I'm the Last One That You'll Ever Remember
Chapter 242: Most Promising
Since this was the moment Poison was waiting for, Kobra helped himself to stand aside from the front door of the noisy farmhouse where the Killjoys were taking refuge. With a smile, he motioned to the closed entrance with a graceful wave of his arm like a true gentleman would. “After you.”
Poison narrowed his eyes at his brother, giving him a look for treating him like he was some noblewoman. Checking Kobra from head to toe, Poison inquired in a serious tone. “You ready for this?”
“Hey, you know me. When it comes to taking out trash, I’m born ready.” Kobra assured his big brother as he leaned against the side of the house with a comfortable smile on his face. For someone about to commence a full-blown bloodbath, you would think he’d be sweating bullets or shaking in his boots. Neither Way brothers were. They were looking forward to this!
Poison nodded to his bother, convinced. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the front door for a minute before raising a leg and kicking the wooden entrance right off its hinges. As it fell, it further unleashed the uproarious rock music exploding out of the two speaker systems that looked out of place in the old antique farmhouse. As soon as the wooden door crashed onto the hardwood floors, heads spun in its direction from within the comfort of the living room. The Killjoys that had been hanging around in there drinking and chatting amongst each other now all gaped at the anonymous ammo-riddled man standing in their doorway. He had a 12-gauge shotgun in his hands, and two visible saw-off shotguns holstered to the side of each thigh.
The room was paralyzed in a state of shock, eyes wide and jaws dropped at what looked to be some kind of action hero straight from the movies. As the song finalized and transitioned into another classic rock hit, no one dared to move a muscle. Even if they were physically able to, Poison would prove too fast for them as he lifted his shotgun and aimed at the cluster of Killjoys sitting on the old dusty couches before an outdated stone fireplace.
The first slug went straight into the chest of a young Killjoy male named Bandit, who had just stepped out of the downstairs half-bathroom completely oblivious of Poison’s entrance. The room burst into screams, male and female. The contact of the slug had so much force in it that it had literally blown their friend, Bandit, right out of his oversized rainboots and right back through that very same bathroom door. As soon as his first victim’s lifeless body slammed into the bathroom wall, Poison quickly pursued to both take shelter inside and to also allow his little brother to make his grand appearance.
Stepping over the threshold and into the screaming farmhouse with its deafening rock music, Kobra aimed both sawed-off shotguns in each hand at the groups of frightened children who only erupted into louder screams. No one on the couch got the opportunity to get up and flee for their lives. It didn’t take a full second for Kobra to start unloading into the room, pellets packed into shells scattered everywhere, puncturing through the flesh of people who stood or sat in place in stunned terror. His shotguns only held so many shells so Kobra was soon taking cover behind an old armchair where he calmly and rapidly reloaded his weapons.
While Kobra reloaded, Poison aimed his shotgun out of the bathroom and around the corner at any and everyone within his sight. He merrily sent the blood of his victims spattering up the ceiling and across the walls, staining the dusty furniture in warm blood, and soaking the floors in red. Bodies flew across the room and fell like dominoes. As the unfamiliar Killjoys cried for their lives and tried to run away from him, Poison emerged from the bathroom to follow them at a mellow pace, his black combat boots leaving precise footprints from the dozens of accumulating puddles of blood.
When a bedroom door on the ground floor is wrenched open right as Poison stalked by it, the older Way turns his shotgun in time to aim it at a newly woken and shirtless Jet. It was a mystery how this man was able to sleep right by a set of noisy speaker systems, but somehow he had managed it. Blinking his eyes at the blurry form in front of him, Jet mumbled out. “P-Poison?
Without delay, Poison dispatched a slug straight into the tall man’s stomach, watching in contentment as his entire frame was sent right back into the dark bedroom, sprawled onto his back. “Sleep tight, Jet.”
Moving onward, Poison continued with his pursuit of the Killjoys squatting in the farmhouse until he had run out of shells. While he took cover to reload, Kobra had already risen from behind the armchair to unload on any paralyzed stragglers in the living room too terrified to move. A female by the name of Rosebud got up the courage too late to race past him and was overtaken by thousands of pellets before she could reach the next room. With the living room smeared in blood, Kobra moved on to the next room Rosebud had been headed to as the house resonated with screams and rock musicall around him. He didn’t get far into a dining room when a flash of neon yellow came at him from his left.
Canary had been lying in wait for any of the intruders to enter the dining room which was practically cleared except for the built-ins and the low-hanging chandelier. She prayed one of them would, and felt blessed when the one entered turned out to be Kobra himself. Not allowing this to impact her, she repressed her surprise before kicking out at the nearest sawed-off shotgun in hand. It worked! But there was still the other one. Charging forward, she threw herself at Kobra, her hands closing on the sawed-off shotgun to grapple it out of his hand. Only he wouldn’t let go. Growling through clenched teeth, Canary commanded her former boss. “GIVE IT TO ME!”
“Over. My. Dead. Body!” Kobra seethed at her through gritted teeth, thinking of how absurd her request was. Of course, he had no intention of giving her his other shotgun. Hell, he didn’t mean for her to extract the first one! The two wrestled over the gun, driving each other against the dining room walls that were covered in outdated peeling wallpaper.
Knowing she wasn’t gonna get the upper hand against his superior strength, Canary had no choice but to free one hand of the gun to reach behind her for Plan B. With her other hand still on the shotgun, she tried to keep Kobra preoccupied with their wrestling to detect that she was unsheathing one of her Sais encased behind her back. With it, she would prevail by stabbing her previous leader straight through his heart. She had to quell the urge to smile at the thought. Vengeance for Azure! Curling her fingers around the handle of her preferred weapon, she pulled it from its sheath and reared back her head to make the killing blow with a victory cry. “AHHHH!”
But that’s not what happened. The sharp weapon was literally shot out of her hand along with that same hand! Canary gaped at her bloody wrist stump as a bloodstained Kobra backed off from her. Her mouth opened and closed as she looked down at her detached hand on the floor and then back at her wrist where it had once been. Slowly, her head turned to her left to see Poison standing there with his shotgun aimed at her. She gaped at him, her brain unfit to process that he just shot her hand off. “Wh-Wha-Wha…”
Goodbye, Canary.” Poison told her in an indifferent tone as he turned his aim to shoot her next in her shoulder, making her stagger across the wall and further away from his little brother.
With an unnatural speed, Kobra reloaded his gun and shot his pellets right into her skull, blowing the right half off. Silently, both brothers watched as the most promising female Killjoy slid further down the wall, leaving a trail of blood on the wall in her wake before completing her journey on the floor, dead. “Shame that one.”
“She was the least vexing.” Poison commented with a nod as he observed in fascination as Canary’s blood pooled underneath her.
Switching to his own 12-guage shotgun, Michael checked to make sure it was loaded as he asked his brother. “I’m headed to the other side of the house. What about you?”
“Back the way I came. I wasn’t finished.” Poison reported to his brother as he made his own trade for his two sawed-off shotguns. Whipping them out of the holsters, he further expounded at his brother’s look of displeasure with his sloppy work. “Don’t give me that look, man. I saw Canary sneaking into this room rather than coming for me. Something told me she was gonna try to get the jump on you so I got the jump on her instead.”
With a nod to each other, both brothers calmly parted ways back into the skirmish of classic rock music and Killjoy's screaming. As Poison shot up the bedrooms he had missed, he located groups of Killjoys cowering for dear life and wondered why the hell these people were drafted to begin with. They were all young, probably some even underage teenagers who chose to either run and hide or stand in place crying rather than running away. No one thought to head out a door or jump out a window. No one.
Shots rang out on the farmhouse property for hours with music and shrieks reverberating into the night. The Way brothers ensured that every inch of the structure on the first floor was cleared of life and every member was abolished for good. No one was spared. The two had finally made it to the second floor when they heard the sound of someone charging like a bull right towards them. From an open bathroom door came a large form coming straight for Poison. Unable to respond fast enough, he was unhappily sent growling over the rail of the second floor and down the stairs back to the ground floor.
Poison narrowed his eyes at his brother, giving him a look for treating him like he was some noblewoman. Checking Kobra from head to toe, Poison inquired in a serious tone. “You ready for this?”
“Hey, you know me. When it comes to taking out trash, I’m born ready.” Kobra assured his big brother as he leaned against the side of the house with a comfortable smile on his face. For someone about to commence a full-blown bloodbath, you would think he’d be sweating bullets or shaking in his boots. Neither Way brothers were. They were looking forward to this!
Poison nodded to his bother, convinced. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the front door for a minute before raising a leg and kicking the wooden entrance right off its hinges. As it fell, it further unleashed the uproarious rock music exploding out of the two speaker systems that looked out of place in the old antique farmhouse. As soon as the wooden door crashed onto the hardwood floors, heads spun in its direction from within the comfort of the living room. The Killjoys that had been hanging around in there drinking and chatting amongst each other now all gaped at the anonymous ammo-riddled man standing in their doorway. He had a 12-gauge shotgun in his hands, and two visible saw-off shotguns holstered to the side of each thigh.
The room was paralyzed in a state of shock, eyes wide and jaws dropped at what looked to be some kind of action hero straight from the movies. As the song finalized and transitioned into another classic rock hit, no one dared to move a muscle. Even if they were physically able to, Poison would prove too fast for them as he lifted his shotgun and aimed at the cluster of Killjoys sitting on the old dusty couches before an outdated stone fireplace.
The first slug went straight into the chest of a young Killjoy male named Bandit, who had just stepped out of the downstairs half-bathroom completely oblivious of Poison’s entrance. The room burst into screams, male and female. The contact of the slug had so much force in it that it had literally blown their friend, Bandit, right out of his oversized rainboots and right back through that very same bathroom door. As soon as his first victim’s lifeless body slammed into the bathroom wall, Poison quickly pursued to both take shelter inside and to also allow his little brother to make his grand appearance.
Stepping over the threshold and into the screaming farmhouse with its deafening rock music, Kobra aimed both sawed-off shotguns in each hand at the groups of frightened children who only erupted into louder screams. No one on the couch got the opportunity to get up and flee for their lives. It didn’t take a full second for Kobra to start unloading into the room, pellets packed into shells scattered everywhere, puncturing through the flesh of people who stood or sat in place in stunned terror. His shotguns only held so many shells so Kobra was soon taking cover behind an old armchair where he calmly and rapidly reloaded his weapons.
While Kobra reloaded, Poison aimed his shotgun out of the bathroom and around the corner at any and everyone within his sight. He merrily sent the blood of his victims spattering up the ceiling and across the walls, staining the dusty furniture in warm blood, and soaking the floors in red. Bodies flew across the room and fell like dominoes. As the unfamiliar Killjoys cried for their lives and tried to run away from him, Poison emerged from the bathroom to follow them at a mellow pace, his black combat boots leaving precise footprints from the dozens of accumulating puddles of blood.
When a bedroom door on the ground floor is wrenched open right as Poison stalked by it, the older Way turns his shotgun in time to aim it at a newly woken and shirtless Jet. It was a mystery how this man was able to sleep right by a set of noisy speaker systems, but somehow he had managed it. Blinking his eyes at the blurry form in front of him, Jet mumbled out. “P-Poison?
Without delay, Poison dispatched a slug straight into the tall man’s stomach, watching in contentment as his entire frame was sent right back into the dark bedroom, sprawled onto his back. “Sleep tight, Jet.”
Moving onward, Poison continued with his pursuit of the Killjoys squatting in the farmhouse until he had run out of shells. While he took cover to reload, Kobra had already risen from behind the armchair to unload on any paralyzed stragglers in the living room too terrified to move. A female by the name of Rosebud got up the courage too late to race past him and was overtaken by thousands of pellets before she could reach the next room. With the living room smeared in blood, Kobra moved on to the next room Rosebud had been headed to as the house resonated with screams and rock musicall around him. He didn’t get far into a dining room when a flash of neon yellow came at him from his left.
Canary had been lying in wait for any of the intruders to enter the dining room which was practically cleared except for the built-ins and the low-hanging chandelier. She prayed one of them would, and felt blessed when the one entered turned out to be Kobra himself. Not allowing this to impact her, she repressed her surprise before kicking out at the nearest sawed-off shotgun in hand. It worked! But there was still the other one. Charging forward, she threw herself at Kobra, her hands closing on the sawed-off shotgun to grapple it out of his hand. Only he wouldn’t let go. Growling through clenched teeth, Canary commanded her former boss. “GIVE IT TO ME!”
“Over. My. Dead. Body!” Kobra seethed at her through gritted teeth, thinking of how absurd her request was. Of course, he had no intention of giving her his other shotgun. Hell, he didn’t mean for her to extract the first one! The two wrestled over the gun, driving each other against the dining room walls that were covered in outdated peeling wallpaper.
Knowing she wasn’t gonna get the upper hand against his superior strength, Canary had no choice but to free one hand of the gun to reach behind her for Plan B. With her other hand still on the shotgun, she tried to keep Kobra preoccupied with their wrestling to detect that she was unsheathing one of her Sais encased behind her back. With it, she would prevail by stabbing her previous leader straight through his heart. She had to quell the urge to smile at the thought. Vengeance for Azure! Curling her fingers around the handle of her preferred weapon, she pulled it from its sheath and reared back her head to make the killing blow with a victory cry. “AHHHH!”
But that’s not what happened. The sharp weapon was literally shot out of her hand along with that same hand! Canary gaped at her bloody wrist stump as a bloodstained Kobra backed off from her. Her mouth opened and closed as she looked down at her detached hand on the floor and then back at her wrist where it had once been. Slowly, her head turned to her left to see Poison standing there with his shotgun aimed at her. She gaped at him, her brain unfit to process that he just shot her hand off. “Wh-Wha-Wha…”
Goodbye, Canary.” Poison told her in an indifferent tone as he turned his aim to shoot her next in her shoulder, making her stagger across the wall and further away from his little brother.
With an unnatural speed, Kobra reloaded his gun and shot his pellets right into her skull, blowing the right half off. Silently, both brothers watched as the most promising female Killjoy slid further down the wall, leaving a trail of blood on the wall in her wake before completing her journey on the floor, dead. “Shame that one.”
“She was the least vexing.” Poison commented with a nod as he observed in fascination as Canary’s blood pooled underneath her.
Switching to his own 12-guage shotgun, Michael checked to make sure it was loaded as he asked his brother. “I’m headed to the other side of the house. What about you?”
“Back the way I came. I wasn’t finished.” Poison reported to his brother as he made his own trade for his two sawed-off shotguns. Whipping them out of the holsters, he further expounded at his brother’s look of displeasure with his sloppy work. “Don’t give me that look, man. I saw Canary sneaking into this room rather than coming for me. Something told me she was gonna try to get the jump on you so I got the jump on her instead.”
With a nod to each other, both brothers calmly parted ways back into the skirmish of classic rock music and Killjoy's screaming. As Poison shot up the bedrooms he had missed, he located groups of Killjoys cowering for dear life and wondered why the hell these people were drafted to begin with. They were all young, probably some even underage teenagers who chose to either run and hide or stand in place crying rather than running away. No one thought to head out a door or jump out a window. No one.
Shots rang out on the farmhouse property for hours with music and shrieks reverberating into the night. The Way brothers ensured that every inch of the structure on the first floor was cleared of life and every member was abolished for good. No one was spared. The two had finally made it to the second floor when they heard the sound of someone charging like a bull right towards them. From an open bathroom door came a large form coming straight for Poison. Unable to respond fast enough, he was unhappily sent growling over the rail of the second floor and down the stairs back to the ground floor.