Uprising
Page 82
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Laughing maniacally, Sergei swept his assault rifle at an upward angle, shattering several windows and raining shards of glass down upon the street below. The brittle ceramic material split as rounds traced into the walls, causing spider-web cracks to spread from the impact of the fire.
"Piotr! Take that one over there!" He jerked his head at another building, and one of his other soldiers complied on behalf of the invisible man.
Reaching into his pocket, Sergei pulled out a tear gas canister, procured from the Citizen forces who attacked in down below. "Take it back!" he yelled, hurling the weapon through the window. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard terrified screams from within.
Surveying the scene, several of his men and women in various states of calm, frenzy, and joy completed similar vandalism. Molotov cocktails were dispersed liberally from the moment they began.
Thick, black smoke stung and brought tears to his eyes. He fired another spray of bullets into the building opposite. They were office buildings, and he was fairly confident that they were empty, not that Sergei would have wept for any collateral damage.
They were positioned several blocks south of their entrance point. When his watch signaled the top of the hour, eleven o'clock, he and everyone else spreading out through Haven were instructed to raise hell.
"Let's move! Get going!" he shouted through the percussive, intermittent gunfire roaring around him. "Come Piotr, this way," he yelled to his ever-silent comrade.
He waved his arm in a chopping gesture, directing his people to start moving down the street. They slung their weapons and took off. He followed behind, bringing up the rear and occasionally firing his weapon.
Every three blocks they stopped for two minutes to set fires and terrify anyone they saw. These people most often took off screaming. Sergei smiled each time this happened, but he restrained himself from executing them.
One Inquisition patrol vehicle pulled up, but before the occupant could even exit, every person in Sergei's small group swiveled and directed a cloud of deadly gunfire at him. The vehicle, not intended for that kind of punishment, was shredded, its occupant slaughtered within. Sergei pumped his fist in the air and gave a wild cheer, which was immediately answered with a roar from his soldiers, who then resumed their path of destruction.