The Girl Who Chose No One
1527 Words
The deserted road held an eerie silence, soon broken by the sound of a military convoy speeding across the ruined highway.
Three of the vehicles bore red phoenix emblems etched into their sides.
Their turrets rotated slowly in perfect sync.
Inside the middle transport, beneath flickering lights, Oma sat against the wall with her hands and legs bound in chains. A faint blue glow hummed from each link holding her in place.
A glowing metal collar was wrapped around her neck.
Her face showed just how exhausted she was.
Beside her sat two Ashens, with three others directly opposite.
After staring into her eyes with contempt for what felt like forever, the Ashen opposite her slowly shifted his gaze to her n*****s pressing against her wet blue overalls. As the vehicle rolled over a bump, her breasts bounced, making the Ashen swallow hard before shifting his attention to the Ashen beside her.
"So that's her, huh?" he said, pointing at Oma. "From the order details, one would think she'd look more..."
His gaze drifted down to her thighs, which looked as though they could tear through the overalls at any moment.
"...ferocious."
"Don't look at her like that. You're an Ashen soldier, not an Ashen breeder."
He scoffed.
"She doesn't look like she could even give birth to strong offsprings, and she certainly doesn't look dangerous."
The older soldier turned slightly to look at Oma, who, through all of this, simply remained with her head lowered, her scattered blonde hair covering most of her face.
"Neither does a sleeping Hollow."
The younger Ashen shifted uncomfortably.
"Where..." she asked quietly, her voice tired. "Where are you taking me?"
"We're shipping you off to—"
The younger Ashen was cut off by the Ashen beside him.
"You don't need to know."
Oma inhaled deeply and lowered her head even further.
In that instant, as though perfectly timed, the first convoy exploded, burning to ash in a blinding flash.
A split second later, the tank behind them erupted into flames, melting within seconds before the soldiers inside even had time to scream.
The transport carrying Oma drifted violently sideways.
The Ashen soldiers immediately shouted.
"AMBUSH!"
At once, bullets rained against the armored transport from outside.
"Victor! Shield Wall!" the older Ashen ordered.
Immediately, one of them grabbed Oma while the others gathered around as Victor manipulated the air around them, hardening it into a protective shield.
"Sylvester, we need numbers! How many are there?" Victor yelled.
With both hands pressed against the vehicle's wall, Sylvester counted.
"Seven... twelve..." His eyes widened. "s**t! It's a full squad!"
He faced the older Ashen, panic creeping into his voice.
"It's the Resistance... the Seventh!"
"Don't panic! We need to deliver her to Lenox at all costs!" the older Ashen yelled as he tapped rapidly on the device strapped to his arm.
"We follow Protocol Eight."
Sylvester looked at Victor before turning back to the older Ashen.
"Ashen Larry, there are only five of us, and these two..." He shifted his gaze to the two Ashens curled up in a corner, shivering in fear. "...are medics."
Larry made one last swipe across his tablet.
"Hopefully, we get backup before we're wiped out."
Squatting beside them, he adjusted the device on his wrist.
"Victor, keep her with you. Sylvester..."
He was cut short by a tremendous bang that ripped open the transport, throwing them outside.
Now outside, their vision was obscured by thick smoke.
"Victor!" Larry yelled as a gust of wind surrounded him.
"Forget the medics! Secure the package!"
As the gust cleared the smoke around them, Sylvester reached for Oma.
"If we can't move her..."
He released the safety on his handgun. "...she shouldn't be alive."
Before he could fire, a Resistance sniper shot him.
The bullet plunged deep into his body, burning in a spiraling motion before releasing a green liquid.
"Malvox!" Sylvester yelled as he staggered backward, desperately trying to remove his vest.
At that moment, Victor stretched out his hand, creating a blue shield over Oma.
"Get out of there, Sylvester!"
Before Sylvester could even turn around, a deafening shot rang through the air.
Silence filled the battlefield for a brief moment.
Out of the settling dust, behind where Sylvester had been standing, a figure clad in a dark green leather jacket emerged.
He blew the smoke from the Ruger Super Redhawk .454 Casull in one hand while using the other to point at Sylvester, whose brain now lay splattered across the ground before Victor and Oma.
"All bark and no bite."
Oma's heart pounded violently against her ribs as the shooter towered over her.
No one moved.
Across from them, Victor felt his stomach tighten. His shoulders stiffened, and his hands began to shake.
He couldn't take his eyes off the revolver.....or the man holding it.
A cold sweat broke across his face.
Amid his shallow breaths, he whispered,
"Boris... the Giant."
Boris shifted his gaze toward Victor.
In a flash, he fired two shots from his revolver.
"Move, i***t!"
Larry leaped in front of Victor, shoving him aside with his shoulder.
The bullets struck Larry's chest with a sharp clang, throwing a shower of sparks before ricocheting into the ground.
As Victor landed, the barrier protecting Oma shattered. Resistance soldiers rushed toward her.
One knelt beside her and cut through her restraints while another threw a blanket over her shoulders before lifting her into his arms.
"Boris, we have the package," one of them said as he dashed away.
"Victor, listen carefully. You stand no chance against him..."
"But I had—" Victor interrupted as he struggled to his feet.
"You had nothing, Victor!" Larry yelled as he walked toward Boris.
“That's Boris Valkov! Second Zone leader of the Seventh! You can't beat him!"
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
Boris laughed, exposing his jagged teeth.
"Do not give me more praise than I deserve, old friend."
He adjusted his stance and pointed his revolvers at Larry.
"My ladies, Irina and Tatiana, are good singers."
A grin spread across his face. "I'm just a lowly conductor."
Larry cracked his neck, his skin turning hard and white like diamonds.
"Take the medics and get out of here, Victor."
"No, no, old man."
Boris fired two shots at Larry, who shrugged them off with ease.
"I love an audience when my ladies sing."
The bullets bounced harmlessly off Larry's diamond skin.
Victor took advantage of the dust from their clash and dashed away with the two medics slung over his shoulders.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
Boris laughed as he loaded a single emerald-green .454 Casull round.
Larry's eyes widened.
He knew what the green round meant.
"...I told you to stay still."
He slowly aimed his revolver.
"Let's give them an encore."
Larry quickly shifted his head to the left as the dust began to settle.
"No! Victor!" he yelled as he rushed toward him.
"Step!"
Six deafening shots erupted in rapid succession.
They came so fast that they blended into a single thunderous roar.
"Victor!"
Larry's scream echoed across the battlefield as he struggled to hold Victor and the two medics, whose bodies burned while green liquid seeped from their wounds.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
Boris laughed as he walked toward the kneeling Larry.
"...Don't you just love it when my ladies sing?"
"Boris!"
Larry gently lowered the lifeless bodies before lunging at him.
Before he could take another step, his head flew through the air. Blood gushed from the clean cut as his body staggered forward before collapsing to its knees.
His severed head rolled to a stop. Silence filled the arena.
Standing behind the corpse was a petite woman clad in a fitted emerald-green Resistance combat uniform that hugged her slim waist without restricting her movement.
A pair of wicked, short-handled scythes rested loosely in her hands, their crescent blades dripping blood onto the ground.
She was beautiful enough to steal a man's attention, yet there wasn't a trace of warmth in her expression.
Every graceful stride she took carried the silent promise of another death.
She twirled one scythe around her wrist with effortless precision before resting it against her shoulder.
"Boris..." she said, her voice calm enough to make the silence feel heavier. "...he was getting bored waiting for you to finish them off."
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
Boris laughed, his eyes lingering a little longer than usual on her small, petite breasts as they bounced with each step she took. "...I was just catching up with an old friend."
"Well... that was a nice talk, wasn't it, Boris?"
A calm voice came from behind them. No one turned immediately. They already knew who it was.
One by one, the Resistance fighters lowered their weapons and stepped aside, clearing a path without a word.
Silence settled over the battlefield.
A hooded man emerged through the opening, his dark cloak brushing against the blood-soaked ground. His face remained hidden beneath the hood.
He walked past the bodies as though they were nothing more than shadows beneath his feet.
His attention remained fixed on a single person.
Oma.
He stopped before her and raised her head with his finger and her breath caught in her throat.
"Hello, Oma."
- Writer
