For only a moment Roman caught himself flinching. The man raised the gun towards him, and he felt a strong urge to charge the gunman. The ex-solider bided his time instead, opting to continue his slow approach. However, once the female below him moved drawing the man’s sights he charged. The gun went off when the girl through some dirt into her captors face. Without skipping a beat he found himself charging at the duo. A two-foot black and jagged blade slipped out from his right sleeve and into his hand when he began his run at the man.

Yelling from further inside the town alerted Roman to the presence of the other soldiers. But he didn’t care. It had been far too long since he got his hands bloody and a part of him missed the feeling. The rush. His adrenaline was spiking as he plunged the blade through the right side of the gunman’s rib cage, the blade easily slipping in between ribs. Grabbing the barrel of the rifle with his other hand. He was making sure it wasn’t pointed at him. But, he didn’t push this Novus Ordo over. With careful positioning and turning the nearly limp man in his arms, so he was facing the others coming back.

Roman could feel the weight of the man in his arms, he could clearly tell that he had pierced his heart. With his left arm holding the man up his other hand let go of the blade and grabbed the gun. The masked man then began to fire the weapon at those who were rushing toward him. Nearly unaware of the smoke enveloping him or the young women running off into the market. He wasn’t sure if the weapon had found any soft targets before it stopped firing with a click. The corpse that he had propped up against him had taken a few rounds and more rounds were being drawn toward the sudden smoke.

At the sound of the click Roman was quick to drop the corpse and pull his blade free. Using the cover of the smoke he quickly made a run as low as he could toward a few stalls and managed to get on the other side of it. On the other side was a shop keeper armed with an old shot gun and a rusted revolver. He clearly enjoyed the shotgun more than the revolver seeing as how the shot gun looked like it had been cleaned every day. However, Roman did recognize the man taking cover next to him but didn’t know why. The other man looked a bit confused at the sight of him.

[color=39b54a]“F-Father? What are you doing?”[/color]

Suddenly it clicked in his head. This was one of the people that he preached too earlier. With a hidden smile he spoke. [color=0072bc]“Protecting my flock. I need to borrow your revolver.” [/color]The man hesitated for a moment before handing the gun over. As a reflex he checked the ammunition and the condition of the barrel. [color=0072bc]“Listen, I need you to find better cover count slowly to 30 and fire off a round with that shotgun.”[/color] Roman couldn't wait for an answer. For the time being speed and confusion where on his side.

Not skipping a beat the tall man kept his profile as low as he could. Keeping an eye out and watching as the gunmen made their way to where their friend was killed. The smoke had nearly dissipated and Roman could see that he had killed one more and the others seemed okay other than one of them holding his side. The Russian was eventually able to make it to the other dead gunmen positioning himself behind the group of N.O.

3 targets left. 6 shots with a rusty revolver. Roman's luck had nearly run out, the weapon he hoped he would find on the dead man was gone. [i][color=0072bc]“Damn”[/color][/i] a whisper of frustration silenced by the echo of a shotgun going off nearby. The N.O. thugs opened fire at the kiosk allowing him to break from his prone stance and cover to a kneeling position and opened fire.

1st shot went high finding its place in a brick wall. 2nd shot found a soft target, the shoulder of the N.O. gun men that was holding his side. 3rd shot fizzled in the chamber. 4th shot found itself buried in another thug’s throat. The other man with the wounded shoulder turned and started firing at Roman. The return fire was erratic but the other gunmen in front didn't seem to notice that they were being fired at from another angle.

Last 2 rounds found their targets in the center mass of the wounded man firing at him. Again Roman dropped behind what cover he had. The ire of the other gunman being drawn towards him. The last man was slowly moving up on him firing his rifle in a semi auto fashion trying to get Roman to break cover. His heart was racing, his options were slim, and his luck seemed to have finally run out. That was until another round went off.

The sound of two shots from a double barrel shot gun silenced the market, the last Novus Ordo fell to his knees and then nothing. Looking up ever so slowly Roman was met with the sight of the dead man and a shaky kiosk worker with a shot gun in his hands. The masked man stood up and looked around a few others from the town seemed to be making their way out of the shadows.

Not wanting anyone to take the supplies from the gunmen or his personal effects. He quickly jogged back to grab his pack and then began checking the other dead men for weapons and ammunition. The short man with the shot gun stood over the man he just killed. Roman was paying attention, watching the man and the others that slowly gathered around them in silence.

With looks of shock and silent anger, something he’s seen before. These people were worried that the N.O. would come down hard on all of them now for letting one of their patrols get killed in their town. A yell from the man with the shot gun pierced the utter silence. He had begun to beat the corpse of the man he shot with his shot gun while yelling obscenities. The atmosphere of the crowd was angry, but only now did he realize it was at these men, these bullies that have taken so much from them.

This powder keg was what he wanted after all. Now all that was needed was a spark and a push. Picking up one of the rusted rifles and some ammunition Roman stood and looked out over the crowed. [color=0072bc]“Do you see it now? How much further must you be pushed to protect yourselves from these monsters?”[/color] Roman shouted as he stepped up onto a crate, his robotic voice echoing around the market. [color=0072bc]“They don't care who you are, they don't care what they take, and they don't care about who they hurt!”[/color] Roman began reloading a few magazines slowly and with purpose.

[color=0072bc]“They won’t stop until you stop them, until you put your foot down.”[/color] again he paused this time looking around at the dusty faces and then toward the smoke in the distance. Gunshots echoing from its direction. [color=0072bc]“Now I care about you, I care about what future we have left and spending it in peace, I will fight for you, and I will fight them... So I ask you, How many more need to die fighting for you?!”[/color] the citizens began to whisper amongst themselves and a few began leaving the crowd. For what purpose he could not tell.

[color=0072bc]“We survive together or die alone. This choice is up to you”[/color] Roman chambered a round in the Kalashnikov and began walking toward the vehicle these men were driving. He didn't have a plan, but he knew the fight was towards the smoke and the sound of gun fire. He never really was known to be reckless or impulsive, but he was simply tired of these men who preyed on these people in their time of need.

[color=f26522]“Father Asimov, wait up!”[/color] a voice from behind him called out. A younger man maybe in his mid-twenty’s hurried toward him with a rifle in his hands. [color=f26522]“Can I come with you? These men took my brother a few weeks ago and I haven't heard from him since.”[/color] All the younger man received in return was a nod. [color=f26522]“Names Steven but most people call me Steve. Hey so where did you learn to fight like that?”[/color] the young man spoke walking just behind Roman. He had red short hair and a beard with green eyes. Steve wore a blue and red flannel wool jacket and had a dirty red scarf tied around his neck with tinted black goggles and a broken smile.

[color=0072bc]“Former Russian Special Forces.”[/color] the man replied as the duo arrived at the truck the N.O. where using. [color=0072bc]“Now son, this will be dangerous and I can’t guarantee your survival, I can barely guarantee my own.”[/color] roman opened a door for the car and set his things inside placing the rifle in the middle seat. [color=0072bc]“By getting in this car you should know that there is no going back, we are committed. But at least I will know that you know how to use that rifle and you’re not afraid to fight.”[/color]

Steve smiled, [color=f26522]“Well of coarse father, I wouldn't have come up here and talked to you if I was just getting your autograph.” [/color]the boy laughed as they got in the electric truck. Roman waited for any others to get in that wanted to come before they took off toward the N.O. camp and the distant battlefield. Roman didn't have that much time to think or rest really. He did take a swig from a flask filled with vodka before passing it to the young red head next to him. The N.O. radio was buzzing with random radio chatter that he couldn't make out over the back ground noise. All he could do was get himself into the mindset of a soldier and hope his luck holds out.