"What do you mean you're staying? You can't fend them off by yourself!"
"Ya think I don't know that?!" Rychner retorts back as he pulls an assortment of knives off the weapons rack. "Everyone's leaving, and there's not going to be enough time for them to get away. I gotta buy time.
"You'll die! You're half dead already." I motion to the bloody bandage on his leg.
He pauses briefly, but soon resumes arming himself.
I grab his shoulder as he turns to leave. "Now who's being impulsive?"
His eyes instantly snap up to meet mine, with a fiery determination behind them. "This ain't impulsive. It's necessary," and with that, he shoves past me.
"Right," I state as he reaches the doorway, "I'm staying too."
Rychner visibly deflates as soon as the words reach his ears. "Kid..." he starts.
"Don't."
He bites his tongue for a moment.
"I can't ask you to do that."
"Then don't," I finish, "But I'm staying."
My own words ring through my mind as I keep my head low, glimpsing out the stained window. The roar of engines fill the street even through the sound of heavy rainfall. Several vehicles swerve up outside the front of the building. Black-armoured men pour out their doors soon-after, weapons pointed up as they make their way over to the main doors systematically.
What have you gotten yourself into?
I sprint back up the stairs to Rychner as fast as my legs will carry me.
"How many is there?" he demands.
I shake my head. "At least thirty. All with guns and well-armoured."
"Damn it!" he curses.
"We could've outnumbered them..."
Rychner scoffs. "Yeah, with sick and wounded."
"Well, what are we gonna do?" I ask impatiently.
"Shut up and take this," he grunts, shoving a sheathed knife into my hands.
"What no guns?" I peer down at the blade in disbelief. "The hell am I supposed to do with this?"
"Butter toast." Rychner glares at me, the sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.
"Kill people, you blockhead," he corrects, "Now shut up and follow me."
"Only person who's gonna get killed using this thing is me," I grumble as we creep out onto the landing overlooking the main hall.
Darkness suddenly engulfs us as all the lights flick off instantaneously, but my eyes soon adjust to the dim room.
Alarmed, I half-whisper, "What was that?"
Rychner just shakes his head, keeping his eyes glued to the doors and raises a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
The sound of wood snapping apart resounds throughout the large room as the doors abruptly burst open, following a loud bang. Two at a time, Umbra's men come flooding in, scanning in all directions with the barrels of their guns.
Taking full advantage of the darkness we vanish back into the shadows as roughly half the men split, and start making their way up the creaky stairs. Rychner creeps into the room directly right of the stairway and gestures for me to go into the one opposite.
With my heart pounding, and time running out, I wordlessly follow his instruction and stalk into the room opposite. Why? No idea, but now is not the time for questions.
The second I step in, my eyes land on a ruddy desk in the centre of the room, with a rusted metal chair sitting beside it which quite frankly, looks like it's seen better days. A few toppled drawers also lay scattered amongst the room. With a mix of voices in the hallway increasing in volume, and with none of the other limited furniture supplying suitable cover, I rush over to the desk. I nearly lose my footing on a previously unnoticed crumpled rug sprawled across the floorboards but manage to regain my composure before alerting the entire building to my presence.
I crouch under the desk, squeezing my knife so tightly that my knuckles go white. My breathing quickens in anticipation as light footsteps grow louder through the wall. After my shuffling about the room grows deathly silent, save for shallow breathing and the sound of my beating heart, until a soft metallic creak pierces through the stiff air.
I dare a glance at the doorknob as it continues to squeak as it turns. I bolt back down behind the desk without delay as a sliver of light pours into the room and the door opens a small crack.
Footsteps draw nearer for a moment before halting. My breath hitches as a flashlight briefly pours over the room.
"Clear!" the man shouts, and the footsteps again resume, fading further away.
Relieved that his back is turned to me, I gradually rise to my feet and begin edging my way over to him, knife in hand.
I plunge the blade into his neck, digging it deep into the flesh under his helmet. A soft gurgling noise emits from his throat as I drag his limp body out of sight from the doorway. I still my trembling hand as I wipe the fresh blood slicked over the blade on the man's clothes.
I halt dead in my tracks when another voice from the hallway starts up again, this time louder.
Expecting to hear fast-approaching footsteps, I sigh in relief as the heavy footsteps instead recede in volume, getting farther away.
The familiar shrill of a gunshot shoots through the building followed by several shouts and shuffling before a series of further shots accompany the swarm of audible commotion.
Then as swiftly as it had been disrupted, the building falls into deathly silence once more.