ã€ŠHitman Holyman (book 1)ã€‹


 Chapter Zero: The Cleaner.

    A scream of confusion lit the night, followed by the silence of nobody coming for help. A young man thrashed in the low lighting, the wooden chair he was zip-tied to, creaking in the process. The gleam of metal nearing his face and the sickening clank of stainless steel hitting teeth echoed as his screams for help turned to incoherent bellowing, the ratcheting sound of the metal device holding his mouth wide open.

    ¡°Familiar, but different, isn¡¯t it?¡± whispered a high-pitched young female voice. ¡°Being the one in the chair for once. Sadistic enough to go through med school just to subject kids to brutal dentistry and, from what people have said, not even gentle about it. Someone should have noticed the warning signs that you enjoy hurting people, like your patients, or your wife¡­someone should have done something BEFORE you killed her and your own unborn child, but I guess hindsight is 2020, you should have been an optometrist instead of a dentist, maybe you would have seen the spirit of vengeance coming.¡± She said with a sigh, her red contact lenses looming over his face and the ghostly white makeup painted on her skin. He argued with nonsensical noises, befitting a man begging for his life, with his jaws locked open by cold steel bars.

    ¡°Oh I know, I know. It¡¯s scary in this chair of yours. Being helpless, like a child, while someone hurts you, and you don¡¯t understand why, but you can see in their eyes that they enjoy it. Like me. You¡¯ve seen that killer look in a mirror, but you never thought it would find you. You probably paid off the cops, or just did some favors, maybe you have a buddy on the inside making sure you¡¯re safe. He failed, if that¡¯s the case, you shouldn¡¯t feel safe, Chris. She said, powering up the drill and smiling, black lipstick curled up like a demon grin. ¡°And you could have gotten away with being a sadistic wife-beating prick who likes to hurt patients¡­IF you just knew when to stop the violence. So¡­did you just not want kids, or was she just ready to leave you and take your kid so you couldn¡¯t hurt them or her anymore?¡± she asked. Realizing, she would never get answers with him unable to speak. She considered taking the tension off and hearing the explanation, but a dead woman 7 months pregnant told everything she needed to know about Chris. The rest would just be lies and tricks.

    ¡°Well obviously we may never know the truth even if I let you talk, but I¡¯m not here to get explanations for your crimes, I¡¯m just here to make you regret them. She clicked the play button on her playlist and began ¡°Industrial Bass Dubbstep Metal 3¡± to mask the impending screams. She banged her head as she began the root canal, and the smell of burning teeth wafted into the room. Her eyes rolled back to the symphony of pain and downtuned guitar, the thumping subwoofer setting the pace of the procedure and his salival moans just blending into the mix along with ambient chainsaw and horror movie effects. Like a DJ freshly released from hell, the phone displayed some nice red mood lighting with flashes of pink and white, like a trance, sending Chris into surreal territory. As the music faded down, she stepped back, wind-milling her ponytail lightly and stepping back into the light with a small hammer and chisel.

    ¡°I brought this with me, don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s been sterilized, 9 out of 10 dentists wouldn¡¯t recommend this, so consider me that tenth bitch who would. Don''t tell Colgate¡± She said, placing the chisel on his front canine and spinning the hammer with her free hand, moving to the beat to build the anticipation as she grinned darkly, Cheshire cat of the damned, gleaming teeth in the dark within a grin of black lipstick and shadowy gums. The music built to a bass drop, and as the low frequencies peaked and the music hit a silent lull, the bass hammered down heavily and so did she, knocking his tooth in half and reloading the chisel to the next one like a machine. Over and over.

    ¡°This is kinda fun, I see why you like it. Unfortunately, I can¡¯t think of a great way to simulate throwing you down a flight of stairs while almost full term pregnant and hoping you break your neck¡­so I have to get creative.¡± She said, stepping away as he coughed and tried not to choke on his own broken teeth. She stepped back into the lighting with a wooden baseball bat, contemplating it like she was doing complex calculations.

    ¡°How many steps did she hit on the way down do you think¡­maybe¡­8?¡± she said, sending an over-handed swing and the bat down on his wrist, then spinning almost ballerina-esque to break the kneecap. She followed by a few moments of savoring the mood and a few hits to the ribs with slightly less force, but enough to break something each time. The white and black makeup now spattered with blood began to run with sweat, as she backed away and bobbed to the beat, and the beating. She checked her phone, skimming the crime scene photos and making sure to copy every bruise with decent accuracy, as she casually threw a few more whacks to the shin and stomach, repeating the stomach blows until satisfied with the damage she estimated.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably close enough, but it says here she died of internal bleeding before the ambulance even got there. I bet you waited a while, and I¡¯m just not as patient as you. I¡¯m also a creature of habit, and I gotta add some personal flair to the scene. I can¡¯t have you surviving and identifying me, so¡­let''s meet my friend. She¡¯s a very shy girl, but when she does come out to play, she plays rough. Courtesy of the Murder Geisha, Spirit of Vengeance: Avenging entity of every woman ever beaten and abused. We¡¯ll see you in hell, Chris.¡± She said flipping a butterfly knife into his view with a Japanese symbol painted on her cheek and a big giddy grin, the spray of blood streaking across it with the first of many slashes.

    A pair of men¡¯s boots walked the bloody dentist''s office floors, duct tape securing the plastic bags around them, as the footprints left oddly clean and flat marks in their absence. A pair of black gloves holding tweezers lifted a single strand of red wig hair to a pair of eyes hiding behind a medical mask and goggles. The almost alien-like silent figure placed another hair, shorter and black, organic human, into the zip-seal bag and grabbed a small hunting knife, hand checking the wounds and meticulously following them with a strange series of dead calm slow stabs, as if re-enacting the murder himself. He finished by sliding the knife into the body and leaving it, like sheathing it for later in human flesh, dead for hours. He steadied his disposable plastic jacket for comfort, grabbing a fresh bag and some garden sheers, gleaming with a mirror polished edge that has clearly been hand sharpened by someone experienced. With a strange indifference, he began collecting the ends of each finger, dropping them into the bag with any trace of scratches or struggle DNA that may have remained under them. He opened a small metal tube and removed a stale cigarette, half burned, and he lit the end of it, holding it up in the flashlight beam. It burned in the dental pliers and smoldered slowly, his hand tapping the ashes around, almost like a ritual. He looked around and bagged the evidence bags, flicking the cigarette as he walked out the back door, staring at the ground and taking oddly small steps, placing his boots down into her footprints, as if stomping bugs with exact targeting, each step taking him deeper into the woods to a gravel road, where he carefully removed his boot covers and bagged them as well. Squeezing the air out of the plastic bag of bags and random items, and 10 human fingertips. He tucked it into his pocket and began walking down the road, removing the disposable coverings as he went, clicking off the flashlight and vanishing like a ghost into the nothing. The second ghost to visit that office that night.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The bright flash of cameras lit the scene red and silver, as men in matching hazmat suits did an oddly similar job collecting evidence, to the advantage of broad daylight. A brunette woman in a suit held her nose and covered her mouth as a short bald man chewing gum and holding a notebook approached her.

    ¡°Well... It¡¯s a weird one. Killer left no footprints, but the intentions suggest he was about 150 pounds or more, wearing some kind of boot covers, size 13. Murder weapon left in the body like some kind of message, no idea what, but they got prints off the knife handle and found cigarette ash around the place. So we have a tall, slim guy who smokes menthols and wanted us to find the body. Door was wide open, tracks are being followed by guys right now, hopefully the guy left something useful out there. We didn¡¯t find hair or skin cells anywhere.¡±

    ¡°What bout under the fingernails?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yea, good luck with that. Sick bastard took the fingertips with him.¡±

    ¡°Trophy or evidence?¡± she asked, gagging slightly.

    ¡°Maybe both, but it was planned out, the cuts were made with something really sharp, maybe scissors, and nothing left they behind. Right in the center of the nail, cuts post-mortem. The guy was alive when he was tortured, but the fingertips were cut after death. No pressurized blood spray, very little bleeding. This guy was a pro, with one hell of a grudge.¡±

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Take a look at these. This guy¡¯s wife died 4 weeks ago, accidental fall down the stairs, forensics was pretty half-assed, but they ruled it an accident, and these photos of the wife match almost every bruise and broken bone on the victim here. Witnesses say our dead guy was at a nightclub hours before the killing began, hitting on strippers and living it up. Pretty fucked for a guy whose pregnant wife just died. This guy somehow lured in our dead dentist in the middle of the night to his own office, wearing covered boots and gloves, no forced entry, used the key, and then got him in the chair, replicated the wife¡¯s injuries pretty accurately, went major league on his ass with a bat, tortured him with the dental tools and then just went full Mike Myers on him with a knife till he bled out. Then he took the fingertips. Cleaned up a little, had a smoke, walked home. That¡¯s cold and personal. Why would this guy, a married man hitting on women at the strip club, end up bringing another man back here, unlock the place, and go in like he suspected nothing? Killer was someone he knew, his drug dealer, a friend, maybe some kinda sex thing, I dunno. But who the hell takes someone to their office in the middle of the night after a night of clubbing and from the Ecstasy in his blood, partying hard? I dunno about you, but if I was doing some weird shit in my own office after dark, high on E and alcohol, it¡¯s probably a sex thing. You know any strippers that wear a men¡¯s size 13 boot and can reach that shelf up there with the cleaning wipes without a stepstool? I¡¯m not judging, but it wasn¡¯t that kinda strip club, so unless this is way more complex than we thought, our boy here was glad the wife was dead and having a boy¡¯s night after the clubs.¡±

    ¡°It does get more complicated.¡± She said as someone handed her a clipboard. They found a fingerprint match on the knife in the body.¡±

    ¡°Fuck me, that was fast, we¡¯ve been here 30 minutes.¡± the bald forensics guy puzzled.

    ¡°Well, apparently we just got an anonymous tip and a name.¡± she added.

    ¡°Anonymous tip and ID on a suspect¡­before we even finished the damn police report? Oh, that¡¯s bold. You think the guy¡¯s taunting us?¡±

    ¡°Get your ass in the hall right now.¡± She said, practically dragging him as she went. Waving the man who brought the clipboard with her into the hallway.

    ¡°Both of you listen closely, and listen good. Shut this shit down, close the scene. Nobody touches the place. Don¡¯t say a thing to anyone. Don¡¯t even say anything to the other people here, or you¡¯re both gonna get fired, understand?¡± she said harshly in a whisper tone.

    ¡°No, not really, what the fuck, this isn¡¯t protocol.¡± Baldy said, looking worried.

    ¡°To hell with protocol. Just do it.¡± She ordered.

    ¡°With all due respect, if I¡¯m gonna get fired for some shady shit, I wanna know why. Now I got orders to process a crime scene and I came here to do that. So what the hell is going on?¡± the forensics guy shrugged as the other guy held the clipboard silently.

    ¡°Anonymous tip was from the strip club parking lot, burner phone, female voice. All it said was Detective Damien Baker has been a bad boy, and it hung up. Two sets of fingerprints matched the knife left in the guy. Damien baker, and a guy who¡¯s currently in prison for murder, who used that same damn knife.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me a cop took a weapon out of evidence and murdered a guy with it?¡± baldy whispered.

    ¡°I know Damien. Worked with him. Look at the damn file. 160 pounds, 5 foot 11, shoes size 13. Don¡¯t you dare say this to anyone¡­he was just quitting a smoking habit... menthols. Either we got someone trying to set up a cop who has access to evidence and his case files, or Damien killed a guy who murdered his own wife and got away with it.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit¡­yea, I¡¯m out. I¡¯m not saying anything. I like my job, most days. What do you want me to put on the report?¡±

    ¡°No fingerprints on the weapon, cigarette ashes disappear, no mention of anonymous tips, we¡¯re looking for some guy over 150 pounds, no hair or DNA found. I¡¯m taking this file from here. You clean the ashes up and wipe down that knife handle. That¡¯s an order.¡± She growled.

    ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am.¡± He said, looking at his intern still clutching the empty clipboard. ¡°I didn¡¯t see a damn thing, did you see a damn thing?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The intern shook.

    ¡°Wow. Guy must be a real pro. No real evidence found. Wild how meticulous these killers can be. Probably some guy the wife was banging on the side. Happens all the time.¡± He said, carefully grabbing a wipe and discreetly cleaning the knife handle down before placing it in the evidence bag and marking it with a different case number, folding it under and handing it to the intern. ¡°I think this belongs in the evidence room. Don¡¯t file it, it¡¯s already filed, apparently. No sense is doing it twice, right?¡± he winked.

    ¡°Whatever you say, I just got here.¡± He huffed, nervously taking the bag and the papers and leaving briskly. Baldy took a silent moment alone to process things, dazed by the scene.

    ¡°The shit I see just gets weirder every case in this town. HEY, someone get me a coffee, that¡¯s a wrap. We got everything we need here. Don¡¯t give me that look, brass says we¡¯re done, we¡¯re done. Someone else¡¯s crime scene now. That¡¯s how the shit rolls broski. Pack up, blood samples in the cooler.¡±

    ¡°We just started.¡± Sighed one of the other forensic guys.

    ¡°Yea, and we just finished. I don¡¯t make the rules, I just repeat the orders. Let¡¯s go, bags, tags and labels move it out.¡± He waved, grabbing the coffee as it was handed, making his way to the back door to get back to the lab, where he got paid just shy of what it took to deal with that kinda shit. He sat down in the van at a laptop and removed his gloves to type something while nobody was looking.

    ¡°Murder weapon fingerprints matched the victim, cigarette ashes too damaged to identify due to victim¡¯s blood exposure. Cause of death, knife to the heart, no leads or suspects at the time. No witnesses.¡± He muttered as he typed. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go get some lunch. Anyone have any place in mind? No sushi this time, 3 days in a row, I¡¯m sick of Asian stuff.¡± He sighed.

 Chapter 1: Casual night out.

    The serene musical sound of blues played on the wobbly record player, as a pair of black leather-gloved hands finished stacking the last bullet upright on the wooden work table. The strange silvery white sheen of the casings that would otherwise be brass, contrasted the ordinary looking 45 caliber jacketed soft points sticking out of them. As the smooth piano solo began, the hands picked up the long gray magazine. He began loading the odd bullets, casually, as they turned and rotated like a p90 magazine, the butt of the rounds visible through the smoky gray plastic.

    The fizzing sound of a cigarette drag preceded the distinct click of the magazine being loaded into a gun with a slap, followed by the click of a safety. A pair of rubber boots walked across the wooden floor to the nearby stack of plumbing supplies and pipes, grabbing a particular black-painted copper pipe and some square tubing, sliding the pipe in and twisting it till it locked.

    ¡°Bum bum, bum bum.¡± Whispered the voice, mouthing the blues guitar licks as he finished the cigarette and put it out. ¡°Sorry Gwen. I know we don¡¯t spend much time together anymore, but work is work, and God works in mysterious ways.¡± He sighed softly, climbing the metal ladder out of the basement and closing the hatch. The creak of a wooden bed being lowered over it in an unlit room as the only sound. ¡°I¡¯m glad we get a night out for a change.¡± He said, petting the rifle and leaving the room.

    The sound of crickets and cicada, roared in the night air as the same dark figure in a trench coat and rain hood plopped a camouflage fiberglass ladder to the side of a tree, climbing it and tossing around a ratchet strap to secure it. He found a nice sturdy limb to sit on, clipping his belt to the strap and getting situated. He kicked his feet casually, taking in the cool night air and listening to his single headphone with the sound of upbeat jazz piano as he dug under his left arm and pulled out an object, roughly a foot long boxy rectangle. He clicked out a handle, locking it in place, pulling an extending stock from the rear and locking it down, he began slowly screwing on the piece of threaded pipe and placed a small night vision scope on the slide rail, locking it to the rear and shouldering the weapon, now a good 3 feet long. He took the safety off, waiting patiently in the dark.

    About 30 minutes later, he watched the lights of a few trucks pull into the clearing, turning off his headphone and pulling the cross necklace from his shirt, whispering softly, almost silently.

    ¡°God, give me the strength and steadiness to do your work, the wisdom to listen to your words, and the patience to resist temptations, for they are abundant. Amen.¡± He said, tucking it back in his shirt. He tucked his elbow into the nook of a tree limb and rested the rifle, looking down the scope. He adjusted his glasses to see better, fighting the bifocals and, with an annoyance huff, removing them and getting a different pair from his inside coat pocket. Taking position again. On went the thermal scope, and the glow of 6 bodies walking around a central object became visible. 2 glowed a dim red, and 4 of them were as white as the truck headlights. ¡°There you are¡­looks like a mixed batch. Yes I know, temptations. I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡± He said to himself softly. He moved the crosshairs down to the center mass of the furthest target. ¡°Two hundred and seven yards.¡± He mouthed, doing the math in his head and aiming slightly higher. ¡°Guide my bullets with your grace.¡± He said, pulling the trigger. The gun fired a 2 shot automatic burst, splattering red across the truck hood. He moved to the next one, pulling the trigger again, another burst of 2 rounds planted the second target to the ground. He proceeded to kill a third time, and on the 4<sup>th</sup> target he paused, unsure if he was in front of or behind the dim red target. ¡°Move, you little shit.¡± He whispered, his finger twitching and the sudden urge to fire through him and move on to the last man standing, to take him out as well. He knew the rules, waiting for the red man to step aside before double-tapping the white target. He exhaled slowly, the rush of the kill surging to his head like a shot of heroin, and he very deliberately took his hand off the grip, holding it to the side so he wouldn¡¯t be tempted to keep firing. The deep urge to just kill them all, dimming down as he breathed. 4 white targets were down, slowly getting dimmer and more orange, as the two red ones got smaller in the distance, jumping into their vehicle and peeling out in the dirt as they hauled both their living asses out of the death trap.

    ¡°Thank you lord for this bounty.¡± He sighed, as if enjoying the most delicious steak one has ever known. Savoring the moment and making his way down from the tree to make sure they were dead. He lit a cigarette and by the dim glow a smile curled into his face, tapping the ash out into a metal tin to hide the evidence. ¡°Well, the lord does provide, doesn¡¯t he, Gwen?¡± he chuckled. Grabbing something from the boxes and bundling them under his coat. ¡°Maybe just one, actually. Don¡¯t wanna get greedy. After all, greed is a sin, and that¡¯s what gets you caught.¡± He said as he kicked the dead bodies lightly and checked again on the thermal scope to confirm they were very dead. He picked up one of the dead guy¡¯s phones and dialed 911, holding his phone near the other phone.

    ¡°Hello, 911 what¡¯s your emergency.¡± Said the voice. He pressed play as the text to speech played the pre-typed message.

    ¡°HELP! I heard shots in the woods. A lot of them.¡± Said the female voice. ¡°Shortly after, I saw a red truck going north really fast from off-road, the license plate JH 50744. I think maybe they killed someone.¡± The voice said as he hung up.

    He made his way south, through the woods, back to his van, parked off to the side of the road. He climbed in the back, removing his plastic coat similar to the cleaner''s from the dentist office slaying. He removed his ski mask to reveal a very ordinary looking man, graying beard, wrinkles, Caucasian and strangely forgettable. He proceeded taking his boots off and peeling away the fake flats, placing them in the paper shredder. He turned to his wooden desk, pulling the top off and revealing that the solid wood desk was hollowed out. He pulled some of the Styrofoam blocks out and took his brand new, stolen MP5 submachine gun, tucking it in firmly and blocking it with the foam, as well as Gwen, his mysterious disassembled rifle, which he handled with far greater care before heaving the top back up. He opened his little wood stove and tossed in his shoe scraps with a little charcoal, wiping himself down from head to toe with some alcohol wet wipes and tossing them in with some paper notes, lighting a fire and closing the door.

    He drove off slowly and steadily to the main road and began his long drive home. He picked up his phone and hesitantly swiped to the name Catherine, waiting for a pickup.

    ¡°Hey. Sorry it¡¯s late. I had a casual night out and wanted to call.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°Mike¡­it¡¯s 1AM.¡± Said an exhausted female voice.

    ¡°I know Catherine. I went to the casino.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t drink anything, especially since I know you¡¯re driving home. I can hear that piece of shit van you won¡¯t get rid of.¡± She replied.

    ¡°No. I just had to take Gwen out somewhere she could have fun.¡±

    ¡°Mike, you know Gwen is dead.¡± She reminded.

    ¡°I know¡­but taking her necklace out makes me feel less alone. I know with God, I¡¯m never alone, but I needed Gwen tonight, so I went to the casino up in Princeton and made a few bets, had a few non-alcoholic cocktails. Took my shots at the horse races instead of the bar. I won, 4 out of 8 of those shots did the job. Ended up with a little bonus prize to take home.¡± He grinned.

    ¡°You always seem to make money gambling. I swear you¡¯re too lucky. I would say as your sponsor that gambling can be an addiction that just replaces the alcohol, but you seem to be doing okay with it. So why are you calling me?¡±

    ¡°I¡­had a moment of temptation. A nice stranger bought me a few shots of vodka to celebrate, and I declined, but they were left right there in front of me. I could have taken those 2 shots and nobody would have known except me and God, and for a fraction of a second I visualized it, had them in my sights. I know it¡¯s wrong. Those weren¡¯t my mission. My mission was 8 bets, a determined and set amount, but every time I go out to the casino I know there will be tempting shots around me, and the fact that I want to take them, almost like a reflex, scares me. But I can¡¯t quit going. This is part of my job. Plumbing and handyman work doesn¡¯t pay the best, I have some hobbies that require the extra income, so you could say gambling and taking risk is a big part of my job and I do enjoy the rush and the risk. But the temptations sometimes get in my way and cross my path and I just don¡¯t like that I still want to go for it.¡± he sighed.

    ¡°You really still believe god wants you to risk it, and make money betting?¡± she asked, sounding almost annoyed.

    ¡°You know, just between us, I still hear his voice guiding me. The only reason I can do handyman work and charge people so little is because of the winnings. I¡¯m helping people, water heaters, midnight plumbing jobs, people who can¡¯t afford a 900 dollar bill on fixed incomes. I can¡¯t do that free shit all the time and pay my own bills, you know. God makes sure I always make just enough gambling to comfortably keep doing my job, and the odds of winning by sheer luck are low. So we know I¡¯m no card counter or Poker champion, how else do I get so lucky?¡± He said, looking down at a box of 9mm ammo he left in the seat. ¡°I made about 1800 dollars tonight in about an hour, only spent about 80.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°Jesus¡­why are you not buying powerball tickets?¡± she asked.

    ¡°God doesn¡¯t want me to be rich and spoiled, tempted to retire on my ass. I could have been greedy and kept going, but I could have also lost all of it doing that. I was to make win 4 bets, I did and walked away better than I started. That¡¯s a few plumbing jobs some little old lady or struggling mom can¡¯t afford that I can just do for free now. I¡¯m helping people, and in a roundabout way tonight I helped 2 people out, I resisted temptations and I feel good. I enjoy these outings and I know it¡¯s just Gwen¡¯s... necklace, and it doesn¡¯t feel anything. It¡¯s just metal and sentiment, but Gwen needed to get out, and having her there in some metaphorical way made it better. Sorry to bother you so late, I know it¡¯s rude, but I needed someone to talk to. It gets lonely.¡±

    ¡°Have you considered dating?¡±

    ¡°Actually, I¡¯m meeting a woman tomorrow. I¡¯m technically offering her a job, but with the work piling up there¡¯s no time to date. This is purely for her plumbing skills. For now, I¡¯ll just deal with my very functio-¡± he cut off abruptly slamming the brakes and swerving as he¡­ almost fully stopped, before a loud thump stole his attention. ¡°I gotta go¡­I just hit a deer.¡± He said hanging up quickly and white-knuckle gripping the wheel. ¡°Lord, please tell me that was not what I think it was. Tell me that was not what I think it was, and my old eyes played tricks on me. Please¡­let it be a deer.¡± He sighed, taking a breath and slowly staring at the road as a human figure stood up. ¡°Fuck!¡± he barked, calming himself and getting out of the car. A young woman adjusted her back, fluffing the dirt from her short black hair and a beat-up black leather jacket, in a confused daze.

    ¡°You serious?¡± She yelled.

    ¡°I am so sorry, I don¡¯t know¡­why were you in the road at 1AM?¡± he asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s no sidewalk douchebag, it¡¯s a highway. Where am I gonna walk? The ditch?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t walk, you get a ride or call a cab or something. I could have killed you, you need a hospital.¡±

    ¡°No, no hospitals. And yea I¡¯ll just call my personal limo driver or call a helicopter. Bitch I¡¯m broke, I just gotta get places, were you speeding, or drunk?¡±

    ¡°I was driving under the limit, and I don¡¯t drink.¡± he objected.

    ¡°You got any money?¡± She asked. ¡°Be nice to have some cash so I can chill at a motel or something if I have a concussion.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t sleep with a concussion, that¡¯s the point. You really need a hospital.¡± Mike insisted.

    ¡°No, no hospital, I¡¯m fine. Look, no bleeding, I can walk a stra-¡± she staggered. ¡°Okay a little wobbly but honestly that¡¯s just how I am. I¡¯m fine. Maybe a bit tipsy.¡±

    ¡°Get in the van.¡± he sighed.

    ¡°You abducting me now?¡± She joked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not that kind of preacher, but I¡¯m not leaving you here. I¡¯ll drive you into town, drop you off at the ER and what you do from there is between you and God.¡±

    They headed down the highway as she pounded down an energy drink.

    ¡°So what¡¯s your deal?¡± She asked.

    ¡°No deal, just heading home.¡± Mike sighed.

    ¡°No I mean the van. You got like an office and a buncha tools and shit. You like a traveling tool salesman?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Handyman.¡± Mike replied.

    ¡°Cool.¡± The kid said, noticing the cross necklace and the picture at the desk of him and his family in front of a church. ¡°Holyman/Handyman. Weird combo, but okay.¡±

    ¡°Jesus was a carpenter. If they had indoor plumbing and gas lines back then, he probably would have dabbled in that.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s with the 9 mills?¡± She said nudging the ammo boxes on the floor.

    ¡°Shit¡­I do a little target shooting at home.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°Yea, I noticed the Glock under your shirt. Those water heaters must get really aggressive. Holyman, Plumber, strapped up with a 9 on his way home from a late night repair job, pickin up hitchhikers.¡±

    ¡°Everyone is allowed to protect himself and their family, even with lethal force, if he feels his life is in danger or the lives of others. And I¡¯m not a family man anymore. That¡¯s an old picture back there. I¡¯m not a preacher anymore, either. I¡¯m just a handyman with faith, who likes to be prepared. You do late night jobs at strange houses, you never know what creeps you might get. And it¡¯s not a Glock, it¡¯s an HK45.¡±

    ¡°HK¡¯s are pretty expensive; you know you can get a Glock pretty cheap. Cops carry em.¡±

    ¡°Your life is an investment worth overspending on. Never go cheap on personal defense. There¡¯s a reason they cost more. Better springs, exposed hammer, double or single action decocking safety, more comfortable grip, larger trigger guard. Navy SEALs use them for tactical missions. Granted they use the compact with the threaded barrel for suppressors, but luckily I don¡¯t need that, I do need the comfort of the extra few rounds, hence the extended mag. Glocks are great for gangbangers and law enforcement. Have you seen the level of incompetence in local law enforcement and common thugs versus the discipline of a trained Navy SEAL?¡± he smirked.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s for damn sure right. You know a lot about guns for a plumber.¡± she said with an eyebrow raise.

    ¡°I need to pull over for a moment.¡± He said, abruptly doing so in a hurry. He stepped out of the car, pacing nervously around the back, looking both angry and exhausted as he talked to himself. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. The kid¡¯s a drug addict.¡± He whispered alone, waiting for a reply. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­I¡¯m not doubting, I¡¯m just confirming to make sure there¡¯s no error in my understanding. Fuck¡­fine. Fine. I¡¯m not arguing, I¡¯m just stressed. I¡¯m aware I¡¯m also a criminal, that¡¯s kind of the reason I¡¯m uneasy. No, I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll do it. I don¡¯t want to do it, but I¡¯ll do it. FUCK¡± he huffed, opening the back of the van and digging through his drawers for something.

    ¡°You good?¡± the kid asked.

    ¡°Just looking for something real quick.¡± Mike said, grabbing his thermal goggles and turning them on as he undid his shirt. To expose the gun. ¡°This may sound really stupid to you, but I believe things happen for a reason." He finished, reading 98.6, and getting back in the car with the gun in his hand, a silencer on it. She looked nervously at him, waiting for a moment to strike.

    ¡°You seem really on edge, is there something wrong?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yea¡­I¡¯m going to have to kill you.¡± He sighed. Before he could utter another word, the flash of a rainbow colored Tanto point knife stopped an inch from his throat.

    ¡°Gun down, wallet and ID, hands on the wheel.¡± She said firmly. He smiled, strangely relieved.

    ¡°Had to make sure it was really you. So what is that, 5 kills now with that knife?¡± He asked, tightening his grip on her wrist so she couldn¡¯t move it further, and pointing the gun casually to her side. ¡°I have the upper hand, kid.¡± He smirked. ¡°You¡¯re not overpowering me with that knife, let alone before I could shoot you.¡± He said as a light click got his attention and her other hand brought a tiny pistol to eyeball level, and the van started rolling.

    ¡°What are you doing? Stop the car. Stop the car or I¡¯ll shoot.¡± she insisted.

    ¡°40mph and climbing, alone on a dark road going faster with my foot on the gas. You kill me with no seatbelt on, you¡¯re dead too¡­60¡­.65.¡±

    ¡°Old man, I¡¯m not afraid to die.¡± She squinted.

    ¡°That¡¯s your problem. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t clean your crime scenes. Fingerprints on the lamp-pull on kill number 3, Witness saw you leaving kill 5, if you weren¡¯t wearing that wig, they could have given a description of a lone girl with short black hair, or found the knife. That¡¯s twice in 5 kills you were caught and didn¡¯t know it.

    ¡°I knew it, fucking cop. Detective, special FBI agent?¡±

    ¡°Plumber, handyman. No badge, no bacon. Your secret¡¯s safe with me.¡± he said.

    ¡°Then how the hell did you know all that?¡± she growled, jabbing him lightly.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m the one who cleaned it up, and the reason you¡¯re not in prison. So you owe me, and you¡¯re gonna take the knife off my neck and the pea-shooter out of my damn ear.¡± He said, as she removed the knife and kept the gun down and ready.

    ¡°I owe you? So what do you want, free fuck, free favor, You know I don¡¯t have money, I don¡¯t even have a home."

    "And¡­you need a place to stay and lay low. Free room and board, free meals, I won¡¯t preach or make you go to church, I don¡¯t even go myself. Just a few basic house rules and you gotta pull your weight with the work.¡± He said.

    ¡°This work involve one of us on our knees¡­preacher? That¡¯s gonna cost a lot more than a room and some food?¡±

    ¡°I know the stereotype and I promise only about one in¡­like 8 preachers are like that, again, I¡¯m not even a preacher anymore. I retired a long time ago. But I¡¯ve been really considering hiring an apprentice. I was following you, planned to catch up to you sometime tomorrow¡­And then you stepped right into my path, and I bet you¡¯d be thrilled just to have a couch to crash on and free food.¡± He said getting out a cigarette and lighting it, yanking it away as the kid reached for it, ¡°Don¡¯t smoke kid, these things will kill you. Lotta deadly things are addictive as hell.¡±

    ¡°Bitch, I¡¯ve killed 5 people, you really don¡¯t want to be tempting me.¡± She said.

    ¡°Honey, I¡¯ve killed 4 people in the last hour and if you stepped out any faster, I¡¯d have your whole life''s killcount tied in under 65 minutes.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m your new boss. You passed the interview, Welcome to Finn Plumbing and other less advertised wetwork. I¡¯m Michael Finn."

    ¡°Thank¡­you?¡± she squinted.

    ¡°And do you have a name, aside from the Decatur Decapitator?¡±

    ¡°WHAT!?¡± That¡¯s what the cops are calling me? I-wh¡­I took one guys head off. ONE!¡±

    ¡°Well, it was your first confirmed kill. They tend to associate the name with the first one.¡± he shrugged.

    ¡°Well fuck me in the balls, so I¡¯m stuck with it? Great. I¡¯m Tanner. What did they stick you with?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I have about 8 serial killer case names floating around. They don¡¯t know they¡¯re the same person. Magnesium killer, Molotov brothers, Mister black¡­I like that one actually, I may do another Mister Black soon, uh, Oh, the Lakeshot Shooter.¡± he casually added with a proud grin.

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± she blurted. ¡°You are not the Lakeshot shooter. That¡¯s bullshit.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡± he shrugged. ¡°They never caught the guy or IDed him.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re like 60, the guy they¡¯re looking for is like a¡­ British spy or ex US sniper fresh from Afghanistan.¡±

    ¡°I know. They wouldn¡¯t believe I¡¯m the guy if I confessed at the station.¡±

    ¡°How¡­how did you possibly make that shot? Nobody could make that shot, that¡¯s why it made headlines.¡± She barked.

    ¡°Stick around, I¡¯ll tell you another time.¡± He yawned. "You like scrambled eggs, I¡¯m starving. I¡¯m gonna have some eggs back at the cabin.¡± He finished as she sat wide eyes and speechless.

 Chapter 2: The Organization

    A young detective, maybe 28, bald with medium brown skin and a slightly lighter rim of skin where a wedding ring used to be, ran his tell-tale fingers over his scalp. A woman strutted past the table, long black hair and vivid blue eyes, carrying a Glock 19 and swaggering as he stared at his laptop screen.

    ¡°You know your wife left you for this very reason.¡±

    ¡°Really? Because here I thought she left me because I was banging you on the side." he huffed.

    ¡°Well, yea, but clearly you¡¯re more interested in that conspiracy than either of us, so all those late nights we spent working on this, probably caused the late nights with us doing other things. So essentially, that laptop and its bullshit cost you your marriage.¡± She sighed.

    ¡°She knew the job when she married a detective, if she left me because of my job, I wouldn¡¯t feel like the villain here. She was stressed by the job, and the job wasn¡¯t good on the marriage, but finding the two of us bare-assed in the kitchen was definitely the part where she drew the line. I must be crazy.¡± He said, shaking his head and straining at the computer data.

    ¡°Obviously. You can¡¯t even blink, let alone look up from that screen with me in the room looking this good.¡± She said, gesturing to her cleavage.

    ¡°I mean crazy for cheating on her. THIS is perfectly sane detective work. Why don¡¯t you seem interested in the slightest? This is OUR case.¡±

    ¡°Because Damien, it¡¯s not OUR case, it¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s a bunch of unrelated cases you think are related to one major group. It¡¯s 20 of our old cold cases and 3 solved ones.¡±

    ¡°Of course they¡¯re related.¡± He objected, annoyed and finally looking up. ¡°All the same victim profiles, mostly wealthy, always horrible people with criminal lives under the radar even we didn¡¯t know about till someone shot them. The dates, almost perfectly spaced 3 weeks apart, never any REAL convictions, You know The Butcher they arrested wasn¡¯t the right guy. And this¡­magnesium thing.¡± He said. "Got me all kinds of confused."

    ¡°Well, all good serial killers take a multivitamin, Damien¡± she sighed.

    ¡°Magnesium dust found on the victim''s clothing, Gina.¡±

    ¡°Damien, that¡¯s 20 cases, two of them found unexplained magnesium dust on the victims. That¡¯s not an organization of killers, that¡¯s either coincidence, or one guy killing 2 of the 20 people from that unrelated list in a year. Magnesium boy made a second round. High profile criminal assholes make enemies and get killed, that¡¯s just what happens when you get rich and piss armed people off. You¡¯re focused on the¡­dates that ALMOST space out, the vague circle of locations covering the whole state of Illinois, the fact that a lot of rich criminals knew each other and had connections and 2 cases of them had weird magnesium dust. Have you focused on the differences? Because the differences are astounding. Here. This guy was shot with a generic 22, the most common caliber in the country, and then stabbed after that during an alleyway struggle. This guy was just shot in the head point-blank outside a bar with a special 22 subsonic round made for suppressors.¡±

    ¡°Both cases 3 weeks apart, Magnesium dust. Has to be the same guy. 22 long rifle caliber, rifling looked similar, obviously the first time he did it, something went wrong, and he switched to the knife. Next time he came back with subsonic rounds and went directly to the dome with a silencer. In an alley in case he had to get stabby again. Now the third time we see magnesium dust was not long after that, 9mm to the head, subsonic rounds. Nobody heard the shots. Motherfucker upped his game to a 9mm, and now he uses only suppressors and only shoots for the head. He¡¯s evolving.¡±

    ¡°So at best that¡¯s 3 cases of the magnesium killer. Evidence was lost on the 9mm case, no official record of magnesium. You may have imagined that.¡± She frowned.

    ¡°I worked that case, I saw the forensics, that¡¯s what tipped me off. Then the records got lost? The Magnesium killer adapted to stealing or bribing for records? I know what I saw. So that¡¯s 3 cases I KNOW fit the same killer evolution. Now draw a triangle, fits perfectly in my murder circle, all 3 dead guys Magnesium killer took down, knew someone else on one of these dots, and all shot about 3 weeks apart. Now they may not be the same guy, but they all work for the same organi-zation.¡± He said aggressively.

    ¡°Here we go. Organization of hitmen taking out the scum of society one hit every 3 weeks, centered around a base of operation, right here in the middle of Illinois. Well they sure do have a lot of hitmen with varying tactics, don¡¯t they, almost like they were just¡­different people murdering random people. Hey, chill out! People kill people, they usually use a gun, and these victims were human shit. There¡¯s no organization. There are a bunch of random events you glued together with one cold case you took personal that was either 2 or 3 kills from possibly the same guy that apparently uses magnesium silencers or something. That¡¯s 2 or 3 murders, not all 20+, and not the ones on your... MAYBE list, from over a year ago.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t use a silencer the first time. Still found magnesium. I can¡¯t find any guns that have a magnesium barrel, let alone a 22 and a 9mm. Where the hell is the powder coming from? The bullets were nothing special. Solid lead, 9mm was a Fiocci copper jacket FMJ. No magnesium jacket, or coating. I looked that up, it¡¯s not even used in bullet making, so there¡¯s no common brand he likes, no common store that sells anything magnesium. What, he just sprinkles it around for flavor? The fuck is it doing at the scenes, Gina?¡± he yelled.

    ¡°Damnit Damien, That¡¯s Special Agent Garrett if you¡¯re gonna take that tone. And then you better remember the safeword. It¡¯s one asshole with a weird quirk that killed 2 or 3 people who frankly probably deserved to die. 2 pedophiles and one guy who beat 3 hookers, killed one. Good riddance, Glad he didn¡¯t kill anyone decent. He stopped after that. The rest of this is nonsense. Look, a guy takes 3 to the back with a 10mm auto in his car from point-blank, this guy takes 2 rounds center mass lying in his bed with a Five Seven pistol. And what is this shit? Your man likes handguns and close range, right? Okay, maybe he has a lot of handguns, big vault and receipts. Seems to switch up his shot placement a lot, but maybe. So what the fuck is THIS case. Lakeshot Shooter. Guy on his lakefront porch gets hit in the face with a round forensics can¡¯t even identify. Their best guess is a bronze-jacketed compressed tungsten carbide 50 BMG round from 2800 fucking yards? That¡¯s some black-ops shit. You think the same people that run this mythical organization have guys who sprinkle metal dust on their guns before headshots that they botch 30 percent of the time, and also they hired some thugs who just empty rapid fire rounds center mass like stoned gangbangers, BUT they also have a guy who can blow away someone from a MILE and an HALF away, with 15 thousand dollar rifle and a mythical unicorn tungsten carbide round?¡± Gina asked.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°How do they know how far the shot was? They never found the gun or the shooter.¡± He scoffed.

    ¡°Well it says in the file that the bullet¡¯s jacket rifling¡¯s matched a Barrett 50, and according to blood splatter and shit I don¡¯t understand, the bullet hit with the force it would have at that distance. I¡¯m a detective, not a forensics genius, but they searched the radius and found a 50 cal brass shell. NOBODY heard the shot. On an open, quiet lake in the early morning, nobody heard a damn 50BMG artillery round going off. You know how far you have to be not hear a 50? Even with a suppressor, they sound like a cannon. So this guy has military marksman experience for sure, Military grade silencers, very heavy weaponry, expensive weaponry, and specialized bullets, and the same people who supplied that pro also hired a guy who fucks up a point blank 22 hit so bad he has to stab a guy? What do they just draw out of a hat and call random people up¡­hey buddy, wanna kill a sexual predator in 2 weeks, resume? Nah, just bring a gun of some kind. Any gun is fine, whatever you got.¡± She paced.

    Maybe they¡¯re taking the victims guns, Gina. Maybe that¡¯s why a different gun is used almost every time, they just never use the same once twice, they just kill people, take their guns, use that for the next murder.¡±

    ¡°Right, some lucky guy killed a Softball coach who owned 40 grand in black ops gear. What if the target didn¡¯t have a gun to steal?¡± she asked.

    ¡°They¡¯re likely not all registered, black market guns bought illegally, ghost guns, they probably have a stockpile of these and carry a dozen or more backups in some warehouse. Probably got their own gun store owner on payroll. Some of the crimes here had multiple calibers used. Like this one. Molotov Brothers. These guys made several kills, never caught either of them. 2 victims, if you can call them that, living together, both convicted rapists. We didn¡¯t even know they hunted victims together and racked up 4 more attacks until after they turned up dead. First guy was taken out with a Mosin Nagant, 7.62x54 Russian bolt action rifle from around 500 to 550 yards through the trailer window, and moments later people heard the other 2 shots, one through the door lock and one to the head taking out the second target with a 7.62x39, that¡¯s an AK47 round. So a couple of guys working in unison with Russian surplus ammo, one guy gets in close, the other takes a sniper position. Sniper takes a body shot, the other guy shoots the door, walks in, shoot the second guy, over in seconds, people in the area said the shots were a few seconds apart. No guns recovered, AK brass in the trailer, nobody spotted anyone carrying a rifle on the run, let alone 2 guys with rifles. They just executed like clockwork in unison, and vanished. Tossed a flaming bottle of vodka on the trailer. The dead guys probably had a gun, the shooter in the trailer snatched it. Disposed of the other guns somewhere, sold them at a gun show parking lot to some 20-year-old kid for 50 bucks. Who knows. They all have something else in common. They¡¯re all just weird. The ballistics don¡¯t ever quite make sense.¡±

    ¡°Oh so weird is now a point of evidence. Well, in that case we¡¯re both killers, especially you. You have enough weirdness in that laptop to tie you into this ring of assassins yourself.¡± she scoffed.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. The Molotov brothers AK rounds were shortened by 1mm. Filed the tips flat...why? The guy who ate a 40 cal in his car, solid brass rounds. Paperwork says they were custom. Where do you even get solid brass bullets made for a handgun? Look at this report from last night. Arms dealers, big bust, couple of assholes selling some MP5s to some gang members. They show up to the place in the middle of the woods, halfway through the deal, 4 guys get taken out from nowhere. 8 shots in rapid session, 2 to each of the victims with a 45ACP soft point, rifling matches a 1911 style pistol¡­2 taps fucking one inch apart. Just the arms dealers and the leader of the gang buying the guns got tagged. The other 2 guys didn¡¯t even get shot at. The guy just picked 4, wiped them out, professional killer style, quick and laser efficient. The 2 guys in custody right now, were so confused they just ran like hell. Guy didn¡¯t even try to shoot them.¡±

    ¡°So they guy only had 8 rounds, typical 1911. He had one clip. He snuck up on them and went for the big dogs first, didn¡¯t care about the 2 nobodies. What¡¯s the weird part?¡± Gina sighed.

    ¡°Nobody saw the shooter. They were in a clearing, with headlights, probably a good 40-foot well-lit circle. Guy didn¡¯t even step into view. Both of the survivors said it was like a ghost just started executing people, no shooter, no movement, not even a direction, they said they just heard shots and people dropped. Everything went silent. So the perp was in the dark far enough away that they didn¡¯t even know where he was shooting from, took out 4 guys in 5 seconds with a 1911 pistol? That¡¯s some good shooting. Even weirder: The ballistics confirmed a 1911 style barrel rifling and estimated the range under 15 feet. How the hell did they not see him from 15 feet? Even weirder still. All shots were fired from a single position, look at this graphic.¡± He said turning the laptop.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be right¡­the muzzle of the gun was at 9 feet from the ground?¡±

    ¡°So this guy had an invisible ladder already conveniently right where the deal went down, or they just didn¡¯t notice the 15-foot tall guy rockin a Colt 45 when shit it the fan? Maybe he was a basketball player, 6 foot 9, only takes jump-shots?¡± he joked.

    ¡°Maybe forensics just botched that. Maybe they were kneeling down, so the shooter seemed higher up.¡± She puzzled. 15 feet away, 9 feet up¡­what the hell?¡±

    ¡°Survivors would have noticed everyone taking a knee BEFORE the shooting started. According to the charts I made, this guy would have had to be a hundred yards out or more to be in the dark tree cover, 45ACP rounds drop fast, Gina. Even if he hot-loaded the hell out of those shells for extra range and still get point-blank power, the gun would probably blow up, that¡¯s WAY over the pressure rating, and you¡¯d still be taking a hundred yard rapid shot, dead accurate on multiple targets with a fucking 5-inch handgun barrel, at night."

    So is he a 12 foot tall ghost with an invisible 45, or the best pistol marksman in the country up in a tree with night vision and dangerously hot-loaded rounds, just praying they don¡¯t blow the gun up?" she said, reading the screen. "Makes no sense, what the hell is he loading into that pistol? Survivors of the gun deal shooting said they were there to buy 4 MP5s, only 3 of them were found at the crime scene."

    "Looks like our ghost got himself a new toy and a bunch of ammo. I bet you ten bucks on a hunch, someone 3, 6, or 9 weeks from now gets taken out with a 9mm from an MP5.¡± He smirked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll certainly take your money, I don¡¯t see most of that happening, but I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if someone got killed with it somewhere. Wonder why he didn¡¯t take all 4?¡± She asked.

    ¡°You ever tried carrying 5 guns and making a getaway on foot through the woods? Man¡¯s only got 2 hands; we¡¯re looking for a ghost, not 5 ghosts.¡± Damien reminded.

    ¡°Okay, I still think most of your nonsense is unrelated cold cases, and red yarn tied between thumbtacks on some crazy theory board in your house... but this case is fresh and fucking weird. And if he can do that kinda damage with a colt 45 and 8 rounds, and he¡¯s just got himself a submachine gun now, he may be about to start some shit. You got one good case here, don¡¯t be thinking you¡¯re not crazy or that any of these ties together¡­it¡¯s not a conspiracy, There''s no organization, but the case of the ghost with the 45 certainly needs answers. Let¡¯s work on that and ignore the rest of the old nonsense cases.¡± She said starting some coffee and grabbing a chair.

 Chapter 3: Kindered Spirits

    The kid looked around the place. The old cabin looking like a palace compared to the streets.

    ¡°Nice digs, kinda way out in the nowhere but cool. You got a guest room?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I got a couch.¡± Mike said with a yawn. ¡°Don¡¯t touch the record player or the rifle, don¡¯t go in my bedroom if i''m in there."

    ¡°So did you make a mile plus headshot with this shitass little 22 you keep unloaded over the fireplace?¡± She asked,

    ¡°Ignore the gun, look at the scope. That scope is worth more than the rifle. The 200 dollar used rifle is basically a display stand for the 1500 dollar scope. You think that¡¯s the gun I use? A little Ruger 10-22? Come on back to the van. Let¡¯s see what kind of toys I got lying around.¡± He grinned.

    He lifted the table-top off and got out his new MP5 clone out, magazines and ammo, placing it back and locking it into place.

    ¡°Holy shit. That¡¯s a real damn MP5." Tanner gasped.

    ¡°Arms deal in the woods, I¡¯m guessing they were asking 30 to 40 grand for the 4, and calling it a steal like it was a favor. Modded MP5k. Way too good for gangbangers. Of course, both of the survivors are probably in prison right now. Their boss and the 3 arms dealers went back to hell with a double tap 45 soft point to the torso. They¡¯re very dead. I just picked this up because unmarked guns like these are rare and useful in my line of work. Shame it wasn¡¯t a 45. I really would have preferred a new 45. Maybe they make a conversion kit.¡±

    ¡°You serious right now? Are you killing 4 people per worknight?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Most work nights I get 1 or 2. Getting 4 and a free gun is a good night.¡± Mike chuckled. ¡°Very good night.¡±

    ¡°You some kind of retired secret agent, turned hitman?¡± Tanner asked, half impressed, half nervous.

    ¡°Secret agent no, hitman, yes. And my boss apparently thinks you¡¯d make a good replacement for me some day. I am turning 51, it may not be that far in the future. You and I have similar sins, we don¡¯t regret. Defending yourself wasn¡¯t a sin, what I do isn¡¯t either. Still think you¡¯re a bit too young for this. What are you¡­16, 17?¡± he asked.

    ¡°AH!¡± she gasped dramatically. ¡°I am very offended and flattered, but also I get that a lot, I¡¯m almost 20, but looking young comes in handy when you¡¯re homeless and turning tricks, and it comes in handy when trying to lure in creeps. Makeup and attitude is, like, half the trap. First time was self-defense. Got a rush, Kinda into it, second time was an opportunity, and then I actually had to plan shit, euugh, gross. Prepwork." she rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Obviously not enough, You¡¯d be in jail if I wasn¡¯t tracing your steps and fixing them. Man upstairs saw potential, I just followed orders. Frankly, I think you got the spirit and the instinct but your planning is terrible.¡± Mike critiqued. "I basically saved your ass."

    ¡°Okay, thanks or whatever. What, do you want, a free blowy so we can call it square or you just wanna lure that over me for leverage for the rest of your life?¡±

    ¡°Leverage.¡± He nodded.

    ¡°Fuck¡­that takes so much longer than a blowjob. So the man upstairs running things, thinks I¡¯m raw potential? You work for the government or something?¡±

    ¡°No, I told you. I get my orders from God.¡± Mike shrugged.

    ¡°See, now were getting back into the part that worries me. I know we¡¯re both serial killers, but do we really have to add voices to our reputation and tarnish the whole stereotype?"

    ¡°What are the odds I hit a random girl who doesn¡¯t get hurt, who happens to be the girl God told me to find? And how did I know you were a killer? Felt good didn¡¯t it? Felt powerful. You don¡¯t regret it, because he deserved to die. In fact, he may have not even been human, but if you killed him with a knife he likely was, or at least mostly.¡± Mike said

    ¡°Just get weirder every sentence with you old man, don¡¯t it?¡± She marveled.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re just getting started. See, I was scared shitless to meet you, because if I found you, I¡¯d have to train you. Then you stepped in front of my van. I kill monsters that hurt people because someone has to, or they keep doing it. You do the same thing, you weren¡¯t looking for me, so what made you step out into the road? Just took a weird step, felt a nudge, didn¡¯t see the headlights? Do you even remember? Was there a strange push? You believe in God?¡±

    ¡°No, but I¡¯m getting more open-minded.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any experience with a gun?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Yea, tons. Call of Duty, Doom, Borderlands. Played all of that shit till I ran away. Stole this sexy little snatchgun from a pimp, I¡¯ve fired it 3 times at a tree, hit about where I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Can we call it something other than that?¡± he sighed.

    ¡°No, Mister fancy guns. It¡¯s a snatchgun and her name is Carrie¡­like concealed Carrie, and also I fucking love that movie and this gun has red accents. That¡¯s just poetic genius on multiple levels of creativity.¡±

    ¡°I hate to ask, but I assume you named your knife?¡±

    ¡°Stabby.¡± She said dryly. ¡°Or Stabbitha if you wanna be proper.¡±

    ¡°Are we sure she¡¯s the one? Stabby the clown is my replacement?¡± he asked the ceiling with annoyance.

    ¡°Oah, whoa, hold the phone, Pope Magnum the 4<sup>th</sup>. Stabby the clown? The fuck? Do you know nothing of culture? I¡¯m a geisha, not a clown. Stabby is my Tanto butterfly knife, I know that¡¯s not traditional, and I got it at Hot Topic, but it¡¯s pretty and it¡¯s small, and I got really good with it, and it¡¯s totally what a killer geisha would rock. Respect the drip.¡±

    ¡®What is that, an STD?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Oh¡­your God! My Sensei has lived under a rock. Did you have internet under your rock, gramps? Are you gonna teach me the ways of the mile-plus shot from our rock?¡± she asked, crossing her arms adorably.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna learn a lot of things. I believe God would send me a fast learner since he knows I¡¯m a busy man and getting up there in age for this.¡± Mike sighed.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°You actually wanna train me to kill people for God?¡± Tanner said, looking baffled. "Like for real?"

    ¡°Not exactly. Sometimes I kill, but these people aren¡¯t people anymore, kid. There are a lot of things most people don¡¯t understand about this world. Tanner, have you seen the world we live in? Celebrities and crooked cops, political giants and rich bastard that get away with everything; and the system doesn¡¯t ignore it, it works FOR them. There¡¯s being an asshole sometimes, we all do that. Being human, making mistakes, and then there¡¯s something truly evil. In an evil world, True evil is power, and there¡¯s a whole organization of them. Illuminati, dark underground billionaire clubs, you think Epstein Island was just a fluke? I don¡¯t understand all of the details because I don¡¯t need to, it¡¯s not my job. I¡¯m not a leader, I¡¯m the cleanup crew. There are more of us out there acting for God than you know. We just never cross paths or speak about it. Talking gets you caught.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re just people. Evil, sick people, sure, some of them deserve what they got, but how do you know who¡¯s bad enough? Isn¡¯t that playing God, making that decision? Defending yourself is one thing, I¡¯m just acting as bait for predators. If they don¡¯t bite, I don¡¯t stab. Most of my clientele leaves happy and still with a head attached, minus some cash. You¡¯re actively hunting randos.¡± Tanner noted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t make the decisions on who dies. I just listen, and confirm, and then execute. Here, you know what this is?¡± mike asked, tossing something small and heavy.

    ¡°Night vision goggles.¡±

    ¡°Specifically, Thermal goggles. That¡¯s why I checked your temperature. Human beings are warm living animals full of blood and a beating heart, they show up 98.6, give or take a little. No different than a deer or a stray dog, they have warmth. You know the humming bird has the highest natural body temperature, at 108 degrees. Some lizards in the desert can survive with a body temperature of 115, but not well, or for long, it¡¯s still lethal. It¡¯s lethal for humans too, you die at 109 unless you get very lucky and to a hospital immediately, you won¡¯t even be functional over 105, you¡¯d be delirious and an absolute mess. Last week I tracked a group of people running a small drug operation. Young wanna-be gang bangers, People. Human beings like you or me, who made bad decision and hurt others, but human nonetheless. 97-99 degrees, all 6 of them, except one.¡± He said grabbing his notebook. ¡°127 degrees. He was having a conversation and watching the news, drinking a beer and watching porn. Casually living his life as if nothing was wrong, ten degrees above ER admission levels. Nobody runs that hot.¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to actually tell me, that you are hunting possessed people, and that God is guiding you to kill the evil people based on body temperature?¡±

    ¡°No, he gives me clues and a voice in my head, the thermal just confirms the target. When in doubt, thermal. I never killed a man that wasn¡¯t medically dead from heat stroke ten degrees ago, and they¡¯re always the worst people you ever imagined. Every time God tells me to kill someone, they¡¯re always running hot. I check the papers and the police reports after. Never a decent human being, not in 77 kills.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s specific enough to know you keep track. When did it start?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Right after my wife and kid were murdered. Random break in, I didn¡¯t have a gun in the house. See, I didn¡¯t like guns. My grandpa was a gunsmith. He went nuts and killed himself when I was 12, and my father was a preacher that didn¡¯t like me very much and thought that the best way to share God¡¯s love was with a belt and an empty stomach if you did anything the book didn¡¯t like. The book doesn¡¯t like anything when someone hateful is reading it. Can¡¯t imagine why mom left him so early. Kicked me out at 18, got a job at a church cleaning up after hours. That¡¯s when God started speaking to me. Not often, but the voice was always right. I followed that all the way to my own little congregation, the whole bit. Sermons, volunteering, fell in love with a gal named Gwen, had a daughter, Rachel, perfect life. She was about 15. And then the voice told me to go back to my grandfather¡¯s house. You know what I found there?¡±

    ¡°Dead bodies.¡± Tanner said dramatically.

    ¡°No. A gun. He was a gunsmith, not a murderer. The place was abandoned for decades. But I found blueprints and gunsmithing books and a hidden safe in the garage wall with some cash and a very strange folder full of drawings. He was obsessed with this military rifle he had been designing for years, built a prototype of it. Turns out he actually did work for the government, maybe they were after him. The voice told me to take it. Take the gun. Of course, guns kill people, like school kids and store clerks and my grandfather. So I left it there. I gave the money to a charity and didn¡¯t think much of it. Next week my family was dead because some assholes decided to rob a preacher who didn¡¯t own a gun. God warned me, I didn¡¯t listen. Our wonderful justice system didn¡¯t have enough evidence to convict a man who killed 2 innocent people, just breaking and entering.¡±

    ¡°So... you killed him.¡±

    ¡°Not immediately. I got the gun taken apart and cleaned up, and took it to the middle of nowhere and the damn thing still worked. Barely. Jammed like a son of a bitch, every few shots, but it always fired the first round after a magazine change. I went to a gun store and asked for the best scope they had. Couldn¡¯t afford it, asked for the best I could get for what I had, and they guy hands me this thermal scope. I had no idea what it was, but I bought it. Put it on the prototype, took some practice shots and again, it always fired once and jammed after a few more.

    One night God told me to take it out and lead me to an abandoned building. Guess who just happened to be there? The guy who killed my wife and daughter. Selling some stolen shit to some random assholes like you and me, who made mistakes and were in the wrong place and the wrong building. I didn¡¯t wanna kill the wrong guy. God said nothing, so I turned on the scope and prayed if I got one shot, I got the one I wanted. And there in the scope was a cluster of red warm bodies, and one white-hot glowing target like a damn signal flair. I knew it was him. I fired one shot, right to the face, and the gun jammed, the son of a bitch dropped, and someone else started firing, and I ran like hell with a jammed gun. The satisfaction was indecribable, like a drug addiction. So when the voice came back again, I listened. I kept hearing the voice telling me to hunt, and I always find one of these glowing fuckers. My grampa was onto them somehow too, but I don¡¯t know how, and he thought they were government operatives from some secret project. Area 51, Kennedy assassination level nonsense, but through the craziness, he knew something was going on and nobody believed him. But the voice has never lied to me, it knows things I can¡¯t know, and it leads me to people with sketchy ties to strange places and money, organized people, and they glow in the thermal, every time. I¡¯ve taken shots of faith, cried myself to sleep thinking I made a mistake, and then found out the next day in the news the dead guy was selling off young boys to wealthy clients, or planning to bomb a hospital. Horrendous people, inhuman, beyond evil, beyond the kind of tempting sins we normal people would ever even consider. Even you.¡±

    ¡°Oh blow me, Padre. But seriously, keep going.¡±

    ¡°Now I don¡¯t question it anymore, and I¡¯ve gotten good at it. The prototype is perfected, the process has become an art, and I love my job. God is a strict boss, but he gives you what you need. Once you start listening and doing it.¡± Mike said with a look of achievement.

    ¡°What if, hypothetically, you¡¯re just crazy and killing bad people like me, and delusional because you couldn¡¯t save your family?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m the luckiest hitman alive, and I have inhuman hunches that never seem to fail. I even hit you, and I wasn¡¯t aiming for you or holding a gun.¡±

    ¡°Mostly why I¡¯m still open-minded. So let¡¯s say I don¡¯t believe most of it. If I don¡¯t even really believe in God, You still wanna train me to kill horrible people? Because every guy I killed was a rapist. If you¡¯re insane and they still go down¡­I don¡¯t give a damn about faith and voices. If it works, it works.¡± Tanner shrugged.

    ¡°I had the same stubbornness at your age. You¡¯ll mature, and understand. I have faith that some day you won¡¯t need me, you¡¯ll hear his voice too. Just listen to it.¡±

    ¡°Oh I really sure do hope so.¡± Tanner smirked. ¡°Whatever helps you sleep. Now let¡¯s hit the range with that HK. I wanna put some suppressed 45 rounds in some sick bastards.¡± She grinned. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t also love Stabbitha.¡±

    ¡°Oh you won¡¯t be using any 45 rounds. The 45¡¯s get you caught.¡± Mike said.

    ¡°So I have to my Snatchgun?¡± She asked.

    ¡°No. You¡¯ll be using the HK45.¡± Mike corrected coldly.

    ¡°Yea, you lost me, again, Holyman the hitman.¡± She pondered. ¡°We¡¯re using the 45 gun but not using 45 bullets because 45¡¯s get you caught, so you carry a... 45¡­I just ...can¡¯t with that tonight. Maybe you hit me harder than I thought. Do I have a concussion?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s gonna make sense. Give it some time and faith.¡± Mike smiled, "but tonight we both need to crash and reset. It¡¯s been a long day. Bed or couch?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Wherever you want me, Captain. No biting, 500 bucks cash.¡±

    ¡°Different wording of the question. Pick one, I¡¯ll take the other, and I don¡¯t charge you for breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that works too.¡± She nodded.

 Chapter 4: The Range

    ¡°Morning.¡± Smiled Mike. ¡°Sleep well?¡±

    ¡°Little hung-over, nothing I haven¡¯t had before.¡± she groggily groaned.

    ¡°Well, here are some eggs, you need the protein. We need to start as soon as possible training you on the basics. You¡¯ve met one of the team so far. This is Rachel, my HK45.¡± Mike said, presenting the familiar handgun.

    ¡°Stupid name for a gun.¡± Tanner huffed.

    ¡°It was my daughter¡¯s name, remember?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Lovely name for a murder weapon. Beautiful name. S-tier name.¡± She cringed. ¡°And I¡¯m sure this gun is very special.¡±

    ¡°Actually the gun itself isn¡¯t very special, it¡¯s what else is in the gun case that makes it special. Lesson number 1 about killing people. Never just kill someone with a normal gun you don''t intend to destroy. No matter how good you are, no matter how careful you are, there will always be evidence of you left behind, and I¡¯ve cleaned yours. All guns are unique, and if I killed someone with a regular HK45, Forensics would find the bullet, determine it was a 45acp round from this style gun. The grooves in the barrel that spin the bullet will match the unique gun, and now you¡¯re fucked. Now you could use the gun, dispose of the gun, melt the barrel down. Cost about 800 bucks minimum, ruins a perfectly good gun for one kill, paper trail buying new ones. So when the cops ask where your HK45 is, and you say it was lost or stolen, or you don¡¯t know¡­well that¡¯s suspicious as hell, you may as well turn yourself in.¡±

    ¡°So only buy black market guns.¡± Tanner suggested, shoveling scrambled eggs down.

    ¡°From whom¡­ Mister Black Market, the conveniently blind and deaf guy we all know that doesn¡¯t talk, who can¡¯t be interrogated or bribed? No matter where you bought a gun, someone saw you buy a gun. Even if they don¡¯t know your name, they have a description, cash payment, police can still track that gun down, and now you match a description of a guy who illegally bought the same gun that was used in a crime you were a suspect in. People talk, serial numbers trace, no gun is a true ghost gun unless you made it yourself, and making guns isn¡¯t easy, you wouldn¡¯t spend all that time making one for a single use and dispose of it.¡± Mike informed.

    ¡°Not if you stole it¡­¡± she said, stretching her arms and displaying the snatchgun. ¡°And the guy you stole it from is dead. So¡­checkmate. No record.¡±

    ¡°And you could be arrested for jaywalking and just having that. The moment you fire that gun at a living being and commit a crime, that gun is hot and ready to burn you. Kinda hard to melt down a steel barrel before you get back home too, what if they stop you on the way home from the crime scene?¡± he asked, making her look uncomfortable.

    ¡°So then, what makes Rachel so special? Where did you get her?¡±

    ¡°Bought her at a legal dealer for home defense, and bought one box of target ammo, one box of self-defense signed my legal name and FBI recorded everything, so it¡¯s legally registered in my name.¡± he noted.

    ¡°I soo don¡¯t get it. That¡¯s the worst idea ever, Mikey.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like it. That¡¯s why it¡¯s brilliant. Nobody is gonna register a gun and then commit a series of murders with it. You¡¯d have to be one dumb bastard. Too dumb to pull off the job. However, nobody whose wife and kid died in a shooting is going to live without a gun for protection, so not owning any guns, when my grandfather was a gunsmith and my childhood was around guns, that¡¯s suspicious in itself. So the first thing I did was ask for a good home defense gun, shoot it a few times at a local range, and that¡¯s where I got Rachel here. If the cops ask if I own any guns, I do, I have a pretty normal 45 handgun registered in my name for home defense, and a personal carry license, as well as the 22 on the wall for target practice. That¡¯s as normal and legal as it can get, and if I had to defend myself with her, right now she¡¯s loaded with 45 hollowpoints from Freedom Street Guns and Ammo, still got the receipt taped to the box. Now here¡¯s the special part.¡± He smiled, removing the padding from the case and revealing a row of shiny copper tubes.

    ¡°Now I¡¯m really confused.¡± Tanner sighed.

    ¡°Good, that¡¯s the idea. Everyone should be. These are specialized high-copper bronze alloy barrel inserts. Externally, they all fit perfectly down an HK45 barrel and stick out the end enough for a threaded nut that fits standard hardware store pipe fittings. That means they can be threaded into standard hardware store pipe fittings and the threads can be cut with standard hardware store dies. The kind any handyman might have¡­well, just conveniently handy. Threads like one might use to make a home-made untraceable copper silencer as well, theoretically.¡± He said screwing on the silencer. ¡°These inserts allow the gun to fire custom rounds, anything smaller than 45acp. So 40 cal, 10mm, 9mm, or anything I made up just to confuse the cops. The rifling matches the inserts, not the barrel. So when you¡¯re done you just melt down the insert, drop in a fresh one. I make them on the lathe, multiples in advance. The shell casings are made of a cast magnesium and alloy propellant, no gunpowder, so they burn up when you fire them, all you eject is a flash of smoke. No brass to pick up. Anything with a 45 caliber rim can be necked down to any other caliber, matching these inserts. These here are disposal sticks.¡± He said, producing a flair from his pocket.

    ¡°Looks like a road flair.¡± she sighed.

    ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s a road flair, with a hole in the middle and enough thermite to melt the inserts. So before I do my job, I select the caliber I want, pop in a fresh insert, take a flair with me. When I¡¯m done, I pop the insert into the flair. If I had cops on my tail, set the flair off. Toss it somewhere, evidence melts down. They could find me, bring me in 2 minutes after the killing, all I have is a personal carry 45, I legally bought, that hasn¡¯t been fired that day, no gunpowder residue on my hands or the gun, not since the last range day, and I was just suspiciously in the area of a crime where someone was shot with a 357, or a 10mm pistol. But officer¡­ this is a 45, I have my pink card right here, is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s brilliant. And you don¡¯t have to buy special supplies for these?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my own secret alloy blend, Melts easy, stands up to any normal bullet for a few clips, I cast them myself. I have a drawer full of 5 inch by half inch rods marked ¡°punches¡± with the Kennedy tool box. You could even use them for punches, actually. All made my memory by hand, on the mini-lathe, few little tools I made, nothing left of the evidence but chips I can throw in the casting bags and re-melt for more, along with the used ones. Sometimes I just bore them out larger and put new rifling in to save time. The ammo is the hard part to make, but if you make your shots count, it¡¯s worth it. We¡¯ll get to that part. The Silencers are also disposable, mostly made of plumbing parts, a little custom lathe work. Time-consuming and tedious, but tossable, you could unscrew the parts and throw them away in 3 different spots as you went, nobody would connect them or even know they were part of a weapon unless you saw them assembled. So Rachel is just an ordinary HK45, legally owned by a guy with a carry license, and with this handful of parts, she becomes an untraceable assassination tool that in seconds can be torn apart and reassembled, and the police could never tie it to a crime.¡± Explained Mike.

    ¡°Okay what did you really do before this? Black Ops, Russian KGB, military weapon designer for fucking¡­spy agencies?¡± asked Tanner.

    ¡°I was a pastor at a small church, did plumbing on the side for extra money. Finn Plumbing Repair. Just like it says on the van registration.¡±

    ¡°So you just¡­invented your own assassin cheat code, pulled some special alloy out of your ass that melted down easy and stood up to gunfire, learned explosives and reloading and woke up one day thinking this would be impossible to trace, I should kill people with these. Bullshit.¡± She scoffed. ¡°No way.¡±

    ¡°I learned a little gunsmithing from my grandfather. The brilliant spy shit, I just listened to the voice of God and did what he said. The fact that it all works does a good job of strengthening your faith. The first time you try it, oh boy, there is some real doubt creeping up your back and making you think¡­am I just insane? And then it works, and it shouldn¡¯t, everything just happens like it should, and you realize you had no way of accidentally knowing that. Crazy people believe they can do things, when you actually can, you¡¯re not crazy, you¡¯re just correct. My grandfather used to say¡­it¡¯s only paranoid if you¡¯re wrong about it. If you¡¯re right, that¡¯s just being smart.¡±

    "So what about the rest of the evidence? DNA, hair, footprints, blood. How does God make that vanish?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°Dumpster diving for old shoes and cutting off the treads, random sizes, shred and burn them later. I don¡¯t wax my beard just to look snazzy, the wax I use sticks it down and washes off in the shower, masks and hats works well too. Leather work gloves for fingerprints, and as for DNA, I don¡¯t fuck or bleed on the job, so there¡¯s not exactly a lot of blood and semen to trace back. The blood tends to belong to the body. Vary up your tactics, watch some movies, copy what someone else has done, and omit the flaws. I¡¯ll even discard some empty brass. Leave some clues of my own just to screw with forensics. They probably have 200 suspects with no motives or ties to the closed cases they gave up on, and have no idea any of them are even connected. Just random killings, a lot of crime goes unsolved, that¡¯s why I do what I do. Because the laws don¡¯t work right. If they worked right, there¡¯d be no need. I would just be a plumber.¡± Mike shrugged.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So bad people get away with shit, and God does the crooked system¡¯s dirty by hiring you. Where does the money come from¡± This shit can¡¯t be cheap.¡±

    ¡°Gambling. Online mostly, horse races, I avoid casinos tables except as a cover, they cheat too much to really win more than you lose.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re a Holyman, a hitman and you got a gambling system? Shit, just do the gambling thing, get rich, and stop risking your ass all the time.¡± Sighed Tanner.

    ¡°Risking my ass is part of the job, as long as I listen to God and don¡¯t deviate, there¡¯s no risk. So it¡¯s a game of temptation, and not getting greedy. And there¡¯s no gambling scam, it¡¯s all legit gambling, people win all the time. I just listen to what God wants me to bet on and when I stop winning, I know I have enough. Greed and thinking you¡¯re in charge is how you get cocky and caught. Betting a little more for your own personal gain is how you start losing your money. God doesn¡¯t give you tips and hints to have new cars and a mansion on the beach, he does it so you can make a living and afford to do your real job.¡±

    ¡°Funny, God gives a lot of mega-church pastors mansions and cars. Why not you?¡± She questioned.

    ¡°Those people are the fuckers we kill. So God clearly doesn¡¯t favor them too much, or he wouldn¡¯t keep sending me to their mansions, would he? Those are the people ruining this world. The crooked billionaires, the corporate CEOs that think they can abuse their employees and the politicians and bishops fondling kids thinking that God don¡¯t know it. You wanna know the secret? He doesn¡¯t know everything that will ever happen, just X number of many moves ahead, and he doesn¡¯t have infinite power. He has the power to help and change our lives, but we don¡¯t listen or believe anymore, so more people ignore than obey, and sometimes you gotta send the flood to clean the mess and start over.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re Noah?¡± She smirked. ¡°With your big boat?¡± she eyebrowed.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m the rain. Just a few drops of cleaning potential sent by God like many others that add up and start to pool. I just listen to him when he says when and where to fall and whose head to land on. Some people water crops, some people keep the rivers flowing, and some of us drown pedophiles. Frankly, I enjoy my work.¡±

    ¡°So if that¡¯s the gun named after your daughter, where¡¯s the gun named after your wife?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need to meet her yet. My Rachel was a very sweet girl, quiet and discreet but with a fiery passion for life. My wife was a force to recon with. If you get to meet Gwen it either means you¡¯re ready to start doing my job for me, or we¡¯re in some serious shit, because when Gwen gets angry, you¡¯ll know it. She tends to make noise.¡±

    ¡°I like her already. Where do you get bullets at? Looks suspicious as hell if you¡¯re buying reloading bullets for guns you don¡¯t own in every caliber a crime was committed in except the one gun you have.¡± Tanner noted.

    ¡°Very observant question. Let¡¯s go for a drive, I¡¯ll show you.¡± Mike said, ruffling her hair.

    The van pulled up on a foggy morning to an old shooting range, the sound of guns going off in the background. Mike rolled the window down as the man at the gate waddled over.

    ¡°Just let me do the talking.¡± He whispered. ¡°Hey frank. How is the knee?¡±

    ¡°Oh, bad as usual, Mike. Range closes at noon on Sunday.¡±

    ¡°I know, It¡¯s just, work has been hell lately and with all the cold weather and people firing up their furnaces, the problems never cease. How bout you take that daughter of yours out to a nice dinner on me.¡± He said handing him a 50.

    ¡°Mike you know I hate taking your money like that, but money is tight and I appreciate it. You plan to stay long? Gun rack is already locked up for the day, so I can¡¯t let you play with the new toys.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I brought my own ammo. Just came to spend some time with Rachel and a new friend of mine.¡±

    ¡°Well, lock the gate when you¡¯re done,¡± said the old timer, making his way to the car to go home. The window rolled back up.

    ¡°You got connections?¡± Tanner asked. "Is he your Alfred?"

    ¡°Old frank is 91, he makes almost nothing with his little gun store and outdoor range. I got his daughter all new gas lines put in for practically free a while back. You treat people nice, they treat you nice back. He knows I don¡¯t like the crowd, knows about my wife and kid, so I show up at closing sometimes, and he locks the store, lets me use the range. I buy ammo from him, tip well, and I bring the metal detector and pick up some extra brass casings. He thinks I¡¯m selling for the scrap metal, so I pay him half the imaginary scrap, and it keeps the range cleaner. I also pick the lock, and steal a few rounds of surplus raw bullets from the reloading bins. I always give more than I take, and lock the gate when I go. Sometimes we just talk and shoot. It¡¯s slow, but it works, and it leaves no paper trail, unlike the wrapped rounds I make. You can take a clean bullet and tap it through a barrel cutter and make any rifling you want, with a little practice. Just wrap it in a little news paper and fire it through a slightly oversized barrel, paper just tears up or burns. I can put a 32ACP barrel insert in my 45, make a few pre-rifled and wrapped Ak47 bullets in a 45 magnesium case, load them both in the same clip with the same barrel, shoot someone with the AK round, finish the next guy off with a 32acp in half a second, ballistics can¡¯t tell that it was from the same barrel, 2 rapid shots and walk away, looks like 2 shooters with different guns. Possibilities are endless.¡±

    ¡°Any chance I can get my own custom inserts for Carrie?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Kid, give me one night, and I¡¯ll have new inserts made. I¡¯ll let you use the MP5 if need be. You¡¯ll need the extra firepower until you get more accurate."

    ¡°Hey, Preach¡­¡±

    ¡°Mike.¡± He said, handing her the HK. "Just Mike"

    ¡°Okay Just Mike. Just curious. If you believe, these people aren¡¯t human anymore, they don¡¯t even have human body temperatures. What happens after they die? You ever examine one?¡± she asked, taking a few shots at the target. Mike pondered the idea.

    ¡°I guess I assumed when you kill one, whatever evil in them that dies just leaves behind the human body, like the person was before. I never thought about it.¡± he pondered further.

    ¡°You never thought about dissecting one, finding out what they really are? Government project, aliens, vampires, you never thought to crack one open and see if they have anything different? I mean they¡¯re dead, so if the body just turns back human, what¡¯s dissecting a dead asshole to a guy who decapitates em with hollowpoints?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Shit, now you got me curious.¡± Mike sighed.

    ¡°You know there¡¯s only one way to find out. Bag one and go digging. You have any labs or anything, industrial buildings you own for storing shit?¡± She smirked.

    ¡°Kid, I¡¯m not batman, I make slightly more than most plumbers, I have a hidden tornado shelter under my bed, barely big enough to make ammo and move around. I have a truck, and 2 vans. Little house in the woods.¡± he explained.

    ¡°I actually know some places that might work. I¡¯ve been to places for drug deals and sold a few stolen handguns in some shady spots. Not a lot of people go there.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re really asking to get caught keeping a body. I stay a ghost because I hit and move. I¡¯ve never stored a body. The bodies stay where they drop.¡±

    ¡°Well, if God thinks I¡¯m your best replacement, maybe it¡¯s because I have ideas you¡¯re too oldschool and fixed to try. Come on, man. I don¡¯t even know if I believe this demonic stuff, and you don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re hunting. Maybe it¡¯s time to mix up the game and see what they¡¯re made of. God sent you a cutie killer, and you won¡¯t even get any use out of that, so at least give my ideas a test run. If they¡¯re anything but another dead guy, I might stop being so skeptical. Nothing jumpstarts faith like proof.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works, but you have a point. God provided you for a reason, so it¡¯s worth considering the ideas. Let me think about it. You just hit the target.¡± He said, pondering the concept. ¡°Shame, we don¡¯t have any place to even do that if we wanted.¡± Mike sighed.

    ¡°I can find a place, trust me. You find the monsters, I¡¯ll provide the laboratory.¡±

    ¡°What the hell do you know about body disposal locations. You always left victims where you killed them.¡± Mike inquired.

    ¡°I¡¯m a deranged teenage tweaker with the internet. Never underestimate the internet, gramps. There¡¯s youtube channels just dedicated to people who search and spelunk abandoned underground tunnels and shit. Warehouses, factories, entire abandoned malls. I bet I can find a video with like no views in the last 2 years, places nobody cares about. We break in, set up shop, put some locks and chains on the doors. Plenty of places to get high and fuck for cash, that are off limits and unguarded. Abandoned prisons and maintenance crap. I¡¯ve seen lots of those videos. Give me 24 hours and a bottle of vodka, I¡¯ll find us a place to crack open a monster. If it¡¯s anticlimactic, we just leave them there.¡± She said taking a few more shots with the big MP5. ¡°Damn I love this gun, not really concealable tho, is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a free unregistered gun, don¡¯t look a gift submachine gun in the mouth.¡± Mike said taking a few shots with it, feeling the heft. ¡°But we do have to get you some field experience soon. Something easy, low profile. I got a list of potential targets in the basement, in case I run out of high profile work. You think you¡¯re ready?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Does a priest shit in the woods?¡± Smirked tanner.

    ¡°I¡¯m ignoring that and pretending you just said yes.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I said this yet, but¡­thanks.¡± she smiled.

    ¡°For hitting you with a van and making you work it off?¡± Smiled Mike.

    ¡°No seriously. I didn¡¯t really have much of a life, and I don¡¯t have any friends that I can say truly have my back if shit got weird. I respect that you¡¯re not just treating me like a dumb child, or some useless addict¡­or worse. Some psychopath. I slept in a bed and felt safe for the first time in a while, instead of sleeping with one eye open at some flop house or an abandoned Arbee¡¯s hoping not to get stabbed or robbed. You¡¯re a good guy. Maybe too good. You might bend that a little, just suggesting.¡±

    ¡°Yea, you think?¡± he nodded. ¡°Just us alone at night armed and dangerous, you think I should just go for it and do something wild?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Party at the range.¡± Tanner said, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°I¡¯m 51 and harboring a homeless serial killer. You really think I wanna complicate things? Let¡¯s just get the metal detector out and find some treasures.¡±

    ¡°Passing up this treasure right now, but okay.¡± She said, making a face at him as his back turned. ¡°Little temptation never got anyone in trouble.¡±

    ¡°Temptation is literally what gets people in trouble.¡± Mike reminded.

    ¡°Yea, but I¡¯m fun trouble, and you¡¯re stuck with me.¡± She winked.

    ¡°Most of that is definitely true.¡± He said grabbing the shovel.

 Chapter 5: Carrie and Joe

    ¡°Oh yea, your insurance deductible has to be that or more. They probably won¡¯t even pay out. Here, take this.¡± He said getting some cash out. ¡°If you report it, the police won¡¯t do anything, but insurance HAS to be contacted then. Insurance will pile you with paperwork. God forbid someone hurts someone with it, and they tie it back to your shop, the red tape will be a nightmare. You don¡¯t need this mess. Some poor kid¡¯s life may depend on that gun. Just take the money.¡±

    ¡°Noooo, Mike. You¡¯re a good man, I can¡¯t just take your money.¡±

    ¡°Now you saved me at least 300 bucks on the HK when I got it, Frank. Out of the goodness of your heart, because I didn¡¯t have the money on me back then. Now the other day I went to the casino and made 1700 dollars, and you know what I do with those winnings? I give back to the community. That¡¯s not money I worked hard for, that¡¯s a blessing to spread. God doesn¡¯t give me that kinda luck so I can get rich, he does it so I can help people like you who can¡¯t afford things. Consider it God¡¯s money to make up for a legal system that doesn¡¯t work and crooked insurance scammers, I¡¯m just delivering it. If God wants to pay me back, I¡¯ll get lucky again at the casino on Friday. I¡¯d say the odds of me making it back are higher than the insurance claims, giving you the full amount and not raising your premiums. People steal every day. You got the guns to sell, so, now got money, the gun is gone¡­what¡¯s the difference in the long run?¡± Mike reasoned.

    ¡°I can¡¯t thank you enough, Mike. It¡¯s so hard to make an honest living anymore. With people the way they are now, kids on the street hookin, insurance companies raising rates and my damn fixed income not goin up with inflation, I just can¡¯t afford the troubles. Bless you. This is why I let you shoot here free and never charge you a membership. Thank you.¡± He smiled.

    ¡°Thank God for it. I¡¯m just the delivery boy who listens to my boss.¡± He said, winking at Tanner.

    The sounds of Jazz played as Mike finished his lathe work, lightly blowing the metal chips off the new barrel insert.

    ¡°So that¡¯s my gun?¡± asked Tanner.

    ¡°That¡¯s your gun. Reinforced slide pins, heavier spring, the muzzle brake threads tighten the barrel inserts in. If you think you¡¯ll get caught, toss that and burn the barrel. Flair in the backpack, as well as a flashlight.¡±

    ¡°My phone has a flashlight, gramps.¡± She muttered.

    ¡°Your phone doesn¡¯t lock onto the muzzle brake and act as a suppressor.¡± he noted.

    ¡°Oh. You know, you¡¯re so convincing as a nice guy that I forget you do this for a living. Does the flashlight work?¡±

    ¡°Yea, pulls right out, guts still work, just pull that out in front of the cops. Now Tanner¡­are you sure you can handle this alone. It¡¯s a lot to take into-¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­I got this. Stop worrying.¡± Tanner assured, admiring the black gun with the little red accents. ¡°And for a garage mod, this is a sexy little gun. You do good work.¡±

    ¡°Get some sleep. I gotta put a few test rounds through it and work on the trigger. In the morning, you¡¯ll have your official kill on this team.¡± He nodded nervously.

    Tanner sat outside the school, getting up from her bench as the students let out and filed from the building like ants. She took a hit from her joint and grabbed her backpack, ready to work. She strolled her way through the building, keeping her head down and blending in like any other student after hours. Avoiding the teachers in the rooms and making her way to the janitor¡¯s closet, checking Mike¡¯s map to be sure. She knocked and waited for an opening. The door opened and a scruffy young man answered.

    ¡°Wrong room. No students allowed back here.¡±

    ¡°Um, actually I¡¯m not a student, I¡¯m friends with Tommy, you know Tommy?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Kid, I don¡¯t know who the hell Tommy is. If you¡¯re not a student, why the backpack, and why are you in a school?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s a free country, I got stuff to carry. Stuff to¡­buy maybe. Look, Tommy said you had the hookup. You got Adderall, Oxy?¡± She muttered discreetly.

    ¡°No, not on property. My medication is not your problem. The fuck you think I keep drugs on premise? Get out, little fucking nark.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t recognize me? Man, we did some shit together like a year ago.¡± she said, taking a dramatic pose. "I had longer hair."

    ¡°Wait, you do look familiar.¡± He paused.

    ¡°Tanner.¡±

    ¡°Right, right. Couple of Glocks. You were a blonde back then.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me, and I got some friends looking for the hook-up, couple of boys I know, they prefer to be anonymous at the moment, we¡¯re gonna hang out in about an hour. Tommy knows a cool place to hang, it¡¯s discreet. You wanna make some money, bring the shit, these kids got parent¡¯s cash, you could make about 2 grand.¡±

    ¡°How many boys?¡± he asked, suppressing his grin.

    ¡°I dunno. 3 and me if nobody pussies out. I¡¯d say at least 2. If they don¡¯t show, I¡¯ll buy everything you got myself and resell.¡± She said, flashing a wad of cash. ¡°Deal?¡±

    ¡°Okay, fine. I¡¯m not really supposed to be around kids, so fuck off, but where¡¯s the place?¡± he asked. Tanner slipped a piece of paper in his pocket and winked. ¡°These kids like to party with cash, don¡¯t be late.¡± He whispered.

    Joe looked at the paper, printed off map with marker directions. He sighed nervously and made his way to his things, packing up and making a quick trip home.

    He waded through the overgrown grass to an abandoned shopping center, small, abandoned and covered in very old worn graffiti. He felt uncomfortable, checking his bottle of pills and looking for the kids. He spotted movement in the building and made his way to a slightly cracked open back door, slipping in and looking around at the dusty old surroundings.

    ¡°Anybody here?¡± he asked, feeling like he got scammed and almost leaving.

    ¡°Just me, Tommy and his friends texted, they are on the way, they got delayed. Come on in.¡± She greeted, waving him on, joint in her mouth and energy drink in hand. Joe stepped into the office, an old, musty room with moldy chairs and broken glass separating the waiting area. Tanner whistled a jazzy tune as she discreetly locked the door and pulled it shut, the knob looking slightly newer than the door itself, and on the wrong way. Lock on the opposite side. She gave a playful spin as Joe stood, looking curious.

    ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Old abandoned dentist¡¯s office. The whole little strip mall got canceled; they rented out the buildings for storage for a year or so and just left it. Place got looted and trashed. There are so many abandoned buildings it¡¯s unreal, but this one is very special. I know it looks like shit, but the back room has been spiffed up a little. She said, leading him along.

    ¡°I see what this is.¡± sighed Joe. ¡°Please tell me you at least brought the money?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I got it, I got plenty.¡±

    ¡°Look, I get that we got some shit in common, but I¡¯m not going to jail over this, and you¡¯re not even my type.¡± Joe huffed. ¡°Nobody¡¯s showing up, are they?¡±

    ¡°Ya got me. It¡¯s just me. I figured we could hang out, catch up, I¡¯ll still buy from ya. I just had to sweeten the temptation a little.¡± Tanner winked. "What, you don¡¯t like a little alone time with a cute thing like me?¡± she batted, dramatically so.

    ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re too old for me.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m fucking insulted. I¡¯m cute as hell and carrying cash.¡±

    ¡°This whole thing just feels like a trap. High school kids, parents money. Cops flipped you, something is wrong. I¡¯m out of here.¡±

    ¡°Yea, I... don¡¯t know that you are, Joe.¡± Tanner smiled.

    ¡°Look, if you were a little more my style, a little less cocky and didn¡¯t give off a huge vibe like you¡¯re wearing a wire, maybe we could hang out, but I¡¯m leaving.¡± He said, turning the knob and realizing it was locked. He sighed, leaning back with annoyance. Turning and raising his shirt to flash the 45 tucked in his holster. Tanner casually drew her pistol and pointed it at his crotch and grinned.

    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t flash what you can¡¯t unsnap in a hurry. Now you¡¯re gonna hold perfectly still, or I¡¯m putting a hollowpoint in your dick, got it buddy?¡± Tanner asked as Joe slowly held his hands up and Tanner unsnapped and removed the 45.

    ¡°What is this, a robbery or a bust?¡± Joe asked. ¡°Take the gun, It¡¯s not registered in my name. I got nothing on me. Petty cash, some cigarettes, You got no proof I did anything except trespassing, which you are too. Bust me on a 200 dollar fine, bitch.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not with the cops, dumbass. And I¡¯m not robbing¡­well I am technically robbing you now, just the gun, that¡¯s not the main point here. This is a sweet piece actually. Uncle bought this for ya?¡± Tanner said applying the silencer to Carrie and tucking the 45 in her belt, covering with her shirt.

    ¡°What do you want? You got my gun, my smokes, I didn¡¯t bring any pills, you got no evidence I did anything.¡± He asked as Tanner got out the thermal binoculars, checking him head to toe with a big cheesy grin.

    ¡°Well, you made one mistake. You¡¯re just too damn hot to throw back.¡± She said with a sinister tone. ¡°It¡¯s playtime.¡±

    ¡°Put the gun down¡­let¡¯s play fair.¡± Joe instigated.

    ¡°You¡¯re bigger than me, I kinda prefer not playing fair. So¡­¡± she clapped devilishly. ¡°Let¡¯s play a game called fun with duct tape.¡±

 Chapter 6: Heart of the issue.

    Mike stepped into the room, placing down his roll of tools and a small Bluetooth speaker for some ambient music.

    ¡°Nice work kiddo.¡± He said proudly as he suddenly drew his HK, looking confused. ¡°He¡¯s not dead.¡± He noted.

    ¡°I know, right. That¡¯s why I got him cuffed and taped to the table. How great is that? Hot on the thermals, check yourself, fresh pedophile, got your tools. You don¡¯t look excited. Why don¡¯t you look excited? I¡¯m excited.¡± she giggled.

    ¡°I really assumed you¡¯d just kill him. I''m proud of your restraint." Said Mike. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you wanna step out of the room during questioning?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You wanted to see what these things look like on the inside, right? So do I. That¡¯s a live specimen. He beat the shit out of a 13-year-old kid and tried to rape him, you really feel bad about this?¡± Tanner scoffed. ¡°Oh, I get it. You¡¯ve never interrogated anyone like this before, the messy way, have you?¡±

    ¡°Well, no, actually. I just feel like this is usually a way to get caught¡­¡± he said, checking the cuffs and the tape on his ankles as Joe looked worried and struggled. ¡°But you did secure him nicely. I''d prefer you not witness this.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Buzzkillington. I don¡¯t care. I wanna see what¡¯s inside a demon, and the best way to get answers is with Stabby here. Worst case, this is just some regular pedo, not sure I¡¯d call him human exactly. Best scenario, I get to see something WILD I¡¯ve never seen before.¡± She giggled.

    ¡°You know¡­I guess it doesn¡¯t matter. We ID¡¯s the suspect, he¡¯s 127 on the thermals. Honestly, I¡¯m just a little nervous what I¡¯ll find.¡±

    ¡°Why? Afraid you¡¯re just killing horrendous people instead of actual devils? Is that so damn bad? And if he¡¯s full of sharp teeth and brimstone, then I owe you money and that just proved your theory. I get it. He just looks like a guy, but literal or figurative, he¡¯s a monster, and you don¡¯t show your face to them, you pull a trigger and watch the heat fade. You¡¯re new to the butchering side of things. I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll cut him open. Squeamish shit. I thought you were some badass killing machine.¡±

    ¡°Killing is easy, torture and dissection is a little new territory for me. I prefer intimidation, light beating.¡±

    ¡°Okay well then we¡¯ll just walk this rout together, we¡¯re friends, partners, or some shit. I¡¯ll do the weird stuff, you just take notes.¡± She said, getting out her pocket knife and flipping the blade open.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t use that dull piece of shit. I sharpen my own knives, this one¡¯s better.¡± Mike said, handing Tanner the K-Bar and some black butcher¡¯s gloves.¡±

    ¡°May man with the tools.¡± Tanner winked, pressing the blade to Joe¡¯s chest and, with little hesitation, making a shallow cut from sternum to navel as Joe screamed through the muffling duct tape. Mike felt slightly uncomfortable as Tanner bobbed her head to the music and puzzled a moment. ¡°Red blood, red meat. Nothing too far from textbook so far.¡± He shrugged, looking up at the overly focussed priest. ¡°What? How we gonna know anything is inhuman if we don¡¯t know what humans look like on the inside?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Should we maybe ask some questions first and take the tape off his mouth, or do you just get your confessions via Ouija board?¡± he paused.

    ¡°Oh¡­Ya know, I kinda forgot that part entirely. I don¡¯t normally let them talk during this. My whole thing is just killing them. You read my file, you saw the crime scenes. There are no questions except rhetorical mindfuck ones I ask to be scary, and I¡¯m usually in costume once I got them knocked out and taped up.

    ¡°Yea, Murder-Geisha.¡± He said. "Robe, face paint, wig."

    ¡°Aw¡­how did you know? The only people who get to see my outfits don¡¯t live to report it. Have you been stalking meeee?¡± she grinned playfully.

    ¡°Cleaning evidence, remember? Polyester Kimono fibers you snagged on the tape, traced back to a gift card you bought with your name from Dean¡¯s Party Mania.¡±

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s a low budget thing, it¡¯s about the vibe, not the brand.¡± she scoffed.

    ¡°You¡¯re a serial killing hooker that lures in creeps and your persona is a murdergeisha, a hooker that lures in creeps for murder.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference.¡± She scoffed. ¡°I mean, I do also use a knife. But this is scarier. And let us not forget style points. Geisha are classy and cool. My props may all be straight up weeb-shit, but I can¡¯t afford good stuff, what, am I just gonna NOT dress up to kill someone? Like at all? Just look like this every time? My makeup takes time anyway, the extra mile for the fun of it is worth it. Especially for photos.¡±

    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t take crime scene selfies, even if you keep them on a jump drive and not on the cloud, you could lose that, and it¡¯s all over.¡±

    ¡°Look, Mister Plumber man¡­ You chose me. Or god chose me and told you, or you made that up to justify that you kinda like me, and like I get it. We stalk and kill people, we have a lot in common, maybe you¡¯re a closet weeb with a fetish for a cosplay killer who understands you, it¡¯s fine, we¡¯re adults, we¡¯re not doing anything illegal, except the whole¡­the dead people stuff. But I have to take the selfies, otherwise nobody sees the work I put into the outfits except the dead guys.¡±

    ¡°Who do you show the selfies to?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°Well obviously nobody, it¡¯s evidence, but I like to look at them myself, and now maybe you could see them and the¡­well you probably took your own pictures¡­stalker.¡± She smirked, rolling her eyes like she was fake embarrassed.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t watch the murders. I got to the last 3 crime scenes before the cops did to check your work for quality. And it was lacking some professional details.¡±

    ¡°UH! Rude. But be honest, is the outfit scary?¡± she asked, flipping through her phone as Joe sat confused and baffled taped to a chair.

    ¡°It¡¯s not really my area of expertise.¡± Mike admitted.

    ¡°Well, just picture it. Look at me now, boring normal person blending-in outfit, military knife, broad daylight, whole plan and mystery gone, he knows we¡¯re interrogating him for information on his uncle, there¡¯s no surprise there. Now instead imagine you never saw me coming, and you woke up in a dark room somewhere with red mood lighting and a shadowy figure of an Asian fem fatale, bloody and ghostly like she rose from the grave for vengeance. Now imagine it¡¯s YOU tied to the chair, which you probably have, but this time no sexy nun outfit, just Murdergeisha, and you think you¡¯re gonna die. See how that¡¯s way more scary than just Eeuugh, cut, poke, tell me your uncle¡¯s secrets or we¡¯ll kill you in slow and boring ways, like using a gun and shooting you. It¡¯s a whole mood.¡± she explained.

    ¡°Listen¡­ I wasn¡¯t stalking you, especially for my own enjoyment. I was researching potential apprentices and scouting raw talent. I followed the voice of God. You know the other 3 possible recruits I had?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Chainsaw dommy mom, cowgirl with Uzi¡¯s in her assless chaps, or¡­please don¡¯t say nun with a lethal injection kink?¡±

    ¡°A 35 year old accountant who keeps his victims preserved in epoxy table tops, an ex military sniper who hunts in a devil costume and draws pentagrams in blood, he ate some of the bodies. Oh, and a nice clean-cut young man maybe 25 who plays minecraft, has 4 dogs, lives with his mother and turned out to believe he is literally the reincarnated Adolph Hitler.¡± He muttered. Her eye widened and her jaw dropped.

    ¡°¡­fuck. Those were your other options?¡±

    ¡°All completely insane.¡± He sighed in frustration.

    ¡°And all DUDES. What a bummer? Like not one other chick serial killer in the state?¡± she asked. ¡°Actually, that would make me a rare gem. I don¡¯t know if I kinda like being the only rare holographic pokemon in the store¡­or if I hate that men are dominating the industry. Can I be both proud AND pissed off at the skewed ratio?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re missing the point, but no. You¡¯re the only one. The other one got arrested. She was terrible at killing people. Complete forensic shitstorm. The point I was making is that it¡¯s hard to find another serial killer that¡¯s not just¡­insane.¡± he sighed with annoyance as Joe thrashed.

    ¡°Right!?¡± Like have a shtick, or a gimmick or something, but they all just kill random people, like do some good with it. Kill the worst people that deserve it like the guys we hunt¡­or maybe Hitler guy, can we go back to kill the Hitler guy?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I shot him in the head with a German Luger round I stole from a museum owned by a guy named Levi Goldberg.¡±

    ¡°Hehe¡­¡± she laugh goofishly ¡°That¡¯s funny. What about epoxy table guy?¡±

    ¡°I thought about it. He was really meticulous about the crime scenes, only killed parents that murdered their kids, but then I broke into his house and found the basement with the tables, and it was just¡­weird. Like slabs of bad taxidermy, over 12 tables, you know he would just be constantly wanting to hang out in the table room and I just can¡¯t see getting used to that.¡±

    ¡°Gross. He¡¯d always be polishing the tables and borrowing your woodworking tools, I get it. So are you saying I¡¯m just the least problematic partner out of the bad options God presented and the fact that you find me attractive has nothing to do with this at all?¡± she said disappointed and a little hurt.

    ¡°Not even a consideration, and I still refuse to comment on your attractiveness or lack of it, because it¡¯s not work appropriate and work comes before recreation.¡±

    ¡°Work comes instead of you¡­.got it. Vow of celibacy.¡± she nodded.

    ¡°I never said that, either. You are assuming a lot of things. Do you remember we have a guy taped to a chair?¡±

    ¡°I know¡­ I¡¯m not stupid. I just never see you open up, and I thought there was a moment of opportunity for some personal growth there.¡± She said pouting. ¡°Go ahead, ask him your questions, I¡¯ll wait. You need a drink, old man?¡± Tanner asked, waving a flask.

    ¡°I don¡¯t drink anymore. Just clouds my mind and faith.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself," tanner said, taking a swig and pocketing the flask as she ripped off the mouth-gag tape, Joe struggling harder.

    ¡°Your Uncle¡­what is he hiding?¡± asked Mike.

    ¡°Fuck you, priest.¡± Joe spat.

    ¡°How about now?¡± he asked, placing Rachel''s silencer to his head and cocking the hammer.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna kill me anyway, why say anything?¡± Joe shrugged.

    ¡°We¡¯re not gonna kill you if you cooperate, just if you resist.¡± Mike said darkly.

    ¡°NO, No. no.¡± Tanner said moving the gun. ¡°This is what I mean. You¡¯re good at killing, but you¡¯re not scary enough to torture. He doesn¡¯t believe you. He saw our faces, he knows our names, he knows we¡¯re gonna kill him, Mike, he¡¯s got no incentive without the fear aspect. Here¡­this isn¡¯t a precision sniper shot from 2 miles away, this is an artform.¡± She said, pushing the knife into his leg as he screamed and struggled. ¡°Now you see pain is scary, you gotta remind them that we can kill them quickly and painlessly or really slow and weird. Gun to the head is the best case he¡¯s gonna get, he¡¯s not afraid of that. He¡¯s afraid we¡¯re gonna peel the skin off his face or something. Maybe we¡¯ll dismember him limb by limb, you know an undead geisha vibe in the right lighting really sells the fear, Look, he¡¯s way more scared of a 140 pound girl with a knife than a big hitman with a gun, and all I did was stab his leg a little. That¡¯s not even top 10 sensitive spots. We got eyelids, the butthole, we could put a bunch of hornets in a gas mask, he doesn¡¯t know, when you¡¯re a psycho chick in full costume, he wakes up confused and in a chair, and you start cutting before even asking questions, THEN they talk. Right Joe? Where¡¯s the magic button that¡¯s gonna make you rat out your uncle¡­the pee-hole or the b-hole?¡±

    ¡°OKAY, just¡­you¡¯re not asking any questions. Can you be specific?¡± Joe blurted, almost crying.

    ¡°Why is the mayor protecting your stupid ass?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Because I find girls for him. He can¡¯t be seen snooping around, he can''t be tied to the crimes, so he keeps me safe and out of prison and I look for the ones he would like. He has a type, he is very specific.¡± Joe huffed.

    ¡°Raping them, killing them?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Neither. He just keeps them prisoner for a while because I like to degrade and vent. His ex wife took everything, he likes to pretend they are her, and he acts out this weird fantasy where he gets his revenge. I find women that look the part, I bring them to the safehouse, drug them, leave them. He has another guy who takes them after that, I don¡¯t know what he does, but he sure as hell doesn¡¯t let them go. That¡¯s your monster, your killer. Uncle Tim never killed them, I never killed them. They seemed mostly unharmed when he''s done. Then they disappear. I¡¯m a delivery driver, he just roleplay¡¯s telling off the bitch who took his kids away and making her feel helpless and defeated, and then they go away. We¡¯re not the monsters doing the killing.¡±

    ¡°Oh so you¡¯re just feeding the monster to stay out of jail because you groped a 7<sup>th</sup> grader. You¡¯re not that bad then.¡± Tanner huffed sarcastically. ¡°And your uncle is just enjoying some kinky roleplay with abducted women and then passing them off to a finisher. He¡¯s not that bad either. They guy he pays to murder the women you abduct should be the one we¡¯re really after. Just him. Name, description, what does he drive?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know his name, he never says anything, I don¡¯t get to see his home or his driver''s license, I just see a guy in a hoodie with blue gloves, a revolver, wears glasses, There''s always some blonde in the car waiting. He nods and they go away. That¡¯s all I know. Uncle Tim just pays me cash and says to find a new one. The sooner I get one, and the more she looks like his ex-wife, the happier he is, the more money I get, and the more he leaves me alone. I¡¯m the bottom tier of a 3 tier operation. I pull a gun and say: get in the van, and if you say anything, I shoot you and your family, and they just do it. They never even struggle. I park the van, I get my money, pat on the shoulder and ¡°good work, kid¡± and I drive home and forget about it, till he calls me again.¡± Joe finished, waiting for a response.

    ¡°¡­Nah, he¡¯s got more. You got like any rib spreaders or bone saws?¡± She asked Mike as he blankly stared.

    ¡°No! I have plumbing tools and some basic survival supplies, I¡¯m not a surgeon, I¡¯m a hitman.¡± He said, ¡°Then again I do have pipe cutters, the kind you have to twist tighter and keep spinning around the pipe over and over until gradually it cuts the pipes off... or the finger. That gives you 10 tries.¡± He shrugged at Tanner.

    ¡°11 if you really wanna get creative.¡± She winked.

    ¡°I told you everything!¡± Joe wailed, ¡°What more do you want!?¡±

    ¡°Just one more thing. The location. Tanner, get a pencil, he¡¯s gonna write down the address where they take the girls. If you do, you die quick and with all your digits. You¡¯re gonna die regardless, Joe. But you can die right now, no pain, or in a few hours, with all the pain SHE can inflict.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let her torture me.¡± Joe begged.

    ¡°That¡¯s not my problem. I¡¯m not doing you a favor, I¡¯m doing us a favor. I personally think you deserve to die however she wants to do it, and she wants to do it messy and slow. BUT, I am a man of my word and if it gets us closer to stopping more girls being taken and killed, I accept letting you have the gift of a quicker death. It¡¯s not pity, just business.¡± He said as Joe frantically jotted down the address and was relieved to see Mike prepping a syringe of something.

    ¡°We really gonna go easy on him?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°This is about information, not revenge. We have the information, Now I want the last question answered without him screaming in agony and fighting me the whole time.¡± He said giving him the shot and watching him fade. ¡°He¡¯s out like a light but still alive. Now, let¡¯s see what a monster looks like on the inside while it¡¯s still a monster.¡± He said as Tanner exhaled and smiled.

    ¡°Fucking finally.¡± She said making the incision. ¡°Still looks human so far.¡± She said, reaching in as she sawed at whatever organ she was tethered by, pulling out something meaty. With a little yank she retrieved her prize, going silent, a few twitches later he was dead.

    ¡°Oh now that¡¯s interesting.¡± Mike said, as she held the heart in her gloved hand, charcoal black and still pumping. ¡°What¡­in the depths of hell?¡± muttered Mike, stepping closer as the colorless organ pulsed like something trying to escape a shiny leather bag that had been freshly oiled to a sheen. The heart slowed and stopped, slowly taking on a slight red hue and gradually going dead and pinkish red with a haunting but faint scream.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± She said, looking at Mike.

    ¡°We did both see that, right? We did both see a jet black heart turn back to human red as it died, right?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We sure did.¡± She nodded solemnly.

    ¡°That proves 2 things. One, I was right, and you owe me 20 bucks. Secondly, they do turn human after they die, like I suspected¡­so the bodies I¡¯m leaving behind aren¡¯t being rushed to some secret lab for cover-storage and research, They¡¯re just going to look human by the time anyone finds them.¡± He sighed, almost disappointed.

    ¡°Which is worse¡­?¡± Tanner asked. Making 2 more cuts and seeing only human flesh. ¡°That nobody believes you, and thinks you¡¯re just killing people, except you''re RIGHT!...or finding out there¡¯s a huge demon cover-up operation and all the police are just hiding dead monsters and all one giant conspiracy? Isn¡¯t this better that they turn back...human?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. We¡¯d get the damn electric chair regardless, I¡¯ll take monsters that turn human and ignorant cops just doing their jobs, over a fucking full corrupt police department in on it, not saying a word and belonging to some cult that knows they exist.¡± Mike sighed with relief.

    ¡°Man, this is good news!¡± Tanner grinned. ¡°The BEST news. They¡¯re not human, but they leave behind a human corpse. That¡¯s great! The cops are just dumb, not plotting against you. Cops don¡¯t know shit. What was that, 5 seconds? Nobody is cracking one open 5 seconds after you shot them, so nobody knows anything unless you left survivors¡­you don¡¯t, right?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Absolutely not. Confirm the target with thermal, confirm the kill with thermal and in most cases physical exam to check for pulse. The only survivors are lukewarm human collateral.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, this is fun. We¡¯re literally VanHelsing-ing together! You think I doubt you now? We¡¯re basically bonded now. This got so real for us. How have you never dissected one like this before in like¡­20 kills?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Over 77 kills. I almost said 78, but you killed this one. Tanner, this was disturbing at first, but I¡¯m glad we did this.¡±

    "Disturbing...really? YOU, disturbed?"

    "The disturbing part is that I''m tempted to do this for fun. Temptation gets you caught and takes over. With a partner, there''s someone watching your back." he smiled.

    ¡°It¡¯s like bonding, right? Someone with similar interest you can really be yourself with. Someone who doesn¡¯t think you''re crazy. I mean we¡¯re both obviously a little loony toonz and fucking weird, but not¡­like too far gone, ya know? Like, on the same level?¡± she flirted.

    ¡°Tanner, if I¡¯m being honest, I have always had a little hint of doubt in my work.¡±

    ¡°Nooooo.¡± She pleaded. ¡°Never doubt your art! This is your calling, Damnit.¡±

    ¡°We just confirmed that these aren¡¯t even people anymore. Thermals are one thing, but you always have doubts, faith is an uphill battle, kid. That¡¯s not faith, that¡¯s absolute proof. We should have recorded it.¡±

    ¡°Just hang onto evidence, in case we get caught and need to prove that the 77 people you killed were not people. Because that¡¯s gonna hold up in court and get us off with a slap on the wrist? After raggin on me for victim selfies? Really?¡± she scolded.

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, kid.¡± He coughed, covering his mouth.

    ¡°Smell getting to you?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°Maybe. Or the smoking is getting to me. This is why you shouldn¡¯t smoke. Stick to edibles and consider laying off the booze.¡± He coughed.

    ¡°You kidding, I¡¯m just getting started. We¡¯re celebrating, it¡¯s party time, preacher.¡± She grinned. ¡°And you need a persona. Costume, calling card, props.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Okay fine but consider this, Murdergeisha¡­Sniper Samurai. Just saying it aloud.¡± She whispered. "I''ll take that look as a second no."

 Chapter 7: Judas?

    Tanner stared deadly still, making a slurping sound through her straw, specifically to be annoying, sustaining it far longer than anyone would assume possible. A voice broke the silence from across the table as a dark figure sat down on the park bench. The cold air outside made him shiver, as Tanner seemed eerily unaffected.

    ¡°Are you done?¡± The familiar voice asked.

    ¡°Are you annoyed yet, Porky?¡± she said, staring the cop down with psychotic calmness and slurping louder.

    ¡°Quite annoyed.¡± Detective Baker sighed.

    ¡°Good, then we¡¯re on the same wavelength, because I find it very annoying when a cop pulls up beside me on my walk to get a beverage at 2AM.¡± She said, returning to her drink.

    ¡°Where¡¯s he at?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Asleep. At least when I left.¡±

    ¡°So¡­what information do you have?¡±

    ¡°Not much. He¡¯s pretty secretive.¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Damnit girl, you are facing a lot of time here if you don¡¯t help us out. The Organization. How many people?¡±

    ¡°Apparently just us 2. There¡¯s nobody else. He¡¯s just that good.¡± She said darkly. ¡°Don¡¯t tell him I said that. He always knows I have a crush on him, I don¡¯t need him getting a big head or anything. Maybe I do, actually. The confidence boost might get him horny.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a 50-year-old former priest who actually believed he takes his orders from God? He supplies his own support and weapons and can take down a guy from a mile and a half, with no training or team? Not even a spotter or driver? Bullshit. Either you¡¯re one dumb bitch for believing that, or you¡¯re lying to me. So did I just hire the stupidest hooker on Earth as my informant on the inside, or are you just covering his ass and trying to get life in prison for 5 or more counts of murder?¡±

    ¡°Motherfucker, I stepped in front of a van for your little plan. Don¡¯t look at me like I¡¯m not committed and doing my part. He actually hit me!¡±

    ¡°The guy you killed last, Mayor¡¯s Nephew¡­that¡¯s ballsy.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, I wax mine if you wanna see them.¡± She snipped.

    ¡°Why risk your life for a nobody?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s onto something big. Do you not see the REAL organization here? They¡¯re the bad guys he¡¯s killing. Police are protecting them, they¡¯re paid off. Women are dying, and the mayor is untouchable because of crooked police, and you¡¯re worried about an imaginary group of hitmen who, if they did exist, are doing a great job of taking out the trash for you guys. But they don¡¯t. It¡¯s one guy, and he hasn¡¯t told me how he does it.¡±

    ¡°Listen, if you keep covering for him, we¡¯ll find another angle and just put you away.¡±

    ¡°I honestly think he¡¯d just get me out, but I¡¯m telling you he gets his orders from God. That¡¯s not a code word for the guy he¡¯s working for in some hitman squad, actual God. He believes the people he hunts are demons or something. The other day when we cut open Joe for information.¡±

    ¡°Jesus Christ, Tanner.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, rude¡­wasn¡¯t done. When we cut open a convicted pedophile working for a group of men killing women that you¡¯re doing jack shit about, he saw Joe¡¯s heart black and demonic before he died. Then he saw it turn human again.¡±

    ¡°This bullshit again, Honey, there are no demons, just bad people.¡±

    ¡°I know, I didn''t see anything, but he believes it. He sees things in the thermal scopes, he saw a demon heart, he hears God¡¯s voice. He¡¯s probably insane but like, who am I to judge, I paint my face white and fillet rapists for fun. But he also tracked down 5 killers you guys didn¡¯t even know about just looking for recruits, and if he hadn¡¯t cleaned my evidence, you¡¯d have caught me sooner. He¡¯s good. Too good. But I¡¯ve seen him work and he¡¯s legit. So yea, I played into his fantasy, I¡¯ve been trying to do that in another way, but he¡¯s taken a vow of celibacy or something after the wife died. I dunno but if he¡¯s not on this¡­¡± she said flaying her fingernails out to display herself dramatically ¡°¡­after practically throwing it at him, then he¡¯s either gay or shut down the party zone. He¡¯s just an old man doing what he thinks is right after his family got killed and nobody did shit to help. He invented the help, and he¡¯s stopped more serial killers and gangs than the fucking cops have. Let the man work, or God forbid, just go after the mayor yourself.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that, there¡¯s a legal system-¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work at all, we proved that. The fact that there¡¯s a legal system in the way of justice shows you who your bosses are working for. Whoever pays better. Face it Babe, You work for the criminals he kills. You come to work and follow orders that go up a broken chain of command to rich criminals who own the police. And you know it. Who¡¯s the good guys here exactly?¡± she accused.

    ¡°Look, I am trying to get to the bottom of this.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, the bottom. You¡¯re too chicken shit to go for the top because they own you, so you bust the kids selling weed to survive, the prostitutes renting the pussy that God gave them, and when the Diddy party starts in, you just look away and file paperwork, because the God you listen to writes your checks, and they wanna party. So you blackmail me to take down a priest who¡¯s doing the job you¡¯re claiming to be doing, serving the people, taking down the evil in this state.¡± She said, crossing her legs and rattling her ice. "Can I get a refill?"

    ¡°What do you want me to do? Lose case files, let the preacher do his thing, and let whoever he works for just play God?"

    ¡°I think who he works for just IS God. I¡¯m playing dressup, you¡¯re playing a good cop, and we¡¯re the ones pretending here. He believes it, he lives it. You think I dress up in makeup because I actually think I¡¯m a ghost of a Japanese high class prostitute resurrected as a vengeance spirit? No. I do it because it¡¯s fun and I look really hot in creepy costumes. Don¡¯t hate me for that. I gave you the truth and you don¡¯t like it. So what lie would you like me to make up? He¡¯s God himself, and he¡¯s magical. He¡¯s actually 5 KGB assassins who got plastic surgery to look like twinzies who live in a complex under the cabin. He¡¯s the devil himself and here just to fuck with you doing your wonderful deeds, and your faith is just not strong enough. Feel free to throw your own bullshit in the mix. The truth is, he¡¯s one guy, he¡¯s doing great things, he¡¯s amazing at it, and you¡¯re jealous because he either IS blessed, or just better at your job."

    ¡°Why the hell would I be jealous?¡± Damien scoffed.

    ¡°Maybe because you went to cop school thinking you¡¯d do actual good and put away the bad people, and you¡¯re jealous that he¡¯s doing your dream job while you file papers for politicians and crooked devils. Maybe you can¡¯t shoot for shit and any marksman on that level just pisses you off. Maybe you¡¯re the one black dude in this town with a tiny dick, and you¡¯re just livid at how much big PP energy he¡¯s rockin for an old white dude. I bet it¡¯s huge.¡± She whispered.

    ¡°You fell for him, didn¡¯t you? Older man doing what you do but better, thought he¡¯d be a monster, but he¡¯s nice to you and a spoiled bratty-ass like you doesn¡¯t get treated nice very often because you got a chip on your shoulder. You fell for his Holyman act. You really think God talks to him?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, I dunno. I think either God or his good conscience talks to him, and tells him what¡¯s right in this world, like you when you joined the force, except he obeys it and fucks the rules, and you silenced your inner voice because the rich rule-makers told you to sit, stay, roll over buddy. Good boy. I did what you asked, I let myself get caught, I let myself get close, I played into his game and he¡¯s the real deal. I¡¯m not gonna stab him in the back, I can¡¯t give up his team and his organization if there isn¡¯t any, and I can''t get him to turn himself in, the honey pot didn¡¯t work, he believes in something higher than you, and he¡¯ll die for it, and won''t give in to any temptations and get caught. If you go after him, he¡¯ll evade you. If you pose a threat, he¡¯ll kill you, and if I¡¯m with him, I¡¯ll help him kill you. So arrest me. Find another cute young serial killer as bait, and find another angle into this hit squad that doesn¡¯t exist.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I could arrest you, but you¡¯re not worth it yet. I¡¯m trying to take down his boss.¡± Damien said.

    ¡°You can¡¯t take down his boss because his boss is God. His boss is a good heart and reason, in a world where punishment and justice depends on your income and who you know or who you blow. You either have to accept one of two things. That he¡¯s just that good, and you¡¯re the problem, and when you move to take him down, you¡¯ll glow in the thermal scope and then die like a bitch. Or you can stick to your theory that you¡¯re the good guy and there are a bunch of hitmen out there organized, and I¡¯m just a lying bitch, and I can¡¯t give you something I don¡¯t have to flip a man who believes he¡¯s right. I can¡¯t help you take down God or imaginary MI-6 hiding in fucking Illinois. I have nothing to give you. There¡¯s nothing to give, except a warning, maybe. Don¡¯t fuck with the priest. So¡­ Arrest me.¡± she shrugged.

    ¡°We both know you¡¯re not going in quietly.¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck no, I¡¯m not.¡± she grinned.

    ¡°You got a gun under the table pointed at my nuts and if I tell you we¡¯re going into custody right now you¡¯ll shoot me and get away. You¡¯ll just get arrested tomorrow by someone else, but I don¡¯t wanna get shot.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so we¡¯re not gonna go to the police station and throw me in a cell? That¡¯s a shame. You better call backup and tell them your big conspiracy that would get you suspended or committed or fired, and then tell them that you¡¯re bending the rules working with a serial killer to take down a whole group of imaginary ones. They¡¯ll love that. He¡¯ll break me out, and you¡¯ll lose your job. THEN he''ll kill you.¡± Tanner smiled serenely.

    ¡°You¡¯re an informant, INFORM me. What do you suggest I do here? Let both of you go, burn my case and play dumb, be the puppet you just accused me of?"

    ¡°You want the truth, the real truth of what I think you should do?¡±

    ¡°Try me.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°You¡¯re already breaking the rules fucking with files and investigating your own theory, so investigate and fuck with files regarding the mayor. Find the truth there, and ask yourself if that¡¯s who you wanna help or the preacher? Ask yourself some real questions and see if a voice talks to you and tells you to fuck the system. That¡¯s either God or yourself because you know what¡¯s the lesser evil here, and admitting that means you¡¯re scared to lose your job to do the right thing, or you¡¯re one of the bad guys yourself. You don¡¯t have to abduct and kill women to be a monster, if you know one is out there, and you choose your career over their lives.¡±

    ¡°Trying to flip a cop?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Trying to see if you¡¯re still human in there. You know what Preacher Mikey does to humans? Nothing. But you keep choosing the side you¡¯re on, and you¡¯re gonna get warmer and warmer in that scope, and I actually hope you see the light and either get out of this or pick the right side of it. I¡¯ve been around a lot of bad cops, sick fuckers who will do whatever they want and get away with it. You¡¯re not like that, Detective. You¡¯re just lost and scared. We¡¯ve all been there.¡± She smiled. ¡°Now Mister special detective man, I¡¯ve killed 6 people and I plan to kill a few more, hopefully you don¡¯t add yourself to that list, because I¡¯m about to leave this gas station park bench and turn my back. We ARE going to kill the mayor, and a lot of people that throw themselves in the way. That¡¯s called a confession. There¡¯s nothing stopping you from shooting me in the back except exposing your own secret case, and if you want a new job that lets you sleep at night feeling like you made the world a better place and served society, you could follow me and talk to Preacher Mike, he might like the help. You can¡¯t be a good cop and work for the bad cops. You can¡¯t believe in the law and the system and sneak around it when it suits you, so pick a side, Agent Baker. Pick a lane and merge, stop riding the center because you¡¯re scared to commit and get your hands TOO dirty.¡± Tanner Grinned as she got up, de-cocking her pistol and swinging her hips in her little skirt as she went, making her way back to the cabin, walking the long winding road up.

    The door slowly closed as Tanner tiptoed her way back into the cabin, jumping at the flicker of a cigarette lighter.

    ¡°Hi¡­" she smiled.

    ¡°Go for a walk?¡± Mike asked casually, having a smoke.

    ¡°Yea.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Why, were you like... worried about me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Just didn¡¯t expect to come out for breakfast and find an empty cabin, no note. You came back looking nervous and sneaking in. That¡¯s the part that worries me.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m allowed to leave, am I your prisoner or apprentice? I needed some fresh air, I met up with some friends. People have friends.¡±

    ¡°The silencer is still on your gun. Forgot to remove it. You hoping for trouble?¡± Mike exhaled.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who made me a silencer for my gun and suggested I use the barrel thingy.¡±

    ¡°I designed the silencer to look like a flashlight, even work like a flashlight so you can carry it in case you needed it. So either you needed it or you thought you might. Tanner, I understand you¡¯re young and full of energy but please tell me you didn¡¯t kill someone without even letting me know. Hiding it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, look. I was just stalking a potential kill, I wasn¡¯t acting on it. I¡¯m planning, and being smart, just like you told me, but you taught me to be prepared, so I went hushy mode before I followed.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s my target, and I¡¯m only practicing my stalking. If I actually intend to kill someone, I¡¯ll let you know. You picked me up a killer, operating on my own, you can¡¯t expect me to just switch brands without any little cheat days. Girl¡¯s got needs, Mister. Someone has to take care of those, and I took care of it. Nobody died, nobody got hurt. I went for a walk, I window shopped, I window shopped with proper protection, and I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d understand because I just wanted to play alone.¡±

    ¡°Well, hopefully you¡¯re still in the mood, because I have a job, and this one is a 2-person job. Can I count on you? Are you on my side?¡± he asked cryptically.

    ¡°Duh, why do you think I came back? Why do you think I came back without killing anyone? I¡¯m on your side, Mike. Always have been. So who¡¯s the target? And why do you look uncomfortable?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going clubbing.¡± he sighed.

    ¡°Mike¡­¡± She blushed, grinning. ¡°Am I your target? Are you taking me out... so to speak?¡±

    ¡°I hate to even suggest it, but you can get into places I can¡¯t. There¡¯s a bar downtown where I¡¯d stand out. I need you to stand out in a good way, and get him to leave the club with you. I need you dressed up and getting him distracted.¡±

    ¡°So you want me fuckable and cute, so another guy will show interest. Starting to think you have a very specific Cuck-chair kink you¡¯re leading up to, but I get it. Who¡¯s the guy?¡±

    ¡°A cop.¡± He smiled. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a different look than I expected, I thought you¡¯d be trilled to kill a cop.¡±

    ¡°Uh, not that I mind, but you want me to hook a cop?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Crooked cop. Worst kind. He¡¯s been known to hang out with hookers, never brings any into the station, so either he has a power fetish for giving warnings, or he¡¯s using them somehow. Bait, scapegoats, informants. Or he¡¯s just getting free sex with a badge.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t... you kinda using me as bait?¡± she asked, nervously.

    ¡°No. You can say you don¡¯t want to, and I¡¯ll do it alone another way. You have choices, this is a team. You can quit your job if you don¡¯t like your boss, that¡¯s basic American freedom."

    ¡°So hypothetically, if I didn¡¯t wanna kill a cop and I just decided to leave right now and never come back. Would you follow me, hunt me, let me go?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d ask you to reconsider and try to make you see the benefit of our work, but I¡¯d never stalk or take a shot at you. We both have dirt on each other, that¡¯s a mutual trust. You scared?¡± he asked. ¡°Or ready to quit?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not quitting, I just am a little nervous about killing a cop. Cops tend to travel in packs and armed, they all have guns and training, and they take it personal when you hit one of their own. But if you want to go hunting badges¡­I¡¯m in.¡±

    ¡°Just one badge. This one travels alone. He doesn¡¯t seem to like partners or backup. Probably hard to trust the other officers with his illegal ideas and dirty tactics would be my guess. Anyone you know?¡± he said, turning the laptop. She breathed a sigh of relief when it wasn¡¯t Damien Baker, and it was nobody she recognized.

    ¡°Nope. Just looks like a cop.¡± You wanna do this tonight?¡±

    ¡°No time like the present. You want the plan first or breakfast?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Both.¡± She said, grabbing a bowl and heading to the fridge for some cereal as he laid out the sketches of the club.

    ¡°This is Harold Butler. Dirty as they get, been that way for 20 years or more. He happens to be one of the many cops who tampered with evidence to clear our Mayor buddy and some local kid took the fall. Got hard time for abducting a woman he never touched. Just some dumb kid running drugs and car stereos. Never killed anyone. Owns a very nice home for a cop salary, too. Right now he¡¯s working on a case, trying to take down a local gang that¡¯s been causing him trouble. The Crimson Kings.¡±

    ¡°Heard the name, nothing much else. I avoid large groups of criminals.¡±

    ¡°Well these boys have really slipped through his fingers, he¡¯s got a vendetta and I have information the public doesn¡¯t on their files. They like to shoot people in the back. They always use a 40 Smith and Wesson solid copper hollowpoint. That¡¯s part of an open case they don¡¯t talk about because their ammo supplier is apparently someone protected. The problem is that 40 hollowpoints don¡¯t do well on body armor and our cop knows that, and Officer Butler wears soft armor on his off time if he thinks he¡¯s somewhere unsavory. I¡¯ll have copper 40¡¯s in Rachel, and you¡¯ll be unarmed when you go in because the club checks. You¡¯ll make your way to the bathroom where a window vent will be unscrewed and a pocket knife will be passed along. In the alley is where he likes to park his unmarked car. There will be a dumpster near the exit with a locked briefcase on a chain, stuffed behind it, you¡¯ll have the key and inside will be Joe¡¯s suppressed Colt, 5.7mm armor piercings rounds and the barrel insert. You lure him out to his car and use the code words SOFT or HARD to let me know if he¡¯s wearing body armor. If he¡¯s not, I put one suppressed 40 in his back and you head home. If ANYONE follows you. There is a fuse taped to the case, light it and toss the case, keep walking. I¡¯ll meet you home the long way, expect delays. If he¡¯s wearing body armor, signal and distract him while I grab the Colt. It¡¯s not gonna be as quiet, but still quiet enough next to a night club. I¡¯ll burn the insert and the silencer, hand it to you. Wipe for prints and toss it at the first sign of anything wrong. Either way it should be quiet, and whatever gun was used is my burden, you¡¯ll take whichever backup gun home, unless you think you¡¯re being followed. Easy.

    ¡°Sounds simple enough. What about fingerprints?¡±

    "I have gloves, some for you too, be waiting in the alley. Just be careful, This officer knows people and he may get grabby. You still in?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Does it matter, if we¡¯re killing him anyway? Just makes killing him more fun. Let¡¯s hunt this old crooked Boar.¡±

 Chapter 8: Boar Hunt

    The dark bass thumping and synthetic electronic aggression of club HATE pounded the multicolored entrance doors, lit by stage lights. A man in a black suit and tie, head down and brushing past the line, was nodded-in as if he owned the place. He lifted his head with a smile as the heavy set man, panned the bar with his eyes and nodded to the security guard at the far end, turning to the stage. Pink and blue moving lights illuminated glistening skin and skimpy leather outfits, the people moving to the music as another security guard behind them nodded. He fluffed his coat, badge and gun briefly visible so everyone knew who was in charge. He strolled in and found a table at the back to watch the show. He plopped down, tapping the table hard with his fingertips and the bartender made his way to get the usual.

    The initials HB gleamed off his ring, welded to his fat finger that has swollen around it slightly, moving down the glass table as a line of coke disappeared into a tube, and Harold lifted his head up, breathing deeply and wiping his nose. He assessed the eye candy. He spotted something interesting looking his way. Her movements were subtle, but almost aimed at him, as her dark black eyes peered from the dark red eyeshadow. 2 gold rings adorned her black lipstick covered lower lip as she slowly made her way his direction, her skirt riding up her thighs slightly, and her studded belt reflecting the blue and pink lights as his eyes locked onto her exposed midriff.

    ¡°Spot something you like?¡± Harold asked Tanner.

    ¡°Maybe. Maybe you mopped it all up already.¡± She said coyly. He tapped out a fresh line in front of himself, so she would have to lean in close. She leaned over, exposing cleavage intentionally slow, before holding her hands behind her back and casually wiping the table clean with a flick of her hair and harsh sniff.

    ¡°Cocky little hoover, aren¡¯t you? You know those aren¡¯t cheap and only first one is free. You got a name?¡±

    ¡°Bethany, but you can tag me however you like.¡± Tanner played.

    ¡°Harold Butler. First time here? Enjoying the place so far?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a little dark, but I¡¯m getting used to it. Is this your club?¡± asked Tanner.

    ¡°Not officially, but it may as well be at this point. Very nice nails.¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯m glad someone fucking noticed it. I spent time on these nails, first someone¡¯s even said a word. It¡¯s like why bother looking hot when someone doesn¡¯t give a shit.¡±

    ¡°Whoever doesn¡¯t give a shit must be blind or neutered.¡± He said as the music died down slightly, moving from industrial Goth to more hauntingly vampiric.

    ¡°I¡¯m still attempting it myself, but at some point you gotta give up and move on to better prospects. So what do you do?¡± she asked, he grinned and opened his coat to show the badge.

    ¡°Bad cop¡­did you bring good cop with you or is this a solo operation. Undercover as a pimp? Hunting drug lords?¡± she said dramatically.

    ¡°Hunting for sure, haven¡¯t decided what for yet. And there¡¯s no such thing as a good cop in this district. Just bad cops and bad cops pretending to be good cops. New blood still wet behind the ears, too scared to enjoy the perks of the job.¡±

    ¡°Experienced at that, I see. You seem to enjoy your work. I gotta be totally honest, I seem to end up around older men with experience in being bad, they¡¯re practically swerving to get me in the back of a van. I guess I look a little younger than my age, and it¡¯s quite the temptation.¡±

    ¡°And how old are you?¡± Harold asked.

    ¡°Old enough to order a drink at a club, but don¡¯t tell the others, it might hurt my clientele.¡±

    ¡°Ha¡­ You¡¯re one of those little gals that pretends to be helpless and hang around dangerous men, but you¡¯re the dangerous one aren¡¯t you?¡± he smirked.

    ¡°Guilty as charged. Ya caught me.¡± She said locking eyes and bending at the waist to display her wrists as if to say ¡°cuff me¡± and waiting for a response.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to take you in for questioning; you¡¯ve definitely got some potential. I just got here though, never take the first shot you see, love. Enjoy the free party booster. If you wanna buy another or stick around till I¡¯m ready to leave, maybe I can get that confession.¡±

    ¡°I dunno. I might get bored, or find someone else here ready to leave. What if you look around, and I¡¯ve gone already? Seems like confession are all I do anymore, I gotta get some sinning done in between them or there won''t be anything to confess." She toyed. His attention was drawn slightly by a couple of guys with tattoos and cheap suits sitting down on either side of her.

    ¡°Stick around. Dance, burn off that powder bump for a while and come back when my¡­interrogation room is empty.¡± He said as she reluctantly got up and moved away. She rolled her eyes and wandered to the corner of the room to dance in private as she held her phone up discreetly.

    ¡°Magic Mike, this is Hogbait, over.¡± She muttered playfully.

    ¡°Great code names, Double hoe-seven.¡± Mike sighed.

    ¡°Ugh! That¡¯s both rude and clever. I¡¯m shocked and impressed mister preacher.¡±

    ¡°Preacher is dead, You want Handyman or Hitman? Have you made contact with the target?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Yep. He noticed me. He¡¯s got other plans of priority, so I¡¯m stuck fiddle-fucking around until it¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°You sure you provided enough temptation?¡±

    ¡°Sweetie, if you saw me in this outfit and lighting, you¡¯d forget the mission we¡¯re on. I¡¯m like Buffy the dick slayer up in here, and club HATE has more eyes on me than the stage. Trust me, he may be stuck under that table, but he¡¯s got some business and friends and blow to attend to that takes priority at the moment. I know his type. He¡¯s on the hook, he¡¯s just stalling to see if I stick around.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s security like?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°Minimal, but it¡¯s there. Few assholes with chrome pieces and sunglasses like they¡¯re trying to win the henchman of the year award. They know him but they work for the club, so they¡¯re not his bodyguards. This guy thinks he¡¯s his own bodyguard. Glock 17 in his jacket holster. I¡¯d dome him and call it a day if I were you.¡±

    ¡°RCrimson Kings shoot for the back, it¡¯s a symbolism thing. I wanna get the attention looking the wrong way. Vest or none?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s wearing a vest, but it¡¯s dark, and I can¡¯t feel what I can¡¯t reach. Hard to say. I¡¯ll keep you posted, King.¡± She said, biting her lip and sliding the phone down and back into her belt.

    She danced and nursed a few beers over about 40 minutes as the coke settled down and the bass pulsing fluctuated, taking a swing around the pole and sashaying her way from guy to guy, looking for the right competition. She spotted her mark, a young man too cool for a suit, and wearing eyeliner. In a club of sexy young succubae and men looking more like hunters, he was the only guy embracing the creature of the night theme. She stopped and grinded in front of him.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Bethany.¡± she winked.

    ¡°Mister Smith.¡± He said slyly. She tried not to chuckle and played her second hand embarrassment off as just being playful.

    ¡°So you here for record sales or Neo?¡± she winked.

    ¡°Here for the music and the ladies. I¡¯ve seen you making your rounds. Picky girl. What brings you to my turf?¡± he said almost forcing her to sigh and roll her eyes.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I know my type when I see it, so don¡¯t fuck it up. Just be chill and don¡¯t make sudden moves¡­but be sure to make them.¡± She teased.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± he said cluelessly.

    ¡°I want you to work for it a little. Just don¡¯t oversell the vibe. So what do you do for a living?¡±

    ¡°Collecting souls mostly. Pretty young ones.¡±

    ¡°Seriously, dude, you manage a Lil Caesars or what?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not. I have my own software company that¡¯s about to hit big.¡±

    ¡°Yea, that one I believe.¡± She smiled, nodding out of pure sympathy but forcing her cringe into a flirtatious grin.

    ¡°What do you do?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I kill people¡­mostly for the souls.¡± She said half serious. ¡°I¡¯m actually in between jobs at the moment and hoping for a bite on this really big job. I got the interviewer practically drooling for me, so all I gotta do is play it patient, and he should hunt me down. Can¡¯t look too desperate, you know. They see that desperation and consider you weak.¡± She said as a figure approached her from behind. ¡°And speak of the devil himself.¡± She grinned.

    ¡°Hey kid¡­¡± Said Harold, flashing a piece. ¡°Go fuck yourself and find something cheaper.¡± He growled as the young buck dipped out and got lost. Tanner scowled at him.

    ¡°Oh, so now you wanna play, now that I was making some progress?¡± she asked, turning and acting annoyed but mildly impressed.

    ¡°That¡¯s your type? Geek-Squad playing teenage Dracula?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s got his own tech company that¡¯s about to go really big.¡± She gasped dramatically.

    ¡°I came here for business, but I think that¡¯s come to an agreement, and I just can¡¯t stand seeing a pretty thing like you going home with some little shit like that. Breaks my heart, waste of potential if you ask me. Fuck some different loser every night and drag yourself to the next club?¡±

    ¡°Well, a girl has to eat, and food cost money. Someone has to make that somehow. Not exactly Harvard law degree material, but I¡¯m some kinda material. Now I can nickel-and-dime that meal ticket with these silly pups, or I can find one big dog with enough to cover the whole problem. So, what would you like me to do? You wanna watch me waste my potential or lock it down?¡± she asked sternly.

    ¡°You understand what loyalty is, or are you prone to adventuring?¡± Harold asked.

    ¡°Well, that depends on if my needs are getting met or if I¡¯m starving.¡±

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get your scrawny-ass self something to eat. Something that should hold you over for a while.¡± He grinned almost growing horns with his every silent second of staring into her eyes.

    Tanner staggered out the back door into the alley, her arm around Officer Butler, squeezing and groping as she laughed and played drunker than she was.

    ¡°You know for a big mean cop that¡¯s tough on the outside, I bet on the inside, you¡¯re just all SOFT!¡± she said with annunciation. He chuckled as Mike peaked from behind the dumpster, taking the code word to heart, drawing Rachel and pointing a copper hollowpoint at his back. He fired, and the big boar let out a grunt, stumbling and grabbing Tanner, pulling his police issue Glock and returning fire twice as Mike quickly put 2 more in his chest and backed behind the dumpster. Butler hunkered down, wheezing and pulling tanner with him by sheer weight. Ribs bruised and pissed off, he looked almost like he enjoyed it.

    ¡°Nice try, fucker. The girl with you, or just in the way?¡± He said, placing her between the shooter and himself as a shield, gun beside her ear, facing forward.¡±

    ¡°Red Kings don¡¯t work with whores, especially whores that fuck pigs¡­ why aren¡¯t you dying fat boy?¡± Mike said in a generic and poorly done Hispanic accent, grabbing the Colt full of armor piercing magnesium 5.7 rounds from the dumpster.

    ¡°I¡¯m a tough skinned old beast. Toss the gun and come out slow, and you live. Try anything stupid and you both die.¡± Mike made a choice and slid the colt into the alley, the more visible silvery shine gleaming in the light better than the matte black HK. The old cop stepped confidently to retrieve it, his Glock still pointed out, letting Tanner go.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± he started, turning to pick it up and Tanner jumped as his head burst into a splatter of red, and he dropped.

    ¡°At least his head seems soft and unarmored.¡± Sighed Mike.

    ¡°Fuck! Are you hit?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No, are you?¡± Mike replied.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. The fuck happened?¡±

    ¡°You said SOFT. Soft means no vest.¡± Mike reminded.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t wearing a vest!¡± she objected as Mike checked the body.

    ¡°Debatable definitions. Not police issue, but this is definitely a Kevlar shirt. That¡¯s every-day light body armor.¡±

    ¡°SHIT! I am so sorry. There¡¯s no way I-¡±

    ¡°I know, I¡¯m not mad, but the plans have changed. Toss the wig. Someone may have heart those shots. His Glock wasn¡¯t suppressed like Rachel.¡± He said grabbing the cop¡¯s gun. ¡°I want you to run back into the club and yell someone¡¯s been shot, get a panic going, and then when the crowd moves, move with them, go north.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t they question me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stop to get questioned. Trust me, they¡¯ll be following me.¡± He said tossing the briefcase in the dumpster. ¡°Run, now. North, circle around a few blocks and go home. I¡¯ll be out late.¡± He said. She hesitated and then ran in. Mike stood and counted in his head, firing the Glock once in the air now that people were listening and cameras in the club would show an unarmed tanner somewhere the shooting wasn¡¯t happening. He turned the alley, Rachel in his belt, and the Glock out, taking out a plastic bag and bagging the gun. A flash of flames poofed up from the dumpster, knocking the lid open as the evidence burned up, leaving just Joe''s unaltered Colt wiped for prints. He rushed down the road, slowing to a walk as the cop sirens grew louder. He turned down another alley and covered his face, firing twice in the air through the bag, and catching the shells. The sirens made a turn around and followed the sound of the shots. He ran for a block, tucking the Glock and the bag under his coat and then casually crossing the street and going under a bus stop awning. With a slight hop, he tossed the bagged gun into the curled guttering and began walking in plain view, getting out wet wipes and cleaning his gloves thoroughly, turning them inside out with the wipes and tossing in a nearby trash can, before giving himself a sprits of cologne and looping back around towards the club. His heart raced as he slowed down to look less suspicious and hoped that everything worked out. He dialed his phone.

    ¡°Tanner?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh my god are you okay, I heard more shots.¡±

    ¡°Distraction cover fire. Did you make a clean escape?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yea, did you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Wait 20 minutes and head to 44<sup>th</sup> street. If you see cops abort and go home, if not, there is a Glock in a bag in the guttering of a bus stop, see if you can get that. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow. I got something that may take a while. Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± He said, hanging up. A cop car rolled to a slow pace beside him, as he ignored it until it was too obvious to pretend to not notice. He put on a smile and stopped for it.

    ¡°Sir, are you Michael Finn of Finn Plumbing?¡± asked the cop, Damien¡¯s familiar face smiling back. ¡°What are the odds of finding you here?¡±

    ¡°One.¡± Mike replied. ¡°Odds of anything that happens are 1 in 1 if they happened. My grandfather used to say that.¡±

    ¡°Sir I would like you to take a minute and step into the car.¡± He said stepping out and displaying his weapon and badge.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be responding to the shots? I heard gunfire and saw cop cars going that way.¡± Mike shrugged.

    ¡°I bet you did. Get in the car, Mister Finn. I¡¯m asking politely before I ask not politely.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s a shame of a way to start a conversation, but I guess if I have to.¡± He said nodding and getting his phone out. He stared at the back seat as Detective baker gave him a confused look, the phone ringing as he waited.

    ¡°Hello, police. This is Michael Finn on the corner of 48<sup>th</sup> and broad, I¡¯ve been picked up by a man claiming to be a police officer. There was a shooting, I just wanted to make sure he¡¯s a real officer and not someone who stole a cop car. Black man, about 6 foot, Officer, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Detective Damien baker.¡±

    ¡°Damien Baker¡­okay good, he¡¯s with you guys. It just seemed odd, he was very insistent I get in the car and won''t tell me why, and since I was just walking and heard shots, I wanted to be sure. Yea I¡¯m going with him, it¡¯s 2:56 so we should be at the station soon. I don¡¯t know why yet, he hasn¡¯t explained why I¡¯m being taken in. Thank you.¡± He said, pretending to be hanging up.¡±

    ¡°You going quietly?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Absolutely, Officer. Never can be TOO safe. Speaking of safe, I want to announce that I am carrying a loaded gun, you should know that.¡± Mike said holding his hands up passively.

    ¡°I kinda guessed. Hands stay up, I¡¯m gonna take that.¡± He said as Mike held the phone up and his free hand, the number still connected to the police.

    ¡°Am I disarmed and safe, Officer?¡± he smiled.

    ¡°You are now, get in the car.¡± Damien said as he complied.

    ¡°Oh, I hope you don¡¯t mind me recording the ride to the station. I feel much safer that way.¡± He said still holding the phone. ¡°You just never know with fake cops and crazy people nowadays.¡±

    ¡°Yea, we agree on that, Mister Finn.¡± Damien growled.

 Chapter 9: Custody Battle.

    Mike sat calmly in the police station interrogation room.

    ¡°Am I under arrest?¡± he asked as Detective Baker circled and sat down on the other end of the table with a big stack of papers and a smaller file in his other hand.

    ¡°You¡¯re being detained for questioning.¡± He replied, opening the smaller folder. ¡°Tragic shit, wife and kid killed, guy responsible got let out of prison¡­that could drive any man insane. Even a good one.¡±

    ¡°Those are facts, not questions. I can¡¯t answer a fact, only agree. But God works in mysterious ways and the killer may have escaped the justice system, but not god¡¯s judgment. He¡¯ll get what he deserves.¡± Mike smiled, his graying mustache curled up like a playful kid.

    ¡°Says here he already did. Drug deal gone wrong. Guy got killed.¡± Damien sighed.

    ¡°Really? Well, that¡¯s sort of poetic. Back to a life of crime that got him killed, after he got a second chance to be something different than what he was? You know, some animals never change. What was the question, officer?¡±

    ¡°Where were you at 2:45AM this morning?¡± Damien asked bluntly.

    ¡°You know where I was, I was out for a walk, by myself. You picked me up. Why did you pick me up?¡±

    ¡°Recognized you. I had an anonymous tip that said you may have been involved in a recent missing person¡¯s case. Joseph Richards, Janitor that went missing.¡±

    ¡°Was there any evidence or just your word that someone gave their word?¡±

    ¡°No direct evidence of a crime, but your van was seen parked at a school the day the janitor went missing. That, plus my anonymous tip added up to suspicion, so when I responded to an Officer Down call and saw your ass 4 blocks away from the shooting, you went from curiosity to suspect. You just go for walks in town at 3am alone, with a loaded gun?¡± he asked sarcastically.

    ¡°Yea, sometimes. The towns are where the people are, people need help. People like homeless in need of food in the cold, or people in trailer parks near schools who can¡¯t afford plumbing repair. People who just don¡¯t have help, and need a breath of fresh air from a handyman who does favors. I need fresh air and exercise sometimes too. There¡¯s no law saying a man can¡¯t go for a night walk. You¡¯d be crazy to walk at night in the bad areas of town unarmed. You know, being unarmed and helpless is how people get killed¡­ like my family. I do have a permit for that gun, it¡¯s registered.¡±

    ¡°You know the cop shot in the shooting last night?¡± Damien asked, showing a picture.

    ¡°Nope, I knew there was gunfire, I was close by, like you said when you picked me up. And you really wonder why I carry a gun? I could have been in that shooting and needed it to legally defend myself from some mugger or criminal. Guy who kills a cop wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill a witness...or a threat. I¡¯m glad I was further down.¡±

    ¡°You mind if we check out the gun a little while? They wanted to run it through forensics.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t mean to spoil the ending, but my fingerprints are probably all over my own gun. If I¡¯m being accused of getting my own DNA on my own gun, then I confess, there will be some evidence. At least I hope so, or your forensics team needs to check again. I bet there are prints on the ammo, the magazine, the trigger. If you go to a local shooting range, you may even find that I¡¯ve¡­fired the weapon before.¡± He said, gasping a little playfully. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Checking for gunpowder residue on your hands. Shouldn¡¯t be any on your gloves or hands if you didn¡¯t fire it recently.¡±

    ¡°Swab away, Officer. I don¡¯t clean my gun as often as I probably should, but my hands are clean. I should also mention that the 45ACP is one of the most common full-sized handgun calibers used for personal protection. If a crime was committed with one, that is barely grounds for questioning, but not evidence of a crime.¡± He said, handing him a fresh pair of gloves.

    ¡°Actually, the report I just got says the gun used was a 40 caliber. So I guess this HK would be your backup gun, and the one you shot is probably in a ditch somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I seem to be confused, or maybe you are, I¡¯m not sure. You have me in for questioning because someone fired a gun you don¡¯t have, into a cop, that¡¯s not the caliber of the gun I legally have on me, that wasn¡¯t used to commit a crime. Where do I come into play here, sir?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Look we both know you carry a decoy gun because not carrying anything would look more suspicious than being armed, and you tossed the murder weapon.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow, a murder. That¡¯s pretty serious. I didn¡¯t know the officer died. Was he not wearing his vest?¡±

    ¡°Off duty, shot in the head.¡±

    ¡°Now I¡¯m really glad I carried my gun with me that night, the 45 that wasn¡¯t used in any crimes that¡¯s being processed. I will be getting that back, that¡¯s a very expensive gun and I don¡¯t have any other handguns for protection. Maybe I should get a backup gun, in case the police take mine and never give it back. Things get misfiled, Officer Baker. Don''t they? Then I¡¯d be unarmed, and apparently this area is dangerous as hell.¡± He said, taking a fake sigh as another officer entered the room and handed Damien Baker the forensic papers.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked the other officer.

    ¡°Yea I¡¯m sure. I ran it myself. Riflings match a KelTec SUB-2000 carbine. They¡¯re looking in every alley for one right now. You¡¯ll wanna see the bullet type later.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great news.¡± Mike nodded as the forensic guy gave him a look. ¡°Detective Baker said a 40 caliber, so I assumed a handgun. Those would be easy to toss and never find. A rifle should be hard to miss, good luck finding the gun.¡±

    ¡°You familiar with that specific gun?¡± Damien asked him. ¡°Familiar enough to know how big they are and hard to hide?¡±

    ¡°My grandfather was a gunsmith, I have a local range club membership, I am familiar with what Carbine means, so unless they changed that terminology I assume by definition a pistol caliber rifle would be rifle sized and hard to miss.¡±

    ¡°Actually,¡± sighed the other cop. ¡°These kind fold up.¡± He nodded, leaving the room.

    ¡°Oh well damn the bad luck, Detective Baker, you have consent to check my back pockets for the weapon. I have very large pockets in these slacks, it¡¯s always best to check everywhere.¡± He said coldly.

    ¡°You are one cocky son of a bitch.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m just well versed in the law, after it failed to protect my family, and properly put away the man who killed them. I¡¯m also aware of my constitutional rights and I firmly believe that if you¡¯re not guilty, there¡¯s very little reason to be worried of a crime. Statistically being convicted of a crime without proper evidence and proof is insanely low, and the few rare cases are usually from police planting evidence or cheating their own system for conviction.¡± Mike said, staring him dead in the eyes with an almost accusing look. ¡°Hence the phone recorded ride.¡±

    ¡°Mister Finn, would you like a lawyer present?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem necessary unless you intend to use shady tactics to get a false-confession. Do you? Do you Detective intend to get a force confession? Can I trust you to abide by the law you swore to protect?¡± he asked. Damien looked worried, more worried than Mike by a wide margin. ¡°It would look very suspicious if you turned off the camera right now and then claimed to get a confession while it was off, so it would be very unfortunate if one of us said anything incriminating. Wouldn¡¯t it? Theoretically anything said while the camera was off would be inadmissible in court, right?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Strange statement. You got something to confess about a murder, preacher¡­off the records?¡± Baker asked.

    ¡°Oh I, don¡¯t know anything about any murder, let alone the one recently, But if I am about to be intimidatingly interrogated I may have an incriminating statement about something far less illegal but very embarrassing. If I had witnesses confirming my location but they were people I don¡¯t want to be associated with, could I speak off the record to prove my innocence of this specific crime?¡± he asked, looking embarrassed.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Detective baker said, pretending to turn off the camera.

    ¡°I may have been with a short-haired brunette prostitute, at a park bench¡­outside of a gas station, discussing some acts that might be illegal if I were to give into temptation.¡± He said softly. Detective Baker reached back and turned off the camera for real this time. ¡°Now THAT got your attention, didn¡¯t it Damien?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°What the fuck did you just say?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡­confessed to temptation, considering soliciting illegal sex from a prostitute. That¡¯s what the camera up there will show before you turned it off. Is that illegal, just sitting and talking with a prostitute, alone, outside a gas station? You just recorded a preacher with a dead wife, pleading guilty of talking to a hooker and considering something sinful. Now you just turned off the camera, and if I were to get roughed up, you might lose your job. So I¡¯m safe, right? Detective Baker, have you ever had temptation to do something stupid, alone with a hooker outside a gas station? Would there be cameras at that gas station showing you were there... doing something stupid? If someone were to suggest that you were doing something illegal with said lady of the night, instead of arresting her for it, you might be under investigation of your own. It seems like there¡¯s more evidence of your shady behavior than any proof I have had any. And if you didn¡¯t turn off the camera by now you¡¯re the dumbest crooked cop in the department. I assume you¡¯ll just say you turned off the camera to scare me, got in my face and intimidated me and I just hunkered in fear and gave no information except maybe a confession of guilty carnal thoughts.¡± Mike explained.

    ¡°I might say that. What is your point here, preacher, just taunting? They¡¯re gonna get suspicious if the camera stays off too long.¡±

    ¡°I want you to feel powerless and conflicted. By law you just turned off a camera to get a confession from a damn former preacher with a carry license and there is no evidence I did anything wrong, while you on the other hand have been committing multiple crimes to set me up... That I have on tape. You don¡¯t know for a fact I did anything wrong, you just have theories, so that I believe is grounds for termination under harassment and paranoid stalking, not to mention if I had video of you with a hooker, and she wasn¡¯t an informant on police station files. So you should obey the law and turn yourself in for harassing an old man and conspiring with criminals to set him up without evidence of any crime. Dirty cop trail, a mile long. Your own investigation. Now of course you could just bend the rules and let yourself and your sins go, and that would make you a rule breaker who does what he wants if he believes he¡¯s justified, regardless of the laws. Nobody is clean, Detective. We¡¯re all covered in sin and choosing what to ignore and what laws to follow that suit us best. Now I heard from an anonymous source at an AA meeting, don¡¯t remember the guys name actually, but he said you were on the trail of the Lakeshot Shooter. THAT is exciting. I sure hope you find him and bring him in here for questions. Anyone capable of making that shot would have no problem taking out any of us, at any point.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about that?¡± Asked Damien, looking sweaty.

    ¡°I know what the papers said, and some anonymous drunk mentioned you may be on the case. The papers said the guy that the shooter killed, had murdered a young girl. Wild to think someone armed with skills and weapons that can take someone out over a mile away on their porch while they thought they were safe could still be out there, read to kill over... one... girl. He sounds scary. Unstable. Are you worried you may actually find the guy, somewhere where you think you¡¯re safe?¡± Mike said. ¡°Somewhere confined.¡±

    ¡°Camera is off, Preacher Mike. You can say what you wanna say.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying if I were you, I would not want to get shot over a girl, and I would never feel safe knowing someone over a mile away could just¡­take my head off, and I¡¯d never hear the shot, nobody would ever find them, and my loved ones would have to bury my body with a closed casket¡­in the open. Funeral with a lot of empty space in every direction. These crazy shooters, you know how they are, political assassinations, random statement makers, psychos in a bell tower. Once they shoot one round and shit hits the fan, they sometimes start just unloading on everyone. Lotta people die over something stupid, pointless and wasteful. Like stalking some girl and then thinking they were safe on their lakefront porch. All I¡¯m saying, Detective Baker¡­is that there are some really scary people out there who don¡¯t like their loved ones fucked with. Who would kill everyone you know for fucking with them¡± he said, smiling and grabbing his own shirt collar, slamming his own face on the table with a harsh thud and breaking his glasses. ¡°Crazy fuckers.¡± He said doing it again.

    ¡°The fuck is wrong with you?¡± Detective baker asked, standing up and backing away.

    ¡°I swear¡­I didn¡¯t do anything, officer, please don¡¯t hurt me!¡± He said loudly, welling up in tears and a demonic grin, bloody and enjoying it. The door opened, and the chief stood looking confused and alarmed.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m okay.¡± Mike insisted, hunkering down. ¡°I just wanna go home. I don¡¯t want to press charges, it was an accident. Can I please just go home?¡± he asked as Detective Baker breathed heavily and silently.

    ¡°Mister Finn, you are free to go, and I promise there will not be any further questions, and nobody will bother you again.¡± Said the chief as he shook his hand and thanked him with a nod and turned down the hall to go get his Wallet and gun back.

    ¡°Detective, you wanna tell me what the FUCK just happened?¡± he softly barked.

    ¡°Like he said, just an accident. He slipped and hit his face on the table.¡± he lied nervously.

    ¡°While the cameras were off?¡± he asked. "You pick up some plumber 4 blocks away from the crime, and he calls US saying you were acting hostile. Now he¡¯s in here cooperating, no lawyer, and you turn the cameras off when he mentions something about you and hookers. Damien, that¡¯s not my business, but that camera, stays on.¡±

    ¡°I must have unplugged it by mistake, I was trying to get a confession by telling him the camera was off. He just confessed to missing his wife, got himself a hooker and couldn¡¯t go through with it. He¡¯s not the guy.¡± Baker sighed.

    ¡°No shit, he¡¯s not the guy, Baker. His gun is registered and licensed, doesn¡¯t match the murder weapon, which we can¡¯t find. The guy is a plumber who used to be a priest, for fuck¡¯s sake. He has 2 guns, the one we just processed and a damn Ruger 22 rifle, also legally bought years ago. Did you just assault a retired priest?¡±

    ¡°I said it was an accident. He just fell.¡±

    ¡°Baker, you¡¯re off the damn case, and on a 3-day suspension. You¡¯re lucky he¡¯s too scared to take this to court. Hope he feels that way tomorrow too.¡±

    ¡°Sir, it¡¯s not¡­¡± he pondered to himself.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna know any more details, I don¡¯t wanna have to lie if you do something stupid, just to cover my own ass, because I won¡¯t cover yours. You¡¯ve been ranting theories about this insane hitman organization, You¡¯ve harassed suspects over this Lakeshot Shooter case, and now you assaulted an old preacher carrying a personal defense gun. Didn¡¯t even have gunpowder on his hands. He hasn¡¯t shot anything in days or weeks. Baker, you are on thin ice, and the next time you decide to turn off a camera for a confession, you better make sure nobody ends up bloody, especially some innocent handyman. There¡¯s bending the rules for a real confession, and then there¡¯s that shit. Learn the line you don¡¯t cross, because wherever the blurry line is, you went way over it and if he presses charges, we never had this conversation and I saw exactly what I just saw, in court. You¡¯re not God, Damien, you¡¯re a cop. We have rules, we bend them sometimes to make something legit stick, but you just broke something, and it may have been a retired preacher¡¯s nose.¡±

    The chief followed Mike to the rear entrance with his gun in a plastic bag, and discreetly lead him to one of the unmarked cop cars.

    ¡°Sir I cannot apologize enough, or thank you for not pressing charges.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t want the whole department in trouble and tied up in paperwork. You people have real crime to fight, and an officer murdered, apparently, right down the road. You need to be working on that, not minor assault charges.¡± Mike said, patting his nose with a cloth.

    ¡°Detective baker has been under a lot of stress lately, but that¡¯s no excuse, and he will be discreetly but severely reprimanded, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°I just¡­I don¡¯t feel safe around him. I think he was following me the other day during a plumbing emergency, followed me to my home. Then he pulled me over aggressively and I cooperated. He acted like just confirming his badge was a crime. I asked him to turn off the camera because I wanted to clear myself with my alibi, but¡­I didn¡¯t want it on record, the person I was with. I don¡¯t know her name. My alibi was a¡­woman of¡­¡±

    ¡°Hooker,¡± he said. ¡°Look, you¡¯re a grown man who got lonely, and tempted. It happens to all of us. I don¡¯t even care if you did anything consensual for cash, don¡¯t tell me and I won¡¯t know, and assume you didn¡¯t. You don¡¯t seem the type of guy to hang out with hookers on a normal basis. What happened was a mistake. Is there anything we can do to make this¡­off the records?¡±

    ¡°Yea, but I will be talking to my lawyer about a restraining order. There is something off about that guy. He scares me, but I trust your department can make sure he doesn¡¯t harass me or confront me. I am legally within my right to defend myself with force, even if he is a cop, and my lawyer will discuss that with me in more detail, so I have something on file in case it happens again. My wife and kid died in a break-in. I don¡¯t trust anyone, especially following me home at night. I also don¡¯t want problems. Sometimes one bad person just¡­snaps out of nowhere and makes everyone else look bad. You responded very quickly when he did. I don''t want the police force losing reputation or anything. I just want HIM nowhere near me.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t be bothered by Detective baker again, I promise. If he so much as mentions you or gives me a suspicious look, I¡¯ll have his badge and paperwork. You can trust the department.¡±

    ¡°Okay." Mike said, ¡°Oh no ride, I love to walk. I walk everywhere. Good for the heart and the mind. Got a little heart condition. Doc says I need to walk more. I¡¯m always out and about.¡± He smiled, taking his gun back out of the bag. ¡°Which is exactly why I carry this. Renegade cops, renegades shooting cops. It''s crazy. You just never know people till it¡¯s too late.¡±

    ¡°You have a safe walk home, preacher.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a preacher anymore. Just a plumber.¡± He corrected.

    Mike strolled down the frosty road, dialing Tanner.

    ¡°Mike¡­oh my shit, are you dead?¡±

    ¡°No, I just left the police station. You got the Glock?¡±

    ¡°Yea. They let you go?¡± she asked, relieved and amazed.

    ¡°Of course they did. I did get roughed up a little by some rogue detective named Baker. You ever hear that name?¡± he asked, a sinister glimmer in his eye.

    ¡°No¡­I don¡¯t know any cops by name.¡±

    ¡°Well this one is trouble, he¡¯ll throw people under the bus to get his way and he won¡¯t be harassing me anymore. If he does, he may lose his job or his life. So be on the lookout for this man.¡± He said sending a picture from the gas station security cam...of her and Baker. ¡°If I see him near you, I¡¯ll kill him.¡± He said, hanging up. She stood silently, unsure what to do or say, or if she should be running. She quickly grabbed the 22 off the wall, unloading it and pocketing the ammo, double-checking her gun and the Glock.

    ¡°So¡­ how is this gonna go down, preacher?¡± she asked herself aloud. Finding a good spot to sit, with a wall to her back and a clear view of the door. She placed both 9mm pistols loaded on the table and rested her hands on them, calming herself and staring at the door lock, waiting. A half hour passed. She calmed her paranoia and opened her eyes, noticing a small red dot on the table between the guns and slowly moving to her chest. The phone rang again, the name "Preacher Mikey" displayed, as she slowly answered it.

    ¡°Hello?¡± she asked. ¡°Mike is that you?¡±

    ¡°Yea that¡¯s me. Are you listening very carefully, Tanner?¡±

    "I am now." she said, staring at the laser dot on her sternum. "I''m listening very carefully."

 Chapter 10: The Lakeshot Secret

    ¡°Leave the guns on the table and come to the front door.¡± Mike said over the phone.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna kill me.¡± Tanner said eyes on the red dot.

    ¡°Not if you leave the guns at the table. I promise. Which one of us has lied thus far?¡±

    ¡°Fair point.¡± She said, slowly walking to the door and stepping outside as something swooped behind her and into the house. She turned to see Mike casually sitting down at the table, taking out Rachel, emptying the magazines as he cracked open a can of soda and smiled, holding up a little flashlight laser and placing it on the table.

    ¡°Sit down tanner.¡± He said in an oddly friendly manner.

    ¡°Are you gonna kill me?¡±

    ¡°No¡­why would I kill you. I like you. You work for me. You do mostly good work, except that minor body armor mistake. They happen, unfortunately. And we adapt.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m working with the cops. You''re gonna kill me, and I''m gonna go down stabbing.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re working with Detective baker, and you just stopped working with Detective baker. He''s the one I have a problem with, not you. I feel like you may have just been fired, and he¡¯s not going to harass you anymore.¡± he yawned, spinning the harmless laser pointer.

    ¡°Why? Why aren¡¯t you killing me¡­or him. Or both?¡± she asked

    ¡°God didn¡¯t tell me to. You¡¯re only human, and neither of you have me in a situation where I have to kill you to save my life¡­yet. Detective Baker has still yet to run out of opportunities to try that mistake. Tanner, you didn¡¯t know me, you were over a barrel and being threatened to cooperate by a loose cannon cop with theories and a reputation of going rogue. God told me I can trust you, he never said you¡¯d trust me. He never said I could trust Baker. So¡­¡± he said, loading her snatchgun and sliding it to the other side of the table for her. ¡°If God is wrong, shoot me, and I must have been crazy the entire time to believe it. I¡¯m never going to kill you. If you sell me out and run away, I still won¡¯t kill you. We¡¯re partners, friends, and God thinks we work well together, so you better stop being so scared of me. One day you¡¯ll be doing my job. Now be honest¡­was last night fun or what?¡± he smiled.

    ¡°Honestly, best fucking night I¡¯ve had in a while. Second only to the 6 times I got to actually kill.¡±

    ¡°Worth the risk of getting killed for the rush of doing the right thing, and having faith in someone else that they got your back even when you¡¯re unarmed and scared?¡±

    ¡°Yea. Had kind of a trust-fall bonding thing to it.¡±

    ¡°You trust me now?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I do. You trust me enough to tell me how you made the Lakeshot?¡± she asked. He just chuckled, enjoying his drink.

    ¡°You just passed the test. I¡¯m proud of you. I needed Detective Baker to make an ass out of himself so he¡¯d be off the case. I knew you were an informant the whole time. We¡¯re about to do something really stupid that requires faith and trust because if I¡¯m wrong, we¡¯re both gonna die. If I¡¯m right, we¡¯re about to make our mark on history, and either way there¡¯s gonna be some killing and some moments of doubt.¡±

    ¡°Preacher, I¡¯m a believer now and ready to do God''s work and dumb shit. Just curious, DID you take a vow of celibacy?¡±

    ¡°No, and don¡¯t even go there. Work comes before fun.¡±

    ¡°And apparently it¡¯s the only thing that gets to.¡±

    ¡°This is going to be way more dangerous than anything we¡¯ve ever done before.¡± Mike said, looking at the computer and the blueprints for the address he was given.

    ¡°Um, yea. It¡¯s called graduating to the big time.¡± Tanner clapped.

    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous as hell. This isn¡¯t a quick few shots and clear out, this isn¡¯t bag and dissect one guy, this is practically a Swat raid done by two untrained people with a few guns."

    ¡°I assumed you had like a big wall that spins around and is covered in special weapons. Like the one you made a mile kill with.¡± She implied.

    ¡°According to police records, roughly 2700 yards. With a jacketed tungsten carbide bullet¡±

    ¡°Holy shit, 2700 yards? Maybe you are on divine mode. The hell even is a tungsten carbide bullet?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m actually proud of that one. The lake had too high security to get into the property, I use Gwen for ranged kills. I like to keep the police confused. You know the difference between a 50BMG round fired from a mile and a half and a 50BMG bullet light loaded down to 25 percent power at 200 yards? Because they don¡¯t either. Once that leaves the gun, it¡¯s just a bullet with a specific weight and velocity. Bullets slow down and drop. The trick is to get high enough to match the arc angle, while not getting caught by setting off a cannon over a lake. Gwen can fire a 50 caliber round but not a full powered 50 BMG. That¡¯s over 12,000 foot-pounds of muzzle energy. Takes a very big, very heavy gun. In a semi auto foldable carbine her size that would blow the barrel to pieces, but at 3,000 foot pounds, she runs fine. God told me to make a bullet out of tungsten carbide, and I listened to him. You know, you can just...buy tungsten carbide powder online? You know tungsten carbide is so heavy, an 1100 grain 50BMG round made of it, stays just below subsonic at 3,000 foot pounds of energy? The hardest part about quieting a gun is the crack it makes when the bullet goes supersonic, and even most handgun bullets do that. But a Thousand grain weight projectile takes a lot of power to get up that speed. You add the integral suppressors Gwen has, and the big pipe suppressor in the corner of the garage, well that¡¯s a lot of lethal energy with a whisper of a shot. Nobody hears a thing. The only other way to shoot a full sized 50BMG and not wake everyone on the lake is to be over a mile away when you do it. I¡¯m a pretty good shot, but I¡¯m not THAT good of a shot. Would you even seriously consider that a 50-year-old preacher or plumber with no record of buying any long range rifle or ammo, no military training or marksman competitions could just pull a 20 grand military rifle out of his ass and nail a guy from 1.4 miles out? Nobody could do that, let alone little old me. Now can a 50-year-old man with a good rifle, a scope and an 18-inch suppressed barrel make a 200-yard shot? Sure. Easily. Too easy. Headshot easy. But how do you get in and out without being heard or anyone spotting the 5-foot-long sniper rifle?¡±

    ¡°No idea.¡±

    ¡°You don''t bring one. Gwen fits under a baggy coat when you take her apart, stock folds or detaches, grip folds, swappable barrels from 9¨C18 inches screw right in with standard plumbing threads. An 18-inch barrel may not get you into a human skull at a thousand yards, but at 200, it¡¯s very capable. You leave a clean wiped tree blind and a single 50BMG casing in line with that shot and 2500 yards out past your position, the day before¡­well, a very unfortunate accident. Nobody looks where you actually were when the shot was made.¡±

    ¡°Seems pretty complicated for one kill.¡± she squinted.

    ¡°Well, God has a flair for the brilliantly dramatic and well planned events, and I have a notebook by my bed stand for writing down my dreams. I journal everything, even the nightmares. Nothing gets the blood pumping better than dropping a demon on their lakefront porch in plain sight, except walking down the road with the murder weapon tucked under your arm. You wanna meet Gwen?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been so incredibly gay for a gun in my life.¡± She gleamed.

    Tanner stood looking confused, and a little disappointed, as he held up an Uzi sized weapon.

    ¡°Sooooooo. Where¡¯s the big Gwen?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the prototype: my grandfather¡¯s vision and my masterpiece. A 4 pound 15 inch long rifle made of steel and aluminum and some secret ingredients I came up with from a voice in my head.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°You know, for some things, 15 inches and 4 pounds would be really exciting, but it¡¯s a little underwhelming when we¡¯re talking about your biggest rifle.¡±

    ¡°The portability is the point. Don¡¯t underestimate her. She¡¯s fed by a linear magazine that runs the length of the gun, like a p90 on steroids, instead of through the grip like an MP7 of similar size, so no bulky clip sticking out the bottom. Hollow handle means folding capable, no bulky magazine in front or behind the grip. The folding stock rides the top picatinny rail, so it can slide right off, just like the sights, quick change scopes, press one button and the barrel unscrews. The receiver uses the integral suppressors as both an air cushion and a recoil dampener, so the more power you put in her, the more that air pressure compensates. The reason that¡¯s important is that Gwen is a 50 caliber without any inserts, and anything you want WITH inserts, so you can start with a 7mm light machine gun, fully automatic, and if you need a heavy hitter, toss out the insert and drop in a magazine of 50 cal, and she¡¯s now a semi-auto elephant gun, or a shotgun, or a subsonic assault rifle in 50 blackout, dead quiet and capable of punching holes in an armored jeep. Small rifle, large pistol, SMG, just swap the magazines and turn a few knobs. She¡¯s accurate well out past 400 yards, even with my old shaky shooting, hides under a heavy jacket, and the ballistics don¡¯t match anything on the books, unless you want them to match something it¡¯s not. She¡¯s the MP7, if the MP7 didn¡¯t suck and was made for steroid-fueled space marines.¡±

    ¡°I stand corrected. I am getting kinda horny for this gun all over again. What a little Glocktease she is. What other crazy guns do you have?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s about it, actually.¡± He nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding right?¡± Tanner blinked.

    ¡°No. Most of my kills are done with Rachel at close range, When I need a long range gun or something in full auto, I take Gwen. I have a recently stolen MP5, the stolen Police Glock I¡¯ve never used and the 22 over the fireplace. That¡¯s it, aside from your¡­¡±

    ¡°Snatchgun.¡±

    ¡°Snatchgun.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°So no belt fed or mounted guns on one of the maintenance vehicles?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Grenade launcher, sniper rifles.¡±

    ¡°I never make shots over 400 yards, where Gwen can handle. I¡¯m old and, I have glasses for a reason. 400 yards is about my confident limit. 500 if I''m drinking, which I don''t do anymore.¡±

    ¡°No AA12 behind the bed? No tank in a warehouse? No other guys to call in? Not even a few shotguns?¡±

    ¡°Gwen fires 50 cal shotgun rounds.¡±

    ¡°So basically what you¡¯re saying is you have one awesome gun you can change like a transformer and I have an Mp5. Everything else is handguns and barrel sleeves, and clever reloading wizard shit?¡± she asked, half impressed and half disappointed.

    ¡°Correct.¡± He nodded.

    ¡°The Russian brothers. Molotov twins or whatever.¡±

    ¡°Rachel, loaded with AK rounds. Sniper rifle round in a pistol casing dropped into the barrel before loading the clip.¡±

    ¡°The gang shooting behind the night club.¡± She said bringing up the picture of the newspaper on the computer screen. ¡°4 shooters suspected, rifleman on the roof, 3 guys down in the alley. Took out 8 gang members.

    ¡°All Rachel. Pre-loaded the barrel with a 300 blackout round, shot to the first man in the head from a dumpster, simulated a 100 yard roof shot, fully silenced, the rest of the clip in 7.65 parabellum with rifling matching a VZ61 scorpion machine gun, all subsonic. Those men didn¡¯t know my position so they started firing and gave me a chance to move behind them, emptied the magazine into 2 of them, reloaded to a clip of 32ACP, subsonic, silenced, took down another other 4. Shot the last one with one of their dropped Uzis, and after they were all dead, I climbed a dumpster, swapped inserts to a 10mm with MP5 rifling like the rival gang preferred, put a few rounds in the bodies and scattered some brass casings in 4 different spots. Burned the inserts, appendix holstered Rachel, tossed the unscrewed suppressor parts in the trash as I walked away. Strolled back to the front of the club and joined the crowd of people gathering to see what happened. Police escorted all of us, me included, out of the crime scene.¡± he proudly beamed.

    ¡°I wanna know everything. Everything you¡¯ve ever done, planned, jotted down as a possibility, every detail. I am just¡­fascinated and entranced.¡±

    ¡°Well listen carefully because taking notes is forbidden.¡± Said Mike. "Only I get to take notes, which are encrypted and vague."

    ¡°Cuz that¡¯s how ya get caught?¡± she smirked. ¡°Hey, Mister Lakeshot Magician. What if I start hearing the voice too?¡± she asked, getting suddenly serious.

    ¡°Maybe you will.¡± he smiled.

    ¡°What if I do and our voices disagree? What if I hear the voice, and tells me to do something yours tells you not to do? Do I have faith in you and your god or in mine?¡± she asked darkly, looking nervous.

    ¡°You¡¯ve started hearing it already, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asked. Her eyes welled up a little as she tried to play cool and fearless.

    ¡°Maybe. It¡¯s¡­hard to understand it. It¡¯s faint.¡± She said, sucking up her emotions.

    ¡°They won¡¯t disagree if we¡¯re both listening. Have faith in that.¡±

    ¡°But what if they do? What if one day they contradict? Do I trust you over god, or trust God over you?¡± she asked as he hugged her, letting her calm down and gather her wits.

    ¡°I¡¯ll never hurt you or manipulate you, but I¡¯m not perfect. I¡¯m experienced and wise but human. The only question you need to ask is whether you are clear-headed and hearing the voice correctly. Don¡¯t cloud your head with the booze and the junk. That¡¯s how you get confused and hear things wrong. Always trust God over me, just question if you¡¯re hearing him correctly or if you¡¯re interpreting wrong. Some day you¡¯ll be making those calls and your clarity and faith will be everything. So don¡¯t ever distrust God over me, but if we disagree, question your clarity and faith. If that is sound and clear, then follow it. If the voice is hazy or cryptic, incomplete, you need to listen with a fresh mind and heart. If you are clear and sober, your mind open and receptive, and your heart pure, that voice won¡¯t be iffy or up to interpretation. It will be bold, direct, and crystal clear. There won¡¯t be any question what he¡¯s saying; only whether or not you have the strength to do it. Right now you¡¯re just inexperienced, full of doubt and drugs, which can muddle the mind.¡± He said, patting her back lightly.

    ¡°You really think so?¡± she asked. ¡°But I like the drugs. I had a shitty life. Dealing with that sober is not fun. You really believe if I get my head clear and listen, that we won¡¯t ever get conflicting orders and end up fighting over what to do? Because I¡¯m worried that if I get clean, we may find out that we have different voices guiding us.¡± She asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re just scared, or God has different orders for us because we have different roles to play in the same ultimate plan. I thought the same thing once, what if I get different orders and don¡¯t know what to follow, and that¡¯s why I got off the vodka. It leads to doubt, acting on feelings and ideas rather than clear instructions. The alcohol will clear out. It only has one purpose, and that is to numb the heart and let you make mistakes. Unless you intend to make one, there¡¯s no reason to go back.¡±

    Detective baker sat alone in the dark, papers strewn around the room and a glass of whiskey getting lighter by the minute, loaded gun on the table. The phone rang and the sigh he gave nearly set fire to the paper. He fumbled the phone, answering it reluctantly.

    ¡°Oh now you answer, asshole?¡± said a female voice.

    ¡°Gina, what do you want?¡±

    ¡°I want to talk, I want answers. You got suspended for assaulting a preacher over this conspiracy case you¡¯re still obsessed with, you won''t answer your phone, your texts. I was worried, now I¡¯m just pissed off.¡± She replied.

    ¡°Well take the hint, Gina. I¡¯m a mess, better left to rot.¡± He said as the knock on the door jolted him.

    ¡°Open the door. Now that I know that you''re home, open the door.¡± She sighed, staggered to the door and unlocked it. She stepped in and locked it, looking disappointed in him. ¡°What is this shit? Pity drinking? Is that gun loaded?¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s loaded, chambered, safety off. If anyone else answered the door, it would be cocked and pointed. ANYONE else.¡± He said darkly.

    ¡°Damien what is happening to you? You¡¯re a good cop, you¡¯re a great investigator, and you¡¯re not like this.¡±

    ¡°I had the Lakeshot shooter in the room with me at the police station, Gina. It¡¯s all real. There he was, and I had to let him walk, I had nothing to stand on and he had me by the balls. He got me suspended just to toy with me. Now what? Was that a warning to back off or a warning to get right with god before he takes me out? Do I take him out first or do I just¡­move on? Pretend like he never existed and arrest junkies and speeders, give teenagers parking tickets and speeding tickets, act like nothing is wrong?¡±

    ¡°The Lakeshot Shooter¡­the preacher you beat up?¡± she scoffed, looking like she was about to beat his ass for being so stupid.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t touch him. He played me like a fiddle, like the devil himself in a Georgia soul game, just set me up and gently knocked me down with a warning.¡±

    ¡°Did he actually admit it to you? Did he say the words and confess to your face, or did he just screw with you, and you filled in the gaps?¡±

    ¡°He¡­said enough Gina. He killed a cop that night, and I had him in my car, my back turned, and this man is the same pro that took a man down on his porch when he thought he was safe, over a mile away from anything dangerous, covered in security and armed. Didn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s untouchable. My life may depend on whether I leave him alone or strike first.¡±

    ¡°Damien, don¡¯t you dare strike anything anywhere. You are experiencing one of two things right now. A mental breakdown from over-obsessing over nothing and getting fucked over by one potential suspect that got under your skin and scared you, or you actually did poke the bear and piss off a pro. Either way you need to do nothing. Rest up, lay low. Stop¡­drinking. Start thinking. If that preacher is just a preacher, and you go after him or his friends, you¡¯re the monster. If you¡¯re wrong, you¡¯re the villain. If you¡¯re right, then you need to stay off his bad side and leave him and his people alone. You¡¯re either in way over your head or you just drank yourself into the deep end of the crazy pool. What you do about it is the same solution. Let it go, move on, put it behind you. This is dangerous, either way. Dangerous to your mental health or your fucking life.¡±

    ¡°I disagree. If I¡¯m crazy, then I deserve to be fired and probably locked up, and I¡¯ll never know. If I¡¯m right, then I feel like he¡¯s going to come after me. I can''t win if he makes the first move. I may not be able to in general, but not if he plays first. My only edge is if I jump the gun and get the drop. Gina help me.¡±

    ¡°The help you need isn¡¯t me or in that bottle. You need to trust your damn heart, and right now it¡¯s pumping 2.0 BVA blood through your brain. I know a group. It¡¯s not just for religious people or junkies, it¡¯s for people who need to get back on their game, so just take the help and use it how you need it. Call me when you¡¯re Damien again.¡± She said placing down a card and leaving the room.

    "AA meetings...East side Church of second chances. Seriously?" he sighed.

 Chapter 11: Welcome to AA

    Damien sat in a folding chair as an old farmer stood up, talking, pouring out his heart. A dozen chairs around a circle, some empty with names on them, all first names, and his own chair from the guest stack in the corner.

    ¡°And that¡¯s when I woke up.¡± The farmer said. ¡°Slumped over a steering wheel, truck busted to shit, alone, in some ditch. And I thought about my kids and how I could be dead right now. Broken wrist, few bruises, but alive and thinking clear. I knew what I had to do. I just didn¡¯t have anyone to pick me up. And I found you guys. 6 weeks sober, praise the Lord.¡± He nodded, toasting his solo cup of lemonade. About 5 varying intensities of ¡°Amen¡± whispered through the room. Damien rolled his eyes and stood up, getting another coffee and standing alone as an older woman, tall blonde, heels and a conservative dress approached him.

    ¡°Not your cup of tea?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Not my cup of coffee. Coffee is my cup of tea. I just, I dunno. I know I have some kind of problem, missing something or something that¡¯s not supposed to be there. I just don¡¯t see it being God missing from my life that¡¯s the problem. No offense, but either getting sober or medicated seems more likely to fix me. I thought it would be more real, and less¡­praise the lord shit. No offense."

    ¡°No, none taken. The AA groups are all different, and they tend to have a lot of believers, but you can take the message and the ideas, without the higher power. To tell you the truth¡­I don¡¯t believe in God either. I believe we all have good in us and evil in us, and in different amounts. I believe we make choices and mistakes, and when we¡¯re really ourselves we can make the best choices and the fewest mistakes, and when we¡¯re addicted, we¡¯re not our best self. Don¡¯t write us off just yet because you don¡¯t like the churchy bits. You learn to just smile and nod and hear the person talking and their feelings, not the nonsense. Some people can¡¯t accept that they have their own answers, so they put a voice to it. It helps them. I on the other hand, find peace knowing that voice is me, the real me, not the addict, who I am, a smart rational woman making my own decisions and making good ones, most of the time. Just the other day for example. I wanted a smoke so bad it was killing me. I went for a walk and found a local bar with some incredible blues players, open stage night, and by the time the night was done I was sitting in a smokey bar and so deep in true-self I didn¡¯t even smell the smoke or want to have one. I knew what I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Inner piece?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°A piece of that blues player.¡± She whispered, as Damien spit coffee back into his cup. ¡°Oh I know, I¡¯m 63, but you never stop having desires, friend. Some are just toxic and some make you feel alive. So I made a decision that night, I chatted with him, we had some laughs and I decided he wasn¡¯t what I needed. You gotta pick and choose your temptations wisely, or they own you. Now the week before that, I made a different decision at a different place and time, and I got my man. I don¡¯t regret it. It was right, I was thinking clear, and I fucking had fun. Moderation and being clear-headed when you choose when to have fun and when the fun is too problematic, that¡¯s what it¡¯s about. Maybe you can smoke and party and have wild sex, but the bottle is your kryptonite. Maybe the real problem is your job, your wife, or husband, or just your own damn stupid self. Gotta find out what your demon is before you can put your boot on it.

    ¡°What if I¡¯m just a stressed out cop who needs psyche meds?¡± he asked.

    ¡°What if? I can''t answer that. This is AA, but I assure you, The first A stands for several things. Addicts, not always Alcohol. Your addiction may be that damn job. You got kids? A wife?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No kids¡­The wife part is, um, still in the air. She left me, but the papers aren¡¯t final. It¡¯s final though. Actually, the job may have been the root of that.¡± He said, pondering a moment. "Come to think of it, I cheated on her. I¡¯ve never cheated on anyone before. That¡¯s not me. But I did it. Stone sober and working the job, I got paired with this sexy mean thing working late hours on shit I couldn¡¯t trust anyone else with, not even my wife. Open case shit. Cop shit.¡± He said taking a sip. ¡°I¡¯m not a sex addict. I¡¯m not an alcoholic either, but I lost her, got drunk off my ass over a case¡­same damn case.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like your drug of choice is your work. Ever thought about working somewhere else?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Nah. This is my turf. I own this territory. Nothing goes down here without me getting my teeth into it.¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s the problem. Your temptation isn¡¯t the sex or the alcohol, it¡¯s that badge. Is that badge your weapon, your tool, or do you belong to it. Is it your identity, your crutch, your problem?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I could just say I can quit any time I want to, but I don¡¯t want to because there¡¯s crime to solve, and that just lights up that little Ah-ha bulb don¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Certainly makes you think. Let me ask you something, Officer¡­Smith. Are you a good cop?¡±

    ¡°Yea, I always get my man. Just like you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the question. I didn¡¯t ask if you were a successful cop, or if you took down your quota. Are you a GOOD cop?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You mean do I abuse the badge or follow it like my little church cross? I think I do a good job. The problem may be that the department doesn¡¯t want a good cop, they want an obedient cop who listens to orders.¡± Damien sighed. ¡°Now I kinda wonder if I¡¯m crazy for thinking I¡¯m the only good one left, or if that means I¡¯m not one of the good ones at all. I could certainly be worse. Hell the worst ones tend to get the best positions and promotions.¡±

    ¡°Honey, it sounds like either you¡¯re working in the wrong division or you just workin in the wrong occupation. You can''t fix a crooked system. You gotta get out of the toxic pit and leave it behind. You can¡¯t just hold your breath and go under, thinking it will change just because you¡¯re floating in there. You¡¯re not that contagious. You¡¯re just a mismatched man butting heads with a bad fit, and one day you keep forcing that key in the wrong lock it¡¯s gonna turn alright, but you won¡¯t break the lock, you¡¯ll just twist yourself to fit it, and get stuck.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying quit being a cop?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m sayin quit being a good cop in a bad cop¡¯s territory. There are more of them than you, so you¡¯ll either join them or break under them. You won¡¯t fix them. There are places where a good cop would be appreciated and needed. You¡¯re just in the wrong damn doughnut shop, my friend.¡±

    ¡°Damn. That¡¯s tough shit. I respect the honesty. I know this is supposed to be anonymous and all but, you got a name?¡±

    ¡°Yea I do. Catherine. You don¡¯t need a last name.¡±

    ¡°Damien, no last name either. Who would have thought the odds?¡± he smiled. ¡°So what do you do for work if you don¡¯t mind me askin?¡±

    ¡°Most people don¡¯t ask, it¡¯s rather outside the lines but people here trust me and you gotta give back a little of that. I worked at the casino. I worked FOR the casino. They owned me. Now I¡¯m retired. I still do a little work, night clubs, private friend groups. You could say I just stopped taking the money for it, and started doing my own thing, same idea, no boss. Luckily I saved up and money isn¡¯t a motivation, just a temptation.¡±

    ¡°What made you quit?¡±

    ¡°Death paid me a visit.¡± She said darkly.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°Lung cancer. Smoking. Had a man in a room look me coldly in the eyes and said: do you wanna live or die?¡± she said. ¡°And I realized the stress from the work driving me to chain-smoke might kill me before the cigarettes do. Either way, I was out. I got myself to one of these groups, mutual friend whispered in my ear so to speak, and here I am. Alive past my deadline, and doing great. I don¡¯t expect to live forever, but I expect to keep living till I die, and not work for some shady cheating bastards screwing me over, so I could make money. The cancer was just karma, or coincidence. Ever since then I stay away from the organizations and stick to my own rules, black coffee, some dark silky slide guitar, and the occasional blues player. I even became a sponsor. Got a nice man right now who calls me at weird hours when his demons knock, and he thinks about answering. Good man, bad luck, clean soul. We met at a blues bar, me dealing blackjack in a smokey room and him drunk of his ass looking for trouble. He doesn¡¯t fit with the whole churchy amen stuff either. Got his own way of doin religious things, but he does it, and he does well.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Now we don¡¯t do that here. You can say hi my name is Damien, and I can say, hello I¡¯m Catherine, but we don¡¯t drop names that we don¡¯t own here. That gets you in trouble. You¡¯ll learn, or you won¡¯t. Maybe you¡¯ll say fuck this nonsense and go back to work. Maybe you¡¯ll save the world, or maybe you¡¯ll kill a kid at a traffic stop over a joint just reachin for a wallet.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s dark. You¡¯re not crazy for saying it, just bold for saying it. Lotta cops end up fucking up more lives than their own. Actually, one of the guys I worked with got himself killed, and you know the sad part? Nobody seems to miss him. Between the shit he let slide, and the shit he bought way above our salary, most of us just bowed a head and said: ain¡¯t that a shame, and what we were all thinking was¡­finally caught up to his fat ass I guess. Shot 3 times in an alley over a rival gang to the one he was paid off by. I guess they didn¡¯t have as much bribe money, but they had better guns.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°And you all knew he was crooked as an alligator¡¯s dick and didn¡¯t bust him. You wonder why I keep implying you are in the wrong doughnut shop, Damien. You don¡¯t seem like a piece of shit.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, I try.¡±

    ¡°So why do you work with them? Why do you work for them, let them tell you what to do and when to take a shit, when you¡¯re the one asking questions and looking for the truth and they¡¯re getting shot in alleys in between gangs they get bribed by?¡±

    ¡°Someone has to stand their ground or the ship goes under.¡±

    ¡°No Damien¡­ sometimes the ship is just sinking, and you¡¯re just sittin there scooping out cups of water instead of getting a raft and saying fuck the boat. Boats sink. Some are not worth saving. Find another boat or stop sailing. Lotta jobs that don¡¯t involve boats. Lotta boats with good bones. Don¡¯t go down with the ship. It¡¯s not your job, Damien. If I were you, I¡¯d put a hole in the bottom of it as I left, and paddle my ass away.¡±

    Tanner paced back and forth with a half-pint bottle of gin in her coat, tightening the lid and looking nervous and cold. She listened for the voice and eyed the warm building lit with yellow light, both nervous at the idea of people, and the idea of a giant cross staring at her. She tossed the bottle in the dumpster and decided to avoid both. She blew into her mittens to keep her fingers warm as she spotted something that made her even colder, scooting back behind the dumpster for cover.

    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± she asked the darkness. ¡°Well? Is that a sign or something? Nothing? Not a maybe or a no?¡± she whispered angrily at the sky, as the familiar figure walked along to his car. ¡°I know it¡¯s him, he¡¯s supposed to be fucking off right now, why is he at Mike¡¯s AA group?¡± she asked nobody or God. ¡°Damien you lying suicidal prick, she said, checking her pocket knife, the rainbow blade barely visible in the parking lot light. ¡°Tell you what, if you won¡¯t talk to me, I¡¯ll just give you the options. I¡¯m sober, I¡¯m trying this crazy shit, and there is my temptation right in the damn parking lot. So if you DON¡¯T want me to kill him¡­do something or say something, mkay?¡± she asked with an attitude. ¡°Fine. Stabby gets to play. Fuck with my man, you get to taste the rainbow, bitch. Let¡¯s go.¡± She said softly, getting hyped up, wishing she had her bottle back now, breathing heavy and hopping in place to get the blood pumping, suddenly jumping as a hand touched her shoulder.

    ¡°Missy, are you okay?¡± asked a friendly voice.

    ¡°Oh holy hell you scared the BeJes¡­jangle out of me.¡± She said feeling almost guilty about finishing that name, given her location, intentions, and sin of choice.

    ¡°You out here all alone in the cold talking to yourself?¡± he asked, peering into the dumpster and seeing the bottle. ¡°drinking alone?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh chill the¡­heck out, I¡¯m fine. But I think I got the hint I was looking for. Just a little confusing, I¡¯m dealing with some shi-, some shtuff, things and stuff.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look old enough to drink, let alone be out alone at night, freezing. Come on in. The church is warm, we got coffee and even some spare coats if you need one.¡±

    ¡°And people, and rules, and¡­other stuff.¡± Tanner argued.

    ¡°The lord accepts all, and the people are all leaving. Come on in and get warm, sweetie. You need the shelter as much as the coffee.¡± He said, leading her in, as she realized she was too cold to walk back to the Van.

    ¡°Maybe just long enough to warm up and call my ride. My um¡­boyfriend recommended one of these places. I snuck out to check it out. Found this card. Found some other things here too.¡± She said watching Detective Baker¡¯s car roll down the road as the last to leave.

    She sipped her coffee and sobered up from the cold as the priest sat with her.

    ¡°Your parents must be worried sick. What are you¡­17?¡±

    ¡°Uh, 16. My parents are dead, I got nobody worried sick. My boyfriend sleeps like the dead, I may have to call him 3 or 4 times if he¡¯s in the bedroom. You mind giving me a ride if he doesn¡¯t pick up. He has a tendency to not answer when he¡¯s in there¡­studying." She tempted.

    ¡°Well, maybe you just need to let him sleep. If he doesn¡¯t care about you, then you can stay here.¡± He said, placing his hand on her thigh. She jumped up and backed away.

    ¡°Dude, I¡¯m 16.¡± She lied.

    ¡°You know running away from home is what lead you astray, down this path. You need guidance and discipline, I can see that now.¡± He said, looking angry and in a strange way, happy.

    ¡°Hey don¡¯t try anything weird, creepo. My boyfriend will kill you.¡±

    ¡°No he won¡¯t. Nobody knows you¡¯re here. You don¡¯t have a boyfriend or anyone to call, hooker. Your kind show up here sometimes looking for God, but here in this house, after the meetings are over, this is MY church, not theirs. My rules. You give that up for drugs and money anyway, whore, but not for obedience. See that¡¯s your problem. No guidance.¡± He said, standing up and pacing to the door, locking it. ¡°No man in your life to guide you, and no willingness to listen to one when they do. Submitting to the man is how a woman finds her place. And those who spare the rod spoil the child¡­¡± he said, picking up one of the brass candleholders like a bat, tapping his open palm. ¡°And spoiled children will fall into sin. Now you found this place for a reason, child.¡±

    ¡°So just to clarify, you¡¯re gonna help me whether I want it or not, and un-spoil me a little if I don¡¯t submit and know my place?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Quick learner, but you look like a stubborn brat who will be trouble. So, are you going to be trouble?¡± he asked, practically growing horns with the look of lust in his eyes. She looked up at the cross on the wall and smiled darkly.

    ¡°Mysterious ways¡­I¡¯m getting it. Thank you, God, for this fun little twist.¡± She giggled, flipping the knife open behind her back. ¡°Oh, and I plan to be VERY big trouble.¡± She said, pointing the gun at his face. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t plan to shoot you unless you force me to do so. Well¡­this is a house of prayer, you might wanna get on your knees for this.¡± She grinned, devilishly.

    Mike sat impatiently as his phone rang, and he grabbed it like a gun he was ready to draw for hours.

    ¡°Tanner, where are you? Where is the Van?¡±

    ¡°Mike I¡¯m so sorry, I didn¡¯t wanna wake you up, you were in your bullet cave and I have a confession to make. I stole your Van, but for a good cause.¡±

    ¡°Where are you, are you safe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just fine. Never better.¡± She giggled, white and red makeup covering her face, black lipstick and a hint of a red kimono around her neck as she closed her eyes and sighed happily. ¡°I just woke up and found your little AA card, felt something leading me here, so I just borrowed the van. I met someone friendly, and I really think I understand what you meant now. There is a voice, it¡¯s just hard to hear. But when you ask and really listen, it whispers to you.¡± She said flipping around the bloody knife.

    ¡°But you¡¯re not hurt or upset, are you headed back?¡± he asked.

    ¡°If it¡¯s okay, I think I need some alone time to really think now that I¡¯ve sobered up. God has something for me, I need a while to process this. Can I please have some alone time, I¡¯ll bring the van back soon, you don¡¯t need it for a while, do you?¡±

    ¡°Just promise me you¡¯re not doing anything stupid like getting high with some asshole junkie, and you¡¯ll be back by 5 or 6. I worry about you.¡±

    ¡°Aww, I worry about you too, gramps. I¡¯ll be back soon, I just am right in the middle of this breakthrough, and I promise I am stone sober, and I feel amazing. Three hours, tops.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine. Just be safe and don¡¯t trust anyone. There are creeps out there.¡±

    ¡°Trust me I know, I¡¯ve met a few. Anyway, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re cool with this, I appreciate the understanding, and I will be back soon, we can get a pizza or something and a movie. I¡¯ll be there by 6, count on it.¡± she promised, setting her alarm.

    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s a date.¡± He smiled.

    ¡°Oh is it now?¡± she grinned slyly.

    ¡°Well, not like that, but¡­dinner at 6. I¡¯ll see you here. He said hanging up.

    ¡°Mike, you are one dense bastard and a tough nut to crack.¡± She sighed. ¡°Now YOU on the other hand¡­lot softer.¡± She said, spinning and twirling her knife. ¡°Like Jello. Must be the marbling, all those communion wafers and wine. You know, if you kept your gluttonous grubby hands on the kinda flesh you get at the store and off the 16-year-olds, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation about your marbling. Mike¡¯s right though.¡± She said, walking past the fat man taped to the chair, covered in cuts and blood. ¡°I really do need to sharpen this thing, or God-forbid, maybe get another knife. I mean, that really sucks for both of us because it means I gotta do a lot more sawing than cutting, and neither of us prefer that. But everything happens for a reason I guess, and you just gotta make due with what ya got. I got a dentist office and a really dull mall-ninja-ass knife. What you gonna do?¡± she asked as she answered with desperation grunts and muffled jerking. ¡°Oh like you¡¯re gonna break those zipties, Mister Stay-Pufft, those will restrain a 200 pound juicer with a 6 pack and coke in his blood. You¡¯re not leaving that chair in one piece. You¡¯re leaving the chair, but¡­you know¡­in increments. Hey you¡¯re lucky, I got places to go, and I gotta do this kinda fast so it¡¯s not like I have all day to kill you, this will be over super fast, like an hour tops. So¡­hands or feet first? Not gonna answer?¡± she asked as he sobbed, and she ironically ripped off the tape from his mouth.

    ¡°Please let me go. I promise I¡¯ll stop." he begged.

    ¡°I believe that. You¡¯re done hurting hookers. The question is just really down to the details. Like if you were honest with how many girls you¡¯ve hurt, and really said you were sorry for each of them. I¡¯ll stab you in the ear. It¡¯s actually painless, you die like instantly. I¡¯ve done it. You¡¯re not my first rodeo. OR you could beg and be stupid and lie and say you never did bla bla, this was a misunderstanding euguuuugh, I¡¯m so innocent. And that¡¯s when I get out the plumbing tools and this takes a lot longer, and you¡¯ll feel it. Like a lot. Pipe cutters, blowtorch, I don¡¯t know what this thing even is, but it¡¯s got like handles and a grindy hole in the middle. Ooh, thread cutter. This cuts threads in pipes, I know this now¡­ probably cuts threads in anything really, anything that fits in here. So¡­how many girls. Every time you lie I try out a new fun toy, and I¡¯m really just discovering these things. They look fun. Fun for me.¡± she giggled, clicking the torch.

    ¡°6 girls.¡± He said. ¡°Six girls, all hookers. Some of them were over 18, I swear, I just wanted them to stop sinning and settle down. It¡¯s not so bad, they just wouldn¡¯t listen. I didn¡¯t kill any of them. I let them go¡­once I realized they weren¡¯t going to understand and stop that nonsense. I just wanted someone. Someone who would do like the book says and obey, act proper.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I wanted to know. No more details. Good boy.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to kill me. I know I¡¯ve gotten carried away with myself, but I meant the best intentions for all of them. Just¡­consider forgiveness.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°You really think it¡¯s debatable whether or not I¡¯m gonna let you live? OOOh, honey, I¡¯m a lying little bitch. I¡¯m not even gonna kill you quick. I just wanted to make sure this wasn¡¯t a misunderstanding. No you see, we¡¯re using the tools, all of them. I gotta learn somehow, and experience is the best teacher. There was never any ear-hole thing. I just made that up.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Nah fuck that. I¡¯m having fun. But I do have to hurry, it¡¯s gonna take an hour to clean up the body so that¡¯s only an hour to play, and I gotta be back by dinner, or Mike¡¯s gonna worry and be sad, and I¡¯ll feel bad for being late and making him worry, and then nobody¡¯s happy. We can¡¯t have that, can we? Alrighty, let¡¯s do the nose first. That just¡­feels right.¡± She said, scrunching her nose up and igniting the torch.

 Chapter 12: Frustrations

    Mike stared at Tanner, kicking her feet as she stared down the scope and fired another round at the paper target.

    ¡°Damn, when you said this thing has some recoil, you weren¡¯t joking.¡± She grinned.

    ¡°Depends on the round. That¡¯s the lightest round in the 50 cal. That¡¯s the 50 blackout case I used on the Lakeshot, just with lead instead of jacketed tungsten.¡±

    ¡°Is that why they¡¯re louder?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Lead is cheap and easy to practice with, but not subsonic at this power. You¡¯re a naturally good shot. I¡¯ve been watching your form, it¡¯s very intuitive.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re just watching my fat ass jiggle? No wonder you brought the big shells today.¡± she smirked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even going to engage with you, you¡¯ll just believe what you wanna believe. Now, 7mm pistol rounds. I wanna see how fast you can swap out the barrel. You just unscrew the end cap, drop in this insert, screw it back on, make sure it lines up with the groove. Last round keeps the bolt open. The magazine pulls out of the front, when you slap in a fresh one, the gun is cocked and locked, bolt release lever here. The 7mm pistol round doesn¡¯t have much kick but the lighter faster rounds are hard to quiet, so expect a loud crack. I got 5 rounds loaded up. I want you to switch to full auto, dump all 5 on target, toss the barrel insert and load in the 50 mag, switch to semi-auto and take 3 well-aimed 50 cal shots.¡± He said. "As fast as you can reload, and then take your time on the 50''s, accuracy counts more than speed here.

    She did as instructed, and placed all 5 auto rounds on the cardboard, top right, switch, all 3 of the 50 caliber rounds right in the 5 inch center from a hundred yards.

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s just fun. We gotta have an auto day where we just burn 7mm ammo.¡±

    ¡°You do realize I make these from scratch, and you can¡¯t buy more.¡± he said dryly.

    ¡°Right¡­sorry.¡± She grinned with an ¡°oopsie¡± look in her big wide eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re in a weirdly good mood.¡± He said with curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯m just having a good time with you. And the AA thing really helped. I didn¡¯t think it would, I kinda thought¡­¡± she hesitantly paused, muttering from the corner of her mouth. ¡°Maybe it was kinda feelygood bullshit, but I tossed my booze out, I said a lot to God and he didn¡¯t say much back, and then I saw an old friend, met a new guy who had some very therapeutic things to say. And I think I¡¯m learning to hear the voice. I¡¯m definitely going back." she smiled.

    ¡°Alone or do you want support?¡± he asked with a nervous look.

    ¡°Honestly. I think I wanna do this solo, I like our thing, but this feels like a me thing. I do have a question. I know you don¡¯t kill PEOPLE, people. Just things, but if you thought someone was after me and posed a threat me, not some demon, just a person... Would you kill them to protect me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Of course. Taking a life to defend another life is not ideal, but it¡¯s sometimes unavoidable. Is someone after you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No, I just meant like if shit went wrong and someone was gonna get you, and I just clapped their ass before they could, you¡¯d understand right? You wouldn''t say it was lack of faith that God would have protected you if someone was actively on you and gonna mess you up. Even if they were just reacting or in the heat of the moment, or confused. If I thought you were gonna die, and I had to put someone down, just a regular normal human guy, that¡¯s forgivable? Right?¡± she questioned

    ¡°Tanner, I never know if you¡¯re just being hypothetical or worried about something bad happening. I wouldn¡¯t blame you, I¡¯d thank you. It¡¯s not a celebration when you have to take a human life, but it could some day be necessary. Why so paranoid all of a sudden? Let me ask you something different. Did you notice anything about the group that was a bit¡­ different?¡± he smiled.

    ¡°No, they seemed pretty cool. One guy was an asshole, but I¡¯m not really worried about him.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t go inside, did you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Uh¡­wha- I have you know¡­I¡­ went inside.¡± She defended on a technicality.

    ¡°You sat in the parking lot and chickened out, never left the van, did you? You went out to have some fun elsewhere, I get it. You¡¯re young, you had a vehicle, churches aren¡¯t your thing.¡±

    ¡°Okay, honestly, I spotted someone I know and chickened out, but I went in after almost everyone left. So I did go there, and I went inside for a while and talked to someone, I did the God thing. I just missed the actual meeting. I guess technically I avoided the group, but I tried, I had my reasons, and I hung out and drank some coffee, tossed the booze. I don¡¯t think I can be part of the meetings with someone I know there, but maybe he¡¯ll stop going. How did you know? Am I just that easy to read?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Who did you know there?¡± he asked, looking concerned.

    ¡°Not exactly a friend, more like a former employer. Someone I should avoid. Why the snippy nosey shit, I know people, I don¡¯t always get along.¡± she snipped.

    ¡°Tanner, the group isn¡¯t just an AA group. Everyone going there has killed someone, or they just picked the wrong group to attend with. They''re all serial killers.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an Assasin¡¯s Anonymous club?¡± she said, looking blown away.

    ¡°Not exactly. The lady who runs the group has a way of finding people who have taken a life before. It¡¯s a very un-advertized group, the meeting places change. If you ended up there, it¡¯s probably because you got this card from Catherine, my sponsor. I don¡¯t attend, I just call her.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Hell, why not recruit from there?¡±

    ¡°I tried that, problem is one of the members went bright on the thermals and I had to¡­remove him from the attendance list. She suspects it was me. Nobody else knows about the thermals, Tanner. Keep that between us. She probably assumed we had history, otherwise I would have been a marked target. The group isn¡¯t very open about their activities, it¡¯s not a bunch of hitman stories and trading ideas. Everyone has their cover addiction, some of them are actual addictions, nobody knows what temptations and falling off the wagon is the drugs or the booze or the sex addiction, and what part is killing people. It¡¯s very cryptic and unspoken. Nobody asks for last names, nobody asks about your kids unless you bring it up, nobody outright says: Hello I¡¯m mike, and I killed 4 people last week.¡± He said with a solemn tone. ¡°We all kinda just know why we¡¯re there and if Catherine picked you, and you got a card, there was a reason. She has a way of knowing. So my concern is that you saw someone you know, and that means they¡¯re a killer.¡±

    ¡°Nobody I can¡¯t handle. It¡¯s not like the whole room isn¡¯t filled with fucking killers anyway. I''m one of them.¡±

    ¡°Did anyone¡­light up the parking lot?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t watch from a thermal scope, I watched from a dumpster, and I parked the van a block away. Why, you think there¡¯s some people there ripe for picking off?¡±

    ¡°Crossed my mind. Went there twice and found a mark, who¡¯s to say there¡¯s not several. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t go. If I come back and people keep dropping, Catherine will see the pattern. It¡¯s just too tempting. And I can handle any of them, except maybe her.¡±

    ¡°Is she really that good?¡± tanner asked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get out of the Casino mob group alive, let alone stay alive. She did. She took down somewhere between 20 and 30 people before they just let her walk. She has connections, so I don¡¯t wanna kill her even if I thought I had a good chance of actually doing it. Sometimes you know who not to piss off. People who lack that skill tend to end up dead. So if you wanna check out the group, It may be good for you, and it may be the best way for you to hear God¡¯s voice. Lotta the members¡­Quit their addictions or made peace with it through her group. Just don¡¯t bring thermals, and I would prefer not to go with you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. We don¡¯t have to do everything together. I had a blast just chatting with one of the stragglers in the parking lot and going in after for coffee and a little abstract discussion about God that makes far more sense now that I know why.¡±

    ¡°Just be safe. You¡¯re an adult, you¡¯re a killer, and your biggest problem was the junk and the sloppy crime scene cleanup, and you¡¯ve leaned a lot of lessons about both. Just remember that a room full of killers is just as much a room of rivals and enemies as it is allies and friends. Just because there are rules doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t get broken, and you can¡¯t un-kill someone.¡± He said. Taking Gwen and making a few practice shots himself.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Detective Baker¡¯s picture glowed on a screen in a dark room, as Catherine sipped her gin and tonic, She picked up her phone and squinted at the image.

    ¡°Still no sign of Tim?¡± she asked. ¡°Interesting. Tim wasn''t the most likes member, but he had connections with the church and if he''s missing, he''s dead. Dead the day Damien made his first appearance. No I didn¡¯t give him a card, he just showed up. Didn¡¯t say exactly who referred him to the group. But Tim was there, new guy shows up, a cop, Tim disappears. ¡°I find that QUITE interesting. No arrests made, no police records, and it says here Officer Damien is currently on a break from detective work, I also had a call last week from our old friend Mike, who said he felt very closely watched by someone within the police circle, and I see here the very same Damien Baker took him into police custody after a cop was killed, and he was released an hour later. Damien specializes in, of all things, cases of unsolved serial killers. Now isn¡¯t that just dandy, and he shows up at my group unannounced and just sits back observing.¡± She said.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s suspicious as hell.¡± Said the male voice.

    ¡°Yea. We have rules you know. Police aren¡¯t supposed to question those in my group, let alone walk in the fucking meeting the night someone goes missing. I know Mike is not officially a member, but he is clearly being targeted, and it¡¯s too damn close to be coincidence. I want everything on this guy. His family, his home, his partner if he has one on active duty, get some dirt for me.¡± She said, hanging up and sighing heavily. ¡°You cocky son of a bitch. Walk right in and drop your actual name in MY meeting like you own the place.¡± She chuckled, shaking her head at the arrogance. ¡°I¡¯m amazed Mike hasn¡¯t taken you out already.¡± she sighed.

    ¡°Mike, when are you really gonna take me out already?¡± Tanner asked, kicking her feet in the chair that was too tall for her.

    ¡°We just got back from the range.¡± he scoffed.

    ¡°I mean OUT-out. Like just to dinner or to a club where we¡¯re not killing anyone. Like, I love going out and killing someone, but we never just go out.¡± she hinted.

    ¡°I guess there¡¯s just a lot of work to be done, my recreation usually involves blues and reloading, like right now.¡±

    ¡°Not that this isn¡¯t lovely and stuff and not that my imaginary-dick isn¡¯t super hard watching you make bullets for hours every day, but don¡¯t you ever just¡­go out? Not research, supplies, or hits. Not stalking a target or covering your alibi for something, aside from the casino money scam, do you just socialize?¡±

    ¡°No¡­I kill people. I can¡¯t let people get close, they may find out, and they wouldn¡¯t understand. You¡¯re the first decent person that seems to."

    ¡°And yet¡­here we are. Reloading magnesium shells in a basement, to what I still firmly believe is old record player porno music. Fuck music, but no fuckin. No date night. When was the last time you went out for a date? Not a setup you tolerated or a potential kill¡­a real date.¡±

    ¡°Not for several years, and it didn¡¯t go well. Nice lady from the group. She bored me, she thought my faith was stupid, I left early. Before that, just my wife. Honestly, it¡¯s been so long I don¡¯t even know what to do.¡±

    ¡°Shit, fam. That¡¯s depressing. Your poor dick. After that long you¡¯re probably super hopeless of ever connecting with anyone, it¡¯s a damn shame nobody gets you or hangs out with you all day or knows you¡¯re a killer, that would be awkward to find out unless THEY were a killer too. Like¡­¡± she silently laughed ¡°the fuck are the chances of that, right? Some hottie just liking you anyway, practically throwing ass your way and even tolerating your boring stuff like reloading and metal detector gardening at the range. God, if only there were someone just, close by and shit you could trust. Too bad that¡¯s never gonna happen.¡±

    ¡°Tanner, I''m not blind or clueless. I just don¡¯t understand your fascination with me.¡± he said.

    ¡°Do you have to?¡± she shrugged. ¡°I mean if it was a trap, I¡¯d have killed you by now or tried and GOT killed. Who cares why?¡±

    ¡°Because this is a rare situation where I can train someone to do my work, who is obligated and willing to trust me. This is bigger than just us and our feelings and feelings get in the way of work. If things got romantic and didn''t work out, the partnership would fail, the job would be ruined and someone would get killed.¡±

    ¡°Bonnie and Clyde made it work.¡± She shrugged.

    ¡°Both shot to pieces by cops.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but like we¡¯re gonna die eventually, you probably sooner just from old age. We could get murked by some cop or vengeance killer any moment, any day. If God wanted you to be sad and alone he would have maybe sent you a dude, or an ugly chick, some young lesbian, or just some appreciate that thinks older men are gross, or someone like you with just zero sex drive. Bruh, you literally got a killer hooker who has no other bed to sleep in and no home to go back to.¡± she huffed.

    ¡°That¡¯s partially my point. You¡¯re stuck with me, I¡¯m giving you free room and board and food, shelter from the cold, a home. You do favors for money to survive, and I¡¯ve given you the equivalent of 6 months work in overhead and free shit, not to mention favors and training, covered your crime scenes. You probably feel like you owe me, and have to return the favor somehow. You have no money, no possessions, nothing of physical value to pay me with. You feel a debt, and you¡¯re just grateful for the help. You don¡¯t actually find me attractive, you have a moral push to pay the favor back. If you met me any other way, called me to fix your heater, or wandered into some blues club by accident and spotted me waiting for a ride, you¡¯d have never even considered me a potential date. I¡¯m not basing a risky, complicated relationship, on owing me one and lack of options.¡± he explained.

    ¡°Firstly, how do you know any of that? Opposites attract, people have types. You have one, I have one. Maybe mine is you. The fact that you¡¯re NOT hanging that fact over my head for favors, that I owe you, is really sweet. The preacher thing seems like a drag until you find out you have your own moral code, and it makes sense, and you¡¯re just crazy enough to not make me seem like the obvious crazy one¡­but not so crazy you¡¯re just a nutcase. I¡¯m starting to see your spirituality points make sense, and not just bullshit. I¡¯m also kind of a bitch, if I wanted to take free handouts and get spoiled for nothing in return, news flash, I¡¯m fine with not paying you back. You said I didn¡¯t have to, I¡¯m off the hook, no pun intended. I don¡¯t owe you¡­because you told me I don¡¯t. Deals are deals, if they say it¡¯s free it¡¯s free. I do not feel the need to pay back every favor unless the deal was that I do something in return for that favor. Plus, you hit me with a van, I should be annoyed about that. I forgive you. We¡¯re just two adults that work together, you hired me, I do my work, we both have some off-time, what¡¯s the problem with enjoying it? Am I honestly just not your type at all, or do you not remember what your type even is, and you aren¡¯t looking for one?¡± she asked "Am I a temptation you deny or no temptation?"

    ¡°It''s not you. Maybe this job just leaves you dead inside.¡± he said coldly, loading shells.

    ¡°Oh bullshit. I do the same thing, it¡¯s fun. Yes, it limits your dating options, but here we are, and you have an AA group of killers if ladies aren¡¯t your jam or something. Do you just not feel alone? Hey, Mister bifocals, eyes up here. Just honestly give this a once over and tell me truthfully that you don¡¯t remotely find me attractive at all, and there¡¯s just zero thoughts in your head when I do this¡­¡± she said, grabbing the chair seat and lifting her knees up, with a seductive pout.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t seem like an unnecessary risk to you? Complication to an already dangerous and complex thing we have?¡± he asked

    ¡°HA¡­you didn¡¯t say no. And yea, but complex is fun. What¡¯s the point of being alive if you don¡¯t live in it? You love the complex hits, the details, the risk, the unnecessary danger like taunting the cops cutting open a dead guy to see if he¡¯s full of evil shit or not. You¡¯re just afraid you¡¯re too far out of the game to know how to play, and you probably are. Honestly if you tried picking me up at a bar you would absolutely fuck it up. You would say only the boring shit and hide who you are, and come off as dull and weird and ruin it. Thank God, you didn¡¯t do that. You went with the cow-catcher approach and just put me on the hood, and then let me get to know you better. You say you got nothing to offer, and why would anyone want some old weirdo? You¡¯re James Bond and Sherlock Holmes rolled into one. You¡¯re clever, you¡¯re loyal, and don¡¯t act like we don¡¯t share a rare common interest just because I like Synthbass Goth rave music, and you like slow dance piano porn tracks, or that you¡¯re old and dorky, and I¡¯m hip and cool. So what? We like guns and knives and righteous assassinations, cabins in the woods, and BBQ chicken pizza. Marriages are built on less common ground because two people had fitting genitals and were both single and liked one movie. THAT is insane. People make that work too.¡± She sighed. ¡°You¡¯re just not trying.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. You want the truth. You¡¯re very attractive, you¡¯re fascinating, you¡¯re adorable. The things about you nobody would understand, I understand. The things I don¡¯t understand, fascinate me more. And the last time I felt that way about someone, we had a life together, and she got killed. Safest job in the world, working at a church for a youth program. Killed by a random break-in because someone said preachers keep the church money in their home safes, and they thought nobody would be home on a holiday weekend. Now I hunt and kill some of the nastiest people alive and people want me dead or in prison, and my home is a target, and you work with me. If I had anything close to what I lost and lost it again, nothing about me would survive it. My faith, my principals, my work, nothing. I would either become a sad drunk and blow my head off while a record plays in the dark, or go on a killing spree I know I wouldn¡¯t walk away from just to pretend like I died doing something useful. It really isn¡¯t you, Tanner. It¡¯s me, it''s the job.¡±

    ¡°And yet¡­You believe God put me here specifically to continue your purpose, and instead of a lezbo or a boy, he sent me. Runaway nobody with nothing, kinda hoping to do something stupid and pretend it mattered. Lotta classic cars are left old and broken in some garage because nobody wanted to risk ruining it. Eventually we all die, we all crash and wear out. Why waste the chance? I¡¯m just saying, think about it.¡± she sighed.

    ¡°I assure you I¡¯ve thought about it a lot. I just haven¡¯t decided if this old ticker is fixable, or if it¡¯s rusted through and better left for scrap.¡± he said.

    ¡°Yea, well, you don¡¯t know how good my body work is. Kinda hard to say it¡¯s totaled if you won''t even let someone check under the hood. Kinda guarantees you already failed if you didn¡¯t try. Sounds like an excuse to quit. Have you prayed about it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°A lot. Probably doubled my chat time since I met you.¡±

    ¡°Did he ever just say: No! Resist temptation, do more training! Or are you just asking over and over, hoping he would so you¡¯ll be off the hook? Seems like you don¡¯t wanna be fixed. I¡¯ve accepted you just the busted-ass way you are. The only part I¡¯m suggesting you get repaired is the being sad and lonely part. You really wanna just keep THAT part broken? Really? Why? You sure? That seems dumb. You¡¯re not dumb, you¡¯re clever. The fuck is that about? Kinda just sounds like fear. You¡¯re not afraid of cops and killers and getting shot at¡­you''re really that scared of a little street-brat in a plaid skirt and tennis shoes?¡± she said, raising her eyebrows.

    ¡°You have stabbed people before.¡± He joked with a smile. ¡°But truthfully, if you were the thing that killed me, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d even mind. Better than some cop or creep. We¡¯ll do dinner out. Not sure when or where yet. Let me work on that. Work is priority, but I will consider some social time.¡±

    ¡°Yay!¡± she clapped. ¡°I win.¡±

 Chapter 13: Recon

    Catherine looked angry, sitting with a book in a dark brown leather chair. Her crossed right leg swinging as she stared with a cold disappointment.

    ¡°Are you trying to get yourself killed?¡± she asked the brunette, slowly sipping a drink at her personal bar. ¡°You gave a cop, my card.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to get Damien killed, actually.¡± Gina said, sighing. ¡°He¡¯s stubborn and persistent. He¡¯s starting to make connections and I¡¯ve tried everything. He won¡¯t listen to me, his wife left him, he¡¯s assaulting people for confessions.¡±

    ¡°Then kill him. Don¡¯t bring him into MY group.¡± She scolded.

    ¡°I¡¯m a detective, not a killer. I can¡¯t kill another cop.¡± Gina sighed.

    ¡°You mean you can¡¯t kill another cop you¡¯ve been fucking for a year. Why didn¡¯t you just ask me nicely for a hit? I have people in the group just itching for a kill, and some of them would take out a cop for the fun of it.¡± Catherine growled.

    ¡°Because if you said no, then I would have to. I can¡¯t kill him myself. I don¡¯t have it in me. I¡¯m already regretting all of this, I hate what I¡¯ve become, I refuse to kill another officer, especially a man I¡¯ve gotten to know. I can¡¯t pull the trigger, I can''t make it look like an accident.¡±

    ¡°So you have a problem, and you decided to make it MY problem so you don¡¯t have to risk any skin in this? How thoughtful. He¡¯s dead either way. You just didn¡¯t wanna get your hands dirty, and you think I like this? I do occasionally, on MY terms. Not yours. I paid good money for a detective, so act like one. I didn''t pay you to risk my group to clean your messes. I could just kill you both, you know.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d lose your inside man.¡± Gina smirked. ¡°Well, inside woman. I¡¯m more valuable alive, he¡¯s more valuable dead, if I make a mess trying to cut my teeth murdering a man I¡¯ve fucked for a year, botching the evidence, then you could end up in hot water, if anything tied back to you. This way you can¡¯t deny the problem, and it gets taken care of without argument. Tampering with evidence is one thing, killing another officer is above my level of expertise. You think I know what I¡¯m doing? I¡¯ve killed 2 people in 10 years, both junkies firing at me on duty, and it was self-defense like I trained for. I can¡¯t cover a crime scene. If they suspect me, we all go down. Damien¡¯s been investigating serial killers, one of them taking him out only makes sense. Hell, send the Lakeshot guy, he¡¯s been hammering that case with obsession. Nobody will blink if he surfaces to silence him.¡±

    ¡°Lakeshot isn¡¯t one of my guys, Gina. He''s freelance. I¡¯ll take care of your problem for you, but you can¡¯t just act like you owe me and get away with it. You¡¯re gonna have to understand your place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make up for it.¡± Gina said, strutting to Catherine and slowly dropping the straps of her dress as Catherine stood up and approached her nose to nose.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t something you can fix with that kind of favor. You broke my trust, you¡¯re out.¡± Catherine coldly turned.

    ¡°What do you mean I¡¯m out?¡± she asked, looking worried.

    ¡°I mean, you¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t shoot you for that, and you¡¯ve done good work up until now on both of those kinds of favors, but this is about trust and knowing your boundaries. You¡¯re no longer part of this organization. If you talk, you disappear. If you leave town, you disappear. I¡¯m not kicking you out because I¡¯m angry, I¡¯m letting you leave because you provided me some amount of usefulness. Consider us even, and walk away while you can. The offer won¡¯t get better if you stay and try to negotiate. So leave.¡± Catherine said, sitting back down and opening her book. ¡°The door is that way.¡±

    ¡°Are you gonna kill me?¡± asked Gina.

    ¡°No¡­I should, but I promise I won¡¯t if you walk away now and never show your face near my group, my job, or my home again. No calls, no emails, you never even knew my name, understood?¡± Catherine asked.

    ¡°I guess so.¡± Said a very hurt looking Gina, taking her purse and leaving. She froze mid-step in the doorway, the color in her skin going grey as she grew smaller in the distance, ending up on a laptop screen with the pause bars over her face.

    ¡°Holy shit.¡± Tanner gasped as Mike smoked his cigarette.

    ¡°Yea. Our friend mister Baker is about to get cooked, and his partner next.¡±

    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± tanner asked.

    ¡°I bugged her house.¡± Mike yawned. ¡°One-night stand, one planted bug. God told me she was a problem, Now we understand what that means. Every time I got close to the Mayor, I always got side-tracked. I suspected she was working for him. I¡¯m actually glad you went to the group without me and didn¡¯t make it to the meeting. I may need you to go back.¡±

    ¡°What if Baker is there, and he spots me?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°He won¡¯t be back. They¡¯ll be on him pretty fast. If I know Catherine, lover or not, Detective Gina Garrett won''t live much longer than him. I¡¯m just not sure who she will send. She won¡¯t do it herself. She¡¯s retired. She¡¯ll send one of the group members. The problem is that I don¡¯t know who¡¯s left. This is a group of killers, but not all of them professional. They tend to have a high turnover. New members, old ones disappear or get arrested. God told me to take down Catherine.¡±

    ¡°And you want me to be your inside man.¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°Just once. One meeting. If you were in the parking lot, she probably knows it, it would look more suspicious if you never came in. So you¡¯ll go back, nervously let me know who¡¯s there, see if you can make a friend or two, and then decide the group isn¡¯t for you. You¡¯ll get the speech, just act like you¡¯re not sure about it. You fly solo. You don¡¯t need any help. See if you can get the attention of some of the new members, we can flip. Just one time. After that, it becomes too dangerous.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not dangerous enough already?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I thought you liked danger?" Mike asked. ¡°Just kidding. I¡¯ll have eyes on the building and ears in your purse. If anything goes wrong, I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re the only one who walks out.

    ¡°You¡¯d do that for me?¡± she asked, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

    ¡°Tanner there¡¯s very little risk, you¡¯re an independent woman who can take care of herself, and everything will be fine. But, if absolutely necessary, I¡¯d bring the building down to get you out.¡± He said darkly. The kinda dark she loved in his eyes. The kind that made the dark little corner of her heart want to start something just to see him do it.

    Tanner sat nervously in the folding chair with no name on it. 12 seats around her filled, 3 empty.

    ¡°First time Jitters?¡± asked a voice to her left. She turned to the young man, practically wearing a t shirt that said ¡°serial killer¡± on his back. Slight chubby build, Curly red hair sprouting from a black hat and thick rimmed glasses, clean shaved say for the orange mustache, OD Green military jacket baggy enough to hide a gun, both sleeves rolled up. American flag tattoo on one forearm, punisher skull on the other. The picture of the absolute first suspect when a bomb goes off somewhere.

    ¡°Uh yea, first time.¡± She whispered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Everyone here is like you. I¡¯m Carl. We all have different addictions, obviously, but that¡¯s my point. We all have some form of demon on our back, so we don¡¯t judge. Love your tattoos. What do they mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Tanner. Lotuses, on top of that, the Japanese symbols for love and hate.¡± She said, hiking her skirt just a touch to see them better on her thighs, just above the knees. ¡°Little duality, also I just like Asian pop culture.¡± She smiled. ¡°What about yours?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Flag is pretty basic. Country first, founding freedoms, American ideal. This skull is just because I liked the comics growing up.¡± He said chewing on some gum.

    ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind me asking, what¡¯s your addiction?¡±

    ¡°Sex addict.¡± He nodded. Looking back at her. ¡°Just fucking with you. Cigarettes, hence the gum. That guy is the sex addict, I wish I was joking. He¡¯s been staring at you the whole time.¡± He said giving a shitty grin to the other young man across the center, black beanie, overly tight T-shirt to show off his arms and his tribal tattoo, a single strip of beard from lip to chin that ran around the sides to the sideburns.

    ¡°Haven''t¡­YOU been staring at me the whole time?¡± she said with an eyebrow.

    ¡°Me, nah. Would never do that. That¡¯s rude. I don''t stare. I¡¯ve just been glancing repeatedly. Not a lot of girls here, usually."

    ¡°So what¡¯s his problem, he just got out of prison and only allowed to go between the groups and the boy¡¯s den?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Shit, he¡¯s never been to prison. That¡¯s Tyler Hurte. You¡¯ll notice none of us have last names on our tags, that kind of defeats the anonymous part. He wears that name tag like he didn¡¯t make up that last name to sound cool.¡±

    ¡°He looks scary.¡± She whispered.

    ¡°Scary like a bitch.¡± He said, rubbing his eye with a middle finger discreetly at Tyler, as he sneered a sarcastic smirk with a silent ¡°fuck you¡± implied. ¡°He¡¯s mad that he sat down first, and you sat way across from him and then didn¡¯t move when I sat down.¡± He joked as a third young man, approached, buzz cut with a flattened short Mohawk, toothpick in his mouth, scraggly buzzed beard and well-dressed in all dark blue and black.

    ¡°Is this joker bothering you?¡± the new addition asked her discreetly.

    ¡°Fuck, I really am popular today. No, I¡¯m just fine. We¡¯re kinda talking. Thanks for the concern.¡± She smiled as he nodded and returned to his seat, looking strangely distant and moving his eyes to everyone in the group as if scanning the room. Carl sighed nervously.

    ¡°Now That guy is scary. Don¡¯t tell him I said that, I¡¯ll deny it. Goes by Deacon. He¡¯s got the kinda eyes that say he¡¯s seen some shit. Tyler¡¯s all show and nothing to back it. This guy would back it. Says about 6 words every other meeting, just watches everyone, takes notes, weird fucker. I¡¯m thinking ex special ops or something. The toothpick makes me think cigarette fix. You look more like an Adderall and Monster kinda girl."

    ¡°Oh I just kinda circle the whole addiction buffet and see what feels right. If I had a group for every single thing, I¡¯d just stay around for the next tone to start and live here.¡± She joked.

    ¡°I dunno, you seem cool. Seem like you got yourself handled and taken care of. So do you collect anything?¡± he asked as if prompting targeted questions for his response.

    ¡°Butterfly knives. I got like 5. All pretty cheap. You collect anything?¡± she asked, taking the obvious bait.

    ¡°Actually yea. I got a pretty extensive gun collection. You gotta fixate on something in life. Between work and a little online FPS gaming, I just kinda grow the gunroom. Big fan of history, I love the backstory of it, the military collectibles. Old guns, new guns, man I just love the story behind it. Got this guy at work that¡¯s just full of old war stories. Really cool guy. You like guns?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate them, I¡¯ve shot a few times, I think it was some kind of like, basic revolver. I dunno. It was kinda fun though.¡± she bluffed.

    ¡°I gotta take you out shooting some time. Not like a date, it¡¯s just a shame you haven¡¯t had more diverse fun at the range.¡±

    ¡°Yea, pretty limited.¡± she smiled.

    ¡°You know what gets the worst reputation? The VZ68 Skorpion. See, everyone thinks they only come in 32 caliber so they have no kill power. Not true. The 68 is a 9mm Makarov, just enough power to do the job, but quiet. They¡¯re super fun little guns, flip out stock no recoil, easy to suppress. You¡¯d love one. Such bullshit we can¡¯t carry in here. I mean, what is the point of a free country when you voluntarily to go to an addiction group, and they always make it in a church where you can¡¯t carry. I mean, this country was founded on the Second Amendment and the church, and you can¡¯t carry in a meeting. Burns my ass, shit like that makes me want a smoke. See how good that works?¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°Seems like a safe enough place. I mean, it¡¯s public.¡± She shrugged.

    ¡°Yea, until you leave the parking lot. Some asshole stabs you for your wallet. Bet your ass when I leave the building and get in my car, I¡¯m armed. No such thing as too safe.¡± he said, chewing his gum faster and carefully mean-mugging Deacon.

    ¡°You¡¯re not one of those guys that goes to Walmart with an Ar15 on your back, are you?¡± she playfully poked.

    ¡°Not a chance. Too hard to conceal and deploy. I don''t want to display my hand. That¡¯s a truck gun or a home defense gun. You carry something open, you¡¯re making yourself a target. Beretta M9, best personal carry money can buy, aside from the Skorpion of course.¡±

    ¡°So what exactly is with this group? Seems like just a bunch of people talking about whether or not they slipped off the wagon or not, drinking coffee and clustering to mutter alone.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll see once it starts. It¡¯s actually about you and Catherine. Most of us don¡¯t even get along or talk, There¡¯s some chummy pairing and groups that hang out, but mostly it¡¯s just an excuse for Catherine to keep you up to date on the program. You know, addiction isn¡¯t about quitting alone and being done with your demons. That demon is permanent, and all of us here have it. It takes different forms, but if you let it control you, it takes over and ruins your life, lands you dead or in prison. It¡¯s about taming it and finding an outlet. Spreading out the urge and finding a healthy addiction to obsess over. It¡¯s about not getting in trouble, not fuckin up. Meet me outside after the meeting in the parking lot, I¡¯ll tell you the real meaning.¡± He said grabbing another piece of gum and adding it to the old piece.

    He opened the tailgate and there was a rather large gun case anchored down.

    ¡°You know, most girls would get weirded out if you invited them to your truck to show them the meaning of addiction, and you just displayed a gun case. You might wanna lean to be more subtle.¡±

    ¡°Nah, fuck subtle. Is what it is. If you don¡¯t like it, there¡¯s the road. I¡¯m doing this for your protection because we got our back turned to Deacon and I want him to see I¡¯m not fucking around. You know there aren¡¯t very many female serial killers¡­¡± he said, getting her attention and making her nervously reach for her knife.

    ¡°Interesting fact. Where is that going?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Oh come on. You know this isn¡¯t an AA meeting it¡¯s a place where dark addictions get tempered, and you¡¯re playing innocent, but I read you. You¡¯re the¡­we¡¯re not supposed to talk about it but, come on. You¡¯re the killer samurai girl.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, NO.¡± she objected.

    ¡°Everyone here is a killer, you¡¯re here and scanning everyone like a damn computer because you¡¯re trying to guess what they did and if you know them. So you¡¯re not lost. The guns didn¡¯t scare you, Deacon can smell a killer, and he¡¯s on your scent. How many female serial killers, let alone under 25, let alone good-looking are in this state? Asian thigh tats, don¡¯t know guns, but you know knives. I¡¯ve figured out almost everyone in the group. When the autism isn¡¯t fixated on guns, it¡¯s fixated on studying the other players. Honestly¡­big fan of your work. Solo gal, maybe 18, what¡¯s that like 5 kills? Brutal shit too.¡± he smiled.

    ¡°Okay, firstly Geisha, not samurai. Huge difference. Secondly, you don¡¯t know anything about me." she scolded with an attitude.

    ¡°Everyone in the group knows who you are. We follow the police reports and the news. You walk into a bar and everyone noticed you because you¡¯re cute and acting like you know it. You walk into the killer¡¯s church with no fear, everyone assumes you¡¯re the one female serial killer on the board and active. Sorry, you¡¯re kind of a unicorn.¡±

    ¡°That¡­is kind of the best compliment I¡¯ve heard all day and if I was not already sorta with a guy, that¡¯s a good start to a pickup line.¡±

    ¡°When you plan to kill him?¡± he asked, grabbing another stick of gum.

    ¡°I¡¯m not, it¡¯s legit, and I like him, and it¡¯s getting kinda serious.¡± she eyebrowed.

    ¡°So he¡¯s a killer too?¡± he smirked. ¡°Oh come on, either he¡¯s a target or another killer. You wouldn¡¯t get serious with some random asshole with a secret like yours unless you think he might understand or you, or he¡¯s prey. Ex special ops dude, big 250 pound Marine sniper, can¡¯t wait to get back overseas?¡± he guessed.

    ¡°Actually, that¡¯s none of your business.¡±

    ¡°Which way do I wave? I don''t wanna look stupid. He¡¯s probably about 800-900 yards out, with a 338 Lapua, scope on my back, I don¡¯t wanna look stupid, which way do I wave at him?¡±

    ¡°Okay fine, you¡¯re basically dead on, and if I told you where to look he wouldn¡¯t be hidden, so nice try.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just playing around. Look, if you wanna hang out, bring the boyfriend, I don¡¯t care. But if you got a man already, and this is recon, some of the others might get annoyed, some you could handle, some could be a problem. Never hurts to have friends. I¡¯m just bored and sick of shooting alone. Call number is 616 7723, and that will change next meeting if you want the new one. Tell the boyfriend he¡¯s invited, free ammo and beer.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t drink.¡± She smiled, making her leave and strutting through the parking lot, noticing Deacon in the darkness staring like a laser beam at them.

    ¡°Fantastic, love to hear that! Offer it anyway, just to be nice...more beer for me. Still comes off as a good gesture and saves me money. Hey, call me. Gotta workout that trigger finger. Always a fun day at the range. Yea I fuckin see you Tyler. Blow me.¡± He said, shifting his tone and direction of conversation.

    Tanner got her phone out and pretended to dial despite it already running.

    ¡°You get that, Mikey?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Every bit of it. Good work, van is a block down and left on a dirt road. Meet you there.¡±

    ¡°Meet me? You¡¯re not in the van right now? Where are you now?¡±

    ¡°About¡­300 yards from the building, and up.¡± He said, disconnecting.

    Tanner stepped into the kitchen, carefully making her way to the front door as the bedroom and reloading room rested shut. Sleeping or making bullets, he was done for the night, and she was just getting started. She grabbed her backpack and the truck keys and checked her GPS for the address.

    ¡°Sorry Mike.¡± She whispered, feeling guilty but out of her own control. But a girl¡¯s gotta get satisfaction one way or another.¡± She added, dialing her phone. ¡°Yea, it¡¯s me. Date is still on, just a little late. I know, I¡¯m super excited to meet you too after all week DMing. I know a place your wife won¡¯t ever find. Hell a damn private detective would never find this place, it¡¯s VERY discreet. Yea, bring condoms and vodka, that¡¯s fine. GOD, I needed this so bad. I¡¯ll see you there, here¡¯s the address. Don¡¯t tell anyone where it¡¯s at, we don¡¯t want anyone knowing you¡¯re out. What the wife doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt her.¡± She grinned as she hopped in Mike¡¯s old truck and started it up, heading to the dentist¡¯s office.

 14: a Killer Insurance Plan

    Hello Tommy. You comfortable? Tanner whispered, the light turning on.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m strapped to a chair, what is this?¡± he barked.

    ¡°This is an experiment, and most likely a¡­murder, but we¡¯ll get to that."

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna kill me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not necessarily, stop jumping ahead I¡¯m trying to explain this, silly.¡± She said giving him a bop on the nose to shut him up.

    ¡°You work for a medical insurance company, and you¡¯re the guy who decided whether or not they cover something as necessary or not. Right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He nodded.

    ¡°See we¡¯re being honest, that¡¯s part of the road to being alive an hour from now. Keep up the good work. Now I have a list of things you¡¯ve personally rejected and signed for. This looked interesting, so I did some googling on the procedure. Lung biopsy for cancer. OOf. That¡¯s rough. Bad enough to think you got cancer, but the test is brutal. Says here for a lung biopsy, most places don¡¯t use anesthetic. Now I watched the video and the comment section was interesting, see this right here from anonymous commenter. Most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life. Another one said she had it done once, and it was so excruciating she refused to get another biopsy, despite them needing to looking for more cancer. That sounds like anesthetic would be pretty necessary, but it¡¯s 1500 dollars for them to put someone out for it, so you rejected it, multiple times on every request. Now I¡¯m not a doctor, but I do have a lot of experience with anatomy and surgical procedures, I even have the gloves and shit. And this¡­¡± she said holding up a strange blue plastic tube. ¡°This is a biopsy endoscope. Now no, I don¡¯t have the screen for it. The scanny x-ray stuff is kinda expensive, but this little toy was pretty cheap and this doesn¡¯t need to be precise, it¡¯s a proof of point, not a highly targeted procedure.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna do a medical procedure on me? Are you a nurse?¡± he asked.

    ¡°LOL, no silly. I¡¯m a serial killer... Hence the scary outfit and abduction. I graduated from the college of hookery and stabbing people, dropped out of high school. But I youtubed the whole thing and again, we don¡¯t really need to be accurate, we¡¯re just guesstimating. Now don¡¯t worry because this shouldn¡¯t be very painful, we¡¯re just jamming this into your lung and taking a small chunk out. I mean, if it was too painful, they¡¯d probably put you out for it. Right? You¡¯ve signed a fat NO for that, 27 times, according to my sources. So clearly the doctors and patients are just exaggerating and being big babies about it, right? Well let¡¯s find out together, because SOMEONE is clearly full of shit here, and it can¡¯t be you. But if it is you, we¡¯re gonna learn things together today. I got some oxycodone if you want one, that might help.¡±

    ¡°Yea, I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing¡­ You got 2 grand in cash? I charge 2 grand for oxy. Inflation is really fucking us all right now. I can check your wallet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it on me in cash! I can use a card. Whatever you want.¡±

    ¡°Honey, I¡¯m not an ATM, I¡¯m an ex hooker that kills people and I sell drugs to survive. Very different slots. You think drug dealers, hookers, OR serial killers take credit cards? That¡¯s a cash only no receipt kinda situation. You really don¡¯t have cash? Well that sucks, more for me. Saves you money, you know how that is. Nothing personal, just good business practice. But again, people do this all the time, it can¡¯t be that bad, or you¡¯d be covering it. That¡¯s literally what insurance is supposed to do. Surely you¡¯re not subjecting innocent people to literal torture purely to make more money, when¡­I¡¯ve seen your house, you have plenty. So¡­here¡¯s the fun part. This is a harmonica, I¡¯m gonna tape it into your mouth in case you make a sound, which should be easy to resist if this isn¡¯t very painful. You get one freebie, and it doesn¡¯t even count until we make the first cut. Now I could be a real bitch and take 27 biopsies, but who has time for that? I think like¡­4 should be plenty. Of course if you make any sound during this procedure that clearly doesn¡¯t need anesthesia, I must be doing this wrong, and I gotta start over. Let¡¯s give you 3 strikes before failing the whole thing. Think of it like a tiktok challenge except if you lose, I kill you. And if you win not only do you get to live, but you get a sucker! I got 3 flavors, they¡¯re really good.¡± She giggled.

    Mike followed the sound of elevator music to the kill room and used his key, the sound of a violent scream and a harmonica chord greeting him before he turned and entered.

    ¡°See, that¡¯s 2 tries and 2 strikes. Either you¡¯re a real pussy or this procedure is actually really painful. You see the problem here?¡± she sighed, adjusting her medical mask over her geisha makeup, smearing it slightly as she grabbed the tools again.

    ¡°Catch you at a bad time?¡± Mike asked as she jumped, almost fumbling the endoscope.

    ¡°Holy shit, Mike. Dont scare healthcare workers like that. I could have killed this guy. Knocking would be good. You can¡¯t walk in on a surgical procedure without scrubs, either. Did you even scrub up?¡±

    ¡°Did you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Okay not really, but I did a quicky alcohol wipedown." she shrugged.

    ¡°What is this shit? I¡¯ve been wondering where you were running off to all the time, and you have this random guy in a chair and a sexy nurse outfit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think, Mike. It¡¯s not a sexy nurse outfit, it¡¯s just a nurse outfit, I just happen to be sexy in it¡­you¡¯re welcome, and also, HA! You admitted it.¡±

    ¡°I thought we were a team. You¡¯re just killing people without me?¡±

    ¡°We ARE a team. What? I can¡¯t go out and some fun by myself without you now? Let¡¯s see, um, you¡¯re not my dad, and I didn¡¯t listen to him anyway, you¡¯re not my owner because I¡¯m a human being, we¡¯re not a married couple or even a couple. So why exactly do I have to answer to you?¡± she asked.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Because I kept you out of prison¡­multiple times¡­for the job.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, the JOB. You¡¯re my boss because shit happened, and I had no choice, and I reluctantly accepted it. I¡¯m grateful, but I don¡¯t just become your property, I¡¯m an adult woman with needs and I wanted a night out.¡± She said, as the man in his underwear struggled to break from the chair he was strapped to.

    ¡°This IS the job. You go to prison for making mistakes ON THE JOB. If you wanted to go out and party and dance with your gal pals, or see a movie, I agree. That¡¯s your life to live. I don¡¯t own you. Go do it. It¡¯s not my business. Be safe, have fun. This literally IS my business, and I¡¯m the guy who you work for, who clean your messes.¡± Mike reminded. "That I cant clean if it¡¯s a secret."

    ¡°No, mike, this is recreation. Most people clock into work and then go home. They don¡¯t go home with their boss and sleep on his couch, and have breakfast with him, and then go to work, and then after work, go home with him and plan more work. I need some ME time, alone with my interests¡­which just happen to be killing horrible people. You did this because God told you to, this is YOUR job, but this is my ART. I love this shit. This makes me happy.¡±

    ¡°Sex and torture makes you happy?¡± he asked with a disappointed sigh.

    ¡°Technically yes, except both¡­different activities, but this isn¡¯t sex, this is just torture. Not like I get the sex part from you, either. I''m not REAL PEOPLE. He¡¯s the guy who denies peoples medical insurance. That almost doesn¡¯t count as human. It¡¯s MY case, It¡¯s not on our list, you didn¡¯t plan this, this is just me doing my thing like I would be doing without you anyway, before we met.¡±

    ¡°And who¡¯s cleaning the mess, the crime scene¡­you? Badly? Am I going to have to trace your steps so you don¡¯t get caught?¡± he sighed.

    ¡°No, because I¡¯m getting better at this. I gotta grow on my own, Mike. I can¡¯t have you hold my hand forever. What we have is fine, but Mike you¡¯re not that adventurous and fun with it. It¡¯s 2 quick, pew-pews to the head and back to the car, destroy the evidence. You¡¯re the hitman equivalent of a guy who blows his load in 2 minutes. And you know what, that¡¯s fine for you, it¡¯s effective for the mission, but it¡¯s not¡­as fun. You do your thing. I need excitement and satisfaction and if your way doesn¡¯t get it, I gotta do this myself. I have the tools and the skills, Mike.¡± She said holding up the scalpel.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t couple''s therapy. This isn¡¯t the equivalent of disappointing sex, your metaphor loses meaning when you account for the fact that bad sex leads to breakups and sloppy kills lead to the death penalty. My boring kills are why I have almost 80 and nobody even knows most of them are related. This is illegal, we get lethal injection for this. Without me around, you risk your life.¡±

    ¡°So then why did God pick me? For you to tutor and rule over? ¡­or to learn from each other? Being partners is a 2 way street, oh for the love of fuck, asshole stop squirming in that chair. We¡¯re having a conversation, it¡¯s very rude, you¡¯re not even bleeding much. UGH, anyway, maybe God wanted YOU to learn to enjoy your work more, as much as me learning to kill smarter and more carefully. You¡¯re bottling up all that emotion for a little quicky gunshot, you¡¯re not happy. Maybe I¡¯m supposed to help you loosen up, and you¡¯re supposed to help me plan better. Look, I got cameras, I got alarms set up, I got sedatives, I put a small explosive device under his penis that will go off if he leaves the chair¡­¡± she said as the man suddenly stopped struggling.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Mike asked quietly, she huddled him closer and got quiet too.

    ¡°No, but he will not stop making noise, and he doesn¡¯t know what I did while he was unconscious, just go with it.¡± she whispered. ¡°Anyway, the point being that I¡¯ve grown a lot, thanks to you, but I can¡¯t be your little protected puppy, I gotta run free in the yard sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to lose you. I care about you and this mission.¡± he said hesitantly.

    ¡°Aww, because I¡¯m hot?¡±

    ¡°No because you remind me of my late wife.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­fuck. Well, I would have preferred the other thing, but that¡¯s sweet too.¡± she smiled.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I do overprotect you, but look how bad you were when I found you. Can you blame me for caring too much? I need you for this job and the job is my life, and you¡¯re a friend, I care about your wellbeing too. I¡¯ve grown very fond of you, and I can¡¯t see you on death row because you made a mistake. How about this: We plan some kills together, I help you cover the gaps and when you wanna be alone and do your own thing, just let me know, I¡¯ll let you borrow the gear. If I have to trust that you won¡¯t be stupid and get caught, you have to trust me enough to let me know that you need things. I could have made this easier¡­can I please shoot him, he really is just the loudest bastard I''ve ever heard.¡±

    ¡°Yea, shoot him. He¡¯s annoying me anyway. He stinks and the mood is gone, he won¡¯t listen to my poetic riddles and rituals, so I¡¯m doing this for nothing. I put on a nurse outfit and designed a whole shocking thing that kills him when I pull the plug just for the medical metaphor, and I don¡¯t even wanna torture anymore. Can we go home, order some food and just¡­hang out?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡± He smiled, reaching out without looking and casually putting 3 rounds into the man in the chair. ¡°I guess compromises are part of every relationship.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­not EVERY relationship. Some are based on full submissio-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not being your bondage fuck buddy.¡± he interrupted.

    ¡°Okay, well then yes, there needs to be compromises. So we can just do some fun kills, together, as a team, but with MY targets and my¡­dare I say: brilliantly set up kill rooms?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Sure. If it makes you happy and keeps you safe, we can do your thing sometimes. But don¡¯t be too late, and call me when you¡¯re done so I can double-check your evidence disposal and clean up the details. You need to rest a little. We have a big day tomorrow recruiting the new help and this place needs to be presentable.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re inviting him here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want him knowing my home address just yet. This place is disposable for a reason, and if anything goes wrong and we think he¡¯s a threat¡­we¡¯re already in the kill room.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. I¡¯ll get the mop, you can bag the body. Sorry. I got carried away.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I enjoy spending time with you. We just have to manage our time better, and you have to be more open. You should have just told me you needed to kill a few people alone.¡± Mike said, grabbing the bone saw and some gloves.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d understand or approve. I¡¯m not selflessly exterminating evil for God the efficient way, I¡¯m a very disturbed girl enjoying my pastime. I did pray first, if that helps. I¡¯m sober. I really feel like this was necessary.¡±

    ¡°No, I get it. These people deserve to die. I don¡¯t LOVE the fact that you do things by feel, but I recruited a vengeance slasher when I got you, I should have expected it. I¡¯m not trying to fix you, or change you, you¡¯re quite the fascination just as you are, I¡¯m just trying to help you. I accept you, and your disturbing hobbies.¡± He nodded.

    ¡°Is that your way of saying I love you, Tanner?¡± she grinned with a cartoonish cheesy smile, still covered in bloody white face paint.

    ¡°I guess as much as I think I can love anyone anymore. You have your problems, I have mine. I still¡­feel like part of me died with Gwen. Maybe I can¡¯t understand why you have any feelings for half a person. Why you¡¯d want anything to do with an old man capable of half-loving anything.¡± he huffed.

    ¡°Well I think you¡¯re cool. I think you¡¯re brilliant and talented, and I¡¯m still fan-girling out over some of your kills, your methods. And you¡¯re nice to me. Nobody¡¯s nice to me. Broken girl who went from selling ass to slitting throats, and for some reason it felt like a job promotion. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m like this. I¡¯m just glad you decided to keep me.¡± She smirked as he sighed and ruffled her hair, Tanner stepping into the hug and feeling safe as he hugged her back.

    ¡°Yea, I¡¯ll keep you. It¡¯s gonna be my birthday this month, and I never get any gifts. I guess it was just saving up for you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s adorable.¡± She whispered. "I also didn''t get you anything because I didn''t know."

    ¡°Turning 51.¡±

    ¡°Ha ha, you¡¯re an OLD! Sorry. I¡¯m kind of a bitch sometimes. I¡¯m working on that, but it¡¯s a long road, and we need to set realistic expectations on the results. Anyway, let''s hack up this fat fuck and go home.¡±

 Chapter 15: The Interview

    Mike paced the room, looking unsure.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Said tanner. ¡°You¡¯re the one who sent him the message. He¡¯s here, he¡¯s waiting in the waiting room of an abandoned dentist''s office. You might wanna say something before he assumes we''re just gonna kill him.¡±

    ¡°I want him to wait and look around. I want him to know this is a kill site and that he¡¯s on our turf.¡±

    ¡°Why did you call him and tell him you were recruiting if you didn¡¯t trust him?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Because you¡¯d be amazed how few people at the meeting didn¡¯t glow in the scope. It¡¯s gotten worse. Options are limited and something is brewing. I¡¯ve had visions/dreams, nothing that makes sense, but enough to make me start planning options. We need allies.¡± He said, taking a breath and entering the room with confidence. Carl grinned.

    ¡°Oh man am I psyched, I get to work with the dude who did the Lakeshot kill? Fucking A man. This is gonna be a great interview. I don¡¯t know how many guys you plan to talk to, but I¡¯m the guy, I feel it. I got what it takes.¡±

    ¡°So¡­who do you kill and why? What got you started?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°Well the WHY is pretty easy, I think we all get the same rush here. Uh, it¡¯s fun. It''s addictive, hence the Addicts Anonymous. I have always collected guns and been an avid shooter, got into hunting, and did basic training for the army, failed the uh, mental health part and got removed before active duty, real bummer. I was pumped. I dunno, you just shoot targets, you pop some condiment bottles and some small game, the deer hunting isn¡¯t enough, and I really just wanted to hunt the ultimate game, humans. Had a guy break into my trailer and MAN, the jolt you get taking a fucker out is incredible. But then there¡¯s the moral problem with ending someone¡¯s life too soon and there¡¯s not exactly a lot of assholes breaking into my trailer that I can just light up with hollowpoints, and feel no guilt about, so the army thing was a crushing fail, needed another plan. Needed that rush. And then it hit me¡­old people. They lived their life, they¡¯re sick and dying, so it¡¯s not like I¡¯m shortening things that much and nothing great, fucking adult diapers and ensure shakes. I wish someone would take me out when I get there, that¡¯s a favor, a mercy kill.¡±

    ¡°So you assist the elderly with suicide?¡± Mike asked.

    ¡°So they don¡¯t... volunteer. How would you advertise that? I just got a job at an old folk''s home as an assistant, and you can tell which ones are just over it. It¡¯s kinda win win. Technically it¡¯s still illegal, so I¡¯ve¡­¡± he said rolling his eyes and doing dramatic air quotes ¡°Murdered 13 people. Whatever. Give me a break. The first 2 families go on a rampage like oh, someone shot my grandma, what a monster, and it¡¯s like fuck you Bethany, or whatever your name is. You¡¯ve visited one time in 2 years to milk them for inheritance, don¡¯t act like you give a shit, they¡¯re miserable, you¡¯re bangin your boyfriend and watching sitcoms, never think twice about the old gummer. I see em every day, and they just sit and act sad all day, I¡¯m there bringing food they won¡¯t eat, watching them stare coldly at the news with the volume up full blast so they can barely hear it. I¡¯m doing more than the families in most cases. Yea, some of them seem happy and they got families. I don¡¯t kill them. And you can¡¯t exactly sit them down and be like ¡°Hey Edith, I know you can¡¯t hear me and barely remember my name, It¡¯s Carl. So I was wondering if you¡¯d sign a consent form so I can kill you. But I fucking love doing it, you¡¯ll be done with this shit, everyone wins, here¡¯s a legal form. You just know, ya know? It¡¯s in their eyes. I¡¯ve done injections, I¡¯ve done fake robbery¡­I did steal some shit but you have to, or it looks like a murder, so you gotta steal shit for that scenario. Feels gross, I know, but you just roll with it. Donate the stuff to a charity to feel better. I ended up settling on the lethal injections because it seems too risky to use a gun, given my collection and my job proximity. First 2 kills had cops EVERYWHERE. Lethal injections raise zero red flags, these people have nobody, nobody cares. It''s just sad. Never the same rush as the first kill though. That headshot with a silencer, true art. Needle just isn¡¯t the same. It''s just cleaner and safer. I¡¯d be absolutely Jacked to get to do some real heavy wetwork with a gun again.¡±

    ¡°Give me one second.¡± Mike sighed.

    ¡°Yea, awesome talk, Mike. I¡¯ll be here.¡± Carl said as they moved to the other room, matching him through the glass.

    ¡°Mike, this guy is unhinged as shit.¡± Tanner sighed.

    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve actually considered killing him before.¡± Mike yawned.

    ¡°He¡¯s not really doing it for the old folks, he¡¯s doing it for the fun of it, some of them probably don¡¯t wanna die.¡± She whispered.

    ¡°And I¡¯ve seen crime scene reports of his kills, didn¡¯t know they were him until now. A few were botched, anything but quick and painless. BUT we have very few friends. He has guns, he likes us, he trusts us, and we can pin the evidence on him and use that to clear ourselves if things go wrong and he tries shit. I don¡¯t like it either, but things happen. God works in mysterious ways.¡± Mike rationalized. ¡°If he glows in the thermals, we kill him. Simple.¡±

    ¡°Okay good because he gives me the creeps. You ever just talk to someone and KNOW they probably do sex stuff with the dead people¡¯s feet? That kinda vibe?¡± she whispered as Carl leaned back and waved from the other room.

    ¡°Yea, I can sort of see that. He¡¯s not right in the head, but he¡¯s right for the job. We can¡¯t trust anyone else. He¡¯s nuts, war fanatic, weird beliefs, probably a fetish killer, but he knows his guns, and he has the kills and tools.¡± Mike said, going back into the room and sitting down, offering a coffee, as Carl denied. ¡°Carl we may have better offers wanting the apprentice job. We give everyone the chance to answer the same questions¡­why are YOU better than the others in the group. Why are THEY less suited for the job.¡± He asked, trying to trick information out of him. This way we can cross-check dirt on people and see who¡¯s lying and who''s bragging legitimately." Mike bluffed.

    ¡°Look, I know I¡¯m young and not as experienced as some, but 13 kills in 3 years without getting caught, while stockpiling guns and ammo is bold. I make due with what I got, I¡¯m dedicated, I¡¯m flexible. I''m one hell of a long ranged shooter AND close range. Farmer John hasn¡¯t killed in years, he¡¯s long-guns only. That¡¯s no good, we got you on the team already. Pizza boy? He¡¯s a wannabe. 4 hikers with a point blank 9mm? Anyone could do that. Ashley is a pro, but that¡¯s a problem. Russian military or KGB or some shit. He makes his own rules, doesn¡¯t even follow the group rules. He¡¯s carried during a meeting before. Catherine would have his head for that. Unpredictable, solo killer, psychopath. I know everyone, but I know basically dick about this guy. That¡¯s a problem. You don¡¯t want a wild card you can¡¯t trust.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°What about the Walter White looking guy?¡±  Asked Tanner.

    ¡°Harry Layton. Mob enforcer, carries a damn revolver. He¡¯s good, but he¡¯s cocky and a 1-trick pony. He¡¯s more reputation and intimidation than threat. He¡¯s a finisher for the Mayor or something." he said as Mike and Tanner locked eyes and raised eyebrows "Whatever that means, right. What mayor and what is he finishing? Sounds like he has 2 bosses already. Overheard that between him and Catherine. Old Portland is pushing 90, he¡¯s just hoping to die in a cool way. I actually thought about killing him but the rules¡­you don¡¯t kill group members." Carl eye-rolled.

    ¡°What bout fat Fred Durst?¡± Tanner asked. ¡°You two seem to have history. Why do you hate FatDurst so much?"

    ¡°Tyler Hurte, he¡¯s a joke. He killed one guy in a spray and pray drive-by, and now he thinks he¡¯s Al Capone or some rapper. You want subwoofers and Homie Hi-point rolling around in gold rims doing work for you? Fuck that. You could hire some street rando with more serious potential.¡±

    ¡°Captain Ken Doll looked pretty serious.¡± Tanner muttered to Mike.

    ¡°Yea he is, but you already got a cutter¡­you. Honestly, you could do his job. Blondie is more torture specialist than hitman, if you want information out of someone or to make them suffer, recruit Blondie. He¡¯ll do anything for money, but that means no loyalty. He''s good with a torture room, but as far as guns, gear, and versatility. I¡¯m still in the lead. I could shoot circles around that guy.¡±

    ¡°Can you shoot circles around Deacon?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You want the truth? No. Nobody can. If you want the best killer in the group, it¡¯s Deacon. Ex special ops. Versatile, better shot than me, don¡¯t even suggest I take him on hand to hand, just shoot me. He¡¯s a machine. The problem is that he¡¯s also Catherine¡¯s personal bitch, and I¡¯m here because I¡¯m tired of her acting like queen bee and telling us we can¡¯t operate our own shit. It¡¯s pretty clear you guys don¡¯t answer to her, but Deacon does. So you want the best guy for the position, he¡¯s taken already and loyal to her. You want the second-best guy who won''t go wild card and get you killed being stupid and rogue? I¡¯m here. I¡¯m fed up with Catherine, the group is bullshit, let¡¯s go do some damage.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Or I¡¯m just leaving the group anyway, moving somewhere and starting over. There¡¯s gotta be some merchant group out there where I can get some action. If you¡¯re about to start a war, I¡¯m in, and I wanna be on this side of the line. Otherwise, I¡¯m alone and good as dead in the middle. I sure as hell am not siding with Cathy, and I¡¯m not gonna last long as a one-man army.¡±

    They stepped outside the room to deliberate again. Mike looking conflicted.

    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, mister Holyman?¡± whispered Tanner.

    ¡°He knows more of them than I do. He probably knows more about us than we think. But he¡¯s a thrill seeker.¡±

    ¡°So Am I. Mike, it took me a while to believe in your divine plan theory, and I was just cute potential until you gave me a chance. Do we have better options? Be honest with me, who else DIDN¡¯T glow in the thermals scope?¡± she asked as he sighed sadly.

    ¡°90 year old Portland and Tyler Durst. That¡¯s it. Everyone else except Carl lit up like a road flair. The group has always been corrupt, but it¡¯s always been more human than nightlights. I think Catherine has been corrupting or killing the ones with a moral code. She¡¯s either forming an army or eliminating the possibility of a rival faction. And we have Detective Gina Garrett on her payroll. So at least some of the cops work for her. No telling how many.¡±

    ¡°Shit. Did Detective Baker glow in your scope?¡± She asked, fingers crossed.

    ¡°If he did, I would have taken him out by now. I have a rule I follow by faith. If Detective Baker wants to get himself killed, that¡¯s not my problem but I wont kill him if he isn¡¯t evil unless he forces my hand. It may not be too late for him to get out, let go. He¡¯s not evil, he¡¯s a cop doing his job, which is rare these days. Unfortunately, he¡¯s decided to clean his act up and hunt me. he''s obsessive and persistent. If he goes after you or gets in the crossfire, I¡¯ll have to take him out, but I won¡¯t actively hunt a man doing his duty, just because we have different career choices that conflict. If God wants him eliminated, there are plenty of killers out there in the busy street where he¡¯s playing.¡±

    ¡°So Carl is our only ally? A stereotypical white male serial-killer-looking serial killer, who mostly kills elderly people with lethal injections and has enough guns to draw more attention than his Unibomber look? That¡¯s our best guy?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Either that or a drive-by gang shooter who probably doesn¡¯t know the sights are on the top of the gun rather than the side. You wanna go out for a recruitment date with Tyler and see if there¡¯s more to him than we think?¡±

    ¡°Not really. But I wanna go back to the meeting once more.¡± She said firmly.

    ¡°Too dangerous.¡± Mike said shaking his head.

    ¡°There¡¯s gotta be other options. Maybe Carl doesn¡¯t know as much as he thinks he does. Maybe Deacon isn¡¯t as loyal to Catherine, and we can use him temporarily, Maybe he can be bought, and we can turn on him after. Maybe Tyler has a gang of friends, maybe having a whole gang on our side is worth dealing with one dumbass for a while. Who has more guns¡­one gun nut or a whole gang?¡±

    ¡°Probably the one gun nut. Gangs don¡¯t buy legally, that¡¯s why gun laws limiting sales don''t work. They get a lot of second-hand filed-down garbage to distribute out to a lot of thugs that don¡¯t follow orders. Carl has no criminal record, and he makes good money, I bet most of that goes into the collection.¡±

    ¡°Just let me go back to the group and talk to some people. I feel like God was leading me there for something, and it doesn¡¯t feel finished. I felt it. There¡¯s someone else there we need, I just don¡¯t know who. And if they glow in the dark, so what? We hire a sinner to take down the devil herself, and then you can deal with him alone like you do best. Have faith in me. Trust me, there¡¯s someone else of interest.¡± She insisted.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right. We¡¯ll take Carl in the meantime, next meeting, you can follow your heart and the voice, but be careful. Not every voice is the right one. You gotta be clear-headed and listening for the right one.¡±

    ¡°Mike I¡¯m sober, no drugs, no booze.¡± She sighed.

    ¡°Sometimes it takes a while to hear him, even once you stopped. Just be careful.¡± He said, returning to the other room. ¡°Carl, good news. You got the job. We weighed our options, and you are by far the clear choice. Welcome to the opposition.¡± Mike said, offering a hand.

    ¡°Nice. I¡¯m stoked to hear it, I really did not wanna move out of state again. The red-tape on the stash is a nightmare. Hey, you guys wanna check out the range? I got a wicked setup in the hills I think you¡¯ll love. If you weren¡¯t sure about this, you will be. This is gonna be great.¡± He smiled, sticking out a hand to shake and getting it from Mike. ¡°Also, are you two a thing, or¡­¡±

    ¡°Kinda. It¡¯s complicated.¡± Muttered Tanner.

    ¡°It¡¯s less complicated, and more that the details aren¡¯t anyone¡¯s business.¡± Mike added.

    ¡°Just checking, I don¡¯t wanna step on the bosses toes the first day, ya know. Loud and clear message, chief.¡± He nodded. ¡°But I do have one request. If I¡¯m sharing the collection, I want to know what the Lakeshot Shooter has hidden behind the fake wall. I know you got one. Mile and a half headshot. That¡¯s insane. I have my theories, don¡¯t spoil it yet. I wanna see the big reveal.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Just don¡¯t get disappointed if the setup is a bit simpler than you hoped for.¡±

    ¡°Oh man, this is exciting, I¡¯ll bring a few 6 packs of beers and a bunch of steaks.¡±

    ¡°Neither of us drink.¡± Mike calmly said.

    ¡°One 6-pack and a bunch of steaks. Got it.¡± he nodded.

 Chapter 16: Old Portland

    The truck rolled up to a remote wooded area, bits of trash randomly dotting the dirt road up the hill to a series of 3 rather old trailers. Two angled towards each other, nearly touching at the end and connected from door to door by a tin roofed wooden deck.

    ¡°Are we in the right place?¡± Asked Mike.

    ¡°I dunno, I don¡¯t wanna judge, but this looks kinda shi-oh, no there¡¯s Carl. It¡¯s the right place.¡± She sighed. They stepped out and were greeted by a beanie wearing redneck in khaki shorts and an American flag shirt, holding a beer and strapped with 2 rather large handguns.

    ¡°Hey, come on in. Grab a beverage, we got snacks on the table, careful not to grab the syringe. It¡¯s not what you think, it¡¯s for killing people. Animal tranquilizers. You give someone a shot of this, and they¡¯re out cold. Mix it with this shit, prescription beta blockers, they stop breathing in their sleep. Cops can find it in a tox screen if they know what to look for, but they don¡¯t do a full autopsy for every old far that dies at home in their sleep, especially if there are no signs of break-in or theft.¡±

    ¡°So it looks like you¡­got a fairly simple setup here.¡± Tanner said, trying to sound polite.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t let the trailer fool you, I have a pretty normal home across the deck in the other trailer. Living room, Gamer PC for FPS shit, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, tinkering room, typical bachelor pad. This over here is the gun trailer. It¡¯s just weaponry. Trailer armory, if you will. Patriotic American guns on this side, historical and Russian over here. I got AKs and ARs in just about every caliber, 5.56, 5.7, 7.62, 9mil, 300 and 8.6 blackout, 308, 12 gauge. These are some of my favorites, you got the ol 54R chambered Russian Dragunov sniper rifle, and the Fostech 12 gauge. Full auto converted, integrally suppressed 8 inch barrel, I had it gold blinged. It¡¯s not real gold, obviously, anodized steel, but I like 2 kinds of guns. Old classic historical relics that tell a story, scratched and worn in, and modern blinged out spacegun lookin shit with all the bells and whistles. Silencer threaded, laser, infrared, magnification, red dot, flashlight, flip-down iron sights, usually a graphic or color scheme. The fostech just looks like a Gucci¡¯d-out AK47 shotgun from a doom game or something. It¡¯s actually the cure for depression, it just doesn¡¯t come in a 24 hour time release, it comes in short bursts of 5-17 round mags.¡±

    ¡°Interesting collection.¡± Mike nodded.

    ¡°So, what kinda arsenal rooms you got? I bet you got a room just for a thousand yard plus gear, at least one belt fed, I know you got the big 50. I can''t decide if you got like 8 guns woth 20 grand each, or a 50-60 gun collection in every flavor.¡±

    ¡°No, no big collection, no belt fed machine guns, no wall of sniper rifles. Just the 50, the MP5 which is new, recently stolen, little 22 rifle, and Rachel here.¡± Mike smiled, admiring the auto shotgun. Carl blinked a few times with a bewildered look frozen on his face.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? Seriously? 4 guns, and one of them is a 22?¡±

    ¡°That one is more of a wall display for my scope. I don¡¯t need anything else. My philosophy is to not raise suspicion. You kill with a syringe, so a gun collection is ironically not a red flag, more of a red herring, or a red white and blue flag. I kill mostly with guns, so owning a wall of them and a paper trail looks rather telling, but a 22 squirrel plinker and a personal carry 45 after my history, seems just enough. I can hide away a 50 and a MP5 fairly easily. Can¡¯t exactly roll a gun arsenal trailer under the couch if the police knock. I do occasionally pick up a gun from a kill, use it for another kill, and leave the weapon to fuck with forensics and lead police in circles. To be honest, one of the reasons we found you interesting was that you had an arsenal. Catherine is about to start a war and I¡¯m already on her shit list. We could use everyone we can with any moral heart left. How many guys in the group do you think would flip on her if they thought they had a chance?¡±

    ¡°None.¡± He said, looking worried. ¡°Me obviously, but I don¡¯t wanna take her head on, and I think Old Portland would make a stand and then get shot for it. So you¡¯re basically looking at the potential resistance here. And I don¡¯t wanna die going up against 50 people, serial killers, hit men, bodyguards, merchants for hire, a couple of random thugs and spray-n-pray junkies. I was hoping you had some guys, am I not joining the team here and supplying the gear for everyone?¡±

    ¡°This is everyone.¡± Tanner shrugged.

    ¡°Oh fuck me in the balls. 2 people. Yea, you guys are screwed. I won¡¯t kill you guys, but I don¡¯t wanna back you up if this is the whole army. I may just stick this whole war out and say a little prayer for you two when it¡¯s over. This makes no sense. You¡¯re Lakeshot, she¡¯s the Mudergeisha, what happened to the others? The Back seat driver, the Molotov brothers, the bodybag killer? Who took out the cop? I heard the cop got taken out by like 3 people in some gang. Red Pandas or some shit.¡±

    ¡°Crimson Kings. And no. Just me.¡± Mike said. ¡°Tanner distracted him, I took the kill. Molotov brothers was just me, backseat driver, all 4 kills were me.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so you¡¯re just every unsolved case none of us took?¡± Carl asked.

    ¡°Four dead in the woods, gang shooting, 45 caliber, internet called it the ghost sharpshooter case. That¡¯s where I got the MP5.¡±

    ¡°Is he joking because I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s joking.¡± Carl said, looking amazed.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s got like 80 kills now. You see him in action, and you start to believe the whole divine protection thing for real. It sounds insane¡­and then you see some insane shit and start to think it¡¯s not.¡± she shrugged.

    ¡°So this whole priest thing is not a bit, you really think you¡¯re god¡¯s hitman? Damn. That¡¯s kinda cold, but if half those hits were really you, I¡¯ll keep an open mind on the god thing. I tried that 1.4 mile shot with my AR50. I emptied a whole box of quality ammo at a target and didn¡¯t scratch it. A first try headshot? I¡¯m good, but that shot is impossible.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. With God, all things are possible. I assure you, without his help, I can''t make a shot that far either.¡± He smirked on technicality.

    ¡°IN the face. A headshot at a grand is bold, man. You just did that on faith and guessing?¡±

    ¡°No guessing involved. I made the round myself, I knew the drop, I chose my spot and I planned it to the letter, I knew it wasn¡¯t a matter of chance, the bullet would land, and it did.¡±

    ¡°Be honest. Look me in the eyes and be dead honest. You made a bunch of shots and just landed the last one by chance, forgot one of the brass shells so they just found the one. You didn¡¯t just do that first try.¡± He smirked excitedly.

    ¡°I only brought one round. I left the brass for them to find it so they would know what they were dealing with. Obviously, I had my sidearm and a full magazine in case I needed to improvise on the way back.¡±

    ¡°HOLY SHIT, you¡¯re not kidding. You brought one bullet and left the brass as a flex? That is unreal. One round, no hesitation, through the head from a different frigging area code, MAN that¡¯s confident.¡± He said, looking like he was gonna ask for his autograph.

    ¡°Well Those bullets are hard to make, and God told me to make one. I didn¡¯t want to show weak faith by taking the time to make another backup round.¡±

    ¡°Man that¡¯s wicked. I would love to learn your shit and God knows¡­sorry for the expression, that I¡¯d love to do some real shooting at human flesh but if this is the whole team going up against Catherine, I gotta decline. You need guns, take your pick, but I don¡¯t have the faith you do and God probably doesn¡¯t value me enough to ensure my life like he does yours, if that¡¯s how it works. You may be the best and bulletproof, but that doesn¡¯t necessarily keep my ass from getting killed, no offense.¡±

    ¡°None taken. You¡¯ve helped out already." Mike nodded.

    ¡°Take the Fostech, that thing¡¯s a beast. Never jams, recoil is shockingly manageable even with slugs. Open offer.¡±

    ¡°I think I like my own collection. I know my own guns better than something new, and I am a creature of repetition and habit. But I also know Catherine better than most, and she has been picking off those not loyal to her slowly but surely, and the group is growing darker and darker. I highly suggest you leave town if you don¡¯t want to join me. God wants me here, and I have work to do. When he wants me to take her out, he¡¯ll tell me. But it¡¯s not time yet.¡±

    ¡°Yea, best of luck, I might take that advice to bail, but I got a few things to do before I do. Gotta visit an old friend and say goodbye, gotta pack up a few toys and take a few days to make an excuse for work in case I come back. I like my job.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Hey Mike, You still want me to do recon at the meeting tonight?¡± Tanner asked.

    ¡°If you¡¯re okay with it. I have ammo to make.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I can just bum a ride with Carl, if that¡¯s okay? Hang out here and see the toys a little.¡± She insisted. ¡°Remember, we can¡¯t only focus on work ALL the time.¡±

    ¡°I trust you, can I trust Carl?¡± he asked, eyeing him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get her there safe and sound. That¡¯s a promise.¡± He nodded. ¡°I can''t have your back in a war zone, but Tanner is safe with me getting to a meeting, There¡¯s an unwritten rule about the meetings anyway.¡±

    ¡°Catherine makes her own rules, and she thinks she is above them herself. Be careful.¡± Mike said hesitantly, heading to the truck.

    ¡°Mike.¡± Tanner yelled. ¡°If we¡¯re gonna do something stupid, I may wanna go have some alone time after the meeting. So I may be late, I¡¯ll call you if it¡¯s gonna run past midnight, and I¡¯ll take the van.¡± She insisted. He nodded in agreement and rolled down the drive as Carl watched in awe and looked over at Tanner.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust me. He must trust you a lot.¡± He muttered.

    ¡°He¡¯s working on that. Actually, I may need your help with something later, are you free tonight after the meeting?¡± Tanner asked Carl.

    ¡°Yea, probably. What kinda help?¡±

    ¡°Body disposal. I gotta do this alone, but I¡¯ll call you after. It would mean a lot. Just tell Mike we hung out after the meeting and got coffee, lost track of time. He¡¯s not super thrilled with my off-script recreation.¡±

    ¡°Off the records. I get it. I¡¯ll be around. Feel free to explore the gun trailer, anything you wanna try out, I got ammo for. I got about an hour to burn before running a persona errand myself.¡± He nodded. She grinned and made her way into the arsenal to pick out what she wanted to try out. As the door closed he casually walked further away and dialed his phone, looking slightly sad about it. ¡°Yea. It¡¯s Carl. I may have a possible shot tonight, we¡¯re hanging out after the meeting, she wants some alone time, MAYBE without the preacher for something. Wasn¡¯t very clear when or for what, I¡¯ll let you know if she¡¯s alone. Yea, he¡¯s definitely got eyes on the meetings. He¡¯s the real deal, no way he¡¯s letting her in there without a 50 cal aimed at the parking lot. That¡¯s a killbox if he goes Rambo on the church. He may even have it mapped out. Talk to you when I have more information, Cathy.¡± Carl sighed. He took a depressingly long breath and regretted his decisions as he made his way back inside, watching her drool over the weaponry and looking for his needle.

    ¡°The fuck did I leave that thing?¡± he sighed, moving his beer and just grabbing a fresh one from the fridge and a fresh clip of 9mm Makarov, laying it on the table next to his backpack and his Skorpion. He picked up his phone again. ¡°Hey, yea it¡¯s me buddy. Listen, um. Some shit might be going down and I may have to leave town for a few days. Mind if I drop by and chat in case¡­you know. Things go sideways. Yea, I got a girl over, but I¡¯ll be there in about an hour. Oh you better have some stories to tell. Yea, I¡¯ll bring a 6 pack. It¡¯ll be cool. Your place. See you there.¡± He said hanging up.

    ¡°Someone from the group?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Old Portland. Hell of a guy. He needs a heads-up if this might get nasty, and we can trust him. He¡¯s a good guy. Old war vet, full of stories. You know I¡¯ve been shooting the shit with him for like 6 months, heard about Vietnam and his wife, and all kinds of shit. Don¡¯t know his real name. Nobody does. Just old Portland. Getting old sucks, Tanner. Don¡¯t ever do it. Live your life and die just before you reach old age, while you still got some spark left. That retirement is the thing that kills your soul. He was a damn war hero, guy crawled through dark tunnels with a knife in his teeth and no gun in the muddy water in those tunnels and killed like 40 Vietcong, pitch black silence, slit their throat, moved on. That takes some guts. Now he just watches MASH reruns and goes to group. It¡¯s really sad. He was the OG hitman when he got back for decades, and then he just... got too old." he sighed as Tanner thought about Mike''s graying hair. "No enemies left, killed them all. Settled down alone. Breaks my heart. He should have died in a blaze of glory and bullets like a badass, fuckin John Dillinger style standoff. Little late now.¡± Carl shook his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s sweet that you visit him.¡± She smiled. You¡¯re a decent guy, Carl. Little weird, but we all are in this neck of the woods.¡±

    ¡°No I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not that great.¡± He smiled sadly.

    Old Portland sat in his living room, taking his insulin and covering with a blanket, as he heard a knock on the door.

    ¡°It¡¯s unlocked.¡± He hollered, wispy white hair tucked under gold rimmed glasses with thick coke bottle lenses, staring at the door. He smiled when Carl walked in and shut the door, locking it.

    ¡°You know you should keep that door locked. Someone could sneak up¡­¡± he said, looking down as Portland moved the blanket and slowly placed the sawed off shotgun down.

    ¡°You were saying? Someone could sneak in here and get shot trying to rob me?¡± he chuckled. Looking back at the little old TV, military green and almost as thick as it was wide, at a whopping 20 inches or so, faded gray picture playing black and white reruns.

    ¡°Shit, you never disappoint, old timer. Got your favorite beer, a cigar. You got any old war stories you haven¡¯t told yet, gramps?¡± he asked, sitting down and cracking one open for him, and one for himself.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve heard them all at least once. I heard you say you were with a lady today. I hope that goes well.

    ¡°Yea me too, but honestly I don¡¯t have a good feeling about it. You ever think something you¡¯re doing might be a mistake and you should just bail and take off early?¡±

    ¡°Pussying out before the big fight? Damnit Carl, if you¡¯re gonna get killed, you might as well go for it. Die feeling proud of yourself at least.¡± Portland gruffed.

    ¡°That¡¯s kinda the problem. She¡¯s a nice girl and I got a shot with her, but she¡¯s claimed. Someone¡¯s gonna get hurt. Doesn¡¯t feel right.¡± Carl said cryptically.

    ¡°Well, then don¡¯t do it. Simple as that, kid. You know what¡¯s right and what¡¯s not. Why are you asking me what to do? Do what you think you need to, if you¡¯re not sure, don¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Yea, I know what I gotta do. I just don¡¯t want to.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re here to kill me, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked, casually taking a swig, as Carl looked perplexed.

    ¡°What on Earth makes you think that?¡± he asked

    ¡°That¡¯s sort of your style, isn¡¯t it? You got a suppressor on your Scorpion, you never carry suppressed.¡± He noted. ¡°I can see the outline in your coat.¡±

    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you shoot me when you had the shotgun. I thought the point of the shotgun was for people coming to get your ass.¡± Carl muttered.

    ¡°No, the shotgun is for people breaking in to steal my stuff, and in case Catherine walked in that door instead of you. I wouldn¡¯t mind giving her a barrel of buckshot. I know they¡¯re going after the preacher soon. You don¡¯t have it in you to take her side, and she knows I don¡¯t give a tinker¡¯s damn about her plans. So I know either she¡¯s coming for me with a choice, or she will be sending someone.¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t send me. I just came here on my own to say goodbye because I¡¯m not sticking around for this fight, and I like you old timer. So either I¡¯m leaving you and someone else is gonna show up at that door, or¡­we can do this on your terms. She¡¯s a real nasty bitch to people she doesn¡¯t like. Probably threaten you, torture you. That¡¯s just not right to go down that way. You¡¯ve been through too much to go down like that. So enjoy your cigar and your beer, take your time. How do you wanna go? I can leave you the needle, I can do it myself, I can just say goodbye, and let you stand your ground with the shotgun¡­or I can put one in your head. Your call.¡± Carl said.

    ¡°Getting tortured or bleeding out on the floor shooting back at some prick following her orders doesn¡¯t sit well with me, and I doubt she has the balls to show up herself, so the shotgun won¡¯t get to do its job. You should do it. However, you think is best.¡± He smiled, finishing his beer and kicking back.

    ¡°Quick and cold. Do you have a preference for an open casket or a closed one? Any family that would want to see you one last time?¡± Carl asked.

    ¡°No, you know better than most that nobody comes here anymore. They never do when you get old. The nurse that does my medication and cleans once a week, and you, are about it as far as visitation. Back of the head is fine.¡± He nodded. Carl stood up slowly, extending a hand to shake and giving him a firm one and a respectful nod.

    ¡°Gonna miss you, Portland. Do I get to know your name first?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s no fun. Spoils the mystery and makes me just another old fart you sent to the gates when they had nothing left. I¡¯m selfish, I wanna be remembered and mysterious. Don¡¯t forget that knife you always stared at from Nam. That¡¯s yours when you go. Otherwise, just go for it.¡± he smirked, looking ready.

    ¡°Thanks, old man. Maybe some day this thing will end up finding its way into Catherine¡¯s back.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t even try it. You¡¯ll get killed getting that close. Just do what you gotta do and live your life. Let the war do its thing and claim who it wants. You do good work. Keep doing it.¡± Portland said, as a sudden jolt slumped him over the chair, and Carl held up the smoking suppressor and grabbed the old K-bar knife from the table.

    ¡°See you there one day.¡± He said sadly. Putting 2 more into his chest just to be sure he didn¡¯t suffer. He placed the blanket over him and holstered the pistol, he poured a shot from an old bottle and took a sip, placing the remaining glass in Portland''s¡¯s hand, spilling it on the blanket and placing the smoldering cigar down. He stood outside waiting for the flicker of flames to be sure, heading out as the fire began to grow visible in the kitchen window. He calmly drove down the road, windows down and silent, looking both proud and ashamed. He held the phone up to his ear and hung his head for a moment.

    ¡°Yea, I went to see Portland. I tried to convince him to pick the right side on this, but I don¡¯t think he was ever going to do that. He was a stubborn old man to the end. No it was no trouble really. Just an old man, my business as usual. Sending someone else would have been a mistake, he had a shotgun ready for the door, Cathy. Anyone else would have gotten a dick full of buckshot on the way in. I gotta prove I can hang. I set the place on fire, one shot to the lower back so he can¡¯t crawl out. He got the message, the last thing he experienced was a fuck you from Catherine and a crippling round before the place went up. He suffered, like you wanted. No, I¡¯m thrilled to get my hands dirty for once. Lethal injection gets boring. I had a good kill. The girl is not a problem, just let me make sure the preacher isn¡¯t there. He¡¯s above my pay grade, I¡¯m not fucking with the preacher. You want him, that¡¯s your problem. I can handle an old man and a girl with a knife. That man is a boss fight I¡¯m not geared up for. Don¡¯t underestimate him. He¡¯s got people and connections I can¡¯t seem to get information on. I don¡¯t know, fucking, 6 guys, 30? How do I know? He won¡¯t give names, just cryptic little bible verses and snippits of stories. He¡¯s not alone, though. You may wanna hold back a while, and if I think he¡¯s on me, I¡¯m gonna have to disappear. You know my safehouse location, call before knocking. Anyway, Tanner shouldn¡¯t be an issue. We¡¯re doing a body dump tonight, I¡¯ll handle it then. I made my choice; I just proved that if you got the fire department radio tapped. See you at the meeting." he said, hanging up. "Or see you in hell, either way."

 Chapter 17: Taken

    Tanner stood shivering outside the meeting church as cars rolled away, her presence undetected and silent as she flipped her hood up and walked briskly through the darkness.

    ¡°There you are, you son of a bitch. You should have stayed home.¡± She said to herself, palming the syringe of tranquilizer with a discreet little hop, she struck like a snake in the night, wrestling her target to the ground and dragging him into the brush where she had the wheeled dolly from Mike¡¯s plumbing van, good and ready.

    Damien woke in the gray room of the dentist¡¯s office, ziptied hands and feet to the moveable dentist chair.

    ¡°What is this?¡± he asked as a pale white face appeared from the shadows, red and black geisha themed, with the additional skull details and a dead solemn look on Tanner¡¯s face.

    ¡°Damien Baker, you have made mistakes.¡± she said without her usual joyful excitement and background mood music.

    ¡°Tanner, I don¡¯t understand, what is this, blackmail, interrogation?¡±

    ¡°You know what this is, Damien. You didn¡¯t leave me much choice." She said, flipping out her freshly re-sharpened Stabby friend.

    ¡°The fuck is this outfit, you trying to scare me off, girl I already forgot about you and moved on to bigger problems that a hooker with a few counts of rapist murder. I don¡¯t care about that, I¡¯m not after you. There¡¯s a much bigger problem than you understand.¡±

    ¡°Why were you at the meetings? You¡¯re after the preacher, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not following you either; I don¡¯t care about your shit. I got big time hit men, and I¡¯m so close to cracking this case wide open. You think I give a damn about you and your friend? This is the organization I¡¯ve been after for years. The Molotov brothers killings, the dead officers, the magnesium killer, the back seat driver, Lakeshot, they could all be part of this one group and that¡¯s all I care about. I swear. One old killer is something I can let go, one hooker, you two could just retire and I''d never say a word. I want the group.¡±

    ¡°You see, that¡¯s the problem. I''ve tried to tell you. They¡¯re all Preacher Mike. Every one you listed off. You¡¯re chasing one man, and he¡¯s MY man. You could have just left after he warned you, but you had to go after your group of killers.¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand, This AA group is mostly assassins and serial killers. I have 21 different cases nobody believes are even connected, and they¡¯re all part of the damn church meeting, you¡¯re in over your head.¡± he warned.

    ¡°No, Damien, YOU are. You really never made the connection to the unsolved hitman cases?¡± she said holding up Rachel, unscrewing the barrel insert and placing it down next to the others on the dentist tool tray, placing a magnesium round on his chest as he slumped back and looked defeated. "Honey, they''re almost all just Mike. Most of those kills, the ones you know were deserved that you''ve obsessed over. All Mike. Every one of them he did alone. He really IS Lakeshot. I''ve seen the gun he used and the tungsten bullets. You barked up the wrong tree." she sighed.

    ¡°Fuck. You¡¯re not gonna let me leave here alive, are you?¡± he asked, trying to stay strong and collected, and assess the situation.

    ¡°I can''t let you arrest my Mike. Now you finally meet the Murder geisha, or as you INSIST on calling it...¡± she said rolling her eyes. ¡°The Decatur Decapitator¡± she said mockingly. ¡°Like really? That¡¯s just lame. I only cut the second guy¡¯s head off. One guy. I worked hard on this persona, the whole avenging lady of the night with weeb themed weaponry, and it takes a long time to do this makeup. Nobody even mentions that in the papers. Frankly, I¡¯m insulted you never believed it was me alone. You never thought I had the balls to kill without hand-holding, let alone multiples. And you underestimated Mike... But I love him, and half the killers you INSIST on taking down, are him. He¡¯s a good guy, he''s doing the cop¡¯s jobs for them, cleaning up the real evil fuckers, and you can¡¯t let a cold case stay cold, you just keep showing up. You are forcing him to defend himself and I know Mike, he¡¯ll feel guilty and horrible about killing you, but he will because you¡¯re after me too. Someone has to stop you and I don¡¯t want a good man to have to lose sleep because he killed what he says is just a good cop doing his job in the wrong place at the wrong time... because of me. So I¡¯m taking care of it myself. Don¡¯t act like you didn¡¯t use me to get to him before. Blackmailing a girl over murder charges to bring in a preacher just doing HIS job.¡±

    ¡°I swear. I¡¯m out. I¡¯ll quit my job, I¡¯ll move out of state, I¡¯ll drop all of this.¡± He pleaded.

    ¡°Not good enough. I know you better than Mike does. You tamper with evidence, you lie, you cheat to get your way. Your own wife can''t even trust your word. I can¡¯t trust your silence and that you WON¡¯T talk, unless you just¡­CAN¡¯T talk. Damien, you did this to yourself. We have a higher purpose here, he believes in something you don¡¯t, and that¡¯s what is right for the world, despite the broken laws and the bullshit rules the cops enforce when they want. He gets his orders from something bigger than us. And he¡¯s Mine. I claimed him, I¡¯ll die or kill for him, and luckily it¡¯s the second one I¡¯m good at. Now normally I really enjoy this part, the mind-fuckery before the cutting starts telling you your sins and why you deserve to die for what sick evil you¡¯ve done to make yourself my prey, preying on whoever you have, but this time just sucks for everyone because you¡¯re not really evil. This isn¡¯t righteous and fun, it¡¯s just... necessary. A lesser of two evils. His life or yours. The choice is simple, so you can be relieved I won¡¯t be torturing you like the others. You know what, you get a choice, Bucky. Stabby-stabs, gun shot to the head, or lethal injection?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡± He said, sighing in defeat. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­tell you how to kill me.¡± He said, welling up sadly. ¡°The fucked up part is I can¡¯t decide if I feel worse for my wife or Gina, which one this will devastate more.¡±

    ¡°Oh the wife, I''m sure. I don¡¯t know her, but I assume she loved you at some point and still might have some feelings left. Gina sold you out to the group. They were gonna kill you anyway. I¡¯m doing you a favor. Some of those assholes are really off in the head. Blondie skins people alive, you know the quiet Russian guy is into some dark kink shit.¡±

    ¡°Says the girl who slashes and murdered 6 people.¡± He chuckled, a tear running down his face.

    ¡°Rapists and kiddie-diddlers, dude. They deserved the wrath of Stabby. Don¡¯t act like I just killed random hobos and shoplifters. These people should have been in prison for life, but they either got let go by the system as informants, or given a few years and released on good behavior. You¡¯re the first person with a soul, I¡¯m gonna have to kill. And you just left me no better choice. Lethal injection, broken heart, or firing squad, seriously, I don¡¯t have all day, I gotta dispose of your body and make it look like a robbery. You¡¯re not a lightweight person, Dead people are hard to move. Pokey-poke, sleepie-time or instant domesplat?¡± come on, chop-chop. Don¡¯t make me roll dice.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± He muttered, tugging on the zipties one last time.

    ¡°Any last words?¡± she asked, cocking the HK and pointing the silencer at his face.

    ¡°Can¡¯t tell my wife I¡¯m sorry and I miss her. Not gonna let me die on my feet like a man. I guess I¡¯m just sorry. I¡¯m sorry you got caught up in everything, and I¡¯m sorry I used you to get to Mike. I¡¯m sorry for whatever childhood lead you to this kind of life, because you could have been something better. Shoot me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m kinda sorry, too.¡± She sighed, pulling the trigger and silencing him with a flash and a light pop. ¡°But shit happens and we move on. You fucked with my Mikey. That¡¯s your choice, not mine. Bye Damien.¡± She yawned almost casually. ¡°God, this was just no fun at all. I don¡¯t even really wanna stab you.¡±

    The plastic lawn bag flopped down near the water¡¯s edge as tanner sighed and brushed her hands off.

    ¡°Thanks for the help.¡± She said, smiling sadly up at Carl, who was sipping some coffee. ¡°I didn¡¯t wanna ask Mike, but body disposal isn¡¯t really my thing. I like to leave a crime scene with a message to it. This one has to look like a mugging gone wrong or something. Don¡¯t tell Mike.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t, it¡¯s chill. Gutsy move though, taking a cop, alone. Even if he was on your ass, that¡¯s hardcore. A 32 to the head, 4 shots down, neck shoulder, chest. Good pattern though. Looks like a panic mag dump instead of a pro headshot. Gloves, hair up, good work. We¡¯ll just leave him here.¡±

    ¡°Not used to body disposal either hu? You look nervous or just grossed out. I figured you¡¯d be more used to it.¡± she said, growing suspicious.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. I just hate the next part. Feel really gross about it.¡± he said, drawing his VZ68 Skorpion from his back holster and pointing it at her.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± she nervously giggled. ¡°Don¡¯t point that at me. That¡¯s not funny. That¡¯s a real gun.¡±

    ¡°I know. And just like you, I have to do something I don¡¯t wanna do, but shit happens. I¡¯m supposed to take you in alive, bring you to Catherine¡¯s warehouse as bait for the preacher. She wants him alive, but she knows none of us have the balls to bring him in breathing, so¡­you¡¯re the bait.¡± Carl shrugged.

    ¡°Carl, you better be joking right now. Say It''s a prank, bro. Gun''s not loaded, Serial killer prank, lol.¡± she glared angrily.

    ¡°Dead serious. They¡¯re waiting for me to confirm I have you restrained and in custody. The thing is, I can¡¯t do it. I kill people who are suffering and dying anyway, That¡¯s different. This is fucked up and wrong. They¡¯re gonna torture and kill you both, just because he¡¯s a threat to her, and she can¡¯t face him herself. Some chicken shit stuff. Really, just stabbing someone in the back for no reason. Then again, if I refuse to do it, they¡¯re gonna hunt me down and kill me. So that sucks for me.¡± he explained. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°So you¡¯re gonna try and take me alive, shoot me in the leg or expect me to just go willingly?¡± she asked, teeth gnashed with rage and betrayal.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m gonna give you a fair warning and tell you to unload that HK so you don¡¯t shoot me. Clear the gun, and then when you''re disarmed, and you can¡¯t put one in my back, I¡¯m gonna turn it, and you¡¯re gonna get the hell out of here. I¡¯m gonna dose myself with the tranquilizer, light dose, lock the van, and when I wake up I¡¯m gonna tell them you did it and got away. Then I¡¯m getting the hell out of the state and finding a new place to live because they may not believe me, or just kill me for doing a bad job. I¡¯m not getting killed over this, but I¡¯m not bringing you in to get tortured and killed. So you should really move fast, you¡¯ll be on foot and unarmed. They will go after you.¡± He said, taking out his little boot pistol. ¡°Now toss the magazine my way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me to escape and defend myself with an unloaded gun?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Hey, you can still bluff with it if they don¡¯t know it¡¯s unloaded. You¡¯re not stopping them with a handgun anyway if they catch you, and if you shoot me for this, I¡¯m the dipshit for trusting you. Again, I¡¯m not getting killed for you, I¡¯m just giving you a chance to run and survive. We¡¯re all probably fucked here. Don¡¯t freak out¡­¡± he said, firing 2 shots into the tree next to her. ¡°Now it looks like I tried to shoot you at least. Run bitch. Run your ass off and get to Mike before they get to you. I¡¯m out of this shitshow.¡± He said waving the gun to motivate her.

    ¡°I guess, thank you?¡± she pondered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t, just run.¡± He sighed as she turned and took off, expecting a bullet in the back at any moment as Carl stood there and popped a fresh piece of gum, still pointing the 9mm at her as she escaped. He pushed the body off the side of the bank and into the river, getting out the syringe. He locked the door to the van and fell backwards, trying to decide what angle to best stick himself, going for the left shoulder.

    Catherine woke up to the sound of her phone going off. She checked the number and sighed with annoyance.

    ¡°This better be important.¡± She said as Carl huffed, out of breath.

    ¡°I fucked it, Tanner knows something¡¯s up.¡± he lied.

    ¡°Define exactly what that means, Carl.¡± She growled.

    ¡°She killed a cop and I helped her dispose of the body down by the river. I saw an opportunity, but I couldn¡¯t call for backup in time. I was gonna dose her after we dumped the cop, bring her in Mike¡¯s plumbing van. I don¡¯t know how she knew something was off, but I grabbed her, she got the syringe and stuck me in the neck. I put 2 rounds at her feet and missed, blacked out, woke up just now. It¡¯s been 30 minutes or so, she¡¯s long gone and probably back to Mike¡¯s house. I think she''s still armed. I¡¯m so sorry. She¡¯s faster than she looks, and I¡¯m used to dosing old folks that don¡¯t see it coming, or want to struggle.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m amazed you¡¯re still alive.¡± She said skeptically. "Tanner seems like the kind to shoot you for that, steal your guns, and take the van. Shocked, she just left it."

    ¡°Yea me too. I guess when your gun''s still holstered and someone shoots at you with a machine pistol, some people just run. I told you I wasn¡¯t right for this job.¡±

    ¡°You let a hundred pound girl overpower you and stick you with your own syringe?¡± Catherine barked.

    ¡°Hey, she''s fast and a stabber. Do you wanna take a dose of this shit and see how well you do? I got 2 shots off, I may have clipped her. She knew I was gonna double-cross her, someone tipped her off, or you got a bug in the church. She saw it coming, and I wasn¡¯t expecting her to turn around and fight back. My targets never do that. You should have had Deacon do it.¡±

    ¡°Deacon has the charisma of Jason Voorhees. He would have never got close. She liked you. That¡¯s why I had your stupid ass do the job, and apparently botch it.¡± Catherine barked.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just a trophy vulture who likes to watch the life leave people¡¯s eyes. I¡¯m a quiet dose serial killer with too many guns, not a pro, not a snatch and grab guy. I told you I wasn¡¯t right for it. I took care of Portland, I underestimated Tanner.¡± He said

    ¡°What about Mike? What kind of support and firepower does he have?¡±

    ¡°He never would say, he just said he has connections and tools for the jobs. They guy is cryptic as hell. I¡¯m gonna get out of town before he comes looking for my ass.¡±

    ¡°I figured you might botch this. That¡¯s why I bugged her purse with a tracker at the meeting. Deacon will do the job for you. He can handle Mike.¡±

    ¡°Hope so, but I wouldn¡¯t bet on it.¡± he said, hanging up. He sighed and checked the van for hidden guns before starting the engine and dialing another number. ¡°Pick up the phone, Mike.¡± He said as the ringing stopped. ¡°Shit. Maybe you are blessed, Preacher. Listen carefully, there¡¯s no time to dick around if you want tanner to live. I just put a target on my own back to save her life when I was ordered to bring her in as bait. So you¡¯re gonna do that preacher forgiveness thing and believe me when I say I¡¯m sorry, and I had no choice, and in return I¡¯ll tell you what¡¯s about to drop on you two.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening Carl. Tell me where Tanner is, and if she¡¯s safe and alive, I¡¯ll forgive you. If not, you need to start praying, because even if God himself says to spare you, if she dies, you do too. Talk.¡± He said alarmingly calm as he grabbed his guns and started loading magazines.

    ¡°She¡¯s alive and unharmed and on her way to you, unless Deacon got to her first. I didn¡¯t know they had a backup plan in case I screwed up. I stole your van, but I left you a present in your truck, you¡¯re welcome. I¡¯m headed to Canada. Hit South 51 and look for Tanner on foot. If they get to her first they¡¯ll call YOU with the address, it¡¯s a trap, but you have to take it. I¡¯m sorry Mike. I respect your work and I hope you find Tanner first.¡± He said, hanging up and driving towards his bug-out location.

    Mike rushed to the door, opening a kitchen drawer and tearing off the wrapping paper of a box with the words "Happy birthday, Tanner" on it. Taking out an identical HK45, but with a few accents of anodized rainbow coloring on the slide release and trigger. Mike opened the truck and hesitantly opened the gun case, half expecting a bomb to go off, but too rushed to do anything else but have faith. He smirked at the contents, a laptop, and a strange looking pair of camouflage pouches, a cammo vest and a few grenades. He puzzled, closing it and peeling out of the driveway to find Tanner. With a pile of guns and ammo loosely in the seat beside him, he drove down South 51 as fast as the old truck would move, lights off in case cops were camping it. His phone rang and he felt his heart sink as he picked it up, knowing who would be on the other end.

    ¡°Hello Mike.¡± Said the familiar voice of his sponsor.

    ¡°Hello Catherine. It¡¯s late. You better have something important to say to me.¡± He said coldly.

    ¡°Oh I do. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re familiar with the members of my group. My Russian employee just picked up your little friend Tanner. She¡¯s alive and safe, and headed to my safehouse.¡± She said calmly.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be safe when I get there, I promise.¡± He replied.

    ¡°Oh It will be for most of us, this only has to go badly for you, Mike. Not for Tanner. You¡¯ve hit a few members of my group, and that¡¯s not very sporting in our line of work. There are rules and breaking them means consequences. You refused to play for my team, now I only require one life as payment, as long as it¡¯s yours. You¡¯re causing me a lot of trouble, Tanner isn¡¯t a real threat. So if you come to the location unarmed and give yourself up, we let her go without a mark and pretend we never knew her, and then we¡¯ll kill you. Or you can refuse, and we¡¯ll just slowly take her apart until you show up. What¡¯s left of her to set free depends on how long you make me wait and how difficult you make this for me.¡± She said.

    ¡°We both know you won¡¯t let her go, even if I do show up unarmed and willing. If I believed you for a second, I¡¯d gladly take that offer, but you¡¯ll kill her after I hang up the phone, so let me make a counteroffer.¡± He said, opening the case and the laptop inside it. ¡°I have Gina Garrett on file, videos of you both having some very illegal conversations about a recently missing Detective, You really should sweep your house on Maple drive better for bugs. Can you be a mile away from where you are before I get there? How confident of that are you that you don¡¯t have to pass open air to get to a safehouse? I know you¡¯re home right now. I have you on camera. That¡¯s a long driveway. Will your windshield stop a tungsten round from a 50BMG? How about the tires or the engine block? I am familiar with your little group, names, home addresses, and I have people of my own you don¡¯t know about. So I¡¯m going to call Tanner¡¯s phone every 10 minutes on the dot, and if she doesn¡¯t answer and tell me she¡¯s alive and unharmed, I¡¯ll personally put a bullet in your right eye socket, AFTER the torture. No negotiations, those are facts. You won¡¯t know how many guys I have on the move following which member, whether it¡¯s¡­ Harry Layton with a car bomb, or if Maverick Deacon is about to encounter an unfortunate gang shooting. David Swift might just get mugged in the streets for that backpack and stabbed in the throat. Now, if Tanner were to go walking alone, and one of my guys picks her up, I might go visit your little safehouse location, and we can discuss the problem between us. I know the address already.¡± He said, glancing at the laptop and the list Carl left him, scrolling the map and the details.

    ¡°Clever old dog, Preacher Mike. I still have you severely outnumbered.¡±

    ¡°You do. So that means if I give the green light, you¡¯ll die first, and I¡¯ll watch you do it. Does it really matter what happens after that shot? Who technically won at your funeral, you conceited bitch? We¡¯re both dead early on, and a handful of your survivors will drink to your memory before fighting over who¡¯s in charge. Sounds like a great victory for you. You have to leave that house eventually, if I have one man left with faith in the cause, that¡¯s the last time you leave the house. The Molotov Brothers can take shifts and scout for your guys. Nobody even knows what they look like, it¡¯s almost like they can disappear into the woods for days and camp a location.¡±

    ¡°Okay. So we have a bit of a standoff. How about this... You call for proof of life, every 30 minutes, tanner will assure you she is safe. You show up to the safehouse you already know, apparently, and you stand at the gate with your hands up and Jacket open. I¡¯ll tell my man Blondie the Butcher to escort her safely to the back drive, and you can watch her walk away safe and sound. Until you show up in person, she stays with the Butcher. You know how these cutters get along nicely together. And we can just wait for your man to pick her up while you stand arms up at the front gate. If you have any halfway competent men, they can drive her to wherever you want, and you get to die there instead of her. Remember Mike, she¡¯s a nobody, and she means nothing to me, but bringing you in is everything so I can leave my house with you in cuffs in a room under guard. You don¡¯t get to live through this, just her, and whoever your men are we don¡¯t know about. Just you, Mike. Only you need to die to set this right, but if you do anything stupid, I¡¯m perfectly willing to kill everyone you know. What would Jesus do?¡± she snidely asked.

    ¡°Jesus would die for the ones he loved as a willing sacrifice. Thing is, I¡¯m more of a follower of the old-testament God. Eye for an eye, blood for blood, trust not the sinner and their lies, but carry a rod of iron in the face of evil. I¡¯ll gladly die once tanner is safe, but until that moment, you better believe I have plagues and the angel of death ready to rain hellfire on your sinfull ass, and mercy is earned, not gifted. God sent me tanner for a reason, and if that reason is to live instead of me, and remember my legacy while I die for her sins, so be it. But you try anything stupid, and harm one hair on her head, I won¡¯t have the Molotov Brothers shoot in the face. My orders are shoot to maim, and make sure you believe in hell before you go there. Vengeance tenfold and your suffering will seem eternal, I can promise that.¡± He said, breathing darkly into the phone. ¡°But if she¡¯s safe and unharmed, we have a deal, and a contract. Consider it me signing in blood for my soul, Miss Catherine."

    "It''s such a shame you aren''t a team player, Mike. You''ve got an evil side buried in you that even my best men don''t. It''s tragic that it only comes out when it''s forced out. You could be the best of the group if you would just compromise a little and convince that side to show up more often."

    "Don''t worry, it''s making an appearance. I will be the best of the group if you hurt her, because there can''t be anyone better, if there''s nobody left alive." He said, hanging up coldly.

 Chapter 18: Murder Playlist

    Tanner woke up tied to a chair, as Blondie sat on the table with a knife in his hand and stared at her.

    ¡°You know, you are a very pretty girl without all that makeup. You would make a lovely blonde.¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Oh suck my dick, creep. I know your whole thing. I¡¯m a cutter too. Do your worst, and then when Mikey find you, he¡¯s gonna make your death last for days, and days and days¡­and days.¡± She sighed.

    ¡°You cannot intimidate me, little girl. Your Preacher Mike will be here for you, and he will be unarmed or lightly armed, he will not get past the gates. This place has many concrete walls and barred windows, layers of them, and every layer locks from the inside. So unless your Preacher is God himself and can step through solid locks like a ghost¡­we are in here together for some time, and he will be dead soon. And when he is dead, I get to have you for myself. Miss Catherine wants the preacher for her own enjoyment, but she does not care about you. You are nothing. Nobody, just bait. Bait does not survive the catch, and nobody gets in this room. So¡­we just wait. And if that phone rings, you tell him you are okay and safe. And when the phone rings for me, you are no longer okay and safe.¡± He smiled, sinisterly, his dark sunglasses and navy blue suit reflecting the devil himself in his intentions, a stiletto knife in his hand like a pen ready to sign her soul away in blood, at the first order. She glared back, unamused and calm.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the gun that makes it special, it¡¯s the idea and the intent, and the inserts¡± Mike reminded himself

    He placed the two submachine guns in front of him, placing the Glock and the new ¡°Rachel¡± to either side, loaded with 5.7mm armor piercing and 357 magnum hollow-points respectfully. He placed down several pistol mags, rifle mags and 2 shotgun magazines for Gwen, dropping in the 7mm rifle barrel insert and checking the quick disconnect spring and ejecting it, adding more oil to the barrel to be sure. He flipped the Glock switch to rapid fun-mode, and stuck in the 32 round mag in before checking that the MP5 had the right barrel insert for 7.62 Tokarev, full metal jacket steel core.

    ¡°Lord. Forgive me for what I am about to do, because I trust you wouldn¡¯t place me in this situation to lose her, and I can¡¯t do this in thermal mode the entire time, so I¡¯m trusting that you to guide my hands and clear any people from the buildings that have a chance of changing their lives for the better. If I¡¯m wrong, and I send any innocent souls to the grave in the process, maybe they should have thought twice about being around these men who abduct girls and make enemies like me, because I¡¯m not shooting to wound or warn. I intend to rival my entire career numbers tonight, and I beg you that if one life is spared, let it be Tanner. She deserves a life. So I pray that you place in my path only those deserving of my wrath, and if I die tonight, I¡¯m fine with it, because I¡¯m not leaving her there and once I start shooting, I won¡¯t be able to control my temptation.¡± He said, loading his coat and Kevlar vest. ¡°Quite frankly, I don¡¯t wanna. I hope I get to kill every last one of those sons of bitches that watched her get dragged in there and did nothing to help. If I¡¯m freeing human bodies of evil spirits, then so be it, and if I¡¯m just slaughtering a bunch of assholes that took my Tanner, well, lord¡­¡± He said racking the action on the Glock. ¡°I really don¡¯t give a flying fuck.¡± He said darkly, feeling his halo smolder and crumble.

    He cracked open an energy drink and grabbed about a 4<sup>th</sup> full bottle of pure grain alcohol, and poured the green liquid inside with it, he dug through tanner¡¯s little pill pouches and dropped a pink one into the bottle, fizzing away as he chugged it down. He felt a painful heat rising in his chest and through his veins, as he flipped the hoodie up over his head and put in one headphone, He skipped through several jazz and blues playlists and selected Industrial Metal mix ¡°Symbiote¡± and hit play.

    ¡°May God have mercy on your souls¡­ because I won''t.¡± He whispered, opening his eyes, almost glowing with rage, and began walking.

    Mike reached the fence, hitting the buzzer and hearing the microphone voice of Catherine chiming in.

    ¡°Hello Mike. I see you brought some firepower.¡±

    ¡°You said I wasn¡¯t entering the building armed and to show up jacket open¡­well it¡¯s open.¡± He said, MP5 in one hand and opening his jacket to show 2 holstered and suppressed pistols. ¡°You said AFTER tanner is safe and on the road, I go in unarmed. So until then, I¡¯m armed.¡±

    ¡°I got snipers on you, Mike. I could take you out before you do anything stupid."

    ¡°I got snipers on you too. I know you¡¯re at your house waiting safely for them to take me alive, and you won¡¯t move until I¡¯m incapacitated, you chicken-shit whore. My man outside your home won''t move from that spot until I give the order that Tanner is safe. So let me talk to Tanner, and I have a cab waiting down the road. She gets in that cab and disappears, then I tell my man to stand down, and THEN I drop the guns and walk in nice and peacefully. Any deviation from that, and people just start dying, you first."

    ¡°Okay. Blondie. Take the girl to the rear exit. Blondie¡­respond.¡± she said on her cell phone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hear Tanner. You better hope your man Blondie didn¡¯t do anything impulsive.¡± Mike said, the figures in the dark, almost glowing with heat despite no thermals. He could sense them, like a vampire smelling the blood before it spilled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he¡¯s not responding. Damnit Blondie, report!¡± she barked.

    ¡°Sharpshooter 2, aim for Catherine''s stomach, we may need a rather nasty incentive.¡± Mike ordered.

    ¡°No, just remain calm. Blondie follows orders well, he didn¡¯t do anything, and this is a technical problem with communications. I have someone getting her as we speak.¡± She said, cutting the line and switching to another. ¡°Deacon, Blondie won¡¯t respond, start plan B.¡± she said switching back nervously. ¡°Mike. She¡¯s fine, our security jammers are interfering with the cell reception in the saferoom. We¡¯re moving her to the exit now.¡± She said as Gina Garrett in cuffs was bagged and pushed at gunpoint by Tyler to the exit. They walked to the waiting cab as the cab driver watched, phone in his hand.

    ¡°Are they bringing her?¡± Mike asked the cab driver.

    ¡°Yea, they are. I better get paid double for this weird shit. You didn¡¯t say someone with a gun would be following her." said the cab driver.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t supposed to be. Catherine.¡± Mike said coldly. ¡°I wanna hear her voice, in the next 3 seconds, or you¡¯re a dead woman."

    ¡°Mike. I¡¯m Okay! I¡¯m sa-¡± Tanner said as the phone reception cut out, Gina playing a recording of Tanner from earlier as Tyler stopped and Gina walked alone.

    ¡°The place is a cell dead zone for a reason, Mike. Just remain calm.¡± Said Catherine, drumming her nails nervously.

    Gina held her head down and ducked into the cab as the driver sighed with relief.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what kinda shit this is, but I better get soooo paid.¡± The cab driver said as the sound of a revolver cocking silenced him.

    ¡°Tell Mike I¡¯m fine, but pretty shook up, tell him the reception is breaking up, and drive away. If you don¡¯t do that perfectly, I shoot you in the back. Understood?¡± Gina whispered.

    ¡°Absolutely¡­ Mike, she¡¯s in the cab. She¡¯s fine but a little shook up, We¡¯re leaving now, Hello? The reception is bad here. Tanner is in the cab and we¡¯re moving.¡± He said hanging up and stepping on the gas. Mike peered through his binoculars down the road at the moving cab and waited till it was far enough away even a good sniper couldn¡¯t hit it.

    ¡°Mike, she¡¯s safe and driving away." Catherine nervously lied. "That was the deal. Guns down and hands up, step past the gate when it opens and don¡¯t stop walking.¡± Catherine said, switching lines. ¡°What the fuck is going on? Why isn¡¯t Blondie responding?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Deacon replied. ¡°That room only opens from the inside.¡±

    ¡°Well, if he hurt that girl early, Kill him. Plan B just saved our asses and Mike is falling for it, but if that sadistic fucker disobeyed orders, he dies for it. I have no tolerance for improvisation to my orders!" she yelled.

    Mike sat down the MP5, the backpack containing Gwen and opened his jacket, doing a spin to show he was going peacefully, dropping both pistols and tossing his jacket.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m unarmed just like you asked.¡± He said dialing his phone. ¡°Tanner?¡± he asked, calling her again and getting no response. No outgoing signal. His eyes went cold and dark as a voice in his head whispered the words Tanner never left the saferoom. In a ghostly echo. ¡°Catherine, you double-crossing bitch.¡± He said, as he turned and dropped, a sudden impact striking his knee and collapsing him. Then he heard the gunshot. He rolled over, clutching his knee in pain as footsteps approached through the open gates, another gunshot striking his other knee and curling him up in pain. Ashley, the Russian, came strutting up with a bolt action rifle in hand, kicking him in the ribs and staring blankly. His emotionless steps, slow and toying.

    ¡°Catherine wants you alive, preacher. I was ordered to incapacitate. Your little girlfriend is dead. You shouldn¡¯t know that, so your suffering will be great when she arrives to torture you. Blondie seems to have disobeyed orders, but no matter. You die soon enough.¡± He sighed, as Mike laid on his back, both knees soaked in red. Ashley leaned the rifle on his collar bone, hugging it to grab a cigarette and lighter, awaiting his next orders as he turned slightly. Without a sound, an arm wrapped around the gun and his chest, stabbing him with a rainbow-colored butterfly knife in the lung. He dropped to his knees as Mike yanked the gun away and shot him in the back of the knee, sending him screaming in pain as Mike quickly racked the bolt and turned with faith to fire at the second sniper on the roof, sending him tumbling off of it 40 feet to the concrete with a thud. He noticed the gate closing and quickly ran, tossing the rifle into the fence and jamming one side long enough to grab his other guns and dart back inside. Alarms went off, and he stuck the MP5 to Ashley¡¯s head.

    ¡°Shooting to wound gets you killed, dumbass. And I¡¯m so glad you prefer 556 hollowpoints. Carl¡¯s home-made knee pads wouldn¡¯t stop much else, and you''re just predictable as hell, always going for the knees. I call that divine intervention. And I call this¡­wrath.¡± He said, splattering his brains on the concrete.

    ¡°Cathy, you are one dead bitch!¡± Mike barked into the night, limping forward and suppressing the pain of his bruised knees.

    ¡°Not if you don¡¯t live long enough to get to a phone, Mike. You¡¯re locked in a kill box with 30 armed men. You really think you¡¯ll live long enough to give the order? You don¡¯t even have a team, do you? That cab driver was just a cab driver. You¡¯re all alone, Mike. The Butcher is either having fun with tanner or finished already, you have nothing.¡± she replied.

    ¡°I have God on my side, and he told me something you really didn¡¯t want him to say.¡± He said, drawing the Glock with his free hand.

    ¡°And what¡¯s that, mister preacher?¡± She asked, sitting alone in her living room with the phone in hand, as he extended his MP5 towards the cell router.

    ¡°Burn the temple¡­kill them all.¡± He said, shooting the reception out as her phone went silent. Two men in suits wielding submachine guns fanned out the front door as he sprayed the full auto Glock in their direction, cutting them down like weeds to a gardener. He sprayed another burst into the doorway taking apart the next two, and stuck the slide in his teeth to reload the spare clip as his free hand naturally lifted and fired at a shadowy figure ducking behind cover.

    ¡°That¡¯s some Glock ya got there, preachin man. Body armor don¡¯t seem to help much.¡± Yelled farmer John, popping up and firing a barrel of buckshot and ducking back.

    ¡°5.7 steel rounds eats soft armor like tissue paper. I see why you use a shotgun, you Podunk cousin-fucker. Your aim is garbage.¡± He said, spraying the magazine into the wooden crate he was hunkering behind. ¡°You dead farm boy?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Gonna take more than that to get through these crates, holy man.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± He said drawing Gwen from the backpack and putting a 50 caliber round through it, spraying red hillbilly pieces up the side of the building. He tossed the empty Glock over the crate as a middle finger, dual wielding the MP5 and Gwen. Kicking open the door and lighting up about 4 men, he ran to the right for cover. The one that made it, rolled behind the concrete barrier and fired his SMG over the half-wall as cover fire. Mike shouldered Gwen and took 3 spaced out shots about a foot apart until he saw the spray of red. The backpack Killer turned and hunkered down from his high position in the warehouse.

    ¡°Is that a damn 50 cal? When did he get a 50 cal?¡± he asked the walkie-talkie.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, Swift.¡± Sighed Deacon, ¡°The man has a small backpack and whatever was under his coat.¡±

    ¡°Well whatever he pulled out of his divine ass, can go through a concrete wall, don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡± He said moving positions.

    Blondie Sat in the chair of the saferoom, silently laughing to himself, a light spatter of blood on his cheek. He adjusted his sunglasses and lifted his hand to admire the hefty gash in it, switching hands and taking out his pocket knife.

    ¡°Little bit masochistic too, hu?¡± Tanner asked, defensively holding the knife he originally had.¡±

    ¡°No, simply entertained. I underestimated you, little girl. Trying to strangle me with a phone cord with both hands tied. I am impressed."

    ¡°Yea. Now I got your knife and two free hands, and you just got that little shitty knife. Who¡¯s the bitch now?¡±

    ¡°You should have killed me when you could have. Element of surprise was your greatest friend.¡± Blondie sighed.

    ¡°No, he¡¯s out there mowing down all YOUR friends and coming for you. Every scratch you put on me, he¡¯s gonna give you 10 more. If I were you, I¡¯d probably just tell me the door code and cut your losses if I were you. You could hide in here and live if I was out there and safe. Think about the offer.¡±

    ¡°Consider it thought, and ignored.¡± He said, circling the central table as she moved the same speed around it. He changed directions, annoyed at her games and impatiently rushed, climbing the table. She grabbed his tie and dropped herself like dead weight, slamming him down and banging his head off the metal chair, taking his knife and turning him over. He shook off the stunning blow and pulled, noticing his wrist now zip-tied to the table leg, and before he could react, she hopped on his arm, pinning it with her knees and zip-tying the other wrist, hopping down and catching her breath with a giggle.

    ¡°Let me go you little shit.¡± He said, kicking and digging into his wrists.

    ¡°Oh no, see you should have killed me when you had the chance because you just screwed the pooch. God that¡¯s a horrible expression, who does that? Who came up with that saying? Ugh. But yea¡­see I WAS locked in a room with no way in... with you, and now you¡¯re locked in a room with no way in with me. The problem here is that without the pass code we¡¯re kinda trapped together, and I get bored easy. Thankfully, you had all these fun little toys on this tray here to torture me with. I¡¯m gonna have fun with those. She said, grabbing the hammer from the tray and swinging violently to break his elbow with a grunt of agony. She skipped to the other side of the table and steadied her aim for the other elbow, taking a whack at it too.

    ¡°The Passcode is 4437!¡± he yelled.

    ¡°Oh¡­you thought I was torturing you for the code to get out? Yea, no. See there are no guns here, just medical stuff and this thing looks really sexual, but no guns. You hear that thumping? That¡¯s gunfire outside. If I go out there unarmed, I¡¯m gonna die in like 2 seconds. 4437.¡± She repeated, writing it on the door in his blood. ¡°So the fact that the gunfire just keeps going means your guys are dying and Mike is still going. Mike would tell me¡­Tanner!¡± she said in a deep scolding tone. ¡°Don¡¯t you get yourself killed being careless. God protects me and I protect you.¡± She finished. ¡°or something like that. And I have faith in him, not a lot of faith in myself surviving that shitstorm with a little knife. So we have time to kill in here till the shooting stops. You had me in here to torture me and I find that very rude, so¡­ I¡¯m gonna be a rude bitch now. Sorry. You started it. But you fancy shits always make the same mistake. You tie someone up and then just slowly torment them, assuming they won''t get free.¡± She said, taking a whack at his left shin.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± he howled.

    ¡°Yea, see if you break someone¡¯s arms and legs before you torture them, they can¡¯t get away even if you cut the zipties.¡± She said whacking the other shin. ¡°Now what are you gonna do? I could let you loose and all you could do is bite my ankles, and the hammer is a perfectly good warm-up torture method. You gotta plan with paranoia in mind. Otherwise, some victim is gonna bite off the phone cable and strangle you with it, grab your knife and cut herself loose, and now I¡¯m winning. Because ya dumb, son. Ya just dumb. Cocky,¡± She said whacking his hand. ¡°Stupid,¡± whacking the other hand. ¡°Male,¡± She added, giving a hit to the crotch ¡°Ego. Look where all that confidence got you, sport. You still feel powerful? Ya still in the mood for meanness, because I¡¯m having a fucking blast now. You locked yourself in a room with a little serial killer, and then didn¡¯t incapacitate this. That¡¯s on you. And now we get to start having fun.¡± She grinned, picking up the cable cutters. ¡°And I get to do this guilt free because all I gotta do is think¡­hmm. What did he bring these here for, to do to me?¡± she shrugged, scrunching her mouth to one side playfully. ¡°But like¡­ I gotta do penis stuff too. You understand.¡± She said, snipping the cutters together playfully.

    Mike limped his way through the maze of concrete walls and security doors, waiting for one to open so he could blast his way through to the next area. He quickly swung Gwen to his back to reload the mp5, as his hand pulled the 45 up and to the barrel of another gun, Tyler freezing and biting his cigar. He turned his pistol from the sideways aim to an open palmed gesture of surrender.

    ¡°I¡¯m out bro. I didn¡¯t hurt the girl, I¡¯m on over my head. Forgiveness yo. I just work here.¡± He said dropping the gun and backing away. Mike lowered the gun and holstered the pistol, as he sighed and silently thanked his lucky stars. Mike finished reloading the Mp5 and put a round in his face, dropping the magazine from the pistol.

    ¡°Slide was back, Moron. I was out of ammo.¡± He said picking up his gun and making a face of disgust ¡°Seriously? A Kimber?¡± he scoffed, tossing it back down and just taking the bullets to reload the empty mag from his HK. He stepped one foot outside the door and backed immediately into it again as the lead from a big bore pistol peppered him off the wall where it struck. ¡°Harry Layton I presume?¡±

    ¡°You presume well, holy man. What tipped you off?¡± said a cocky voice.

    ¡°44 Magnum, aimed for the head, and you got close. If I hadn¡¯t wobbled my step, that would have been over."

    ¡°Sheer luck only prolongs the inevitable, Mike. You lost. It¡¯s just a matter of how many of us you get before one of us gets you. I don¡¯t believe in your God, Holy man. Luck runs out.¡±

    ¡°You not believing means jack shit to me, frankly.¡± He said, reaching around the corner and emptying the HK, retracting it and shouldering the mp5 silently. The sound of a body flopping to the ground encouraged him to take a peek. ¡°Me believing means everything to me.¡± He said putting one in the head to be sure he wasn¡¯t still alive. He stepped on the body as he made his way down the hall.

    Tanner opened the door and stepped back, ready to strike.

    ¡°Jesus, Blondie. Why didn¡¯t you answer the landline?¡± asked a voice as Tanner stuck the knife in his neck and assisted his fall to the table.

    ¡°That line is out of service, if you¡¯d like to leave a message after the beep¡­too damn bad.¡± She shrugged, grabbing his gun and being annoyed that it was just a pistol.

    "Really? They didn''t give you an Uzi or something? Those cheap bastards." she sighed.

 Chapter 19: God is in the parking lot

    Deacon laid down cover fire and did a mechanically rapid mag change, taking a knee behind the concrete barrier.

    ¡°You still alive, Preacher? Even with that 50 cal, you¡¯re not getting through that security wall. This place is a fortress. You¡¯re gonna need a bigger gun than that!¡± he said, cut short as the door suddenly caved in like a rocket had hit it. He shouldered his AR-8.6 blackout and tactically circled, to see what just happened. The mechanical roar of a truck engine tearing itself apart deafened his senses, the engine coughed and died, half the font end wedged in the door he hopped the hood and aimed in the driver¡¯s seat, noticing just a metal pole jammed on the gas pedal and nobody inside, but a gallon jug of gasoline strapped with road flairs and a brick of Carl''s Grenades and C4. He peered out the back window at Mike casually topping off the drum magazine of an automatic Fostech Shotgun with what he did not yet know were dragon¡¯s breath rounds. Deacon sprinted for cover, rolling and sliding behind a coffin-sized water barrel as the room filled with flames and the silence of eardrums being nearly perforated. He shook off the daze, firing a few rounds as Mike strutted through the flaming door hole, fully opening fire as if he couldn¡¯t run out of ammo. Deacon heard the magazine drop and popped up to get clipped with buckshot and sat back down.

    ¡°I got spares, Deacon. How many you got left?¡± Mike barked, pelting the water barrel to jar his confidence. He checked his vest and looked for blood, realizing the vest caught the lead and suppressing the pain.

    ¡°All this for a hooker?¡± Deacon asked. ¡°Or are you old and just ready to die fighting and looking for an excuse?¡±

    ¡°Just for that, Deacon. I¡¯m gonna kill you with a knife instead. You got a combat knife on you? Let''s cut to the chase and fight like men. One of us is gonna run out of ammo eventually, so fuck the guns, can you handle a half century old holy man blade to blade, or do you need to swing that 8.6 Blackout dick around to feel like the alpha male in the room?¡± he taunted. Deacon checked his clip, empty.

    ¡°Toss the shotgun, and I toss the blackout. We¡¯ll do this like they did in medieval times old man, like how you grew up with.¡±

    ¡°Fair play.¡± He said, tossing the empty shotgun. Deacon tossed the blackout aside and they both stepped out from cover, Deacon confidently holding his K-bar in hand, edge gleaming sharp as Mike stood pointing his butterfly knife like a sword ready to duel. Deacon circled and started his rush in as Mike drew the HK from his back and unloaded 6 shots into his chest, planting him flat on his back.

    ¡°You cheating old prick.¡± He wheezed, feeling like one of them got through the vest under the lower rib. Mike stood over him, foot on the knife and casually reloading the pistol.

    ¡°There¡¯s no cheating or rules anymore, you little shit. You people killed Tanner, I don¡¯t give a damn if I die, I¡¯m gonna inflict as much pain and death as I can in the time before that, and the rules went out the window the moment you brought her here.¡± He said firing a round to the crotch, one in each knee, and one in each elbow, leaving Deacon crippled and practically foaming with pain and hatred. Mike held the gun to his head as Deacon leaned up and pressed his skull to the barrel. ¡°Just kidding. You¡¯ll bleed out like that pretty soon. If you¡¯re still alive after I¡¯m done with the rest, maybe I¡¯ll finish you off. Have fun down there.¡± He said coldly, scooting the knife away from the motionless crippled Deacon on the concrete.

    ¡°The fuck was that?¡± The backpack killer asked, hearing the truck explode and shake the building.

    ¡°That¡¯s Mikey.¡± Yelled Tanner, chambering the gun and listening for her opponent¡¯s position. ¡°He''s the horseman of death, and hell followed with him.¡± She giggled.

    ¡°Your man got artillery? Won''t do much good if he kills you too. Imagine his horror if he killed you leveling the building. The closer you are, the safer I am, honey.¡± He said brushing his red hair behind his heavily pierced ear with his Beretta, one earbud playing fight music and his signature backpack strapped around a beige sweatshirt. He fired a round, bouncing it around the corner to startle her.

    ¡°Nice aim there, Flanders. You learn to shoot at culinary school?¡± she taunted, ready to fight or die trying. Without warning, she went wild card, taking off running and leaping into the air, firing as she sprang unexpectedly high from the hall, tucking her feet as a hollow-point zipped under them. In a haze of slow motion, she landed and kept sprinting, shoulder-checking the wall with a bounce and both dodging and returning fire as the two traded 9mm rounds at point-blank range, hitting air and walls until she was close enough to ram her head into his nose. She winced, the Beretta going off right next to her ear, ringing her like a bell and cutting her pigtail slightly. The pistols clashed like swords, firing dangerously close to legs and feet, as neither of them could get lined up without the other shoving the gun out of flesh alignment.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Both of them two-handedly gripping side-irons, exchanged strikes, locking slides at face level as he smirked and noticed her gun was empty, his smile faded as he noticed the gleam of a knife pointed downward, gripped tightly against the pistol handle between both of her tiny hands. With a sudden downward drop, her hair bobbing upwards, she raked the blade down his wrist and disarmed him. She hopped back and bounced to the beat of her own head music, tossing the blade to her right hand and holding the empty Glock in her left hand as a bunt bashing instrument.

    ¡°You still feel safe, Ned? HowdilyFUCK!¡± she said, head bashing him with the grip ¡°-ing doodily.¡± She finished catching her breath. He drew a fresh full magazine and eyed the gun on the ground, slide open and wet from his bleeding wrist cut, as she circled her prey.

    ¡°You know how many women I¡¯ve killed without a gun?¡± he asked, unzipping the backpack.

    ¡°You know how many men I¡¯ve killed who had one? Oh, that¡¯s just cheating bullshit!¡± She barked, retreating back to the hall as he drew out and snapped into place a folding full sized Ar15, and locked to combat position ready to finish the job. An old, bloody hand flipped the latch open and swing the barrel to the side, holding it out of position as he turned and locked eyes with the preacher.

    ¡°What you gonna do now?¡± he asked. The backpack killer yanked the gun and barely moved it, as an HK suppressor calmly pressed into his abdomen and fired 3 shots, moving up each time as his eyes went glassy, and he threw an elbow into Mike¡¯s face, sending him stumbling back with an empty gun as the folding AR bounced away.

    ¡°PCP is a hell of a drug, preacher.¡± He said breathing heavily and staring him down, the Beretta on the ground equidistant between them and a fresh magazine in his hand. He took one step and like a pendulum of iron, the folding gun whipped downward, swung like a baseball bat by a mid-leaping Tanner, folding it the wrong way over his head, knocking him out cold.

    ¡°Hey Mike. Bout time.¡± She smiled.

    ¡°Are you really alive or am I just hallucinating?¡± he said looking bewildered and overwhelmed.

    ¡°Probably both, you look like shit. Are you drunk or high?¡±

    ¡°Little of both.¡± He wheezed.

    ¡°I thought that shit will kill you? Didn¡¯t you say it blocks the voice of god and lets the inner demons out?¡±

    ¡°I expected to die here anyway, God is waiting outside, this situation called for fewer voices and more inner demons.¡± He said staggering and loading the Beretta as he proceeded around the corner.

    ¡°Mike¡­everyone that way is dead already. You fought your way halfway in, and I fought my way halfway out. We¡¯re done. It¡¯s over.

    ¡°It¡¯s not over, we just reached a checkpoint. Are you injured in any way?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m great.¡± she smiled.

    ¡°Good, because I¡¯m crashing, both my knees are ready to give out, I definitely have a broken rib and I may throw up.¡±

    ¡°Oh my God.¡± She gasped, bracing him up.

    ¡°No, I said he¡¯s waiting outside in the parking lot. I didn¡¯t need God seeing this.¡± He said motioning her to follow. They rounded the corner, Deacon still struggling to move and pointlessly reaching his fingers for the blackout rifle on the ground. Mike casually picked it up and handed it to Tanner.

    ¡°It¡¯s empty.¡± she sighed.

    ¡°It¡¯s still a really expensive gun, just take it with us. You can drop it if we have to, but I¡¯m taking the shotgun and Gwen back too. Everything is out of ammo except Rachel 2.0...Happy birthday tanner you earned it." He said, sluggishly waving the HK like it weighed 40 pounds, barely able to stand.

    "Okay, Mister Wobbles, let''s get to the truck."

    ¡°Blew the truck up. We¡¯re taking someone else¡¯s truck.¡± He said groggy and leaning on the wall. Tanner picked up the knife from the ground and walked over to Deacon. Jamming it in his skull and heading back on her way.

    ¡°Never leave a live man behind.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna run into some high tier killer some day with robot legs and guns for arms.¡±

    ¡°You watch too many scifi movies, but I get the idea.¡± he wheezed.

    ¡°So you used up months worth of ammo, broke a vow of soberism and whatever it is when you don¡¯t do¡­whatever you¡¯re high on, came in here ready to die, blew up your truck and killed about 20 people just to rescue me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Originally. I thought you were already dead when I walked in shooting. I was going to just trade my life for yours, but everything went wrong, and I thought they killed you. I did all this just because I wanted to kill everyone that was involved in your death and make them suffer.¡±

    ¡°Fuck, Mike. You keep this up any longer and I might start to think you kinda like me or something.¡± she blushed.

    ¡°I don''t like you. I love you.¡± He shrugged. ¡°God only knows why, but here we are. You¡¯re a pain in the ass, you¡¯ve made my easy neat life complicated and stressful, You almost got me arrested, you got me drinking again, but fuck if I don¡¯t still regret exactly nothing the moment I saw you alive and safe. Here we are.¡± he grinned.

    ¡°Yea about that, can we not tho. Can we not be here? Here seems like a bad place to be, home would be a good alternative, you wanna maybe try being there instead?¡±

    ¡°Oh Catherine has definitely got my place bugged with cameras and probably trapped the doors. I left intending not to go back. I rigged it to blow and burn the evidense, so it;s either already gone or about to be. I have an emergency place we can hit on the way out of town.¡±

    ¡°So I also cost you your home, you''re reloading stuff, your workshop?¡±

    ¡°Workshop is in the van, backups of almost everything. I parked that in the woods before I left. Reloading shit in the van. Home is where the heart is, you can move homes. What¡¯s a house anyway?¡± he sighed.

    ¡°Mike I can¡¯t thank you enough, but I am driving, you can barely stand up. Let¡¯s go find a vehicle somewhere with keys in it.¡±

    ¡°Any idea what Deacon drives?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Matte Black Ford F250 with a topper. Brings it to meetings.¡±

    ¡°Wonder if he¡¯s got any toys in the back.¡± He said holding up the keys.