Ryker Petrović

[Ryker]

Dayton, 2044

Plan part 3: get the hell out of there.

The comm was silent.

“Exfiltrate me, now!” he repeated.

Silence.

“Cocci!” he yelled.

Nothing.

His voice betrayed some of the growing panic as he called for their extraction officer one last time.
“Massimo…?”

But he was on his own.

Except for Steve. Who was frantically punching commands into a safety cabinet. The doors popped open and he hurried into a haz-mat suit.

The pool was half-empty. As soon as fresh air hit the hot rods, the dome compound was going to explode. That hazmat suit was going to be melted onto Steve’s skeleton.

He ran to the vault door, ignoring Steve’s cry that he don the worthless safety measure. There had to be some way to override the system. Johann should have been able to suppress the lockdown from the command center, but he was likely long gone just like Massimo. Ryker was scanning the panels, trying everything he could think. Lists and protocols ran frantically through his head. Fuck Wioletta and her condescending explanations. He wasn’t trapped! Desperate, he started punching the panel with his bare fist. The glass cracked and fell away. Digging his fingers behind the cover, he yanked it away to reveal a mess of wires and circuits. Blood slicked the pads of his fingers as he yanked indiscriminately. His heart was pounding.

Then there was a roar behind him. The sound of fire. If it wasn’t for the flash of heat and eruption of sweat pouring out his neck, he might have froze. A glance over his shoulder found a wall of orange. 

He gasped for the last time, and threw his arms over his face too late.

The intensity left no capacity to think. Every second was an hour. It curled up his clothes. The sleeve and pants melted to his skin. He screamed louder than he knew possible. Then the body recoiled. Arms and legs drawn low, and an unbelievable pain followed. Beyond he could hear Steve’s screams before they fell to silence in seconds. Ryker squeezed his eyes closed as half the view faded to nothing but colors like the sun itself crashed out of the sky. The explosion wrapped around his body. His face felt like acid was dumped on it, skin melting like a candle from his limbs, sliding off the skeleton.

Then, like Steve, his own screaming stopped. Gases suffocating. Then the fire pushed itself down his throat, grabbed his chest from inside, and flooded back out through his limbs. Through to the bone. Through to the fires until he was one with them in body and soul. And in that moment, a furious defiance pushed back.

Pushed. Back.

Then, free air crossed his lips. It chased through gaping wounds in his cheek, through and over teeth from the side. He heaved the clean air into his lungs until he found the voice to roar back at the flame… He stood. Push! His eyes wouldn’t focus, but he saw something anyway. Then, somehow, the wall of fire roared backward.

Plan part 4: Burn the fuckers to the ground