"Don't let them get that crate!" barked Earl Wayne Johnson as he swifted across the streets, firing his revolver hands, including the barrel revolver embedded on his head. Each shot was ear piercing, almost like cannons.
As his minions still were sending bullets across the street and locked onto the MPD, The Hellfire Arm user lunged and clashed with Voyde Kilpatrick's Dark Dice. Dark Dice held Johnson's large revolvers from pushing him further. The two men gritted their teeth, with Voyde giving a large smile.
"What's so funny?" Johnson spoke loudly as he felt a kick from Voyde pushing him far. The Dark Dice user threw another dice in the air, whilst he picked up both Dark Dice revolvers from his holster. The dice landed on a 4.
Johnson looked up again as he regained his posture. He saw the itchy fingers on Voyde, whose eyes were twitching and out came bursts of fire. Voyde's hands were pulling the triggers on his revolvers, as Johnson hurried to the sidelines, his feet missing each of the tens of shots being thrown at him.
"Fucking maniac." McSweeney commented where he and the other members of the MPD, including Chance Gordon and Freddie Bass, were situated. Each of the Hellfire Arm users were taking turns shooting and covering themselves using the patrol cars, as well as the cars belonging to the previous civilians.
They were all abandoned.
"Johnson's distracted." Chance spoke. "Now's the opportunity to get those hostages." he ran towards the crate. On the crate were chains, as well as a lock. He rolled his eyes at the sight of red writing above the lock. The writing was crudely written, it was messy, and said: "BREAK TO OPEN, GENIUS"
Sarcasm? Chance thought about the origins of the crate. If what Valefar said was true, then this was indeed from the Gunsmith. Didn't know he had a sense of emotion whatsoever. He knocked down the lock using the bottom part of Showdown's handle. The crate dismantled itself, before it revealed two other crates, slightly smaller but long in size.
One of the boxes was made out of sheet metal, and on top was written THROWABLES. The top was easily slid by Chance, revealing red colored grenades.
"Go ahead. Throw it. See what it does." Buster Hardin said in a challenging tone.
"Chance! Whatever the hell's in those boxes, use it!" Ford demanded as he fired another shot from the All-American. I doubt we'll make it with what we have now!" After he said that, one officer of the MPD was shot in the stomach by one of Johnson's minions. The minions all had high powered rifles, they packed a punch.
Chance holstered Showdown, before he swiftly grabbed a grenade. He pulled the pin equally swiftly, before he threw it at a distance. He threw the grenade akin to the power levels of a professional baseball player, as it went the distance, before it landed on the street and rolled itself onto the ground, positioned near 2 to 4 members of Johnson's army.
The grenade bursted out red and yellow electricity, it shocked Johnson's minions, as well as causing their own weapons to burn, some of them blew up in their faces, while the rest of the minions fell to their knees and yelled out in pain. One of the minions held their hands against their head as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Johnson took a split second to look at the scene unfolding. "Idiots!" he muttered. "Just shoot the damn grenades. Spike! Get yer ass over here and help them!" He side stepped at another shot by Voyde.
"I haven't had this much fun since the old days." Voyde spoke as he threw two cylinders filled with fresh bullets. He spun both of his revolvers to empty the old shells, before the cylinder he threw up went straight into the revolvers.
Johnson scoffed. "Yer a madlad ain't ya!? You ain't a bit worried about yer freedom, especially run by people you're helping!?"
"Oh I have my freedom alright, the question is, what's the point in having it if you're living in an up and coming wasteland?" Voyde mocked. "I like a challenge myself."
Johnson smirked and chuckled before the sound of his revolver hands tightened. The barrel revolver on his head shifted with a tiny burst of stream, before red glowing lines appeared. The same lines appeared in the barrels of his revolver hands.
"You're fighting the enemy, yet I can respect your bravery. That's the sign of a real fighter." Johnson straightened his posture. "Not sure if a dead one can still show his bravery however."
After he said that, his eyes widened at the sight of Voyde crossing his arms, before a burst of wind formed into a circle expanding all over the area, even as far as hitting the area of Chance and the other members of the MPD.
"Shit." Hardin spoke next to Chance as the remaining members of the MPD utilized the grenades from one of the boxes.
"You know what's going on, do you?" Chance asked as he saw the streets change from its concrete grey to a much more dustier surface. Tumbleweeds were appearing and they began to roll past. The wind, it whispered, before it howled, all whilst the sky had clouds forming, and a burst of thunder was heard in the distance.
Gravestones popped up from all over the area. Two appeared in front of Chance, while the remaining formed near Johnson's minions, and several between Johnson himself and Voyde. Each of the gravestones designs varied; you had your crosses, your edge pointed ones, and the ones that had a round bend.
Johnson himself furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Voyde looking down, before the user of Dark Dice showed his face. It was pale, and there were cracks running down his face. His eyes, they were darker than his own clothes and the night itself.
"Hardin! What the hell's going on!?" Chance demanded.
"You ever felt the presence of death, Chance?" Hardin looked at him with a glare. For once, Hardin wasn't acting insane, or exaggerating.
"I was in the war." Chance answered. "4 years ago"
"Well, this is different." Hardin said as the scene between Johnson and Voyde was soon going to unfold.
***
Valefar side stepped to the left, then to the right as he dodged Anthony Defici's punches. The white eyed Italian's arms were expendable, and they were rough on the surface. Coal black in color, accompanied by tiny spiky rocks. Each punch that went onto the ground created a miniscule crater and cracks on the street.
He's not a Hellfire Arm user, Valefar thought. Only someone who's a minion. I can still fight him however the hell I want.
Valefar clenched his arm as a blade came out from the upper arm and led up to his hand. He shifted towards Defici and charged.
Defici sidestepped.
Valefar thrusted his arm and he swiftly separated the arm blade, allowing it to be released, and shoot out to Defici like a dart. The white eyed Italian bended his body slightly, his legs keeping him up, as the blade went past him.
Valefar crossed his arms as he shook his head, and Defici went back up on his feet. "You absolutely sure I meant to hit you like that?"
The blade turned backwards and headed for Defici's back. The white eyed Italian took out his arm, and the blade stopped dead in his hands. Valefar whistled in impress, the Italian was clenching the blade in his arm, ignoring the small specks of blood coming out from the sheer sharpness of the blade. Defici clenched it with his right hand even further, giving more force.
The blade shattered like a plate, and pieces fell onto the ground.
"Well I'll be damned." Valefar muttered. "Queen's Revenge made this bastard slightly stronger. Slightly." He blinked as Defici charged him with his fist upfront. The Italian was a few inches away from the ground, as he was slightly floating.
Valefar side stepped to the right, but his collar was grabbed by Defici whose jab sent Valefar flying into the air. Even his human disguise felt the pain of his chin, as well as the force of the air just going through his face as he went upward.
The Representative. shook his head as he maintained a straight posture. A red glow appeared from his hand, and soon he was standing in the sky. He tapped on the invisible platform that has him standing upward. He sighed in relief. It's been a while since I used this, he thought about his ability. He could travel around town like this before, but it would be a bit too, "high profile" as his boss once said.
He shrugged off the thought of walking in the air for shits and giggles, before he crossed his arms once more at the sight of Defici floating up to his level. Those white lifeless eyeballs would scare anyone anyday, even mobsters.
"Not bad for a minion of a bitch." Valefar tightened his knuckles. He was feeling it, the adrenaline of the fight.