Book 2: Chapter 28: The Sound of One Hand Clapping (1/2)
”I said hands up!” the agitated federal agent repeated, taking a nervous step forward, pistol still leveled at Dan's face. The man seemed just on the verge of panic, and Dan could hardly blame him. He'd probably just lost more than a few friends and coworkers to a surprise villain attack, and the lingering fog made visibility fairly shit.
Dan didn't blame him, but the gun in his face was making it difficult to be cordial.
”I'm not a vigilante! I'm a crisis volunteer, man,” Dan said, tapping his laminated badge. ”See?”
The man squinted at Dan's chest, only just now coming down from his battle-high. His breath seemed to slowly even out, the fog clearing away from him, and the surroundings, as he took in Dan's outfit. The pistol lowered.
”A crisis volunteer?” the man repeated, his brow furrowed. ”Citizen, you shouldn't be here. You need to take shelter, immediately! The area is not secure!”
A hoarse voice shouted from the entrance of the field office, ”What's the situation Reid?”
Agent Reid glanced from Dan, to the cargo trailer, then through the fog towards his distant allies. Hesitantly, he stepped towards the trailer, motioning with his hands for Dan to hide. Dan watched him peek inside the broken trailer, swinging his pistol across the empty space and finding the bodies within.
He stepped back out, and called, ”I think we're clear up here, sir! All hostiles accounted for except the big one.”
”Alright,” came the reply. A moment passed. ”Brace yourself.”
Reid's eyes widened. He spun towards Dan, gesticulating wildly. ”Take cov—”
The shout hit like a typhoon, forcing away the fog and sending Dan's ears ringing. The sudden gust of wind sent him staggering backwards, and he nearly tripped on the icy ground. Agent Reid slid towards him, like a skater given a sudden push, as he was buffeted along by Dunkirk's upgrade.
Sight was restored, and Dan saw the carnage he'd helped reap. it was like Webb all over again. The water ran red as warm blood mixed with cold ice and melted into water. These crimson streams flowed across the frozen concrete, carving red lines across the tundra blue ground. It could've been mistaken for urban art, an impromptu ground mural depicting the state of the city.
The grim, darkest part of Dan wanted to take a picture. The rest of him felt like vomiting at the source of the blood. There were bodies scattered across the ground, and the majority were not villains. Now that his heart wasn't pounding so loudly in his ears, Dan could hear the muffled groaning and quiet crying echoing from his surroundings.
The remaining federal agents quickly approached him and Reid. Dunkirk, his crisp suit in tatters and skin covered with a dozen minor cuts and lacerations, ran his gaze over Dan's clothes, then face. His eyes narrowed.
”I know you from somewhere,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper.
”I run a courier business. I dropped off some of your mail,” Dan replied stiffly. He glanced around at the broken ground and many, many bodies. ”I need to start first aid and get these people out of here. I know you're hard up, but can you spare someone to help me, until backup arrives?”
”No,” Dunkirk replied flatly. ”This area is not secure. At least one hostile remains within, and I need all my men available to subdue him. The wounded can wait.”
Dan grimaced. ”I don't think that they can, but I get it. What should I tell the APD, when they get here?”
Dunkirk had already turned to leave, but Dan's question brought him to a halt. He glanced back. ”You were able to call this in?”
Dan raised his eyebrow. ”I mean, I tried. Me and probably a dozen others. All lines are busy; the city is a madhouse. Hopefully someone managed to radio this in, but I figured you would have a more reliable way of contacting them. Eyes on the ground, so to speak. Did you... not?”
”The average APD officer is not qualified to be inside these premises, and the SPEAR Teams have their hands full,” Dunkirk replied curtly. ”My men and I will manage without them.”
That was a no. Something dark and angry reared up inside Dan at the cold answer, but he squashed it down. He'd assume the man knew what he was doing, right up until he proved that he didn't. A moment that he expected would be fast coming. At least the man was putting off whatever consequences Dan's interference might have till later. He barely even seemed to notice.
”Fine,” Dan said between gritted teeth. ”I'm gonna get some stretchers and get who I can to safety.”
”You should seek safer ground,” Dunkirk advised, completely disregarding Dan's comment. ”Your presence here will only be a distraction to me and my men.”
This ungrateful piece of—
”My presence,” Dan replied, keenly aware that he shouldn't be drawing attention to himself, but too angry to care, ”probably saved your life, and the lives of your men. Or did you think those shooters decided to strip naked of their own accord!?” He jabbed his finger at one of the nearby bullet-ridden corpses, carefully not looking at it. ”I'm certified for combat, just like every other crisis volunteer. I won't be in the way.”