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33 Seconds Til the Big Show

"How much longer do we have?" Max asked Maggie.

They were sitting on the building's edge, a cup of coffee between them, and a package of smokes.

"33 seconds," Maggie replied, adjusting the brim of her hat. She picked up an Uzi and gave it a little tap, then she pointed down to a spot on the street. "The will start to emerge there."

Max checked his guns; he knew the were loaded and ready for action, but it was more like a nervous twitch. He checked the webbing as well and counted the clips; he had 24. "It's not enough is it?"

"Nope," Mags replied.

"Well, when worst comes to worst improvisation will suffice," Trump said as he hopped up on the ledge beside Maggie "And besides Max, we all know how good at improv you are."

Max made his fingers into a gun and mock shot Trump.

Trump purred around Maggie's side, rubbing against her. Maggie glanced down at the feline and gave him a wink.

"You better sit this one out, Trump," Mags told the cat. "This is going to be one hell of a big mess."

Trump was about to say something and then he nodded.

The lights started to go out across the city, and block after block was being enveloped in darkness. Max lit a smoke, and he took a long pull.

As the lights in their section of the city went out, they could hear the guttural roars of the beasts and the strong smell of sulfur as a demonic gate opened on the street below and hordes of foul creatures began to stream forth.

"Showtime," Max whispered. He leveled his gun at the first beast and pulled the trigger.