Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Chapter 419: EX 419. A False World

Gordon stared at the phone, its screen still lit in his trembling hand.

The echo of gunshots rang in his ears, long after the call had gone dead.

The officer standing across from him frowned.

"Detective... what was that?"

Before Gordon could form a reply, the office door burst open. Another officer rushed in, breathless.

"Detective, there’s an active shootout at District 666 Middle School."

The color drained from Gordon’s face. A cold realization settled deep in his gut, sharp and immediate.

He didn’t say another word. He was already moving, shoving past the desk and out the door.

The two officers scrambled after him, calling his name, but Gordon was gone. He tore through the station, burst into his car, and slammed the door shut. Tires screamed as he pulled out onto the road.

He drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic, barely aware of the city blurring past him. Then the mobile radio crackled to life.

"Requesting immediate backup. Hostages confirmed at District 666 Middle School."

Gordon’s grip tightened on the wheel. "Please be okay," he whispered, pressing the pedal harder. The siren wailed, a desperate scream cutting through the streets as he pushed the car beyond reason.

It didn’t take long before the school came into view.

He skidded to a stop and jumped out, the scene slamming into him all at once. Patrol cars. Armed officers. Shouting voices. Yellow barricades stretched across the grounds, and beyond them the Special Weapons and Tactics team was already deployed, scanning rooftops and windows, searching for vantage points.

Gordon forced his way forward, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He found the officer who seemed to be in charge and thrust his badge forward.

"Detective Gordon," he said, his voice tight.

"I’m the father of two children inside that building. I need the details."

The officer looked at him, and for just a moment the professionalism cracked, replaced by something close to pity. When he spoke, his voice was controlled, practiced.

"Multiple gunshots were fired. We suspect fatalities."

The words struck Gordon square in the chest. His breath caught, pain blooming outward as images of his children flooded his mind. The kids he had raised. Protected. Promised to keep safe.

The thought that they might be dead made something deep in his soul wither.

Before he could speak, another officer hurried over to the chief.

"Sir," he said, lowering his voice, "the assailants have issued their demands."

Gordon’s head snapped up. His ears latched onto that single word.

Demands.

The officer in charge turned sharply.

"What are the demands?"

The messenger didn’t hesitate.

"They’re asking for a man named Gordon."

The officer in charge stiffened, his eyes widening as he slowly turned. Gordon felt the blood drain from his face at the same time.

"Detective," the officer said carefully, "didn’t you say your name was Gordon?"

Gordon nodded once.

The officer who delivered the message stared at him, stunned, as if only now understanding the weight of what he had brought. Silence settled, thick and uneasy.

"Do you have any idea why they would want you?" the officer in charge asked.

Gordon shook his head.

"No. I don’t." His gaze lifted to the school building, its windows dark and lifeless. His voice dropped.

"But if there’s even a chance my kids are still alive... let me go in."

The officer studied him for a long moment, then stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Gordon," he said quietly, "you’re a good man. You know that, right?"

Gordon hesitated, then gave a slow nod.

The officer mirrored the gesture before turning to issue a series of sharp commands. Clearing a path instantly; no one moved to stop him as he walked through.

Gordon walked toward the school alone. The street had gone eerily still. No shouting. No radios. Just the sound of his own footsteps as he reached the entrance. He pushed the door open.

And the moment he stepped inside, it slammed shut behind him.

Outside, the officers tensed, hands tightening on their weapons.

Then it hit them all at once, a sudden, crushing heaviness. Eyes glazed over and knees buckled. One by one, they succumbed to a deep, unnatural state. Within seconds, the crowd cleared, leaving the street completely deserted, and Gordon, completely alone inside the school.

The detective moved through the school halls, his footsteps echoing too loudly in the emptiness. Each step rang back at him, sharp and alone. The corridor was wrong. Too clean. No overturned desks, no shattered glass, no signs of panic. It looked untouched, as if no one had ever fled through it screaming.

He glanced at the windows and slowed.

Wooden planks had been nailed across them from the inside, sealing off the outside world. They were thick, crude and intentional.

’Were those there before?’

He was certain they hadn’t been. He would have noticed. The realization tightened his chest. Blocking every window like this should have taken time, manpower. Planning.

The thought followed him like a shadow as he continued forward.

Before he realized it, he had stopped in front of a classroom door.

He didn’t know why this room in particular pulled at him, only that it did. A pressure settled in his gut, heavy and insistent, telling him this was where he needed to be.

He raised his hand to open the door, but a faint sound reached his ears.

Drip.

Drip.

His eyes dropped.

Blood seeped out from beneath the door, spreading slowly across the tile in a dark, glistening pool.

His breath caught, but before he could react, the lights went out, and total darkness swallowed the hallway.

Gordon stood frozen, paralyzed by a fear that anchored him to the spot. Suddenly, the classroom door flew open.

A sickly gray hand shot out—its fingers cold and inhuman, clamping around his arm. Gordon didn’t even have time to scream before he was dragged into the darkness.

****

-Authors Notes-

Thank you for reading! This arc is reaching its conclusion, so please bear with me. ^^