His Stepping Stone, Their Entrance.

Toby wrote:

Toby wrote:Gunslinger saw a small pillar of smoke in the distance, the top of it lit up in a disturbing flash of light. The helicopter beeped twice every two seconds. This was a signal for a locked on homing missile. When the military wants something, they get it done. The problem with that is that gunslinger was he was militia as well. Gunslinger reached over to a button on his right. There was a pressurized exhaust. letting loose a handful of flares. Gunslinger watched the missile, It did not deter. This shocked gunslinger, it was remote controlled, not Thermal seeking. Gunslinger tried another tactic. He pulled some leavers and let go of the control. Stalling the motor, and dropping sharply in altitude. The missile continued to chase pitched down, still charging madly at gunslinger. He restarted the engine. And after a while he started to regain altitude. Gunslinger had one last idea, it had to work, it had to. Gunslinger pushed the helicopter at the missile. The computer read the estimated distance to the ground, as well as the distance to the missile. 1200 to the ground, 5000 to the missile. He was to high, he lowered distance, 1000, 800, 600, 400. He lowered at 200, It would have to do... He watched the distance to the missile sharply decrease. 5000, 3500, 1500, 500. Gunslinger watched the missile get bigger and bigger.Gunslinger took off his safety harness, and right at 25 feet to impact, gunslinger opened up the door and rolled out. right as the missile hit the helicopter. Gunslinger was hit in the gut with a leg stand of the helicopter, gunslinger took it and pointed it downwards, it was fairly easy to redirect due to the no gravity effect of free falling. When gunslinger was about to hit the ground, he used the pole to vault him more forward than down, It wouldn't kill, but it would hurt. Gunslinger dislocated his collarbone and tore himself up in the tumble. gunslinger yelled in pain. Using his good arm to push himself up. Gunslinger looked at the wreckage of the helicopter fall. Gunslinger took a look at the trail of the missile, leading right to his base. Gunslinger looked around, looking for the largest piece of debris he could find, the door to the helicopter. With a loud yell, he lifted it with his good arm, and ducked underneath it. Gunslinger covered his ears, squinted his eyes and waited. There was a massive explosion, followed by a wall of sand. Smoke scattered to the skies and fire could not get to the skies fast enough. The sand ripped off the paint and scattered the smaller shrapnel away from the blast. Gunslinger was safe, the door protected him. He did not move until all he heard was the whistling of fallout. Gunslinger pushed himself out of the door, taking off his shoes and his socks. He took his socks and shoelaces and made a sort of facial mask to filter the fallout. He looked in the direction of the Nuclear blast. The famous mushroom cloud enveloped the location of where his base once stood. Gunslinger was scared actually, the military would actually nuke danger-close for his death. Gunslinger walked away from the nuke. and away from the sun, east. After a couple of hours Gunslinger eventually came to a small ghost town where he would sit inside the nearest saloon. He would take a break and hopefully find some water.

Gunslinger took an extended break. The last thirty minutes would break any normal man. Gunslinger got up with a loud grunt, holding his arm. He went to each window, either shutting them or pushing tables onto them and propping then with chairs. The fallout would have to be contained at some extent. Gunslinger needed some water. He looked around for anything to drink, anything. All he could find were shot glasses and mugs. Gunslinger grabbed a mug, looking for barrels. All of them on the floor were empty. He continued to look around.,and saw a trapdoor. He opened it and walked it. It was fairly lit by the staircase that led outside was open. Gunslinger saw many barrels around, all of which had bungs in them, a sign of sealed alcohol. It was not water, but it would have to do. Gunslinger looked at the nearest barrel: "1842 Bulliet Bourbon." Oh dear, this was going to be strong. Gunslinger poured himself a mug. The aroma overwhelmed him. Gunslinger pushed the barrel back with his bad arm. he yelled when he did this. Gunslinger held his nose and squinted his eyes. And chugged down the strong liquor. He coughed and gagged. It was too much for him to handle. After all it was almost 200 years old. Gunslinger felt better already. He walked over to the outside basement doors and shut them. He made himself another mug. He would have to relocate his collarbone. He might as well do it when he cannot feel pain.