Chapter 11: The Battle of Blaine County
"So, uh...T? Wanted to know what you wanted to do about the heat not showin' up," Franklin asked.
"Even though I'm sure our crew members wouldn't recommend it, I'd just kill Tyler in his sleep right now."
"...but I thought you had a problem with killing?"
"I...I do...but I have much less of a problem when someone deliberately puts others' lives in danger, especially when they're involved in treacherous work to do so."
"Aight...let's do it."
"Sorry, Frank, can't do it yet. Especially since I see the police on the horizon, fuck I have to kill them too..."
"Now is not the fucking time to get all sentimental on my ass, T! Eye on the ball and shoot those mothafuckas!"
"Fuck...good idea, but I guess I'll just have to leave my feelings for another goddamn time..."
"Fire!"
And Trevor had done it again, betrayed his own feelings. He guessed that at least he was putting his own sentiments aside for an admirable cause: saving his friend from being killed. But, time and again, Trevor would have to put his own policies and MO on hold, damaging his own state of mental health. This would definitely worsen that. But, this time, he would be doing it to save someone, not hurt someone. It was bitter-sweet.
The use of the word "backfiring" was an understatement when it came to the case of Tyler. He was now dead, five bullets in his head; he wouldn't be coming back to haunt any of the posse members in any job they'd have in the future. It was in no way bitter to the individuals that killed him; they took pride in doing so, especially since the entire fiasco was dealt with in a matter of seconds.
"Good riddance to that pain in the ass..." Trevor stated.
"I hear ya—get in position, here they are!"
This would've been a routine clean-up, had the army not decided to butt in. An entire military force had arrived in conjunction with the Blaine County Police Department. This would be one hell of a firefight, and if Trevor and Franklin survived, it'd be a miracle.
"Holy shit...we're not gonna be able to handle all this heat, T! We gotta call in someone...anyone, fuck!"
They took cover in any place they could, the location being routinely showered by a maelstrom of lead bullets and shells.
"Good thing we got ammo for days, F! I'm gonna use the rocket launcher, take cover and kill anyone you can! God, I love situations like this..."
Bullet after bullet, shell after shell, all the bloodshed didn't seem to matter. On top of that, Franklin was very surprised at Trevor, startled at how quickly Trevor could break his rule in the face of imminent death. He was thankful and yet, perplexed. This also provided a necessitated tangent from Phillips' usual code of ethics. Of course, though, he wasn't going to ask why this was so. Now was certainly not the time for that, even if they weren't going to make it out of the altercation all in one piece.
"Wave after wave, feels good putting the Lizard Army in the ground, back where they come from! Get a load of my ammunition, you sentimentally ephemeral motherfuckers!"
At this point, all that was keeping both of them alive was the body armor they'd previously purchased; other than that, it was their own skill and, to some degree, luck, that was preserving their very life force.
"F, if you can get backup, I suggest you call it in now. Besides, who the fuck are you gonna call, anyway?"
"Who else? Ballas!"
"Didn't you take out their leader, though?"
"Michael's the one who did that, but I guess it scared 'em shitless, 'cause I was getting' mad respect after that shit! Motherfuckers think I'm some sorta godfather now!"
And just as Franklin predicted, the gang he'd commissioned did indeed arrive, even with the palpable amount of danger surrounding the immediate area. The ensuing action was so bloody that some could've called it "The Battle of Blaine County." So many people, dead; Franklin estimated the casualties to be well above a hundred, possibly even two, or three, or four.
Then, he began to ponder; if so many military and gang personnel were perishing at this one particular firefight, why on earth wouldn't the federal government commission Merryweather to operate in the state again? In a contemporary sense, it seemed necessitated; but, as of yet, the criminal underworld was showing quite a bit of militaristic muscle on its own. Hopefully, given enough retaliation and resistance, the feds would just leave San Andreas alone, denominating it a losing battle in which resources simply wouldn't be spent economically. With all of this, the fight continued.
Still, though, more federal personnel were arriving at the scene, many calling for reinforcements of their own; evidently, saving one man, Percival, would be easier said than done. Franklin surmised that he wouldn't be the only one to be aware of why a crime ring would go though so much trouble to capture one businessman; he was aware of the fact that the IAA, as well as the greater FIB would soon find out as well. All one could do was hope in this situation, that all the trouble they'd gone through would prevent Merryweather's re-manifestation from coming to fruition. They continued to fire into the air, hoping that one of those minutes, the authorities would give in.
The firefight would drone on for almost twelve hours; the group would have to sedate Percival once again to keep him safe during the initial battle.
"M, you know where we are?" Paige inquired.
"Yeah...I think we're in that hospital in the middle of Blaine County."
"We need to move...okay work so far, everyone," Norton complimented.
"Appreciated, Dave. We have to move, though. Since this is a new dream, projections aren't going to be moving on us yet. Make sure to keep Percival completely safe; we don't have to make ourselves look threatening yet. Mota, you're at the front; we all have to make our way to the cannibal village on Mount Chiliad. Paige tells me there's a marked trail leading up to there; follow that. Percival, I'm sure I don't have to state this more than once. If you don't comply with what we tell you, killing you in the dream won't be the end of your demise. You will die in reality, because if we wake up without the inception being complete, we will order our guards to kill you. Understand?"
"Ye-yes...ye-yes...fuck..."
The remaining individuals made their way to the previously indicated dirt corridor, minding any crevice they could view to make sure that no projections would surprise them. They began seeing other people in the dream, all assumed to be just that. They were all aware, though, that if they did nothing to change the scenery, or threaten the subject, they'd be fine.
Percival did as he was told, and within an hour's time in the dream, they'd reached their destination. All that was left was to venture to the top of the IAA building, plant Don there, and watch the inception do its magic. He was out of options; there was no doubt in his mind that if the inception didn't do what it was supposed to do, his captors would have no choice but to kill him in the future; they'd gone through a lot of trouble without killing him to convince him not to operate in the state again. If he were to cause any trouble again, it would be his life, and it was obvious to all of them, especially him, that he was not ready to die.
Then, he remembered: these were criminals: Unpredictable, slimy little people, at least, in his opinion. Their actions weren't up for assertion or assumption, meaning that his death may have already been planned. He surmised that this was all just a big distraction, a flimsy reason not to kill him, when, in reality, they were probably going to get to that within a month's time. What was the reason for letting Percival live after he'd denied his license? In light of this, he decided to completely disobey any order given to him from there on in.
"Okay, third level, let's mo-" Michael was killed.
The entire group, except for Paige, was eliminated. She knew her mission; incapacitate Percival and take him to the top level to complete the inception. She was likely smarter than all the group combined; she was aware of how to deal with situations of this caliber.
Percival, in his own mind, was now safe. All he'd have to do was wait out the timer on the PASIV machine, attempt to kill the guards, and escape. At this point, he didn't care if he lived or died; again, he assumed that he'd probably be done in anyway. For the first time in his adult life, it seemed as if everything was out of his hands; this was his way of taking that power back.
This being so, Paige obviously had ample time to capture her target. She made her way to the upper offices, and opened a secret control room that she'd constructed for this particular incident. She'd made control centers like this for each level she'd created; this was her chance to use it. Commandeering the controls, she turned on the guns stationed at the ceiling for each floor of the glass building, and began opening fire. One projection, two projections, three, and so on. However, she knew that she'd have to control the weapons at her disposal to some extent so as not to harm the one person she needed alive.
Unbeknownst to her, however, projections re-spawned, and hey were currently en route to her location, prodding their way through each nook and cranny of the federal structure. This is where her sharpshooting skills and overall tenacity would come into play; she'd have to kill her way through each floor, eventually retrieving her target. She'd also prepared for this situation, too; she took a remote with her, controlling each and every weapon within the building. Hopefully, this would be a cakewalk for the skilled hacker; she was aware that it wouldn't be, but it was pleasant being in control.
One floor down, then another, then another. Even though the people she was killing weren't real, she had a sort of sickly sense towards the mass-murdering that she was committing. Gradually but surely, she'd finally reached Percival, and shot him full of the weakened sedative she'd had on hand. She took him up to Sapphire's room, and left him there, guarding the complex.
Succeeding in what she was trying to do, she proceeded to ponder how the entire assemblage would escape from limbo without being immediately thrown back in due to the projections that were most likely guarding their bodies. She was well aware of the fact that the accomplishment of the job solely depended on her ability to keep Percival in there, thus completing the inception. She was also in the know about the fact that it wouldn't take long for the projections to locate her, subsequently killing in her any way they could. This was it; no turning back. The job either succeeded or failed, and there was no way of Norton knowing whether it would've gone either way. They'd have to threaten him to get the money they wanted.
For once, Michael, as well as the rest of the congregation, were not in control of where the money was coming from. The entire profit would depend singularly on luck, and luck alone. She went as far as to consider how much heat might be residing outside of the boundaries of the structures they'd placed their comatose bodies in. She was hoping against hope that Trevor and Franklin were dead. Maybe they'd gotten reinforcements, maybe they were able to somehow outsmart the attackers knocking on their doorstep, maybe they'd died. At this point, however, she didn't care. All that mattered was the success of the job, and the music was coming. Lester would be the one turning it on, and that would be that.
On top of all of this, she'd also have to retrieve those that had fallen into limbo. To do this, she would undoubtedly have to find a secluded area, one in which she wouldn't have even a smattering of a chance of being found by any wandering projections; she would have to rely on the awoken individuals on the third level of the dream to protect her. So, she resolved to do just that, although, finding an area akin to those details would be more than difficult, as she didn't account for this happening at any time during the job.
It looked like she'd have to commit more merciless killing; that wasn't the issue, however. The problem was doing all of that, and coming out alive. If she were to fall into limbo, there would be no way out, as the projections would be successfully guarding any body they found. If she failed in doing this, it would be fatal.
