Division, Pt 8

You and Frank run down the township's streets, towards the frenetic gunfire south of Town Square. Running just behind the both of you are a handful of other defending residents - at least the ones that aren't already wounded. Their minds are a mix of determination and togetherness and resilience and also fear. None certainly want to get shot or killed or worse, but they're filled with a need to protect their town, their families, their friends - it's strong enough to override all else.

You sense their resolve harden the further you run, though their fear also rises the closer you get, especially considering that the wild gunfire only gets louder as you do.

From the wild bursts echoing down the streets, you can already tell just how much more frenzied the fighting is here. A deep Scan reveals close to two dozen enemy combatants in entrenched positions inside of buildings and behind abandoned cars all along a wide street stretching east and west.

Opposite the street from them are roughly a dozen defending residents fighting back as furiously as they can. They're posted up at open doorways and windows, and doing their best to keep their opponents at bay. Another third of their numbers are scattered here and there deeper in the buildings, most of whom are wounded to varying degrees, from slight to mortal.

One of them dies even as you finish up your Scan.

Your group comes up to the northeastern edge of the block and sidle up to the corner. Frank orders everyone to stop and catch their breath for a moment, then peeks around to scout out the fighting for himself.

Once he's satisfied with what he sees, he gives everyone a few more moments to rest, then arranges all of you into two teams with quick hand gestures. He leads the first with a couple other residents wielding automatic rifles, then adds you as the fourth member. The rest are put into the second team.

Frank then beckons the first team to run around the corner and down the street with him at the lead.

"Get behind that van quick-like!" he yells at the three of you, even as he runs straight towards it.

As the four of you leave the corner, the second team comes up and attempts to lay down some covering fire for you. Each of them take turns firing their bolt-action rifles or handguns at the enemy combatants, just enough to keep them at bay - it's enough to allow you to get to cover.

Your heart beats a million times a second as you run up to the van. Despite the second team providing some cover fire for you, it doesn't stop some of the enemy combatants from taking potshots anyway.

Bursts of rifle fire erupt from their vantage points, causing bullets to rain down all around you and your team. They impact the asphalt and concrete and brick with ferocity, breaking off chunks and scattering fragments in every direction.

The sound of the rifles firing are far more frightening than anything else - you're right in the middle of it all, and can't help but be reminded of a terrible thunderstorm. Each of those rifles bark explosively in the air, which drives incredible amounts of fear right into all of you.

You do your best to exude some calm and emit low levels of your Surge, but you're too shaken by the gunfire to do much good. Instead you allow your base instincts to pretty much take over, and you focus everything you've got into running your ass off instead.

Energies from your Temperance flow around you, albeit thinly, allowing your body to move just a little bit faster than without. It reminds you of the first time you discovered the power and activated it, all those years ago. You were this weak back then, or maybe slightly more so.

You can't help but feel a sliver of excitement course through you, led by your own nostalgia and your sense of self-growth. You've certainly come a long way since then, and can channel much more energy through your mind and body.

If you had the abilities you have now, you're certain you could have made it with Kaja at your side. But you shake those thoughts away - this isn't the time or place for that.

The four of you make it to the van, panting and heaving heavily from exertion and stress. You hear bullets rap into the van's metal exterior on the other side, and even feel it shake and shiver with each impact. Whatever glass is left on the windows break and shatter on getting hit, and some of it falls down on you like a tiny ice shower.

"Help us out, wouldja?" Frank asks you.

You nod in compliance, even though you're still recovering from your harrowing run. You do your best to clear your mind of all distractions, just enough to dampen the sounds of the roaring gunfire to some degree. Then you focus another conical Surge at the enemy combatants, to catch as many of them as you can.

Waves of dizziness and confusion sweep across almost a dozen of them, enough to give them pause for a few moments. Some are caught mid-burst and out in the open, giving the defending residents an opportunity they possibly can't pass up.

Frank in particular waits for you to do your thing. Though he can't sense when you're doing what, he can definitely tell when the enemies' gunfire lulls. In that moment, he and the rest of the team pop out of cover and lay down their own barrage.

The three of them line their sights on a handful of stunned 'gangers' and fire as many bursts as they can at as many as they can see. Most of their shots hit their marks, and a handful of enemy opponents are torn open. They're thrown down to the ground or out of sight from your team's unerring weapons fire, and you sense their life's energies wink out or fade quickly, evening up your numbers to some degree.

Emboldened by Frank and his team, the other defending residents pepper the enemy opponents with their own gunfire, and suppress them for a few scant seconds.

"Get in, quick!" Frank yells to the second team, waving at them with frantic gestures.

They immediately do as he tells them, and leap out from behind the northeastern corner. Although they're still stressed out by the fighting around them, not much enemy gunfire falls on them.

Anyone dumb enough to get out of cover while the defending residents are peppering their locations are cut down in short order.

The second team dashes past you, going at breakneck speeds. They turn into an awning in the middle of the block, at the building where the defending residents have posted up. The team runs into the main entrance, then immediately disperse out to the numerous windows inside. There, they join the other residents and fire at the enemies across the street.

You sense their morale increase significantly when that happens, and much of their lingering fears and anxieties about the fight dissipate into the air.

Although the enemy combatants are pressed back for a few moments, you sense them repositioning within the building across from you, away from most of the current lines of fire. There, they regroup and wait patiently for the defending residents' attack to lull.

When more than half of you duck back into cover to reload, the enemy combatants launch their own counter-attack. Instead of tight bursts, they unload entire magazines at the defending residents, spraying bullets all over the brick building's facade.

Some of the residents are caught off-guard, and are met with a hail of gunfire. A handful are clipped on the shoulder or in the gut or their arms or legs, and are thrown down on the floor. Another is shot right in his face - the bullet practically tears his skull open into a bloody gaping wound. Blood splashes onto the wall near where he stands. Thankfully his death came quickly and painlessly, at least as far as you can tell.

You hear someone scream and sob, even as the dead resident falls over on his side.

The resident's death causes an upswell of anger and despair and sadness to course through all of the defending residents, uniting them in that moment. Many hop out of cover and fire back with their guns, driven by the gut-wrenching loss of their friend and loved one.

As a result, some are wounded or cut down by enemy gunfire, but they manage to do just as much damage to the enemy combatants in exchange. Still, it's enough for Frank to immediately get stricken with a deep anguish and runs into the building, screaming for everyone to get back in cover.

You three are forced to follow after him, even as he attempts to rally the defending residents. His concern from them is through the roof, plenty enough to cause you to empathize with him deeply, even without psionics to augment such emotions.

A handful of bullets blast into the concrete sidewalk and brick front as you run in right behind him, heedless of incoming fire. Instead of focusing on yourself, you turn your psionic energies towards the defending residents, and shape a conical Surge at them.

Although it's rather weak, you throw as much calm as you can into them, to get them back to their senses. The emotion courses through them, enough to snap some of them out of their rage-filled stupor. You follow it up with a slight Surge of fear and sense of self-preservation, just enough to allow Frank's words to seep through them.

And it works, just so. Most of those enraptured by vengeance are able to snap out of it thanks to you and Frank. They realize just what they're doing and fall back behind cover. The few that resist you are able to ignore Frank's pleas and continue on their warpath, blinded by loss and rage.

As a result, they take a number of enemy bullets and are killed or severely wounded on the spot.

A deep sense of grief washes over you as their bodies fall, as their consciousness fades away. It's not so much that you know these people and lament them, but rather you realize you could have easily saved all of them. You could have unleashed your true capabilities at any time and overwhelmed the defending residents with your psionic energies. You could have echoed Frank's thoughts directly into their psyches and snapped them out of their violent reveries with greater ease.

A grimace forms on your face when you realize that you have practically sacrificed those people in order to preserve your own identity. Part of you is torn at your decision, and chides you for it. But a greater part of you is alright with that. You know that you need to maintain your own cover at any cost. After all, you don't want to get blown apart by leaving it.

You sense some relief fill Frank as he directs people back into cover, at seeing enough of them escape death. Of course, it's tempered by a sliver of sadness at the senseless and unavoidable loss the township has suffered.

"Hold on to yourselves, goddammit!" he tells them sternly. "Gather yourselves up, don't get caught up in who's right next to you, and who ain't any longer. Just keep your damn heads down and fire back only when I say, alright!"

He then turns to you, and with a low voice asks, "do something here, wouldja?"

You nod decisively with your lips still pursed flat, then turn towards the enemy combatants. With a Scan, you take a snapshot of the defending residents' emotions into yourself, all of their despair and fear and frustration, and ball it all up into one discordant mix.

Then, with another focused Surge, you fling all of it into the enemy combatants across the street. Not only that, but you do so with as much psionic energy as you can muster. You even borrow whatever you can from Noir and do your absolute best to overwhelm your opponents.

Though both of you are capped, and the energies you channel are far from your absolute maximum, it's still more than enough to imbue your enemies with sheer misery. You sense their psyches get filled with gloom at their situation, which heightens when you Surge outward a second time. But instead of channeling how the residents feel, you inject your own regret and guilt.

You sharpen it with your energies and stab right into each of your opponents with it.

And that's the straw that breaks the metaphorical camel's back. The enemy combatants' morale drops down to the bottom, as each of them imagine the damage they've done to the people that live here. Chaotic thoughts about how they're invading someone else's home fills their minds. They're accompanied by deep pangs of guilt which border on actual sorrow.

It's enough to get one or two to literally run from all the fighting - a Scan reveals that they make their way towards the rear of their building and escape from whatever window or door they can there. The act causes a few more to hesitate even further, then ultimately decide to run as well.

Those who don't run are barely able to fight back. The thoughts and emotions tumble around in their hearts and minds, even as they aim down their sights. As a result their trigger fingers are weak, as is their hold on their weapons. And this causes their bullets to scatter in every direction, hitting nothing in particular but more brick and concrete.

On sensing the enemies' lack of aggressiveness, Frank marshals the defending residents and has them counter their opponents decisively.

"Shoot now!" he cries out. "Give 'em everything you got!"

Though they're still somewhat shaken, they're able to take down another handful of the enemy combatants with relative ease. Their rounds tear through one of the enemies and turn him into a mess. His body convulses wildly as his blood splashes all over the walls and floor. The sight of it is more than enough to completely demoralize whatever courage the enemy has left, and the handful still remaining drop their weapons and flee with abandon.

"They're running!" you call out. "We've won!"