My head hurts. I can feel my temples throbbing; I can feel wounds on both my legs aching. My pants feel wet, probably from blood given all the pain I was feeling in my lower extremities. This still wasn't as bad as when I'd got my modifications done, but I won't lie, I was in a lot of pain right now.
Is someone dragging me? I could feel something under each armpit, and what could be knees bumping into my back with each scoot forward. My ears pricked with the sound of someone close by breathing heavily and grunting with exertion.
I can hear voices too, just a little. It was like I was fading in and out, only able to catch pieces of what's being said.
"We... to… van…. more come…. screwed."
"Heavy." My brain screams in protest as I use every muscle in it to try and figure out what was happening. I was definitely being taken somewhere. Had I passed out? Last I remember… I had just been shot, twice in the legs by whatever weapon they had that made it impossible for me to heal. God, I hated them for being so fucking prepared. I had made the mistake of underestimating them, thought they were such a group of crazed tin hatters who needed a good ass kicking. And because of my cockiness, I very well could be able to be taken as their prisoner.
This wasn't good. I was so weak right now, injured and apparently drugged. Whatever they had made as a weapon against us was very effective, because I'd seen roofied girls at the bar who'd been more cognitive than this.
I couldn't let them relocate me. I'd be screwed then. They'd tie me up, lock me in some cell. Keep my barely alive, torturing me. I was supposed to be saving Henry, and now I was going to need a rescue crew on my ass. Not to mention, the shit York would give me for needing saving. For some reason, the thought of his annoying, evil little kid voice taunting me as he saved me from these guys was the final straw that surged me forward, calling up the last tiny amount of strength I had left in my body.
I force my eyes open, thanking fate as I see my head is flopped to the side. I needed a second to figure out a plan, and it would have been awkward if I'd opened my eyes and looked right into someone else's. I can see someone walking next to whoever is dragging me, and he has a holster on his thigh with a handgun in it. The strap on it wasn't even secured; like the universe was throwing a way out at me. We're not moving very fast, I suspect because I am indeed quite heavy. With my added height and new muscle growth, I was at least two hundred and fifty pounds. The slow movement of the guy next to me will make it that much easier to grab his gun before he has time to react.
Without hesitating another second, I grab the ankle of the man with the gun, pulling his legs out from under him as I yank my arm free from whoever had a grip under my armpit and bring it around to yank the handgun free. I can't hesitate, I can't think for a second too long. I was no longer going to make the mistake of underestimating these guys, and I wasn't going to give them even a moment to stop me from making my play. It was now or never, basically.
I lean back, my vision blurry and my head pounding as I release the safety, cock the gun, and pull the trigger with the end aimed right under the chin of the guy dragging me. My vision isn't working right, so I have to rely on the soft feel of his flesh pressed against the gun.
"FUCK!" I hear someone yelling as his brains blow through the top of his head, along with a spray of blood as he falls backwards with a loud thud. He'd never even had a chance to fight back but had worked as the perfect distraction.
I dragged myself up, cocking the gun again and shooting at whoever was running at me. I'll bet anything that's Landon, the leader. He would be fastest to react, the most professional. I could still see the other guys reacting to their friend being shot in the head. One had fallen to his knees, another was vomiting. I hadn't wanted to kill him like that, but at this point, it was either them or me.
And I was picking me.
Everything was tilting, I was seeing double, and I felt like I was about to faint again. I had literally no way to aim, I was losing control of almost all my functions at this point.
I do the only thing I can do, which is to shoot randomly. I can hear cursing, and whoever had been running at me falls. I turn, moving as fast as I can on my barely functioning legs. It felt like they were going to give out at any second, but I just kept pushing them, begging them to hold on for a little longer. I grab my scythe from where it'd fallen on the ground by the edge of the roof, and don't look back for a second as I fall over the edge of the roof headfirst, barreling towards the ground while barely conscious.
The last thing I remember is forcing my arm to slice through the air with my weapon, and then everything goes black.