“Agreed, let's get the hell out of here!” Masgard yelled over the sirens, hefting the cannon as he turned back to the group. His usually perfect hair hung down along his forehead, dripping wet from the fire control system.

Most of the civilians had begun a stampede back through the red-hued corridor in the opposite direction. But the fight had only lasted half a minute at most, so the Institute operators at the back were able to shepherd them up and point them in the right direction. The ones in the front fanned out to check the corridor ahead.

Skopec rose to his knees and pushed his helmet back. He peeled a warped slither of armour flex away from his neck, breathing ragged. That done, the Sergeant waved away offers of assistance and clambered unsteadily to his feet, pistol in hand. He looked angry. “As I was saying… I'll make sure everyone gets out. Go!”

[hr]
Not long after, they reached the large corner unit of their floor. A Rothian transport had cut through the glass and was waiting for them with the doors open. They all fit on, except some of the soldiers who went to help their CO, and the craft lifted off. The arcology they had all briefly called home was lit up with a multitude of fires, raging against a dark and rainy background. Police lights flashed through the city below.
[h1]Chapter 7 - The Alliance[/h1]
Freyr slept without dreams for the next 28 hours. The first time in a while. She woke in unfamiliar surroundings.