Page 117 of Disturbed Lucidity

Not me.

Nothing.

“Elvis!”

“Don’t have a shot.”

“Elvis,” I growled. “Kill that motherfucker, now!”

“Copy that. One dead man coming up,” my brother said before cutting the comms. Total chaos rained down around me when men started shooting at anything that moved. I didn’t give a fuck if they were innocent or not. If they were here, they were dead men walking.

Plain and simple.

The time for decency was over.

My give a fuck was a zero.

Looking around the container, I fired off several shots before reloading my clip.

“Can anyone get inside the warehouse?”

“I’m pinned down,” Alias commented, taking a shot.

“Same here,” Slash added.

“Mouth? What about you?” I asked.

“Can’t talk right now.” The man grunted before I heard him fire his gun. “Call back later.”

“Jesus fuck,” I groaned as Montana ran over to me.

“There are too many of them. They just keep coming!” the man said, firing at random at anything that moved.

He was right. There were too many of them.

Something wasn’t right here.

Where the fuck did all these men come from?

And that’s when the realization hit me.

“It’s a trap,” I whispered.

“What?” Montana said, firing off several more rounds.

Grabbing the man by his leather cut, I sneered, “It’s a fucking trap and we walked right into it.”

“Then find us a fucking way out!” Montana yelled as the sounds of thundering pipes roared toward us at high speed, like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. In the lead, arms spread wide, a gun in each hand, was the Devil himself, as he rode past, firing wildly before he jumped from his bike, rolling on the ground to come up crouching. Dropping his guns, he reached for his blades, slashing and cutting his way through the souls that dared come near him. His brothers, all walking at a leisurely pace, fired, not caring about the war zone they’d just rode into.

“Jesus Christ,” Montana whispered, like me, unable to tear our eyes away from the destruction we were seeing. I’d been in many fights, fought many adversaries, but never in all my years had I ever witnessed anything like what I was seeing. “They are fucking crazy.”

Agreeing wholeheartedly, I slapped the pale man beside me before shoving another clip into my Glock and simply said, “And to think you pissed him off. Good luck with that.”

“I fucking hate this state.”

Running for the warehouse, the comm in my ear crackled twice and the power went out.

Thinking nothing of it, I continued firing when my comms unit crackled twice more.

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