Everything was in place. Every precaution had been taken. Greg, Jinan, Rusty and his drones were all poised to strike. The still air around the checkpoint felt electrically charged from the impending calamity. Jinan steeled herself and gave Rusty the signal. The door in front of her snapped open, revealing a number of bewildered guards. Fortunately Jinan was not so unprepared, and she lobbed several breathtaker grenades inside just before the door descended once more and it’s locks slid into place. As the chaos engulfed the the checkpoint she could hear the frantic poundings on the other side of the door, and couldn’t resist and impish grin.
Greg had drawn a bead on one of the guards. The guard sat on his bike positioned behind some rocks not far from the road. But as Greg focused his gaze, and centered his energy, he infiltrated the thoughts of the guard, dominating his will, and commanded him to open fire on his companions. And as the rest of the guards shook off their shock they began to respond the their compatriots gunfire. Rusty, succumbing to a mischievous urge, was busy hacking the turret mounted on the side of the building. And as the machine gun rounds pumped out of the turrets barrel, the nimrod zeroed in its own targeting autosoft and began emptying its clips. The guards, by grace of their training, managed to recover their composure and respond to the attacks. They turned on their companion and the hijacked turret with a fury undaunted by their confusion. But as the controlled biker fell, and the turret was reduced to scrap, a fire spirit sprang into being in the midst of their ranks, engulfing the nearest guard in a shrieking cacophony.
The Tyrell team was reeling. One guard standing in the road made a dash for his bike. Another guard was mind controlled by Greg and opened fire, but the runner out-paced the rounds. He ducked frantically as a rocket fired by the nimrod shrieked over his head and rocked into the side of the van, blowing it to pieces and killing two more guards beside it. But the runner pressed on against the shrapnel and leaped onto the back of his motorcycle. He jammed on the gas and squealed away from the carnage, and as he pulled away from the building a round from Jinan’s Predator smashed into the side of his skull. Bike and rider crashed to the ground.
But the remaining guards rallied to their lieutenant, taking cover behind the road blocks. They finally managed to track the fire of the nimrod, and it was torn from the sky; but not before causing considerable damage. The fire spirit immolated another guard before it was dispersed. The lieutenant finished off the last guard mind controlled by Greg, and surveyed the wreckage that had been his placid post. He was the last of his team left standing. He thought he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye, moving into the office. He closed in to investigate, and as he opened the door to the gas-filled office, Jinan sprung on him from the swirling cloud. She tried to pitch the guard forward into the office to seal him in. But somehow her legs failed her, and the guard remained planted. Jinan had a half-formed curse on her lips as the lieutenant turned his assault rifle on her and opened fire. She was driven to the ground by the force of the volley. Her ribs fractured as hot lead tore thru her armor and flesh. She gasped for breath with bleeding lungs as darkness enveloped her senses.
Greg saw Jinan go down and snapped into action. He mind controlled the final guard and commanded him to take the trauma patch from Jinan’s bag and apply it to her. She was jolted back into consciousness, and sat up blinking and dazed.
“So that’s what astral projecting is like!”
She limped shakily to her feet, and wasted no time in returning the favor to her assailant. She took grim satisfaction at the flicker of desperation that struggled to pass the bovine tranquility in his eyes; held sway by Greg’s spell as he was. His execution brought an end to the savage conflict. They had prevailed over seemingly insurmountable odds…barely. And now they were left with the spoils of victory: clean up.