Debt of Non-Blood - Prolog

Debt of Non-Blood – Prolog

August 25th, 2055:  Chicago Containment Zone, Illinois, UCAS.

Fighting the pain in my chest, I ran further, away from the monster behind me.

I had come to Chicago for my operation a week ago, a heart transplant.  They tried some new technique as well, experimental magical something-or-other that sped up healing.  Got my heart ahead of time, frag I got it in time, and they got to test things out on me.  It worked so well that I could walk after only three days.

Which was good, because that was when whatever the hell happened did.  It's been two days of living hell, listening to the weird things going on around the city, outside the hospital.  Then, suddenly, a few minutes ago, a security guard burst in, blocking the door, and raving madly about monsters, waving his gun around, and finally collapsing, his back torn open and bleeding out.

Come to think of it, I'm not exactly sure that I survived the operation.  This might be Hell itself, and I'm now paying for my sins.  So much for faith in God and our Saviour.

The skittering thing behind me was gaining, I could feel it's horrible breath upon my neck, as I turned a corner in the hospital, and ran straight into a pile of debris blocking the hallway, the skin on my cheek, chest, and leg ripping open, the OR Scrubs I was wearing didn't exactly offer much protection.  I quickly turned around, raising the pistol I picked up while this thing hammered on my door, trying to figure out how to make it work.

Just like on the 'Trid, I pulled the top back, something black flicked out the right-hand side, but I had no time to worry about that, and put my finger on the trigger, seeing a red light hit the wall where the gun was aimed.  The creature turned the corner, and came into sight of the emergency lights, I realized it had once been an ork, but strange coverings were all over it, making it look like some perverted combination of cockroach and metahuman.  I screamed in terror and squeezed the trigger, pulling at it numerous times.

To no effect.

The creature only kept moving forward, it's tusks dripping in blood, extending clawed hands for my own body...

“I have some plans for the future, I guess they're futuristic plans...  Move out west and buy some desert lands.  Or maybe up North, just past Alaska, you know nothing of this if they ask you.” came a singsong voice from down the hall, distracting the creature as it twisted around, seeing an old man, ancient really, in a long leather coat, crooked with age and walking with the help of a cane, came to corner, looking right at it.  And smiled.

Then moved!  Flashing left and right like some dancer or lightweight boxer, moving with the speed you'd normally attribute to 'trid special effects!  Slamming his cane into the creature multiple times before it even had time to react, finally slamming the bottom of it into the head with such force that a loud crack was heard, removing it quickly and letting the creature drop in front of me.  Crooked no longer, he stood tall and proud, holding the cane in the middle of his hand as I stumbled towards him, and looked down the hallway, seeing the monster's twin start to scuttle towards us, lit up and darkened in the lights and shadows created by the battery-powered lights.

The old man smiled all the wider, and tossed me the cane, and spun around, his coat sweeping around him like in some Hong Kong action movie, dropping to a kneeling position, and pulling out a machine gun, holding it in both hands, a red laser aiming right at the creature, and then it started chattering out.  The bullet assault was a long time, a lifetime, as the creature took impact after impact and finally dropped to the ground, unmoving, half a metre away from our position.

He calmly stood up, pulled out the clip, and fed in a new one, “Damn, those Israelis make a damn fine gun.” being his only comment to the fragged up situation we found ourselves.

Returning the machine gun to the concealment of his coat, he grabbed the cane from my grip, I could see that the head of the cane was a silver chromed skull, it's eyes covered by black chrome glasses, covered in blood and flesh.  He also reached over, and flicked something on the pistol I still gripped, “Works better when the manual safety is off.”

“But but but...”  Was all I could get out, straining with all my will not to gibber madly like that now dead security guard.

“But but but...  But you got a choice right now, Kid.”  Kid, I was 38.  Of course, this guy looked like he was born before the turn of the century.  “You can go on your own way, find a place to hole up, and maybe, maybe you'll be able to not be found.  Maybe you won't run out of food, and be able to survive until this is all over.  Me...  I'm going to go kick ass, not bother taking names, and save some lives.  So, are you going to hide and try to be safe, or go into harms way with the crazy old bastard that actually can teach you how to use that Manhunter in your hands?”  He smiled at me, casually wiping the cane clean with a cloth from a supply cart.  “You going to be hunted, or the hunter?”  He asked, looking right at me, his grey eyes hard and piercing.