Curtain Call
"He's waking up!" A distant voice called out. A flash of light pierced my right eye. I tried to turn away, but a firm hand held me still. The light shifted to my left eye.
Something cold and metallic hummed as it swept over my chest and neck. A second device pressed briefly against my wrist; soft beeps tracked my pulse and breathing.
"No internal bleeding. No fractures or extensive trauma. Pulse steady, breathing clean. Your man is good to go."
"Good job, Doc," a harsh voice replied.
My mind was foggy; the voices felt like distant echoes even though they were right in front of me.
"On your feet, poster boy," the harsh voice ordered.
An arm slung itself around my shoulders, hauling me upright. My vision swam, and nausea churned in my stomach. I tried to look up into the eyes of the harsh man who held me, but my vision dropped back to the pavement. I struggled against gravity and forced my head back up..My eyes darted to the harsh man's shoulder. It bore the insignia of an officer.
"Lieutenant, sir!"
My arm jerked upward in a motion that barely resembled a salute. A sharp pain shot through me with a cold, metallic intrusion.
"This should help." A young man said, dressed in militarized doctor's attire.
I instinctively wanted to say, Thanks, Doc, but instead one name came forth.
"IBUKI!"
Then I saw the body bags, lined left to right and ready to be loaded up in a half-track, both Directorate and Insurgent fighters stacked side by side like cord wood. Prisoners were lined up further to the left; a soldier had his foot on one of their shoulders while he squeezed out what little information he could.
Another platoon advanced in formation up the right; half-tracks rolled alongside troopers on foot as they slowly and orderly made their way forward. Further to our right, more half-tracks stood by as medics rushed between the wounded. Ibuki lay strapped to a stretcher, set to be shipped back to the Upper City alongside the other wounded and dead.
"I commend your resilience, Sergeant. Your friend showed no signs of waking up tonight. You're lucky that green-haired lunatic found you when he did," the Lieutenant said. "Given your efforts to remodel the Lower City, the Insurgents might not have bothered to capture you."
"I thank you for your encouraging words, Lieutenant. I apologize for my failure to avoid capture, my inability to extract without support, and the excessive use of force."
The Lieutenant stared at me for a long time. Finally, he spoke again.
"Quite, Sergeant. Despite your shortcomings, your actions allowed us to coordinate with the Internal Police force in tandem with their Commissars. By dawn, this threat will be eradicated. The Upper City will remain secured."
Small bursts of gunfire echoed from one or two streets over, punctuated by the occasional roar of machine guns.
"In the end, only results matter. The footage from your body cams demonstrated efficiency, swift decision-making, and precise execution. The Military is prepared to issue a recommendation should you wish to join the Commissariat. With a service record as distinguished as yours, you can expect a warm welcome."
"I don't want that kind of power or authority, sir."
The Lieutenant chuckled.
"I believe such a position has its merits in accordance with the work you are already doing, especially with the additional leeway it offers regarding any censure you might face for overstepping boundaries."
"I'm not sure I should be hearing this, sir," the medic said.
"No, you stay," the Lieutenant replied.
The Medic shifted my weight around uncomfortably but kept me on my feet.
"For you, Sergeant, serving in both the Militia and the Internal Police only magnifies the weight of your actions. These aren't just my words; they come directly from High Commissar Hoxworth, who would be delighted to show you the ropes."
The temperature in my stomach changed from a freezing cold to a crushing sense of warmth.
"And he's not alone in this," the Lieutenant continued. "The troopers here respect you for your courage. You've made waves."
He glanced down at the screen mounted on his wrist.
"By any chance, do you happen to know Commissar Hoxworth on a personal level?"
"Yes…" I answered reluctantly, "He's an old friend of my Foster Father; they go way back."
"Then there should be nothing in your way to join their ranks."
His eyes narrowed.
"One doesn't refuse to join the Commissariat when given the opportunity. Your inaction would deprive the Citizens of the Directorate of a powerful tool in their defense. This is the power you're going to need to endure censure for all of the damage you two caused." he concluded.
"But you don't get to kill him." A voice said with a deep breath.
My eyes darted to where that weirdo was hiding. The Lieutenant looked around restlessly as well until my eyes fixed on the point where Ibuki was being loaded onto a stretcher ready to head towards the Upper City. A boy with green hair and a similar military uniform smiled at me ear to ear.
"No one's going to kill me tonight, Gilbert." His smile vanished. "Who let you out? They still don't have a way to contain you?"
The smile crept back up to his face, but it was not as striking as before.
"He was the one who saved you. You know him? He was the one who watched over you two before we arrived."
"I really shouldn't be listening to this."
The young man in his military doctor attire said again as he unslung me and sprinted across the street. He hopped onto the half-track with the other medics. I didn't topple over; instead I stood upright. I felt rather uncomfortable with the severe lack of dizziness that clouded my mind. I didn't want to know what the medic had injected into me. I pointed my finger at the green-haired boy.
"This is Gilbert, probably the second strongest pet sociopath in their arsenal."
"And who is their strongest?"
"Their strongest is so strong she doesn't even know her own name and wouldn't survive in our society without supervision." Gunshots in the distance intensified.
"Lieutenant, is this a counterattack?" I asked. He was already pressing his receiver further into his ear.
"The night thrives, and stuff of dream and legend roam arrives," Gilbert sang.
"Defensive position!" the Lieutenant shouted as explosions echoed from dozens of different sources. He yelled incoherent orders, and the troops advancing toward our position halted; their officers shouted in response. The sound of potshots exchanged turned into full automatic fire.
Shouts and screams reignited another sense of terror through my veins. Troopers broke off from their cover in the distance while keeping up steady streams of suppressive fire through the streets and alleyways. I rushed forward, grabbed a Private's rifle, and tore it from him. "Get into the APC and drive it!" He tried to fight back and retrieve his weapon.
"Who do you think you're giving orders to?"
"GET INTO THE HALF-TRACK!" The Lieutenant shouted on my behalf. I snatched the magazine from his Kevlar vest before he could turn around.
"Gilbert! You're with me!"
I sprinted toward the retreating troops; their half-tracks reversed as the troopers retreated in an orderly fashion. Terror gushed out of the alley and swept sideways before we could reach the enemy position.
"Nightmares!" someone shouted.
Their barely corporal forms swarmed around us. They kept coming, seeping back into the ground only to reemerge later. They fell onto the troopers in a matter of seconds. Full automatic fire kept them at arm's length, but moments later I saw the first instance of the formation breaking. The troopers devolved into melee tactics, clubbing the Nightmares with their rifles or slashing around with knives.
The closer I got to the fight, the more energized I felt, like an electric current streamed through my body, barely contained as sparks flew around me. Moments later, I was in the thick of it. A small burst from my rifle destroyed Nightmare forms, and I swung the rifle like a club when they came too close. It barely met any resistance from the strange bodies of the Nightmares.
The troopers had already moved past me, and I was now caught in a tide of monsters. I watched as troopers were lifted up and torn apart, their bodies subjected to brutalization before dissolving and returning to the earth in a strange, liquefied state.
"Did one of the earlier explosions trigger this breach?" I shouted to a nearby trooper.
"Breaches form over weeks! It can't possibly have come from an explosion tonight!"
My first magazine dropped to the ground, followed by the second clicking firmly into place as I slammed it in. The scent of dissolving ichor in the air only accelerated my movements further. I spun around and delivered deadly swats and short bursts of fire until the magazine was spent. I struggled to keep up with the retreating troopers and the half-tracks covering them.
The Lieutenant and his troops had already formed a defensive line and created passages for us and the half-tracks to pass through. My third and final magazine clicked into place, and I was once again thrust into the thick of it. I reveled in the Nightmare bloodshed. I ducked beneath a strike from one and emptied the magazine into it.
The rifle quickly found itself in an unceremonious reverse grip, and I used it like a club to bat away the nightmares. It always fascinated me how the butt of the barrel passed into the forms of the nightmares until it met resistance and severed a hand or limb, which quickly liquefied and fell to the ground.
Soon the rifle was dented beyond use. I stretched my arms wide and reached into my jacket to pull out two knives. Hack, slash, twirl. I was in the thick of it, killing and maiming the Nightmares and sending them back to the earth. I fell back further with the other troops, and steadily, we built up distance between us and our attackers.
"Get back into line, Sergeant!"
A hand fell on my shoulder and dragged me behind the formation. A new rifle was forced into my hands. The Lieutenant shouted and pointed at targets for the four Machine gunners of our Vehicles.
"Don't die on me now Kyle!" Gilbert said.
He pointed his finger at another Nightmare, brought his hands in a tearing motion, and then focused on his next target. I glanced to our right and spotted a wrecked half-track with its crew beyond the battle, surrounded by soldiers butchered, laid bare on the adjacent street.
"Hold the line!" the Lieutenant shouted. "The Gates are not prepared for a Nightmare threat, if we let them break through, we will lose the Upper City!"
The ground boomed with heavy footsteps.
"What is this? What is this?"
"Keep it together!"
"We can't hold them!"
One rifle after another fell silent, replaced by a chorus of pistols. The gunners on the half-tracks cursed as their barrels overheated or their weapons malfunctioned. More and more desperate voices cried out until we were back fighting them hand to hand in front of the half-tracks.
"Second line, two steps backward! Ready grenades! First line, stand firm!"
A desperate struggle erupted. The strength of their numbers drained us. Dodging and swatting their barely-physical forms was off-putting due to the visual discrepancy; you had to wait longer than expected before you could properly seize and drag the Nightmares to the ground. The first wave of grenades thundered, and the tide of Nightmares soaked up the shrapnel.
"Grenades!" the Lieutenant shouted, as another wave flew high over our heads.
We struggled against the Nightmares. I broke ranks and dashed into the horde once again, somersaulting forward and twirling my knives around. Nightmares fell in droves around me.
"Focus fire on the big one!"
"Big one!"
"We gotta fall back!"
"RETREAT!"
"RUN!"
Nightmares flew upright and dissolved mid-air as a looming frame crashed through their midst. I leapt sideways and fended off the Nightmares the closed the gap. I pushed and slashed; each swing made me more alive than ever! I loosened my grip and swung around in a greater arc, squeezing out every bit of range I could.
At the corner of my eye, the enormous Nightmare crashed through our line, toppling one, then two of our half-tracks. The engines howled, but their sound faded in the chaos within seconds. The shouts of troopers grew more desperate as more fell by the second, but the number of Nightmares began to dwindle. I backed up to the half-track and pressed my back against it. The driver and gunner fought with me, back to back, but they were overwhelmed as the Nightmares circled around us. I was fighting alone. My arms at last started to feel sluggish and heavy.
I threw my whole body into my attacks, taking longer and shorter steps while I swung myself around in more erratic circles as I tore into them. I felt intense pressure and was thrown to the ground. Gilbert stood on top of the toppled half-track, sweating profusely.
The Giant nightmare came around and bull-rushed Gilbert. He jumped off the Halftrack before it was rammed into a building by the great beast. I sheathed one knife and drew my pistol to fire at it.
"It's not dissolving!" I shouted after dumping my Magazine into it.
The half-track got rammed through the wall and the building crumbled down on top of the giant Nightmare, but it shrugged the debris off like they were nothing.
"Kyle!" Gilbert shouted.
I pushed him away, further behind me, and dashed at the Giant. It slammed his arm on the ground and left a crater.
"Is it Physical?" I shouted to Gilbert while I was ducking and jumping between its attacks.
My knives did not find any purchase, and my movements felt sluggish more and more. It came at me with a series of swings and slams and left more and more craters in the ground.
"We gotta sever its arms!"
"It's too thick Kyle, I can't tear it apart!" Gilbert shouted.
A massive arm slammed into the ground and I barely managed to leap out of the way. Then I slammed my knife into it and jumped over it. I flew over the ground, but gravity seized hold of me and made me crash down like a meteor.
I saw Gilbert punching the air between us, and I catapulted down the streets until I flew past half-tracks and lines of soldiers exterminating the last Nightmares. I stretched my arm out and tried to push me off the ground to kill my momentum before I hit, but I failed. I didn't feel anything. I felt like screaming. I couldn't move a thing, but I could scream. I tried to rise, but I could only scream in agony.
A medic rushed next to me; I don't need a doctor, help someone else! I wanted to shout, but I only met him with more incoherent screaming. I was still incoherent when he pulled a syringe out of his pouch and stuck it in my arm. A sense of dizziness and warmth flooded through me, and everything faded to black.