The remaining soldier blew a few holes in the doors before he found Will had completed his circle and was now face to face with him. As his eyes darted back and forth, Will saw a glimmer of terror in them as the soldier’s lips quivered. His gun lowered as Will raised his sword. Was it the terror of his own actions or the terror of powerlessness? Will sheathed his now bloody sword. The soldier's body fell one way, and his head the other.
He picked up the M240 and finished off those still alive with generous rounds. In their final moments, they'd been worthy of his blade, and he felt content with that. Turning back toward the door, he kicked it down effortlessly. Back in this familiar room, Weapons Department I, with its aisles of limitless killing machines, he only wanted two for himself.
***
Prison Level No. Two
Commander Kane lit a match and lowered his cigar into its small flame. The tip of it began to turn crispy, glowing as the embers burned. The officer threw the match to the floor and stomped it out, adding it to the collection of ashes already smudging the clean floor. Leaning against the cold gray walls of the corridor, the endless doors on each side were his only real company, and at such a frantic time, regulation didn't really matter. He breathed in a large amount of smoke, savoring the smooth, rich taste of the tobacco. His mind was busy trying not to think of their current situation.
Kane saw Fisher walking toward him. Franco remained down the hall, fiddling with a flamethrower.
“Franco, what the hell are you doing?”
As the man ran a hand through his hair, the Commander noticed his quivering hand.
“Sir, that cyborg is comin' for all of us. The time of being civil has passed. Order will be maintained by all means necessary.”
Kane focused on Fisher, who carried a standard firearm. The man appeared frightfully on edge. His eyes could hardly rest upon Kane for even a few seconds.
“On the level below, Cell No. 281 is open. The prisoner is gone, and there isn't a trace of his ass. Surveillance is reporting multiple camera blackouts.”
“Damn it all” Kane said angrily, “Listen, tell Johnson–”
Suddenly an ear-shattering alarm went off throughout the hall.
“The fuck?” muttered Fisher.
The prison levels were on complete lockdown. This was the roll call siren.
“It already got to the check-in station on level one? Why hasn't Mitch reported anything?” yelled Fisher.
All the prison cell doors clicked at once before unlocking automatically. Each one flipped open simultaneously, and for a few seconds there was only the dead of silence. Kane drew his small handgun, keeping the cigar between his lips and exhaling through his nose. The murmurs started slowly, growing with intensity as the rats came crawling from their holes. This one sector alone had over 150 prisoners, let alone the whole of level two, against what little men they had here. Kane watched as Franco and Fisher went almost back-to-back as the scum began to gather together. The Commander remained stationary as he looked into the crowd of angry and dilated eyes.
“Mitch, where's your party, I repeat, where's your party?” he asked.
“Get back in your cells, NOW!!” Franco hollered, letting loose a burst of fire that set two prisoners ablaze.
Their screams instantly sent most back through the doorways of their burrows, but still some did not retreat. Franco began to move in. Fisher smiled, sticking close to his comrade. The screams of the two smoldering prisoners in the hallway echoed chillingly. Franco loved it, especially as the emergency sprinklers turned on.
Feeling the water run down his face and neck was soothing. He exhaled slowly, the stench of burnt human meat lessening. Without the churning smoke and roaring flames, Franco could clearly see the extent of the damage done to the two women. The looks on their faces was sickening, yet without the eyes, it somehow wasn’t as awful.
“Atta boy, Franco!” exclaimed Fisher. He stood directly over the bodies as the other soldier kept his focus on the cells before them.
“Eyes upfront, man, come on!” Franco yelled.
Interrupting their speculation, a hira-shuriken star sliced into the tank, penetrating its wall. Franco could smell the fuel as it ran down his back along with the water. Before they could even turn around, a burst of bullets tore into the damaged fuel cell, and the ensuing explosion consumed both soldiers.
Kane got down in a puddle on the floor and saw as Unit 21 appeared from around the corner. An M240 was in his hand. On his back and shoulders, he carried several large duffle bags. He stood as Will put the bags down. The cyborg dropped the gun at the sight of his Commander. Kane didn't dare move at all, and lowered his weapon. He was surprised when he saw Will’s eyes.
Strangely, the pupils of his bloodshot eyes seemed to quiver as much as his knees. Kane had been anticipating a cold blank stare, but Will’s demeanor caught him off guard. On the very doorstep of death, and here he was, feeling of all things, guilt. He could see this fault in the cyborg solely because Will had hesitated at all. For once, it seemed as if the soldier hadn't a clue what to do.
“I know why you're doing this, Will. I know full well. But consider if this is really the solution. Is there any real point in this?”
As Unit 21 stood there in silence, another pair of eyes was observing the situation as well. The eyes belonged to a vigilant predator on the plain. The time to act was now. He knew fate would not grant him another grand opening. He saw his Commander in the line of fire but knew that sacrifice was all a part of the hunt. As he inched back behind the corner in the hallway, he held his breath. Fear weighed him down for a moment, but he snapped away from its clutches. He stepped from behind his cover, to see the cyborg's eyes turn toward him. The machine's focus was not on the man, but the weapon he held. The same was true of Kane, who had a look of sheer terror as he realized his own demise.
“Mitch, NO!!”
The soldier couldn't discern which of the two men yelled out the request. His adrenaline was pumping, sharpening his focus on the prime directive to kill his target. Malice was his only yearning. The flames completely engulfed Kane, but the nimble cyborg leaped backward, taking cover behind an open cell door. His acute hearing ensured he heard every terrifying note of his superior officer's screams, as well as those of the inmate of the cell itself.
Mitch began steadily working his way down the hall. The steam spouting from the burning bodies was only a slight hindrance. Mitch knew he was on the eve of the kill and guilt was no component of a driven warrior. He kept the jet of fire focused on the door, but he saw the obscure cyborg leap over the door, over the fire, and felt the floor tremble as it landed directly behind him. Mitch barely saw the flash of the glimmering sword, but definitely felt it cut into his wrists. The pain from the slit veins was unimaginable, although it lasted only briefly. Before he could even scream, Will ripped one of Mitch’s own grenades from his uniform, and shoved it into his mouth. He paused only for a few seconds, to leave a final impression on the man before hurling him into the cell and slamming the door shut. Will did not check to see if Kane had a chance. He only returned to his self-appointed mission.
***
“I don’t fucking believe it,” Jacob muttered. He embraced Halsey tightly, “I don’t fuckin’ believe it.”
Much had transpired in the past few minutes since the doors suddenly opened on prison level one and Halsey found himself outside of Cell No. 219 for the first time without a gun to his head. The already disposed of guards were a welcoming anomaly, and the gun in his hand an even better one. And yet here, on prison Level Three, seeing his friend was a miracle he could hardly believe was real.
“You’re looking like hell, Jacob,” Joseph said.
The soldier joined him in his laughter, although Halsey was emaciated and beaten beyond recognition. It infuriated Jacob to know that his brother had had to endure for so long. Never again, Joe, never again can I let them take you. Still, it was much better than the alternative he’d feared for so long, like so
many others. They joined the large crowd of prisoners who were all circled around one object.
“Make way, move it!!” Jacob ordered as he and Halsey pushed through them all.
These men and women did not respond to his command. They only stared at him and the legend, Halsey, before continuing on their own way. Few were in worse condition than the once revered officer was, and many shoved past him so brutally he was damn near knocked to the ground. As he tried to regain his footing, he saw several prisoners running off with various guns. It was a chaotic herd if one could even call it that, of animals running toward a brought down beast. Halsey understood how this had come to pass, and he thought it went without saying. Jacob however, was enraged.
The idiots show no sense of respect for authority anymore, he thought, or reason. Stragglers and small packs would be picked off easily. After a short while, he gave up trying to reason with them, focusing instead on acquiring a gun. Wherever the men and women were acquiring the firearms, there appeared to be no shortage.
Before Jacob even got to the destination, a woman ran up to him. Gabby! The siblings said nothing as they embraced. Jacob rarely spoke to God, but in that moment he thanked Him for keeping his little sister safe.
“Gabby?”
She turned to see Halsey, tears welling up immediately. The woman hugged him next.
“My God, Joe,” she whispered, “I thought he’d lied.”
“Easy, easy, and who would this be anyway?” Halsey said smoothly. When she only held onto him a bit longer, without saying a word, Halsey understood just who she meant.
Jacob returned to the situation and rushed to the center of the swelling mass. Halsey and Gabby followed suit. Getting there was no easy task. The name Neeson or their ranks currently held no weight with this mob. Still, they eventually made it to the center of the pandemonium. It was surprising enough to see Alex there distributing the weapons, but even more so to see who stood next to him helping with the task. Jacob tightened his grip on the gun and held it close. Among all the murmuring, the siblings stood in silent awe. The cyborg looked at them both then threw the empty-handed Gabby an MP5SD3 submachine gun.
“What is this?” Jacob said angrily, “What the fuck is this supposed to be?”
Will went back to handing out the guns.
“If you prefer your cell, please, return to it.”
To Jacob's shock, Halsey walked right up to the cyborg.
“You happen to have a Bushmaster ACR down in there somewhere? I'm sure I can handle it.”
Will handed him one, looking at the puny soldier before him. The man shoved another smaller gun into his pants gently. The cyborg made his assertion.
“You knew. Always did. You knew them.”
“Yes, yes I did. Will, our paths did not cross until they were already gone, and for that I am sorry. More than I can probably convince you. I will do all that I can to make it up to you.”
“Agreed, but now it’s time for us to leave. We need to get to the choppers on the roof, and we have to be quick.”
“We’ll be boxed in by soldiers from both the upper and lower levels,” Halsey said, “Seems costly.”
“I will clear a path to the roof. I cannot protect all of you and Weapons Department II had sparse pickings. We’ll need to stop at Weapon Department III if all of you plan to make it.”
“Where’s my father?” Gabby suddenly asked. Jacob looked up from loading his weapon, his eyes shifting to the cyborg immediately.
“I don't know. He was not in his cell. But we have to leave now.”
“Fuck that! We are not leaving without him!” she said sternly. Jacob strangely said nothing and only looked away. The cyborg balled his fist.
“Then you stay and look for him. What you see happening around you now was for my family, not for you! Your father was worried that the shock of the truth would drive me mad, or maybe he truly is no better than Venloran! Either way you followed his lead and lied to my fucking face!”
Gabby balled her fist as well.
“My father was going to tell you. He had a plan!”
Alex and Jacob watched in silence. The bag was finally empty, and the remaining prisoners either ran off unarmed or watched the confrontation in silence. The stare-down between Will and the daughter of Neeson was at a standstill. Halsey let it sink in and though he had not been a part of this plan, he saw the sequence of events clearly.
“Gabby” Halsey said, “We have to go while we still can. He would understand. Otherwise we all die.”
Gabby swallowed her spite and nodded weakly.
“I know. I know.”
Everyone began to move, but Halsey felt a heavy heart to see that the majority chose not to follow the cyborg. Many were still unarmed as well, seeing as Will couldn't possibly have brought enough armory for all the several hundred inmates.
“They must find their own ways out,” Jacob suggested, watching them go as well.
“Yeah, naturally, some will. When a pack of wolves feed on a flock of sheep, despite the slaughter, there are always more that live on.”
Halsey assumed many among them would die and few would even come close to escape. All they could really do was hope that the super soldier would be able to plow his way through the many opponents above them. Having more weapons would definitely help. Halsey wiped the sweat off his forehead as they entered the stairwell, Will in the lead. Gunfire began to ring out, along with screams, very much like the chaos of any battlefield in history. He mused that they might very well all die. So be it.
Chapter 25 - Immolation Galore
April 17, 2065- UNR Headquarters
Major Johnson stepped into the room, the armed guards, and Unit 23 saluting him. He saw the Chancellor at his desk and found himself hesitant.
“What's the latest report, Major?” Venloran demanded.
The soldiers in the room remained focused, eyes on the door and minds on their posts. The same went for the cyborg. No one was looking in his direction at all. Johnson didn’t believe it though. He knew they were anxiously awaiting the news he had brought. Kearney was looking frantic just from the anticipation of it.
“Chancellor, Unit 21 has released all prisoners on all three floors of the Detention Center. This facility is compromised, sir.”
“Damn it, why in the hell would it do that?!” he yelled, his skin turning red in his rage.
“Sir, I recommend evacuation, at least of all non-military personnel,” Kearney said in a shaken voice.
“We will not lose HQ. I will not allow it!” Venloran retorted. He thought of the precious and all omnipotent watchtower, and all those who looked up to it. For the public to see their protectors fleeing from it would be disastrous.
“Where is Unit 21, exactly?” Venloran said, trying his best to reclaim his composure. The lights flickered for a moment and continued to do so.
“Latest reports indicate the stairwell, but we've lost all surveillance feeds,” Johnson stated, as they were suddenly plunged into darkness. With the darkness came a ghastly silence. For that instance, every being in the room but one was plunged full throttle into a cold fear. The light switched back on seconds later, yet the fear remained.
“I also have reports of multiple hostage situations on the lower levels. The inmates are weak, but they're great in number and desperate. It appears many have gotten their hands on firearms. Casualties are currently unknown but are estimated to be well over a hundred.”
“Where's Unit 18?” Venloran asked.
“We don't know. We've lost contact with it.”
Venloran sat back in his chair, looking at the blackened telescreens. He then stared at Unit 23, whose emerald eyes were locked on the door. Not a hair out of place, not a drop of sweat, and a face so placid it frightened him. He stood up out of his seat.
“Tell your men to hold their ground. No one leaves their position, no one. Send out the order that hostages are expendable.”
“Sir!” argued Johnson. The weight of that order
was too much, the mighty officer now feeling weak with nausea.
“I will have no prisoners escaping, at any cost,” Venloran declared. He did his best to hide his own disgust, but he only partly succeeded.
“If we let them barter their way out, those convicts will be on the street with the civilians. It will be a massacre!”
“Venloran…I understand,” Johnson said. He quickly gathered himself. He held back the tears.
“Prepare my transport. Unit 23 will join the assault once I take off.”
“Yes, Chancellor, I’ll send word.”
Johnson was remorseful, knowing Venloran would request that he leave with him. He would not be there with the soldiers under his command. Would not see their distressed faces twitch at the heinous order they had on their shoulders. He knew it was unmistakable defiance, but he only hoped some would find a reason within themselves and not go through with it. Kearney approached him now and he could only imagine what he would say.
“Major, understand, they are fulfilling their duty to the highest degree. This atrocity will be their moment of triumph. We will express our gratitude when they are honored.”
Johnson nodded, somewhat consoled. The only thing Venloran wanted were the psyche profiles on the cyborgs, all three of them. He locked them away in a small black suitcase. Valerie watched as he did, her eyes following the paperwork as it was shuffled together and the case snapped shut. The Chancellor handed it to Kearney as he stood.
The Major put a hand on Valerie’s shoulder. It snapped her back to attention.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I recommend the stairwell. We can’t be sure of the elevators. They may malfunction, or contain an ambush. The uppermost floor will lead us through the Honor Hall where none of the prisoners have made it yet.”
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