{ON HOLD} Where My Loyalties Lie (Vanoss Crew Fanfic)

Chapter 18

Bobby and I sprung up from our position behind the barricade and took aim... only to see that it was three dirty, rag-tag teenagers that were at the ends of our muzzles. They couldn't have been more that seventeen years old. We hesitated, and during the time Bobby and I had stood from our cover, the three teens had swung their weapons towards us as well; I noticed that one of them had a scarred and slightly dented shotgun while the other two were equipped with pistols. I mentally swore. They had us outmanned and outgunned, and if this turned into a firefight, things would get really nasty, really quick.

The middle teen with the shotgun (I assumed that he was the leader) stepped forward, his aim on us never wavering. I made sure to keep my gun trained on him while Bobby watched his two companions. It was so silent that I could hear his military-grade combat boot (where the hell did he find those?) heels click against the floor. His dirty white tank top was drenched in sweat and his dark blue shorts were ripped and torn. He stood there for a moment, observing us, before he growled, "What are you doing here?"

I answered, trying to be as vague as possible, "We're just looking for some supplies. You got any that you wanna trade?"

"Maybe." The leader cocked his head to the side, "But I want to know who I'm trading with. Especially since you're going to be trading my things back to me." He gave me an all-knowing smirk.

I contemplated telling him my name, and finally decided that it was worth the risk. "I'm Vanoss," I introduced myself, while grinning wolfishly in what I hoped was in an intimidating manner, "fellow survivor and pre-outbreak gang leader. As for him," I said, pointing a thumb at Bobby, "he's just a friend." I propped my aviators up on my head, and sarcastically said, "And now that I've introduced us, who may I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Hey asshole," the leader spat, "I'll be the one asking questions here, and I really don't like your attitude. Unless you want half of your head gone, I suggest you shut up and listen to me." He shook his shotgun at me a bit and ordered, "I don't give two shits is you used to be some ordinary street gang leader. You're going to give me all the stuff you have on you and then maybe you get to live through this."

I inwardly grinned. These guys have no idea who they're dealing with. As covertly as I could, I slowly moved my foot towards Bobby and nudged him with it. I was praying that he got the message. "Yeah, you know what?" I said slowly, shaking my head, "I don't think so." When Bobby suddenly opened fire on the three teens, I knew that I had gotten my message across.

I heard the leader of the group curse and begin to run back to the door to the stairway. I took aim (well, the best that I could) and started to open fire as well. The other two members of the party started shooting back at us, forcing Bobby and I to take cover behind our barricade. Bobby sat down heavily as bullets whooshed above our heads; their weapons weren't silenced, so I knew that if we didn't resolved this soon, I would be deaf and a shit ton of zombies would be on our asses really quick. Bobby started to blind fire at the three teens but was cut short when he heard a loud click. He swore and ejected the mag. "I'm out," he panted, holding out a hand for one of the mags I was carrying. I handed him it and poked my head over the barricade.

During the time that Bobby and I had been taking cover, one of the other teens had moved up towards our position. Seeing that he was unaware that I knew of his presence, I quickly popped up from cover and shot off three rounds, two of which impacted the guy in the chest. He stumbled backwards clawing at his chest before he collapsed, blood bubbling from his mouth.

I stood there for a second, satisfied with my work before a shotgun blast impacted the wall beside me. "YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" The scream had come from the leader of the group, enraged at having watched his friend die in front of him. He started to run towards me, screaming his head off while pulling a knife from the sheath on his belt. I took aim with my M9 and pulled the trigger, but I was greeted with an ominous click. Shit, I'm out. I frantically grabbed for my other magazine, seeing that Bobby was too preoccupied with trading bullets with the last member of the other group to help me.