Debauchery Falls Ch. 10

Galloway went first. Her pussy suddenly gave a spasm, and her cries intensified. This time her eyes shut... clenched shut. A moment later, and her pussy squeezed Graver in a death grip. It was too much for him. He went off a second later.

He grabbed her by the hips and drove himself deep, in and out in a blur. The cum of previous convicts was cast off in thick droplets as their fucking reached a fever pitch. Then Galloway sank low on Graver and his cock exploded in her pussy. He flooded her with cum. This sent Galloway nearly screaming with pleasure, and her pussy quivered and contracted around her Captain.

They were both screaming in delight. Galloway spit out the cock and drove her face into Graver's. She threw her arms around his head and kissed him deeply. Graver kissed her back, dick-breath or not, they needed this one last special moment before whatever was going to happen finally did.

As their orgasms reached an apex and withdrew, Graver's hand inched its way to this pistol.

The orgy went on and on.

It was going to happen sooner or later. No time like the present. His hand closed around his pistol.

***

Lucy had no idea how long she was waiting alone in the darkness. She was growing anxious. Captain Graver really hadn't given her much to go on. Just a rifle, a set of robes, and the vague promise of a signal for her to take out the generator.

Regardless, she trusted him. His words had awakened something in her. Many things about him had done that. That was the reason she'd pulled herself together and dug deep for every ounce of strength that she had.

She'd crept as close to the rear of the tavern as she dared. A rusting tractor with a canvas sheet draped over it, maybe twenty feet from the generator. A running leap.

She had literally crawled on her belly through the mud and the grass, soaking herself to her core. Her chest was caked in mud-- she wondered distantly if Graver would find it sexy. He probably would. And that made her smile to herself. He'd find her sexy, even if she was soaked and filthy.

She'd crawled beneath the tractor with a naughty little smile on her face, and an excited quiver to her body. As scary as this was, there was no denying the thrill of the whole situation.

Alone, and out of the rain now, she lay beneath the tractor and canvas, peering out into the night, and watching through the scope of the rifle. Several times, she'd observed men come and go from the building. She put the rifle to her shoulder and aimed, but was mindful to keep her finger off the trigger, as Graver had instructed. She felt empowered. For once, she wasn't totally helpless. She had some control in the outcome of tonight. She could get used to this whole 'soldiering' thing.

But what *did* make her nervous was the time that continued to tick by. The longer she waited, the more insecure that she became. What was happening in there? Graver seemed to be taking forever to signal her... if he ever would. What if something happened to him before he could?

She shook that thought aside. This situation was dangerous, for sure, but there's no way these men would be able to take down the Captain without someone at least firing a shot off. Lucy decided that was all the signal she'd need. Just a gun shot and she'd be on that generator like a cat...

***

It was called an 'L-shaped ambush', and it had been Jessup's suggestion. What wasn't his suggestion was the choice in song.

As Brubaker was rigging the propane tank to explode, Halley had discovered the cheap sports car with the massive woofers in the back. Such a discovery came as no surprise-- in small towns like this, kids loved tricking out their rides. And it would prove to be the perfect lure.

She rummaged through the music collection, before showing Jessup. An ear to ear smile crossed her face. Her mischievous smile was definitely sexy, especially with the way her wet hair fell across one eye.

But he glanced at the title and frowned. "You can't be serious. I don't want to spend my last minutes alive listening to this shit."

"What's wrong?" She grinned, ignoring his protests and selecting it anyway. "Like Kesha says: 'Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young.'" She sang the chords poorly, she signaled to Brubaker, hit play, and they all sprinted to their battle stations.

***

The lack of any signal was gnawing at Lucy's nerves. She wished Graver could have been more specific-- a time frame, maybe. It seemed like he was flying by the seat of his pants, and she was growing worried that a signal would never come and she'd be alone forever--

That thought was cut short by the sudden explosion several houses down. An earth-shaking blast from the total opposite direction lit up the night. It shook the world so hard, that the tractor above her wobbled on its suspension, raining dust down on top of her. An entire house practically disintegrated before her eyes as a wall of earth and flame burst up from the ground.

Holy shit! The deafening roar, and the massive fireball that rolled skyward such a shock that she momentarily froze. The flame lit up the night, and she could feel the heat on her face. It was apocalyptic.

Lucy glanced back and forth between the bar and the explosion. How the hell had Graver managed to--?

As the surprised shouts came from around the bar, Lucy realized it didn't matter. That was all the signal she'd need. She grabbed the ridiculous hood, and yanked the disguise down over her head. Then she was running at full sprint to the chugging generator, grabbing for the main cord and yanking for all she was worth.

The tavern immediately went dark, as did the night around her. Thank god for the flames and wreckage down the road. Angry shouts from within the tavern were accompanied by gunshots, crashing, banging. A struggle had begun. All hell was breaking loose. Flashes through the windows, shots, screams, and running feet. It was bedlam.

Lucy trusted in Graver, praying that he was safe, and believing that he would take it from here. Following his instructions, she turned and ran.

Men and cultists were running as well. She saw them along the streets, heading in different directions in the chaos. They paid her no mind. As far as they knew, she was one of them.

They were barking orders and pointing to the sight of the blast. Dozens ran full tilt toward it. They were armed.

Lucy sprinted for all she was worth. Her legs jittery with the excitement. She'd never felt so alive-- almost giddy. The strangest feeling of power and invincibility came over her. She felt dreamy-- stronger than she ever had, a part of something that was far bigger than herself. She resisted the urge to laugh, even as the gunfight at the bar continued.

Graver would walk away from that. She didn't just think it. She *knew* he would-- there was nothing to fear.

Along the street, men were organizing themselves, forming a militia. Then over the confusion, Lucy heard a most peculiar sound reverberate into the night. A song-- belting out through the deep bass of an aftermarket car stereo. Drums and synthesizers and... and the voice of a popular pop star singing. Her voice carried across the town-- emanating near the house wreckage, calling the fight to them.

It seemed so surreal, so silly. A gun fight, a fire, a nightmare... and Ke$ha?

Lucy suddenly had no doubts that it was Halley, with her twisted sense of humor, providing some sort of distraction.

Even as she ran, Lucy fought to contain a cheer. 'Get 'em, Hellfire!' she thought as she raced across the front lawn of the house that she and Graver had bunkered down in. Lucy made for the garage where they'd left the Jeep. Get there, get it started, and wait for the Captain. She repeated the plan in her mind. Easy girl. You've got this!

Over the sound of the music and thumping of the drums, gunfire erupted. Dozens of weapons going off at once. It was like the Fourth of July. A small war had started. All hell really was breaking loose. It was time to go.

***

There had been no warning whatsoever, although Galloway's team had all been waiting for their moment.

The orgy had been in full swing-- Galloway and Graver riding each other to orgasm. Andrea and her sister about to be taken by their respective convicts. The room alive with grunts and moans and laughter.

Then all at once, an explosion from outside and rocked the building. The lights vibrated and flickered. Glasses and bottles fell from shelves and crashed to the floor, liquor puddled among the shards.

Everyone in the room paused and looked around. Then came the music outside, and suddenly the lights went out and the room was plunged into blackness. Complete, blinding blackness.

It was on.

Graver and Galloway rolled off of each other. Quinn was up, grabbing the knife that Andrea had concealed for him.

Confusion turned to angry shouts. Suddenly a scream as Galloway tackled the nearest of her tormentors and drove her fist into his face. A gunshot as Graver fired on the nearest armed man. The muzzle flash was blinding. Nobody could see, but Graver, Galloway, and Quinn had all been marking the locations throughout the room in their minds.

A scream erupted as Quinn drove his blade into the man he'd been watching. "I'll have that back, thank you," he snatched his stolen shotgun from the man's arms.

Shouts of alarm turned to gunshots as the men realized what was happening-- their captives weren't so docile.

Graver was firing at the group near the bar, heading for their cache of his team's gear. Galloway was on his heels. As the men scrambled, he heard the whoosh of air, and the whip-crack of a pool cue being swung. A man screamed as the weapon snapped across his face-- it was Galloway returning the favor for her previous humiliation.

Men were shouting all around the room, struggling and crashing into each other. The bar turning from an orgy of sex into an orgy of violence. With no clear idea of where everyone was, the cultists were swinging wildly with fists, with knives, with pool sticks or whatever else they could get their hands on. The confusion was at fever pitch. Nobody could see. Things crashed the floor, bottles shattered, men stampeded.

The Tanners dove for cover, crawling beneath tables to get out of the way, or risk being killed in the chaos.

More gunshots-- the criminals were open firing wildly, in a blind panic. A window exploded.

A light bloomed by the bar as one of the convicts flicked on a lighter, in an attempt to illuminate the darkness.

With this new target, Graver fired on him. The man dropped, and so did his lighter. It landed in the pools of spilled liquor, and room went up like an inferno. Everyone was screaming. A stampede of silhouettes and confusion, as flames spread like flood waters.

Several cultists turned into human torches-- their silly robes caught fire and went up in a blaze. They fled the room, sprinting out into the night in the hopes that the rain would douse them.

Graver dove behind the bar and took up a firing position. As the fire grew, most of the men chose to abandon the fight, rather than stay and burn. Graver shot at the ones who stayed.

He spotted Quinn in the chaos. A man had grabbed for Quinn's shotgun, and the two were in a tug-of-war over it. Graver centered his sights and ended that fight quickly.

Quinn grabbed at the nearest table, tipped it over, and took up a kneeling position behind it, unleashing thunder with this shotgun.

Galloway's fight had been mostly hand to hand. Naked, she'd used her hands, pool cues, and broken bottles on the men who'd humiliated and used her only minutes ago. Most of them were amateurs-- disoriented, confused, and frightened. Even naked, they fell quickly, and those who didn't had the presence of mind to run.

The flames spread higher and higher, climbing up the furniture and walls. Galloway had managed to recover her pants, boots, and vest. She checked her weapon, before adding her own gunfire to the fray. But they couldn't stay much longer. They needed an escape. The room was turning into an oven. In minutes, everything would be burning.

Beneath the nearest table, Brad comforted Emily. She was sobbing and afraid. He managed to grab a blanket and wrap her in it, while he called out for Andrea. They could hear her screaming, but they couldn't see her.

Across the room, it wasn't pain that Andrea was crying out in. It was rage. She was channeling all of her pent up aggression from the entire past year into one horrific shriek as she bashed one of the convicts in the face again and again with a heavy gin bottle. The bottle was strong-- it didn't even crack. There was very little left of the man's head by the time she came to her senses and heard her father calling out for her. Andrea scrambled on her hands and knees, seeking them out.

The room looked like Hell, itself. The flames danced, the walls were alive. The faces of everyone seemed to have turned demonic.

"Dad, I'm coming!" Andrea shouted.

Brad peered out from beneath the table, only to come face to face with one of the brutes who'd been ordering the family members to fuck. Blood was streaming from a gash in his forehead. His eyes were burning with fury as he raised the baseball bat above his head to bring it down.

BOOM! A shotgun blast sent the brute staggering forward, and landing face-down. Quinn was behind him, smoke rolling from the barrel of his weapon.

"Let's go! We gotta get the fuck out of here!" He was shouting for them.

The majority of the bar was now abandoning the fight. Anyone who stayed much longer would lose the battle to the flames.

They couldn't see Graver, but they could hear him shouting in between gunshots. A wall of flame had separated him. "Regroup! Regroup outside!"

Andrea clambered to her feet, tripped over the body of a man, and almost went down again. An arm hooked around her waist and caught her. "C'mon kid, we're leaving!" Galloway shouted in her ear. She half carried, half dragged Andrea.

The surviving cultists and thugs were streaming out of the front doors now. Among them, Galloway spotted Brad and Emily Tanner in blind flight.

"Not that way! Not that way!" Galloway shouted after them. But Brad and Emily were in a panic, not listening as they hurried down the front steps, only to be met by more men. Abernathy and his behemoth lieutenant among them.

Emily screamed as they were seized. Brad struggled. The two Tanners were swallowed up by the group of armed lunatics, and thrown into nearest vehicle.

"NOOOOO!!!" Andrea shrieked. Galloway had to hold the girl back. Andrea was nearly flinging herself at the front door in a blind rage to save them. "Dad! Em!"

"Forget it!" Galloway was shouting, pulling Andrea away from the door and deeper into the building. "They'll nab us too!"

Andrea was barely listening. "Dad! Emily!"

"Later," Galloway promised. "We'll get them. But now we need to get out of here!"

Abernathy turned and met Andrea's furious expression.

"I'm coming for you!" She pointed at him and bellowed. "I'm coming for you, mother fucker! I'm going to fuckin' kill you!" Then she was out of view, being hauled away by Galloway. But her screaming continued into the night, even as the tavern began to fall in on itself.

***

When the explosion rocked the tiny little valley, the game was on. And as the debris and fire fell along with the rain, the war began. Over the carnage, the singer's voice taunted the cultists in the night, drawing them in.

Jessup watched the flames with a knot of dread and a tremble of adrenaline. He felt like he was standing on a beach, watching a massive wave rolling ashore. And with each passing second, it grew and grew, until it was as tall as a skyscraper. The inevitability of powers beyond his control. Tonight, his mortality was hanging in the balance, and he had almost no control over it. In his young life, he'd never felt so helplessly afraid, and yet so alive!

The flames of the exploded house danced and climbed, higher and higher. The inferno threatening to overtake them all. The house was utterly gone. What was left was falling from the sky like burning hail. Jessup was close enough to feel them on his skin.

He had settled into a firing post on the far side of a two car garage. To his left was a car, a log pile, and a thick old tree. All of them would stop bullets. In a house across the street, Halley had broken out a first floor window and had posted up with her pistol.

Even from here, Jessup could hear her singing along with the music, chanting the chorus like a battle cry. It was then that Jessup realized that his boss and secret crush was absolutely insane. But he rather admired that. Maybe the song wasn't so bad. The words seemed oddly fitting for the night they'd all had. He let the words psyche him up and returned his focus to the street.

They came out of the smoke and flame. Phantoms. But these phantoms carried guns. They wore their hoods and cloaks. Some of them were in civilian clothes, but no less menacing. Large gruff men, packed with muscles and burning with fury. They were scanning, searching for the inevitable fight.

Jessup waited until they stepped into the kill zone-- the epicenter was the Civic belting out Ke$ha obnoxiously into the night.

The hoard of barbarians closed around the car. Jessup centered his sights, took a deep breath and picked his target. It was now or never, and Jessup wasn't sure he had this in him--

The crack of Halley's pistol went off first. One man fell, the rest began to scatter.

Fuck it. He had it in him! Jessup opened up on them from the other side of the street. The night lit up with muzzle flashes. Men fell, others dove for cover.

Before the first of his targets even hit the ground, Jessup was up and moving, not lingering in one spot too long. He bolted for the car in the driveway, his next shooter's spot.

As he ran, he could hear Halley opening up from another window in the same house. She was doing the same--shoot and move. Don't stay in one spot for too long.

He heard the screams of startled and dying men.

Then Jessup was rolling into place behind the parked car. Men were running in all directions. Confused and disoriented, many were shooting wildly.

His next shots were dead on. POPPOPPOP!

They returned fire, but their shots were all over the place. Their confusion showing, throwing off their aim. This was going to be a blood bath.

***

Abernathy's blood ran cold as he watched his bait disappear into the night.

"I'm coming for you! Dad! Em! I'm coming for you! I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!" The angsty little goth girl shrieked her threats at Abernathy, even as she fled deeper into the burning Tavern with the others. But truthfully, Abernathy barely heard her.

"Take them to the church," he whispered quietly to Wallace. His voice was subdued, rattled. Wallace grunted, and climbed into the vehicle with the capture Brad and Emily Tanner.

The Lantern Glow Inn was burning to the ground. The flames were spreading wildly, having climbed to the second floor now. Men were screaming, jumping out of windows, and throwing themselves to the wet mud to put out their burning clothes.

Abernathy gave them little thought. Because down the street-- flames, gunfire, and that insufferable teeny bopper song. Abernathy knew what it all meant-- the last strays from that paramilitary unit that he'd been trying to hunt down. While he'd been preparing an ambush for them, using their own Lieutenant and team as bait, that investigator bitch had planned one for *him*. Now his ambush had failed, he had no doubts that Lieutenant Galloway and her team would escape the burning tavern and slip away, and down the road, Abernathy's amateur militia was being cut down like dogs.

"Get them out of there," he said softly to the few men who were still around him-- the ones not dumb enough to go blindly charging into the chaos.