[4-14] The Town

[Albert Wesker]

Working with the computers and machines in the radio station had required more dexterity than could be efficiently managed with just one hand. For that very reason, the soldier navi had had to disarm himself of his primary weapon, at least for the moment. The energy emitter for the blade of his sword switched off, letting a hand take its place on his dominant arm. ‘Drawing’ the blade again would only take a moment, but it was a very involved moment. And once the first call from Abner went up about the need to evacuate — and fast — he hadn’t exactly had a moment to activate the damned weapon.

Which, as they came face to face with the deformed ghouls sharing the rooftop and quite effectively interposing themselves right in their path of retreat, made him quite disgruntled. He slowly brought his right arm up, over his chest in his typical ‘ready’ stance, intending to activate his saber while he had a brief moment to do so, but was distracted by the lag and jerkiness of the movement. A faint grinding and protest of straining metal came from the joints in his arm, and the delay and miniscule extra effort was just enough to throw off his balance and focus to leave him wide open.

And the deformed individual creeping forward on all fours, perhaps sensing that weakness and momentary lapse in attentiveness, took full advantage. Like a hunter sensing vulnerable prey, it let out a piercing screech, the twisted noise something no creature calling itself ‘human’ could ever hope to make, and leaped forward in a lightning-quick leap.

“Shit!” One shot, and then a second, grazed the airborne figure, one making a solid impact on the thing’s arm, but not even seeming to slow it down. The momentum of its inhuman leap carried it straight into the war machine, sending the both of them toppling backward.

Colonel’s awareness of his surroundings failed there, and all he was aware of was a frenzy of movement as the other deformed rooftop guest let out a horrendous coughing sound, the smoke haze pouring off of it growing thicker, before his attention was solidly grabbed by a fierce, savage beating as the hooded, emaciated ghoul bore him to the ground, fists and clawed fingers smashing, bashing, tearing and gouging at anything they could, in a bestial, animalistic fury.

No tact, no aim, no careful seeking of weak points amid the maddened thrashing. Just simple brute force, hammering away. Tearing and battering away at the maddeningly composed digital warrior it had pinned to the ground.

And for his part, Colonel was finding it remarkably hard to hold off the ravening assault of the spindly, sickly humanoid atop him. They didn’t look to be capable of much in the way of real strength. They were thin, drawn and worn, skin pale and sunken, and covered in all manner of sores and abrasions. He was no doctor, but even he could hazard a guess that this poor soul should hardly have been capable of moving at all, much less fighting like something possessed.

But every blow that impacted sent out a resounding, ringing clang as it bounced off the metal plating he was armored in, hitting more like a hammer than a bare-fisted strike. Viscous, sludge-like blood was soon flying everywhere, the ghoulish attacker’s hands and fingers breaking and tearing as they beat and scrabbled against the automaton’s chest and face. Several nasty dents and gouges had been torn and rent into his frame already, and it was only by the grace of his sheer hardiness and the composure he was still retaining, actual skill and awareness of the frenzied assault, that let him twist and shrug off the blows, battering aside the ones he could with his own arms. But it was a losing battle.

With the strange stiffness plaguing him, and the unnatural, inhuman speed and ferocity the thing mauling him possessed, he wasn’t going to get a chance to strike back effectively if he couldn’t get out of this predicament. He needed a way to get out of it, and fast. A single gunshot, the large caliber bullet tearing a hole through the hooded predator’s ribcage, provided a potential way out.

He let his right arm flop to the rooftop beside him, flat against the surface. Time for a calculated risk. His eyes closed, and he turned his attention to the energy emitted in his arm. Blocking out the assault on his person, slowed and mitigated momentarily as it was by the surprise gunshot, was a chore, and it took several seconds for the blade to once again spark to life where his hand had been just moments ago. But he was armed again, and that was bad news for the ghoulish hunter.

A flash of emerald signaled the blade’s arrival over his chest and face, an errant blow of his attacker’s hand coming down right on the blade and shearing off three fingers. It distracted the marauding fiend just long enough for the soldier navi to bring one massive boot up and plant it firmly in the hooded individual’s chest. A force of effort sent him sailing away, ass over teakettle, and off the edge of the rooftop.

Colonel slowly rose up to stand again, looking more unsteady than ever. A prominent crack ran through his vision, hinting to him one of his eyes was probably damaged. Static flickered even more frequently across his field of view, along with a slew of warnings and diagnostic reports, indicating the numerous new dents, ruptures and breaches in his body. And something else very worrying.

WARNING: System thermal margins approaching dangerous levels. Overheating imminent.

“Damn…” He didn’t need to breathe, really, but nonetheless he was panting heavily: an emergency measure to vent the buildup of heat he was experiencing. If it helped at all, it was in a very minimal fashion. With enough time to run proper diagnostics and scan his damaged components, he could have probably figured out the issue and ran a workaround or solved it. He would have been back to working order in a matter of hours.

But they didn’t have hours. They didn’t even have minutes. A twisted, inhuman shrieking noise from back the way they had come told the soldier navi they had only seconds, if that.

He turned to survey the aftermath of the other rooftop guest, only to find it well-ventilated by the combined effort of the other two. A thick haze of smoke lingered in the area, and Trent was rubbing his throat uncomfortably.

The both of them looked terrible. Hell, he probably looked just as bad, all things considered. “Any bright ideas?”

“Keep moving.”

“Damn fine idea.”

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