by MacCraw
“Boost me up so I can peer over the barrier”, whispered Kirkley. Logan and Pack helped lift Kirkley up to the same height as the rather tall barrier, and Kirkley peered across the road. He saw the mighty city of Glasgow and the tall buildings off in the distance.
“The coast seems clear”, Kirkley said in a regular tone, though he kept his guard up. Kirkley then began helping his friends climb up the barricade.
“Time to go down to Glasgow”, Pack remarked. “Speaking of which, why don’t we just go to the Glasgow harbor and find a boat there to get us off of England?”
“Even if there was a boat there, it’d take way too long to get to Italy”, Kirkley explained. “London is in closer proximity to the continent, and we could travel right through Paris, leg it through the rest of France, and search for the source of salvation in Italy.”
“Understood”, said Pack.
Once everybody was up on the wall, they dropped down, and stood in a double column, their weapons raised and their reflexes sharpened. But Kirkley’s senses were tingling, and he felt like they were walking into a deadly trap. Out of the black, however, went hurdling an all-too-familiar cylinder.
“Grenade!” Kirkley hollered. But it was too late: the grenade detonated, most likely because the thrower “cooked” it; however, it wasn’t a fragmentation grenade, but a flashbang grenade, which blinded, deafened and disoriented the survivors. As soon as Kirkley’s vision slowly started restoring, a large squad of bandits headed by the same bandit chief that murdered Riley surged out of the adjacent buildings. Kirkley couldn’t fight back, and he could only lay helplessly as he and his friends were handcuffed and knocked out.
…
“Sleep well?” the sinister black man whispered in a voice that made even the mighty Logan’s skin crawl.
“Are you coming onto me?” Kirkley retorted.
The chief smacked Kirkley in the face, as three of his guards stood back and watched. “So, who are you, my hotheaded friend? What about Herr Colonel over here? And who are you?” the chief smirked as he caressed Poet’s face. Poet growled aggressively and sunk her teeth into his hand. The beastly bandit roared in pain, quickly recoiling away from Poet as two of his guards laughed.
“Sassy little snitch, aren’t you?” he grinned.
“Fuck off”, Hannah hissed, boldly stepping in front of their captor, who shoved Hannah out of the way.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer this”, Kirkley asked. “Why did you attack us?”
“I don’t need to dignify you with a response.”
“Give me a response, before I rip it out of you”, Hannah snarled.
“Well, I’m assuming that since our hunting party didn’t return from our expedition to find Fort William, then I’m guessing that you folks murdered them all”, said the bandit leader. “I’m the kind of man who sees the world as an eye-for-an-eye: you kill one of my men, and I kill one of yours. I should kill all of you, except the snappy Jap chick.”
“Racist filth”, Logan growled.
“That’s a matter of perspective”, the man replied.
“Pretty hypocritical coming from you, wouldn’t you agree?” Kirkley provocatively asked. The bandit chief was angered by Kirkley’s boldness, and responded with another firm punch.
“You twats are pushing your luck”, the bandit chief asserted. “Still, that guard served his purpose and brought you to me, so I shouldn’t be so quick to scrap you.”
“Wait a minute”, said Hannah, “What the fuck do you mean he ‘served his purpose’?”
“Jamie owed me bullets from a poker game, and he was a complete idiot. I had to choose somebody to bait the 6 of you in, and I remembered him”, the cold-hearted bandit chief explained.
“You know, those dog soldiers may be just as ravenous, feral and bloodthirsty as you are”, Hannah said, clenching her fists in anger, “But at least they don’t work against each other, and put their pack members’ lives at risk for personal gain or satisfaction.”
“Sounds like somebody’s still a little upset about her boyfriend taking a bullet”, the chief wolfishly smirked. Hannah snapped, and lunged forwards, headbutting him and smashing his nose, which almost immediately began bleeding.
“I’ll fuckin’ have you!” Hannah raged, still furious about the death of her little brother.
“Kylie, lock these fuckers up”, the chief said to his female henchwoman as the two other goons helped their boss back up onto his feet. The young girl seemed somewhat upset, but she reluctantly did as her boss ordered her to.
The moment the bandit leader and his two guards left, however, Kylie turned on her amoral master.
“Look, guys”, the rather attractive girl with freckles and short auburn hair whispered to her captives, “I’m going to help you. Come over here, and I’ll try and get those bindings off.”
Hannah was pissed, and showed her disdain for the bandit deserter by spitting at her shoes. “Why should we trust you, swine?”
Kylie’s feelings were somewhat hurt by this mean response to an act of kindness, but she stuck to her promise.
“Cheers, mate”, Kirkley said after Kylie sliced through his rope bindings with a dagger. “Thanks for helping us, Miss…?”
“Kylie”, she smiled, shaking his hand through the cell bars. “Kylie Kerns. What’s your name?”
“Kirkley. In the back you’ve got Hannah, a Japanese-Hispanic with a bark as bad as her bite, as your leader found out; the silent sharpshooter Poet; the big guy the beard, Logan; the Alaskan-heritage warrior Connor; and the man with the stubble is Captain Pack.”
“Nice to meet you all”, smiled Kylie. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I had no knowledge of what Gordon was doing to you, or what he did-“
“…If only you knew…” Hannah hissed under her breath, but intentionally loud enough for Kylie to hear.
“I just came with him, and when he not only captured fellow survivors, but sacrificed my brother Jacob to do so, I knew that he was twisted, and I wanted to take him down”, Kylie explained. “As you might’ve guessed, one college girl against a legion of thugs would be a pretty foolish war to wage, so I needed help. And you needed help.”
“And we’ll take all the help we can get”, said Kirkley, nodding at Kylie. “Welcome aboard.”
“If you guys will stay here, I’ll go ahead and reacquire your supplies and weapons and stuff. Your cell’s been unlocked if you need to make an exit. I’ll see you soon”, Kylie smiled.
“You too. Good luck.”
…
Kylie had been gone for about two hours, but no signs of trouble had emerged, which finally gave Kirkley and his mates some time to ponder everything that had happened so far, in regards to the death of Riley, the bandit army, Glasgow, and their new ally, Kylie.
“Bollocks to this”, Hannah scoffed, “What are we sitting around here for? That wanker’s probably not going to pull through for us.”
“Why do you have such low faith in her?” asked Kirkley. “Kylie’s pretty much the only thing keeping us all alive. She didn’t really have any say or involvement in her boss’s plans, and she admitted that she was keeping up the ruse that she was still in league with him. She unlocked our cell, and she’s putting her own life in danger just to aid us.”
“She’s bandit filth, and she looks like filth”, Hannah hissed. “With those freckles, the muffin top, the slight double-chin, and the fact that she’s as ugly inside as she is on the outside, I seriously think we should cap her the moment she gets back. The moment I get my ‘85, I’m droppin’ her like a basketball player’s boxers.”
“Hannah, what’s your issue?” Connor asked. “First of all, what’s the deal with the physical details? They’re the exact opposite of your features, is that the issue? Second, I’m with the Kirk Man. She’s been helpful to us whilst putting her own life at risk. She’s a good girl, Hannah. Think of it like this, Hannah: if it weren’t for Kylie, we’d still be locked up with no possible means o
f escape, probably awaiting imminent execution. Besides, Riley wouldn’t-”
Hannah punched Connor in the ribs, causing him to stumble back. “Do not talk about him”, she snarled.
“As unclean as it makes me feel, I’d think it would be best to abstain from talking about the deceased”, Kirkley stated. “Still, Hannah, he’d be looking at Kylie in a positive way. The kid never had a bad bone in his body.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you see in that heifer, but I absolutely fucking hate her”, Hannah hissed, “I don’t trust her, and I don’t like her. She almost certainly has some sort of ulterior motive or something.”
Suddenly everybody heard the loud clanking of the bank vault door opening, and they prepared themselves for whoever would come through. Hannah was pissed with Connor, who had still held onto his razor-tipped machete, and was holding it in his hand, his fist tightly squeezing the leather handgrip. The door opened up, and Connor dove out of the shadows with his massive knife, placing the sharpest tip of it no more than a millimeter of the intruder’s throat. To the group’s relief, it was their new friend Kylie, who had miraculously recovered every single piece of gear and weaponry that the survivors had been carrying. Connor’s iconic war club, Kirkley’s trusty shotgun, all of their food and provisions; everything.
Kylie squeaked in fear, and in shame, Connor sheathed his knife. “Sorry, Kylie”, Connor said, shaking hands with Kylie in an attempt to make up, “I honestly didn’t know it was you. It was a survival instinct, you know?”
“Yeah, I understand”, replied Kylie, “It’s what I would do if I were in your position.”
Everybody grabbed their bags and weapons. Some pulled the magazines out with a sliding click and slammed fresh new ones in. Due to Hannah’s killing spree immediately after Riley’s tragic death, Connor’s club was covered in dried, maroon-colored blood stains which he tried to wipe off on the leg of his trousers.
“Alright, so where are we exactly?” asked Kirkley.
“We’re at the depository, here”, Kylie explained, pointing to their location on a city map she had acquired. “Now, to get out of Glasgow and towards the direction of London, we’d need to move several miles this direction, but there are enemy patrols that sweep through the city at various points, namely here, here, here, and here. The gun store down here is heavily guarded from the front, and from the rooftops, but there is a gap in their defenses – this alleyway here. If we go through the park, however, we should be able to bypass their patrols and make a line straight for the gun store, and from there, we can send two or three of us to go rob some more ammunition.”
“Good plan”, Kirkley nodded. “Let’s get marching, lads.”
...
Before executing their mission, Kirkley had made sure to lock up the bank vault, to give the illusion that they were still being held captive by Gordon’s goons. It had been about an hour of sneaking around, adhering to the shadows like creatures of the night, and Kirkley’s team had run across quite a few patrols. The patrols were lightly armed, but most members of each patrol had flare guns, so if they came under attack, they could summon their allies to come reinforce them.
“How much further is the park?” whispered Kirkley.
“Umm…” Kylie murmured, checking her map, “Should be just up ahead.”
Traveling in the thick shadows was a double-edged sword. It made it harder for the survivors to be seen, but it also had negative effects on their vision. In creeping around, Logan accidentally bumped into a trashcan, which loudly clanked as Logan came into contact with it, and noisily crashed down.
“What was that?” asked a suspicious, and nearby bandit asked.
“I heard that, too”, his friend added.
“Oh shit”, Hannah sighed.
One of the patrolling bandits walked down a side alley that bridged off of the main one, and was on a collision course with the party. Connor carefully handed Hannah his club, and drew his machete. The wind-tearing sound of the machete slashing out of Connor’s thigh-mounted scabbard made additional noise that drew the suspicious bandit in even closer. The moment the barrel of the bandit’s gun was in sight, Connor sprung around the corner and thrust his machete into the jugular of the bandit, who choked and garbled mouthfuls of blood that splashed out of his mouth with every exhale. The other four patrol members fired down the alleyway, not particularly concerned about what they were hitting. Connor narrowly ducked back around the corner, avoiding a gigantic volley of gunfire.
“We’re pinned down! I can’t fire back at them!” Kirkley shouted.
“Do it like a Yank! Blindfire from around the corner!”
With a firm grasp on his weapon, Kirkley revolved his weapon around the corner, keeping it pressed against the wall as if it were being held in place by magnets. He repeatedly spammed the trigger, sending out powerful shotgun blasts towards the attackers. Kirkley heard one of his attackers groan weakly, and noticed that the gunfire had diminished mildly, which lead him to assume that one of the bandits had been killed or at least fatally incapacitated. While he continued pouring shells into the suppressed patrol, the rest of his comrades emerged with guns-a-blazing. One of the bandits reached for his flare gun in a desperate attempt to call for support, but in an expert moment, Hannah shot the gun out of the bandit’s hand. The man shrieked in pain before Poet stepped in and capped the wounded marauder before twirling her pistol around with her finger and sliding it into her holster.
“Most impressive”, Hannah remarked.
“So much for that hunting party”, Connor said, quoting himself.
“There are probably more squads on their way”, Kylie replied. “We should get to the park.”
…
“Hey, boss”, one of Gordon’s bandits said, walking into his master’s personal suite, “I lost contact with both Kylie and the patrol down on-“
His report was met with completely unnecessary brutality, for his leader merely grabbed his Browning Hi-Power and blasted the poor underling in the face.
“Next time, knock before you enter”, Gordon hissed, before lighting up a cigar.
Gordon was a very hostile man, and Kylie obviously knew this. She was the only member of the bandit clan that was intelligent enough to realize this and take action against it, but she wasn’t the only one who recognized this. A good percentage of the bandits of Glasgow knew that their leader was just as monstrous as the wolf men that stalked them from the woodland, but they were either too afraid to step up to him, or didn’t have a Plan B. Though Gordon was merciless to his bandit legion, he was an effective leader, and a good strategist, and although his death would raise morale slightly and prevent him from slaying his fellow survivors, there wouldn’t be anybody good enough to step in his place.
Although Gordon couldn’t care less about the lives of each individual bandit in his grasp, he was somewhat suspicious and troubled by the abrupt loss of contact from both the patrol and from Kylie, who he assumed was still guarding the captives.
“Milburn, bring the car up around”, Gordon ordered. “I need to make a deposit at the bank.”
…
After several hours of sneaking through the shadowy alleys, Kirkley and his fellow survivors reached the back alley of the gun store, which, according to Kylie, was where the bandits’ weapons and ammo were being kept. Predictable, but convenient.
“I see a guard up on top of the building”, said Pack, handing the binoculars back to Poet.
“Okay, so somebody needs to go up there and take that dude out”, Kylie requested.
“I’ll do it”, Pack nodded.
“Don’t fire unless fired upon”, Kirkley urged, handing Pack a bowie knife.
“Got it.”
While everybody stayed hidden, Pack carefully and slowly ascended the ladder leading up onto the rooftop. The sentry was displaying symptoms of cluelessness by staring straight ahead; not even making 180 degree rotations to look for targets of suspicion directly behind him. Pack put the dingbat o
ut of his ignorant misery with a swift thrust into the guard’s spinal column, while concurrently strangling him with his own muscular arms. After snapping his neck, the guard croaked, and his heart beat no more.
Pack veered over the ladder, and gave a thumbs-up to his comrades. Kylie gave him a “hold” signal, and Pack sat idly as they discussed their next move.
“Alright, uh… Poet, you need to go up there with the captain. Both of you in sniper positions. The rest of y’all, come around front with me. We need to get around front and break in. The windows are barred, and the doors are probably locked, so we’ll need to get through them somehow”, Kylie explained.
Poet climbed up to Pack, and they mounted sniper positions overlooking the front of the building, where a quartet of guards stood watch. One guard was propped up against an old, unlit streetlight; another one was sitting down next to a broken-down van, and the other two were strolling back and forth. To the sides of the large gun shop were large lots of untrimmed grass, debris and broken-down vehicles; all of which would serve as excellent cover for stealthy elimination. Kirkley, Kylie, and the other three members of the stealth team huddled up in the dense grass.
“What now?” Kirkley whispered.
Kylie reached down and picked up a small rock. Taking careful aim and performing mental calculations, Kylie tossed the rock up into the air, and over all four guards. It landed on the asphalt, making an audible clicking smack as it struck the ground, and it gathered the guards’ attention. The two patrolling guards and the guard propped up against the streetlamp both went in to investigate, which left the bandit sitting down next to the car all alone, and making him a perfect target for a quick assassination. Connor darted forwards and sank his machete into the windpipe of the helpless guard, and then proceeded to use it as a handlebar to haul his victim away.