Tuesday, December 27th, 2016
South Loomis Street
18:19
Team Six: Wildcat, Trojan, and Hellcat
Things deteriorated fast.
The two Chicago police officers immediately clocked the weapon and they both stopped, drawing their own weapons as they dismounted from their motorcycles. The woman turned her gun, a Ruger LCP, on the two police officers, squeezing the trigger twice as she dove behind the sedan. The sharp cracks of the Glock 17 pistols which the police officers carried echoed out as they returned fire.
"Let's move!" Wildcat ordered as she accurately identified the rapidly deteriorating situation.
The police officers had inadvertently found themselves caught up in a lethal crossfire between two groups of people who were determined to destroy their opponents. As professional veterans, both officers knew that they were deeply embedded in the proverbial smelly stuff. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, one of the fighters fell to gunfire from the left flank.
"Move it, dumbass!"
The officer found himself staring into the masked face of Wildcat. The man grinned, knowing that the Fusion vigilante was well known for her foul mouth and her aggressively obnoxious behaviour which was second only to that of Hit Girl herself. Quickly, the man shuffld into cover while Wildcat and her team provided covering fire. He was very relieved when he saw his partner being guided into cover by another sub-machinegun-toting female vigilante – Hellcat.
Further over, the officer could see Trojan firing off a shotgun in the direction of the attackers who were now fighting two adversaries.
A quarter mile to the west
South Ashland Avenue
18:21
Team Seven: Petra, Tigercat, and Scamp
The sound of gunfire ripped out across the night.
"Some bastard's having fun!" Petra growled. "While I'm on a fucking wild goose chase with a walking dictionary."
"You coming, Petra?" Scamp asked. "Or am I doing this myself."
Petra chuckled – the little girl had unlimited courage, but she lacked fear which was a bad trait to lack. Fear kept you alive. Fear told you when it was time to back off and regroup. Fear was a best friend. Petra knew that all the senior members of Fusion felt fear – even Hit Girl. Not that anybody would freely admit it in public, therefore maintaining the macho image to a fault.
"Okay, Scampy!"
"That is not my name!"
"Calm down, Scamp," Tigercat suggested. "It's a term of endearment, right?"
"Right," Petra confirmed with a chuckle.
Scamp took point, her keen eyes scanning all around her for any movement or sign of trouble. As the youngest Predator, and very last to be taken, she had the least training and experience. That did not mean she was unskilled – her training with Urban Predator had begun the very day she was taken. It had been intense with no concern for the child's wellbeing as she had been pushed and pushed, twenty-four hours a day for three very long weeks. Unfortunately, her training had been cut short when Urban Predator had collapsed in on itself and the young Rebecca Wren had never been taught the emotional factors of being an assassin. Though she was much more normal, relatively speaking, than other Predators, her intensive training had left a mark. Her courage versus adversity was all that kept her sane. Taking her first life to save Shannon had required very little conscious thought. Rebecca Wren was a rarity: she was a young girl with undiagnosed psychopathic tendencies . . . a natural born killer with no fear and no sense of remorse. In time, she would have made the ultimate Predator, better than Lucy, better than Shannon, better than Stephanie – the perfect counter to Hit Girl.
Petra was the first to notice that there was more to the little girl than the sweet little Brit. As she followed along behind Scamp with Tigercat a few yards away on the right flank, Petra did not like the developing scene – there was little activity and no sign of the security guards who should have been patrolling the site. Then, over behind a group of parked trucks, Scamp could make out some light coming from the partially open doorway of a warehouse. Without a word, the young girl signalled her observation and for the team to move in that direction. As they came closer to the doorway, they began to hear voices. One of the voices was obviously that of a security guard as it overflowed with fear as the man tried to deny something. The other voice was more forceful and noticeably full of authority.
"Where are the crates?" the authoritative voice demanded.
"We're just the hired help – we have no idea what's in these warehouses."
"I don't believe you."
"He's telling the truth, man!" another voice, this one panicky, complained.
Then came a single pistol shot, closely followed by yelling and screaming.
South Blue Island Avenue
18:23
Team Eight: Raven, Discord, and Tempest
Raven felt good as their fugitive was handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car.
He was hurt, but nobody really gave a shit, considering that he had recently murdered an innocent person in cold blood. The man would go to jail for the rest of his natural life and as far as Raven was concerned, good fucking riddance! As the police car drove away, Raven remounted her motorcycle and pulled on her helmet.
"I'm hungry," she commented. "Anybody else?"
"I could do with some sustenance," Tempest commented.
"Let's go," Discord agreed.
"Hal, can you give us a route to the nearest burger joint, please?" Raven radioed.
"I am not a goddamn concierge!" Hal complained.
"Sorry!" Raven responded.
"Backtrack down South Blue Island Avenue – you'll find a McDonalds on the right."
"Thanks, sweetie!" Tempest responded.
"Bite me!"
West 33rd Street
18:10
Team Nine: Lilith, Lilim, Trauma, and Riptide
Trauma and Riptide ran around to the back of the building.
They found the building locked up tight and very dark. Not that that was a problem for Trauma as he knelt down beside a rear door and pulled a set of lockpicks from his utility belt. Twenty seconds later, Trauma pushed open the door and they headed into the darkened interior of the warehouse, MP7A1 PDWs raised to their shoulders. They could hear sounds coming from the front of the warehouse, so they slowly moved towards those sounds.
High above them, Lilith and Lilim forced open a steel-framed window and they both squeezed through. Lilim took the lead as they climbed into the steel roof structure and moved towards the centre of the roof. Below them, they could make out the small panel van – a white Ford Transit Connect – which had just driven inside the warehouse. Parked beside it was a larger panel van – a dark blue Chevrolet Express Cargo. There were several wooden benches arranged around the open back doors of the Chevrolet van on which there were arrayed numerous plastic bags of a white powdery substance. It was a drug deal – a big one, Lilith surmised. As they moved through the web of steel below the pitched roof, they heard more voices toward the back of the warehouse so they both moved in that direction.
"Oh, shit!" Lilim exclaimed as they passed over a partition wall into the back section of the warehouse.
"You guys seeing some heavy shit?" Trauma radioed.
"Yeah," Lilith responded as she looked down on around thirty men and women plus a shitload of firearms neatly laid out on wooden tables.
"Are those Colt AR-15 assault rifles?" Lilim asked.
"Oh, yeah, honey," Lilith breathed. "We're in deep shit and we need to call this in."
"You sure?"
"That much firepower needs backup, Lilim," Trauma acknowledged over the radio.
Lilith began to take photos with a small camera.
South Clark Street
18:15
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
Hit Girl slithered to a halt in the mud and she dismounted, throwing her helmet away.
As she drew the two halves of her bō-staff and slotted them together, she noticed something idly drifting across her vision, closely followed by another and another – it was snowing. Just what she needed, the veteran vigilante thought as she stood her ground. Ahead of her, four motorcycles with their six occupants revved their engines as they readied their onslaught. Hit Girl heard the subtle change in engine pitch as clutches were released and the four machines accelerated toward her. Bullets came forth, striking the mud at her feet but Hit Girl stood her ground. Bullets struck her body armour but still Hit Girl stood her ground. The four motorcycles bore down on her but still Hit Girl stood her ground. The closest machine was just two feet away when Hit Girl moved like lightning, planting her bō-staff into the mud and using it as a pole vault.
Flying through the air, Hit Girl's left boot landed on the instrument binnacle of the motorcycle startling the rider who fell backwards knocking his passenger off and they both tumbled into the mud. Hit Girl left the motorcycle, flying through the air and landing on the next, removing the rider and flipping through the air and taking out both of the final machines and their three riders in one go before she neatly landed on the thin covering of virgin snow and rolled to her feet. She looked around and saw Rage standing a few feet away.
The boy simply stood there, and he clapped.
"I give you a ten for difficulty but only a nine for technique," the young vigilante said.
"You docked me a point, you little shit?"
"Get me a hot fudge sundae and I might give you another half point."
"Little shit!"
"Excuse me, Hit Girl, Team SD are calling for backup," Hal radioed. "They have thirty plus with heavy weapons."
"Where are they?"
"Just where you sent them – a thirteen-minute ride for mere mortals but I bet you could do it in eight."
"I say six – send us the route," Hit Girl responded as Rage handed her a muddy helmet. "Order in all four Support Teams and Overwatch. Who else is available?"
"Team Eight are available."
"Bring 'em in!"
With that Hit Girl signalled for her team and they accelerated away, leaving the discarded groaning forms to the Chicago PD.
North Sacramento Boulevard
18:10
Team Two: Kick-Ass, Splinter, Cut-Throat, and Ravage with Eisenhower and Kes
Eisenhower sensed the danger a whole second before her kin began to growl.
The canine warning allowed the team to adjust their positions in relation to the threats which were coming from ahead, both to their left and to their right. It was most likely an ambush, so everyone prepared themselves mentally and physically for whatever was about to . . . Kes and Eisenhower growled louder as both animals crouched down ready to launch themselves into the air. Kick-Ass froze, extending his left arm to halt the others. Ahead of them, to the right, were hundreds of impounded cars, along with hundreds of different places to hide. Ahead of them, to the left, were trains – long trains, hundreds of trucks and wagons. Trying to ferret out the men protecting the illicit cargo would be a nightmare . . . but that was what they were there for.
"Splinter, take Cut-Throat and Eisenhower – you go for the cars. Ravage, Kes, and me will take the trains," Kick-Ass ordered, and they split up into smaller teams.
Both dogs were still very unhappy with their surroundings and they growled menacingly, saliva dripping from their fangs. Ravage took point with Kick-Ass close behind and Kes sniffing the ground as they moved closer to the long row of rolling stock. Kick-Ass had his G36K held ready, the muzzle following every movement of his eyes. Ravage was now feeling very nervous, but the presence of his father gave him some much-needed courage. The closest wagon was about fifty feet in length and was loaded with huge baulks of timber. Kes whined as she growled – there was someone or something there. Kick-Ass caught the indistinct movement in the darkness and he took a step forward, reaching for the indistinct shadow. His gauntlet found the barrel of a rifle . . . Kick-Ass yanked hard and a man came with the rifle, dropping a couple of feet to the track bed below. Before the man could bring the rifle around as he lay on the ground, he found the snarling jaws of an attack dog, just a foot from his face. Making the wisest decision of his life, the man released his hold on the Colt AR-15 and rolled onto his back. Kes whined and licked her lips, knowing that she was not going to be tasting fresh meat – at least not yet. The man willingly allowed Kick-Ass to roll him over and zip-tie his hands. They left the man and they moved further down the train.
"It's snowing," Ravage observed.
"Yes, it is – not that it will prevent us completing our mission," Kick-Ass replied. "Hal – one man down at my location; send somebody to pick him up before he freezes."
"Copy that," Hal responded.
..._...
A short distance or so away, Splinter and Cut-Throat moved down the line of cars, their G36C assault rifles moving left to right as they went.
Eisenhower bounded ahead before stopping dead and staring pointedly at a dark coloured sedan. That was when the gunfire began. A head appeared from the opposite side of the sedan and automatic gunfire ripped out towards Splinter and Cut-Throat. Eisenhower jumped onto the trunk of the sedan and she went to town on the gunman who had not seen the animal stop so close to him. The man dropped his rifle in a vain attempt to defend himself from the severely pissed off dog which had dived atop him. More heads appeared, and the two vigilantes opened fire, taking carefully aimed shots from cover behind a decaying Ford Victoria. There was some obvious activity about fifty yards beyond the gunmen which had to be where the illicit goods were being unloaded. There was a limited amount of time left before the illicit goods were gone, distributed throughout Chicago. With the vigilante assault, there was no longer the option of using the impounded cars to covertly distribute the goods. Instead, they would have to shift the illicit goods out directly which would put those same illicit goods onto the streets of Chicago and under the eyes of the Chicago Police Department. Those illicit goods would then be relatively easily swept up.
Splinter fired off aimed shots at the heads which popped up to send a burst in his direction before ducking back down again. While Splinter kept their attention, Cut-Throat moved to flank the three men which did not include the fourth who Eisenhower was dreaming of devouring – instead, she eyed the man's crotch for long enough that the man quickly became very nervous. The man never saw Cut-throat as the boy leapt down beside Eisenhower and took the butt of his G36C across the man's forehead, putting him out cold.
Cut-Throat then advanced with Eisenhower, closing on the three men who were otherwise oblivious to their presence.
..._...
A man stepped into view and he instantly regretted it as Ravage coldly put two bullets from his Heckler & Koch MP5K into the man's chest.
The man's AR-15 assault rifle clattered to the ties beneath their feet with the still warm corpse landing close by. It was not the boy's first kill and he remained focussed on the mission, ignoring the recently deceased man as he searched for the next enemy who was out to do him or his family and friends harm. The boy could hear the chatter of automatic weapons fire not too far away and he could feel the adrenalin flowing through his veins – a feeling he enjoyed. His senses were firing on all cylinders and the slightest sound or movement drew his attention as he moved slowly forward with Kes sniffing ahead of him. Ravage was still learning how to sort through everything which his senses threw up and, at times, his brain was overloaded by everything his heightened senses detected. He moved forward, his weapon raised to his shoulder, stopping as he reached the end of the next rail car. They were not far from where there was a hive of activity on the next track over, close by some boxcars.
One more step and without warning, Ravage was taken off his feet by a bullet striking his sternum and he fell to the ground.
West 41st Street
17:55
Team Three: Shadow, Psyche, Fury, and Rogue
Rogue was no stranger to death.
She had seen it and she had caused it. She had learnt a long time ago to hide her emotions. By extension, she also knew how to bury those emotions which were not appropriate for the situation. Her fear had been toned down, just enough to allow her to fight but also to retain some form of conscience to guide her actions. Rogue enjoyed the sight of blood; therefore, she took great delight in slashing at the closest man who swiftly jumped out of reach of the deceptively insignificant vigilante. Shadow and Fury had joined the fight and very quickly, there were a dozen people fighting. Shadow was fighting two armoured individuals – both of whom had turned out to be female which levelled the playing field somewhat. Psyche had also picked two to fight but they were men, not that Psyche was bothered – she just clobbered them harder. The body armour was a problem, but Psyche was working on that. Fury had managed to draw three, leaving the final man – one without body armour – fighting Ravage.
Fury was determined to one-up Psyche . . . hence her drawing three fighters. Fury's bō-staff spun, and her precision-sharpened blades struck armour, dodging some equally serious combat machetes which were being expertly wielded by their bearer. The young vigilante grinned beneath her mask, enjoying the feeling that went with fighting to the death. Her senses fed her the information which her mind needed to create a three-dimensional representation of her surroundings. She would use that representation to maintain her situational awareness and search for flaws in her opponent's skills. Young Abigail Wilde was an exceptionally intelligent youngster and she was an expert at fighting . . . hence she had been selected to face off against Stephanie Walker in a Virginia forest. That little episode still rankled, not to mention having her bare backside strapped by the same victorious Stephanie Walker. Despite their new-found friendship, Abigail still wanted to be the best, and beating Stephanie was intensely desirable.
Shadow dodged the blade of a combat machete as it came down towards her right shoulder. With a lightning move, she swung upwards with one end of her custom bō-staff, the finely-honed carbon-fibre blade slicing through the body armour and driving into her opponent's left abdomen. The woman screamed out in agony as her large intestine was severed and blood exploded out of the wound the moment Shadow's blade was pulled out. Before the woman had sunk to her knees, her colleague had brought her machetes down hard towards Shadow who dove to the ground, rolling to avoid the two lethal blades which crunched into the ground. That same ground was rapidly becoming covered in a thin layer of cold white snow. Shadow smashed the staff of her weapon into the masked face of her remaining opponent, sending the woman stumbling backwards and crashing into Rogue, the two females rolling in the snow.
Rogue was annoyed; she had been having fun. Before the armour-clad woman who had crashed into her could regain her feet, Rogue had driven one of her butterfly swords into an unprotected section of the woman's neck, severing the carotid artery and windpipe. Blood erupted out under pressure, staining the virgin snow, scarlet. Rogue jumped to her feet, swiftly wiping off her bloody blade on the recently deceased before moving onto another attacker. The adrenalin within her was pumping, and she cared less that she was facing down a man four times her size. As a combat machete came down in her direction, she expertly stepped inside the sweep and she thrust both of her blades into the man's stomach, just above the groin, and she sliced upwards before yanking both blades out.
Psyche chuckled as she caught sight of Rogue jumping for joy as quite a few feet of steaming intestine flopped out and splattered into the snow. The minor distraction almost cost Psyche a strike as the very sharp blade of a combat machete came just a little too close for comfort. There was already one dead man on the ground a few feet away, and Psyche was on the way to making that two. No way was the fighting easy, but it was not exactly hard for a skilled and hardened fighter such as Psyche. The Sais which Psyche wielded required a very different kind of fighting which kept Psyche's opponents on their toes as they tried to take down the 4-feet 9-inch vigilante. Many people had tried to kill the girl, some even coming close, but Psyche appeared untouchable. That night, her luck was holding as she drove in, harder and harder, swiftly putting her opponents onto the back foot. Psyche was nothing, if not relentless, and she made sure that her opponents would be forced to pay for each and every inch they gained on her. She had already drawn blood, slashing at the unarmoured sections of her opponents' bodies. Six yards away, Fury yelled out happily as her second body of the night crashed to the ground.
"In your face, Psyche!"
South Wabash Avenue and East 21st Street
18:20
Team Four: Jackal, Relentless, and Torment
Team Five: Piranha, Stormtide, and Ember
As the two teams watched, the Chicago PD along with Captain Williams, began clearing up the scene.
"Right damn mess, you hooligans caused," Marcus growled as he studied the scattered bodies and vehicular wreckage.
"But not a single officer injured," Jackal pointed out in his decidedly creepy electronically enhanced voice.
"We did the hard work, for you," Stormtide offered.
"Not helping," Ember growled.
"Goddamn fucked up superhero club!" Marcus muttered.
"Jackal, we have a situation," Battle Guy, radioed. "Take your team to the coordinates I am sending you – Piranha? The same goes for your team."
"Copy that," Jackal responded.
"Copy that," Piranha added.
"We're off, Captain," Jackal reported.
"Tell Hit Girl not to make a mess," Marcus replied sardonically.
The six vigilantes climbed into BRUTE and they sped off with Jackal at the wheel.
South Loomis Street
18:28
Team Six: Wildcat, Trojan, and Hellcat
As was fairly normal for Wildcat, things were going to hell very quickly.
"Hellcat - move to the right and flank the men at the sedan," Trojan ordered. "Wildcat - flank to the left and take the panel van. I'll take the centre."
Wildcat grinned, knowing that Trojan would always take the difficult route while allowing the girls to take the easier route – something which tended to annoy her, to a point. However, seeing her man risking his life for her was a total turn on in her mind . . . and her groin. That feeling was especially intense considering their exciting new, but highly secret, relationship. The three vigilantes attacked as one from three vectors, their automatic weapons spitting fire as they moved forward, ignoring the stings of bullets which struck their body armour. The two police officers added to the outgoing fire as they provided covering fire for the vigilantes.
Wildcat reached the driver's side of the panel van, just as the engine roared into life. Without hesitation, Wildcat fired two rounds into the door but that did not prevent the woman behind the wheel from discharging a single round from her .45-calibre pistol directly into Wildcat's chest armour, sending the twelve-year-old vigilante flying back and crashing to the ground, not moving. The panel van accelerated away in a cloud of dust and soon vanished from sight.
Hellcat had taken down two men before the rest decided that they desired life above freedom and threw down their weapons. Trojan's presence had accelerated all thoughts of self-preservation and guns clattered to the blacktop as the five surviving men raised their hands, prompting the two police officers to arrest all five.
"Wildcat!" Trojan yelled as he saw his girl lying on the ground, not moving.
He ran over and dropped to his knees.
"Are you okay?" Trojan asked tentatively as he shook Wildcat's shoulder.
"I am now," Wildcat responded as she opened her eyes and grimaced through the intense pain in her chest. "I always am when you're with me."
"Oh, brother!" Hellcat groaned as she overheard the exchange.
A quarter mile to the west
South Ashland Avenue
18:21
Team Seven: Petra, Tigercat, and Scamp
Before Petra could decide what to do, Scamp bolted into the warehouse.
"Scamp!" Petra hissed as she ran after the small girl with Tigercat close behind.
As they entered the warehouse, they could make out a large pool of light with a small group of people brightly illuminated. On the ground, a pool of red blood expanding from around it, a body lay sprawled on the concrete floor of the warehouse. Petra quickly looked around and she could see Scamp clambering up the steel shelving which towered above, almost thirty feet, towards the roof of the warehouse.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Scamp," Petra muttered.
For Petra, the thought of something happening to the wayward youngster was enough to concern her greatly. Causing, or merely allowing, the daughter of Shadow and Jackal to be injured was not expected to be a route to a long and happy life. Petra feared very little, but Shadow and Jackal were among those who she did fear. However, Scamp appeared to be doing whatever she damn well pleased, so all Petra and Tigercat could do was back her up. In total, there were nine people in the pool of light – one of whom appeared to be very dead and another, who was kneeling, appeared to be an innocent security guard. On closer inspection of the seven people standing, three were women and one was another security guard who appeared to be with those holding guns – an obvious turncoat. It was also obvious that the people there were after something – although, exactly what that was, was not immediately obvious to anybody.
For the moment, the team infiltrating the warehouse had not been spotted, but if they were to prevent another death, then they would have to work fast. Petra pointed Tigercat to the left and he moved swiftly but silently, blending into the shadows. Petra kept to the same Shadows as she kept a wary eye on the swiftly-climbing Scamp.
"Okay, Scamp – what's your play?"
"To avenge that dead man – even if it means others have to die," Scamp responded quietly.
"Please take care."
Petra received no response as she watched the little girl clamber along the shelving, leaping around pallets and stacked crates. Petra turned her attention back to the group in the pool of light. The remaining security guard, who was on his knees, was shaking as a pistol was turned on him. The man had witnessed his colleague being murdered in cold blood, directly before his very eyes, and it was an event which would stay with him forever . . . assuming he actually survived the night.
"Somewhere, in this warehouse," one of the women growled as she held a pistol to the security guard's head, "is a pallet. That pallet is stacked with crates. We need those crates. It was delivered, just two days ago. You two were both on that shift when it was delivered."
"I . . ." the guard began.
"I will count to ten. One . . . two . . . three . . ."
Petra moved closer and she could see Tigercat appearing at the far end of the alleyway. Above them, Scamp prepared herself for her attack on those who were hurting others. She had circled around the group below her until she was in a position, just eight feet above the head of the woman with the pistol. Timing was everything and her mind was calculating distances and possibilities of success. Everything she had learnt, both as a Predator and as a Fusion vigilante, went into her calculations. She had eyes on Petra and Tigercat and she took a deep breath before she spoke into her radio.
"Moving in two!"
"Six . . . seven . . .," the gun-toting woman intoned. "Eight . . ."
On the 'eight', Scamp dove off the steel shelving, plummeting eight feet. Her combat boots struck the woman with the gun in the head, shoving her to the ground where she dropped her pistol. There was blatant shock on the surrounding seven faces, not to mention the look of relief at his suspended execution, on the face of the kneeling security guard.
"Move!" the armour-clad vigilante growled at the security guard who snapped to life and quickly scrambled out of the pool of light, almost tripping over his dead partner.
The first man to draw a pistol and bring it toward Scamp found himself screaming out in agony as the man's hand from the knuckles onward fell to the floor along with the pistol. Scamp brought her blood-stained blade around and she brought it down onto the wrist of the woman reaching for her dropped pistol. More screams and more blood echoed and spilled across the warehouse floor. After a very brief moment of stunned disbelief, Petra ran at the closest man, driving her fist into the side of his head. Tigercat was also driving into the group before any of them knew what had hit them. The boy swiftly put two down with his claws. One woman ran, and she vanished into the darkness with Scamp in pursuit. Petra downed the final man – the security guard turned informer – before she bolted after Scamp with Tigercat close behind.
The woman was running for her life and she could hear boots pounding on concrete not too far behind. She knew that it was Fusion which meant that her chances of survival were slim but that human instinct for survival at all costs kept her going as she sprinted deeper into the warehouse. Her rapidly disintegrating luck soon ran out in less than a minute as she found herself facing a bare concrete-block wall. The woman turned her back to the wall and she stared down the alleyway between the shelves. There, approaching her was a vigilante – a very short vigilante, yes, but still a vigilante. The sight of the diminutive form did not scare the woman all that much, however, the twin butterfly swords which glinted in the overhead lighting did scare the woman, especially as both blades bore visible signs of blood.
"People like you don't deserve to live," Scamp said in her electronically distorted voice. "People like you plague this city."
"Scamp – stop!" Petra called out.
"She deserves to die."
"She deserves justice, Scamp."
Scamp took a moment to allow her mind to clear and she focused on the woman standing – no, cowering – before her. She was a Fusion vigilante and she had a standard to live up to. Scamp lowered her blades and she stowed them before turning to Petra.
"Sorry – I got a little carried away," Scamp admitted.
"It happens," Petra replied.
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
"Take it easy, Rage," Hit Girl advised as the snow came down more heavily. "You crash and kill yourself, I'll break your scrawny little neck."
Rage grinned beneath his mask. In the preceding almost three months since he had been reunited with his big sister and found a family, he had got to know his new family and despite some early reservations when he had felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, he now felt truly at home with a family who he knew cared about him. He looked upon the twins as his own little brother and sister and they both looked up to him as well as to Stephanie. Dave and Mindy were strict disciplinarians, but Jamie liked that, despite often getting shouted at for behaving badly. He always felt bad for upsetting his new parents and he would always apologise – eventually – and often at the behest of his big sister who could be quote scary at times.
"Thanks – I'll take care."
Hit Girl was concerned. By the sounds of the intel, Fusion was about to enter into a major firefight. Unfortunately, both Kick-Ass and Jackal would most probably be absent. They both carried the heaviest body armour of anyone in Fusion and they would be missed.
Instead, they would just have to use their hard-won skills to survive.
West 34th Street
18:58
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
Team Eight: Raven, Discord, and Tempest
Team Nine: Lilith, Lilim, Trauma, and Riptide
As Hit Girl led her team up West 34th Street, she saw Raven, Discord, and Tempest awaiting their arrival.
Hit Girl scowled as she realised that she had arrived second – something she hated, even if it was not all that important – but she ignored the minor annoyance and quickly dismounted, pulling off her helmet. Hit Girl looked around, eyeing up the tactical situation.
"Okay, San Diego, status!" Hit Girl enquired.
Lilith came onto the radio almost instantly.
"We are four in the green and our presence is secure," the team leader responded smartly. "We have thirty – three-zero – confirmed to the rear of the building and probably double that number in AR-15s."
"We can't let a single one of those weapons get out of that warehouse and onto the streets of this city," Hit Girl growled. "Let me see what you have."
Hit Girl looked down at her left wrist and a screen jumped to life showing the inside of the warehouse. With her eyes, Hit Girl scanned the image, taking in the men and women gearing up as well as the myriad of weapons. It wasn't just the assault rifles, it was also the handguns, grenades, shotguns, and crates of ammunition – there were enough firearms to start a minor war and kill a whole lot of people.
"Any wildcards?" Hit Girl asked.
"There are some rooms in the southeast corner which are roofed off and we have no eyes. I have Lilim moving over there to see if there are any viewpoints."
"Take it slow, Lilim," Hit Girl cautioned.
"I know!" Lilim growled back and Lilith groaned audibly.
"Teenagers!" Lilith chuckled.
North Sacramento Boulevard
18:35
Team Two: Kick-Ass, Splinter, Cut-Throat, and Ravage with Eisenhower and Kes
Kick-Ass heard the rifle shot, then the yell, and he saw his son drop to the ground.
Despite his normally detached attitude to events which unfolded while fighting as his alter ego, seeing the boy go down made his heart genuinely skip a beat. After Mindy, the kids were the next most important people in his life. He knew full well that they all led dangerous lives, and as a result, one day, the unthinkable might happen. He could not comprehend the possibility of losing any member of his family - not one. As he ran over to the fallen Ravage, bullets struck Kick-Ass' heavy frontal armour as he moved, returning deadly fire. It was with intense relief that he saw Ravage moving and he heard the boy's voice.
"That hurt. . ."
"I'll bet it did," a much-relieved Kick-Ass replied as he provided covering fire while Ravage regained his feet.
Kes had taken cover, avoiding the incoming bullets. Once she had seen Ravage re-entering the fight, the animal had swiftly moved to the boy's side before indicating where the nearest bad guy was hiding. Ravage had a score to settle, despite the intense pain in his chest from the bullet strike. Kes let out a nasty growl as she jumped up onto a flatcar and the armour-clad canine sank her teeth into the arm of a waiting gunman, forcing the man to drop his assault rifle. The man screamed out and one of his colleagues turned to put a bullet into the dog, but Ravage was there, and he swiftly put a single bullet into each man's head.
"Kes, good girl!" Ravage said as he climbed up onto the flatcar and they both advanced closer to where the railcars were being unloaded.
Kick-Ass moved parallel to Ravage and Kes, guarding their backs as they moved. The railcars being unloaded were just a few yards ahead and there was a lot of activity as various large crates and other plastic cases were transhipped into vans and trucks.
"Voight, this is Kick-Ass – they look like they're about to bolt."
"Copy that – every exit is secure. They come, they come directly to hell," Sergeant Voight replied casually.
..._...
Splinter and Cut-Throat, with Eisenhower just feet away, closed in on the three, soon to be dead, gunmen.
Eisenhower easily slipped in between the parked cars while the bulked-up armoured vigilantes took more time negotiating the available gaps before they jumped up onto the nearest vehicles once they were almost on top of the remaining gunmen. But something was wrong . . . the men were gone. Splinter and Cut-Throat stared down at where they had been – there were spent shells littering the ground confirming the correct locations. Eisenhower barked loudly, and Splinter turned in time to see the flashes of assault rifles just before he felt the bullets striking his combat suit and he went down hard.
"Splinter is down!" Cut-Throat called out as he rapidly returned fire.
"Support Four is inbound!"
Cut-Throat provided covering fire for the fallen Splinter as he awaited the arrival of Hawk and Astute. It took less than two minutes for a pair of SUVs to emerge from the darkness, speeding towards him. The first, Cut-Throat recognised as IRON HIDE while the other was an unmarked CPD SUV. IRON HIDE smashed aside two vehicles, making directly for the three gunmen. By the time those gunmen heard the roar of the large diesel engine approaching, it was far too late. The reinforced steel bumper of the armoured pickup truck struck the first gunman, throwing his battered body into the air. Another gunman made to run, but Eisenhower got to him before he had run a dozen yards and the veteran canine dragged the man to the ground, shaking him savagely. IRON HIDE slewed to a stop and Hawk jumped out from behind the wheel, running for where Cut-Throat was providing cover for Splinter. Astute provided covering fire with an MP7A1 PDW as Sergeant Fellowes went after Eisenhower's quarry. Kieran and Dylan remained in the CPD SUV, unsure of what was going on amidst the gunfire. Then Dylan saw Hawk waving in his direction and he nudged Kieran who pushed open the rear door of the SUV. The two boys then dashed in her direction, ignoring the gunfire as their training kicked in.
As he reached Hawk, Kieran was astounded to see a Fusion vigilante lying on the ground, his G36C sub-machinegun on the ground beside him. Hawk was checking over the young vigilante who was groaning, indicating that at the very least, Splinter was still alive.
"Okay," Hawk stated. "We need to move him – Dylan, grab an arm."
Hawk grabbed Splinter under the left arm while Dylan grabbed Splinter under his right. They both dragged the unconscious vigilante towards IRON HIDE while Cut-Throat provided covering fire. Kieran swept up the dropped G36C and after a brief check to see that he had a full magazine, the boy sent short bursts at the remaining gunman, his third burst catching the gunman and taking away the right side of his skull.
"Good shooting," Cut-Throat growled in his electronically distorted voice.
Kieran grinned back. He had recognised the fighting style of another Predator, even if he did not know which one it was. It was also the first time in months that he had handled a firearm, but there his training had cut in and the fourteen-year-old boy knew exactly what to do without much conscious thought. With the final gunman down, they easily made it back to the vehicles. Once Splinter was aboard IRON HIDE, Hawk and Astute sped off leaving Fellowes to take custody of the remaining man.
Cut-Throat headed off at a sprint in the direction of the trains from where he could hear gunfire with Eisenhower happily following along behind.
West 34th Street
19:05
Team One: Hit Girl, Fortune, Nightmare, and Rage
Team Four: Jackal, Relentless, and Torment
Team Five: Piranha, Stormtide, and Ember
Team Eight: Raven, Discord, and Tempest
Support One: Surgeon, Foxtail, Loki, and Dart
Support Three: Lynx, Ares, Sampson, and Blade
Hit Girl turned as BRUTE pulled up, closely followed by TITAN and SENTINEL.
Out of BRUTE came Jackal, Relentless, Torment, Piranha, Discord, and Tempest. They were swiftly joined by the occupants of TITAN and SENTINEL: Surgeon, Foxtail, Lynx, Ares, and the dogs: Loki, Dart, Sampson, and Blade. Everyone was all business as they drew supplemental ammunition and weapons from the support vehicles. Hit Girl strode over to SENTINEL and she pulled open the rear hatch before reaching into the capacious load area. She pulled out a purple backpack and unzipped it. Out of the backpack came numerous ceramic and carbon-fibre plates, all purple with pink trims. The extra armour attached to that which was already attached to Hit Girl's combat suit, doubling her capacity to take bullets to her chest, abdomen, and back. Foxtail assisted Hit Girl with the back plates, fitting them securely into place. Then Hit Girl turned to the sixteen vigilantes and four animals.
"Team San Diego are inside that building, 150-yards to the north of us. Also, inside with them, are upwards of thirty cunts, all armed with AR-15s and a ton of similar dangerous shit. We don't have Kick-ass with us to absorb those types of rounds. . ."
"I'm here!" Rage pointed out.
"Thank you," Hit Girl chuckled. "But we'll have to make do with Jackal."
Jackal was busy up-armouring his own combat suit with the assistance of Tempest and he nodded in response.
"Foxtail, I want you to coordinate a perimeter around the warehouse – nobody leaves that place and not a single weapon escapes - use the support teams and the dogs."
"You got it, Hit Girl," Foxtail responded as she ran to organise her teams.
Just then, Team Seven arrived.
"Welcome, Petra," Hit Girl said in welcome. "Tigercat, Scamp – I want you both to go join Foxtail in setting up a perimeter."
The youngsters ran off after Foxtail who was organising the dogs.
"Any problems, tonight?" Hit Girl asked Petra.
"Scamp went a little 'Hit Girl' on us, but no biggy," Petra responded cryptically.
"Glad to see you all in one piece – you ready for a real fight, Petra?" Hit Girl asked.
"If you are, then so am I."