The Rebel [KurtH6355]

[Lord Bradorian]

"Get inside - Now!" Francis orders, sprinting up to the front door and opening it. "Come on!" He saws, the Orderkeeper now in his hands. He was ready to start shooting, despite the range.

 

[Lorsh]

The girl seems confused, stumbling through the door and looking around in fright. "W-What's going on?" she quickly asks, ducking down from the windows. You see the gray junker reverse out of the alley and begin to drive towards your house at an above-average speed.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Francis walks into his house and closes the door shut, locking it with several mechanisms, and dug into his pocket, donning his Tactico Mk. 1 Singular Eyepiece. "That gray junker is drivin' at the house!" Francis said. He then walks over to a medium-sized window which looks out and down the street, opening the window, his Orderkeeper raised and pointed toward the driver of the junker and Francis steadying his aim on the windowsill, his nose-down concealed and in cover, other than his forearms and hands. Weather the driver saw this or not he didn't know. If the Junker stopped outside his house, he would open fire. If the driver rolled down a window, he'd open fire. He pulled the snub slum pistol out of his waistband and passed it to the girl. "Pull back the slide, and stay down - Don't shoot unless I tell you. Keep your finger OFF the trigger." Francis instructed in a stern yet calm voice. He then pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a rebel associate, putting it on speaker and setting it down, so that he could keep both hands on the weapon. As soon as he picked up the phone, Francis spoke. "Boss, I need help at my house! I've got the supplies, but I've got company! Their rolling up in a junker, can't be Watchmen!" Francis called, his weapon still leveled. "Travis and Marley are missing, probably dead!"

 

[Lorsh]

You see the door of the junker open as it is still moving, and a man jumps out of the passenger's side door. He ducks down behind another car outside your house. You fire a shot at the windshield of the driver, and the junker brakes in front of your house. Nobody else gets out.


You hand the snubnosed pistol to the girl, who has begun crying. She stares at it as if she has been given a human heart during a surgery. Still, she feebly pulls back the slide, and continues to keep away from the windows.


You dial the number of the rebel associate, but nobody seems to be picking up. This isn't particularly convenient at all.


As you were doing all of this, you hear the screech of brakes of another vehicle, except it didn't come from the front, it came from the street on the right. If you go over to that window, you leave this one unattended.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"Get to the other window, but stay in cover! Tell me what is there!" Francis orders the girl. He fires two more shots at the windshield of the junker, hoping to see some blood pump up. He then fires one shot at the car the passenger had entrenched behind, using his aim assistance to aim for the window right above where his head would be, which would send sharp fragments of glass piling down on him, aiming to make the guy think twice about popping his head up.

 

[Lorsh]

You fire several more shots at where the driver is sitting, blowing several holes in the windshield, but you don't receive any indications that you managed to land a hit on him. He's probably ducked down. You take aim at the windshield of the car the passenger is hiding behind, and your eyepiece steadies your mechanical arm for a moment before your fire, blowing a hole in it. It didn't shatter completely, though.


The girl skitters over to the other window and briefly peeks out. "Umm... Uh... T-there's another car out ther-" Suddenly, automatic fire tears several holes in your house, and the girl screams. Not from pain, by the sounds of it-- just fright. "Oh god, we're gonna die!" she squeals.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Francis calls out, aiming at the car still. "Aye! I'm willing to negotiate! I'll pay you a fuckin' ton to leave me be! I got friends, in high places!" Francis finished, pulling the girl down and taking a step to the other window keeping his mechanical gun-arm trained on the cover of the passenger and gray junker, peering out to see the threat of the other car, from which automatic fire supposedly came from. After seeing what he could, he rings the rebel associate again. "Come on...Come on...!"

 

[Lorsh]

You hear somebody's hoarse voice yell at you from over by the other car. "Step out with your fucking hands up, shitbag!" You see that the other car is somewhat nicer-looking, but still a low-end vehicle. It's dusty red in color. You briefly see a dude with a shotgun, but he ducks down in cover.


While you are distracted, the driver of the junker opens his door and rolls behind the cover of a dumpster outside one of your neighbor's houses.


You receive no response from the rebel associate. There is always the possibility that they assume you have been captured, and are being coerced by the authorities to phone them so that their location can be traced.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"I'll give you some weapons, certs, all that, but I'm not gonna get hauled away, am I!?" Francis calls to them, meanwhile texting his associate. "I am in trouble, at my home. Gangmembers. I need immediate assistance. I have the stuff." He himself ducks behind cover, returning to the first window and leveling his pistol, ready to shoot anyone who exposes themselves. "Watch the other window, but don't fire!" He tells the girl.

 

[Lorsh]

The girl whimpers and crawls over to the other window, hesitating to look up. "I said step out!" the man yells again, his patience growing thin. "We will fucking end you and that precious whore of yours! This is your last chance for either of you to come out of this alive!"





You begin to make the text. With your older model phone, it's a huge hassle when it comes to pressing the correct buttons to get the appropriate letters. You finally manage to send a somewhat broken version of your text, but it may take awhile before you receive a response... or they may simply not respond at all, depending on how lucky you are.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"We can talk 'bout this! Listen, I have four other guys in here, we have about the same arms as you do! I don't want this to turn into some huge bloody gunfight, but we need to talk!" Francis shouts out, continuing to aim out the window. "What's it gonna take for you to leave us be without exposing ourselves?"

 

[Lorsh]

Your negotiations with the gangsters fail, and the automatic weapon chatters again as bullets rip through your house like swiss cheese. You feel yourself get shot in the hip, and you collapse to the floor. The girl screams, but once again comes out unscathed. She gets down on her hands and knees, and crawls over to you. "Oh god, oh god, they got you!" She stands up for a moment, completely yanks one of your kitchen drawers out, and throws over a dishcloth to help with the bleeding.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"Alright! We...We surrender...!" Francis shouts in anguish, holding the cloth over his wound, grunting in pain. "We surrender!" He shouts again, before standing and hiding his Orderkeeper pistol in a kitchen drawer, keeping the revolver on him, along with his eyepiece, phone, and wallet. He then sits back down, holding a cloth over his wound.

 

[Lorsh]

​

You cry out in surrender, and hear footfalls growing closer to your house. By the time you sit back down, a sawed-off shotgun pokes through the window on the right. It doesn't fire, but it seems prepared to at any moment. The girl drops her pistol on the ground, raising her hands in the air as she begins to shake heavily in terror.


Someone tries to open the front door, but finds it locked. You see a dark-skinned man in a leather jacket try to climb through the front window, pointing a large Puncher pistol in your direction. "Stay down, fuckers."

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Francis stands, lurching over to the back of the room slowly, alot of distance being between the two windows and him, and he raises his hands. "You win. You can have the girl...All my cash...Just name it." He says in defeat, the bloodsoaked cloth sticking to his abdomen.

 

[Lorsh]

The shotgunner steps through the window and roughly seizes the prostitute's arm, making her squeak a bit. The black man levels his handcannon between your eyes. His eyes study you for a brief moment. "Nice arm," he remarks with a smirk. Then he pistol whips you in the head, knocking you unconscious.


You wake up in darkness, your head burning with pain. Your hands are cuffed behind your back, and you are occasionally jostled around. You're in the trunk of a car, most likely.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"Fuck's sake." Francis groans, shaking away the lightheaded feeling produced by the pistol whip. He gets himself into a more comfortable position, and, when he thought all was lost, smiles - He'd hidden all his shit in his house. Not under lock and key, though - They could be stolen. Let's hope they wouldn't search a kitchen drawer.

 

[Lorsh]

Eventually, the vehicle comes to a stop. Your hear the engine turn off. A few moments later, two heavily tattooed young men open the trunk and immediately grab you. Before you have any chance to speak, a gag is forced into your mouth.


They begin to drag you up into an old apartment, which is likely located even deeper in the slums. You see more gang members standing guard, holding pistols and sawed-off shotguns.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Francis decides it best not to resist them, seeing how guarded the place is, and simply complies, succumbing to his helplessness and defeat...For now. He doesn't appreciate the gag, but he can't exactly request otherwise. He tries to memorize the building, and looks around for a street name on a sign and number on the building for an adress.

 

[Lorsh]

You only thing you manage to get a glimpse of is the number above the apartment entrance-- "WORKWOOD APARTMENTS". The gangsters take you upstairs, and into one of the rooms on the left. They force you to sit down in an old armchair. As they restrain to it with a few leather straps, you notice that there is quite a lot of blood on the floor around here, as well as a selection of knives on the wall.


The two men who brought you in leave, leaving you alone with another man who had already been waiting in here. He is lanky, and looks like a skinhead of some kind; plenty of tattoos and cropped hair. He is holding what appears to be a snubnosed Krait revolver in his hand. He leans forward and plucks the gag out of your mouth. "Sup?"

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Francis smiles. "Just chillin'. You?" He asks, maintaining a polite smile and eye contact with the man. He wanted to develop the Stockholm syndrome voluntarily, maybe he could manipulate his captors.

 

[Lorsh]

The man smiles back at you, showing his yellowed but straight teeth. "Not much, Mister White Knight." He sighs. "So, you roughed up one of our guys, stole one of our girls, and shot at us. Tsk, tsk, tsk. What've you got to say for yourself, pal?" He goes and removes a rather large combat knife from the wall, inspecting it while he waits for you to reply.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"Only that I was extremely tripped off of prescription pills. I apologise, and am ready to accept punishment and pay you profusely. I should have minded my own business." Francis says, trying to suck up to him.

 

[Lorsh]

"Gee, gettin' all polite now, are we? Try to stroke my fucking dick all you want." He lifts his eyes from the knife, locking his gaze on you. "You've already paid all you can. We've got your gear and personal information, so it's all good." He puts his revolver back into his holster, and continues to inspect the knife. "You work for the rebels, right? Do you enjoy it?" he asks.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"I do. It's a very dangerous job, but, at the same time, I fight for what I perceive is right. I don't believe prostitution is right, but, well, you do you." Francis says, swallowing slowly. "I'm not going to make any threats, or barter for my life. If you choose to cut me til I bleed dry, I have no defense." Francis says, his expression a stone.