Side Effects

23 - Brutality

The riots started quickly. The casualties started in the late morning.

Cherie threw a bottle of vodka she had in safekeeping, sprinting away and laughing with excitement before she heard the smash on the ground. The sudden heat from behind her confirmed that her friend and colleague, Mickey, had thrown a lit lighter onto the substance, creating a flash of heat to separate themselves and the armed guards.

The two of them ran a little more before turning and seeing what they had done. Jeering at them and sticking up a middle finger, the armed guards were unsure of how to react. Though it was difficult to see through the tall flames, one shot at them in a rage and missed, hitting the barricade not too far behind them.

In a giggle of shock yet elation, Cherie chuckled "Shit!" and continued towards the safe haven for the rebels.

At first, each side had tried to be brutal but civil. But like pure anger, keeping in the true self could not be prolonged. Harmless injuries grew and grew into cruel wounds and life-threatening conditions. Cherie was lucky to be alive for the time being. Many did not make it within the first few hours.

A stranger fighting alongside Bree tossed a handgun to her, startling her.
It surprised Bree negatively to have her own hands in contact with a murder weapon.

The weaponry had mostly been provided by Rhine. No one really questioned where or how he obtained these guns or knives or smoke bombs or slingshots or other miscellaneous sharp objects - but nobody truly cared. In fact, the only person to be asking these questions was Bree.

Out of impulse, she dropped the gun to the floor.
"You can't just keep hiding back here, you know!" The stranger complained, looking through a tiny gap in the barricade. He was right - she knew that - but Bree did not want to be forced to kill in order to reach society's goal.

"What the fuck?" The stranger whispered to himself, then yelled at the top of his lungs over the barricade. "HEY, WELLS! GET OVER HERE!"

Bree climbed and peeped over the barricade. Stumbling towards them was a man silhouetted in the smoke of bombs. He coughed loudly, his coarseness echoing in the narrow street. His leg, though only shadowed through the mist, was clearly injured, dragging back with every step, accompanied by a groan of pain.

The stranger desperately encouraged his friend, but to little avail. Wells' speed was slow, and unlikely to outrun any enemies if they came. Bree was not sure whether to keep watching, but something drove her eyes to stay open.

Out of nowhere, a small cylinder came hurtling towards Wells, and in a large flash of light, the man fell into a mortal state of burning pieces, lying around the near end of the path. The bang of dynamite finally made Bree's eyelids shut tight.

Once the light of the explosion died down, Bree opened her eyes slowly to the fog, even thicker than before. Despite her wanting her memories back, was she willing to add these memories to them?

"Good throw, Major! Now you three, go forward, I'll try and strike from above!" Ursa Kirralain ordered once the explosion was done. She separated from her inferior soldiers and patrolled through the screaming crowds, planning her tactics.

Behind her, escaping a cloud of death, appeared a tall, broad spectre. He tracked her moves without her knowledge, pushing through the crowds with a sneer and a quickened pace. From his pocket, he pinched an Ace of Diamonds, ready to launch at the Chief of Police.

Suddenly, she clocked around to face him, a gun in her outstretched hand.
"AU7."

Gadolin watched as Ursa took out a nine of diamonds and held it to her face. "You thought you could kill me with this."

Noticing his displeasure, she squinted, hinting a smile of satisfaction.

Rapidly, she shot a bullet. Gadolin had disappeared from sight, but Ursa knew that she was still under his danger. She had missed her chance again. Gritting her teeth, she put her gun back in its holster and opened out her arms.

In a swift wave of feathers, sprouting from her small head down to her long, wedge-shaped tail, Ursa transformed. She had not used this ability since last time she encountered Gadolin, when she saved herself from imminent death.

The bird that she became itself was a symbol of death, her dark feathers dim like a void. The bird also represented mystery - the secrecy of this ability kept from other officers. She had used it well, flying to spy on her prey. This bird was leadership and monarchy, the very pinnacle of her career for the welfare of this strongly-governed kingdom. If this woman was to ever fall, the justice of this society would fall down with her.

Gliding over the people and buildings and streets, Ursa flew gallantly in the form of a raven, shading lights with her wide wings as an omen to her enemy.

Gadolin looked up at the raven from below, telling himself repetitively that this would never happen again.

Another bomb sounded from another street. It was his cue to leave and stick to his own plan. But wherever Donnamira and Rhine were, he had no idea.