Tuesday, December 27th, 2016
Training Facility Echo: Level 2
15:00
"Okay, people, we have a city to protect. Every operator will be out there. We are just days from New Years and I want the city to be on notice that we will not allow any trouble. I will not bullshit you; this is to be a tough night. You will notice that I have dragged Team San Diego into this and I am very eager to see them in action again."
Lilith, Trauma, Lilim, and Riptide all grinned as many eyes looked in their direction. Lilim simply waved politely.
"You will all be placed into one of nine teams of operators with five support teams and Overwatch . . . and we will be scoring tonight," Hit Girl went on. "Tonight's operation will involve Fusion, Synthesis, and the CPD. We will have riders out with the CPD patrols, learning their trade, and assisting the police with others embedded at District 21. Team San Diego will be with us as one of the teams to show us all what they can really do."
Team San Diego then made their presence felt as they all cheered.
"Tech Support will be provided by Battle Guy and Hal, as per usual, with the support of Synthesis. We depart at 17:00 – be ready!"
Everybody vanished to get their equipment together and there was a lot of excited chatter as they changed before they split up into their teams for the individual team briefings.
South Clark Street
17:45
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
Team One pulled up at the redundant and abandoned south-loop railyard.
"You three ready?" Hit Girl asked.
"I'm ready!" Nightmare replied.
"I think so," Fortune said in a tone that said otherwise.
"I am always ready to kick-ass!" Rage added.
Hit Girl laughed as she twisted the throttle of her Ducati Multistrada 1200 S and let in the clutch. As Hit Girl headed into the scrub which covered most of the abandoned railyard, she was followed by Nightmare on her Aprilia Shiva 750, Rage on his Honda CRF250L, and Fortune on her own Ducati Multistrada 1200 S. Together, they took to the muddy trails which sloped downwards towards another track which then led underneath the main rail line. As they each slithered down the first incline, they saw the flickering of headlights. They, of course, were darkened and using infra-red and night-vision to see. There was nothing they could do about their engines, but the engines and exhausts were electronically muted as far as was mechanically possible. Ahead of them, under the main rail line, a group of youths were gathered, most riding motorcycles. The noise from the revving covered any noise coming from the Fusion motorcycles and with sunset well over an hour before, the area was as dark as it got.
The dealer went by the name Diamondback. He covered a decent chunk of south Chicago to the east of I-94 and he jealously guarded his territory. He was smart, generally keeping away from areas where Fusion was known to operate. However, from time to time, Hit Girl liked to turn things around and pop up somewhere where she was totally unexpected.
"Holy, shit!"
Diamondback turned to see one of his armed goons pointing into the darkness.
"Fusion!"
Diamondback dove into the back of his GMC Yukon and his driver stomped on the gas. The SUV sped off to the south, the quickest and most direct route back to the road. However, Fortune and Nightmare had doubled back through some trees and their motorcycles danced over the mud with ease. They quickly intercepted the SUV which was forced back into the overgrown former railyard when faced by the bright lights of the motorcycles. It did not exactly help that a marked CPD unit was staked out, blocking the path back to the road.
Meanwhile, back under the main line, people scrambled left and right, remounting motorcycles one and two up. Several packages of drugs were abandoned as about a dozen people on eight motorcycles scrambled to escape the attention of Hit Girl and her team. The first pair rode directly at Rage, assuming him to be the weak link, however, the nine-year-old veteran was no pushover and as he closed, he drew his messer sword with his right hand and veered to his left. The oncoming motorcycle was about to pass when Rage inserted his carbon-fibre composite sword into the spokes of the motorcycle's front wheel. The Kawasaki motorcycle flipped as its front wheel locked up completely and the two riders somersaulted away from the flying motorcycle which crashed down a foot from Hit Girl.
"Hey!" she exclaimed angrily, dodging the wreckage.
North Sacramento Boulevard
17:40
Team Two: Kick-Ass, Splinter, Cut-Throat, and Ravage with Eisenhower and Kes
Kick-Ass drove HOUND slowly down the street.
Beside him sat Splinter with Cut-Throat and Ravage in the backseat while the two armour-clad canines lounged in the back. Their target for the night were the giant railyards either side of the City Auto Pound #6. The facility was enormous, stretching for two-thirds of a mile. Intelligence obtained by Sergeant Voight and his team indicated that the railyards, not to mention the Auto Pound, were being used to traffic everything from drugs to counterfeit cash and onto guns. The items in question would come in on trains from elsewhere on the continent – either via Canada or from the east or west coast. The goods would then 'fall off' the trains and find themselves into certain seized cars being stored in the pound. The cars would then be released and the extra goods in their trunks would pass out into the city. The security guards on duty would readily turn a blind eye to what was going on, taking hefty bribes to look the other way. Marshalling crews in the railyards would do much the same thing, collecting packages and passing them on . . . no questions asked. It was a large operation, involving CPD with the assistance of Fusion.
Kick-Ass pulled up in HOUND, just as an unmarked, dark blue SUV turned down the street and pulled in ahead of HOUND before backing up on the inside and stopping when their front windows were level. Sergeant Fellowes grinned across the SUV at Kick-Ass and Splinter. Beside Fellowes sat fourteen-year-old Kieran Brennan. The boy appeared unhappy to be sitting so close to Kick-Ass and his expression was one of concern. Behind the boy sat Dylan Page, whose face bore the same expression. Both had been surprised to be hauled out of their basement hell and then allowed to rest for a day in surprisingly pleasant accommodation in a Safehouse run by Sarah Hampton. Even more surprisingly, they had been told to dress warmly and were then provided with ballistic vests to wear over their clothing. That had started the two boys worrying about their fate, made even worse by the fact that Sarah had refused to disclose a thing – in fact, she had simply smiled.
The boys kept silent as they sat in the darkness, not knowing why they were even there.
West 41st Street
17:55
Team Three: Shadow, Psyche, Fury, and Rogue
The all-girl team pulled into an empty truck loading area.
Shadow was astride her Suzuki V-Strom 1000 ABS. To her left, Psyche sat astride her Honda CRF250L. Astride an identical motorcycle, Fury kept an eye on their most junior member, who rode between her and Shadow on a Honda CRF110F. Rogue was over the moon to be out with such an elite team. She was just three months short of her ninth birthday, but she was perfectly capable of standing up for herself. Knowing that her big sister was close by helped to erase the nervous apprehension which the youngster felt. It was one of the very first times that she had been allowed out on her motorcycle. It may have had less power than a lawnmower, but it was hers and that made the diminutive vigilante feel like she was Hit Girl. Of course, she was nothing of the sort, but a girl could dream! Their job that night, was to patrol an area which saw relatively high levels of crime. There was very little lighting which gave the area an eerie feeling in the dark and the cold. To encourage somebody to put a foot wrong, they were going to use a lure. However, the lure was not overly happy with Shadow's plan.
"Why me?" Rogue demanded as Psyche pointed her off into the darkness.
"Because nobody will be able to resist a ridiculously short target," Fury commented.
"Believe me, I'm laughing inside," Rogue responded as she raised the middle finger of her right hand.
"Ladies!" Shadow growled. "Time and a place."
Psyche motioned with her finger for Rogue to turn around and start walking.
"I'll be watching, Rogue, and I am here on comms, okay?" Psyche offered in support.
Rogue hated to show even the tiniest hint of weakness, but she still felt scared as she headed out alone into the darkness to a suitable position in full view of anybody approaching. As the diminutive vigilante stood there in the darkness, all alone, she felt slightly ridiculous.
"I feel like a dick, standing here," she groaned.
"How would you know what a dick feels like, anyway?" Fury responded.
"Leave her alone, Fury."
"Ooh – touchy, tonight, Psyche," Fury teased.
Shadow chuckled as she listened to the good-natured bickering. Needless to say, her eyes were scanning the area, peering into the darkness and watching for problems. She had two of Hit Girl's children with her, and should she allow anything to happen to them, even her long friendship with Hit Girl may not contain the Purple Queen's vengeful wrath.
Such were the risks of being a senior member of Fusion.
South Michigan Avenue
17:55
Team Four: Jackal, Relentless, and Torment.
The team had parked up BRUTE just fifteen minutes previously before heading into the darkened alleyways.
Their first target of the evening was one of opportunity which Jackal had been unable to resist. The four-wheel-drive pickup truck was parked up on the corner of East 21st Street and South Prairie Avenue. It was a short stroll from South Michigan Avenue and all three vigilantes were able to close without drawing any attention to themselves.
"I have the vehicle in sight," the twelve-year-old Torment reported.
"I can see three aboard," the ten-year-old Relentless reported.
"Keep it quiet and stealthy," Jackal ordered as all three closed on the target vehicle.
Jackal dutifully checked the plates of the truck – they were current.
"I'll take the driver – you two take the passengers," he directed as she approached the left side of the vehicle.
The driver was looking ahead and talking with his passengers, both of whom sat in the backseat. Jackal stood up and he banged loudly on the roof of the truck, causing all three inside to jump a mile. The driver's window lowered, and Captain Marcus Williams glared at Jackal.
"You jumped up little whelp!" he growled. "I should have fucking left you to rot in New York. . ."
"That was awesome!" sixteen-year-old Carrie Milligan exclaimed as she giggled.
"I didn't know vigilantes had a sense of humour," sixteen-year-old Jay Hilton observed.
"Oh, we have to look after our doughnut-eating pals in the CPD," Jackal explained. "Meet Torment and Relentless."
"Hi," Jay and Carrie said.
"Why don't you funny bastards go find some criminals," Marcus growled.
"See ya later, old man!" Jackal said as he departed the scene with Relentless and Torment in tow.
A short distance away
East Cermak Road
18:00
Team Five: Piranha, Stormtide, and Ember
It was the first time for Piranha and Ember out in their new combat suits.
For Piranha, it finally gave her a sense of being. She was a part of something; a family. That was what she had come to Chicago for, and she had found herself, quite literally. The combat suit was made up of several shades of green arranged to produce a scaled effect like the skin of a fish. Her entire body was encased in armour with olive green gauntlets which extended to her elbows. The same shade was used for her greaves which rose from the tops of her dark green boots to her knees. The armour was sturdy, but light and very flexible. The suit was topped off by a golden mask attached to a fiery red wig of loose-flowing long hair which surrounded her piercing red eyes and extended down the sides of her face. Her utility belt was moulded to the combat suit and came together at her crotch. On each hip, she carried a .45-calibre M&P45 Shield pistol. On each thigh, a brace of four ceramic throwing knives was stowed. Finishing off her combat suit, a pair of fighting swords in a daishō. One was a lightweight Wakizashi with an 18-inch blade with the other being a lightweight Katana with a 28-inch blade. Both blades were aligned on her back with the Tsuka of each weapon protruding over her right shoulder.
For Ember, a thoroughly different design was used. Her legs were encased in a fiery colour scheme encompassing oranges, reds, and yellows. Her boots were a very dark orange. Her upper body was encased in a black bodice which connected to a flowing translucent black-webbed skirt which extended almost to her knees. Her gauntlets replicated the same colour scheme as her legs and each bore four vicious retractable claws of deep red ceramic carbon-fibre. Her upper arms were encased in black armour while her upper chest and shoulders appeared bare but were protected by skin-toned armour. Long jet-black hair extended from a dark grey mask which covered her head entirely. Piercing eyes which changed colour from red to fiery orange were designed to strike fear into an enemy. For weapons, Ember favoured a single .40-calibre Glock 23 Gen4 pistol on her right hip. On her left hip, she bore a Ko-Wakizashi with a 12-inch blade. Over her right shoulder the twin sections of a five-foot bō-staff were visible.
The three girls were on foot, moving towards South Wabash Avenue. Across the avenue, an SUV was parked up in a parking lot beside the Cermak & State station. Hal had already run the licence and found the SUV to belong to one of the larger drug dealers in the neighbourhood. Fisher Maxwell was a target who rarely got caught, and when he did, it was tremendously difficult to get anything to stick. Sergeant Voight of the CPD was determined to get the man off the streets before he encouraged a new generation of addicts. It was difficult for the police to infiltrate his organisation and catching him in the act was also difficult due to paid informers within the ranks of the Chicago Police Department itself. Therefore, Voight had called in some assistance from somebody who he knew was clean and somebody who knew how to tread very lightly and very silently.
Stormtide moved first, leaving the darkness of an alleyway across from the parking lot. Behind her, Ember followed. Piranha was circling around to the west side of the parking lot. It was a coordinated assault, each relying on their own individual skills as they moved silently and covertly towards their unsuspecting target. As they closed, they received constant updates over their communications systems as Hal kept up a commentary of who was where and doing what. Maxwell never went anywhere without an entourage of at least seven men. As was usual, he had three close at hand with the remainder loitering around another SUV, about a dozen yards distant. It was well known that his protective teams had access to automatic weapons which was another reason that Voight had happily passed on the task to the heavily-armoured vigilantes.
Piranha was making for the SUV with Maxwell aboard while Stormtide and Ember headed in the direction of the four backup gunmen.
South Loomis Street
18:10
Team Six: Wildcat, Trojan, and Hellcat
"Why are we here?" Hellcat asked. "There is fuck all here!"
"A very good question," Wildcat responded angrily. "I am certain that we were sent here to get us out of the way."
"You saying that Hit Girl sent us here so she could get ahead on points?" Trojan enquired dryly.
"Would she do that?" Hellcat wanted to know.
"Yes!" Wildcat and Trojan responded together.
"Bitch!"
As the three vigilantes sat in the shadows, gazing at . . . nothing, Wildcat filled her mind with imaginatively bad things which she could do to her step-sister when they both arrived back at the safehouse. How dare she send them to some empty place where nothing ever. . .
"Err, Wildcat. . ." Trojan called out.
"What?"
A little over thirty yards away, a pair of sedans pulled over to the side of the inadequately-lit street. The cars turned off their engines and lights, then simply sitting in the darkness for a few minutes before a third vehicle, this one a panel van, appeared from the opposite direction, turning off its lights as it approached the two sedans before pulling over to the opposite side of the street just past them. As the three vigilantes watched, a door on the van opened and a woman stepped out, leaving the driver in the van. The woman was tall, but in the darkness, they could not make out much more of her features. They watched the woman stride across the road towards the front sedan, bypassing the closest one. The driver's window of the sedan lowered, and a man looked out. He checked the woman over before he waved and pushed open his door. The man was tall and broad in the shoulders. They appeared to know one another as they conversed standing at the side of the street beside the sedan. Very quickly, though, the conversation turned nasty as the woman began to get angry with the man.
The conversation began to increase in intensity as the man began to shout at the woman, then, rather unsurprisingly, somebody pulled a gun – but the timing sucked, as a pair of Chicago PD Harley Davidsons appeared over the crest of the nearby bridge.
A quarter mile to the west
South Ashland Avenue
18:15
Team Seven: Petra, Tigercat, and Scamp
Petra was also feeling a little put out by her team's designated start location.
Not that there was a great deal she could do about it. She sat astride her Honda CBR1000RR Fireblade with Scamp on the seat immediately behind her. Tigercat was seated astride his own KTM 125 Duke, just a few feet away. Petra hated babysitting, but she knew that the boy could look after himself and that Scamp was not exactly a pushover either, despite her diminutive size.
"This is the very definition of monotony," Scamp commented after ten minutes of silence.
"Monotony?" Tigercat enquired.
"It means. . ."
"We know what it means, short ass!" Petra responded with a chuckle; it was like having a four-foot, four-stone dictionary following you around.
"Okay – I know, it's just that some of you Americans aren't as well educated as we Brits are," Scamp replied as she jumped off the motorcycle and removed her helmet. "May as well get comfortable."
Petra simply shook her head at the girl's outlook on life. In the display projected onto the inside of her visor, Petra could see that there was absolutely nothing happening anywhere within a mile of their location. It was looking like the night was going to be exactly as Scamp had described. However, as Petra looked over at the minuscule vigilante, she saw a focus in the youngster – then Scamp suddenly bolted down the street.
"Scamp!" Petra yelled out.
"Oh, sorry," Scamp responded over the radio. "Saw something."
Petra started her motorcycle engine and Tigercat followed suit. They quickly raced after Scamp who had turned off the roadway, about a hundred yards ahead, and she was standing at a chain-link gate which was closed. Petra and Tigercat pulled over, out of sight, before dismounting and stowing their helmets. As they moved to join Scamp, they checked all around them, looking for trouble amongst the dark industrial and commercial buildings which lined the avenue. Petra then focused on what was currently grabbing the attention of little Scamp. The security booth, just inside the wire mesh gate, was unoccupied, but on closer inspection, Petra could see where the door to the booth had been kicked in – not evidence in itself; the damage could have occurred weeks before. Then came the damning evidence.
"The chain has been cut," Scamp stated as she pointed to the ground just to the left and inside of the wire mesh gate. "See?"
Petra grimaced – the chain, complete with secured padlock, lay in the dirt on the ground and it was blatantly obvious that the chain had been cut.
South Blue Island Avenue
18:15
Team Eight: Raven, Discord, and Tempest
Raven twisted the throttle of her Yamaha Super Ténéré motorcycle, feeling the acceleration as she overtook a slow driver.
Behind her, Discord and Tempest followed on their Ducati Hypermotard machines, dodging in and out of the medium-to-heavy traffic. Their target, driving a 2009 Ford Mustang, was a dozen yards ahead of Raven, attempting to weave through the unyielding traffic. In the team's ears, Synthesis were providing guidance through the traffic and helping to prevent a potentially nasty traffic accident. Flare was guiding Raven, combining street cameras with the cameras on Raven's motorcycle to plot a safe route and providing split-second guidance.
"Accelerate!" Flare called out. "Take that bus, stat!"
Raven put her trust in the voice as she accelerated hard, overtaking a CTA bus and squeezing through a shockingly tight gap to gain a precious few feet on the fleeing criminal who had just robbed a convenience store at gunpoint leaving one man dead and a woman fighting for her life.
"Take South Loomis, now!" Flare ordered.
Raven was surprised to be diverted away from their quarry, but she had to trust her overseer and she took the left turn as directed while the Mustang continued on up South Blue Island Avenue. Back in the Synthesis bunker, Flare was studying a three-dimensional representation of the area with live traffic feeds superimposed on top. She had identified a traffic snarl up on South Blue Island Avenue and Flare knew that Raven could make better time by taking the longer route north and then east to cut off the Mustang. Raven raced below the twin rail bridges before anchoring on and making a hard right onto West 15th Street. As Raven raced over South Throop Street, she applied the brakes until she reached South Blue Island Avenue, stopping completely. The pissed off vigilante yanked off her helmet and she ran into the intersection as Flare gave her a countdown to the Mustang's arrival. Ahead of her, an eighteen-wheeler was just pulling out into the intersection, heading north, when Raven waved for the driver to stop. The man leaned out of his cab as he slammed on his brakes.
"How can I help, Raven?" he asked.
Raven blushed under her mask at the instant recognition, but she focused on the task.
"I need you to block the road – NOW!" she ordered, and the driver grinned as he pulled his rig to block the entire avenue.
The roar of a high-powered engine could be heard echoing out from the rail bridges a hundred yards distant. The Mustang appeared with lights blazing and on the wrong side of the street overtaking traffic. The driver caught sight of the roadblock and of Raven standing in the intersection, her pistol aimed directly at him. He floored the accelerator, just as Raven opened fire, shredding the bonnet and the windshield. The driver bottled it as he lost control and his vehicle skidded before it flipped over into the vacant parking lot of a business located alongside the intersection. Raven was running for the wreckage, even as Discord and Tempest appeared on their motorcycles. Raven swiftly reached into the remains of the Mustang and she yanked the man out.
"Hey, I'm injured, here!"
"One man is dead and a woman is dying," Raven growled. "You think I give a fucking shit about you?"
Discord looked around and she grinned at the people standing around her who were clapping, not least the truck driver who was enjoying himself immensely.
West 33rd Street
17:55
Team Nine: Lilith, Lilim, Trauma, and Riptide
"Where the fuck are we?"
Lilith was not amused. She figured that Hit Girl had it in for her – all for a minor loss of control and a bit of blood on her daughter. She had hoped to be able to show what her team could really do, but instead they were in the middle of nowhere, in the pitch dark, and somewhere that only muggers would frequent . . . then the penny dropped with a loud clatter in her mind. Only muggers and drug dealers would enjoy the darkness – she'd missed it completely in the concern at her location.
"What's going on over there?" Riptide asked.
Lilith looked over to where Riptide was pointing. A small panel van had just driven, without lights, into the dark opening of a large warehouse with blacked out windows. The steel shutter clattered down, and slivers of light could be seen emerging around the blacked-out windows as the lights inside the warehouse were turned on.
"Dodgy as fuck," Trauma decided.
"Let's crash the fucking party," Lilim suggested.
"Boys – you come in from the far side while we come in from above," Lilith directed.
South Clark Street
17:45
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
Ignoring the fact that her son had just thrown a motorcycle at her – probably not on purpose – Hit Girl ensured that Rage was safe before heading into the throng.
Rage went after Hit Girl, determined to get in some action – he wanted points, and he was determined to beat his big sister and, he hoped, Fury. Beating Stormy would simply put the icing on the cake for the youngster who never enjoyed coming last, let alone to a bunch of bitches.
All around, it was mayhem. Seven motorcycles and an SUV were feverishly attempting to find an escape route. Given a choice, the CPD would be the desired fate – contact with Fusion generally resulted in some form of unwanted pain for all involved. Fortune and Nightmare had forced Diamondback's SUV to a halt, but the man was not giving up easily and he urged his driver into action. The SUV accelerated backwards, skidding in the mud as gunfire erupted from the open windows. The two vigilantes dutifully opened fire on the retreating vehicle, puncturing the run-flat tyres which slowed the vehicles progress through the mud but did not stop the vehicle from attempting to escape. A few test shots into the windshield identified it as armoured, so neither vigilante wasted any more bullets on it. Instead, they remounted their motorcycles and took up a rather slow pursuit which did not last very long as the heavy vehicle slid more than drove through the mud before striking a tree and becoming very stuck. Fortune and Nightmare descended on the disabled SUV, quickly shooting one man and disarming the others, yanking them all out and shoving them face down on the ground.
"Get the fuck off me!" Diamondback growled as he found his face being pushed into the mud by Fortune's right boot.
There was a flurry of activity as uniformed CPD officers raced onto the scene and began cuffing the drug dealer and his goons.
..._...
Hit Girl and Rage raced after the escaping motorcycles.
Those who had noticed that Hit Girl, herself, was pursing them were very unhappy while they generally ignored the shorter Rage – much to their cost. It was a new tactic which Hit Girl had developed in partnership with the younger members of Fusion. While everybody had their eyes on their worst nightmare, the seemingly-insignificant little runts running about would strike from a flanking position and . . . night, night!
Rage came in from the left flank of one of the fleeing motorcycles while the rider was focused squarely on the purple menace closing from the right. The rider never saw Rage as the diminutive vigilante kicked out with his boot, causing the rider in question to skid in the mud before colliding with a second motorcycle. Both motorcycles slewed around in the mud before tumbling end over end, the three occupants of the motorcycles rolling into the mud. One drew a pistol and pointed it at Rage who simply kicked the weapon away but not before a pair of bullets drove into his body armour and, at such short range, knocked the boy off his motorcycle. Rage quickly rolled out of the way of the wheels of another motorcycle before he was crushed.
Hit Girl had seen Rage fall and she decided to put a swift end to things before anyone she cared about was hurt. However, as she manoeuvred behind the remaining five motorcycles, she saw one machine ride directly at Rage who was back on his feet and she called out a warning.
"Have faith, Hit Girl!" Rage responded as he expertly stood his ground before hurling himself in a perfectly timed leap as the motorcycle was just feet away.
Rage took the rider out of his seat and they both hit the ground even as the abandoned motorcycle struck a group of trees with a loud bang. Rage ignored the pain as he rolled across the muddy grass before coming to a halt on his back. He heard movement to his left and he leapt to his feet but not before he was kicked to the ground. Seeing one of their number choosing to stand and fight (escape was all but impossible, anyway) emboldened four of the remaining six who chose to turn back and face Hit Girl.
Hit Girl was forced to leave Rage to his own fight while she took care of the four interlopers.
North Sacramento Boulevard
18:10
Team Two: Kick-Ass, Splinter, Cut-Throat, and Ravage with Eisenhower and Kes
Kick-Ass strode through the darkness.
The railyard was enormous as was the adjoining auto impound. Kick-Ass was not alone, he had Eisenhower who moved silently through the darkness, a few feet distant. A few yards away, Splinter and Cut-Throat covered the left flank. On the right flank, Ravage kept a good lookout through a set of night-vision goggles, identical to those his colleagues wore. Beside the boy, Kes kept her own wary lookout, her keen sense of smell searching out any threats which lay ahead. Intelligence had identified several shipments which were due to arrive in the city of Chicago that very evening. Nobody had much of an idea what protection those shipments may carry with them, hence the involvement of Fusion.
In the process of moving deeper into the railyard, Kes began to growl and her hackles rose. As was her training, Kes moved to put herself between the perceived danger and young Ravage.
"Kes has something," Ravage notified the others over the open communications channel.
"There is some activity, about forty yards ahead," Battle Guy advised from the Battle Bunker. "The cameras are abysmal, but I think they have armed support, tonight."
Ravage edged forwards, his tactical wakizashi raised before him. His young eyes peered through the night-vision goggles into the darkness of the railyard. Two feet ahead of him, Kes growled gently to indicate that danger was very close. The boy was not ashamed to admit that he felt scared but having the dog with him gave the young vigilante the courage for what he was about to face. He was also very aware of Kick-Ass moving closer with Eisenhower who was also growling, her masked head close to the ground as she sniffed for her foe.
Kes struck before Ravage even knew that somebody was there. The all but one-year-old animal used her powerful hindquarters to push herself into the air and she flew for the enemy who she was certain was a threat to the humans she would protect to an inch of her life. Feet away, in the darkness, the gunman had no idea that there was a dog flying for him determined to rip out his throat. He was lying in wait for the vigilantes which he knew were in the area. A massive shipment had arrived just minutes earlier and they only needed half an hour to unload and stash the illegal goods, and that was how long he needed to hold off Fusion and the CPD. Not that he was going to be conscious for very much longer. Thirty-six kilogrammes of armoured canine struck the gunman, forcing him to the ground hard enough that his head struck a section of railroad ballast, knocking the man senseless.
"Kes!" Ravage ordered as he realised what was happening and that the man was out for the count.
Kes looked behind and up at her master for the night and she obediently took a few steps back from the prone form. Ravage swiftly disarmed the unconscious man, ejecting the magazines from his weapons and throwing the unloaded weapons off to one side before zip-tying the man's wrists.
"Come on, Kes!" Ravage hissed, and the dog took point as they ventured deeper into the railroad.
West 41st Street
17:55
Team Three: Shadow, Psyche, Fury, and Rogue
Out in the darkness, the lure was getting twitchy.
Her comrades were continuing to keep her spirits up with their supportive conversation.
"She really looks tragic, doesn't she?" Fury commented.
"She'll grow – you were short, once upon a time, Fury," Psyche commented.
"So were you."
"I will admit that, yes, I was short, but never as tragically short as Rogue."
"How long are we going to leave her out there?" Fury asked.
"I can hear you two fucking clowns, you know!" Rogue growled.
"Did you hear something?" Psyche asked.
"Nah – must be some interference," Fury responded.
"Ow!"
"Fuck!"
"The two clowns now have something else to worry about," Shadow commented after clouting both girls around their heads.
"Thank you. . ."
The lure froze, any further words forgotten, as her ears picked up sounds . . . men talking, laughing . . . many feet. The men appeared from behind a building, eight of them, their chatter and laughter ceasing as, one-by-one, they caught sight of the lonely lure.
"What the fuck is this?" a man asked with a growing smile on his face.
"A lost child would be my thinking," another chuckled.
"I see a thousand bucks," one added.
The lure had had enough. She reached up behind her lower back and she seized hold of her most treasured possessions, yanking downwards and unsheathing death. However, before Rogue could administer death, a single loud crack echoed around the buildings and the youngster flew back about six feet before hitting the gravel on which she was standing. The impact with the ground momentarily stunned the young girl and for a very brief moment, Rogue had no idea where she was.
"GET UP!" Psyche roared as she ran for her sister.
The single shot out of nowhere had stunned them all, and Psyche had been the first to come back to life, bolting forward. Psyche drew her twin Heckler & Koch P30SK pistols and she snapped off a shot from each at the half-dozen men who were making for the fallen vigilante. Before she could fire off any more rounds, Rogue clambered to her feet, somewhat shakily, blocking Psyche's line of fire.
"GET DOWN!" Psyche yelled.
"Make up your fucking mind, asshole!" Rogue growled as she dropped to the ground without hesitation.
Two men also dropped to the ground before the range was too close and Psyche holstered her pistols, drawing her Sais instead.
"Get up," Psyche growled to Rogue who leapt to her feet just as Fury and Shadow joined the fight.
Whatever it was that they had stumbled upon, it had protection. Eight more men appeared out of the darkness, six of whom appeared to be wearing body armour over their torsos and heads.
"So, you wanna play?" Psyche growled.
"Bring it on, motherfuckers!" Rogue added as she brought her twin blades up.
South Wabash Avenue and East 21st Street
18:10
Team Four: Jackal, Relentless, and Torment
After tormenting the old man, Jackal chose to blend back into the darkness.
The three of them took a succession of back alleyways until they reached South Wabash Avenue. They knew that Team Five were close by, so they headed in that direction, just in case they might need assistance. However, in the meantime, Jackal led the team northward towards where he figured there might be business.
"Jackal!" Torment hissed.
Jackal turned to see Torment pointing into the darkness of an alleyway between two five-storey buildings. With a wave of his armoured gauntlets, Relentless and Torment made for the far end of the alleyway while Jackal headed into the darkness. He could see three individuals and possibly a fourth. There was the sound of laughter in the darkness. Maybe it was just a group of idiots getting pissed, Jackal thought. However, he heard a whimper, and any hint of humour vanished. Jackal flexed his fingers as he moved in the darkness towards the three men.
From the far end of the alley, the younger kids made for Jackal. Being out with a legend such as Jackal was beyond awesome and both were amazed that they had been given the opportunity to learn from somebody so high up in Fusion. Despite Relentless being a Predator, he still had a lot to learn and he was a very junior member of Fusion. As for Torment, she still got starstruck when she saw her own sister in her combat suit, let alone anybody more famous. She really was junior, and she was desperate to be as good as her big sister, if not quite as nuts.
"Keep it quiet," Relentless directed and Torment nodded as she followed a few steps behind.
From their vantage point, the two youngsters could make out somebody lying on a pile of garbage, their hands raised in protection from one of the men who was in the process of undoing his belt. It was very obvious what was about to happen, but it would not come to pass, not if Jackal had anything to do with it. He struck out of the darkness without warning, ramming his armoured fists into the closest of the three men. The second of the three men took far too long to react, and he received one of those fists in his face, destroying the man's nose in an explosion of blood. As for the third man, he stumbled in his half-mast trousers and ran away from the vengeful vigilante. He never saw that his way was blocked until he ran directly into Relentless who rammed a fist into the man's stomach while Torment kicked out the man's feet from under him. Torment took the lead as she kicked the man in the side, fracturing a rib. She had seen the woman, scared so badly that she could do nothing more than whimper as the man had made to rape her. Torment had a deeply-felt hatred towards rapists, and not just because her sister had been raped, only a year before. She felt that any person who raped did not deserve to breathe the same air as normal people. She had seen what rape did to her friends, even when it was simply a family member who had endured such an horrific attack. Finally, she had the means to fight back, the means to stop such a heinous act in its tracks . . . not to mention the means to punish.
Jackal stood over the two fallen men and he watched as Torment went to town on the would-be rapist. He knew of her sister's attack and he knew that Torment was determined to make the city, if not the entire world, a better place. The girl had yet to kill, and despite what the man had been about to do, that night would not see Torment's first kill. After two minutes, Jackal stepped over his own quarries like they were nothing and he pulled Torment off to one side.
"Let him live."
Torment nodded, despite what her heart wanted to happen.
A short distance away
South Wabash Avenue
18:18
Team Five: Piranha, Stormtide, and Ember
A short distance away, a coordinated attack was underway.
The three Predators were perfectly coordinated, moving with almost zero sound. Piranha knew what her colleagues could do as she had taught them both from a young age. Stormtide and Ember used hand signals to keep one another informed as they moved to within six feet of the four gunmen. Both could see the men's commander, a dozen yards away, and on command, they attacked.
Maxwell and his men tended to see themselves as 'untouchable', and so long as they detected trouble approaching them with plenty of time to defuse things, that reputation would continue. But that reputation had caused the heavies to believe their own propaganda and they tended to spend their time smoking and gossiping with only an occasional glance around the area. That meant they had no idea they were being stalked and, to be honest, even if they had been paying attention, they would still have been lambs to the slaughter. The wolves struck the lambs out of the darkness just as a train passed by overhead, just yards away. The thunderous roar covered the yells and roars as the four very large men were struck down where they stood. The sound prevented Maxwell's main protectors from hearing a thing as Piranha closed on them.
The timing was just perfect as the dealer was carrying a large stash of 'coke' which he was due to distribute to his sub-dealers that very night. Piranha knew that the SUV was armoured, but it was not a tank and the occupants did not believe themselves to be in a war zone - big mistake! Piranha brought an M320 grenade launcher to her right shoulder, just as the left front door of the SUV opened . . . she aimed and fired . . . reloaded . . . aimed and fired. The two MP-40S-CS smoke projectiles landed in the front footwells of the SUV before exploding and emitting copious amounts of CS irritant or 'tear gas'. Piranha ran in, ignoring the nine-millimetre bullets which peppered her combat suit and she put a bullet into the head of the man with the sub-machinegun. Three men stumbled out of the smoking SUV and each received an armoured boot to the side of the head, including Maxwell himself.
"Left anything for us?" Ember asked as the passing train vanished and relative silence descended on the area.
"Nope!" Piranha commented, her red eyes glinting in the darkness.