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Dark*Matter: Gators Under Gary (Was Exit 23)
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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1812964" data-attributes="member: 2292"><p>Exit 23, Part Nine</p><p></p><p>Bullets ploughed through the door's cheap wood , sending Nick scrambling backwards. He pressed himself against the wall. Splinters went flying as another shot punched through the veneer.</p><p></p><p>“Give yerself up, Officer,” the trucker yelled. “You have meddled in the affairs of Le Triez Corbien, and you cannot hope to stand against our righteous fury.”</p><p></p><p>Another warning shot hit the doorway, a few inches from the doorknob. Nick held his weapon at the ready. From the sound of his voice and the angle of his shots, the trucker was still standing on the counter. Bad tactical position - the trade off for the range of fire was a complete lack of cover. Nick drew a deep breath and prepared to prove that point.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Ammie turned the key in the state troopers ignition. Nothing. She sighed and leaned forward to yell through the shattered windscreen.</p><p></p><p>“Figure out what’s wrong?” </p><p></p><p>Zac yelled something in reply, but it was swept away by the wind. A moment later his face appeared from beneath the bonnet, nose red with cold.</p><p></p><p>“Batteries dead,” He yelled. “Again.”</p><p></p><p>Ammie swore. The third car they’d tried, all of them dead. Even the Nemo torches they were using for light gave out within a few seconds of walking outside.</p><p></p><p>“You hear something?” Nick asked. </p><p></p><p>“Wind,” Ammie said. She wasn’t happy. “Snow. Cold. Psycho-demon-things that want to eat my head.”</p><p>“Rip it off, not eat it. They need it to replace their own.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“And that’s not what I meant. Do you hear something…something like a firecracker.”</p><p></p><p>Ammie listened hard.</p><p></p><p>“Nope. Nothing.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Nick leapt out from behind the door, throwing himself down as he pulled the trigger on the SiG. His shot went wide, shattering a jar of cookies near the truckers foot. The trucker laughed wildly, his magnum kicking as he fired another round.</p><p></p><p>“You haven’t stopped my pet,” the trucker screamed. Nick’s second shot was no closer than the first. “You may have taken its first head, but it will return for another. You are doomed, lawman. Doomed.”</p><p></p><p>"Lawman?" Nick yelled back. "What, you're a crazed cultist from the old west?"</p><p></p><p>The magnum fired again, and Nick grunted as he caught a slug in the shoulder. Blood streamed from the wound, and he swore as the trucker started lining him up for another shot. </p><p></p><p>“Bastard mother-*&#%$,” Nick grunted. He rolled desperately, finding cover behind one of the tables. The truckers shot ricocheted off the tiled floor. </p><p></p><p>Nick looked back accross the floor. Blood coated the tiles, all of it his. </p><p></p><p>He felt a little dizzy.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“I heard it,” Ammie said. “But that’s not a firecracker…”</p><p></p><p>The realization dawned on both of them in tandem.</p><p></p><p>“Crap.”</p><p></p><p>Running through the storm wasn’t much of an option, but Zac did a good job ploughing through the snow. One of the glass panes in the door to the Rest stop shattered as a bullet passed through. Ammie ducked out of reflex, then scowled.</p><p></p><p>“Double crap.”</p><p></p><p>They made it inside just in time to see Nick pull himself up over one of the tables, his pistol held in one hand while blood streamed from his shoulder. One of the truckers, a bear of a man wearing a patched jacket, was firing at him with a pistol the size of Ammie’s arm. </p><p></p><p>Ammie swore and dove towards the booth where their gear was sitting. Zac immediately decided that discretion was the better part of valor and took cover. Nick snapped off one last, desperate shot.</p><p></p><p>The trucker’s brains spread along the back wall.</p><p></p><p>Nick nodded, once, and slipped into unconsciousness on the floor.</p><p></p><p>Stillness settled over the rest stop. No-one said anything, they just waited and listened to the wail of the wind.</p><p></p><p>“*&#%$,” Ammie said.</p><p></p><p>Then she drew a gleaming katana out of her gear and glared at everyone in the donut shop, wordlessly daring one of them to draw a gun or cause trouble.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="arwink, post: 1812964, member: 2292"] Exit 23, Part Nine Bullets ploughed through the door's cheap wood , sending Nick scrambling backwards. He pressed himself against the wall. Splinters went flying as another shot punched through the veneer. “Give yerself up, Officer,” the trucker yelled. “You have meddled in the affairs of Le Triez Corbien, and you cannot hope to stand against our righteous fury.” Another warning shot hit the doorway, a few inches from the doorknob. Nick held his weapon at the ready. From the sound of his voice and the angle of his shots, the trucker was still standing on the counter. Bad tactical position - the trade off for the range of fire was a complete lack of cover. Nick drew a deep breath and prepared to prove that point. *** Ammie turned the key in the state troopers ignition. Nothing. She sighed and leaned forward to yell through the shattered windscreen. “Figure out what’s wrong?” Zac yelled something in reply, but it was swept away by the wind. A moment later his face appeared from beneath the bonnet, nose red with cold. “Batteries dead,” He yelled. “Again.” Ammie swore. The third car they’d tried, all of them dead. Even the Nemo torches they were using for light gave out within a few seconds of walking outside. “You hear something?” Nick asked. “Wind,” Ammie said. She wasn’t happy. “Snow. Cold. Psycho-demon-things that want to eat my head.” “Rip it off, not eat it. They need it to replace their own.” “Whatever.” “And that’s not what I meant. Do you hear something…something like a firecracker.” Ammie listened hard. “Nope. Nothing.” *** Nick leapt out from behind the door, throwing himself down as he pulled the trigger on the SiG. His shot went wide, shattering a jar of cookies near the truckers foot. The trucker laughed wildly, his magnum kicking as he fired another round. “You haven’t stopped my pet,” the trucker screamed. Nick’s second shot was no closer than the first. “You may have taken its first head, but it will return for another. You are doomed, lawman. Doomed.” "Lawman?" Nick yelled back. "What, you're a crazed cultist from the old west?" The magnum fired again, and Nick grunted as he caught a slug in the shoulder. Blood streamed from the wound, and he swore as the trucker started lining him up for another shot. “Bastard mother-*&#%$,” Nick grunted. He rolled desperately, finding cover behind one of the tables. The truckers shot ricocheted off the tiled floor. Nick looked back accross the floor. Blood coated the tiles, all of it his. He felt a little dizzy. *** “I heard it,” Ammie said. “But that’s not a firecracker…” The realization dawned on both of them in tandem. “Crap.” Running through the storm wasn’t much of an option, but Zac did a good job ploughing through the snow. One of the glass panes in the door to the Rest stop shattered as a bullet passed through. Ammie ducked out of reflex, then scowled. “Double crap.” They made it inside just in time to see Nick pull himself up over one of the tables, his pistol held in one hand while blood streamed from his shoulder. One of the truckers, a bear of a man wearing a patched jacket, was firing at him with a pistol the size of Ammie’s arm. Ammie swore and dove towards the booth where their gear was sitting. Zac immediately decided that discretion was the better part of valor and took cover. Nick snapped off one last, desperate shot. The trucker’s brains spread along the back wall. Nick nodded, once, and slipped into unconsciousness on the floor. Stillness settled over the rest stop. No-one said anything, they just waited and listened to the wail of the wind. “*&#%$,” Ammie said. Then she drew a gleaming katana out of her gear and glared at everyone in the donut shop, wordlessly daring one of them to draw a gun or cause trouble. [/QUOTE]
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