Jazmine shut her mouth and stared at he ceiling. If she could, she would tell this man about the Red's, but it was physically impossible to talk about the red's to anyone other then her squad, If she did, her COM on her left arm would shock her almost to death, even if it was deactivated. It couldn't be taken off because it was now infused into her kin from a fire a couple years ago. Jazmine kept her mouth shut for her own safety.
((Cold War Kids know what I talk about when I say Reds. The United Socialist Soviet Republic, USSR, or Russia, had a red flag. They called the Russians "Reds" because of that. Just wanted you to know in case you didn't))
"So, you won't tell me anything about the Russians? Hmm? You must have a reason why not," Jacob said, acting a little nicer, but not too nice. He wanted to come across as sadistic, but not too sadistic. The kind of person who could be Hell when he wanted or needed to, and nice when he wasn't.
"So, you won't tell me anything about the Russians? Hmm? You must have a reason why not," Jacob said, acting a little nicer, but not too nice. He wanted to come across as sadistic, but not too sadistic. The kind of person who could be Hell when he wanted or needed to, and nice when he wasn't.
((I kinda figured. 
))
Jazmine glanced into his eyes again, seeing his emotion soften just a tiny bit but not enough to not consider torturing her. She looked again at the ceiling and bit her lip to keep from telling him, scared what her COM would do to her. Last time she talked about it she almost died from the shock and the medics had to come get her and take her back to base, she couldn't walk for a week. It was humiliating, so she hasn't talked about it anymore.
))Jazmine glanced into his eyes again, seeing his emotion soften just a tiny bit but not enough to not consider torturing her. She looked again at the ceiling and bit her lip to keep from telling him, scared what her COM would do to her. Last time she talked about it she almost died from the shock and the medics had to come get her and take her back to base, she couldn't walk for a week. It was humiliating, so she hasn't talked about it anymore.
((
. I feel mean now))
"Listen, you'd better give me a damn good reason, or I just might break your other leg. I'm in no mood to do this, I'm in no mood to hurt anyone, but if it means the end of this war, then so be it. I'm looking for Vladimir's hideout. Where is it?" Jacob said, getting a little angry and frustrated. His fists were clenched.
. I feel mean now))"Listen, you'd better give me a damn good reason, or I just might break your other leg. I'm in no mood to do this, I'm in no mood to hurt anyone, but if it means the end of this war, then so be it. I'm looking for Vladimir's hideout. Where is it?" Jacob said, getting a little angry and frustrated. His fists were clenched.
"I-I can't tell you." Jazmine said a single tear escaping her eye. She continued staring at the ceiling and kept her mouth shut, hoping he wouldn't do anything to bad. "Anything you could do would be a thousand times better then it would do it me." she said avoiding telling him about the COM too. She couldn't say anything about the COM, The Reds, or her training.
"Scan her. She said It, and I'm assuming it ISN'T Vladimir," Jacob said, and the attendant walked away to get a scanner. Whatever she had, it was going to leave her, and then questioning would start. If she had the will to not talk after that, then it would be good.
"Sir, we have found a device, and it appears to be... Active. I don't know how they did it, but that emits a powerful electrical signal. Should we remove it?" The attendant asked, getting the tools ready. If the order was given, the device would be removed.
"Do we have pain killers?" Jacob asked, knowing full well that it would hurt a helluva lot with it anyways.
"No,"
"Do it anyways. I'll find a way to keep her quiet while we dig it out," Jacob said, and he returned to Jazmine, who was still restrained. The attendant had a knife in his hands, and rubber gloves, preparing to cut out the device. Jacob had a rubber piece in Jazmine's mouth, and he was holding her down. "This will hurt a helluva lot,"
And the knife descended onto her skin, digging through it.
"Do we have pain killers?" Jacob asked, knowing full well that it would hurt a helluva lot with it anyways.
"No,"
"Do it anyways. I'll find a way to keep her quiet while we dig it out," Jacob said, and he returned to Jazmine, who was still restrained. The attendant had a knife in his hands, and rubber gloves, preparing to cut out the device. Jacob had a rubber piece in Jazmine's mouth, and he was holding her down. "This will hurt a helluva lot,"
And the knife descended onto her skin, digging through it.
Jazmine screamed best she could with the rubber piece in her mouth. The COM had been infused into her skin, down to the bone. They would have to cut about half of her bone out to get the whole thing out. "MUMFMUFNFM" she tried yelling at them that there was an off switch at the end closest to her shoulder on the side of the COM. It would turn the thing off to prying ears, but not to the electric shock.
((Not cutting the bone out. I got a better idea. Do you know who Picard is?))
They reached the device, and the medic could see it clearly. It had fused with the bone, and he was amazed at how it worked. Instead of the first idea of cutting it out, they had decided to deactivate the device. But not by a simple off switch, no sir. They would do it permanently. Carefully, they inserted an EMP device right next to it, and they activated it. Anything within a centimeter of the device didn't work, and that was the entire thing. Now it was being sewed up.
"Better?" Jacob said, and he got his brandy out. This was what he knew would work, and he gave her the entire glass, which numbed the pain and made the arms feel warm.
They reached the device, and the medic could see it clearly. It had fused with the bone, and he was amazed at how it worked. Instead of the first idea of cutting it out, they had decided to deactivate the device. But not by a simple off switch, no sir. They would do it permanently. Carefully, they inserted an EMP device right next to it, and they activated it. Anything within a centimeter of the device didn't work, and that was the entire thing. Now it was being sewed up.
"Better?" Jacob said, and he got his brandy out. This was what he knew would work, and he gave her the entire glass, which numbed the pain and made the arms feel warm.
Sweat covered Jazmines face and she was holding back a second scream as they stitched it back up. She laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, feeling a glass being set into her hand. How the hell am I supposed to drink it when I'm restrained? Jazmine wondered lying still on the bed.
Jacob unhooked the restraint holding her drinking hand down, and trusted her enough that she would be smart enough to NOT jump up like a crazy B**** and attack him. That would be stupid for her. And not too fun for him, either.
“Good morning, group. This is your captain speaking. We are experiencing extreme turbulence. Please fasten your seat belts and put your trays in an upright position until otherwise told. Thank you, and have a nice day,”
The speakers shut off, and the man relaxed in his chair, closed his eyes, and nodded off to sleep. He dreamed of wonderful things. The time wore on, the flight grew shorter, and they soon passed over a great city. The airport was in sight.
“This is your captain speaking,” The speakers blared. “We are going to begin our de- What the hell is that?”
The passengers looked out the windows and saw a barren wasteland in the place of a city, a smoking ruin of a life long gone.
“We won't land here. Hold on, we're leaving,”
A loud boom filled the air, followed by several more. They did not shut the speakers off.
“Hold on. Evasive maneuvers, co-pilot. Start going for the head on. That's right, spin. Spin like you never spun in your S.O.B. life! Give those Reds a scare that will engrave a look on their stupid faces forever, goddamn it! Hold on for your life, and pray to God we survive!”
Everyone screamed. All of them screamed in terror, except for three. Those smart three, even though they knew what the hell was going on, they screamed in joy. The attackers fled heir positions rats, and at the last second, the plane pulled the nose up.
The force was awesome, something that not even dive bombers could ever feel. And something no one ever wanted to feel again. They eventually leveled out, and continued going straight.
“Well, that was fun, wasn't it?” The captain joked. “We should do that ag-”
The plane rocked with an explosion that ripped the plane apart in the back, ten thousand feet above the ground.
Matt woke up just as that dream ended. Except, he didn't know that it wasn't a dream. Hell, it was real. He heard the wind blow, but it was just a person whistling.
“Phew. Just a dream.” Still wrong. He looked up, seeing a strip of black clouds descending onto the city below. “Or was it?” Better.
*********************************************************************************
“Military plane, sir. 747 disguised as a passenger plane. A big one, too,” The radar operator reported from inside the mobile command center. “What should we do?”
“Fire upon plane. Let burn. Let burn long,”
The order emitted from a massive, seven foot tall man with broad shoulders and bulging muscles from his head to toe, and a long, black trench coat. His hair was brown, light brown, and he had a lot of it. He wore a military suit underneath it, with dozens of medals pinned upon it. On his chest was a belt with knives, clips, and grenades attached. On his waist was two holsters.
His arm came to a stop around the lower arm, and a metal fist began. It was larger than a normal hand, and by a lot. It was prosthetic, from an old war wound. On the back of the hand was a double barreled machine gun. The knuckles grew into spikes.
“Kill American Scum,”
“Yes, Lord Vladimir,”
The radar man rang up the AA guns, and told them to open fire. He sat down in his chair. “Anything else, sir?”
“No,”
“Yes, Sir.”
Vladimir walked outside as the guns opened up with 45mm shells. The noise was nearly deafening. Soon, the plane disappeared in a cloud of black smoke from the shells, and they could hear the engines roaring towards them.
“Ha! They won't stand a chance!”
Vladimir turned around to see the imbecile. How wrong that man was. He knew that unless a shell hit directly in the engines, or near the windows, nothing would happen. And that was true. For the plane had taken on a descent, the engines roaring. They were heading straight for them.
“SIR! RUN!” And the operator abandoned his post. Fools. Fools they were. Vladimir didn't run, and instead, held out his arm, and open fired. 20mm shells exited the barrel at high speed, killing the co-pilot, and wounding the pilot. Still, they pulled up. But the electronics were shot to s***.
“FIRE THE MISSILES!” Vladimir ordered, and walked into his armored transport. They were going to follow the plane. As the doors closed, a dozen AA missiles streaked into the air, and exploded upon the plane. The AA guns began moving, being on flatbeds, and the entire base was going where Vladimir went. “Americans...”
*********************************************************************************
“We did it! We made it!” The captain shouted in triumph, bleeding profusely from shrapnel. He never noticed the co-pilot, who was torn to shreds. “Take that you R-”
He was knocked back by a massive explosion that tore the plane asunder. Two rows of chairs simply disappeared from the missile, which hit the bottom. One of the wings was hit by three, another by two, and an engine shattered. The tail was hit twice, ripping open. The elevators were locked in place after being shredded by another, and the rudder and top fin was gone. Completely gone.
Two more rows were blazing violently, and were angled up, following the metal, which was curved up like a book. On the worst side possible was a well known General. He was on the tail side when the explosion happened. He stood nearly six feet tall, had an agile figure, and a lean face with blue eyes and blonde hair. His name was General Jack Sanders.
He unbuckled after the blast filled the cabin with fire, and with the place the same pressure as outside, he short of breath. But he had to get to the other side. He knew he wouldn't survive in the back, because they couldn't glide.
The metal above screeched loudly, bending and contorting as it longed to rip apart. Four people fell to their deaths, including the co-pilot, but he already was dead. The captain tried to jump, but he bled to death as his parachute opened. Sandars ran forward, leaping over bodies and debris. The plane was falling fast. Then the metal ripped.
He ran faster. Faster and harder. Then he jumped.
For a moment, as the back was lost in sight, he was in peace. It was quiet. Then he knew the situation. He was in trouble. Sanders missed. And he was falling. So, he angled himself to speed himself to the plane. Faster and faster he flew, until landing back inside the plane, at the front. The air wooshed around him, and dozens clung to the chairs as if it was their lives, which it was.
“HOLD ON BOYS, IMMA LAND THIS BABY!” He shouted, kicking open the door. What he saw was hell. Blood and gore everywhere, and 20mm bullet holes. But he finally got into the chair.
The engines had shut off, and he turned them back on. Suddenly the plane burst to life, an engine exploding as it burst to life, too. That was one he didn't need anymore. Now he was gliding the plane down. He later told his friends that landing a military grade 747 with two engines, and no tail control, was like “Riding a horse that suddenly got the notion to kill itself, and it's rider.”
The speakers shut off, and the man relaxed in his chair, closed his eyes, and nodded off to sleep. He dreamed of wonderful things. The time wore on, the flight grew shorter, and they soon passed over a great city. The airport was in sight.
“This is your captain speaking,” The speakers blared. “We are going to begin our de- What the hell is that?”
The passengers looked out the windows and saw a barren wasteland in the place of a city, a smoking ruin of a life long gone.
“We won't land here. Hold on, we're leaving,”
A loud boom filled the air, followed by several more. They did not shut the speakers off.
“Hold on. Evasive maneuvers, co-pilot. Start going for the head on. That's right, spin. Spin like you never spun in your S.O.B. life! Give those Reds a scare that will engrave a look on their stupid faces forever, goddamn it! Hold on for your life, and pray to God we survive!”
Everyone screamed. All of them screamed in terror, except for three. Those smart three, even though they knew what the hell was going on, they screamed in joy. The attackers fled heir positions rats, and at the last second, the plane pulled the nose up.
The force was awesome, something that not even dive bombers could ever feel. And something no one ever wanted to feel again. They eventually leveled out, and continued going straight.
“Well, that was fun, wasn't it?” The captain joked. “We should do that ag-”
The plane rocked with an explosion that ripped the plane apart in the back, ten thousand feet above the ground.
Matt woke up just as that dream ended. Except, he didn't know that it wasn't a dream. Hell, it was real. He heard the wind blow, but it was just a person whistling.
“Phew. Just a dream.” Still wrong. He looked up, seeing a strip of black clouds descending onto the city below. “Or was it?” Better.
*********************************************************************************
“Military plane, sir. 747 disguised as a passenger plane. A big one, too,” The radar operator reported from inside the mobile command center. “What should we do?”
“Fire upon plane. Let burn. Let burn long,”
The order emitted from a massive, seven foot tall man with broad shoulders and bulging muscles from his head to toe, and a long, black trench coat. His hair was brown, light brown, and he had a lot of it. He wore a military suit underneath it, with dozens of medals pinned upon it. On his chest was a belt with knives, clips, and grenades attached. On his waist was two holsters.
His arm came to a stop around the lower arm, and a metal fist began. It was larger than a normal hand, and by a lot. It was prosthetic, from an old war wound. On the back of the hand was a double barreled machine gun. The knuckles grew into spikes.
“Kill American Scum,”
“Yes, Lord Vladimir,”
The radar man rang up the AA guns, and told them to open fire. He sat down in his chair. “Anything else, sir?”
“No,”
“Yes, Sir.”
Vladimir walked outside as the guns opened up with 45mm shells. The noise was nearly deafening. Soon, the plane disappeared in a cloud of black smoke from the shells, and they could hear the engines roaring towards them.
“Ha! They won't stand a chance!”
Vladimir turned around to see the imbecile. How wrong that man was. He knew that unless a shell hit directly in the engines, or near the windows, nothing would happen. And that was true. For the plane had taken on a descent, the engines roaring. They were heading straight for them.
“SIR! RUN!” And the operator abandoned his post. Fools. Fools they were. Vladimir didn't run, and instead, held out his arm, and open fired. 20mm shells exited the barrel at high speed, killing the co-pilot, and wounding the pilot. Still, they pulled up. But the electronics were shot to s***.
“FIRE THE MISSILES!” Vladimir ordered, and walked into his armored transport. They were going to follow the plane. As the doors closed, a dozen AA missiles streaked into the air, and exploded upon the plane. The AA guns began moving, being on flatbeds, and the entire base was going where Vladimir went. “Americans...”
*********************************************************************************
“We did it! We made it!” The captain shouted in triumph, bleeding profusely from shrapnel. He never noticed the co-pilot, who was torn to shreds. “Take that you R-”
He was knocked back by a massive explosion that tore the plane asunder. Two rows of chairs simply disappeared from the missile, which hit the bottom. One of the wings was hit by three, another by two, and an engine shattered. The tail was hit twice, ripping open. The elevators were locked in place after being shredded by another, and the rudder and top fin was gone. Completely gone.
Two more rows were blazing violently, and were angled up, following the metal, which was curved up like a book. On the worst side possible was a well known General. He was on the tail side when the explosion happened. He stood nearly six feet tall, had an agile figure, and a lean face with blue eyes and blonde hair. His name was General Jack Sanders.
He unbuckled after the blast filled the cabin with fire, and with the place the same pressure as outside, he short of breath. But he had to get to the other side. He knew he wouldn't survive in the back, because they couldn't glide.
The metal above screeched loudly, bending and contorting as it longed to rip apart. Four people fell to their deaths, including the co-pilot, but he already was dead. The captain tried to jump, but he bled to death as his parachute opened. Sandars ran forward, leaping over bodies and debris. The plane was falling fast. Then the metal ripped.
He ran faster. Faster and harder. Then he jumped.
For a moment, as the back was lost in sight, he was in peace. It was quiet. Then he knew the situation. He was in trouble. Sanders missed. And he was falling. So, he angled himself to speed himself to the plane. Faster and faster he flew, until landing back inside the plane, at the front. The air wooshed around him, and dozens clung to the chairs as if it was their lives, which it was.
“HOLD ON BOYS, IMMA LAND THIS BABY!” He shouted, kicking open the door. What he saw was hell. Blood and gore everywhere, and 20mm bullet holes. But he finally got into the chair.
The engines had shut off, and he turned them back on. Suddenly the plane burst to life, an engine exploding as it burst to life, too. That was one he didn't need anymore. Now he was gliding the plane down. He later told his friends that landing a military grade 747 with two engines, and no tail control, was like “Riding a horse that suddenly got the notion to kill itself, and it's rider.”
(This is going to be terribad, I apologize in advance)
"NICE DAY?!" Randall yelled at some point, his body completely stiff as he clung to whatever was available to him at the time. "SURE, THIS IS A GREAT DAY!"
His sarcasm tended to come out at the most inopportune times, and this was one of them. He was frightened out of his mind, so much that he couldn't even think straight. One of the things he and Josh had in common was the fact that they tended to ramble when they were nervous, and this was exactly what he was doing now.
Josh wasn't entirely sure what was going on and he originally thought he was still asleep and this was some sort of horrible nightmare. He soon realized however that this was not a nightmare when a piece of shrapnel grazed his cheek, giving him a nice slash there on his pale skin. A few more inches and it would've killed him.
The two brothers were quite clueless and this was one of the few times when they couldn't run and escape the situation. Doubtlessly neither would come out without a fear of heights of some sort, or at least of planes. Flying death traps, those things were.
"NICE DAY?!" Randall yelled at some point, his body completely stiff as he clung to whatever was available to him at the time. "SURE, THIS IS A GREAT DAY!"
His sarcasm tended to come out at the most inopportune times, and this was one of them. He was frightened out of his mind, so much that he couldn't even think straight. One of the things he and Josh had in common was the fact that they tended to ramble when they were nervous, and this was exactly what he was doing now.
Josh wasn't entirely sure what was going on and he originally thought he was still asleep and this was some sort of horrible nightmare. He soon realized however that this was not a nightmare when a piece of shrapnel grazed his cheek, giving him a nice slash there on his pale skin. A few more inches and it would've killed him.
The two brothers were quite clueless and this was one of the few times when they couldn't run and escape the situation. Doubtlessly neither would come out without a fear of heights of some sort, or at least of planes. Flying death traps, those things were.
The plane glided forwards, going at over five hundred miles an hour, and descending fast. They skimmed the tops of buildings, sending them to the ground as their weakened frames were ripped apart, and sending concrete flying. He had to be careful. One wrong move, and the military cargo would send them halfway to hell and back in half of a second. Behind him, a burning trail of debris followed them as the engines spat fire and air at high speeds. The left wing hit a hotel, shredding off the top of the building, and ripping part of the wing off. Less fuel now.
The fourth engine blew up in a massive fireball, taking half the right wing with it. Less fuel there, too. And there was only one engine left. But Sanders had a feeling that they wouldn't need it much longer. And suddenly, his eyes widened. Ahead of them, what was left of it, was the John Hancock building. Not too good for them.
"HOLY MOTHER OF -!" He never got to finish that sentence.
The plane's nose ripped straight through the front of the building as Sanders jumped out of the cockpit, which was compressed, shredded, and shattered into nearly a million pieces. They entered through the south side, flattening half of the building, and taking the top half with them. They exited the north, trailing debris from half the plane, and the building. They stopped at another building, where everything came crashing down, igniting the fuel. In less than five seconds, the whole place would turn into a massive, explosive, burning fireball hotter than hell.
Sanders kicked open the emergency, door, and ran out, getting only twelve feet, like the twins, before it happened. The fuselage caught fire, the engines exploded, and the fuel tank detonated, sending rubble, shrapnel, and liquid fire into the air, and all in that order. The noise was deafening, and Sanders was picked up by the shockwave, and thrown ahead, nearly 100 feet away, or more. He could feel the heat baking his back. His clothes caught fire instantly, and his gun fired off, exploding the bullets. He could feel his back burning.
And the world, to him, went dark.
The fourth engine blew up in a massive fireball, taking half the right wing with it. Less fuel there, too. And there was only one engine left. But Sanders had a feeling that they wouldn't need it much longer. And suddenly, his eyes widened. Ahead of them, what was left of it, was the John Hancock building. Not too good for them.
"HOLY MOTHER OF -!" He never got to finish that sentence.
The plane's nose ripped straight through the front of the building as Sanders jumped out of the cockpit, which was compressed, shredded, and shattered into nearly a million pieces. They entered through the south side, flattening half of the building, and taking the top half with them. They exited the north, trailing debris from half the plane, and the building. They stopped at another building, where everything came crashing down, igniting the fuel. In less than five seconds, the whole place would turn into a massive, explosive, burning fireball hotter than hell.
Sanders kicked open the emergency, door, and ran out, getting only twelve feet, like the twins, before it happened. The fuselage caught fire, the engines exploded, and the fuel tank detonated, sending rubble, shrapnel, and liquid fire into the air, and all in that order. The noise was deafening, and Sanders was picked up by the shockwave, and thrown ahead, nearly 100 feet away, or more. He could feel the heat baking his back. His clothes caught fire instantly, and his gun fired off, exploding the bullets. He could feel his back burning.
And the world, to him, went dark.
Randall moved first. His instincts were kicked into high gear and the sight of a door behooved him to make a break for it. He couldn't just leave Josh behind, though.
He grabbed his brother's hand and bolted like a startled deer, the younger of the two hardly able to keep up with his bad leg. They were sent flying from the force of the explosion; Randall into a rather unforgiving bit of rubble, and Josh into the bare ground.
Randall didn't move after his collision with the concrete. Knocked unconscious, probably- dead, maybe, but probably not since I haven't developed him here yet. Maybe later.
Josh was a little luckier than his brother, having simply rolled across the ground for a couple hundred of yards (maybe more, he couldn't exactly tell in this state) and was now trying to decide whether he was unconscious or not.
Both of the twins didn't have any explosives on them and good thing, too- judging from that other guy over there, they looked like they hurt...
He grabbed his brother's hand and bolted like a startled deer, the younger of the two hardly able to keep up with his bad leg. They were sent flying from the force of the explosion; Randall into a rather unforgiving bit of rubble, and Josh into the bare ground.
Randall didn't move after his collision with the concrete. Knocked unconscious, probably- dead, maybe, but probably not since I haven't developed him here yet. Maybe later.
Josh was a little luckier than his brother, having simply rolled across the ground for a couple hundred of yards (maybe more, he couldn't exactly tell in this state) and was now trying to decide whether he was unconscious or not.
Both of the twins didn't have any explosives on them and good thing, too- judging from that other guy over there, they looked like they hurt...
Sanders wouldn't exactly wake to much that time. And by not much, I mean, it took a helluva lot of noise. The noise of the burning plane wasn't enough, but what was to come would be. Sanders was, in fact, around 200 feet, give or take a few, away from the fire that the explosion caused. He was inside a burnt out building, and had no shirt, very little of his pants on (still had most of it), and shoes. He had no gun, no ammo, nothing. But he wouldn't worry.
The noise that woke him up was the noises of the cargo going off. Hundreds of artillery shells, composition B, and other explosives blew up, sending HE rounds everywhere, and those that didn't explode already, cause a big problem when they crashed into the buildings.
A blazing fire now raged out of control, taking a dozen buildings with it into a fiery hell. The smoke itself could be seen for miles, as would the explosions. Sanders woke up looking at a massive building coming down, towards the boys and him. He couldn't let that happen. He grabbed them up, and jumped, the building missing them. But now they were trapped.
"Hey! Someone!" He shouted, carefully setting the boys down.
"Over here!" Sanders knew that voice, and ran to it, carrying the boys.
"Robert! You were on the plane?"
"No! I jumped!"
"Coward!"
"Hell yeah, b****s! Hey, those yours? And did you do this?"
"No to the first one, and yes to the second. It's burning, no?" An engine exploded, sending concrete into the air. Sanders and Robert instinctively ducked from the explosion. "Look, we gotta get out of here! Anyone else?"
"Fourteen more!"
"Good! Round 'em up! We gotta make for the tail! It's got the guns, I think!"
"Gotcha!" Roberts pointed the group in the way of the tail, and turned back to Sanders. "Got a gun? If not, take this!" And he tossed a .45 to him, complete with two clips.
Sanders grabbed the objects, and pocketed them in whatever pockets he had left. The next thing he did was try to wake up the kids.
The noise that woke him up was the noises of the cargo going off. Hundreds of artillery shells, composition B, and other explosives blew up, sending HE rounds everywhere, and those that didn't explode already, cause a big problem when they crashed into the buildings.
A blazing fire now raged out of control, taking a dozen buildings with it into a fiery hell. The smoke itself could be seen for miles, as would the explosions. Sanders woke up looking at a massive building coming down, towards the boys and him. He couldn't let that happen. He grabbed them up, and jumped, the building missing them. But now they were trapped.
"Hey! Someone!" He shouted, carefully setting the boys down.
"Over here!" Sanders knew that voice, and ran to it, carrying the boys.
"Robert! You were on the plane?"
"No! I jumped!"
"Coward!"
"Hell yeah, b****s! Hey, those yours? And did you do this?"
"No to the first one, and yes to the second. It's burning, no?" An engine exploded, sending concrete into the air. Sanders and Robert instinctively ducked from the explosion. "Look, we gotta get out of here! Anyone else?"
"Fourteen more!"
"Good! Round 'em up! We gotta make for the tail! It's got the guns, I think!"
"Gotcha!" Roberts pointed the group in the way of the tail, and turned back to Sanders. "Got a gun? If not, take this!" And he tossed a .45 to him, complete with two clips.
Sanders grabbed the objects, and pocketed them in whatever pockets he had left. The next thing he did was try to wake up the kids.
Randall was out cold, and probably would be for a while. His head had been smacked pretty hard and he was awfully stubborn about things like this. Sometimes being blissfully unware of his surroundings was a nice thing, especially in situations like this.
Josh was a little more responsive, but not by much. He had been slipping in and out when he was getting lugged around like a sack of potatoes by this guy, catching snippets of voices and sounds and other things like that, although he couldn't make sense of them yet. He turned his head slightly when Sanders really started making an effort to wake him up, grimacing slightly and letting out a weird noise halfway between a growl and a grumble.
Josh was a little more responsive, but not by much. He had been slipping in and out when he was getting lugged around like a sack of potatoes by this guy, catching snippets of voices and sounds and other things like that, although he couldn't make sense of them yet. He turned his head slightly when Sanders really started making an effort to wake him up, grimacing slightly and letting out a weird noise halfway between a growl and a grumble.
"Oh joy," That was all Sanders could say. He desperately needed at least one kid awake now. He shook Josh, and did anything he could to wake him up. That kid needed to wake. "C'mon kid. We gotta go. Get up, and grab your bro. We can't stay here, and I can't carry both of ya, so get moving. Goddamn it, wake up!"
Meanwhile, he looked behind. The fires were getting closer, and more people were being consumed. If that got to them, they wouldn't be alive long.
Meanwhile, he looked behind. The fires were getting closer, and more people were being consumed. If that got to them, they wouldn't be alive long.
Josh finally let out a gasping noise and opened his eyes, a fuzzy image of Sanders filling his head. He tried to focus on the man's face and eventually the fuzz went away, the dullness in his eyes being replaced by an urgent sense of fear and confusion.
Eventually he decided that Sanders wasn't a threat- yet- because if he was he would probably be dead right about now. He turned his attention to Randall after carefully turning his head, his eyes widening in shock as he saw his awfully limp and still brother. He dragged a shaky arm over and laid it on his neck, poking around for a pulse before finding one and letting out a sigh of relief. Thank God.
Now to business...
What was he doing here? He forgot.
Eventually he decided that Sanders wasn't a threat- yet- because if he was he would probably be dead right about now. He turned his attention to Randall after carefully turning his head, his eyes widening in shock as he saw his awfully limp and still brother. He dragged a shaky arm over and laid it on his neck, poking around for a pulse before finding one and letting out a sigh of relief. Thank God.
Now to business...
What was he doing here? He forgot.
"Thank god. Boy, I need you to take your bro, and bring him to that rubble. No, the tail," Sanders said, and pointed at the tail. It was all burnt up, but recognizable. "I'll be behind you,"
He kicked a door down, shattering the glass on the top. The windows he kicked and punched, not even hurting himself. He leaped in, propelled by his arms, and landed in the middle. He found a dead man, the upper part of his face missing, and bullet holes everywhere. He found his gun, and grabbed his two clips, looking inside. One was half empty. But who the hell was he shooting at? It didn't matter. He just had to get to the tail.
"This way!"
He kicked a door down, shattering the glass on the top. The windows he kicked and punched, not even hurting himself. He leaped in, propelled by his arms, and landed in the middle. He found a dead man, the upper part of his face missing, and bullet holes everywhere. He found his gun, and grabbed his two clips, looking inside. One was half empty. But who the hell was he shooting at? It didn't matter. He just had to get to the tail.
"This way!"
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