Chapter 192: Load blessed rounds! [1/2]
As the battle continued, my surroundings became covered in blood and corpses. With my back and left covered by Angela and Scott, I concentrated on my right.
An occasional sniper shot took out the zombies that got too close. The M60, which continued to fire nonstop, racked up kills as the zombies gathered to reach the {Honey Trap} soulgear.
Based on my experience over the past two days, I estimated that we had already dispatched close to a hundred corpses.
Unlike traditional firefights in the modern era, the zombies didn't hide or try to dodge bullets. So if it took more than thirty seconds to kill one person on Earth, in Hellsgate thirty seconds was enough to get dozens of zombie bodies.
Using my superior aim and senses, I fought double akimbo, copying the moves from a movie I had seen. The movie was called Equilibrium, and it featured the protagonist shooting up a room using pre-set dual akimbo shooting stances.
Nobody really fought that way in real life, but I watched it last night before I went to bed and it was cool as fuck.
I took down zombie after zombie while imitating the movie. In less than a minute after the fight started, I had fired over sixty 9×19mm Parabellums.
If I were alone, it would be difficult for me to dodge or switch weapons so I didn't get overwhelmed. But for now, I just walked up to Angela as I calmly reloaded.
"White boy! Why come here? Go away!"
"Boss is reloading, covering fire!"
"Tsk. Who the hell reloads in front of a zombie horde like that? Nigga got bowling ball sized nuts, I tell you."
"Shut up, amigo, just keep shooting!"
"I'm out!"
"Shit! I'm out too! Give me five seconds!"
The large amount of covering fire tore apart the undead that tried to come after me. Concentrating on my SMGs, I awkwardly reloaded the Blade MAC-11s one by one.
"Shit, if I had {Exa Reload} I wouldn't have to do this shit," I complained.
My main problem with fighting Dual Akimbo was the awkward and slow reloading. It took over ten seconds, but with my squad around, I could do it safely.
Once both my weapons were reloaded, I opened fire again on the zombies around me. I managed to take out about thirty zombies with two thirty round magazines. So my bullet economy was two rounds per zombie.
"I wonder if I should use single fire? Would I kill sixty zombies?"
Double-tapping was a habit I developed to make sure a zombie was dead. I didn't feel right taking out a zombie with one shot.
Well, unless it was the M24 or 1887. Originally, I started double-tapping when a zombie I thought was dead got back up and tore a chunk out of my arm.
I had Joshua guarding me at the moment, so I should be fine, right?
Suddenly the ratatat of the M60 stopped.
"Shit, Scott's out of ammo," I muttered.
The M60 machine gun was spewing enough lead to cover an entire area. As Scott started to reload, the loss of firepower was noticeable. More and more zombies charged forward from the area he once suppressed.
They quickly began to close in on me and the Soulgear, and my squad began to panic in response.
"Everyone! El Hefe is in danger, cover him!"
"Nigga, I'm down to my last mag!"
"Warren, let's move up, you and me!"
"Got it cowboy! Lead the way!"
Shortening the distance the bullet traveled was an effective way to kill faster, fortunately we didn't have to go there.
"Firing a blessed round. 3. 2. 1. FIRE!" Joshua declared.
Suddenly, a blue surge of light passed in front of me, wiping out all the zombies in one fell swoop. The abrupt disappearance of dozens of groaning corpses created a disturbing silence in their wake.
"Yo nigga! What the fuck?!"
"Firing another blessed round! FIRE!"
A second bolt of light passed behind me and I heard the same silence in that direction.
"Sweet mother of mercy..."
"Jesus Maria. What the hell!"
"Go OPPA!!!"
"'Good Lord! Our blessings are awesome!"
"Reload complete! I'm back!"
Our machine-gunner resumed firing, driving the zombies back once more. Satisfied with the performance of the blessed bullets, I eavesdropped on the squad as I blasted the undead.
"Miss Claire, I owe you an apology."
"Damn right, amigo, did you see the carnage just two blessed rounds caused!"
"And with {Rewind} or {Reload}, the nigga basically has infinite blessed rounds."
"With more to come in the future, I need to remind you all. Patron says he plans to keep buying blessings."
"John gave us blessed rounds too, right?"
"Yes, we have ten each."
"YOU FUCKERS! STOP TALKING! MORE SHOOTING! OPPA go pew pew again!"
Three more blessed rounds went by, each taking out more than a dozen zombies.
"I'm out, switching to lead," Joshua reported.
Everyone continued to shoot zombie after zombie as the battle continued. Eventually the {Honey Trap} Soulgear was used up and the zombies started attacking me instead.
"White boy duck!"
With a single side blow, Angela threw three Bigfoots back, sending their bodies flying into the air. Their large frames eventually crashed like bowling balls into groups of zombies, giving me some breathing room.
"See that white boy? Give me bonus!"
"Haha, I will Kimchi, thank you for the save."
It was then that I felt the arrival of three car-sized souls on the battlefield. Normies had souls the size of baseballs, Chuckies golf balls, while Bigfoots were basketballs.
Instinctively, I would know the size of the soul based on its resonance with the air. These bastards are huge, they must be rank E's.
Not long after that I saw large shadows charging over the horizon. They looked like huge, ugly as hell pit bulls covered in spikes.
"Here they come, 2nd Amendment! Three Rank E's coming!" I yelled in anticipation.
The newcomers were called Spikedogs in the mercenary bestiary. They were monsters with bodies over eight feet long and over twelve feet wide.
These rank E's had muscular bodies and were covered in spikes. Said spikes that served as their armor and weapons were as long as swords and as thick as my legs. They had red eyes, fangs the size of daggers, and faces only their mothers would love.
Extremely agile and tough, these fuckers were among the most hated Rank E's. They were easy to kill if you could get a hit on their underbelly.