- The Rip Saw
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- Exalted Mythic Member
Posted by: Halo53
RIp, if you want to be my guest.I’m not entirely sure what time period this is supposed to take place in, so I’ll assume now is a good time. This took me a while to write, by the way. You know me, I like to write a lot, and I like to go out with a bang. It is not my intention to show-up anyone here, but this story is a good read:
There was a full moon out, but that was all about to change. The forecast called for clear skies all night, but the weatherman was seldom correct about such things. The mother of all cold fronts was heading this way, and the lightning show would undoubtedly prove to be spectacular.
Rip-Saw was generally unconcerned about such things. As long as the power stayed on, he’d have plenty to do. He just got his broadband put in, and he was looking forward to pwning some people online. He was in the middle of a CTF game, he had 2 flag captures and was going for number 3 when the worst possible thing happened, the power failed.
“Damn this storm!” he shouted, but even in doing so, he realized something was wrong. Deathly wrong. The storm was still a ways out, an although he could hear the thunder now and then, the rain hadn’t quite reached him yet. That could only mean one thing; they had finally decided to take him out.
He wasn’t really surprised. He had been particularly vocal at the town meetings, and it could be said he had almost single-handedly convinced everyone to lynch 2 guys already. Maybe one or both of them were mafia bosses and they were scared, or maybe they just feared his ability to convince the people to follow his lead. Either way, one thing was clear, the mafia had finally decided the risk keeping him alive finally outweighed the risk of making him a martyr. Rip-Saw knew that outside his door there were most likely a gang of mafia thugs waiting for the boss to come back from the power supply room. He didn’t plan to just sit there and eat a bullet sandwich.
He walked over to an oriental rug hanging on the wall. It was a beautiful work of art, and the fact that he told everyone the oils on their skin could ruin the colors made it a very effective cover for his closet, his gun closet. He pulled the rug away and entered in his combination. He pulled open the cold steel doors and what stood before him would make even the mafia cringe.
Rip-Saw never thought anything of the automatic weapons ban the government had had going on for years. The impressive arsenal inside this closet would get him locked up for life, so he never told anyone. Rip-Saw took his second amendment right seriously. Inside this closet was an assortment of automatic weapons, grenades, pistols, shotguns, rifles, and even grenades. He even had an RPG launcher, although he had no actual RPGs. Thos were damn hard to find, and when you found them, the highest bidder was always a bit more wealth than you were, it seemed.
He decided that quick action was required, and if he was to live, he would need the bigger guns. He grabbed an M4 rifle and an M9 pistol. The M4, the weapon of choice for counter-terrorism teams, had a superb ROF, and would easily deal with anyone on the other side of his door. The pistol was a decent back-up weapon. It’s 9 mm bullet was fairly accurate and had a good stopping power. He slammed a clip into his M4 and grabbed some extra ammo for the M9. He also grabbed the 2.5 million CP flashlight. When you were waiting in a dark hallway, a bright light would play hell with your eyes.
He turned the flashlight on, damn it was bright, and he set it up to face the door.
He then set himself up to face it with his M4 ready to fire. He cycled a round into the chamber and waited.
Not one minute later, the door burst open. Not one second later, he heard the scream of angry mafia as their eyes slammed shut and they opened fire. Their utter lack of the ability to see him didn’t help them much. Rip-Saw opened fire with the M4 and leveled everyone in the doorway in about a second. He threw down the weapon and bolted out the door to the fire escape. Using the front door would be suicide.
He ran. He ran faster than he ever had his entire life. Waiting outside, by the street, would be some more mafia guys, waiting for their buddies to kill him. Well, they would have been waiting for them if they hadn’t heard the sound of the M4 going off. There was only one place Rip-Saw would head off to, the garage.
Rip-Saw darted in the side door, and thanked Bungie he had remembered his keys. Using keyless entry would take too long. He punched the garage door, slammed the keys into the ignition, activated the C6’s top to retract, and punched the accelerator to the floor.
The brand spankin’ new supped-up C6 flew out the garage at an insane rate. “Let’s see those mafia thugs catch me in a Corvette,” he said quietly to himself. But he could clearly see they would have very little trouble. The C6’s main advantage was it’s power over anything they could drive, and that power required traction to be fully utilized. But the rain was finally here, and the road was being covered with water. The lack of traction would eliminate the huge advantage the Vette offered, so it would come down to the most skilled driver.
He did a power-slide off the end of the drive into the street and punched it. He was already going 30 MPH, and he was quickly accelerating. He ignored the red light and kept going down the street. If he could get to the freeway, the cars top speed of 200 MPH would loose the mafia for good. It was only 2 miles away, but it was not a straight drive, and the mafia had nice little cars too.
The first indication of a car behind him wasn’t the rear-view mirror. Oh no, Rip-Saw had to focus 100% of his attention on the road ahead. His first indication was the sound of gunfire impacting his Vette. “No respect for the car!” he grumbled as he slammed on the breaks for his first turn. He fishtailed wildly around the corner. “200 kudos,” he thought. This kind of driving was not optimal for speed though. He’d have to slow it down in the corners a bit to maintain his traction.
He accelerated again with the sound of gunfire behind him. He took out his own pistol and answered their fire with a full clip of his M9, 15 bullets. One of them hit the lead car, but that did nothing but cause the driver to swerve a bit. Shooting and driving was hard, and as Rip-Saw soon found out, looking backwards at 70 MPH in a 35 zone was a bad idea.
The semi-driver blared the horn loudly. Crap, swerving at this speed was a bad idea, and braking wasn’t an option. Would the low profile of the Vette be short enough to clear the truck bottom? Trucks typically had clearances of 3 feet or less. That was bad. Had he been in a coupe, he would have braked and swerved, but this was a convertible. He hated to do it, but he was pretty sure his insurance covered broken windshields.
The driver watched in awe as the madman punched the gas. “He’s insane!” exclaimed the boss. He watched as the brand new 2005 Corvette C6 took a blow no car that nice should ever have to. The whole windshield was taken off along with the entire frame supporting it. Damn shame. He knew Rip-Saw has spent a lot of money on that car. Not sad for Rip-Saw, but sad for the car.
A little part of Rip-Saw died as he sped off. His back had some minor cuts from the glass, but he was largely un-hurt physically. Emotionally, he was devastated.
The freeway was only a half-mile away, but his car was in poor shape. The top speed of 200 was out of the question now. He’d be lucky to maintain 100 for more than a few minutes, and with the rain now pouring down, driving without a windshield was a bad idea.
He slammed on the brakes under the bridge. He knew there was one here somewhere… There, a manhole cover to the sewer. He grabbed his M1014 combat shotgun, the extra pistol ammo, and a crowbar. He pried up the manhole cover and slipped in. He heard the ping of bullets on the road surface above him, but he was largely unaware of what was going on above.
“Damn bastard!” the boss shouted. “He just had to make this hard on himself. Everyone in.”
“But those are the sewers,” someone started. The boss had no time for games. He pulled out his own pistol, and aimed it at the guy’s head.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” There was no need to answer his question. Actions speak louder than words.
Rip-Saw ran, and he ran, and he ran. He ran his butt off for 5 minutes. The water was running by like a river right on his right, quite a bit faster than he was, and it appeared that some of the mafia had used that to their advantage. They were floating down the river of water towards him. He opened up with the shotgun. This range wouldn’t be lethal, but it would suck a lot for anyone on the receiving end. After all the rounds were gone, he dropped the gun and ran some more.
He took a side passage marked “Overflow” that was relatively dry. He knew what that tunnel meant, end of the line. Ahead would be the river. Good, once outside he could flee in any direction he wanted. He reached the end of the tunnel and noticed the rain had stopped. He could even see the moon poking through the clouds. He pulled out the M9 and shot the lock on the grates several times. It finally broke off. He pushed the grate with all his might but it wouldn’t budge. Just then, he saw the boss coming around the corner. He was all out of ammo.
[Edited on 10/1/2004 10:18:08 AM]