As they fought, the three units surrounded the outside of the house and began to open the three main entrances: the backdoor, the front doors, and a ladder which led up into the second floor of the church. Atlas left Sorenson where he was and rejoined the first unit, which the captain should have been leading. Instead, Corporal Alec Szekely gathered the men and whispered the orders, leading them to the front of the church doors and, within a few seconds, breaching them. An electric current seethed from a small pack they placed in front of it, immediately sending a charge through the doors and melting the hinges. They fell over and down the concrete stairs.
The unit, under command of Szekely, readied themselves and tossed a WP779 Canister into the long corridor of the open church. With a horrible pop, the canister exploded, pouring a large amount of white smoke into the air. The very presence of it would burn exposed flesh, though not to the point of death. Instead, it felt like salt on an exposed wound.
Following the explosion, Szekely lead his men in. As they passed through the smoke, they found a small group, no more than five, of Bolivian soldiers in a corner, their weapons thrown aside. Without so much as even asking, Szekely said in haste, “Bind them, they’re coming as prisoner.”
“Commander Helios ordered no prisoners, sir,” said one of the men behind him.
“We’re not murderers,” he replied.
Quickly, the unit proceeded, tying their hands together. As they did so, the Bolivians cried out, kicking and pushing, only to be held down by the Black Sun soldiers.
Once more the sound of the XM312 began to ring off, firing into the open church in hopes of hitting one of the Black Sun soldiers. Instead, as the men aimed down into the smoke, Atlas moved back a few feet and took aim. With one bullet, the Bolivian fell to the ground, silencing the .50 caliber. The other man panicked and ran away, thinking a sniper had got his ally. As he did so, he came across the second Black Sun unit, who had scaled the ladder and killed those in the other room. Without Szekely’s mercy behind them, the team leader raised his pistol and pressed down in the small metal trigger. With a bang and a thud, the team moved on.
Atlas began to circle around and head towards the backdoor. As he did so, the sound of fire came rumbling past and an Adventist carrying an M4 backed out and into the exposed open. He let loose and emptied the magazine and, before he noticed Atlas was standing there, he began to run off. Taking chase, Atlas checked his own magazine and reloaded.
“Do not fire on him!” he shouted.
“I’ve got the Adventist in my sights, requesting permission to kill, Captain Sorenson.” said what Atlas figured was one of the snipers.
“No!” Atlas shouted. “You are not to fire, this is Investigator Atlas.”
“Captain are you there?!”
A silence came over them as Atlas followed the fleeing man. Yet, in a stressed voice, Captain Sorenson said as simply as he could, “Take him out.”
Like a bull charging through the trees, the sniper’s bullet rang out and could not be stopped. Even if it were to graze the man’s shoulder it would most certainly rip it off. And yet, the sound faded and the man still ran forward. Instead of hitting him, it passed by Atlas and ripped the generation which powered his suit, including his helmet, into a thousand little pieces.
“Shot missed, shot missed,” the sniper said, though Atlas could only hear a jumbled mess.
Before he could go any further, Atlas stopped and began the painstaking process of taking his helmet off. Quickly his hands ran from the top of his head down to his neckline, popping all three fasteners loose and ripping the chunk of metal off from around his head. In the distance he could see the man, who had gained quite a bit of space as Atlas fiddled with his suit. Nevertheless, the chase began again and he took off.
The sound of both men and women in the church screaming could be heard, only to be followed by the eternal silencer that was Black Sun. The gunfire lit up the morning and the sun burst out from the hills in the deep foreground where the lake ended.
The Adventist began to creep on the edge of the water, looking back periodically as Atlas tried his best to catch up. Unlike him, however, the Adventist lacked the Atom which now surged through Atlas’ blood like a thousand galleon’s all sailing for war. He didn’t feel the pain shooting up from his ankles and even though he hadn’t slept for quite some time he was more alert than most people after a full night’s sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a very quick runner to begin with.
The two continued their chase up a small embankment and onto one of the many dirt roads. The Adventists stopped for a moment, trying his damndest to find his breath again. Before leaving once more, he peered back over and into the fields, only to see an empty shore and trees in the distance. A sudden wave of levity hit him and a smile came to his face. There was no reason to run, he was sure he had gotten away. Though, as he stood there for a moment, trying his best to recover even more before running off, he began to think of the possibilities. His pursuer may have disappeared, but what were the chances he would return, not to mention the now constant threat of a sniper hiding in one of the many rural areas.
In a quick bit of brilliance, he jumped back to his feet and ran over to the other side of the embankment. As soon as he reached a decently low level, he fell to the ground and dug his head into the grass sitting loosely atop it. It was a beautiful day, he thought to himself as he watched the peach-colored clouds hover delicately above. He closed his eyes and silently recited what he had each and every morning from the very first days he could speak:
Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed by thy name;
Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven;
Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us for our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Amen.
Again he opened his eyes, watching the oil painted sky above him. Surely they would be looking for him, yet, as he laid there, he found it hard to run. That day he had sinned, the very act stung him. “They fired first,” he said to himself just loud enough to hear. Nevertheless, he still wondered as he laid there what the man’s face looked like. As soon as the first few bullets began to cascade off of the R5290 armor, his mind began to wonder who the man was. And then, as the system overloaded, he saw blood fall and drip onto the cement floor.
As the Adventist laid there, Atlas slowly crept up the rest of the embankment. He had stuck to the ground as soon as the man got to the road. Whether or not he was armed, Atlas wanted to be as safe as he could. The electric shields were of high quality and protected against most types of ammunition, but after a while the system would short circuit and allow bullets to pass through with ease. Seeing that his suit was all but dead, he knew he had no real protection that close up.
He reached the road and took to his feet, though he walked low and used both his knees and elbows. There was little use of a firearm and thus, as he neared the other side of the road, he holstered his and slowly pulled out his knife. From his perspective he could see the Adventists hair slowly flickering from the wind that came down from the hills and washed through the valley.
