Day 97

[from Faction]

The five survivors huddled behind a damaged school bus, its windows cracked and its tires deflated. Their weapons were primed, and ready to go. On the other side of the school bus lay the road to one of the Faction's strongholds, a supermarket. If they could take control of that, they could free up whatever supplies remained there for the rest of the city's survivors, as well as clearing the Faction out of the immediate area, making it safe for people to return to. The five of them were determined to clear the Faction out of the occupied city, even if it had to be one block, one street at a time.

The group's de facto leader, Tyler Kent, poked his head around the front of the school bus and quickly withdrew it as three bullets ricocheted off the metal bodywork just inches above his head. "Yeah, they're out there in force, and spoiling for a fight," he said. "Well, if they want a fight, we'll give 'em one." He turned to the four fighters gathered beside him. "You guys all remember the plan, right?"

The group's only female, an assault-rifle-wielding girl named Shelley Williams, smirked. "Don't need to," she said. "We go in, kill all the Faction guys, and take back the supermarket. That's all I need to know."

Tyler groaned, as did the man next to him, a dark-haired male named James Anderson who wielded a pair of Glock pistols. "You're gonna get yourself killed, you idiot," he scolded. Shelley stuck out her tongue defiantly.

Tyler sighed. "I'll go with Shelley, then," he said. "Andy, remember to stay behind the rest of us, in case one of us needs medical attention. Last thing we need is you getting shot."

Andrei Hristov, a surgeon at one of the city's hospitals whom the group had rescued a few days ago, nodded. He clutched his revolver in his hands, which were perfectly steady despite him being the most nervous of the five; a heritage of his medical background. "Understood," he said, the Russian barely audible in his accent. "I'll try and stay as close as I can, though."

"Alright," said Tyler. "James, you ready?"

James nodded, a serious expression on his face. "Always."

Tyler nodded in return. "Firebrace, you ready?"

Firebrace, the tallest member of the group, was a veteran of the war in Afghanistan. As the most experienced group member in terms of fighting, he often helped Tyler and James come up with mission tactics. He nodded, gripping his heavy assault rifle tightly. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Alright," said Tyler. "And I take it the-"

Tyler was suddenly cut off by James, holding up a hand for silence. Faint, hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the other side of the bus, gradually growing louder. "Ready or not, they're coming," he said.

"I got this," said Tyler. "Alright, people, it's go time!"

Tyler leaned round the front of the bus and quickly shot dead two oncoming Faction agents. The third merely stumbled, wounded, but as he tried to climb back to his feet, James also rounded the bus and shot him three times, killing him. The rest of the group quickly came out from under the bus and began to advance, fanning out and taking out any Faction member they happened to see.

As per the group's instructions, Andrei stayed behind the other four, sheltered behind a burnt-out car. James and Firebrace proceeded slowly forwards, making good use of what cover was available, while Shelley rushed forwards as per usual, spraying bullets at any Faction members she saw without any regard for her own safety. Tyler followed shortly behind her, making sure to take out any enemies she happened to miss.

Inevitably, as Shelley was halfway to the supermarket entrance, a bullet struck her right in the chest, sending her sprawling. Fortunately, like the rest of the group, she was wearing a bulletproof vest and was not injured, but the impact still took the wind out of her sails. Tyler quickly dragged her behind another parked car while she recovered.

"We really need to have a serious discussion about your suicidal tactics," said Tyler, before popping up over the car's hood to take potshots at the man who had hit Shelley.

Shelley propped herself up onto her elbows, wincing a little. "Yeah, I know," she said, "I just wanna get it over with. Our mission is to kill them, so… ahh…" She gasps a little in pain as she adjusts herself so she is hidden better behind the car. "Man, that's gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow."

"Maybe that'll teach you your lesson, then," said Tyler. "Alright, cover me, I need to reload. And that means stay behind cover," he added sternly, as Shelley climbed up onto her knees.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Shelley. "I got this." Rising up over the top of the car for a moment, she fired her assault rifle's grenade launcher attachment. The launched grenade flew straight towards the car her assailant was using as cover, bouncing on the pavement before rolling neatly under it. As it exploded, it blew up the car as well, incinerating the soldier and shattering the windows of the adjacent house, the door blowing off its hinges. "Hah! Suck it, bitch!" she shouted triumphantly, an instant before Tyler grabbed her head and pulled her back behind cover.

As they gradually advanced, the resistance they met seemed to decrease; it seemed the Faction grunts, eager for battle, had all rushed forward at once, leaving very few people to actually guard the base itself. Even the sniper that was normally on the roof did not seem to be present, though Firebrace had been ready to take him out just in case. Soon, the group were in front of the supermarket, and apart from Shelley's slight bruising, they were all completely unharmed, fully loaded, and ready to make their entrance.

"Remember, watch your fire," said Tyler. "If there's any food left here, we need to leave as much of it as possible in case there are any more civilians that need it. We've already secured a path from the city limits out to here, so we can get supplies in now as well. You all ready?" The other group members nodded in unison. "Alright then. On my mark. Three… two… one… let's go!"