Mixtape Ghost NKhan & The Wolfhound
Khan barely even registered the bullets whirling through her. She simply looked up to see a fool with an AK, not realizing that her current form was obviously intangible, firing on her. You'd have to be a fool to think that would work. He ran off, likely fearing that her wrath would be turned to him. Thankfully - for him that is - she had no interest in him. She continued to float down, until her gaseous feet hit the ground. She turned back into mist, then aimed her grenade launcher at the desk.
"Stand up, and die on your feet, you roachfucker! I wanna hear you scream!"
The Wolfhound sidled back as the bullets rained through the aproaching specter. His arm screamed in protest at every jerk. His back came to rest agianst the wall behind the receptionist's desk as he heard Khan's booted feet hit the ground. He was bleeding from a dosen cuts and scrapes inside his armor despite even the fall not penetrating the outer layer. He felt like a bag of wet gravel.
"Come back here and get me you bitch, I don't stand for just any piece of shit." The shit eating grin was audible in his voice.
"Fine, fucker." Khan said with a satisfying grin on her face. She aimed her M23 at the desk Martin was resting behind and pulled the trigger once. The grenade shot out at high speeds, then blew the desk in half in a earsplitting explosion. Shards and scraps of wood started flying everywhere as Khan walked through it. Unaffected by the fire she had started. She stared Martin down, and pointed her grenade launcher at him.
"Look at you," Khan started off, "Suicide would have been easier, fucker."
"There's one thing you ought to know Khan...."
The Wolfhound sprang to his feet with murderous intent. His good right hand slaming into Khan's throat and tearing her round in a single smooth motion that terminated with the back of her head on the beautifuly polished marble wall.
"...A WOUNDED DOG!"
The bridge of his helmet slamed into her face and his arm came, throat in hand to shake the doorframe with her skull giving a sickening crack. Blood flowed freely down both his face and her's.
"NEVER DIES QUIETLY!"
The black gloved hand swung round with the bloody leader in tow. The sound of her neck meeting the corner of what was left of the once handsome desk reverberated through what seemed like an oddly quiet space.
The Wolfhound released his grip. Throught his one eye unclosed by blood he saw the result of his work. And he saw that it was good.
Khan let out a scream with every blow done to her body. Her eyes were blurry, and there was a pain like no other rocked through his body. She couldn't take it anymore, she tried to defend, but she was just too weak. The second her neck hit the corner of the desk, everything went dark... heh... they always said there'd be a light at the end, but there was only darkness. Probably because of all the things she done. Her body laid limp on the ground - with one victor standing over top of her.
The Wolfhound.
It didn't take long for the Fiends to notice. One caught sight of her dead body, and yelled, "Khan is dead!" So loudly that it could be heard up several forms.
And the rest of the Fiends carried the message. "Khan is dead!" echoed over and over through the halls of the NEST HQ. Many of the Fiends just gave up there. Either throwing down their weapons, and throwing themselves recklessly at the remaining NEST Agents.
Those that still had a will to live simply made a break for it.
However, over the scene a large shadow was cast. Looking up, a large chunk of concrete was floating down into the lobby. Quickly. Other NEST Agents were converging on the scene, too.
The courus broke the Wolfhound from his reverie. The cage was decending and he had no intention of being inside when it snaped closed. Ripping his flashbangs from his carrier and flinging them around the room. Bolting for the door to the underground he leant over to let his left hand press the detonators on his right forearm without having to lift his left. It hurt like a bitch regardless.
The passage was much the same though somewhat bloodier than before. What Fiends were left and not still fighting were trying to escape the same way they had entered. He could hear the sounds of agents trying to rally through the effects of the flashbangs and make pusuit.
The walls changed to tunnel as he pounded toward the junction, his arm screaming with every jerk and bump. At the junction he shakely pulled out the last of his charges and affixed them to the tunnel walls using his vision to make sure they would be effective. The Fiends were to buisy running to pay even the least attention. Jogging down the junction a way he lent over again to press the detonator with his left hand.
He was deaf to the sound of the explosion between his helmet and the pounding of his blood in his ears he could only watch as the ceiling came down on the heads of the Fiends trapping many between the rocks and the NEST headquaters.
As his breathing slowed Martin trudged back to the grate where he stashed his clothes. Gingerly he stripped with one arm and pulled his civies back on. The ride home would be slow and in first gear. Somehow he suspected he'd manage it without getting a ticket.