Humans

The government has been overrun by a team of equipped spies, who travel the globe in search for 10 warriors, who may be able to stop the world from succumbing to a deadly fate. However, is there any humanity left to save?

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The deathly black mound crept towards the group, who lay as still as corpses, on the icy ground. A fleeting wind spiralled through the long corridor, and got lost about halfway down.

Zoe squeezed her eyes shut, her clothes trembling in the gust. She sensed that the beast was only a couple of metres away, and if she wanted to live, she needed to do something about it. Right then.

"Get up! Now! Follow me!" She yelled at the group over the ferocious roar of the creature. And they leapt to their feet, sprinting closely behind Zoe, who led the way. She stumbled over guard's bodies, and could feel the others on her heels. Zoe had no idea how she knew where she was going, but for some reason, she seemed to be able to navigate all of the tunnels and pathways, which led them further away from the beast.

She skidded to a halt at the end of one of the corridors, and looked at the dead end which towered in front of her and the others.

"Great." Chase muttered, and kicked the blue wall.

The shriek of the monster echoed down the halls, and grew closer to the group. A pang of frustration jabbed at Zoe, and she stomped with fury. This was how it was going to end.

She sank to the floor, untying her shoes and throwing them uselessly at the creature, as it gained ground with every passing second. Gun shots fired in the distance.

Zoe was about to give up, when a guard sped around the corner and reared a long silver spear. He jabbed it into the monster, who spluttered with malice and spewed large globs of orange gloop. It melted onto the floor dejectedly, recoiling and retracting its large metal wheels into its body. And screeched, louder than before, until it curled into a ball and lay motionless.

Chase stood up, and brushed the dust off himself. Staring at the guard, who had just attacked a level 8.2 Sleagon singlehandedly.

The guard unzipped his blue uniform, revealing a white shirt and baggy jeans, with no shoes on. Shards of glass jutted out of his feet and large cuts and bruises surrounded them. He swept a tanned hand through his mane of dirty blonde hair. His shirt read the number '4'.       

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