Thread: Calm Before the Storm

Shots fired overhead. Moss ducked below the traffic barrier and reloaded. Several bullets collided with the barrier, a few flying past above it. He counted the shots. Thirty-one, thirty-two. he mumbled. He peeked around the side of the barrier for a quick second. Two more shots collided with the barrier. Thirty-four? Mother fucker. He listened carefully. Two clicks. Moss stood up abruptly and fired four three-shot bursts. Three marks fell to the ground. Moss fell back behind the barrier. Area clear. He waited for a moment, then jumped over and ran into the run-down hotel. His heart was racing. He bolted up the stairs and collided with the third floor entrance. He burst through, pumping a few shots into the two guards there. First door on the left. He kicked in the door and his finger tensed on the trigger. Slowly, his aim dropped. The room was completely bare, save for a plush red couch. There were no windows or lights, but the room was well lit. He walked in slowly, and heard the door close. He spun around, bringing his arms up his gun was gone, but so was the door. Honard was standing where the door had been. Suddenly, the couch was directly behind him. He sat down, his body limp and exhausted. Honard sat down beside him and he turned as if to say something. His shirt was gone, as was hers, and Honard was all of a sudden kissing his chest. Moss flushed pink. I um But she put a finger to his lips. Moss felt someone tap his shoulder, and Honard looked up at him with a mischievous smile. She sat upright and began to unwrap the bandages. Hey Moss... your turn. she said, but then she began to fade. Moss' eyes blinked open. I'd love to but where are you going? he began, before realizing what was happening. He blushed again, looking up at Honard, his knees still close to his chest, thankfully. R-right, sorry. he muttered, grabbing his rifle. His face remained beet red as he stood up facing away from her. I'm going to go around the corner to see if there's anybody approaching the bridge. he absolved. He walked away with a very slight hunch, fiddling with his rifle. I'll come wake you up in three hours. I mean two hours. he assured her, passing swiftly around the corner. He exhaled and pushed the foregrip of the rifle forward a bit, adjusting it to suit longer distances. He glanced meekly down at his pants, boner still subsiding. Should she have seen it, he would never have been able to escape that. He'd never hear the end of it and she'd probably just use it as leverage. Particulars of his dream still lingered in his mind. He cursed silently, and put his hand on the wall. He hung his head, and ran his other hand through his hair. God dammit. he mumbled, This kind of shit is going to make living with this girl really fucking difficult. I mean I just found her yesterday. he groaned under his breath. He stood up and walked up the hill to street-level. He scanned the horizon first by eye, then passed over it again using his scope. There was hardly any light, and it was difficult to see. He had long-since depleted his infrared and heartbeat sensors. They both ran on the same battery, so they had gone simultaneously. His gun was as good as analog. Moss continued walking, looking over the curve of the destroyed bridge, paused, and began walking down the bridge itself, as it to cross it. He reached the edge, and looked down at the shallow river below. At one point, the river had been several meters deep, but had since the outbreak of the war been reduced to just a slow trickle. He sat down on the ledge and sighed. Fighting had really taken a toll on him. He'd killed hundreds of men by this point. Maybe, had he not been so proficient at killing others, those hundred-some men would be fighting for their country instead of for their gang boss. Maybe if he had been killed long ago, he wouldn't have had to look down at their bodies with the knowledge that it had been him . But now, concluded Moss, there was some good he could accomplish. Honard was asleep below him, and she was a kind person. She was good. Protecting her could never undo all that he had done, but he would finally have an honourable purpose. Moss stood and looked up at the sky. There were many clouds overhead, but there was a tiny patch through which he could see the stars. He stared at the heavens, and they stared right back. It was enough for him. He turned and walked slowly back down the bridge towards a large chunk of concrete. He sat down on the concrete, propping his gun against his shoulder, and continued to scan the horizon. His watch beeped quietly. Moss' eyes were droopy but he was awake. The sun was just beginning to shed light from the East. He stood up, and made his way back below the bridge. He smiled a bit, and trod over to Honard, kneeling beside her. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but stopped short. He stared momentarily at her pants. He rubbed his eyes and moved his head, looking from a different angle. His eyes were really playing tricks on him. He blinked several times in quick succession, and gently shook her shoulder. Honard, he said, It's time to get up, c'mon. He smiled, and then pinched her nose. Come on, get up.