WHO IS IN CHARGE

Guns fired up the old Jeep's engine, its rusty rumble echoing through the desolate streets. The vehicle, a relic of a bygone era, lurched forward as he steered it through the ruins of the city.

Crumbling skyscrapers, abandoned cars, and rubble-filled streets blurred together, a constant reminder of the world's downfall. The once-blue skies were now a permanent gray, casting a morose shadow over the devastation.

As he drove, his mind raced with the weight of his family's legacy. The conflict between Guns Warehouse and Knives Warehouse had been brewing for years, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it boiled over. Thoughts of his sister, Dagger, flooded his mind. They had grown up together, until their parents' rivalry tore them apart. Now, Dagger was with their mother, Katana, leading the Knives Warehouse.

A sudden crackle in his earpiece broke his reverie. "2 Guns, this is Pistol. I've got a group of survivors exiting Archers' Warehouse. They're loading a big crate into a truck, looks like they're heading to Knives' Warehouse." 2 Guns' grip on the steering wheel tightened. This was it - the moment he had been preparing for.

"Pistol, what's the cargo? Why would random survivors be leaving a warehouse? Are they fully armed?" 2 Guns pressed, his voice tight with urgency and curiosity.

"Dude, chill with the questions! I'm trying my best here, I'm not trying to do a full-on interrogation," Pistol replied, his voice amused. "The crate's wrapped like my grandma's gossip - tight lipped and mysterious. Might be Project 143, might be a zombie hamster... honestly, I've got nothing."

2 Guns' instincts kicked in. Project 143 was the codename for a top-secret operation, rumored to be a game-changer in the city's underworld.

"Keep watching, Pistol," 2 Guns said, already flooring the accelerator. His grip on his steering wheel tightened, his mind racing with the implications of Pistols words. But as he thought about Pistol's words, he knew he couldn't take down those survivors alone. He needed backup, and there was only one person he trusted to have his back.

Without a word, 2 Guns turned the jeep around. As he drove, the city's lights blurred together outside his window. His thoughts were drifted to Rifle, his old friend and ally. Rifle had skills that would come in handy in a firefight.

2 Guns screeched to a halt outside Guns Warehouse, the familiar logo of intertwined pistols gleaming in the moonlight.

He leapt out of the Jeep and burst through the door, calling out, "Rifle! We need to talk."

Rifle emerged from the shadows, eyes narrowing. His lean physique honed from years of tactical training. His piercing emerald eyes seemed to gleam with an inner intensity, a trait that had earned him an uncanny reputation for precision under pressure. A messy mop of sandy-blond hair framed his rugged features, and a scar above his left eyebrow told the story of a narrow escape. He wore his standard black tactical gear, the fabric worn and faded from countless missions. His rifle, affectionately dubbed "Midnight," hung comfortably over his shoulder, a trusted companion that never left his side.

His eyes narrowed. "What's going down, 2 Guns?"

"It's the Archers warehouse" 2 Guns replied, his voice low and urgent. "Project 143. I don't know much about it, but it's big, and it's going to get ugly. I need your help."

Rifle's expression hardened. "Count me in."

2 Guns nodded, his mind racing with strategies. "Agreed, but do you know anything about Project 143?"

Rifle's eyes flickered and after long silence, he said with a shaky voice, "Archers warehouse is dealing with an entity they can't control."

"Let's get to work," Rifle said, his voice steady once more.

As they strategized, 2 Guns couldn't shake off the feeling that Rifle knew more about Project 143 than he was letting on. But he pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Option one implies that the convoy is being escorted by hostiles or survivors, which adds a layer of tension and uncertainty to the situation. It also keeps the focus on the unknown payload, which seems to be the main priority for 2 Guns and his team.

"Operation parameters confirmed," 2 Guns stated, unfolding a tactical map of the city. Pistol's tracking a convoy departing Archers' Warehouse, transporting an unknown cargo and it's escorted by survivors. We'll execute an intercept protocol prior to their mainland rendezvous, consistent with standard Archers' protocols."

Rifle nodded, his eyes scanning the map. "I'll take point. Midnight and I will clear the road ahead."

2 Guns nodded, his mind racing with contingencies. "I'll call for back up from six bullets. We know what kind of firepower the survivors are packing but we need to be cautious."

Just as they were about to move out, Pistol's voice crackled over the comms. "2 Guns, the survivors convoy is taking a detour. They're heading into the Industrial Sector."

2 Guns exchanged a look with Rifle. The Industrial Sector was a maze of abandoned factories and narrow alleys - perfect ambush territory but the only problem was it was a place known for the fastest and smartest zombies - the cracklers.

"Let's move," 2 Guns said, with a little resistance, already sprinting toward the Jeep.

As they sped toward the Industrial Sector, Rifle's silence was palpable. 2 Guns knew his friend had more on his mind which he didn't want to share with 2 guns, but he trusted Rifle to have his back.

The Jeep screeched to a halt at the Sector's entrance. 2 Guns and Rifle leapt out, fanning out to cover the perimeter.

2 Guns' grip on his guns tightened. But before he could give any signals to Rifle, Rifle's eyes widened, and he whispered urgently, "2 Guns, we've got a problem." Suddenly, a group of heavily armed survivors emerged from the shadows, training their guns on 2 Guns and Rifle. "Drop your weapons!" one of them yelled. 2 Guns' confidence shattered. "How did they know?" he mouthed to Rifle. Rifle's face was grim. "Pistol must have-" "That idiot!." 2 Guns interrupted, hands raised in surrender.

The leader of the survivors, a rough-looking man with a thick beard and matted hair, stepped forward. His clothes were tattered and stained, and his breath reeked of rot and decay. A mouthful of crooked, yellowed teeth seemed to be missing several pieces, and his eyes gleamed with a mixture of suspicion and desperation.

"You two aren't from around here, are you?" he snarled, his voice like a rusty gate. "What do you want with our cargo?"

Just as the leader of the survivors was about to deliver what seemed like a grand speech, one of his men shoved Pistol forward, forcing him to stumble into the circle. "Looks like we caught ourselves a little spy," the survivor sneered, kicking Pistol's legs out from under him. Pistol, a scrappy teenager with a messy mop of hair and a smudge of dirt on his cheek,

stumbled and fell to his knees. 2 Guns and Rifle were forced to kneel down alongside him, the survivors' leader looming over them.

"We're not like the others," the leader said, his voice still rough but with a hint of conviction. "The ones from Archers' Warehouse, they're just pawns in a game. But we... We're different. We're survivors. We're not bound by the same rules."

Pistol, still kneeling, looked up at the leader with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "Yeah, yeah, you're free spirits," he said, earning a glare from 2 Guns. "Shut up, Pistol," 2 Guns muttered.

The leader continued, his eyes gleaming with intensity. "We're not just fighting for survival; we're fighting for our freedom. We're not a warehouse full of goods to be bought and sold. We're people, with hearts and minds and souls."

Pistol snorted. "That's deep and all, but what does it have to do with us?"

2 Guns' glare intensified. "Pistol, seriously, shut up."

The leader's gaze didn't waver. "It has everything to do with you. You see, we're not going to let you take our cargo. We're not going to let you dictate our fate. We're going to take control of our own destiny."

Pistol piped up again. "Control? You call being ordered to transport this cargo thing by the Archers warehouse 'control'?"

This time, 2 Guns' warning was more urgent. "Pistol, stop. Just stop."

The leader's face reddened with rage as Pistol continued to mouth off. "You think you're funny, kid? You think you can just talk to me like that?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the area.

Pistol smirked, unfazed. "Hey, don't yell at me, okay? My big brother 2 Guns is here, and he'll kill you before you can even think about it."

2 Guns and Rifle exchanged a furious glance, both of them silently willing Pistol to shut up. But Pistol just kept talking, his words spilling out in a reckless torrent.

The leader's gaze snapped back to Pistol, but then his eyes narrowed as he studied 2 Guns and Rifle. "Which one of you is 2 Guns?" he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.

2 Guns' gun holster, a worn leather contraption on his back, seemed to catch the leader's eye. The leader's gaze landed on the two golden guns nestled in the holster, and his eyes widened in recognition.

"Ah, you're 2 Guns," he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Hold him up, boys. I think it's time I taught him a lesson."

As the survivors' men grabbed 2 Guns, holding him upright, the leader began to speak, his voice low and menacing. "You know, 2 Guns, I used to be part of the Guns Warehouse. But your father, 1 Bullet... he ruined my life. He took everything from me, left me to rot in the streets."

The leader's eyes seemed to bore into 2 Guns' soul, filled with a deep-seated hatred. "You see, I'm going to make sure you pay for what your father did to me."

His grip tightened around one of 2 Guns' golden guns, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings on the handle. "Your father, 1 Bullet, he was like a brother to me," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "We were the best of friends, him and I, and your mother, Katana... she was like a sister to me. But then, things started to fall apart. The Guns Warehouse and the Knives Warehouse, we were always at odds, but 1 Bullet and I, we thought we could rise above it. We thought we could be better than the petty squabbles and the endless fighting."

His eyes seemed to cloud over, lost in memories of the past. "But your mother, she was different. She had a fire in her belly, and she fueled the flames of conflict between our warehouses. She and 1 Bullet, they started arguing more and more, and I tried to stay out of it, but it was hard. The tension between them, it was palpable."

The leader's gaze snapped back to 2 Guns, his eyes blazing with anger. "And then, the big fight happened. The Knives Warehouse and the Guns Warehouse clashed, and it was chaos. I was there, fighting alongside your father, but he... he left us behind. He abandoned his men, and many of them were eaten by those... things." The leader's voice cracked with emotion, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle to continue.

"I'm one of the few who made it out alive," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I've been surviving ever since, carrying the weight of that betrayal with me. Your father may have forgotten, but I haven't. And now, I'm going to make sure you understand what it means to be left behind."

With that, the leader raised the gun, his finger tightening around the trigger. 2 Guns' eyes widened, and he struggled against the men holding him, but they held him fast. Pistol's eyes went wide with fear, and Rifle's face was set in a grim mask.

~A.y.

I don't what's wrong with these characters...

They are just acting on their own 😮‍💨😮‍💨

I feel like the book is a mess but I'll just keep going 🙈... I can't stop now 🙃

By the way if you guys are into mythical stories... I have a book called "THE PATH OF A CAINAM GOD: VOL . I"

You can check it out 🙈

Anyway please don't forget to like, follow, vote and leave a comment.

Before i go lemme leave you with a funny Straykids (Bangchan) picture I found 🙃

Bye for now 👋

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