Chapter Text
'HUD activated. Commence briefing.'
"Approaching Harran," the pilot says.
'Data on the subject, Kadir Suleiman: A local political figure hired to maintain order after the outbreak. His brother Hussan died in a disease-related incident before we were able to evacuate him. Suleiman blamed the GRE for the man's death; he stole a highly-sensitive file which became his bargaining chip against the GRE, with instructions to publicize it if anything happened to him.'
There’s a picture, there in the lower left-hand. A man, dark and brooding, staring into the camera like it’s personally offended him. Deep-set eyes, surrounded by scars- one crossing from cheek onto nose, another across his forehead. The guy's handsome, Kyle thinks, unbuckling. He takes one more look, committing it to memory. Too bad he looks like he's got half a planet shoved up his ass.
"Drop in ten seconds."
The plane's vertical door begins to open. Golden light spills in richly, warm and good.
'Data on the subject: the stolen file. It details the incomplete process of synthesizing a cure for the virus. If implemented in it's current state the produced substance may be extremely toxic-'
"Now!" the pilot yells. Kyle hits the air.
'- and the file contains full description of the Virion's structure. Any attempt to use it would result in countless lives lost. It must be recovered.'
It's hot. The clouds reflect gold and light all around him, serene and beautiful and misleading. When they clear, he sees the crumbling, massacred city below. He waits ‘til he hits 5,000 feet. He deploys his chute, breaking the momentum.
'Further information: current status. Suleiman sent the file to an associate unknown to us, with instructions to publicize it on his command at any time. To counter that we instituted a city-wide communication jam, preventing him from publicizing the file. Your GRE issued radio can overcome that jamming. It is your lifeline. Do not lose it.'
The city, at first simple glance, is beautiful. The peaceful skyline, the sun off the water speaks of a better time. The further Kyle goes, though, the more obvious the desolation of Harran becomes.
'Suleiman has since gone underground and has been using a different name. We have reason to believe he now operates one of the two main factions operating within the city. You are to find Suleiman and find the stolen file in order to save mankind from a disaster of unprecedented proportions.'
He's down on level with the tallest buildings now, which appear to still be standing by only a few pillars and blind goddamn luck- except for one, he notices, taller than all the rest, across the way. Shattered windows line it’s walls. There, on the side of the building, is a word, spray-painted in red- SURVIVORS HERE. Before he can get a better look, the street comes up to meet him quickly. It’s lined with litter, and seemingly deserted.
His parachute catches. Shit.
Looking back and forth, he grabs the clasp of his chute rig, releasing it. He hits a rail on his way down, knocking his wind away. The rest of the fall is just as hard and unforgiving- he cries out as he hits the concrete. His vision swims for a few long breaths. Blinking beyond the confusion, he sees his walkie, laying a few feet away, knocked off with the impact. He gradually checks mentally over his body, flexing fingers and toes, feeling out each of his senses. He's dizzy. The ground is cold against his face, air warm against the rest of him. He shifts to turn over, grunting softly. Way up, he sees his chute, tangled and blended amongst apartment clotheslines. He glares at it, as if the blunder had been planned.
He hears the footsteps before he can run from them.
"Tahir! Over here," someone says suddenly. Looking up, there's a man, armed and squinting above him.
Another man runs up, with a third behind him. Kyle tries to push up, but gets knocked back down. The second man kicks Kyle to fully face up.
Kyle grunts, grabbing his side. "What the fuck-"
"We'll break his legs, take him to Rais," the biggest one says, standing tall in the middle. "then find the drop-"
Kyle pushes up, launching himself back as he grabs his gun, still panting.
"Back up! All of you," he commands. They each take a step away, spreading out the slightest bit from each other. One of the men hovers in his peripheral, the largest still ahead of him.
The same one speaks again. "Stop! Loud noises draw them."
Before he can reply, the rightmost man comes in from the side and brings a pipe down on him. He hits the ground again, winded and dizzy, as the other men jump in, their numerous fists grabbing at him. Kyle aims and feels the give of the trigger under his finger- the shot is loud, but necessary, hitting the one with the pipe square in the chest. He's unmoving before he hits the ground, stare turning glassy and lightless. Kyle only feels a moment of relief before the screams begin. They're not scared screams, not pained or hurt. No- they're angry.
"Fall back!" The large man yells. Kyle pushes himself up to run, but the brute grabs Kyle tightly by his shirt, tossing his weight around as if he's little more than a ragdoll. Kyle hisses, vision tilting. They're running, then, off the street and into an alleyway, lined with trash and blood-stained walls.
"Where are the cars?" The man asks the other.
"Past those fences," the smaller man says. They keep running, each movement agitating, his ankle screaming in protest and head pounding with each step.
They must reach said fence- the big man genuinely throws him over something. He hits the ground with a pained grunt. He tries to roll over, one last-ditch effort to escape, but he’s too slow, he’s too slow. His head is throbbing and leg is aching but he can use them, he can use them if he could just get up-
He groans at the ache. The big one, landing from over the fence, sneers down at him.
"Shut him up," he says.
The words barely register before pain hits him, then nothing registers at all.