Tanner woke up, ziptied to a chair and struggling immediately, like a wild animal. Her teeth gnashed and almost foaming with rage.
“Calm down, you’ll hurt yourself, and we don’t want that.” Said a familiar voice.
“Carl you dickshit, cut me loose, and I’ll kill you nicer than I will if I have to break these myself.” She barked.
“Tanner, I deserve that. I deserve a light beating for having to dose you…again. But this time it’s for your own safety, and if I let you go you won't just wail on me, you’ll actually try and kill me.”
“No shit. Where’s Mike?” She asked aggressively.
“Mike is fine, everything is fine. I just drove 12 hours to be here myself, so you wouldn’t wake up to some stranger. I’m not your enemy, Tanner. I’m a friend who’s just…not stupid enough to get killed by someone like you who is running on pure adrenaline. You’re feisty, but you’re really not a great listener.” He sighed.
“Oh I’m listening right now, and if you think Mike is gonna let you get away with this…”
“Mike agrees with me. We had that chat already. He didn’t like it either, until he heard the whole story, but he agrees that keeping you safe is the most important thing, even safe from yourself. Mike is still in Texas, prepping for war, and I’m doing the same. You met the Red queen, haven’t you? Nadja. Blue hair, kind of a monstrous bitch?”
“Friend of yours?” Tanner asked.
“God no. Russian President’s granddaughter, and a killer that could eat you for breakfast and have room for Mike. Or torture you to get to mike, or just torture you for fun and use your corpse to taunt Mike. She’s a problem, and you are in WAY over your head.”
“I wanna talk to Mike.” She insisted. "I don't believe you, I wanna hear it from Mike. Put him on."
“I can do almost as good. Right now we’re on total blackout, no phones, but he sent you a message and I brought it directly so there would be no virtual interception." He said, holding out the phone as a video of Mike played.
“Tanner. Don’t be scared. This will be over soon, do not come to Texas, do not try and find me, don’t trust anyone, be safe, stay, alive, stay down.” He said abruptly cut off.
“Satisfied?” Carl asked.
“No not really. He said trust nobody, he didn’t say to trust you.”
“That’s because he doesn’t trust me. Not with you. He doesn't trust anyone with your life. He trusts me with HIS life, not enough to trust me with yours. But you heard him, stay here. Don’t trust me if you don’t want to. I don’t care. I promised Mike I’d keep you safe and keep you here. If you wanna know why we both want you here and not in Texas, here’s a tablet. It’s got all the fun details on the blue haired bitch we’re going up against. I warn you, it’s some nasty shit. Now Mike was not informed that I was abducting you until after the fact, I didn’t have time to try and convince you both, and he wouldn’t have let me dose you, and then you would be right in the shitstorm where neither of us want you.” Carl explained.
“So What? I’m a prisoner for my own good?” She asked.
“Not a prisoner. You’re just safe. I’m going to be very blunt with you Tanner, the reason we agreed that you need to be here is because we’re about to try and kill Nadja. TRY being the key word. I’m a much better killer than you are, if you want proof of that, look at where you are. I took you down twice and could have killed you both times, you got away once because I let you, and I’m not half the killer Mike is. Mike isn't half the killer Nadja is. You’re a nice girl with potential and a great teacher guiding you, but you’re not even ready to kill major targets alone, and if I can be real, odds are that Mike and I aren’t both surviving this. Hell, neither of us might survive this. Nadja is a new breed of animal, even we’re not really confident teaming up on. I’ll be amazed of we both survive. Best you can do is survive for both of us, stay out of it, stay down like he told you, please. If Mike lost you, it would just kill him. I’d be kinda fucked up if I lost you too. You’re a friend, and I’m sentimental. What you need to do is trust in both of us, have faith, pray for the best, and if there is a God, and he still loves Mike, you’ll see him soon enough, and maybe even me. Don’t trust me, trust Mike and his faith. Can you do that?” he asked. “Can you do us both a huge favor and not get yourself killed in Texas? You are NOTHING to Nadja but an irritation, bait and leverage, and she is nastier than you can imagine, BUT you can read about it on this tablet. It’s got pictures and articles pulled from Russian newspapers, police records that have been erased and 2 hours after both of them got arrested at the strip club, Mike was on his way to a disposal house to be executed by bought-out cops, and Nadja was let go by the police. I saved his ass and yours. She has no rules like we do. Cops won’t touch her. They might kill us for it. Or the Russians, or some private hitman from God knows where.” he sighed.
“Why does she want Mike?” tanner asked.
“Fuck if I know. My guess is some cult shit. It’s all in the tablet. Some weird Russian satanic cult thing, Mike is God’s personal hitman, and he made a big impact when he wiped that safehouse clean of some big hitters. She either wants to sacrifice him to her weird cult devil, or prove something to grampa, or just…maybe she got bored, and he seemed like the biggest challenge. I am guessing on all 3. But thankfully you’re kind of a nobody, a low rank no name killer with no real record, and she doesn’t think you’re a threat. One thing I promise is that if we go down, we take them with us, and they won’t get anything from either of us, your location, this safehouse, or your identity. We’ll both go down with a bang before we get tortured for information. That is a promise. And I dunno. Maybe Mike is right and we’ll both live through it. He seems to believe we’re both protected…I really want to believe that. I wanna believe we’ll all be back here together and friends and laugh at this, but between us, the man has more faith than I do. I think our survival is on us. Do you believe Mike is really bulletproof and blessed? Do you think that means any protection for me? Feel free to lie, I could use the encouragement before driving back and getting shot at.”
“I believe in him.” Tanner nodded.
“Okay, well, I’ll just pretend that means we’ll both be fine. Anything you need, anything at all. Comforts, coping mechanisms, company. You’re among friends. The group is back, and it’s all the good guys under my lead this time. You’ll be fine, and when this is over, you’re free to go. Pray for both of us. We’ll need it.” Carl lied.
“Where are my guns?” she asked.
“In that locker. Locked up where you won’t be tempted to try some stupid rescue situation. My guys are under orders to keep you safe and unharmed, but if you do try and run, they will dart your ass. Please don’t make them. If Mike and me survive and I have to admit we had to dart gunned you twice, he’s gonna break my damn nose. He loves you. More than anything. And I love you like a friend, part of the team. Teams do what they have to. Stay down, like Mike said. I’m not letting you get yourself or us killed. We might end up both dead anyway.”
“Oh, you’re real comforting, Carl.” She sniffed.
“I’m sorry, I’m too honest and not optimistic enough. I can just lie to you, Tanner. Don’t worry, Mike has this, and we’ll both be perfectly fine and back real soon. You believe that?”
“No.” she scoffed.
“That’s why I didn’t lead with it." Carl said as a bigger man entered the room with a knife. "Butch, cut her loose, give her anything she needs, make sure she’s comfortable, don’t dart her unless you absolutely have to.” He said, patting his assistant on the back, armed with a tranquilizer gun, holstered and unbuttoned. “Goodbye Tanner. Really hope you get to see me again…alive and walking on my own two feet.” He added as he left, to go hunt down Mike and become the true lying Judas he was.
Mike woke up from his sleep, still worried about Tanner, and staggering to the mirror. He lifted his shirt, realizing the broken rib may just be bruised, the soreness and swelling lessened and the color now a rainbow of purple, green and tan. He stepped outside for a smoke, blinded by the light, and was immediately met with the echoing thump of two nearly aligned rounds hitting the side of the U-haul. He went to draw his pistol and realized he didn’t have it on him.
“Good morning, Michael." Said the strange Russian accent. “Where is little girlfriend?” she asked.
“In all honesty, I don’t know. I told her to run and not say where, and she did." he sighed.
“So you have exchanged killing partners for someone you don’t mind dying?”
“Oh Carl? Actually, Carl wants me dead, that was a courtesy save so he could do it himself, and what he calls fairly. Shoot him for all I give a shit.”
“Surely he is no threat to you.” Nadja smirked.
“I trained him a little, he’s good. Good enough to take me out at range without me ever hearing it. Don’t believe me, feel free to kill him yourself.” Mike said, lighting up.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Do you attempt to trap me and deceive me? All I want is you, you know.” she said seductively, raking her nails on the U-haul.
“Why? What’s so special about me. You don’t want to kill me like he does, but you shoot at me and stalk me. I’m not THAT good-looking.” he chuckled.
“It’s not about that. It never was. I like to collect American things I want, things I can play with. Why do you act like you don’t enjoy it? Because you’re God doesn’t approve? Michael, you are a grown man using a fairytail to control your urges, like you do with Tanner. I know everything about you. You only kill what God tells you to kill or what you must, yet you killed everything breathing in that Safehouse in Illinois. Did god tell you they were all evil, or did you just stop taking orders and did what you wanted? Did it feel good, powerful? Unrestricted and free?” she hissed.
“I thought Tanner was dead, everything I cared about gone, my faith was shattered, and I just gave up. It felt empty and hollow.”
“Because of your loss, but when you found her, did you not feel like a king? Did your God punish you for disobedience, or reward you with her life? Michael, your God is in your head. Nothing more than something you needed to feel hope, that you use to tell yourself you’re not like the others. You are the good guy, according to him. But you are not a chosen soldier for a higher power, you are an animal, a killer, you simply have a conscience, and gave it a name. Tanner does the same thing, but she has no faith. She chooses. Why do you deny your nature and resist temptations when you can simply do what you want and be free of a master you created?” Nadja asked.
“You don’t ever think there’s anything greater than us?” Mike scoffed.
“No. We are the apex predator of our world, where the strong and resourceful evolve and survive. What am I to you…the devil? What are you to the men you’ve slaughtered, the good guy, or the villain? So many sides and beliefs and right and wrong. All nonsense, all ways to cope with a heart too weak to admit it wants to be a monster.” She said, approaching him as he stepped back against the aluminum box, lightly brushing the end of the Ruger’s barrel under his chin and leaning close enough to bite. “I want to see the rest of that monster. You have done so much impressive work while restraining it, so much potential, just…locked up for nothing.”
“That restraint is what separates us from animals, it’s WHY we’re better and more evolved, and at the top. Control of yourself IS power.” He replied as she silently chuckled.
“Then this is your peak form and I have nothing to awaken, and you are just a killer, getting old, burrowing into denial instead of enjoying life. I should just kill you. Why not? You are just a disappointment, Da? You don’t get rid of me so easily. I do believe in something, Michael. I believe in you. The real you, down in there behind the bars, trying to get out, thirsty, hungry, starved. Starving an animal can weaken it, but it can also make it desperate and when they have nothing to lose, when all they have is taken away, that is when they are most dangerous and when they can take out a dozen younger, stronger killers, and walk away unharmed. Just like you did. Your real God is that thing you bottle up, whispering to you to let you feed it just a little. You do not listen to your god, you put a leash on it, and it has learned to whisper to get fed. To lie to you, to survive. Why torment it like you do? Why torment yourself? Never a drink, never a kill just because you want it, never a woman you want unless the voice tells you it’s okay.” She said, placing a Vektor 9mm in his hand and moving it to her head, the Ruger barrel still planted in his beard and lined with his skull. "That look in your eyes says you want me, or you want me dead…maybe both. Maybe we die together. Maybe your god jams my gun and lets yours fire.” She said, staring him in the eyes. "The dominant voice in his head screaming to pull the trigger, a smaller voice telling him it would be a shame to waste a curiosity over a wild guess of luck. He grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her to the side as a loud gong of a projectile hitting metal rang the U-haul like a bell. He dragged her at gunpoint around the side and into the back door.
“Carl.” He sighed. "That was too close for a warning shot."
“How sweet, saving me from the bullet.” She grinned devilishly.
“Your head was lined up with mine, and judging from the hole it left on the box, that was meant to kill both of us. I didn’t feel like dying or leaving you outside to kill me. So here we are.” He said, gun still on her skull.
“So shoot back, or do you not defend without God's permission?” she scoffed.
“I can’t shoot back. He’s too damn far, and I don’t know here he is. I saw the flash and moved, didn’t hear gunshot until several seconds after the round hit. He’s a thousand yards out.”
“And you don’t have your 50 caliber in this fucking mobile trailer-trash home?” she barked, with annoyance.
“That’s…a complicated answer. Let’s just say for practicality reasons, Nothing I can get to or use right now will do that, even if I knew exactly where to aim."
“I know you. You wouldn’t live in this shitbox and not have it armored against bullets.”
“Oh yea, it’s armored. Wasn’t designed to stop a damn 50 cal with AP rounds.” He said, as the wall behind her bulged out and sung like a tuning fork. “If he hits the right toolbox with one of those, we’re both dead.” He said, ducking under the top-only bunk bed, and opening the hatch to the truck cab, starting it up and flooring it. Another bulge opened up in the wall, bits of metal showering out the side.
“He’s hitting a moving vehicle at a thousand yards? Who the hell is this, CARL!?” She barked.
“Just a guy I worked with…kills old retired people for a living. People like me. I’m his personal hero, he wants my head on the trophy wall.”
“Poshel ti!” she yelled “Where do you keep guns!?”
“Shotgun in the cabinet above you.”
“What would I hit with a shotgun? Long range rifle!” she barked as he circled the hill to obscure the line of sight.
“The best I got is the MPX-45. It’s complicated.”
“Submachine gun? The Lakeshot Shooter does not have a sniper rifle in his fucking mobile home?” she objected, pointing the Ruger at his head.
“Right, because shooting me won’t kill us both at 65mph while you’re standing with no seatbelt. Put the gun down. You aren’t gonna shoot me anyway. You like me. But sure, you’re right, I’m lying because I wanna get shot by Carl and not return fire. So clearly I have a hidden room I’m not telling you about with the big guns, maybe it’s in the basement behind the minifridge.” he barked sarcastically.
“You really did move to retire.? With your little Tanner?” she asked, disappointed and slightly revolted.
“Not…exactly. This is not a conversation for a car chase. Sit down and seatbelt in.” He insisted, She crawled through and sat down, holding the MPX. “Please, for the love of whatever god you serve, do NOT fire that thing in here.” He said looking nervous. She looked confused at his alarm, taking out the magazine and staring at the transparent plastic double stack container full of silvery 45 bullets case and projectiles, the same piece of metal, and a small hole revealing the tip of a black painted copper insert. She turned the gun to notice the foregrip was actually another magazine mounted horizontally, clicking back in place into a hole cut in the magazine well.
“What gun am I holding?” she asked. "Did you make this?"
“Not the time, not the place. Just put it on safety and put it down, you’ll deafen us both.” Mike said. She reluctantly leaned the gun on the ground, pointed away from her.
“Tell me the truth. Why do you run from Carl?" She asked.
“Let’s make a little deal. You answer something honest, and then I will. What is your ranged weapon of choice, your sniper setup?” he asked.
“A custom rifle I can’t get into the fucking USA, so at the moment, Masterpiece Arms 5.7 with 14 inch suppressed barrel.” She sighed.
“No, your longest range weapon. What’s your thousand yard gun?” he asked.
“I just told you. I don’t have a thousand yard gun, I like my enemies to see my face before they die. Not…painless thousand yard headshot hiding in the bushes in camouflage.” She admitted.
“So your longest range is about 300 yards if you’re lucky.” he confirmed.
“Not everyone can be a long distance killers and up close killer too.” she scolded.
“I’m not sure if that’s good for me or not. Mostly because I don’t know if we’re on the same side right now, and anything useful now is a problem for me tomorrow. I noticed your little trigger technique and your home-made mods. It’s impressive, but you haven’t seen custom until you messed with my setup. Nothing is what it looks like.”
“I know. I have seen security videos of you killing with a gun that doesn’t match the police reports. I find it inspiring.” she smiled.
“Well, the Lakeshot gun is in about 6 pieces, one of them broken, and I'm out of ammo you can’t buy at any store. Takes about 3 hours to make one round. And this may uninspired you, but Carl is a better shot than I am at that range, so if it comes down to us exchanging artillery from a mile away, we’re just fucked.” Mike admitted.
“I don’t believe you. Nobody is that good. Is he family, someone you don’t want to kill? A lover?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh trust me, given then chance I’m going to kill Carl, and sleep well knowing I did it. I just don’t know I’ll have the chance to do it. If I can get him within 200 yards, he’s done.”
“You are not lying, are you? My honest question turn. Are you the Lakeshot shooter or not, the man who took down an army for one hooker?” she asked boldly.
“Yea, I’m the guy. That is the last time you’ll ever want to call tanner that again, but I’m the guy. There’s just more to it than you know, and it’s not working in my favor this time, against Carl. I’m the monster you wanted, locked down and bottled up like you said, but every monster has a weakness, and right now, mine is Carl with a Tac 50. That’s a combination I can’t deal with at the moment. My turn. If I tell you something very disappointing, are you going to fuck off and leave me alone, or kill me?”
“That depends on what you say.” she shrugged.
“Open the glove box, there’s a glasses case with a pair of black rimmed glasses. Try em on.” He suggested. She cautiously opened the glove box expecting a trap, and finding only glasses. She put them on and made a strange face, squinting and recoiling.
“This is blurry. Why do you have these?” she asked.
“That’s the spare glasses I have if the ones I’m wearing right now get broken. I’m not hitting anything at a thousand yards smaller than a 2-story building. If I’m alive in a year or two, I’ll be upgrading to trifocals.”
“You’re going blind?” she asked.
“I’m just getting old. We’re all going blind, sweetheart. We’re all getting arthritis, heart problems, you’re just 2-3 decades away from really noticing it. I’m fighting more battles than you know right now. In my line of work, it’s a miracle I can still do the shit I can do. And I can do a lot, but less than yesterday, every day. Did I take down that fucker with a 50 cal on his porch back then, with very specialized gear, a week of planning and a bullet that took 6 hours to make the first time…and all the time in the world to calmly shoot a target that didn’t know I was there? Yep. Can I hit the broad side of this van parked from a thousand yards out, with any gun I own today? Probably not. Maybe if took my time with Gwen tuned up and ready, and had a spotter and a box of 15 shells. Right now, Gwen has a cracked receiver bolt from the safehouse job, and I’m driving with bifocals on. We’ve both seen better days. If you came to America to snag the sharpest shooter around. I’ll pull over, you can go find Carl and take him back to Russia. Best of luck to you both. I’ll be really devastated to see you two go, but I'll try my best.” He smiled back at her. "Reality is a bitch, ain't it?"