Waves upon waves of gun-waving, mentally unstable brutes rush into the hospital lobby, like gushing water out of floodgates. Their numbers were uncountable, easily reaching the hundreds to the thousands. Palgard's finest could only do so much as their brethren fall left, right and center. These Magitech wielding barbarians seemingly fought a one-sided battle as if a toddler attempted to resist the force of a semi-truck hurdling towards it. This wasn't just a random act of mindless violence, however, evident by the technologically advanced weapons employed and cohesive tactics being used. No, this was an orchestrated strike, a strike targeting Palgard's own lymph node, aiming to destroy whatever sentinel of hope that remained in this rotten city, destroying its immune system from inside-out.
The good doctors, nurses, staff members that keeps Palgard general going, these innocent and hard-working practitioners of ethical rights are now vulnerable, as the line broke and the police were pushed back into the main lobby. These men and women who worked so hard to make do with what little they have were mercilessly gunned down, some by the very same men they have treated before. By the tenth minute, Palgard's finest fell back to the barricades. A brave reporter stood by the boys in blue, seemingly unfazed by the carnage and chaos committed around him. Raid parties would slaughter defenseless patients and staff members by the dozen, in all 11 floors. Not even the children were spared.
Even with all this suffering, there is a dim yet glimmering ray of hope. By the tenth minute, over 36% of the hospital residence were slaughtered. Over 48% of the remaining residents of Palgard General sought refuge in the Physiology section of the hospital. Logically, it would be easy picking for the gun-wielding mercenary to rush into the undefended section and unload their magazines to what might as well be sitting ducks. This didn't happen, for the word "undefended" was far from the truth in this case.
A jab, a hook, a cross, and an uppercut would send the last of the group of gangsters sent to hunt down the patients in the physiology center flying through the air, landing on top of two of his comrades. "Twenty... Three..." Steve would say to himself, gasping for air as he was clearly exhausted from the encounter. His knuckles were bruised and battered, swollen from the beating he dished out. His face was full of soot, scratches, and bruises, his left hand now holding his abdominal area, as blood seeped through his hands. A stray bullet grazed his right abdominal area, non-lethal but it hindered his movements. "Damn..." He said to himself out-loud, wincing at the pain as he limped through the corridors. He heard shouts, terrified shouting and running as what remained of the 30-strong party fled in terror.
"CALL THE BOSS, HE DIDN'T TELL US ONE OF THOSE GODDAMN FU**ING MASKS WERE IN HERE!!!" One shouted, the voice echoing through the halls. A grin appeared on Steve's face, delighted at not only the fear they felt but at the knowledge that they'd know better than too come to this section. This was one of the final last strongholds of the hospital, the last few untouched places where if they were lucky enough, anyone could come here to barricade themselves. A doctor would walk out, "Mr.King, your hands...." he said, pointing to the now bloodied knuckles. "Don't worry, the blood isn't mine, doc. Grab whatever weapon you can find, and distribute it to whoever can aim a gun. Don't go out unless necessary, got it?" He replied and ordered, the doctor nodded in compliance and agreement. Two other nurses who overheard the conversation helped the doctor, having slight troubles with the bulky Magitech firearms.
Steve knew his way around Palgard General, his many amateur fights usually ending up in this hospital when he was younger. He knew some of the doctors and nurses on a first name basis, some that treated his wounds and mended his bones with utmost care. He walked through the corridors with one eye shut, trying to shield his eyes from witnessing the many doctors that treated him like family lay dead on the marble floor. Every time he caught a glimpse of them, he suppressed his rage as it boiled inside him, aching to be released to the next unlucky punk who dared cross paths with him.
Little to Steve's knowledge, the 7 remaining scum would return with over 50 men. Now tired and injured, Steve could only take down 16 men before getting gunned down himself, leaving the stranded residents trapped inside the physiology section. Will a brave and heroic mask come to Steve's aid? Will a villain find a change of heart and spare these innocent people?
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