Breached

Crusoe
“Aw, this again?”

Crusoe had just gotten inside, sliding to a stop behind the counters.
He froze, the only noise in the gas station being his own quick breaths.
Oh hell.
He peeked his head out over the dust-coated counter, trying to see what his pursuers were doing.
Two men were carrying a small package to the boarded-up doors.
Crusoe ducked under the counter, unstrapping his Vector from his chest.
I’ll need this.
The screeching sound of a speaker rattled on outside, causing him to flinch.
“Private First-class Byron Crusoe Jenkins! Come out with your weapons discarded, or we will be forced to light your rebel ass up!”
Well, the funny part is, you have the wrong brother if you’re looking for the rebellion soldier.
“Take your .50 cal and go fuck yourselves!” He yelled.
Voices shouted from outside.
He gripped the handle of his gun harder.
“A really big fucking hole, coming right up!” Someone yelled from outside.
They’re using a breach charge. Better take a better position to avoid em.



The boarded-up doors flew open, the melted pieces of the aluminum door sliding across the ground as three soldiers carefully entered, sights trained to their eyes, lasers gliding across the room as they searched for their enemy. “Where the fuck is this prick…” Their explosives specialist muttered, throwing the dusty cash register off the counter. “Not back here.” The heavy gunner replied, kicking over a shelf.
The captain flicked two fingers to the bathrooms. “Alder, you check the restrooms. Me and Riley will check the rest of the main area.”
Alder, the explosives specialist, grunted in response. “Will do.” His captain and Riley, the heavy gunner, began slowly drifting through the aisles. After Alder left the room, Riley hefted his plasma-augmented Vickers heavy machine gun, letting off a sigh.
His captain grunted. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Riley replied, shaking his head.
“It’s obviously something.” The captain replied, checking behind a ragged stack of firewood, once $5.00 a log.
“Alright. I’m a bit worried.” Riley concluded.
The captain kicked over the said stack of firewood, sending a packrat screeching indignantly as it scrambled away into the shadows. “About?”
“Well, our target. This, Byron guy. According to the files, he possesses a suit with almost perfect invisibility, as well as some kind of ancient alien tech that allows him to do some kind of mystical shit? I’m not scared, just a bit nervous about what a guy with that kind of power can do. I heard he blew up a freighter single-handedly. Literally.” He fretted, his grip on his weapon shaking a little.
The captain raised an eyebrow under their helmet. “Are you afraid of a PFC, Riley?”
Riley shook his head quickly. “No sir, not at all. I’m just afraid of what could happen.”
“Such as?”
“Well, first of all, death.” He came to a stop in front of the dust-shrouded freezers, long ago since having been shut off.
His captain stood in front of him. “Only cowards fear death.”
Riley straightened, lifting his gun a little higher. “Well, maybe I’m a coward.”
“I’m surprised a man of your standards would admit tha-” they were cut off by a freezer door opening and slamming them in the face, sending them back into the wall, where they laid slumped against it.
“Wha-” Riley was silenced as hand coated in a strange black metal with specks of small blue crystals embedded inside grabbed him by the head and held him there.
“AHHH!” His helmet suddenly shattered, not by being crushed either the mysterious hand or anything else.

Crusoe couldn’t help but grin just a little as the gunner shot a ceiling fan, bringing it down on his own body.
The gunner screamed in pain, his Vickers now trapped under the mangled and broken fan. He squirmed out from under it as Crusoe walked toward him slowly.
Like Darth Vader, hehe.
“Oh boy, my ears are burning! You guys were just talking about me, weren’t you?” He shouted triumphantly.
The gunner responded withdrawing his sidearm, firing a well-placed shot at Crusoe’s leg.
Then, in a flash of light, Crusoe vanished, a newt in his place.
The shot hit the freezers behind them, shattering the glass over the captain, who through their groans, was trying to get up.
“HE CAN SHAPE-SHIFT?! AHHHH!” The gunner screamed, firing more shots, this time at the newt, which narrowly avoided all of the laser projectiles until he was safely behind the counter.
Another flash appeared over the top of the counter, and Crusoe jumped back up, firing two shots into the gunner’s chest, along with another one to his unprotected head.
The gunner’s screams were silenced, as the captain raised their gun.
“You…. sick…..bastard….” The radio outside their heavily fortified helm crackled and sputtered, revealing the wearer to be female.
“Fuck….you…..” She rattled, coughing and gasping for air.
Crusoe said nothing.
“You just had to…..didn’t you? Youuuu…..somehow kneeeew…...I loved him….” The captain said, reaching for something in her vest, dropping her USM 4.
Crusoe pulled back his hood. “Look, I didn’t want to die-”
“AND NEITHER DID HE! I didn’t want him to either…” She said, slumping against the remaining fridge. “And now I have nothing to live for….”
“Oh come on, you can’t-”
“And you TOOK HIM FROM MEEEE, SO I’LL HAVE TO TAKE YOU WITH ME!” She screamed, grabbing a string in her vest.
Oh crap that’s a bomb-vest.
She let out a crooked laugh, then went silent. “No, that’s….that’s not possible. You’re out here. There’s no way…”
A shot echoed through the gas station.


“I had it under control.” The real Crusoe said, returning his Glock to the holster on his hip, glaring down at the Explosives Spec. he had killed not too long ago, if not quieter.
The fake Crusoe shrugged. “Right. Sure looked like it when those asses blew open the door like it was tinfoil.”
“Whatever. You still didn’t need to try and help me. And please change back, it’s weird to talk to myself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The fake Crusoe vanished in a blink of light, Milo standing in his place.
“Thanks. What about the truck? There’s gotta still be some people in there.”
“Eh. Nah. It’s sabotaged, along with the driver now looking like he died picking his nose.”
“Oh boy.”