《Hitman Holyman 2 (A Beast of a Different Caliber)》 Chapter 1: New Blood The sound of popular radio filled the air of the bar, as a pair of eyes glared at a phone screen, scrolling and looking annoyed. The dark purple eye shadow narrowed as her hazel eyes scrunched and peered up coldly, locking with a man at the end of the table. The audacity of him to sit down was unbearable. ¡°You have staring problem, asshole?¡± she snipped, carrying a strange Russian accent and a hint of a lisp hiding behind it. ¡°Just hard to ignore something beautiful.¡± He smirked, his well trimmed beard and expensive suit lined up intentionally precise. ¡°Have you tried, perhaps you try harder.¡± She muttered ¡°Lovely accent, Russian?¡± ¡°No, Gambia. Can you not tell from my tan?¡± said the ghostly pale girl sarcastically, through the rogue strand of dark blue hair, unkempt and hastily held up with a rose gold hair pin, her deadpan expression returning to the phone. ¡°Dry sense of humor, but I like that. Dark, cynical, but clever. You here alone or with friends? Boyfriend.¡± he asked. ¡°I have a man, he just doesn¡¯t know it yet. These things unfortunately take some time. Patience is not my best quality.¡± She sighed. ¡°Give the phone a rest, sweetheart. If he¡¯s ignoring you, he¡¯s an idiot. If he stood you up, he¡¯s an idiot and an asshole. I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m some prize, but I¡¯m better than some prick who can¡¯t appreciate something that rare and interesting.¡± He continued. She sat the phone down, harshly. Staring at him like she was debating something. ¡°So just, fuck him, to hell with it, take the hint and whatever I can get instead¡­like you, I suppose?¡± she asked aggressively sarcastic. ¡°Well, you make me seem like a regular catch with that line. But I¡¯m not without my skills. I may not be mister right, but I¡¯m mister right now.¡± He grinned. She smiled slightly at the line, or rather the pathetic nature of it and the irony behind her considerations. ¡°You know what? You may be right. You are not the man I am looking for, but you are¡­better than nothing. Get up.¡± She ordered. He looked surprised. ¡°What are you waiting for, directions? Up is vertical, it means to stand. I came here to be alone, you have interrupted that and offered an alternative, I no longer wish to be here. What, have you never succeeded in this before? Did you expect the relationship, we stay at the bar and chit-chat.¡± She said with an awkward bite to her annunciation. ¡°Most girls wanna talk and get to know each other after the line works, or they just proceed with their fuck off verdict. I¡¯ve never had a fuck off turn to let¡¯s get out of here that fast, and skip right over the conversation part.¡± he admitted. ¡°I told you I have a man, he is not here, I cannot seem to find him, this will take... time. You seem to think you have something to offer while I wait, and I agree, so are you full of shit or just very slow at standing?¡± she asked. He stood up and grinned, adjusting his suit. He slammed into the brick wall of the back alley, aggressively stopping as she stepped closer and out of street view. Before he could react, she grabbed a handful of hair and kissed him, biting his lip with a grunt as he pushed her back slightly, now unsure if he was as interested as he was before. The look in her eye was hostile, downright hungry, but not in the way he hoped for. Dabbing his bleeding lip and noticing the throb of his skull where it bounced off the building¡¯s exterior, he had a moment of second thoughts. ¡°Not even going to fight back? Pity. Maybe you were all talk and no reward, and a waste of my time.¡± She said, turning to leave, crossing her arms with an attitude. ¡°Wait¡­ I just wasn¡¯t expecting so much aggression. I¡¯ll deal with it. You got a safe word?¡± he asked. ¡°Da.¡± She nodded, stepping back to him and grabbing his belt, pulling him in closer and kissing him again, muffling his grunts as she buried the barrel of a pistol into his chest and fired off 3 shots, the body acting as a sort of muffler. He dropped to his knees, in shock and silence, staring up with cold, lifeless eyes. ¡°But it is not necessary.¡± She finished, letting him slump and bleed as she tucked the gun into her frilly black dress. She strutted down the alley, playfully wobbling heel-to-toe like walking a thin ledge in her high heels, as she got her phone out to check again. She lit a cigarette and turned to the open night streets, lit brightly with the glow of a big city not far down the road, the afterglow of the outskirts and edges guiding her way. She heard the screams of someone, presumably who just found a body dead in the alley, and she barely even twitched a muscle to turn and look, swiping her phone with her black manicured nails. She nodded discreetly, and a black car with tinted windows stopped, the door opening for her. She sat down inside with a lazy plop, as if bored and slightly drunk, her dress poofing up a little, and her hair pin shifting. ¡°Given up so soon?¡± asked a voice, the same Russian accent, minus the lisp, from a man in a suit, in the seat beside her. Leathery skin, buzzed hair and scruffy beard stubble. She sighed and gathered her thoughts. ¡°This is not the place, I want to go back to the hotel.¡± She yawned, taking out a small tube of white powder and daintily tapping out a bump on her plaster white hand, hoovering it with a nonchalant swipe of her nose. She took the pistol out and tossed it into the front passenger seat. ¡°I need a fresh one. The trigger is gritty. There was an annoyance.¡± She sighed, as another small pistol was handed back to her by the driver. A 9mm Gyurza. ¡°Some American got a bit too touchy-feely?¡± the passenger chuckled. ¡°Unfortunately no. He interrupted my business for something he was unwilling to back up. Wasted my time, ruined my focus. We try casino below the hotel down the street. I was told Blues bar and Casino. After that, I give up for the night.¡± She scowled. ¡°Do not be so depressed. We have been here 2 days. It¡¯s Houston. There is a lot of place to be.¡± said the passenger ¡°Have you gotten my guns into the city yet, Yuri?¡± she asked him. ¡°Apologies, Nadja. We have run into complications and delays.¡± He nervously admitted. ¡°So, what is this shit?¡± she said, waving the pistol around. ¡°You wanted armor piercing, this is what we have.¡± He insisted. ¡°I wanted MY guns, not substitutes. How hard is it to bribe border police? Security? Do they not like money?¡± she huffed, looking angry and pointing the gun at his side, firing a round and startling the driver as Yuri clutched his ribs and groaned, checking for blood. ¡°Armor piercing like hell, you useless shit.¡± She said, proving her point. ¡°This is Texas, Heart of gun America. You want American guns, we can buy them here. It is not a problem.¡± he assured. ¡°They will not be the same as what I wanted. I have very custom guns, Apparently in a crate not in America. So you better hope they have something better, or the next shot will be somewhere you don¡¯t have a vest.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± He nodded, rubbing his side and his bruised rib. A police officer with a baseball cap and glasses squinted at the dead body in the alley, early morning light making the scene more visible as he chewed on a toothpick. ¡°Looks like a date gone bad.¡± He nodded. ¡°What makes you think that?¡± asked the heavier set cop, hunkering down to get a look. ¡°Gun was pressed against the victim, no real sign of struggle such as bruised knuckles or body blows. Wasn¡¯t a robbery, guy has a nice suit, watch, full wallet. Perp didn¡¯t take anything, just shot our victim in the ribs and ran away. Bartender says he was flirting with some young goth chick, and she did not look thrilled about it. Then he looked back and they were both gone. Same guy ends up dead in the alley right after. I¡¯m thinking she bailed, he followed her and got fresh, and she panicked, he grabbed her, and she pulled a 9mm, snapped off a few rounds and hauled ass.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Workin girl?¡± he asked. ¡°Don¡¯t think so. Bartender said she was minding her own business, nursing a few fruity drinks over about 2 hours, staring at her phone, didn¡¯t approach any guys, or act very social. He said she had a weird accent, wasn¡¯t sure what kind. Probably just a foreign girl traveling to the US, maybe meeting a guy, green card situation, student abroad just having a bad time and got lost, but she was armed and ready. Doesn¡¯t look like much of a fight happened. Maybe the guy creeped her out, so she had the gun ready when he grabbed her. I got guys running the bullets right now. My guess is she didn¡¯t get the gun legally, so there may not be any tracing it. Trunk and cash special?¡± heavy cop asked. ¡°The gun better be legal. Even if this was self-defense.¡± The thin cop said, as another man approached with a tablet and a confident mustached smirk. ¡°We got security video. No sound, but the picture is descent. That¡¯s our little miss 9mm slipping the doorman money to get in. The doorman said she looked annoyed when he asked for her ID, and she just said in that accent: Do I look like a child? And tried to scoot past him. He blocked her, and she squeezed past, flicked some money at him as she went in.¡± Mustache said. ¡°Hell of a good door man, lets a skinny girl shove past because she slipped him a 20?¡± ¡°A 20, my ass. Get this¡­4 hundred dollar bills, crisp and new. She¡¯s no student or hooker." Mustache replied. ¡°WhO0ooo, damn. Whatever she does for a living pays well. I lose 400 at the casino and I feel sick as a dog. This girl just has that in her pocket next to a 9mm and doesn¡¯t even bat an eye? There went your green card scam theory. You think some foreign girl with no ID looking for a sugar daddy drops 4 bills to get into a bar, has 2 drinks and plays on her phone for 2 hours?¡± asked the heavier cop. "She up for some illegal shit." ¡°Well fuck, I got nothing then.¡± Thin cop sighed. ¡°She had to have been meeting someone important who stood her up. Lotta placed don¡¯t even card, she easily looks 21, no ID, determined to get into THIS place, and just waits, gives up after a few hours. Romeo here probably just picked the wrong girl to mess with, got handsy, didn¡¯t take no for an answer, and she said NO louder, with a handgun, about 3 times, point-blank. We¡¯re never gonna find this girl. With no ID, in the town this big, even with blue hair, tits like that, she could disappear. Any chance the AI facial recognition gets a hit?¡± ¡°Yea right. You gotta be in a database for it to know what to look for. Illegal immigrants don¡¯t exactly show up at the DMV for photos.¡± The heavier one chuckled. ¡°Well, bite my ass, we got a hit¡­and it just got really interesting.¡± ¡°Good interesting or bad interesting?¡± ¡°Really bad interesting, like we are strongly fucked on this case, kinda interesting.¡± thin cop cap said, handing over the tablet.¡± ¡°You gotta be shittin me.¡± He replied. ¡°Are you shitting with me?¡± the blue-haired 9mm princess asked aggressively, leaning on a table covered in guns. The noise gun show crowd moving behind her. ¡°Honey, That¡¯s not how this works. You gotta have ID, we run you through the system, you gotta have citizenship, not just cash to buy a gun here.¡± Said the old bearded vendor as people walked loudly around her and fanned out around the booth. She took a deep breath through her nose and took out a significant number of hundreds, laying it on the table. ¡°Is that enough?¡± she asked. ¡°To go to prison for? Shit no. Honey, we¡¯re an FFL dealer. This is a legitimate business, Crosley Custom Guns doesn¡¯t sell IDs, so you can keep flashing those bills, and it might get you mugged in the parking lot, but it won¡¯t get you one of my guns. Any store or vendor in town will tell you the same thing. Please don¡¯t lean on the table.¡± He added. She grabbed one of the business cards and squinted at him. ¡°And you are Crosley?¡± she asked. ¡°Nope. I¡¯m Daryl, just like the name tag says. I just work for the store. Now you come back with a driver''s license and social security card, and I¡¯ll be tickled pink and shitless to take your money, honey. Otherwise, with just cash, I can sell you clips, grips, holsters, and T-shirts.¡± he smiled shittily. She stood in the parking lot with her phone out and an annoyed simmer. ¡°Yes, Da-ryl. Of Crosley Custom Guns.¡± She said trying to pronounce it correctly and missing it by a hair. A rather large man in sunglasses and all black strutted up to her and blocked her sunlight like he had an eclipse appointment. She squinted up at his gum-chewing grin. ¡°Just get information, send it to me. Hello? Large stranger. Do you have a problem?¡± she asked. ¡°Looks like you got one, luckily I may have a solution. See that blue truck up there by the pole. That¡¯s my truck.¡± ¡°Congratulations on owning a vehicle, I will not be getting into it.¡± she sighed. ¡°Well, you might like what¡¯s left in there if you still got that wad of cash.¡± He said discreetly. ¡°I doubt you have the guns I want, blue truck man.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Not at the moment. I don¡¯t leave guns in my truck, tempts people to break my window and steal them. I just bought myself a nice little piece in there, I could go back in and buy some more if I had more money, and then go for a walk and leave them in my truck. Now for the inconvenience fee and the cost of the window it¡¯s not gonna be cheap, but you don¡¯t look cheap, and you really wanted that gun. Pretty girl all alone definitely needs a gun. There are some real creeps out there. I¡¯m over here talking about committing a crime, and I¡¯m one of the nicer ones.¡± He joked. She stepped very close and lifted her baggy sweatshirt to show the 9mm pistol tucked in her jeans. ¡°I have one already. And if you steal my money and run, I will kill you and get it back, and then I will have your gun too. Would you still like to go back in and do some shopping?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not fuckin around, are ya? I think that¡¯s badass. Whatever you want, just double the price, add 200 for a window, and you got it.¡± he nodded, looking around for other listeners. If you are police, this is a very big mistake for you. If not, then I will make you a list and I will be very clear with you. I want this list EXACT and no substitutes or close enoughs. If you cannot get something, look harder, or do not get it, and leave that money in the truck under the guns. Can you follow instructions well? Can you do math accurately? Because I can, and just because I have plenty of cash to spare, does not mean I wish to spare it without knowing it. This can be a very good day for you or a very bad one, depending on how well you follow this agreement. Understand?¡± she asked. ¡°Oh, absolutely.¡± he chuckled. ¡°Very good. I may hire you again if this goes well. My current bodyguard detail is lacking in a few positions. Someone may be getting terminated and replaced very soon.¡± ¡°Lady I¡¯ll buy you guns, and I¡¯d buy you a drink, but I don¡¯t wanna know your name or see you again after this. I¡¯ll text you when the truck is full and locked, and I¡¯ll go get a bite to eat for about 30 minutes. The illegal part is all yours." he finished. A black car with tinted windows rolled to a stop as the driver smiled and popped the drunk. The thump of plastic cases echoed through the vehicle before she closed it. Nadja got in and sat down, giving Yuri with the sore ribs a death glare. ¡°Get out, you¡¯re fucking fired.¡± She demanded. ¡°I don¡¯t understand, is someone going to pick me up?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s your problem. Get a cab. If I have to do everything myself, I don¡¯t need you. What do you get paid to do?¡± she asked. ¡°Whatever you ask me to do.¡± He replied. ¡°Well, you failed twice now, so the third time you fail, I¡¯ll kill you.¡± She said coldly. ¡°So, are you capable of doing 1 thing I say correctly?¡± ¡°Anything you want. I will do it.¡± Yuri nodded. ¡°Good. Get out of the car, that is your last order, and then you are no longer working for me. Go find a way back home. If you cannot do that, it is the third time you have failed.¡± She said, giving him a silent count down, tapping her nails on her pistol in a distinctly 2 click and pause pattern, as he briskly unhooked his seatbelt and exited the car. The driver chuckled slightly. ¡°Nadja relax, he is inexperienced with your ways and stupid. He does not mean disrespect, he is simply¡­new to the job. You tend to require an adjustment period, he is just slower than some of your favorites back home. But he travels, and he tries.¡± ¡°Well, add him to the list with Daryl from Crosley and take care of it.¡± ¡°Nadja¡­did you not get what you wanted?¡± he sighed. ¡°Da.¡± She shrugged, rolling her eyes and trying not to smile, thinking about her new toys. ¡°Then it is okay. I will have someone pick up Yuri and bring him back. Let him worry a bit and learn his lesson. You already shot him.¡± ¡°I do not trust him. He cannot listen.¡± She said, opening the case next to her and biting her lip with a smile. ¡°But my mood is getting better now.¡± She said, picking up her phone. ¡°Yuri, stay where you are. You can come back. You have one last failure before I fire you, and then if you fuck up or speak to the cops, THEN I will kill you.¡± She said, hanging up and waiting patiently, scrolling on her phone while he made his way back. The door opened, and a nervous Yuri sat down and closed it. ¡°I am sorry.¡± He nodded. ¡°Do not apologize, just do better. You see these boxes?¡± she asked, holding up a few boxes of 5.7mm ammo. One red and black shiny labeled, and the other one a plain white box ominously sealed with a sticker reading ¡°for governmental entities or exportation only¡±. ¡°Yes.¡± He nodded. ¡°Load this gun I purchased with these. All 7 clips. I want every other bullet in every clip alternated between these two boxes, with this one as the last round showing. If you do it wrong, do it again. You will be doing this for a while. I grade on correctness, not speed, so take the time to do it right, and I will not ask you to fix it. Mistakes will be fixed as you go, and before you are finished and presenting your work. This is pass or fail, you should start now.¡± She said, as he sighed with relief, slowly and carefully laying out the boxes. Chapter 2: Reloaded The hiss of a gas burner and a deep orange glow illuminated the desert outside the glow of a big city. A U-Haul truck gleamed silver and white, as the trailer behind it held the strange furnace, roaring with hellfire and casting the silhouette of a man on the ground. The shadow covered most of a wooden box, filled with sand. The figure approached the furnace; his face now lit to reveal Michael Finn with a strangely satisfied look, as he moved the molten metal crucible to the sand mold and poured in the glowing liquid. His glasses glimmered like the pits of hell as he finished, waiting for it to cool down and shutting off the furnace. Light footsteps approached, Tanner investigating his work. ¡°You and your fancy sacred metals.¡± She said almost sarcastically, but in a playful bite. ¡°Don¡¯t be so impatient. This is one of yours. The last casting didn¡¯t go well, I have a good feeling about this one.¡± ¡°Remind me why we bought cheap guns to begin with for way too much money, and now you¡¯re remaking the plastic handles in some weird metal? We could have just bought good guns already made of metal.¡± ¡°Because we want the appearance of cheap guns, ones I can make better than anything we could buy, and without the paperwork and suspicion. These Keltec guns have 2 problems, one we can fix and one that becomes a benefit. They¡¯re half plastic, and they¡¯re both 22 magnums. I felt God telling me to buy these off old Frank, and now I realize why. I had a vision, and the math checks out. See these guns have a very badly designed failure point here, this knockout pin for disassembly. They¡¯re necessary for cleaning and maintenance, but they¡¯re anchored in the plastic frame, which means anything much more powerful than a 22 magnum would cause an¡­unwanted rapid disassembly during use. But the plastic frames come in 2 halves. Re-casting the plastic in my fancy metal you love so much, would allow the gun to have MUCH higher strength. With new springs and a thicker barrel, they will handle the new 7mm round I invented. I¡¯m very confident of that." ¡°What¡¯s so special about this round, that we can''t just get a gun IN something close?¡± she asked, inquisitively and annoyed that she actually kinda cared about the technical shit now. ¡°Because there is no caliber this good. It¡¯s perfect. The 7mm Apex. With the magnesium alloy all-propellant case, it should generate up to the power of a 357 magnum, or cycle with the power of a 9mm. BUT, as you can see here, these little rounds are the same diameter as a 22 magnum rim. No gun holds more ammo than a 22, and a 22 magnum is just a long 22 with more balls. Unfortunately, rimfire rounds are not reliable, and it¡¯s not enough balls to compete with a 9mm, let alone a 357 magnum. The magnesium propellant shells use the same mercury fulminate primer as any reliable centerfire round, and the 7mm apex fits in a standard 22 magnum magazine, and with a modified barrel, bored out and thicker than the factory ones, will make this plastic 22 plinker an absolute beastly little gun. Hold that in your hand.¡± He said, handing her the tiny pistol. ¡°It¡¯s actually kinda dainty, but damn it feel heavy enough to be a full-sized pistol.¡± she nodded. ¡°It¡¯s meant to be concealable and strong, not light. Believe me with the kick it has, especially without the suppressor, in a plastic lightweight gun it would start to feel very snappy.¡± He said, prying the lightly golden pewter-colored casting from the sand. ¡°And it holds 26 rounds in the gun with a flush mag. 34 if you use the extended mag." ¡°Holy shit!¡± Tanner exclaimed, ¡°Okay, I¡¯m seeing the overall idea now. Sorry, I had my doubts when I saw you sawing a plastic gun grip in half and using superglue and baking soda to stick it back together. That had me concerned.¡± ¡°Well Keltec doesn¡¯t exactly make a compact version of the PMR30, which is stupid, so I had to shorten the grip and frame. The superglue and baking soda method just held the plastic together long enough to make a sand mold for casting it in metal. Trust me, there¡¯s no superglue holding the final product together. Not with these rounds rocking 880 foot-pounds of energy. That will still kick a good bit even with the springs and the buffer, so use the suppressor any time you use the gun.¡± ¡°Then why does it even detach if it barely takes up any space and fits the holster?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s a red flag to have a suppressor you didn¡¯t register with your ID and fingerprints. We may have fake ID, but I didn¡¯t keep spare fingers. So the suppressor fits into the holster and stays there unless you push this tab down. If you ever get questioned, it¡¯s a non-suppressed pistol with some legal custom mods, registered in my name. If you think you need to use the gun, push the tab, guns comes out with integral suppressor. I have 2 different kinds of ammo that through that suppressor should sound like snapping your fingers. I recommend the 228 grain Full Metal Jacket. Brass jacketed, tungsten powder filled, at about the power of a 40 Smith and Wesson that should blow open on impact and embed your victim with enough frangible metal to drop anyone that isn¡¯t wearing body armor or full of coke and adrenaline.¡± ¡°Ooh, don¡¯t mind of I do.¡± She said, delicately taking the tiny bullet and displaying it like a wine bottle, popping the imaginary cork and smelling it. ¡°228 grain, that¡¯s a really good year.¡± She whispered. ¡°Pairs great with red meat and murder.¡± She joked. ¡°So what happens if they ARE wearing armor?¡± ¡°Then you use the spare magazine, 44 grain steel core brass solid, 3,000 feet per second, and almost double the recoil. They will NOT be silent.¡± ¡°So discreet mistress for softies, and for hard targets, the screamer¡­got it.¡± she winked. ¡°It¡¯s amazing how pornographic you can word something as mechanical as a bullet.¡± ¡°Trust me, you and bullets together gets pornographic for some of us anyway. And with this sexy little spacegun you made me in sparkly silver, it¡¯s amazing I still have clothes on.¡± She gasped dramatically. ¡°You know, I honestly think when I die it¡¯s not going to be from an enemy, it¡¯s just gonna be a combination of my old heart, and a beautiful woman''s sex drive.¡± he sighed. ¡°Is that complaining or bragging?¡± ¡°Definitely not the worst way to go, especially if you don¡¯t fear death. I¡¯ve actually had a dream about you murdering me, and with the enemies I¡¯ve made and my line of work, to be honest if you did murder me, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d even be mad at you. I know you¡¯d make it painless and quick.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t even joke about that. If I ever kill you, it¡¯s gonna be the heart attack during sex, and accidental, and you better not die on top of me.¡± ¡°Use the dolly for body disposal like I showed you. Lift with your knees.¡± ¡°Mike, for real... Just don¡¯t die on me, please. We JUST got to Texas and started the new operation. This is basically the honeymoon. That¡¯s some bullshit negativity. If you can handle 20 guys in a warehouse trying to kill you, you can handle one me, just trying to have fun and actively NOT trying to kill you.¡± She scolded. The light ¡°ding¡± of a door opening didn¡¯t even make the heavy set store owner of Roofus Tex Guns and Ammo Depot look up from his screen, scrolling the newest toys and deals. He scratched his red beard and adjusted his cowboy hat to see who was dropping in so late. ¡°Closing up in 15 minutes, grab what you want quick or come back tomorrow.¡± Said the store owner, looking up at Mike and Tanner. ¡°Never mind, we just closed early. Let me flip the sign.¡± He said, doing just that, and heading back to the counter, waving them behind it and to the back room.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Nice to see you, Roofus.¡± Mike smiled. ¡°Oh every time I see you it¡¯s a mixed bag of emotions, Mike. You always have some weird shit to ask for, but you pay well and I still owe you. I feel like you¡¯re gonna bring that up if I ever object to any requests.¡± he squinted. ¡°Absolutely, but I still pay well.¡± He smirked, laying down a wad of cash as Roofus unplugged the security camera and got out the case from under the counter. ¡°Exactly what you asked for, Keltec PMR, custom serial number, don¡¯t wanna know why, but you can check it, additional custom high grade stainless barrel, that costs more than the gun and I won¡¯t ask why either. Extra mags, 60 rounders, 32, and these custom 25 round short mags were a bitch to get. I had to have a guy 3d print them. You know they won¡¯t fit the gun, right? They¡¯re too short for the gun.¡± ¡°I am aware.¡± Mike nodded. ¡°Yea, enough said. Just confirming that before you buy em. Whatever floats your boat. I also got all the high capacity Glock mags you wanted, 9mm, 45ACP, 22. Didn¡¯t take you for a Glock guy, honestly. You never bring one or even look at them. See you brought the MPX case, gonna do some target practice with the little lady?¡± ¡°That would be great, private as usual.¡± Mike half asked and half instructed. ¡°Mike, you do realize I can sell you ammo. You never buy ammo, and I can match any price you get online, but I gotta ask off the record. Are you testing silencers in there or something? Because half the time I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re shooting, and half the time it sounds like you brought a cannon. I¡¯ve never even seen a 45acp conversion kit for a Sig MPX until you had me order one, That is the LOUDEST damn 45 I have ever heard in my life, and then you reload, and it¡¯s like you turned the volume knob down, sometimes to nothing. Now, I have never in my life had anyone bring their own bullet trap and reloads, let alone every time. I¡¯m just letting ya know I can sell you new ammo or reloading FMJs for 45s dirt cheap. You don¡¯t have to bring your lead home and bring your own ammo back to shoot.¡± He puzzled. ¡°Reloading is a hobby of mine. I have insomnia, keeps me busy, I like experimenting with getting the velocity JUST right. And it¡¯s not a suppressor. It¡¯s a recoil compensator. I know the stamp laws. If this was running a suppressor, why would it be LOUDER than normal? I run hot loads, i shoot all lead free copper, environmentally friendly, but they kick like hell and I got that bad shoulder. No laws saying I can¡¯t design recoil compensators. For some reason, some of them just really make it louder. The quiet ones are tanners. They¡¯re just a primer and plastic bullet for practice. Reuseable, no gunpowder. She doesn¡¯t like shooting with ear protection, she prefers music when she shoots.¡± Mike lied complexly ¡°Whatever you say, Mike. I¡¯m not making accusations, and I don¡¯t give a shit what you do, I didn¡¯t see or hear a damn thing, Suppressors are legal in Texas though. Hell anything made in Texas that stays in Texas is fair game. I got boxes of them and paperwork I could sell you right now, I just can¡¯t report them missing or skip the paperwork. I¡¯m trying to stay as legal as possible here. That¡¯s all. And that serial number favor is a federal crime, so if you get caught carrying both those guns with the same serial number, it¡¯s illegal as hell. Even half the legal mods you got are suspicious if the cops really looked into it.¡± ¡°So is killing someone, Roofus.¡± mike said coldly. ¡°Mike you don¡¯t have to remind me. We don¡¯t talk about that. We don¡¯t talk about it, which is why I keep doing you these favors off the books and with some¡­missing paperwork." Roofus huffed. ¡°I¡¯m just making sure YOU understand the legality of things. I¡¯m not a cop anymore, not legally. Haven¡¯t been for years, even before I moved. Private investigator work is legally gray even for former police, and I have to have a certain amount of discretion in my side business. You of all people understand discretion. Things happen, the laws are sketchy, and good people doing nothing wrong can go to jail if people talk. Relax, Roofus. I¡¯m not saying shit, you¡¯re not saying shit. Nobody is saying shit. I¡¯m a handyman, who likes privacy and being safe, and you¡¯re a salesman who needed a favor. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°I appreciate it, man. You just be safe. Lotta weirdos out there wouldn¡¯t hesitate to get violent with a private investigator snoopin around their business. Kinda why I recommended getting the girl a little 9mm. 22 magnums just don¡¯t cut it for self-defense, and ammo reliability is hit-and-miss, literally.¡± ¡°Why do you think I do my own reloads? Trust me. She¡¯s safer than you think, even when I¡¯m not around. Hell, she¡¯s probably more dangerous than I am.¡± He chuckled, enjoying the irony that he may not be joking. Tanner walked back to the shooter¡¯s box after setting up the bullet catcher, admiring the new inventory. ¡°You still got him over a barrel?¡± she smirked. ¡°Perpetually.¡± Mike said, loading up the new magazines with his oddly fat 7mm silvery rounds. ¡°You¡¯re never going to tell him are you?¡± she asked. ¡°Absolutely not. We needed connections and a gun store owner was top priority, he was the best for the position, so we did what was necessary, we schmoozed and visited a few times, we got chummy and became regulars, and when he needed to dispose of a body, we assisted.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t feel bad that you set up a random guy for a robbery just so he owes us favors? He killed a guy. Some of us are used to that, but Roofus isn¡¯t exactly black-ops. Poor guy might have PTSD.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Anyone who knows us could have PTSD. He¡¯s a gun fanatic, Texas born ultra-Conservative. You think he feels bad for shooting one illegal Mexican guy breaking into his store pointing a weapon? Especially when he happened to be a 45-year-old sex offender dating a 13-year-old girl?¡± ¡°So he really fell for the whole bit? Private investigator moves to town, ex-cop, buddies it up for 2 weeks and then suddenly some suspicious guy starts casing the place and wouldn¡¯t you know it, Private Dick Mikey, is on the job for a friend. Guy tries to rob a GUN STORE while you happen to be investigating and in the indoor range?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not the smartest guy, he¡¯s just the right guy. He knows people, he has connections, we needed a reason for him to owe us something big, and we already had the perfect pervert to kill for it. We just had to give the guy a grand in cash and a gun that didn¡¯t work, tell him the store owner was out of town and his daughter was working the shop, and we would split the robbery money and drive the getaway van if he did the job. The fact that a sex offender took a thousand dollars and a loaded gun he assumed was functional and loaded, in order to rob a lone 20-year-old with a stranger, was reason enough to kill him even if he didn¡¯t glow in the thermals. Half these guns store owners are HOPING some asshole like that tries to rob them so they¡¯d get to shoot someone. You wanted to kill him anyway.¡± ¡°I wanted to kill him in a fun way, not trick a store owner into killing him. I¡¯m just saying it¡¯s been a while, I wanna have some fun. Technically, the only one of us here who¡¯s killed someone since we moved to Texas, is fucking Roofus.¡± ¡°Look, I¡¯ll let you have some fun soon. I just wanted a body disposal site, a gun dealer on our side, knowingly or not, a safe and secure killroom for you, and some new gear so we don¡¯t fit the old profiles. That¡¯s all. I¡¯m playing this smart and safe.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just¡­nobody even knows who we are or were, except Carl, who¡¯s on the same team, even if I owe him a beatdown, and we got more dirt on him than he does us. I think we¡¯re safe." she scoffed. The Dimly candle-lit church had a different feel to it, as the chairs circled a table with a bowl in the middle. 15 pieces of folded paper sat in the bowl, 16 chairs around the table. Carl sat in the nicest one, peering out over his glasses at the surrounding group. ¡°Glad to see everyone made it here.¡± Carl nodded. ¡°You didn¡¯t give us much choice.¡± Said a woman, tapping her foot nervously. ¡°Sure I did. I just informed you that I know who you are, and have enough evidence to get you all arrested. I didn¡¯t say you were required to attend, I suggested attending. This is not blackmail, folks, nobody is getting arrested or ratted out. It¡¯s an awakening, an opportunity, a brotherhood. This used to be a group of rogue killers run by one bitch that was bought and paid for by the top politicians in the state. Now, ding-dong the bitch is dead, I put a full metal jacket through her sinus cavity, and now I work for nobody but myself. If you wanna keep killing alone, go ahead, leave. I won¡¯t stop you myself, but you¡¯ll get caught eventually and have no backup, or some random victim with a vendetta will shoot you in the back some day. I couldn¡¯t care less, as long as enough of you are smart enough to see the benefit of a team dynamic and having each other¡¯s backs. I only need 8 people, beyond that is just bonus. So if anyone would like to tell me to fuck off, because you can take care of yourself, that¡¯s fine. Leave now. If you stay, you¡¯re one of us, and we start making our own rules.¡± He said as 6 people got up and left, heading to the exit and out the door. ¡°Excellent. Now the rest of you who are smart enough to stay, please take turns drawing a name from the bowl. Everyone¡¯s name is in there, including those who just left. Say the name outloud, and if your name is called, stand up, next person draws a name. If nobody stands up, you have a name of someone who walked away, and your first assignment is to go into the parking lot, follow them home, and kill them. I have guns under the table if needed. This organization starts with a bang and ends with no witnesses, let¡¯s see who can hang with the big boys.¡± ¡°What if I just¡­refuse?¡± asked one of the cocky young men. Carl drew his Skorpion 9mm and put a round in his forehead. ¡°I always have to lead the damn revolution, don¡¯t I? You all know too much about too many people if you showed up tonight, so you¡¯re either an ally or a problem. Choose wisely, draw a fucking name. Whoever impresses me most gets to go on a little adventure with me. I got a hunt that needs backup. You¡¯re all hunters. The most dangerous animal I know is out there and ready to be taken down.¡± Carl sighed. ¡°What are we hunting?¡± smirked one of the thugs. ¡°A Holyman.¡± He said darkly.