The cathedral was one of the more prominent pieces in Prague, to Evelina. Like most of what had once stood in this crumbling city, it was a spectacle to behold; one of the last standing remnants of gothic, 12th century architecture to be found. And standing was not to be used lightly; since, despite the destruction that had repaved the landscape into what it was now, the massive, towering cathedral was unscathed. It stood the test of time ominously, stretching on into what was once a heaven.
It was ironic, however, how the heavens had changed while its symbol, built upon the grown in its honor, had not. The skies above the cathedral, the skies that stretched across the rest of the world, had become a dim, swirling void of shadow. There was little light anymore, as it struggled… And failed, to pierce the darkness, and the days were just as cold as the nights. Underground, there was the warmth brought by the machinery… But the landscape of the surface was populated only by what man left behind, not by man itself.
Evelina stood at the window sill in the hall, her pale hand wiping its fingers against the grime covered window. Hazel eyes staring through the pane of glass for a few moments, she slowly pushed closed the windowsill through which she had just entered, coming to a crouch on the crimson, dust covered carpet of the hall. Years before she used to come here, following the lead of Julia, in search of books. Those were safer times.
The temporary spot of the window that had been wiped of filth, having gathered there from over time, gave her just enough more light to decipher the shapes in the darkness. She could see a glow emitting from a room far in the distance, at the right side at the end of the hall, and whispers, voices, echoed endlessly in her head by others that were in the complex. The noise, though far off, traveled down the corridors of the cathedral and bled into her mind. The racket, though miniscule, repeated in her mind, only driving her further to what she was about to do, and she gripped the handguns in her palms tightly.
Evelina reminded herself of where she was, as she stealthily strode, crouching, down into a hallway that seemed to stretch onward into infinite nothing. The building itself had been built in a shape resembling that of a crucifix; Eve herself had just entered the second floor transept, a hall that served as the left arm of the cruciform cathedral. Though the place of worship had stood the test of time in the sense that, it was still standing, age was still very apparent on its walls. A thick layer of dust and the distinct smell of what could only be mildew bathed seemingly everything. The walls were cracked and some spots of the ceiling must have been broken, as spots on the floor and streaks of water across the beige walls were clear signs of water from the last rainfall having seeped inside.
There weren’t many doors, it seemed, as there were few separated areas besides the decent amount of studies and chapter-houses that were interlaced with the nave. Paintings, withered and long uncared for, littered the walls of the corridor, while figures and symbols of Christ accompanied them as well. The faint, distant dialogue from the inhabitants of the church had almost given Evelina the perplexing and strange idea that the figures along the walls were chanting.
Sanity, obviously, wasn’t exactly on her mind at the moment. She knew that such a thing was preposterous, but she didn’t care to admit that to herself. Nothing mattered now, except that barely feasible orange glow that sat still and silent, far, far away.
‘Just out of my reach…’
* * *
"You’re not listening… I do care about our friendship, I don’t want to argue! I just don’t see the point, okay? I don’t see the point of going out there, risking your neck... and the killing…”
"I’m sick and tired of this lecture from you, Julia.” Eve’s words were as firm as the grip of her hand as it slammed against the wall irately trying to find her clothing, as she was about to go on another run. She shook her head spitefully, obviously frustrated as she sifted through her closet, rummaging through her closet and looking for her coat, which she soon found lying folding awkwardly at her feet. She hadn’t been much for keeping things orderly, and laundry wasn’t exactly her specialty either. She paid little mind to the brunette at the entrance of her room: though she was quite annoyed by their constant, weekly arguing over the subject at hand. At any rate, it was late, she was tired as it was, and she didn’t need this to couple the fact she’d be out for another hour.
Julia Parrish stood leaning back against the door of Evelina’s room, looking at her long-standing friend disconsolately. For the last few weeks, she had been trying to apologize for the way she had acted when Evelina decided she would become a Nightrider. That had been years ago, and though they had always remained close friends, she couldn’t help but go against everything Eve had become. The aversion towards this ‘career choice’ of Evelina’s had always been evident, but never as much until as of late, when activity around the Chatrani had begun to elevate, and the group of runners that protected it seemed to be having more and more close calls. It was easy for Julia to respect, and almost admire Eve’s will to put her life on the line for the people of the community, but it was unfeasible for her to accept it, try as she might.
"Look, alright… Where are you heading off to right now, anyway?” Julia’s eyes searched for Eve’s as the dark haired woman began slipping into her leather jacket hastily. Her eyes scoured the room for a sign of her boots, though her efforts were pretty much unsuccessful. Julia inwardly sighed at the condition of Evelina’s quarters, a strange, disheveled mess of clothing strewn about, various literature stacked on top of dressers with partially eaten food, and bed sheets that lay crumpled in the corner, away from the bare mattress. Her walls, like most in the Chatrani development, were a shadowy blend of concrete and steel, but Eve had as of late, done nothing to make it the least bit welcoming. All she did in this room, in the few hours when she wasn’t out riding, was sleep, read, or write down her thoughts, which were just as disorderly as the environment around her.
Evelina didn’t respond immediately, having crouched and reached far into the dusty fissure that was the underneath of her mattress. After what seemed like a slight struggle, she pulled her sleek leather boots free from the tangles of another sheet that had served as a cover over the miscellaneous trash occupying the underside of her bed. She sat at the edge of her mattress, an annoying squeak of its springs ringing out in the dreadfully quiet room, and as she slipped into her footwear, mumbled words escaped her lips. “I got another run to do. One of our crops was hit. They were fended off for the time being… But chances are they’ll regroup and go in again. We’re just going to go on watch for awhile.”
The light crops of the area were very important, especially to the survival of the people in the Chatrani. They were heavily guarded greenhouses scattered in secure locales. Man-made light kept the produce growing, but it was always under the threat of possible larceny by others who weren’t fortunate enough to have food. And there were many of those types of people.
Julia watched Evelina closely, wanting to protest as usual, but suddenly pausing, her mouth slightly agape. After thinking for a moment, she nodded, giving her friend and slightly detached look and nodding. “… I won’t get in your way, then.”
Evelina stood slowly, zipping her boots and quickly and not even bothering to look at her friend, her shoulder brushing past as she opened the door and hastily walked out, the audible loading of her guns echoing in the hall outside of her room. “Alright then, don’t.”
* * *
A single candlelight flickered about in the seemingly infinite darkness. The orange, iridescent glow of the flame made out only a few of the figures in the darkness. It sat upon a timber desk, worn and scratched on its wooden surface. The wax of the candle stick had dripped slowly against the surface of the small table, oozing from its holder after having been lit hours ago. The rest of the countertop was relatively bare, save for a few reference books, a pen, and a figurine of the Virgin Mary, covered in an obscene amount of dust that it had collected over time. Against one of the several encyclopedias that littered the tabletop, was a propped up pair working boots, dirty with mud and grime from the outside.
The electrical power of the church had been long inoperative, and had it not been for the faint illumination provided by the burning wick, the small study would have stayed lost in the darkness like it had all this time. Its shelves had grown sandy with lint and dust, its floor withered and dry.
The man lay asleep in the wooden chair in front of the desk, sunken low against the cracked and torn faux leather cushioning. His legs were extended and resting along the edge of the table, his slacks dirty and unwashed for a good while, his hands inside the pockets of a jacket that looked a size too small. He was middle aged, short haired with a faint beard, and slumbered relatively quietly in the darkness, only adding to the eerie stillness in this darkened cove of the church.
Standing behind the sleeping man, and looking down at him in the orange glow of the flame, her hands suddenly wrapped around his neck and head, his eyes flaring open and his foot sliding across the splintered desktop and into the candle holder.
The only sound in the distilled silence of the study was the nearly inaudible thump of the candle as it fell to the desk, and the snapping off the man’s spinal column as her gripping fingers twisted hard, severing his neck internally.
She watched the life fade from his eyes as the candlelight flickered erratically and cast the room into oblivion. A soothing silence washed over her, as she watched the world drowning around her into darkness. A soft smile curled over her lips, knowing that she would see the life escaping the eyes of others, just like the deceased man in her grasp; and for once in her life…
She would thoroughly enjoy it.
* * *
The cathedral, a house of God, built hundreds of years ago, was to be a place of knowledge and solace. It was a place that had been built by the faithful, and while it had gone abandoned and the faith of those who once prided in it, dwindled, it stood unscathed. But the face of God had been destroyed. The darkness had spread into the depths of mans heart, and there would be no solace.
The unkempt, dilapidated stained glass window violently exploded. A shrill whine rang out through the air as shattered glass was impacted by an unseen force. The scream of noise was as if the thoughts, and memories, and faith that had been given to this building, were destroyed at the obliteration of its centerpiece. The cutting of glass through the air, falling to the wooden floor, hauntingly sounded reminiscent of voices, crying in the darkness, in pain.
The shower of shards rained down into the nave of the church, shimmering brilliantly in the light of the candles surrounding the inside of the area. It was a graceful, yet, devastating fall, one that vehemently echoed out in the corridors of the cathedral, and as quickly as it had came, it seemed to end.
The assembly of members of Lux Divinia, the group that had sought safe haven in this place of worship, littered throughout the aisles, and many of whom were asleep, shot up with a start at the crash. A cluster of voices, obviously in great confusion, looked to the source.
Priest sat at the very edge of the last aisle in the nave, close to the large, double doors that lead to the front steps of the cathedral. He locked eyes with the woman, and stayed still, his legs crossed, trying to comprehend the sight before all of them.
In the center of the fallen debris, among the broken shards of hand crafted, and once, beautiful, stained glass, was a corpse. It was one of their own; he was eviscerated by the broken glass, a pool of warm blood dispersing outward against the ground. A figure rose crouched atop of the deceased man, the figure of a woman, a striking, but similarly dangerous one.
Dark tresses of hair fell in front of her eyes and across pallid skinned cheeks and soft features. The woman was attired the night herself: a leather coat that flailed at its end, still settling from the fall, and equally shady, tight fitting garments. She slowly came to a stand and stepped off and away from the dead body, her boots cracking and snapping the remains of glass underneath them. With brazen cruelty and carelessness, she delivered a sharp and deliberate kick to the carcass at her side. Previously facing her and lying on its side, the corpse rolled onto its back in a nauseating crunch of glass and flesh colliding.
The entire area had been thrown into a state of perplexity and indecision. Some drew their weapons, others turned back or stepped away, a few at the side recognized the body and drew their weapons as well, Priest sat motionless, and a bronze-skinned woman with long, straight auburn hair lay against a pillar at the far corner of the hall, examining the new guest with an intrigued look on her face. It was apparent to all of them, however, that this was Evelina Maruska. Already, the infamous Nightrider they had planned to take down had gotten the drop on them, and killed one of their own.
Suddenly, the sound of clapping resonated through the great hall. Priest stood, applauding Evelina. The others watched him in silence, or looked on at their fallen comrade, a blood mess at the Nightrider’s feet. His hands came together in a slow tempo, a frustrated look in his eyes as he congratulated her. It was a look that illustrated a sense of unease, but the need to handle the sudden ‘surprise’, as well. She could read through him like a book, but decided to sit through his impending speech anyway.
"Evelina Maruska. The ‘legendary’ woman fittingly named after the night… and also the most infamous defender of the Chatrani.” He bowed in her direction after a moment, reaching into his coat and pulling out a handgun. It was of a European make and looked fairly modern, which meant expensive, which she didn’t expect from someone of his type. “Am I correct?”
She looked about in a rather nonchalant manner, sweeping shards of glass away from her heels and taking a step forward. A symphony of clips sliding into place and guns cocked, ready to tear bullet after bullet through her at a moments notice, sounded off around her. It all seemed so very cliché to her, and she smiled at the intensity she brought to the situation. “My reputation precedes me, then.”
“Ah… It is quite a reputation. Have you come alone…?” He inquired, pinching two fingers at the bridge of his nose as if he was receiving a headache about now
"Yes." She interrupted, unequivocally quiet.
“Why, Eve? Why have you come here, into the house of our glorious maker, killing one of our own? You’ve written your own death sentence. All you’ve accomplished, Maruska, is saving me the time and effort of looking for you.”
“I will kill you, Priest, for what you did. What happens after that doesn’t concern me.” Her gaze was unafraid and frankly, uncaring.
“Revenge, is it? Tell me Evelina… How many have you murdered?” He snapped suddenly, glaring at her almost furiously, as if to question why she even dared to come and do this to his people at this time without any fear in the slightest.
Evelina smiled in a most frightening manner. Her eyes seemed heavy and dark, as if she was tired, and the way her lips pursed with each word walked the line that separated sarcasm and dementia. “Not enough. No, no… See, I haven’t killed you.”
"I see. So what happens next? You put a bullet in my brain and we call it a night? Or my men send you to Hell before you even think to fire?" He hissed in her direction, stepping back slowly, heading away from her and toward the nearest exit – the gigantic doors to the Cathedral he and the rest called home.
Evelina was silent, and instead, decided the best reply would be to take a step forward. Within seconds, she could hear and see more guns being drawn or pointed at her. She closed her eyes and laughed softly, dark hair casting shadows across her face, hiding her expression as she seemed to be the only one amused. It was a cold and almost, cruel laugh, and after a few moments, it abruptly ended, her eyes flared wide open, a devilish smile upon her lips, and her hands slid into her unbuttoned coat. “It’s funny you asked…”
”You never answered.”
“You start running.”
”Kill her.”
She spun around quickly, her coat billowing and fluttering in the air as bullets instantly began whizzing by, feeling the cold steel as she gripped her Walther P22’s and fired a few of her own. The shots impacted the nearest of her opposition to the left, four bullets tearing into his torso and sending him to the ground on his back. Eve was in constant movement as she ducked and crouched into a roll, turning in mid revolution, and unloading a few more shots into one of the men carrying an automatic. He managed to get off a few rounds of his own, missing her by a couple of feet to the right and hitting floorboard and seating instead.
The voice of a female came around from the other side of her, following the first man Eve had taken down. Eve swung around once again to meet the new threat, the unknown woman raising a knife high and diving in anguish at the result of good aim on Evelina’s part. Still holding her pistol tight, she knocked the blade out of the attacker’s grasp with the end of the weapon, and buried the end of her sister handgun into the woman’s collar, firing shot after shot, before sliding the barrel down and firing another round in the center of her chest.. Warm of blood coursed down Eve’s fingers and into her palms as she tightly grasped the trigger, and she quickly pulled away, glancing at dying girl’s eyes as she limply fell over to the ground, and she could sense the pain she had inflicted. She had no time to pause in guilt or remorse, however, adrenaline coursing through her and ammunition being spent in her general direction, as she quickly leapt over the row of timber seating, staring up at the far away ceiling on her back.
Evelina’s pulse began to quicken, seconds turning into hours as she hurriedly reloaded her ammunitions and discarded the empty clips in her guns.
’Alright, there’s five on the left, three on the right, two in the front; no more than twenty shots, Eve. No more, no less. Go.’
Evelina leapt quickly to her feet, dashing through the lane as her eyes focused on making it to the safety of the pillars that occupied the side of the nave. A hail of concentrated automatic shots soon commenced in her wake, tearing into the wooden seating at her sides. She did her best to remain crouched in her sprint, unable to keep ahead of the bullets that ricocheted and seared into her minimal defense behind the benches. Wood chips, dust, dirt and the onslaught of gunfire clouded her vision, and she drove herself forward in a dive, splintered timber grazing her brow, and she hugged the closest pillar tight with her back, both of her guns drawn and at her sides, breathing heavily. Bullets smashed into the sides of the stone column, chiseling at the piece of architecture, and there was a pause.
‘They’re reloading...’
She whirled around the support pillar suddenly, firing at everything that moved in the area, not stopping her dash toward the opposition and moving in a constant pirouette of shooting. Four fell, nine shots, five fell, six shots, fire, constant moving, the sounds ringing in her ears, the sounds of those who fell, the noise, blood being spilt across the ground, a barrage of noises and pure adrenaline. One by one, the fell, some dying instantly, other in a few moments of pain, the man carrying the automatic being taken down in a clean hit between the eyes, and the last one, a rugged and tall Caucasian male rushed at Evelina, swinging a heavy fist. Eve swiftly ducked under, kicked him in the torso violently and grabbed his passing arm with ease and cold precision. Wrenching it, while still holding her P22’s, she placed the end of the gun in her free hand against his chest.
The loud explosion into his upper body and his slumping hulk as it fell to the floorboards began an eerie silence. Fourteen people lay dead in the hall of the cathedral, which was now littered with bullet casings across its floor, not to mention spilt blood.
Footsteps emitted from behind her. Eve looked over her shoulder quickly, before turning to face her last standing opponent. It wasn’t Priest – he had long since made his exit. She looked nothing like the rest of the brigade of mixed Czech and Germanic. Long, black coffee hair and tanned skin, most likely genetic. Her clothing was light; either she disregarded the cold entirely, didn’t come from the area, or both. Arresting hazel eyes focused on Evelina intently. The female’s most noticeable physical attribute were daggers, seemingly bound to the assailant at the wrist, extending from her forearms. She knew what they were; twin katars, but they were a weapon unseen by Evelina before in person – in combat.
Evelina raised her weapon and pointed it right between the woman’s eyes from a distance of a few years. The dark-skinned female came to a slow standstill. The Nightrider’s pale, pink lips cautiously had their say, finger rested against the trigger, but not firing, yet. “Red light. You’re not one of them. I’m not here to kill you.”
There was a contemplative pause. The stranger’s brow clenched, determinedly. Her voice was rather callous, as she started forward again. “That’s too bad. I’m here to kill you.”
Not wasting anymore time, Evelina pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. The attacker broke into a dash in her direction.
‘…Shit.’ She thought to herself, pulling a second time. In disbelief, she raised the firearm, the chamber of which was visibly vacant of ammunition.
She instinctively jerked to the side as the new adversary lunged ahead, but to far little benefit. The pause became a near fatal mistake, as Evelina’s very own blood dispersed in a streak like pattern across the floor. The mercenary, arm extended and body in semi-crouch, cut at her leather coat through the side with one of her katars, slicing subcutaneous and leather shoulder straps, sending her extraneous ammunition clips to the ground. Eve let out a grunt in pain, hastily meeting the attacker’s next volley of strikes that came out in a bizarre arc pattern, blocking the next few successions of swipes with the ends of her empty guns. Sparks flew intermittently.
The pattern suddenly changed into a series of rapid thrusts, forcing Evelina to compensate by backing up quickly. The katars fired in her direction looking to impale, tanned arms aiming for head and legs and being scarcely averted by the end of semi-automatic pistols. Whoever this young attacker was, she sure as hell wasn’t wasting any time.
After a few moments, her arm drew back, pulling the next strike just enough to allow Evelina to react offensively. She ducked clear under the swing, steel slicing through the air where her neck was only moments before. Seizing the opportunity, Eve dramatically drove her elbow into the tanned abdomen of the woman, hitting ribcage as hard as she could. The woman involuntarily gasped for air, the wind temporarily knocked from her, and rolled onto her back and over onto her hands and feet in a slinky recovery. The two women drew back, eyeing each other for a second. The look in the hazel eyes of the foreigner was nothing less than fierce and indomitable.
“Did they hire you to hunt me?” Evelina said, slowly speaking instead of attempting to reload, which would have been a waste anyway, her ammo strewn across a floor she dare not lay her eyes on, too focused on the enemy. She held the wound in her side. Blood trickled across her knuckles profusely. It was only a flesh wound, but it looked a hell of a lot worse. “Because I have to say…”
“Save it. I don’t do mind games.” There was turbulence in her voice. Not exactly anger, but resolve, definitely.
Evelina’s eyelids flickered open and closed for a moment at the painful sensation in her side. She could feel blood exiting wound and staining pale skin. “You’re good. Now you could stop. Maybe even run away, like Priest. Risk nothing. Or…” She stated coldly, looking around briefly and noticing the head of the church-centric troupe nowhere to be seen. Admittedly, she was offering the easiest solution to this person, and didn’t quite know why; perhaps because her extermination wasn’t a priority at all.
“You’re right. I could.”
She didn’t. The woman, in an act of lightening speed and precision, dashed and dived at Evelina’s side, the Nightrider swerving to attack her, but missing entirely. One of the katars scooped up a block of wood blown clear off of the corner of a cathedral bench in the previous gunfight, lifting it into the air. As Eve turned to face her, the woman spun, kicked outward, contacted the wooden beam with the end of her boot, and sent it in Evelina’s direction at high velocity, care of Lux Divinia. The Nightrider was not used to such dexterity.
The impact was violent and there was a sickening snap as aging wood splintered apart against the temple of the motorcyclist. Blood rained down against the floorboards as a wound opened up on the side of her scalp, warm scarlet liquid trickling down her forehead and she fell to the ground in a heap, one of her Walther P22’s slipping from her grasp and sliding into a dark area in one of the rows next to her. The ever persistent foe rushed at the beaten and dazed Evelina, raising her arm high and preparing to end her in a falling strike.
Eve instinctively moved out of the way, blade crashing into the floor and missing her head literally by a hair. Evelina swung her leg viciously into the back of the bronze-skinned woman’s ankle, knocking her off balance and causing her to fall back. Her head smacked hard against the side of a bench, emitting a cry of anguish from her lips.
Evelina rose slowly, pressing her palm against the break in the skin on her brow, beneath the pitch black tresses of her hair. Taking a minute to let her eyes adjust, just having had the senses knocked out of her, she turned to the lone attacker, who was struggling with what had to be a concussion, and attempting to get up, fearing her life at stake.
Pissed off severely, Evelina aimed directly at her chest and pulled the trigger. Once again, there was an audible, hollow click. Perhaps it was the blow to the skull, or she was just losing her touch and making some very terrible oversights; whatever the case, she had once again forgotten about her ammunition expenditure. After a moment, the Nightrider sighed – very deeply and calmly.
“A suggestion you might want to follow. Let’s… not ever do this again.”
Those hazel eyes continued to watch her, confusion setting in. The woman was slightly hunched and still very dazed, blinking intermittently, as if wondering what to say. Eve didn’t give her the chance to say anything. Though life would not leave those eyes, consciousness sure as hell did, as Evelina swiftly swung the end of the pistol against her jaw and sent the mercenary sprawled against the floor unceremoniously, out cold.
Recollecting herself, she retrieved the guns lost mate and clips, quickly reloading and scanning the area. Her eyes once again fell on the enigmatic mercenary. Had Evelina been anymore careless, the tanned woman surely would have killed her – which wasn’t in her best interest, considering what she needed to finish. Whoever the fighter was, she had one hell of a spirit, and got away with her life; though, without a doubt, she’d have a serious headache when she came to.
The church resembled a war-zone, and Evelina knew that she more resembled something close to shit by this point. She held her palm to temple for a moment, but it did nothing to stave off the bleeding. She adjusted her coat and felt around inside a small pocket near her right breast. Removing a napkin from it, she wiped the excess blood away from her eyes, so that it wouldn’t obstruct her vision.
“Fuck... Ah…” Eve muttered, wincing.
She had to leave before the rest of Priest’s soldiers were aware of what happened. In her condition, she couldn’t take them all, and she could only assume he was heading to their second refuge on the other side of Prague. Evelina could get to him in time. She had to.
Her eyes focused on the entrance of the cathedral that bled out to the pavilion. Without wasting anymore time, she dashed to the exit, heading to retrieve her bike. Guns loaded, engine roaring beneath her and the freezing night air chipping away at her vigor, she roared off into the direction of the truck barreling down the permanently grayed Prague streets, to settle incomplete affair with the one man who managed to escape; so that she could end his life.
* * *
The engine of the bike roared as it exploded onto the streets of Prague like a bat out of hell, Evelina pushing the vehicle to its limits recklessly. Ahead of her, was the russet cargo truck Priest had taken off in during her earlier excursion with the rest of his easily disposed entourage. Her vision began to blur as she steadily increased her speed, despite the condition of the cobblestone ground that did not allow for an exceptionably comfortable ride. The buildings of the streets were filthy, despite the rich architecture that reminded of the glory it once had. The boulevard was barren and encased in darkness; Prague was truly no more than a ghost town of its picturesque former self.
The wind that rushed at her face was searing, wisps of her hair grazing past her eyelashes and ominous expression. Her eyes a shadowy concerto of hatred and anguish as sharply lead her bike in a drift to the right, the heavy truck shaking at the violent swerve into a more narrow passage. The bulky vehicle’s side momentarily scraped against the building wall as the pursuit dragged on into an alleyway, a torrent of sparks cascading against the darkened and cracked pavement of the pathway. Garbage and unclean water flew about in the wake of the large truck, Evelina having to swerve slightly in the tight space to avoid colliding with a pile of who-knows-what, then ducking quickly to avoid a certain beheading by a broken fire escape. She rapidly sped closer and closer to Priest’s escaping vehicle, and drew one of her guns quickly, despite the dark and the glare from the truck’s rear taillights.
Throttling the bike hard with one hand, Evelina fired a quick burst of shots into the rear wheel of the truck. Two of the bullets pierced the tire, rupturing it as the truck started an intense turn to the right, out of the alleyway. The rest of her gunfire smashed into grime caked wheel rim, and the truck overcompensated its turn, going to fast for its weight. The blown tire only made it unable to turn quick enough, and the front left side smashed violently into dark emerald light post. The out-of-date and out of service post buckled under the weight of the speeding truck, and it’s end continued to move forward, having gained too much momentum to stop completely.
The street past the alleyway was a one way road that embanked to a court far below. The truck spun clear off the sharp incline and Eve found herself trying to turn from the same fate, but at too high an acceleration. Her bike began to spill out, and she suddenly leapt from it, as both the sleek modified Suzuki and Evelina herself were flung into the square. Her coat rustled loudly in her fall, windswept as she did her best to land on her feet, her hand smashing against cobblestone earth meters below where she had once been, spraining, but thankfully not suffering a more serious fate. There was a loud crash of metal against concrete as the truck headed headfirst into the cold and unforgiving earth, and, its tires, still revolving, fell to its side in a totaled, old, and smoking heap. Eve was facing away from the crash, and watched, wincing, as her bike slid along on its side ahead of her, leaving a shower of sparks as it abraded the cobblestone pavement.
Evelina stared down at her hands, breathing hard. Most of her weight had slammed into the one bearing her drawn gun, which had been flung far from her into areas unknown. Dried blood from the wound in her side covered her fingers entirely as if they had been dipped into the wound itself. Her body ached, her knees in pain, a throbbing coming from the side of her head, but despite it, she stood. Slowly raising herself to her to a slumped, but standing position, she turned gradually to the wreckage that had once been Priest’s escape. A billowing, yet thin cloud of smoke rose from its crushed engine, and its passenger door, the side that was now the only upright, hung open and bent. A bleeding hand painfully raised itself to grab a hold of the outside of the vehicle, and Priest slowly began to climb out, one of his arms tattered, clothing wise, and nearly covered in his own blood. Evelina watched him coldly, as he limped from the inside of the wreckage, and clutching his injured limb tightly, met her eyes with his own.
They were the same eyes that had met hers that day, one week ago.
Julia had gone out after Eve; The Nightriders, they had been ambushed by Priest and his men during their rounds, and a gunfight ensued. Ghost and Evelina were separated from the rest for a short period of time, and Golem and company were forced to restock and go back, better prepared to extract the two. She couldn’t remember all that had happened, she tried not to, but they had managed to defend themselves within the chateau in the field for a good period of time. When the fellow Nightriders arrived, and the ebony and ivory pair were prepared to make their leave…
Gunfire erupted, Priest having taken high ground and gotten the drop on the team. Ricochet hit Golem in the arm. Vesper nearly caught one as well. Evelina, in the confusion, fell right under the aim of Priest and his Magnum.
But it was Julia was caught in the crossfire. She dived after Eve, and took a shot in the back that was meant for her old friend. A wound no different from the one Evelina had taken as a child. But worse; of all the people who should have made it that night, Evelina had lived, and her friend died in her arms, irreparable damage done to her by the heavy gun. Apologizing for thinking she could do something when Eve was in danger, for getting in the way. Evelina just stood, and watched, and tried to tell her differently. Evelina tried to calm her friend, and she just… Died. Her eyes became cold, and she went limp. And Priest was there, weapon still drawn, cursing himself for missing.
Her friends… Her family literally dragged her to safety. She wanted to fight back then and there, but it would have only cost her the life Julia had salvaged.
And it was Evelina who had to bury Julia, and she alone. The others were there, but they didn’t matter. For once, the Nightriders didn’t matter. It all seemed so fucking stupid. All that mattered then, and even now, was the regret and the seething hatred left behind. It burned within her like a blazing fire, and it would not go out until Priest was charred in its flames.
Evelina didn’t say anything. She just drew the gun on him quickly, raised it, and stared intensely into those eyes.
‘I won’t miss.’
She squeezed the trigger, and burst after burst, shot after shot, impacted and tore into him. He fell back against the truck, taking bullets to the legs, torso, and arms, staring at her, anguished and grunting in pain. For a moment, she paused, her arm shaking and her eyes locked onto his. Though wracked with throbbing agony, his eyes looked like those that had been given amnesty, for a moment.
The moment didn’t last long. The barrel of her Walther P22 pointed at the underside of the truck, and fired a couple of shots. The gasoline was lit, and it exploded into an inferno of metal and fire, Priest’s voice lost in the noise brought by the explosion. It was a scream not unlike that of the shattered glass in the cathedral. It was ear piercing, almost inhuman, and the noise was no longer part of the blast, but something in her mind, a clamor of feelings she couldn’t under stand. She fell to her knees, clutching her head with both hands and covering her ears, still holding the weapon. Her eyes shut themselves tight, and she gritted her teeth, and after a period of moments that seemed like forever, there was silence. Evelina Maruska fell limply against the icy cold cobblestone streets of Prague, illuminated faintly by the glow of the burning wreck ahead of her. Hands stained, blackened by the dirt of the streets and the blood, she brought palms to her face, and she began to cry.
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