General Soren Ikaren's Residence
Perimeter II19:36 12-29 YC 114
Ryven spun in a crouch, his eyes scanning the small courtyard, the main entrance to General Ikaren's private home lay some ten meters away. Though dwarfed by some other skyscrapers in the vicinity, the building was not unimpressive. Ryven knew the General's actual home would be the top three floors, some hundred meters above him. He also knew that he had roughly three minutes to get there before the commotion in the courtyard would be reported, assessed, and a lockdown of the building's lifts would be in effect. With that in mind, Ryven sprinted across to the entrance.
He vaguely knew that he was bleeding. He knew he had been hit, more than once, and he felt his right side beginning to grow stiff. His vision hadn't begun to blur yet, but he knew it would soon. He reckoned he had around five minutes until his effectiveness was absolutely shot unless he could get some nanos. Not friggin likely.
The door slid open and Ryven slid through, his eyes and his rifle barrel sweeping the lobby. There was a man stationed at a desk, and Ryven placed two rounds through his forehead before the man could even rise from his chair. Without stopping, he spun the barrel to face the door to the building's main lift. With his left hand, he pressed the call button on the control panel and waited, his ears pricked for approaching footsteps. The lift seemed to take forever, and he was acutely aware of every pulse of his heart. He could feel it in his ears, his fingers, and running down his right side. He shivered slightly. His body heat was dropping. Blood loss. He didn't have time to check the damage, but he could tell it was worse than he had expected. He may have as little as three minutes. DING. The lift doors opened.
Ryven instinctively dove backward, the black outlines of weapon muzzles visible as the doors parted. He saw the flash of light, but no sound, and he felt the familiar pressure of an assault rifle buttstock recoiling tightly into his shoulder as he returned fire. He felt a searing heat in his left shoulder as a round tore through the muscle and out his back. Another impacted in his left thigh, tearing a gouge through the outer muscle. He heard a man screaming, and the sound echoed in his own head, seeming as though it were coming to him from both inside and far away. He had crashed onto the floor before he realized it was his own voice. He lay there, realizing, largely due to the silence, aside from the ringing in his ears, and the mess of crimson carnage in the lift in front of him, that he was alone again. Smoke hung low in the air, and the floor around him was pocked with holes from gunshots. His eyes stung from sweat and blood from a knick in his forehead from a slug fragment. The three security personnel in the main lift were dead, their corpses riddled with holes. Ryven lay there, his eyes closed, desperately willing the room to stop spinning. He slowly pulled himself up, using his rifle as a prop. He limped over to the lift and slumped against the wall in the corner after using the control panel to send it to the suite at the top of the building.
Floors flashed by quickly, covering the height in only about thirty seconds. Ryven willed himself to stand erect, rifle at the ready, as the lift came to a stop and the doors slowly opened. He stepped out into the hallway.
Opulence is not the Caldari aesthetic. The General's residence was barely decorated at all, consisting of the most utilitarian of furnishings, a few austere portraits of family members, and marble busts of self-same. There was a large portrait of Tibus Heth located over a faux fireplace. Ryven stalked through the rooms, his rifle shouldered, looking for Ikaren. The suite was empty, no sign of life to be found. Ryven was beginning to grow faint, the corners of his vision darkening. He needed those defense codes. He knew, though, without even having to search, that they were literally on Ikaren's person, or rather, in his person. Those codes would be surgically implanted, likely at the base of his skull, in a nanochip, likely shielded to prevent detection. A special device would be necessary in order to read the data. A device Leela would have. Ryven managed a smile. He could go visit Shalee. His leg buckled under him. He swore. Okay, he could visit Shalee, if he found the General, if he killed him, and if the chip happened to be where he thought it would be. That was a big if.
Sometimes, God looks out for those who fight for Him. Ryven heard the DING of the lift and quickly dashed to a position with line of sight to the entryway. He saw that there were three men, and one was wearing a very impressive looking blue uniform. The other two were at the ready, rifles sweeping the room. Ryven knew he had little time to waste. Wincing, he aimed as best he could, his arms trembling, his vision blurred. He squeezed the trigger and cringed with each impact of the buttstock against his wounded shoulder. His rounds were sloppy, peppering the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, but still, he managed to take out the two guards, and wound the General.
He slowly limped his way to the lift, the General's form slumped against the wall of the lift, his eyes glassy, two large holes in his chest, a pink bubble forming at one. The bullet had punctured the man's lung, and bubbles oozed out with every breath. A trickle of blood formed at the corner of the man's mouth, his speech labored. "Who are you?"
Ryven sighed. "Someone your government should have just forgotten."
The General seemed to accept that. He glanced down at his wounds, realizing his fate. He looked Ryven in the eyes. "Why?"
Ryven's eyes softened. This man had done nothing to deserve this. He simply happened to be in Ryven's path. "The codes. Where are they?"
The General sighed, seeming to understand the look in Ryven's eyes. Nodding, he tilted his head to the side. "Left side, a quarter inch behind the jaw." His eyes showed a quiet resolve. "Make it quick."
Ryven nodded and grabbed a combat knife from one of the dead guards laying nearby. He raised his rifle and fired a round into the General's forehead, killing him instantly. He stood there silently for a moment, a measure of respect for his former countryman. It saddened him, this whole business. Still, it had to be done. He knelt down and quickly dug the chip out of the General's skull with the knife, pocketing it. He glanced around, and wordlessly walked into the lift and rode it back to ground level.
He knew there would be a force waiting for him. What he encountered, however, was beyond anything he ever could have prepared himself for.
As the doors to the lift slid open, his eyes took in no less than thirty armed men, three mechanized combat powersuits, and an armored vehicle. The officer in charge of the Home Guard defense personnel, a young Captain, shouted to him.
"Drop your weapons and come out, hands above your head."
Ryven, his strength waning, leaning against the wall of the lift just to remain upright, managed a laugh. He let his rifle hang by the sling and dug into his coat pocket for a cigarette, quickly lighting it and coughing as he took a drag. He shouted back. "I'm afraid I can't do that, kid."
The Captain, somewhat surprised, called back. "We have you outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded. If you do not come quietly, we will be forced to kill you."
Ryven wondered about that possibility. He had an updated clone nearby. If he died, he would simply wake up, brand new. This seemed appealing. However, part of his deal with those nasty bastards in Ibura was to make it seem like one of their operations. If his corpse were collected, he could hardly pass off as a crap freedom fighter. He was obviously an immortal, and that just wouldn't do. However, no reason to rush. He took another drag of his cigarette before replying. "I can't really roll with that option either."
The Captain seemed puzzled. His orders weren't terribly clear on what to do. Home Guard command had made it clear he was to take prisoners if possible. While the man in the lift hadn't really made that impossible, he wasn't really coming quietly either. He was just smoking, really. The gall of this man was staggering, actually. The Captain saw the four bodies in the courtyard, and he knew there were other men stationed here as well. The man in the lift was obviously wounded, but he was still standing, and that meant he was not to be underestimated. This moment of indecision proved to be the Captain's undoing. He turned to issue a command and his head simply evaporated.
Ryven blinked, surprised. He hadn't fired. He quickly raised his rifle in defense as all hell broke loose.
Shots rang out from every direction. Everywhere, men ducked, scrambled, and returned fire. The courtyard turned into a killing field as men took hits and spun or dropped where they were standing. Ryven watched as a dozen satchels flew into the mass of men near the armored and mechanized units. Knowing them for what they were, Ryven was still blown backward into the back wall of the lift by the force of the blast as they detonated, spattering the ground and walls with gore and mechanical pieces. Smoking wreckage lay where the mechs had been, and the front end of the armored vehicle was smashed in, smoke roiling from cracks in its plating. Ryven knew it was his only chance.
He bolted across the courtyard, firing shots at whatever targets presented themselves. He leapt over the wreckage of one of the mechs as rounds whizzed by him. A few landed nearby, throwing up plumes of dust or careening off of metal plate. His vision narrowed, the effects of multiple gunshot wounds, massive blood loss, and shock having taken their toll. He ran out into the street, and without thought or plan, weaved and hurled himself through traffic and past onlookers, running at his best speed, until the sounds of gunfire and sirens were far behind him. He found an empty alley, ran down into it, and behind the shelter of a garbage bin, he finally crashed to the ground, the darkness sweeping over him.
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