In the midst of a still, dark silence, the metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air. Dim yellow light from the roadside seeped through the windows, casting faint shadows over everything within the house.
Kantsuke sat motionless in the shadows, on the landing between the first and second floors. Beside him lay the lifeless, wide-eyed corpse of Fat Jimmy, making the iron-legged young man from another world resemble the very shadow of death—waiting for its next victim.
From that vantage point, he could see anyone coming from both the left and right, with darkness cloaking him like a veil.
"Four men at the back door," came Limo's whisper over the radio, prompting Kantsuke to aim his gun toward the right, at the corridor leading to the kitchen.
In the stillness of the room, where the air seemed frozen, the sound of rubber soles crunching over shattered ceramic grew steadily closer. Kantsuke saw beams of flashlight dancing through the kitchen below, like a concert stage devoid of sound.
"They're inside. Watch out—four more at the front," Limo said with calm steadiness despite the tension. He had ordered Meenda and Mari to stay hidden on the rooftop and not engage yet.
Kantsuke visualized the kitchen layout in his mind—tables, cabinets, where things were—and slowly reached into his vest, pulling out a hand grenade. The chill of the metal bit through his thin leather gloves. He bit down on the pin and spat it out, triggering the countdown. There was no digital timer, but Limo had told him it averaged about eight seconds to detonation.
…One… Two… Three…
At the count of three, he lobbed the grenade through the kitchen doorframe with perfect precision. A soldier at the door flinched, sensing something pass beneath him, then heard the telltale clink of metal striking tile.
He swung his flashlight toward the sound, eyes widening in horror as he saw the grenade spinning among scattered stainless steel spoons on the white floor.
"Gren—BOOM—AARGH!"
The explosion tore through the room with a deafening roar, sending glass and wooden debris flying out the door. Dust and smoke filled the lower level like a thick fog.
"Ugh... Ugh…"
One soldier crawled out of the kitchen, dragging himself along the bloody floor. His M4, complete with flashlight, dangled from his nearly severed left arm.
Pew-pew — Kantsuke fired two rounds into his back, putting him down for good. The agonized cries of the remaining two briefly echoed from the kitchen, then fell silent.
…Come on in…
Kantsuke turned toward the front door, where footsteps crept forward. These soldiers were smart—they hadn't turned on their flashlights, but his rifle was equipped with night vision.
Pew-pew-pew — The bullets struck another black-clad soldier, who crumpled near the doorframe.
"Son of a bitch!" someone yelled as they dragged the body back.
The unnatural silence that followed sent chills down his spine.
"Light him up! Tear that bastard apart!" came the next command.
Bang bang bang bang bang! — Bullets from various firearms tore through the living room's windows and doors, like a swarm of locusts on crack. Kantsuke dove left, scrambling up the stairs toward the second floor.
"Shit…" he cursed, keeping low and flattening himself against the floor.
The sounds of shattering glass, breaking furniture, and exploding walls filled the house like a bomb raid. Shards of vases, splintered wood, curtains, and television components flew everywhere.
Holding his breath, Kantsuke waited, expecting any moment for a bullet to rip through him. Half a minute passed before the barrage ceased.
He spat out a glass shard that had flown into his mouth. Another wave of bullets and he might not be so lucky.
…Fucking bastards…
He clenched his teeth in bitter rage, hoping they'd think he was dead.
"Is he dead? One of you, go check!" someone shouted from outside.
Kantsuke readied his weapon again.
Then, suddenly:
Thwip! — A suppressed shot from afar blew one of the soldiers' heads open.
"Sniper! Take cover!"
*Thwip! AARGH!"