a subtle hint of concern underlying his usual stern demeanor.
Jenna, curiosity piqued, raises an eyebrow and asks, "What's going on?" There's a sense of urgency in her voice, a need to understand the unfolding situation.
I can't help but yawn, feeling a mix of impatience and disinterest. "Can they hurry up? I just want that damn ride out of the city," I think to myself, eager to get this over with and move on.
The general taps a few more times on his device, and the large doors before us slowly creak open, revealing a bustling interior. Inside, we see people working feverishly. Some are moving items around, others are sewing, crafting items, engaged in various basic tasks. But as they turn to see General Harlan, their eyes widen with a mix of fear and surprise. It's immediately apparent that these people are in dire straits – they're starving, beaten, and some appear half-dead. The sight is unsettling, to say the least.
Draken, his eyes wide with shock, asks, "H-hey, you guys didn't put them in there, right?" There's a hint of accusation in his tone, a barely concealed horror at the thought.
General Harlan, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, responds, "Someone managed to make or find an entrance. Based on their looks, they seem like they're being forced to work." His analysis is calm, almost detached.
"Ugh... work... Fuck that," I think to myself. The idea of forcing someone to work, especially in an apocalypse, strikes me as particularly cruel. The person responsible for this must be a real devil.
The general's gaze sweeps over the people, noting their reluctance to stop their tasks or approach the exit. "They are too afraid to come out," he observes, his voice tinged with a mix of understanding and pity.
Despite the clear opportunity for escape, the people continue their work, their actions automatic and devoid of hope. It's a depressing scene, one that speaks volumes about their condition and the psychological toll of their captivity.
★
A group of guys in their late 20s, all armed with guns, casually stride into the area. They exude a disturbing mix of confidence and recklessness, laughing and joking among themselves as they approach us.
The leader of the group steps forward, his demeanor cocky and taunting. "Ho~ Look guys, we have military personnel here~" he exclaims, his voice dripping with mock surprise and amusement.
Another member chimes in, equally amused, "Looks like we've been found out~" Their laughter echoes through the facility, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere.
General Harlan, maintaining his composure, addresses them firmly, "How did you kids get in here?" His tone is one of authority, but it's clear he's assessing the situation.
The group's laughter continues unabated. "Why would that matter, old timer? The world is fucked," one of them retorts, embodying the lawlessness that now reigns.
Unfazed, Harlan responds with unwavering confidence. "You're not wrong. However, this base is a facility owned by the queen. I will now be taking charge of this place." His declaration is a clear assertion of authority, meant to establish order amidst the chaos.
However, the men don't take kindly to Harlan's words. One of them, sneering, points his gun at the general. "Look at him. He thinks he can take our place," he mocks, his voice filled with disdain.
In a horrifying display of brutality, the man grabs a worker by the neck and drags her forward. "We own this place now. You soldiers should leave," he says, grinning maliciously. Without a moment's hesitation, he stabs the knife into her head, killing her instantly, and then casually discards her body.
He advances towards General Harlan, knife in hand, his intent clear. "Unless you want to end up like her," he threatens, his companions laughing in agreement.
Harlan sighs, a mixture of sadness and resignation in his voice. "There will always be people like you," he states, acknowledging the grim reality of human nature.
In a swift, decisive move, Harlan closes the distance between them. He grabs the man by the neck with surprising strength, overpowering him effortlessly. The others aim their guns, ready to shoot, but Harlan remains unfazed, his focus solely on the man in his grasp.
With a cold, calculated force, Harlan squeezes the man's neck, his grip unyielding. "Your fun is over," he declares, his voice low and menacing. In a shocking display of strength, he rips the man's arms off and tosses him aside like a ragdoll.
The tension in the underground facility reaches a boiling point following General Harlan's brutal takedown of the man who had just killed a worker. The remaining members of the hostile group, fueled by anger and vengeance, shout, "Kill him!" Their fingers tighten on the triggers of their guns, ready to unleash a hail of bullets.
However, General Harlan, unshaken by the imminent threat, acts with a swiftness that belies his age. In one fluid motion, he grabs a nearby steel table and flicks it towards the armed men with astonishing ease. The table flies through the air, striking them with such force that they are knocked to the ground, their weapons clattering away from their reach.
Coolly, as if unfazed by the life-threatening situation he had just diffused, Harlan lights up a cigar. He takes a moment, inhaling deeply, then exhales a cloud of smoke. With the authority that comes naturally to him, he commands, "Tie them up. Start clearing the facility. There should be a larger group. I doubt these criminals could take control of everyone here."
His words are a clear directive, and the soldiers spring into action. They move quickly and efficiently, restraining the incapacitated attackers and securing the area.