Zombiedude101 — Roleplayer Guild

Reed & Quentin Taylor.

"Losing track of time, c'mon man..."

Reed had been running late tonight. Working a case well into the early hours of the evening had left him with scarce time to get back home, get changed and then head over to the festival, and he cursed at himself for it. After all, he'd made a promise to show up and, no doubt, Cindy and the others were probably expecting him in the DOVE showcase.

For the occasion, he'd thrown on a smarter jacket and pants, with a new pair of shoes he'd bought about a week before the occasion. it wasn't anything fancy, but it looked a little more appropriate for a public event where he'd be one of the many faces of DOVE.

He'd learned from Quent and the briefings that both RAVEN and the BPD would be keeping a heavy presence, as usual, so he'd taken some comfort in that. Besides, he always kept his sidearm on hand these days, if only because he'd learned from the past.

Rounding the corner, Reed could make out the entrance to the festival and saw both BPD and RAVENs posted st the gates. It was good to see cops working alongside metahuman agencies, especially after all the old animosities and rivalries of the past. Cass would've smiled to see it and so did he.

Apprpaching, it was only as he drew closer that a series of distant cracks became audible.

The sounds made the hairs along the back of his neck bristle. Gunshots.

Quentin had been enjoying a burger from one of the BBQ stands when he too heard the shots, coming from the DOVE exhibit of all places. On reflex, he quickly dropped his food and reached for his sidearm, weaving his way in and out of the panicked crowds, making a beeline for the source of the commotion.

From the distance he was, he couldn't exactly tell, but it looked like the Black Hound was responsible, if the black-clad bastard in armour engaging the others was anything to go by.

Before Quentin could get in a shot, however, more gunshots rang out from either side. In mere seconds, more masked figures had appeared, all well-armed and well equipped. With paramilitary types as these on the loose, he quickly realised that it must've been the Founding Family's work.

"God-dammit-" He growled, only to be forced behind a nearby stall for cover as one of the gunmen caught sight of him and took aim.

A firefight broke out between the two, with Quentin constantly peeking out from behind cover to return fire as rounds crackled and smashed into the scenery around him, the gunman growing ever closer.

Quentin recognised the stalemate and knew that he had to act fast, especially with someone as dangerous as the Black Hound loose. With no alternative, rather than try to flank the bastard around the corner, Quentin decided to try something else: Smashing his way through the stall.

Surprised by the veteran RAVEN's tactic, the gunman was caught off guard as Quentin slammed an elbow into his masked face, then wrenched his own rifle from his grasp and drove the butt of it into his face, knocking him out cold.

Taking what magazines he could find and pocketing them, Quentin hung onto the rifle and set off in pursuit of the Black Hound. Hopefully there was still time to stop the bastard.

By the time that Reed had hit the festival, things had already descended into chaos. In mere moments, dozens of masked gunman had appeared out of nowhere and were tearing things apart, locked in a firefight with the others.

Having withdrawn his sidearm from beneath his jacket, Reed had moved in pursuit of a group of gunmen trashing some stalls, brutalising people who'd been caught up in the chaos, whilst ohers in the distance were engaging his colleagues. He was outnumbered by at least three-to-one and would have been headed up against better equipment, but he had a few things on his side.

The element of surprise was one of them. Reed had ducked down out of sight and moved into a favourable position, where he had a better chance at giving the civvies a chance to get out of the crossfire. 

He paused, just for a moment, before leaning out, quickly sighting a target and squeezing back on the trigger. 

As soon as the gunshot tang out, Reed yelled at the civvies. "Get outta here, move!"

One of the gunmen took a round through the side of the neck, causing him to stagger and hit the dirt. It wasn't immediately fatal, but he'd taken one of them out of action. Of course, the other two soon turned their attentions from the poor bastards they were beating on and towards his direction, weapons at the ready.

Reed exchanged gunfire with them, but time after time kept having to duck back down and manoeuvre his way around cover to avoid their shots. One of his shots managed to nail one in the side, but his pistol didn't pack the kind of caliber that could penetrate their body armour so easily.

Then came more cracks. It was different this time; Reed felt as though he'd been punched through the gut, something sharp bit into it and left a painful bite in his side. Reed stumbled and hit the ground, crimson staining his fingers as he felt for the exit wounds. He squirmed for a moment, fingers plugging the holes in his jacket, when he felt a dull numbness at the pit of his mind.

Focus.

The pain was sharp, but the adrenaline had started kicking in already. Without even consciously thinking it, Reed's wounds began to clot of their own accord, stemming the flow of blood.

A masked figure came into view and jabbed a finger in his direction. Reed clamoured for his weapon again and took aim.

"Finish that one-"

The gunman's voice quickly became a gurgle as Reed's bullet tore straight through his throat.

Alerted, another one of the other gunmen shifted back towards Reed's direction and opened fire, forcing him to take cover yet again as rounds crackled overhead.

"Throw in one of the canisters!" Someone else shouted, hoarsely. More gunshots forced Reed to keep his head down, before he could actually see anything. The gunmen had backup, he had none. "Circle round, fucker's a regen!" That same voice came again, gunfire still raining down on his position. The familiar hiss of those same canisters could be heard nearby.

All looked set to go to shit.

Yet..

More voices could be heard, then more gunfire. The familiar boom of a shotgun, over and over. Reed leaned out from cover again, the gunfire on his position abated, now able to return fire. One of the gunmen quickly went down whilst another was practically knocked off his feet by another armed figure, still concealed by the thick red smoke.

They kicked the canister aside and emerged. A BPD officer in body armour, armed with a Remington 870, turned out to be Reed's savior. "Are you okay? You need to get to safety, it's-" He got cut off by the DOVE, who hadn't been immediately recognised due to his choice of clothing.

"I'm Agent Taylor, with DOVE. Thanks for the backup, though."

The officer eyed him for a moment, before it became evident he'd come to the conclusion that there was no time to waste questioning the armed stranger who'd been crazy enough to take on as many gunmen at once. "Alright, Agent Taylor. I've got to get back to my colleagues, these bastards are tearing up the market and we've got people to clear out."

The cop's gaze shifted to the holes in Reed's jacket, along with the crimson stains around them. "Are you sure you're gonna be alright?"

He looked down and shook his head, almost embarrassed. "I'll be fine. Sounds like you need all the help, anyway."

And with that, he headed off with the officer, both in the direction  of the DOVE exhibit.
Zombiedude101 Member

Urban

Status

Bio

Most Recent Posts
