Prime Ascendant

Chapter 6

As Marcus reached the makeshift barricade, the large bearded man stepped forward, his rifle still in hand but lowered now that Marcus posed no immediate threat. He was broad-shouldered, with sunken eyes that betrayed exhaustion and perhaps something more—wariness, or maybe even hopelessness. The man eyed Marcus from head to toe, sizing him up.

“Introduce yourself,” the man barked, his voice deep and gruff.

“Marcus,” he said simply, keeping his tone neutral but respectful. “like I said earlier, I'm just trying to find the best way out of the city."

The bearded man grunted, seemingly satisfied with the brief response. “Name’s Briggs,” he said after a pause. “And since the world’s gone to shit, it’s hard to know who to trust. But I figure it’s better we have numbers. Safety in numbers, especially against those freaks.” He gestured vaguely behind Marcus, toward the direction where infected were still roaming in the distance.

Marcus nodded. It made sense. Strength in numbers had always been a survival tactic, but with how the world had changed, it was even more crucial now. Being alone for too long could get you killed—or worse.

Briggs continued, “We’re heading to a place I know where we can find some armored trucks. Secure, durable, the kind of thing you want to be in when the real chaos hits.”

Before Marcus could respond, one of the other men stepped forward, his face twisted in objection. He was leaner than Briggs, with a scar running down the side of his face. His eyes were sharp, darting between Briggs and Marcus.

“Hold up, Briggs,” the man said, his tone suspicious. “We don’t even know this guy. You’re really gonna invite him along just like that? You seem to have forgotten what happened the last time we did that.”

Briggs's gaze shifted from Marcus to man 'Numbers, Ian,' he stated firmly. 'If we want to survive this chaos, we need more people. With just the three of us, it's only a matter of time before we're overwhelmed, like everyone else.' 

Erika who had been silent nodded in agreement. 'Briggs is right. We need all the help we can get.'"

Ian scowled but fell silent. His gaze shifted to Marcus, still distrustful but clearly aware that arguing further wasn’t going to change Briggs’s mind. Briggs was the kind of man whose word carried weight, and it was clear Ian knew that.

Marcus, observing the exchange, weighed his options. He wasn’t too keen on trusting strangers either, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in tagging along for now. Besides, Briggs was right. Being alone out here wasn’t a smart move, and if they really had a lead on armored trucks, that could be the key to making it out of the city alive.

“Alright,” Marcus said after a moment, his decision made. “I’ll go with you. Once we out of the city i'd be out of your hair”

Briggs gave a curt nod, satisfied. “Have no problem with that. Stick with us, and we’ll all have a better chance of seeing another day.” He glanced at the others in his group, signaling for them to move out.

As they began to move, Marcus fell in line behind Briggs, his thoughts racing. He still didn’t trust these men entirely, but for now, it seemed like the best option. Plus, if they found those armored trucks, it would be a game changer.

And with that, they headed deeper into the city, following Briggs lead.

The group moved in silence, tension thick between them as they navigated the abandoned streets. Briggs led the way, his rifle slung over his shoulder, while Marcus kept to the back, eyes scanning every corner for threats. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, but so far, Briggs had proven to be as competent as his rugged appearance suggested.

After a while, Briggs slowed his pace and turned to Marcus, pulling out a small pistol from his belt. He gave it a once-over before holding it out to him. "Ever used one of these before?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Marcus took the weapon, its weight surprisingly light in his hand. He glanced at Briggs, then back at the pistol. "Not really. But I’ve seen enough movies to get the gist."

Briggs chuckled softly, though it was more a grunt than a laugh. "Just point and shoot. Keep it steady, and you’ll be fine."

Marcus nodded, feeling the cold metal against his palm. Though he had no qualms about eliminating the infected, the reality of holding a gun felt different than he'd imagined. The raw power it represented, the ability to end something—or someone with the pull of a trigger, was not lost on him.

However, as someone who could conjure lethal blades with a thought, the psychological impact of wielding a gun was diminished. The ease with which he could dispatch foes with his spatial blades made the gun feel less impressive, a tool of lesser power in his arsenal.

"Thanks," he said, his voice calm despite the small flutter of nerves in his chest.

Briggs gave a sharp nod, then motioned for the group to keep moving. Ian, who had been silently glaring at Marcus since their first meeting, spat on the ground before muttering, "Great. Another one with a gun. As if that’ll make a difference."

What the hell was this dude's problem with him?

Marcus decided to ignore Ian as he didn't feel like making a big deal out of his comment. The man’s disdain was obvious, and it wasn’t worth getting into a fight over right now. Survival came first.

The group advanced cautiously, weaving between abandoned cars and debris, careful to avoid drawing attention from any wandering zombies. But as they passed a narrow alley, they heard a low groan. Briggs signaled for them to stop, and the group crouched low, weapons drawn.

A zombie stumbled into view, its flesh half-rotted, and it dragged a broken leg behind it. Without thinking, Marcus raised the pistol. His hands were steady, his breath controlled. He squeezed the trigger, and the gun fired with a small pop. To his surprise, the bullet hit its mark—a clean shot to the head. The zombie collapsed in a heap.

"Nice shot," Briggs commented, a hint of surprise in his tone. " You sure its your first time handling a gun?"

Even Marcus was surprised at how well he handled the pistol. The recoil was barely noticeable, nothing like he had expected. He gave a nod, feeling a small boost of confidence. Ian, however, scowled, clearly unimpressed.

They continued through the streets, encountering more of the undead as they went. Marcus took down a few more with decent accuracy, much to Briggs’s approval, but Ian remained distant and cold, his dislike for Marcus growing more apparent.