Page 74 of Remnants: Disruption
“Giving up what?” I scoff, turning to her. “Giving up a life I never wanted? A power I never asked for?”
“Alexa, are you sure this is her?” Darkrend’s voice seems distant now.
A feminine voice answers, but I don’t hear it.
“You really want to die that badly?” Percy asks the same question everyone else has asked.
“Obviously,” I groan. “I’m tired of pretending otherwise.”
“Why?” Percy asks, kneeling beside me.
“I can’t keep being responsible for the sins of others,” I cough out the final word and see blood coating my hand. “Oh, that’s my lung for sure.”
“Why do you fight like you have nothing to lose?” Darkrend’s voice is much closer now.
I look up to the figure that towers over me. He reaches down and grabs me by the jaw.
The grip is so much worse than Mary’s. This hurts. A lot.
I can’t even cry out when he holds me at his eye level.
“Are you sure?” Percy asks, her shorter form beside me now.
“Maybe she’s insane like Yarys,” Darkrend’s snort of laughter is almost human. He tosses me and I strike the hard concrete wallagain. A shock of pain radiates down my legs.
And I can’t feel them anymore.
“Fuck,” I grunt, rolling onto my back again, “that was something important. And yes, I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll be here. The whole way,” Percy sits beside my head. I can’t feel her, but this will be enough.
“Thank you,” I whisper, watching the way the lights fluctuate as my eyes start to fail.
The darkness behind my eyelids is comforting. Dying is a lot more comfortable when you can’t feel the pain anymore.
Maybe they’ll remember me as a coward.
Maybe no one will remember me.
It’s probably better that way.
Ringing begins in my ears. Like the scream before a missile strike. I think I saw it once in a movie. Some old wartime documentaries about weapons before Affliction.
“That’s not in your head,” Percy says, and I open my eyes again to see her staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that circle the conference room.
“Weird,” I croak. “Are you sure it—”
My eyes finally focus enough to see the dark object heading straight for the room. Like a fragment of the void itself.
Darkrend turns, too, and takes a step backwards.
A single step. A single sign of fear.
Hell breaks loose as the object hits the building.
The Angel is obliterated as the huge thing hits him. His corpse splatters like a raw egg, painting the granite table in a fresh coat of blood.
The blonde woman makes to move forward, but Omen grabs her arm and they dive through the windows on the other side of the room.
