Patriots & Tyrants
Page 32
***
Harvey heard Kaspar’s pleas for help through his earpiece but didn’t have the time to respond to them. The firefight was growing intense on the roof. Even though the Agents only had pistols with them, they had the advantage in numbers and were damn good gunfighters at that. Harvey moved right and found an Agent taking shots at his partner. He fired a five round burst into the Agent and dropped him. The stock of the gun punched at the wound on his shoulder and sent a stinging pain all the way down his arm. He bit his lip and continued on.
The silent one took out another one of the snipers. The enemy was now down to two. They were both hiding behind a black, metal ventilation box in front of them. Harvey got the attention of his partner by slamming his fist into the metal box he was using for cover. His partner looked over at him and paused. The leftover pointed his right index finger at the rebel first and then moved it to the position of the snipers. One of the snipers popped up and fired a few rounds from his handgun at Harvey’s cover spot. After the brief interruption, his partner acknowledged his understanding of the order.
Harvey counted to three with his fingers. On three, he motioned with his hand for the silent one to move forward. As soon as he started to make a run for it, Harvey pivoted over to his left and fired towards the box. With his finger planted firmly on the trigger, the Kriss spit fire and a wave of rounds slammed into the black box, sending sparks flying into the air.
The partner kept his head low and didn’t flinch at the sound of bullets ricocheting off of the black metal. When he reached the box, he lowered his body more and flattened his back against it. The automatic fire from the leftover ceased. During the shooting the rebel was able to mask his footsteps with the gunfire. He waited and listened for any sign of movement from the two enemies on the other side.
The moment that a shot was fired the rebel popped up and fired his submachine gun into the sniper. The sniper fell to the ground, the .45 caliber rounds pierced clean through the armor. Harvey heard the shots and turned his attention to the action. He saw his partner take out the enemy and then saw the final enemy move up to get a shot in. That sniper never stood a chance as both of the rebels fired their weapons into him.
“Clear!” the silent one shouted.
Harvey reached for his throat. “Snipers out. Preparing to raise the flag.”
“About fucking time!” Sanders’s voice cried into his ear.
Kaspar’s voice cut in with the loud boom of automatic gunfire in the background. “We could really use you two down here, sir!”
“The flag comes first!” Sanders yelled.
“Got it,” Harvey said.
The fatigue deep inside of Harvey’s body caused his legs to ache. It didn’t help matters that the bullet wound in his shoulder nearly rendered his arm useless. His partner tried to get in front of him to see how he was doing. Harvey pushed him aside, his only focus, only function at this moment was to raise that damn flag.
Upon approach to the flag pole he called his partner over to help. The silent one was instructed to bring down the flag with that disgusting red and black USR insignia on it. His partner got to work on lowering the flag as Harvey undid the straps across his chest. Once the straps were slid off of his shoulders and down his arms he undid the zipper. With a glance upward, he saw his partner almost had the enemy flag to the ground.
“You sure you’re okay?” his partner asked as he unhooked the USR flag.
“I’m fine,” Harvey replied. He knew that he heard the voice from somewhere and whoever it was did a bang up job of disguising it because he couldn’t know for sure. None of that mattered now, though. He had to raise the flag and go help Kaspar fend off the Agents after him.
“What should I do with this one?” his partner asked with the flag in his hands.
“Burn it.” Harvey replied.
Harvey watched as his partner stepped aside and put a Zippo to the USR flag. He wanted to sit and watch it burn but there were more pressing matters. With a firm grip on the end of the flag, he moved the hooks on the rope into the holes. He made sure that the hooks were on tight with a couple of tugs at them. Once satisfied, he started to raise the flag.
He wanted to enjoy the moment as the flag started to go up. All the oppression, control, and wickedness of the USR seemed to go away for just this moment. It was like old times again, he thought, as he watched the flag move its way up. Just then, his shoulder started to ache as he continued to pull the rope down. With a few grunts he tried to ignore the pain.
When the flag started to slow his partner came over. He tried to grab at the rope but was met with a weak push from Harvey.
“Let me help you.” his partner said.
“Step aside.” Harvey replied. “I have to do this.”
“Fuck you!” the silent one cried. “I’m helping!”
Harvey grunted once more as his partner got behind him and reached over his shoulders.
.66
Sullivan took out another USR soldier as he, Pinkie, and Statue pressed forward. X was lagging behind them, as was Dopey who stayed with him to provide cover fire. The bullet wound in his leg caused a significant limp by now. The black of his pants covered up the blood that was soaked through. He made it to their position with his head held low.
“You gonna make it, big guy?” Sullivan asked.
“I’m all good, Puerco. This leg is killin’ me though.”
“Are you bitching about some leg?”
“Watch who you talk to like that. I’m bound to turn into my gangster self.”
Sullivan popped up and fired away at another solider. One of the enemies returned fire and a round grazed him across the arm. Sullivan dropped to the ground and winced in pain. X moved up and took that soldier out along with another one. He came back down and looked at Sullivan reaching for his wounded arm.
“You gonna bitch about that arm now?” X asked.