Orc Tyrant

"Seven thugs are approaching!"

Suddenly, the motorcycle boy who was sent to deal with the blockage called to Miviman, and then the gunshot came from the approximate direction where he was.

"Change it, six, down one."

"Come back here!"

Miviman had to use a communicator to contact a nearby car. His voice had a particularly flat tone, a tone that wanted to try to control himself, even if he was angry enough to wake up a giant Skugger. beast.

"All the nearby carts, gather here."

"My situation is not good here!"

A voice responded, the dull voice of heavy weapons made his words sound very believable.

There was another voice on the same channel. It was probably another big car. God knows where he went.

"I saw a large group of rebels with yellow tapes on their heads! I can go around and kill them all."

"do not go!"

A chaotic voice interjected, he did not belong to the chaotic communication channel, but from a neurosis.

"First come back to protect Miviman's big roller car."

Words that made him feel encouraging, but Miviman's experience was rich enough to realize that it was much easier to say that than to actually do it.

The chances of those isolated carts successfully passing through the surrounding chaos are less than the chance of stopping an avalanche with a spoon. If you want to leave here alive, you have to take care of yourself as usual. Yourself.

Well, almost take care of yourself.

Soon, a familiar smell brought good news to Miviman from behind, and his reliable gunner returned from investigation.

"There are a lot of rebels, mixed with the boys, but there are yellow marks on their heads or arms."

He told what he saw, and slid between the rear bumper of a fast armored vehicle and a motorcycle tricycle with a large iron box between the two front wheels.

Judging from the many scents and the clothes worn by the terribly scared farts, the car should be some kind of food, and these farts should be the help of a certain boss.

The leading **** was staring at Miviman with his small eyes, as if a pair of Skugs suddenly appeared in front of him.

Udo raised his gun again, and fired a few shots in the direction that the shotgunner was probably in.

"Fuck, I missed the ass-trained one."

He glanced at the quietly trembling food vendor, then took a sip.

"Look at it! Find a sand pile to hide."

Udo's attempt to show relaxed behavior was compared with the extreme inconsistency of the current environment, and it seemed to make the **** realize that all this is not an illusion, anyway, and then he swallowed convulsively.

"Yes, yes, boss!"

His voice was not as trembling as Udo had imagined, and it was obvious that he had regained consciousness quite clearly.

"Boss, which one of you is from the war gang? What is going on here?"

"Miviman, the mechanic whom the overlord personally admires, my gunner Udo, a bunch of ineffective rebels are making trouble."

The mechanic jumped in suddenly, mentioned all the points as quickly as possible, and then turned his attention back to more important things.

His second gunner brought down one, and he was still fighting the other.

This leaves five rebels approaching their position.

In fact, they already know one, and he won't move, so there are four remaining unknown.

"Where are the other godly traitors?"

Miviman shouted to the communicator, hoping that maybe the other captain or kid could have some clues, but he had no such luck.

"Lost."

Udo murmured indifferently.

"Oh, the hammer of hairy!"

Miviman complained loudly.

"Use your eyes! Everyone else will run out."

Bang~!

Suddenly, a machine gun bullet pierced the box on the motorcycle, and its owner suddenly screamed loudly, like a frightened puppy, leaped behind Miviman's leg.

When the mechanic raised his head in time, he saw a guy in a trash guy's rags, standing on the top of the tricycle and aiming.

Before he could finish the whole movement, Miviman waved his maintenance chain saw axe and chopped off his left leg from the knee.

"what!"

In this way, he fell from the car and fell to the ground in front of Miviman.

Before he got up, the mechanic chopped off his head, and the food seller screamed again, his narrow green face was now a little scarlet.

"It's lying down again!"

Miviman yelled in excitement.

"Where are the others!"

"Get out of the way!"

The motorcycle boy who had thought to be dead before appeared again. He turned over to the roof of the car. The tuk-tifle in his hand gave him the reason for being late.

He fired, and a hail of large-caliber ammunition shattered the front of the car with the shotgunner hidden behind it.

The ugly jacket rolled and avoided, and picked up his own weapon, but before he could shoot, he was shot in the torso by Udo, and fell to the ground and struggled for a while and stopped moving.

The motorcycle boy turned around and looked at Miviman, and at the same time replaced the tutu gun with bullets.

"Cross out three."

He said, complacency in his voice.

And before Miviman made some helpful suggestions, such as "Get down, you idiot", another shotgunner suddenly shot him in the chest.

The motorcycle boy fell heavily on the other side of the car. It seemed that the brittle breastplate had taken most of the damage, but it also shed a lot of blood.

After a while, he climbed to the side of the car and sat up by the car, but it seemed that he could no longer fight.

"They are here!"

Udo yelled, as if Miviman hadn't noticed, but I think he might have called it to the kids nearby.

"many!"

There was a voice in the communication, and the sound of fire that followed made his words obvious.

"At least twenty, look like rockets."

Then there was a momentary pause.

"A position facing you..."

Then his communicator suddenly went silent.

"But it looks like they coordinated pretty well."

Miviman glanced at the body of the rebel who was getting cold and was killed by them, and could not see any signs of communication equipment.

"Can you see who is directing them?"

"No."

The communicator replied in confusion.

"Speaking of which, I didn't even see them talking."

This is something worthy of doubt, but at that time Miviman didn't have time to worry, and a volley of shots began to ping-pong around them.

"It's going to die!"

The fart hawkers yelled and pressed hard against the ground, as if they were going to pretend to be a line drawn on the highway.

The mechanic took a deep breath, then straightened up, picked up the gun in the hand of the traitor he had chopped into three pieces, and threw it in front of the farts.

"Don't play dead! Get up and fight!"

"Huh? Oh, good!"

The farts hurriedly moved the guns to the roof of the car and operated them in a decent way. Miviman thought at the time that even if they had a very small chance of hitting with that clumsy weapon, they could at least attract some Firepower.

"Pinch this place with your shoulders, gently pull the trigger, and the crosshair will guide your front sight!"

The fart carefully followed his instructions. At first he flinched from the noise and recoil, and then a wild smile appeared on his face.

"Cool!"

He screamed in satisfaction, and then steadily fired a few shots at the enemy.

"Why don't they move forward?"

Suddenly, Udo asked a question, and did not expect an answer.

"They seem to completely surround us."