Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

dweller,” Mark's said with a voice full of scorn as he looked the man up and down in disgust.
                “The fuck did you call me you fucking WECK fuck?” The gang rival said. W3C's nickname was WECK; no street person would use it to their faces.
                The goggle wearer seemed to realize what they had said as their hands went to their belt.
                Marks' right hand lashed out to his side, his triceps flexing oddly as the smart cloth recognized the movement and released the blade that lay against his arm. He grabbed it with practised efficiency. The other gang member had just gotten to their blade when Mark grabbed their hair with his left hand, and drove his blade through their jaw and up into their brain with the efficiency of a factory machine. Blood covered his hand as he let the man fall, pulling his blade from their lifeless head in one swift motion.
                The suddenness of the move stunned more than one person as W3C dusters were pushed aside and weapons were pulled into the daylight. Vendors and market goers fled as the three gang members closest to Mark lay dead. Holes the size of a pop can in their chests.
                Tyler hummed as his rifle chugged again, sending projectile after projectile through rival gang members.
                The W3C chattered off rounds, the rival gang members that could make it to cover were returning fire; the marketplace had erupted into a warzone.
                Mark ducked behind the stall the man he had killed was standing in front of; he raised his hand, letting the blade slip back up his sleeve, twitching his triceps for the smart cloth to hold it in place. He checked his pistol making sure the well-used gun was charged and loaded.
                Once his blade was back in place he fingered the pistol with his right hand.
                “Alright Brother, you've got two coming up on your left, shotguns,” Tyler reported.
                Mark held the pistol close to his chest, coming around the side of the stall, pushing the gun out from him and firing into the two shotgun wielding thugs.
                The first went down; the second was so close behind the first that they only got grazed by the rounds coming out of the first. Their first shot slammed into the side of the stall Mark was hiding behind. Mark ducked back as the shotgun went off, hitting the red dirt where he had just been crouched.
                Mark saw the W3C crew spreading out, Wes was coordinating getting the boss to safety and letting the forward guys keep the enemy gang at bay.
                So no support coming from that side. Mark came back around the side of the stall, firing at the attackers, trying to keep the bastards heads down more than anything.
                He caught the second shotgunner trying to get up, they’d tripped on the first shotgunner’s corpse and went sprawling.
                Mark didn’t give them time to get up, putting two rounds in them; it looked like two fist blew out of their back as they slumped in the dirt. Blood pooled underneath them.
                Mark ducked back into cover; death wasn’t enough to faze him now.
                “Dimi give me some cover; I'm going to make a run for the alleyway to my left,” he said, holstering his pistol and pulling out his rifle.
                “Got you covered man,” Dimi said back, her rifle firing more frequently as Mark ducked and ran, putting his big legs to work as a few rounds chattered around him adding to the red dust swirls behind him.
                “Oli, how is the alleyway on the left?” Mark asked as he made it to an alley way just ten meters behind it.
                “Umm, it's clear Mark, yeah.” Oli said, sounding as if his stomach was about to rebel against him.