Chapter 2: Instinct

I’m scared. 

I don’t want to die.

Isn’t this the part where my life flashes before my eyes? I’m supposed to be seeing my childhood and young loves right before I realize I still have so much I want to do in life. I thought I knew how I would die, well, not exactly how, but I could deduce the most likely possibility. By the sword, of course, fighting for a homeland that I knew wouldn’t fight for me. By the sword, like the rest of my friends and predecessors who did the same. By the sword, the weapon to which I owe my livelihood and had used to end so many others’.

Is this karma? No, karma would’ve been letting me die in the same manner that I killed. 

No, mercy would’ve been letting me die in the same manner that I killed. 

Not this, to meet my end by a Southern child, a civilian no less? She got the jump on us, that’s all; I’m sure if that Southy stopped lurking in the shadows like a cockroach and fought us head-on, me and my crew would’ve most definitely finished her. I was careless, we were a team of cyborg soldiers: four Physicals and one Mental. Pretty good team makeup for a basic SAR, all things considered; hell, almost too good. But it went to my head and now it’s my fault they’re dead; I wouldn’t call myself their leader but my crew respected me, probably because, not to toot my own horn, but I was the strongest. My leg enhancement made me fast enough to save others just in the nick of time. Fat lot of good that did us when that demon started dropping people like flies. What use is flawless evasion if you don’t know what or where to evade? I couldn’t even save our Mental, the crutches of this operation; the only reason I’m still alive to be cowering right now is that he managed to utter the word “Left” before he stopped breathing. If I had to guess, I’d say the South gargoyle’s a Mental; no Physical would limp in darkness and cower about for that long while five government-trained cyborg soldiers search a former war zone for hostages. She had much disregard for my crew’s gems while she was slashing them up so it’s safe to assume she’s not one of the lucky ones and wants any extra updates to her body system. Not that she needed them. She almost moved like a ballerina, gracefully leaving my friends immobilized with each ebb and flow; I think I’d be impressed if I wasn’t at her mercy.

I should do something, anything. I can’t even move, my throat has gone dry and my quivering hands don’t dare go for the blade that’s blatantly peeking out of my vest. Fight, live, or at the very least die trying. Yes, I should calm down, assess the situation like I usually do. Usually, I have my teammates to back me up. Stop, focus, what do I know? She’s fast, young, from the looks of it, and skilled, military training for quite a while, based on my judgment. No chance for negotiation and even if there was, I doubt I’d have anything to offer her. So what does that leave? Running or killing her? Running? And leave my friends here dishonored and forgotten? Not a chance. So that leaves killing her, I need to find her weaknesses fir-

“Hey,” the woman speaks.

Buy time. Distract her.

“Why are you just standing there? Aren’t you gonna run away? All this killing stresses me out. I think I’ve gotten my point across, I’ll let you go if you run now.” She then gives me a smile that should never grace the face of one who has killed.

Let me go? Her point? That’s how she sees me and my team? My family?! My hand finds its will and I unsheathe my sword. I’ll cut her up. I’ll apprehend her and the ones who sent her and her family too. Then she’ll understand what I’m feeling, a morsel of my pain. I slash towards her but she dodges, bending out of the way and flipping back towards Birdy’s corpse.

“Haah…” She sighs. Like my desperate attempt at survival was nothing more than a bother to her. I can feel my vision going red. Get away from her. I’ll end you.

“Guess not, I had changed my mind and was going to kill you because you’re pissing me off, but something else irritating just came up. It’s your lucky day, Mr. Nobody!” With a careless swipe upwards on her wrist communicator, she turns to leave.

She’s leaving? After letting only me live? Even after I tried to kill her, she prioritizes other business over the murderous Northerner directly in front of her. Don’t look down on me. I cut at her again before she can hop on the ledge of the roof; this slash is diagonal so that she’ll be backed into a corner. She’ll either have to fall these twenty-something stories to her death or take the blow, which would be fatal as I made sure to aim for her vital organs. A split second later, I found myself astonished at my blade that had shattered against the palm of her gloved hand. She tilted her head and smirked in amusement at my gaping jaw. Hand enhancements? It’s fine, it’s not like I expected her to die quietly. Try parrying this, Southy. I tackle her, like a full-on head-to-stomach tackle, and we plunge over the roof's ledge. I’ve lost everything so we might as well die together, I pull the ring out of my vest pocket’s grenade. I lock my arms behind her so that whatever she tricks she pulls won’t have a wide enough range to only do me harm.