The shots rang loudly as the elevator climbed to the main floor. The shouting and screaming had ceased, an eerie silence filling the area between the gunfire. When the doors opened, all I saw was blood and bodies. Dead officers littered the area, slumped over desks, and sprawled on the floor. Papers were scattered around, and the light fixtures flickered.
I stepped out of the elevator, the bullet casings scattering across the floor with each stept. As I walked carefully through the open office area, my shoes crunched onto glass and squished in the pooled blood.
The area was quiet. The shooting had stopped, and I felt exposed walking around in the open. I listened intently for any sounds or signs of life. It was likely that the people that attacked the officers were searching the building for their person of interest, or they could be exterminating anyone still alive. A couple of shots from a pistol rang through the silence, followed by shouting. I hurried toward the sounds.
“I have plenty of ammo, and I will kill every one of you if I have to,” the detective yelled.
The sound of her voice brought a smile of relief to my face. I peeked around the corner to see five people dressed in black body armor, standing outside of the lone door at the end of the hallway. There were bullet holes in the door, and she had barricaded herself inside.
The men laughed at her threat. They were in the process of reloading their assault rifles, taking their time as if they were doing nothing more than putting on a pair of socks.
“You don’t frighten us,” one of the men said.
“That’s because you don’t know me,” the detective replied, firing a few more rounds through the door.
The men didn’t attempt to duck or flee from the gunfire. The bullets hit a couple of them but didn’t inflict any injury. They were covered in armor, and there was no way standard ammunition from a pistol would penetrate the surface. They laughed harder as they readied their weapons for a response of their own.
“Maybe we should just leave her be and get what we came for,” one man said.
“Orders are orders,” another man said.
“Agreed,” the man standing directly in front of the door said. “Our orders were to eliminate all threats during our extraction. The only good witness is a dead one.”
“Din, what are you doing?” Jealousy asked. “We’re free. Let’s go.”
“I can’t turn my back on her,” I replied. “I won’t.”
“What’s your problem?” Hatred growled. “She’s just a mortal. An insignificant mortal. I’m sick of you pining over her.”
I turned to scowl at her. “I’m sick of the way you talk to me,” I snarled. “You speak to me like I’m as insignificant as the mortals you despise so much. I am Dinlas, your God, and I don’t answer to either of you. I’m not going to leave her here to die. Do you understand?” She glared back at me, unaffected by my words. I plucked her by her throat, lifting her as high as my arm would extend. “Do you understand?”
“Din, stop, please stop,” Jealousy said with concern.
“I will when she answers me,” I replied, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
Hatred gasped and choked under my grip but refused to answer me. She glared down at me with a defiant snarl, curling her upper lip as her nose crinkled to her furrowed brow. My grip tightened on her neck, attempting to motivate her to comply with my wishes, but she remained diligent with her stance. Her eyes fluttered and rolled back. Her gasps dwindled down to a whisper, and her body fell limp in my hand.
“Din, what are you doing?” Jealousy shouted.
“Everyone, on my mark,” the man said, interrupting my altercation with my minions. “You’re about to meet whatever is after this. I hope you’re okay with that.”
I released Hatred and turned to the corner to see what the five men intended to do. They all had their assault rifles pointed at the lone door where the detective sought refuge. They were going to kill her.
“Empty your clips and fill her with holes, gentlemen,” the man instructed.
“No!” I shouted, grabbing the desk next to me.
They spun around, surprised by my outburst, and began to shoot in my direction. I charged their position, holding the desk up in front of me. I wasn’t worried about the mortal weapons, but I didn’t know what would happen if I walked into a wall of lead from five assault rifles. Their bullets littered the desk. Some of them penetrated and ripped through my body. I pushed the desk into the first man, driving him back into the door. I needed to work fast and put these mortals down as quickly as I could.
I grabbed the man to my immediate left, gripping his throat, and yanking his neck out. I kicked the man to my immediate right back into the wall, driving my fist onto the top of his head. His skull buckled, caving in at the top as I broke his helmet into two pieces. Another one of the men charged me, and I drove my fist through his chest. The other man ran. I grabbed the desk and hurled it into the fleeing man’s back, knocking him to the floor.
I stalked over to him as he struggled to get the desk off of him. Jealousy stayed with Hatred, holding her in his arms as he looked at me with disappointment. My hate and anger for the situation had empowered me beyond what I was willing to do. I didn’t care about that or the consequences of my actions anymore. I just wanted to do whatever was going to ensure the detective’s safety. I stomped on the man’s head, crushing it beneath my heel, and it popped like a grape. I turned around as the first man clamored to his feet. He struggled to stand, dazed from my attack. He raised his hand, pointing his gun at me. I charged him for a second time, tackling him into the door. The impact of our bodies broke the door off its hinges and we fell into the room.
I saw the detective as she lay on the floor. She was severely wounded and bleeding out on the floor. She struggled to remain conscious, and her eyes locked on mine. A brief smile cracked across her blood-stained face. Panic spread through my body at the thought of losing her. I needed to finish the job I started and heal her. I inhaled deeply, mustering all the strength I had, and drove my fist through the man’s face. I knew I did the job correctly when my knuckles made contact with the door behind him.
“Dinlas,” the detective whispered. “Help me.”