War Games (2)

It was the twilight hour when Harper first noticed them coming.

Carefully concealed movements within the alleyways the buildings as a perfect cover, using the vehicles as they moved in two man teams between the streets to slowly close in at her. She made a few casual shots in hopes to scare some of them from breaking but to her frustration she found none of them seemed willing to break; in the back of her mind she wondered how many were trained, at least four by her estimation had some kind of experience.

It took them twenty minutes to close in by the time she noticed them, and when they began to swarm the building a flood of adrenaline surged through her.

Her finger pulled gently at the trigger followed by the crack of a rifle and she watched one of them fall to the ground.

“One.”

She set the rifle down and tied it to her pack. Pulling the Mossberg 590 shotgun from her back she slung it over her shoulder along with the bag before heading downstairs, grabbing one of the makeshift grenades she had made and lighting the napalm-like wick she had crafted for it. Pausing for a moment she casually lobbed the grenade out the window.

A moment later was the sound of a small explosion followed by screams of panic and pain.

She heard them breach the front door as she moved down the flight of stairs to the second floor of the four story walk-up. And a moment later the sound of gunfire near the back door, followed by the booming sound of the claymore she had placed there being tripped.

“Two,” she counted quietly while reaching up and setting fire to the gel she made. It caught near instantly as a pair of individuals with guns fired at her, barely missing as she ducked behind the corner. They rushed upwards only to have the flaming gel rain down upon them, both letting out shrieks of surprise and pain.

Pulling her Beretta from its holster she fired two quick shots into the chest of the men near the top, hey collapsed dead. One she pulled forward letting his body slowly catch fire before kicking it down the stairs to the shrieks of the others.

“Three, four.”

Grabbing another of the bombs she was once again assaulted by gunfire as they all swarmed on the singular staircase leading up from the ground floor; a truly terrible design choice, but the perfect bottleneck.

Picking up one of the makeshift grenades she lit it and attempted to throw it, when suddenly a voice shouted over the din.

“Grenade!”

A shot fired out and Harper felt the can moved from her hand. On instinct she dove to the side as the grenade exploded, showering her back with small shards of glass. Her head was ringing, and she felt something hot stinging the side of her face followed by the taste of copper that she suspected was her own blood.

Picking herself up her stomach seemed to refused to follow, threatening to make a quick exit. She swallowed the threat and woozily climbed the stairs to the third floor, careful to duck under the near invisible razor wire she had set up.

Shaking her head she forced her eyes to see straight before igniting another grenade and tossing it over the side of the stairwell, letting it tumble down the steps before exploding right at the bottom. There was the grunt of frustration but no confirmed screaming.

“God dammit.”

She knelt near the staircase then and pulled the shotgun from her back. It was already loaded so she simply kept to the wall and waited. When a pair of men rounded the corner she pointed the weapon upwards and fired, satisfied as they both fell to the ground.

“Holy shit!” A familiar voice shouted and suddenly Harper fell upon the slowly shrinking form of the man known as Jason. She pressed the barrel of her gun to the bottom of his chin.

“Give me one good reason I don’t blow your brains out right now.”

“I don’t have one! But I swear I didn’t rat you guys out. They just happened to track you.”

“Yeah? How convenient.”

“It’s true! Marco apparently used to do that as a job or something, he knows how to find people.” Jason had his hands up, he’d already dropped the gun.

Harper backed off slightly, she could hear another group moving up the second staircase to the fourth floor, they only had a few minutes.

“Well guess what, now you’re going to help me kill them all.”

“What? No! No freaking way!”

Harper pointed her gun at him and shrugged, “okay then I shoot you now.”

“Okay! Okay…I’ll help.”

She grabbed one of the makeshift grenades and lit it, tossing it up to fourth floor just as she heard a pair of footsteps approaching and was satisfied to hear a scream of pain.

“Five,” she quietly muttered.

“His name was Wilhelm.” Jason mouthed at her from the corner he’d tucked himself in to get the drop.

Footsteps rampaged down the steps followed by the shout of a pain as the wire cut through an arm, she quickly poked her body out firing off a single shot at the chest of the man who collapsed almost immediately.

“Six.”

She moved to the side of the stairwell and listened close before taking the shotgun and loading another round. As she heard the slow, tentative steps of someone coming down the stairs she blasted through the wall and fell to the floor as a series of gunfire came after and a body slowly tumbled down the stairs.

“Seven.”

There was a series of swears in French and suddenly she heard Jason’s voice.

“Marco? Is that you?”

A pause before the voice answered.

“Quoi Jason. Are you alone?”

“Yeah I,” he met Harper’s eyes as he spoke. “I got the drop on the bitch. Not exactly the bravest thing though.”

The man stood up and moved to the stairwell, slowly popping his head out.

“Is the rifle up there?”

“No, is it there?”

Jason took a deep breath before walking across the stairwell and untied the rifle from Harper’s bag. The two made eye contact and it was clear from the way she looked at him that if he made a stupid move it would end with a bullet in his head.

Taking the rifle he walked to the stairwell and held it up.

“Got it!”

There was a long silence before two sets of footsteps were heard moving down the stairs followed by the sound of a knife cutting through steel as the wire was cut.

“I suppose your cowardice paid off for once Jason.” The voice was condescending, with an accent Harper had heard before in the Middle East.

As the pair came to near the bottom floor Harper’s finger tugged at the trigger as a bullet went cleanly through the young Frenchman’s throat.

“You traitorous little shit!” The tall woman reeled on Harper and rushed her throwing her entire body weight into it as two tumbled to the ground.

They traded a flurry of blows. Harper felt each one hitting like a hammer, her ribs, her chest, though she deflected any aimed at her head it had taken enough beating. She gave as good as she got, feeling a rib break with one of her punches and the floor spattered with blood as she hit the woman hard across the face.

In that moment she felt the need to lean back and so suddenly did so, a moment later the crack of a pistol and she watched as the blood was splattered with inner thoughts of the woman who had been sent to bring her down.

Looking up at Jason she was shocked to see the surprise in his face as the smoke rose from his barrel.

“I always hated her.”

Rolling off of the woman Harper sighed and stared up at him.

“If you’re going to do it, now is your best shot.” She sighed and spat blood on the ground before slowly pushing herself to a sitting position.

Footsteps behind her let him know of his approach, and she was surprised to see his hand appear in her view.

“If I was going to do it, I’d have shot you when I came to get the rifle.”

“Reassuring.” She grabbed his hand and pulled herself to her feet, holding the places on her stomach where she’d been hit.

Looking around at everything Jason shook his head before looking back at Harper.

“Now what?”

“Now you go back to your boss and tell him I killed them all, use whatever excuse you need to get him to believe you. Tell him I told him I’m taking the rifle he wants to a nice little resort. Tell him if he wants it, he can come looking.”