My Purge, pt. 1
Introduction:
Set up for the main story, non-sexual
The home we bought the day after the Purge last year has been fortified and modified. The upstairs had metal 8 inches from the drywall, cubbies built into the metal against the wall, and filled with water to stop any fires that might be started against the house. A gravity fed fire suppression system, gotta love it.
The floor had been torn up and drainage put into it. When we poured the new concrete we made sure to put angles into it to drain properly. Cells were placed on the wall facing the street in the basement. The main area had our hooks and tables placed in it, a St. Andrews cross built into the wall. This year would be truly relaxing and purifying.
Around 6 we headed out, 3 of us in our van. The cheap panels had been pulled off the van and steel plating had been welded onto the frame. No rounds can punch through this beast. We certainly made sure the engine was protected, saw a dumbass last year who drove into a gang and ended up with his engine shot to shit. He was pulled out of the car and beaten to death with baseball bats. Idiot.
Anyway, we were heading to the 3 homes we had chosen over the previous year, females that had raised our ire or just caught our eye and then screened down to our selections. We sit outside of the first house for about 4 minutes before we hear the announcement on the radio.
“This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all.”
Mmmm, 1900 couldn’t come soon enough. We pulled up to the front door quietly, checked our corners one last time and slipped out of the van. AR’s held tight to our bodies in the down ready position, hustling to the door. I dropped the AR, the sling holding it to my side, and raised the short barrelled 12 gauge, locked the brake into the door frame and pulled the trigger. It’s impressive what a breaching load can do to a dead bolt, even more impressive when there’s a 2X4 behind it. Two more shots boomed out, knocking the shit out of the way and allowing us entry. It’s been about 20 seconds from the time the van doors opened to now. We go in fast, the other two rushing past me as I grab for my AR and follow through. I spin and drop at the door frame, keeping an eye on the street while John grabbed his target. I heard screaming, 2 shots rang out, and more screaming. I head the clinking of cuffs being tightened down, and moaning and screaming, a girl pleasing to be left alone. She didn’t want any trouble, didn’t want to take part in the Purge. “Tough shit cunt, your ass belongs to me now” John called out. I could hear a smack and then sobbing.
Movement on the corner ahead of the van. I brought my gun up and focused my sights on the man running down the street towards us. I could see a handgun in his left hand, the sound of a motor behind him. Headlights bounced off the asphalt and lit his back up, making him into a silhouette in my vision. I leaned back in the doorway and closed the door enough to appear shut from the street while driving by. He spun around and began firing into the oncoming vehicle. He was shaking so badly I could see it from 40 yards away where I was. Amateurs out here always make me laugh, thinking they were big and bad because they read soldier of fortune and spent 500 bucks at a shop for a Glock.
The pickup roared up, the push bar slamming into the man. He screamed out as he was thrown down the road, landing about 15 feet away from the van. He groaned and gasped as the pickup idled up to him. Two men jumped out of the back and started toying with him. One of them kicked him, hard, in the balls and he screamed out. There was a rustle behind me and Reg called out quietly it was them. I looked over my shoulder quickly and saw the girl, cuffed and crying being lifted and dragged by the arms. I motioned them to be quiet and a scream of agony instantly focused my attention back onto the road. One of the men had taken out a knife and was cutting on the man laying there. I shot him, squeezed the trigger and sent the lead on it’s way. One into him to drop him, switched and put three into his buddy. Three more went into the first man I shot, who was just starting to struggle to get up.
The man on the ground was screaming in pain, and had lifted his head to see what was going on. I thought about it for a second, and put one into his skull. Nicest thing I could have done for him at that point. I put six rounds into the front of the pickup to fuck up the engine, and leaned back to watch the road. After 15 seconds of nothing Reg and I stepped out, checking angles and going slow. No shots rang out after making it to the van, and I drove it up to the front of the house, backing up so the doors were facing it. They got opened and the girl was thrown in.
We drove off into the night, hunting for our next 2 victims.
They were a much easier, much quieter extractions. And as a bonus one of them had a friend with her, little older but still attractive enough for our uses. On the drive back we had 4 in the back in cuffs and zip ties, and the three of us. I rolled to a stop about 2 blocks from our “home”, checking to make sure that no one was around that would cause problems. It looked clear, but as I was about to turn on the headlights the moon flashed off of something on the roof.
Sniper. Shit.
No telling how many were up there, how well armed they are, anything like that. I start to slowly back up when a round kicks off against the grill of the van. Fuckers know what they’re doing, trying to kill the van and make us run. I slam the brakes and tell my guys to hold tight, get their guns ready, and hunker down. I see two guys coming from the passenger side off the corner house, charging us with guns us, ready for us to run. The retards step out in front of the van and I hit the gas, slamming them both down. More rifle shots hitting the van, only now they’re after the glass, trying to hit me direct. I freak a little, knowing that the glass, while re-enforced, won’t stand up to a whole lot of concentrated damage. I push forward, crushing the two as best I can, dragging them along until we hit the curb where I hear a crunch far more meatlike then mechanical.
“Hold tight!” I holler out as we slam into the corner of the home with the shooter on it. Once we’re partially in we pour out of the front seats. Guns up and ready. The room we’re in is empty, and we split to clear the rest. Find a woman and son curled up in a corner closet, grab them both and clear out. I walk out the front door with reg, my gun to the wifes head, his on the boy.
“Don’t shoot! You won’t like what happens to your family if something happens to us right now!” I hear a whimper of anger and pain from the roof. “FINE!!, Don’t hurt them!” He called out. Reg and I looked at each other. “Get your fucking ass down here!” I heard rustling and his head appeared from the edge. “Drop the guns down here first, I want to see empty hands or we shoot em” the scoped rifle and a handgun are dropped over the edge, and his hands show, empty and wide open.
As he climbed down Reg, John and I looked at each other, nodded slightly, and turned back to watch his descent. John was turned to cover our backs when the man hit the ground and turned to face us. Reg slammed the rifle stock into him, knocking him off balance. He was cuffed and on the ground before his eyes cleared and refocused. I drew some zip ties and did his wife up, ugly cunt but I had a plan. They were screaming and pleading with us, but that was nothing new. The boy was crying and screaming, maybe 14 years old at this point. “Shut up. Shut Up. Shut Up! SHUT UP!!!!” The little bitch would not shut up, and I got tired of listening to the screaming while we dragged the parents away. I drew my sidearm, a Glock 22, and levelled it at his head. His eyes went wide and his mouth made the funniest looking face ever, almost an orgasm face. I pulled the trigger and painted the side of the house with his brains.
All the fight went out of the parents, instantly. They slumped over and began bawling and freaking out. “You caused this, you directly caused your sons death. You are responsible for the death of your only child.” The father just deflated, melted into the ground in anger and pain, grief and terror. I grinned and dragged the mother into the van, John got his hands on the father and struggled the father into the van. We were now up to 6 stacked up in the back, all squirming and groaning in various levels of pain, the occasional cry for help. We piled in and started to try to force the van out, the squeals of wood on metal deafening. We got free and drove on, eager to begin our night of fun.
