New New York, North American Republics
So, this was how it was going to end.
The smell of blood and vomit clung to everything. The walls, the bed, herself, all of it.
The feeblest of coughs racked her chest for a second.
All Quera agents had been given orders to evacuate following the leak. All, that is, except those operating in the North American Republics, who were given a choice whether or not to stay. Unanimously, the team had decided to stay. Not that the likes of Dmytro would ever admit that.
They knew the chemical attack was coming. They did all they could; would the Republican authorities listen? Of course not.
Another cough, another lance of pain through her body, another splatter of blood on her hand.
One by one, each of her comrades had disappeared, no contact available. As if the only part of them that had ever existed were their leaked true names and aliases.
It didn't take a genius to know what had happened to them.
There was a sound in the hallway; fine metal against metal, the click of the lock. Footsteps, the slightest of creaks from the floorboards. The door swung open.
"Agent Hiychot." Most of the voice was smothered by the hazmat suit the figure wore. In their gloved hand, lay a pistol, silencer included.
"You--" a pinkish goblet of phlegm flew from her mouth, "--look rediculous."
A shrug of the shoulders. "And you look dead." The Rossian raised their hand.
Her and the barrel locked gazes. A hand, laying limp on the mattress, twitched.
Agent Hiychot's vest detonated.
So, this was how it was going to end.
The smell of blood and vomit clung to everything. The walls, the bed, herself, all of it.
The feeblest of coughs racked her chest for a second.
All Quera agents had been given orders to evacuate following the leak. All, that is, except those operating in the North American Republics, who were given a choice whether or not to stay. Unanimously, the team had decided to stay. Not that the likes of Dmytro would ever admit that.
They knew the chemical attack was coming. They did all they could; would the Republican authorities listen? Of course not.
Another cough, another lance of pain through her body, another splatter of blood on her hand.
One by one, each of her comrades had disappeared, no contact available. As if the only part of them that had ever existed were their leaked true names and aliases.
It didn't take a genius to know what had happened to them.
There was a sound in the hallway; fine metal against metal, the click of the lock. Footsteps, the slightest of creaks from the floorboards. The door swung open.
"Agent Hiychot." Most of the voice was smothered by the hazmat suit the figure wore. In their gloved hand, lay a pistol, silencer included.
"You--" a pinkish goblet of phlegm flew from her mouth, "--look rediculous."
A shrug of the shoulders. "And you look dead." The Rossian raised their hand.
Her and the barrel locked gazes. A hand, laying limp on the mattress, twitched.
Agent Hiychot's vest detonated.
Harndon
Some wanker with too much time and too little energy.
