This is the second last part of the story, as usual feel free to give me advice.
The reporter falls backwards, reeling from the impact Carver flicks a switch and a long blade slides up the barrel of the shotgun, a huge curved bayonet.
I wonder who makes those; the thought pops unbidden into my head. Time to move time to be a hero; my left hand shoots out grasping the blood-slicked grip of my FEN 203, I whip it up, the witty quote for the viewers dies on my lips as the gun flies out of my numb fingers and bounces across the walkway until it hits Carvers boot. For fucks sake, what have I done to deserve this, is there some prick up there making my life a misery? Why has everything I touched today turned to shit? Something in my mind snaps2 Hours ago: A red BPN was sent our way Station Analysis had lost contact with the other squad. . We took it. It was worth good money and SCL boost. Big mistake
A wet gurgle is the only question the reporter can mange as he twitches, legs kicking feebly in the air as he hangs at the end of the shotgun. I can make out a glint of metal pointing out of his back. I feel the rage inside of my rising , swinging my body I flip my legs onto the platform I can feel the blade tearing into my hand slicing through tendons scraping on bone. I am beyond pain; my left hand grabs the handle of the blade reefing it out of my right.
Perhaps I'm not completely beyond pain, my world wavers and I feel weak About to fall, my brain is ready to switch off. Camera light painfully bright shines into my eyes.
For the second time today Third eye news inadvertently comes to my aid. I give my most feral grin to the public then lunge.30 minutes ago ? Breeze is crying, we found the other OP's; I'm up to my ankles in their intestines. Grunt is on his back, a sharpened rib jutting from his eye. Breeze and I walk away, hand in hand.
As I travel through the air towards my tormentor I watch him pull the trigger.
The reporter explodes in a shower of gore, his body lurches off the bayonet and tumbles like a puppet to the waiting pigs below.
At least someone is having a good day.
I'm almost on top of Carver, the knife in my hand crying out for vengeance.
He turns just as I crash into him. The air is smashed from my lungs. We both hit the ground hard, I feel the knife slip, fuck where did it go. The walkway shudders under our writhing bodies. Carver is rolling over, shit my knife where is it, I can't breath. Things are fucked. My hand scrapes across the walkway looking for a weapon; I can feel the jagged bits of metal tearing into it.
I grab something, my gun. Finally things are going my way, suddenly fiery pain rips through my stomach. Damn looks like I spoke to soon. Taking a wild swing, the gun connects with Carver. His nose explodes; it reminds me of my first pet, a cat called Mittens. After she became road kill that is. I roll backwards; it seems harder than it should.
I'm worried the walkway it must be about to give I can hear it screaming.
Then I realise it's me.4 Minutes and 36 seconds ago ? I fuck up and kill Breeze. My errant bullet catches her temple, smashing through her delicate skull. The walkway buckles then collapses as her flux tears it in half. I fall sliding down, until my leg catches on a jagged strip of metal. It slows me down enough to grab the edge with my left hand. What's left of Breeze slides past me into the waiting pigs below. I point my FEN at Carver. At this moment in time, the reporting team arrives.
Looking down at my guts, two things grab my attention, the first is that I'm sure that my intestines should be inside not hanging out like purple sausages in a cheap plastic bag. Secondly is the amount of blood that until recently was contained in my body. Things are feeling a bit unreal at this stage, I feel light headed and the world around me seems distant. I slowly get to my knees and crawl over to Carvers prone body, the light from the camera seems to be dimming, maybe the battery is going flat. I reach my goal, wow I found my knife it is lodged into Flesh Carvers armpit.
He looks at me his eyes growing dim, I see a crystal clear tear roll down his cheek. An old forgotten memory detaches and bubbles through the cracks of my mind.
"You are me" he whispers
I raise the gun in my hand an swing bringing smashing carvers face, I do this again and again, after awhile I notice the camera lights have almost gone out, I haven't the strength to lift my hands, I'm so tired. I push the gun into the remains of Carvers mouth. My eyes close time to sleep, from far away I hear thunder? It rumbles three or so times, I feel my hand move back each time the thunder echoes in the distance.
Fade to black.4 Days later
The hospital is white. I lay here in bed, my body pumped full of drugs. A short while after I blacked out Shivers found me. I was lying on the walk way alone, both Flesh Carver and the news team were nowhere to be found. They think that Carver fell to the pigs bellow, the news team they are not sure, the live feed stops just as I placed the gun into Carvers mouth. I've had 7 agents visit me already, each with a "Great deal" Looks like I'm a marketable commodity for the next few days.
The doctors tell me I'll be back to normal in a few days.
Looks like things are going my way now.
Except for the nightmares.
The End
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