A Story of Cinders: From the Ashes

Chapter 41: Run to the Hills

     And this one was a juggernaut, wearing especially heavy armor. John shoots at him, but his small caliber bullets ping impotently off his metal plating. He shoots again, trying again to keep his attention. He taps Red on the shoulder. "Get behind him and stab him somewhere soft." As soon as he said that, he looked up, watching Charlie creep up on the brute from behind. He grabs the juggernaut's helmet, pulling it off. His face is gnarled and scarred, probably fairly ugly before the scars. His head is shaved, with a surgical scar on the back of his head. He turns to Charlie who already has his tomahawk at the ready. Charlie swings it over his head, right into the crown of the juggernaut's skull. His face freezes dumbly before falling to his knees and slumping over to the ground. Charlie steps on his chest, pulling the tomahawk with a sickening slushing sound.

     "Is Karlov dead?" Charlie asks, looking at the somehow still breathing body of the Brawler.

     "Severely wounded, but he walked out," John replies. "He won't get far, though." Charlie merely grunts in response. "Is Louis?" John asks.

     "Not quite. You have any more of that stuff you gave me?"

     "I've got one left," John ran downstairs. As he knelt over the wounded warrior, searching for a vein, Red says, "We're gonna have to carry him out, and there's more soldiers on their way. We're gonna get killed trying to get him out of here."

     Charlie, who was looking at the door for reinforcements, snaps back at her. "Would you rather we leave him to die?"

     "I don't know why you care, Mr. 'I don't do teams.'" Charlie, without looking, spins out his revolver and aims it at her. "Care to try again?" he challenges her.

     "Time and place, you two," John barks, injecting Louis with the platelet catalyzer. "We don't leave teammates behind. We're all getting him out of here. That's an order."

     "I resent the order, but for the record, you're right," Charlie says, holstering his revolver. He and John each drape one of Louis' arms over their shoulders and heft him up, his feet dragging on the ground.

     "I'd rather you not shoot our teammates, Charlie," John says under his breath, straining under Louis' mass.

     "I was bluffing. Gun's not even loaded."

      Aloud, John says "Let's find some transportation and get the Hell outta here!"

     "What about Will and Nox?" Red asks, looking around for soldiers.

     "No idea. I'll talk to 'em when the coms are back up!"  Red throws the doors open to the outside world.

     For the first time since they arrived, the winds and ash had settled enough for them to see miles out. More of the same forest extended northward, with a battered, destroyed road running through rocks and crags, until, in the distance, the crags and trees are replaced with shattered concrete and gnarled metal beams, the rocks for rubble. The remnants of small buildings loomed in the distance, like ghosts of the past. Charlie looks for a second, then immediately bows his head away, breaking his sight from the Ground Zero.

     Karlov's pace has slowed. He can't possibly walk any farther. It wasn't the first time he had been shot, but last time he had more guards. And a more readily available medical evacuation. His bodyguards lifted him up, helping him go onward. He had to get to his craft. And when he got back to Moscow, he would drop another bomb on Pinnacle. Spillane wasn't walking out of this one. But before he bombed the damned city, he would take Will down. He would have his sleeper agents lock the vainglorious fool in his manor, then burn the place to cinders. It's what he did to the last people who tried to kill him. Or perhaps he would just have him poisoned. They are at a door out of this building. He reaches out for the knob.

     Bang! Bang!

     Both his bodyguards drop dead. He weakly falls to the ground, unable to stand anymore. He turns around, sitting with his back to the door. Then he spots his assailants. Will Spillane and Nox. He still couldn't figure out who the latter was. Both their guns are smoking. The two slowly walk over to him, Wills cane tapping against the tile with each step.

     "What will you do now, Czar?" Nox says almost snarling. Karlov, pausing to catch his breath, replies quietly, "I will take you to Hell with me." Weakly, he draws his pistol from his hip. Before he takes a shot, Will unsheathes his cane sword and drives it through Karlov's gut. His face freezes in shock as he groans in agony. Nox quickly aims for the head. Then, he smiles. An eerie, full smile. He pulls the trigger.

     And it was all over.

     One bullet to the head. Karlov was dead, and there was nothing special about it. He did not burst into flames to be resurrected like the glorious phoenix he so idolized. Nor did he leak acid like the horrifying monster people perceived him to be. For all his power and grandeur, people seemed to forget he was just a man. And he died being just that.

     The reality of this was setting in for Will and Nox. They stood for a moment in shock. Then Will started laughing. A quiet chuckle slowly evolving into a mad cackle. Nox joined him, laughing now for the first time in years. Will pressed his foot against the corpse. He pushed against it, sliding his sword out of the man's midsection. As he did that, something fell out of Karlov's ear. It was an earpiece. He faintly heard chattering. He held it up to his ear. Laughter from the other end.

     It can't be...