Over the edge

Time froze as he stared at the unmoving figure upon him.

A sense of loss tore through while something fiery burned from within.

He had felt it before, though, more intense in the past.

It was rage.

He was burning with rage, while sadness tried to freeze him.

Managing to take his gaze off of Markus, he looked towards the top of the boxes.

He saw the tans getting ready to fire again, though in slow motion.

It was truly as if time has slowed.

Quickly he formulated a plan, though it was simple.

All he would have to do was kill all of the tans.

It was that or death of not just him but whoever else lived through the ambush.

With this in mind, a stubborn determination mixed with his rage.

A volatile combination.

Thinking of the actions he would soon be taking, Connor couldn't help but grin, thinking of the pain he would inflict.

All of his thoughts moved damn near the speed of a bullet train, taking almost no time to take form.

Taking a single moment to visualize the route he would take, he rolled Markus off of him and bolted forward like a hound off the leash.

As he headed towards the nearest cardboard wall, he scooped up a pistol that had been flung nearby, along with a knife.

Wasting no time, he leapt forward and into the wall, digging not only the knife into the wall, but also his fingers, managing to create a small divot to grip onto.

Seeing this, he grinned wider while a cold light flashed through his eyes.

While his fingers began to ache, he paid no attention to the pain, his mind focused on killing his enemies.

He continued up the wall, hurrying in order to stop the tans from firing.

But just as he climbed over the edge, he heard the dull sound of a machine gun firing.

He had been too slow.

This realization sent a shock through his body, nearly causing him to freeze, though it wasn't enough to completely stop him in his tracks.

Lamenting his apparent late arrival, he drove his body towards the tans.

Like a raging bull, he charged forward screaming at the top of his green lungs, bringing attention to himself, though also confusing the tans briefly.

He used this small window of their inaction to his advantage.

With his hand gripping the pistol, he brought it up quickly and fired three shots in succession, scoring two big hits and one glancing blow.

A tan with a rifle took a bullet to the shoulder, twisting his body with the force and falling over the edge and onto the ground below.

The second tan was a dealt a blow to the head, immediately dying.

The third bullet grazed another's thigh, though it only brought them to a knee.

Along with these three tans, were another two more who had been hidden behind the backs of the others.

One of them had a machine gun while the other was a equipped with an SMG.

As they were moments from firing at him, Connor rolled forward, dodging the first hail of bullet spray.

At the end of his roll, Connor was in a military crouch position where he quickly took aim and fired off another two shots at the one with the injured thigh, scoring a hit to their shoulder and chest, bringing them out of the fight.

As he was about to roll to the side, he was a moment too late as the tan with the SMG sprayed bullets at him in retaliation.

With their reaction, his shin was shot through, the pain nearly crippling his thinking.

Luckily he held through, though only just barely.

The pain also brought about time slowing for him, perhaps it was adrenaline, or at least the toy equivalent.

He used this moment to, instead of using the last of his pistol ammo, throw his combat knife at the tans head.

His body crashed into the ground, his right side taking the brunt of the landing, while the knife flew at a steady course for the tans eye.

The tans reacted by attempting to lean backwards, though they didn't come out entirely unscathed, with the knife embedding itself in their cheek.

Quickly recovering, Connor rushed him, tackling the man down and wrapping his hands around his neck.

As he was about to strangle the tan to death, he heard movement to his side.

It the tan gunner.

He had almost forgotten about them entirely, as their presence had been non-existent from the beginning.

Turning his head towards the sound, he saw the gunner was aiming his weapon towards Connor atop the tan.

Reacting to this, Connor rolled over, bringing the tan he had previously been strangling on top of him.

With his arm hooked around the tans neck, Connor stared wide-eyed at the gunner.

He was using his comrade as a shield.

For a moment they stared at eachother, silently. All the while the tan held hostage struggled to free himself.

After some time, the tan gunner apparently made a decision as he brought his weapon up, aiming down his sights.

He was going to shoot through his comrade, friendly-fire be damned.

Seeing this, not just the hostage tan, even Connor began to get nervous.

Just as he thought his life was about to a end, a shit rang out, and instead of feeling a tearing pain, Connor heard the sound of a thud.

Quickly, he spotted the body of the tan gunner, a portion of their head having been carved through.

The hostage had froze witnessing this, and before they could react, Connor twisted their neck at a disgusting angle.

After having killed that tan, a sense of relief and exhaustion came in waves, with Connor nearly giving in to his need to rest.

Though he fought through the fatigue and instead crawled his way to the edge, unable to walk as his legs had turned to jelly and his shin hurt like hell.

Peering over the edge, he found his saviour who had fired that last shot.

It was familiar figure.

It was Lieutenant Flynn.

With tired eyes, he gazed upon the officer and said...

"There should be an injured tan down there, can you grab them for me?"