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Resurrection City: Part I, Chapter 1 - First Meetings (437 hits)

Category: Quotes & Stories

Rating: 1 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by a_little_more_time (View user info) at 2005-07-29 05:05:58 EDT


Previous Chapters:
Prologue - Convergence: http://www.ubersite.com/m/71887
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Nathan Mulholland roared down Main, weaving in and out traffic and laying on his horn. A mere second before he reached the corner of 10th, he threw the cruiser into neutral and yanked the parking brake, pulling the wheel sharply to the right. The vehicle squealed into a power slide and whiplashed around, narrowly missing a group of pedestrians standing on the sidewalk. The moment he straightened out, he released the brake, popped it back into fifth gear and mashed the accelerator once more. Within minutes, several sets of familiar red and blue lights welcomed him to the front of the apartment complex. He recognized most of them as other gray-and-whites, but there were also a few S.R. wagons. He grinned to himself. Central didn't send Special Response unless flaming shit was falling on Sector Nineteen. This was going to be fun.

He killed the engine and leapt out. A wide-shouldered, muscular middle aged man came lumbering up to him as he was closing the cruiser's door. He turned to regard him with a raised eyebrow. "What's the deal, chief?"

Captain Sanders looked to the residential building and ran a hand through a thinning head of hair. He didn't look too happy to see Nathan's face. "About twenty minutes ago, we got an anonymous caller with a report that there were about fifteen armed men holding a single female hostage on the seventh floor. We sent one unit to check it out; when he knocked on the door, he got shredded before he hit the ground. Around the same time, Central got word of the call and damn near hit the fucking roof. We got here in response to the shots fired and before we knew it, S.R. were swarming all over like cockroaches."

Nathan lit a cigarette, as much to piss off his superior as to satisfy the craving for nicotine. "So, what's the big deal? They act like there's a Priority up there."

Sanders shot him a knowing eye. "That looks to be the case."

He shrugged, exhaling smoke in a scoff. "Well, it seems to me like you've got things all set, here. I dunno why the fuck you need me."

"We need someone experienced to get our people up there. S.R. is just present to support and extract the hostage."

Nathan leveled a stare at him. "You askin' me to do my real job again, Sal? 'Cuz I've heard this 'Sector Ninteen needs you' horseshit before, and the last time I bought it I got the shaft straight up the ass."

Sanders met his gaze. "Just get 'em up there alive. Any force you feel necessary will be overlooked."

That brought a bit of a smile to his lips. "Even Lucille?"

The chief leaned in and growled. "Get it done."

That small smirk grew into a full grin. "It's done."
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Minutes later, he was climbing into the back of one of the S.R. wagons to arm up. He opted for the obligatory body armor, but passed up the high velocity rifles, sitting on a rack, tempting him. He hated automatics; they made it too difficult to count your shots. Rookies loved them because they let you pray 'n spray; vets passed them up because you wound up with an empty clip, holding your dick in the wind in front of smarter men with better guns.

He adjusted the small vid camera on the right shoulder of the armor and switched it on. Ten years ago, the committee instituted a requirement stating that any officer participating in a raid of any kind had to keep a video record of his actions, mainly to ensure that no one pulled any shit in the chaos. It was one of the few rules he agreed to; tossing a few grenades at a bunch of holed-up gangbangers was one thing, but boosting some poor bastard's property just because he was breaking the law was fucked up, plain and simple. The way Nathan saw it, if a cop was clean, he had nothing to worry about.

After pulling on the vest, he hopped out of the van, strode quickly to his cruiser and popped the trunk. The sight of the arsenal within always made him happy. Nathan's proclivity for collecting (and carrying) a wide variety firearms had rewarded him with more than a few pejorative nicknames at the station. He didn't have much time to make his choices, so he selected a few favorites: two .45 semi automatics and Lucille.

Lucille was Nathan's second love, taking the silver right next toYvette, who was undoubtedly keeping the bed warm at home this time of night. The old-school twelve gauge pump action shotgun had been with him since he was a green-as-hell rookie, and she'd never treated him wrong. He checked the ammo in his weapons, then holstered the two pistols and tucked Lucille into the straps on his back. He shut the trunk, then started toward the front entrance of the apartment building.

He met up with the squad leader just outside the doors. "How many?" he asked, noticing a few recognizable faces in the small group.

"Reports say fifteen, sir, armaments unknown, mostly holed up in apartment 736."

He nodded once. "Let's hit it, then." With that, they rushed inside.
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The group paused in the stairwell just outside the seventh floor hallway. Nathan turned to the S.R. squad that had followed him. "Follow my lead. Don't fire until I do." With that, he cracked the door and peered inside. The coast was clear, so he proceeded inside.

He drew his pistols and flattened himself against the wall, the other men following suit. Sidling along it, he peeked quickly around the corner. About thirty yards away stood five men, clad in black coats and dark motorcycle helmets concealing their faces. He couldn't make out any weapons in the quick moment he took to observe them, but they were most certainly standing guard outside the room in question.

He took a deep breath, waited until they began pacing again, then stepped out with both guns raised. "Section Nineteen Police! Drop your weapons and suck the carpet!"

The speed of their response told Nathan everything he needed to know about their discipline. All five of them reached into their coats as one and pulled destruction into their hands. Nathan managed to utter something obscene and duck back behind the wall before the air was filled with bullets.

Nathan fucking hated Reapers. They were modded submachine guns loaded with high-velocity rounds, and were known to cut through a traditional armored car like a hot knife through butter. Gangbangers and mercs alike loved them, and they were anathema to cops. They gave him a good excuse to cut loose, though. He dropped into a crouch and waved the men back.

When the firing ceased and the sound of empty clips hitting the floor filled the hallway, he tucked and rolled, popped up in a crouch and fired. The first two shots tore through the kneecaps of one attacker, and the following dozen downed the other four. Nathan scrambled to his feet and hurtled down the hall, calling back to the S.R. squad. "Secure the floor! No-one leaves!" He stopped in front of 736, holstered his pistols and drew Lucille. Time to make nice with the neighbors.
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The cloaked man heard the first shots fired when he was making his way down the other end of the hallway. He grit his teeth; he was late, and now his hand was forced. He'd planned for police involvement, but his itinerary had not included it before he reached the target. He would have to rush, and he would need to find another way into the apartment. He sheathed his blade, looked around, then quickly put his shoulder into the nearest door and crashed through it.

The apartment was blissfully empty, allowing him to move swiftly through it to a window, which opened out to a ledge. It wasn't pretty, but it would do. He stepped out.
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Nathan crouched once more, then knocked once. He was answered with another burst of gunfire. The moment it ended, he rose and pulled the trigger; Lucille roared and the shot exploded through the cheap wood and dropped the shooter on the other side. Nathan stepped forward and kicked the ruined door in.

He swiftly took stock of the situation as he pumped another shell into the shotgun's chamber. He raised the weapon to shoulder level and whirled, blasting another in the chest then dropping Lucille and redrawing the .45s. He split the remaining shots between the other three in the main room. Before he knew it, the air was filled with silence. He took the opportunity to reload his guns, then stepped inside. He nearly shot the inert figure on the tattered couch before he realized that she was unarmed.

The hostage was a girl of about twelve or thirteen. She was dressed in what looked like a hospital gown, but she had no tag on her wrist. Nathan noticed what looked like puncture wounds in her bare arms. Keeping one of his guns trained on the still-closed bedroom door, he carefully reached down and placed two fingers on her thin left wrist. Her pulse was strong; there were no other marks on her. Must've just fainted.

He drew his other .45 and pointed both of them at the entrance to the bedroom, making sure to keep out of any possible line of fire. His voice called out. "Sector Nineteen Police! Come out of the room unarmed and with your hands in the air!"

At that, the window nearest to the couch shattered as a large figure draped in a black cloak fell through it, tumbled to the side and then leaped to his feet. It happened so fast that Nathan didn't shoot him. He did, however, have the presence of mind to take his attention from the door to the stranger. He took a step forward as the man straightened.

The cop's eyes narrowed; if he hadn't had the drop on this guy, he'd be downright terrified of him. He was seven feet tall easy, and his slate-grey eyes looked down on him from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Strapped to his side was a long, curved sheath, to which he began to reach as Nathan stared on.

He regained his composure. Those eyes made him feel as though he'd been frozen on the spot for a moment. His grip on his guns tightened. "Take your hand from the weapon."

The swordsman did nothing save for keeping his hand where it was. Nathan spat and spoke louder. "I won't tell you again, tall, dark, and fabulous! Hand off the weapon!" This time he complied. "Now remove the sword and toss it away."

The stranger shook his head slowly. His voice was deep, but calm and even. "I am sorry, Lawman, but I cannot take my sword from my person. It is against my Order."

Nathan sneered at him. "Well, ain't that sweet? Here's a newsflash: you don't follow MY orders, and the coroner is gonna need your goddamn dental records to ID your body, get me?"

There was a single tense moment in which the cop was almost positive that he would not comply, but after an eternity he reached to his sword. His eyes burned into Nathan's. "That's right, nice and easy, you—"

Nathan's words were cut off when another figure suddenly materialized to his left. There was no other way to describe it; one second there was nothing there, then he was just standing there the next. This one was shorter than him, with straight black hair hanging over his eyes and a thick, long shawl with a bizarre design in black and green wrapped around his face.

He pointed one of his guns at the new arrival and kept the other on the swordsman. His heart pounded in his throat. Not one of the four souls in that room moved an inch. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head. He licked his lips. "Okay...", he breathed. "Now what?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[To be continued...]


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User Reviews


Submitted by vergery (user info) at 2005-08-07 02:29:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2

-2 because you're the biggest retard I've ever seen

Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-07-29 10:28:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

You know what sucks?

This isn't going to get the attention it deserves.

If you keep going, I'll keep reading.

Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-29 08:42:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

would it help if I could actually read?

Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-07-29 06:04:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by a_little_more_time (user info) at 2005-07-29 05:38:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

A-nope.

Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-29 05:37:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

BB King's git-fiddle?

Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-29 05:32:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

hmmmmm.


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The Crepes of Wrath