A 3 Day Conflict

Spectres eyes snapped to the mans hand reaching for his sidearm and shifted his body as the man fired. The plasma round grazed the leather wrapped around his right shoulder, leaving the point of contact a glowing orange color as if the hide was cooking. Another man would have considered this as unfair play, but to Spectre it was all part of the game.

He closed the gap between them surprisingly fast, Spectre snapped his right hand out in an attempt to push Volkers sidearm off to the right, at the same time throwing his left shoulder into Volkers chest with enough force to shift them a few inches from their original positions.

Spectre followed up the movement with a downward thrust with his left hand, and with blade in hand his intentions were to embed the large knife in Volkers right thigh, just above the knee.

Spectres blade missed its home by just a few inches, the edge slightly digging into the outside of Volkors right thigh.

After having his throat grabbed, Spectre let out a slight grunt as he took a punch to his right shoulder. Spectre brought his knife arm upward, slamming his left elbow into Volkor's left arm effectively releasing his grip on his throat.

Spectres right hand being free, dropped down to his hip, drawing his sidearm. He brought the weapon up in between them to rest on the chin of Volkors helmet, and before metal touched metal, Spectre pulled the trigger, freeing one more .45 round into the base of the Velkors helmet.

Spectre pulled the trigger once more, causing the magazine and the chamber to become empty. The first punch that Velkor landed onto Spectres firing arm caused the gun to shift and miss Velkors helmet by a few inches, the round slamming into the ceiling and causing debris to float down above them.

He quickly holstered his sidearm and bought his arms up, leaning with the direction of Velkors punches in order to cause less of an impact with each blow.

Spectre quickly went from defense to offense after the barrage of blows, and with his knife still in his left hand he lead with a few slashes aimed at the gaps in Velkors armor, followed by him attempting to slam his right boot into Velkors right shin.

Spectre couldn't move while he was confined within the hug, but once Velkor began punching his arms became free. After a few punches to his own head, Spectre began throwing his right elbow out, deflecting a blow here and there.

At the same time his recently free left hand pushed the large 12'' blade up against a soft spot in Velkors armor at the left side of his stomach, and attempted to shove in a twisting motion with enough force to lift the heavy man a few inches from Spectres body.

Not knowing if the knife met its mark Spectre followed up the gouging motion of his knife with a hard right hook to the left side of Velkors helmet, dismounting him from atop Spectre.

Spectre rolled over onto his stomach and shoved himself onto his feet while he tucked the knife into a foreign place under a leather strap on his left hip, and with his right hand he drew his side arm, releasing the spent magazine and feeding a new one into place as if he had done this motion a thousand times. He shuffled his feet a few steps back to put some distance between him and his target as he took aim.

The barrel was now aimed straight at Volkor with his finger twitching slightly, ready to pull the trigger.

"I have to say, you've been worth the time, it's been a while since i've tasted my own blood."

The pooling of blood began to soak the mask from the nose down, but his brain wasn't registering the damage that was done to him. Spectres body had to much adrenaline in his system to really take notice at the time. It would be something he'd feel in the morning.

Spectres eyes never left Volker as he rose with his arms raised. Spectre took another few steps backward, gaining a closer distance between himself and the window that lead out into the corridor. Unfortunately for Volker, the idea of allowing someone to surrender did not exist in his reality.

Spectre shifted his left shoulder, dislodging the backpacks strap from its place and reached into the satchel with his left hand. He let the bag fall to the floor as he cradled a small baseball sized sphere within his fingers.

He quickly holstered his weapon, and before one could follow the motion he struck the fuse that was protruding from the ball through the use of a small contraption that was secured at the tip. Spectre hurled the ball at the doorway that Volker and himself had just came from. With the ball in flight, Spectre turned and dove through the window that lead to the corridor. Glass shards cut through his clothing and marking up his flesh as he passed through, landing with a heavy thud on the other side.

As soon as he hit the floor he pushed himself up and began sprinting like a man who had just stared into the face of pure evil, irony really. According to his unreliable sisters instructions, the fuse had a 5 second timer. But then again it was his sister who had made the device, and knowing her the object was likely to kill himself and Volker.

He counted in his head. 1......2.....

As the number two passed through his mind the ball ignited.

The results were incomprehensible. The first thing to happen was the shock wave, it was so powerful that it lifted Spectre clear off of his feet in a dead run and sent him flying down the corridor. The next thing were the flames, licking and burning everything they touched.

If a spectator had been observing the structure from outside, they would have witnessed a huge chunk of the buildings side blow out off into the wastes, sending debris, large chunks of concrete and steel flying out into the ever hostile environment.

Spectre hit the floor and began to roll, the leather and cloth he wore on his skin was smoking and when he came to a complete stop he laid there on the floor. His eyes opened slowly, the world as he saw it was nothing but a blur, and his ears were ringing so loud that he couldn't hear anything in the area even if he tried. Blood began to pool within the fabric all over his mask as he laid there with a blurred visual of what he could hardly make out as a hallway covered in a thick dense smoke illuminated by an orange glow caused by the flames.

The adrenaline running through his system wasn't enough to ignore the magnitude of the pain he was experiencing, no wonder his sister called it the "i'm fucked solution."

Spectre managed to mutter the words "God dammit Nessa." As he forced himself up into a sitting position up against the wall. He began hitting the back of his head against the concrete wall in an attempt to clear his vision, and after he started to look left and right in order to gain a bearing on where he actually was, the smoke was now fully engulfing the area, and everything looked like he was underwater making it nearly impossible to see.

After a few minutes had passed Spectre was able to force himself up onto his feet while using the wall as support. The blood was now dripping from his mask to the floor as crimson streams began rolling down from his mask to other parts of his body.