Lih was covered in plaster and looked like he’d been rolled in flour. He sat still for as long as he could, knowing he needed the rest, needed to wait for daybreak, but there was a ticking impatience inside him. He wasn’t out of this, and every step seemed triumphantly and incredibly, worse than the last. Looking out the window he had hoped for daylight, prayed for light—light would make everything better...
He blinked when he noticed Boda fleeing the house in… attire of questionable taste, unless he were about to ransack a vessel and put the crew to sword and ship to torch. As Lih was quite confident this was not the case he was sure Boda had some other agenda. Maybe, he didn’t have time to change after the show?
It was odd that he had not noticed Boda earlier. The attackers inside the house certainly had their attention riveted to Boda. Lih imagined some with looks of anger—probably those with whom Boda had been involved in the past—although if that were the case, Lih made their faces, dark-skinned and handsome in his mind, even more angry as he limped back toward Boda.
Almost immediately, the street lit up.
He had managed to reach a doorway on the other side of the house close to where Boda's, and Lih’s, cars were. He narrowed his eyes and watched the light show for a few seconds.
He had one of the choicest and most vulgar replies of his life ready to throw at Boda (even though they were on the same side), but a sound from beyond the front door interrupted him.
It was the sound of Ryker's bomb. The first of many in the night.
And it was swiftly followed by the sound of gunfire.
Pushing through the disorder of flames and smoke, he couldn’t see a bloody thing. A series of enemy fire, hot red or hotter white, the lines of shots bent through the gloom and struck the wall behind Lih’s location and blew out thick chunks of plaster and brick. Two loose rounds hit a pillar in the middle distance and knocked him, flailing, off his feet. Other shots arced down mercilessly into the dark; chopped into the pavement, or thudded dully into the distant, hunched shadows.
Lih kept his head down. The battle Boda stirred up was so intense there wasn’t a chance of Lih making it across to join him. He was still pinned around a corner of the house.
“Oh sh—!” Lih cursed, down in cover once he’d assessed the pattern, as if relaying the situation to CCDPD command. “At least two weapons. Not standard. But they’ve got something heavier. A bomb or even some kind of cannon?”
Prone, he had a very limited field of view low against a side wall, but it was enough for him to slide his newly-issued pistol through and clear its sights. The street beyond resolved in the cold, green shimmer of his thermal scope. He had to tweak the gun’s visual down, way down, because the shadows thumping fire at each other were testing the limits of the heat contrast on his gun’s lens.
Better. A hot spot. Very hot. Something big; super, duper heated. He looked again. More hot spots. Smaller. Cooler. He swept out of cover and darted after them, keeping close to the wall.
But it made no sense. He frowned, surveying the attackers’ handiwork as he got into a covering position at the next corner. What could change a round’s trajectory like this? He studied the play of firepower in the air, watching for the fat, dull red ones. The heavy had so much kick, it brought down another door by chopping clean through the frame. And… was that a flying chair just now? Somebody not-Boda was running through the lawn, about a hundred paces north and west, near to where the destruction of Boda’s house made a burning crater in the roadway.
It was ugly, as ugly as anything he’d ever known. This was a f--ing nightmare. He was caught between the ruthless fire of the attackers and the virtually helpless Boda. Like he had the remotest bloody idea what was going on…
Laughing he caught himself longing for the tunnels, as the enemy closed down the fresh angle of attack with a heavy sheet of actual fire. He knew he dearly missed his broken lens. Light, but how useful would Sage’s lens have been right then—see clearly… call for help… hack into the house’s blueprints?
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, without enthusiasm.
Of course, one of them brought a flamethrower… He couldn’t see who it was through the smoke. But he could see for sure he was trapped; this house was too large, too meandering. Every corner, every hallway, every wing and doorway a deathtrap. In a tunnel, you at least knew the enemy was right in front of you.
Viktor Lih
He blinked when he noticed Boda fleeing the house in… attire of questionable taste, unless he were about to ransack a vessel and put the crew to sword and ship to torch. As Lih was quite confident this was not the case he was sure Boda had some other agenda. Maybe, he didn’t have time to change after the show?
It was odd that he had not noticed Boda earlier. The attackers inside the house certainly had their attention riveted to Boda. Lih imagined some with looks of anger—probably those with whom Boda had been involved in the past—although if that were the case, Lih made their faces, dark-skinned and handsome in his mind, even more angry as he limped back toward Boda.
Almost immediately, the street lit up.
He had managed to reach a doorway on the other side of the house close to where Boda's, and Lih’s, cars were. He narrowed his eyes and watched the light show for a few seconds.
He had one of the choicest and most vulgar replies of his life ready to throw at Boda (even though they were on the same side), but a sound from beyond the front door interrupted him.
It was the sound of Ryker's bomb. The first of many in the night.
And it was swiftly followed by the sound of gunfire.
Pushing through the disorder of flames and smoke, he couldn’t see a bloody thing. A series of enemy fire, hot red or hotter white, the lines of shots bent through the gloom and struck the wall behind Lih’s location and blew out thick chunks of plaster and brick. Two loose rounds hit a pillar in the middle distance and knocked him, flailing, off his feet. Other shots arced down mercilessly into the dark; chopped into the pavement, or thudded dully into the distant, hunched shadows.
Lih kept his head down. The battle Boda stirred up was so intense there wasn’t a chance of Lih making it across to join him. He was still pinned around a corner of the house.
“Oh sh—!” Lih cursed, down in cover once he’d assessed the pattern, as if relaying the situation to CCDPD command. “At least two weapons. Not standard. But they’ve got something heavier. A bomb or even some kind of cannon?”
Prone, he had a very limited field of view low against a side wall, but it was enough for him to slide his newly-issued pistol through and clear its sights. The street beyond resolved in the cold, green shimmer of his thermal scope. He had to tweak the gun’s visual down, way down, because the shadows thumping fire at each other were testing the limits of the heat contrast on his gun’s lens.
Better. A hot spot. Very hot. Something big; super, duper heated. He looked again. More hot spots. Smaller. Cooler. He swept out of cover and darted after them, keeping close to the wall.
But it made no sense. He frowned, surveying the attackers’ handiwork as he got into a covering position at the next corner. What could change a round’s trajectory like this? He studied the play of firepower in the air, watching for the fat, dull red ones. The heavy had so much kick, it brought down another door by chopping clean through the frame. And… was that a flying chair just now? Somebody not-Boda was running through the lawn, about a hundred paces north and west, near to where the destruction of Boda’s house made a burning crater in the roadway.
It was ugly, as ugly as anything he’d ever known. This was a f--ing nightmare. He was caught between the ruthless fire of the attackers and the virtually helpless Boda. Like he had the remotest bloody idea what was going on…
Laughing he caught himself longing for the tunnels, as the enemy closed down the fresh angle of attack with a heavy sheet of actual fire. He knew he dearly missed his broken lens. Light, but how useful would Sage’s lens have been right then—see clearly… call for help… hack into the house’s blueprints?
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, without enthusiasm.
Of course, one of them brought a flamethrower… He couldn’t see who it was through the smoke. But he could see for sure he was trapped; this house was too large, too meandering. Every corner, every hallway, every wing and doorway a deathtrap. In a tunnel, you at least knew the enemy was right in front of you.
Viktor Lih