Heist Online

by Victor Deckard

  I shut up as I saw what it was. I straightened up and looked at the thing in my hand, which I had just picked up. It was a cell phone in a pink sand silicone case.

  “What’s that?” Flynn asked.

  He walked up to me and saw what I was holding in my hand.

  “The heck is this?” He snarled and turned to face Allison, who had just climbed out of the vehicle.

  She grabbed her cell phone from my hand and exclaimed, “Hey, it’s mine!”

  She looked at us furiously as if we had stolen her cell phone.

  “At least now we know how the British players managed to find us,” I said.

  “Explain it to us,” Flynn said. “How come you’ve got a cell phone on you? We ditched our cell phones before starting the mission. All of us, including you. You ditched your cell phone as well. I saw it. So where the hell did you get this one?”

  Allison’s mood instantly changed. She cast her gaze downward, holding her cell phone in both hands and pressing it to her chest as if she was afraid that we might take it away from her.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” she said. “I totally forgot about this one.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I bought this cell phone the other day because I got sick of the old one. So I bought a new one, put it in my pocket, and–– and then totally forgot about it.”

  “How the heck could you forget about it if you were so eager to acquire a new phone?” Flynn asked suspiciously.

  Allison caught his eyes for a moment, smiled, and said, “Well, you know me, guys, right? That’s just the way I am.”

  “And you didn’t even remember about the new cell phone when we were getting rid of our phones before this mission?”

  “Nope.”

  Allison was right. We knew her. We knew her very well by that point. It was obvious that she had done it on purpose. She intentionally “forgot” to ditch the new phone.

  Flynn had the same thoughts that I had.

  “You did it on purpose,” he growled.

  “No, guys,” Allison exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because you knew that if everything went accruing to the plan, then we would avoid dealing with cops. So you decided to bring the new cell phone along with you so those British players could trace your phone and find us.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard from you! Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because you love action, that’s why. You couldn’t stand a thought of completing this mission without any action at all.”

  “You’re wrong! I mean, I do love action, but I didn’t bring the cell phone along with me on this mission on purpose.”

  “Oh, come on, Allison!” Flynn said. “Just admit that I’m right.”

  Suddenly, a low rumbling came from behind us. It sounded like a car. We instantly turned around and looked back. It was too far away yet, so we couldn’t make out its occupants yet. But the car was driving along the road toward us very fast. It wouldn’t be long before the car reached us.

  “It must be them,” Flynn snarled.

  “Let’s get outta here,” I said.

  We dashed to our SUV and climbed inside. Flynn slammed the car in gear, stomped on the gas pedal, and the vehicle lurched forward, throwing clods of earth from beneath the tires.

  “There were only two players in the chopper,” Flynn said as he steered the car down the dirt road. “The third one musta been driving that car. As it’s slower than the chopper, the guys in the helicopter caught up to us before the player in the car did. And after we shot down the chopper, he picked up those two players.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Can’t this car go any faster?” Allison asked. “Those guys are gaining on us.”

  I twisted in my seat and looked back over my shoulder. She was right. The black-colored pickup truck was eating up the distance between us very quickly.

  “The engine must be damaged,” Flynn snarled. “The car won’t go faster than forty miles an hour.”

  Suddenly, we were out of the forest. Up ahead was a small town.

  “We just need to make it over to that town,” Flynn said. “We’ll find another car, hot-wire it, and get the heck away.”

  When we entered the town, the pickup truck closed the gap between us to about thirty yards. The two passengers of the car had already leaned out the windows and trained their assault rifles on our car. All the three occupants of the pickup truck were wearing skull design ski masks.

  The two players simultaneously opened up on our car. We ducked our heads as full metal jacket bullets pervaded the interior of the car. One of the rear tires, or maybe both of them, blew up with a bang. The car went fishtailing. Flynn fought with the steering, trying to bring the car back in a straight line.

  He didn’t accomplish much. The car swerved off the road and slammed into a sedan parked along the curb.

  “Bail out,” I yelled.

  Flynn and I got out of the car and dashed to the back of the vehicle. We opened the rear doors. Each of us took a bag. Allison climbed out of the car, a squad automatic weapon cradled in her hands, a bag with money slung across her back.

  The pickup truck was almost on us by then. We didn’t have time to secure all the bags with money.

  I quickly looked around, gestured toward a one-story building nearby, and yelled, “Get in that house!”

  We dashed across a green lawn toward the building. From behind us came the screeching of tires as the pickup truck pulled to a stop. Almost instantly the crackle of automatic fire erupted. The full metal jacket rounds danced all around me.

  Since I didn’t wear any armor, my movement speed wasn’t impaired, so I was in the lead. I almost reached the main door when I heard Flynn yell behind me, “Dang it! I’m downed!”

  I whirled around. Flynn was crawling toward the house. He couldn’t get up on his own. Someone had to help him.

  The three players who used the pickup truck for cover were firing at us ceaselessly. The bullets zipped all around us like angry hornets.

  Allison noticed that Flynn was downed. When I saw that she was about to dash over to him, I shouted to her, “Allison, no. Get in the house. I’ll get him.”

  She glanced at me in a puzzled manner, but there was no time to ask questions, so she obeyed silently. I looked at Flynn crawling on his belly toward the house. I had the Rise and shine ability, which could revive downed teammates at a distance by shouting at them. Meaning that I didn’t have to run all the way back to Flynn to help him out.

  I didn’t know what exactly I had to do, so I just fixed my gaze on him and yelled, “Hey, get up!”

  The ability kicked in instantly. Flynn rose to his feet and dashed toward the building.

  When a downed player revived, he or she had about half of their Health. Sure enough, the British players knew about it as well. When they saw Flynn get up, they trained their guns on him to finish him off.

  However, I also had the Up you go 1 and Up you go 2 skills unlocked. Thanks to these skills of mine, Flynn would be taking 45% less damage for 90 seconds. So although some of the enemies’ bullets struck against his medium body armor, he took only half damage.

  Yet it was obvious that he wouldn’t make it over to the house under such onslaught. So I brought up the SCAR, the stock snug against my right shoulder, flipped the selector to full-auto, and dumped the whole magazine into the pickup truck.

  I walked my fire up the right side of the vehicle and saw one of the players take a round in the throat. He dropped to the ground behind the pickup truck. The other two ducked out of sight.

  The bolt on my assault rifle locked open as I fired my last round. I ejected the empty mag, slid a fresh one into the well, and smacked the bottom of the mag to click it into place. My finger tapped the carriage release on my assault rifle and the bolt slid forward, chambering a round.

  Then I opened fire on the
truck once more.

  Flynn dashed past me. I started to back up, continuing to fire at the pickup truck. Then I heard Allison yell behind me, “Striker, get over here!”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Flynn had already entered the house. Allison stood by the main door, pointing her squad automatic weapon at the pickup truck.

  I whirled around and bolted toward the building. The roar of the SAW filled the air as the girl opened fire on our foes. After I ran through the door in the house, Allison got in as well, swinging the door shut behind her.

  After we got in the living room, I looked out a window in time to see the three players converge on the house. They brought up their assault rifles and were about to start shooting.

  “Hit the deck,” I yelled.

  We dived for the floor––and none too soon. The tremendous roar of automatic fire came from the street as the three players opened up. The heavy-caliber rounds pervaded the room, ripping through the outer walls of the building.

  “We gotta get outta here, guys,” Flynn yelled over the roar of the machine guns.

  We started crawling on our stomachs across the room, keeping below the hail of heavy gunfire.

  Our enemies kept laying down suppressive fire. The fusillade of full metal jacket bullets tore through the fragile structure. Glass shattered as wood and plastic housing materials were splintered under the violent onslaught. The furniture all around us disintegrated as the players let loose with other long bursts of devastating fire. White plumes of plaster dust erupted from the walls. Stuffing flew from couches and chairs.

  We scrambled down a short, narrow hallway that ran from the living area to the kitchen. However, there was no escaping from the chaos. One of the players had to have jogged around the house, continuing to fire, for the slugs were now saturating the kitchen instead of the living area.

  The shooter dragged the weapon along the length of the wall, the bullets punching through and zipping above our heads. A refrigerator blew apart, a cheap clay vase on the counter exploded in a shower of chips, shelves fell off the walls as the bullets kept slicing through the outside wall. Some of the slugs tore through the flimsy curtains, setting them on fire.

  We turned around and headed back the way we had come. Still, there was no point in returning to the living area. When we reached the corridor, Allison rose on her elbows and looked at the wall in front of her. A second later, it became reinforced. She then crawled toward another one and reinforced it as well. She also put some armored panels over the windows.

  The shooters walked their fire along one of the reinforced walls. Flynn and I ducked our heads instinctively, but none of the slugs was able to penetrate the reinforced wall.

  When Allison ran out of the armored panels, she crawled across the room back to us. We threw themselves against the inner reinforced wall of the hallway to catch our breath. The British players continued to discharge their weapons. The rounds thudded against the reinforced walls but failed to penetrate them.

  The players realized their weapons were too weak to destroy the armored panels and ceased firing. After all the din, the sudden silence was eerie.

  “What do we do now, guys?” Flynn asked.

  “We need to get outta here,” I stated the obvious.

  However, the only way out of the kitchen was the corridor that led back to the living area. At least two of the players had to be in the living room, so once they saw us crawling out of the corridor, they would open fire and riddle us with bullets.

  “What’s that noise?” Allison asked.

  I pricked up my ears and heard a low rumbling. It was coming from the corridor. I looked around the corner and saw a twin-wheeled drone rolling up the corridor toward the kitchen. The small robot had to be controlled by one of the players.

  I brought my assault rifle around the corner and fired a short burst. The bullets tore through the body of the small robot and it exploded.

  Then I heard an all-too familiar shrieking and yelled, “Get down!”

  We flattened ourselves against the floor. A second later, the 84 mm warhead of an RPG-7 struck against the armored panel over one of the kitchen windows and exploded with savage, devastating force, destroying the panel. I felt the concussion shock waves roll into the room through the shattered window. Shrapnel burst through the air over our heads.

  A second later, another warhead slammed into the outer wall, destroying other reinforced windows. Shrapnel screamed through the air in multiple directions.

  “We gotta get outta here before we’re dead,” Flynn yelled.

  He was right. Even the armored panels couldn’t withstand the devastating force of an RPG-7.

  I looked around the corner to make sure there was nobody in the corridor and started crawling along the floor toward the living room. Flynn was behind me and Allison brought up the rear.

  On the other end of the hallway, a hand appeared around the corner to toss a cylindrical object into the corridor. It hit the floor with a clank and rolled toward us.

  “Flash banger,” I yelled.

  I curled myself into a ball to protect my eyes and ears as best as I could. Even with my eyes closed and my arms covering my head, I could see the bright flash through my eyelids. Accompanying that was a loud explosive noise that made my ears ring. When the noise died down, I opened my eyes.

  And none too soon.

  Even though my vision was somewhat blurred, I was able to notice two players burst into the corridor. I brought my assault rifle up and opened fire, stitching one player from neck to crotch, his body jerking from the impact of the bullets, blood spraying in the air.

  The player collapsed to the floor. He wasn’t dead, of course. He was downed. He couldn’t use his weapons now and wouldn’t be able to get up without help.

  I had the other player lined up in my iron sights and depressed the trigger. Yet the player was fortunate enough to get back in the living room in time. I aimed my assault rifle at the downed player and finished him off with a short burst to the head, blood spraying over the floor.

  We continued on. My head still whirled slightly from the flash-bang grenade concussion and my vision was somewhat obscured by blurred spots. Still, I was able to notice a door to the basement, which we had overlooked earlier.

  The player suddenly looked around the corner and fired a burst into the corridor, stitching a line of holes along the wall to my left. Some of the slugs zipped past so close to my head that it singed my hair.

  “Dang it,” I snarled.

  I brought my assault rifle up, but the player jumped out of sight before I could pull the trigger.

  I crept toward the basement door and tried the knob. It twisted easily and the door swung inward.

  “Let’s get in there, guys,” I said before rushing down the steps.

  I crashed through the door at the base of the stairs and burst into the basement. It was completely empty. A naked bulb hung from a cord. The light it was casting was weak but enough to see by.

  I looked around the place. I spotted a scared NPC sitting next to one wall. He must have gotten down there after he heard sounds of the gunfire.

  There was no other way out except for the door we had just crashed through. Dang it. We had to get out of the basement before it turned into a death trap. We whirled around to get back toward the door. It was then that I noticed that Allison was gone.

  “Where is she?” I asked Flynn who stood next to me.

  “Dunno,” he replied. “Thought she was behind me. Probably she’s still upstairs.”

  “Allison, where are you at?” I asked.

  “Guys, I can’t see,” she said, her voice coming from the earpiece in my ear. “That freaking flash bang grenade blinded me!”

  “We gotta help her,” Flynn said.

  I nodded. We dashed back toward the door and started to ascend the stairs.

  When we were halfway up the steps, full metal jacket slugs tore through the base
ment door and slammed into the wall above our heads. We stopped dead in our tracks. The bullets kept coming and soon tore the door off its hinges. The bullet-riddled door skidded down the steps. We drew apart to the opposite walls of the staircase to let it slide past us.

  Then the roar of the machine gun ceased. We waited a few seconds, pricking our ears up. I heard the soft padding of feet. Someone was creeping toward the entrance to the basement.

  “Get ready,” I whispered.

  Flynn lifted his shotgun and pointed it up the stairs.

  Nothing happened for a couple of seconds. Then a hand thrust around the doorframe and tossed a cylindrical object in the staircase. It clanked down the steps toward us. I recognized the object at once. Another effing stun grenade.

  “Close your eyes,” I shouted to Flynn as I extended my arms to grab the flash-bang grenade.

  Yet I was too late. When I snatched the stun grenade to hurl it back up the stairs, it exploded in my hands with a piercing bang and a blinding flash. I sincerely hoped that Flynn had shielded his eyes and ears in time. I screamed as the detonation overpowered my senses. My head whirled and spun from the flash-bang grenade concussion. I lost my balance and tumbled down the steps until I reached the floor of the basement.

  I was suffering from the dire effects of the flash-bang grenade explosion. My head whirled and spun and my vision was obscured by a number of blurred spots. I blinked and saw some disjointed images before my eyes. Although I couldn’t see my surroundings, I could still see my UI. There was an icon of a debuff at the left bottom corner of my field of vision.

  > Type: Debuff

  > Name: Flash-bang concussion

  > Description: While this debuff is active, your vision is impaired, your ears are ringing, and your head is spinning. You can close and open your eyes rapidly to increase the recovery of your sight.

  > Remaining time: 00min13sec

  I blinked hard several times until the surrealistic images disappeared and my vision snapped into focus. Although my ears were still ringing from the explosion, I at least could see now.

  Flynn was kneeling in the doorway and firing his shotgun upward at someone I couldn’t see. Finally, the debuff wore off and I could hear again. I walked up to him and glanced upward. There was no one in sight.