Mark took another bullet for a mercenary as he dragged an injured comrade to the APC nearby. A little to the left, he thought, itching to step aside and no longer act as a shield. An officer who dared to move forward fell to Emeryl’s fire. As the officer lifted his head, Sheila hurled a pound of dirt onto him, crushing his skull.
“How much longer?” Emeryl asked. They had been trading fire with the FBI and the local police for what felt like hours. The mercenaries slowly led them farther away from the direction of the BEP Division headquarters. The Humvees and APC were out of ammo, so the mercenaries relied only on small arms. The forest and police cars burned in the middle of the battlefield, the flames licking at the combatants and forming an impromptu blockade between the sides.
“They’ll be back at their base soon,” Roy said from the APC. “That’s what Whyte said.” He patched a mercenary’s gun wound and turned to Oliver. “How’s Val coming?”
“Can’t say for sure,” he said. He clutched his wounds, staunching some blood spilling onto the road. He looked pale but in good spirits as he dug through Valerie’s body parts scattered at his feet.
“Why is the blind guy helping me again?” Valerie asked.
“Because all the king’s horses and all the king’s men are busy,” Oliver said, handing her a finger, which she promptly used to throw an obscene gesture at him. “Wrong finger.”
She had rebuilt her torso and an arm. She searched the pile, muttering and growing frustrated, like a child with building blocks. “Just saw that toe a minute ago.”
Lionel had emerged a jumbled mess from the fans. After reforming, he snuck into the enemy ranks, choking and killing people here and there. Ahead, he slipped down the throats of three officers in a row, ending their lives instantly.
“Lionel!” Roy called him over as he tended to the mercenary. “Tone it down. We’re supposed to stall them, not kill them all. You’re going to drive them off.” Lionel scowled, but softened his attacks.
As Mark scanned the surrounding forest for a good path to bolt to, Roy’s phone rang. “Hello?” he answered. “Finally!” He yelled for everyone to fall back. “Get in the vehicles! We’re moving out!”
“Good,” Emeryl said. He stood and provided covering fire for his people as they ran.
“Oliver!” Roy lobbed his cell phone. Valerie caught it and handed it to him.
“Yeah?” Oliver asked. “Don’t worry. I have been. I will, I will.” He stood and tossed the phone back. “Nag, nag, nag,” he said, aiming his fire toward the slain Overwatch members and police and burning them to a crisp.
Mark lingered as people rushed by and started to back into the forest. Unfortunately, Oliver scooped up all of Valerie into a cardboard box and hustled to a Humvee, pushing Mark along. He shoved the boy in and tossed Valerie into the backseat of the Humvee. “Watch it, you lummox!” she said. “You better have gotten all of me!” Sheila took the wheel, shedding her rock skin as she jumped in. The tires squealed, and they left their dead members and the FBI’s forces behind them.
Mark hardly twitched at the gunshots pinging off their shell. Nor did he really acknowledge Roy when he congratulated everyone for “doing your best, given the circumstances.” He had to learn where Whyte’s base was located.