Good-Bye Blue Skies [Rated: Teen for violence and foul language.] -- posted by a380fan[15/09/2007]

Posted 15/09/2007 07:46:13 (14/09/2007 10:46:13 PM) a380fan

Good-Bye Blue Skies- by a380fan. Beta'd by RedRider6612
Two or three shot.

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Booth swore. The round ricocheted off the waist-high concrete wall behind him and grazed his lower-right leg. It hurt, but he couldn’t pay it any mind or the thugs who were so happily spraying bullets at him would get an advantage. He popped up, Glock 10mm in hand and let off two rounds at one of the Hispanic gentleman firing at him. He dropped back down before he heard the thug cry out and scream something angrily in Spanish. Booth guessed he got the guy.

He’d been doing surveillance on a drug cartel middle-management type who he had pegged as responsible for three corpses found shot execution style. That’s when the guy and his thug bodyguards decided to pay him a visit. He was now in the parking lot of a mini-mall, crouched behind the last of the six or so cars parked in a row. Behind him was the waist high wall. The nice gentlemen had one known weapon each, a Tech-9 large capacity semi-automatic pistol. One of them was altered so that it would fire full-auto.

A burst of automatic fire sprayed the car and the wall behind him as the last bits of safety glass in the front passenger window fell on top of him. He hadn’t had time to radio for back-up before the firefight started and he was not about to try fishing his cell out of his pocket. Hopefully one of the neighbors would call the cops. He mentally counted how many more he had in the magazine If he was right, which he was sure he was, he had seven shots left. Six in the clip and one chambered. He decided he would try and gain ground on the guys. He crossed himself and got ready.

He broke from behind the car, gun up, panning the area. He stayed as low as possible while running. He fired off a few rounds to keep the goons down for a second as he skidded to the ground behind the second car. He caught his breath and popped up again, loosing off two shots at the thug he had hit earlier; there was blood coming out of the guy’s muscled left arm. He fired two more. His aim was good. The man crumpled in a heap, two rounds right in the center of his chest. He was gone. The other thug yelled something in Spanish as the car Booth was behind shook with the force of the rounds hitting it.

A car skidded to a stop out of his field of view and men jumped out. They were saying/yelling something in Spanish. Right as Booth was about to pop his head up to see what was happening, the ground started exploding all around him. He recognized the signature sound of the rifle without seeing it. From the sound of it, he was being fired upon by three separate Ak-47s. He swore. He was cut off from backup, engaged by three Ak-47s, and wasn’t wearing his vest. He was hoping the 7.56mm rounds weren’t the armor-piercing Teflon coated Tungsten rounds sometimes favored by these cartels. If they were, the car he was behind, any car for that matter wouldn’t do him any good.

He was caught between two choices, stay and fight, or run. If he ran he had a good chance of getting several new body orifices. If he stayed he had an even better chance of getting shot. He decided to try an obviously pointed tactic for the second time.

“This is the FBI! You are all under arrest! Drop your weapons; put your hands in the air, and surrender!”

One of the thugs replied in English. “Fuck you pig!”

“That takes care of that,” Booth mumbled to himself.

There was a pause in the fire at him and he heard the sound of weapons being reloaded. He also heard the faint scream of sirens. He popped up and fired on the group. There were now four combatants, three men with the Ak-47s and the guy with the full-auto Tech-9. He opened fire, dropping the Tech-9 guy and one of the remaining three. He wounded another before he flew back into cover as they started shooting again.

The sound of the sirens got closer. One of them yelled something in Spanish and they took off running. Booth leaped from cover and took out after them. He fired two rounds as he went, but though they were close, neither hit. Booth didn’t want to risk firing as he ran for fear he would miss and hit a civilian. One of them turned and fired before Booth could stop running to get off a better shot.

Three rifle reports filled the air along with a roar of agony as Booth fell.

Posted 15/09/2007 08:01:52 (14/09/2007 11:01:52 PM) miller0259

HOLY CRAP!!!!!! POST AGAIN SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted 15/09/2007 08:18:30 (14/09/2007 11:18:30 PM) Francie

ummm...i second that...please post again...SOON!!!!

Posted 15/09/2007 12:27:54 (15/09/2007 03:27:54 AM) sarcastress

Man, I hope there's an airbag under this cliff!

Posted 16/09/2007 07:55:50 (15/09/2007 10:55:50 PM) redrider6612

Hey, great story, very action-packed. Can't wait for more, really soon. I hope Booth isn't too seriously hurt.

Posted 18/09/2007 07:17:06 (17/09/2007 10:17:06 PM) a380fan

Chapter 2

The first round went low and to the left, but the recoil automatically raised the gun as it fired, bringing one round into his lower left arm and another one into his chest. He fell on the ground, rolling in pain from the damage of the high-velocity 7.56mm round. The two gunmen slipped away into the urban jungle.

The first patrol car skidded to a stop just under a minute later. The officer, clutching a 12-gauge shot gun ran over.

“Special Agent Booth, FBI.” Booth said as the blood-loss started to affect his brain. The officer grabbed the radio that hung on his shoulder.

“Officer down! Corner of K and Central, we need a bus down here now!” The officer yelled into the mouthpiece. The dispatcher came back with an affirmative as two more black and whites skidded to a stop. One held a shotgun identical to the first officer’s while the other held an M-4 carbine assault rifle. The one with the M-4 opened the trunk of his car and grabbed a large first aid kit contained in a duffel bag. He ran over and dropped it next to Booth as he kneeled down and hurriedly unzipped the bag.

The officer put on a pair of disposable gloves and threw a pair to one of the other officers. Three more cars arrived; along with them, five officers, an M-4, and two more shotguns.

“Two suspects, Hispanic, one wounded, armed with AK-47s.” Booth wheezed while pointing in the direction that the gunmen had fled. The lead officer nodded and the group took off at a run after the fleeing suspects. One of the rounds had hit his lung. A trickle of blood emitted from his mouth as he lay there. The blood around the entry wound in his chest was bubbling from the escaping air.

The officer with the first aid kid unwrapped gauze and folded it into a semi-large patch which he then put over the entrance wound and pushed down. Booth winced in pain. The other officer did the same to his arm wound, both of them trying to control his blood loss. Booth, using his good arm, reached up to his neck and grabbed the gold chain his cross hung from. He clutched the golden cross in his hand as his vision clouded over.

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Brennan paced her office. Booth wasn’t answering his phone. She had uncovered irrefutable evidence against the suspect, but she couldn’t share it with him, because he wasn’t answering. It was definitely enough for an arrest, and undoubtedly for a conviction too. If only he’d answer his damn phone... she thought, irritated.

An hour later she was worried. Booth was usually very good with answering his phone and returning calls promptly. He was doing neither. Worry replaced the irritation. She got up from her office chair and started pacing again. Angela, out on the platform noticed her behavior and after a half-second, decided she would definitely not mind her own business. She swiped her card and walked off the platform. She headed towards Brennan’s office.

She knocked softly and her friend looked up.

“Yes?” Brennan asked tersely. Now Angela knew something was up. She let herself in and leaned against her friend’s desk.

“What’s up?” Angela asked, studying Brennan’s face for a clue.

“Nothing,” Brennan replied, turning her face away.

“Sweetie, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Fine… Booth’s not answering his phone.” Brennan stated, looking away.

“So...” Angela prompted.

“So it’s been nearly two hours. He’s usually very good at returning calls. And he usually answers his phone.”

“So, you’re worried?” It wasn’t a question as much as a statement.

“No… Yes, I’m worried. I don’t know why I’m so worried, I mean, he’s only my partner, why am I so…” She trailed off, not trusting herself to continue in the direction where her rant was going.

“You’re worried because he IS your partner, and your friend. Or is there something else?” Angela slipped the innuendo in immediately before putting on a mask of pure innocence.

Brennan was too disturbed to notice.

“Well sweetie, he’s a cop, he knows what he’s doing. He probably just doesn’t have any service.”

“Yeah… that must be it…” Brennan muttered, unconvinced.

Angela quietly left the room.

Posted 18/09/2007 07:36:54 (17/09/2007 10:36:54 PM) bandbi

great job... anxious for more

Posted 18/09/2007 11:40:06 (18/09/2007 02:40:06 AM) CheeseBK

oh, please post soon....