This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SomeOtherTroper on 2024-11-16 09:29:53+00:00.
I was pondering two options. On the one hand, I could stay on overwatch on this roof with the big rifle - that had been successful so far, taking out one rat-looking alien and a couple of big bruisers who’d been holding my sworn brothers captive. On the other hand, I could somehow cross the street into the casino where I could see Santiago fighting opponents I couldn’t get a bead on before they encountered him, and Don Lorenzo was making a lot of extremely threatening intercom calls.
The big problem was I could only get a shot through the windows. The lighted ones, I noted silently as opponents began switching off the lights in rooms they controlled. They were communicating too, and knew a sniper was on the loose.
If they had a good idea where I was, that was my cue to pack it up, pack it in, and let me-
Suddenly, while I was picking up the sniper rifle, a rooftop access door clanged open, interrupting that song from old Earth playing in my head. Yeah, I needed to get a move on. They’d already found me. Now who was coming through that door first?
I put a shot straight through the one in front and, judging by the screams and other cries, through several others behind them. Shit, I realized, if I want to make it to street level, I’m gonna have to fight my way down! And I ain’t gonna fight my way through a stairwell, like that old Indonesian movie!
So there was only one option.
And I’d just bought myself enough time for it, I thought, taking some quick steps back from the edge of the roof as I asked Isabella what the gravity on this world was compared to Earth’s.
I mostly did it to kill time, and hear her soothing voice telling me it was lower as I ran forward and made the jump of my life off the edge of that rooftop.
“INCOMING!” I yelled at Santiago and the Don, hoping I’d make it across the streets before my pursuers regrouped.
My arms were crossed tightly in front of my eyes as I crossed the concrete chasm, nothing beneath me but air. I’d hit that window with two rounds of .50 - there’s no way I wouldn’t shatter it.
“What’s inco-” Don Lorenzo started to ask as I smashed through the plate glass window and hit the deck in the office room they were holding. That hurt a hell of a lot more than they make it look in movies.
“Kill the lights!” I yelled, from a bed of broken glass, “they’re gonna set up shop where I was!”
I just managed to see Santiago nearly decapitate a goon …and flip the light switch in one smooth motion while stabbing another goon in the gut with a second knife in his free hand.
“Let’s get moving!” the Don ordered, no shock in his voice as I heard alarms start blaring - he’d apparently activated lockdown procedures, “they’re gonna hit this room lights or not!”
And we got moving, Santiago bulling ahead through the doorway into another darkened room as I came to a realization of just how painful it was to lever yourself up off a carpet of broken glass.
“Take my hand,” Don Lorenzo said, reaching out in the darkness, and he helped me to my feet saying, “alright, are we running to the rooftop or clearing every single person who dares to raise a weapon against us out of this place?”
Santiago gave one of his bellows, followed by the distinctive sound of someone being thrown through a glass window.
“We have one vote for a clean sweep,” Don Lorenzo said as I stepped through the door and readied my UMP, “but I’d like to make this unanimous,” and he punctated it with a bang: a shot that went right by my head and found a target across the room in someone who’d been unlucky enough to try hiding behind a roulette table.
“I’m following you into hell,” I told the man, letting loose a burst on another target illuminated by the muzzle flash, “maybe even breaking you out if we wind up in the same cell.”
“Then we sweep the building,” Don Lorenzo said, “how many fuckers did this rat employ?”
“One less,” Santiago said as his machete speared through some alien who’d been trying to sneak up on us, presumably with better low-light vision than the Don or I had, “but we do need to be careful of the guests and the…” he paused awkwardly as the corpse slid off his machete, “bunnygirls? It’s good to fight alongside you again, mi hermano!”
Wait, they had bunnygirls here?
Right, high-class casino, I thought, moving through the dim light toward a gambling table I was pretty sure would make good cover, of course they’d do the Playboy bunny thing. Santiago sounded a bit …odd about it, though.
Eh, cultural exchange, I thought as I knifed some alien with a gun who’d had exactly the same idea I had about sheltering behind the overturned table, but worse vision in the dim light. Then knifed it a few more times, since I wasn’t sure about its vital points or how many hearts it had, and wanted to make certain. One thing was for sure, I realized when I was done, that was a nice gun. I took it, and managed to come up with a couple extra magazines after a quick search of the body.
On-Site Procurement, hey?