Gun smoke filled the air. The wire fence swayed in the howling wind, and the bullet-riddled iron sign reading "Winden Thermal Power Plant" crashed to the ground, splashing up a few drops of blood.
The wind wailed. Blood flowed across the soft brown earth, hot brass casings rolled in the wind, and the scarlet blood wound forward like a crawling red snake until it reached the sole of a boot.
"Drip, drip."
Drops of blood fell beside the boot. A guard's corpse, mangled by full-power rounds, slumped against the wire fence. A bullet graze had left a scorch mark beside his dull, lifeless eyes.
Before the corpse stood another guard in the same gray coat. But the surviving guard was laughing maniacally as he gripped a knife and hacked at the body.
There was no doubt about it: this was a guard transformed into an Arsonist.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine swelled rapidly, and the sharp screech of tires against the ground drew near. The Arsonist froze for a moment, then stood laughing and faced the speeding car. It was about to lunge at the hood when a blade whistled through the air. With a dull crunch of bone, a throwing knife drove into its throat!
The Arsonist fell onto its back. The handle of the throwing knife in its throat quivered faintly. The last things it saw were its former colleague's eyes and the bloodstained dirt kicked up by tires braking hard.
Amid an ear-piercing screech, the black sedan stopped just short of the Thermal Power Station's gate.
The driver's door flew open, and a sneaker stepped out. White Line's eyes shifted. She bent to stab the corpse once more, then pulled the throwing knife from its throat.
"They haven't been inside long." She straightened. "The bullet holes