Gunpowder
Chapter Thirty Three

The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a steak knife.

Poppy paced her room, gaze flicking up at the locked door every few seconds, just to make sure that no one was quietly turning the knob. She held the tazer in one hand, turning it on and off as a sort of nervous habit. It worked, but she wasn’t sure how to fight with. Just stab the attacker with it?

That sent her brain on yet another trail of worry, which it followed with ceaseless abandon. What if there was more than one attacker? What if a whole group was coming? How would she fight them off? She only had one weapon, and they were most likely going to be armed as well.

They were friendly thought, right? They were rescuing her, or at least that’s what they thought they were doing. They were removing her from the house.

But what if they weren’t friendly? Abbet may have been pretty dumb, but if there was one thing she was good at, it was lying. What if the people were coming to hurt her, or kill her, or worse?! Poppy knew she had to fight back, and she would, she was ready for them!

As if in an imaginary battle, the technician stabbed the tazer at the air. She jumped, spun in mid air, and stabbed something behind her. Acting out the little imaginary sparring match seemed to relieve some of her stress. It made her feel as if she could actually win the fight. She was fast, she knew that, lithe and agile. Against multiple opponents, or just one strong one, she could use that to her advantage.

All she could hear was the electrical hum of her weapon and the slight rustle of the curtains covering her window. France was in a coat closet, safe from whatever was coming for her.

A creaking noise.

With the reflexes of a cat, Poppy turned her weapon to its full power and spun to face the door.

Nothing. Not even the lock was turned.

“Vous êtes paranoïaque,” she muttered to herself. The sentence translated to “You’re being paranoid.”

The wind whistled and washed over her window. And then it stopped.

Poppy spun around to face the source of the previously existent noise. She couldn’t see anything outside the glass pane, but she could clearly see that the window had been opened slightly.

It opened more. And more. And more.

Poppy’s breath hissed through her teeth as her lungs pulled in as much air as possible. There was definitely something coming through the window. It crept slowly and carefully, not even seeming to see her.

The technician put away the weapon, shoving it in her hood. She did not want the man, or woman, or whoever was coming through the window, to think that she was an enemy, as they most likely did not think this of her.

The figure emerged into the light what must have been a full minute later. They were fully dressed in black and navy blue, and had a large hood on, which looked to be connected to the sweatshirt they wore. They looked like someone you would see sitting in an alleyway, except for the fact that this person looked to be slightly overweight.

“Come on,” they hissed, not with a threatening tone of voice, but as if a friend egging another on.

“Out the window?” Poppy questioned, her voice betraying her panic.

“Yes, now come on. This part of the city is heavily guarded, and we need to get out as soon as possible. I’m pretty sure some guards are already getting pretty suspicious of me.”

As if on queue, like the whole thing was some stage play, a voice came from the lower level:

“Poppy, I’m home!” it called. You didn’t need to be an expert to tell that it was Axis’s voice.

“Come on! Quick!” the hooded man urged her, taking a few slightly panicked steps towards the window which he had entered from.

Poppy, not knowing what to do, pulled her tazer, chucked it to the side, and followed the man towards the window. He slipped out, using his hands to grip the window sill, and his feet to lower himself onto the fire escape below. The technician jumped onto the fire escape noisily, her feet clashing with the metal to make a resounding banging noise.

The hooded man shushed her and quietly crept down the creaking stairs. She followed, trying to be quiet, but failing quite terribly.

Then, Poppy heard footsteps. They were loud, and seemed to be coming from above.

“Poppy!” Axis cried from the window. She was still dressed in her police uniform, complete with armor.

Poppy fought the urge to call out to her, but it was a fight she couldn’t win.

“Axis!” she called, waving her arms in the air in an attempt to draw attention to herself.

The policewoman seemed to hear her, and, without hesitation, leaped out of the window, landing on the fire escape in the somersault and springing to her feet. She raced down the stairs and pulled her pistol from its holster.

“Stop, in the name of the law!” she shrieked at the hooded man, brandishing her weapon in his direction.

The male dressed in black spun around, his hood flying his face and revealing his countenance. He looked quite young, possibly in his mid twenties, and had very pale skin. He showed no resistance, and immediately threw his hands in the air. He looked absolutely terrified, as any sane human being in the situation would be.

“Drop your weapons!” the armed woman shouted once again, her gun aimed at the man’s head.

“I don’t have any!” the man bellowed. His eyes seemed to refuse to blink, and his gaze was locked on the weapon aimed at him. He reached his hand into his pocket, and lifted it out a second later.

“Who are you?” Was the first thing Axis asked.

“I should be asking you that question. But my job here is done,” the man replied with a slight grimace on his face.-

There were more footsteps heard, and a gunshot rang. The bullet, which looked quite primitive, grazed Poppy’s neck and landed in the wall of the house.

The hooded man’s face looked like that of a child whom had just pulled a prank. There were four other people, dressed like him, approaching from behind. They were all armed with the same type of pistol as Axis.

Axis dove in front of Poppy, ordering her to run to the nearest safe area. The technician agreed with a nod and sped off, but only to be stopped by a bullet to her leg. She crashed to the ground, clutching her injured femur. Blood began to pool around her, and she was clearly biting back a scream of agony.

Some sort of instinct kicked into Axis, and she pulled the trigger. Her gun, equipped with a silencer, released a shiny little copper bullet, which was dodged by the man whom it was aimed at. She let out a noise resembling a roar and shot again, releasing a hailstorm of bullets onto the opposing side.

“Leave her alone you-!” the rest of this sentence has been cut off, as it was nothing more than a stream of words too inappropriate for print.

The enemy snarled at her and released their own stream of ammunition, which was all aimed at her. Her armor protected her from the most of it, but one bullet managed to catch in her Achilles’s Heel: the unprotected area right between her clavicle and her shoulderblades. The bullet lodged itself deep into her chest, severing an artery and continuing further into her flesh.

Axis let out a cry of pain and dropped to her knees, clutching the wound. She didn’t remember much after that, except for the constant existence of the overwhelming pain that seared at her shoulder.

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