The dull thuds against the door grew heavier with every strike. Each tremor sent a piercing screech through the hinges, and even the floor beneath their feet vied with a subtle shake.
Lear's back was pressed against the apartment wall, his right hand still clutching his ribs. His knuckles were ghastly white from the strain. The solid wood dining table he and Jill had pushed together was wedged firmly behind the door; a half-eaten box of pizza on the tabletop slid a few centimeters, its cold, hard crust clattering sharply against a glass plate.
"It won't hold for long." His voice carried an uncontrollable tremor. Every breath now tugged at his injured ribs like a dull knife sawing back and forth. He looked up, beads of cold sweat rolling down from his hairline. "Back in the hallway, he was cracking reinforced concrete load-bearing walls. This security door won't stand a chance."
The pounding outside ceased for a heartbeat, followed immediately by an even heavier blow—thump!
The door panel dented inward, and the metal bolt of the security lock emitted a brittle crack, nearing its breaking point.
"Every second counts." Jill's voice was unnervingly calm, a sharp contrast to the suffocating tension. She didn't look at the crumbling door; instead, she stepped quickly to Lear and reached out to pull his hand away from his ribs.
Lear flinched instinctively, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"
"Stay still." Jill's tone carried an unquestionable firmness. She set her gun on the table, her fingers efficiently unbuttoning his dust-caked, blood-stained tactical jacket before lifting the moisture-wicking T-shirt underneath.
The wound was starkly exposed. Over the third and fourth ribs on his right side, a palm-sized bruise had turned a deep, blackish-purple, bordered by angry red swelling. Jill crouched down, her eyes level with the injury. She began by gently pressing the muscles around the bruise with her fingertips, feeling for the state of the bone beneath.
"Sss—!" Lear hissed, drawing a sharp breath as his entire body tensed, his teeth grinding together.
Jill didn't stop. Her fingers moved to lightly prod the center of the blackened area.
Lear grimaced in agony but remained silent, the sweat on his forehead pouring down more profusely. After a few seconds, Jill withdrew her hand and stood up, her tone easing slightly. "You're okay. It's just a stress fracture, not a full break. Fortunately, no internal organs were hit, or you wouldn't be standing right now."
The bashing outside resumed. This time, the door hinges finally gave way with a sickening crack.
Ignoring the pain, Lear moved to re-dress himself. He reached out to drag the refrigerator over to the door, but Jill grabbed his wrist.
"Forget it. Use the window." Jill pointed her gun toward the only window on the south side of the apartment, which looked out onto a narrow fire escape. "I'll go first. Follow me." She moved toward the window with quick strides.
Lear followed her gaze. A rusted iron fire escape ladder hung right against the exterior wall outside the room. He nodded, leaning against the wall for support as he followed Jill toward the exit.
Just as their hands touched the window latch, the door behind them finally succumbed. With a thunderous roar, it came crashing down.
The Tyrant burst through the door and stormed into the apartment just as Lear and Jill vaulted out the window. They didn't dare look back; they could only hear that stifling, heavy breathing growing closer behind them. Clenching his teeth against the searing pain in his ribs, Lear kept pace with Jill and sprinted down the fire escape.
The moment they landed and found their footing, the whistle of a heavy mass slicing through the air came from above. The Tyrant had leapt directly from the apartment building, slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash that instantly sent cracks spider-webbing through the concrete. Amidst the swirling dust, its massive frame rose to its full height, eyes locked onto the pair.
"Looks like we won't be getting away clean today unless we take him down for good," Jill said, watching the approaching Tyrant. Her tone was unexpectedly light, almost teasing.
Jill gripped her shotgun and squeezed the trigger repeatedly at the Tyrant's head, the red-hot muzzle spitting tongues of flame. "Cover me!" she barked at Lear before dropping her center of gravity and rushing the monster head-on.
The Tyrant immediately raised its massive arms to shield its face. The shells struck the Tyrant's straitjacket and thick forearms, leaving only shallow gouges. Enraged, it swung a fist at Jill, the blow arriving with a howling gale. Jill threw herself into a side-step, narrowly evading the strike. She leapt, her boots planting firmly against the Tyrant's chest as she vaulted past its side. As she spun around, she raised her gun again and maintained a steady rhythm of fire at its head, attempting to slow the monster down.
Lear endured the stabbing pain in his ribs, his eyes darting across the surrounding alleyways while he aimed his pistol at the core area of the Tyrant's chest, muffled by the straitjacket. He laid down suppressive fire, buying Jill the space she needed to maneuver in close quarters.
Lear knew all too well that it was nearly impossible to kill a Tyrant with just a pistol and Jill's shotgun. Furthermore, this hadn't been part of his expectations; the Tyrant wasn't supposed to appear in this area at all. As he pulled the trigger to provide cover, his peripheral vision swept across the street outside the Apartment area. He spotted a car with its door wide open and no one inside, situated directly across from the oil storage tank of a gas station. Lear's eyes lit up, and he shouted to Jill.
"Jill, I have a plan! Lead him onto the main street!" Before the words had even fully left his lips, he turned and sprinted toward the open ground at the end of the alley.
Jill was momentarily taken aback, but after a split second of hesitation, she chose to trust Lear. She continued to suppress the Tyrant with fire while backpedaling, deliberately opening up the distance and luring the raging, pursuing Tyrant toward the intersection where Lear had gone.
Jill retreated steadily while firing. Just as she reached the intersection, two blinding beams of light suddenly shone from ahead, causing her to instinctively squint.
"Jill, get down!" Lear's voice drifted out from the car with the open door; he was already in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel. Jill immediately dove to the side, clearing several meters. Blinded by the high beams, the Tyrant paused for a half-second. Before it could react, Lear floored the accelerator. The sedan roared and slammed violently into the Tyrant, pinning it against the adjacent oil storage tank. The tank ruptured, and the pungent scent of gasoline filled the air as the fuel erupted and flooded the ground.
Lear immediately shoved the door open and leaped out. He rolled across the pavement, scrambled to his feet, and roared, "Jill, fire!"
Jill understood instantly. She leveled her shotgun and fired repeatedly at the oil storage tank and the leaking gasoline. The slugs struck metal, throwing off sparks; the moment the flying embers touched the fuel, a massive wall of flame erupted with a roar. The fire licked hungrily at the tank and the car's chassis, and the pressurized oil storage tank began to omit a shrill metallic shriek under the intense heat.
A second later, a deafening explosion tore through the air. A massive fireball wrapped in black smoke surged toward the sky. The inferno and the shards of shrapnel propelled by the blast instantly swallowed the Tyrant, which was trapped between the tank and the car.
"It's over this time." Jill let out a long sigh of relief and slowly lowered her steaming shotgun. Her arms were trembling slightly from the prolonged tension. She stared at the smoke-shrouded wreckage, her frayed nerves finally beginning to relax. Beside her, however, Lear remained tight-lipped, his brow furrowed as he stared intently at the burning ruins left by the explosion.
(Translated by yourtl.app)