The West-fold devil

My shotgun was flung up from my cloak. I took hold of it and pointed it straight ahead. All the while, I swung my handgun to the side. As a bullet whizzes past, right in front of my eyes. I pulled the triggers. Sending a slug right into the chest of the leader and unleashing one of the .50 caliber rounds. In a matter of split seconds, all of this occurred.

I landed hard on my back, but there was no time to waste. I let the natural recoil of the shotgun force it to fling up wildly. When the steel crashed into the stomach of the man-mountain that was standing guard. I squeezed the trigger. While red mist was raining down from above and my arm clung to the shotgun. My other hand was already on the move. I had one of the two men that was overlooking us from above in my crosshair. With another shot fired, I didn’t even waste time to look if the shot was on target. All I knew was that if I did, it would be vital time wasted. I needed to trust in my shooting.

I quickly swung the absolute hand cannon of a pistol to the last overlooker. With that round fired, I spun quickly onto my stomach. Launching back to my feet. Right through the red mist of the brute.

I let go of the shotgun as it returned to its place inside my coat and took the headless corpse in my arm. Time began to return to its normal passing, and the rest of the onlookers reacted. Yohan tipped over the large steel table in front of him for cover. All the while, he fired blind shots at the now scrambling gang members. I was using the gigantic corpse as a shield while making my way to cover. I could feel the body kick as more of the returning fire was tearing into it. While this unfolded, I did not remain idle.

I returned the assault. Harrowing explosions erupted each time I pulled the trigger. The terrifying noise echoed throughout the warehouse as it boomed me deeper into my war trans. My hand was dead still, and my aim laser-focused. If my first shot landed in the chest, I would fire a second to be sure they were dead. Otherwise, I watched as their heads detonated.

When I was finally close enough to cover, I fired the last round in the cartridge and dove away from the corpse shield. I watched as the bullet strayed from its path. Ripping the leg off from one of the thugs.

I crashed against the steel beam. My mind had gone blank. I was back at the frontlines. My humanity was suspended; my remorse is gone. I was bathed in shadow and transformed into a killing machine. As more shots were fired, I reloaded both of my weapons, calmly listening to the clangor of lead against steel. With the click-clack of my handgun, the shooting frenzy finally slowed down.

“Nine,” I said loud enough so that Yohan could hear.

“Confirmed, plus two,” he replied. It seems his instincts had taken over as well.

“Yohan, listen for the opening. Then keep them behind cover,” I ordered as I readied myself. I didn’t need to look if they were all cowering behind cover, shooting blindly. I could tell from the erratic behavior of the bullets. Also, I knew we had about halved their numbers.

When the reloading of weapons began to break through the blanket of gunfire, Yohan began to return fire. I didn’t waste a single second. I spun out from my cover and made a mad dash down the right side of the warehouse. As expected, the hands that were pointed over the covers turned to Yohan.

I slid down onto my knees to skid past the side of one of the containers. As I slid past, I kept my finger down on the trigger. I fired four shots before I finally slid past. Wasting no time, I spun onto my feet and swung around the second container. The white of the mobsters’ eyes was all that I could see behind the flash of my nozzle, like shooting bottles on a fence. I blew chunks clean through them. I left streaks of red paste across the floor and walls before my magazine was spent. With that, I fell back behind the cover and slid down it. The second I sat down on the floor. The former cover’s survivor jumped out and shot where he thought my head to be. Sadly for him, I was sitting and not standing.

The fear that gripped his face was my reward for outsmarting his plan. A fast as lightning, I whipped out my shotgun and sent him flying. Then peaked to where he came from for any other survivors. What I saw was two corpses and one crawling on the floor, clutching his stomach. I took aim and spread him out over the floor.

I spun back around to check the other cover. There were five more and no survivors. With that, I quickly reloaded and formulated the rest of the assault.

“Once confirmed,” shouted Yohan. I nodded as I kept track of where the shooting was coming from.

“Nine confirmed,” I replied and stood back up. I began to receive some of the final survivors’ fire as I tried to decipher their movements in between the gunfire.

“I believe that makes these four the last four,” shouted Yohan, confirming my counting.

“Yes, and it seems they’re trying to make their way to the exit to flee,” I informed him as I could figure out the source of the gunshots that were moving to the back door.

“Understood,” he replied as he read my mind. Then for the first time in this gunfight, could I hear the enemy. They were shouting in some language I had never heard before. It was clear they were scared and in a panic.

Then when only one of them was still shooting, Yohan laid down, suppressing fire again. I leaped from my cover with my eyes down the sight. The panic gripped three of the four as they sprinted for the back door. As each round mowed through them, I could hear Yohan’s gun come closer to them.

When the third body struck the floor, Yohan stopped his shooting. It went hushed for the first time the entire fight. I stepped closer to where the last man was and kept my gun drawn.

“Please, stop. I give up. Please,” shouted the last man from the cover.

“Slide your gun out and step out with your hands in the air,” I ordered as I observed for any treachery.

“Okay, okay. Please just don’t kill me,” he shouted as he sent his gun flying out of cover. Instead of following the gun with my aim, my eyes were locked on the cover. I took a breath and kept it as I awaited the last survivor.

Then out of the cover peeked two palms, and slowly he stepped out. He had blood splatter across his face and tears streaming down his face.

“Please. I give up. I’ll do anything. Just let me live,” he begged and snickered. I kept my sights fixed on his head as I saw Yohan appear in my peripherals.

“Are there any more of you?” I shouted and took a step forward. As if overcome by fear, he collapsed to his knees. Snot pouring from his nose as his tears streamed down.

“Yes. In the back are five vans. Their drivers should all still be waiting there,” He cried as he began to tremble and shake.

“How do I know they aren’t on their way now to give you back up?” I demanded as I listened carefully for any sound outside the room. Yohan, as if instructed, looked around frantically.

“They wouldn’t dare. Second lieutenant Satou ordered them to stay there. No matter how many shots were fired,” he shouted. At this point, he fell forwards. His head was flat against the floor.

“Good,” I replied and pressed the barrel of my gun against the back of the pleading man’s head.

“Please, let me live. I’ll change my tune. I’ll even join your gang, I’ll-” was all he said before I executed him. I came upright and turned my attention back to Yohan.

“Looks like there is still some outside. Load up, and let’s get moving,” I ordered and walked over to one of the thugs. There at my feet, laid something that I couldn’t help but take.

On the outside, the drivers were all gathered around one of the vans. They were loading up and kept vigilant watch. They were paranoid and always had a few eyes on the back entrance of the warehouse. But before they could fully equip themselves, the back door flung open. They pointed their guns and waited in bated breath.

From the shadows, the corpse of Satou was thrown out. When they recognized the face, they unleashed a hailstorm of bullets. They tore hundreds of holes through the warehouse wall. They were screaming and cursing as they spent every shell they had. Then as the last casing fell to the floor. The stutter of machine-gun fire erupted from behind them.

I stood on the back wall of the warehouse after sneaking around. I watched s the lead tore them to shreds, and they scrambled to the front of the van. Those at the back of the van had no chance. My machine gun mutilated them.

Then when the sound of dry firing echoed. Yohan jumped out from the warehouse exit and continued the barrage. Finally, when his magazine was spent. It was over.

I stood on top of the wall. Cold wind blowing my coat. Smoke billowing from the barrel. Another of my enemies laid to waste. Another battlefield was conquered. Blood and corpses were left in my wake.

After that, we packed up what we came for and took our product back. We also rounded up all the firearms they brought with them. All of it was loaded into a crate in the front of the warehouse. Where Yohan called for someone to come and pick it up. He urged the driver to hurry, and with that. The two of us were on the way back to my home.

“Seems the West-fold devil still lives,” said Yohan. It was the first words spoken since we started to clean up that mess.

“You know I hate that name,” was the only reply I could conjure. I always got like this around gunfire. It brought out something inside of me that I wished no one to see.

“That might be true. But it suits you. You’re a real killer Captain,” he continued and took his eyes off the road. He wore a sinister grin. But I knew better. He would always smile like this when he was stressed.

“Cut it out. You know I take no joy from killing,” I rebuked and sighed as I laid my head back against the headrest.

“Captain,” he started as his eyes remained locked on mine. “I might be smiling now. But you. You were smiling while you were in the heat of battle. Like always. You seem the happiest when surrounded by death.”