Mike silently sat in the police car, still cuffed, as the man in uniform stepped in and closed the door. Stocky build, Hispanic, scruffy buzzed beard and a stern look, he glared back at Mike, and the squad car started rolling.
“Officer, I would like a lawyer.” Mike demanded calmly.
“Officer Hernandez. You’re not getting a lawyer.” He said bluntly. “You shot the hell out of a strip club like a damn operative, armed with two pistols and body armor. We have video, we have audio, we have witnesses, we have dead people. Now you’re gonna go for a ride with me, or you’re going to prison. You can just forget about the law or protocol right now, and if you wanna know why, shut up and listen. Don’t say a damn word. Your guns are in the car.”
“I’d like to make one statement that I won’t be answering any questions or making any further statements until I have a lawyer present. Try me.” He said calmly.
“Oh good, because you’re not getting a lawyer and that means you just get to listen to me and say nothing. I think that works just fine. So what just happened in the strip club was not what you think it was. You probably think you’re under arrest for a lot of shit, and that blue haired stripper is about to spend the rest of her life in a cell before lethal injection. She’s already let go. She’s never seeing the inside of a cell."
“Could you repeat that, officer?” Mike asked with confusion and skepticism.
“Oh now we’re talking, are we? No? Okay, then I got your attention. See this right here? This doesn’t exist, officially. It’s a thumb drive with security footage, and I was told to dispose of it, and forget it existed. I disobeyed that order. I was also told to deny you a lawyer and bring you to an address for questioning. We’re not going there. You see, this is a place where they would get a confession out of you, you'd admit that you shot first and killed those people. You’d never get a lawyer. However, the proof is on this thumb drive, and that’s the only thing that saves your ass from going down for bullshit charges and 4 dead people you didn’t shoot.”
“Alright… I stand corrected. I will reply with very selective responses, such as…why someone like you would help me?” Mike asked.
“Because frankly, I watched the video, and you didn’t do anything wrong, but there are 3 problems with that. You didn’t just shoot back. You went fucking Rambo mode, and I’ve never seen shit like that, secondly, The girl that just got let go after a mass shooting shitstorm is untouchable. And thirdly, none of that sits right with me. I don’t know who you are or what you said to piss her off, but it seems like it doesn’t take much. What do you know about her?” the office asked.
“Just a girl I met on a dating site. Apparently those can be very risky, so I brought protection.” Mike bullshitted.
“Yea right. Most 25-year-old girls require 2 guns and body armor to protect yourself around. The fact that you looked shocked when I said they let her go, means you have no idea who that is, and that means you just walk around ready for war all the time. You sure you don’t know her?”
“I can give you the dating profile, and that’s everything I knew until she pulled a gun. So who is she?” Mike asked.
“Nadja Morozov Ivanova.” He said, as Mike looked alarmed.
“Why does that last name ring a bell?” Mike asked, feeling uncomfortable.
“Anyone who follows recent politics knows it. She’s the granddaughter of Boris Sergey Ivanova.” The officer informed.
“Are you shitting me? The damn president of Russia?” Mike sighed.
“Bingo. Now I don’t wanna get into the speculative over my pay grade, but a lot of people seem to think our current and beloved president DuPont is VERY chummy with the Russian President. Some theories would even say bought and paid for, but you didn’t hear that from me. I just read the comments online, you know, for security reasons. But THEY seem to think he’s a Russian sympathizing Crooked bastard who’s been accused of everything from weapons dealing to leaked videos of them at both at parties that were busted for some very unsavory crimes committed. All just heresy, of course. Our beloved politicians never lie, right?”
“I have the internet, and you don’t have to convince me he’s a damn puppet pedophile, owned by the Russians. Every damn president we’ve had in the last 20 years has been a criminal pedophile warmongering bastard. This one just works for a different foreign leader than the last one, and so on. Welcome to politics. You gotta sell your soul and drink the blood of a dead child to even get your name on a voting form for anything above city mayor, and the higher up you go the more rigged the elections are. I’m familiar. And I’m guessing that Nadja could shoot a school apart with a belt fed machine gun, and they would never dare keep her in prison for more than a day in a private holding cell. So someone has to take the fall for 3 dead at a nightclub, and they like me for the position.” Mike theorized.
“Damn you’re good.” Nodded the officer.
“Maybe. So is this just a way of getting a confession before the interrogation? Spare me the beating?”
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you are, all I got from the video was Michael. You see, I have a problem with this little Russian bitch showing up in MY town and killing people like it’s her job and nobody does shit. That’s not how I roll, but I’ll be rolling without a job if I say that to the chief. I like my job and I put away people like her. So either I stand my ground and can’t do my job anymore, or I keep my job and let her walk. Feels like the same thing to me, except one comes with a paycheck for my soul. So I’m bending the rules, risking my ass and taking you to a safehouse. You work for the police now, do us all a favor, and we drop all charges.”
“Officer Hernandez, are you telling me to kill Nadja Ivanova because nobody else can touch her, let alone arrest her?” Mike asked clearly.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m painting a scenario of things that could happen. You do what you wanna do. But if I was a dead man walking with moves like tha-” The officer said, interrupted by a wall of broken glass and the vehicle flipping over. Mike crawled out of the broken back seat window as his head spun, and a black SUV drove away with the front end crunched up, a matching black car with tinted windows paused, blue hair blowing behind the lens of a scope, the barrel pointed in his direction. Mike stood up, barely able to move, let alone dodge a bullet as the shot rang out and Officer Hernandez’s brains painted the street. The car drove away, leaving him staggering and alone. He grabbed the Glock from the dead officer and began walking, trying to stay hidden down an alleyway. He heard the sound of a car following, and knew the police were on his tracks. On foot, he wasn’t going very far, especially with broken ribs and one loaded gun. He stopped, ready to make some form of stand, refusing to go to prison, but the idea of killing innocent cops to free himself was hard to bare, until a truck pulled up beside him and the door opened.
“Get in motherfucker.” Carl said, waving him in with his machine pistol. “Or just go to prison, choose quick before I change my mind.” He said, as Mike reluctantly got in, and shut the door. The truck spun out down the alley, slowing down casually as it turned on a main road, and drove like a normal every day vehicle into public traffic. “You look like shit. You bleeding? Shot?” Carl asked.
“Vest took the rounds, I think I broke a rib. Car crash didn’t exactly help anything.” Mike wheezed.
“I can’t take you to the ER, but I got a guy where we’re going that is…sort of a doctor.” shrugged Carl.
“Sort of?” Mike asked.
“Okay, he WAS a doctor, he killed a few patients, and now he’s part of the AA group and doesn’t have a license anymore. He got lucky they couldn’t prove the kills were intentional, so he lost his license for…man who cares, he’s better than nothing. You want help or not?”
“Honestly, someone seems to think you’re here to kill me.” He said, tapping the Glock on the dash.
“It’s complicated, Mike. How about you just throw your guns in the back seat for now and listen to the situation. If I wanted you dead, I’d have just run over you. BUT you’re not gonna like what i'm gonna say, and I don’t want you shooting me until you heard the whole story. All 3 guns. I know you carry 2, and you wouldn’t pass up a free Glock off a dead cop, so 3 pistols, one-handed over the shoulder, good boy. And the knife. Okay, that’s good enough for me.”
“You wanna get that Skorpion barrel pointed somewhere else?” Mike asked.
“Absolutely not, Mike. This is my protection. I want you aware that I can kill you right now, in case you get really angry at this next part.”
“I need a phone, I have to warn Tanner.” Mike huffed, tired of the bullshit game.
“Yea, so that’s part of my bad news… she’s fine. Tanner is safe, but she’s not at the U-haul van. I had my guy pick her up. I kinda had to dose her and abduct her to get her to go. It’s for her own safety.” Carl said, tightening his grip on the gun as Mike eyes practically glowed with rage.
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“Carl I’ll kill you if you hurt her.” Mike growled.
“I know, hence the barrel pointed at you. You’re angry and worked up and rattled, and not listening clearly. Mike, Tanner is safe and hidden because frankly, this Russian bitch only refrained from killing her in the club because she didn’t see her as a threat. If she was any better with a gun, she’d be dead, and that means she’s out of her league, and you know it. Tanner is as dead as that cop as long as she’s walking around with a gun, trying to defend you and getting in Nadja’s way. That stubborn little girl is gonna get killed defending you, tell me I’m wrong, Mike. Tell me she’s not impulsive and tell me she’s anywhere near ready to fight what you just went up against. Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.” Carl baited.
“Fuck. Where is she?” Mike sighed.
“If I tell you, and they torture you, then it defeats the point. She’s safe. I like Tanner. I don’t want to see her hurt either; you have to trust me, which is why I’m being brutally honest with you. I WAS here to kill you. Not tanner… just you.”
“You son of a bitch. Why?” Mike coughed.
“Because you’re sort of in my way. When you killed the group, you left it wide open and left a vacuum of power. I stepped up, took in some new blood, lotta young killers and inexperienced nobodies, a few decent catches. I’m changing the management, doing what you were doing: Killing the worst things out there and taking down the social system, instead of letting it own and buy me. Catherine worked FOR the politicians and the rich pricks, I’m wiping them out. That requires leadership and respect, and nobody follows a guy who did 13 needle jobs and one assassination. Intimidation and status is everything. So…I told them I was you. I’m the lakeshot shooter. The guy who wiped the old group out. I stole your thunder. It’s shitty, but it’s for a good cause.”
“And you think I’m a threat who’s likely to dethrone you and take over? Carl, I moved out of state to start over and leave it behind.”
“Exactly. You gave up the mission, for Tanner. But I got to thinking. I raided your cabin, it was absolutely trapped as you know, your whole operation was based on a bluff, your whole team was just you, no arsenal just tricks and shadowplay. I gotta do the same thing. I gotta become you, Mike. The only problem is that to become you, the real you can’t be out there to rat me out, get caught, or get killed, or my big smokescreen is fucked and my entire plan breaks down. Mike I’m doing some good work here, I got your lists, I got people believing me, I got dirty cops scared and politicians hiding in their basements thanks to you, but the only two people who know I’m a fraud are you and Tanner. You were the best, and for me to take your place, I have to be the best. I gotta kill you, fair and square, and honestly with this Russian bitch on your ass you’re dead anyway so I’ll just kill you and tell tanner it was her, Tanner won’t ever know the truth. It’s better than her getting killed or posing a threat. She’s safest believing the lie I fed her. She may even grow up to continue your work and be part of the group. But right now she’s a liability and a risk.”
“How do I know you won’t hurt her after I’m dead?” Mike asked.
“Because I like her. I genuinely do, and the only reason I gotta kill you is because if I don’t, and Nadja does, then I lost my one chance to prove I’m good enough to take your place. You left a big shadow, Mike. Even I don’t know if I’m worthy, I still can’t make that Lakeshot, I can’t figure out your gun designs, How am I supposed to do your work and take your place if I can’t even kill you in a fair fight, old and retired? You’re 51, man. In assassin years you may as well be 90, and when people retire and don’t have a purpose anymore, I send them home. That’s my thing. You deserve more than a needle in the back, from a man in the dark. You deserve to go down fighting. You deserve a fair fight. If you go to Tanner, if you can even find her, you’re bringing Nadja right to her, and she’s as good as dead. I’ll kill you to keep her safe. If you fight Nadja, you are beyond fucked. If you fight me, then either you die fairly, proving that it’s my time to run things, or I die proving that I’m wrong, and you just do whatever you want. You said God gave you a replacement. What if he gave you ME as your replacement, and he gave you tanner as a gift. She’s no leader, she’s soft, she’s sloppy as hell on her kills. She still needs guidance. A home, a group where she can be safe and have friends. I killed Catherine, 800 yard headshot. I was tempted by her offer and couldn’t betray you both, I let Tanner go, and in the end you left ME to finish the job. So either I’m an idiot and willing to die for it, or I’m the one to take your place. That included keeping Tanner safe and covering the bullshit up. In this line of work you don’t train a kid to take your place, you get dethroned by a better killer with the same mission. I never believed in that shit until you walked into that safehouse and took out 20 guys you had no chance of beating. That makes you question if that whole religion thing is real or not. You’re bulletproof, Mike. God has your back. So call this a test of faith. Is he gonna protect you from me, or is he going to let you retire and let me do your job until some young prick is ready to replace me?” Carl asked
“Hell of a speech. You found God, and he wants you in charge. I’d say that’s arrogant, but that’s exactly what I did. Do I believe you? Not really. I think it’s bullshit. But if it’s bullshit I’m going to kill you, and if you’re right then I have to try to kill you anyway.” Mike sighed.
“Isn’t faith a real pain in the ass some days? You ever doubt it and feel stupid later? You think I want to face you just for the fun of it? You’re the damn Lakeshot Shooter. I won’t stand a chance if I’m wrong. If I kill you like this, injured and bent over point-blank, with a cheap shot to the side…that proves nothing. I wanna believe. I wanna believe so bad, I’m here to find out just like you. I like you, Mike. But when you think God wants you to kill someone, you don’t argue. You just believe and do it. So here we are on the same side of the same team, ready to find out who’s really supposed to be here. We can't both be right. Either you’re too stubborn to retire, or I’m too young and dumb to force you to retire. Let God settle it. Let’s do this like men with honor. I get you patched up, give you a running start, you get your guns and gear and do whatever you do, and the hunt begins. Gentleman’s rules. How about no shots under a hundred yards, no human shields, no explosives, no traps. Just two men and scopes, two lions hunting in their element? Sure beats getting mowed down, tortured and butchered by some Russian psychopath, or bringing that shitstorm back to Illinois where Tanner is, and the group is doing the lord’s work like you were. I’m sorry Mike. God said it’s time to retire. Did he ever directly tell you it wasn’t?” Carl asked. Mike sat for a moment and pondered the question. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
“I don’t need your doctor. I don’t want your doctor. I need 24 hours to pray and good night’s sleep. That’s enough for me.”
“Fair enough. 24 hours. Badass as usual.” Carl grinned.
“So tell me… How bad is this Nadja?” Mike asked.
“Somewhere between the devil herself and the devil’s right hand on Earth. She’s not like us, killing for mercy or justice, she just kills. There’s no reason to her. She’s a spoiled brat that likes to kill things. Whatever she wants for whatever reason. 30 years old, psychopath like her grandfather. Cops here call her the Prom Queen Killer, or in her own twisted little cult, the Red Queen. Grampa gives her anything she wants, and she loves American toys. Guns, money…she even got her birthday wish for a full American prom for high school graduation.”
“And I thought I spoiled Tanner.” Mike shrugged.
“President Grampa paid for everything, then her boyfriend dumped her for another girl, so she showed up in a full dress and tiara with a fully automatic Draco 7.62 and shot the place up, killing 14 people, including the boyfriend, the girl, and some students in the way. Kids in her class, Mike. She also supposedly took a bite out of the dead girl's neck and proceeded to just empty the gun into her corpse for the fun of it. Russian police found her just sitting on the steps eating cake as if nothing ever happened, still wearing her tiara covered in so much blood her blonde hair was bright red. The whole incident was just washed from public records and the president covered everything, and tried to say it was the boyfriend who did the shooting and then offed himself. Witnesses said nothing, either paid or threatened to stay silent, obviously. One of them mysteriously died. Convenient.”
“This isn’t Russia, why wouldn’t she be arrested like any other public shooter?” asked Mike.
“Have you followed our wonderful president DuPont’s latest allegations? He’s shockingly chummy with President Ivanova. US is trying to remain uninvolved in a rather sketchy World War 3 shitstorm. This may as well be Russia now. Our president is second in charge now, below her Grampa. She could practically walk into a police station with a grenade launcher and kill 4 officers and avoid jailtime, and if any of them shot back and hit her, they would likely end up in an unfortunate car accident, or in Russia with a bag over their head in a room with someone who doesn’t exist, and a big box of shiny sharp things. She’s pure evil. The AA group is working up to killing mayors, not Russian Presidential hits. Face it buddy. You’re already retired. I’ll kill you respectfully and quick, fuck only knows what kinda weird shit she’ll do to you for weeks, months, before you die of infection or a heart attack. I know it seems like I’m the villain in this, but you’re just assuming you’re still the hero. You still got it, preacher? If you can handle Nadja, killing me should be just a warm-up. For some reason, She wants you alive. If you’re already dead, she won’t have any reason to track down Tanner. I said she’s safe, for now. If the Russians send an army, I make no promises that I can keep her safe.”
“Carl, as much as I wanna stab you right now, I might actually believe you over her, and I can’t see you torturing Tanner. I wouldn't put it past Nadja to torture her to get to me. Have you actually met Nadja?” Mike asked as they rolled up to the U-haul and stopped.
“No…just at a distance and through a scope. Wearing a shitload of camo and hiding behind cover.” Carl admitted.
“I got pretty close. When I look at you, I see a young man who thinks he’s right and doesn’t have it in him to start a war, or mow down a school. When I looked in her eyes, I saw something I never saw before in a human being. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Emptiness. I’m not going to enjoy killing you unless I find out you’re lying to me. But I will defend myself, and I will kill you.”
“Mike. I wish you the best. Don’t go easy on me, just be fair. It’s just like war, man, shoot first and let God sort them out. 24 hours grace period, heal up. May the blessed man win, preacher.” He said, letting him out to get his guns. Mike opened the door to the U-haul and grabbed old Gwen, pointing the scope at the truck and tempted to shoot Carl in the back, but letting the thermals do the talking. 98.5 degrees. He said a silent prayer, hoping it would change, but God didn't raise the thermals.
“That’s just great. Thanks for the guidance.” Mike said to the sky, walking past the open bathroom and feeling a slight twinge of fear in his heart as he asked himself if Carl was right. He popped the scope off and sat Gwen down, stepping into the tiny stall and looking at himself in the mirror, seeing an old man with a lot of rough edges. He lifted the thermal scope up, hesitating before reaching his eye, half scared of what he would look like in the mirror. Was it his time to glow? He took a deep breath, looking up and letting it out. 98.9 degrees. “That's a relief. God, if I've earned any favors from the work I’ve done for you, give it to Tanner. Keep her safe, and just let me have the faith to believe she is okay. Whatever happens to me, is irrelevant. But, If it's time to die, then let me die fighting." he said to the mirror. "Preferably fighting Carl, not Nadja."