Kenneth opened the final door of the airlock room.
"GET OUT YOU FUCKER!"
Ken could hear Martina Shout before another shot rang through the hall.
"Mardy! “He called out.
"KEN! IS THAT YOU?!"
"Yep what's going on out there?!"
"KEN THANK GOD! DAMNED COON CAME BACK! IT'S CRAWLIN' AROUND THE LOBBY TRYIN' TA GET ME! SHOULDA LISTENED TO YOU AN' TOM ABOUT PUTTIN' PROPER BUCK IN LUCILLE INSTEAD OF THE BEANBAGS!"
After walking further towards the business front he finally spotted Martina. She was standing on top of the teller's counter armed with Lucille, a modified short barreled 1887 lever action shotgun, and shaking like a leaf.
Martina, despite her gruff and rugged looks, is as harmless as a fly. If you've seen the countless stuffed animals and pink decor of her bedroom, you'd have thought it was her daughter's. If she actually had one that is. It was this dichotomy that put off so many suitors before, those who wanted the girly-girl only got to see the Biker-chick persona she displays in public. This passivity is the reason, despite Tom and Ken's constant protest, that her anti-intruder weapon was armed with "non-lethal" bean bag rounds.
However, it wasn't the bean bags fault, nor her training, as to why she kept missing the black and grey bastard. No, it was that fact that the arm that was bitten earlier in the day was the same arm she used to fire Lucille. So whenever she pulled the trigger, she would flinch due to the pain. Thus, the varmint had managed to elude every panicked shot she made.
"Martina, you gotta calm down. Tell me where you last saw the thing"
"I AM CALM YOU ASSHOLE! AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS NOW! DAMNED THING RAN PAST SOME SHELVES, SO NOW I LOST IT!"
"Please tell me you have some loaded, Please!" She pleaded to Ken with growing tears in her eyes. The fury which was fueling her battle cry after seeing the presumed morning assailant, had fallen leaving her only with the fear of being assailed again by the slippery ghost.
"Don't worry Mardy I have 1 chambered with 2 more follow-ups. Just keep that muzzle pointed on the opposite side of the room. I don't want to have my ribcage shattered because of friendly fire. Okay?!"
"O-Okay Ken, just be careful damned coon is fast for a fatso."
Ken took his Lichenberg off of safety and started to sweep the right side of the storefront, while Martina stayed like a sentry eyeing the left side with tears still fresh.
Ken stalked through the first isle on the right. On the wall to the right, an assortment of hunting rifles were lined up. Those that lined the bottom were sat wholesale muzzle up in display racks with trigger locks preventing nefarious individuals easily making off with them. The ones at eye level and above where the ones with 3rd party modifications, mounted on wall hooks.
On the shelving units to the left was where an assortment of neatly organized accessories WOULD have been. What was left was a baseball sized hole and a line of destruction carved out by one of the stray bean bag rounds. Grips, Sights, and other attachments were left strewn across the aisle creating multiple trip hazards. Ken just made sure every step was on the carpet.
A minute of considerate flatfooted tiptoeing led Kenneth to finally reach the end of the chaotic isle. While not trained in room clearing, he has seen a number of videos of the "slicing the pie", as professionals call it. Unfortunately for most Armchair generals, Metube vids DON'T equate to live training, and the only room sweeping Kenneth has ever done was with a broom. As Kenneth started to round the corner of the shelves on his left, to his right came a black and grey ball of fur and teeth. Leaping at him from the direction of the carrier vests that lined the front of the store, the raccoon latched its jaws on his shoulder, and its front paws around his arm. With the force from the 20lb "chonkyboi" impacting his right, Kenneth let out a gasp as he stumbled into the shelves, discharging the chambered buck into the store. Feeling the claws tearing into his ribs, as the jaws held tight with aid of the two paws digging into his armpit, he understandably started to panic.
"AARGH FUCK. GET OFF OF ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
The abrupt and panic shout of Kenneth finally reignited Martina's Valkyrie spirit. She jumped off the counter and rush to the aid of her dumb younger "brother".
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She and Dad have been friends with the Empizies for over a decade. So when three years ago, after Kenneth finally graduated, his parents went missing; the Robbins helped the fresh adult out with getting him an affordable apartment, and just being there for him. Sure his comments were quite often rude, but Martina knew he never meant anything malicious by them. He was the way he was, and she could never hate him for that.
"KEN! Hold on, I'm commin!" --Be safe please!--
Finally reaching his struggling form she was ready to pop a cap in the ass of anyone who would ever hurt HER family, morals be damned. Before she could even sight the bastard though, Kenneth threw his weight on top of the coon as he collapsed onto the floor. Managing to break free from the clutches of the raccoon. Kenneth stood clumsily from the ground, worked the action of his gun and emptied a full load of 00Buck into the wheezing raccoon barely alive on the ground. She gawked at the scene, disbelieving that there was now a mangled raccoon corpse in her store, and that she was too slow to help Kenneth. --I failed, I couldn't help him--
-~If he was by my side I could have protected him~-
Both of the coon hunters stood there breathing heavily, and both high on adrenaline. The moment lasted till finally the pain on Kenneth's right side caught up with the production of hormones and then surpassed it. He dropped his shotgun then clutched his side as he started to stumble.
"Oh my gawd, Ken! Are you alright?" Martina caught Kenneth before he folded over from the pain.
"Not. Really... WHY didn't you call 911?"
"I-I don't know! I saw that bastard and all I could think of was gettin' revenge. I'm sorry Ken I guess I wasn't thinkin' straight."
"Well, we call them AFTER we stop this bleeding. Alright?!"
"Oh SHIT you're hurt!"
Martina then started fussing about Kenneth causing his wounded arm and side to flare up in even more pain.
"GAH, FUCK! MARDY, can't you first bandage me up BEFORE you beat me some more?!"
"Oh sorry, Ken. Let's get you to the break room first"
Martina helped Kenneth back to his feet then locked the front door, flipping the sign to "closed".
She helped Ken into the black leather loveseat that sat in the room, and went to get the first aid kit from the Kitchenette in the corner. The break room sat across from the Airlock to the gun range and was the second to last door in the hall, as it ends with the Office where Martina does the books.
While she was collecting the necessary supplies, He checked his phone for any response from Tommy. Nothing. Still no check mark, still no reply. He speed dialed him next...
*Ring*Ring*Ring*...
No answer.
"Where the hell are you?"
"Who you tryin' to call?"
"Tommy, He hasn't shown up, and still hasn't responded to anything I try."
"Yeah, that does seem mighty suspicious. Call 911 while I tend to your wounds, kay?"
She immediately started to rinse his shredded side and his mauled shoulder with a bottle of water. After applying a generous amount of antibacterial ointment to it, she started to dress it with gauze. As Mardy played field doctor, Ken dialed 911.
*Ring*Ring*Ring*
After the third ring a robotic female voice answered.
"We're sorry but all our lines are currently busy. If you have an emergency, please stay on the line. If you meant to call the non-emergency hotline press two. Para Española, golpea siete."
Kenneth hung up.
"Well fuck, lines are busy. Mardy, would you mind driving me to the clinic? I could bike there, but it would hurt like a motherfucker."
"What! NO! I-I mean it's safe here, a-an’ I already patched you up. You just need to rest an’ you'll be good as new."
Ken eyed Martina with a raised brow. He pushed himself off of the couch, eliciting a wince as he mistakenly used his injured arm to assist in the maneuver.
"Where are you goin'?
"Well, if I am to rest then I much rather do it on my bed than a couch, and it's just as safe as here, and a whole lot more comfortable. No offense."
Mardy couldn't find any excuse to object to Ken's logic. She got her keys and helped Ken to the front door. Before they could unlock the front however, an explosion rocked the building. The two were thrown off balance. Standing back up they saw a plume of smoke rise from the nearby gas station, followed by gunfire and sirens wailing in the distance.
Both Mardy and Ken's phones started to vibrate. Ken hoped it was Tom, but instead when he checked his screen a large read message box appeared and the sound similar to the National Weather Service’s began playing. But no Tornado or hurricane was announced instead:
"BE ADVISED. Due to ongoing riots, residents of Medwisteria County are advised to stay indoors. Curfew is now in effect. Those caught out on the streets after 8pm without probable cause are subject to arrest."
Ken and Mardy stared at their phones not believing this to be happening, but before they could discuss this situation their phones rang again with a new message.
"BE ADVISED. Due to ongoing hostile action, Martial law has been enacted. National Guard forces have been called to contain the situation. Residents of Medwisteria and surrounding counties are advised to stay indoors as curfew is now in full effect."
Despite the new silence brewing inside of the gun store, the city rang out with more gunfire and sirens still blaring. When they took their eyes off of the screens they saw across the street a black man running. He stumbled as a bullet entered his calf. He limped a bit more before another shot took him in the back causing him to collapse. A black Officer finally came into view walking towards the downed man with a pistol aimed at the still twitching body. The Patrolman walked over the bleeding man and emptied 4 more rounds into his torso. With one more finishing off the victim with a round in the head.
The pair starred horrified as the police officer started to pat down the dead man's pockets, finding his wallet and taking the contents like he was in a God damned VR version of Vice city. Mardy put the reinforced cross bar on the door and with the help of Ken unrolled the Steel plate shutters.
Mardy turned to Ken and stared into his eyes.
"I think that couch is gunna' be the most comfortable thing you'll get in a while"
--I ain't gunna' let you be in danger any more-- -~whether you want to be or not~-