Order in which to read these: Bullet Train, Foot Patrol, Off To See The King, The Long Hall, Territorial
1. Bullet Train
"I wanna ask you guys something *really* important," Raven said as he suddenly made a swerve that nearly sent all the occupants of the van flying into the left side.
"What's that?" Blaine grunted as Kurt struggled to detangle himself from him.
"How good are you with guns?"
Before Kurt could open his mouth to ask why Raven suddenly brought it up, Reed shrieked when a hailstorm of bullets riddled the window near them and spiderwebbed it.
"Down down!" Michael commanded, pushing both Shane and Reed's heads down away from the window. Shane kept Reed tucked close to him as Raven swerved the van again--bullets tore off one of the side mirrors--and Corey and Sinclair leapt to their attack points. Michael drew his gun and looked at the others. "Two incoming."
"Oh brilliant," Julian groaned dizzily from where he was still lying against Clark. Clark checked Reed before looking at Julian, saying, "Shh. Don't move, don't talk, you'll lose more blood."
"That doesn't mean I can't still shoot--" Julian coughed.
"Shut up, J!" Clark drew pistol and started firing out the window that Sinclair had just rolled down.
"Shane, give me my gun!" Blaine shouted from where he was holding on to Kurt. Frazzled, Shane drew Blaine's gun from his belt and threw it to him just as Raven hit the curb once, making the whole vehicle bounce and teeter.
"Where the fuck did you people get your drivers licenses?!" Julian howled.
"What drivers' licenses?" Corey burst out laughing--almost sounding maniacal as he did. Two black cars were tearing after them and Corey pumped the shotgun. He fired a shot and it burst through one of the other cars' doors before Michael yanked him away from the window--a hail of full-auto littered the side of the van.
"I need ammo!" Blaine yelled.
"Here!!" Sinclair threw him a box of bullets. Kurt looked up and saw that Sinclair had a box the size of a trunk full of guns and bullets open in the back near where Michael was. "Oh my *god*."
"We like being prepared," Sinclair reasoned almost calmly as Corey reloaded some more shotgun shells.
"Blaine, no!" Kurt cried as Blaine tore away from him and started firing outside as well.
"Stay down, Kurt!!" Blaine shouted back.
"Hey, I want to do something too!" Shane tried to scramble up but was pinned down by Reed. "No!" the smaller boy shouted. "You're a lousy shot, you'll get killed!!"
"Bad news," Michael suddenly said from his lookout point, holding a pair of binoculars.
"What?" Raven glanced at him.
"We've got no choice but to take the bridge, there's a hawk waiting for us on it." He was looking to the suspension bridge. "He's already aimed at us."
"Holy *shit*, someone's got a real hard on for you people!" Raven responded. He sent pedestrians scattering as he raced through the road, two more cars going after them. This created a train--a convoy of gunfire that sent their police scanners screaming as units started peeling out to take them down. "Who the hell do they want?!"
Shane looked at Kurt, who glared at him. "Shut up, Shane!" Kurt retorted.
"The price of fame, eh, Alice?" Julian laughed hollowly and hissed when Raven leapt over a speedbump. "Dammit, Rave!!"
"Yeah so--!" Raven yelled over the gunfire, "I'd like to not get shot by that hawk and send this gunship into certain death, so can we get rid of him?!"
"Mikey, give Reed a rifle." Clark suddenly said.
"Excuse me?!" Kurt gaped as Michael opened a case. Clark was already reaching up to open a panel that created a square of open black sky in the roof. "What are you doing?!"
"Counting on you, Reed!" Blaine said continued shooting--Reed already had the rifle and was putting it together with more precision than Kurt gave his hands credit for. "We're closing in on the bridge!"
"I've got it," Reed replied, white in the face but he loaded the rifle.
"Reed!!" Kurt yelled as Raven flew over into yet another speedbump and nearly slaughtered a traffic cone. "Are you people insane, you can't send Reed to--"
"Oh shut up, Kurt!" Julian groaned, now very irritiable with the pain.
"Now, Reed, do it now!!" Michael shouted over the fray.
The boy got up and out the roof with Shane holding his legs. He held the rifle poised and looked into the scope once, sweeping an instant and finding a target. He took a breath and squeezed--the rifle let loose a single crack, the recoil was so strong that he nearly flew back, but Shane yanked him down instantly as the rifle nearly clattered over their heads.
The sniper fell from the bridge.
"Thank you!!" Raven yelled. He headed straight for the bridge.
Reed was shaking and pale, but he saw the look on Kurt's face, which was absolutely shock. "What?!"
"He's the best counter sniper Windsor's got!" Blaine shouted back. "Now how about a little help because we've still got three cars after us!!"
Sinclair loaded, stuck his arm out the window with a cocked revolver and fired four times. Bullets smashed through the windshield and sent another car spiraling, reeling, and it flew over the bridge and into the water. "Make that two," he said.
“This way, come on.”
Derek barely heard Logan speak, his tone was so low; he was probably saving his breath as the three of them flew through the alleyways. The blonde stayed in the lead, running at almost full speed around the labyrinth of alleyways, and even though Derek was the most active of them all, he had to make an effort to keep up. He glanced to his left and already found Julian flagging a little. The gunman was good for sprints, not marathons.
With all three of them unarmed, they were sitting ducks against the armed pursuers.
Logan skidded to a stop in one adjoining alley that led to two different directions. Panting, he looked both ways and then at the other two. “Damn it.”
“What?” Derek coughed.
“I think we missed a turn somewhere.”
“Brilliant, oh great navigator,” Julian glared, panting. “This is why we don’t take you to night runs.”
“Shut up!” Logan finally decided on going left. The three of them barely went ten steps when gunmen burst in from the other end, firing shots. Spitting curses, the three boys turned tail, keeping their heads down as they dived for cover.
“We have to get out of here—that way, go!” Derek hauled Logan and Julian back up and pushed them towards the other option. Julian took off running, drawing his gun even though he knew it was empty.
It was the right move—two men materialized in the other alley and Julian had his pistols raised, expecting them. The two men ducked away, thinking Julian was going to shoot, giving Derek and Logan time to leap on them and knock them down with their fists before they flew on.
“We need weapons!” Derek gasped.
Fat chance, Logan thought furiously, knowing that the three of them were armed with empty pistols and one knife apiece. “Jules!” he tossed his closed butterfly knife to him—Julian caught it. “You’ve got the best aim.”
“Here,” Derek passed him his knife as well—barely had he done so when Julian whipped one open and flung it so fast that it could’ve grazed Logan’s cheek. The knife embedded itself into the throat of one man who had appeared at their path. He fell, drowning in his own blood.
Julian coughed as they ran. “Any more bright ideas?”
“We have to reach territory,” Logan snapped, looking around wildly. “Once we make it to our territory boundary—”
“What, we don’t even have any backup!” Derek retorted. He gasped and yanked the other two back as bullets roared past, forcing them to change direction again.
“I feel like a rat in a fucking maze!” Julian hissed. “Logan, get us out of here!!”
“Don’t you think I’m trying?!” Logan almost threw Julian into the next alley. The leader of Stuart Wing started—just started, mind you—to feel a little apprehensive. He wasn’t lost—he couldn’t be lost. It would be a really bad idea to be lost right now--
“Logan!!” Derek yelled as they rounded a bend.
Logan looked up and saw the barrel of an AK aimed at him from twenty feet away. “Oh sh—”
Julian’s sharp cry was cut off when bullets sounded, sending all three of them sprawling, heads covered. But Logan did a double take when he looked up and saw the man with the assault rifle on the ground, two bullet holes to his head.
Derek stared, stunned, and he raised his eyes to the end of the alley and gaped as the first thing he saw from the ground were a pair of sleek white legs.
“Logan, baby, you okay?” the tall blonde woman in the red dress asked in concern, silver pistol still raised. She had some spatter on her fair neck, but it didn’t seem to bother her. As Julian’s mouth hung open, the Stuart wing leader stared, green eyes wide.
“Come on, let’s go!” she cried, waving frantically to them with her gun—her black car with the bulletproof windows was parked not ten feet from her, door still open. “Hurry!”
The Stuarts, completely bowled over, scrambled to their feet, running towards her.
2. Foot Patrol
"Just a bit further," Raven swerved sharply again and nearly threw all the occupants slamming into the left side of the car. Passerby were already scattering like mad away from the hysteric car chase.
"There's a bird in the sky," Michael glanced at the others, looking a little alarmed for the first time. "If they pin us down--"
"We've got that covered," Blaine told them as he listened into his cell phone. He looked up when the call connected. "Caterpillar."
"*I know, Rabbit, you've all made a huge mess. I'm working on it.*"
"I need you to give us a smoke ring."
"*Get the bird off your tail, I know, this isn't the first time I've had to extricate you lunatics out of a mess--*"
Blaine hung up. "Bird's taken care of." He looked at Kurt again and reached for him, trying to pull him closer. "Let me see your shoulder."
"I'm fine," Kurt hissed, squirming away from him--a feat considering the van was moving like a rollercoaster. The other Haven boys rode the tide like professionals. The police scanner crackled and started to hiss as though some kind of interference was happening.
"You're dead weight," Julian snapped from where he was disentangling from Clark.
"And so are you!" Kurt retorted.
Raven glanced back with blazing blue eyes, furious even as he drove. "Would all of you just *shut up* while we're trying to--"
The slam of metal-to-metal--the crash--the roar--the shrill pierce of screaming and outraged gasps--
The van skidded around the road following the devastating ram of an oncoming car they hadn't seen. It flew--flipped--and crashed into a thicket, still smoking, and suddenly silent.
Blaine's sense of hearing started working first: he heard the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance. His eyes flew open after and he saw blackness, shapes, and shadows. Then he could smell the acrid smoke. Copper in his mouth--the metallic tang of blood. And then he felt the weight bearing down on his body, and the pain all over him. The last was what truly roused him.
"Kurt," he coughed, trying to put his arms around the body he had jumped to protect when the van flew off the road. "Kurt, say something. Kurt!!"
Kurt began to move, but the next sound heard was a cough from Sinclair, who was trying to pull Shane and Reed up. "We have to get out," he coughed as Reed made a small whimper, curled against Shane. "We have to get out of here now!!"
As if in response, there was a powerful thud and Clark had kicked one of the doors open. The van was tipped to its side, and Blaine found himself staring at night sky. He could hear sirens.
Michael peered cautiously out to the open first before he heaved himself out. There was another strong kick and the drivers' side door crashed open, Raven hauling himself out. "Come on!" he panted, voice hoarse. "We don't have much time!"
Corey dropped out of the van next, limping slightly. He reached up when Clark handed out Julian to him. Julian almost fell all over him, coughing. "So much for the gunship--"
Blaine dropped down next and he helped Kurt out. Sinclair kicked the rear doors open and pulled Shane and Reed out from that way. Kurt panted, "What happened to Reed?"
"He hit his gun arm," Shane breathed, keeping the smaller boy close to him. "We have to go, we have to run."
Michael was pointing now to something to the distance. "We have to go--they're coming and they're not cops--"
The sirens wailed, approaching--but the gunfire began first as wheels skidded past them in the dark road. The boys dived behind the van. Sinclair pulled himself up to fire a couple of shots before ducking back down, bullets hailing. Raven canvassed the entire party. There was a likelihood they'll get away, but there was no way they're getting to the villa unscathed with three boys injured. "Get the ammo, we have to run for it!"
Michael and Corey wasted no time in pulling out some of the ammunition from the back of the van as the boys began to drag the others away, beginning to sprint through the thicket. "Come on!!" Kurt yelled over the exchange of gunfire as he felt Reed and Shane tug him away.
The other boys, still firing shots at their oncoming attackers, began stepping back to run with them. "Wait, wait a second!" Michael skidded to a stop, patting his pockets. "Rave, can I have a light?"
"You're seriously thinking of smoking at a time like this?!" Kurt snapped as Raven calmly pulled out a lighter and reached out to light something Michael cupped in his hands. As soon as he did, he started running. "Go, go, go!!"
Michael took what he had lit and casually tossed it over his shoulder and into the van the way a man might toss away a gum wrapper.
The van combusted with the force of a grenade, sending the boys flying again. Corey was laughing like a maniac as he kept running. "Go, go!!" he yelled as the boys bolted off on foot, the Haven boys hauling up the ones who can't keep us as swiftly. "Run!"
"What the hell was that?!" Blaine demanded.
"Getting rid of evidence, my friend!" Raven grinned as they burst out of the thicket and into the alleyways. They were approaching a tangle of apartment buildings. If they were lucky, they could keep out of view of the cops, but they weren't going to shake their attackers as quickly.
"Which way to the villa?" panted Julian as Michael caught him before he fell over. Michael just shook his head and looked at Clark, who checked on his stepbrother's injuries. At least Reed can still run without assistance--mostly.
"We won't make it to the villa on foot, I guarantee it," Clark panted. "We have to shake them first and call for transport when we get to a safe spot."
"And where would *that* be?!" Shane demanded before he yelped, a bullet singing over his ear and hitting a fire escape ladder.
"Anywhere that isn't here!!" Raven yelled back as they dived around the corners. "Break, now!!"
The boys instantly scattered into various directions. Behind them, their pursuers momentarily paused and then also scattered to follow them into the damp alleys. One of them started to call for reinforcements. They were going to take down the pack of boys tonight--no matter what it took, even if they did have their strange help in the form of the five boys who had come fully prepared.
"Come on!" Raven tore down the street, Kurt and Blaine with him. "We have to lose them!!"
"Whoa!!" Blaine grabbed Kurt and they all ducked down as someone came around the bend and started firing at them. Raven and Blaine drew weapons simultaneously and started firing as they backed their steps and resumed their run.
"This is really really bad," Kurt coughed, keeping a hand on his bruised shoulder.
"Kid, you've got to hold out a little longer, we'll be out of here soon," Raven paused by a wall to reload his gun. Above them, windows were slamming closed--the residents were used to problems being brought in here--they knew when to duck for cover.
"What about the others--" Blaine began, but stopped when Kurt grabbed his gun from him and fired a shot.
The man at the other side of a nearby wire fence howled and fell, clutching his hip. Blaine looked at Kurt in shock. "I thought you didn't know how to shoot!"
"I don't," Kurt hissed as he passed the gun back to Blaine. "But desperate times calls for desperate measures." --and the three of them went running again.
"I want a gun," Reed said obstinately as he, Shane, Corey and Sinclair continued running.
"Sorry, kiddo, we're almost out of ammo anyway," Corey panted as he loaded again. "Heads down, now!" They ducked behind a dumpster as Corey started shooting at two men racing after them.
Sinclair grabbed Corey out of the open just as machinegun fire returned on them. "Holy *smoke* they're going full auto on us!" Sinclair hissed to Reed. "Who are these people, what do they want from you?!"
"Other than our lives?!" Shane snapped.
Silence as the full auto stopped. Bullets were out. They heard the sound of a struggle to reload.
"That's it!" Sinclair and Corey tore out of their hiding places. "What are you doing?!" Reed screamed as the two boys hurled themselves onto their assailants. Sinclair smashed his gun into someone's temple and swung around, punching another right at the jaw. Corey leapt and put his entire weight into a single punch that knocked another man to the ground before he picked up a fallen rifle and slammed it into another man's head with crippling force.
"Hurry up, come on!!" Corey yelled back to the two boys behind the dumpster.
Shane wasted no time--he grabbed Reed and pulled him out of the spot and bolted after the Haven boys. "We have to get to my brother!!" Shane shouted at them.
"We know!!" Sinclair yelled back. "We'll meet with them out on the road at the other side!!"
"You guys run here a lot?!" Reed stared incredulously.
"Hey, where else to get lost but a labyrinth?!"
The third pack, comprised of Clark, Julian, and Michael, were having an easier time losing their opponents by the speed of Clark and Michael's running, and the fact that with two gunmen in the group, Clark and Julian never missed when they looked back to fire a shot that would buy them more time.
But Julian was keeping the going slow--the other boy can now barely run and Clark knew he was losing blood fast. They slumped behind a stack of crates near an old loading dock and julian all but collapsed.
"Shit, *shit*, sorry--" he coughed. "We have to keep running."
"No, sit for a little bit," Michael replied, trying to put pressure on Julian's gunshot wound. "You're starting to look pale..." he raised worried eyes to Clark.
Clark loaded his weapon when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. "The two of you stay down."
Clark fired the shot just as figures went around the corner, but at least the shot was a threat and not one for a kill--fortunately too, as the ones who rounded the bend were Raven, Kurt and Blaine.
"Shit!! Damn it, Clark!!" Raven yelled at him.
"Sorry," Clark smirked briefly. "Hair-trigger."
"Whatever," Raven snapped as Kurt ducked behind the crates, Blaine scanning the surroundings for other nefarious beings. "I think we lost ours. How'd you guys do?"
"Clark and Julian added some to their body count," Michael replied with a wan smile. Kurt felt chilled by how the gentle-looking boy could talk about slaughter so calmly. Michael seemed to detect what Kurt was thinking, and said, for his benefit, "...they won't hesitate to kill us. We can't give them the chance. And you shouldn't either."
Kurt stared and swallowed, and then looked at Blaine, who was standing over them, gun still raised as he looked around. "Any sign of Shane and Reed?" he asked him.
Blaine shook his head, looking apprehensive now as he scanned the darkness for any sign of his brother. He glanced at the night sky. "Han's good as his word. I don't hear the police chopper over us."
"I'm out of ammo," Raven panted to Clark. "If we're going to make it, we have to move now."
"We're not leaving without my brother!" Blaine snapped.
"Relax!" Raven retorted. "We're not leaving without *our* brothers either. Cor and Sinny are still out there."
Michael looked up and gasped. "Everyone down!!"
They reacted in pure instinct within a second of life and death: bullets rained down at them as they ducked their heads. Feet, hands, knees pushed off from the damp asphalt and they were propelling themselves away, racing to better cover as the crates were rattled by shots.
"Blaine!!" Kurt cried as Blaine tried to fire back but his gun began clicking empty after two shots. Blaine withdrew the pistol, gathered Kurt up and bolted with the Haven boys.
Clark fired back as best as he could and Julian tore against Michael's grip, and fired back as well--and their guns clicked empty.
"Damn it all to hell," Clark hissed as they backed up.
There was the sound of a reload and five men were advancing at them all with SWAT-issue shotguns. But none of them looked like police officers, and that's what worried them the most.
"Oh god," Kurt paled in horror.
"Run," Raven choked. "You boys have to run!!"
They was a volley of sudden gunfire and everyone threw themselves to the ground. Bullets burst into their assailants' chests, spattering blood into the night air--almost two apiece for each man. The boys on the ground looked up behind them.
Three figures stood there, silhouetted by the headlights of two cars. All three of them blonde, as though their hair had become halos, avenging angels armed with unholy weapons.
Julian's breath caught. "Logan."
The figure in the middle walked up without lowering his gun arm or saying a word. Logan reached out and snatched Julian up from the ground, away from Michael and into his free arm. "Come on." He looked at the other two with him. "You guys take yours."
The Twins nodded somberly. "Come on," Evan said, gun arm still raised as Ethan glanced around "Alice, Rabbit. Let's go."
"Shane and Reed--" Kurt tried to say as Ethan gathered him up.
"We'll find them. Come on. We have to get to safe ground."
3. Off To See The King
"We've got trouble," Merril glanced at the rearview mirror, eyes glinting, hands still tight on the wheel. "Looks like we *do* have a leak we'll need to plug up."
"Worry about that later, baby, if we don't make it to the hospital in time, Dan's going to have to be crowned king before the night's out." Spencer grabbed onto the handle on the passengers' side as Merril swung the car around in an arc that trailed a hissing skidmark onto the road--one-eighty degrees so that they were now facing their pursuers.
Danny drew his gun and stuck his upper body out of the car window and started emptying his magazine onto the windshield of their pursuers. The .45 slugs tore through spiderwebbing glass and made direct impact into the driver and the passenger at the back. Danny glared and withdrew just as the other car swerved and wrapped itself around a tree in a blaze.
"How far do we have to go?" Danny demanded.
"About four blocks," Merril replied calmly, knowing the route to the hospital by heart.
"Well we can't go there with entourage," Spencer muttered, irritated as two motorcycles blazed out from the alleyways after them.
"Mer, be a princess and shake them for us, will you?" Danny asked politely as he reloaded. He glanced to his right where the sound of a pistol being loaded had come from. "Adam, take care of the bikes."
The dark-haired boy asked quietly, "I don't suppose you want to be specific on 'alive' or 'injured'."
"They tried to kill our King, Adam," Danny's smile was calm as his magazine slid into place with a clack. "We're not very kind to people who try that."
It was just the kind of thing Adam approved of. Both boys leaned out of the windows again and Danny started firing at the second car with Adam leveling his pistol at the helmet of the biker that was about to yank a full-automatic weapon onto the Hanovers' gunship. He fire three times--helmet, throat, chest--and withdrew as the other biker opened fire.
"Mer--!" Spencer yelled as the gunshots rocked the right side, and he drew his trusty sidearm.
"Honey, relax, I've got it!" Merril exclaimed as she nearly sent all the occupants flying again when she swerved. Only the last motorcycle pursued now, coming up fast from behind.
"Hey, Jeff," Danny spoke into his cell phone with all the casualness of someone who *wasn't* being currently shot at. He glowered a moment as he was flung around again by Merril's driving. "No, no, we're almost at the hospital--you and Nicky see anything yet? No? Great--!"
"I can do it," Adam told Spencer helpfully after the second time the older boy tried to blast their pursuer and failed.
"No, I've got it--" Spencer ducked back once as bullets fired past him, smashing the side mirror away. From the other side, Danny tried to counterattack but the bike swerved away from his side.
"Honey, anytime now!" Merril prompted as they neared the home stretch to the hospital.
"Baby, hold the car steady, will you?!" Spencer said indignantly as he tried to take aim. Man, but his sister would be yelling his ear off if she ever found out that he couldn't take a single shot for the past two minutes. "Just let me--!"
Spencer's bullets made direct contact with the rider and right into the gas tank. Danny and Adam blinked as a plume of orange fire blossomed behind them and vanished into the darkness of the window tint when Merril turned another corner.
Spencer sat back down heavily, rolling the window up with a sigh. "Finally."
"Cops?" Merril asked, glancing at the rearview, as unruffled as ever.
"We have time," Adam replied, glancing at the police scanner.
Danny smirked and said into his phone, "Yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Tell Justin."
4. The Long Hall
“I don’t like it,” Blaine frowned as he looked up at the brick edifice. “It feels like they’re waiting for us.”
“They are waiting for us,” Charlie muttered as he looked up as well. The rain dripped off his raincoat in a steady stream, pooling below his rainboots. Overhead, the deluge was just beginning to pour. He glanced at Blaine. “How’s Hummel?”
Blaine glanced back to the car. The Twins were hidden behind the tinted glass of the window that was rolled open to a small sliver of rainy air, guns braced and ready for any kind of attack, peeking through as twin rings of black metal that you wouldn’t see unless you looked for them. Blaine nodded once.
There was no movement from in the car, but Blaine knew that the sound of Kurt’s labored breathing would be filling it. Sure they had managed to stop the bleeding and bound up the wound, but Kurt was still unbelievably vulnerable. Shane would be hovering over him, determined to keep his promise to his brother that he would keep Kurt safe.
A flick of the gaze up to the rooftop above where the car was parked showed a small lump of shadow, but this one little shadow was the only reason they didn’t fear any assault from windows. Reed’s eyes were grave as he peered through the scope of his sniper rifle, the eagle eye watching over the Windsors heading to the building, his weapon ready to take out anyone that appeared in the windows.
“He’ll live,” Blaine finally muttered to Charlie. He looked again at the building. “Let’s do this.” He made to step forward, but the prefect’s arm blocked his way. When Blaine struck it, raindrops rushed down from his own poncho. “What—?”
“Not you,” Charlie muttered, not looking at him. His face was shining from the lamplight going off the rainwater on his face. “You and I don’t go in until it’s clear.”
“You just said they were waiting for us,” Blaine snapped.
“They are.” Charlie looked somber. “Waiting in the sense that they’ve got it fortified by gunmen. They’re expecting an attack fleet. We go in there guns blazing, they’ll shred us, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to give up my throne at Windsor.”
“So what do we do?” Blaine demanded.
Charlie finally deigned to look at him with all the presence of a master explaining to a temperamental four-year-old. “We send specialists of course.” And he made a small signal with his hand as Blaine rolled his eyes and sighed, impatient, crossing his arms to keep warm under the deluge of rain.
That was how two figures, wearing waterproof ponchos that kept everything below their shoulders dry, ended up standing at the doors of the building. They didn’t move as they surveyed the area. There seemed to be no movement from the windows and the doors—the men inside confident in the security of area.
Finally, Dwight raised his eyes, rain dripping from his eyelashes. He looked annoyed. “Déjà vu.”
“What?” Wes blinked, glancing at him without moving.
“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Dwight muttered. “Have we ever shot anyone in this building before?”
“Hard to tell,” Wes replied with a sigh as he began to walk forward. “I don’t really keep tabs.” He made a small wave with his right hand before looking at his partner for the job. “After you, then, Knight.”
Dwight made a sigh that sounded like, “Yeah, yeah…”
The people inside the building weren’t exactly sure of what exactly happened. What they did know was that one of the side windows to the lobby smashed. Rain came pouring in sheets, lightning crackling beyond as wind whistled. A brick sat quietly at the marble flooring. All eyes and guns immediately aimed towards the opening, as though waiting for someone to penetrate it.
When guns clicked, they looked back up to the frosted front doors and found a teenage boy in a poncho standing there, dripping rainwater, pale with the cold and lips bitten red.
Five men in the lobby to his two 9mm pistols. He thought it was a little unfair.
Dwight didn’t wait for them to gather their surprised faculties—he threw up the poncho and opened fire. Dwight scored direct hits to one man’s jugular and another’s chest, sending them reeling to the floor. That was when the others turned guns on him and he ran to the pillars, diving behind one of the sofas—bullets exploded into the cushions, sending fluff flying.
He wasn’t all that concerned, lying close to the ground. He began tearing the poncho off himself and checking his guns to see if they got wet. The three remaining men kept firing at the sofa, and it was their own mistake in doing so.
The sound of the gunshots masked the entrance of another teenage boy, shorter, lighter, materializing through the broken side window, shrugging off his wet poncho.
Wes raised his own twin pistols and fired a shot each at the remaining two men without batting an eye, bullets bursting out of chests. Dwight rose from behind the sofa the moment the third body fell to the ground. “They would’ve heard the gunshots,” he reported.
“Time to crash the meeting, I think.” Wes breathed as he and Dwight rushed upstairs.
A tumult was building in the hallways. It wasn’t a very big building. There were only five floors and their quarry was at the fourth. Francis Weller was white as a ghost even though he was surrounded by his men and bodyguards. The head of security for this meeting, a man in dark glasses, heard the gunshots and took action. He swept up several of his men and retreated with the VIPs into an inner room.
Now, a platoon of armed men waited for the Windsors.
The men at the fourth floor aimed their guns as the elevator crept towards their position. At least eight guns were now aimed to the doors. When it made the telltale “ding!” that signaled arrival, it hissed open—to unleash a huge cloud of white smoke.
“What the hell—?!”
Two canisters of smoke rocketed out of the elevator and into the hall, filling it with clouds. Guns opened fire--
--and Dwight and Wes came tearing out into the fog, guns blazing.
“Go, move!!” Wes yelled as he fired at the small army coming up at them.
Dwight threw himself to the ground, sliding onto the marble and firing like mad, eyes finding and shooting everything that moved. Bullets ricocheted off the walls as Wes leapt onto one man and landed a powerful punch to the face before firing at another one. He ducked and jumped back before firing at another man.
Men were pouring into the hall—Dwight leapt up, arms outstretched and holding a pair of automatic rifles drawn from under his coat. “Down!!”
Wes ducked down and Dwight cracked loose a torrent of bullets. It sent men howling in pain as bursts of blood imploded—the rest of the bullets sang through the air and embedded into walls. The magazines empty, Dwight threw the guns away and Wes leapt to his feet.
Wes rushed up to the most immediate man he found in the fog and leapt onto him, kicking him down to the ground with a sound crack. Dwight grabbed another man’s arm, hurled him to the ground before he suddenly drew garrote wire from his gloves and leapt over to another man, swirling the wire around his neck and hurling him, tangled, to the ground.
“Go!” Dwight barked to Wes, who ran ahead, pulling out another pistol and firing at the men coming out of the doors. Wes dodged some of the gunfire, kicked down a pedestal of flowers and rolled it into the fog. It struck ankles and legs, sending men sprawling—and he emptied his magazines into them, picking up discarded weapons.
Then he whirled around and threw pistols at Dwight, who was ready to catch them. The two of them cut a blazing path through the hall, fog dwindling away as they ran. When their magazines empty, they took to their hands, leaping onto men and slamming their fists and kicks into them.
“Let them in!” Wes yelled to the younger boy.
Dwight pulled out a flare, lighting it in a hissing blaze into one of his attackers’ faces before hurling it out the window, signaling to the other Windsors that they’ve cleared a way. Charlie, Blaine, and David rushed forward without waiting, Reed loading the rifle.
The Twins burst out of the car and started running after the Windsors. Shane drew his knife and locked the car door, and he leaned over Kurt, watching everything that moved outside.
Inside, at the fourth floor, Dwight and Wes ducked gunfire, getting missed by mere centimeters as men with full automatics emptied magazines at them. “Oh man, that’s open ground,” Wes panted as he glanced to the conference room they had to penetrate. Papers and debris were flying around them
“Okay, plan?” Dwight panted, glancing at him from the bookcase across where Wes was.
The AKs of the men clicked empty. Both boys tore out of their hiding spots. Dwight threw a heavy book into the face of one of the men before he hurled his entire body into the air feet first and planted his combat boots into another man’s face, slamming him to the ground. Wes rolled onto the floor, butterfly knives drawn and with a flick of his wrists, sent it flying into the jugulars of two other men.
Following his lead, Dwight kicked at his boot, causing a knife to pop out at the tip and he swung he leg around in a kick and sent the knife into a man’s chest. Wes looked up, flipped open another knife one handed and threw it, embedding it into the skull of a man aiming for Dwight, from ten feet away.
“That door!” Dwight pointed as he spat out some blood and picked up a pistol.
The two boys flew to the inner sanctum where their quarry lay. With their combined strengths, they kicked the doors open, flying in with guns aimed as they panted, blood dripping from their temples.
They found a room full of corpses.
Wes made a small start, guns lowering slightly. “What…” he whispered, as Dwight stared, guns still up.
All the bodyguards in the sanctum were on the ground, killed cleanly with head shots, without a drop of blood in the wrong place. Including the VIPs…save for the one they had come to pursue.
Francis Weller looked terrified out of his mind, sitting bound with duct tape to a leather chair, staring in horror at the tall man standing in front of him, pistol aimed directly to his head.
The two boys stared at the man, who had his back to them. “Last words?” he said in a deep tone to the congressman.
“Please—” Weller croaked, horrified. “Please, I’ve told you everything I know—I can give you money, I can make you rich, godammit!! I told you everything!!”
Wes’ eyes flickered slightly, startled as a gunshot rang through the air, effectively spattering the congressman’s brains all over the mahogany walls of the inner sanctum. Silence reigned after the echo of the gunshot vanished.
Dwight’s eyes narrowed, his arms never lowering the pistols, as the man slowly turned around. Wes stared, repositioning the aim of his guns when the man turned to look at them. Behind him, he heard the other Windsors rushing up to them, moving swiftly through the cascade of bodies, and he was glad to have their backup. They were dealing with someone entirely different and not their usual league.
Clean kills. Information extraction prior to the kill. And perfectly undetectable entry. This man was clearly no random gangster on an execution. This was a professional. A trained assassin.
“You’re a little late, boys,” the man said, lowering his gun to a nearby table and taking off his dark glasses, wiping the blood spatter off them with a handkerchief from his pocket. “Or maybe I should say right on time…since you allowed me to do my job properly.”
“What the hell?” Charlie glowered, panting as he reached Wes’ side.
The assassin smiled with the air of someone completely unafraid as he faced the boys fully, surveying them. He registered absolute zero on any kind of fear towards the armed Windsors, and he emanated an aura of authority and power that made everyone hesitate. Blaine’s hands crept toward his pistol, and the Twins stood perfectly still, never leaving the man in black.
After a long, tense moment, Dwight finally lowered his guns. The man smiled. “Good choice.”
Wes hesitatingly followed, but the serious expression was still on Dwight’s face.
“Hello, Uncle Ford.”