Tanner looked bored in the church basement, the old 70's beige vinyl floor stained from decades of use, the drab fake wood wallpaper, the brown couch and the decades old TV it's wooden enclosure playing reruns of free public channels. Staring at the locker with her own temptation, she could feel her neglected guns calling to her as the big bald guy watched her every move.

“You know, being a prisoner is super fun. You should really try it, we could switch.” she shrugged sarcastically.

“You’re not a prisoner. This is for your own safety. When the problem is resolved, you will be free to go.”

“You mean when 1 to 3 people are dead, and it could be Mike in that possible 3? After that I’m not a prisoner anymore, so it’s totally fine, I should just relax and enjoy this luxurious church granny basement?” she snipped.

“Why can’t you just wait patiently? Carl has a very well-designed plan, and he’s studied his opponent well. If Mike is as good as you think, maybe he’ll be fine too.” said the bald giant.

“I can’t even help? I’ve killed like 10 people without help, some of them armed better than me. I’m small, but I’m wiry and mean, and I’ll cut a bitch.”

“Maybe that’s why they both felt you’d be safer here. Never bring a knife girl to a gun fight.” He said coldly.

“Boy, it’s like I’d have guns if they weren’t locked up, dumbshit. Then I’d be bringing guns to a gun fight where we outnumber Nadja 3 to 1. Kinda hard to shoot 3 people at once, harder than shooting 2, and I’m a decent shot. Why does everyone treat me like a fucking child?” she barked, “I’m an adult, I’m just borderline child-SIZED, but if kids my size can shoot people in war, I sure as hell can contribute in this one. Let me go, I’ll tell them I snuck out. I can dart you, it’s not that bad, and I’ve been darted twice now. This is abuse and male chauvinism right here. You’re twice my size and can’t guard me without your gun? I'm so vulnerable I can't be in the fight, but I'm SOOOO scary you have to be armed to guard me? Just a big ol bitchboi aren’t ya Mister Clean?”

“If it was my call, I’d dart you just to shut you up, but I have orders to only use that option if necessary, if you try and escape. So please…pretty please, try and escape.” He said calmly as she stood cross-armed with an attitude, pausing to debate her options.

“... I’m telling mike you said that. I probably wouldn’t have to if you let me go, but if you don’t, I’m definitely mentioning that later, and you’re gonna shot right in the asshole. Do you really want that, you kinky freak? Right in the asshole. Do you? You’re nasty. I do not like you.” she muttered.

“You have no idea.” He sneered.

“Okay, cut the shit. Who are you? I’ve got my own serial killer title and could take down most assholes your size, so why exactly should I be intimidated by you? I feel like if you don’t even have a reputation or title yet, you’re probably not worth listening to. So enlighten me, Lurch. Why are you soooo scary that I should just shut up and sit down?” she asked.

“I don’t have a name, because the cops don't even knows my victims were murdered. I make it look like an accident, the police just have a series of cases, no proof they’re even connected or which ones are even intentional. Sometimes I even leave survivors, but they’ll never be the same after all that smoke in their lungs and covered in burns. I’m just a rumor.” He taunted. “And rumors hurt people.” He added as her expression changed from snippy to serious. He chuckled at the shift in her mannerisms, knowing she was a lot quieter all of a sudden.

“So you’re one who burns people alive? The one they whisper about, and half the killers don't even think you're real. That’s actually good to know.” She said

“Good to know before you made a mistake, hu?” he boasted.

“No, not exactly.” She said, rushing him and leaping at his face, sticking to him like glue and grabbing the gun before he could even get it out of the holster, blood running from his neck. “Because you’re not a quick-draw gun guy, and you brought a toy-gun to a knife fight.” She smiled, stepping back as he slid down the wall, holding the blade in his neck, Tanner now holding the dart gun. “Oh don’t pull that out, you’ll die faster. See the knife is actually pretty dull, but it’s pointy as shit, it’s more of a stabber than a cutter, but it’s preventing the blood from just pouring out. I had to know who I was dealing with. Some poor jackass getting paid to do this? I don’t wanna kill some hired rando. Some gun-slinging cowboy that’s gonna get a shot off before I can grab the gun? That’s no good either. I probably couldn't get away if I tried if you were one of those killers. I don’t even feel bad killing an arsonist who killed a family of 4 for fun. That’s fucked up, man. If you were even kind of a decent human being I’d have to get the gun first and dart you and that’s a risky move for me. I can't wait till Mike hears that taping a little knife to my inner thigh actually paid off. Only a sex offender is gonna even look for that. You’re just some Arson boy that’s killed kids. Now…give me the keys to the locker, and I’ll yell for help before I run. As long as you stay calm and hold that knife there, you’re probably going to survive this, but not if you pass out before they find you.” She said, squatting down, holding out her hand. He shakily dug in his jacket and handed her the keys. Tanner tilted her head with disappointment. “Damn you’re stupid.” She said, yanking out the knife and delivering 3 quick additional stabs to the throat, wiping it off on his sleeve. “Like I’m gonna just leave my crotch-knife in your neck after it came in handy? I like this knife. They really just hire whichever babysitter does it for less, don’t they?” she sighed, checking the body for anything useful, finding car keys, a lighter, nothing much else of value. She opened the locker and grabbed her bag, loading up the modified machine pistol in 7mm Preacher caliber, sticking in the big 50 round mag and locking out the bracer.

A young man, asleep upstairs on a couch, woke to the sound of a bolt racking and a barrel on his nose.

“Hello sunshine. You get to be my new friend.” Tanner grinned.

“How did…” he stuttered. Tanner held out the stained knife with one of Lurches’ ear rings on it, a bit of ear still connected.

“Details aren’t super important, just that you follow the rules of the game. Now it’s super simple. You get to play the hostage and the driver, and I get to be the cute passenger with the gun who doesn’t leave you in a ditch in like 35 little pieces, like these. If you want, we can choose different characters. You can be the dead guy in the trunk if you want.”

“No, those seem fine. Driver and hostage works for me.” He nodded.

“UUUUugh, it feels so nice to get to stab someone again, it's been like forEVER. I could honestly go for 2 in a row, but I could just really use the hostage a little more right now. What do you drive?”

“The black Prius.” he admitted.

“What does Lurch drive?” she sighed, holding up the keys.

“I think it’s a Camaro.” He shrugged.

“Wow, you just barely saved it on the second try, buddy. You’re doing SO much better than he did. You may actually come out of this completely fine if you keep that up. Come on, drivey-drive time. Tanner’s been mean, she needs to go to confessional.” She said hopping in place excitedly like a kid on caffeine. “Let’s see if we can find me a cute preacher who’s comfortable around guns. I BET we can!”

Mike sat in his chair and carefully stared through the magnifier, double-checking his papers as he messed with the reloading gear.

“What are you doing?” asked Nadja, waking up from her nap.

“Just a little custom reloading. Here. You know what this is?” he said, tossing her a bullet.

“Of course. 9mm Makarov round. Steel case, Soviet. I did not take you for a man who would own something in this obsolete caliber.”

“I don’t. Carl does. His favorite gun is a Makarov chambered Skorpion. I’m making Carl some ammo.”

“That’s very sweet, but he IS trying to kill us.” she reminded.

“I didn’t say I was making them safe. This, is an exact replica of the brand he uses. He always carries the shorter ten round clip so it fits in a holster as his personal carry. He’s very sentimental about it for some reason. Never goes anywhere without it. But he rarely fires it. It’s a vintage gun he doesn’t wanna wear out, but he trusts it. This bullet here is an empty round with a hollow bullet, and inside is a phone tracker with a hearing aide battery. Should run for 5 days or maybe a week. The other round with the red tape on the tip is a shortened case with an oversized bullet rim that will jam in the gun, and it’s packed with as much plastic explosives as I can cram in the case.”

“So you seem to have a plan for this. Care to elaborate?” she asked.

“Absolutely. You’re part of it. I’ve texted Carl and asked to meet at a diner for terms on our little duel. He’s a sucker for traditions, and he knows I won’t try and kill him in a public location. I told him, if he agreed to meet and discuss things, I’d show him the gun used for the Lakeshot. Seems like everyone is a fan of that. This, is a ten round Makarov clip, similar to the one he has. Your part is simple, follow my lead and don’t argue, let me do the rest.”

Carl strolled across the parking lot, khaki jacket on even in the Texas heat to conceal his oversized holster, and a navy blue hat with a high visibility red target on it, as a sort of taunting move. He shuffled over to the parked truck where Mike and Nadja were standing, hands in his pockets and head down, walking briskly and paranoid like a drug dealer.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“The hell are you doing over here?” he asked discreetly. “Is this even your truck?” Carl asked.

“No, it’s the diner owner’s truck. It’s in better view of the window, so nobody can try anything stupid, and he won’t be heading to it till closing. Neutral ground where nobody’s gonna be tempted to try shit.” Mike said.

“Smart. Not very trusting but smart. You know I wanna play this fairly, Mike. You didn’t bring the gun.” Carl sighed, looking cheated.

“Sure I did. I got it on me.” Mike smiled, standing there without a case or container to fit a large rifle.

“You’re dicking with me. Why? Why did you bring me here with no gun, expecting me to cooperate? I thought we were friends.” Carl said. Mike opened his coat, drawing an SMG from it, as Carl did a quick draw, flashing his Skorpion to remind him who was in charge.

“Relax. You wanted to see the gun. This is the gun.” Mike said placing Gwen in the truck bed, followed by a 20 inch integrally suppressed barrel, a detachable scope, and a strange silvery bullet.

“You’re kidding me.” Carl said looking entertained. “Forensics said it was a Barrett 50 with some kind of tungsten bullet.

“That’s because they’re morons and I wanted them to. How the hell do I get a Barrett 50 cal? I don’t have any rifles on sale records sheets, let alone the money for that on handyman wages. I wanted them thinking it was a Barrett 50, I even left a shell at the scene I stole from a gun range someone fired from a Barrett 50 just so they’d be looking for one. The rifling on Gwen here is the same as one, and once they leave the barrel there’s no difference. But they were checking every vehicle for a high-powered rifle, they weren’t checking every pedestrian looking for a 5-foot-long gun hidden under a winter coat, asking every old man to strip in the cold. I walked in and walked out, with that there under my coat and a round similar to that one.

“This little round?” he chuckled. “Oh come on.”

“Careful, that’s a solid case made of magnesium-alloy propellant. All the power and range I needed, but fit in a smaller gun.” He said as Carl stared him dead in the eyes.

“You’re not lying, are you? You’re looking me dead in the eyes and telling me that exact gun with you behind it made that kill.”

“One hundred percent.” He said honestly, staring him down.

“Jesus, you really are good. I’m amazed a gun that small can even handle the pressure.” He said, running his hand across it like someone finding an artifact. “Oh shit, maybe it didn’t. Is that a split in the receiver?” Carl noticed.

“Yea. She’s designed to be modular, convert from full auto to semi auto and handle rounds from 7mm to 50 cal, but not really meant to fire 50’s in a quick session. That safehouse job was her last job. Old reliable couldn’t handle the pressure of the abuse. I didn't really plan to survive that job, and I wasn't exactly taking it easy on Gwen. So unfortunately Carl, you challenged me to a game of thousand yard dueling with a broken gun and no backup, almost doesn’t seem fair." Mike shrugged.

“Please tell me you’re not giving me the begging speech about how I should spare you because you’re also old and broken, and can’t fairly perform like you used to. Mike that’s what I do. I put down old people with no purpose left. If you’re that broken you need to be replaced, the team needs a leader who can operate at peak performance, not a legend who’s past his prime who could shoot me in the back or muddle up a mission.” Carl sighed.

“I’m not asking you to stop, I’m just letting you know if you wanna do this fairly, you’ll ditch the 50 and use something a bit more sporting. I just got myself a new 7mm X-bolt. It’s a great gun, but it’s no Lakeshot gun. Just consider dialing it down to a gentleman’s caliber. Entirely up to you, and your code of honor, but now you know I’m at a disadvantage, and you’ve seen the legend here with a split in her side. Killing me with a huge range advantage doesn't really prove you're better. It just proves you have a better gun.” Mike taunted.

“I can respect that. The Dragunov hasn’t tasted blood since Cathy, so it’s only fitting we go oldschool.” he nodded as he noticed Nadja scanning him like she had a plan.

“Speaking of old Soviet relic…may I?” Nadja asked, eyeing the holster. “Antique leather holster for Skorpion pistol…interesting choice."

“Very good eye.” He said, drawing the gun, a bit smitten by her smile and her knowledge of gun history. “Nothing sexier than a girl who knows her guns. You know I wasn’t trying to kill you. Just Mike.” he said, trying to be suave and handing her the Skorpion, as if in a trance.

“Bullshit, you went for both.” She chuckled. “A move with balls.” She nodded, as Mike grabbed the gun from her and took out the magazine, kicking the round out of the chamber into his palm, and handing her the empty gun back. He looked at Carl with a smirk.

“You shouldn’t trust her with that thing loaded. You and I wouldn’t have a public shootout in the parking lot, where innocent witnesses would have to die, but she absolutely would. I made her disarm before we walked up, specifically so she wouldn't be tempted. She’s as likely to kill you at any moment your back is turned, as I am when the game is back on. Watch her closely with anything lethal.” He said, looking at Nadja, and with a sleight of hand, switching the magazines and holding the dummy up for Carl to see. He tucked it in his shirt-pocket to obscure the distinct scratches and identifiable details. He put his hands behind his back, as if to seem friendly, casually unloading the real magazine quietly until it was empty.

“For someone so dangerous, you seem to be almost teaming up with old Mike here. I thought you would have killed the bigger threat first.” He said as Mike loaded the tracker and the explosive round, and then added the 8 normal rounds back into the top, burying the hand loaded ones discreetly in the bottom of the stack of the original magazine.

“I don’t want to kill him, I want to keep him. You and I are not competing to kill Mike. He is my prize, and you are annoying fly I will enjoy swatting. He is right, you know. If he had not swiped that loaded antique, I would have killed you right now. Shooting Mike robs me of my prize before I have given up coaxing it out.” She said, glaring at him like the devil herself. Carl nervously locked eyes.

“Oh really? Well, maybe I should just shoot you in the back as you walk away. See, Mike and I have a gentleman's code we follow. You may not believe in God or respect, but we do. I told HIM I wouldn’t shoot him under a hundred yards, because he won’t cheat either. That’s a man’s word, sweetheart. You’re a wild card and a psychopath, I don’t mind blasting you in the back of the head right now to save my own ass. That’s self-defense. Preemptive strike.” Carl sneered.

“Now kids…” Mike said, switching the magazines in his pocket as he bent over to pick up Gwen, Carl distracted by Nadja's cold gaze and exposed cleavage. “Let’s not fight over me. You can both flip a coin. Nadja won’t kill me, because she seems to think I have a devil in me, ready to come out and play. She wants Mister Black, not Preacher Mike. That’s her schoolgirl crush. She’s not about you steal your kill, Carl, and frankly I’ve seen her shoot, she’s not that good past pistol range. Now sweetheart…if Carl can kill me, then I’m not the badass you really want anyway. So he just saved you some time. And Carl, a gentleman doesn’t shoot an unarmed lady in the back. I sure as shit don't let her carry loaded around me, and if I did, you’d already be dead. If one of you kills me, then fuck it. You two do whatever you want. Until then, you’re safe from her and if your young inexperienced ass can kill me fairly, with that old Dragunov against a new 7mm Remington Magnum bolt-action, then you deserve the throne. So everyone just chills out and, Nadja, let the men have their duel. WHEN I kill him, you may get to see Mister Black. So we’re all friends here.” He said, reaching out for the Skorpion, taking it from Nadja’s hand and placing the magazine back in, cocking it and putting the safety on before handing it back to Carl. The bomb and tracker buried deep in the bottom. “So, let’s resume the game fairly.” He said, tucking Gwen under his coat and giving Carl an eyebrow raise. “See you soon, Carl.” Mike finished, making his way back to his truck as Nadja followed and Carl watched her ass move side to side, his trigger hand slightly itchy for a cheap shot to the spine but knowing Mike would disapprove and possibly fire back, well within his close range specialty.

Nadja sighed and looked at mike with a strangely conflicted expression.

“You didn’t have to cover for me.” She said to Mike as they walked. “I could see he was dying to shoot me the moment I said I wanted you alive. He respects you. If you had told him to kill me, or simply let him, he would have done it for you. You wasted your chance to get rid of me. Are you a fool or are you plotting something?” she asked.

“You know I’m plotting something against everyone at every moment, but Carl is a bigger threat than you are right now because you want me alive, and you’re as likely to kill him later as I am. So that makes us allies for now. After Carl is dead, your motives may change or your patience may run out, when you can't break me. We can worry about who might turn on who after that. In the meantime, we have his location, and he never goes anywhere without that gun, and the original magazine that fits the holster to that old museum piece. I plan to get him somewhere under a hundred yards and kill him up close. If he suspects my double-cross, then he’s got 8 rounds to do it before that thing blows up in his face, like god himself didn’t want him to do it.” Mike smirked.

“You preach to him about gentleman respect and then set him up with cheat. Michael, keep lying to yourself that you’re the hero and not just Mister Black wearing a preacher’s mask to sleep at night. You’re as cold-blooded as I am. There is no honor code when you choose to ignore it. You just hide it well, which is exactly what a devil in a preacher’s costume would do.” She smiled, hanging on his arm like they were best friends. He shook her off, like an insect he didn't want touching him, or feared might be venomous.

“I’m nothing like you. I have a code, you just don't understand it. Carl has Tanner and I don’t trust him. When you touch Tanner, the fairness and respect and gentleman goes out the window. He didn’t challenge me, he left me no choice by taking a hostage, Someone I love. When you do that, you've already the code and the rules are mine to break. He’ll find that out when I empty a handgun into his ribs at point-blank and send him to hell. If he left Tanner out of it, you’d see a gentleman's duel. He just fucked with my darker side.” Mike darkly exhaled.

“Tell me again how your demon is so very deep down and only comes out when you drink. He’s driving right now. I can see your eyes change when you think of Tanner in danger. Mike is her lover, Mister black is her guard dog. Maybe Mike can just sit this out and Mister Black can have a little fun.” She said, leaning in and playfully nipping at his neck.

“Get behind me Satan, for I have shit to do, and your temptations are cheap and repetitive. If I’m just Mister Black in a preacher’s costume, you think I wouldn’t have just nailed you to the table when I had the offer, and then just let Mike go guilt free?” he asked. “There’s plenty of quality ass in half the strip clubs in town, and nobody would say a word if I went wild for a night. Tanner would never know if I had my way with you and left you dead after. I made my choice already. We might not have exchanged rings or signed papers, but Mike belongs to Tanner and Mister Black is just a pesky little thing buried down there under MY control. I let him out in that safehouse because I chose to, and I put him back in because I was done with him the moment Tanner was safe and out of there. He answers to me, and he fought for Tanner too that night. Don’t think you have any power over me with that swagger and that allure of yours. You’re a cheap thrill I could get elsewhere if I wanted, and I don’t want it. And if you even consider using Tanner as bait to bring him out, you absolutely will, and he won’t come out to be your friend, he’ll cut you apart like a snake in the grass that thought she could seduce the lawnmower.”

“I do love it when you threaten me. But I can see in your eyes that whatever is behind it would prefer something less timid than Tanner. So if he’s listening in there. She’s safe, and she’s the preacher’s girl. So come out and claim one of your own when you have the chance. You think I don’t have faith in anything? I have faith in that. I want to see that dark side betray Carl, and when he is done, he’ll BEG for some of this…cheap thrill, that a sad preacher doesn’t feel tempted by because of love. You’ll see. He is stronger than you. Tanner is not his type, She’s just yours, Michael.” Nadja whispered. "And you are the pet, you just resist, well...for now."