Lance looked at his friend, at first at a loss, but then something caught his eye.
“How about that?” he asked, pointing at an object lying on the ground behind Adam.
They both took their goggles off as Adam turned to see a short pipe assembly with a miniaturized CO2 canister attached to the lower end.
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “But how will a short-barreled potato gun help us against live rounds? Make mashed potatoes on their faces?”
“Something like that,” Lance said, chuckling in spite of their predicament. “Those canisters are prototypes that the builder designed for a higher compression of CO2, meaning they’ll pack a harder punch with a smaller unit.”
“Sweet!” exclaimed Adam as he picked up the launcher.
He grabbed the stray potatoes that were scattered and loaded one into the barrel. He nodded at Lance who nodded back.
They broke from their cover simultaneously, Lance in front as cover with the makeshift shield. Adam peaked around the side just as the Ouroboros shooters began firing again. Nervous as he was, he steadied his aim and squeezed the trigger mechanism. The launcher belched out the spud, which flew and hammered the man in the middle of the face. The force of the impact knocked him out and caused him to fall, causing the other three to pause in surprise. Just as they were about to return to firing, Lance and Adam overcame them. Lance bashed the closest man with the shield as Adam reached around and punched with the handle of the launcher. They then turned together and punched the last gunman. Adam found some extension cords and they tied up the unconscious gang members. Lance looked around and found a thick cable on a spool. Adam handed him a short, flat cylinder.
“Is this the electromagnet?” asked Lance.
“It’s a commercial grade tether unit,” added Adam. “And guess what else? You won’t have to throw it,” he said as he slid it into the potato gun’s barrel, showing it was the perfect size.
“Hand it over for a minute,” said Lance as he set down the shield. Adam slid the magnet out and handed both to him.
Lance set the items on the table next to him and picked up a motorized Ferris wheel model that was tipped over. Pulling the frame apart, he removed the wheel and replaced it with the spool. He attached the magnet to the end of the cord, then attached the new mechanism to the underside of the launcher barrel with the frame and some duct tape he found. He pulled out a laser pointer from his pocket and taped it over the top of the barrel then returned the now "upgraded" launcher to Adam.
“It’s light enough to fire quickly, but I don’t know how fast this mechanism will pull it back,” stated Lance as he picked up the shield again. “So... choose your shot carefully.”
Adam nodded as he received the modified launcher and the instructions as he hung the magnet on the side of the barrel.
The two marched down the hall, Adam picking up random items as ammo along the way. They came to the closed double doors they just recently escaped from, now with the purpose of reclaiming them. They took to each side of the doors and Lance began to quietly reach for the handle.
“Wait!” whispered Adam. “I have an idea.”
Lance drew his hand back and prepared his shield, then Adam casually knocked on the door. There were muffled voices on the other side, then the door opened on Adam’s side.
“You guys took long enough...” said the goon who opened the door. He was greeted in response with Lance’s shield to his face.
“Sorry to disappoint,” said Lance.
With the door open, Adam and Lance stepped inside to find the glow of several electric lanterns dotting the room. There was a murmur of voices from the middle of the room which quickly silenced by a man yelling at them. The two split up and hid behind the pillars near the opening as they heard the heavy footfall of boots approaching, a series of lights leading the way. One of the men they hid from stooped to check the one unconscious in the doorway. Lance tossed a smoke bomb at the door and then donned the thermal goggles again. The gang men shot wildly in confusion at the doorway as they were engulfed in smoke. Lance jumped in behind them and began taking them out: using their sloppily thrown attacks against them, he disarmed them one by one. Adam joined the fray from the other side, knocking out two of the bad guys as he did.
After disabling the set of goons, they kicked the guns out the door and closed it.
“Too bad about the bio-scanners on these things,” stated Adam.
“These would make things a bit easier if we could use them...”
“There is no need to accidentally kill anyone,” said Lance. “Criminal or not. It’s not our place.”
“True,” noted Adam.
“How many smoke bombs do you have left?” asked Lance as they crept around the perimeter of the auditorium.
“Two,” replied Adam as he put his back to a pillar to avoid a beam of light that was searching around the room.
Lance looked around to try to locate the remaining Ouroboros members.
“Looks like about a dozen left,” he said.
“And they’re too scattered to get them all at once.”
He thought for a few moments, then had an idea.
“But what if I could?” asked Lance, his voice trailing in thought.
“Could what?” questioned Adam.
“Take them all at once,” replied Lance.
“I am going to challenge them.”
“You what???” demanded Adam. “Are you...”
“Insane? Maybe a little,” finished Lance. “Let me have one of the smoke bombs.”
Adam handed over the bomb.
“I need you to stay back here,” requested Lance. “Use the magnet if you see any metal that shouldn’t be.”
“How on earth do you think a bunch of gang members with a cultish tinge who are brandishing a bunch of firearms will stoop to brawl with a college student?” asked Adam.
“No offense,” he added with a shrug.
“Seems that you don’t know as much about me as you think, friend…” Lance noted as he circled back around towards the men they had just beaten.
“Or our opponents...” he said as searched them for a radio.
“You! What are you doing?” asked a stray Ouroboros from behind.
“Looking for a radio,” replied Lance matter-of-factly.
He stood up quickly, covering himself with his shield, then used it to knock away the gun pointed at him. He brought down a closed fist on the man’s arm, then followed with a half-spun shield attack, finishing him with a back-fist strike to the face.
“Eleven left,” Lance noted to himself as he saw a holstered radio on the tactical vest of his most recent victim. “Lucky me.” He retrieved the radio then took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
Pressing the button, he called out through it:
“John Striker...”
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