[dcs_p]He looked so tired to her all of the sudden. She could clearly see the toll all the
recent carnage had taken on him in a whole new light. He was not only
emotionally breaking down, but his body’s tremors seemed to be worse too.
Jasmine had feared he had Parkinson’s since the day she met him. But her
common sense had told her he’d die soon enough in this line of work that the
disease wouldn’t be significant if he did have it.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]”I love you. Listen to me next time.” Jasmine turned and opened up her audio
receiver to directly warn the others of what she knew.
Mike left her to her job, shutting the door and making his way to the barracks
building just two blocks down.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]As he neared the two-storied building with pistol drawn, Mike realized that
Jasmine had probably been right about everything. The attacks he barely knew
of had come from this area. In the dark of night without special equipment, he
was practically helpless. He knew of a few tricks, but the technological advances
made since his days as a groundpounder had changed everything. He suddenly
felt very alone and very concerned about his immediate lancemates, who’d been
in the building under attack only moments ago.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]It might be easier waiting for Jaz’s report, but time was not something that any
Strider’s Striker could spare at this moment. Security reinforcements were taking
too long. Something had gone terribly wrong or somehow delayed the usual
guards. Mike felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety grip at him, a tension now
tight in his shoulders and lower neck. How is this happening again? What cost
will this team pay to simply stay alive?[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]At that instant, a laser no thicker than a needle pierced into his neck. With a
sudden tingle in his brain and the shimmer of light visible from the weapon’s
beam, he realized he’d been shot. A precise weapon, it had to have been fired
by some kind of sniper hiding in the surrounding buildings.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Mike also knew he’d lost control of his body when he tried to draw his
slugthrower up. While the shot might not have proven fatal yet, he was
completely helpless. The stress and tension that had pulled so hard at him just
moments ago was gone. It seemed he was floating. His body crumpled to the
ground. His head crashed hard into the gravel but he was lucky enough to have
gravity place him on his back. His vision began to blur, then focused more clearly
than he’d ever experienced before.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Mike could see the stars for a moment, so far away past the glow of the
barracks’ porch light. And then he could see a masked figure standing over him,
aiming a needler rifle directly into his face. Jasmine had been right.
Jasmine.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]And then a burst of high velocity plastic shards struck out at him. And again. And
again. But Mike was far away from that pain by now.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Ryan Allen had seen the emergency stress beacon flashing for the past four and
a half minutes. What he hadn’t seemed to figure out was why his beacon failed
to access any of the other Strikers when he attempted to message them. Of
course the obvious solution would be to simply make radio contact instead, but
this too had failed just over a minute ago when he had tried it. What the hell is
happening out there?[/dcs_p]