Hey everyone, this is the latest installment of the Junkies Vs Dealers series.
Previously on Planet Eden, Mitch and Quinn found themselves on the same path, chasing down the man who stole their drugs. Will this lead to a confrontation with the thief? Or with eachother?
Meanwhile, a few brave Outlanders are gonna try to take out some terrorists.
Feedbak is always appreciated but more so, I hope you enjoy ...
The Fish and his men were kneeling down, each in his own row of stadium seating. They were careful to stay as low as possible. So far, the gunmen, 50 yards away, had not noticed them.
Smelly Bob was there, as were one of the security bots, the serviceman Bridger and a member of the stadium security team.
The others were running up to the first tier landing. They would be attacking section 120 from two directions.
Fish had chose these particular rows for the lack of bodies blocking the way.
Most of the fans had either exited that section or lay dead on the concrete. But there were others who were huddled together, taking cover under the seats. Here, a father was holding his crying son, wondering if it would be a good idea to make a run for it. There, a woman shook her husband violently, not yet accepting that he was dead.
This was war all over again. Another war had come to the Outlands.
The shooters all wore the white shirts of Outlanders United.
Section 120 was surrounded by a chain link fence. The fence was necessary for keeping the traveling supporters safe from the home supporters, on most nights.
Some of the gunmen knelt behind the guard rails, using them to steady their aim. Others stood on the steps, out in the open. They were all easy targets. Nobody was shooting back, after all.
“Fish? Why are they doing this? It can't be because we were winning ...”
“No, Bob. It's not about the match. They're hired men. Raiders dressed to look like fans.”
Bridger's faced scrunched up. “Sir? Who would do that? Why would someone do that?”
“To make the Outlands look bad,” Fish answered. “They want it to look like we can't take care of ourselves. This won't be the last incident either.”
Bob rubbed his temple. “You're talking about Eden?”
“Yes. They'll send some troops over to help. Have them take orders from our President. Then, when the threats they've created are gone, don't be surprised if our new leaders, the ones who haven't been assassinated, vote for annexation. Eden wants their lands back. And if they can look like heroes while they take it, even better.”
Nobody said anything. Fish's words were terrifying. The AI Wars had been over for nearly a decade. And while a few people, like Fish, strongly believed that another war was inevitable, independence had become a way of life for everyone else. The thought that it could one day be gone?
The Captain's words suddenly blared through the speaker of the security bot. “Alright lads, we're in position. You all ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.” Fish replied.
“This is it! We're doing this on 3! Get 'em ready!”
Fish held his gun up. The others did the same.
“3! Let's get those fuckers!”
Everyone took off, running towards section 120 in their own row.
It was a narrow path. And every so often Fish had to step over someone. Alive or dead.
It wasn't until they made it about 20 yards that Bob opened fire. Bob was a great shot and he hit one of the shooters square in the chest. It was lethal.
Fish opened fire soon after, which slowed him further. Bridger and the security guard did the same, and the bot, not built for speed, was the last to join in.
Now everyone in Fish's group was firing into section 120.
Fish shot a quick glance up the tier and saw laser fire up there too. The Captain's team was firing as well.
It was another 20 yards before the first return fire came. The raiders had noticed that some of their own had fallen and quickly found the directions of attack. They fired back immediately.
Someone behind Fish fell! He heard a scream and then a body collapse. It wasn't Bob, he knew Bob's voice. Who was it?
Fish finally reached the visitors sections and dived behind the seats closest to the fence. Laser fire pierced the seats in front of him.
He heard Bob hit the ground from his row.
“Bob! You alright?”
“I'm good! I'm not hit! Just gotta catch my breathe!”
“Bridger!? Other guy!? You still there!?”
“We lost them both! I heard Bridger get hit! Looked back to see who it was and saw the guard get hit too! They're both gone!”
“God Dammit! We still got the bot with us!?”
“Nah, got hit in the leg! Can't pick himself up now!”
“Piss!” Fish got up and peaked over the seats. He only got a quick glance but it looked like most of the laser fire was directed at the Captain's group now.
At least that's the way it looked like before a beam of light whizzed over his head.
Fish ducked down again. “Bob!? How's the fence there? You see an opening?”
“No! We're gonna have to make our own. No way we're not getting cut up!”
“Let's get to work then!”
Hunched over, staying as low as they could, they began shooting the bottom of the fence. It was overkill at that distance, the iron links vaporized instantly.
There could have made a nice sized opening, had they more time. But they didn't. As soon as it seemed large enough to fit under, they both flopped down and crawled under the fence.
It was just as Bob feared, the seared metal of the fence scraped across their backs and sides. It dug into their flesh, burning and raking their backs. Neither man could control themselves. The pain was almost unbearable and there weren't enough curse words in the English language to make it all better.
Fish crawled through first, and he allowed himself a few brief seconds to lay there and breathe as Bob continued to struggle.
“Christ on the cross!” Bob shouted. “I'm out!”
“Let's see what we're dealing with.” Fish poked his head out again. Now inside section 120, Fish was close enough to see the faces of the gunmen. They were concentrated just 8 rows in front of him, all shooting up at the landing. No one had heard the ordeal with the fence.
Fish threw an arm over a seat to steady his aim. He fired.
Bob jumped out from his cover and started shooting as well.
Fish hit 3, and as they fell he could see Bob hit two more.
They heard the Captain. “They're running! Don't let 'em leave here! Hunt them down!”
Fish could make out two white shirts running towards the corner tunnel. As quickly as he could, he ran out of his row, turned, and sprinted up the steps. As Fish got to the landing he saw one of the security men raise a blaster at him.
“Don't fucking shoot me!” Fish's voice was way higher than he wanted it.
“Oh! Sorry, sir!”
Fish continued running, the Captain and the rest of his squad disappeared into the tunnel.
He heard gunfire as he got to the entrance. Once inside, he didn't even have to turn the first corner. The rest of stadium security stood there, bent over, catching their breathe.
“That's the last one,” one of them told him. He pointed around the corner, to a body Fish couldn't see, but knew was there.
Then the Captain came from around that corner. He threw his gun to the floor.
Fish saw he was missing the other arm. From the elbow down.
He looked at Fish with tears in his eyes. It was the only time Fish ever saw the Captain crying. Not even during the wars.
“Fucking, Andy! Been running ahead the whole season! 13 goals in 20 matches! From a fullback!”
Fish pulled off his shirt. “Come here, Captain. You're bleeding ...”
The Captain refused the shirt. He just kept pacing back and forth, saying over and over again, “I told him to stay behind me!”