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"FUCKING KILL ITALREADY!!"
Automatic arms fire claimed the darkness in bothsound and material as bullets tore towards their target. One –former – Lance Corporal Marine Kurt Zealot, also known as Ghost,who had yet again found himself in trouble. His muzzle was curled ina hateful snarl as he continued to charge down a wide,night-blackened hallway, enormous padded feet thudding and thunderingin their each and every slam of a step as his giant right hand aimeda .357 Magnum with an extended barrel behind him to fire offsuppressing rounds. Recently he had been more than fortunate enoughto find a chamber that would allow a swap for eight rounds instead ofsix in exchange for more weight to the gun... But who wascomplaining? More weight to the gun equaled more grounding so the gunwould kick less.
Of course, though, this was why he was introuble.
This is why there as a squad of three humans firingoff AK's and MP5's on his six.
It was a few seconds beforeKurt had reached the long stretch of a hallway to round a corner andtake cover, having already ran out of rounds for the Magnum due tothe suppression he attempted. So now he quickly holstered the chromemonstrosity and switched it for a smaller, if not just as heavy, USP.45 with a tactical attachment that was fitted to also use a lasersight. Kurt flicked on the Tactical light when he began to hear thesounds of guns clacking and racking before he stepped out of coverand took aim with both hands on the grip.
The men wereblinded with a sudden light that forced their pupils to dilate to adegree in which did not permit the use of sight. The pain was enoughfor some of them to take cover and attempt to re-adjust to such ahigh contrast, but others weren't so intelligent to do so. Kurtopened fire, one bullet after another hurling down the hallway totear into their victims. The first one of the two standing still wasa bald man who looked as if his occupation was body building, butthat naturally wasn't enough to stop three of the forty-five caliberslugs for tearing through him. Another had been a complete and totalopposite of him, and the velocity of the rounds alone was enough tosend the man hurling and spinning to his eternal blackness. This hadonly taken two of his rounds.
Seven left.
By thistime, the other two men had finally blindly reloaded and racked, thenwith their backs to their cover, pointed the guns over the barriersand began to open fire. It was an instant reaction for Kurt to duckdown and hug the wall with his prone body's right side against thecool metal. Another popped up, and Kurt sent another round down thehallway after the man was blinded once more to hit the ground with asick thud.
One left, and five shots were all that he had leftbefore he was on his final clip.
It was funny how he had comeacross this situation, though...
At approximately fourteen-fifty hours,Kurt had received a mission from a young widow that, in thisridiculously large building, there was a small cell ofterrorist/survivors that had not only killed her husband, but stoleeverything that she had to remember him by. All but one thing wasn'timportant, and what WAS important was currently around his neck. Itwas a small key that was cut from a jade stone that represented somekind of affection brought to a material rendering. He didn'tunderstand it, but apparently it was important. It was old-fashioned– medieval even, and had a leather rope attached to it. Sheinsisted that there be a fair trade for his troubles, so for themoment, Kurt was riding on the hope of extra ammunition and rationsfor this small token of her endearment for her fallen other.
Tohim, it was ridiculous, but he was still getting supplies from it, sothere was no need to bother with the details.
Which was why,once the bullets halted, Kurt now barreled down the hall to leap overthe barrier, slam his foot in the back of the man's head, and thenproceed to pick him up by his throat and smash his skull into thenearest wall. The sound that followed was enough to make anydesensitized survivor's stomach wrench and threaten expulsion of it'scontents. For Kurt, though, it was just another sound. The man's bodydropped with a lifeless thunk as Kurt ejected the clip to check hiscount, which was correct, then slide it back home and cock back theslide and click off the light. His black-furred body was now awash indarkness, which suited him fine because it was a perfect environmentfor his gear; pon cropped black locks atop a slim skull lays askullcap tied at the back with slits that allow his ears to protrude.Normally, his icy cold blue orbs are shielded by silver tinted shadesthat rest on his black stripped snout, but not tonight. For now, heneeded every bit of his sight in the blackness as he could get. Whitefur trails from the cheeks and under his coal black nose down to hischest which is covered by a grey button up shirt and a black,tactical kevlar vest over top. Grey tactical pants are adorned withtwo pistols, a revolver on his right hip and a USP .45 semi-autofirearm on the left outer thigh. Elbow and kneepads cover theappropriate joints. Black, fingerless gloves fit snugly upon hisgiant hands which nearly dwarf a grey and silver Barret M92A1 thatslings over his shoulder and onto his back.
Two more floors to go and he would beon the rooftop of this building, and he would be getting out herewhat he considered the easy way. Kurt braced his left shoulder on theleft side of the door's archway that would lead to the stairwell henow needed to access in order to make his trip shorter. Two slowbreaths later, Kurt wrenched open the door with his left hand andbreached the door, sweeping from right to left, only to have the USPstripped from his hand and a right hook sail into his muzzle. A snarltore through his bared teeth as he stumbled and then returned thefavor with a right hook of his own that caught the beast off guard.Apparently, now to his knowledge, there was more than just a smallamount of humans here.
What stood before him was a rare sight inhis short time as an Anthropomorphic; large, white wings were foldedbehind broad shoulders and a strong back. Black eyes peered throughslitted lids and a cracked beak bled with it's most recent wound –kurt's right hook – which only gave a more menacing appearance. Awhite wife-beater and khaki shorts showed off enormous bands ofmuscles underneath the thin coat of fur that it had on it's body.
It was an eagle type... The same one, in fact.
Andlast time wasn't pretty.
Kurt's body immediately flung forwardas the eagle attempted to swipe with a hard left, slamming hisforehead into his enemy's before snagging his left wrist andtwisting. With the bird's body facing down, kurt drove his free handinto the elbow joint and was rewarded with a sickening crack whichwas followed with his right steel kneepad smashing upward into thebeak, completely shattering it and driving whatever was left intoit's skull, killing it.
Kurt reclaimed his .45 and began tocharge up the steps that led him to a hard gust of wind high up onthe building's rooftop after he had flung open its door. The wind wasrefreshing and seemed to breathe vitality back into him and it wasalmost saddening that he didn't have any time to linger on it. Hisbody blurred forward as he holstered the sidearm before his left handplanted on the ledge and slung his body over the side, starting hisquick, ledge-by-ledge descent before he heaved his feet off the sideonto yet another, shorter building's top. Kurt landed and rolledthrough the movement to keep up his momentum and leaped over alleyafter alley before climbing up yet another building's side to perchand plant his behind upon it's ledge.
Kurt's chest was heavingfor air by this time, sweat having drenched his fur and the shirtunderneath his vest.
"That... Sucked..." He panted tohimself, taking up the key in his hand to look at it. "You betterbe worth it..."
