The leaders stepped aside, and their men rushed forward.
Someone shouted, "For the Emperor!"
And two avalanches collided in death.
A brawl in the spirit of Warhammer 40k began: blades, homemade guns, roars, and blood – pure madness.
The common bandits from the Lower Hive fought like berserkers on buffs, without a thought of retreat.
In the middle of the field, a mountain of bodies instantly grew.
Someone planted the Fertilizer Gang's flag on top, and shooters immediately swarmed the improvised bastion, showering the enemy with lead from above.
The so-called "Muscle Mountain" looked cheap but conveyed the unique atmosphere of the fortieth millennium.
The chemics outnumbered the enemy, but their mob was just meat on a dose. Dumb, insensitive to pain. One blow with iron – and they were done. The battle turned into a meat grinder.
In the crane cabin, Li Qinyu methodically fired his semi-automatic rifle. Every four to five seconds – a shot, a hit, a new corpse.
Before each shot, he warned Knife: "See the chemical dog by the blue container, about two hundred and fifty meters ahead?"
"I see it."
Bang!
The target's head exploded.
"To the left, three hundred plus. With an 'aerodrome' haircut and a torch in hand. See it?"
"I see it."
Bang!
The bullet entered his neck. The guy fell, a fountain of blood spurted onto the ceiling, and the flame died out.
"Two hundred meters, by Muscle Mountain. A junkie, see it?"
"I see it."
Bang!
"Uh... Missed, did you?"
"No! Hit another one nearby. We're counting it!" Knife reported gleefully.
Fifteen rounds – six heads. Eighteen hundred coins. Li Qinyu tossed the empty magazine, Knife handed him a new one, and the shooting continued.
After three magazines, the barrel grew hot. Li Qinyu stopped, preparing to change position.
"That's it, no more shooting?" Knife asked, surprised.
"We're changing position. Sit too long and they'll spot us. How many did we get?"
"Seventeen."
They descended and moved to the western flank. They had to run over a kilometer – Knife was out of breath.
Empty containers stood here. It was quiet, no one around.
"To the crate, squat down. Give me a boost."
Knife helped him climb up, then climbed up himself by the outstretched hand.
The view from here was worse, but still good enough.
Suddenly, a series of dull thuds came from the east – their previous position on the crane was hit by a barrage of fire. The cabin turned into a sieve.
Knife turned pale. Another minute there – and only bloody pulp would remain of them.
"Hey, wake up! Count!" Li Qinyu shouted, settling on the roof of the container.
The rifle lay on his backpack. Knife was beside him, cartridges in hand. He relied entirely on the elder.
Li Qinyu let his heart slow down and started shooting again.
Now the rifle sounded steady, like a metronome. Three pops – three corpses from the Chem Gang.
Mama didn't miss it.
An accurate shot amidst the chaos indicated a professional. They didn't fight like this here: the habit was close-quarters combat. But this one aimed, worked from a distance.
Mama glanced at the flank where shots were flashing and ordered the bear-like giant standing next to her:
"Little One, bring Mama the shooter's head."
The brute bowed, kissed her boot, and looked at her with fanatical devotion.
A needle shot out from Mama's bracer, piercing his neck and injecting the drug. The giant turned crimson, his muscles swelled, his eyes filled with blood.
He charged forward with inhuman speed.
Li Qinyu heard heavy footsteps and sharply turned his head.
A two-meter-tall monstrosity with a skull elongated by injections was rushing at him.
"Holy shit!"
Li Qinyu raised his rifle.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!
All misses. Too fast.
"Aaaah! Kill him quickly! It's Muscle Dog! He'll tear us apart!" Knife screamed. Apparently, he had prior experience with these creatures.
Li Qinyu didn't listen. He took a deep breath, held it, and caught the target.
Bang!
The bullet entered his thigh. The monster fell, rolling dozens of meters on the ground, scraping his skin on the asphalt.
"Hit! Hit!" Knife yelled.
But Li Qinyu didn't rush to rejoice. He aimed again – to finish him off. Click. The bolt locked back. Magazine empty!
"Damn it! Magazine!" he roared.
Knife, with trembling hands, handed him a new one.
While he was reloading, Muscle Dog had already gotten up. Blood was gushing, muscles pulsed. His pupils contracted, his body trembled, his mouth foamed.
He roared: "Mama told me to bring your heads!!"
And he charged forward again, leaving a bloody trail.
Ten seconds – and he covered a hundred meters. A jump. At that moment, Li Qinyu had just chambered a round and raised his rifle.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!