Breachers

(OsiriumWrites) Breachers -I- Path of Steel - Chapter 9 (Gearing up)

Breachers – Path of Steel

9

I

Gearing up

- - -

"I know you're in there, boy," a man whispered softly, provoking a rush of recognition and emotions that Marcus struggled to process. His hand felt the gentle pressure of the man's grip, offering a sense of familiarity. "You're a fighter, just like your father." The man's tone echoed through Marcus's memories, a blend of affection and anger that had accompanied him all his life. "The others are doing the same... fighting for you. I...," the voice trailed off abruptly, the grip on Marcus's hand easing as the man withdrew. Minutes passed as it left Marcus drifting in his dazed state until he heard the familiar voice again. "The doctors say talking helps. That it gives you something to live for... something to fight for." The voice turned fragile, weaker in the brief moment where the man allowed himself be weak.

"We need you, Marcus."

╔ ╗

[System activation: 100%]

╚ ╝

Marcus's mind snapped back, like a sudden jolt of electricity. His robotic frame shot upright, causing the dusty grey tarp to slip off. 'Uncle Laurens?' He recounted his uncle's last words before he collected himself, reminding himself of what he needed to do. He quickly allowed a sliver of his mind to break off and focus solely on counting. The minute he did so, the heads-up display flickered into view, initiating a counter. 'Let's see if that two-hour guess was correct,' he thought as he slowly crawled onto his knees and inspected his surroundings.

A faint, crimson hue trickled through the grime-covered window of the van's rear door, casting a beam of light. Marcus pondered the different hues, recalling how he had seen both a red and blue hues before. He remembered one of the fighters who had attacked him mentioning a 'dark blue', indicating that it held some sort of importance. Examining his remaining robotic hand, he noticed the glimmers of light reflecting off the metal. 'I heard you loud and clear, uncle,' he thought as he processed the fragmented memories as best as he could. 'Somewhere out there I'm still alive, and so is my family. I can't waste any more time here in this place,' he thought, clenching his fist tightly as he felt the subtle pull tugging him northward, as if beckoning him towards something.

He grabbed the items he had looted off the dead man, focusing on the pistol first. Taking a moment to inspect it, he figured out how it worked and how could remove the magazine without shooting himself in the process. With his one hand, he emptied the pistol and its magazine, counting five bullets in total. 'Well... five is better than nothing, right? And even I can keep track of that.' He fumbled a bit as he reloaded the bullets before sliding the magazine back into place, afterwards setting the pistol down with the safety on. He had never handled a gun before, but he had seen enough movies to know it was wise to keep the safety on to avoid shooting himself in the foot.

He grabbed the worn backpack and checked out the damage before unzipping it. Inside, he found fifteen more Monster-Glass bits, along with mold covered rations, ruined medical supplies, and spare socks. Slipping on the socks to muffle his steel feet, Marcus counted all the Glass and placed the one he had looted himself last time next to the others. 'Is sixteen a lot?' he wondered, realizing he had no idea of their rarity, value or use. He cleaned them all as best as he could before placing all the Glass and the pistol inside the backpack, afterwards securing it around his hip using bits of torn fabric while making his way towards the door to get out.