The hooded gang members stepped smoothly past me, in between both Max and Franz, and moved through the doorway into the house we were holding the meeting in. Strangely, even in the light, the hoods shadowed all their faces and I wasn't able to make out any of their features. About the only thing I could make out was that the baggy clothes they wore were in worse shape than I expected, almost ragged in some places. Their hands were all dark as well, almost like they had spent the day before coming here buried up to their elbows in soot.
Christof, the youngest of us here tonight, sat partway up the stairwell across from the entryway. Shotgun casually laid across his lap, he was there to make sure the other gang did not decide to come in guns blazing. As far as I could tell, the gang members I was following didn't even spare him a glance. One did pause, however, to remain standing at the base of the stairs as the rest moved along into the living room where Wilhelm likely waited by now.
The rest of us stepped into the living room, the four remaining gang members leading the way. My part done, I hung back with Max and Franz at the entryway. In the room I could see Janik standing behind the boss, while Oskar loomed at Wilhelm's left hand. The chairs had been pushed back to rest against the walls, while a small table with a number of kinds of good, German beer sat in the middle of the room. With my mouth as dry as it was, I wanted one of those Pilsners, though I'd have to wait until after. While one of our visitors remained standing next to me, the other three stepped up to mirror the positions of Wilhelm, Janik and Oskar.
"Welcome," Wilhelm said, raising his arms in greetings. "Please, help yourselves to a drink and we can get started."
Rather than move to the table, our visitors seemed to exchange eye contact under their hoods. I could physically feel the room growing more tense at their lack of movement, despite Wilhelm's invitation to take a drink. I was incredibly aware of the gang member who was uncomfortably close to my side.
"Drink?" the leader asked after the uncomfortable pause.
"Yes," Wilhelm responded, "its customary to share a drink before getting down to business. It builds up a measure of trust, and shows both sides good faith in striving to make peace."
"Ah," the leader said, stretching the word out over several seconds, "I believe you misunderstand. This meeting was to establish peace, yes? Let me show you the peace my lord offers you."
While Wilhelm looked somewhat confused at the question, which turned to anger as the other leader finished talking, I sensed danger immediately. A burst of flame from some sort of weapon flared out from the gang leader at Wilhelm, quickly setting him on fire. Seeing him falling backwards with a cry of agony, both Janik and Oskar stood stunned for the briefest of moments at the sudden violence. From across the table were flung two long, dark blades, though by chance one glanced aside off the top of a beer bottle. While the first sank to the hilt in Janik's neck, the other only gashed Oskar's arm on the way by to hit the wall behind them. Everything happened quickly after that.
In the process of spinning to my left, I barely dogged a thrusting knife from the gang member who had stopped to stand next to me. A high-pitched scream of pain came from out of sight on the stairs. While concerned for Christof, I had my own problems to deal with at the moment. Blocked by my bulk from engaging with my opponent, both Max and Franz rushed from the room to go to the aid of Christof. Though I knew it was the right move, I could barely take care of myself right now.
I dodged another sequence of slashes at my face and neck. So quick was my opponent moving that even my frantically backpedaling was only barely enough to stay ahead of them. Even then, they traced lines of fiery pain across both my arms. I was so focused on preventing them from taking a deeper wound that I didn't have the time or focus to try to pull out my own knife, let alone the pistol still holstered at my side.
A shout from Gregor came from within the kitchen, followed by the boom of a shotgun. Swearing in a language I could not make out came from behind me, but whatever was said was enough to briefly distract my opponent. Knowing I was outclassed, I seized the opportunity to charge them. Putting my head down, I tackled them hard across the middle. They were quite a bit lighter than I expected, and a bit thinner under their clothes too. Rather than bulling them over, I ended up knocking them up into the air to crash into the opposite wall. Their brief grunt of pain cut off with a thud as they hit.
Ignoring them as they landed in a heap, I pivoted back to the other three enemies in the room. One was down in a heap, the clear target of the shotgun blasts I'd heard from Gregor. Apparently it hadn't been enough though, as they looked to be in the process getting back up. The other two were advancing on Gregor and Oskar, both of whom were covered in blood and had been knocked prone on the ground by Wilhelm. Janik had managed to pull himself part way towards the kitchen as he bled out on the floor. Before I could move in their direction, Wilhelm's smoking body shifted as he used a bloody hand to pull a weapon from his pocket.
Grenade.
"Fuck you!" With a great gasp of effort he got those words out, before mustering all his remaining strength to roll it across the floor at the enemy gang members.
I pivoted and dove backwards out of the room, towards the hallway and the stairs that Max and Franz had rushed to. As I flew through the air, the grenade went off with a roar. I felt the heat and some of the shrapnel cut into the back of my legs, but I was lucky and avoided most of the blast. When my ears quit ringing, I shifted from where I was laying on the floorboards to look back into the living room. Only smoke and carnage greeted my eyes.
Wilhelm must have pulled the pin previously, as it went off right as it stopped at their feet. From the carnage, it might have been designed to take out an armored vehicle. The gang member who had been in the process of getting back up was very clearly dead, laying as he was in multiple flaming pieces. The other two were down as well, though only one of them unmoving. As I watched, the leader started trying to push himself back up.
What the hell was this guy made of?!
Coming to my senses, I struggled for a moment with the gun holstered at my side, only now finding time to pull it free. Finally getting a grip, I flicked the clasp free with a bloody finger and pulled the pistol out, aiming it back into the room. Shaking, I tried to line it up with the leader, who by this point was already to his knees and starting to stand, hood blown back off his head. As I finally got the sight in line with his head, I made eye contact with my enemy.
Greyish skin, tinted blue. White hair to his shoulder, marred by the dirt and blood of the fight. Long, tapered ears coming to points framed his face. Red eyes stared at me in anger and in hate. He opened his mouth and yelled something, making to thrust a hand in my direction.
But I didn't give him a chance to complete the motion.
The gun bucked once, twice in my hand. The first bullet caught him in the jaw, twisting his face to the left as it hit. The flash of pain in his features as his jaw deformed went blank in death as the second bullet caught him in the temple. The… whatever he was dropped to the floor and ceased to move.
For a few moments, or maybe an hour, I laid there without a coherent thought in my head. Just a slight buzzing, like a fly just out of sight of the corner of my vision. Irritating. Ignoring it as best I could, I simply watched the smoke as the flames ignited by the grenade began to spread to the rest of the room. When a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, I immediately grabbed it with my free hand and tried to pull my latest opponent to the ground.
"Shit, Jakob!" a familiar voice swore, jarring me back to the reality of the situation, "It's me, Max."
"Max?" I asked, still somewhat shell-shocked.
"Yes," Max responded, "I need your help with Franz. He's hurt bad."
Staggering to my feet, I could see Max was barely in better condition than me. His shirt was wet with blood, and the hand I hadn't tried to twist off was firmly pressed to his side, trying to keep pressure on a long cut. Looking beyond him, I saw Franz lying unconscious with several wounds next to another dead…thing. The same long ears, white hair, and grey-blue skin as the leader had. Even in death, how inhuman he looked was still jarring. I avoiding saying the word in my head only through my concern at the state Franz was in.
"Shit," I echoed Max without thinking. "I think there might be a first-aid kit under the bathroom sink. Grab it and I'll patch him up as best I can." I made eye contact with the still standing twin, "He'll need a doctor though. And soon."
Max nodded tiredly, wincing as he did so. "I think we all will."