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The Rifleman - Bk1 - Ch.31
🕑 Added 2024-06-27 08:00:03 +0000 UTCChapter Thirty-One
Showdown on the corner.
An old military adage states that no plan survives contact with the enemy. This is not only very true but also a great indicator of what can go wrong when you don’t even have time to make a plan.
Such was the exit of the beleaguered defenders' forces under the command of one very young and, until the invasion, untested officer. They would probably have all been massacred instantly if the invaders had, even for a second, attempted to stop their mad flight through the streets and toward the center and the last still-standing barricades.
Their survival was down to an oversight by the enemy commanders, namely that they had never considered a trapped force to even attempt to reach the center of the city.
Even as Wesley moved out of the barricades, he could hear attacks hitting the ones on the far side. The attackers had not apparently noticed the barricades were empty, which gave them time to file out, Bitchy pulling the barricade down behind them the moment the last of them had made it out.
The streets around them were full of beasts and beastmen, with a surprising amount of humans among them. It wasn’t a lot, but they were definitely there.
It seemed the Wyrd Watchmen weren’t the only ones to have signed on with the attacking forces.
The quick turns and rapid changes of direction by their officer somehow kept them out of the main flow, while the battle sounds all around them allowed their brief skirmishes to go largely unnoticed in all the chaos.
Whoever the officer was, he knew this city like the back of his hand. That knowledge and his quick decisions allowed them to cross the city with only minimal losses, at least at first.
Have you ever driven through a place and thought it was really small, only to revisit it and be amazed at how long it took to walk through? That difference between what would be considered a ‘large’ city on Earth and here was so much more pronounced as the minutes stretched into hours, and they were still moving, still in the open, and catching more and more attention as time went on.
The enemy forces were getting thicker and more organized as the first attackers had time to mill around and start to search for ways into the inner city.
Wesley had thought this place was small, but as they moved from street to street, through alleys and up and down side streets, Wesley rapidly changed his opinion.
Sure, they weren’t going in a straight line, but how big was this fucking city. The streets, empty of any sign of non-enemy life, were haunting, both too open and too closed simultaneously.
By the time they came to the tunnel under the last walls between the city core and the invading forces, Wesley was nothing more or less than an exhausted bundle of frayed nerves.
It would have been a relief to pass through the tunnel and into the last safety on offer, but the tunnel was completely blocked, while a cluster of weapons and spells were aimed at them almost immediately.
“Ballistrade!” the officer shouted, and the walls sprouted a set of ropes.
Knotted ropes. That was it.
“We need to hold here while the civilians get clear,” Peterson said grimly. “FORM UP!”
Ten ropes and a lot of walls did not make for a quick evacuation, even with the defenders up top firing as fast as they could. The attention was swiftly on them, and the enemy seemed endless.
Wesley and Split fired relentlessly, slaying dozens of enemies as the front-line fighters held on with desperate determination. One after another, they ran out of charges for spells and skills. Wesley did his best to keep his ammo use low, but there was no real chance of that.
In no time, he was slapping his last en bloc clip into place and wading forward into the melee in the desperate hope of saving those last shots for when it mattered the most.
Their officer came forward and whispered in Peterson’s ear before he suddenly broke to the left, taking the squad with him at the Captain’s order.
It was suicide, but they led the attackers away while the others jumped on the ropes and began to climb. Wes saw Bitchy throw a mana string up, and he nodded to her before following the squad.
Now, he was well aware he could have shot up the wall himself, but his squad was something important to him, and Wesley was not about to abandon them to whatever fate would befall them just to save his own ass. It was a weird feeling, but it was very real.
They weren’t family; they might not even be friends, although most were at this point, but they were his squad.
So he went where they did.
The mad dash to one side took the attackers by surprise, and they slipped through the ring that had been tightening around them for the last few minutes and out into the city, following the line of the inner wall as they went.
The previous careful movement was gone, and the officer led them at a full sprint, always a few steps ahead of the squad to keep them moving at full speed.
Soon enough, they came to another entrance to the inner city, and the gates were open! It was just a crack, but troops held the breach and called them forward.
It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and the squad found some extra speed as they dashed for the opening with everything they had left.
A trio of forms dropped into their way. Then, one portaled away again, leaving only two.
Wesley ground his teeth as Alber, with one false leg, and Pris stood in the last stretch between his people and safety.
“RIFLEMAN!” Alber yelled.
“Go on ahead,” Wesley yelled to the others and cast wisp form, shooting out of the group and straight at the last two Wyrd Watchmen.
Alber’s eyes narrowed, and he blurred forward to meet Wesley, only for Wesley to come to a sudden stop, dropping Were-wisp at the last second as he brought up the M1, repaired bayonet locked in place.
Alber didn’t have a chance to dodge, his eyes going wide as Wesley used every ounce of his tempered stats to drive the bayonet into the rogue’s stomach and up behind the ribs.
“Fuc—” Alber’s words died in his throat as Wesley pulled the trigger three times and returned to Were wisp, letting the body fall through him as he strode toward the wide-eyed Pris.
“Surrender,” Wesley’s echoey voice was haunting as he stepped over the dead body of Alber. “You can wait in the lockup with Pru, then leave.”
“You’re lying!” Pris spat at him, her face twisted in rage as her eyes stayed locked on Alber’s corpse.
“I don’t lie, Pris,” Wesley said as calmly as he could. “Haven’t I shown that by now?”
“Mace?” Pris asked, her eyes finally leaving the dead body and finding his.
“Dead,” Wesley confirmed. “You can’t hurt me in this form, Pris,” Wesley warned. “You know that.” He raised one hand and closed it into a fist. “I gave you my arm once; now you can repay that favor and live through this.”
Pris actually smiled for a second. Then her face twisted into a sneer, and summons poured out of her tattoos.
“I can hurt them!” She pointed her summons at the retreating squad just as a copy of Sara came out of her arm, along with a copy of Wesley himself.
“No.” The air seemed to ripple around Wesley as he saw the face of a friend twisted into nothing but a minion. “No.” He said it again and something inside him clicked into place as pain, anger, and outrage all clashed.
His energy flared, and lines of energy ripped out of him, shooting across the gap and grabbing onto the copy of Sara and himself.
“What are you doing?” Pris started to back away, hurriedly summoning her summons back to defend her.
“She was my friend,” Wesley yelled. “And you did this to her? You?”
Pris sent her summons forward, but they were wrapped in more lines as they erupted from Wes.
“I TRUSTED YOU! I TRIED TO SAVE YOU!” Wesley roared, grabbed hold of the summons’ energy, and pulled. He would not allow her to have them, to defile them this way. The Rifleman was a part of him, and he wanted it back! Sara was one of them. She couldn’t have her!
Pris wailed as the energy was sucked out of the summons, all except the two Wesley was focused on.
“Stop!” Pris screamed, “Stop it!”
Wesley ignored her. His mind was calm again, and he was busy. The thoughts running through his head were complex, but another voice was getting louder. All the other thoughts all boiled down to one thing…
Mine.” Wesley whispered the words, and the echoes filled the street, louder and louder, until it drowned out everything else.
NEW SKILL CREATED:
Never Forgotten:
Summon a simulacrum of your choosing.
Simulacrums can access and use lesser versions of your own skills.
Max summons: 2
Must have sampled the energy form of choice while in wisp form.
Charges: N/A
It can only be used twice in a single day.
Summons persist until killed or dismissed.
Accepting this skill will replace skill choice at the next Tier up,
Accept?
“I accept,” Wesley said, and the two remaining summons rippled. Their armor and weapons changed to match his own but with slight differences.
Pris’ eyes rolled back in her head, and she dropped to the floor, tears of blood running from her eyes.
Wesley dropped wisp form and grabbed the back of her robe, dragging her behind him as he walked in through the open gates, flanked by his two new simulacrums.
Whatever the hell they were.
Comments
Clayton Danvers
Sometimes, your friends can head down a dark path. You have to choose whether to follow them or break away. Pris chose. As you say, Wesley was a new influence in her life. Who knows how many times the others saved her over the years?
Eifer
Holy shit, that was cool. I'm pretty bummed about Pris. I'd hoped she would have seen sense, but being saved once vs her loyalty to her old friends with how they've all been treated.. yeah I can see why she chose as she did.
