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It was simple. He just had to set-up this last device, and the mini-containment shield could be activated. It should, theoretically, be strong enough.
At least he hoped.
They hadn't exactly been able to test it before their temporary base had been literally torn apart.
Before he had found them.
Before his older brother was… had been…
No, don't think about it, he had work to do.
There were three possible locations he could put it. Point A, B, or C.
Point A was the main objective and would work the best in terms of proximity, but it was always good to have contingencies. If A didn't work out for whatever reason, then C was his next best shot, followed by B.
Why they had been listed in that order, Wes didn't know, but he didn't question it. Valerie and her father seemed to know what they were talking about.
He just had to wait for the signal while the others finished up their part of the plan, hiding under the rubble of what was probably once some café or other.
His mind idled.
What would it have been today if things had gone differently? Would it still be a café? A clothing store? Perhaps a knick knack shop. Or maybe it wasn't a cafe at all, and had been an apartment building instead.
No, stop thinking about it, stay focused.
The reddish-orange smokey haze that surrounded everything made it difficult to see further than 6 or 7 ft in front of himself at any given point, and had been an active hindrance for years, but now it served to help mask his presence. The only time he'd ever be thankful for its oppressive hold. Maybe one day it would fully dissipate. He could only hope.
The wind howled on, echoing and catching strangely through all the abandoned architecture, sounding more like the screams of those who had been lost there than anything else.
He couldn't help but imagine a world where all this destruction might be seen as some sort of weird art piece or statement, full of plants and reclaimed by nature. Beautifully broken. What would the hypothetical people of this world say about any of it? Would they admire it? Study it? Leave it be? Destroy it? Make legends about what had caused this? Use it as a warning for future generations?
If they were still alive, Kyle probably would've teased him for the thought, saying something about his crazy dooms-day conspiracies and citing the "this is not a place of honour" poem before ruffling his hair.
Wouldn't that be something.
Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely. He kept his eyes towards the skies.
It felt like they were taking longer than they should have.
He counted to steel his nerves.
374... 375... 376…
With an explosion of light that pierced through the haze, followed by a loud crack, a building crumbled in the distance. Finally! His chance. That was the signal! He dashed out from his hiding spot before processing…
The sound had come from the direction of point A.
Dammit, those idiots.
He had to choose somewhere else.
A and C were close enough in the same direction.
C was slightly further north-west from A, and would be harder to get to due to the jagged terrain. The trek there could risk him being exposed and out in the open for too long and would be super risky. Not to mention, since the distraction had come from that direction, the wraith would most likely be patrolling that whole area. The chance he'd actually make it to either of those objectives if he went that way now would be slim-to-none.
Point B on the other hand had the potential to be slightly too far proximity wise and could compromise the shield's strength, the whole reason it had been last on the list in the first place; If the shield failed to activate, or there was even the slightest weakness that could be exploited, this all would’ve been for nothing.
He ran through all the mental calculations before clenching his jaw and course correcting.
Point B it was, then.
He was so gonna chew his squad out for this later.
About 600 meters.
The clock was ticking down.
He booked it despite his aching chest, weaving through the broken buildings.
250 meters.
His foot caught on something, followed by a loud crash, but he stumbled through it. He couldn't stop now, he HAD to finish this.
Less than 70 meters now.
His whole body protested the effort. His legs felt like they were about to give, and his lungs were on fire. His eyes watered, only serving to hinder his sight more, as debris littered the path forward.
Closing in now.
30
29
28
Just a basketball court away, easy as pie. He could make that distance in his sleep.
15
14
13
His fingers twitched, and he came to, floundering for a moment as he fought to regain consciousness. Wait... He'd passed out? When? How long? His panic flared.
He tried to move but his body refused to listen. He tried again, but was only rewarded with an explosion of pain. He couldn't help the shout that escaped his mouth.
The pain blossomed across his abdomen and shoulder.
That wasn't right. He gingerly tried to shift his arm but found it rooted in place. Some vague part of his mind also registered it was resting at an abnormal angle.
It dawned on him a little too late that he was pinned to a wall of some sort. Or… maybe what had used to be a wall? Perhaps it had been a roof at one point...
He chanced a glance down at the ground, still battling against the darkness that encroached his vision.
What about the device, was it still in one piece? He was so close, he just needed to finish setting it up-
Where had the rebar come from? He thought he'd left all his bigger weapons and tools at... oh. Bad. That was bad. There wasn't supposed to be that much blood.
Don't look at it, don't look at it, don't look at it, don't look at it, don't think about it-
He snapped his head up forcefully as the realization fully hit, tearing another yelp from his lungs. The sudden movement having strained against whatever was pinning his shoulder. At least he hadn't been out for long? 30 seconds at most, maybe.
A snicker echoed out from somewhere in the haze beyond him. He tried to focus his eyes, but his head was becoming thick, like it was full of cotton.
"Oh dear. Seems like I've found myself a lost little birdie." Came the singsongy voice.
It was dripping with venom.
A silhouette formed in the haze, features indistinguishable save for the blazing crimson eyes that seemed to pierce through the very fiber of his being. He knew he should recognize whoever this was, but it danced along the edge of his mind, just slightly out of reach.
“I’m so glad I finally caught up to you. I’ve been dying to have a little chat. You’re so... Flighty, nowadays. It used to be that I couldn’t get rid of you, now I can’t seem to get you to stay in one place long enough. It’s like our roles’ reversed.” The figure let out a thoughtful hum. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Something about the voice registered as a threat, and his body tensed on instinct, but he couldn't fully piece together why. His vision was becoming darker by the second. His side hurt, maybe Easton could help patch him up later...
"You know, I've been wondering," the figure stepped closer, pacing around the chunk of rubble he was stuck to.
The action momentarily sobered his errant thoughts. Easton wouldn't be patching him up. He always used to do that when they were younger, but he couldn't, not anymore. He never would again.
"How’d it feel? When people finally believed you and your little 'theories', hm?"
The figure stopped in front of his face, gently using a clawed hand to lift his head up so they met eye to eye. He could only groan in response, thoughts too cloudy to properly parse what had been said. He couldn't focus, his whole body was screaming in agony. Distantly, he wondered how the rest of his squad was holding up.
If they’d snuck into the last of his special reserve rations again while he was away so help them, he was gonna-
"I bet the vindication was intoxicating." The spots swimming in his vision prevented him from properly distinguishing the others' features, but the lilt in the voice suggested his tormentor was smiling, eyes still casting an ominous glow.
The figure callously dropped his head. The force of gravity tied to the motion sending another wave of searing pain travelling down his shoulder, eliciting another grunt from the back of his throat.
"I'm picturing it now. You, rubbing it in anyone and everyone's faces, with a loud ‘I told you so’. A snide little smirk plastered across your own like you’d just won the lottery." The figure began pacing again, hands waving dramatically for emphasis.
He was so tired, he just wanted to nap. Maybe Kyle would wake him up if he did. He just needed like, 20 minutes tops to rest his eyes.
The figure stopped in front of him again, idly tapping a claw against his chin? Maybe? Perhaps it was his cheek, or nose. Wes could barely tell, all the details blended together in an explosion of color and nothingness.
His breath hitched in his chest and an awkward snort was all that came out.
His squad always said he was the loudest snorer of the group. He didn't believe them, they were just trying to get a rise out of him, especially since Easton constantly egged them on.
Jackass.
A small smile escaped his lips, despite himself.
"But then again, you haven't been as feisty or snarky as I quite remember from our high-school days. You’ve lost all your spunk," his tormentor cradled his head in his hand in mock melancholy, "That's what made our little game of cat and mouse so fun, oh great Red-Bird. And now, despite my best efforts, you refuse to play. It pains me to see you’ve given up."
A considerate pause before, "At least Valerie still keeps up the chase."
It was really cold all of a sudden, he tried to wrap the blanket around himself tighter but it didn't seem to help dispel the chill...
Oh, wait, there was no blanket, that's right.
He wheezed and something dribbled from the corner of his mouth down his neck, but it just felt like ice on his clammy skin. He couldn’t process anything else other than the frigid bone-deep chill that now clung to his everything.
"Hmm… Seems our time is up, little Cardinal. Fly free."
And then there was only comforting silence.