A burst of static came from the walky talky “ Cap’n there’s” more static came “Surprise not su..” Static “Man Made.” The Walky talky went silent again. Hawke sat up. “David be careful.” Hawke grabbed his walky talky. “Spencer run along side Gasks truck. I’ve a feeling omethings coming. Keep your eyes sharp and your gun loaed.” Hawke said.
"Copy that." Spencer said into the walkie. He gunned the throttle and turned in, bringing the bike to the right side of Gask's truck, about fifty yards off. He scanned his field of vision constantly, with occasional glances to the back. Nothing so far. Hawke had definitely sounded on-guard though. Best to keep the gun and blade well at hand.
"Rise and shine, ya Limey bastard, the doctor's in," Omar said kicking Steward in the arse. Suffice to say he woke up. The doctor set down his pack of medical supplies with a grumpy sigh. "Alright, soldier, drop trou and lemme have a look."
Drake Bruce Drake had gunned down several of the Van Haar from the top. He dropped down rummaged in his jacket's pockets and took out the bottle with black fluid in it. He drank a gulp and put it back in his pocket. He cleaned the bit of ice on his rifle with his gloved hand. Meanwhile, Spencer had gone. He wasn't surprised. It was a ghost's job. He moved to the front seat and spoke to Helena, "You are a skilled driver and Spencer is another skilled ghost. I am lucky to work alongside a ghost and an orlock".
Someone was shuffling around inside the convoy "Rise and shine, ya Limey bastard, the doctor's in," came a voice with a slight accent followed by a kick to the ass. Waking up with a start, Steward got to his feet, fists at the ready "WHO THE F*CK DO YA THINK YA'RE!!! " he noticed a man placing down a box and other contraptions, the man turned his head towards Lewis "Alright, soldier, drop trou and lemme have a look." 'He looks like he is from one of the Arab Colonies' Steward thought to himself. 'I know a little bit of that arab stuff' "Salam alykum sharmoota waj ab zibik, aint docs ment to have bit of compassion hey?" a smirk growing on his face. making sure his @ss wasn't far from the docs face he released his trousers down to his ankle "this right here" he said indicating at his @ss is the " Is the finest you will ever clap eyes on...... Now hurry up and do ya magic!, my c*cks turning blue." clasping his hands around his genitals.
"Ikhsil teezak ya nitin," Omar replied, snapping on a pair of gloves. "Let's not make this any more unpleasant than it already is. Unpleasant for me, that is." The doctor produced a syringe. "Morphine. I hope you're not afraid of needles, muti." He injected a double dosage into the man's arse, trying not to stare directly into it. A few prods around the wound confirmed his suspicions. "Sorry mate, I'm gonna have to amputate it..." He waited a few beats. "Heh, just kidding. But you sure wont be sitting down for a long while. Bullet tore straight through your gluteus maximus; came out the other side. You're lucky -- looks like a point-twenty-two. Small calibre. I'll just have to disinfect it, sew it up and bandage it. You might be a bit gimpy, but hey, welcome to the club. Morphine could make you a bit loopy though. Try not to say anything you'll regret."
The doctor produced a syringe. "Morphine. I hope you're not afraid of needles, muti." Steward rolled his eyes and smiled at the doctor "Neh... i aint scared of no needle, can't be as bad as bullet through that ass" he let out an airy laugh. "This is quite embarrassing for both of use" chuckling "ah well, bullets these days seem to find the strangest of places, i bet ya've seen weird things before?" the question hung in the air for what seemed an hour.... "Sooo.... urghhh whats ya name? The doctor didn't reply. "Sorry mate, I'm gonna have to amputate it..." "WHAT!!" Shock surged through him, but before he could say anything else the Arab let out a laugh "Heh, just kidding. But you sure wont be sitting down for a long while. Bullet tore straight through your gluteus maximus; came out the other side. You're lucky -- looks like a point-twenty-two. Small calibre. I'll just have to disinfect it, sew it up and bandage it. You might be a bit gimpy, but hey, welcome to the club. Morphine could make you a bit loopy though. Try not to say anything you'll regret." "How are the others? Everyone still alive? and what happened to Gabriel? last thing i knew he was kneeling over me and then i woke up in here" Steward could feel the morphine beginning to numb the area and also making him drowsy; yawning as he replied "I've always been a fast healer, but a little bit a pain aint going to keep me from doing what i do best. I just hope we don't get ambushed to soon.... but if we do, the next Van Haar i meet will be getting this fella up their ass" he patted his gun hanging on his shoulder "She needs a good ol clean after ya done with me ass"Steward removed his blue shades and placed them inside his coat then removed his neck warmer so the doctor could see his face "AH.. thats better keeps me face warm but it bloody itches at times" he placed a hand to his chin and scratched his neatly trimmed beard "sorry i didnt quite catch ya name?"
Despite the freezing wind blowing around in the cab, Sadie closed her eyes and leant back in the seat, determined to relax as much as possible until they got to Cornwall. She was trying some of the deep breathing exercises that had been recommended for dispelling tension and frustration. Sadie had really, really wanted to hit out at that Van Haar. She was distracted by the revving of a bike engine nearby. Glancing out the window she saw the bike being driven alongside their truck. She couldn’t see enough to discern exactly who the rider was, but it looked like one of the Ghosts. “Something tells me this is not a good sign,” she commented dryly.
Gaston slowly approached the sudden cliff he had flown off of. His eyes scanned the wall, and he spotted what he was looking for: groove marks. This was man made, and a trap no doubt. He changed the frequency on his headset to all CBs. "Convoy, be advised," he said into the headset hoping the transmission reached the trucks. "Trap no more than a mile from your current location, be on lookout." He made his way back to the bike, occasionally slipping on the ice. His elbow still bothered him with immense pain, but he had to work through it. He kept his pistol up, always checking his surroundings. He reached the bike and began the nearly impossible task of flipping it to a standing position.
"I'm Doctor Djalili." Omar worked with stunning efficiency: swabbing the wound with a crimson potassium permanganate solution, sewing it up perfectly almost without looking and bandaging it tight enough to aid clotting, but not enough to restrict blood flow. "The others are fine," he said as he worked. "A few cuts and bruises, but overall everybody pulled through. You're a surprisingly tough lot. So far, you're the only person here whose had the honour of having my fingers inside of them... What's your name, anyway? Gabe called you 'Steward' -- is that a first name, or a last name? Or a spunky nickname?"
"Thanks Drake. You keep handling the gund like you did, and we will do fine. Keep your eyes open and reflexes alert. Something may be up."
Suddenly and without warning group four skidded off the ice momentarily with the skilled driving of Helena the armoured carrier still ran hard into a crater made in the thick Ice Helena was through head first from her seat into the glass of the window. The others were through about the carrier until it came to a sudden grinding stand still and the engine fell silent. The remainder of the convoy didn't notice due to the fog of snow and so carried on.
Three jeeps pulled out of what seemed like nowhere and surrounded the stalled carrier. Drake popped the hatch to the view of seven men jumping down from their jeeps all armed with sub machine guns and aiming at him. Three snow bikes emerged from the fog and slammed hard into Spencer knocking him away from the convoy and forcing him off the bike. Spencer grappled with effort to control the spiral he’d spun into across the ice and finally the bike tipped over knocking him from the seat. He rose up on both feet to the sight of three snow bikes cycling him in taunt each snow bike carried a passenger aiming small shot guns at him. Gask gazed out of his rear side window to the sight of a small van like vehicle headed straight for him seconds later the group two truck was thrown off course as the Van rammed it head on. Gask grabbed Sadie and leaped from the open door she’d managed to kick the truck came to a halt leaving the pair sliding in the darkness feeling very cold and bewildered from shock. Several men and women approached armed with shot guns. Gasks truck came to a stop in the distance with the van still rammed into its side. The driver and three crew jumped out and took firing positions. Three jeeps surrounded the group three carrier and began shooting at the armoured hull and ramming into its side. Artie was the first to see the grapple hook slam into the side of the trailer and suddenly watched in shock and another large truck pulled up to the left side. Van Haar soldiers began boarding the roof of the trailer armed with axes and shot guns. Others took hold of the side of the trailer pulling themselves aboard. Hawke took his SA-80 in hand and leaned out of the window popping of shots on single fire he managed to take two down but soon ended up coming under fire himself. He retuned back to the cockpit and took his Desert Eagle in hand. “David don’t stop whatever happens Don’t frakking stop.” Hawke growled. “Artie shoot that frakking gun.” Hawke bellowed. Artie shout back “OK.” As Artie hit the trigger with his finger the gun jammed. Artie looked on at the nine Van Haar approaching the gun unable to fire. Gaston suddenly found himself been chased by three bikers then four finally five Van Haar Bikes tailed him all firing pistol’s trying to kill the Ghost.
Chris tried in vain to sleep through the banter taking place between the Doc and the Englishman in Vehicle 3. At least Merle and his talking bird remained silent. He opened his eyes and looked over at Eve who, as usual, had her eyes trained on the road and her assortment of glowing meters and gauges. He thought he saw her slip something in her pocket, something covered in blood, but decided that it must just be his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe the violence of everything that had just happened was finally starting to take it's toll. He'd never killed anyone before, but today he'd killed at least 10 people up on that gun. What bothered him most is that he knew, without a doubt, that the worst was yet to come...
Merle didn't mind death, death was always a key part of his life. Preferably though, he understood why the reason was, he would have let those in the accident die. They slow things down, but then again if no one had slowed down for him then he would have been dead as well. Suddenly there was a slam of the side of the carrier. The bird companion and its other half became alert. The bird was the one to check. "Van Haar on jeeps," the bird said, "We can deal with them quickly...by ripping them into shreds." The bird, all though not having a human face, seemed to smile at the idea.
I had no choice but to follow Hawke's orders. I pressed harder on the hammer to speed up as I saw a large truck pull up beside us and seemingly now bonded by a grappling. "Motherf***ers, I swear I am gonna kill everyone of you," I said to myself as I gripped the steering wheel with both hands maintaining the best control possible on the Behemoth. "Artie,Will you PLEASE FIRE AT THE BASTARDS," I yelled at Artie.
After a tiring effort, Gaston finally overturned the bike. That's when he heard it. Faint at first, but then the familiar hum of multiple bikes was closing in on his position fast. He hopped on the bike and turn the ignition, bringing it to life. He wanted to tail back around, but the bikers would make quick work of him had he done so. Instead, he pushed forward into the unknown darkness, using his bad arm to steer. He fired his pistol behind him, trying to take out the bikers. It wasn't accurate enough at the rate he was going and how he was aiming. It did manage to spook one of the bikers and cause him to slip and slide of on the ice, then finally fall over. One down, he thought to himself. Four to go.
Helena was knocked out for a moment and came to dizzy and bloody. The goggles kept the blood out of her eyes, but the blood from her forehead still managed to run down the outside of the lenses. She wiped it away with the back of her glove and tried to orient herself. She was half way out the shattered windshield of her truck with the steering wheel pressing into her belly. The massive truck was pitched forward in the crater, the engine silent. "G**D***!" She muttered as she pulled herself back into the cab of the truck. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the sounds of motorcycles and jeeps. The crash was no accident. It was a trap. She felt somewhat relieved that the crash hadn't been due to her driving. She felt around next to her seat for her shotgun. It had slid into the footwell. Helena retrieved it, wiped some more blood off her goggles, and took aim at the nearest of the b***** who wrecked her truck.
Drake was standing still until somehow the truck got out of control but the skilled driving of Helena managed to keep it on control. He popped the hatch to the view of seven men jumping down from their jeeps all armed with sub machine guns and aiming at him. He told Helena, "We are surrounded by the Van Haar and seperated from the group. Keep the truck moving. I'll try to take them on. There are too many." He yelled, "Hey Van Haars! You think you can take us down by seperating us. Huh! What a joke?". He then took out his rifle and climbed to the top of the truck. He tried his best to avoid the sub-machines. One hit him in the leg but he soon managed to take cover behind a metal sheet. He poked half his body out and took two of them down. Just as he had done so, another bullet pierced his arm. He muttered, "I need the rocket to take them all. There are two many.". He took a heavy rocket launcher in his hand which was loaded. He pushed the button. He waited until he heard a beep. He quickly poked out and hit the launch button. The rocket sped and hit the ice beneath the Van Haars. There was thick fog over there now. Drake stood holed up under the metal sheet.
From out of the fog a Van Haar bike came screaming forth and clipped the back end of the bike. It immediately kicked around, and Spencer tried to save it, but to no avail. He let it go as it fell to the snow. He rolled as he hit the ground. The bike skidded away. He came up onto his feet and gripped his shotgun. The three bikers circled him, yelling and taunting and waving their guns about. Spencer opened up first, firing two shots at one of the bikes. Immediately, he dropped and rolled forward as shots rang out through the fog. To stay in their circle was death. He came up from his roll and ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the perimeter of the circle they formed. He replaced his shotgun as he went and drew his blade. One of the bikes came screaming towards him. He barely made it out of the circle as it blazed past. The others diverged and came towards him, trying to run him down. He withdrew the gun again and pumped shots into the two oncoming bikes. One went down. The other's driver took the load of buck in the face, but his passenger was quick enough to shove him off, and grab hold before it spun out of control. Spencer kept moving, switching again to the blade. He ran to where the other bike had been dumped and cut the throats of the two dying passengers. He replaced the katana again and grabbed the passenger's shotgun. The third bike was nearby, and the soldier on the back began firing. Spencer let loose with both guns, flipping them expertly in his hands to pump the actions as he fired. Another bike bit the dust. The third biker, came speeding towards him. With only a second to react, Spence dropped his guns, stepped to the side and swing as he drew the sword. The Van Haar's head and part of its torso dropped to the ground.
The fog started to clear and Drake quickly switched to his rifle and got up from the cover and jumped straight at one of the shadows with his rifle firing bullets. The shadow dropped and he aimed at 2 more. As he hit the ground he dived to the other side to avoid the bullets streaming towards him. He quickly ran to the truck and jumped into the rear door of the truck and he quickly bolted the door. Some more bullets had hit him. He felt the pain but this wasn't the first time it had happened. He knew only one was left. He told Helena, "Take the last one down.". He walked to the last chair and rested over it.
Helena took aim at the nearest with her shotgun and blasted a Van Haar off his bike. The sound of the shot sent excruciating pain through her head and she almost blacked out again. Drake was firing off shots and being shot at. The sounds came as if from the end of a long tunnel and Helena's vision began to turn red. She willed herself to not pass out and forced herself to freload and fire again.
Abogail brought her jeep around the stunned carrier of group four she pointed her pistol out of the window and fired at Drake the shot missed she fired again the shot missed a second time. She skied the Jeep around and fired again. Third time unlucky. She brought the jeep to a sudden stop pushed her passenger aside as she grabbed for the rocket launcher. He kicked her door open and stood firm her finger on the trigger. Whoooooooshhh. The rocket blazed out of the tube and headed straight for Group four. The rocket slammed hard into the side of the carrier an explosion threw Drake from his feet face down and hard. He looked up saddened to see the explosion a tear fell from his eye flooding up his golden tinted goggles. The smoke dissipated and the Carrier remained defiant. Damn fine armour he thought. Abigail now angry marched over to Drake and slapped him across the back of his head with the butt of her gun. She glimpsed at the charred Hull barely dinted. The back was open she saw Helena hitting the throttle one haded while loading a shotgun with the free hand. Abigail pointed her pistol and fired. The shot ricocheted off the hull and thudded into a seat. Abigail became angered her aiming was bad the cold had began to grasp at her. “Sh!t” She snarled and began to enter the carrier pistol held forwards.
Gaston packed his pistol away as he flew further into the night. He still had four Van Haar closing in on him. Bringing his knees up to the steering column, and using his toes for the gas, he brought his sniper rifle off his shoulder and popped the safety off. It was going to hurt, but he'd rather a bad elbow then an ended life. He pressed hard on the gas, and then released, allowing him time to spin around at the waist, take aim at the closest Van Haar, and fire. The shot hit the man in the shoulder, but it was enough to knock him off his bike and hopefully out could on the ice. Gaston's own bike slid a bit and he tried to stabalize with his knees. An idea formed in his head. Increasing his speed, Gaston flipped the rifle around. Time for a googley, he thought. Once he was ready, he applied the breaks a bit, enough to make him slide, and immediately turned the column. The breaks applied full force, the turn went smoothly, with him Gaston still sliding at an incredible rate. The bikers fast approached, and he hopped on his bike seat, wound up, and cracked the nearest one in the face with the flat side of his rifle butt. The noise was sickening, and the Ghost was sure the Van Haar would not be getting up. Still sliding, with the other two past him, adrenailine pumping, Gaston took aim an unloaded at them. One slumped forward, the other's wheel burst and the bike and biker tumbled into the darkness. Eventually Gaston came to a stop, his breathing labored. He felt a pinch above his backside, and gave a quick grope. When he brought his hand back, the glove was bloody. It was then that Gason noticed the bullet holes and grazing on his bike, as well as the grazings on his own Parka. Some did no physical damage, other cut through jacket to the skin. One lucky slug managed to penetrate through his thick layers of cover and lodge into his skin. "Bloody hell," he mumbled. "Lucky buggers, hittin' me with those pissers." He turned around and went to rev up, feeling another pain in his hamstring region. "And another," he grumbled some more, knowing another shot managed to penetrate his clothing and embed in his body. He sped the bike up, heading back to the convoy.
Hawke opened the passenger door as a Van Haar was about to shoot from above. Pointing his Desert Eagle Hawke fired the gun went bang as the Van Haar stumbled the shot ripped his gullet apart. Hawke looked back at David. “No Matter what keep this Beast moving.” He said climbing out of the cockpit and up onto the roof. The wind was the first thing to hit him he felt the chill instantly the second thing to hit him was the blunt end of an Axe across his head. Hawke stumbled for a moment. He turned and fired. The attacker’s face fell in woods in a pink flurry then exploded from the back. Hawke jumped up to Artie. “Fire the Stubber at that truck.” Artie looked at the gun. “I-its jammed Cap’n.” he called. Hawke kicked the ammo box with his right foot and the gun suddenly clicked. “Not anymore.” He called back above the wind. Hawke as quick as a snake turned fired and took out another attacker. Bastards are all over the trailer he thought. Jumping from truck to trailer Hawke took his gun in a two handed grip and fired and fired and fired. Three Van Haar stumbled two fell from the trailer and felt the crush of the large wheels below. Even Hawke heard the crunch of bone. Pain slammed into his leg and hard. He turned to see an Axe head embedded deep. The wind blew his hood back and he saw the Van Haar now pointed a sown off shot gun in his face. Hawke swiped his hand low knocking the brute from the trailer. Again crunching bone followed by a squeal as the wheels crunched the warrior. Three left Hawke mused. The three dropped to knee height and fired their sub machine guns. The bullets flooded across the roof slamming into the trailer. Hawke slipped back landing on his back across the K9 engine. Looking up he saw David and his face filled with rage. Hawke yanked himself back up and suddenly the cold bit hard into his wounded leg. He stumbled almost as though drunk. Yet he bit through the pain and launched his body back to the trailer roof and fired another shot. The bullet flew through the air aided by the wind and took the face off another of the Van Haar. Two left Hawke thought. His gun was out of ammo and the clips back in the cockpit. He charged slipping on the roof his face slammed hard into the metal he looked up red covered his vision now the two Van Haar leaped over him and landed on the trucks roof. One pulled himself into the passenger seat a pistol aimed in David’s face. Hawke rolled and grabbed the latter’s foot forcing him to fall from the trailer. The large wheels crushed his head. Pieces of skull flew out followed by brain fragments across the ice. Hawke blacked out.
