“It’s not what you think,” I said.

“John, they called and said they are going to take my money as I was involved. I…” Pearl began crying.

“I didn’t do any of that. They are framing me because of…because of another thing. It’s hard to explain. Some people got hurt during my procedure and they wanted to say it was my fault. That I pushed a button or did something I wasn’t supposed to do.” I was lying again. “I didn’t steal anything though.” Also a lie technically, but I am fairly sure it wasn’t on anyone’s radar at this point.

“John, I quit my stupid dancing gig. I don’t have anything to go back to there. If I don’t have this money, I am gonna lose my apartment. I got a kid. I was going to use this money to try and get partial custody back. Get clean. See my daughter. Go to dental hygienist school. If they take this money, then I don’t know what I am gonna do.”

“Pearl…”

“You gotta help. You gotta tell ‘em,” she said.

“I don’t think they want to listen to me,” I said.

Pearl paused. Her tone changed. “Maybe you just turn yourself in.”

“Not going to happen.”

There was a long pause before she stifled her crying and said, “Can I see you?”

Look I’ve seen movies before. This is always a setup. 100% of the time. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that. BIMPT had clearly exerted some leverage and was using her to get to me.

My penis did not know that. My penis remembered Pearl’s bra, and the shape of her hips. It told me about how smooth and perfect her skin was, and how long it had been since I had been laid. It reminded me that I had money again, that I might be able to help her. Sure, she had blown me off, but maybe things would be different this time. We were business partners then. Now could be different. What if we were Bonnie and Clyde? My penis exerted its mighty and complete control over my brain and forced me to say “Sure. Where?”

“Do you know the park on 63rd and Elm?” Pearl asked quietly.

“I do.” I didn’t. I lied again. I’d look it up. “Do you need a ride?”

“No…uhh…I can uhh… I am already close to there. I will walk.” Pearl said fumbling her words.

At this point, even my braindead penis should’ve been able to see this for what it was, but no, it was still envisioning a world of DDs and doggystyle sex in the backseat of my new truck. I imagined a pale-skinned Goddess, ass in the air, asking me if we could just run away together. I wanted to go. I wanted to see her. I was pulled there.

“I will meet you there in 30.” I said.

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I started to feel sick driving over. Twitchy. Nauseated. I figured it was the nerves catching up to me. Too much adrenaline too fast. Maybe I was just nervous about seeing Pearl? I also noticed that apparently my hand was bleeding again. I guess I hadn’t stopped to bandage it since the breakout at BIMPT. What was that 6 hours ago? 16 hours ago? It was getting close to dark. I needed somewhere to stay. I wanted to stay at Pearl’s.

I got to the park a few minutes early. It was small, but full. Pearl was already there. When I saw her from a distance I smiled and waved. She waved but there was no smile. I walked towards her, anxious, jittery, confused. Also horny... mostly horny actually. It had been a while, but I really felt like this was going to be my shot. I got closer and said, “Hey Pearl!”

Pearl’s eyes darted sharply towards two nearby men on a bench. She mouthed “BIMPT.” She mouthed “I’m sorry.” She mouthed “Run.”

Like I said earlier, I am not a superhero. I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a normal guy. I mean I’ve shot a gun before. My mom used to take me. A long time ago, I was still a little kid. She taught me sighting with rifles and handguns. It was all just paper targets though. I never wanted to shoot an animal. She said she understood.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Maybe they were just there to talk at that point. Maybe I escalated things. Maybe this thing would’ve been fine if I had just given someone, anyone time to sit me down and tell me their side of things. I didn’t take that risk though. When I got to the park, my head started doing the talking again. My penis, now deeply concerned for our overall well-being again, threw his metaphorical arms in the air and gave way to whatever logic I could muster. More importantly, it was unlikely she would have sex with me if I was in prison or dead.

One of the guys on the bench made a movement towards the interior of his coat. I pulled the .45 I stole from Dale and domed the guy on the right. A .45 at close range is a terrible and powerful thing. The bullet hit him dead center of his forehead. Whatever ammo Dale had loaded into his pistol was designed not to maim but to kill, as the exit wound left the back of the man’s head an unrecognizable mess. Everyone began running. I looked for Pearl but she was gone. Good.

The guy next to him was clearly shocked. We made eye contact briefly, but I was already firing again. I missed his head but hit him once in the shoulder and once in the neck. He tried to cover it but I had hit the same shoulder as what he tried to use cover the wound, so it just looked like a man on ether desperately trying to plug a hole in his neck that was actively firing off five foot long spurts of blood. Having solved that problem, I was ready to run so I turned quickly, but was met with a man running towards me at a startling fast pace. He swung at me and I fell down trying to dodge it. I fired upwards, towards where I thought he was. I heard more screaming and the man fell to the side of me. I saw a woman in a black hat reach into her purse. I didn’t know what she was reaching for, so I just started firing. When the magazine was empty I reloaded the only other one I had.

I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t hear gunfire. It was quiet but for the screams. I paused, then I ran towards my truck, desperately hoping to just get out of here. There was no way now though. It was one thing to murder someone on closed circuit camera inside a giant medical facility. I probably never would’ve beat the case on Big Dale, but I definitely wasn’t going to make it through opening fire at random perceived civilians in a park. This was it. I was done. Lifetime in prison? The chair? Would they just give me to BIMPT to do whatever they planned on at first?

I was halfway to my truck when I heard the rifle fire. I saw the tires on my truck turn flat. I saw the glass break. I saw 50 holes appear in the side. They weren’t firing at me. They weren’t trying to kill me. They were cutting off my escape route. There was nowhere to go. I turned around. I stopped. Through the chaos of screaming children and fleeing moms I saw three men walking towards me. Everyone else was running. They were armed. One of them raised a cannon-like device at me and fired. I felt my neck almost snap as my head shot forward and my gut reared backwards. A beanbag from the assailant’s cannon had squared me in the belly. The impact threw me to the ground as I heard another beanbag fly over my head. I was struggling to breathe when I came to, and saw the three men approaching me, now less than ten feet away. My pistol lay loosely in my hand, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I pointed it in their direction and pulled the trigger as many times as I could. Just as I heard one of the guys yell “Gun!” I saw the bullet catch him in the knee as his leg shot out from underneath him. The bone where his kneecap should’ve been protruded violently from his shattered leg and buried itself in the dust in front of him after his collapse. Behind him, an older woman pushing a stroller fell flat on her face in a lifeless heap. I heard screams in the distance. My two former assailants had bailed out behind a local concrete formation that served some purpose for the park. I saw one of them scuttle towards the guy with the blown out knee so I sent another salvo his direction catching him behind the ear. The final assailant went full on Rambo mode charging me firing beanbags left and right. I pulled the trigger again but nothing happened. I ran to my truck with him chasing just a few feet behind me, and threw the door open but the last remaining assailant caught up to me. He slammed into me against the truck. He grappled me around the throat and I felt him begin to squeeze. I had already slid my hand into my canvas bag though. I found my survival axe and ground the blade across his fingers. He recoiled in pain. It was enough room. My little survival axe had a spike above the blade. I jammed it into his gut as hard as I could and twisted. I pulled hard on the blade but it was stuck inside him, twisted into organs and sinew. He tried to fight but the damage was already done and he slumped over against the truck dying.

I retrieved my extra survival axe and swung it against the dying man’s throat. It partially decapitated him, surely enough to call him dead. I began charging towards the guy with the blown out knee. He wasn’t moving but it wasn’t worth taking a chance. I swung the axe with vicious intent. I wanted to lop his head off with the first swing like some ancient executioner. The axe cut downward past his neck, but it lacked the heft it needed to power through his spinal column. No matter. I wanted more. I hit him again. I wanted more. Again. More. It was the most alive I had ever felt and as I my arm got tired from hitting him again and again, I never stopped, because I never wanted to quit, and I knew I if just kept swinging I would never have to.

Then my body spasmed, and the world went black. The last thing I remember seeing was a tall, older woman with long blonde hair. I tried to say, “Don’t I know you?” but nothing came out.