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Blog RSS Feed Report abuse Latest Blog: The Courier's Story: Part 28

0 comments by Anti_Griefer_666 on May 5th, 2013

Part 28: Evil’s Last Stand

Without even thinking, or knowing about the layout of the building, I quickly took cover
behind the room’s door, and peered around to look for bandits. It came as no surprise
when I spotted two of them, racing towards the sound of broken glass. This wasn’t
good, and I was the only person to have broken that particular window; I was in
it alone. My rifle was mostly good for picking enemies off at a distance, it
was no use in such close quarters. Luckily, I had my pistol with me, and I blind
fired around the corner, the thin wooden protection that the door offered me
was barely enough to keep me alive, from the hailstorm of bullets that they had
shot towards me. When my clip was empty, two men lay dead, walls had been
coated red, and the door practically fell off it’s hinges from the shots; I was
getting way too lucky for my own good.

I crept slowly down the hallway, gun armed and reloaded, with an itchy trigger
finger just waiting to dispense lead to some unsuspecting villainous felon. I came
to a split section on the second floor, and finally saw my reinforcements. A good
number of the townsfolk had joined me, and since they knew the building well, we
all marched down a narrow corridor, to where the stairs were. This place had
seen better days.

We passed rooms with boarded up doors, derelict rooms, covered from head to toe
with spider webs, and cockroaches pouring out of every crevice; I was getting
the shudders just being near this place. I kept close to the group, until they
stopped at a dead end. I was confused what they were doing, until one of them
crouched by it, and placed down an explosive charge. He asked for everyone to
stay back and take cover, which they all did. It didn’t take long for my ears
to ring, as the chunk of wall was blasted into oblivion. Once the dust settled,
I looked around to see a gaping hole, cracking the foundation, and covering the
ground in rubble. Peering through, I could see a dark, dingy room, the remains
of a once cheerful and comforting guest room. I stood aside, as floods of them
passed through the door, and charged into action. I stepped through as one of
the last, and heard gunfire exchanged in all directions. I made sure that the
left side was safe, and darted for a nearby pillar to cover me. Two men came
around the corner, and I dished out a taste of wasteland justice upon them.

The gunfire began to die down, and one of the locals signalled for me to follow
him. After a couple of sharp turns, showing the bloodbath that had just ended, he
led me back to the group. They had all gathered around a reinforced service
door, with a small rectangular window in the middle, covered in dirt. A man
stepped forward from the group, wiped the dirt from it, and d through. A quarter
of a second later, his lifeless corpse flew backwards, with a firm bullethole
through his eye, still smoking with embers from the hot lead; they were just
meters away from us behind the door.

I told everyone to stand back, opened the door a fraction of an inch, and tossed
a grenade through. Seconds later, the last piercing scream of a vile man filled
the halls, and died down; justice for the innocent resident he had just
murdered. I slowly opened the door, and the townsfolk all pointed their guns
around the corner, ready to fire on anything that moved. What greeted them was
the lifeless corpses of the bandits, already killed by the group that had came
in through the kitchen. The left was lousy with bodies, but the right wasn’t as
populated, so the group split up, and headed through that way.

Already busy behind cover, Nash and the survivors of the downstairs group had taken position
behind a thick wall. On the other side lay the dining room of the place, tables
knocked over and used as protection for the bandits. There were two doorways
in, and Nash’s group were separated into two equal groups covering them, with
Nash running between the sides, offering assistance and ideas. I called out to
him, and he turned to see me.

“Oh great, it’s about time you showed up.” Nash said in a hurry. “We don’t have
much time. It looks like this is their last stand. Now that you’re here, I’ll
take my group to the left side, and you take the right.”

Nash drew his men from the right side over to the left, and I and the group following
me took the right. I took a quick squint around the corner, seeing tables
knocked over, and a couple of heads poking over the top; not a good time to be
tall. I had a plan, and called for Nash to deliver it.

“Got a plan?” Nash asked me.

“A rough idea, if you can pull it off. Your group open fire, and keep firing, to make sure they stay behind cover,
then my group will come around the other side and flank them, while they’re being
suppressed.” I responded, not sure if it would actually work with our fairly
small group, and with no idea how many of them there were.

“That’s a brilliant plan. I’ll make sure my side knows what to do. Just give me the
signal when you’re ready.” He said, and crept back to his group. Now all I had
to do was tell the side I was on what the plan was, and signal Nash when I was
ready. I waited for a moment that seemed right, and gave him a wave. The sound
of gunfire ripped through the room, as his group suppressed the enemy into
staying firmly behind cover. I didn’t have a whole lot of time before they would
run out of ammo, so I moved in and threw myself behind the enemies cover. It came
as a surprise to them, when they turned to me and found themselves with a
faceful of lead. I shouted for Nash to stop, and stood up, taking a moment to
look behind me, and see the room smoking from all the brand new holes.

The floor was littered with shell casings, blood and corpses. I was beginning to
feel a little a sick, considering we’ve covered this casino with organs and
bullet holes, that would take forever to clean. With the smoke clearing, I could
see from the corner of my eye, a man slouched over, in the kitchen. Getting closer,
I could make out that he had his hands behind his back, and did not appearing
to be moving. It didn’t take long before I reached the kitchen and saw Deputy
Beagle, lying face down, and making me feel as if we had failed to save him.

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