Jericho Sladec 3
AccountThirty
Posted 9/12/2007 11:20:30 AM
message detail Some of you remember my topic about my girlfriend being kidnapped, and thereafter having a run in with my old partner. The most dangerous g-man that I've ever had the misfortune of working with, a guy who's had killing as his hobby since he was in grade school. Our brief encounter ended in a draw, but I had to hijack a cab and gain as much distance as possible. This could quite possibly be my last adventure.
I ditched the cab and driver when he drove me into a shadier part of town, I know that Jericho wouldn't be far behind me. I kept thinking about our last encounter. The last time I saw him we were fighting bare handed in a mine field. I thought I left him for dead, but I never managed to confirm the kill. He was an expert tracker, and no doubt already closing in on my position. I waited for him with only two magazines left in my Glock inside of a completely vacant warehouse. I barricaded the back entrance and made sure that I had the front covered. Now it was just a waiting game.
I had my gun pointed at the double doors of the warehouse for four hours straight. I had gotten no sleep, and no food since the diner. My eyelids were beginning to get heavy and all of my senses distorted. I kept thinking I was hearing things and then finding out it was a cat, or something. I started to think that I should settle in for the night, and began doing so against my will.
I must have blacked out or something, because before I know it I sprung awake and jumped away from my current position narrowly escaping a blade to the throat. I landed on my back and emptied a magazine in the position I just left, and the sadistic **** had somehow snuck in right behind me with a 9 inch blade. My .45 slugs did nothing to the dragon skin armor he had on. I scrambled to reload my last magazine. He pulled his Tery TMP. I ran for cover narrowly escaping a hail of .9mm rounds which somehow managed to not completely drown out his maniacal laughter.
Account Thirty: What's with the ****** machine gun?!?!
Jericho: Remember when I ripped out that eye? I told you it'd make you a better shot. Didn't want to take any chances with a real gun fight. Told them I wouldn't go in without some decent armor, either.
Account Thirty: Who's 'them'? Still running wet jobs and errands for Uncle Sam, or is it just your hobby now?
I could hear him loading a fresh hi-cap magazine into the TMP. I racked a round into my Glock's chamber.
Jericho: You've incapacitated nearly a third of the United States Army. At this rate they're gonna have to reinstate the draft, and then it'll be the 1970's all over again. You just pissed off the wrong people this time.
---
That wonderful smile is gone for eternity.
AccountThirty
Posted 9/12/2007 11:20:41 AM
message detail Account Thirty: Oh yeah? Well, I hope they're paying you enough to die for them!!!
I veered around the corner, this time not firing at his body, but firing at the submachine gun in his hand. He raised it my way, but I had the jump on him. I always had better reflexes. I used my entire remaining magazine, and somehow I got a lucky shot. One of my .45 rounds lodged into the barrel of his submachine gun just as he pulled the trigger to fire. The barrel banana split from the pressure of the compressed gases inside and the entire weapon exploded in his hand.
Jericho: Son of a *****!!!!!!
I rushed him while he was stunned, spinning my empty Glock around in my hand and swinging it at his face like a club. I beat the heavy slide of the weapon against his face, causing more indistinquishable curses of pain. He soaked up the damage I was doing with my new club like a sponge and palmed my face. He slammed the back of my head through a nearby storage crate. He threw me against the wall then kicked me in the ribs. Two of them gave in, another one felt like it cracked. He then slapped the weapon out of my hand sending it to the floor. He slammed my face into the foundational flooring of the warehouse cracking concrete. My nose shattered. Blood was everywhere.
I desperately pulled a grip knife tucked under my belt out of it's sheath and stuck it in his leg. While he recoiled in pain trying desperately to pull it out of his thigh I did my best to recollect myself and dive out of a nearby window, getting a running start as far as I could manage. In the confusion that ensued, I left my empty Glock. He walked over to collect his trophy, picking it up off the floor.
Jericho: Huh....Dakero's Glock. ****in' cool.
It won't be much longer. I am almost completely out of weapons, and I am exhausted on energy. I don't even know if my girlfriend's still alive and by the end of this I may not be either. This could very well be my last topic on GFAQs.
---
That wonderful smile is gone for eternity.
Posted 9/12/2007 11:20:30 AM
message detail Some of you remember my topic about my girlfriend being kidnapped, and thereafter having a run in with my old partner. The most dangerous g-man that I've ever had the misfortune of working with, a guy who's had killing as his hobby since he was in grade school. Our brief encounter ended in a draw, but I had to hijack a cab and gain as much distance as possible. This could quite possibly be my last adventure.
I ditched the cab and driver when he drove me into a shadier part of town, I know that Jericho wouldn't be far behind me. I kept thinking about our last encounter. The last time I saw him we were fighting bare handed in a mine field. I thought I left him for dead, but I never managed to confirm the kill. He was an expert tracker, and no doubt already closing in on my position. I waited for him with only two magazines left in my Glock inside of a completely vacant warehouse. I barricaded the back entrance and made sure that I had the front covered. Now it was just a waiting game.
I had my gun pointed at the double doors of the warehouse for four hours straight. I had gotten no sleep, and no food since the diner. My eyelids were beginning to get heavy and all of my senses distorted. I kept thinking I was hearing things and then finding out it was a cat, or something. I started to think that I should settle in for the night, and began doing so against my will.
I must have blacked out or something, because before I know it I sprung awake and jumped away from my current position narrowly escaping a blade to the throat. I landed on my back and emptied a magazine in the position I just left, and the sadistic **** had somehow snuck in right behind me with a 9 inch blade. My .45 slugs did nothing to the dragon skin armor he had on. I scrambled to reload my last magazine. He pulled his Tery TMP. I ran for cover narrowly escaping a hail of .9mm rounds which somehow managed to not completely drown out his maniacal laughter.
Account Thirty: What's with the ****** machine gun?!?!
Jericho: Remember when I ripped out that eye? I told you it'd make you a better shot. Didn't want to take any chances with a real gun fight. Told them I wouldn't go in without some decent armor, either.
Account Thirty: Who's 'them'? Still running wet jobs and errands for Uncle Sam, or is it just your hobby now?
I could hear him loading a fresh hi-cap magazine into the TMP. I racked a round into my Glock's chamber.
Jericho: You've incapacitated nearly a third of the United States Army. At this rate they're gonna have to reinstate the draft, and then it'll be the 1970's all over again. You just pissed off the wrong people this time.
---
That wonderful smile is gone for eternity.
AccountThirty
Posted 9/12/2007 11:20:41 AM
message detail Account Thirty: Oh yeah? Well, I hope they're paying you enough to die for them!!!
I veered around the corner, this time not firing at his body, but firing at the submachine gun in his hand. He raised it my way, but I had the jump on him. I always had better reflexes. I used my entire remaining magazine, and somehow I got a lucky shot. One of my .45 rounds lodged into the barrel of his submachine gun just as he pulled the trigger to fire. The barrel banana split from the pressure of the compressed gases inside and the entire weapon exploded in his hand.
Jericho: Son of a *****!!!!!!
I rushed him while he was stunned, spinning my empty Glock around in my hand and swinging it at his face like a club. I beat the heavy slide of the weapon against his face, causing more indistinquishable curses of pain. He soaked up the damage I was doing with my new club like a sponge and palmed my face. He slammed the back of my head through a nearby storage crate. He threw me against the wall then kicked me in the ribs. Two of them gave in, another one felt like it cracked. He then slapped the weapon out of my hand sending it to the floor. He slammed my face into the foundational flooring of the warehouse cracking concrete. My nose shattered. Blood was everywhere.
I desperately pulled a grip knife tucked under my belt out of it's sheath and stuck it in his leg. While he recoiled in pain trying desperately to pull it out of his thigh I did my best to recollect myself and dive out of a nearby window, getting a running start as far as I could manage. In the confusion that ensued, I left my empty Glock. He walked over to collect his trophy, picking it up off the floor.
Jericho: Huh....Dakero's Glock. ****in' cool.
It won't be much longer. I am almost completely out of weapons, and I am exhausted on energy. I don't even know if my girlfriend's still alive and by the end of this I may not be either. This could very well be my last topic on GFAQs.
---
That wonderful smile is gone for eternity.