Duel

The girls came around the corner just as vargas fell from the window. Carson tilted her head Rayne leaned forward to help him up " oh good you got it....come one lets go before that wack job realises we bailed."

"Yeah, no kidding." Vargas wiped the copious amounts of sweat trickling down his brow. "Look, I kinda know a place where we can lie low, but we're gonna have to find Gus. We won't be able to get there without him." Vargas began to run, as fast as a man of his size was able to, while the sound of gunfire continued to roar through the neighborhood.

Back inside Vargas's home, Miles was keeping the gunman outside pinned behind the bronco. He fired a few more shots, his pistol's slide snapped back, empty. He only had one clip left and he had a feeling whoever was shooting at him had plenty of ammo to spare.

Trip tossed his empty uzi into the back of his bronco and withdrew an HK91 from the back. There was a pig in there, no doubt about it, the patrol car parked out front made it obvious. Trip had to move quick, take him out and find the money, then split before backup showed up. So he took aim at where he had been seeing the guy pop up and waited.

Miles had been waiting in silence for a moment while Trip was swapping out his weapon. And, realizing there was a lull in the gunfire, took the opportunity to crawl along the floor to the kitchen and reached a window situated above the kitchen sink that hadn't managed to get blown away by the hail of bullets. He slowly stood up and peered through it. He could clearly see the bronco and the lunatic who he had been fighting. It had to be Trip Preacher, Miles figured. He never met the guy, but he knew him by reputation. Why the hell was he here? Miles was too focused on getting out alive to really connect the dots at the moment. He saw that Preacher had a rifle trained on the house now, serious firepower. Miles had already called for backup on his radio, so he hoped the cavalry was coming quick. But he couldn't wait forever.

Trip frowned as no further gunfire was exchanged. Had he managed to take out the cop with the uzi? He wondered. No matter, he had to move fast. He could already hear sirens in the distance. He had to find the money he was paid to retrieve. Trip returned the HK91 back into his truck and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun he had strapped to his leg. Then he slowly made his way towards the front entrance of the house and prepared to step inside...

Miles had seen Preacher approaching and positioned himself so he had a clear shot from the kitchen once the bastard stepped through. Miles gripped his gun tightly and took a few breaths to steady himself and prepare for the kill shot. The seconds slowed to what seemed like minutes and his heart was slamming in his chest. Everything took on a hyper-real feeling as his senses focused on this one critical moment...

Then he heard a small thumping noise, like something heavy had been dropped on the carpet in the living room, and then spotted something small and green come soaring into the house, bouncing off the far wall and landing in the kitchen.

Flashbangs.

Before Miles even had time to react the grenades went off and all of his senses went haywire. His ears were ringing and all he could see was white. He fired two rounds blindly in the direction of what he thought was the doorway. There was a dull THUMP and Miles felt something seemingly pull at his entire right hand side. Pain followed this as he twisted about and fell on the ground.

Trip didn't like using grenades, they were hard to come by but must needs as the devil drives. So he tossed in two flashbangs and waited for them to go off before entering. Sure enough, this paid off, for when he stepped inside he heard two shots coming from the kitchen to his left. He spun around, saw the cop he'd been locked in mortal combat with, the man was dazed by the grenade he'd thrown into the kitchen. Blindly fired into the far wall, no doubt thinking he was still aiming at the doorway Trip was standing in. Trip fired at him, clipped the cop in the side, but the buckshot tore holes through his arm, shoulder, and torso. The cop spun around and fell to the ground.

He did not get back up.

Satisfied, Trip proceeded to scour the house for any sign of his targets, and the money he had been sent to retrieve. First he went to the living room, noticing that it looked like someone had been sleeping on the couch. There was a woman's bag there, but all that was inside was a toothbrush and other niceties. No money.

The sirens were getting closer, so Trip moved fast. He took out his machete and cut up the cushions on the sofa, went through as many cabinets as he could, went to the bedroom in the far back of the house and immediately saw a few loose panels of drywall had been removed, no doubt where Vargas had been hiding his share of the money. An open window told Trip where the fat bastard had gone off to. No doubt the girls had done the same.

"Fucking shit." Trip's teeth began to grind in frustration. All he'd managed to do was piss off the entire police force for the entire county, and he hadn't managed to get his targets or the money he'd been paid to retrieve. Quickly, Trip hopped into his bronco and drove away before the police arrived.

When they did, the officers quickly found Miles lying in a pool of blood. One of them checked for a pulse then looked to the others in surprise. "He's alive!"

"We need an ambulance at 1409 Valverde Boulevard. We have an officer down! I repeat, we have an officer down. Requesting an ambulance to 1409 Valverde Boulevard immediately, the officer is alive but severely wounded."

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