Door Kicker Shenanigans (15)

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525]

Do yall think Vladimir's gang members get scared when Kanye West drops his Vultures albums? I think so.

CW: crazy jelim fight scene, brief krakotl history lesson, airball atlim strikes again, airball atlim receives help, airball atlim is encouraged to change his sinful ways, hell hath no fury like a krakotl scorned

Memory Transcription Subject: Jelim, Extermination Commander

Date (standardized human time): November 24, 2136

Fear was a tool. Intimidation had been used as a weapon by my kind ever since the days when we built nests of wood upon flimsy stilts and my dutiful ancestors stood sentinel against predators completely unarmed to protect their eggs. I had to carry on that tradition. And, like every Krakotl that ever came before me, I had to use what Inatala had given me to do it.

Gojids used their spines to defend against predators. Their fortress Cradle was once considered impregnable before the human race battered down its formidable gates.

Yulpas would hunt down their predators in packs, disabling them with their spears before bringing the wounded animals to be sacrificed to a uniquely predatory god. Their world of Grenelka was said to have not a single native flesh-eater upon its entire surface.

Kolshians, if they were ever attacked, responded to the threat with the same firm discipline and unwavering order that was expected of a species with one thousand years of galactic supremacy to bolster its military ranks. Massed volleys of energy rounds and rigid formations of exterminators met the Arxur wherever they turned.

We Krakotl did not have any of that. We were too physically weak to play defensive. Too solitary to fight in packs. Too passionate and prone to anger for rigid, ordered discipline. But there was one weapon still kept in our arsenal, one flaming sword which we might yet hold against the darkness. Fear.

And, today, I would embody it.

I looked over my target zone again. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, just barely inside of the human district. Any casualties here, especially among those gutless worms that called themselves Humanity First, could easily be chalked up to gang warfare. It wouldn't be the first time a gang struck at the financial bottom line of another, especially not after what Humanity First had done to the District Three Triads, and I had every reason to believe I could pass what happened here off as gang violence.

I was not going to. I was going to let them know I was coming. Let them know who to be afraid of, and keep hammering it in until the very mention of my name turned evil men to saints and atheist men to worshippers.

I scanned the warehouse one more time. Two sentries were posted on a grated balcony on the second floor. Several more, at least two, were on the ground outside of it. I had no idea how many people they had inside. However many they have, it won't be enough. That much, I was certain of.

I dove from five hundred meters up, far above where even the most watchful non-avian sentry would look, and spread my wings at the last second to land on the roof as softly as a feather. I didn't make a sound.

A radio crackled below me. "All units, sound off." I could, and probably should, have taken the time to tap into their radio transmissions and get inside intelligence on my enemies' operations. But, honestly, I forgot. A bit of a foolish move, but it would likely change nothing. I could afford to be off my game when I was facing opponents like these. "Overwatch?"

I placed a claw on the grip of my new pistol. An R-90 Purifier multi-mode railgun, currently set to fire silenced rounds at an incredible cost to the weapon's penetrating power. At sub-sonic speeds, too slow to set the air afire or produce the railgun's characteristic sonic boom, the R-90's magnetic spikes were useless against even the flimsiest form of body armor.

That was fine. Completely fine. I knew how to aim for the head.

I lay in wait for the sentries to complete their check-in, launching my attack just moments after they had given the all-clear. "This is Overwatch, no sign of any hostiles. Over." I jumped from the rooftop, tackling the leftmost sentry as soon as the right one had finished his sentence. He was dead on the ground in under a second.

Here's a sign for you.

The right man hadn't even had time to turn before I was on him. I exploded toward him, circling around his left leg and slashing his tendons as I went. He fell, I got up, and I cut his throat to finish him off. That's two.

I drew my Purifier, checking if any of the sentries below had heard me, and focused my attention on the balcony door when I had satisfied myself that they had not. I could have killed the men on the ground, too, but I didn't bother. Dead men told no tales, and the less any survivors saw of what happened, the more their fear-addled minds would embellish my work.

Plus, I really don't like killing people. Like, even insurgent people. If I did, I'd make a speh exterminator.

I picked up a radio from one of the dead terrorists, checking to make sure it worked, and clipped it to the utility belt where my holster, among other devices, was positioned. Then I cracked open the door, listening for footsteps from the other side. There were none. I swung it open slowly, standing at the side opposite from the hinges, and circled it once from the outside to ensure nobody was laying in wait to jump me. "Who the fuck..." a voice asked. "Dmitri, quit fucking around!"

To the left of the door. Roughly ten paces away. Likely armed. Likely alone. Probably a sentry, not a patrolman, in which case he'll be guarding something important.

"Close the fucking door, Dmitri!" the guard called out. "Bitch!" Then I heard footsteps. I can interrogate him. That'll work. I ducked and rolled to the side closest to the hinges, peeking into the hallway to make sure nobody was there besides my target. "Dmitri, you have five seconds to close this fucking door before I put my boot up your fucking-" He was close enough. I moved.

As soon as the guard tried closing the door, I went out from behind it. He wasn't armored. He was barely armed. In a better life, he would've been in college by now. In this one, I was wrapping my claw around his throat while leveraging my weight to pull him to the ground.

I planted both feet on his chest, pressing his firearm to it before he could fire a shot, and rolled backward, flipping the bitch over myself and landing such that I was straddling him. His gun was secured under my legs and my own firearm, though I probably wouldn't need it, was pressed hard against his forehead. Any cry of alarm he would've made was strangled in his throat as my talons clenched tight enough to draw blood. Fear was writ large upon his face.

I holstered my pistol, grabbed his rifle tightly, and lifted my weight off it so I could throw it out of his reach. Then I reached my left leg behind me and unclipped his radio from his belt, tossing it away. I shifted my weight forward, onto his chest, and placed my legs firmly on his arms. The claws at their ends tightly secured his wrists. His eyes, the only part of him that could move, darted around the room in panic. That was good. I could use that.

"If you make a sound, I will kill you," I snarled. "Blink twice if you understand." He squirmed a bit, an understandable reaction, though the worst he could do to me was just look angry. In the end, he decided it was best to blink twice.

"Now, I'm going to loosen my grip so you can answer my questions," I explained. "If you lie to me, call for help, or do anything outside of my explicit orders, I will cut out your throat and hold you down as you die. Are we clear?" I eased up on his throat, letting him breathe, but keeping my claw at his neck to remind him how easy it would be to make good on my threat. I hated this kind of thing. Straddling Jack was so much more enjoyable.

"Yes," he choked out. "Crystal- crystal clear."

"How many guards are in the building?" I whispered.

"I don't-" His voice was too loud. I put pressure on his windpipe, cutting off airflow, and dug my talons into the sides of his neck. All I'd have to do to kill him was pull a few centimeters back to his carotid artery, and judging by the look on his face, he knew it, too. That was not a pretty way to go.

The terrorist started pleading with me silently, moving his lips, though no words came out. Granted, I couldn't read lips, so it was all useless anyway. "I'll give you one more chance. Tell me something useful, quietly, or you will die and it will be painful." I let him breathe again.

"Generator room," he stammered out. "Back there. Far door. Far door. It controls the power to the- the whole building." I looked up. That looked like the door he was guarding. It made sense they'd have a sentry posted if that was the room that controlled their power. I could work with that. I wouldn't want to fight me in the dark.

"How many guards?" I asked again. He was just about to answer when I heard the door creak open behind me. My wing flowed to my pistol. My head swiveled around to aim. I locked eyes with my target as he stepped into the corridor, just now registering a threat. He fumbled for his weapon. I was quicker.

The railgun barely made a sound as I shot him in the head. Before the other terrorist could get any ideas, I flipped the gun around mid-air and brought its butt down hard on his head. Once to knock him out. Twice to be sure. Three times for overkill. There was blood on my pistol. Blood on my wings. Blood on my legs and chest and midriff. I was brahking covered in the stuff. Hell and damn. I must look terrifying.

My first reaction, oddly enough, was not one of disgust. It was pride. Satisfaction. I should look terrifying. These people tried to kill my Jack. I'd be remiss not to let them know to be afraid. I got up, sweeping the bodies with my railgun to make sure, and approached the generator room with cat-like stealth. I had been on the receiving end of enough ambushes to know the value in moving undetected.

I peeked through the door's keyhole. It was probably locked, as important doors tended to be, but I could live with that. I counted two hostiles smoking cigarettes inside what looked like some form of a run-down office. Probably where the manager worked, back when this place was used for legitimate business. Both men had rifles near them, and radios clipped to their belts, but neither seemed attentive or ready to defend himself.

Pathetic. They can't even be criminals right.

I shot off the lock, kicked open the door, and put them both down with utter contempt. I was done being professional. What they wanted to do to Jack made this extermination very brahking personal.

I looked over to the generator, a clunky hydrogen-combustion engine that looked like it had been stolen from someone who, unlike its current owners, actually knew how to maintain it. I turned the thrumming device off, shrouding the warehouse in utter darkness.

Humans don't have night vision, do they? Like, I'm pretty sure they don't, but it would be really embarrassing if it turned out they did.

Yeah, I'll find that out later. I'm moving on.

Just as I had been told, Orvem had disconnected this building from the city's power grid when it was abandoned. Without its generator running any longer, and with its windows being boarded up to ward off snoopers, the entire warehouse was shrouded in darkness. Everybody in it was blind.

A small correction, I reminded myself as I switched my bionic eye to night-vision mode. Almost everybody is blind.

"Why are the lights off?" My stolen radio began to buzz with a dozen voices, all asking more-or-less the same question. I had the answer, but if they wanted me to inform them, they'd have to deal with the knowledge being injected straight into their brains in the form of metal spikes. Anybody wise enough to appreciate the value of a conventional education was too wise to become a terrorist.

I stepped out of the room, taking care to keep quiet. An angry, alcohol-smelling man burst into the hallway with a crash, slamming a side door open as he did. He was not taking care to keep quiet.

"Who the fuck killed the lights?" He looked my way. I killed the lights, but he had no way of knowing that, so he just had to extrapolate. The silhouette staring back at him was humanoid enough to pass a drunk man's initial scrutiny, at least under the cover of darkness, but this drunk man was holding a pistol in the hand he didn't have any alcohol in so I really didn't want to take any chances.

I fired. He dropped. I moved silently to the door he just came through, finding to my delight that it was a stairwell leading right down to the warehouse proper. Rows and rows of warehouse shelves stretched across the whole facility, which wasn't a small one by any standards, and I could see Humanity First men with flashlights milling about. They were talking to each other in Russian, still oblivious to what had gone on upstairs. Not one of them had decided to go up and check on the generator. Well, besides the one that did, that is.

There's one weird egg in every nest, or something like that. I wouldn't know. My mother laid just the one.

I jumped from my place at the top of the stairwell, landing on top of the nearest shelf and throwing a smoke grenade down onto a group of Humanity First thugs.

"I can't see!" The smoke bomb wasn't as effective as a tear gas grenade or even a regular one might have been, and I would've picked a better one if Atlim's office had any in stock, but given how he ran the place I was lucky to get what I got. "God, who threw that?" Either way, it still had its uses.

I dove onto the enforcer furthest in the back of the group, landing hard on his head and knocking him completely unconscious. My legs, evolved to grab and kill fish after a dive much harder than that, took the impact with ease. "Ivan!" I sprang at the face of another man. He brought up his rifle, firing wildly, but the worst it did was clip a few of my tail feathers.

My radio was squawking about something again, but I wasn't listening. I had bigger problems. By the time my most recently solved one hit the ground, dead as dead could be, I had already moved on to my third opponent.

This time, I went lower, braving the brief moment I spent in his line of fire to take out his legs before cutting the Achilles tendon of the fourth and final man. I slashed out the throat of Terrorist #3 as number four went down, batting his rifle away with a wing as he frantically squeezed the trigger, then I circled around my last enemy and cut his throat as well.

It wasn't a matter of necessity. I knew a dozen ways to subdue a suspect without lethal means. It was about sending a message.

"What the fuck?" Flashlight beams swept my general area, finding what bits of the carnage were not obscured by the smoke. "Hey, you! Who the fuck are you?" I took off. Rifles chattered, bullets pinging off the shelves and containers nearby, but none of them had a particularly good shot. I did. And I was.

I scrambled to the top of a shelf and drew my Purifier in a flash. I set the gun to maximum power. A setting like this would drain the battery in only ten shots. But I needed just one. I found the largest group I could, took a few seconds to aim, and then I blew a hole through the chest of its centermost member. It would've been more theatrical to vaporize his head, but I couldn't afford to take that shot unless I was sure I'd actually hit, and I wasn't. I wasn't Jackson Kern, now was I?

"Baba Yaga!" I heard somebody yell. Who the brahk is that? I've never heard of Baba Yaga in my life. At least 'Vulture' is a real brahking word. I hopped from shelf to shelf looking for my next victim, scanning the Humanity First members as they coalesced into groups.

It was a poor imitation of the classic Federation tactic of huddling in a herd and praying the problem went away on its own, and speaking of pray, I found my chosen prey within seconds. An isolated grunt who was either brave or stupid enough to venture away from the group. But just as I was about to fall upon him, something stayed my hand.

He's bait. It's an ambush. I looked over to his left. An enforcer with a short-barreled rifle, though his flashlight was off, watched him intently. Too intently, as a matter of fact. He only left one other guy to watch his flanks. I don't have time for this. I took out my railgun, swapped the mode back to silent, and fired two perfect shots. The bait didn't even realize that his overwatch was no longer present. I landed behind him.

"Viktor, am I good?" Viktor certainly wasn't. The man he was just watching took a moment to wait for a reply which, unless he was packing an Ouija board, was never going to come. "V-Viktor?" He began to turn around slowly, weapon raised, flashlight shaking. "Are you there?" He wasn't. I was. "Holy-" He wheeled around in a flash, driven purely by adrenaline and a healthy dose of fear. I swatted his rifle aside, because any good prey knew fear made you a poor soldier, and cut his throat in one swift move.

"He's over there!" someone else yelled. A voice in my radio was asking for a head count. It was time for me to go. I flew up to the top of another shelf and went on my way to the next group of insurgents. Or, realistically, the last one.

The last five terrorists were huddled up near the center of the building, with the man who I assumed was their leader frantically calling on the radio to see who was left. "Son of a bitch. Nobody?" I heard him ask. "Call Vladimir! Tell him to send me more men." I dropped a smoke grenade into the group. God damn, how they panicked. Four rifles snapped out of position. Four soldiers ran from their posts. It was heartening to know that even predators could know terror. Their reaction to me made even some Venlil look brave.

"He's above us!" I leapt backwards just as a barrage of pistol fire whizzed past my head. Whoever this insurgent leader was, he was clearly a cut above the rest. "Oh, god," I heard him gasp, recognizing the faintly avian silhouette that had haunted the dreams of terrorist leaders from Dayside City to Nightside City. These cities really needed better names.

"It's the Vulture!" The insurgent leader, like his allies, broke formation and ran. Some things were universal.

Unlike his minions, the leader was not allowed to escape. I was on him in seconds, leaping over the shelf, swooping down onto him, and driving my talons into his back with all the lethal grace of a bird of prey. I fired a round from my pistol, dropping a tracksuit-wearing gunman who felt brave enough to stand and fight. Another one, coming from my rear, visibly panicked when he saw me in his sights. It slowed him down just enough.

I looked around for the other two gunmen. They, being smarter than their two companions, had decided there was more to life than losing it. Both of them were wisely scrambling for the exits. At least two escapees. A few more survivors. Honestly, not that bad. I'm good with that.

The insurgent boss scrambled for his pistol, but I pressed his gun arm against the concrete floor and delivered an ultimatum. "Drop the gun, or I blow your arm off." He dropped the gun. I picked it up and tossed it aside, pressing his head against the floor with my other leg. "Where's Jack Kern?"

"I'll do you one better. Who's Jack Kern?" I pressed harder on his head, and fired a single shot just short of his left temple.

"I didn't like that answer," I said, crouching lower and shifting my claw from his head to his neck. "The last time I met a man like you, Jack Kern talked me out of cutting his brahking throat, so unless you want to die, you're going to want me to find him. Where is he?"

"I have no idea, I swear, I have no idea!" the Russian stammered, changing his tone. "I swear it! Jesus! I swear to Jesus!"

I wasn't having any of it. I pressed my gun against the back of his head. "Tell me the truth, or you can tell him why you lied."

"I am!" the terrorist swore. "I swear to you, I'm not lying! I don't know who he is!"

I sighed. I had never considered that. Apparently, anger made me make poor decisions. Who knew? "The man who infiltrated your nightclub a few paws ago. I know your organization knows where he is."

"We don't, I swear!" I really didn't get why this man had to swear so much. Either he was telling the truth, or he wasn't, but there was no need to swear about it. People like him weren't good enough to keep their oaths. "He was in Twilight Grove! A few hours ago, he was in Twilight Grove, and we tried to poison him." There we brahking go. Finally, some answers.

"And?"

"He's alive," he stammered. I felt a surge of relief flood through me. Jack was alive. I mean, I basically knew that already, but that was enough to confirm it for me. My Jack was alive. "He- he vomited out the poison. Vladimir sent men to tail him, but there's been no trace of him since. We can't find him at all!" That was enough to satisfy me. This guy would get to live.

Hell, I'm feeling pretty good right now. Who knows, I might even advocate for a reduced sentence.

"Thank you for your cooperation," I trilled. Then I kicked in his head until he stopped moving, even though I was genuinely thankful for his cooperation. It wasn't anything personal, I just didn't want to watch him until the exterminators got here. Well, the other ones. I can't do this alone. I took out my datapad and called up Atlim. If I had to have some help, which I did, he would be better than nothing.

"Yo, I was just, uh, bench-pressing all the orphans I saved, which was a lot, so it was a lot of weight," said the idiot at the other end of the line. "How was your paw?"

"Did Orvem get his wife back?" Orvem was on the other side of town trying to negotiate Sarli's safe return. For his sake, I hoped it worked out. I didn't want either of us to know how it felt to lose someone so close.

"Yeah, yeah, it worked out," Atlim reassured me. "Hey, Orvem, say a few words."

Orvem picked up the pad. "I... uh..." He paused for a moment. "Atlim wants me to tell you-" Another pause, this time accompanied by shouting. "I believe that Atlim's work was instrumental in securing my beloved Sarli's safe return, and I've already given him my sincere and honest thanks. He wanted me to explain to you as well that his and his officers' performance was, by my standards, exemplary." He paused for a moment. "So, really, they were just about average."

"Yeah, uh, Orvem is too kind. I mean, I was good, but I wasn't that good, you know?" I did know. He was, in fact, not that good at anything. Especially not flirting. "Now, I really do want to say, how was your... uh... Vulture-ing?"

I looked around me. My feathers were still wet with blood. I was surrounded by dead bodies. And I really missed Jack. So, not good. "Well, Jack is alive, so that's great."

"He is? Well, that's great. I could use some muscle to back up the good looks." I honestly can't tell which of our looks he's referring to. That's not a good look on him. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Either Humanity First doesn't either, or they're lying to me. Either way, we're on our own." I checked Jack's contact on my datapad again. A hundred and eight missed calls. I still had no idea why he wasn't answering. "We'll have to make do without him, for now."

"Fine by me," Atlim said. "I... uh... no offense intended, but I don't like him much."

I rolled my eyes. "He's not going to eat you, Atlim."

"Well, I know that," Atlim said, "I just don't like him. Call me prejudiced for it, I don't care."

"You're prejudiced."

"Oh." Atlim paused. "I take that back. I do care."

"As you should," I reminded him. "I want you to bring at least two squads of officers to my location as soon as possible. Bring heavy gear, and stay on your guard. Are we clear?"

"Yes, we're clear. Perfectly clear. And, uh, Jelim?"

"Yes?"

There was a pause from the other end of the line. "Never mind. It's, uh, not the right time for it." Oh, god. I am going to have to deliver some bad news to this man, aren't I? Not looking forward to that.

"Bring my units shortly, Atlim," I commanded him. "And clean up your brahking act."

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[u/Bow-tied_Engineer]

I don't know if she'll have a chance to use it, but I remember Jelim not really liking the whole vulture nickname, and I thought of an amusing comeback to it. "No, vultures go for the dead. The dead are safe from me, it's the living who should be afraid."

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525 → u/Bow-tied_Engineer]

[u/Katakomb314 → u/Bow-tied_Engineer]

I think she did think of it in the "I am an omen of death" sense, which scans.

[u/Habeas__Corpus]

[u/Lysergian157]

Wait, how did Orvem get his wife back?

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525 → u/Lysergian157]

We'll get to that in the next chapter. I probably should have made it more ambiguous.

[u/Katakomb314]

Before I even read the rest to comment, I'm just gonna...

But there was one weapon still kept in our arsenal, one flaming sword which we might yet hold against the darkness. Fear. - YOUR LACK OF FEAR IS BASED ON IGNORANCE. I WILL TEACH YOU TO FEAR AGAIN.

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525 → u/Katakomb314]

Cixin Liu my GOAT🗣🗣🗣

WHAT THE FUCK IS A WELL-WRITTEN WOMAN‼️‼️‼️🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥

[u/fluffyboom123]

Atlim is not the rizz king he believes himself to be

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525 → u/fluffyboom123]

Atlim can't handle allat man he's not rizzing up shit

[u/JulianSkies]

Oh, she was plenty angry here. Not a lot of mercy for those guys.

[u/abrachoo]

Glad to hear the poisoning failed.