Bruce's pov
BANG.
We stood still, just like time stopped for a minute. We were trying to kill ourselves a minute ago.
Just then, the guard in front of me fell face down.
And there he laid, in a pool of blood, I looked around trying to find out who shot the gun.
I saw a figure behind the guard body, just right before the doorway, a female stood there with a gun in her hand.
I wasn't sure if she was an ally or enemy, seeing she shot the guard, maybe she was aiming for me, if she was she wouldn't have stopped after the first shot.
While I was trying to figure out this stranger's intention. She called out.
"I'm with the agency, I was told you were here also, I'm here to assist you"
"How can I know, you're telling the truth?"
"If I wasn't, you will be dead by now"
I took a deep breath, decided to give her the benefit of a doubt
"So you work with the agency too"
"Yes, I've heard a lot about you. Master Damain"
"Can't say the same about you"
I said trying to find out who this strange woman was, of course I knew my name, but who the hell was she.
And then she introduced herself.
"I apologize for the rudeness. My name is Estelle. You can call me Stella."
"Nice to meet you Stella, and thanks for your help, I owe you one."
"I was just doing my job, I was told to assist you in any way I could"
"What do we do about the kids now?"
"I will call the police and report the case, they will know how to handle it"
"No problem then, guess my job here is done"
I handed over to her, the information I've written down, all I've heard about the next shipment, the names I heard and other locations the guards talked about"
"I'm trusting you with this and the kids, make sure the get out of here safe"
"I will"
Giving a nod of assurance, I left. Leaving the port, I noticed that there were no portloaders to be seen.
Seems like they made a run for it after hearing the noise, I staggered through the port and out of the port.
Not too far away from the port I saw a cab, and he took me back to my house.
As soon as I got home, I fell face flat on the couch. I couldn't make it to the bed.
I groaned as I tried to adjust myself on the couch, as uncomfortable as it was I fell dozed off.
The dream started in silence.
I gained consciousness in a strange place, somewhere I know I've never been, but there was this sense of familiarity like I've been here before.
I saw a group of people wearing all black with gears and all. They looked like a special forces agent or squad of some sort.
I reasoned they were on a mission, but what does that have to do with me?.
Then I noticed amongst them, there was a familiar face.
It was me, not me, Damain.
Was this a memory of his? I had no idea what was going on.
There was something even weirder going on, I could hear his thoughts. It was as if I was the one participating in the raid.
After a few prepping up, the team went in and I followed.
But something was wrong.
Even before we entered, I felt it.
The kind of silence that wasn't just empty. It was planned.
They went in anyway. Room by room. The warehouse loomed hollow, stripped bare. No crates, no weapons. Just concrete walls and the faint stink of oil.
"This place is dead," one of the men whispered over comms.
Dead. Yes. But not empty.
Doors slammed. Lights cut. Shadows erupted all around us.
Armed men pouring in from hidden passageways, rifles raised. My blood froze.
"They knew,"
Damain muttered. The words tasted bitter. Someone had tipped them off.
Gunfire shattered the silence.
Half of his squad went down in the first volley. Screams and curses tore through the comms.
Damian dropped behind a steel crate, returning fire.
I just stood there witnessing everything.
One. Two. Three of them fell. His hands moved without hesitation, instincts sharpened with years of experience and training.
The floor was filled with blood and lifeless bodies.
But Damain was different, he fought like a cornered animal. Every bullet, every knife strike, bought him closer to escaping this hellhole.
But his men, his colleagues, were being shot down one after another.
By the time he carved his way to the rear exit, he was alone.
I could hear the roar of rotor blades coming from the rear exit.
There was a helicopter there, waiting.
That was supposed to be their ride after the raid.
Damian ran towards the helicopter. I could feel his pain, his exhaustion, everything he felt at that moment. I felt it too.
Then a flash of light split the sky.
Not lightning. A rocket.
The explosion lit the night like sunrise. The helicopter erupted into fire, metal shrieking as it spiraled down.
The shockwave knocked Damain his knees, heat scorching his face.
Even from the distance I was I felt it.
Through the haze, I saw them. The Organization's leader, standing on a nearby rooftop, launcher still smoking. Smiling.
They'd known everything. The mission. The route. The extraction. Every move we'd made.
My blood turned to ice. Damian and his men hadn't just walked into an ambush.
They had been fed to them.
And as the flames consumed the last of my team, a single truth burned hotter than the fire:
This raid was leaked, somebody had betrayed from the inside.
I saw despair in Damian eyes, he was on his knees, all hope lost.
He got on his feet, looking directly at the burning helicopter, he ran towards it.
The dream fractured then, the fire dissolving into black. My lungs heaved as if I'd been running for miles.
I woke up, I was all soaked, my clothes were drenched with sweat.
I looked around confused, what was that just now, was it a dream? Was it a nightmare of some sort?
It has been a couple of crazy days, so a nightmare doesn't sound so far off, and then I remembered what I saw, the emotions I felt.
It wasn't a nightmare.
It was a memory.