➳
Send me a ➳ and I will generate a number from 1-300 (yes, 300!) for what my muse will say to yours. | #155
This was wrong.It all started with a simple text message she had send him, the font color of his cellphone betraying the emotions conveyed by her words. A text message he dismissed. Something was going down in the lower areas of Seattle, but something was always happening in those areas, so he paid no mind. Word travelled quickly though, and when it finally reached his ears, it was more sobering than any kind of wound would have been able to be.”DUP. Lockdown. Shooting, several people dead.” Damien took heel and ran for dear life, all the while keeping his phone close to his ear, dialing her number. Ring…Ring…Ring… She didn’t pick up. She always picked up. The ringing slowly began to sound like deep, dark bells tolling. But for whom? Fear slowly started to suffocate him, causing the Conduit to choke on his own saliva as he struggled to move forward, towards the aforementioned district. The district the two of them wanted to meet in.
It was worse than he had expected. Not only had they erected a barricade, but DUP guards had been stationed to shoo away any civilians trying to ask questions or enter the area. A hydrant, suddenly ripped out of its confines, causing water to gush out into the open air like a fountain, was enough to distract them. Enough, so that one man was able to slip behind them, and enter the no-man zone unspotted.
Nothing he had heard before would have been able to prepare him for what he was exposed to once he was inside. They hadn’t lied, but this was no simple gunfight or anything else - it was a slaughterfest. The streets were covered in corpses, like trash which had been discarded without a second thought, man and women alike. Damien stumbled over dozens of bodies with numerous bullet holes, red seeping from their insides, collecting in a pool around everybody. He was too stunned, too shocked to say anything.Then he saw her, and he screamed.
"NO!"
This was wrong. It had to be. His heard felt like it was going to give out. Damien tripped over his own feet, crashed to the ground. Ripped his jeans and scraped his knees, but he didn’t care. Struggling to his feet, he knew that not even a tank would be able to stop him in this moment. She was laying on her back, crimson covering her chest. He reached for her, stopped. afraid to touch her. ”L…Lydia?” he muttered, kneeling in front of the girlhe had known for so many years already. His body only know started to react, causing tears to run down his cheeks, leaving salty trails down his face before the splattered onto the asphalt.He lifted her body, she opened her eyes. By god, they were almost glassy. Blood trailed from her mouth as she tried to say something. ”No! D-don’t say anything, you need… I need… Y-you’ll be okay!" he cut her off, trying to calm himself more than her. But it seemed like she didn’t care. Shaking her head, the glass queen spoke.”No, no… It’s allright… I’m in your arms… I wouldn’t want to share my last moments with anyone else.”
It took him too long to realize that those had been her last words. She went limp in his arms, and at the same time, his body tensed up. This was wrong. "No!", Damien exclaimed, cradling his friend and holding her close. His body shook as he started to uncontrollably sob. ”No! Please, no! PLEASE!"
How much time had passed, he didn’t know. He hadn’t stopped begging for her to open her eyes again, screamed her name until his throat was on fire and he couldn’t speak anymore. She never woke up.Footsteps behind him. The rattling of armor, a gun. ”Step away from the girl, civilian.” He was able to feel the rifle pointed at him. DUP, the ones responsible for this. In one second, it felt like all the sorrow inside of him burned in a fire. By the time he stood up, carrying Lydia in his arms, Damien was pressing his teeth so hard against each other that they started to hurt. The soldier’s weapon remained pointed at him. ”One more time, drop the body and leave. She was a highly dangerous bio ter- UGH-”It was hard to talk when ones armor suit bent inward, crushing ones throat as if it was a paper bag. The man gargled something into his microphone, dropping the rifle in order to scrape at the metal that was going to kill him.When Damien Sila turned around to face him, every piece of metal large enough to be lethal in a ten feet radius was hovering around him in the air, aiming for the soldier who dropped to his knees.
