(I apologise for taking so long to write this chapter, Most of my attention is now on 2125 so have a look if you haven't already, as always comments and likes, or votes or whatever us funky kids do on this are appreciated! :L have fun reading
I'm planning to keep the chapters short and easy to read by the way :)
Thanks as always
Anthony
Grim's helicopter had no problem catching up with Flint and Blane, Blane was currently trying to pull alongside Flint and shoot out the tires to stop him, however this was having mixed results as Flint's swerving was causing major crashes all along the road behind him. It was Valentine's day so many people were out shopping, looking for gifts, not looking for a three way chase down a busy high street.
Grim armed the machine guns either side and began laughing as they began spitting bullets at Flints car. This was no film, and the bullets were ripping massive chunks out it, sure enough the car began labouring and sputtering. Yet it kept its course. Grim noted this and decided to buy a model next time he wasn't out murdering.
Blane's massive loss of blood was making it hard to drive, not to mention shoot a moving car and adding a helicopter to the mix was getting silly. He put his gun away and took out his phone.
'Blane to I.C.E ,Blane to I.C.E . Over'
Static, then a response.'Go for I.C.E , over'
'I am currently tailing Flint who I believe knows the location of Drake and the cure, I have engaged but I am also been tailed by rapid attack helicopter.Over'
'Acknowledged , solution inbound, eta two mikes over.'
Blane put the phone down and forgot about shooting, he pulled back and just continued following Flint's increasingly faulty looking car. About a minute later he noticed the strange colour in the sky rapidly closing and even with the blood loss managed a smile.
Flint didn't think he was such a good get-away driver so his main plan was just to reach the tunnel at the end of the road ,where the helicopter couldn't follow .He didn't think much of Blane's attempt and hoped his blood loss would rid of him soon. His phone rang, so out of automatic reaction he answered it.
'Hello?
'Oh hey Flint, I think we got off to the wrong start, I forgive you for the whole knife thing, so why don't you stop the car and we can talk?'
'Never!' Flint hoped it had sounded as brave as it had in his head. It hadn't.
'OK, well look, how about a poem? As a sign of forgiveness?
'Roses are red,
Violets are blue...
And I have a missile locked on to you.
Catchy isn't it?' The phone died, Flint hoped he wouldn't.
He swerved right down a walkway so violently it took even the car by surprise ,along with the many pedestrians who dived out of the way. The missile however didn't fall for it and turned as sharply as he had.
Blane had seen the missile fire but wasn't worried as the solution had arrived. He slowly pulled over and began walking towards the car rapidly escaping..
The EMP raced over the missile ,disarming and dropping it like a stone. It was the killing blow for Flint's car which spluttered and swerved, crashing into a library.
Grim however had the short straw by far.
The helicopter plummeted into the ground, smashing Grim into the pavement. He wasn't dead somehow, but there was no way he could go anywhere. Blane waved at him as he passed.
Flint didn't know what had happened. His head was lying in a soft pillow. The airbag, his whole body was pounding, his eyes couldn't focus and his head ouch. Concussion must be. Beats being dead though. He noticed a comedy club through the smashed windscreen, a short distance away, brilliant, people equals cover. He noticed the helicopter had ploughed into the ground, no more Grim, brilliant. Yet Blane was slowly limping his way over. Flint summoned the strength to go inside.
Blane struggled over and followed him into the dark inside. There was a scraggy man on stage, seemingly after having had a bad run of jokes the crowd looked half dead.
'Did you hear about Darth Vader's evil cousin?
'Taxi Vader.'
A few dry laughs erupted around the room. Blane saw Flint rush into the back.
'I was digging for water in Africa but I gave up.'
'It was well boring.'
The back of the area was dark and disturbing, it was a dead end. Perfect. No more chasing.
Blane saw a deserted room at the end of the hall. Flint had to be inside.
He was, he was also currently in a pool of his own blood, a man in red standing over him. Knife in hand.
'Whoops I cant really leave witnesses can I?' Blane had no way of fighting in his shocking condition so he resorted to pulling out his pistol and shot it pointblank into him.
He slumped, a hole in his chest from the round.
His eyes opened again and looked at Blane. 'Lot of funeral directors will go out of business if this keeps up, eh Blane?' 'But that comedian will probably kill half the audience so maybe not.'
The blood loss was catching up to Blane. Flints shot had really got him. He could feel his body shutting down. Breathing was getting laboured. Legs were shaking.
'Not on form man, are you?' 'Drake says hello, you could never beat him, I hope you know that. You realise that we can kill you now, for good?'
'I.C.E is finished, no hope, no comeback from this.'
He raised a syringe and sat up, sticking it into Blane's leg.
Who then fell, comforted at no longer standing on unreliable legs.
The last thing he saw was a man clad in red, slowly walking away.
He was dieing but it wasn't like the last few times.
He felt nothing at all, no worries, no fear.
Nothing.
