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Be supportive. Rate 'Thumbs up' for the thread, pweeze? =D

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It seemed as if this gang operated on a 'don't talk or die' policy; it helped with making the members not fear death as much, but made it a pain to get anything out of them. This man seemed to be alright with what was coming, which was no skin off Matt's nose. With a shove he launched the man to the ground, holding the silenced gun down and firing a single round into the back of his skull.

Making sure Eddie was following, Book walked slowly to the next corner with the gun still in hand. He was going to take it slow from now on, scanning each street and corner he passed until he found the next patrol.

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Eddie followed close behind, before grabbing the back of Book's pants-leg in his mouth. Dog's have an almost sixth sense for danger, and sure enough, a bullet whizzed past Book. Eddie barked furiously as a thug pushed a button on his ear, alerting the others to 'guard the warehouse'. It was clearly audible and although Book was about to suffer heat he know knew where to look.

Chris' bloody face showed anger, and the beatings showed that he wasn't talking. The two other thugs had now left and only the one with the brass knuckles was there. "Why don't you untie me and see just how tough you are, captain?" Chris said in a sarcastic tone, and he was already so bloody and panting that the man decided that he'd oblige, and have some fun. "This'll be fun, boy. Ready to get whooped?" The man had obviously made a LARGE mistake. As soon as Chris' arms were free he acted. His legs weren't even freed yet. As the man knelt down to untie his legs, Chris mustered all his force and pushed the man's face into his knee. The man rolled over clutching it, and getting back up quickly. He ran forward, but Chris had already moved again, falling backwards and catching himself on his hands, performing a backflip-kick as he sent his still tied legs towards the man's face, his feet connecting fully. The man flew backwards, and as Chris landed on his feet he let all the force go to the back legs of the chair, snapping them off. He bent down and untied his legs, panting heavily. He grabbed the chair legs, and rushed the man, hitting the upper left of his head, near the temple, and the right of the neck, snapping it and killing the man. He dropped the wood, and grabbed the man's pistol from his waistline. But no sooner than he tried to leave men were surrounding him. He dispatched a few with the pistol and took cover. "********.." He said as he checked the clip. "7 rounds left. You better get here fast Book."

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Matthias had never been pulled away from a bullet by a dog, but his visit to the US had been full of surprises since the first day... good times. Now was not the time to think about them, however, as there were two targets on the corner caddy to him. With a quick look down at Eddie and another indication to stay where he was, Book pulled out the second beretta and waited until the inevitable reload of the targets. Things would be getting ******** up soon, what with the others being notified and probably laying in wait right now, but for now it was just those two.

The firing halted and Book instantly went into action; rounding the corner he kept his eyes trained on their location, holding up one of the guns and firing in three-round bursts in their direction. It wasn't aimed fire, simply enough to get them hiding and worrying. Soon enough the slide locked back on his left gun and he let the full-auto mechanism click over a few times, hopefully to get the thugs thinking he was out. As they came back out of their cover, they would recieve the bad news from his right gun. Another set of three-round bursts, this time aimed at their centre mass.

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One of the men took two shots in the stomach and fell, the other missing. They both opened fire, though one was shooting sloppy, due to the fact that he was dying. Two more men came to their aid, one of them carrying the wounded man off, rounding it back down to two, one with a pistol, the other with a shotgun.

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Book saw one of the men go down and ducked back behind the corner just as two of his friends turned up; the rythmic firing of a semi-automatic pistol and pump action shotgun sounding almost lethargic. Book slammed another clip into each gun and flicked the topslide back into position. He had the Mac 10, which would've been a lot easier for spraying and taking multiples down, but it was Chris' weapon and he would want it back with some ammo in it.

Another few seconds were spent behind cover as the two fired off their remaining rounds before starting to reload. Book wasn't going to ******** around anymore; swinging back out of the corner, one gun aimed at the two, he squeezed the trigger twice, holding down for a fraction of a second, sending five well aimed rounds towards the two.

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((I am SO sorry for my absense. I joined a couple of new RPs and got distracted with them. Again, I am sorry -goes to read on ALL of the posts I missed-.))

Tipsy Waffles

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Brendan merely shook his head, walking back out to the front door, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket, along with a plain brushed chrome Zippo. He stuck the cig in his mouth, flipping the top of the lighter open, and lighting it. He brought it up to the cigarette, lit it, and flipped it back closed, taking a drag while putting the lighter back in his pocket. He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils, allowing the cig to stay in his mouth. "Nothing really interesting going on..." he muttered, but those were sometimes famous last words in this city.

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"God I need something fully AUTO!!" Chris yelled aloud, giving away his position. He stood, staying low, running into a room, like a garage, full of large crates. This way he could all in all take out 7 people with 7 bullets, and grab another gun. He treaded softly, sadly leaving a trail of blood spatters, though small. a small crack in a few crates, in the shadows, was where he hid. He waited patiently, until an unfortunate man walked slowly towards him. Like lightning he sprung from the crack, and broke the man's neck, taking his AK-47. Loud, inaccurate, but better than 7 nine millimeter rounds. He ran, carefully, until he had to open fire on four men. He suffered a shot in the arm, making his aim sloppy, and a shot grazed his neck, not deep enough to kill. He got rid of the men, grabbed his trench knife off of a 'lucky' henchman, and cut he guys shirt off, holding it against the bloodiest parts. The knife that he'd been stabbed with was still in his shoulder, and for good reason. If he pulled it out it would bleed even MORE. He made this fast, ran around spattering blood in certain areas and using the shirt to prevent it in other areas, until he'd made a path away from a crate which he'd opened and hid in. He lay there, bleeding and panting, hoping Matt would come NOW.

The henchman fired, one of them suffering a chance shot in the head, the other with the shotgun taking cover, reloading, and ducking, running forward to get a better shot.

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Matthias had just finished firing and ducked behind cover, red chalk dust exploding into the street as the henchman's headshot missed. Now, instead of Book being dead, he had the dense cover of brick dust hanging about two metres into the street and extremely thick; the building was old, the bricks were brittle, thus more dust exploded out as more bricks were destroyed. God love logic!

Book quickly ran the two metres behind the smoke, then slid into a kneeling position, taking four or five full-auto shots at the advancing shotgunner with his right, then opened up at Headshot full-auto with his right. The smoke, mixed with the confusion of Book suddnely appearing two metres from where he was, would hopefully get him shocked long enough to get his brains blown out.

This whole thing happened a few times back in Britain, giving him Spectre as a nickname... good times, but he had to change it when coming to the states as not to be hunted down through doing his job.

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The only henchman left, a wounded one, could be heard yelling before death, "Protect the warehouse!" The henchman laid there, bleeding out. Now all Book had to do was follow the breadcrumbs deeper into the forest.

(Henchman posts are boring, and thus not too long. razz )

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Matthias waved his arm at Eddie before ejecting the two empty mags and placing in two fresh ones. He made his way towards the shotgunner and pulled the gun from him, placing the strap around his neck for easier transport. He rumaged around on the body to find some shells and loaded the gun fully, seven rounds, with an extra three shoved into his jacket pocket.

Swinging the shotgun onto his back and drawing his pistols yet again, Book continued in the direction he had seen the people run, taking cover behind objects every so often to check for shooters.

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There weren't any shooters, they were all headed for the warehouse to bolster it's defenses. All Book had to do was track, which he had Eddie for.

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It was better to be cautious than dead, that was one of Book's philosophies. Since there was no obvious threats, meaning a larger welcoming party at the warehouse, he pointed in the general direction he thought the warehouse was, then to the dead thug on the ground, and back to the warehouse. Hopefully Eddie would get the idea.
"Track, Eddie." Maybe that would help it along.

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What Book hadn't noticed in all the confusions was that once it was silent Eddie had already started. He wanted his master back. Eddie was a bit up the road and barked at Book as a notion to follow as he sniffed out the warehouse.

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However awesome Book was, he couldn't focus on everything going on around him at once; he was only human, after all. So, gathering himself and making sure everything was still as it should be, Book started after Eddie constantly scanning the surrounding area for any signs of trouble.
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