Obsidian's War The Winter City

By the time Gel and Even got up to Gel’s apartment she was shaking hard enough for Gel to suggest a doctor.

She shook her head. “We’ll see. Come here.”

She took his hand, lead him to his living room couch, pushed him into it then sat on his lap, head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold chain mail top and skirt.

“Hold me and that’s it,” she said. “You’re not allowed to do anything else. And no talking.”

“Okay but is this the right pressure?” he asked squeezing gently.

“Bit harder.”

Gel squeezed a little more.

“That’s better. That’s nice. Keep it like that and no talking.”

They sat for several minutes, Even’s forehead on Gel’s cheek, one hand on his shoulder until, gradually, her shaking subsided. She stirred long enough to fiddle with his bow tie.

“A clip on, rich kid,” she said.

“Tying a bow tie is too much trouble,” he said.

Clicking her tongue she undid the tie, threw it across the room then undid the top buttons on Gel’s shirt so she could slide her hand inside.

“I like skin on skin,” she said. “Now quiet, this is helping.”

That arrangement held for a few minutes before Even, clicking her tongue impatiently again, undid more shirt buttons to press her body again his chest. After another minute, she unhooked her top with one motion, threw it across the room to make full contact, breasts and all, against his chest.

“You’re still not allowed to do anything,” she said.

“You know I’m not gay, right?” Gel said.

“Shut up.”

***

Gel’s team inspected the concrete panels carefully.

“Nothing, Skip,” said Theo.

“Like those computer games where you’ve got to find the secret exit,” said Hartmann.

Parkinson fired down the stairs, the sound echoing off the walls, then dropped a grenade which went off with a bang that made them all clutch their ears. Gel fought off rising panic. How could they work out if there was any difference in the panels?

“Scan with infrared,” he said.

After a time Theo said, “One panel maybe colder than the others.”

“Air from outside?” said Gel.

They heard someone call from below. “Surrender you fucks, there’s no way out.”

“Don’t answer,” said Gel.

They inspected the panel.

“Can’t see secret button or anything, but panel seems more concrete than rock,” said Theo.

“We’ll have to blow it,” said Gel.

“Plastique in here’d kill us all, Skip,” said Theo. “The blast ’ll bounce off the walls.”

“We’ll try a couple of armour piercing sabot rounds from my Dart-Gun,” said Gel. “Everyone against the wall on the opposite side. Parkinson throw another grenade but make sure they can’t throw it back.”

They crowded against the wall while Gel sighted and fired, deafening his squad but, once the smoke had cleared, they could see a sizable crater in the panel.

“It’s not rock,” said Gel. He fired twice more, excavating enough concrete to create a small hole beyond which was an open space. He switched to the classic High Explosive Anti- Tank or HEAT rounds – old fashioned technology, but still useful in a tight spot – and fired twice more to enlarge the hold slightly.

“What the fuck are you guys doing up there,” said someone below.

Gel’s response was to walk to the stairwell, switch his Dart-Gun to high explosive rounds, poke it around the edge of the stairwell without exposing any part of himself, sight on the stairways exit to the floor below, using a display on his helmet visor, and fired. This was rewarded with a yell and a few shots which did not come near the squad.

“That should shut them up while we work on getting out of here,” said Gel. “Time for the plastique. Place it so that most of the blast goes outwards into the space beyond and the concrete, not out through here.”

The blast seemed to shake the solid-rock chamber and made them cower against the wall, but when the dust settled the hole was large enough to crawl through. Theo, who went in first reported a narrow shaft leading straight up to what might be a part of Jasper’s transit system.

“We’ll all fit through except for the Synth,” said Theo. “There’s no way to make it larger.”

“Okay, we’ll haul Dawlish up,” said Gel, “and put the Synth in self-destruct mode. Sorry, friend.”

“My duty,” said the Synth, automatically.

***

After a few more minutes Even had relaxed enough to giggle and whisper in Gel’s ear. “I can feel you’re not gay.” She put both hands around his neck and rubbed against him.

“Hey, no fair,” protested Gel. “I’m trying to behave myself here.”

“Oh, it’s fair you want is it?” she said and rubbed against him again.

“Is this another of your tests?” demanded Gel gasping. “We said no more games.”

“You’re full of shit Obsidian,” she said, face still close to his cheek. “Tell me, were you ever sexually confused… you know, thought you might be a girl or a guy who liked guys.”

“Nope, a guy who liked girls right from the start,” he said.

“A part of you is telling me you like girls,” she said.

“And you – did you ever like girls?”

She giggled again. “I had a crush on an older girl in school once, I think. No guy’s ever asked me that.”

“I’ve got a really hot, topless girl sitting on my lap who wants to be held close but tells me I’m not allowed to do anything. I’ve got to distract myself somehow.”

She drew her face away from his to look at him. “Poor rich boy. But rescuing me in a tux, I’ll give you points on style.”

“I didn’t have time to change, and it proved useful. They mistook me for a waiter.”

She laughed outright. “Did they?”

“Sure, I even handed out food downstairs to the guards.”

She started laughing and seemingly couldn’t stop.

“That’s how I got close to the guard outside your room, the big guy who came through the door. He thought I was taking food to him.”

She laughed for a long while, then rested her head on his shoulder, chuckling.

“Sorry, relief of tension,” she said. “That’s better.”

“I got that. But it is funny.”

She chuckled again, then whispered in his ear. “Now I think you can help me relieve the tension in another way.”

“Yeah?” said Gel, warily, “what did you have I mind?”

“C’mon,” she said, standing up, topless and taking his hand. She led him towards the bedroom.

***

Gel was the last person through the newly opened passage and, as commander, set the Synth’s self-destruct timer through a keypad on the neck. He removed the synth’s memory unit – it would be plugged into an identical unit back at base – pressed the activate button and scrambled up through the rough-cut shaft, just as he heard clinks and scrapes in the floor below. Halfway up a grenade exploded in the chamber they had just left, and Hoodies charging up the stairs yelling.

He could hear someone say, “Just the Synth”, before someone else yelled “get out now”. As he reached the top which proved to be a cramped service tunnel for the city, the Synth blew up with a satisfying ‘whump!’ sending a fountain of dust out the shaft he had just vacated.

His squad was waiting along with Dr Addanc and senior constable Lewandowski, as well as Dawlish still unconscious and apparently floating. Gel blinked again and realised that she had been given the grav-pack used by Hartmann. Far too valuable to be left behind, the grav-pack had been set so that the squad leader was effectively weightless and just stayed where she was put like a hydrogen balloon with a small weight attached to it. She would be towed along by Alyssa.

“Good thinking,” said Gel. “Guy’s we gotta roll. Hartmann, you got a direction for us away from this mess. Then we need to get to the surface.”

“This way, Skip,” said Hartmann pointing off into the distance.

“Ralph, your turn for rear guard, wait a couple of minutes, drop a grenade, then catch us up, fast.”

“You gottit, Skip.”

They moved on at a trot. Later they would slow down to a fast walk, but for the moment Gel wanted distance between himself and the Hoodies while their opponents were still trying to work out what had happened. They heard a muffled explosion in the distance and then Ralph joined them.

“All quiet so far, Skip,” he said.

Further on, Gel was aware of a thundering crash repeated at intervals, as if the rock the city was built on was being pounded like a drum.

“What’s the noise, Hartmann?” he asked.

“That’s the ocean, Skip,” said technical private. “No one except scientists go anywhere near it. The water’s freezing, its stormy, with lots of big waves, and there are some nasty primordial creatures in it. The waves wash into a cavern near here, where the city has a wave generator set up. It’s a lot of effort for not much power but it makes a great tourist attraction. There’s viewing platform straight on a couple of klicks.”

“When we’re not running for our lives with wounded in tow, we’ll take a look but not today,” said Gel. “Let’s dial it back to a walk people but keep going. Keep behind Theo and in front of Ralph.”

They found stairs and moved up a level, into a tunnel used by the Jasper underground railway, when that railway was working. The pounding was louder. Gel thought the sound of the immense weight of water hitting the cliff face was a sort of elemental drum of doom. Abruptly he wondered what Major Murtagh was doing.

***

Freed from the plastic ties the Salts had used to bind him, Major Murtagh glared at the Gagrim – one of those in a human body with an altered skull.

“How did the Salts know where this exit was?” he demanded. “Hardly anyone knew about it?”

The Gagrim did not shrug. His kind did not shrug. Instead, he glared at the mercenary with yellow eyes. “We have not yet determined the source of that information,” the creature said in his race’s characteristic monotone. “We checked the memory of the city system. They have not been touched.” (Jan had not needed to access the files in the areas she permitted the Gagrim to use to tell Gel about the entrance.) “We do not have full control of that system, but the humans were not here long enough to do anything. Our technicians say they exchanged a few words with the system and left.”

“There must be more to it,” said Murtagh. “The officer in charge is good. He won’t have risked his team coming here without some reason.”

“We have checked and can find nothing out of place, Major,” said the Gagrim still staring.

The additional wireless attachment to Jan had gone unnoticed among the connections to a system with which the technicians had never been familiar in the first place. None of the sentries posted to the roof knew enough about the space to realise that the small satellite dish in one corner with its base partially covered in snow had not been there before. The mystery of the missing sentry was not cleared up for some time and even then, no-one connected the body with a piece of roof furniture.

“Humph,” said Murtagh. He was sure that there was more to it than that, but maybe he could take the soldiers prisoner and ask them the old-fashioned, hard way. Murtagh approved of the old ways. It gave him a warm feeling just to think about their use. “You’ve activated the missile systems so that transports now can’t land in the city?”

“Of course,” snapped the Gagrim. “But they will move well outside the city and request transportation from there.”

“No,” said Murtagh shaking his head. “I saw wounded with the group. Obsidian will want to get the wounded back as quickly as possible. I believe I know where he is likely to go, and I want to go after him.”

“One group is already after them,” said the Gagrim.

“They might be able to catch this group,” said Murtagh reluctantly. “But Lieutenant Obsidian has proved a wily foe. Instead of chasing him around the map, I can take the group I’ve been training and head them off. We can catch his group between two forces and ask the prisoners what they were doing down here.”

The Gagrim appeared to think about this for a moment or so, the yellow light in his eyes dimming. Then they flashed on again.

“Go, Major,” the creature said.

***

Gel’s group reached the surface in the reception area of a ruined building several blocks East of the Justice centre and immediately called for a pickup from the centre at Fort Bravo, carefully avoiding the Fort Apache system, only to be told that no transport could get to them.

“It’s a no fly zone sir,” said the operator. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“But we’ve got wounded,” protested Gel.

“We’d like to help sir, truly,” said the operator. “But the transport you had on standby had to duck for cover and another got shot down with the loss of one flight crew. The missile batteries move so we can’t clear them out easily.”

“Then where is the nearest point we can be picked up?”

“The nearest permitted is fifty kilometres, sir.”

“Fifty kilometres,” spluttered Gel. “Our wounded will never make that.”

“As I said sir,” said the operator. “We send in a transport and that just means the transport gets shot down. There is nothing I can do.”

“You heard,” he said to the others as he signed off. “No easy ride out for us. We’ve got to walk out and Dawlish won’t make it, unless we go straight for the Fort Apache perimeter. That’s only a few klicks.”

“We’d have to fight out way through the Hoodies, Skip, and then avoid getting shot by our own guys,” said Theo.

Gel thought for a moment. “We have an underground option. Hartmann, you remember where you took one in the leg?”

“How could I forget, Skip.”

“That was connected underground with Jasper. Can you get us there?”

“Full maps, Skip.”

“Then pick a route and let’s go. It’s been a tough couple of days people, but we’ll be back at the Fort where its warm in no time.”

Gel called Colonel Lee on her private line and told them what the group was doing, and about certain precautions she had to take. They all heard the call and by the time he finished Dr Addanc, in particular, was staring at him.

“When were you going to tell me about what was happening with your own superiors?” he demanded.

“Dr Addanc, for the last time I do not report to you, and I do not take orders from you. You are along as an observer who can make suggestions and that’s all. It is for Colonel Lee or General Sims to tell you these things, not me. As you charged off on your own with two squads of Guards without telling them, you’d be lucky if they don’t send you all the way back to Earth when we return. Now shut up and keep up, or we could arrange a battlefield accident. They happen all the time, don’t they Theo?”

“Dangerous to be behind lines, Skip,” said Theo. “Not our fault if something happens.”

“I would do my best to render aid,” said Alyssa. “But there’s only so much I can do.”

“Can I hit?” said Cliffe. It was the first time he had spoken for many hours.

Dr Addanc was not liked.

“It’s a thought, Cliffe,” said Gel. “But he’s not an officer. Another time maybe.”

“Still want to hit,” rumbled Cliffe, glaring at the spy.

***

Even ran her finger along Gel’s chin, her head on his shoulder, as they lay together in his bed.

“You’ve never had a stubble? They’re coming back in.”

“Nope – always clean shaven. Can’t stand having a beard and I’d always want to shave a stubble off.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she said, smiling.

“Yep, nerdy, no account me,” said Gel. “You should get rid of me and find another hit man.”

“Humph! Who did you dance with at this wedding?”

“My sister was there, Jenny for Genevieve, I danced with her.”

“A sister? How old?”

“A year or so younger than Hestia. I danced with the bridesmaid I was paired with, another cousin, and, oh yeah, a girl I’m fairly sure my mother wanted me to get to know.”

“Really?” she said, raising her head so that her chin rested on his bare shoulder. “How did you know she was a set up by your mother?”

“Because my mother paid no attention to her, even when we danced together. She was hot, single and apparently interested in me. If my mother didn’t check her out straight away it’s because she already knew all about her, and thought I’d be less wary if I didn’t think she knew her.”

“Ha!” said Even. “It could be that this girl was hunting mega-wealthy guys, even ones that have been disinherited.”

“Then how did she come to be at the wedding? She spun me a tale about being a friend of my cousin Judith at uni, but Judith is the radical causes type and there was nothing radical causes about this girl. Easier to believe my mother primed her and told her I could be put back into the family trust if I played along.”

That caught her attention.

“Can you be put back?” she asked, raising her head and eyeing him.

He squeezed her gently. “Never you mind. I can’t accept any deal from my mother, now. A soldiers pay for me.”

“Humph! Just asking,” she said, putting her head back on his shoulder. “What happened to this girl?”

“I was called away suddenly if you recall, because someone had gotten themselves into a real mess, and Courtney thought it might be a good idea if I got that certain someone out of it. I didn’t say goodbye or anything to her. Jenny sent me a text asking where I’d got to, but nothing from the girl.”

“Does she have your number?”

“Nope, although I guess she could get it from Mother. I have only a few days before I vanish for months, in any case.”

“I still think you’re totally full of shit about the money, Obsidian,” she said. “But I was in real trouble, and you got me out. That counts for a lot, and you did it in a tux.”

“I’m an Obsidian, we have style,” he said.

***

On a whim of Gel’s his team used the city’s underground railway tunnels. These had a flat surface with two tracks just like railways since the dawn of the industrial age and, more importantly, which was completely deserted. The team made good time, slowing only at the occasional station, which was checked out before they passed through. Nothing.

“This is our stop ahead,” said Hartmann finally. They had all been on the go for close to a full day and were feeling it. “There’re apartment buildings above. But we have to go East as well as North to get the tunnel we want.”

“How’s Dawlish doing?” Gel asked of Alyssa.

“Could be better, Skip,” said the medic scanning Dawlish, “she needs an operation soon.”

They moved up an escalator in dead silence. Theo’s helmet scanners detected voices down one exit from the station, so they went out through another to emerge in a large, shared, underground foyer for a series of apartment buildings. An open doorway with a stairway lead down to a basement containing the heating and utilities storage area for the whole complex. Even better, as Gel had suspected, the basement was connected to other basements. They could make their way to where they had to go, moving from one area of silent storage lockers to another.

“We’re here Skip,” announced Hartmann finally. “But we’ve gotta go up to foyer level, one storey below ground and a few metres along a main underground thoroughfare, to get to the tunnel building.”

“How come it’s not connected?”

“I don’t know Skip,” protested Hartmann, “I’m just reading the map. But it’s a public works tunnel and unfinished. Maybe they were going to connect it to stuff later, but the war came. Once we get down to the tunnel it’s a few klicks or so to where I got shot.”

“Okay, Theo, Parkinson, we need careful scouting. We gotta go out on the main thoroughfare to get to the next building on our side. Let’s check out this building first.”

Theo went up the stairs to the foyer and came back almost straight away.

“We got dudes up there, Skip,” he said. “All set to ambush whoever comes along the thoroughfare. Looks real like they’re waiting for us.”

***

“A guy in a tux did all this to you?” said the detective, an Inspector Haldar. “Did he call himself James Bond?”

The massive thug known as Humpy sat in the interview room, his bullet head swathed in bandages, staring gloomily at two detectives.

“He was dressed as a waiter, I tell you,” said Humpy. “That’s how he was able to get close to me. I thought he was offering me that finger food stuff from downstairs.”

“James Bond is now a waiter?” said the second detective, a Sergeant McNair. “How come the head wounds? Did he hit you with the finger food?”

“Nah, nah, he had a stick.”

“James Bond waiter had a stick?” said Halder. “Did you ever hear of such a thing Sergeant McNair?”

“I never did hear of such a thing, inspector,” said McNair. “In those old films James Bond always has cool gadgets. Not a stick. Maybe he was really in a duck costume?”

“Nah, nah, it was a tuxedo.”

“And he was the one who fired the gun you admit to carrying?” said McNair.

“I was just trying to defend myself against this guy. I only drew it after he hit me. He pulled the trigger. There should be surveillance cam files from downstairs. Look on those for this guy if you don’t believe me.”

“We looked, Humpy,” said Inspector Haldar. “We are very diligent in our work aren’t we Sergeant?”

“Oh, very diligent, Inspector,” said McNair. “Trouble is Humpy, the files were all wiped the moment police showed their faces in the building. Part of some sort of panic procedure for the house, Mr Darkmore being such a fine, upstanding citizen.”

“But we’re not looking at mysterious James Bond types in dinner jackets, Humpy,” said the inspector, leaning forward on the table. “There is another puzzle here. Some time back we fished the body of a low level street thug, one Oscar Maidstone with the street name of Crash, out of Green Harbour.” The inspector saw what he had been hoping for, a flicker of fear in the thug’s face. He strongly suspected the thug was telling the truth about a waiter freeing the girl they thought was a singer at the club Night Beats, but they were now playing a bigger game than trying to identify a mysterious individual in a tuxedo.

“The body had remains of rope on its ankle. Our guess is that he was tied to something; weighted down so that he never resurfaced but you shouldn’t use rope for that kind of job, and Crash came up again. We were curious about what Crash had been doing underwater; and what do police do when they’re curious about bodies, Sergeant McNair?”

“They perform autopsies, Inspector, in this case an autopsy which recovered three slugs from the body – slugs which we have now linked to the weapon which Humpy here has admitted to carrying.”

“Humpy, you should have got rid of the weapon,” said the Inspector. “We’ve also traced your movements through mobile phone records on the day we believe Crash disappeared and have looked at surveillance cams, and we’ve searched your place. Interesting stuff at your place. There is also the question of the girl we found tied up who seems to be under the impression that you were the one that kidnapped her.” The Inspector lent even closer and whispered. “My, my, Humpy, you are in trouble, aren’t you?”

The thug gulped, then managed to croak, “I want a lawyer”.

“And you shall have a lawyer, Humpy,” said the Inspector, but you may want one that is not paid for by Mr Darkmore, particularly as we are willing to suggest a reasonable compromise, and I am a reasonable man is that not so Sergeant?”

“I’ve often heard it said in the watch house,” said McNair, “that Inspector Haldar is a reasonable man. He is so reasonable that he doesn’t care much about Crash, or the person who pulled the trigger on Crash. He is concerned about the person who ordered Crash’s execution.”

Humpy looked from one detective to another. He was sweating, his wounds were hurting.

“I’m no dog,” he managed to say, but without conviction. By dog he meant informer.

“That’s your choice, Humpy,” said the Inspector. “But you should know that any information you have may have only a limited shelf life.”

“The club Mr Darkmore has been going to, Night Beats,” said McNair, “is owned by a husband and wife, and Mr Darkmore seems to have annoyed the better half of these two no end with this business about buying and selling their singers. It is seen as going too far, even in Five Ways. The owners have let it be known that anyone who informs on Mr Darkmore, or his operations, will not be seen as breaking the criminal code of silence. Rival gangs are using the opportunity to move in on his operations. Our tips line is now melting down I’m told. A lot of work for us, Inspector.”

“That’s true, sergeant,” said the inspector. “A lot of work, but satisfying work, as we shall be putting away people who should not be on the streets at all. You can either help make Green City a safer place, Humpy, as well as make your own life easier, and never mind James Bond in a duck costume, or you can share jail cells with your Mongolian family comrades for many years to come.”

Humpy looked from one detective to another, trying to think of another way out.

***

Even drove Gel to the barracks to report for transport to the Dimarch system in his car – the assignment that would start with his appointment as deputy port commander.

“An interesting few days,” said Gel as they drove.

“Just interesting?” said Even smiling. “Is that all you can think of to say?”

“What about energetic and erotic?”

“Better,” she said.

Even had taken time off work and she and Gel had left the apartment only to grab her belongings from her old apartment. Boris had not been there.

“Now I’ll be gone for months, so who knows what Hestia and you will get up to in my absence.”

Hestia would wait until after Gel had left to move into the spare room, to allay Gillian’s legal concerns.

“Two girls on the town,” said Even cheerfully, “who knows?”

“I’ve set the security up so that you and Hestia can use the apartment,” said Gel, “but no-one else. If you want to chat with other girls or guys…”

“Polite chatting?” asked Even playfully.

“For any social interaction, which may or may not include polite chatting,” Gel leant toward Eve when he said the last two works, “you have to do it outside the apartment. But where possible stick to well lit, busy places.”

“Gotit!” said Even.

“The car will also auto-drive to pick up you and Hestia up after work. Just have the club gorilla walk you out to where you can get in.”

“The gorilla’s name is James,” said Even. “He’s a bit fierce with customers sometimes but very nice.”

“The gorilla is called James?”

“Sure, James is a nice name.”

“He’s big enough to be called Brett Rock or maybe Clyde, so he can be called Killer Clyde,” said Gel. “James doesn’t seem to fit.”

“The guy you beat up to rescue me looked bigger than James,” said Even.

“He was called Humpy, which fits him way better than James fits the gorilla,” said Gel. “Either way, it makes for a longer and healthier life if I don’t beat up big guys, which reminds me, any word on Boris?”

“Police haven’t been able to find him and he’s banned from the club so I haven’t seen him there,” said Even. “He’s lying low and he can stay low as far as I’m concerned. It was cool to be rescued by a guy in a tux, but it was not fun getting into trouble in the first place.”

“Style is important in rescuing,” said Gel. “There should be a dress code.”

When they got to the base, Even insisted on parking, rather than simply dropping Gel off and walking with him to the security entrance, arm around his. She then kissed him passionately, both arms around his neck, in front of the other arrivals – the performance drawing a wolf whistle.

“Send-offs are important too,” she said, when she finally released him. Message often and see you in three months, Lieutenant.”

Evan walked away, then turned and waved and Gel knew that, unlike his last deployment, he had someone who expected him to return to her.

***

“An ambush?” said Gel. “How many?”

“Couple of dudes set up out the front, good cover, Skip. One’s got a storm cannon. We could take ’em out easy but not with knives. Reckon there are others. Heard one talk on comms and look to his left.”

“Interlocking ambush positions,” said Gel. “Hartmann what’s on the other side?”

“Some sort of rec area,” said Hartmann looking at his plans. “No underground access.”

“We can’t sneak up on the other group, and we’re running out of time for Dawlish.” Gel thought for a moment. “Looks like we gotta blast our way through. Whoever set this was smart enough to know we’d try to go under the lines to reach Fort Apache but expected us to march up the thoroughfare, not go through basements. Here’s what we do.”

A few minutes later Gel and Theo crept through the deserted foyer of the apartment building, the rest of the team right behind. It had been a run-down place before the war with a plastic check pattern on the floor, rather than a carpet. But at least there was no rubble or bodies, and that made it a step or two above some of the buildings they had been in. An expansive window with no glass in the frame gave a view of an attempt at an ornamental garden with stone figurines at the front of the building.

Two Hoodies, one armed with a storm cannon and both with older style combat helmets, had taken up position behind these figurines, heaping up snow for additional cover and looking out purposefully onto the underground roadway – about the size of a small suburban street on earth with massive stone pillars at regular intervals. Theo was right, they could take out the pair easily but not without attracting unwelcome attention. Gel set his visor to infrared and scanned the building they could see to the left, on the other side of the roadway. Sure enough, there was trace of body heat and some movement. Any attack on the Hoodies in front of them would invite an instant response from the building across the way. There was also a building to the right on the other side of the avenue, beside the park, but he could not see it. The tunnel entrance building, set out to the road way, blocked their sight to the right.

Only one thing for it. Gel whispered to the others what he wanted done, then shifted his trusty Dart-Gun onto his shoulder crouched down and fired through the window at the building to the left front. The two Hoodies in the ornamental garden whipped around, bringing their weapons up, and died from single shots fired by Theo and Sylvester, who insisted on being involved in the action. Cliffe and Ralph added to the fire on the target building, while Parkinson jumped through the window sprinted to the corner of the tunnel entrance building and started firing at the building on that side.

Gel saw movement in park opposite and fired a high explosive dart, adding to the horrific din. He fired again. There didn’t seem to be any other positions. He stood up and felt something flick past him

“Guys, let’s go,” he said.

Theo, Hartmann and Alyssa trailing Dawlish dashed past him. Then came Cliffe, Ralph and Sylvester firing at the building and park.

“Locked guys,” Gel heard Theo say over comms. He had reached the tunnel building. “Won’t kick in.”

“Get clear, Theo,” said Gel who had reached the edge of the tunnel building, “keep firing at the buildings”. He flicked the Dart Gun loader to armour piercing while the others retreated. He backpedalled to ensure that he was at safe firing range and fired at the lock. There was a ‘whump!’ at a blast and a moment later the remains of the door was on the floor, well inside the tunnel entrance. “Go, go guys.”

“Get in people,” said Sylvester, who had kept firing at the building to the right. He now stood up and waved Alyssa and Dawlish through the entrance, then Gel.

“Time to go, S….” said Gel, just as Sylvester’s back spouted red and the same bullet hit him, punching through his bullet proof. He stumbled, fired off another armour piercing round about where the shot would have come from then fell to his knees.

“Alyssa, Skip’s been clipped,” he heard Theo say. “Fire at the buildings, everyone, grenades and into the tunnel.”

Gel was aware that he was being pulled back. Blackness descended.