Chapter 3 - The Descent Of The Heavens
The humming grew louder,
rapidly escalating from a subtle vibration to a deafening roar,
shaking the dust from the ceiling.
It sounded like a hurricane was forming directly above our house,
a mechanical beast tearing through the night sky.
Carter rushed to the kitchen window,
yanking back the heavy curtains,
his eyes widening in absolute horror.
"What the hell is that?"
he screamed,
his voice entirely drowned out by the thundering noise.
I knew that sound intimately,
the unmistakable,
rhythmic chopping of tactical helicopter blades,
cutting through the air with violent force.
Suddenly,
the front yard was illuminated,
bathed in a blinding,
intense white light,
as military-grade searchlights locked onto the house.
The light poured through the windows,
casting long,
terrifying shadows across the kitchen floor,
illuminating the blood pooling around me.
"Carter!"
Eleanor shrieked,
covering her ears,
stumbling backward in sheer panic.
"Who is out there?"
she cried,
"Call the police,"
"call your uncle right now!"
Carter fumbled in his pockets,
pulling out his own sleek smartphone,
his hands shaking so violently he dropped it twice.
Outside,
the screeching of heavy tires pierced the night,
as multiple armored SUVs slammed to a halt,
forming a barricade across the suburban street.
Doors slammed,
boots hit the pavement,
and the distinct sound of assault rifles being cocked echoed in the cool air.
Before Carter could dial a single number,
the heavy,
custom oak front door exploded inward,
shattering into a thousand pieces of jagged wood and glass.
The explosion shook the house,
blowing pictures off the walls,
sending a cloud of dust billowing into the hallway.
A dozen men in pitch-black tactical gear swarmed inside,
moving with terrifying speed and precision,
their laser sights cutting through the dust,
painting Carter and Eleanor with deadly red dots.
"Get on the ground!"
a commanding voice roared,
"Hands behind your heads,"
"do it now!"
Carter froze,
his phone slipping from his grasp,
his arrogant facade crumbling into dust.
He raised his hands slowly,
his knees knocking together,
urine staining the front of his expensive trousers.
"I am a lawyer,"
he babbled incoherently,
"you have the wrong house,"
"I know people,"
"I know powerful people!"
One of the operatives,
a massive,
faceless giant,
stepped forward and drove the butt of his rifle directly into Carter's stomach.
Carter collapsed instantly,
gasping,
wheezing,
spitting bile onto the hardwood floor.
Eleanor screamed hysterically,
dropping to her knees,
clutching her pearls,
weeping in absolute terror.
"Please,"
she begged,
"do not hurt us,"
"take whatever you want,"
"the safe is in the study!"
The operatives ignored her completely,
securing the perimeter,
standing like statues,
waiting.
Through the dust and the chaos,
heavy footsteps approached,
slow,
methodical,
and filled with an ancient,
terrifying wrath.
A man emerged from the shadows,
stepping over the ruined front door,
his tailored suit immaculate,
May you like
his silver hair catching the blinding light.
Arthur Sterling had arrived.
