Aeon Syndicate

Chapter - 02 Memory - Protest into Massacre

Hurled into a ball covering his wounded eye, Chris slowly pulls himself to sit upwards.

Suddenly an arm from behind him swoops in under his right arm and over his chest.

This stranger carries Chris to the edge of the waterfall, assuring him, "I've gotcha man, just hang in there."

He makes his jump into the dark abyss below taking his wounded companion with him.

The two fall into a deep pool of sewage. Still carrying Chris, the stranger swims to a tunnel path, with high ground.

Hanging onto the stranger's shoulders, Chris asks, "Who the hell are you?"

"Ryan, you?" the stranger answers.

"No, are you Fed?"

Ryan gives a brief chuckle, before sarcastically replies, "Let's see. First I'm protesting with my homies. Then I'm running for my life, after seeing half of them getting melted. Jumping down into these shit tunnels, dodging round after round. And finally picking your ass up after you fall. Yes I am one hundred percent a fuckin Confederate."

The two enjoyed a short laugh after his long winded comment.

A bright light flashes in front of them, revealing an armed sentry bot, followed by the sound of thunder.

A projectile strikes Ryan in the chest.

He drops Chris, using his right hand to cover his bleeding chest.

Leaning over towards the left side of the corridor, Chris notices a brick loosely lodged into the wall.

With an impulsive reflex he lunges for the brick, ripping it from the wall it was sitting in.

Falling down on his back after removing the hardened rock, he took a brief look in the direction the shot came from.

The bright light from the sentry bot's canon flashes again, sending another projectile into Ryan. In another instant reflex, Chris chucks the brick towards the sentry bot.

The brick strikes the cannon, bending it to face the ceiling.

He turns to his companion his is now bleeding from his chest and shoulder on the ground.

Realizing they are both too wounded to walk on their own, he drags himself near his companion.

They help each other to stand before they both begin to walk, stabilizing each other's balance as they venture towards the end of the tunnel.

Approaching an exit in directly front of them, sunlight begins to illuminate the faces of the two wounded men.

Closer and closer they continue, shambling, holding each other up.

They come to a sewage gate before them. The sunlight from the outside environment nearly blinds them, as they grab hold of the metallic bars that separates them from the outside.

Noticing a control panel off to the left Chris, leans towards the interface, searching for an option to open the gate.

After a minute of fumbling, he manages to raise the metallic bars. The two men exit the tunnel, falling down onto the sidewalk just beyond the gate.

Both Chris and Ryan look up before them to see a paramedic, leaning against the hood of a Confederate ambulance, arms crossed and head hunched down.

The paramedic raised his head to gaze upon the fallen men.

The two looked in horror as he approached them. "Rough out there with the Confederates, eh?" he asks.

Shaking in fear Chris rebukes, "Fuck you.". He reaches into his uniform, pulling out a wallet, revealing a badge. "Calvin... Aeon Retrievers."

He continues towards the two men, picking them up.

"The hell are you taking us?' Chris inquires.

Draggin them both one at a time, he answers, "To a better home."

He proceeds to load them in the back of the ambulance, where a second paramedic goes to work on them, stabilizing their wounds, and blood loss.

Driving the vehicle out of the city limits Calvin calls to the other paramedic, "Simon, how are our boys looking back there?"

Taking his attention off the wounded to address the driver, he replies, "They're stable.", before turning to them again muttering under his breathe, "Barely."

The last memory Chris had inside the vehicle, the sight of his new friend, in the same state of critical condition as he was in.

As his vision fades to dark, he could only hear the sound of the vehicle's engines complemented with the heart rate monitors, reflecting how close they are to death.