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The Tolls of War by electricalboogyman
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The inconvenience of the drunk
Date: 24 June 2005, 6:02 pm
Chapter One--- The inconvenience of the drunk
"Shut ya trap or I'll shut it for ya!"
"Wadda ya mean you can't serve me another 'hiccup' drink!!"
The din of the bar invaded Private, no wait, Reserve Private Liam Hawkins train of thought.
I'm stuck here on earth, with no enemy to fight other than the boring boredom, he thought to himself, wallowing in self-pity. He wanted to go out to the corners of the Galaxy, and actually fight against the real enemy, the real bastards. But he was stuck on Earth, defending it from no one or nothing but stupid small time crooks and criminals.
And where he was stationed didn't make his situation any better. He was stuck in bloody New Mombassa, a city in a country he had never wanted to visit. Ever.
All he did was train in the military camps around the city, preparing for urban combat with the Covenant. Yeh, the covenant, the real enemy.
Sighing, he got up to leave the now rowdy bar, making his way past a drunken man chewing on the carpet.
"Hey, don't do that you stupid prick, get out of my bar!" the bar tender yelled at the man, who immediately got up off the saliva stained carpet and made his way over to the bar.
"Wottid youse say?" the man, whom Hawkins now recognized to be a fellow reserve soldier, said with obvious effort, brandishing a giant fist in front of the bar tenders face. "I'm here…drink, and drink I sha-." the soldier dropped to the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
The Bar keeper merely waved the man off with his arm, making a noise of disgust, before seeing Hawkins.
"You, you're with him, take him back to where he belongs…" the bar keeper yelled to Hawkins, offering to help him pick up the downed soldier.
Hawkins made to protest, but then gave up. This man, this 'soldier' was with him, he was in the UNSC Marine Corp. and it was the duty of every soldier to help his fellow. Picking up the marine, he put his chest between his arms, and dragged the man out into the street.
It was a warm night.
Cursing himself for helping the soldier, who was heavier than he had first seemed, Hawkins dragged himself, and the man, down the dingy streets of the city.
He made his way past a couple of youths, who snickered at him. One of them, a male of about nineteen, made his way over and offered his hand out.
Hawkins rolled his eyes, then tried to brush the teen off with a wave of his shoulder.
The young man, who Hawkins couldn't see very well in the darkness, again offered his hand out, not saying a word.
Hawkins finally gave in, slightly dropping his load as he tried to shift the weight of the soldier to the teen.
Bang!
The weight of something smashing into Hawkins head dazed him, bright lights flooding his eyes. Pain coursed through his body, his head feeling like it had split in two. He dropped the drunken soldier to the ground with a thud, bringing his hands up, balling them into fists. He turned around to see a bottle hit the ground, smashing into a million pieces.
And then he saw them. Shadows moving all around him. His eyes adjusted, and he could see the shadows were more people.
He counted ten of them.
Hawkins turned to where the teen that had offered to help him was. He came face to face with a knife, the teen handling it with an awkward grip.
Hawkins took a step back, and saw his surroundings for the first time proper.
He was in the middle of a wide street, with rows of buildings on either side. In the shadows, figures, some brandishing objects, made their way to cut off the exits. He was trapped.
"Listen, I don't know what you guys want, if you want money, I don't have any on me…" his voice trailed as a man made his way towards him.
The stranger stepped into the moonlight, and Hawkins gasped. His face was covered in scars. Entirely covered. Some were bleeding, as if he had just come from a vicious fight.
"Everything you've got, put on the ground"
Scarface' voice was deep.
Hawkins stared him in the eye for a moment, before pulling out his belongings. He dropped his combat knife onto the ground, along with a few coins. "If you want to rob me, that's all I have."
He looked back into the scarred mans eyes. Scarface walked forward, scooping up Hawkins possessions, and pocketed them.
"Now, very slowly turn everything from your friends," Scarface motioned to the soldier on the ground, "pockets onto the ground."
Hawkins dropped to his knees, rifling through the unconscious soldiers clothes, noticing a strange insignia on the mans breast pocket. A small golden cross of bones. Hawkins put all the money from the soldier's jacket onto the ground. From behind him, a small wiry fellow jumped out and snatched up the coins.
He snarled at Hawkins, and then ran back into the shadow.
"That's all we've got man, so unless there's something else you want…" Hawkins never finished that sentence.
From behind him two men jumped out, grabbing Hawkins by the arms.
Hawkins reflexes were slightly dodgy from a few drinks, but he managed to quickly elbow one of the men in the face.
The man let go of Hawkins, dropping to the ground, his nose a bloody mess. The other man whipped out a knife from his jacket pocket and made to stab it into Hawkins neck.
Hawkins dropped low, the blade whistling over his head, and then he punched the man straight in the stomach, before finishing him off with a kick to the mans privates.
Two more men ran at him from the front, one with a large glass bottle in his hand.
Hawkins grabbed the downed mans knife, hurling it underarm into the bottle carrying mans chest. He fell, the bottle smashing next to his face, blinding him with shattered peieces of glass. He roared in pain, curling up into a ball, sobbing as the fight continued without him.
The other man made a swing at Hawkins face, which Hawkins narrowly dodged by taking a step back. Bringing around his right arm, he smashed the mans face with brutal force, again braking a nose.
He dropped, rolled onto the ground, and lashed out with his foot, hitting Hawkins in the leg.
Hawkins fell, his back landing right on top of the glass from the bottles.
He tried to ignore the glass and the pain stabbing his back, noticing in the corner of his eye a man rushing forward with a huge kick, aimed right at his face.
Hawkins rolled to his right, the mans steel-capped boot grazing his hair. Hawkins quickly rolled away as the man kicked again.
The kick went wide, missing Hawkins completely as the man lost his balance, falling right on top of Hawkins.
Hawkins bit the mans ear, blood filling his mouth.
The man screamed in pain, his body flopping around to hit any part of Hawkins he could. Hawkins let go of the ear, grabbing onto the mans face with his left hand. He bought his palm down on the mans nose, so forcefully that Hawkins knew that he had just killed him.
Pushing the limp body off him, Hawkins got up to see the rest of the attackers running away, a siren wailing in the distance.
A Warthog, a military jeep drove down the street, two men with rifles leaning out of the open vehicle, firing stun rounds at the fleeing hoodlums.
A few of the bullets hit their mark, sending the men onto the ground, brief spasms jittering their bodies as the electrical current from the bullets relaxed their muscles so much that they couldn't move. Not for a while, anyway. Hawkins got up off the dusty ground, blood dripping off his face. His head hurt, and he touched it where one of the men had kicked at him. A large cut was bleeding, blooding trickling out.
His whole body in pain, Hawkins limped over to the Warthog, wincing at the pain from the glass in his back.
The two men who had been firing at the attackers jumped out from their seats and ran over to him.
"Shit man, you're bleeding something shockin'" one of the men, whom Hawkins recognized as part of the Military Police said, his eyes widening at the bloody battle site.
He helped Hawkins to the Warthog. The other officer ran over to the unconscious soldier.
The drunk was still lying on the ground, making chewing noises with his mouth.
"Is this one hurt?" the officer asked Hawkins.
Through his pain, Hawkins managed a smile, and he replied "Nope, just pissed." as he got up into the Warthog.
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