Faust

Fell off a truck

         The last time I fired the gun was about three months ago.

They chased me into the subway. As I ran downstairs to the platform, the train to Nochnaya closed its fucking door right in front of me. Shouting all kinds of swears I can think of (most of them probably don't make any sense) I almost tripped as I jumped down the last few sets of stairs.

I took a risk and look back, there are five of them, though judging by the size, the one in the back can count as two. Their eyes bulged, veins visible on their necks. It's going to take at least six minutes till the next train is at the station. The streets of Via Martinase and the city center is not like other areas of Faust. Cops still exist in these parts, I make a mess in broad daylight on the street, the cops might finish the job for them.
And as far as I know, the police will most likely turn a blind eye when they see who are the persecutors.

And there are no safe houses or establishments I could hide since they're all run by the fellows chasing me.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide......

Killing afflicted members of any gang would have severe consequences but as much as I don't want to. At this moment I can't find another way.

I ran towards the bathroom on the far left next to a wall full of graffiti of racial slurs and an old couple who immediately move to the other side of the platform as they saw me and five angry Japanese racing in their direction.

"Wish I'm half as smart as they are." I thought to myself as my shoulder bump opens the public restroom's door.....
***

         The muscle of my left thigh tighten up around the stitch mark. A shapeless hand clutches my sixth and tenth rib, tearing it outward, harder and harder.

          "In my defense......a 200kg, grim-looking motherfucker was going to drill a wakizashi into my brain. I ran out of bullets. And there's a parabellum-looking cartridge on the floor. So....." I raise my open palms giving him an honest to god sorry smile.

           Malcom closes his eyes and scratches his cheek full of scars and stiff beard. "Iris. Throw the rubbish in the bag and go help your brother." In an instant, she swipes all the parts back into the plastic box without a word. When she walk passed me our eyes meet, she tilt her brow.

           "And laddie..... Guessing you're in the mart for a new piece eh?" With a smile of a Komodo dragon on his face, he opens his eyes. The same mischievous glint shines.

             I wonder if he has a switch to turn on and off his accent?

"Depends. I could always go back to using my sig. Unless you have some new toys?" A hum stuck in his throat due to coughs, making it sound like a purr.
"I do, laddie. I do...... A new batch just came and besides the regulars. I got some real quality stuff. Come!"

Following Malcom across the storage room, some folks are still giving me curious glances. But compared to Icebreaker, the new faces here are relatively less. 10th Street always has high standards Even at the brink of war.

The two guards in front of the doorstep aside when they see Malcom approaching, nodding their heads as he walks by.

The loading area is bustling. Cases of
'car parts' are getting unloaded off the truck. Crates stacking in the empty space next to them. I see Damoh leaning on a cart while Iris's crunching down checking the exterior of the crates.