This is just a little short story that I wrote. Yeah… contains violence. Enjoy!
I slowed my breathing, trying to be as silent as possible. My back was pressed to the wall; my ■■■■■ clung to my sweaty body. The glossy white walls reflected the light of the panel hanging from the high ceiling. It brightened the hallway behind me, revealing two dark forms, unmoving, on the floor.
I took a quiet deep breath and just peeked my head around the corner. To my right was another hallway, blocked by another two guards. The first wore a flat black uniform with a dark brown coat. The second had the same uniform, but it had red piping up the sides and front, and on the collar.
I exhaled, and felt my muscles tense.
I leapt out from cover and sprinted two steps to the first guard. I drove my left foot into the side of his knee, and smashed my elbow into the face of the second. The first’s howl of pain was stunted when I smacked him in the stomach. He pitched forward, right into the path of my rising knee.
He stumbled and fell on his side.
By now the second guard had recovered and pulled out his side-arm. He blindly fired twice, one bullet notching into the wall, the other in my side. I kicked it out from his hands and launched a fury of punches at him.
I heard his rib crack under one of my fists, and I grabbed him by the ear and slammed him into the white wall. He crumpled to the ground, and let out a screech. I stomped my boot down on his jaw, and felt it break under my boot.
I stepped back, panting, and wiped the sweat from my brow. I sucked in a breath, and let it out slow. Both guards were unconscious, so I checked over them. I put on both of their holsters, and tucked extra ammo in my pockets. The second guard also had a sheathed knife, which I strapped to my back.
I tore off strips from the guards’ undershirts, and wrapped them around my side. It wasn’t bleeding much, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I strode to the other end of the pathway. This time, though, there were two heavy doors.
I could hear the murmur of voices through the crack. I pulled out the guns, and readied myself.
I kicked open the doors, and simultaneously aimed both fire-arms. There were eight guards in the room; I adjusted and blew out the kneecaps of the first two.
They hit the floor, and I quickly observed my surroundings. It was a large room- white paneled, of course- with four metal tables. The other six guards were sitting at the table furthest from me, scrambling to grab their rifles.
I fired thrice in their direction, before jumping over to the nearest table. I knocked it onto its side, and took cover, just as the guards started to fire. They continued to for at least another thirty seconds, before I heard someone call them off.
“Come out, hands up! We won’t shoot.”
I knew the table wouldn’t take much more, so I stood up. I threw the two guns to the side and put my hands behind my head. One of the guards was standing, presumably the one that yelled to me.
He turned and said, “Get up, go secure him.”
As the last four guards started to stand, I took my chance. I pulled the knife from its sheath, and hurled it at the first. It stuck into his neck, and he coughed up blood.
I was already running; I hurdled over their table, and immediately grabbed one of the guards’ heads. I jerked it to the side with a wet-sounding snap. One of the others took a punch at me; I sidestepped him and grabbed him by the back of his collar. I smashed his face into the table.
The last two guards took a step back, swinging their rifled towards me. I kicked the first to the wall and grabbed the barrel of the other’s gun. In surprise, he let go, and I swung it around and smashed the butt into his side.
I flipped the rifle around and shot him in the face.
Suddenly, the other guard bowled into me. I lost my grip on the weapon and slammed into the white floor. He was on top of me; pinning my legs down and wrapping his hands around my throat. My eyes shifted out of focus and I struggled to stay conscious.
I reached out to my right, blindly. I felt something hard and metal, and I swung it at my adversary. He yelled out and I rolled him off of me. I got on my hands and knees, gasping for air. I had a broken plate in my hand.
I dropped the plate and scrambled to the body of one of the other guards I had killed. Somebody pulled at my legs, but I still managed to find and yank the knife from the corpse’s neck. I turned over and kicked the last guard. He grunted but once again was able to crawl atop me, reaching for my neck.
In one swift motion, I jabbed the blade into his shoulder and pulled it up across his neck.
For a moment I remained there, lying on the ground, letting him bleed all over me. I heaved him off of me, and struggled to my feet. I still had the knife in my hand.
I limped over to the center of the room, looking at the carnage. Seven bodies, blood and ruble everywhere. Then a shiver ran down my spine.
“Hold… it.”
The weak voice of the eighth guard came from the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall, his right leg limp and soaked in red beneath the knee. He had a gun aimed at me.
“Put… hands up.”
I raised my arms, knife clutched in my right palm.
“Blade down. Put it… down.”
I didn’t move.
“Down!” he shouted, before giving a moan of pain, “I said…”
He never finished his statement. I pulled my arm back, and his eyes sparked with realization.
I sent the knife, tumbling end over end, into his chest. But his bullets were faster.
I fell back, onto one of the tables. Four holes had opened up in my stomach, oozing out blood. My last sight was the white ceiling.
So bright, I thought. So bright.
