Chapter 49 - Alita

It was dark and late at night when a young woman dashed through dark alleys, clutching her right side. Clear red blood streamed from between her fingers as she hobbled her way past the filth and grime of the Expanse district with a furious scowl on her face. 

In her free hand, she carried a futuristic-looking handgun which she occasionally banged against the brick walls, yelling, "Come on! Work, you piece of gonk! Godamit, why the hell did you start jamming now?! Didn't I give you a checkup earlier?!" 

From behind her came three men who, while seemingly having replaced some body parts with cybernetics, still looked relatively human. They did not seem to be in a hurry as they leisurely strolled after the struggling woman. 

One of the men smirked and said, with clear malice in his eyes, "Give it up, Alita. That gun's useless, and no one here's dumb enough to help you. Just surrender, and maybe we'll try to make your last moment a little more pleasant." 

He licked his lips as if to make absolutely sure that no one misunderstood his meaning. Beside him, his two compatriots had perverted smiles to match his own. The young woman's scowl worsened, but she'd never expected anything different from them. 

Without looking back, she snarled loudly, "Try it and see what happens, you sick fuck! I don't know how you managed to ambush me, but surely you're aware the others won't let you get away with it?!" Angrily, she smashed her gun against the wall again, hoping it would finally work. 

The three men kept advancing lazily as the one who spoke earlier chuckled menacingly, "Oh, we're not too worried about that. I'm sure you've noticed your CyberStrap is just as useless as your weapon, so how will they ever find out? Now, come here before we have to start getting rough." 

Alita cursed under her breath. They were right. She glanced at the armguard-like device strapped to her lower arm, but it still showed nothing but a black screen. It wouldn't allow her to do anything at all, let alone warn her sister. 

Groaning, she coughed up some blood and stumbled around a corner… where she found herself at a dead end. "Oh, of course," Alita spat hatefully. "It's not like things should work out once in a while." 

Cursing herself for not knowing this area well enough, she quickly looked over her shoulder but was immediately forced to wince from pain. "Dammit!" she snarled and shook her head. 

Unfortunately, when she finally got a good look behind her, she could only scowl at the sight of her three pursuers, already blocking the entrance to the dead-end she found herself in. 

Finally, a grim sombreness started filling her. "So… today's the day I die, huh…?" she muttered under her breath while the three men advanced on her. "Sorry, big sis… In the end, you couldn't protect me from myself…" she chuckled wryly. 

"Stop mumbling to yourself and come over here," one of the sadistic men grinned as they beckoned her. "If you crawl and prostrate yourself, we may give you a clean death." 

Unsurprisingly, Alita scoffed. With stubborn determination, she moved forward. With every step, she leaned against the wall with her pistol hand and groaned in pain, smearing blood all over the stone. 

When she reached the end, she set herself down against the wall with an air of finality. The three men were no more than a few seconds away, so taking a deep breath, she took her hand off the wound in her side. 

Blood poured freely as she scrambled to fix her gun, crimson fingers slipping on the metal. But it was no use—it was jammed, and the men loomed closer. 

Finally putting her gun down, all she could do was glare at the three men in defiance, determined not to give them the satisfaction of screaming. 

As they closed in on her with perverted smiles, the leading man took out a knife, "We'll kill you eventually, of course, but first, we'll have our fun. Only… I feel like you need to be a little more compliant first." 

Alita's breath quickened, her eyes burning with helplessness and hatred. There was simply nothing more she could do. All her strength had left her body; her gun was jammed shut, and the CyberStrap on her arm was broken. 

"I'm sorry… big sis…" she muttered again, just before determination filled her gaze, and she prepared to bite off her own tongue. If she was going to die anyway, she wasn't going to let her killers have their fun with her. 

Yet, just as she parted her teeth, one of the more alert men tapped the leader on the shoulder and said, "Hey, uh, boss. We have a spectator." 

The leading man raised an eyebrow, looked over his shoulder, and noticed an impeccably dressed man slowly advancing on them with a lazy smirk on his lips, hands in his pockets. Immediately, the boss raised a confused eyebrow. "What… the hell? What's a fancy fuck like this doing here?" 

The men by his side were immediately filled with suspicion. "Boss…? What if he's…?" 

Just when he was about to respond, Damian interrupted. "Nice night for a walk, eh?" he asked in plain English. His speech was slow and deliberate, as if tasting each word on his tongue. He was still practising the language. 

The boss narrowed his eyes and answered his comrade. "Nah, there's no way… What would an Aetherborn possibly be doing here? Besides, I've never seen one this casual. The few I've seen have always had a stick up their arse." 

Damian tilted his head, wondering if he made a mistake in the pronunciation. "Not a nice night…?" he asked curiously, as if he really wanted to know. 

Meanwhile, Alita had no idea what was going on, but she decided she didn't care. Rather, she put the suicide plan on hold and used this time to try and restore her gun again. Who cared about the fate of this random stranger? 

"No, it definitely is quite a nice night," the boss finally answered with an amused smirk, even as he raised his mechanical right arm and produced a small mounted gun, which he aimed at Damian. "In one night, I get to kill one of the sisters of battle and rob a fancy fucker. What could be better?" 

Instantly, the weapon fired.