How may we darken your day?

Act of War - A short story I wrote a few years back, figured it might be alright to put up for review on here, not among my best but hopefully my action description is sound enough, I'm working on such aspects of my writing style to improve upon my strengths, as an action packed story is where I feel most comfortable.

Vernon Gornichek glanced routinely at his watch and looked up and down the platform where he now stood. The Team was late and he began to get fidgety. On the current platform a great many people brushed past him, regarding his tightly wrapped and buttoned, greenish-brown, full-body length trenchcoat and identically coloured hat with distaste. He looked either like a train spotter or someone who had spent far too long without a job and given-in to alcohol. His face supported the latter theory, his nose, which had a slight hook to it, crept out from between wild eyes and led down to a deep filtrum and thin, almost non-existent lips. His chin and slim cheeks were covered in a brush of hairs, not quite a beard but too long to be stubble. His face was pale and gaunt.
The ironic thing was that despite his appearance Vernon did not drink alcohol, for he couldn’t anyway. Not without a high risk of dying, his body had long since suffered under his various medical conditions, and dying was the last thing on his mind right now.
He glimpsed the team at the other end of the platform, and strode briskly down to greet them. Every now and then he thought he heard gunfire or the sound of a sword being drawn, but those were effects of his overactive imagination bringing to life whatever drab and ordinary happenings the station life brought to his attention.
He reached the group of people he referred to as “The Team” and stood in front of them, nodding a greeting to the man who seemed to have the natural authority of an elected leader. The team wore the same murky trenchcoats and hats, but wore them open, revealing the clothing they had underneath.
Worn charcoal-grey combat trousers, equally worn black shirts with tactical combat armour over the top and some seriously heavy leather boots which came half way up their shins and had multiple buckles and laces. The clothing had many pouches, pockets, straps and studs, whereas the boots just had metal panelling detail.
They looked serious, and the concealed weaponry on them gave them ample reason. There were five of these men in total and three carried an SMG each, the leader, named Karl, carried twin .45 calibre fully-automatic pistols and the coloured fellow, known to his “friends” as Bus, stood at the back of the assembled gang, he was the largest of The Team in both width and height, carried a large black case, which contained an M249 Squad Assault Weapon, a fearsome light machine gun with plenty of kick and enough ammunition to last for a while in a pitched battle.
Vernon carried a 9mm browning semi-automatic pistol and amongst his person the parts to construct a sniper rifle of his own design. He had spent many years designing and building this rifle and it hadn’t missed a single shot in the two years it had been in service. It had even taken out a light vehicle once, and pinpoint executed three people in a single shot by passing down the line. He was incredibly proud of his weapon and more proud of the fact he created it.
He joined the ranks of his team and unbuttoned his coat, letting it hand loose like the rest of The Team. He wore the same clothing underneath as his unit also.
The Team were ready for action and they were going to war. They began to march toward the staircase and before long they had reached the top and turned left down a comfortably lit hallway which glowed and flickered as an orange or highly artificial yellow colour. The walls were white-tiled with a black tile every now and then, giving the hypnotic appearance that the hall was longer than it actually was. Stairways appeared embedded in the walls, great openings with staircases leading to the lower levels and platforms.
People walked past, occasionally glancing at them and then moving to avoid them. Not that this was unusual, thought Vernon, indeed it was becoming considerably more commonplace since gangs had begun to get a nasty reputation around the area.
They moved on, oblivious, till they reached the end of the hallway, they were about to turn into an elevator, when a round from a pistol hit the stainless steel frame of the elevator door and The Team stood back, surprised.
People ran in panic after hearing the shot, many escaped up the next staircase, some tried to get into the elevators, pushing past The Team and getting a round from a 9mm hit them in the head or chest. Some weren’t lucky enough to make it to either as The Team got out their weapons and sprayed hell down the hallway.
Vernon ducked, rolled and hid in the elevator, though rather than trying to escape, he searched his pockets, got out bits and pieces of metal and within a minute had assembled his trusty sniper rifle.
Within that minute The Team had assumed firing positions in stairways and returned fire. Tyro, one of the SMG bearers, was hit in the arm and fell sideways down the stairs to land at the bottom, hurt and bleeding, but able to carry on after bandaging his gunshot wound.
It seemed to Vernon like just another day in paradise against a rival gang, and though he couldn’t yet see his enemy, he guessed that they would be the Ratty Massive, or “MAS5” as the members called themselves.
He opened up the vent shaft in the ceiling of the elevator and lifted his rifle and then himself up on top of the carriage, replacing the plastic grille behind him.

Reloading behind the cover of a stairway opening, Shadowblade assessed the situation. His mind began thinking tactically as possible about how he and his three friends were going to clear the hall of the ganger-scum. Psirena threw herself out into the centre of the hall and turned to face the enemy in mid-stride.
Sidestepping and firing, she laid down a curtain of firepower which pinned the enemy in place for a few seconds. She then joined Shadowblade behind the wall and smiled at him. She enjoyed firefights almost more than he did. Her bright blue eyes shone at him from behind the dark make-up she wore on her otherwise pale face. She wore a black, heavy-set but actually surprisingly light velvet coat, black trousers, black high-heeled boots and a black sweater. Her multiple piercings glinting yellow from the artificial lighting provide by the wall-lamps hanging nearby.
Damn is she hot! Thought Shadowblade, and bloody accurate, peering round the corner he noticed she had written the word “Death” in bullets against the back wall. He got her sense of humour as a little morbid, but definitely what he could handle.
Behind him heavy footsteps roared out the location of Spydr, the tall and powerful master of the heavy weapons. With a grenade launcher and a missile launcher, he could deconstruct any building, vehicle or troop that he so wished. And today he chose to go all out on proving this. Firing his grenade launcher and spraying several shots as far as it could reach he sent up a stream of explosions, creating a smokescreen.
Pulling his raised fist up and then down several times, Shadowblade ran forward. His friends, followed and he sped about twenty metres forward, until he was in the middle of the smoke, then the dropped down a staircase to his right and waited with Psirena, who had remained just behind him.
The remaining two of the dark warriors hid on the opposite side, waiting for their enemy to show their hands in this battle. Would they charge now they were cut off or would they sneak down a staircase and attempt to escape? Shadowblade wondered. It took only a few seconds to find out.
Somewhere to his left, about ten or twelve metres forward of his position, one of the brown-coated Team members fired at him and he jumped and rolled. Hitting the ground so hard made him drop his missile launcher, so Spydr held his M203 grenade launcher single-handed and let loose a shot which forced an enemy ganger into cover. With his left arm in immense pain he crawled into another stairwell and made his way down, choosing to attempt to enfilade.

Vernon had found the aerial vent shaft which wormed its way through the building, he found his bearings and approached a grille overlooking the tunnel from below the bullet-word and set his sights.
Loading five bullets into the rifle, he checked the weapon and then adjusted the scope. He trained his rifle on one of the shadow-warriors; he carried a pistol, a silenced SMG and a sword. His clothes consisted of knee-high heavy black leather and metal boots, black leather trousers with laced eyelets in criss-cross patterns down the side of each leg, a black armour vest with steel check-plating over a heavy black denim shirt. Over the top he wore a black leather trenchcoat. His hair was black and short except for the fringe which was long and covered his face.
Taking aim carefully, he adjusted and waited for a perfect shot. His prey then ran out of the way and into heavy fire, where he proceeded to pull out his sword, charge into the nearest member of The Team and carve him into pieces, leaving a heavy trail of blood. Vernon shot speedily and hit the grizzly apparition’s sword.

Natassja crawled back and took cover behind a fallen roof support which had came down when Spydr shot the fuck out of everything he could see. The barrage left a large amount of rubble and plenty of barricades and emplacements for providing hard cover. She set down and lay prone behind the metal girder and prepared her sniper rifle. Glancing over to see Shadowblade crawl into cover after his sword was hit by a weapon too powerful to be an SMG or pistol, she realised that the enemy had a sniper also.
The fight just became interesting.
Crawling to a position to the far left, beneath a pile of concrete lay a tunnel of girders and roof-tiles which had formed from the wreckage, Natassja got her thermal scope out and prepared herself for maximum stopping power with high-penetration rounds. Setting the scope up she searched around until she found the red/amber figure hiding in the vent shaft.
She set up her scope, adjusted for distance and then lay waiting. She took aim, shut her sniping eye and opened it again. She readjusted her aim and closed her eye again. She repeated this five times until she could close her eye and open it to find she was still on target. She breathed in slowly and then breathed out a little. She fired. Then she finished breathing.

There he was! the pesky shadow-scum! Having hit Shadowblade’s sword, Vernon chose to set a maximum penetration round and go through the wall. It was going to be messy, but it was entirely possible. He aimed, his finger squeezed the trigger.
Click-Bang!
His head disappeared as it was hit in the centre of the forehead. Vernon didn’t even have time to realise what hit him before realisation became beyond his abilities.
His lifeless body rested in the ventilation duct until an automatic rifle grenade took out the ducting and half the wall with repeated firing.

Having seen her handiwork, Psirena ran to the end of the hall, through smoke and everything else, until she saw the final troop. He was the last one left apart from the leader. Psirena shot at him but he took cover and ran straight into Spydr, who had his knife out. The knife went through his heart but at the same time he raised his SMG and shot Spydr through the head on full-auto.

The three dark figures looked down on the body of their lifeless friend and told him to rest well. Then they realised there was one more enemy still to go, and that was the leader. They sprinted down the stairs.
Natassja saw the figure first. He was at the end of the platform and standing in plain sight.
“Shoot his weapons out but leave him to me.” Shadowblade whispered in her ear as she set up to fire.
After she disabled all of his guns, she looked up and told Shadowblade that his long-knife was still out.
“Good, whatever happens to me please don’t interfere.” He told them, smiling at them both in turn.
The trio walked down the platform, where the leader awaited them.

“Good Day, I, as you might already know, am Karl. You have killed my gang I see, not much really for the loss of all your friends. I knew you couldn’t resist the chance to fight me like this so I chose to let you decide. Do you fight me blade to blade or do you gun me down like a coward?” The man told them. He was shorter than Shadowblade, about six feet tall, but a lot wider and more muscular. His face had scars and he wore a permanent frown.
Shadowblade approached. “Fight me then.” He said, simply.
The two took their stance at the end of the platform while Natassja and Psirena stood back and watched, nervously.

Karl ran forward and punched out straight away, ignoring his sword.
Shadowblade brought his sword up quickly but found his hand restrained, so kicked out with his right leg to take out Karl’s legs.
Seeing his opponent off-balance, Karl swung up from his low position and nearly sliced Shadowblade in half, but was unable to reach far enough.
Shadowblade saw his chance. Feinting to the right he cast himself into a high jump and landed on the other side facing away from his opponent. He turned and in mid turn he swung out and cut Karl’s face.
“First blood is yours!” Growled Karl, before lashing out at Shadowblade.
Shadowblade defended against a massive amount of attacks and crept back and back until he had nowhere to go. Karl thrust out and cut into Shadowblade’s arm.
Shadowblade screamed in his opponents face, confusing Karl for a second, and then thrust his sword forward to stick into Karl’s thigh.
Karl saw this was his chance. He thrust forward and stabbed Shadowblade right through the lower torso, taking a kidney in the process. He then smiled his sinister sharks smile at the dying warrior.

Natassja screamed. Psirena couldn’t believe it. Their friend had lost and was going to die. And they could do nothing to help. Believing in honour they could do nothing but sit and wait for their friend to die.

Karl turned to face them. “Run along, girls! This is no place for you! Your friends are dead and this one will be soon too!” he called out in triumph.
“too bad.” Whispered Shadowblade, behind him as he grabbed his sword by the blade which stuck out of Karl’s leg. Blood dripped from his fingers as he pulled, but eventually he put enough strength in to force Karl off his feet.
Face down in concrete, Karl turned round to find his opponent standing over him and then walking toward his front.
Shadowblade brought down his boot hard onto Karl’s hand, his lifeblood dripping away. Picking up Karl’s blade, he stood facing his opponent, who pulled out Shadowblade’s sword. Karl made a run for Shadowblade, who dodged and then elbowed Karl in the nose.
Blood streaming down his face, he made another attempt, this time his swing was blocked, and then Shadowblade punched back. His wrist tendons were then cut by Shadowblade’s own sword and the knife dropped limply to the floor.
The sword then took out a lung.
Shadowblade fell to his knees.
Picking up the fallen knife for one last attempt, Shadowblade pushed himself back, then forced himself to charge forward. He ran straight past Karl and then stood, facing away from his enemy. He turned.
Karl looked at his opponent with a venomous look in his eyes and then fell to the ground, dead, his throat cut.
Shadowblade fell to the ground also.

Natassja held the body of her fallen friend in her arms. Her tears fell onto him. She pressed her lips onto his and felt his breath. He still had a few seconds.
Psirena kissed him also, he felt complete at this as he had been longing for his life and never got the chance.
Now in death she showed him how much she cared.
On the platform, a few metres from the body of Karl, leader of The Team, and not too far from a scene of devastation from a gun-battle, in the arms of Natassja and having soaked her with blood, Shadowblade lay dead.
“Like a warrior.” Was all Psirena could say.
Natassja nodded. “Like a warrior.” She confirmed.

Suddenly a group of warriors wearing white, grey and black combat trousers, heavily booted and with black assault vests over white sleeveless v-necks ran from the entrance to the station toward the women’s position. Assault rifles in their hands and bandannas on their heads made them a fearsome sight to behold.
Natassja and Psirena lay the body of their friend in a waiting room and crept up the stairs to where Spydr lay. Taking him by the shoulder straps the pair dragged Spydr down to the waiting room and lay him next to Shadowblade.
They turned and ran as fast as they could.
Down the halls and corridors exiting the station they spotted a trooper scanning the area. He turned to face them and aimed his weapon to shoot them down.
Psirena pulled out her sidearm and shot the man through the head. The two headed left through an access door and looked out the window. Police, Army and Ambulance services had vehicles and personnel running around doing preparations. The storm had begun and the station was about to become the biggest battleground they had ever been involved in.
“What shall we do?” asked Natassja of her elder.
“There’s not much we can do, I reckon we should call home and get backup.”
“But the rules are no breaking of radio silence,” said Natassja, her sense of hope leaving her.
“We have to!” Called Psirena into the face of Natassja, “and don’t you dare fucking give up on me!”
Natassja realised that despair was a waste of time, so she dried her tears and stood up tall. She checked her ammunition and then dusted off her PVC jeans and jacket. Natassja searched and guarded while Psirena called for reinforcements.
“Five minutes and the convoy will be here, better stay alive until then, they will arrive out of the southern part of the back-way platform.” Psirena told her friend. “I reckon if we make our way there now we can escape with them.”
“Sounds good, let’s get going!” smiled Natassja, optimistic about their chances of survival now that she only had to kill half the enemy present rather than everything the military could get their hands on.
Natassja looked down across the area from a vent shaft that overlooked the roof. Psirena pointed and told her the plan, so the two broke out onto the roof while the troops weren’t looking.
The roof was slippery with green moss and other algae-like substances which accumulated there while the rain wasn’t able to escape from the roof. On several occasions the pair nearly fell and alerted the guards to their position. Unfortunately or fortunately, there were no trains coming. Good news seen as they trains couldn’t spot them and bad news cause they had to be extra silent.
Natassja set herself up in a corner and popped the skull of a soldier who turned and saw her. His friend ran to his position and got hit by the second shot. A third tried throwing a grenade up but it landed in her hands and she threw it over the other side of the station. Guards ran over to the source of the explosion and there were only five remaining enemies to take out.
Psirena crept up behind one and sliced his throat, then she shot another three through the back of the head with a spray from her SMG. Natassja got the last one with a lucky pistol shot just as the troop fired at her and missed.
They crept to the edge of the platform. Just as a pair of hands grabbed them from behind and threw them into the bushes. They turned and saw their Clan leader, Lucius, holding a rifle and firing at the guards. Black shapes dropped from the ceiling of the platform and killed the soldiers. Soon they were escorted into the back of a black Land-Rover and driven away.
Natassja looked out across the field they drove through and saw back at the station. She thought of Shadowblade and a tear streaked down her face.
Psirena smiled at her, “you did good, be happy he died in battle.”
Natassja smiled at this.
The explosion coming from the station marked a symbol of honour from the fallen warriors. The fiery cloud was Shadowblade’s memorial.
The two females embraced each other and cried.