05-26-2017, 07:07 AM
“Let me take point sergeant.”
MAD BULL grunted his assent as Officer Janie held her Glock 9mm erect with one hand, and swung open the back exit door with the other. She squeezed into the space between the train cars. The rattle and clang of the train against the tracks and the swaying of the cars tethered to each other by cables was deafening. One wrong step between the cars could find someone crushed between the towering, rocking train cars, or even thrown down to the ground 100 feet below. Gripping the emergency escape handle on the neighboring train car, she rammed her shoulder into the front door and barged into the next car. Janie pushed through the herds of startled people at the front of this car, making room for herself and Sergeant John Estes as he squeezed himself through the tiny passage. While he maneuvered through the space, Janie took stock of the situation and measured the amount of potential causalities. The crust punk drug dealer and his customer remained at the back of the car some 30 feet distant. “To many civilians…” she thought to herself. “I’ll have to get them to scatter.”
Officer Janie Phanili held her gun high and flashed her badge to the crowd. With an authoritative voice she commanded, “Everyone down, this is the police!”
Screams peeled through the train car from panicking passengers, but she stood firmly with her legs spread, shoulders high, both arms locked and pointing her Glock 9mm down the length of the train car straight at the crust punk. The injured criminal made eye contact with the brazen policewoman and froze in place. Disbelief contorted his hideous face, but the yellow mulleted man seemed to show no emotion behind his mirrored glasses. Officer Janie held her position with a steely gaze, waiting for the crowd to thin and part enough for her to safely take her shot.
With a sudden lurch on the tracks, the train car shuddered, off-balancing Janie for a moment. As she flailed and tried to regain her footing, the crust punk turned and reached into his ratty green fatigue jacket, withdrawing a long-barrel pistol.
KAPOW!
The end of MAD BULL 34’s Smith & Wesson smoked as the first .38 special round catapulted out the barrel and splattered just off the center of the crust punk’s nose. In the span of milliseconds, flesh knotted and tore in the merciless spin and impact of the bullet, twisting skin, splintering bone and exploding through the back of his skull in a messy shower of bloody and gore. For a moment the punk’s eviscerated head seemed pinned to the back wall of the train car, but his legs soon went limp, dragging the shattered mass of his head downward, leaving a slimy red trail dripping with viscous goo. His face looked like a peeled banana, the only perceptible human feature remaining - his disgusting blonde goatee.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
Just as fast, a second gun whispered out a shot, then another, then another, and another. The sound was muted and belched out swiftly from the silenced TEC-9 automatic pistol held at the end of the yellow bouffanted man’s fist. A pattern of red studded holes were etched down Officer Janie’s face, neck and torso. Black-ish red beads of blood began to well within each hole. Her eyes glazed over and she fell face first and dead to the floor of the train car.
“That’s the twelfth partner this year...” MAD BULL mused.
He stepped dispassionately over her corpse and advanced, his revolver hammering with each step.
KAPOW!
The shot was on target, but skimmed past the yellow haired man’s ear, crashing into the train car’s safety glass window. It would take the acute senses of a fierce jungle cat to anticipated the bullet's exit from its chamber and deadly path towards his head. Even moving the scant few inches needed could only be done by someone with inhuman reflexes. The windowpane shattered on impact, spraying passengers with tiny cubes of glass. Like a depressurizing plane, wind and air began to howl through the open window. Although unharmed, the passengers shrieked and rushed everywhere for cover.
KAPOW!
MAD BULL continued to advance, but the next shot from the Smith & Wesson went off mark and burst through the elbow of a skateboarder trying to find cover under one of the benches; he moaned with pain and clutched the torn limb in agony. Three .38 special rounds remained ready and waiting in the cylinder. Ducking slightly, MD GEIST squeezed his trigger, ejecting another spurt from the instrument of wrath in his warm hands.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
A clump of fleeing passengers immediately fell to the ground after making contact with the TEC-9’s sub-machine gun bullets. MAD BULL rushed against the crowd, careful to keep his head below the surging mass of people. Man and woman were pushed against their will, carried backwards by MAD BULL’s ferocious push.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
More screeches cried out in the train as the human shield in front of Sergeant John Estes was thinned by MD GEIST’s death-bringing fire.
MAD BULL grunted his assent as Officer Janie held her Glock 9mm erect with one hand, and swung open the back exit door with the other. She squeezed into the space between the train cars. The rattle and clang of the train against the tracks and the swaying of the cars tethered to each other by cables was deafening. One wrong step between the cars could find someone crushed between the towering, rocking train cars, or even thrown down to the ground 100 feet below. Gripping the emergency escape handle on the neighboring train car, she rammed her shoulder into the front door and barged into the next car. Janie pushed through the herds of startled people at the front of this car, making room for herself and Sergeant John Estes as he squeezed himself through the tiny passage. While he maneuvered through the space, Janie took stock of the situation and measured the amount of potential causalities. The crust punk drug dealer and his customer remained at the back of the car some 30 feet distant. “To many civilians…” she thought to herself. “I’ll have to get them to scatter.”
Officer Janie Phanili held her gun high and flashed her badge to the crowd. With an authoritative voice she commanded, “Everyone down, this is the police!”
Screams peeled through the train car from panicking passengers, but she stood firmly with her legs spread, shoulders high, both arms locked and pointing her Glock 9mm down the length of the train car straight at the crust punk. The injured criminal made eye contact with the brazen policewoman and froze in place. Disbelief contorted his hideous face, but the yellow mulleted man seemed to show no emotion behind his mirrored glasses. Officer Janie held her position with a steely gaze, waiting for the crowd to thin and part enough for her to safely take her shot.
With a sudden lurch on the tracks, the train car shuddered, off-balancing Janie for a moment. As she flailed and tried to regain her footing, the crust punk turned and reached into his ratty green fatigue jacket, withdrawing a long-barrel pistol.
KAPOW!
The end of MAD BULL 34’s Smith & Wesson smoked as the first .38 special round catapulted out the barrel and splattered just off the center of the crust punk’s nose. In the span of milliseconds, flesh knotted and tore in the merciless spin and impact of the bullet, twisting skin, splintering bone and exploding through the back of his skull in a messy shower of bloody and gore. For a moment the punk’s eviscerated head seemed pinned to the back wall of the train car, but his legs soon went limp, dragging the shattered mass of his head downward, leaving a slimy red trail dripping with viscous goo. His face looked like a peeled banana, the only perceptible human feature remaining - his disgusting blonde goatee.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
Just as fast, a second gun whispered out a shot, then another, then another, and another. The sound was muted and belched out swiftly from the silenced TEC-9 automatic pistol held at the end of the yellow bouffanted man’s fist. A pattern of red studded holes were etched down Officer Janie’s face, neck and torso. Black-ish red beads of blood began to well within each hole. Her eyes glazed over and she fell face first and dead to the floor of the train car.
“That’s the twelfth partner this year...” MAD BULL mused.
He stepped dispassionately over her corpse and advanced, his revolver hammering with each step.
KAPOW!
The shot was on target, but skimmed past the yellow haired man’s ear, crashing into the train car’s safety glass window. It would take the acute senses of a fierce jungle cat to anticipated the bullet's exit from its chamber and deadly path towards his head. Even moving the scant few inches needed could only be done by someone with inhuman reflexes. The windowpane shattered on impact, spraying passengers with tiny cubes of glass. Like a depressurizing plane, wind and air began to howl through the open window. Although unharmed, the passengers shrieked and rushed everywhere for cover.
KAPOW!
MAD BULL continued to advance, but the next shot from the Smith & Wesson went off mark and burst through the elbow of a skateboarder trying to find cover under one of the benches; he moaned with pain and clutched the torn limb in agony. Three .38 special rounds remained ready and waiting in the cylinder. Ducking slightly, MD GEIST squeezed his trigger, ejecting another spurt from the instrument of wrath in his warm hands.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
A clump of fleeing passengers immediately fell to the ground after making contact with the TEC-9’s sub-machine gun bullets. MAD BULL rushed against the crowd, careful to keep his head below the surging mass of people. Man and woman were pushed against their will, carried backwards by MAD BULL’s ferocious push.
TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP! TWHIP!
More screeches cried out in the train as the human shield in front of Sergeant John Estes was thinned by MD GEIST’s death-bringing fire.