Capítulo 4: Brush with Death
Location: Lower Market District, Avenport, Virek
Date and Time: December 16, 2552 – 1400 Hours
It's not like yesterday was smooth, but today… today feels different.
We're moving fast through the Lower Market District, flanked by streets that feel more alive than they did before. There's an energy in the air, a nervous buzz that doesn't sit right. People aren't just going about their business anymore. They're watching us. Eyes track us from alleyways and behind old, faded market stalls, following every step we take.
I grip my rifle a little tighter, my finger resting near the trigger guard. Grayson leads us through the narrow streets, his eyes locked forward. I can tell he feels it too. The market's more crowded than yesterday, and the tension hangs like smoke in the air. O'Neill is beside me, his mouth in a tight line for once. Even Santiago is quiet, which is saying something.
We've been ordered to check out reports of a disturbance. No details. Just that. The kind of vague briefing that makes your skin crawl, because whatever it is, you know it's not good.
The sound of something breaking echoes down the street, and I feel my pulse spike. My head snaps in the direction of the noise, and I catch sight of movement up ahead—people running, scattering like a nest of kicked-up hornets.
"Stay sharp," Grayson mutters. His voice is low but cuts through the tension like a blade. "Bravo, with me. We move slow."
We fan out, sticking close to the walls as we advance toward the heart of the district. The market stalls start to blur together, the chaotic energy of the place bleeding into one big mess. Somewhere in the distance, I hear shouting, but it's hard to tell where it's coming from. All I know is that it's getting louder.
I catch Santiago's eye as he takes up a position near a corner, his usual grin replaced with a focused, tense look. He nods to me, signaling that he's ready.
"Keep your heads on a swivel," Grayson says, and we move forward, sweeping the area with our rifles raised.
As we round the corner into a wider street, everything shifts. The crowd is larger here, more agitated, more… hostile. They haven't started anything yet, but you can see it in their eyes. They're just waiting for the excuse. A few people in the back are shouting, their voices getting lost in the noise, but it's enough to set everyone on edge.
Grayson holds up a hand, signaling us to stop. "We need to get a handle on this before it gets out of control," he says into his comm. "First Squad, what's your status?"
Static. Nothing. Grayson tries again. Still nothing.
My gut tightens. This isn't good. Something's wrong. I glance at Doc Alvarez, who's standing nearby, her eyes scanning the crowd like she's trying to read the temperature. Even she looks unsettled.
That's when it happens.
A bottle sails through the air, smashing into the ground in front of us, and everything goes to hell.
The crowd surges forward, a wall of angry voices and flailing arms. Someone in the back throws another bottle, this one smashing against the wall to my left. Glass scatters across the pavement, and the noise is deafening—a cacophony of shouts, breaking glass, and the pounding of feet as people charge.
"Back up!" Grayson shouts, but it's already too late. The crowd's pushing in on all sides, and there's nowhere to go.
I raise my rifle, trying to keep a clear line of sight, but the mass of bodies is too close. A man grabs at my arm, his face twisted with anger. I shove him back with the butt of my rifle, hard enough to send him sprawling. But more are coming.
Santiago is already laying down suppressive fire—aiming above their heads, enough to scare them, but not enough to do real damage. We're trying to control the situation, but it's spiraling fast.
"Get back!" I shout, pushing another civilian away as they reach for me. My heart's racing, my breath coming in quick bursts. This isn't what I trained for. I'm supposed to fight Covenant, not civilians.
"Hold the line!" Grayson's voice cuts through the chaos. He's right in the middle of it, trying to keep control, but the crowd is like a wave crashing over us. They're desperate, just like Doc said.
I see a man pull something from his jacket, and before I can react, he hurls it toward us. My eyes widen as I realize what it is.
"Grenade!" I shout, my voice barely cutting through the noise. I don't think. I just move.
My hand shoots out, catching the grenade mid-air by the handle. For a split second, I freeze, staring at the thing in my hand, hardly believing I caught it. Time seems to slow as I turn, hurling it back in the direction it came from. The grenade arcs through the air, disappearing into the crowd.
I don't even have time to process what just happened before there's a deafening explosion. The blast knocks me off my feet, sending a shockwave through the air. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me, my ears ringing.
For a moment, everything goes silent. The world fades to a blur, the chaos muffled like I'm underwater.
Then the ringing in my ears fades, and the sounds of shouting and gunfire crash back in. I push myself up, my head spinning, and look around. The crowd is scattering, panic spreading like wildfire. But the damage is done. There are bodies on the ground, people screaming in terror. It's chaos.
Santiago is next to me in an instant, pulling me to my feet. "You good, Kowalski?"
I nod, though my legs feel shaky. "Yeah. I'm good."
Grayson is already shouting orders, trying to pull the squad back and regroup. Doc Alvarez is moving through the crowd, tending to the injured. But it's clear that the situation is out of our hands now.
We pull back, retreating down the alleyways as the local security forces finally show up to take control. The whole thing feels like a blur—like it happened too fast for my brain to catch up.
As we regroup a few blocks away, catching our breath, I can't shake the feeling of that grenade in my hand. The weight of it, the cold metal, the realization that if I hadn't grabbed it, things would've gone a lot worse. I don't know if I was lucky or just stupid, but I'm still standing, and that's all that matters right now.
Grayson looks over at me, his face grim but calm. "Good work back there, Kowalski. You kept your head."
I nod, but I don't feel like I did anything special. I just reacted. The truth is, I'm still shaking. My heart's still racing. I don't know if I'm ready for this.
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