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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 25, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 25, 2018




Damon lay quietly on a rooftop, completely invisible to anyone in the vicinity.  His finger twitched on the trigger of his plasma rifle, eager to cause havoc on the street below.  The thought of this job making him giddy.

“Slow down your breathing Damon,” Maria’s voice rang out through his helmet.  She would, of course, be watching his vitals, knowing every movement he was making mere nanoseconds after he made them.  Such was the power of Damon’s body armor.  Being able to make the wearer completely invisible for several hours, while sending signals over an encrypted line back to the home-front,was rather incredible.

Damon attempted to slow his breathing to a slow equilibrium, focusing on his scope.  The parade was clouded by the haze of omnipresent smog that always seemed thicker in the fifth octant than anywhere else.  Sweat trickled through Damon’s hair, stinging his eyes. Pressing a button in the inside of his right glove all the moisture was sucked out of his helmet.  

“How much longer?” Damon asked in a faint whisper.

“A few more minutes, you’ll know the float when you see it,” Maria answered.  Damon sighed, then started studying the street below through his scope again.  The marines were specced out in the newest and flashiest body armor and carried effective plasma rifles.  They all had two sidearm plasma pistols and several grenades on their belts.

This reminded him of his training days back at the home-front, his parents constantly pushing him to work harder.  He remembered marching with a group of faceless soldiers, protecting their leader. He had stopped an attack very similar to what he was about to do once.  A flash or doubt swam through his brain and he faltered. Shaking his head, Damon refocused on the task at hand, his job.

More marines than usual started flooding the street, making the red white and blue float that had just appeared near impossible to see. Surrounding the crowded float was a thin line of clean air, cutting through the smog like a hot knife through butter

“That’s the shield, locate the marine’s casting it,” Maria ordered.  Looking through the dense crowd of marine’s, Damon searched the edges of the bubble-like shield, and marked off every marine standing in the miniscule pocket of clear air.  

“Ready,” Damon grunted.  A few moments of silence passed.  

“Take him out,” Maria whispered.  

Damon pulled the trigger.  Twelve plasma bolts shot out of the barrel of his gun, each one taking down a marked marine.  The bubble shield fell. Chaos sounded in the streets below, but Damon wasn’t done yet. He aimed his rifle at the at the float.  Damon pressed a button near the trigger on his rifle, and started raining fire. He razed the ground below. Explosions sounded, charred and smoking bodies flew everywhere, the plasma grenades had done their work.

The site was swarming now, marines were rocketing up to Damon’s hiding place.  

“Time to go!” He shouted to himself.  Pressing a button on the barrel of his rifle, it shrunk down to the size of a golf ball, and Damon attached it to his suit.  

Damon activated magnetism, a special function on his suit that activated the magnets in his hands and feet, then jumped off the skyscraper.  

Wind whistled by, and Damon relished the free fall before using the magnetic pull in his hands to fly across the street.  He slammed hard into the next building, sharp, hot pain streaked across his shoulder, he heard glass cracking. Damon pushed off, using magnets to pull himself into the air.  

“Damon, you’re not invisible anymore!” Maria screamed.

“What happened!” Damon shouted, terror in his voice.  

“You must have broke something when you slammed into that building!”

“Find a way to fix it!”

“I’m trying!”

Damon cursed, but continued pulling himself away.  Marines behind him were yelling now, chasing him. Flashes of plasma hit his suit weakening it.  Damon crumpled. He hurt everywhere and the marine’s were honing in. He started rapidly pressing the button to make himself invisible.  

“Damon, hold on for a few more seconds!” Maria screamed, her voice slicing through Damon’s mind.  Damon switched the magnets in his feet, so he would push off of metal instead of be pulled to it.

He pushed off the building to his right and shot sideways.  The glass wall shattered this time. He hit the ground hard, glass shards everywhere, his suit was sparking.  Moments later marines were inside, guns raised.

“Where is he?” one of them questioned.

“Damon, I fixed your suit,” Maria whispered.

Damon stood absolutely still as the marines ventured forward.  He took a quiet deep breath, then stood up and immediately pulled on the building across the street.  The magnets in his arms carried him out of the building at an incredible speed. He passed through the glass and into open air.  Using the magnets in his feet he pushed on a taxi from the street below and launched into the clouds still moving forward at an alarming rate.  Wind whistled by as Damon flew. Then he started falling.

The city appeared through the clouds.  Using the magnets in his hand and feet Damon maneuvered through the air towards a rooftop, trying to slow his landing.  

“That was close,” Maria said, “Too close.”  

“I know,” he said.

“You fractured your shoulder.”

“How badly?”

“We should have you fixed up in a few hours, just make it back.”  The line went silent.

“Did I lose them?” Damon asked.  

“Barely, now hurry up, start heading back.”

A small sound filled the air.  Frantic, and scared sounding, it was barely audible over the sounds of sirens and helicopters in the distance.  Damon froze in place, not daring to move.

“Damon!” Maria’s voice was forceful now, “You know the rules, return to home-front!”

It was true, agents weren’t allowed to linger on the site, and they rarely had a chance to, it was a rule the cult strongly enforced.  
“Just a sec’,” Damon muted her.

Damon zoomed in on the street he had attacked, many blocks away.  People were screaming. Wreckage was strewn across the ground, fallen marines lay moaning in the street.  Innocent civilians lucky enough to be alive mourned dead family members. A baby lay in the street, motherless, fatherless, about to begin a scarred life.

Damon screamed.


© Copyright 2019 Seth Durrant. All rights reserved.

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