thirty - aftershock

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It's you.
Because no one else
makes sense.

-perry poetry

***

Everybody is screaming.

Ashton doesn't know what the hell is going on. All he knows is that the door was open, and he was able to shove his way through the flood of people running out to get into the place.

He doesn't know why he grabbed the matches. They were on the counter, and at the time they seemed like the closest weapon he could get.

Ashton fetches up against the railings, staring down at the seven floors below. The center of the floor below him is wet and blurry, but the AOSS emblem is still as audible as ever.

"What the hell, Ashton?" Michael's voice rings in the edge of his subconscious, but he doesn't turn around. "It's over, let's get out of here."

He strikes a match.

The flame ignites, crackling on the end of the stick. Hazily, as if in a dream, he flicks it over the edge.

It flutters down below, missing the puddle by a few inches. He lights another.

"Ashton." Michael says again. He throws another.

This one hits home. The medicine ignites, fire shooting to every edge of the bottom floor. He can hear the chairs catch fire, the wooden doors crackle. A loopy smile forms on his lips.

Michael's eyes widen. He grabs Ashton by the arm and hauls him towards the door, the fire spreading down below.

***

My eyelids feel as if they weigh a thousand pounds. When I blink them open, it hurts.

I'm staring up at a bright light. Instinctively my hand comes up to shade my eyes, and I drag something with it. Frowning, I force myself to sit up, and see the I.V in my arm.

I.V.

What the hell?

Luke. Blood. Screaming. Corpses.

Everything comes back to me in flashes, and I throw my legs over the side of the medical cot and rip the tube out of my arm.

Judging by the red floor and walls, I'm in some sort of Asian facility. Just that realization alone speeds my heartbeat up. Maybe they found us, and now we're prisoners again. My eyes dart around the area, but all that surrounds me are curtains. Ruby Red curtains. My stomach churns.

There's a small I.V rack next to the cot, with a half-full bag of fluids hanging from it. The other half must be inside me. There's nothing else. Bracing myself on the metal edge of the rugged bed, I get to my feet.

I still have my clothes and boots on, but my weapons are gone. I search the area for anything that I can possibly use as a weapon, but come up with nothing, so I wretch one of the bars off the edge of the bed and grip it with both hands.

"Alright." I whisper to myself, my steps wobbly as I make my way to the curtain. "Ok."

Taking one last deep breath, I draw them back.

I'm in a hovercraft. That much I know. The whoosh of the thrusters is evident in the air, and the structure alone gives it away. It's on the ground, from what I can tell.

It's clearly a medical one. Tables line the walls uncovered by curtains, tables with various bandages, tools and meds scattered across the top. There's a sink area with a microscope and an X-ray machine, along with several different bottles of medicine and syringes.

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