Home Invasion (Short Story)

@grocko released a new prompt, and this one is to be in the Action genre, and have the theme of Family. Here's A Link To The Post If You'd Like To Check It Out And Join In.

Based on the genre and theme of this story, something was floating around in my mind, but then I remembered that I actually wrote a story about a guy living with his dad and decided I would revisit them and create a follow-on from that original story.

Recap: So, in this story, Urien Raschek works in a chop for a man called Mr. Scanni, who unknown to Urien has a criminal affiliation. Urien's father disapproved and ended up calling the authorities to raid the premises and they found illegal substances.

Urien loses his job and is now terrified about repercussions.

The Chop Shop (Short Story)

Before moving on, I just want to say, damn. Reading this story from 10 months ago is kind of cringe in a way, not necessarily for the writing itself, but more so for how I used to format my stuff compared to now.

Source

       "I jump at every noise I hear outside, I can barely sleep," Urien admitted to his father when pressed about having not found a job yet.
       "Well forget about these repercussions." His father growled. "What did I tell you? That old boss of yours was a deadbeat, and those friends of his are scum; vermin in the night."
       Urien stared at the kitchen table. There was no arguing back, or making him see reason. All Urien could do was nod, and accept that he had to just let it go.
       "Okay." He said. One word dripping with ice. "Okay, I'll forget about them." Urien let out a sigh. "I'll find a new job too,"
       "You'll be much happier for it. A lad your age skulking around the house, afraid of his own shadow. I'll tell you something, when I was your age, I had bigger worries than a gang of thugs," he was stuck on a loop. Pacing the kitchen as he fixed himself up to leave the house. Urien's father leaned against a worktop with his back to him. "You're the only thing I have left, and I won't see you corrupted by underworld scum." He said as he left the kitchen and then the house.

       His father maintained his fitness levels throughout his later years. He had a light frame, and a mostly full head of hair almost completely grey, apart from the occasional strand of brown. Urien was the younger version of the man but had the blonde hair of his mother.
       The day was long, and most of his time was spent searching for job listings, but nothing jumped out at him. His biggest fear was not being able to wake up in the mornings due to the constant sleepless nights.
       By the time the evening came, Urien had a quick scurryfunge of the house before his father was back from work. They ate in silence, spoke briefly about the job hunt, and then spent the latter half of the evening watching holo-vids in silence. Finally, Urien turned in and figured one solid night's sleep would help settle his noisy mind.
       There was a bang outside that woke Urien. While he shuffled in his bed to turn over and go back to sleep, he could hear some whispering which piqued his interest. It's just some passers. It's nothing to be worried about. He told himself, but he had an unshakeable feeling that he should look outside. Inevitably he ignored it and closed his eyes.
       "This is the place," a gruff voice was carried on the wind, and in an instant, Urien knew something wasn't right.

       He crept out of his bed and looked out the window. Two beat-up transport ships were docked on the street outside his house. It wasn't unusual. What was out of the ordinary was the small group of no more than six people huddled together whispering.
       Bolting for his bedroom door, he turned the corner to the master bedroom where he could hear his father lightly snore. He walked through the dark room, blindly. He knocked off a cabinet which rattled and made him stagger, but it didn't disturb his dad. He reached the bed and laid a hand on his father's shoulder.
       "There are people outside," he said.
       "It's nothing. I've told you to forget about it," his father said in a raspy sleep-depraved voice, as he rolled over and let out a light cough.
       "There are two transports outside and a group of people whispering." He continued as he looked back at the door.
       "Enough! I've got work in the morning, go back to..." A smash broke his father's words, and he sat up instantly.
       "There are..." Urien whispered but stopped as his father shot a glare at him and raised a finger to his lips.
       The man crept out of his bed shirtless and lightly stepped over to his wardrobe. Urien felt useless, standing at the now empty bed just watching his dad sneak around the room. He continued to rustle and downstairs Urien heard some glass crunch under boots. Whispering continued, but it was indecipherable.
       "Here, take this." He turned to his father, now standing beside him. Urien couldn't see his hand, or what was in it, but instinctively he held his own out to receive something cold and heavy. "It's loaded, so be careful and stay close." His father whispered and then led the way to the door.
       In the light of the hallway, Urien noticed that his father was holding an automatic weapon of some kind. It was extended in front of him and he walked with a slight hunch staring through its sight. Urien felt stupid, extending out his own arm but pointing the barrel of the pistol to the floor. His father stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs, turned back to his son, and flicked a switch on the wall, extinguishing all light.

       Now in complete darkness, all Urien could see was a shadow in front of him, lightly stepping forward in the nothingness of their home. Following along, he put a hand on the banisters to aid his descent into the bottom of their home.
       "I can't see anything," a voice whispered.
       "Well find a bloody light switch," another replied.
       "We should have brought some lightspex or something," yet another unfamiliar voice complained.
       Judging by the sound of the voices, they were in the kitchen which was directly ahead of them through the hall.
       "Shut up, let's just get this done and get out of here." Someone said in an angry tone while their voice grew. "Come on," he continued, as if right in front of them.
       Shots released. With them, sparks of light illuminated the hallway. Through the flashes, Urien saw it was a High Flyer, dressed in leathers, now painted in his own blood. The man shuddered on the spot, and in the darkness, all he could hear was the thud of a dead weight.

       Beyond the doorway, someone else screamed out in pain. Through the occasional loud gargle, Urien deduced that he had been shot too. There were scrambles of boots on the ground in the kitchen, like a pack of rodents that had just been startled.
       Now accustomed to the light, Urien saw his father step forward to the kitchen and step over the body lying in the doorway. Following along, he stepped over the body but underestimated the height and he fell flat on his face into the kitchen.
       "There!" Someone shouted, and then multiple shots rang out afterward.
       Shattered glass rained down on top of him, but through it all, he wasn't hit and instead scrambled across the floor in search of his gun.
       "Get out of my house you scumbags!" Urien could hear his father shout, before letting shots off at the strangers.

       Pawing the floor, he desperately tried to find it, but there was no hope. He reached something, but it was leather, rather than steel, and at that, it moved. Fingers scratched at him. Wet fingers, and sticky. They mauled at his arm and reached his throat. Regardless of how much he struggled, it was no use. Before long he felt the full weight of a body pressing down on his chest. Breath became shallow as he fought, but he couldn't find any strength. Blocking out the gunfire and shouting around, all he could focus on was the man struggling to kill him. Lights shined occasionally, revealing the blood-splattered face of a High Flyer with death in his eyes.
       "At least I'll take you with me," the man whispered through gasps.
       Fists clenched around his throat cut off all wind, and even trying to call for help was useless. All he could do was stare. Screaming didn't work. Nothing did. He had no power. No control over his own voice. He closed his eyes slowly. Then blinked. One blink. Potentially the last one he'd ever have.
       The man's head exploded in an eruption of liquid and doused Urien.

       Gasping for breath, he sat up. The lights were on, but all was grey. Bodies were everywhere, blood was everywhere. The place was destroyed. But, his father was standing beside him, panting just the same as Urien.