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Snippet #2657492

located in Atlantic City, a part of Attack On Olympus: The Siege, one of the many universes on RPG.

Atlantic City



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lola Cervantes Character Portrait: Aaron Maxson
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Maxson leapt into the air from a full sprint. His body was as toned as any athlete. He drew knees to his chest, landing on the elevated hood of an armored Humvee. The IES Agents were already pulling themselves together, lifting their rifles to track and engage. The disk hadn't exploded anywhere near close enough to cause them debilitating harm, but it had let Maxson close the distance. Now, as he brought the MSMC online, he became his element. War.

He leapt from the Humvee, his shoulder crashing into the nearest Agent. He bent his legs, absorbing the impact of his landing. Muzzle flashes, the sound of gunfire. The wall of the tunnel cracked under multiple impacts as slugs flew over his head. The wild burst would have been a lucky one if not for a moment of serendipity. It was enough. He trigged a five round burst from the SMG. The 5.56mm rounds stitched the IES Agent from the groin to his chest, shredding his manhood, intestines, and heart along the way. They tore through his body armor like paper, and he collapsed to the ground, shuddering as life left him.

Maxson was already tracking left, rolling from his previous position as more gunfire erupted. Sparks and particles of concrete filled the air, the din becoming deafening as Maxson fired as he scrambled. Two of his rounds got lucky, finding an Agent's ankle and shattering bone, sending him crashing to the floor. Maxon was behind another Humvee, putting the armored engine block between himself and the gunners. He was outnumbered severely, and he wasn't going to survive an extended firefight.

They were a part of his program. He knew them better than they knew themselves. He closed his eyes, focusing. The gunfire was less intense. There was less ringing in his eyes, and the firing pattern was spread. Chunks of concrete kicked up on both sides of him. He felt the vibrations of the impact, felt the particles striking his duster, his face. They were pinning him. A flanking maneuver was obvious, but from what side? He was right-dominant, and the angle he was at favored that side. They'd hit from the left, where he'd have to twist his body around to attempt to fire back at them. He palmed a second explosive from inside his duster. Another disk, this time packed with high explosive. He activated the five second timer, which would trigger an electrical impulse to detonate the plastic explosive within. Time to change the angle.

He slid the disk under the Humvee with a hard flick of his wrist. It slid across the concrete, sliding out from the other side of the vehicle just as he covered his ears. It detonated violently, the shockwave crushing the men nearest it, expanding outwards and shaking the tunnel, rocking the Humvee and smashing glass. The men flanking him were rocked from behind, stumbling or falling to their knees. He rose, letting the MSMC dangle from its strap as he drew a ten-inch blade from its ankle sheathe. He spun around the left corner of the Humvee, grabbing the nearest opponent and arcing the blade up under his chin. It punched through the bottom of his jaw, penetrating the bottom of his palette and skewering his tongue, before punching up through the roof of his mouth.

He stared at Maxson in abject horror, blood pouring from his ruined mouth, running down onto Maxson's wrist. With his free hand, he drew and fielded the Five-Seven pistol. He tracked left, pulling the trigger three times. Despite the relatively small size of the rounds, they were hot loads that exploded with the sound of a much larger weapon in their confines. An Agent had been struggling to bring his weapon back online, but now was rocked back by the impact of two rounds punching through his chest armor, and a third penetrating his throat with ease. He stumbled backwards, clutching at his throat as he began to choke on his own blood.

He wrenched the blade free, putting one round into the man's head for good measure as he pushed him aside. In the same motioned he stepped into the second nearest combatant. He seemed to get his wits back quicker, and swung the PDW at Maxson's head. Maxson ducked under it, barreling into the man's midsection and driving him backwards several steps. He struck, one, twice, three times. The blade sank in between the Agent's body armor, skewering his liver with one strike. Maxson shouldered up under his chin, knocking the man's teeth together as he leveled the Five-Seven over his shoulder, firing at a fourth target.

The rounds punched through his body armor at such close range, Maxson pumping five into his chest to make sure the job was done.

"JUST DIE YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" An angry voice cried out to his right. Shit, he'd missed one. He spun the dying man around, ducking again just under his waist, driving him forwards as the gunner opened fire. His fusillade cut his dying comrade apart, several of the rounds punching through both sides of the body armor and tumbling out over Maxson's lowered profile. Maxson dived out and away from the meat shield, firing wildly as he slammed to the floor. Most of his rounds went wide, but one struck the gunner's shoulder. It wasn't dead on, slicing the flesh apart and hurtling away rather than smashing bone. It was enough to throw off the last of his aim, and his weapon's bolt slammed into the open position.

The slide was locked back on his Five-Seven. For a moment, the two Agents stared at each other. Then the other drew his knife. Maxson pushed himself to his feet as his opponent charged in, skidding to a halt just outside of striking distance. He stepped in expertly, swiping at Maxson's throat. Maxson counter-stepped, leaning away and retaliating with both arms. His free hand pushed the Agent's arm into his counter-swipe, his blade cleaving through supportive ligaments in his upper arm. The Agent cried out, blood pouring down his now crippled arm.

Maxson stepped forward, pressuring him with several tight swipes. Unable to switch hands fast enough, he was forced to raise his good arm and suffered multiple lacerations, trying desperately to protect his body. Maxson swept at the Agent's wounded knife hand, knocking the weapon from his weakening fingers. He lifted his boot, planting a toe kick straight into his opponent's testicles, flattening them against his pelvis. The man dropped to his knees in a silent scream, his eyes reflecting the horrifying truth that they all knew. He'd lost. Maxson pressed the blade against the man's throat, shaking his head in disappointment before pressing in and drawing it swiftly across. A torrent of blood began to spill out as he severed arteries and veins. The man's pain would be over quickly, and Maxson wiped his blade clean on the Agent's shoulder. He sheathed it, reloading his weapons and proceeding down the tunnel.

"Cinnamon, if you're reading this, it would be real nice if you could deactivate the turrets waiting to rip me apart just inside these blast doors. Then, if you could, open them. 'Kay thanks. You are in the Sec Room, right? You should be able to see me on the camera!" He waved, smiling. He suddenly tasted blood, then realised he was covered in it. Huh.