usatvline Chapter 54 Andrew's Stage
Chapter 54 Andrew's Stage
Lieutenant Hank, upon hearing the voice, knew this was not reinforcement his small patrol could receive. This was the Governor's personal guard, the Governor's sharpest weapon.
"Strongman" Jenny's expression also changed.
He might not care about a twelve-man patrol, but the commotion outside indicated at least a full platoon of soldiers. He was completely cornered.
"Go! Go from the back!" Jenny roared, abandoning the fight and turning to try to escape through the window at the other end of the warehouse.
But it was too late.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Several tightly closed windows at the other end of the warehouse were smashed open from the outside with gun butts. Dark gun barrels pierced the windows and opened fire without hesitation. Several thugs who were trying to climb out from that side jolted and fell backward.
Despair began to spread among the mob.
"Boss! We're surrounded!"
"Kill anyone blocking our retreat! Take all the boxes!"
Silas got a chance to catch his breath. He scrambled back to a corner and squeezed in with a few surviving Sons of Liberty members and the remaining soldiers under Lieutenant Hank.
At this moment, their mortal enemy became their only support.
Ben, a member of the "Sons of Liberty" and a local Boston printer, was usually the most mild-mannered. He saw Samuel still standing there, while three bloodthirsty thugs rushed towards him.
"Cover me!"
Ben saw a thug trying to drag a crate full of muskets toward the back door, roared, and charged at him, slamming the thug to the ground. He only had a small knife, and he didn't even know how to use it.
The three thugs were taken aback by Ben's suicidal act, then grinned and raised their weapons.
The axe and the iron hook fell at the same time.
Warm blood splattered all over Samuel's face. He stared blankly as Ben's body fell at his feet, his hands, usually used for typesetting and stained with ink, now twitching weakly.
Samuel's entire world collapsed at that moment.
The freedom and sacrifice he once spoke so passionately about in his pamphlets became utterly pale and laughable in the face of splattered blood.
He was neither a hero nor a revolutionary, but simply a fool who led his comrades to the slaughterhouse.
……
The warehouse's main door was suddenly pushed open by the guards outside.
The first to enter was not a soldier carrying a long spear, but a young man with messy blond hair wearing an expensive silk coat.
It was Andrew Gage who received Fiona's urgent letter tonight, and transferred troops from his uncle Thomas Gage, who was serving as a quartermaster.
He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and yawned dramatically, his blue eyes lazily scanning the bloody scene in the warehouse, as if watching a drama that had been rehearsed a little too much.
"It's really... lively."
Behind him, rows of governor's guards, dressed in scarlet uniforms and wearing bearskin hats, marched in orderly fashion into the warehouse.
They silently formed two lines, their dark gun barrels pointed at everyone still standing in the warehouse.
Jenny stopped in his tracks, panting heavily like a wild boar surrounded by hunters, staring intently at the seemingly frail nobleman at the door.
Andrew's gaze lingered on Jenny for a moment before he gave orders to the guards behind him, his voice still languid.
"Leave one alive, especially that big guy leader." He gestured slightly in Jenny's direction. "The Governor needs a culprit to explain all this to London. As for the rest..."
He paused for a moment, as if searching his mind for a suitable word.
"...Clean up the trash on the spot."
The order was given casually, as if it were an instruction to a servant to clean a room.
"Fire!"
A deafening volley of gunfire erupted in the warehouse; this time it was no longer chaotic bursts, but a devastating barrage.
The dense barrage of lead bullets instantly and thoroughly cleansed the central area of the warehouse.
Those thugs who were just moments before, like wheat cut down by a sickle, fell in swathes, their screams barely audible before being drowned out by the next round of gunfire.
The guards displayed remarkable discipline in their shooting, with bullets precisely avoiding Jenny, the British soldiers lying on the ground, and the survivors of the Sons of Liberty.
The warehouse quickly fell silent, leaving only the thick, pungent smell of blood and the groans of the wounded.
Jenny stood alone amidst the pile of corpses, his burly body bearing several more grazes from stray bullets, though none were fatal.
He watched as his men were slaughtered in an instant, and the madness on his face was gradually replaced by a fierce, desperate struggle.
At that moment, Andrew Gage slowly walked in, stepping over the spent cartridge cases scattered on the ground. His expensive leather boots carefully avoided a pool of viscous brain matter and every speck of blood, finally stopping in front of Jenny.
"I heard they call you 'Strongman' Jenny?" Andrew looked him over with interest, as if admiring an interesting collectible.
He completely ignored Samuel, who was holding his companion's corpse on the other side and whose mind had already collapsed.
With a soft "whoosh," Andrew drew a slender, ornately decorated sword from his waist.
The sword reflected a chilling light in the dim candlelight, a stark contrast to the rough rope hook in Jenny's hand.
"I'm not in a too bad mood tonight, so let's play a game." Andrew pointed the tip of his sword at Jenny. "You and me. If you can beat me, I guarantee you'll leave here in the honor of the Gage family."
Jenny let out a low growl. He didn't understand what kind of noble game it was, but he understood the other party's provocation.
Moreover, his only way out at this moment was to kill this pretty boy in front of him.
He roared and swung the cable hook, lunging forward. The heavy iron hook whistled through the air, its force enough to crush a bull's skull.
That one moment was enough to make Silas frown.
This was something he couldn't possibly resist, and neither could the British nobleman in front of him.
However, Andrew simply slid to the side, thus avoiding the fierce blow.
With a flick of his wrist, the slender blade of the sword, like a viper's tongue, left a thin, bloody gash on Jenny's thick arm.
The wound wasn't deep, but the pain and humiliation made Jenny even more violent.
He turned and swept the cable across the room, the cable hook drawing a deadly arc.
Instead of retreating, Andrew advanced, his sword precisely meeting the side of the iron hook with a crisp "clang," cleverly redirecting the force to the side.
In that instant of clash, Andrew's sword swept across again, adding another wound to Jenny's other arm.
Soon, the entire warehouse became Andrew's personal stage.