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April 20, 2012 / milesandhisfavorites

Abandoned: Inferno Part Two

Belle was lying in the middle of the street.  Anyone could have walked out there and gotten her, but there were makeshift bombs all over the place, and the odds were good that both people would be blown to bits.  Sham raised his hand, gesturing towards the guards that had gathered.  Everyone knew what that meant.  It was either supplies or Belle died.  No one wanted her to be killed, but it would take months for the Players to become even a third as powerful as they had been before.  Boxes of canned food and water were brought out, and from an alleyway, Orson, flanked by five muscular Sea Kings, stepped out.  In his hand was what looked like a remote control.  It was obvious what it did.  It activated the bombs.

Orson walked across the street, ignoring Belle’s muffled pleas for help.  He walked into the lobby, arrogant and confident.  His lackeys picked up the boxes and walked in a group back to the alley.  They began coming back for more supplies.  In fifteen minutes, half of the supplies were gone.  If Sham wanted to make a move, he had to do it now.  Sure enough, once all six people were in the lobby, he shouted “Now!”  Every guard lunged.  It was no contest.  All five Sea Kings were captives, but Orson somehow got away.  Then, he shouted “Thought you could get us undefended, did you?”.  Everyone looked out onto the street, even the prisoners.  Orson was holding Belle by the scruff of her neck, a flare pistol pressed to her head.  One pull of the trigger and she was dead before she registered the pain.

Leil screamed the worst word she could think of.  In the few days between the incident with Gil and the huge fire, she and Belle had become friends.  “What do you even want with her?” she shouted.  “Nothing,” Orson replied with a sly grin.  “But pretty girls seem to always make great bargaining chips.  Now, release my men and hand over the supplies, or I move my index finger half an inch.”  At that exact instant, Sham pulled out an identical flare pistol.  “You may be willing to kill her, Orson,” he said.  “But would you give her life in exchange for yours?  Is this deal really that valuable to you?”

Then Abel and Leil figured it out at the same time.  The deal really was that valuable.  Orson was getting desperate.  The city had resisted everything he had done, from the invasion to the fire.  Orson had a tribe to run, and if he couldn’t keep the tribe going, everything would come crashing down around him.  His tribe would rebel, and he would lose everything.  Orson was honestly scared.  The tables had turned, and it didn’t look very good for the Sea Kings.  Then, a split second later, Orson swung his arm out to the right, and fired the pistol.  Still thinking that Orson was aiming at Belle, Sham fired.  The flare didn’t hit Belle, but it barely grazed her arm.  She screamed, and Orson had made a getaway.  Sham stared at the street for a moment, then looked at the assembled guards.  “Well?” he said.  “Get him!”

Minutes later, a convoy of everything from Smartcars to Hummers were roaring through the city streets, splitting up and hunting down Orson.  Of course, by now he could be anywhere, but that didn’t hinder the search party.  Finally, half a dozen Dodge pickups skidded to a halt outside the Ellis Island ferry docks, where the Sea Kings’ three large ships were docked.  Orson had climbed aboard one, a bright red flare pistol in one hand, raised into the air triumphantly.  This was his final stand.  A second later, thirty Sea Kings appeared on board the decks of the boats.  All of them were armed with flare launchers.  Orson shot a flare into the convoy, and the battle began.

The flare hit one of the pickups directly on the sunroof, which luckily was closed.  However, another pickup responded with a barrage of paintball fire, which hit two Sea Kings, knocking them to the ground.  By then, however, another two dozen Sea Kings had appeared on the decks.  They began shooting flares like cannonballs.  Several pickups had their wheels shot out, and in return shot paintballs and primitive arrows at them.  Within minutes, half of the Sea Kings were sprawled on the deck and most of the pickups were immobilized.  But within minutes of an apparent stalemate, ten Hummers raced onto the docks.  Sham, Abel and Leil leaped out of one, all holding paintball guns.  They immediately took aim at Orson, who was now racing back and forth, attempting to dodge projectiles and score hits at the same time.  Mostly, however, he was just doing the former.

The trio ducked as a flare shot past them and set a nearby trash can on fire.  The last battle of the Sea King occupation was going to be over faster than it began at this rate.  Until from another street, a familiar police car flanked by ATVs slowly drove out from behind the train station.  Against all odds, the Cyberpunks and the Sea Kings had formed an alliance.  Now the most powerful tribe in the city was caught up in the battle.  The tables had turned.  Half of the militia took aim at the Cyberpunks, but they returned with ambushes from every part of the docks, from old souvenir shops to rusted ferries.  Everyone ducked for cover as paintballs flew, and Abel and Leil were caught in the middle.

“Down!” Abel screamed, and the two hit the floor.  The militia returned fire, but they were running out of ammo.  To finish the game, Orson picked up an oil drum, grunting from its weight.  He heaved it over the side, and it hit the dock, partially spilling.  Kerosene soaked the concrete.  Then, Orson picked up his flare launcher and aimed it at the flammable spill.  “Surrender,” he shouted.  “Or you go up!”  Sham looked up from his paintball gun.

“You can’t be serious!  If you blow us up, you blow yourself-and everything on this dock-to bits!”

“Not so!”

Just then, the boat started to pull away from the docks.  Everyone in the militia fired, hoping to get as many shots as possible in before they got away.  But Sham wasn’t giving up that easily.  He raised his flare pistol and fired at the hull of the boat, since there was still some kerosene splashed onto the side.  At the same time, Orson had fired his, and the two flares met in a fireball.  But since the flares met close to the boat, a few cinders fell onto the kerosene.  It was just enough to set part of the hull alight.  Orson looked down on the raging inferno just a few meters below him and screamed.  A millisecond later, the fire engulfed the entire prow of the boat-including Orson.

After the prow, the flames spread to the bridge, and minutes later, you could barely see the shape of the ship out of all the flames.  As it was drifting out into the middle of the harbor, the fire must have reached the engine room, where all the fuel was.  If anyone had survived the initial fire, there was no way they could have done the same with the explosion that followed.  Everyone looked on as the once-great Sea King flagship finally sunk beneath the harbor, carrying Orson and several dozen others with it.  The final thing to go down was the prow, and the name etched on the side, with the emblem of the New Zealand Police-the Justice.

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