Timelines Collide

Chapter 3: The Reaper's Left and Right Hand

Upon opening, Buzzard's body collapses almost immediately, cracking his head on the stepping stone once the gate fully opened. Pure instinct calls us to rush toward him, however, we can bear to make it only halfway. I almost trip, landing my head along with Buzzard's if it wasn't for Cliff's bear-like hands squeezing my arm to hold me in place.

His head starts to spill out blood from the crack in rapid succession, painting itself all over the stepping stone. At the same time, his body twitches with a blade lodged deep into his once normal-looking back which is now in a wrenching bloody pulp. 

On my side, Hardcase's mouth pops out while the rest of his body tries not to gag the DBs he had earlier. Nobody here can blame him. The sight of his vomit can't look any worse than Buzzard's corpse. My eyes can even pick up tiny shards of glass, glimmering upon the floor from his goggles.

'They still stick to him even in death...'

There are two worrying pieces of information here. One, Ethan isn't present anywhere near the gate or in our sights. Then two, the small blade that still throbs in his back. Thinking about the incoming dread that is illuming, a small detail catches my eye.

The shadows from the building brought up by the moonlight have something extra to them. None of the others seem to notice. They're too busy trying to look away from the grueling sight of their dead friend. But I do. 

Shadows of bell-shaped heads rested on the sides of Buzzard, barely hidden from view. To think I almost ran to my death. One by one, as each of the others notices, fear starts pulling them back towards the post, with me slowly following behind.

Besides the shadows, I notice something even more alarming—a shiny, bright, unknown red light coming towards us. It does seem like a red dot in sight, no; this one has movement and precision.

My eyes practically shit themselves when my voice springs to life, yelling out

"Get down!!"

We all duck as a T13 plasma rocket comes hurling past our heads and explodes a few rows of lights above us. Cliff would have been rocket food if I didn't bring him down with me. A slim open wound on my shoulder comes as a result of the debris from above. Nothing that Cliff can't patch up when he gets the chance. If we ever do.

I press on my wound, dash for the post, and flip a few switches which slam the door right back down. It won't survive another T13 rocket. It'll buy us the necessary time. I tell both Heavy and Hardcase to gather our weapons from the vaults. Hardcase almost falls upon himself in panic as they gallop in flight mode. That leaves the rest of us to prepare for the upcoming fight.

Cliff treats my wound with the post-med kit and then takes cover behind a nearby pillar, while Joltxs takes it behind a couple of crates. I chose the ladder. Right on cue, less than a minute later, the door falls face-first to the ground in a fiery impact. That's when the bots start storming right in.

No matter how this all ends, till my grave, I'll never forget the look of a Devastator bot. Their golden bronzium bulk-like bodies and their bell-shaped heads will always have a place in my mind. Worst of all is their bright, glowing, red eyes, which I consider soulless. The only eyes colder than theirs are the creator who made them in its image.

Blaster bolts fly at rapid speed from both sides, hitting anything they land upon. Our pistols aren't the strongest things out there, causing it to feel like it takes over five plasma shots to take one out.

Only Joltxs has shown skill with those types of blasters. I and Cliff are reminded of that as we see him take out three in a row, hitting them all in the right places with hands still running. If he were a drummer, he would be the best in the business as we both watch another two fall by his pistols. He was born to wield those things.