Session 1 (5/07/2003) Combat
Brother Cooper stood up rapidly for a man of his size, and his hands came up in a calming gesture, “Son, hello there…Now I don’t know what’s going on here, son, but I don’t think you should be waving around that knife--”
The thug with the knife grinned wider and took a few steps towards the preacher. Behind him, the other three remained in place, but each drew a similar knife. The blades all were clean, and gleamed like wicked candles in the flickering emergency lights.
Willie reached into his jacket, and in a flash he was holding a pistol. “FREEZE MOTHER*$%#%&! DROP THE #^%&ING KNIFE!”
The display was enough to shake a war veteran, but the thug didn’t even pause. As he lunged forward, Brother Cooper saw it in his eyes. A glazed-over look that spoke volumes. The thugs were not in their right minds, and would not listen to reason or be intimidated.
In a flurry of knives and screams, combat began. The thugs were everywhere, knives flashing in the low light, grunting and giggling in a fury as they leaped over tables and into the room.
Willie fired, and a thug collapsed bleeding onto the carpet. Another lunged forward to replace him, and Willie caught a knife blade across his side. Blood flowed from the gash, and he staggered back.
Brother Cooper reached into his jacket and drew out an odd-looking appliance. Pointing it at the thug closest to him, he squeezed a trigger. The Tazer fired wildly at his target and missed completely. A scorched smell of ozone permeated the room. The preacher looked crestfallen, and backed up into the stacks, but not fast enough. The thug in front of him stabbed viciously and the preacher took a deep knife wound into his belly.
Another thug leaped over the front desk and slashed at Taylor. Clutching her handbag, she dove under the desk divider, and came up on the other side, a revolver in her hand. Blood flowed from a shallow knife wound on her arm.
The fat man with the coin-collecting books staggered up from his table in the back. His backpack was open at his side, spilling out a dice bag and a few small lead miniatures, but he ignored those and instead began furiously stuffing the library books into the pack. A thug was suddenly on top of him, slashing wildly. The fat gamer dodged wildly from side to side, the book bag swinging and deflecting the knife, as he reached in deeper into the bag. As the thug came up to tackle him, an explosion sounded from the bottom of the bag. A tiny bullet hole appeared in the bottom of the sack, and the thug staggered backwards bleeding.
Willie was falling back, and losing the battle. He felt dizzy and the gun was shaking in his grip. He fired again and again at his next target, but the gun was shaking in his hands, and he could not hit anything. Beside him, Taylor was stumbling backwards as well, trying to keep a bookcase between her and her attacker, but she emptied her gun and still could not hit anything.
Wasting no time, the fat man took a few unsure steps, and crashed through the front window of the library, out into the rain-soaked parking lot. Brother Cooper staggered past his closest opponent and followed through the front doors, towards his truck, and his gun rack. From the corner of his eye, he saw another thug running into the library as he exited. The preacher felt nauseous and he clutched his bleeding stomach as he moved.
The rain was pouring down outside, as Brother Cooper fumbled with his blood-and-rain-soaked keys and opened the passenger door to his pickup. As he reached for his shotgun from the rack, the fat man was suddenly at the driver side door. Brother reached in and flipped open the door lock.
“Let’s get out of here!” the fat man yelled as he jumped into the driver’s seat, tossing a well-worn backpack into the floorboard.
“Who in the blazes are you?” Brother Cooper asked, as he flicked off the safety and positioned a shell into the chamber.
“I’m Joe!” the fat man yelled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Let’s go!” he whined again as he reached for the keys.
Brother Cooper pulled the keys back from his grip, and tucked them into his pocket. Gunfire rattled repeatedly from inside. “There’s people in trouble inside, Joe. I’m afraid I can’t leave yet.”
“Well give me the KEYS!” Joe screamed, as Brother Cooper ignored him and staggered back towards the library doors.
The scene inside had changed, and not for the better. As Brother Cooper’s boots crunched on the broken glass of the double doors, he saw a thug lunge at Willie, and bury a six-inch Bowie blade hilt-deep into the black man’s thigh. Blood fountained up over the scene, and Willie’s eyes rolled back. He cursed, “Son of a…” and collapsed on the floor.
Taylor was still pulling the trigger on her revolver, but there was only a defenseless click-click-click as the chamber rolled empty. She screamed as a thug dove for her, and she ran between the bookshelves. Brother Cooper fired his shotgun at the thug, and paper exploded as the shell missed and buried pellets into a bookshelf.
The thug leader who had buried in his knife into Willie stood over him, drew out the knife, and reared his arm back to deliver a death blow. Brother turned, unable to move fast enough, watching as the knife descended. Suddenly, from the shadows, the forgotten Native girl in the black leather jacket was there, leaping onto a table and screaming a tribal war cry. Her only weapon was a backpack loaded with books, which she slung like a hammer into the back of the thug’s head. With a sickeningly wet sound, the impromptu weapon connected, and the thug collapsed on top of Willie.
Brother looked at the shotgun in his hands, and then down at the wounded man in front of him. He started to hand the gun to the Native girl, when she leapt forward again. One of the thugs on the floor had started to get back up and pick up his knife. Again, the girl’s weighted backpack bounced of a skull, and the enemy collapsed.
Suddenly Taylor was running around the corner of a bookshelf, the thug hot on her heels. Brother Cooper reacted instinctively, and yelled to her, “Catch!” and threw the shotgun to her. As the thug rounded the corner after her, the librarian caught the shotgun, spun, and fired. At the same moment, Joe appeared in the front door and also fired his pistol. The bullet and shell hit the thug simultaneously, and the last of the strange assailants collapsed in a bloody heap on the floor.
By the way, someone please let me know if the half-masked profanity violates board policy and I will change it. Or, for that matter, if there is no need to mask it.