Firefight

"Don't move bitches........."

The low, growling voice spun Calvo on his heel, but fortunately he was able to stop his reflexive impulse to make a dash for freedom. It would only have got him killed anyway. So distracted had he been by the guardswomen's embrace, he had failed to notice the approch of the Merc-pirates....and that was clearly what they were. More than the mismatched and battle scarred weapons and blast armour the men wore, or even their pseudo millitary clenched fist ensignia, it was their expressions that gave them away. Hard, cold, uncaring,their eyes dead, they would kill or die with equal indifference for any reason they pleased. Calvo's eyes flicked around the loose circle of men, their weapons levelled at him and the guardswomen.

"Don't try anything....for fuck's sake don't try anything..."

Calvo muttered this under his breath, almost a prayer to the fates that the Guards would not be stupid enough to face down blaster-armed Merc-Pirates with only painsticks and stunguns. As if in grim response to his whispered plea, the redheaded guard Captain yelled "Open fire!"

Calvo. his wrists still bound, dived to the ground, his breath driven from his body by the impact. The Captain was the first to die, a shot taking her in the throat a moment after she gave the order to fight. Poor little Twelve didn't even have time to reach for her stungun. She was hit in the belly, and fell near where Calvo lay. Her broken sobs punctuated the awful noise of the firefight, the screams of rage and pain, the chirps and hisses of weapons discharge. The beautiful blonde Eighteen died beside her lover, the amazonian blonde taking a slug directly between her taut, heavy breasts, her white uniform quickly becoming soaked with her crimson blood. When a stray shot slammed in to Calvo's back he was, for the brief instant that thought was still possible, almost relieved. At least he would not have to see any more.

BAD LUCK, CALVO IS DEAD. CARE TO TRY AGAIN?