Justice stared long and hard at Bogdan, Russian crime boss, made man in the Bratva, stranger. To the big man from the past and the future this middle-aged man was far less intimidating than he was infuriating. Still, it was unclear what a direct confrontation might result in for not only Renna but also any other girls that might be present. But were they in the trailers? The warehouse? Both? “Why do you hesitate? Go, or my people will open fire. You are not, after all, bulletproof, big man.”

“You blew up Chad.” Justice stated matter-of-factly.

“I did! Perhaps you grow to comprehend your situation then.” Bogdan flicked open a lighter that shot out a pale blue flame, lighting a cigar.

“Thank you.” Justice backed out of the light, heading off into the darkness, keeping near to the outside wall of the building. Within seconds, given the angle of the lights from the ring of trailers, he was lost in shadow.

Bogdan fell silent as Justice walked away, struck dumb, but, regaining himself somewhat, he managed a chuckle before heading back into the warehouse, shaking his head.

Sprinting out, high heeled shoes in one hand, clutching a heavy purse to keep her load under control, Scarlett shouted. “Justice! What are you doing!? We can’t just go!” In reply she heard a hiss. Stopping short, she looked around, eyes dazzled by the lights she faced. Struggling to see but getting nothing she let out a loud peep as Justice pulled her about ten feet in an instant, hiding her from sight behind the wall.

Hand over her mouth Justice got inches from Scarlett’s ear, growling softly. “What the fuck are you doing!? I said to stay in cover. You’re gonna call their attention, little girl.”

For a moment a rush of excitement washed over Scarlett. Justice smelled like some kind of musk and blood, was some kind of juggernaut and, even angry, a clear protector. “I… I don’t know. They … they killed Chad. He blew up.” She swallowed hard, thankful for the darkness.

But, for Justice, it was a little different. He could see. He probably couldn’t make out small text but what little moonlight was piercing the clouds was enough for him to make out most detail and he could sure as hell tell that Scarlett was charged up by what was happening. Vulnerable. She radiated heat that he could feel at a range and it gave him feelings he felt the need to push down. “Listen, we gotta get out of here but one wrong move and we’re both dead or worse.”

“Worse?” Scarlett hissed, horrified.

“We just walk down that road, guaranteed a rifleman takes me down then one of them boys in there adds you to the menu. I need you to get in the windowframe up there, the one with the boards on the inside.”

“Boards? I can’t see, Justice. Where?” Scarlett was playing up her helplessness though, if it was intentional, that wasn’t clear.

He was afraid of this; another side effect of being blasted through spacetime without protection, the process furthered by a second trip. If that first trip hadn’t been taken naked in space, would he be this changed? Hard to say. “Here. Just … plant your feet where I put ‘em. If you stay in the windowframe nobody’ll see you from the side or above.” Lifting her effortlessly by the hips Justice attempted to put her into the windowsill but she didn’t plant her feet, instead, grasping him by the head and pulling herself closer. “Scarlett. Stop.”

This seemed to snap Scarlett back to reality. Her heart raced, she salivated, her pupils, mere pinpoints, quickly dilated, granting her some ability to see. “I … I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just plant your feet, be still, be quiet.”

“We’re here to, to save Renna. I know that.” Scarlett put her feet on the windowsill. “What are you going to do?”

Steadying her on her perch Justice looked her in the eye, fairly certain that they were both seeing the other, at least a little. “Me? I’m gonna kill every one of these sumbitches. When it gets loud, move back to the tall grass, lay down, and this time don’t move ‘til I come for you.”

Her eyes bulged, heart racing. “O-okay…” She believed him. She believed he could. “But what about the man with the rocket?”

“He’s first.” Justice growled before gripping the space between cinderblocks and starting his ascent. It was shockingly smooth and quick. In seconds the big man, nearly three-hundred pounds of chiseled muscle, was gone.

It was business as usual down below and, for the man guarding from the roof, it was just another day of watching. He had at his disposal the rocket launcher, a Panzerfaust 3, smuggled out of the other side of the Berlin wall, was part of what got him the job but mostly to demonstrate power. The sniper rifle, an SVD, was there for taking out anyone venturing too close who was neither invited nor familiar. Silenced so nobody but the shooter knew anything had even happened; maybe the target would too but, if so, not for long. He had a second rifle, this one equipped with tranquilizer darts; some cheap American thing. He hated it but, when the merchandise started to run, it was all he was allowed to use.

What was that? A creak. Something heavy moving on the metal roof. But this was impossible. Snatching up the rifle, he cast about, letting the scope see for him with its night vision sensor.

But it was too late; something too strong to even consider resisting had his rifle twisted out of his hand before he could even find the trigger. A hand, platter-like, covered his mouth and nose, pressing him into the roof. He gripped the wrist and forearm attached to that hand but it was like gripping the bumper of an automobile; holding on to it just made things more dangerous if it decided to move.

“You speak English, boy?” came a voice, whispering. He nodded. “I’m gonna ask you one question. Where are the girls?”

Releasing enough to let the man speak, hand at his throat to make clear how serious he was, Justice listened closely. “Trailers! Trucks come in before dawn, hitch up. In one week trucks come back to be filled again. Trailers only sit less than twenty-four hours. Uh! Please!”

“Huh. Well, more than I asked.” Looking over at the nearby weapons, the dropped rifle, the tranquilizer rifle, the rocket launcher, Justice thought hard. This guy was just some flunky and, frankly, he had gotten rid of a true piece of trash named Chad. On the other hand he clearly was ready to shoot Justice himself if he’d done as he was told and started walking. “Tell you what. Since you cooperated I promise not to shoot you after.”

Justice started to rise. Still mostly blinded, the guard kept his voice low. “Thank you so much. I am–gurk!”

“Sorry, chief, but it’s better we don’t share names.” Justice, having grabbed the guard up by the throat, clutching the rocket launcher in his other hand, moved to the edge of the roof. The guard struggled as he roared down at the guards posted outside. “Attention, slavers!”

Thrusting hard, Justice shot for distance but also to land the man flat. He mostly succeeded as the guard bounced twice after landed. Close enough. “This is your one chance to live! Your sniper is disabled! Your ordnance is broken!” Justice, to illustrate his point, easily broke the rocket launcher over his knee. “Do anything but cooperate and you burn!” A spotlight swung up as Bogdan ran out into the courtyard made by the trailers. “You hear that, Bogdan!? I offer you your life! Do you see that as a gift!?” Justice aimed something at them, something unfamiliar, but something he’d learned to use very well.

“You! The bodyguard!” shouted Bogdan, clearly nervous, glancing at his unconscious sniper. “Maybe we make deal?” Squirrelly, the Russian slavers slowly gathered, the building emptying, dozens of men with automatic weapons looking to the older man for leadership. “Clearly you are powerful man, yes? Smart, too. You knew that just leaving would be suicide. Having taken down my man, you could have just kept walking away, safe, problem solved, yes, but you have loyalty.”

“Tryin’ to buy time, Boggy?” Justice grimaced, adjusting controls on what looked to be a pistol. “Won’t work, man.”

“No, no. You love the girl, yes? Renna? You can be with her, watch out for her. We can employ you. When she is done with her work each night, she will share a bed with you. Is good deal, da?” Justice didn’t say anything, focusing past the light, finding that he could see just fine while not revealing it to his quarry. “You! Open truck three! Bring out the exotic one!”

A dark-haired, bearded man in camouflage hustled towards the wall of trailers, but didn’t make it there, immolating in under a second, his carbon sprayed as a shadow against the side of the trailer. It defied logic; there was no bang, no explosion, it was almost silent, just a whine in the air for a moment. “Nobody else moves ‘less I say so. Got that?” Justice glared down at Bogdan who, now, knew perfectly well that the big man could see just fine.

“What … what is that you have there?” asked Bogdan, suddenly terrified.

“This? Oh, nothin’ big; just a Spacefleet standard issue X-03 Destabilizer with twelve settings from stun to detonate. Usually you’re just supposed to stun regular folk, the gun can do that all day, but I ain’t lookin’ to stun nobody what crosses me, Bogdan.” Justice adjusted it again, sensing that things were building to a head.

“These words, they are nonsense. What do you even want, Justice?” Bogdan looked to the shadow again, then back to Justice. He could scarcely hold still, for once insecure in his position, aware that he not only held power here but was unable to understand what was happening around him.

“I want you all gone. Looks like you got a few pickup trucks here and I’m guessin’ the long car there’s yours. Once I’m sure we’re safe I get these girls out of here.” Justice raised his destabilizer up and out to the side, his arm in an L, his other hand on his hip.

“This I cannot do. I am only Lieutenant to Bratva. We are brotherhood but … for so many millions in merchandise, my brothers would surely kill me, Justice.” Bogdan raised his arms to his sides, a clear signal.

“This is real simple, fucko. Clear out … or I kill you.” Justice took aim at the spotlight shining on him. A line of flame, brighter than the one that disintegrated a man, struck the metal and it exploded like a grenade. Justice was no longer lit and the force threw the Russians off guard.

“Pristreli yego! Pristreli yego!” The signal wasn’t necessary and no language barrier would confuse the meaning of Bogdan’s words as he ran to the side, heading for the trailers. Below him, the men blasted away at where Justice had been but he was mere feet away from there.

“I warned you! Now it’s the end!” Justice aimed for empty patches of dirt and concrete. A beam from his high-tech blaster would dissolve a man to nothing, but striking heavy minerals, low in water content, at the highest setting, would cause a dangerous detonation every time.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Another spotlight moved, clearly about to make Justice much more visible. It exploded. The operator of said light shrieked, on fire from the waist up, one of his fellows blasting his head clean off in terror at the sight of him.

Screaming, trying to be heard above the din of battle, Bogdan alternated between ducking into the ring of trailers to gain his men’s attention, barking orders, and taking cover. Risking a single shot near the trailers Justice detonated the earth beneath his feet. He shot vertically into the air, shrapnel piercing his feet and lower legs, shoes and pants shredded, he landed in a heap, crying out for help.

It was barely a fight. Justice felt bad for the sniper, who had taken shrapnel and died, in spite of Justice keeping his promise. As he moved back and forth, their small arms fire, sprayed from automatic weapons, missed blindly, time and again. A single round caught him in the skull, popping his head back, leaving a gash, but, as the blood flowed, all it did was make him angrier.

A single man made a break for it and Justice shot him on impulse, and at the top setting, the destabilizer didn’t even leave a shadow, just a greasy burn in a crater on the pavement where a man ceased to exist. All fell silent.

With a little hop Justice fell to the earth, his heels splitting the pavement, and he cursed silently, aware that the soles of both sneakers just crushed and split making them shoes in appearance alone. He confirmed visually that they were destroyed then stopped short, hearing a high-pitched whimpering.

It was Bogdan. “Please! Please! Peace to you, Justice! Whatever savage god has sent you to smite me, I pledge myself to his service. Just, please, no more!” Justice stood over the wounded gangster. “I … here! Here is my gun! The knife I use to cut the Chad. There! I am harmless! Please!”

By this point Scarlett had arrived, given how little time it had taken for Justice to clear the field, she’d no doubt started moving the second Justice started shouting. Hand over her mouth she looked ready to panic. “Oh God! Oh my God! How!? How is this all possible!?” Everywhere she looked was smoke, fire, the very earth and pavement, nothing but tar and char.

“That’s what happens when you empty a destabilizer battery into a room full of chumps, girl. If you’re gonna insist on bein’ in the middle of everything take this guy’s shit so he don’t get any funny ideas.” Justice had an idea of which trailer Bogdan had meant before, even though they weren’t marked there were only six of them. Moving to the third truck, counted from the left, he jerked the lock open and nearly pulled the door off the hinge. Swinging both sides open, Justice looked inside to see dozens of young women, surrounded by crates, packed in like sardines, huddling together in fear at what they’d heard outside. “Oh Lord. Oh no … how … how many of you are… They took all of you?” Justice felt his eyes well up. It was like a nightmare out of his past, something he’d never wanted to see again.

“Justice?” came a voice, weak from screaming, but familiar enough. It was Renna. She had a black eye, her blouse was torn but tied together with a borrowed scrap of cloth. “Justice!” She hurled herself down from the truck, landing on him, and he held her up in the air as she cried hysterically. She tried to explain what had happened but, her fear breaking, emotionally overwhelmed, all she could do was hold onto him for dear life.

The other girls climbed down, surrounding them. Some looked truly haggard, having been held for, perhaps, weeks. Some were stronger and helped weaker ones to move. They all looked at least a little dehydrated, no doubt shoved into these hotboxes before the California sun had time to dissipate. “Listen, all of y’all. Open the other trucks. We … we gotta get you out of here.”

Flooding out, soon, there were over a hundred living bodies standing, some taking weapons off of the dead bodies, others bringing food and water from the warehouse to the others. “Renna? You okay?”

Lifting her head from Justice’s neck, Renna managed to stop hiding. “I think so. Who … who’s the girl in the dress?”

Justice turned back to look behind him. There was Scarlett, still hovering. “She’s … she helped us, baby. This is Scarlett. Chad had her too.

“Chad that … fucking bastard.” Renna let go, moving to Scarlett, embracing the strange girl, and it was quickly mutual. They cried together, comforting one another, in shock from everything they’d seen in less than a full day.

“I called the cops!” shouted out a dirty brunette, more angry than traumatized. “They traced the call and they’re coming here!” A cheer went up.

“Oh no!” shouted Scarlett.

Justice looked over at the redhead. “What? What’s the problem?”

“Justice, the cops … they knew about this operation. Chad didn’t tell me what they did here but he did tell me that they were paid off, and handsomely, by the Bratva.”

“But … they’re the good guys. I can’t be fightin’ the cops. We got a mission to…” Justice trailed off, looking at Renna.

But it was Scarlett who responded again. “I understand. Whatever happens here, you have to finish your … mission. Maybe … maybe it’s not such a big deal.”

“What do you mean?” asked Renna.

“Well … first, I have Chad’s winnings for your last fight.” Reaching into her bag she pulled out a bundle of thousand dollar bills.

“A thousand! Man, back in my day a dollar’d feed a man for a week. Those’re all thousands!?” Justice was gobsmacked.

“That’s what the UCL would always pay the ‘High Rollers’. I just had crap in my big old purse, so I dumped everything but some essentials into his briefcase and took the money from the briefcase into my purse.”

“I have a little trouble understanding money in this age of scarcity but that’s … I mean, we’d die of old age before the bills at our apartment burned through this.” said Renna.

“Yeah. I … I wanted him to find my compact and foundation when he reached for his money but blowing him up was good too.” Scarlett showed a rueful little smile.

“Oh! Chad blew up?” Renna seemed legitimately surprised. “I’m … surprised. Guess that means everybody involved in all our captures is dead then?”

“Uh…” Justice didn’t say but his head turned and he looked down at the delirious Russian gangster on the pavement. With perfect timing he let out a soft moan.

“Justice. I think you know that, if he’s alive when the cops get here, it won’t matter what we do or say, he’s the boss. He’ll go right back to what he was doing.”

Scarlett looked up at Justice, making eye contact, she nodded to affirm what Renna said.

“But … baby girl, we won. Can’t just … kill a prisoner of war, right? Can we?”

Gritting her teeth Renna grabbed Justice’s wrists. “He’s the one that beat me, Justice. I told them you were coming. I told them, warned them, that they’d regret taking me. He took it upon himself to make an example of me in front of his foot soldiers, in front of the other girls, in front of everyone.”

Curling his lip, gritting his teeth, Justice turned towards his grim duty, but was caught back by the woman he loved. “No. Give me a weapon.”

Surprised, Justice turned back, reaching to his hip, he found the destabilizer.

“No. What else do you have?” she said.

Blinking, Justice didn’t quite get what she was getting at, but quickly found his restored, antique, civil war sidearm.

“No. What else? What else?” she was looking for something.

“Oh!” Justice noticed a bulge, a corner in his pocket. “This … knife? Did you want a knife?”

Taking the weapon, Renna grimaced, tears forming in her eyes again, and shook her head. “I want his knife, Justice. Where is it?”

Arms falling to his side, Justice stepped aside, ignoring the little shuffling sound that told him Scarlett had given Renna the knife. Moving forward, he addressed the crowd. “Ladies! Everybody in the building, now. The police will be here soon and we need to be ready when they do. Okay?” They complied, moving dutifully into the building, nobody seeming to notice as cries for mercy rang out, quickly turning to shrieks of terror and, finally, a gurgling death rattle.

—

Of the vehicles outside the warehouse only one of the trucks had survived the barrage of future-weapon fire. As Justice and Renna made ready to depart Scarlett made a phone call from Chad’s little black book, another item she’d burgled before being struck and abandoned. Touching the scratch on her cheek as a reminder, she waited for the officer whose personal number she’d dialed to answer.

“Hello? Who is this? It’s … it’s three fucking A.M.!”

She’d placed one of her long gloves over the mouthpiece and spoke more deeply than usual. “Chief Kyle Hathaway. Listen carefully. We are aware of your arrangement with the Bratva. Except for their drivers, the Bratva in Los Angeles are dead. They will not come back under threat of death. When you see the carnage you will understand that this is true.”

“You … you still didn’t identify yourself. Why should I believe any of this?” He was clearly rattled.

“Come to the old Sage warehouse about fifteen miles outside of town, you know the one, you’ve been there. The new people in town have left you a gift taped under the toilet lid. When the drivers arrive you are to arrest them. After that, prosecute, deport, we don’t care. We just want to be left alone and, after you see what happened here, after you get your gift, you’ll want that too.” Scarlett felt proud. Maybe she’d try again at an acting career.

“Oh … okay. And the other … occupants?”

“They’ll be needing some assistance. Take their statements like you would anyone else and take them home.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone who would be taking the Bratva’s place…”

“We just wanted them out of the way, Chief. Now they are. We have our fingers in a lot of pies but slavery? Distasteful. You’ll be hearing from us.” With that she hung up, leaving the Chief to explain to his wife why he was getting a call about the Bratva in the middle of the night.

Walking outside she almost bumped into Justice and Renna. “C’mon. We’ll drop you off someplace. Then we need to get our stuff out of dead Chad’s basement.” said Justice.

“No, I’m coming with you. Chad left his less conspicuous ride outside the gun store. I’m taking it. And some guns. Hell, I’m sure you want to clean the place out yourself, right?” Scarlett said, addressing them both.

“Oh, Scarlett, you’ve already done enough. I mean, the money alone.” Renna said, smiling. “We can’t ask for anything more.”

“You can. I have the little black book, Renna. Before any of those good old boys know he’s dead, they’re gonna get you the papers that I know Chad was keeping from you.” Looking to Justice wistfully, she continued. “You’re on a mission, right? That’s why you’re here?”

Justice looked ready to deny it but the girl had seen too much. “How’d you know?”

“Man from the past and the future comes to Hollywood in the nineteen-eighties? If you told me that I would’ve sent you to Troma or some other B-movie company, I’m not interested in scripts. But you … you’re like superman, aren’t you?”

Renna grabbed Justice by the arm, possessively. “I seen the funny books, girl, but, no. Look, we gotta get outta here. If we’re steerin’ clear of everything we gotta be goin’ away from where the cops are comin’ from, get whatever we’re gettin’ from Chad’s shit and probably go to a hotel before anybody’s the wiser.”

“I’ll get you set up. I owe you that much.” Scarlett put one hand on each of them, Justice and Renna. Then, if I can help in the mission … you’re free to use me.” Renna gripped Justice a little tighter.

“Okay, in the truck. Let’s go.” Justice hustled to the truck. “Time to see if I’ve finally learned good enough drivin’ one of these damned carriages.” Piling in, Justice turned the key, already in the ignition. “Huh. Lucky.” Then, jerkily, they started rolling on in the dead of night, headlights off. The big man could still see and the ladies assumed he was driving that way to not be seen by the cops. He was just glad the ladies couldn’t see that he was all over the road as they headed back, the long way, to the basement of the Pistol Packin’ Rat.