The Two Lives Of Aaron Wade: The Gamer And The Heir 120 G.O.T.A.R Iii : Bloody Re-Awakening, Innocence Los

Qitar and I poked our heads out the doors into the bath house, and almost immediately we were under fire from over a dozen guns. We ducked back into the bath house as we waited for the hail of gunfire to stop, but even after a minute, it seemed as if there would be no end to it. I furrowed my brows in confusion, don't these guys need to recharge their weapons or change the ammunition. It was as if they were firing in waves, almost like a tag match where the they are next team would take over once the first was tired.
With this amount of suppressive fire we couldn't go out into the hallway without being poked full of holes, we needed to disrupt their tempo, throwing their coordination off track is the only way to get them off our backs long enough for us to deal some damage to them. I gave Qitar a look and telling her to cover me, with how powerful my armor is, I should be able to withstand at least three seconds of their concentrated fire, but I had no intention if just staying there and getting shot at.
I laid down flat on my back as I poked my hand out the doorway, only my palm was exposed, but I still felt plasma bolt slam into it, burning my skin to a crisp. I held back a curse and watched as it slowly healed, for what I had to do next, it's basically who could shoot the fastest. I took a deep breath and quickly shoved my hand out again, but this time from a different direction as I activated the skill that I wanted.
(MANA ARROW)
Without Sky around to amplify the power of my magic, the mana arrows were only about a meter long and five to seven inches wide, however they weren't really here to cause damage even though I knew they packed quite a punch. Four bolts of blue magical arrows came into existence In the hallway and flew towards the guards gathered in the hallway. Three of the arrows slammed into none fatal places on the body of three guards, but still cause enough damage and packed enough force to throw them backwards into the comrades, sending more than half of the guards tumbling to the floor in a heap.
The final arrow slammed into the forehead of another guard, but unlike his friends, his head blew up like a watermelon, much to my surprise. Seems like magic has a whole other level of damage than I previously thought possible, especially if it should hit and unprotected part of the body.
Qitar didn't stand on ceremony as she smoothly stepped out of the bath house, took a knee and fired off a shot from one of the guns she took from the very dead guards inside. Another head was blown to bits, and just in time too as I followed behind her, holding another gun in hand as squeezed the trigger. A thin beam of orange light flew out of my own gun and went straight into the neck of another guard. At that moment a heavy feeling of déjà vu came over me, this was something I have done so many times before. I might have spent my time so far gallivanting across the game with a bow, magic staff and sword, but it still didn't change who I am inside.

It didn't change the truth of who I was, or what I could do, or how dangerous I was when there was nothing else but a gun in my hand. Each and every single member of my platoon were given fictional names from old fantasy media as a testament to our talents and temperament. I might have tired to bury that part of me so deep down that I almost forgot about it, but it seems holding this gun again had forced me to wake that part of myself up, 'Legolas' has come to play.
I raised the a.s.sault rifle to shoulder height and crouched down as I began to move forward. Whatever tempo these group of guys had, we had already ruined it, and no matter how hard they tried, there was no way they would be able to out up a fight anymore, it against people like me and Qitar. It was happening right in front of me and I was the cause of it, utter obviously this was going to be another ma.s.sacre.
Every step I took I squeezed the trigger in my hands, and it was not just me. Qitar had not moved from her crouched position by the entrance of the bath house, but every shot she made also took a life. In no time at all, all that was left of the dozen guards were the three who were injured by my Mana arrow. I went to the first who was face down an moaning, moved the gun to the back of his neck and pulled the trigger. I ignored the blood that splashed on my boots as I moved to the next who was missing an arm and blasted his head off his shoulder. The third just had a rather nasty burn on his face from when the Mana arrow slammed the wall besides him.
"NO! WAIT PLEASE! I HAVE INFO….."
*Bang!*
I didn't let him complete his speech as I ended his life and began moving around the other bodies, checking if anyone of them was still alive by using my feet to move and flip them over, my gun still pointed down, index finger poised and ready to squeeze the trigger. I was so focused on my task that I didn't notice when Qitar walked up to me and said to me.
"They're all dead captain, every shot made was either a neck shot or a head shot, you don't have to be so thorough. This battle has been won."
"I know that Qitar, you're right; this battle has been won, let's move on to the next. I think our next stop should be the floor above us, let's go find Dinah and Sky." I said to her as I moved through the hallway, there were a few doors on the side, and I made sure to check them as I made my way towards the elevator at the other end of the hall. I was still doing that when I heard Qitar ask another question.
"How old were you?"
"What?" I paused and asked back confused.
"When you joined the army how old were you, and also how old were you the first time you killed a man?" I had no idea where she was going with this, but I gave her the answer she asked for none the less.
"I was 18 when I joined the army, and as for the first man I killed." I turned to look at her with a blank look on my face.
"I was 7."
There was nothing else to do within that hallway, so we entered the elevator and prepared to move to the next floor. Even though we knew Sky was two floors up, we had no idea Where Dinah was, so we probably had to check each floor as we went up, plus I'm sure whatever guards that are left in the building would be concentrated on the floors where Dinah and Sky were being held. Obviously they would a.s.sume that we would be coming for them. Just as the elevator was about to open up to next floor, I could not help sinking back into my memories, especially the one memory that I really wanted to bury, the day I lost my innocence.
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At seven I guess I could say that my imagination was a whole lot more active than other kids my age, but even so I wasn't normal. The other kids at school knew it, even the teachers knew it, that's why they never let me play with the other kids. I've heard them whisper more often than not that I was a little too rough with them, only Penny could actually keep up with me. At the time my mom called all of them soft rich kids, but so was I.
Not that I was soft or anything, but I was just a rich kid too, just like them. That's why this bad man took me here, it was why he tired me to a chair, it's he spent the past five minutes talking to my Baba and telling him that he wanted ten million dollars for a ransom. Nanny Florence called these kind of people typical idiots who had no idea what they were doing, or maybe they did, but they just like messing with the wrong people.
I don't know where we are right now, but it was dark and smelled of mold. We were in a dinning room of sorts, and it was only lit by a tiny lamp on the table I was tied on. The guy who kidnapped had a mask over his face, bishop voice was really gruff and he was yelling into his phone, yelling at my Baba. I s.h.i.+fted a bit and felt the ropes he used in tying me, getting out of this would be really easy, escaping from ropes was the first thing Nanny Florence taught me, and even her easiest knot was a lot harder than this.
The man hung up on his call and turned to face me, then he started chuckling almost as if he heard something funny. I wonder what that was, but to be honest I didn't really care, sitting on this table with my hands tied behind my back was tiring. There was a basket of moldy fruit on the table, and beside it was a case of knives, they looked really old and rusted and I doubt they've seen any use in a while.
"You know it's boys like you that I like the most. The rich spoiled sp.a.w.n of even richer spoiled sp.a.w.ns. Maybe now you're cute and such an angel your teachers would jump at the opportunity to give you a gold star for bravery, but I know your endgame. I know that in a few years from now, all that you will be is a monster that preys on those who are your betters but lack the opportunities and peerage you have. You will think you're superior to everyone in the world because you went to the best schools, drive the best cars, and date the best models. Heck you will even take the wives of those you think you're better than, all for your sick s.a.d.i.s.tic pleasure. LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
*SMACK!*
He hit hard, but Nanny Florence sometimes. .h.i.t harder, besides why was he so angry anyway. I didn't do any of these things he said I did, but none the less he hurt me, and I'm going to hurt him back. My hands were free already, and as he grabbed my chin squeezing so hard I'm sure it would leave bruises, I moved my free hands to the case of rusted knives on the table. Nanny Florence had shown me how to throw them, but since he was this close there was no need to throw them, I just had to go for the soft spot like she said I should.
The first knife easily slid into his neck regardless of the rust on it. His eyes widened In shock and fright, but I didn't pay attention to that as I pushed the second one into his stomach. It didn't go as deep as I wanted it too, and it made him move back so I couldn't easily put those knives into him anymore. But there wasn't that much of a problem, I can throw them.
And so I threw the first one, it sunk into his arm, the second one went wide and went past his head. He held his bleeding neck as he tried running away, but he was pushed back when the handle of the third knife hit his forehead, and the fourth sunk into his leg. By the time the eight knife touched his body, he was already laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
There was a sort of wheezing sound coming from him, it reminded me of balloons that had air escaping from their sides. I sat on that table looking at him, not at all sure about what I had to do, and that's how the police found me fifteen minutes later after having traced the call he made to this building. But either way they were too late, the kidnapper was dead, and the boy who was kidnapped died with him that day.
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