The Stench of Death

With the gun still in Ace’s hand, the cat-granny turned around.
Her eyes met his. Grey hairs encircled her fluffy ears. Wrinkles mapped her face.
Every second stretched on for a lifetime as his reflection stared back at him in her eyes.

What number did I get to again?

GNASH!

With a boorish growl, her teeth tore into his arm. He screeched.

CLANG!

The pistol bounced off the floor—the aisle of glass bottles twisted into a spectre of blurred colours.

His hand darted to the nearest one, fingers slipping on the smooth surface. Grimacing through the pain, he slammed the bottle into her skull. Harder than he thought was possible. Splattered liquids bubbled and fizzed, releasing bitter fumes. Hissing, her teeth dug deeper, shooting an excruciating sharpness up to his shoulder.

With his teeth ground together and his eyes stinging with unshed tears, for the first time in his life, he felt truly maniacal. With pure survival instinct taking over, all thoughts converged.

If only one person were making it out of here alive. It was going to be me.

He didn’t think- just moved—the sound of fracturing glass rang out. Like an alcoholic who just discovered his next favourite rum, he reached for bottle after bottle. She screamed, both her blood and his dripping into the cesspool below. Rays of light splintered across the flying glass shards and beads of liquid. He swung again. Then again. And again. Every swing fuelled by frenzied violence. Until glass fragments embedded in her skull, peeking out from her dishevelled grey hair.

Her jaw began to loosen, her body crumpling into the pool of solution and crystal splinters. The broken bottle jammed into the bloody trench that once was her face.
Its jagged edges cut deep into her scathing flesh, her facial features no longer recognizable.

How much time is left?

The screaming had stopped, replaced by a deafening ringing.

The room seemed to sway as Ace struggled to keep his balance, slipping and stumbling over the fragments and fluids. The violet glasses clinked, the liquid inside sloshing as he chucked them in the bag. Bile rose up his throat. He choked it down and carried on. Bottles in the bag, until the whole shelf was empty.

With a clumsy kick, he knocked the robot to the ground. Its decayed frame gave way with ease. Smashing a bottle over it, liquid poured into its mechanical parts, finally putting its rusted gears to rest.

The truck was outside waiting for him, the door already open. With the bag of potions in hand, he painted the grey seats a red hue. Viscous blood clung to him, accompanied by the smell of flesh and chemicals. The stench of death.

                                                                               ***

 Sector 7 - Nine Hours Later

The moonlight filtered through the cracked windows, casting a ghostly glow on the crates in the shadows. Struggling to quiet his thoughts, Ace turned again - the visceral image of the corpse haunting him, and the cold, hard concrete pressing bluntly into his side. His stomach growled, reverberating off the empty walls.

“Here.” A voice called from the darkness.

Clank.

Ace shuffled towards the sound, slowly, careful of the shattered glass.
A square tin. Peeling back the lid, a sweet aroma released.
It was soft, slightly sticky. Rice?

Having not known how long it had been since his last meal, he chewed down on the small ball of rice. His throat tightened as he tried to swallow. The stench of death lingered as a constant reminder, stomach churning at the thought. With the image of Cecilia in his mind, he forced it down, the food grating against his insides. As the nausea kicked in again, he pictured the sushi that she had made for him on their first anniversary, only filling him with more worry as to her current whereabouts.
The thought of her experiencing something similar to him…it was unthinkable. He didn’t even want to think of it as a possibility, even if it was one.

A low rumbling echoed from the hollow walls.

Huh? Is the tin…shaking?

With a deafening crash, the far wall collapsed, sending concrete flying like shrapnel, clouding the room in smoke.

The light now shone in, conquering the darkness.

A figure came into view, covered in a murky amethyst veil, illuminated by moonlight. Bubbling particles forming miniature dying stars floated around him. A strange, unnerving mask, shaped like a crescent moon, obscured his face. If Ace saw him in his previous life, he would’ve thought of his attire as some creepy Halloween getup.
“Arghh!”

A hammer slammed through the ashy smoke, and the masked stranger dodged, almost effortlessly.

Out of the smoke emerged the Ogre, lifting his glowing, colossal weapon over his shoulder. From its size, Ace could tell it was undoubtedly heavy, yet he slung it around with ease. Rattling, it was spitting fire and force behind it.

The masked stranger swirled his arms around, like a ritual, the glowing particles precisely forming a circle at his palms. The air around him seemed to move and distort as symbols materialised and convulsed with energy.

The ogre heaved the hammer over his shoulder toward the masked stranger, its thrusters blazing, leaving an arc of flames in its trail.

Wait. Isn’t this my chance to escape?

Yet Ace stood planted, his eyes lost in the myriads of colours. No way was he going to be taken to another world and not see at least one epic fight scene. He covered his ears, anticipating the impact.

BOOM.

Sparks of colour flew everywhere.

Thud.

The ogre’s head rolled on the floor, its body spewing blood like a fountain.

The veiled stranger approached the headless body, kneeling just in front of it.

What's he doing?

As Ace inched forward to get a better look, the masked freak suddenly snapped its head toward him, its eerie crescent mask half-lit between light and dark. Instantly, an immense wave of dread washed over him. The air had become suffocatingly heavy. Ace flinched, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run for his life. He felt like he’d witnessed something he wasn’t meant to, and now he was going to pay the price.

“QUICK THIS WAY,” the same voice as earlier called out from behind him.
He was human with messy brown hair, roughly the age of a young adult. Cloaked in tactical gear, hooks and trinkets hung from his black coat, all held together with neon green straps. A lens covered one of his eyes.

Ace sprinted forward, pushing into the ground as hard as he could. Feeling the piercing gaze over his shoulder, he didn’t look back.

Something whistled through the air, bringing with it a crash that ignited the warehouse. Smoke churned into the sky.

Flames spread around as they scrambled to find their footing. The young man sprinted over to the runic door and called out for Ace to follow.

Like a wave of relief, the rain poured against his face as he stumbled into the street. It’s cold, refreshing embrace rinsed the dried blood off his skin, as if cleansing the sins that dirtied his very soul.

He turned, trying to peer through the flames, yet there was no sign of being chased.

Finally free, he inhaled deeply. The air outside, although smoky, felt rejuvenating compared to the smog in the wreckage.

What was that? It was like a scene from an anime. We’re in a different world for sure. I have to tell Cecilia as soon as I get the chance.

That’s when he recalled.

Cecilia.

He turned to the young man.
“The girl with blonde hair. Where is she?”

“No, sorry I-”

“Where was it?? Where did you find me? She was with me before and-”

“It was back in Sector 7 that way, but…Wait! Stop! You’re not going to…” His voice was almost lost in the downpour.

Ace raced across puddles and wet asphalt. One foot hit the ground after another, uncaring for the water seeping through his shoes.

Cecilia.

I’m coming…

Wait for me…