Irishmen moved forward quickly, firing into the Bratva soldiers, all either ex-KGB or Spetsnaz. It didn’t matter when they were outflanked by ten pissed off Irishmen with semi-automatic pistols and submachine guns.
They started to turn the tide against the Russians, but the Bratva launched a flanking attack of their own. The front door crashed inward, and suddenly the Italians and their Irish allies found themselves caught in the crossfire. Three more of Antonio’s soldiers died before they could react to the new threat.
Then the Bratva entering through the front door spotted the Irish flank attack, and opened fire on them, even as Antonio pivoted in a crouch and took careful aim. He only had six rounds left, so he had to make them count.
He fired once, twice, three times, and three Bratva soldiers fell in rapid succession. He shifted his aim and fired three more times, and the slide on his Beretta locked back as three more Russians died.
“I’m out!” he shouted to his men.
“Two rounds left, Boss,” said Angelo to his left. One thing Giovanni drilled into his men was counting bullets during a firefight. He knew, as did Antonio, that failing to reload when you needed to would result in a loss of lives.
“Kitchen!” Antonio yelled, nodding towards the kitchen island, which would provide cover. It would give the Russians breaching at the front door little chance to hit them, while totally obscuring them from the Russians at the back.
“Antonio!” Kevin shouted as his enforcers finally stemmed the tide at the front door.
“Kevin. We’re pinned down in the kitchen and out of ammo!” Antonio replied, even as the AK-47s riddled the kitchen island with 7.62mm rounds.
“On our way, son!” Kevin shouted back, and his men broke cover and sprayed the Russians with hot lead.
The Bratva soldiers dived for cover, but three of them died in the hail of bullets. Those who made it to defensible positions leaned out and sprayed bullets of their own back at the attacking Irishmen.
When Kevin and three of his men made it to the island, they handed some Beretta magazines full of 9mm ammo to the surviving Lupo clan.
“Thank you, sir,” Antonio said as he loaded his pistol and racked the slide. The others did the same and broke cover to peek at where the Russians were hiding.
“We’ll draw their fire, Tony,” Kevin said, looking at his men and nodding. “When they start shooting at us, take ‘em down.”
“Yes, sir,” Antonio replied. “Good luck!”
“The same to you, son,” Kevin smirked back, then checked the magazine in his Uzi and nodded once more to his enforcers.
At his signal, the Irishmen broke cover and started firing controlled bursts at the Russians while moving back towards the heavy table. Antonio waited for the Russians to peek out, and fired one round when one showed himself. That bullet hit the Bratva thug between the eyes, killing him instantly.
Then Antonio turned to his soldiers. “Follow me,” he said simply. Then he jumped from cover and sprinted towards the where the Russians hid. While the O’Hara enforcers held the Russians’ attention, Antonio and his men managed to close distance quickly. Antonio went into a slide, passing one of the couches and firing his pistol as the Bratva thugs hiding behind it came into view.
Two more Lupo soldiers hit the floor and slid, popping several more enemies with alacrity as they came into view.
Then it was over. A deathly silence covered the house, signaling that the attack was over. Antonio and his men stood up, scanning around them for any sign of the Russians.
“Tony!” Tommy McCarthy, one of Kevin’s men shouted. “Tony, they hit Kevin!”
Hearing the declaration, Antonio ran to where Kevin lay bleeding.
“Don’t bother, son,” Kevin coughed. “Two bullets to the chest… lung punctured.”
“Hold on, Kevin!” Antonio replied. “We can have an ambulance here in no time.”
“No!” Kevin rasped. He started coughing up
They started to turn the tide against the Russians, but the Bratva launched a flanking attack of their own. The front door crashed inward, and suddenly the Italians and their Irish allies found themselves caught in the crossfire. Three more of Antonio’s soldiers died before they could react to the new threat.
Then the Bratva entering through the front door spotted the Irish flank attack, and opened fire on them, even as Antonio pivoted in a crouch and took careful aim. He only had six rounds left, so he had to make them count.
He fired once, twice, three times, and three Bratva soldiers fell in rapid succession. He shifted his aim and fired three more times, and the slide on his Beretta locked back as three more Russians died.
“I’m out!” he shouted to his men.
“Two rounds left, Boss,” said Angelo to his left. One thing Giovanni drilled into his men was counting bullets during a firefight. He knew, as did Antonio, that failing to reload when you needed to would result in a loss of lives.
“Kitchen!” Antonio yelled, nodding towards the kitchen island, which would provide cover. It would give the Russians breaching at the front door little chance to hit them, while totally obscuring them from the Russians at the back.
“Antonio!” Kevin shouted as his enforcers finally stemmed the tide at the front door.
“Kevin. We’re pinned down in the kitchen and out of ammo!” Antonio replied, even as the AK-47s riddled the kitchen island with 7.62mm rounds.
“On our way, son!” Kevin shouted back, and his men broke cover and sprayed the Russians with hot lead.
The Bratva soldiers dived for cover, but three of them died in the hail of bullets. Those who made it to defensible positions leaned out and sprayed bullets of their own back at the attacking Irishmen.
When Kevin and three of his men made it to the island, they handed some Beretta magazines full of 9mm ammo to the surviving Lupo clan.
“Thank you, sir,” Antonio said as he loaded his pistol and racked the slide. The others did the same and broke cover to peek at where the Russians were hiding.
“We’ll draw their fire, Tony,” Kevin said, looking at his men and nodding. “When they start shooting at us, take ‘em down.”
“Yes, sir,” Antonio replied. “Good luck!”
“The same to you, son,” Kevin smirked back, then checked the magazine in his Uzi and nodded once more to his enforcers.
At his signal, the Irishmen broke cover and started firing controlled bursts at the Russians while moving back towards the heavy table. Antonio waited for the Russians to peek out, and fired one round when one showed himself. That bullet hit the Bratva thug between the eyes, killing him instantly.
Then Antonio turned to his soldiers. “Follow me,” he said simply. Then he jumped from cover and sprinted towards the where the Russians hid. While the O’Hara enforcers held the Russians’ attention, Antonio and his men managed to close distance quickly. Antonio went into a slide, passing one of the couches and firing his pistol as the Bratva thugs hiding behind it came into view.
Two more Lupo soldiers hit the floor and slid, popping several more enemies with alacrity as they came into view.
Then it was over. A deathly silence covered the house, signaling that the attack was over. Antonio and his men stood up, scanning around them for any sign of the Russians.
“Tony!” Tommy McCarthy, one of Kevin’s men shouted. “Tony, they hit Kevin!”
Hearing the declaration, Antonio ran to where Kevin lay bleeding.
“Don’t bother, son,” Kevin coughed. “Two bullets to the chest… lung punctured.”
“Hold on, Kevin!” Antonio replied. “We can have an ambulance here in no time.”
“No!” Kevin rasped. He started coughing up
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