A Touch of Hope

Chapter 3 - Blood, blood, blood

Kicking his door open with his power assisted boots Flipsey cursed under his breath. Looking at the sizeable dent he had made in the car door caused him to curse again. He was going to get it in the neck over this one. His stomach turned at the sight of the bones, blood and organs that plastered the front windshield of the car. Already the blood was starting to congeal and stick as it slowly oozed down into the engine. Flipsey recalled the first time he had seen such a sight as a rookie, just retrained in accordance to the police state laws. He had spent many sleepless nights remembering the first such dismemberment, since then they had all blurred together. The first time he had spent many hours afterwards puking onto the pavement after running down the road to get away. He'd been severely punished for that reaction. This time around he pressed on past the sickening sight, pushing it from his mind. He had a job to do.

Reaching for his belt Flipsey paused over the lethal tool before withdrawing his far less lethal pistol, completely against police guidelines. Turning to look at his partner, Balls was still on his knees, his shoulders heaving as he rasped noisily. Flipsey had originally mistaken this for regret but had since come to believe that it was simply an outpouring of anger. His partner was not making any other movement as the red pool of death had spread to envelop his knees, seeping through his clothes to his skin. Blood dripped down Balls' fingers, joining the puddle with an eerie ripple. This was all the remained of the man.

Taking this all in with his experienced eagle eyes, Flipsey snapped his leg back activating his boots. With a glance up at his target, the narrow, black canyon that they had been watching all night, he powered forward, covering the twenty or so meters in less than three seconds. His boots slowed slightly as Flipsey leaned into the corner, his hand briefly brushing the paving slabs to stabilise himself. Pressing on, Flipsey shot down the alleyway, his highly trained eyes clocking each obstacle as it approached at an astonishing rate. Ducking under a rusted stairway and squeezing past skip at a rate not humanly possible, he noticed movement up ahead; the target. Scrambling up a wire fence the movement seemed to soak up any light that touched it. This was certainly a major target. Reaching the fence moments later, Flipsey strained his legs as he transferred his power from horizontal to vertical, his boots propelling him twenty foot into the air, clearing the fence by a considerable margin. The rapid change of direction caused his arms and legs to flail as he began to tilt forwards in mid-air. Slamming back down with a crack as the paving stone crumbled beneath his feet, Flipsy stumbled as he stopped his face from hitting the floor just as hard. He cursed a third time as the movement ahead of him began to get further away. Gritting his teeth, he snapped his boots forwards again. Despite not even being slightly out of breath, Flipsey sighed as the crash of metal signified yet another obstacle approaching. Moments later the bins barring his way appeared out of the gloom. Without slowing down he tilted his weight to the right slightly, scuttling up the side wall in an arc over the bins, his right hand scraping along the rough bricks. Executing the perfect manoeuvre still at breakneck pace Flipsey resumed the chase. It was at this moment that the end of the alleyway came into sight barely 3 seconds in front of Flipsey. The tall unrelenting, immovable wall stood proud, towering up into the gloom. There was no time. It was too late. Not at that lethal speed. There was no hope. There was barely any time to notice the wall as Flipsey rushed headlong into it.