Writing practice: ACTION!

I sprinted down the darkened street.  Fortunately, the previous barrage had knocked out the power to the street lamps, cloaking my mad dash in darkness.  I could hear the blades of the helo above me as its searchlight panned across the ground.  They were still looking off to the left, where they had seen my previous muzzle flashes.

Up ahead, I could see the outline of the safe house.  They must not have decoded its location from the missives, or it would have already been razed to the ground.  Ducking to keep a low profile, I quickly keyed in the combination to the front door’s electric lock.  The bolt snicked open and I ducked inside.

I wasted no time making my way to the concealed weapons cache behind the hallway wall panel.  Most of the items within were nothing more than I expected; I hastily reloaded my handguns with fresh clips, slipping reloads into the pockets of my coat.  A larger, bulky case behind the assault rifles caught my attention.  I heaved the case out of the compartment with a grunt and laid it upon the floor.  I flipped the latches open and lifted the lid.  Despite my anxiety, a smile grew across my face.

I stepped out onto the front porch of the house.  Frustrated with my disappearance, the helo had resorted to a grid pattern, and was even now slowly panning down the street.  I lined up the tube on my shoulder, squinting through the laser sights, and pulled the trigger.

Boom.  The chopper erupted into a fireball, a momentary artificial sun hanging blazing in the sky before crashing to the earth.  The flash of red lit up the light.  Unfortunately, it revealed another danger.

I cursed as I ducked below the railing and slotted another charge into the rocket launcher.  The death of the helicopter had revealed a line of tanks rolling down the street.  It would be easy for them to trace the path of the rocket, and even as I reloaded, the second floor bedroom of the safe house gained a new window.  I shielded my eyes as chunks of debris rained down.

I didn’t stand a chance in a face to face confrontation with a half dozen Abrams.  Vaulting the railing, launcher still in hand, I unloaded over my shoulder as I sprinted across the street towards the commercial buildings on the other side.  The lead tank made a grunting noise as the rocket round blew it apart, but its fellows were already leveling their main guns.  I dropped the empty weapon.

The tanks couldn’t catch me as I wove between buildings, but I could now hear the thwomp of another incoming helo.  My eyes strained as I looked towards the sky.  I caught the flash of a neon sign off the blades as the chopper swung down towards me.  The spotlight clicked on, sweeping towards me, and I knew that I’d soon hear the rolling thunder of its autocannon.

I dove unceremoniously into a bush as the helo swept past.  As soon as it had passed over my hiding spot, I rolled out, drawing my 1911 with one hand and grabbing for an alternate clip with the other.  I chambered the alternate clip and slammed it into the gun with a practiced, smooth motion.  The incendiary rounds tore through the fuel tank of the chopper.  “That makes two,” I thought to myself as it burned a hole into the ground.

I switched back to normal rounds for the 1911 as I ducked my way through the darkness.  I still had to make it to the extraction point, but I had given my opponents something to consider.  I was not going to go down easily.

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