Ghouls'n Guns Read online

The blast was her ending. That movement counted as initiating an attack, and his Counter Attack skill kicked in, allowing him the extra speed and precision he needed to finish her off. Before he fully knew what he was doing, he found himself jumping in close, chest to chest, with the silencer on his pistol burying itself into her ribcage. He squeezed the trigger and her whole body shuddered.

  Oddly enough, she went down to HP 0 but seemed not to realize it: the power writhing in her was keeping her animated, seemingly beyond the point of death. Davidoff withdrew from standing so close, panicking slightly and shot her in the skull, sending her tumbling back with her forehead like a smashed watermelon.

  The woman’s power dissipated. An odd, glowing mist fell away from her dead body, evaporating into thin air as Davidoff caught his breath.

  The fights first against Roger and then the boy, and now this combat, all began to show: he had 167 XP by the time the woman fell down, dead. Blood was flowing everywhere from her injuries as all else fell still.

  “Come on,” Zeke said. “If you’re done show boating, we have got a job to do.”

  “Go on, then,” Davidoff snapped back. “I’m just following your lead, remember?”

  “Yeah, well,” Zeke said. His eyes looked distracted—he was viewing his internal map of the building. “The first spot is just up ahead, about two hundred feet away. I’ll show you, come on.”

  The place that Zeke had identified for them to place the first set of explosives was a large concrete pillar, partway between the building’s outer walls and its central atrium. It was located in a massive hall that opened off into some open plan office space on one side and a large section of windows on the other. Everywhere looked deserted enough, nice and free from prying eyes. The pillar was reinforced on the inside with steel rods. “It’s load-bearing. It’s tough. But if it comes down, there will be hell above,” Zeke said as they approached. “Quick, you keep watch and I’ll deal with these.”

  So Davidoff walked slow circles around the pillar, looking into every corner he passed, as Zeke placed little bundles of plastic explosives at regular intervals around the pillar’s base. He connected them all with a long, slim bundle of wires, and he tied the wires to a radio signaler. The radio was tuned to his own detonator, clipped to his armored vest. Every explosive they laid through their mission would go off simultaneously when he pressed the one magic button.

  The explosives were relatively inconspicuous, all rammed into the angle between the pillar’s base and the floor, with the wiring all wrapped tight against the pillar itself. The windows were all grimy and dark, and the lighting was especially poor in the open plan hall, as well, as only a few bulbs flickered away. However, there would still be no mistaking the little bundles and their wires. Anybody looking would recognize that they were explosives. Zeke also could not set them to blow if they were disturbed, if anybody tried to diffuse them. If they went up while Davidoff and Zeke were still in the building, they would both quite likely die.

  The thought made Davidoff shudder. There was so much potential for the mission to go wrong and he was struggling to keep from thinking it through too much. He tried to distract himself, to focus on the tasks at hand. However, it was only of limited success. The same doubts and worries kept hovering on the edge, turning his stomach and threatening to overwhelm him.

  “But we can’t dwell on that now,” he said to himself. “I can’t let it stop me, or I’ll be finished for good… we all will.”

  They moved on as soon as Zeke was finished. Zeke seemed to Davidoff to be relatively satisfied with his work. He focused on his map as they jogged quietly down another slim corridor, guiding Davidoff first left, then right. They met no resistance; the castle seemed to be far less crowded than they had imagined, on this floor at least.

  The final corridor they came to opened up to the other side’s mirror image. At the end, it came to another open plan section, with an identical concrete pillar in its middle. This one had no windows, however, so the whole room was cast into a thick shade.

  “Good, let’s go,” Zeke muttered, moving along down the hallway.

  However, as soon as he took his next step, he flew to one side, smashing hard into the wall, cracking his head and falling unconscious. He was prone, out cold for a few seconds with 392 / 498 HP left to him. Up ahead, Davidoff made out a couple of figures walking towards them, their hands raised as they worked their telekinesis.

  He swore to himself as he brought out his pistol and his kukri. His pistol only had a couple of shots left in it, and he was worried that he might have to switch to his luger, alerting everyone to their presence. However, he soon understood that that ship had sailed. Their time creeping about unnoticed had come to an abrupt end. A third figure was behind those two advancing on him, running away, presumably to raise the alarm. They would have to fight their way out of here, and that was only if he could wake Zeke up and have him recover enough to finish laying the last of the explosives.

  He cursed once more as he holstered his pistol, switched to his more powerful luger and raised it to shoulder height. He had no intention of firing, not yet, if he could help it. But just pointing with it had the desired effect. The two warlocks up ahead flinched, their power broken for a split second. He had bought himself a precious instant and he made use of it, running at full pelt towards the two warlocks.

  They recovered as he neared them. He saw that they were dressed in similar robes to the warlocks in the city. Their robes were smarter, however, as all the clothes in this place seemed to be. As he drew within ten feet, they threw their hands up and Davidoff felt the familiar buzzing of telekinetic energy surrounding him. It was about to close in, he could feel it, but he leapt and flipped over, pirouetting through the air, before landing within two feet of the warlocks.

  He slashed out first with his kukri, catching one across the temple and drawing bright blood. Then he pulled up his luger, stuffing it into the other’s mouth. They were both young men, teenagers really, and their eyes shone with power and youth. This one’s eyes blazed momentarily, before Davidoff had a chance to fire, and his luger jerked violently and flew back, out of the warlock’s mouth. It span out of Davidoff’s hand and went clattering away down the corridor. At the same moment, the warlock lifted both his hands and a yellowish nimbus surrounded Davidoff, causing him to black out for a moment.

  He felt himself flying through the air. He felt himself land heavily, bruising his body. And by the time he properly came around, he was in the middle of the large, open hall, slumped right up against the concrete pillar. His kukri was gone as well as his luger, and he was down to an HP of 303 / 462. The whole world span for a second, before coalescing around the two figures.

  One was bleeding heavily from an awful wound to the side of his face… the wound he had just caused, of course, slashing with his blade… that warlock was down to HP 134 / 168. The other was gathering energy to himself, however, and his HP swelled to 380 even as his Damage characteristic reached 100. He wrapped all of his power into a ball in front of his chest, with the bleeding one lending his own power, so that Davidoff knew that he could only survive a couple of bolts before being killed, if that…

  Perfect, he thought, smiling to himself. As he saw the warlock tensing, ready to unleash his attack, Davidoff leapt to his feet. He rolled away immediately, off to an angle, and jumped up again before sprinting away. The bolt was unleashed where he had just been sprawled. It struck the concrete column, taking a great chunk out of it. The concrete shivered and split, a large crack drawing upwards along nearly its whole length. Davidoff doubled back next, retracing his steps and running towards the pillar, keeping it to his back before turning to face the warlocks once more. He then braced himself and raced towards them, drawing his machete and waving it like a mad man.

  The warlocks lost their cool and released their second attack. It was weaker than the first bolt, but it flew towards Davidoff as he had wanted. He immediately dropped down, sprawling a
gainst the ground as it sailed above his head. His Agility was epic, he thought, before rolling forwards, jumping up to his feet and running past the two warlocks, back down the slim corridor and towards Zeke.

  As he ran, he heard what he had been expecting. The building shook and the ceiling creaked menacingly. Then whole chunks of plasterwork from the ceiling began to fall in. A few greater slabs of concrete fell in next, shaken loose by the punishing blasts. A couple of large blocks hit the wounded warlock, stunning him and bringing him to his knees. Then more and even more began to fall, cascading down around the central hall, eventually burying both of the warlocks.

  It was not the damage that Zeke and Davidoff had hoped for. There was no grand explosion and it would not see the whole lot collapse—the damage was restricted to the open hall and a few cracks along the adjoining walls. But it was enough. The building’s structure was weakened on this side. The warlocks were done in and this wing was shaken. Even though the warlocks all around would be alerted to Davidoff’s and Zeke’s presence, in all that chaos they could still go unnoticed.

  Zeke was coming around, sitting up and peering around groggily. Davidoff pulled out a syringe of painkiller and a bottle of ammonia. He wafted the ammonia under Zeke’s nose as he injected him with the painkiller, dulling the pain but waking him up fully at the same time.

  “Come on, time to go, buddy,” he said as Zeke coughed and spluttered, the ammonia hitting him hard. “You need to find us a way downstairs so we can finish,” Davidoff shouted as the ceiling creaked once more. “Quickly!”

  Zeke jumped up, staring down the corridor as he grasped what was going on. “One moment,” he said, grinning. He jogged down to the open hall as the dust settled. He was limping on one side, but he was stable and able to function well enough.

  Davidoff followed. He could hear the sound of running feet in the distance, just over the ringing in his ears. There were whole chunks of concrete everywhere, a couple even the size of small cars. Zeke selected one, a largish piece near the middle, where half the column still stood, cracked and ruined but held in place by the iron struts in its belly. Zeke next picked up a couple of smaller chunks to place beside the first. Then he bent down and placed a whole bundle of explosives there, before pushing all the rubble together.

  He worked well. The debris looked natural, not like it was hiding anything as sinister as a pack of plastic explosives. If they spent a whole day clearing the space up, the warlocks would quite likely not find it. “Let alone in the next twenty minutes or so.” Zeke grinned.

  They were both a little manic; both of them were taut with nerves and fatigue, Davidoff thought. They would have to work hard not to get too reckless; they would have to keep things in perspective. At the moment, as the adrenaline surged and the stress clouded over them, Davidoff felt like they could take on the whole world.

  Be calm, he told himself, be calm and get the mission over with. Then we can think about what we will do next.

  The explosives set, Zeke searched the map for the best way down to the basement. There were footsteps falling above their head, making the already unstable, broken ceiling shake a little more. The warlocks were all on the top levels, but they were finding safe routes down and would be here soon enough.

  “Hurry, there’s a staircase just at the end of that corridor,” Zeke said, nodding down to one they had yet to take. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  They both drew their guns, Davidoff sheathing his machete and unslinging his Uzi as Zeke brought out his own, smaller Uzi. There was no point in being subtle now, Davidoff thought. Now is the time for a full on assault, if it comes to that.

  It was with a slight twinge of regret that he realized, as they ran down to the staircase, that he had lost his luger and his kukri, his oldest and most reliable weapons in this game. They were buried in all that rubble.

  ***

  They reached the staircase unimpeded. Above them, footfalls clattered as warlocks rushed about, finding their way down to this level. However, Zeke and Davidoff were ahead of them for the moment. Neither thought about how they would get out with all those warlocks at their back, and neither thought about what would happen if they had no other option but to blow the whole place, with them inside. The rules were clear: if this mission was anything but successful, all the avatars stuck in the game would die. Mara included.

  They had to complete it, no matter what. But both tried to keep this thought from intruding upon them as they rushed downstairs.

  The staircase itself was a tight, no nonsense affair, iron ruts twisting in upon themselves as they descended through a concrete lined tower. There was little resistance on the stairs. They did meet two older warlocks rushing up though, both in smart white robes, with grey hair tied back behind their heads. They were so similar they could be brother and sister. However, as soon as they all noticed one another, the two warlocks raised their hands and the stairs began to vibrate.

  No you don’t, Davidoff thought. He and Zeke both brought up their Uzis at the same time, spraying a couple of blasts forwards. The two old warlocks went down, riddled with hot lead and covered in blood. They were dead, and Davidoff and Zeke leapt over them without a second thought. They kept running and they reached the bottom in no time at all.

  The basement level was low-ceilinged yet vast. At the bottom of the staircase, they followed a short corridor through to a wide open space, almost as large as the whole floor above. Concrete pillars stood thick and squat at regular intervals, smaller than the two above yet sturdy enough to look robust. Bookcases and packing crates lined a few of the avenues made by the pillars, and at the far end they saw yet more storage space where some old kit had been covered in dust sheets.

  “We’ll lay the explosives in the center,” Zeke panted next to him. “A small pile there would be enough to collapse the upper floor, and we’ve got enough for a massive pile. Come on.”

  Zeke showed Davidoff to the middle. The low-ceilinged labyrinth of pillars suddenly opened up to show a high-vaulted cavern, free for fifty yards in any direction with the ceiling rising above their heads. Zeke dropped to his knee, opened his rucksack and began to pull things out.

  “Look,” Zeke said, pointing to the outer ring of pillars in the open space. They were spread out every few feet. “Place one of these on each one,” he continued, holding up a bundle of small packets of explosives with wires attached. “You’ve got a load in your own bag. Tape them on and don’t worry about wiring. They’re all configured to my transmitter.”

  Davidoff nodded and set to work, walking around the ring and using thick industrial tape to strap the explosives in place, each one at the foot of one pillar, then the next and the next. Zeke busied himself in the middle of the room, laying a large bomb made of a few smaller devices lashed together. It was to be the main piece, blowing through the whole place as Davidoff’s bombs collapsed it all together.

  Each time he fitted one of his bombs, Davidoff received 2 XP. Zeke would probably gain more for the same work, as it fitted his profile much more closely, and no doubt laying the large bomb, and the two on the floor above, had given him a great deal of XP. But the small amount soon added up and Davidoff was grateful for it. He outfitted twelve of the sixteen pillars, totaling 24 XP.

  That would be a few more HP, he thought. As soon as he was done, and as Zeke was finishing up, he would go shopping for more Resistance and HP, hopefully increasing his chances of getting out of here in one piece.

  However, as Davidoff moved to fit the thirteenth pillar, a high pitched wail broke out all around them. It reverberated through the cavernous basement, echoing from every pillar, from the ceiling and the floor, so that it surrounded Davidoff and Zeke.

  Both players dropped what they were doing. Davidoff let his thirteenth bundle of explosives fall to the floor, not touching the pillar, as Zeke stood up from what he was doing, his face drained of all color. Davidoff unslung his Uzi, holding it up to his chest and stari
ng about, looking for the source of the noise as Zeke did the same, keeping his bolt rifle up, butt to his shoulder, ready to fight.

  They were both, suddenly, terrified of that strange sound.

  The wailing began again a few seconds later. It was as harsh as a whip and it came clattering from every surface. Davidoff winced as the sound hurt his ears. Zeke gestured for him to come and stand next to him. Davidoff jogged over to his friend, glancing all around in vain, staring through every avenue of pillars for the source of the horrible screech.

  He stood with his back to Zeke, aiming outwards, as the wailing came yet again. This time, however, they could tell where it was coming from. It ricocheted out from a far corner of the basement, echoing through the columns, making dust fall and concrete split slightly.

  It also hurt Davidoff and Zeke. As the noise hit them, both felt an awful pressure in their heads. Their HP dropped a little, too. Davidoff lost HP 11 with the first wave. As it bounced back and bandied about, he lost a further HP 9 and then HP 3, making it HP 23 in all. Zeke fared much the same behind him.

  “What the hell is that thing? And how can noise cause damage?” Zeke asked, though Davidoff only just made out his words. An awful, heavy ache was growing in his ear canals.

  “A banshee, or something like one,” Davidoff replied, realizing what they were facing as he stood squinting through the gloom, searching between the pillars. “Banshees’ weapons are their voices. A screech like that from close up would be devastating.”

  No sooner had he said this than the fourth wail came, blistering the air around them. It immediately dropped Davidoff down by HP 22. He lost count of the damage as the successive waves hit him, deadly echoes washing over him and almost putting him in shock. By the time it died down, he only had HP 241 / 462. He grabbed an adrenaline shot from his pocket and jabbed it into his leg, pumping the liquid into himself. His HP rose momentarily to HP 291 / 462, but it would not last long. He would need proper rest and medical attention when this was done.