God Gems are Forever 1 — Scene 6 (TEXT) (Patreon)

Additional text added to the end of the last scene:

They were just pulling into a large warehouse complex on the other side of the city when it happened. Andrew heard the loud screeching of tires, snatched a short glimpse of another car approaching at speed alongside his passenger door, and his entire world—noise, vision,  and proprioception—exploded.

Current Scene:

“Come on, Sir! Wake up, Wake up!”

Andrew’s consciousness broke the surface of the subconscious swamp. Someone was shouting. His body ached. Loud bangs split his eardrums. Gunshots? Why shooting? His vision was one large blur. Someone was leaning over him.

“Come on! We need to get you out!”

The someone was fiddling with something tight around his chest. Was he wearing a seat belt? He could help with that. G-----g at his side for the buckle, he found a mechanism that needed more mental clarity to operate than he currently possessed.

“Here! Let me.”

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest released.

His vision cleared a little and the face of Mckinnon, the paranormal investigator, swam into focus.

“Move!”

Andrew lurched from the passenger seat.

Memory started to flood back. They’d been arriving at the safe house when all hell broke loose. Had a car rammed them?

Another several gunshots rang out around them, but it didn’t sound like they were being aimed in their direction. They stumbled behind a car with its front end crumpled in, Andrew allowing himself to be half dragged as they went.

He suddenly realized his Green and Baker BGG was in his hand and he didn’t even remember drawing it. “Friendly reception,” he managed to wheeze out. “I didn’t realize anyone knew we’d be coming.”

“This is nothing to do with New Anglia,” McKinnon replied, matter-of-factly. “This is just a little local squabble.”

Andrew let his eyes rove over the car that had brought them here. If it hadn’t been for what looked like an armour plate mounted on the inside of the door, he’d most likely now be a cooling corpse. Not unlike the man hanging out of the attacking vehicle’s driver’s side door, who was very clearly dead. He couldn’t help feeling that not much about the situation merited a ‘just’ of any kind.

“Gang fighting?” he asked. “We’re setting up shop in a disputed gangland?”

“In Vostovia, everywhere is disputed gangland. Let’s just keep our heads down and let the boys sort it out. This will de-escalate soon enough.”

A small explosion shook Andrew’s eardrums and rattled his teeth.

“Or maybe not,” Mckinnion conceded.

Now feeling a lot more together, Andrew stuck his head around the car, trying to get a good view of what was going on. Some 200 meters away, a group of men in non-descript clothes were pinned down by another group further off.

“Are those ones ours?” Andrew asked. Pointing to the nearest group.

“They are. Wait! Where are you going?”

But Andrew was already off. Praying not to catch a stray round, he dashed from cover towards the nearest building to his right. Rolling behind the brickwork, he holstered his gun, got to his feet and started climbing up a nearby ladder.

Local matter or not, Andrew wasn’t about to sit idly by while the men he was supposed to be working with on this mission were getting their assess handed to them.

Also, mental note: This suit was going to need dry cleaning.

Reaching the top, Andrew hopped onto the corrugated slanting roof and crept up in the direction of the firefight, doing his best not to present a target for any guards the enemy had set up. Luckily, there were none. Unfortunately, this was likely because the roof didn’t provide a good enough look over the battlefield to be useful.

Still, it had given him a pathway to possibly flank the enemy.

Gunfire still rang out around the compound and he could only pray they’d hold on until he could do anything.

Looking over the far edge he saw a man in a long coat standing around with his hands in his pockets, seemingly unconcerned by the gunfight going on nearby. A second glance revealed that his first assessment had been wrong and that the man actually was hiding a  sawn-off shotgun under that coat. Clearly this was the man guarding the enemy flank.

A shame for him he wasn’t looking up.

His landing wasn’t so silent that the man wouldn’t have noticed his arrival under most circumstances, but unfortunately for him, a gunshot went off at the exact moment Andrew’s feet hit the ground.

Not letting such an opportunity go to waste, Andrew eschewed the gun for a more stealthy option. The standard issue spy kit for New Anglian agents contained a veritable goodie bag of fun and interesting options, and in this case, it was going to be the compact dagger hidden in the sleeve of his jacket.

One slice, one very long gurgle, a frantic clutching at the throat, and it was done.

Andrew supposed that in more ideal circumstances he would take a small moment to have a minor moral crisis over his first live, up close and personal, killing in cold blood, but unfortunately, he just didn’t have time.

The gunfight was still going on by the time he arrived at the mouth of the next alley, and gazing down it, he saw exactly what he’d been hoping for.

An exposed flank.

As beautiful as a half-undressed woman and only slightly more vulnerable.

The main difference of course being that he had no interest in expressing any kind of care or understanding for his current target. No, the only care this exposed flank was going to get was a few precise shots from his BGG and the entire bandoleer of shotgun shells, thoughtfully left behind for him by the late mister long coat.

The first round took the gang of thugs completely by surprise. Andrew dropped three of them before they even realized they were under attack.

Another two fell by the time they all scrambled for cover.

Unfortunately for them, their new cover was not nearly as ideal as their previous positions had been.

Ten seconds later, frantic shouting came from the open area ahead. More gunshots rang out, these ones sounding more distant, clearly coming from the formally pinned down ‘boys’ as Mckinnion had called them.

It was all too much for the attacking thugs. They broke and ran. More shots were fired and a few more men started cooling on the concrete.

A few seconds later and it was all over.

There was a pause, then a shout came from the mouth of the alley. A question and a challenge.

“It’s Andrew! Mckinnon’s friend.” Andrew called out in Vostovian. “You were expecting me?”

The challenger let out a surprised sound, there was a quiet consultation from around the corner, and then a man the size of an ogre eclipsed the alley mouth with his mass.

Andrew couldn’t help but tense slightly as the man advanced. He’d seen a lot of big men in his time, but this one took the biscuit. Took the biscuit, the cake, the entire confectionery isle, and then complained about not having enough protein. A shadow like a colossus fell over Andrew.

He’d been trained how to kill and he had a habit of always analyzing how exactly he’d pull the trick off. In this case, it was a gun or nothing. The idea of going hand-to-hand with this man, even with a blade, was silly. Trying to garrot him would be like asking a child to suplex a bear.

Andrew swallowed. “I hope none of our people were hurt.”

The man grinned. A hand like a concrete paving stone landed on his shoulder and proceeded to shake him hard in what he obviously thought was a friendly manner. “Just one shot in the leg. Don’t worry. He’ll live.” Then he burst out laughing while Andrew recovered his balance. “When Stephan told us we’d be working with a rich foreign guy, I thought you’d be a total pussy. But you’re okay. Name’s Andrei. I lead the boys around here. Consider us at your disposal, Sir.”