Nick Cole & Jason Anspach - [Forgotten Ruin 03] by Violence of Action (epub)

Author:Violence of Action (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The battle went kinetic at the palace as Tanner yanked Brumm by his drag handle out of the road where he’d been knocked down and exposed to volley arrow fire and targeted fire from the cat hajis.

Soprano was on full rock and roll, working the attackers pushing us, firing short bursts and then suddenly going full savage high-cycle as he devolved into speaking only Sicilian curse words and insults. He furiously rocked the incoming Saur troopers who were now moving forward behind heavy shields that deflected some fire. This enraged the tiny Italian gunner further and he made them pay by going completely Roman on them with the two-forty. Their shields stood up a little bit until the traversing fire slowed and Soprano spent more time disintegrating each phalanx, brass and linkage flying away frenetically in bursts as he swore.

One of their priests got close enough to hit Kurtz with a targeted volley of sidewinding streaking magic meteors and did just that. The strike smashed into the weapons team sergeant’s plate carrier and instantly melted the carbine he was using to engage close targets with while screaming at the two-forty gunner to concentrate fire here or there, depending on who Kurtz wanted to die next.

One of the cat hajis came down off a building, landed in our midst, and caught the gunner’s attention. Fatal intentions were clear. Soprano stopped firing for half a second, yanked his sidearm furiously, and handed it to Jabba, shouting, “Puliscilo, little monkey!”

Clean him, in Italian.

Little monkey, in English.

The tiny goblin grabbed the sidearm, winced as he racked the slide with his overlarge goblin claws, and pointed the Glock 19 at the cat haji rushing toward them with an upraised khopesh.

“Andiamo!” shouted Private Soprano as he returned to street-sweeping the bad guys with high-dosage, high-caliber, armor-piercing murder hornets.

During all this I was still holding the alley, hugging wall to avoid arrow fire, head on a constant swivel to check both the alley and the fight in the main street.

Full-gangster Jabba pulled the trigger a lot. The sidearm wanted to cant in his unnatural grip and yet somehow he hit the fast-moving feline guardian of the Saur’s most sacred place enough to knock it down in the dirt of the street. And once it was down, the goblin was on it with a homemade shiv none of us knew he had, stabbing the thing repeatedly and squalling with murderous goblin glee. His tiny sharp teeth wide in a grotesque smile and snapping at his victim.

It was disturbing. But much appreciated.

Kurtz had just shucked out of his ruined carrier, the tiny bright red starbursts burning within it, and heaved it into an abandoned building in case the ammunition-laden mags within started cooking off rounds. He shouted at Soprano, “Where’d he get that thing?”

Meaning the shiv.

Soprano either didn’t hear over the belching roar of the two-forty or didn’t understand.

“I been teachin’ him marksmanship, Sergente. He shoota ugly. But he good, no?”

Several explosions erupted from the palace behind us and the ground shook like a brief earthquake had just taken place.

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