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 4th 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.
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“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.