Willy gazes slack-jawed through the blood-spattered apartment. Glass, wood and ravaged flesh coat the hardwood floors.
“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?" Willy mutters to himself.
He sinks back into the bullet-riddled lump of cotton and wood that was once a rather luxurious couch and takes a deep breath.
I didn't sign up for this.
And that's true, while he did offer his assistance to who he assumed was a prophet of God, this wasn’t what he was expecting. He sucks in a huge breath and holds it in, in an attempt to calm his nerves. He lets it out. He then repeats the process two or three more times until his urge to scream and tear up the house even further subsides. As his body relaxes he allows himself to be further absorbed by the cushion and with some reluctance he looks towards the sky. A magnificent golden chandelier hangs from the vaulted ceilings, little ruby ornaments cut into the shape of lambs hang underneath. He clasps his hands together in prayer, then closes his eyes tightly.
"God please... I tried to keep the prophet alive. I really did, but I was too slow. Now he's dead and there's so much blood on my hands. I won’t lie, I don't want to, but lord I'll keep fighting if that's what you want. Just tell me what to do... Please tell me what to do,”
Willy slowly opens his eyes hoping that waiting for him will be Jesus decked out in full robes and a crown of thorns forgiving him of all wrongdoing. Maybe even God himself, hell, he'd take a little cherub mooning him with 'All Good Dude' written on its asscheeks.
THONK!
Instead he's graced with a giant rectangular tablet square to the jaw. Lights out.
As he begins to come back to from his momentary loss of consciousness he notices something speeding off into the distance through the shattered window.
"Hey! Come back!", Willy shouts with an impact induced stammer.
With growing ambivalence to this situation he rubs at his jaw in an attempt to relieve the ache and ensure none of his teeth were damaged. He pries himself up from the couch and veers
over to the tablet laying on the floor beside him. It looks like a knock off iPad. There's one button, imprinted on it is a simple cross icon, but the cross is sideways. As he lifts the tablet he
notices its heft, it weighs at least 10 pounds.
I guess they took tablet literally.
Willy cracks a smile to himself, but it fades quickly at the thought of turning on this mysterious device. He quickly engages the power button, which displays the same sideways cross on its boot screen. Now booted up, there lies a single folder titled 'You'. In this folder there are two files, the first a video file titled NoExcuse.MP4 and next to it an obvious rip off of a popular map program, cleverly titled 'Angel Maps'.
Willy taps the video first. The video begins revealing an angel with glowing blue eyes, dark hair and a bright orange spray tan. He's flexing his pectoral muscles and biceps subtly in what appears to be an attempt to assert dominance, but it more so asserts douchebaggery. Behind his anabolic enhanced physique are magnificent black wings extended as far as the screen can display and with a thick New Jersey accent the angel begins to speak.
"Now listen here you lubed-dick fuck, I told you to keep him safe. Not fifteen minutes after I send you to help keep him out of trouble he's fucking dead. I hope you understand the gravity of the situation here bud because if you fuck this up again I'll rain all kinds of hell on your ass. Hell that you and your dumbass family will never recover from. You don't buttfuck an angel without permission bro, and I'm feeling all kinds of penetrated right now. Follow the fucking map and wait for sunup, then don't do shit until I reach back out to you. And for christ sake don't go praying again, that's an open line that someone's gonna tap into… and trust me you do not want that.".
Willy sits frozen, stunned by the vulgar nature of the ribbing he just got from an angelic being, doubly so due to how nice he'd been in their first encounter. Over the next few moments his confusion turns to rage. He rises from the couch and curls his fist into a tight ball.
"Why did you pick me? You should have known I'd just screw this up!", he shouts through the window.
With a mighty windup he slams the tablet into the concrete floor.
BOOM!
As the tablet makes impact it releases an explosive wave of energy, ribbons of blue and gold fill the condo. The resulting shockwave causes the 250 pound man to be comically somersaulted across the living room and slammed into a wall. His head is pounding and with each blink he can still see blue and gold swirls beneath his eyelids. A few loud snaps and pops let out from Willy's lower back and knees as he gets back to his feet. He looks towards the location of impact and as the dust settles a smoldering rectangular hole about a foot deep reveals itself.
"Jesus.".
Willy gingerly wiggles the tablet from the crater and tries to store it in his waistline, but it's far too heavy. He spots a leather Versace side-bag from across the room. He retrieves the bag and fits the tablet snugly into the pouch, zips it shut and lobs it over his shoulder.
"Get it together, just gotta get it together.", he tells himself reassuringly.
He takes a glance across the room. He knows his opening to leave is quickly fading away, but as an officer of the law he can't in good conscious leave with so much evidence of his being here spread throughout the scene. He scans the floor looking for the enormous shells of his 8 gauge shotgun and gingerly places them in his jacket pocket. He then heads to the kitchen and grabs the drying towel hanging from the handle of the oven, with which using his flawless recollection of everything he touched he wipes down every countertop, piece of flooring and coffee table edge where he could have possibly left a fingerprint. Once the place was completely scrubbed of his DNA he grabs his shotgun and makes for the door.
The whirring of sirens grow in the distance which makes Willy nervous. They're only five minutes out at most, so he picks up the pace. At a jog he exits the condo, making sure to stop at the door frame and wipe down a few more of his prints. As he makes his way to the elevator he notices his hat on the floor, he annoyedly snatches it off the floor, dusts it off and dons it atop his short fade. The elevator’s downward facing arrow shines red upon Willy's face at the press of the button. The wait is agonizing. The sirens are closing in, they'll be here any moment.
You're gonna make it outta here, god needs you.
"That's right, god MOTHER fucking needs me!" he shouts.
The elevator dings, but Willy is already mid-sprint back to the condo. He has a plan. He knows it's risky and honestly, downright idiotic, but it's the only play he has left if he intends to make it to his destination out of custody and on time. Now at the condo door he reaches towards the heavy corpse that was crushing Edith atop the door. A large latino man and he’s riddled with buckshot. Willy Flips him over and at his hip, a Glock 19 9mm. Willy grabs the pistol in desperation and places it point blank at his left shoulder, carefully aiming to miss any and all of his vitals.
"AHHHHHHHH!", he releases out a violent scream in preparation for the punishment he's about to inflict on himself.
BANG!
Tears begin to well up under his eyes, but he has no time to hurt. He reaches to feel his upper back to ensure there's exit wound. It's there, a small manageable hole leaking a good amount of blood. He lets out a hearty sigh of relief, then begins to belt out a full belly laugh.
"Goddamn... I never even checked for hollow points... Lucky day. Lucky muthafuckin day."
He thoroughly wipes down the pistol with the bottom of his shirt then tosses it across the room. He begins to place pressure on the bullet hole and head towards the exit.
DING!
The cops are here. They rush out of the elevator in formation. They immediately aim then lower their guns on Willy after noticing his uniform.
"Men I got hit! I took a few down but they dispersed across the floor, they're hiding in all these rooms. Thank god you guys got here when you did or I... I would've been a goner."
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"Oh shit! Stay low and get downstairs, we can take it from here," belts a young police officer leading the formation.
"Will do, and hey... Get those fuckers back for me."
The young officer returns a sincere nod and signals the men to press forward. Willy crouches down and tries to keep his shotgun out of sight from the passing officers.
"Let's show these motherfuckers what happens when you try to gun down a man in blue,'' whispers the young officer with an air of dramatic confidence.
Willy, now almost home-free steps into the elevator and presses the button for the ground floor. A touch of lightheadedness hits him on the ride down. He hasn't lost enough blood to die from, especially someone of his stature, but he can definitely feel it starting to slow him down. Another loud ding fills the atrium and he makes his way towards the front entryway. He made it. He struts towards to the door with a sense of ease washing over him.
"Officer Huitt, what the hell are you doing here? You're stationed downtown tonight," beckons a rugged voice from behind him.
Fuck.
Willy turns towards the man, being mindful to keep his shotgun on the opposite side of his leg and out of sight. The man has salt and pepper hair neatly parted to the right side and a thick black mustache.
"Lieutenant. I was uhh. I was chasing a suspect. Was just a routine stop, but the fuckers decided to make a break for it. While in pursuit I heard the gunshots and… I had to make a judgement call."
Willy points to his bleeding shoulder.
"And I took a shot for it.".
The lieutenant ponderously stares him up and down, saying nothing.
"I know it was dumb sir. I should have never gone in without backup. It was impulsive and reckless."
The lieutenant stares at Willy's wounded shoulder for another moment before breaking his silence.
"Alright, I'll let you beat yourself up over this for now. That is until I get my turn. Go get that wound treated, then we can get a full report tomorrow," Stated the lieutenant, his suspicious glare easing up.
"Yes sir," Willy replies shamefully. He turns and makes for the doorway, still somehow keeping his enormous shotgun out of sight.
As Willy is painfully aware, when you admit such dreadful, appalling judgement in the field to your lieutenant, and he doesn't tear you to pieces on the spot you know you're in some deep shit. Willy's only solace was in the fact he'd most likely be killed by someone or something before the police force truly found out what he'd done. He walks past the officers outside who are taping off the area encircling the bodies of both Edith and the demon he took down with him. Luckily, he's not acquainted with most officers who working this part of town, so no one attempts to approach with him.
He makes it to his car without any further hiccups and throws open his trunk. He carelessly tosses in his shotgun and and pulls out a fully stocked first aid kit. He begins to slam the trunk, but stops himself towards the end of the motion and instead gingerly presses it shut, so as not to draw attention to himself. As he makes his way to the driver's side door and is about to open the door, a bright pink shape catches his attention from the corner of his eye. It's the pink cowboy hat Edith had stolen. Willy doesn't necessarily like the hat, nor did he agree with the bold color choice, but that crazy asshole had just given his life to save him, so it just felt right he should take it with him.
Willy tosses the sidebag with the tablet, the hat and the first aid kit into the passenger seat of his car and hops in. As Willy start his engine shouting erupts from the entrance of the apartment building. A frantic officer bursts through the front door and holsters his weapon. Exiting directly behind him is the lieutenant who from the violent look on his face is the source of the shouting. Willy takes this as his queue to leave. Leaving his lights off, he begins pull forward hoping they don't notice his exit. Luckily for him the officers seemed to be too distracted by the lieutenant's outburst to notice him slowly drive away. He still hasn't checked the location the not-so friendly angel had supplied him via the tablet, but there's something more important to take care of first.
Willy knows the streets of Dallas like the back of his own hand due to his 10 years of patrols, even in the current pitch black of night. Using this to his advantage, he avoids every patrol route he can. With all the bodies left behind there's no way the lieutenant doesn't have men already searching for him. As Willy makes his way down the dimly lit roads he begins to feel the effects of his blood loss. His eyes droop and he catches himself having to swerve back in between the lines between the momentarily losses in consciousness.
"I'm coming baby, just be strong." he says with a breathy grunt.
Willy's mind begins to drift towards his wife Christine and how they met eighteen years ago. He was a junior in high school, she was a sophomore at the time, but usually hung out with an older crowd. They were introduced by Willy's father, who was also a police officer. He'd asked Willy to keep an eye on her since her family was new to the neighborhood.
Willy and Christine hung out often throughout his final two years of high school, but they rarely spoke. They enjoyed each other's company, however the comfort they felt simply being together was all they needed, so they never felt the need to muck that up with conversation. She would sneak over and sleep in his bed regularly, but just sleeping, they never felt the need to muck that up either. It was never explicitly said, but both of them were scared. Scared of incompatibility. Maybe they would go to different colleges, maybe they have vastly different political views and maybe the feelings they felt for each other weren't mutual. These seeds of doubt kept them from taking what they had beyond... whatever they were to each other.
That was until a week before his graduation. They sat together in his room and listened to Pantera, which he still wasn't sure if she liked, and he nervously extended to her a tasteful gold engagement ring with a measly, but real .25 carat diamond. And to his rejoice, she said yes. He just now realizes that to this day he hasn't told her that he started saving for that ring the day after meeting her. And at the rate things are going, he may never get a chance to.
You never realize how mechanical things can become when you do them regularly. Some days you wake up, brush your teeth and drive to work and it's not until you walk through those doors and see your coworkers that you even feel the need to turn on your brain. Willy feels that same experience as he pulls into his neighborhood, not entirely entirely cognizant of his drive here. He feels a pit in his stomach as he turns down the narrow roads, expecting his house to be swarming with his fellow officers, but to his delight, his home on 1223 Gardener Grove, there isn't an officer in sight.
"Thank you Jesus".
Willy removes his seatbelt, then turns to his passenger seat which induces a spasm in his left shoulder where he shot himself. He annoyedly grabs the first aid kit and stumbles out of his car. As he approaches the door he realizes he left his keys in the ignition, and in a hurry he knocks at the door in a hammering motion.
"Christine!"
Willy knocks again.
"Christine!"
The lights flick on behind the pane of glass in the door, followed by the echoing of quiet footsteps from the stairs inside. The door opens wide as Willy stares on the verge of tears through the doorway. Staring back at him is a true beauty. Her eyes a light brown that directly contrasts her dark brown complexion. Her expression of tired confusion turns to panic as she notices his blood-soaked palms.
"Who did this?", Christine asks.
"I wish I could tell you everything right now, but I can't. Shit's about to get very confusing around here and you're gonna be hearing all kinds of shit about me.” Christine looks at him as if he’s gone mad.
"Calm down Greg. You're soaked, how much blood have you lost?"
As she reaches out her arm to inspect his shoulder and Willy gently grabs her by the wrist.
"I just need you to know what they're going to tell you isn't true. I need Eric to know it isn't true."
Christine looks into Willy's eyes which are now oozing red tears due to the addition of the dried blood on his face. Christine gulps deeply then nods, beginning to grasp the grave nature of the situation still mysterious to her.
"I understand. What do you need?" She asks, without a hint of wariness.
Willy's body loosens in relief and he gives his wife a thankful glance, then points to his shoulder.
"Clean in and out, 9 millimeter. I need it cleaned and stitched quick. I have maybe15 minutes and that's pushing it."
Christine nods and gets to work. She places the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and sits willy down at the dining table. She begins to clean the would, causing Willy to bite down hard on a rubber spatula he snagged from the sink. As Christine pours iodine into his fleshy hole, he makes an incredible effort to be quiet. Not wanting to wake up his son or cause nightmares from a grown man’s screams of pain. After the disinfection is complete she effortlessly stitches the gunshot wound on both entry and exit.
“Hey, 5 minutes to spare, think we can pull a quickie?” Willy grunts jokingly in an attempt to hide the amount of pain he's currently experiencing.
Christine, ignoring the joke looks him directly in the eyes.
"I need to know how serious this is. I trust you, I just need to know whatever it is you're doing is worth it."
Willy nods and points to the ceiling.
“All I can say is this is likely the most important thing I'll ever do, but I truly have no fucking idea if it will be worth it."
Christine, now even more puzzled just nods.
"Just don't get yourself killed. If you do, you better know I’m getting remarried. Maybe to some B-list celebrity who runs a late night talk show. Then I'll be forced to just relax and live the rest of my life in luxury."
"You know I'd never let that happen." Willy quips.
"I love you, Christine.".
"I love you too, Greg.”.
Willy walks out his front door and heads down the road on foot, eyes open for a car to steal and begin the quest given to him from an angel of heaven.