CHAPTER THREE:
‘Elimination’
Fenir dashed down the corridor heading towards the Alliance Republic Meeting Hall, he had visited the Admiral’s office, only to be told by the secretary that his grandfather was giving a meeting on rank reformations within the Air Division. Now he ran full pelt past familiar and unfamiliar faces, hearing various members of the higher ranks muttering with disapproval and yet making no move to stop him.
Meanwhile, Proteus Hand stalked down the narrow passageways intended for engineers when issues with the complex’s power plant arose, this time however, the hobnailed boots belonged to one of the enemy; an enemy who held a rifle in his hand, and openly wore his uniform, as though mocking the Alliance. He calmly opened the hatch that lead under the central corridor, and continued his journey.
Fenir shot blindly along the corridor, oblivious to the fact that his enemy was directly below him, beating him in this un-judged race. Finally, he found a door to one of the balconies that overlooked the meeting podium. He burst in, startling Trinity Heckroth and some high ranking ARAD officials, who glared at him before turning back towards the speech that his grandfather was giving.
Ignoring various angry comments from the users of the balcony, Fenir pushed his way towards the small emergency staircase and began to dash down it, missing two steps at a time. Glancing up towards the opposite wall, he could see an unfamiliar man standing alone in one of the balconies, in his hand Fenir glimpsed some kind of long range gun.
He ran faster, watching the figure brush white hair from his eyes and take aim at the stand.
‘No!’
Fenir cried out loudly.
Several ARAD Pilots looked round, but had no idea what Fenir was protesting about.
An Intelligence officer began to run towards the staircase.
‘He’s got a gun’
Fenir shouted.
But it was too late; the shot rang out across the domed roof, and panic issued. Some of the braver pilots pulled small Sidearm’s from their holsters, looking for the sniper, while the others ran for the nearest exit.
Fenir glanced up at the balcony where, a moment before, the man had stood, though he was now gone, the chaos he had left behind continued to flow.
Fenir dashed past the dazed Intelligence Officer towards the podium, and gasped.
His grandfather lay on the floor, his face twisted with horror and shock, his beard stained with red where the bullet had hit his forehead.
He was dead.
Proteus Hand turned away from the chaos he had caused, a grim smile of satisfaction on his face; his job was done, and it was time for him to go home.
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