Vengeance

A man who has lost everything has only one purpose.

1 minute, 32 seconds until Vengeance

I take a step forward. The sword trembles in my hand. Sweat begins to form on my brow, washed away instantly by the pouring rain. This is it. My vengeance is near completion. I look at him kneeling before me, bloodied and subdued, and my resolve almost falters.

But only for a moment; I remember what he did before he was the pathetic wreck crawling at my feet. I remember how long it took to get here. He looks up at me and our eyes lock. I can’t tell if there are tears falling down his cheeks or merely rain drops. He opens his mouth as if to speak. My fingers tighten on the hilt of my blade.

 

10 minutes, 14 seconds until Vengeance

He is running. I give chase. His comrades are already dead by my hand; nothing but amateurs.  They may have been veterans of the Reunification War, but so am I.

He knows the twists and turns of these back alleys; this is his turf. No matter, he cannot escape me. Even with his head-start and local knowledge, he merely delays the inevitable. My enhanced muscle fibres contract faster than his ever possibly could, propelling me forward. Adrenalin and combat stimulants flood my veins. The pavement is slick with rain, but my footing is sure.

I hear a commotion up ahead and turn left down yet another alley. In the glow of neon shop signs I see an old woman trying to pick herself up from the floor. My quarry has passed this way, knocking the woman to the ground without care in his desperation to escape. I spare no thought on helping her; I have prey to catch.

 

17 Minutes, 53 seconds until Vengeance

The coward has fled through a hidden tunnel from his base of operations. His comrades form a protective cordon around the entrance. He has left them to die like the rest that have stood before me. Six of them aim their assault rifles at me as I stand calmly before them, yet they hesitate to shoot. They fear me, and so they should. I am an avatar of death, skull faced and burning with rage.

I hold my pistol in one hand, a blade in the other. I do not wish to use the blade yet; its use is for a far more precious target. A blade may be outclassed over distance by firearms, but at close quarters its value increases exponentially. More importantly, it allows one to feel a connection with death. To channel rage into a precise physical action. My blade will not go unused this night, but it must wait.

The trigger finger of one of the mercenaries twitches. The chemical cocktail coursing through my blood vessels, courtesy of the gland implants gifted to the most elite Federation soldiers, ensures my reactions are so fast that time may as well stand still. Six shots leave my pistol, the magnetic coils propelling the slugs to hypersonic speeds. Six mercenaries fall. I briefly wonder if they were still alive when they hit the floor.

I push all superfluous thoughts from my mind as I begin once more to give chase to my prey.

 

3 minutes, 49 seconds until Vengeance

I have him cornered. We stand in what would have been an overseer’s office, on the second storey of a disused manufactory. Why he chose this place for his last stand is beyond me. It offers little cover, and no escape route. Unless you count the sheet glass window at his back. He pulls out his sidearm and fires several shots at me. He is panicking, the shots are wild. High velocity slugs puncture the metal walls behind me. I close the distance between us before he can correct his aim. As I slam into him I aim a headbutt at the bridge of his nose. There is a wet thud as it breaks and begins to pour blood.

I disarm him and grab him by his throat. There is fear in his eyes. With my free hand I take off my mask, a grinning skull that represents me more truly than flesh ever could. He sees my face. He sees my scars. Briefly, the fear in his eyes is replaced by recognition.

“You’re dead.” He whispers, as though by uttering these words reality will conform to his misconception. Suddenly, rage takes hold of me. I throw him against the window behind him. It shatters; the glass slices his skin as he falls to the pavement below. I hear a crunch as something breaks; his spirit as much as his bones. He painfully rises to his hands and knees as I leap down after him.

 

2 Years, 87 days, 13 hours, 12 minutes until Vengeance.

My ears ring with a high pitched buzz. I hear nothing else. Smoke chokes my lungs and makes my eyes water. I call out for my wife and son. I don’t know if any sound even leaves my throat.

I am on the floor, lying on my back. I push myself up onto my feet. The effort strains me, my body screams in protest at the movement. I feel blood trickling down the left side of my face. My home is unrecognisable. Flames limit my route. The twisted support frames sag under their own weight like the ribcage of some mythological beast. I continue to scream for my family. There is no response.

The roof above me collapses. Chunks of concrete hit me from above, forcing me to the floor. I feel my leg shatter from the impact. I crawl. I crawl until I am free of the inferno. As I look back, desperately searching for signs of life within, there is another explosion. The shockwave washes over me, slamming my head into the hard ground. As my home disintegrates and I slip into unconsciousness, my final thoughts are of revenge.

 

2 Hours, 37 Minutes until Vengeance

Finally, I am here. My investigation has led me to this manufacturing district, deep within the urban sprawl. I crouch in the shadows, observing the building before me. A warehouse once, it now looks like a small fortress. Mercenaries patrol, floodlights strategically placed, walls topped with razor wire. Within the compound lies the man who took everything from me.

My interrogations had eventually led me to this man. A rebel soldier during the Reunification War, he escaped without punishment and blended into society back in the Home Systems, taking advantage of the Amnesty afforded to enemy combatants. But he was a fanatic, they said. To him, the rebels had merely lost a battle, not the war. And to prove it, he delivered a miniaturised thermo-charge addressed to a decorated Federation soldier. A Special Forces operator, the best the Federation had to offer. All to prove that nobody was safe. He chose me.

I begin my assault.

 

43 seconds until Vengeance

He begs. He pleads. He is not defiant. I had not expected this from one they called a fanatic. He bargains, offers me all his worth. He tries to justify his actions as an act of war. Nothing personal, he said. I’d understand, he said. My silence doesn’t deter him. If anything, it spurs him to offer more.

With one quick motion, far quicker than he deserves, I end his begging. His head falls from his body, the mono-molecular edge of my blade passing straight through his neck with no resistance. As the blood seeps from his body, the fire burning within me goes out. My rage, my desire for vengeance, abates. But there is no satisfaction. I am an empty vessel, devoid of purpose. I stare at my blade.

 

2 Years, 87 days, 13 hours, 13 minutes until Vengeance

I stand before the front door of my home. It is the first time I have seen it in over 18 months, since my tour of duty in the Frontier Systems began. I take it all in; the smell of the grass, the warmth of the sun on my back. I rest my hand against the wooden door. In my excitement to see my wife and son, I haven’t even taken my belongings from my transport. Uniform, armour, weapons all sit in the storage compartment. It can wait. My family have waited long enough. As soon as I open the door, my young son embraces me. I hug him back. My wife is in the kitchen, at the back of the house, putting the finishing touches on my welcome home meal. She shouts that she will be with me in a moment. She mentions that a package was delivered for me in the morning. My son announces that he will get it for me and runs to his mother. In this moment, I am truly happy.

Author's Note

My first short I felt worth sharing, so all comments good and bad welcome.
How did the non-linear chronology come across?

Reviews

[Flopp]

Certainly, the story is interesting. Although I would have preferred the events to be in order of time, this story is very gripping. Might I suggest you explain the background a little more? I know you have tried to do that in multiple paragraphs; however it's really hard to link them. Make it a little longer if you have to but I really enjoyed this and I hope you write more about this rogue/ex-soldier/assassin character.

[Luda96]

Thanks for your review! I think I will expand on this in the future as you suggested, and put it in a more logical (and longer) order.

[Tevo77777]

I think the events being out of order would work better if there was a twist.

Like if you called this murder and then had the last one reveal that it's revenge.