Deep Beneath the Pacific (Pacific Rim)

Chapter Two: Still Got It

February 29th, 2020 - Thursday - 6:39 AM.

This was crazy.

A little late to say that, perhaps? What was I doing? I couldn't stop an armed mob by myself! What was I going to do? Walk up to them and ask them if they'd kindly lay down their weapons and apologize to everyone they killed?

Nonsense.

I tried to ignore the logical side of me and focus on the Juliana Whitehorse whom I had left behind when my father died. I never realized until then that I wasn't being me - I was rejecting who I really was... at least, half of me. But that was about to change. Sometimes, it takes something that hurts you to drive you.

Maybe I couldn't take down the whole mob, but I could get vengeance for Marcus; I would find who shot Marcus and take him down. A little mean? Well, desperate times calls for desperate measures... And he probably killed a whole bunch of other people too.

I swerved around a bus, nearly colliding with it. But I was too deep in thought to scream or show any shock. I thought about how I would find Marcus' killer. I didn't see him get shot, everyone in the mob has a mask, and - Wait a minute! I thought as I hung a sharp right, knocking over a stop sign. Marcus was killed with an arrow in his chest! That should narrow down the possibilities by a lot...

I paused my train of thought to think of what direction to go next. At this point, I was just madly driving around, searching for the mob. I knew the Strike Troopers would still be chasing them... If I were a crazy mob who angered the Strike Troopers... where would I go?

Suddenly, I heard a mass of screams and saw people running several lights ahead of where I was currently. Then I heard a ka-boom! as I saw rubble and dust poof from the right. Bingo.

I urged the truck to go faster, speeding through red lights, just barely escaping several crashes. There was a lot of honking and some choice words heard through the open windows of the white truck, but I ignored them, my mind completely focused now. My hands steered the truck automatically while my mind ran calculations of what I needed to do.

I missed strategizing, I realized - whether it was in combat, in a game of cards, or just trying to avoid traffic like now. I remember when my brother and I would practice fighting every day with poles, hand-to-hand combat, knives, and etc. That's when we bonded. A weird way to do so? Not for us.

I was nearing the light where screaming people were running from the right as I heard more grenades go off. I started to count in my head. One... Two... Three!

I shifted gears in one swift motion, slamming on the brakes as I jerked the wheel. It all became slow motion from there...

The mob had been running towards my direction, now slowing to a stop with shocked expressions as they began to dive out of the way. In fact, everyone was diving for safety. I saw the Strike Troopers slow to a stop as they shouted and began to make way for me. But I never reached them.

I yanked the wheel again, my foot still on the brakes. The Chevy complied, drifting for a moment, then spinning out. And then to a stop so that I was facing the mob, the Strike Troopers behind me. Then I did something so stupid, it was something I'd totally do again.

I shifted gears again and hit the gas, my teeth gritted. The mob had gathered up again, thinking that I was going the other direction. Now, their eyes showed shock under their masks as I once again was headed for them.

Unfortunately, they also had grenades and guns.

I saw a few of them begin to raise their assault rifles and a few held grenades in their hands. I kept heading for them, time beginning to slow down once again. I grabbed my backpack, opening my door as I got closer to the mob, their grenades now flying towards me as I heard shots fire. I dove out of the truck, rolling on the asphalt.