Snippet #2563728

The Invictus security returned fire, a few dropping after taking hits to the body and allowing their shields to absorb the destructive force of the plasma. One such security guard brushed his hands over his chest quickly, checking to see if he'd taken any real damage. He was lucky to find that he was relatively unscathed, but his shield was for personal defense.

It was small and couldn't take many more direct hits.

The dead body of another Invictus security officer nearby showed that not everyone could be so lucky, he could see the remaining air in her lungs slowly left her mouth. It was smoking. The heat had cooked the woman's chest and insides. A cruel death if there ever was one.

"Where the fuck is our backup?" Another asked, "On the way, but these guys caught us during shift changes. The big guns are kind of on their way home or still suiting up." One of the other security guards answered, "Byron, I'm just saying it would be really helpful if we had a few snipers, more big ass guns, a ninja or two, and some motherfuckers who can magic these assholes to death." The first security officer said.

"We just need to hold out for a second. Just a few minutes more, maybe we can take a few with us." Byron said, "We can't turn this into a massacre on either side, too many civilians."

And one had gone down already in what was either a heroic sacrifice or a foolhardy attempt at a heroic sacrifice. John looked back to where he last saw Pete as he and the others crawled for the kitchen.. There was no trace of Pete, John feared the worst had happened to the man.

He turned back to watch the others, he wanted to make sure they were safe at the very least. Then he caught a glimpse of his coat, it was too out in the open to be grabbed without getting shot. Even just reaching up for the gun in his pocket or trying to get it from the hook was risky. He needed a distraction.

Ten free seconds or more to get his gun and have a weapon other than a short range shotgun.

The Italian wild card outside was going to provide just that. Viktor, still ducked down in his car, used his free hand to start his car's engine. The other with the gun held down the brake as he used the empty hand to switch gears and put the black car into drive. He awkwardly moved his body so that he was, mostly, in the driver's seat and could put his feet against the pedals.

"Cosa più stupida che ho fatto oggi." Viktor muttered, shooting up to a seated position and slamming both of his feet into the brake and gas pedal simultaneously. He used his free hand to turn the steering wheel as he burned out, sending the vehicle spinning out to hit some of the gunmen.

He removed his foot from the brake when the car lined itself up with a shooter, letting the car hopefully turn a Juptier merc into roadkill.