Nadja peered up at Mike, who was deep in thought at the moment, distracted, even with a naked Russian girl draped over him on the floor of the slightly bloody U-haul.
“You are plotting again.” She whispered.
“Perpetually. Let me ask something odd. Do you trust me with your money?” he asked.
“Not all of it, How much do you want?” She sighed.
“Undetermined, but it’s necessary, and I feel that it’s a better surprise if you don’t know the details. I have an idea, but it hinges on one expensive gamble and if it doesn’t work you’ll be less disappointed just not knowing. If it makes you feel any better I tend to win at gambling and at this exact kind of project.” Mike shrugged.
“Strange and mysterious man you are. Da, take the card. Buy whatever you want. If you run out, that’s all you get, I have more. You can tell me then, and beg for more. If you’re just stealing from me, I will just kill you. I have nothing to worry about.”
“Is it strange that I’m tempted to fake that betrayal, purely so you’ll try and kill me?”
“You have death wish, or you just think I won’t do it?” she asked.
“I believe you would genuinely try if pushed to a point. I’m curious every day to see who would win that. The longer I wait, the older I get, the higher chance is that you’d succeed, which makes me almost feel a sense of urgency to rush that options while it’s still an option. Plus I think you’d miss the fun too much.”
“You do realize there are things I can do to hurt you that won’t kill you.” She said rolling on top of him and looming over his face with hers, eyes gleaming in the dark like an animal’s reflective pupils. “Things I have experience in.”
“Maybe later.” He replied, leaning up to kiss her and discreetly taking the knife out of her hand as he slipped away and got up. He sat at his computer and slid the truck keys to the edge of the desk as if to insist she drive.
“Do you ever sleep, Michael? I’ve been with you for a week and every time I fall asleep you’re watching me, when I wake you are on that computer, plotting, or tinkering.”
“Ever since my wife and kid died, I can’t sleep. I just black out and fall into a nightmare I never remember, and it wakes me up. It’s more like turning the body off for a nap while the mind just transports to hell for the duration. And then I wake with my heart racing and adrenaline up, the idea of fear and a bad dream, but no memory of the dream itself. Almost exactly 45 minutes, like clockwork. I do that about 2-3 times a night and give up. One Doctor called it trauma-induced abnormal parasomnia, another called it a sensory seizure triggered by falling asleep. I call it a reason to stay awake. The work is my meditation, I can get lost in the CAD designing and ballistic math for a few hours, and it feels like a blink. It’s when I do my best work, and I rarely remember the process. Autopilot, just possession of a second self that lets me sleep with my eyes open while it crafts a better killing device for me to wake up to. There’s always a way to make something more lethal, to make a smaller or lighter weapon deliver more power in a smaller bullet with higher capacity.
At some point I may as well just design a doomsday bomb to wipe the world clean with a pull of a trigger, but in the meantime, I just shave off ounces of weigh, add more range and magazine storage, make smaller bullets more lethal, and making killing slightly quieter. Sometimes I watch the people I’ve killed slip away through that line between alive and dead, and the quiet passing of it is like falling asleep. Makes me jealous. One of the reasons I don’t fear death. I enjoy being alive but part of me is wearing thin and in need of rest and taking a life feels like delivering peace. The act itself, and then knowing the people I kill will no longer makes others suffer, it’s both calming and visually like watching sleep in its final form. It’s permanent. It’s complete. Knowing one day I’ll sleep forever without the nightmares is, in itself, calming. So planning a kill is like…preparing a work of art, just for me. If I fail and someone kills me instead, then I just finally got some damn rest via the brush of a better artist. No family to leave behind, no friends to mourn me. Just rest. It’s cleansing. What about you? What does killing do for you?” he asked.
“I grew up feeling powerless. Everyone thinks rich girl, no problems, but in Russian family of politics…money solves problem, but the family name that made it creates them. Responsibility to a legacy you never asked for, representation of your ancestors and all those after you and eyes watching your every move. Sit straight, act properly, marry more money, make more money, only spend money if it gains you more money. It’s pointless. Why have money if you can’t even buy your freedom? What it can buy is power. Loyalty, guns, immunity to jail. Most people are not like you. They fear death. Fear is power, control. Nobody tells you what to do when you have a gun to their head, and nobody ever tells you that you can’t do what you want if they are dead. Killing is surviving, and surviving lets you do more killing. That freedom and power is like drugs, it takes over and for a moment you are a god. Not the kind you like to believe in, but the kind that most people do. The God most people understand is fear, and power, and death and such a tiny bullet or a little razor blade can just…remove all their power from you. Just like that. Ironically the dead are also free. No loyalty, no responsibility, no fear. So I enjoy the power it gives me, and I will die to remain powerful. In death, I have become free as well, so there is no fear. We have taken very different routs to the same ending point and no longer let death have any power over us, because the only power that death can have on the living…is fear.” She said, “So there is no defeating us. We simply continue to win until one day we have peaked and retire. We haven’t lost, we have just…cashed out and left. Winning so much that the casino says Nyet, this is too much for us, go home, take what you have done and leave, the game has ended, but you have still enjoyed it, and there is no losing. We are born with nothing, we leave behind an empire, so win a little or win a lot, play again tomorrow or go home today, you have won more than you started with and enjoyed the game. The only ones losing are the ones too weak to take what they want because of fear. Fear that they will lose what they have earned. So they never play.” She said picking up the 38 revolver and placing down 5 bullets on the table. Spinning the chamber and laying her head on Mike’s, lining up the barrel with both of them and clicking the hammer down, neither of them flinching.
“Wouldn’t that have been a comical way to cash out?” Mike smiled. “One last stupid gamble, and both of us dead.” He laughed quietly as she chuckled with him, setting the revolver down and heading to the driver’s seat. He stared at the gun, pointed away from him. He wondered if she even left one in the gun, or just pretended to see if he would flinch. Knowing either way would spoil the fun so he carefully opened the revolver, spinning it and dropping a few rounds in, tossing it aside and throwing the rest out the window. He sat in the passenger seat, with her in the cab, paying so much attention to her that he wasn’t entirely sure how many rounds he tossed and how many were in the gun, or if it started with one or on empty. By the time he was tempted to check, he would have forgotten and doubted anything he remembered.
Tanner rolled up to the destination, in the passenger seat of the truck, as Carl silently stared.
“This is it.” he said, looking at a rundown abandoned church surrounded by cars. “This is the AA group house. You ready to be one of us?” he asked, looking at her. “You belong with us. The leftovers, the rejected that got a second chance, the killers with a purpose and meaning, like this old building that people forgot and left to rot, now home to something greater than the shitheads that congregated in it before us. You’re home.”
“I killed one of them escaping. You think they’re gonna welcome me in with a hug and start singing hymns?” she asked.
“Well we’re all killers here so it’s not as crazy as you’d think, to assume the craziest thing you can think of. You’re with me, and they know that. They know I’m the one chosen to lead, and what I say sticks. So they won’t try and hurt you.” he assured.
“Wow, very not a cult of them.” She said grabbing her gun and checking to see if it was loaded. “Just in case I don’t trust you do be honest with me. I trust this gun a little more.” She whispered. “It protects me too. They know what I can do with a pocket knife so with this, it sticks. So they won't try and hurt me.” She mocked.
They walked in as the gang of strays and misfits looked up with varying emotions from suspicious glares to smiles and confusion. One of the men stood up aggressively as Carl flashed his Skorpion to settle him down.
“I thought we had a rule here. Guns stay in the cars, and only the leader gets to carry. So why does this literal backstabbing bitch get to walk around with her little red plastic 22?” he asked, his mustache filtering his dark booming voice.
“Hey, I understand Camaro was your friend. You two got along right away, and he’s dead now, but I make the rules here, and she is different. She kills to survive. If she killed him, it’s because he overstepped and asked for it. So everyone, listen up. This is Tanner, she is with me. If anyone hurts her, they ANSWER to me. Simple as that. You’re all here because some of us get second chances and some don’t, and you’re all believers, or you wouldn’t be here. So don’t bite the hand that feeds you, and in this business people who fuck up sometimes die. Nobody wants a war started over one dead arsonist, okay?” Carl said, as the larger man stepped up anyway, crossing his arms.
“How do you know what I want? This is supposed to be a group of equals, and you said that any violence within the group would result in punishment and/or exile. So go ahead, punish her and exile her. I’ll watch.” He insisted as Carl fumed silently.
“Rules change. I made the rules here so I can change them, and you’ll respect them or leave because I’m here for a higher power, and you’re here to either assist that or get in the way of it. She’s a small girl in a house of bigger men and bigger brand name killers with a reputation of being unfriendly to smaller women. So, letting her have a gun for now, is equality. Or would you like to argue that one more time.” He said unholstering his pistol and holding it at his side. Without warning Carl collapsed and hit the floor, the brute stepping back in confusion as Tanner stood shaking her head and holding a syringe, a mildly annoyed cartoonish tilt highlighting her crooked expression and one cheek dimple. She sighed dramatically and playfully leaned the barrel of her little SMG on her right pigtail scrunchy.
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“God, he just never shuts up. It’s just lie and after lie…and now there he lies, right on the floor. Put down by his own knockout shit.” Tanner shrugged nonchalantly as if going into her own little zone. “You’re all here because you’re believers…what a bunch of crap-ass cult garbage. You’re here because you’re saving your asses clustering for strength in numbers, and here Carl is waving his gun dick around like I don’t have my own gun dick right here. Threaten my Mike and then turn his back on me. Fucking moron. How many of you people really believe in this chosen one thing? The chosen one lying on the ground right now because some stabby bitch gave him a stabby, and now I got the only gun, and he’s just kinda laying on his. That doesn’t seem very chosen-ey. That kinda seems like a God-complex. So if you all really believe Carl…a guy named fucking CARL for shit’s sake, is the chosen one, then y’all got your own problems, because look, I could shoot him right now and God’s not really stopping me. If anything he seems to be letting me win this. So no offense but…why did you guys elect him king? Just some dickhole named CARL. That’s some cult shit. Some random white dude named Carl declares himself king, and you guys just roll with it? Come aaaaahn, you just went with it for the second chance to not be in prison. I get it. I did the same thing, except Mike might actually BE the chosen one. That might not even be a thing, but if it is, it’s totally Mike.”
“Carl may be a jerk, but he’s the best killer here. The Lakeshot shooting, taking out the boss of the old group after taking down that safehouse alone to save one hooker. That’s a man I'd follow.” Said Mustache.
“WH-…that lying shit! He’s not the Lakeshot shooter he just looted Mike’s house after he left. Mike was the Lakeshot shooter, HE wiped out the old group and the safehouse, and even he has a little help with that. I would know…I’M THE HOOKER HE WENT IN AFTER!” she said stomping her little foot with every bold word she emphasized.
“So Carl was lying about everything?” he scoffed.
“Well he did shoot the lead bitch, but Mike ordered him to do that because he was sorta busy mopping the floor with the safehouse team for me, and she was cowering in her castle in the woods. He did the one thing. We can have that truthful version when he wakes up if you wanna wait and hold your doubts. But yea I’m the girl, and I don’t need Carl's protection because he abducted me to begin with and then went to kill Mike, so Mike couldn’t come back and claim the throne. It’s like a medieval power vacuum in here. Just testosterone and bullshit and I’m kinda over it. If anything I’m the chosen one because Mike supposedly passed down his whatever God favoritism to me. So if it’s not total bullshit, then you’re still following the wrong whitewashed Ginger Jesus and you should be doing what Mike says. He was even a literal preacher for fuck’s sake. He had his own legit church. So screw Carl. He was trying to murder your chosen one, and steal his seat, so if you really believe this whole thing, stick around for Mike to come back and if not, then go home. I don’t care. I just won't be anyone’s captive. I might even shoot him. I don’t wanna. I kinda wanna, I won’t. I might later." she huffed. Mustache picked up Carl’s gun, chambering it and pointing it at Tanner who just looked even more annoyed.
“So everyone is lying. Maybe the Lakeshot shooter is dead, maybe nobody took down the safehouse alone, and Mike is a nobody, so whoever has the gun is in charge. Let God settle it?” he chuckled heretically “I’m not listening to a woman, and certainly not one who killed a member of this group, that unlike Carl, was one of us, not ruling over us.”
“Bro… I’m telling you if you shoot me, Mike’s gonna fuck up your world in ways you can’t imagine. Also, aim, higher dumbass.” She said, pushing his suppressor up with hers, to head level. “Don’t shoot someone in the sternum, they don’t die instantly, they could shoot you back, you're a terrible killer with piss-poor leadership skills. The brain is a KO guarantee even in that little dorky 9mm Vladamir or whatever caliber it is, Russian 380 auto, 9mm ball-less. Even that thing kills with a headshot. God, you suck at this.” She said, turning her head. “Is this the guy you want leading you? Doesn’t even know how to shoot someone right, ejected a good round out racking it, when it was already loaded. Come on people. You just nudge the slide and look for brass, now there’s a round on the ground, someone could trip over that and get hurt. Put the toy down, sweetie. Actual killers are having a serious conversation here.” She said with an attitude.
“Really. Well so far all you did was wave a gun and talk. So let’s see who the real killer is.” He said pulling the trigger as the hammer struck the tracking blank round. Nothing happened. Tanned rolled her eyes in annoyance.
“UHhhhh! Please tell me the safety was on, and you didn’t really try and just shoot me. Hell no, tell me that was a bluff right NOW!” she scolded. He frantically racked the gun again and chambered the explosive dummy round, pulling the trigger as the gun blew up in his hand, injuring his hand in the process and destroying the gun. She stared in amazement. “...Well that was hilariously unexpected.” Tanner huffed, putting a 7mm bullet in his head and shutting up the screaming. The room went silent.
"What happened?" said someone in the back.
“Shit, maybe Mike did actually pass down his God favor thing. Am I…?” she smiled scrunching her eyebrows playfully. “Am I the chosen one for real?” she giggled. “Oh come on that was not even planned. I'm a shocked as you here. What are the odds a gun Carl uses for literally everything and never breaks just blows up right when it’s aimed at me…I should be dead. Okay, let’s just, take a deep breath and assess the situation, Blessed be. So Carl sucks, we agree, Uh, there’s no leader now because that guy is dead and that kinda looked like a sign to me. So if anyone doesn’t believe in miracles like... just go home I guess. It’s fine. I’m not even mad, you do you. If you also think that was some spooky shit, and wanna stick around, you can help me tie up Carl and when he wakes up he’ll confirm everything I said, he folds super easy with me and just blurts the truth. He knows I’m super stabby and Mike’s favorite. Or God’s favorite, or Mike is God’s…the point is I’m doing a vote. We vote the leader right now, while this spooky shit is still fresh and ominous. And then we all just do what we do and go take down the Mayor. That was Mike’s goal for me, so if he’s not here, and he’s passed that job on. I’m gonna do it. So I nominate myself, hey everyone.” She posed, smiling and shrugging with a little blush “And if you wanna be the cult leader here...I mean it’s not a cult anymore. But if you wanna be nominated as not a cult leader, just stand up, look I’m even putting my gun down. Nobody’s gonna grab it, or it will just blow up and kill them anyway. Show of hands, everyone who’s staying. Who thinks I’m the leader, there are no consequences for voting me out, I’ll just leave and pout. I’ll take my gun and go. Hand up, show of hands, everybody hands. What do we got. 1,2 wow, like most you people. Seriously if you wanna leave, just go. It’s fine.” She said smiling as 2 people left and most stood up respectfully. “Oh wow, I really appreciate this, guys. I didn’t even know I was gonna be nominated to be a cul-a group leader today, and this…” she said tearing up. “This is the coolest moment of my life. Okay it’s official, like you can tell we don’t need to count it’s like most people and now the other ones are doing it too so they don’t look dumb. It’s fine, we all have moment of doubt in our faith, and you’re forgiven. Fuck it, Everyone go to your car and get your guns. The new rule is everyone gets guns except Carl. Who is now our official tied to a chair mascot, until Mike decided what to do with him and until Mike’s glorious return…I guess I’ll be in charge.” She smiled, waving dramatically like the Queen of England, or the winning Miss Serial Killer America Pageant.
Mike picked up the Phone, pushing Nadja off him to answer it.
“Hello Carl. You son of a bitch. I got your little present, dead in a trash bag. Keep sending them, I’ll keep bagging them up. Every damn one. Send a few at a time so they have a chance, you chicken shit, because we both know you’ll never step anywhere near me yourself.” Mike said darkly.
“MIKE! It’s Tanner. I did a cult! I did it! Are you proud of me? I mean it’s not a cult, it’s a group, but I'm leading it! YAY. Be proud of me. Tell me I'm pretty and come home.”
“Tanner? This is Carl’s phone.” He said.
“Yea, I knocked him out and stole it. I got you on speakerphone for the group, Carl is hogtied so he can’t talk but Mike we have a cult now! I mean we have a group. You were right, I’m really doing things, I’m ready, come home we can have cake and kill the Mayor.” She said, bopping side to side like a little cheerleader.
“I’m sorry you…knocked out Carl, hogtied him and took over the AA group?” he said in disbelief.
“Yea.” Tanner said with a joyful smile, bottling her squeaky emotions. “We did it, you taught me good you can come home now and kill the mayor!” she grinned.
“Tanner I am…so proud of you. I never doubted you, but this is faster than I ever thought you would progress. You did it. You organized the group, you took my job over. Well done, Tanner. You earned it. But I’m not coming home. See this is proof that you’re ready to do my work there, locally. Grow the group, make a difference, do what’s right. But that’s exactly what you were supposed to do. Destined to do. Replace me. I’m old. I’m not the best anymore, hell I needed your help to take out Carl. People like you, they need you there, leading. Let me handle the Mayor. It’s a suicide mission, Tanner. It’s not for my replacement to get killed doing, it’s for me to do and you to take my place.”
“But… Mike I did this for us. I can’t do this alone.” she said frowning.
“Clearly you can, and you’re not alone anymore.” Mike said sadly. “Tanner it was you all along. Use that, let me go down in flames of glory doing my one last mission instead of dying in a retirement home while some new Carl waits to take me out in my sleep. You fell in love with an old monster on his last leg and ready to go down fighting, don’t waste your life chasing me. Live it. Lead others.” He said, hanging up suddenly and sighing with a look of defeat.
“I love…” Tanner said, stopping in silence. “Bye.”
“That looked painful.” Nadja sighed.
“She’s a good girl, she’ll do good things without me. I loved someone like her once, and she got killed because of me. I’d rather break her heart than get her killed. I’ll never let that happen to someone I love again. I’ve lost 2 Gwens already to this calling.”
“So you don’t love me?” said Nadja with a fake pout.
“Like a heroin addiction. Something I hate and need but can’t quit, that is destined to poison and kill me like a glorious plague.” He said coldly. “But I deserve no more or less.”
“Well it sounds so romantic when you say it like that, Michael. Love is weakness. You know that from what I have just observed. But don’t act like I am only silver medal.”
“No, you’re more than a piece of silver. You’re worth 30 of them for my broken soul. I guess we don’t get to kill Carl. We’ll have to just find entertainment elsewhere.”
“You don’t think he has already given orders among the group to sneak out and hunt us down? She may be safe with her little church group and your God, but…you still have enemies to face and new ones to make. So do not look so sad. You did the right thing, protecting the little lamb from what we are, and what we attract. But the fun is not over. If they do not come, we will find them. You and your… glowing scope will always find something to hunt. Maybe when you are really ready to retire, we hunt each other.” She grinned. “Don’t get old on me yet, Holyman. We have very important people to kill yet. People you were created to hunt, the real challenges.” She whispered. Kissing his head and holding him, eye open like a constrictor, playing with her food, squeezing just enough to remind him what she is. "Promise to kill me a president, Mister chosen one, and I will swear an oath to never lay a hand on Tanner. Preferably signed in blood."