Craft II (The Craft Saga)

17 - Gun Fight

Two. Three. Five. Five of Roman's men on guard gradually appeared before me as they charged through the doors to the sound of the now unconscious guard outing my escape.

Using the gun I had acquired from said unconscious guard, I began shooting at the group of five men who were in the process of raising their own weapons at me. Immediately, my shots hit the one closest to me right in the chest and he went down, causing the other four to retreat and take cover behind the work tables.

'Fucking come out here, pussies!' I snarled, feeling the thrill of the fight within me. It had been too long since I had held a gun in my hand and risked my life, the familiar feeling of danger and surge of adrenaline being everything I'd ever craved my whole life and everything I'd lived for the second I'd stepped into this world. The difference now was that instead of fighting under false pretences for the Cabreras, I was fighting for myself, the real Cece, and that made this so much more satisfying and made me so much more determined to beat them.

A guard rose up quickly, taking a shot at me and the second I saw his movement, I shot back and ducked behind the table right by the unconscious dude. I glanced down, seeing a set of keys sticking out from his pocket and I yanked them out, a Volvo car key present on the bunch. Smirking, I gripped them tightly in my hand as I rose up again, scouring the area to figure out if the four remaining guards were still hiding.

These guys really are pussies. But of course they are, they're fighting a motherfucking Dagon. These bitches should be scared of me!

Hoping the men stayed low, I began edging my way to the left towards the door, the keys fisted tightly in my left hand and the gun raised rigidly in my right. I glanced frequently at my pathway to the door between the worktops, my focus staying on the area I knew the guards were hiding. Suddenly, one of them raised up again, aiming at the place I had been right by his unconscious friend but his face dropped as he realised I was no longer there. He immediately turned his head to locate me but the next bullet from my gun had already fired and lodged in his temple before he even got the chance to take aim.

Two down.

As his body hit the floor with a thud, I heard the other men cry out and two of them raised up, sensing my movement within seconds and turning on me, firing their guns repeatedly as I took several quick shots back and dove to the floor. They continued to shoot at me, the bullets hitting the wall above my head and the other side of the worktop that was concealing me. The second silence greeted the room, I bounced up and pulled my trigger before dropping down again, not waiting to see if I hit but the sound of a groan and a thud confirmed I'd hit another.

Fuck yes, I was made for this shit!

I knew there were two left and they'd be angrier than ever now. In the distance, the imprisoned workers had woken up and were shouting and banging on their bars, desperate to know what the fuck was going on. Shit was getting heated and I had to leave before any of the Cabreras turned up.

Jumping to my feet, the final two guards were already standing waiting and they both shot at me. I dropped again, taking cover for several seconds before I stood again and pulled my trigger, shooting at the both of them with as best aim I could manage before I had to duck again. I'd caught one of them in the shoulder twice but he was still going strong and the other one wasn't hit at all. Without hesitation, I went again, raising up and shooting at them, but only one bullet left my gun, which finally hit the uninjured guy on his side and as he pulled back and clutched his hand to it, I aimed for his head, but my gun gave me nothing. I was out of bullets.

'Shit!' I hissed, launching the gun at him, seeing the realisation on their faces when they figured I was now unarmed and as they began blasting bullets all around me, I dropped to my knees and crawled as fast as my legs would take me across the floor. I headed for the door, keeping my ears open for where the sounds of their shots were coming from, knowing when they got closer I'd have to get up on my feet and run for it.