Avenged In Blood : Justin Matthews

The next day I woke up in the same hospital room but in much less pain. I could think more clearly today but when I looked around, there was no one there. I tried to sit up and was reminded of the handcuffs at my wrists and the restraints at my ankles.

I was still under arrest. So many men were still dead at my hands. Marie still needed to know what happened to Jack. I was so overcome with the enormity of the sins I had committed, I didn’t notice the door opening. It was Chief Whitcomb.

“How are you Steve?” he asked. “Somewhat better.” I replied. “Good” he said, “the docs say you can go. Lets head over to your sister’s house and then to the station.” I nodded sullenly. I didn’t want to have to tell my sister about Jack. I also didn’t want to go anywhere with the Chief.

It was hard to remember that we had once been friends. He was my mentor at one time before he became Chief. That title brought him more responsibility and we drifted apart. He must have thought his presence would help to keep me docile.

I had shown how dangerous I could be, I needed to seize whatever straw I could to gain back at least part of the respect I had earned in the past. This man knew who I was, who I had been, what kind of man, what kind of cop.

I had to trust someone and in the absence of Jack Reagan, Mark Whitcomb would have to do. I started to rise from the bed and the handcuffs bit into my wrists. I sank back to the bed. “How about these Mark?” I asked. “I’m not going anywhere. Just let me get dressed.” He nodded and reached into his pocket for his keys.

“No funny stuff right?” he asked. I shook my head. “I am all out of funny stuff Mark.” He unlocked the cuffs and untied my ankles. I rubbed my wrists and he eyed me warily. I got dressed and even though he turned his back, he stood in front of the door. He didn’t trust me. I guess I wouldn’t either after what he had seen in that nursing home.

I finished dressing and for the first time noticed a breakfast tray next to my bed. My stomach growled loudly and Chief Whitcom looked around. We shared a smile. “Go ahead and eat.” He said. “We have a few minutes.” I sat back down and looked at the food under the warming dome.

A somewhat typical meal of popular breakfast foods awaited me. Fake scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice and a blue Jell-o that looked like Dawn dishwashing detergent. I avoided that.

I ate ravenously, just like a man who has spent 3 days asleep in a hospital bed. I was just finishing off the last swig of the sour orange juice when the nurse came in with the papers I had to sign for discharge. “Where are my things?” I asked the Chief. “Clothes we burned, everything else is evidence. You can get some of it back at the station. Let’s go see your sister.”

I nodded and he gestured me out of the door ahead of him. I awkwardly used the crutches that the nurse provided to exit the room. I was immediately flanked by 2 hard faced officers I did not know and led by a third, with the Chief bringing up the rear. At least I wasn’t handcuffed.

We exited the hospital into the clear morning air. I took a long look around and a deep breath of cleansing air before I crutched to the car that I was directed to. I got inside, settling my heavily bandaged leg as comfortably as I could get it in the backseat of the cruiser.

One of the hard faced cops drove with the Chief, himself riding shotgun. No one spoke on the drive to my sister’s house halfway across town. They already knew the address.
We pulled up in front of the white stucco house that Jack had so lovingly cared for. The lawn was as green as the lawn service could make it, and the house was as clean as the power washer that Jack toyed with could make it.

I asked the Chief then, “Does she know anything?” “No,” he said. “We waited for you. It was one of the only coherent things that you got out as we were taking you to the hospital.” “How did you keep it from her?” I asked. “She knew Jack was in trouble.We keep stringing her along. It’s not nice but…” he trailed off. I nodded. “Where is he now?” I asked quietly. “Coroner has him. Just waiting on you so we can set up the funeral.” He said.

I nodded and hard face let me out of the car. The Chief came with me to the door. She would know what was wrong when she opened it. I rang the bell and waited. Marie came to the door wiping her hands with a dishtowel. The towel fell to the floor as she looked from me to the Chief and back to me.

Chief Whitcom caught her as she collapsed in her doorway. I hadn’t even said hi yet.

~~~

The chief picked up my kid sister and carried her limp form to the couch in the front room. I followed behind on my crutches. This was going to be hard. I could hear the boys playing in the back yard as I made it to the sink and got a washcloth out of the drawer.
After wetting it in the sink, I made it back to Marie and the chief. She was still unconscious as I placed the cloth on her forehead. It was a few seconds later that she awoke. She sat up on the couch, trembling, with tears in her eyes. I knew she was tough but this was not going to be easy.
“Marie, “ I began. “Marie, Jack is dead.” I didn’t know how to make it any easier so I just put it out there. “He was killed on the orders of Raymond Cabrese. We had been working on busting him for a year or so now. They caught him and killed him.” She tried to take it stoically but the sobs started.
I levered my way down and next to her on the couch. I didn’t know what to do besides take her in my arms and let her cry. I’d rather die myself than have to give her that news. I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that my best friend was dead.
I wanted to run away like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Chief Whitcom was silent and sympathetic in the easy chair that had been Jack’s favorite. After what seemed a long time, the sobs subsided and Marie sat up.
She took my hands and looked me in the eyes. “Did he suffer?” she asked. I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut against the budding tears. “Yes.” I said in a cracked voice. Her hands tightened on mine. “What happened?” she asked. “I don’t really know.” I answered. “I found him and he was already gone.” She swallowed hard herself and great tears welled up in her eyes. “Did you get them? Did they suffer?” she asked with venom in her voice.
I looked over at the Chief. I was still under arrest and I didn’t know if I wanted to tell the story of the wildnight 4 days ago. He shook his head slightly. “I got them all.” Was all I said.
She was crying again but managed, “He was relentless trying to get Cabrese. I am glad you accomplished his goal.” It was my turn to only nod and then hold her to my chest as she wept.
Finally, the Chief rose and said, “We have to go Steve.” “Okay” I said. “Marie, I will be back as soon as I can. The department will take care of the funeral. You can say goodbye then. The Marines will send people as well.” I got myself up and the crutches under me.
Marie stood as well. “Thank you for waiting and telling me yourself.”she said. “I am going to need you.” She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. I nodded again. “I’ll be back.” I promised and followed the Chief to the door. I looked back in time to see her collapse again on the couch sobbing.
The Chief and I exited, closing the door quietly behind us. “Will you call my mother to come over and help her?” I asked him. “Already done” He said, and we walked back to the waiting patrol car and Hard Face behind the wheel.
I climbed in the back as the Chief got in the front. The car started and pulled out of the driveway. I remained silent as was my right, but tears made their way down my cheeks all of the way back to the station.

~~~

Eventually, We arrived at the police station. I was escorted inside and into an interrogation room. This was not going to be any better than it was to tell Marie about Jack. I was fairly sure that whoever got to interrogate me was not going to make it a cozy batch of tenderness.
I sat there for what seemed like a long time, my leg outstretched, the bullet wound throbbing. I sat with my head in my hands, absorbed in the reality that Jack’s kids were without a father. And my sister was a widow. The deaths of Cabrese and his crew were not even thoughts in my head.
I had almost fallen asleep sitting there when the door opened and a familiar face entered. It must have been my lucky day. John Sampson entered the room and seemed to fill it. He was a huge, hulking man, the kind that had intimidated even hardened criminals with only his presence. I had worked with John before and he had know Jack well. He was also the most skilled interrogator on the force.
For someone who stood 6’5” and weighed over 250 pounds, John was incredibly intelligent. He could pretty much bench press a small car and being an All-American left tackle in college didn’t stop him from his PHD in psychology or another in Criminology. I was about to get torn apart by a master.
I was flattered and almost giddy with pride, they brought John in for the really tough jobs. He walked over to the table as I sat up straight and placed the obligatory water cup on the table top. “Hi John.” I said. “Steve.” He acknowledged with a slight nod.
He stared down at me for a minute, apparently deciding how to take this. A moment later he took a chair across from me. No strong arming yet. It was hard to intimidate a cop like you could a regular criminal.
“Look, “he began. “I am sorry to hear about Jack. He was a really good man. Nobody here likes what happened. You are here under arrest because of what action you took. Vigilantes cannot be tolerated. We have kept this whole bloodbath out of the press, but if any of them get one inkling of what went on, they would turn against us, and you, faster than a pissed off rattlesnake.”
I only nodded. What else could I do? John began again, “Who was with you in that nursing home? I remind you of your rights.” “No one was there John. Just me. I pulled the trigger on everyone there. I killed them all, and Cabrese last. There are boxes of files in my car with all of Cabrese’s businesses detailed. There just is not anyone left to run the empire.” I told him looking between him and the one way mirror behind him.
I was calm. I was collected. I expected the death penalty. John just shook his head and placed a provocative finger on the file he had brought with him. “This file, “he began, “ has the names of 98 dead people in it. All of them are Cabrese muscle or part of the Cabrese family.” Dear Lord, of course all of those men would have families. I had never considered.
In my lust for revenge, how many widows had I made? How many kids left without fathers? Now I felt even worse. John spoke again. “We found the files in your car. Cabrese’s empire is gone. You did that all by yourself. Now we just have to figure out what to do with you.” He paused as the door opened again and the Chief and my Captain walked in.
They both eyed me with flinty expressions. I took another deep breath and prepared myself for the holding cell that surely awaited me tonight.

~~~

“This really sucks Steve.” My Captain said as the door closed. “You have always been one of our best. Hell, you are responsible for more police work on Cabrese this week than we were able to get done in the past year. You just can’t do it the way you did.” Chief Whitcom was next. “You have admitted to all of those killings. I don’t know if I should call you a Hero or the worst serial killer ever.” I met his gaze levelly. I was ready for any pronouncement that they had.
The Captain started again, with almost tenderness. “Try as we might, it is impossible for us to figure out what to do. The Chief and I have talked and here are the options.” He sat down next to John. “First,” he began, “why don’t you tell us what happened the other night?”
My sentence was being delayed and I just wanted it to be over. “Too many people are dead. I killed them all. Send me to the judge, let’s be done with this.” I said. “We really need details Steve.” The Chief said. “Some of these choices depend on details.”
“Okay” I said. “Here goes. 9 days ago, Jack Reagan went missing. As you know, he was my partner, my brother in law, and my friend. We had been investigating Raymond Cabrese and trying to figure out just how far his empire ranged. We were working with Vice, Property, and homicide.”
I drew a deep breath and continued. “I found out he was missing when my sister called and said he hadn’t come home. That was odd I told her because we had been done for hours that night. I told her to wait for him, it was Cinco De Mayo and he may have just been in a festive mood without me. It didn’t sound like Jack, but who knows.”
I swallowed hard and went on. “I spent the next three days running down contacts and trying to find Jack. I finally leaned on a guy who used to be Cabrese’s right hand man and he gave me a name. I found that guy and beat a confession out of him. They had screwed the brakes on his car and he was in an accident. Jack survived and was taken to that rest home where you found me.”
“What guy was this?” Asked Sampson. “His name was Jay Rogers. He is dead now. I killed him before I left.” I said. “Where?” asked Sampson again. “A little back room over on 38th and Vine.” I said. He made some notes and the chief frowned. “Go on.” Captain Smith said.
“I went looking for that rest home. It didn’t take me long. I found the place and after a quick recon, I went in. I shot the guards. I shot a couple more inside. Then I found Jack. He was dead. They had killed him. I kind of lost it. It was time to write a new chapter in my life. I didn’t care anymore. Jack was not replaceable. I was going to hand Cabrese his own head.”
I took a drink of the stale water on the table. “I killed. Then I killed. Then I killed some more.” I continued. “People kept coming, I kept killing. I heard some of them say Cabrese was coming. I killed. When there was no one left to kill, Cabrese was there. I found out that his sons were among those I killed. He said all of his men were here. And now they were dead. I left him unconscious and tied up and went to his office. I shot those guards and took all of his files. He was done. I went back to the rest home and executed that piece of crap Cabrese. I woke up later in the hospital. That’s it.”
There was silence in the room.

~~~

I sat there in silence. I waited for a cheer or a curse or some sort of reaction. I didn’t know how to fill the moments that stretched into indeterminate lengths of time.
I silently cursed Cabrese and his crew for bringing me here. I should be with Marie and the boys. I knew I couldn’t. I had to just embrace what I was sitting in front of now.
My head began to ache as I listened to the 3 men breathing on the other side of the room. Time stretched further and a very bad man began to beat on my head with a club. Tension filled me and threatened to pour out of the semi healed wounds all over my body. I really hurt physically, and this was mental torture.
Finally, the Chief spoke, jolting me out of my swirling thoughts. “We have to think some more on this Steve.” He said. “You know all too well the ramifications of this whole situation. Our choices have changed. We have to divert attention away from the department. Away from this massacre.”
“I know.” I said. “Throw me to them, I am ready. I will take all of the heat for this one.” My Captain just shook his head and stared at the floor.

~~~

“Who do you think you are Steve?” The Chief asked in exasperation. “Why are you so willing to throw yourself to the wolves and not lean on the department a bit? Do you really think we are going to string you out on this? You cleaned up over a dozen cases by killing Cabrese. There are cops lining up to shake your hand, you have made their year! You are worried about what people will think? How can you be worried? You were under duress, Post Traumatic Stress and all that crap, you have a way out.”
Captain Davis took over the ranting. “Whose condemnation are you looking for Steve? Why are you beating yourself up? Who’s going to care a year from now? When are you going to see that we are just waiting to support you?”
I sat there stunned. I was prepared to be strung up by my thumbs and here they were being nice. Where had this all come from?

~~~

All of the expectations that I had over the past few days shattered. Just when I thought my world was falling apart here comes something that I couldn’t ignore or explain.
I tried to answer the captain but I could only utter random sounds. “The way I figure it, “ the Chief said, “You should get a pass for this whole thing. The reality is my mind is going blank. There was no rhyme or reason for the whole incident.

~~~

This was wonderful news. While everyone’s tone in the room was so serious, so morbid, I was completely elated at avoiding the electric chair. I realized that these guys were not going to destroy my life. I was the only one having the “You suck loser” conversation. I secretly pumped my fist under the table.
The Chief began, “Steve, we still have to do something about all of this. I wish we could let you off scott free, but we can’t. We don’t need any other Pro-Steve wannabe’s trying to copy you. We can’t let vigilantism take over the department.” It was getting serious again.

~~~

Captain Davis chimed in. “The force will always be part of your family. Don’t forget that. You have proved yourself time and time again. Be careful how you move in the next few days. This whole thing could still smash your life if you go trying to be the big shot. “
I started to sense an unusual tension beginning between my shoulder blades. I was not sure I knew what was happening yet again. The Chief took up the narrative again. “The next chapter is yours to write Steve. Here is what we have for you.” He placed a folder open on the table and slid it towards me.

~~~

“These pages are ready for your signature.” The Chief said. “There is a complete chronicle of what happened the other night as well as the “confession” that you just gave us. Sign that these pages are accurate if you would.” He produced a pen and handed it to me. I scanned the documents and they seemed to touch on all of the important stuff that happened.
I signed the papers, and handed the pen back to the Chief. He made the papers disappear into his jacket. For the next few minutes the only sound in the room was our breathing.
My mind was beginning to drift as my strength began to fail. This had been a long day already and I still didn’t know if I would need to be rescueed from more than I already had been. I did know I was on the downslope and starting to coast. Death awaited me no longer, but prison was still all too real.

~~~

I decided to push the magic that had been happening today. Against astronomical odds, I was going to live, but there was still one elephant in the room that needed wrestling. “So,” I began, “what exactly is going to happen to me?” My guilty conscience threatened to distract this league of my superiors in their decision.
Captain Davis cleared his throat. I began to tremble and my larynx tightened in anticipation. What would be on the other side of this portal that I was about to go through?

~~~

“Well Steve, “ the Captain began, “This is hard but better now than later. The combination of facts in this case is vast, and the solutions very narrow. You have two choices.”
I braced myself for the worst, but there were choices so that was something. Chief Whitcom took over. “Your choices are this, you can go to jail for the rest of your life. The death penalty is off of the table. Or you can start a new life tomorrow as a civilian and a legend in the department. We can’t keep you on the force one way or the other.”
I sat there stunned. Not that I was expecting anything, I was ready to die when I got in here. It seemed fairly obvious what the choice would be. The size of the room seemed to diminish as I tried to master the wavering in my voice. “I guess there isn’t much choice in that is there?” I said. “I guess I am retired.”
The Chief and the Captain both nodded and smiled sad smiles. “This is the best Steve.” Captain Davis said. “I’ll get the paperwork automated and this should be very smooth.” Chief Whitcomb extended his hand as I stood up.
We shook as he said, “You did a good job, Steve. This is all politics. Go home and get some rest.” I nodded as the 3 men left the interrogation room. I stared at the open door waiting to take me into the next chapter of my life.

~~~

Chapter 3
The next few days were a whirlwind. I could hardly breathe as I packed the items in Jack’s desk. It was even worse as I carefully packed my belongings and cleared my computer.
It was almost creepy saying goodbye to all of my friends and co-workers. I knew that I would see at lease some of them but it felt so…final to walk out of that front door for the last time. It had been another 3 days since I was in that interrogation room, and today I left the police station without my badge and gun, maybe never to return.
I drove slowly to my house, still not ready to deal with Marie again. I wasn’t really depressed, or all that upset about leaving the police. There was just no adrenaline left to flow, no excitement to be had. I sat on my favorite chair in the living room, a can of coke growing warm on the table beside me.
The ominous silence in the house threatened to drive me into paranoia but I wasn’t there yet. I kept thinking about the bloodshed of the past week, all of the killing that I had done, and that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. It made me want to scream into the darkness.

~~~

Eventually, I found myself asleep in that same chair, the same can of coke neglected on the table. I knew I was being a fool but I wasn’t sure what I would do with my life now. The military was always my dream growing up, and then to be a police officer. Now I was finished with both.
I needed to find something to do that would allow me to use my particular skills to an advantage. The biggest obstacle was the fact that I had been wired to kill. I was even good at it. If I killed now though, I would be in the electric chair for good.
Fast food was out. Business was out. Maybe I could be a Sheriff in some Podunk town that didn’t care about having serial killers as elected officials.
I would be a good assassin, with the nimble fingers that so loved the intimate squeeze of the trigger. But that was not my style. I was not squeamish when it came to killing, I think I have proven that. I just didn’t want to kill people for a living.
Organized crime was out. I had put the best prospect in that arena out of business myself. I think my skills would be better suited to helping right the wrongs that people encounter that the police just can’t deal with. There are too many things that the Police could not handle because they were constrained by the law. I may be able to clean up some of those places and situations that we could do nothing with as officers.
Vigilante? Mercenary? Soldier of Fortune? Any would work for a title. I didn’t have to be fancy, just do what I always had done, assess threat, shift plans accordingly, attack without mercy. That had real possibilities and appeal.
Could I really do it? Could I be a crime fighter, a righter of wrongs? Would I have to get tights and a cape? For now, I could do nothing fancy. I had to keep myself low profile; orders from the Chief. I just need something legitimate to front a semi-legal business.
More thought was needed, but first, a shower and a razor were calling loudly.

~~~

Part 29

“GET UP YOU festering pile of worthless dog… “ My Drill Instructor was screaming at me. “ I see you and just want to scrape you off of my shoes now move!” I jumped to my feet in a reflex action and stepped on my watch, springing me back into alert consciousness. I must have fallen asleep after my shower.
I don’t know why I had been dreaming of basic training and my old DI. Maybe it was a subconscious kick in the butt that I needed. I had been sitting here for days now, getting weak both outside and inside. I had began to wonder when I would be able to get back into the swing of things, and maybe the time was now.
I think I was coming to terms with the unthinkable things that I had done and what happened afterwards. I was a civilian now, but at least I could walk with my head held high. I had been basically acquitted of a crime I sure as hell committed.
The silent condemnation of the dead had began to erase the sting off being fired from the force. I knew I would be a joke around there for a while but I would be back in good graces with most of those guys eventually.
It was too early to dig on that well yet. It is time to act and get back to society and cleaning up the bad guys.

~~~

Part 30

There was a dull thud as his head rebounded from the wall. I drew back for another punch. He shied from it but I countered and hit him solidly in the jaw. Something popped in my hand. There was a stab of pain, but it was his blood that dripped onto the linoleum.
I flexed my hand relieved to not feel anything broken. A quick knee to the midsection doubled the man over and I threw him to the floor, following with a vicious kick to the ribs. In retrospect it may have been a bit much but no one threatens my sister and her boys, even if the threat was hollow and unbased.
It had been over a year now since my best friend, brother in law and partner had been killed by that worthless scum Raymond Cabrese. After the melancholy wore off and I was ready to enter civilian life, I went into business for myself.
Legitimately, I was a private detective, licensed by the state and in good graces with several of my old cop buddies. The memory had grown almost fond of the massacre of Raymond Cabrese’s empire. It made me giggle sometimes, to think of the horror that I had been the architect of.
There was just a smidgen of hysterics whenever I thought about that night. For a long while I thought my sanity was on a pendulum and I am lucky to have come out on the right side of it.
A private detective it may say on my business card, but in the dark lonely recesses of the night I was out there, fighting the crimes that the police could not. I lived under the label of vigilante, soldier of fortune, mercenary. I hoped to add super hero to the list sometime soon.
Another punch to the man on the ground brought me back to the now. “Who sent you?” I snarled at him. The intonation of rage was lost on him, his simpering was that loud. Another punch. “Who?!?” I screamed.
He rolled over almost to his back and raised his middle finger in my direction. The world turned red. Rage drained my logic circuits. I grabbed the offensive finger with my left hand and pulled it backward, as I drew my Ruger .45 with my right. The finger snapped at the same time the safety snapped off of the pistol.
He screamed at the broken finger for only a second before the smoke from my barrel became the loudest thing in the room. The neat hole in his forehead belied the gore that was sprayed across the floor behind him.
I let go of his finger and scrambled backwards, slipping the safety back on my gun. I had killed him in rage. This was the first person I had killed in over a year. I did it without thinking. I did it so hastily. I thought I had put all of that behind me but I was wrong. I had to leave before I was caught.
I needed to go home and see my therapist. My new therapist was a man by the name of Jack Daniel. And he had a prescription for award winning bourbon. I got to my feet and ran out of the house and to my car, heading for the solace only a night in a bottle could provide. I was halfway home before I realized I didn’t even know that poor sucker’s name.

~~~

Part 31

I spent the rest of that night and most of the next day in the bottle. Or 3 bottles. I really felt hopeless. It was like an alcoholic falling off of the wagon. I was becoming an alcoholic and watching that wagon head off into the sunset.
I didn’t care. At all. I didn’t know if I could make it back to my law-abiding ways anytime soon.
I was praying to the gods of American Standard for the sixth or seventh time when I had a clear moment. I was becoming the caricature of what a private detective should be. I needed to go get a trenchcoat and a fedora to complete the look. I tried drawling like Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon but all that came out was something from the middle of my large intestine. I was not in a good place.
Finally, it had been a week since the shooting. My home booze stash was depleted and I had finally dried out. Maybe I needed to start those meetings. The jury was still out on the whole drunk/alcoholic debate.
I decided to head to the park, take some time to aucupate and decompress. It seemed like that should be harmless enough, if a bit preposterous. My response to trauma and extreme violence was to be birds. If I didn’t keep a rein on it, I would be encompassing bunnies and puppies in the future, and trying to find a box to keep my manhood in.
Nevertheless, I entered the park, determined to take some action over my life, or at least try to find something scintillating to my senses. I sat on a bench. I watched the birds frolic in the fountain. I felt the sun grow warm on my face. I could smell booze leaking from my pores.
Life seemed fairly good for the moment. Of course, that moment was going to change very quickly.

~~~

Avenged In Blood Part 32
The sun was warm on my face as I tried to estimate my actual worth in the world. I was trying to be good. I was leaning back on the bench there in the park, eyes closed, letting the sun make me sleepy when I felt something hard strike me on top of the head. Everything faded to black in a millisecond.
“The boss said don’t kill him.” A gravelly voice coming somewhere from my left said waking me. My head was on fire, pounding and aching, threatening to explode my eyeballs. “Screw that.” A particularly acidic voice replied. “There is a contract for this….” His words faded with my consciousness as I passed out again.
Light assaulted my closed eyes moments before cold water slapped me in the face. I blinked water from my eyes as I looked around and tried to get my bearings. I was dazed and my head still hurt. I struggled to find something solid to get my brain back on track. I tried to raise my hands to wipe water from my face and found that they were tied behind me. That brought some focus.
A deep breath and a strong effort brought me around to look at this room I was in. Talk about outdated and cliché. I was in a cleared space in a dusty store room. Crates and boxes ringed the cleared area as dust motes hung in the air, floating in shafts of sunlight that seeped through boarded up windows high on the walls.
A single light hung above my head framed by a large tin shade. I was tied to an old wooden chair in the center of the cleared area, two men casually leaning against boxes behind me, two in the front, and Johnny “Pipes” Mueller sitting at a battered wooden table, staring intently, right at me.
“Pipes” Mueller was one of the original toughs in the city that worked his way into his own crime syndicate. He was on the radar when I was a cop but was either too well lawyered or spreading sugar to cops and judges alike to ever be caught. He was barely investigated.
That was not to say he didn’t have a reputation for violence and power. People said he was likeable, but I was sure he was actually scary. Scary in that crazy, doesn’t care way. His nickname came from his penchant for beating his victims with a length of steel pipe. You knew when “the pipes were playing” John Mueller was working. And we could never prove it.
He ascended quickly in crime, eliminating people as he needed, taking what he wanted. I wondered at the truce that must have existed between him and Cabrese, to allow both of them to retain their respective syndicates at the same time.
He began to speak. “I know who you are Mr. Stamper.” My mouth was dry and any comment stuck inside.

~~~

Avenged In Blood Part 33
“This is a tremendous opportunity for you Mr. Stamper.” Mueller said. “I respect you for eliminating my competition in this town. Now it is mine.”
I could only be wary under his intensive stare while trying to choke down snarky comments that would probably get me killed. I could not figure out what he wanted from me.
“I know you will blame it on duty, “ he said. “but it was a big deal for me.” Mueller nodded to goon #1. He came over and cut the ropes that bound my hands to the chair. Mueller continued, “I want to offer you a position in my organization. You have particular talents that I could use.”
A tickle of some ephemeral finger of caution wormed its way into my spine. There were going to be…issues. Was “Pipes” Mueller really conceited enough to think that I would take any offer from him? I couldn’t work for him, I wouldn’t. Maybe I could use him in the future, before I destroyed him like I had Cabrese.
“Go on.” I said. He nodded and continued. “Something to drink?” I shook my head. “Fine.” He said. “I want you to work for me. You will be one of my enforcers and…do what you do.” There was just the most nebulous hint of a threat in his voice.
An instantaneous hit of adrenaline made me alert and cocky. “I will never work for you or anyone else. I will not be a tertiary employee of evil men. I will not be used like that. I am an independent contractor. You want me, you work with my rules.”
Mueller sat silently without expression. “You do know who you are talking to don’t you?” He asked. “I do.” I calmly replied. “And that doesn’t scare the bejezzus out of you?” He asked. “No.” I replied meeting his stare. He smiled then. “I like your guts kid.” He said. “Wally, “ He barked at one of the guards behind me. “A drink for me and Mr. Stamper. We have business to discuss. Get on it.”
What was I getting into now???

~~~

Avenged in Blood Part 35
“Well Mr. Stamper,” he began, “You were very pernicious in your eradication of that pompous ass Cabrese. I need someone like that. I understand you are taking small odd jobs trying to make ends meet. I have a somewhat better offer. I want you to be my plenipoterntiary here in the city. I want you to accept a very nice salary, protection and power.”
His platitudes were growing tiresome. After a pregnant pause, I swallowed hard, trying to find words that would sound placid but not commit me to anything. “I don’t know.” Was the lame phrase that came out of my mouth.
“I can give you anything you could ever want.” Mueller said, calmly plaiting his bonds with which to bind me. What could I ever ask for that would be too much? A roll in the hay with a porcine woman? A warehouse full of Jack Daniels? Platypus burgers? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to be stuck with Mueller either.
“Mr. Mueller,” I began, “I can’t work for you. I will not be associated with anyone any more. No cops, no anyone. I appreciate the offer though. I’ve got no beef with you. Perhaps I could do some freelance work for you, but I won’t be your plenipotentiary.”
His jaw tightened and the portly guard to his right moved. “You’ve got some stones on you Stamper. Think on my offer, you don’t want me for an enemy.” “No Mr. Mueller I don’t want you for an enemy, or a boss.” I stood up. “Thanks for the drink, we are done for today.”
I pulled all of the fortitude I could summon, turned, and walked to the door, fully expecting to be shot in the back.

Avenged in Blood part 34

Our drinks arrived. I waited for Wally to deposit the glasses and bottle of bourbon on the table, expecting anything. I warily watched as Mueller poured 3 fingers of the enticing liquid into each glass. He went to hand me one, then gestured to let me choose. “I’m not here to kill you.” Mueller said. “At least for now.”
I took a glass and had a sip. Heat began to steep its way through my muscles as the liquor took hold and I relaxed. “What do you propose Mr. Mueller?” I asked. I had decided to keep it polite. I was not in a position to escape 6 armed men right now.
The resulting smile made my skin crawl. “Good, this won’t be a total waste of time.” He said. “Word has emerged in the underworld that it was not a strike force that took out Raymond Cabrese and his empire. Word has it that it was only one man. Steve Stamper. Now ex-cop. That is why you are here. You are a target. I could bring down everything on you if I wanted.”
I suppressed a shudder. If they knew who I was I had to be even more careful. I needed to move. A hidden spot to live, get rid of all of my junk, disappear. If that’s what it takes that is what I will do.
My forehead began to wrinkle as I asked, “Ok, What now?” He smiled again.

Avenged in Blood Part 35
“Well Mr. Stamper,” he began, “You were very pernicious in your eradication of that pompous ass Cabrese. I need someone like that. I understand you are taking small odd jobs trying to make ends meet. I have a somewhat better offer. I want you to be my plenipoterntiary here in the city. I want you to accept a very nice salary, protection and power.”
His platitudes were growing tiresome. After a pregnant pause, I swallowed hard, trying to find words that would sound placid but not commit me to anything. “I don’t know.” Was the lame phrase that came out of my mouth.
“I can give you anything you could ever want.” Mueller said, calmly plaiting his bonds with which to bind me. What could I ever ask for that would be too much? A roll in the hay with a porcine woman? A warehouse full of Jack Daniels? Platypus burgers? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to be stuck with Mueller either.
“Mr. Mueller,” I began, “I can’t work for you. I will not be associated with anyone any more. No cops, no anyone. I appreciate the offer though. I’ve got no beef with you. Perhaps I could do some freelance work for you, but I won’t be your plenipotentiary.”
His jaw tightened and the portly guard to his right moved. “You’ve got some stones on you Stamper. Think on my offer, you don’t want me for an enemy.” “No Mr. Mueller I don’t want you for an enemy, or a boss.” I stood up. “Thanks for the drink, we are done for today.”
I pulled all of the fortitude I could summon, turned, and walked to the door, fully expecting to be shot in the back.

Avenged In Blood, Part 36

I got out of the dirty red cab in front of my house, warily looking over my shoulder for a tail. Muellers goons didn’t challenge me on the way out but that didn’t mean there would be no one waiting when I got home. There didn’t seem to be.
I went up to the front door, still wary of someone jumping me in my own castle. I think I was being paranoid but if people were gunning for me, I wasn’t going to wait until I noticed the red dot on my chest to do something about it.
As soon as I opened the door and stepped inside I could only feel emptiness. It was the feeling I had developed as a cop when visiting houses. Some just feel empty. This one was. I knew that I would not be here much longer, I would need to move around to stay alive. I tried not to think about it as I went into my study and retrieved the bundle behind the couch.
It was my body armor, stolen from the police force, my shotgun and pistol case. I took these up the stairs an laid them on my bed as I went to take a shower. There was something sticky on the back of my head that I needed to wash off.
I emerged from the shower, cleaner but not feeling good about it. Instead, I only felt a combination of sadness that I had to move and paranoia that there was a contract on my head. I unrolled my bundle and looked at the contents, relishing memories that came with them. I had almost forgotten about the perforated tube that was my silencer.
I opened the stone colored pistol case and withdrew my trusted .45. I missed a breath in memory as the magazine slid home with a soft click.

Avenged In Blood Part 37
A stiff, salty breeze blew into my face as I glanced to the bow of the 3 masted ship. The sea rose and fell with the fervor of a prisoner running from a chain gang. I was in command on the dog watch, Lieutenant Stamper of His Majesty’s Ship Indefatigable, patrolling the sea lanes outside of Gibraltar.
The sounds of men scurrying this way and that were everywhere and as they should be, however, a slow deliberate creaking sound was beginning to annoy me and spoil an otherwise lovely day. The creaking began to grow louder.
I snapped awake instantly. I didn’t mean to doze off. That creaking came again. I stood instantly and silently, my trusted .45 smoothly tracking the room in front of me. I had fallen asleep sitting in the corner of my room, against 2 walls where I could not be taken from behind. I was now standing in that corner, my senses and my pistol trained on the only door and the ever so slight creaking that was coming from the hall.
I remembered standing in a similar dark corner in Iraq, in a small bungalow next to a trail that was known to be used exclusively by the enemy. I was waiting for my extraction to come, someone to get me the hell out of that bungalow when a patrol came quietly down that trail. I heard quiet voices and I moved to the door. They got closer.
I stepped out and fired my M16 until the magazine was empty, 1, 2, 3 times. I reloaded the fourth time and the only people alive were me and the other 3 guys left on my team. I was a zombie heading back in the chopper. I would have been that way after Cabrese but for the wounds that robbed me of consciousness.
I was not sure if I would be that way today. I was in too much of an acrimonius mood lately. A shadow appeared at the door followed by the elongated barrel of a silenced pistol, followed by a slight woman in dark clothing. That was not what I expected. I wasn’t sure who she was but it sure looked like she was there to kill me.
I can’t let that go, she wasn’t sexy enough to avoid a double-tap from my .45.

Avenged in Blood Part 38

My silenced pistol barked once, and then again. A furrow appeared across her bare forearms just above her gloves. She dropped her pistol as the blood began to flow from the wounds. I wasn’t sure what had made me not terminate her life right there.
That wasn’t like me. I shot to kill. I didn’t vacillate when my life was in danger. But there was something about her…Dark and mysterious, resplendent in black leather pants and a black cotton shirt. I was enchanted to say the least.
She cried out in pain, or maybe terror as she turned and looked down the barrel of my still smoking pistol. Then she just collapsed. Fainted. Or was it a ruse? I walked slowly towards her, my pistol still tracking the door and her crumpled form. No one else was here I realized as I reached her.
She had collapsed onto her right side facing me. I could not see any weapon near her, just corpulent drops of blood escaping her arms and puddling on the floor. I turned her over to her back with the toe of my shoe. She was out cold. I nodded to myself and holstered my weapon. I picked up hers and stuck it in my belt as I went to the bathroom for first aid supplies.
An hour had passed. Her wounds were cleaned and bandaged. She didn’t wake up through all of it, even the peroxide in the furrows didn’t bring her around. It was like those junkies I had dealt with on the force. Hopped up on everything from Cocaine to ketamine and dead to the world.
Her heartbeat, however was as strong as it needed to be. I pulled a chair to the side of the bed and waited for her to wake up, the sharp quinine bite of the tonic water I was drinking on my lips, my pistol at the ready in my lap.
Eventually, she opened her eyes. They were green and rimmed by long lashes. No. Focus! I can’t get caught up like that. I had to don my cloak of steel and get some answers from her.
“Not very opulent around here is it?” She asked.
“Who sent you?” I asked in reply.
“Doesn’t matter does it? There are so many gunning for you.” She said.
I couldn’t argue. “Are they coming here?” I asked.
“Yep.” She said. “We all know where you live. I thought I was going to be first.”
“You were.” I said. “I was waiting. What is the prize?”
“$500,000 and a name. Hard to pass that up.” She said.
I shrugged in agreement trying to figure out where to move next. “Who are you?” I asked.
“What do you care, you are just going to kill me anyway.” She said.
“I am just curious.” I said trying not to notice the tendrils of brunette that fell across the sharp line of her jaw to the softness of her long neck.
“I’m not going to tell you.” She said. “You may as well kill me now.”
“I don’t think I will just yet.” I said. “But I to call you something. I can make something up, something exotic with a great backstory. Your name is Lola, you were a showgirl. Or maybe an Irene, destined to end up a dowager in the big old house with all of the cats. Or maybe..”
She interrupted. “My name is Lola. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” I said. “Lucky guess.”

Avenged In Blood Part 39
“So, Lola, tell me who you work for.” I said.
“No one.” She replied. “I am freelance. I have worked for Marconi, Cabrese, Smithson, Mueller, and Cassano.”
“Sounds like a scumbag law firm.” I said “What was this tonight? Just a hit or your night to be a debutante?”
Her green eyes blazed beneath those too long lashes. “They said you were a badass. A real steely killer who singlehandedly brought about the denouement of Cabrese’s empire in a bloodbath. Is that true?”
I sniggered. “Well you are educated, I’ll give you that.” I was niggardly with praise, but sometimes I could come through. “The truth is, Cabrese had it coming. He killed my partner, my brother in law and my best friend. He had to die.” I tried not to sound sanctimonious but it didn’t work very well.
“What made you so disillusioned with the human race?” She asked.
“I have seen what depths humans can sink to.” I said quietly. “Are you going to keep trying to kill me?”
“I don’t know there is much point anymore.” She said. “You intrigue me. You can live for a while.”
I smiled dangerously. “If you try to run, or cross me at any time I won’t hesitate putting a bullet from your own gun in the back of your skull and leaving you in an alley for the rodents. Do you understand?”
She nodded, the slightest fear touching those big green eyes as her tongue flicked out to wet her sensuous lower lip as it began to quiver. I looked away quickly and announced, “I am going to have some sassafrass tea and then I am going to get the hell out of this house. Come and join me.”
I turned and left the room before my breath could catch again at the sight of her. She followed slowly behind.

Avenged in Blood Part 40
My hand was trembling as I dropped the pieces of sassafrass root into the ebullient water to make tea. I had seen Lola in the dim light of the kitchen stove. She was incredible. She was vivacious, and just begging to be….wait, this was the same woman who was ready to kill me not 2 hours past.
This was tourturous but I had to maintain passivity. Who knew where this was going. She sat down as gracefully as a cat in one of the worn kitchen chairs. I knew that her own passivity was probably an act though, she struck me as a real dynamo.
Finally the tea was ready and I poured into two cups, offering her the choice as well as the bear full of honey. She took a cup and the honey and began to prepare her drink. “You know what would go great in this?” she asked. I looked at her quizzically. “Burbon.” She said. Awesome I thought as I smiled and reached behind me for the bottle.
I turned back and she was looking over her shoulder, suddenly tense. What I wouldn’t give to be nibbling on those…”Somebody’s here.” She said. Freaking bastards. Give me at least a moment or two with this girl. I rolled out of the chair and slipped on something causing my butt to plonk on the linoleum.

Avenged In Blood part 41

I don’t know why I was not nervous. Perhaps my ability to prognosticate about the events to come had inflated my ego to the point I was going to have problems.
“Get down!” I whispered loudly to Lola, realizing the gaffe I was making. She was an assassin. She would already be down. If not trying to kill me herself. I know it was hard to believe, but I am far from infallible.
Suddenly she slid next to me. She was a panoply in the weak light from the stove. Hair moving just so over fine features, smooth skin, taught tendons in her neck. The way her breasts pushed against the fabric as she twisted. Damn it, not now! I yelled in my head.
“Give me my gun back.” She said. “Why so you can finish me yourself?” I asked. “No you fool, there are two of them, I want you around for a while longer.” Came her reply.
“I don’t know if I can trust you.” I said drawing her pistol from my belt. Her soft lips brushed my cheek as she breathed, “You have too.” And took her weapon. She rolled to the other side of the doorway and waited. Soon enough two people entered my house. Both had guns. One was smaller, obviously another woman. The other was a large man.
The woman stood akimbo, framed in the light coming from the doorway. “We know you are here Stamper. Come out!” She shouted. I had the shot. I fired. The woman went down. At the same time I heard 2 quiet coughs from Lola’s pistol and a groan as the man went down. I went to him first. He was dead. His life juice leaking onto my floor.
I went to the woman who was gasping for breath and dying as well. I had hit her in the lower abdomen as well as the chest. The putrid smell told me I had pierced intestines. Lola came up behind me and gagged slightly at the stench.
I didn’t even bother to question the woman. I tried to put another round in her head but the extractor on my .45 had jammed. Lola leveled her pistol and fired into the woman’s forehead.
“We have to leave now.” I said. “You can’t go anywhere but with me now. They will be hunting you too.” I cleared the jam and snapped another round into the chamber. She looked sad. “I know.” She said. “I just have to get some things from home.” “Me too.” I said and headed for my bedroom and the duffle bag on the floor by the bed. Lola followed behind me, her shock at the situation fading into determination.
Strangely, I didn’t feel the least bit threatened by her anymore. Maybe I was getting soft. Maybe the thought of something soft dissolved my apprehensions.

Avenged in Blood Part 42
An hour later we were at her place. She was rapidly packing a suitcase. I was vapid, just trying to skulk until it was time to leave. But in the end, I wax quixotic and leap to the assistance of fair damsel in need.
I went to help Lola finish her packing. We needed to be gone, like now. I found her in the bedroom of her modest apartment. The facetious comment on my lips misfired when I saw how she was dressed. Or undressed was more like it.
“I was wondering when you would get in here.” She cooed at me. I wasn’t sure how in the space of about 3 hours, she had gone from trying to kill me to trying, and succeeding, to bedazzle me.
“What is this?” I asked somewhat breathlessly as I stepped into the room. “Shut your mouth and come here.” She said seductively. I totally forgot about the danger waiting for us in the autumn night. She was just so….perfect for me, at least for now. There was this one freckle….

Avenged in Blood Part 43

The next 3 hours were particularly fabulous. What started out as spontaneous became synergized and fabled. It was an intense elevator of emotion. I drifted off to sleep, Lola comfortably entwined in one arm, my .45 nestled under my pillow.
I dreamed. I was a wizard. I was Merlin himself, gazing into a crystal ball trying to see my future. I saw two different futures; they both involved Lola. In the first, I was riding off into the happily ever after on Pegasus from the stories, in the other, I woke up next to Medusa.
Eventually, the morning came, and Lola was just Lola…..

Avenged in Blood Part 44
We both jumped and drew pistols at the same time. Something or more likely someone had just entered the front door to Lola’s apartment, and they were uninvited. I looked at her with a new appreciation as she threw on her clothes. This vivacious creature was letting loose such a string of bawdy prose, that it was a travesty I was the only one around to enjoy it.
A moment later we met at the door to the bedroom, both dressed and ready to kill. She was furious that someone had violated her sanctum. I knew how she felt, it was her doing the same thing to me just yesterday.
Glassware began to break in the other room. That was just cause to exacerbate her foul mood. Lola began to mutter darker and more violent curses at the heathen intruders. “I want to eviscerate those bastards with that set of antlers in the front room.” She said.
“They are nothing but squalor,” I said. “But it is better to incinerate them with gunfire. Intestines are nasty things.” I pulled open the door as silently as I could and followed my .45 from the room, Lola a heartbeat behind.

Avenged in Blood part 45
There was actually glee in her eyes in the aftermath of karma. They had sent 3 men to her place thinking that they could overcome her for failing to kill me. They didn’t count on me.
It was all over in a moment, 2 shots from me, one from her, 3 bodies. I was checking pockets for cash or keys when another shot rang out behind me. I rolled and spun with my pistol appearing in my hand. I came within nanoseconds of shooting Lola.
Apparently, one of the thugs had been playing possum, and she was ready. What a woman, could I trust her? The bed session had been stress, could it last? Could I have another partner after Jack?
She was confident now. “We could just stay here, now that they think they got us.” She said. “How long do you think it will be before these guys are missed and they send someone to check it out?” I asked. She was trying to think up a reply when one of the men’s pockets began to ring. And then another vibrated. Our time was up.
I had to coax her back to her suitcase and get her the hell out of that apartment. It was about to get even hotter in here. I thought I could hear a siren far off in the distance.
I stopped long enough to search the last guy as we were leaving. Keys, a cell phone and a Cuban cigar were the only things in his pockets. These turkey’s didn’t even have the decency to shoot .45’s so I could restock my ammunition. I kicked the last thug before I turned and left the apartment.
“How about some chili cheese fries?” she asked. Strange how her brain worked but I said “OK. Do you have a car? I noticed mine was kind of shot up.” “Sorry about that.” She said. “I couldn’t have you getting away.” She flashed me a small smile that made the loss of my battered Camaro not such a bad thing. “My car is over there.” She pointed to a pile of shattered glass and chrome on the pavement. More explicative’s came over the stolen car.
I did still have the keys in my hand, taken from a dead assassin. What would he be driving? I looked around and the only thing that I could see was a crappy assed motorcycle leaning against the drainpipe of her apartment building.
The key fit the ignition and I shook my head. “We have to lose most of your stuff there.” I said. She nodded seeing the logic. Her gun, ammunition, knife and some other small things went into a knapsack that she was wearing. I was very confused when the discard pile grew by an feather boa and a nursing bra.

Avenged in Blood #46

Two adults on an underpowered motorcycle was a joke. We finallygave up that charade about 3 blocks from her apartment. She was pissed about losing her stuff but I pointed out that we could move faster with only small bags to carry.
She seemed placated, baby pink lipstick beginning to shimmer in the sunlight that was striking her luscious lips. As my eyes lingered, my mind wandered. What was happening to me?
I was losing my edge, the razor sharp awareness that cops need in order to stay alive. I needed to find the apothecary and see if he had a treacle to steel me against the wiles of this minx I was involved with now.
I shook my head to get focused again. I would be dead soon enough if I could not think. We wandered the streets, eyes constantly searching, wary of any stranger reaching into his coat, or anyone who seemed to pay too much attention to myself or Lola.
“So, “I began, “just where the hell are we headed too?”
“I dunno.” She said. “There are way too many people after you to just run. I guess they are after me too. What do you think we should do?”
“Go after the ones holding the contract.” I said.
She looked horrified. “Look, “ I said, “It isn’t like I can just wave a magic wand and make all of this go away. That mother#@&!er Mueller is going down just like Cabrese did.”
“How do you hope to do that?” she asked.
“Bloody, very bloody.” I replied. “We have to be prepared to shoot them all. We have to be prepared to die.”
“I don’t know if I am ready to die. Not for you anyway.” She said.
“They are after you for failing to kill me and still being alive.” I said. “They can’t let you live with your knowledge and not being effective.”
She looked dejected. “This plan is freakin’ bananas.” She said. “My brain must be pureed. Let’s go get him. But I need more guns.”
My heart skipped a beat or two. This girl was…wow. “Gun shop?’ I asked. She nodded and we took off toward Nick’s Firearms. He owed me a favor or two and it is funny how background checks can get lost or misdated.

~~~

#47

We walked the rest of the way to Nick’s, both of us wrapped up in our own moods, hers impudent mine cagey. I was still not sure if I could trust this tornado of a woman, but I wanted too. She was the epitome of what my partner should be. She was urbane enough to be invited to high society, yet she was base enough to be a killer for hire.
She was like me. At first glance someone who could be respectable. Someone standing in the windowpane of normalcy. But she, like me, was someone who lived in a world of the loathsome and disgusting. A place where unsavory things happened for good or not. Unsavory things that warp a decent reality and turn those involved loathsome and disgusting as well.
“Don’t think on it too much.” I kept telling myself. “Sometimes people have to go.” It didn’t help. I had consulted with Jack Daniel so often to keep me from being so brainsick that I was sure my liver would desert me at any time.
My reverie ended at the door to Nick’s Firearms. It was the iconic little sporting goods store, brick front, bars on the windows covering grimy, hand lettered paint. A door with a small bell. The bell tinkled as we went in. A large man who seemed too short for the size of his shoulders glided into the room. Rolled would be more accurate. Nick Brennamen was in a wheelchair.
I was about two years into my stint as a cop, still in uniform, when a call came in that this very store was being robbed. Jack and I had responded but of course the guys were gone by the time we got there. They had left calling cards all over the place though. Hairs, bloody fingerprints, excellent pictures on the surveillance tapes. And one store owner shot in the back. He lived and was always grateful that we had gotten there so quickly.
He was also glad that we nailed the crooks a couple of hours later. Now, Nick had one of those iconic gun shops just like the ones you see on TV. He greeted me warmly. “W/hat the frack do you want now Steve?” I smiled. This was going to be….interesting. Lola just looked confused.

#48

“Nick you burbon soaked lump of crap how have you been?” I began. A preemptive strike was the only thing that kept me on the good side of Nick.
Make him laugh and he would relinquish the stick up his ass and be more like a real person.“What do you want Steve?” he asked smiling. I had done it. He continued, “You don’t have a badge anymore you can’t push me around. Well at least not without the wheelchair.” We both laughed.

“Well, “ I began, “I am not going to obfuscate here. You are pretty well connected with the underground. “ He nodded. “How much credence do you give this contract on me?” He looked between me and Lola. “Safe?” He asked. “Partner.” I said. He nodded again.

“There is an unsubstantiated rumor that you were rude to and consequently pissed off Pipes Mueller. The kings of the underground say you have a ‘bring him alive or dead I don’t care’ contract on you. Rumor says you have foiled a couple of guys already.”

I smiled and jerked my head towards Lola. “Yea.” I said. He looked intrigued. “I am going after all of them. All of them.” I emphasized. I need a sustainable source of ammunition for this. It will be a lot for quite a while.”

“You aren’t employed anymore dude.” He said. “How would I get paid?”

“All of those assholes have more money than they know what to do with. I will keep a small stipend for me and Lola here, and reinvest the rest into your business. Hard to lose with that.” He nodded.

“Ok.” He finally agreed. “What do you need?”

~~~

Avenged in Blood Chronicles part 49
A moment of indecision. Which wound to staunch first. The blood running its crimson river into my eyes was more annoying, but the bullet gouged canyon in my deltoid was more serious. The shoulder won.
I tore a strip of my shirt and tied it the best I could around my shoulder. Blood began to percolate through the material but I couldn’t care for the moment. I didn’t know what had happened to Lola. She was almost shell shocked.
The assault on Pipes Mueller was only 20 minutes or so old but so far it had been as bloody as I had imagined. Lola and I had made it to the doors of the compound unseen. We were hiding in the bushes at the electronically guarded gate when the first wave of soldiers came to investigate something. We must have tripped a sensor somewhere.
It didn’t matter though. Lola and I were ready with our modified Molotov cocktails. Milk cartons filled with gasoline and oil, a gas soaked rag poking from the restapled tops. When the first guards passed through the gate we ignited the rags with cheap Bic lighters and tossed them into the crowd.
The cartons burst as planned when they hit and the gas ignited with a loud whoosh followed by a wonderous fireball that engulfed all of the 12 men. The gas burned, the oil kept it going. Flesh melted, men screamed and died.
When the fire was almost out, Lola and I stepped from behind the bushes and around the charred corpses, into the compound that wastrel Mueller kept in the nice part of the hills.
The driveway was long between the gates and the house. The drive itself was wide as well, two cars could easily pass each other on it. Bushes lined each side of the drive and we each took one. The sun was still high enough that shadows were not our enemy yet, and there was a….hush to the grounds that was very odd knowing that there were at least 4 dozen men protecting that pile of dung Mueller.
Our slow and careful stalk to the house seemed to go unnoticed by anything human. We flushed a pair of quail and Lola had to shush her scream of surprise but no one with a gun showed up.
We got within a hundred feet of the front door. 75 of those were bare gravel and concrete, covered with men. Large men with automatic weapons, but only about a third of them were paying attention to the surroundings. The rest were talking idly to each other. I counted 30 men. I didn’t know how many more were within easy range.
I checked the loads on my 3 pistols as well as the small submachine gun that Nick had given me. I had 2 spare clips for that, enough lead for each man if it only took 1 shot. I knew it wouldn’t. Lola was similarly armed and she knew we had at least an even chance.
I stood first and let loose an entire magazine on full auto. Men screamed and went down. I reloaded and stood again spraying lead towards the bodyguards, Lola doing the same. Bullets came back at me, tearing at my clothes and splintering trees and rocks around me. One caught me in the shoulder. I screamed and dropped the machine gun as I fell.
I was right back up with my trusted .45 in my hand though, picking the few targets left and dropping them where they stood. Lola was crouching the bushes covering her head. I couldn’t tell if she was hurt or not. I ran across the road firing blind at the 4 remaining guards. One screamed, three kept firing. A chip of concrete flew up in front of me and cut my forehead before I reached Lola.
She was terrified but seemed unharmed. I asked her if she was ok and she looked at me with relief. She then stood and fired 4 times. There was no return fire. All of the guards were now dead. Mueller had to be scared, or at least I hoped he was.
After a few painful moments the blood began to adhere to the makeshift bandage and stop flowing. My head was no longer bleeding when I reloaded my .45 and looked to Lola. “Are you ready to finish this?” I asked. She just nodded and checked her pistol.
We waded through blood soaked gravel and stepped around bodies headed towards the front door of Mueller’s plush estate. I picked up a couple of the machine guns dropped by dead men as we hit the door. I kicked the door and it flew open.
Two quick bursts from my right hand gun dropped 2 goons as I went through the door. Two more fell to Lola’s guns before I could squeeze the trigger on 3 more. It was quiet for a moment. We moved further into the house, our senses almost hyper aware of any movement, of which there was none until I turned the corner towards a kitchen/bar area.
A heavy man was making a drink. I startled him and shot before he could clear his pistol from his holster. My bullet had gone right through his drink before going through him. I looked in a morbid fascination at his body slumped over the bar, broken glass and crushed ice mixing with blood and burbon, making some kind of satanic slush, ready for a demons refreshment. I had to find Mueller.

~~~

Avenged in Blood part 51

I opened door number one and jumped back expecting flying lead, but the room was bereft of anything but a toilet. A sigh of relief as I opened door 2 and was met with the hail of bullets I was ready for. Door 3 opened then and another door I hadn’t seen before opened as well.
Automatic weapons create an obstreperous atmosphere. Thinking has to be sharp and ready during a gunfight, and even though I was beginning to languish from blood loss, I hit the floor, rolling and firing at the same time. Bullets grazed my skin, leaving stinging trails. Lola cried out in pain from somewhere I couldn’t see. I prayed for the amnesty of a reload as I dropped the machine gun and drew my .45.
I got my chance. 5 reports came from my pistol and 5 men were dead. How I was not one of them is a mystery. I turned my attention immediately to the door at the other end of the hall. It hadn’t opened. I ran to find Lola.
Find her I did, barely. She had been hit hard in the chest and it looked bad. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and pressed it to the oozing mess of her chest. I felt for a pulse, it was there but as ethereal as a zephyr. She was not conscious. Rage burned off whatever grief was forming. She was becoming a keystone of my life even if I had only known her a few days. I don’t know if I could ever plug the hole is she dies.
Someone else needed killing now. I picked up one of the machine guns from the dead goons and a couple of magazines from their pockets. One room left before the basement. I headed that way.
I let the machine gun knock. Hot lead met flesh somewhere inside and a scream was cut short. No fire was returned so I entered trying to look everywhere at once. Two men lay slumped over an antique huguenot chair. The one with the insipid face still held a now smashed ukulele. For some reason “Deliverance” ran through my head.
I cleared the rest of the room and headed downstairs. From somewhere a recording of a canticle began playing. Stranger and stranger. I only hoped Lola would pull through, but I didn’t count that as likely. My trigger finger burned for more action, and it was going to get its wish.

Avenged in Blood Part 52
As angry as I was, I couldn’t help feeling like a parody of a video game. I was Death, I was killing everything that moved, and I knew that the reckoning would come one day. Whatever deity gave me aegis this day would surely abandon me at some point, but who was I here and now to make that decision? Why was I reliving this “kill ‘em all, let God sort it out” situation over and over?
My fecund mind had a lot of verve for killing and ridding the world of bad guys. Without a cape or gimmick, I work with only finely crafted firearms and the tesla coil of my rage at the criminal underbelly of society. If I took a panoptic view of myself, I wondered if there was any wisp of humanity left in me.
The basement door. The chair was still blocking it. I could hear nothing but a few groans from the dying. I had a fleeting thought for Lola, I hope she makes it. But she is no longer part of the mission.
It was finally time to enter the basement. I have never had taphephobia but something about that basement gave me the creeps. I opened the door anyway. I saw a semaphore flash of lights as the door opened. They must know I am coming now. I started down the stairs and heard a the low growl of a large canid. Great dogs on top of everything else. It is time to do some eleemosynary violence.