Mike sighed, flashing a hundred to the bouncer, who discreetly changed his mind about letting a 51-year-old man into the hip new joint.
“Told you the bow tie and James Bond vibe looked outdated and cheap. It’s a high roller place.” Tanner said into his earpiece.
“Well, age means nothing if you have the currency. Sadly, that applies to most things. Should we thank God for blessing the horse races last week?” he smiled.
“Okay fine.” She grumbled. “So where is this psychopathic little bartender? I don’t see a blonde anywhere back there except the cowgirl with the fake knockers that looks nothing like the pictures.”
“I don’t know. She just said she got off work at 12, and to be early. I couldn’t miss her if I aimed for the stars.” He muttered, feeling oddly drawn to the stage on the far right. Something in his soul tugged, almost painfully, guiding him that direction and away from the bar. The Blue haired stripper on the pole, piercing the crowd with her gaze, staring at him directly and unblinking. She spun and did a subtle head nudge as if to summon him. He looked around and noticed nobody else making gestures back. It was clearly meant for him.
“Mike, if you wanna just hang out at a strip club, it’s a free country.” Tanner informed. “But please don’t tell me this was all bullshit to watch some ass. I like ass. You could have just said, let’s go watch some stripper ass. It’s not as fun as a kill, but it’s not…like a BAD time. Do not tease me with killing, though.” She joked.
“I think I found our little shining star.” He said, noticing the tattoo on her very exposed blue-haired stripper's backside, a few ten dollar bills tucked around her hips.
“I thought she was a bartender?” tanner asked.
“Apparently she changed up her look and her angle to avoid the radar. The question is...WHO'S radar. Cops or us? Something feels off.”
“Shit, one of your weird spiritual hunches? You want me to get the MPX and wait outside?” she asked.
“No, I want you in the building. Go to the bathroom and switch to the high capacity magazine and heavy rounds. She’s got a friend somewhere. I can just feel it. Boyfriend, bodyguard, Hired help. I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling someone dangerous is watching me.” He said approaching the show. The men around the stage seemed just as fixated as Mike, except feeling different emotions and the urge to reach for entirely different things. Nadja dropped down low and winked at him, crawling to his spot.
“Hello Mister Smith.” She said with a subtle serpentine hiss.
“I was expecting you at a table, not on the stage.”
“Maybe you would not show up if I told you what I’d be doing here. Maybe you understand, maybe you do not. But you are here now, and you like what you see?” she teased.
“Little elaborate for tips and customers.” He said, sitting down, lifting a 20 between his fingers as she batted her eyes.
“That’s not why I lured you in. For tips and twenties, and that’s not how you give them out anyway." She said, pulling her thong lace from her hip as a place to deposit the 20.
“I came here for a date, not a show.” He sighed.
“You will get the date, after the show. I told you ten minutes early, I have 2 songs left. Everything is as planned, mister Smith. Just enjoy the show, and a few songs, and then we have something to drink, and that table conversation you wanted. After that…who knows. Relax. I am not working you, I am just working. I wanted you to see what you were up against before we got too far.” she hinted.
“Testing me before the date, making money during the test, getting the other guys jealous and seeing how I respond to my date being a stripper, all in two short songs. Clever. Efficient.”
“Clever and efficient is how I operate, so…what do you really do for a living? Construction work? Hardly.” She smirked skeptically.
“Well, we all fudge the truth a little. I own a very successful little tool shop. I got a younger partner doing the young work. I didn’t want that to influence your opinion of me. Money has a way of giving people motives.”
“Oh, you ironic thing. Money I have, I really do not need the…what do you call it here? Sugar Daddy?” she hissed.
“Young stripper, Older man like me. Can’t be too safe. Either of us. People are after what they want, and it’s not always good for the other party involved. So what do you want, Miss Jackie?” he asked, with the same sarcastic tone she used every time she said “smith”, knowing it was a fake name.
“I want you. Like i said in the profile. I like you. I have everything else I want. I do not have you.” She taunted, less flirting and more threatening.
“I must be better looking than I realize.” He said with a jolly smile, adjusting his glasses as tanner cut in over the earpiece.
“You are, but not to everyone. No offense Mike, but this is way too forward. She’s onto you, not into you. She thinks you’re a cop or something. Don’t drink anything you didn’t open from a bottle yourself. Over.” She said discreetly.
“Do not sell yourself so short. Many women like older men. You do have a certain…spirit to you.” She whispered borderline demonically. The hairs on his neck stood up as she stared through his soul, and the music almost disappeared. Like some form of trance or hypnosis overtaking him, something mysterious and haunting.
“That is a lovely accent you have. I had no idea you were from so far out of town. Eastern Russia?” he asked.
“You’re a very gifted listener, aren’t you?” She asked. “But unfortunately, finding the right man requires more than just open ears and flattery. They say you never know if something is real until it is trialed by fire? Is that the saying? Burning the imperfections out of the gold, trial and tribulations?” she smirked.
“You don’t strike me as the religious type.” Mike noted.
“Which religion? There are so many to follow, who is to say which one is right? I have you know I have absolute faith in what I believe in. The only question is…do ours match or conflict?” she asked as the song ended, and she stood up, taking a turn and winking at the crowd. She exited stage and gave a head nod towards the bar. He made his way over to wait, continue the conversation with more clothing and less distraction.
“So that was just fucking weird.” Tanner said.
“Yea, she does seem to have a unique aura to her.” Mike said, looking entranced and concerned, “Tanner, do you trust me?” he asked.
“Obviously. Why? I don’t like the way you asked that.” she muttered.
“Because I’m taking out the earpiece and I want you to wait for a sign. You’ll know what to do. That’s my trust in you.”
“Wait…why? Are you having a vision or hearing god right now? Mike, talk to me…hello? Mike? Are you shitting fucking me right now? Are you actually shitting my fuck?” she said into the earpiece.
Mike sat at the bar, alone, with an unbuttoned jacket and his new pistol off safety and chambered. A slightly more clothed Nadja approached from behind the bar. Sliding him a beer.
“I can’t. Bottled water is fine.” He insisted.
“Disappointing. I was going to make you something special.” She teased.
“Maybe later, not here. I have to drive. I never drink if I have to drive.” He covered.
“So now that we’re alone, you can drop the code… Michael.” She said, as his blood ran cold.
“So you’re not here for a date then?” he asked.
“Oh, on the contrary. You’re here to kill me, but I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to convince you of a better option. The girl you wanted, who poisoned those people, is already dead. Occupational hazard.” She said, laying down the stained phone. “You and I are not so different. I am not the enemy you came here for, I can be something far better. But you on the other hand…who are you really? Holy man, Hitman, or just old Handyman?”
“We’re all a little of a lot of things.” He said, listening for the seal to break on the water bottle before drinking. “So you’re not the killer I came here for, but you’re definitely a killer. How do you know me?”
“I must confess, Father, I have been sinning and stalking you a little. In a... friendly manner, of course, and not with the crosshairs on your back. You have a reputation that many know, and few believe, and even fewer connect to your face or name.” She toyed.
“And HOW did you connect the dots exactly?” he asked without revealing anything new.
“I have a lot of money and I get what I want. I hear rumors and am usually disappointed in the truth, but one day I heard a voice with no one around me. I listened, curious at my sanity of course, and it told me a great many interesting things. You hear them too. How did you know that you should obey?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“I have faith, it’s never been wrong before, and it’s explained things that can't be explained. So when logic and reason can’t explain something, then something beyond that must be at work.”
“Da, that proves that you are not crazy and that the voice is something real…but how do you know the thing speaking is the right god?” she asked strangely, taking a shot and peering into his soul. “The spirit you listen to may be real, but there may be more than one voice speaking, to different people, to different souls. Telling truths from different perspectives with different intentions. What if, Michael, you have been listening to the wrong one, or just one option of many?” She grinned, panting the idea in his mind.
“It’s never steered me wrong before.” he diverted.
“You are a good student, Michael, why would any teacher not protect his best student? That does not define the nature of the teacher, only your obedience and your favored place.”
“Who are you…really?” he asked.
“A student as well. One of similar faith and skill. Something perhaps of a different caliber. One of maybe a different teacher. Must there be only one?” she asked, sliding him a shot of vodka, ice and a twist of lime like he always liked.
“Tempting little devil, aren’t you?” he said, feeling uncomfortable.
“Now Michael, do you really want to kill me, or are you just following orders to kill someone I already killed? That would make us friends, no? Or do I have to give you something nice for that?” she asked, doing another shot.
“I’m taken, but I’m flattered.” he denied.
“Owned…not taken. Something taken can be taken back. Something owned must be freed. But I offer the truth, not the flesh…for now. You are familiar with Judas, but do you know his face? Copper hair, mustache, American flag tattoo?” she toyed.
“Carl. How is he involved?” Mike asked.
“He has already taken the 30 pieces of lead for your death.” She whispered.
“30 pieces of silver. Your lore is off.”
“Is it? What does the magazine in his Skorpion machine pistol hold…30 silver bullets? Nyet, your Judas carries lead and copper this time, but your hands and feet are safe from holes, your head and back, not so much. Do you wish to die for your voice when mine offers a solution?” she asked.
“How can I trust you? I don’t even know your name, and you know so much about me?”
“Faith…preacher. But before you make any decisions, I would like to know who you really are. Call me a doubting little devil.” She said, biting her tongue.
“You know my name, my job, my old friends and apparently my enemies. What more do you want to know?” he asked.
“If I too follow merely an illusion of faith or something real. You are Mike, the Holyman. You are the man who walked away from everything, but you have so many names, and many whispered like you were a spirit yourself. Shots no man could make, men who should have killed you, left dead on the ground as you lived. What part of Mike is real and what is just myth, what is lie and what is truth, and what part of the truth is just blind luck and excuses to believe, rather than divine assistance. Much like you, I want to believe in the god before me, but I see a man, and my faith in you is…unsure. I can ask anything, and you could simply lie like a snake, or stretch what is real. Even if you believe everything you say, your truth and mine may not coexist. So I have come here to find out from you, Molotov brother, Shooter of the lake, Butcher of the bunker, Father of destruction…who should I have faith in?” she asked, more telling than wanting a reply.
“I guess it doesn’t matter. We all have chances to believe what we want or deny it. We all have trails by fire, and our faith shaken from time to time. If you killed the girl who poisoned all those people, then we’re playing the same game, and we’ll cross paths again. I definitely believe that. You could pray to whatever you do that to, or believe me, like I can tell you want to so badly. Or you could watch and stalk me, and see what happens when Carl shows up and the bullets begin flying. The proof is often in the bullets. You just have to wait and see, I guess.”
“No…I don’t. Last chance to take a free shot…” she said, nudging the shot glass, more metaphor than offer. The lights dimming for the next dancer.
“I said I don’t drink.” His whispered.
“MMmmmm, that’s not what I meant.” She whispered, kicking it back and reached for the bottle, suddenly reaching lower and drawing a gun-shaped blur in black and Champaign pink, as Mike drew his own. Their wrists collided as they both ducked out of the way of the shots. Mike heard the strange gallop of 3 shots, dropping for cover and expecting Carl to end his life on the ground. The crowd scattered, tanner rushing for the bar and drawing her pistol. Mike spotted the thinnest patch of civilians and made a hunkered run for it, hoping to draw the fire to the least populated area before returning fire. A woman passing between him and the bar shifted and turned, a spray of blood through her, misting him as he heard the strange echo of 2 shots again, debating on if it was an actual echo or two shooters. He grabbed the woman and pulled her behind the concrete pillar leading to the second balcony floor of the club. He turned her to see that she was already dying, twitching her last few moments with 2 red marks on her back. There were two shooters, but from the same location.
Tanner fired 3 patiently spaced shots, aiming for the blue hair behind the counter and hitting the bottles. Nadja turned her gaze up and locked eyes with her, before she could react, pointing the pistol. Tanner ducked behind the wall, and the drywall next to her head exploded outward. She noticed the exit marks in the wall, realizing her cover was about useless, and there were two holes.
“What the hell?” she asked. “Mike, do we have two targets?” she asked.
“I think so. They’re synchronizing is insane. One of them is the girl, the other might be Carl. If you spot Carl, kill him.” He replied.
“Ugh, fuckin CARL, really? That little shit. I knew he was not cool.” She insisted, popping out to get another shot and immediately being pulled back by her reflexes as 2 more shots cut through the wall like paper, 2 inches apart. “Mike what is going on? Where the fuck is he even at?” she asked. “I can’t shoot at Thing One if Thing Two is pelting me with lead. I assume he doesn’t have the matching blue hair, or I would have spotted him.”
“I dunno. I have no idea where he is, but the shots re from the same direction. Just stay behind cover where it’s safe.”
“Safe shit, they got armor piercing rounds. I’m hiding behind, basically cardboard.” Tanner barked.
“Fuck…Well, here goes the faith part…” he sighed, read to kill or die for Tanner. He turned and drew Rachel from his side, aiming the new 7mm PMR at the bar and letting Rachel float by faith to wherever she felt, hoping to spot another shooter. His focus split, like slow motion, half on the blue hair and half on pure instinct. He sprinted past the pole and heard two distinct shots, this time seeing two distinct flashes from the same gun as one round hit the steel pole and the other round hit his chest, rolling him to the ground and behind an overturned table, thankfully made of more sturdy stone composite material than most, as two more rounds hit almost in unison, ripping off the corner off of it.
“Tanner. It’s not two shooters. It’s just her.” He said wheezing and grabbing at his chest, checking for blood.
“What? How? Mike are you shot? You sound hurt.” She barked.
“I’m not hit.” He said, double checking to be sure, confused as to what happened. “Just dropped a little hard. I think she has some kind of burst-fire setting on that gun.”
“Oh great. She’s got a machine gun and we got semi autos. That’s fantastic.”
“It’s a pistol with a 2 round burst, not a damn belt-fed. She’s just gonna run out twice as fast and have less recoil control. She has to reload eventually.” He said, popping up and moving closer, firing a shot to keep her down. As if reflexive, Nadja responded and fired back, two rounds firing and one missing. The second, again hitting him as he tumbled and rolled, crashing into a table and using it as a shield. He checked again for blood, sure he was going to see red and seeing only his hand.
“Well, good news…the vest works.” He sighed.
“You got hit!?” she asked,
“Tanner, don’t bulrush this bitch. She’s shockingly fast.”
“Not if I show up where she doesn’t expe-” she started, sticking her head out from the other side of the wall and watching two holes punch through the wood and plaster. She dropped down, as a strange burst of erratic full auto chewed a gash in the wall over her head. Mike’s eyes widened, firing a blind shot over the table to draw her towards him and away from tanner.
“The fuck was that?” tanner yelled.
“Stop yelling, and maybe she’ll think she got you. Those shots were spaced out oddly. That’s not a burst setting. I think she’s just that fast.”
“There’s no way. Some of those double taps sounded like one shot. She’s got a Glock-switch or something."
“Tanner, just stay down. She has to be running out of ammo in that thing. It’s a standard sized pistol.” He insisted. Nadja aimed at the center of the table, galloping her index finger and middle finger on the same trigger, sending 2 shots almost simultaneously in a single aimed “shot” of one armor piercing and one flesh-eating hollowpoint. She shifted and repeated it lower on the table, the slide staying back as she dropped behind the bar and immediately back up. Mike recognized the sound of a slide locking and stood up to make the kill between reloads. There stood Nadja, coyly grinning to one side, mouth open like a playfully sarcastic gasp, and about a 2-foot long AR15 adorned in matte rose gold anodizing and black, bracer stock and shouldered. He dropped back down and an identical 2 shot burst kept him down. He noticed the metal table he was hiding behind had a series of dents and an equal amount of holes. That got his attention.
“Very impressive Michael. You do not disappoint a girl.” She taunted.
“Tanner, I want you to leave the building and got to the bike.”
“Bullshit.” She replied.
“Tanner, that’s on order, go to the bike, get the MPX, blue mag, ready to go, and then wait there for me. Do not come back in.” he ordered. “If you trust me.” He added. She fumed with annoyance and hesitated before taking off out the back and heading to the exit.
“Protecting your friend?” Nadja asked.
“You wanted the truth. I’m everything you heard rumors about. I’m the one you wanna kill, not her. If you give your word you won’t hurt her, I’ll come out and we can talk. If you so much as consider hurting her, I’ll kill you now if it kills me too. You can put 2 rounds through me before I do, but I’m gonna do it anyway and die later. So we both die, or I hear you make a deal. Do it quick. Patience is not one of my god’s virtues either.”
“I promise I will not harm her. She is nothing to me. She shot first, I shot back. She has left, why follow, when you are still here?” she said as he stood up, gun drawn and locked on as she aimed silently at him with a much larger gun.
“Break your word, and I kill everything you ever loved.” He growled.
“You fear nothing, or you love her. Maybe both.” She sighed. “But don’t worry, she is only a pawn in this game. You’re still standing. Have I not hit you yet?” she puzzled.
“Didn’t feel a thing, so it’s hard to say if you’re a bad shot, or if I’m just bulletproof.” Mike said, sweating and bluffing, realizing both hits to the vest were the hollowpoints, and that 50/50 luck doesn't repeat forever.
“You do realize you lost this game. You're out of ammo, I have probably 30 rounds left, I can shoot a cap off of the bottle twice as far as you are, and you are a much larger target. I have won.”
“So kill me.” He huffed.
“Michael, I don’t want to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I would have done it.” she smiled.
“It’s just Mike. Michael was my grandfather.”
“But Mike sounds so…boring. Like plumber or handyman. That is your mask. Michael, arch angel, so much more fitting.”
“I don’t get it. You don’t want me dead, that’s a hell of a lot of bullets for someone who doesn’t." he huffed.
“I said I wanted YOU. I want a legend, not an imposter or some credit-stealing chump claiming to be a legend. A little proof was needed. Congratulations, Michael, you were not lying. You should be dead twice now and there you stand.”
“Mike, we got cops everywhere.” Tanner said aggressively.
“Head home, I got this. The problem is handled.” He said, hanging up. “Looks like the police are here. Security will show I fired in self-defense, and you killed 3 random people firing at me. So…I guess you got to meet your hero before going to prison. Was it worth it?” he asked.
“Oh I’m not that concerned. Tell you what…you have my number, call me if you need bail.” She said, hopping up on the counter and laying her gun down, crossing her legs and kicking one foot as if just waiting, as police poured into the area, and Mike dropped his guns. Handcuffs met both of their wrists and both Nadja and Mike were pulled out in different directions. That devilish smile never left her face as he watched her being pulled along.