closed starter for @swoledadenergy for Byron
Jae couldn't remember a time he'd bled this much. It made it hard to think, but his Cerberus conditioning taught him what he would need to do. Keep moving. Find shelter. Treat the wound. That part was the worst: the need to stop, press the wound, make sure the bleeding stopped. The round punched clean through his underarmor, and for a second, Jae didn't know what happened. One minute he was moving, the next there was a searing heat spreading through his right side, like someone had pressed a hot piece of metal against his ribs. No pain yet, just this sickening burning as blood began soaking into his clothes. He pressed his palm against the spot as he moved, the fabric of his black under-armor shirt wetting in seconds, his palm sticking as he pulled it back to check the flow of blood. It wasn't gushing or spurting, so the round had missed the major organs, at least.
The alley was dim and stank as most of Omega did, but his mind kept flashing images of what happened across his mind as he stumbled, putting one foot in front of the other.
He'd never been wounded on a job before, not like this. He'd had minor injuries, a graze from a bullet, cuts or burns from explosions, nothing severe enough to risk him bleeding out in an alley like a no-name thug who'd had 'fucked with Aria' or one of the mercenary gangs.
Not twenty minutes ago, he'd been inside a crowded nightclub, pressed up against a bar of hazy blue glass while the air around him seemed to vibrate with the sound of the thumping dance music. The patrons were the typical mix of Omega life, criminals, hedonists, and the dregs of society. Jae fit right in as far as he was concerned, wearing casual clothes that concealed his body well enough while still looking fashionable and blending in. He could've been another freelance killer like a lot of the others in the room. Except he was on his way out, about to complete his extraction, the package safely delivered.
The plan was so simple it hurt. In and out, leave no traces, get the credits wired to his account before morning. But he should have known it was a setup when his contact failed to show at the prearranged time, should've left when he noticed the Cerberus colors on a woman's armor, or when a man watched him a little too closely from the end of the bar. He was used to people looking at him. He'd learned from the best to take advantage of the looks that came his way, to smile and wink, to use his face as a weapon. That was one of the first things his trainers had taught him. If the enemy is distracted by your pretty face, it's that much easier to shove a knife into their neck.
Jae hit the ground hard, catching himself before his face struck, but not before pain radiated through him from his wounded side. He tried to breathe, but nothing came; his lungs refused to open as his eyes fluttered closed, feeling strangely heavy as his head dropped to his chest. He pressed his palm harder into his side, but couldn't tell if it helped or not.
He thought he heard footsteps behind him and wondered if someone had followed him from Afterlife, if Cerberus had sent agents to collect him after all, dead or alive.