Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.
10. A Wall of Bullets
It was exactly 22.13. The room was dark and silent; the only light coming from the two screens Froggie had set up near the window. On the bigger screen, they could see the infra-red signature of two human bodies. One of them though, had a very low temperature on the torso area, signalling a particularly resilient vest. On the smaller screen, a graph registered the conversation going on in the house on the other side of the street, recording the man's take on the Friends of Humanity and the Church of Humanity.
"Doc, Doberman... are you ready?" The intercom buzzed a signal.
"And the Torini man?" The same light sound, an alternative to speaking, which might give the soldiers away, sounded at the Colonel's ears.
"Stallone?" The same sound repeated itself.
"Murdock?"
"The car's all set and I'm ready to follow."
The Colonel positioned himself, aiming his customised riffle at the balcony.
"Once I finish this," the vic's voice echoed in the room, "I'll take ya back t' the house and ya'll stay there. Fer good, this time. No more holidayin' fer you, girl."
"Doc, send the Torini. Remind him to make it snappy: Creed can't smell you but he can still hear you."
"No more holidays," Colonel eased his breathing despite the hate burning through him at the sound of that voice. "Is too much adrenaline to me. Fight trainment is too much adrenaline, real fight is… And every time I go to any place is a fight!"
"Shit."
The bomb explosion was seen as a white flash that inundated the screen. It didn't bother Froggie, though, who had got up and quickly started disassembling the material. The Colonel saw the mutant burst onto the balcony with the woman in front of him and automatically shot his gun, hitting him square in the chest. A second shot, as he embraced the woman with one arm and lept up, razed his forearm; a third hitting him in the back.
"The mark is heading for the roof. I repeat: the mark is heading for the roof."
The Colonel shot the gun five more times before losing sight of the mutant, but only four bullets hit home. "Stallone?"
"Got him," the man's calm voice retorted. "He has corralled himself between some cars, Colonel."
That might prove a problem. "Give him space to make a run for the car."
The Colonel left the flat silently, leaving Froggie behind to clean up. The bodies of the owners had already been disposed of in a bedroom, so it really just meant taking all the equipment and making sure there were no traces left of their presence other than the bodies. Doc, Doberman and the Torini man should have rendezvoused with Murdock by then and the Colonel hurried to the van.
"Colonel, he's hotwiring a car. I'm proceeding to fire normal rounds for distraction and then shoot the car with a tracking device."
"Shoot two tracking devices," the Colonel entered the van. "Which gate is he exiting through?"
"He's going to drive through you! It's the blue Ford Taurus."
But he didn't. Looking through the side mirrors, Murdock warned them the target was driving against the normal flow. He started the car and drove down the road. Behind them, Creed had reached the intersection and had swerved to the left, into Blackburn Street. Murdock turned right, following the normal traffic flow until he could merge with Blackburn too. When they finally merged, Creed had already gone up Turtle Creek Drive, but since the tracker devise would be picked up by their radar in a radius of up to 3 miles, they weren't the least worried. However, less than a minute later their target pulled over.
"He's trying to ambush us," Coronel warned. "Get your night vision goggles on and be careful!"
Had it not been for the night vision goggles, the men might have seen nothing but dark masses of trees against a darkened sky. As it was, they could clearly see the many paths isolating the trees in small but sufficiently thick islands; and if they looked carefully enough, they might just make out glimpses of walls and driveways behind the wall of blackened greenery.
Dobberman was the first out, followed by the Torini man. The blue Ford Taurus was visible just a few feet away, driven nearly through two close-by trees to the left. Customised riffles ready, Doberman and the Torini swept the entire area, left and right, and advanced carefully. At the van, Colonel and Doc had readied themselves and were following the two colleagues. And then the Torini man fell.
Through the night goggles, they saw Creed's bulk materialise out of nowhere. However, and as predicted, he attacked from the right. Dobberman, wearing a particularly resilient bodysuit that protected his throat from the mutant's claws, was ready. He didn't have time to shoot him with the riffle, which was quickly hurled out of his hands as his target reached for his throat; but he had ample time to punch his right fist onto the other one's neck, setting off the mechanism of the modified gun attached to his wrist.
It was with great relief that Doc and the Colonel saw the mutant buck and let go of their fallen comrade. It was the perfect target for them and they were all too ready to shoot, but just as their fingers hovered over the trigger, already squeezing it, Doc fell to the side with a mute groan. The Colonel couldn't avoid glancing at him, so unexpected was to see his man down for no apparent reason, a hand on his head; so when he looked back at his target it was already too late: he'd missed his opening and Dobberman could only scream his last breath.
Nausea sickening him to the bones, the Colonel started shooting his riffle, his trained hand steadying the gun against his bloodshot emotions. Dobberman was dead; he didn't know if Doc was dead or alive... what had hit him? Creed was alon... No, the woman was with him. Again!
Murdock's voice rang through the anger: "I got the woman, Colonel! I got her!"
His gun ran out of ammo, but he didn't lose a full second to reach for the second. For a moment, before that full second was over, his eyes met the mutant's. It felt like an entire minute, but it was no longer than a heart beat. One moment he was there, struck and hovering over Dobberman's body like some monstruosity, the next he was gone. He had only shot him six rounds, but Dobberman's wrist gun carried the equivalent to four rounds.
"The vic's escaping, Murdock! Duck and let him through. I repeat: do not engage!"
The mutant was little better than an animal, at this stage. The rounds they were using were twice as loaded as the ones they'd used the day before. In the last minutes, he had been hit fourteen times, plus Dobberman's equivalent to four rounds. Even with partial protection from the vest, he should be on the edge of breaking down – his escape, instead of barging against his attacker, proved as much – and that meant he was thinking like a wounded animal, which hopefully meant not thinking at all. If Murdock did not represent any danger, if he didn't represent an obstacle to be overcome, the mutant would not stop to kill him but would continue on his blind escape.
"F***"
The Colonel lept forward when he heard the growl through the intercom. The scream, even though it made his ears wince, did not slow him down. He arrived in time to empty the rest of his load on the mutant as he, carrying the woman, dove into the creek. He wasn't even sure how many times he'd hit him, but his priority was with his men.
"Murdock!" He kneeled and his night vision goggles allowed him a full view of the man's maimed face. The fabric of his face mask had been ripped and torn and forced into the gawking wounds; an eye had been ripped out of its socket; the nose had been smashed. "Murdock!"
He was still breathing, and he managed to mumble that he'd come for the woman.
"I know, Parker. S'OK. We'll get you to a hospital and you'll pull through." He heard the other van closing in, Froggie's voice crackling at his ears. "You're gonna make it."
"She killed Doc," he muttered. "I didn't see how, but she swinged and... and Doc fell..."
Stallone was coming up to him. "We're gonna get you to hospital, now. OK?"
The sniper didn't say a word; he simply reached a hand below his colleague's back and raised him gently with the Colonel's assistance. They covered the few feet swiftly enough, and it was with great relief that the Colonel saw Doc standing up. He was leaning on the hood, a hand still on his head, but he snapped out of it when the three men came closer and he quickly opened the side door for the wounded Murdock.
"Creed's slashed his face," the Colonel stated, but Murdock was already climbing into the van, reaching for his bags to stabilise the colleague's condition. "Are you OK?"
Doc paused only slightly to look at the Colonel. He had taken off his goggles and mask, making the trail of blood from his forehead to the chin much too evident. "A stone," he spit. "I got hit with a stone."
The Colonel let him go back to his job, and went back into the trees, from where Froggie was emerging with the Torini man's body, the head threatening to fall off the body. Stallone was kneeling by Dobberman's body. When the Colonel got closer, it became clear how he had died: the mutant had plunged his claws through his eyes. He forced down the nausea – if he hadn't got distracted... if the woman hadn't hit Doc...
Together, the two mercenaries brought their colleague's body back to the vans. Inside the first, Froggie was assisting Doc peeling Murdock's suit off him. "Colonel, we need to drop him at the closest hospital ASAP."
He assented as he replaced Froggie in the assistance. "Have we got an address?"
Froggie punched some keys on the computer. "Mary Shiels Hospital is three minutes away."
"Froggie, drive them there, then meet me and Stallone down the Creek. He'll have to get off the water somewhere, and we can't waste any time." When the Colonel looked back at Doc, he paused for a moment. "After dropping Murdock at Mary Shiels', take Doc to another hospital. Make sure he's in top condition; no concussions or whatever."
Doc didn't look happy, but he didn't complain. Behind him, Froggie claimed that Parkland Hospital was about ten minutes from Mary Shiels.
"Stallone, lets move. Creed is going to look for a protected place to get off the water... and he'll need to get a new set of wheels, if he doesn't just lay low in some hole."
Dragging the unconscious girl behind him, Creed struggled to get off the muddy margin while remaining hidden amidst the trees. His ears were ringing; his nose either strengthened or weakened the smells around him; his vision was hazy; his fingers tingling; his mind half-shut. If it hadn't been for the vest, he'd have been out by now. What he needed was to stop, eat and sleep. The animal inside, however, claimed for blood.
With an annoyed movement he threw his burden on the dry ground. She was still out. Damn girl! If he hadn't been so pressed to escape, when she had gone wacko in his arms as he was diving, he might have done some irreparable damage. Instead, he'd just knocked her out. He wondered if he had caused any damage while doing so, but since there was no scent of blood coming off her and she smelt pretty much alive, there was probably none. He shook his head. He needed time to clear his ideas. And he couldn't stay there for long – the mercenaries would soon be on his trail. How many had he killed anyway? Three... Yes, he thought that was about right. Three dead... At least one alive, surely more.
Damn, he needed to think!
No, he needed to go after the darned mercs. Yes, now that they weren't expecting him; now was the time to strike. He sniffed the air, but he got nothing. Duh! They had never had any scent to start with. Darn the... but they'd be covered in the scent of death and blood, if they'd been cleaning the area. Yes, that was it! He had to get on them before they could clean that smell off them.
Creed turned to the water, intent on swimming up the Creek, but then he remembered Irbis. In a fit of anger he hit some random branches ahead of him. Taking a deep breath, he reconsidered his plan. They'd probably left the area anyway, no point in going back there. Then where...
Shit, he really needed to think... and to get rid of the girl. She would put a cramp on whatever he decided to do in the end. However, she was still out; he couldn't just say 'stay' and expect her to obey. Unless he waited till she woke up, that is. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could also use some time to shake off the worst of the drugs. Hopefully.