He saw that the crowd were jeering another Krenaran present; strange, he thought. Why should he be there? It mattered not; nothing would come between him and his mission, not even this other Krenaran. He put the thoughts to the back of his mind and peered through the rifle scope.
E.O.C. A President James Rushfeldt gracefully took to the stage dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and flanked by two bodyguards, waving to the crowd assembled in front of him.
“ This is a momentous day, barely a week ago humanity and the Krenaran race were still locked in a bitter war, and now a Krenaran stands on Earth as a symbol of peace; please, won’t you join me?”
The lights and cameras turned towards the powerful lumbering form of Dalvosh as he gradually made his way through the throng, every single man and woman who looked upon his towering reptilian form half covered in shining metallic Krenaran battle armour, looked upon it with hate-filled eyes.
Gradually Dalvosh took to the stage next to the president, who quickly switched off the microphones arrayed in front of him.
“ I’ve just done you a huge favour, your not here to kill me, you would have done that already. So what the hell are you doing here?” Rushfeldt looked up at the Krenaran.
“ We’re here to save you,” Dalvosh growled back. “There is a rogue Krenaran agent loose in the building, and you are his target.”
Rushfeldt froze, “where?”
“ We don’t know yet, the building is being searched right now.”
Michael, Eldathar, and Vargev sprinted up a flight of stairs breathing heavily as they did so, Eldathar’s gangly Solarian legs carried him much faster than the others.
“ Twenty meters,” Michael puffed, “just beyond that corridor.”
They sprinted for all they were worth, preying they weren’t too late, accidentally knocking over a cleaning woman in their haste.
Together they burst through the door of the dimly lit viewing room, and were confronted with the sight of an E.D. F soldier pointing a pulse rifle to the viewing glass.
Eldathar held up his scanner first, “that’s him!”
Michael was fastest, sprinting across the room he lunged in a desperate attempted to knock the assassin off balance before he got a shot away, just as he was about to press the trigger. Michael slammed into Lathiel as the shot fired, shattering the glass, it was just enough for the shot to miss the president. Instead however, it slammed into the chest of Dalvosh who was thrown backwards by the force of the impact.
The crowd panicked and began to rush headlong for the exits, people were knocked aside, several were being crushed in the press of people desperate to escape.
The momentum of Michael’s charge proved too much and Lathiel used his own speed and weight against him, as he pushed him flying through another glass pane; shattering it too as Michael’s body sailed through it.
Shards of smashed glass rained down on the already panicked crowd below, as the sheer force of people charging towards him flattened Kinraid. Dalvosh lay face up on the stage, the two bodyguards ignored the fallen Krenaran, instead rapidly ushering the president out of the room through an emergency exit behind them.
Michael desperately clung to a length of steel pipe-work directly below the overhanging viewing room, thankfully the pipe was cool; there he dangled forty feet in the air, his legs flailing wildly as his weapon clattered onto the marble floor some forty feet below. The pain in his arm was excrutiating, he had wrenched his shoulder badly grabbing onto the pipe.
Vargev and Eldathar confronted Lathiel. Eldathar attempted to tackle the assassin, Lathiel was much faster than the gangly Solarian and without a word flung one of his knives at him. Eldathar screamed out in pain as the blade embedded itself in his arm, sending out a gout of blue-ish blood, the force of the blade pinned the Solarian pilot to the wall.
Lathiel, angered at having his mission interrupted, menacingly drew his second blade.
Vargev dropped his Armschlager and drew his own combat knife. The assassin and the Russian silently and menacingly circled each other, sizing one another up.
Lathiel was the first to attack, lashing out with his blade the knife was a blur as it flicked out. Vargev barely had time to dodge the slash as Lathiel pounced again. This time Vargev was able to parry the blow, both their blades locked together. Rapidly bringing up his knee, the Krenaran impostor rammed it into the Russians stomach; he staggered backwards a few steps as pain coursed through his already fragile ribs.
The assassin swiped at him again, the blade sliced deep into the flesh of Vargev’s upper right arm. The Russian screamed in pain, clutching at his wound.
“ Don’t make me laugh old man,” Lathiel spat as he viciously spin-kicked Vargev in the chest, sending him sprawling across the hard floor; his knife clattered across the ground.
For a moment fear began to rise in Vargev, this man was his equal, and may yet beat him. He banished the thought and got to his feet, still clutching his wounded arm.
“ Huh, still some fight left in you… okay then,” Lathiel said with a cruel sneer, as he tossed the commando back his knife, daring him to fight on.
Vargev picked the knife back up just as the assassin lunged at him again; barely managing to parry the blow, he was knocked backwards once again.
Lathiel let out a sarcastic laugh.
“ I’m still standing,” Vargev shot back.
“ Not for much longer.” He came at the Russian again, stabbing and slashing, this time Vargev was able to counter the blows, parried the blade and unleashed a vicious head-butt of his own. The imposter cried in pain, stumbled backwards as blood coursed down his ruined nose. As the assassin stumbled backward momentarily dazed, Vargev seized his chance plunging his knife deep into Lathiel’s stomach.
The assassin gasped; spluttering out a gobbet of blood across Vargev’s face just as the Russian charged, propelling the assassin straight through the broken glass panels, and sending the disguised Krenaran hurtling to the now almost completely empty marble floor far below, slamming into it with a sickeningly wet crunch.
The wounded Vargev stood at the edge of the platform, gripping his blood-soaked right arm and looked down solemnly at the broken form of Lathiel his Russian eyes gave just a hint of respect for a worthy opponent, after all the assassin was easily capable of killing him instead. Then he noticed Michael precariously dangling from the steel pipe, and gradually hauled him back up inside the viewing room.
“ It’s over comrade, it’s finally over.”
The pain seared through the Russians arm once again, his torn camouflaged fatigues stained with blood. Together they helped Eldathar free himself from Lathiels knife blade stuck through his arm, the Solarian howled in pain as they freed the blade, a welter of azure blue blood coursed down the Solarian’s arm, he was weak but managed to get back to his feet.
In the main viewing hall below, Dalvosh and Kinraid gradually recovered, and got back to their feet also, the commander looked rather battered, and sporting several bruises after being practically crushed from the panicking crowd.
“ You’re alive, I thought that shot had killed you,” he said to the hulking Krenaran.
“ My battle armour dissipated the energy, just the impact staggered me,” the Krenaran replied, rubbing his sore reptilian head.
The rest of the commandoes had converged on Vargev’s position, and helped the wounded forms of their commander and Eldathar. They were gradually helped back out of the building where a waiting medical team rushed to tend to their wounds.
President Rushfeldt approached them; all that had remained of the crowds that had been there were Michael’s team, the commandoes and a smattering of E.D. F troops.