Second to last chapter. I don't know about you, but I've been waiting for this moment for literally years.
The major event in this chapter was one of the first ideas I came up with for CotE back in mid 2012.
Fittingly enough, I have the perfect song in mind for this. Don't listen to it until you reach the double colons, "::". The song is "Nemesis" from the Ghost Recon Future Soldier Soundtrack. The song moves too quickly for the rate of reading. Imagine how the events unfold in correlation to the song at your own discretion. This colon method is better than an interrupting Author's Note like before.
I apologize for the delay. School, work, and Boy Scouts have all been consuming.
Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God: depart from me therefore, ye bloody men.
For they speak against thee wickedly, and thine enemies take thy name in vain.
Do not I hate them that hate thee, O LORD? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee?
I hate them with perfect hatred: I count them mine enemies!
-Psalm 139:19-22
"Busy Beaver to Honey Badger, approaching 204-Niner."
"Copy that BB, do you have a visual?"
"We've got a Jack in the box on our hands, requesting permission to engage?"
"Copy that, BB you are- zzzhhhzz - Начиная подход."
"Uhh, Honey Badger, we're picking up some interference on your end."
"Acknowledged. You are clear to engage. Hey Drama Queen, we're getting some type of radio interference."
"We hear ya, we're picking up the-xxxhhhhHHHGGGHHHHHZZZzzzzxxzxzzz- Shit. Hang on, we're trying to get this sorted out."
"Cop- Время на цели - uhh, you hearing this?"
"Мы поднимая американского вмешательства."
"Honey Badger, those transmissions are coming within your A.O. I repeat, those are Russian transmissions near yo-Резка радиосвязь."
"Shit! Attantion, all birds off the ground in five. This is not a drill. I repeat, all ready bi-Копировать.-This is not a drill!"
Muscle Man, Starla, and Skips squeezed in the front of the white pick-up truck. Mordecai, Pops, and Benson lay within the tail-bed.
Benson knocked on the window to the front seats. Starla opened the small middle window to the tailgate as Benson spoke, "Pull off in that parking lot."
Muscle Man drove the truck over to the small lot. It appeared relatively abandoned and out of sight.
When the vehicle was parked, they filed out. Pops needed help from Mordecai to jump down from the back.
Benson spoke, "Sorry for not really explaining the plan. We had to leave before someone took the truck back."
Pops asked, "So what is the plan?
Benson sighed. This would be difficult to explain. He began, "Thomas goes on trial in a few hours. We don't have enough time for a well-thought out plan. I apologize for that much. What I had in mind was using the gas cans to distract the crowd while Mordecai and I grab Thomas and get out before anyone can stop us. I also want Pops to-"
"I'm sorry," Muscle Man interrupted, "Your plan sounds great, really, but I'm not so sure about the part where we run blindly where everyone can shoot at us."
Pops added, "I agree. How exactly will this plan work?"
"Uhh, well, here, someone get me a sheet of paper and a pencil." The loose leaf paper was ripped from one of the park notebooks, which was saved before the house burned down. He laid the items down on the bed of the truck. Everyone crowded around. Benson drew a square with four lines coming from the sides. "Try not to interrupt this time. So, here's the center of town and the four ways we can get in," he spoke. He then drew a horizontal line cutting across the bottom of the lowest line. "The Southern intersection breaks into a 'T' so I think we should come from here. The reason is that there's a tall building right at the intersection. We can get Pop's up there to cover us." He drew arrows following his plan as Benson continued, "After Mordecai and I swing up and get Thomas, we'll try to head back the way we came. If not, we'll probably head east."
"I'll admit, that's better," Muscle Man admitted.
"Sounds good to me," Fives spoke. Starla and Skips seemed to agree.
"But-" Muscle Man continued. Everyone groaned at another interruption. "I don't think I can keep up. Not to downplay how awesomely strong and sexy I am, but I'm not the best runner. So..."
"You're not going to get Thomas... just Mordecai and I. The rest of you will be in a parking lot a couple blocks over. I'll radio in where we're coming from. Look, I know it's dangerous and I don't want anyone else out in the square. No one else needs to get hurt. Truth be told, I would rather do this myself with Pops covering me. But I need Mordecai because of his ice powers."
"Woah!" Mordecai objected, "Woah woah woah, you can't... you're not going to make me put it back on, right?!"
Benson hesitated, "I'm sorry. I need you this time. This is impossible without you."
"I-... I'm scared. I don't want to wear the Crown. I'm scared of what will happen."
"Mordecai, can you control it?" Skips asked.
"...I don't know."
"It's all depending on you. If you can't keep it under control, then tell us."
Mordecai looked around at the nervous eyes following him. "I-... I'm not-..."
The blue jay mentally kicked himself. After everything he went through for this park, he couldn't let anyone else down. "I can handle it," was his firm reply.
All the while, no one had noticed Pops. His hands stood raised to his mouth. He was more scared than Mordecai. "Benson..." he said meekly, "Are you sure I have to..."
Benson looked to Skips. Skips spoke, "I'm sorry Pops. We don't have much of a choice. You're the best shooter we have."
Muscle Man added, "Look Pops, if you don't want to do it, I'd be happy to-"
"NO!" Pops interrupted. His eyes watered. He shut them, hiding any fear they may reveal. He hated being called weak. He wasn't weak. He wanted to be strong like the others. "I'll do it..."
Benson nodded in a caring manner, "Thanks, Pops."
He spoke again, "After you pick us up, we'll swing around and get Pops. Pops: the second Thomas, Mordecai, and I are out of view, get to the door as fast as you can. If no one is following us, we'll stop by the cafe and pick up the rest of our stuff. Then we'll ram through the wall. We'll think of what to do after that. If Mordecai and I fail, then don't bother trying to save us. Just get Pops and get out. Everyone understand?"
They all nodded.
Fives and Muscle Man searched the two or three bags they brought. Oddly enough, Simon's brown backpack happened to be one of them. They retrieved the walkie talkies taken before the park burned down.
The small radio devices were passed around. "Tune it to channel thirteen," Fives instructed.
Benson hitched his talkie to his side.
This was it.
They were going to do this.
Benson gulped, "Alright, let's head out."
"No."
"Yes!"
"Why are we doing this?"
"Because, it's fuuuuuuunnn. Besides, it could get your mind off of... you know..."
Margaret sighed in defeat, "Fine, whatever."
"YES!" Rigby exclaimed, bringing his fist down in victory. "Alright, I spy something purple."
The look on Margaret's face was priceless. She turned to Rigby. Her look practically spoke, "Boy, are you stupid?" She spoke, "Uh... what?"
"You heard me. You have to find something purple," Rigby said with a smirk.
Margaret looked around the forest as they walked. There was literally nothing resembling purple around them. "Was it, like, a bird we passed earlier?"
"Nope."
"Yeah, I call bullshit. This is bullshit."
"What?!" Rigby responded, "Come on, you have to keep guessing."
"Is it the trees?"
"Nope."
"Are they some type of flowers?"
"Uhn-uhn."
"The clouds?!"
"Nadda."
"This is bullshit!" she exclaimed.
"You're bullshit!" Rigby replied.
"You're outfit is bullshit!"
"Woah! That's taking it way too far."
Margaret playfully rolled her eyes.
Rigby finally asked, "So... you give up yet or you just -"
"Is it a squirrel?"
Rigby stopped walking. He halted, defeated. He gaped his mouth open underneath his black bandanna.
She glanced over her shoulder at the raccoon, "D-did I get it?"
Rigby sighed, "It was a squirrel. I lied about it being purple."
"WHAT?! Okay, that is seriously messed up."
Rigby vented as he followed behind her, "Listen here, Thomas tried that on me and it took me five hours before I gave up and he told me. This isn't fair!"
"You're ridiculous."
"And you're a-... a..."
Rigby's ears perked. His hunches warned him.
"I'm a what? Too afraid to sa-"
"Shhh!" Rigby motioned. His demeanor grew more serious.
He crouched near the ground. He motioned for Margaret to do the same.
He approached the edge of the treeline. He heard voices on the other side. They weren't friendly.
Rigby peered over the top of the bush he hid behind.
Guards were blocking the sewer entrance.
"What the hell?" Rigby whispered rhetorically to himself.
"What is it?" the robin whispered.
"Gene has guys blocking the sewers."
Margaret took a peek for herself. The two men guarding the entrance hardly looked like hardened soldiers. They just looked like normal people with guns. They were probably just those civilian volunteers or whatever Gene had on his side of town.
The one smoked a cigarette as the other spoke, "This is the worst thing I have ever had to do. There is literally nothing to do."
"Ralph, would you just shut the flying fuck up?" the other responded.
Rigby snapped his wrist downward. A bright green ball of flames emerged in his right hand.
Margaret looked gravely at this. She spoke, "Please. I know what you're thinking. Don't..."
"What? How else are we going to get in?"
"I don't know, but... I don't want to see anyone die."
Rigby looked back at the two at the entrance. He turned back to her. Her expression pleaded for them to walk away.
Rigby gave up. "Fine," he muttered. His flames dissipated. "Well smart one, now how do we get in?"
"Are you sure everything is checked?" Gene asked fervently.
Jeremy replied, "Yeah, just like you said. We got the sewers covered. Anything else?"
"Double the number of guards at the square. Fuck it, get all of my employees there."
Jeremy responded, "Uhh... okay. I'll go g-"
"And I don't want a single fucking volunteer there with a gun. Check the ID cards of every single person who shows up!" He spoke with a shaking voice. He tried to mask his emotions with a stern expression.
"Are you okay?" Jeremy asked.
Gene looked at his employee with the sternest of expressions. "What are you talking about?"
"What you did yesterday... That was a little extreme. I know we're going to kill Thomas anyway but... holy shit."
"And what the flying fuck about it? Huh?! You wanted him dead for so long!"
"Gene-"
"GENE WHAT?! If you have a fucking problem tell me! Fucking tell me!" the tyrant demanded.
"You need to calm down."
"What the fuck do you expect?! Benson is out there in my town! Rigby knows how to get in. He knows about us! And I have Rafael breathing down my neck! I am in no mood to calm the fuck down!"
The mad tyrant seemed ready to crack at the seems. His body shook. He seemed ready to kill on the slightest impulse.
Jeremy nodded nervously in an act of apology. He looked away. Gene was crazy.
"We need Thomas to die. Now. No one will dare think twice about going against me. After this is all over, there will be no one to oppose me."
He exited his office in the town hall.
"Get Thomas. It's time."
Margaret and Rigby continued to walk in the forest beyond the wall. They kept several feet from a the treeline, as so not to be seen by anyone on the wall. Margaret managed to take several quick glances at the poorly constructed wall of sheet metal, concrete braces, and cars turned sideways and on top of each other. Rigby was too short for such views.
They had walked for roughly twenty minutes. Margaret had to stop once or twice. She sarcastically thought how going back and killing those two wouldn't be half bad.
Margaret's glimpses at the wall drew curious results. She honestly could not see anyone up there.
She stopped. Rigby looked behind, stating, "What is it?"
Margaret simply walked straight out of the treeline towards the sheet metal based wall.
Rigby dove after her, "Woah! What the hell do you think you're..."
There was literally no one guarding the barrier. Rigby scanned up and down the sides of the structure. Not a single guard could be seen.
"Are you telling me we walked who knows how long for nothing?" Rigby groaned.
"Pretty much, "Margaret said smiling.
Rigby's shoulders sank. He shamefully walked to the wall. In an act of being purely done with all this mitigated bullshit, he sliced a hole through the sheet metal.
The two cautious entered into the town that was once formerly their home. The streets looked to be a desolate waste. The town seemed deserted.
"Where is everyone?" Margaret questioned.
Rigby shrugged. The duo walked further into town.
"Any ideas?" she asked.
Rigby spotted a small drugstore on the other side of the street. The windows and doors were completely barred with wooden planks. An alley ran down its side
Thomas said Gene is in charge of all the supplies, but he never said where. Maybe there could be some stored there?
Rigby spoke, "Margaret, could you run down that alley and check if you can get in? Who knows, we could get lucky."
"What about you?"
"I'm gonna look around and see if there's anything else."
Margaret followed his instructions. She went down the cramped space.
A thin door sat at the end of the space.
Margaret rammed the side door several times. It refused to budge. Her shoulder ached with each push.
"What are you doing?"
Margaret snapped back to the front of the alley.
A man dressed in an olive drab uniform stood facing her. A revolver holstered to his belt. The patch of a yellow pine cone sat on his sleeve.
He was one of Gene's guards.
"Oh, uh..." Margaret froze. The sweat beaded on her forehead. She was immobile with fear.
He smirked, "Aren't you going to the trial?"
"Trial?"
"Yes, the trial taking place today. Everyone is attending."
"Oh! Yeah. I'm-uh- heading there now. "
"Ma'am, do I know you from somewhere?"
Margaret tried to pass him, "No, I don't think so. Now, can I just-"
He blocked her path. She began to dart her eyes around the seemingly cramped alleyway. "Can I see your ID stamp?" the man asked.
Margaret took a step back. "Wh-what stamp?"
Gene's employee smirked. At this point he was simply toying with her. He unbuttoned his handgun holster. He made sure she saw this. "The one Gene handed out to everyone weeks ago."
"Oh! Yeah. I, uh, I forgot it at home. It was in my purse."
"You don't have it on you?"
"Do you see a purse?" Margaret lightly scoffed, trying desperately to lighten the atmosphere. "Maybe you can just let me off with a warning?"
The man unholstered his weapon. He held the pistol at his side. Her eyes looked to him, pleading.
He calmly announced, "You're gonna tell me who you are, or someone's getting shot."
"You don't have to do this."
Margaret backed up, her arm outstretched. She pressed against a wall. Her body shook with fervent realization. She glanced behind her before turning back with wide eyes.
"Well?"
"I-I'... I'm M-m-argaret."
"You're from the outside, aren't you?"
"W-w-ell, I was on the other side when, uh, -"
He cocked the hammer of his revolver back. That was all he needed. He held the gun outstretched.
"You're coming with me, or you will be-ARR!"
A thick, plasmid blade pierced through his chest. The spurt of blood caused the robin to recoil.
With a grunt, Rigby threw the man to the ground. The pool of blood seeped into his uniform and collected around him.
Immediately, he grabbed Margaret's hand and led her past the corpse. "Don't look back."
Margaret whimpered, "B-but yo-ou killed, gulp, you killed that guy."
"I said don't look back. We have to go."
Margaret complied. Her temporary state of shock made her out to be a burden for the sly Rigby. He simply grasped her light, nervous hand and continued walking.
The square brimmed to capacity. Almost every citizen stood in attendance. Gene's devout followers spread throughout. Their cheers would hopefully coax the others into support.
The sun barely cast a dent through the thick clouds left over from the wreckage of war.
The hazy forecast welled inside the town.
Everyone stood waiting to see what the day would unfold...
"Everyone ready?" Benson spoke through the talkie.
"We're ready," Skips crackled through.
"Awesome. Mordecai and I are going to be there soon. Pops?"
The bubbly man made his way cautiously up the stairs of the office building. His sniper rifle was slung over his back. He picked up his short-radio. He pressed the button and spoke, "I'm almost there." He panted as he climbed the stairwell.
He opened the stairwell door and found the right window
Pops took his place on the fourth floor of the south building. He wiped the beading sweat off his forehead as he dragged a chair against the window. To his right, he placed the .308 shells onto a small table. His body shook with nervous fear.
He tried to assure himself. "It's okay. Sometimes it's better just to forget the bad things, even just for a moment."
Those were the words he told Thomas the night he killed Chad.
He tried to make himself feel better about what he would have to do.
There was simply no cure. Nothing could aid this unsure guilt growing inside of him.
He didn't see Gene or Benson. He just saw too many people who didn't need to die.
The normally bubbly man never encountered this feeling before. He never had to intentionally hurt anyone else, even when he did, he used nonlethal means for self defense.
Now he faced his own humanity down the barrel of his wooden Springfield '03.
Death's a major bitch.
He picked up his walkie talkie, "Benson, I-I'm ready."
"Good. We're making our way there now."
"I-... I don't want to do this..." he said to himself
Tears welled in his eyes. He softly sobbed.
He quickly dried his face. Damn, he was being a fool.
Benson wants everyone to be strong.
Benson needs everyone to be strong.
Pops removed his top hat and placed it next to him. He clutched the rifle in hand and aimed through the window towards the square.
Below him, Benson and Mordecai quietly snuck behind the crowd. Benson propped himself against the wall of the corner building while Mordecai did the same at the other side of the street.
Benson peered from behind the brick wall. He caught a quick glance of the stage ahead of him. The crowd itself numbered next to thousands.
Gene's men were everywhere. They walked in between the assemblage of civilians; weapons clung to their chests. Three stood on stage. His eyes trained towards the sky. All the major roofs surrounding the square had guards patrolling them.
This would be more difficult than Benson planned. He took his place back behind his cover.
The blue jay wore Simon's backpack. He was unsure why exactly he grabbed it. He retrieved the Crown from his bag.
Mordecai shifted it in his hands. He looked grimly at the golden object. It called to be worn. Regardless of any plan or agenda, it just wanted the sweet embrace of its host.
"Mordecai," Benson whispered.
The blue jay looked up. His face plastered itself with mixed emotions of uncertainty.
Benson simply gave an affirming nod. Mordecai did the same.
Further ahead, a short convoy of jeeps made their way to the set. Gene emerged with Jeremy escorting a masked figure. This beaten and bruised Thomas wore a black bag over his head.
The three made their way on stage.
At the furthest end of the square, Rigby and Margaret continued their trek through town. Rigby stopped in his tracks when he saw the massive crowd of people. What was so important about this?
"Rigby, let's keep going?" Margaret half-pleaded as she continued walking.
"Wait. Just on a sec," Rigby responded.
Surely this prisoner had done something horrendous. Maybe this vigilante caused the fires last night.
The Lich just loved this form of justice. It was the only kind he could tolerate.
Rigby seemed to enjoy the idea too. After all, how many had he killed simply because they were "bad."
This could be educational for him; almost like an elementary school field trip.
"Aren't you coming?" the robin asked.
Rigby spoke, "Come on, let's see what this is about."
She trailed behind him, "Are you kidding me?! We came here to get our stuff and go. That's it."
"We'd stick out if we tried to run around while this is going on. Didn't that one guy ask why you weren't here?"
"I... guess..."
Rigby smirked underneath the black bandanna around his mouth, "Besides, we blend in anyway, right? After this, we're gone, like you said. Just... I want to see this."
Gene stood firmly on the stage. He scanned his eyes, noticing the vast amounts of extra security. He didn't mind being up on stage though. He was practically invincible. No one would dare touch him.
"For too long, we've been living in fear. For far too long, people like the man you see here have tried to kill us! They've poisoned us!" Gene screamed the words. His eyes were bloodshot. His devilish grin grew to its capacity.
"After all these attacks since the Day, this is the end. This is the end of their villainy! This is the end for them, but not for us. No. For our town, this is the beginning! This is where we truly rebuild!"
Rigby pondered the words said and what they meant. His hunches flared. Something was not right, which only made him want to linger longer.
"I know you all have seen so much destruction. But we must endure a little more." Jeremy brought Thomas forward. He kicked the back of the interns knee, causing him to collapse into a kneel. Handcuffs restrained his arms behind his back.
Thomas vaguely saw the crowd through the mesh cloth. He heard such violent insults. He closed his eyes, wishing to be rid of this all.
He wished his mom was still here.
He hoarsely said under the bag, "Jeremy..."
The ostrich turned to the man who killed his best friend.
"I'm sorry..."
Jeremy was taken aback. He sighed. He tried in vain to shrug this off.
Gene motioned to his prisoner, "This murderer is why we are here. You have seen how he and his friends have tried to hurt us!"
Benson felt only rage towards the vending machine on stage.
"The charges brought against him and his kind are the worst I have seen.
Smuggling of illegal goods from the North.
Inciting rebellion.
Sabotaging negotiations for our people on the North.
Murdering our people.
And most grievous of all, consulting with our enemy outside, Rigby, whom they helped to attack us!"
The more exuberant of the crowd grew angrier with each reading. Most simply stood by and watched.
Gene motioned with his arm outstretched, "What does the defendant plead?"
Jeremy removed the bag from the head of the prisoner. Thomas was revealed before all.
Rigby finally realized what was going on.
They were going to kill Thomas.
His friend knelt on the stage, head jutting around the crowd. The only expression on his face was fear. The overwhelming terror took hold.
Thomas' face was still torn from the brutal punishment. The blood stained arm gave a surreal depiction of what this boy went through.
Benson inaudibly gasped at the sight of his intern. Thomas is too young to endure such punishment. Benson breathed heavily in an attempt to stay level headed. He looked to Mordecai on his right. The avian turned with the same shocked expression. Without a word, Benson nodded, grasping the pin for his tear gas canister. Mordecai returned the gesture.
Pops squirmed silently. From the building, he kept a fixed eye on the stage. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
He would have to use his rifle.
He would have to hurt others.
His finger quivered in the trigger guard. He desperately reassured himself nothing would go wrong. These were bad people, right? They're the good guys. It's simple. We win and they... die...
Thomas did not answer the question meant for no answer. The mayor smiled.
Gene wrapped himself in the spotlight of the crowd. The chants from his followers reassured him.
This would be his legacy of control. "Thomas has hereby been found guilty of all crimes accused!"
Margaret nudged Rigby, "I don't think we should be here. We should go, Rigby. Rigby...?"
The raccoon did not hear here, nor did he hear the callings from the others. His eyes deadlocked onto Thomas. Then onto Gene.
He has to fix this...
Rigby walked forward.
He removed his glasses. They fogged his vision.
Benson and Mordecai removed the pins on their canisters. As long as they held the handle guards, the grenades would not go off. The gumball manager picked up his talkie. He spoke, "Three."
Rigby pulled down his bandanna. He hardly noticed those in the crowd he bumped out of the way. Everything shifted to innate blackness. All except for the wooden stage with which Thomas, Gene, and his men stood.
"Two."
Margaret called out for Rigby to come back. His focus remained deadlocked. The Enchiridion drew him onward, with the Lich hardly having to help. He was doing it all on his own.
Jeremy cocked back the revolver handle. He motioned his arm towards Thomas' head. The intern looked up, eyes welled with with silent tears. He closed his eyes.
Rigby took off his hat. At this point, his walking turned into a sprint.
He reached behind him, pulling the M1911 out of his bag.
Others in the crowd turned to this mysterious figure. Some of them began to realize who this individual was.
This was the Rigby they feared.
Pops noticed movement on the other side of the stage. His eyes widened. He grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Benson..."
"One."
Jeremy rested his finger on the trigger.
Gene grinned furiously, eyes hungry for the final blood of resistance.
Pops lined up a shot.
One of the guards on the roofs noticed a glittering reflection coming from the South end in a fourth story window. He raised his rifle, knowing full well what that meant.
A distant jet engine roared in the vast distance.
Mordecai prepared to put the crown on. He had to keep control.
Rigby raised his handgun. His own heartbeat pulsed in his ears.
Margaret stood dumbstruck at the events out of her control.
A cross-road of fate descended into the tiny square.
::
BANG
Gene fell forward off the stage. He clattered to the ground with a chilling thunk.
The man previously aiming at Pops was distracted by the commotion.
Rigby continued sprinting, all the while firing madly at the guards on stage.
The two on the right fell instantly as bullets pierced their flesh.
Jeremy moved to grab Thomas as the last guard's head caved inward.
Thomas head-butt Jeremy, knocking him back.
The crowd struck with panic as the loud gunfire shook the square.
Rigby leaped to the stage. With a plasma-formed knife he cut Thomas' handcuffs. He kicked a bloody M14 towards the goat, who immediately took it in his hands.
Thomas raised the unfamiliar rifle, his left arm shaking from the intense pain from before. Jeremy struggled to stand. Thomas stood inert, keeping the barrel trained on Jeremy.
The rest of Gene's men responded. Rifles rattled as Rigby formed shields to block the incoming fire.
Thomas locked eyes with the ostrich. Jeremy's eyes pleaded. He hesitated.
"Thomas!" Rigby called out for support.
The beaten intern pulled the trigger. Jeremy collapsed off the stage.
Benson fixed towards the stage. What the hell was going on?! Mordecai shared his concern. This was going nowhere near according to plan.
Pops shouted through the talkie, "It's Rigby!"
The panic-induced adrenaline consumed Benson. "NOW!" he commanded.
Mordecai threw his tear gas to the left of the stage while Benson threw his smoke bomb to the right.
The blue jay fixed the Crown on his head as Benson drew his Glock.
The cold air shifted through the crowd as Mordecai sprinted alongside his boss. One of Gene's men focused on Mordecai. The avian sent an icy gust that blew the gunman back.
Benson leveled his arms. He shot a guard in the chest while blasting another in the foot.
Benson looked upwards. A sentry on a roof aimed his M4 at the gumball machine. Mordecai dove, forming an ice shield in front of the two. The assault rifle spat out lead towards the two. The bullets chipped away at the ice.
CRACK
The gunman fell dead.
Pops nervously lowered the Springfield from his shoulder. He just... killed that guy. There was no time to think, his family needed him.
Pops nervously pulled the bolt back and exchanged the next round. He eyed down the scope. Another shooter stood on a roof, aiming down at Thomas and Rigby. A pulse of blood burst from his chest before Pops even put his finger on the trigger.
After that kill, Thomas rotated, rifle in hand, to the next target. He took two or three wild potshots before finally hitting his mark. Rigby defended him with shields.
Thomas was fretting. The adrenaline overwhelmed his pain. His left arm felt weightless as it supported the front half of his M14.
Benson approached the wooden platform. A hand reached out to grab his foot. It was Gene. Benson aimed for the tyrant's head and pulled the trigger. For Audrey.
"Thomas!" Benson called out.
The intern turned to Rigby. The raccoon nodded in approval. Thomas leaped off the stage as Rigby formed his notorious fireballs.
The crowd continued to scatter around him.
Rigby eyed them all with resounding fury.
They caused this.
They tried to kill Thomas.
They're all guilty. The Lich agreed.
Rigby jet a wave of fire from the stage towards the crowd. He screamed as he sent another jet.
Benson ran with Thomas to the east exit, yelling to Mordecai, "Let's go!"
Mordecai finished freezing a guard from the neck down. He rotated to Benson.
Then he saw Rigby... standing there on that stage... right in front of him... finally.
Mordecai felt enraged. The Crown had driven him for so long. It would finally pay off.
Simon's bag slipped from his back onto the pavement.
He sprinted to Rigby.
Eyes locked.
Hands forming ice.
Bent on his delusional revenge.
Rigby saw his former friend. He smiled grimly as green flames engulfed his hands.
Thomas looked on at his two friends. He never thought it would go this far.
Mordecai pounced onto the stage, smashing the ground with an icy blast. Rigby rolled out of the way, immediately responding with a jet of flames.
Mordecai blocked with his attack. He zapped a sharp rod of ice towards Rigby. The raccoon sliced the projectile out of the air with a newly formed plasma blade. As the tiny shards of broken ice bounced off his clothes and fur, Rigby knew this would only end one way. Mordecai would have to die.
Then he charged.
Thomas stood watching the two battle. He yelled towards Benson, "What about Mordecai?!"
Benson halted. He took a glance behind him at the two employees fighting to the death.
"What am I supposed to do?" he pondered hastily.
The thoughts of his duty to his family flooded his thoughts. Mordecai was part of his family. But he also tried to kill the rest of the Park crew. He didn't help Audrey. What if he stayed to help? Skips and the others were just a few blocks away. What if he left? Would anyone else die?
"Benson?!"
The gumball machine shook his head, "Just go. Just go!"
Thomas reluctantly followed.
They ran through the remnants of their smoke grenade. A perplexed guard on the other side was quickly gunned down by Benson. His glock was empty. He threw down the pistol as he picked up the dead man's rifle.
The survivors of Gene's guard slowly began to fire back on Thomas and Benson.
Benson sprinted with his walkie talkie in hand, "Skips, Muscle Man, we've got Thomas. We're taking a lot of fire! We need you to come get us, now!"
A rooftop sentry aimed down at Benson. The distant sound of Pops' rifle broke through the air. The man screamed as he fell down to the pavement below.
Rigby swung madly at Mordecai with his magic blade. Mordecai nimbly dodged each swing, responding with icy bolts which Rigby continuously countered.
Benson chimed through the talkie, "We are heading out the East side. Go to -" The short radio on Mordecai's belt virtually exploded into broken fragments as Rigby's blade sliced it in half.
Mordecai blew a fierce gust of wind. Rigby flew back off the stage.
Mordecai stood firm. The blue magic of the ice Crown formed in his hands.
Rigby stood, unearthly fires fueled by the Lich absorbing his palms.
Best friend against best friend, book against crown, all until there is no blood left to be spilled.
Rigby screamed, charging on all fours.
He leaped at Mordecai.
An explosion of cascading ice and fire engulfed the platform.
All the while, the sound of rumbling engines rippled over the town. Their presence was inevitable.
Russian and American jets would descend upon the town of Twin Peaks in its second darkest hour.
Leave a review letting me know what you think.
I hope my writing complimented the action going on. I tried to keep my sentences brief and my imagery vivid and up to interpretation. This way it could be read at a faster, more fitting pace.
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