The bright red flash and buzzing hum was my first indication that the plan had gone awry. Fortunately I have a really hard head, unfortunately my assailant had considered that possibility ‘cause he hit me again. My vision tunneled as the ground rushed up to meet me then the lights went out.

    I'm not sure if it was the shock of the wet or the sting in my wounds that whatever they threw at me caused, that woke me up. I had a sneaky suspicion it was piss and that just added to the list of shit they were going to pay for. As I regained the ability to focus I took in my situation. 

   The room was dimly lit by a single hanging lamp suspended from the ceiling it seemed to be a 60 watt on its way out. I could see peeling wallpaper and patches of stain darkened cork. The cork poked through the remains of carpeting so old the color had faded to a brownish grey. There was an old beat up desk and broken mirror against one wall. There appeared to be four people in the room. That was good, that meant I didn't have to go looking for anybody. I was tied to an old wooden chair in the middle of the group with my hands behind me. Gary Leon aka 'Roofless' stood in front of me.  He put down the bucket and picked up the sawed-off shotgun he had laid on the desk.

"Da fuck you doin round 'herr?"

   His mouth was swollen and he moved his right leg stiffly. Pops had made a good showing for himself. When I found him he was almost inconsolable but I promised him it would be Okay... it wasn't his fault... and I would bring her home...

   My ruminations were disturbed by the hard right Jonny Jones aka 'Beef' laid across my jaw, he was a big guy, had a few inches on me and I was goodly over 6. I spit blood and checked my teeth, for all that size he hit like a bitch.

 "Da man axed u a question." 

   Beef had a chromed out .357 in his waistline. I looked at him gave him the long blink and turned back to Roofless. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders I heard chuckles from around the room. I looked back at him blank faced and sniffed. His smile slowly died when he realized I was still silent. 

"Tha man needs more convincin Beef, leave the head alone I want him speakin..."

   As beef went to work on me I had time to consider the use of a classic and questionable tactic, 'taking the beat down'. In my case it was predicated by the fact that I was sitting in an old wooden chair and as Beef worked on me I could feel the wood creaking. One surprisingly solid hit sent the chair and me toppling over I tucked my chin and exhaled sharply but it still hurt like hell. I sang a bit; did some moaning and groaning as they picked me up. Rembrandt Jackson aka 'Five-Spot' grabbed the chair back and revealed the Glock 9mm in his belt. Dennis Croyer aka 'Trench' was on my right and had a good ole fashioned .45 in a shoulder rig. They backed up and looked at me as I coughed; at first on purpose but then some blood got in the wrong pipe. I finally got it cleared and blinked the tears out of my eyes. As the room came back into focus I saw the bat Five-spot was swinging at my leg, I managed to get the chair to take most of the impact but these assholes were gettin way too close to causing me some real damage. 

   Time to start the motion.

"Where is she?"

"She?"

"Don't play the fucktard two nights ago, you tried to beat an old man to death and you took her. He lived, he's pissed, and I'm here to take her home, how this goes down is up to you, is she here?"

   He looked confused for a second then smiled. 

"Oh her! Such a fuckin beauty and a sweet smooth ride..." 

   His words were cut off by my forehead smacking into his swollen mouth. I whipped to my right slamming the chair into the desk Roofless was now sprawled on. Damned thing didn't break, and Five-spot was ready to reapply. I spun the chair in his direction and lunged backwards. I felt the crosspieces give as I hit the bat then me and the chair were putting Five-spot into the wall. The chair finally gave and I heard more than wood crack as my weight hit and Five-spot abruptly departed for the next room. The seat ended up in my newly freed hands which was convenient as Trench was taking aim. I did my best impression of Captain America. I missed the gun ‘cause he turned, but it drove him back a step as it cracked into his left arm. I lunged forward and jammed Beef's arm as he was attempting to get the .357 out of his waistline. The gun fired and Beef screamed like a bitch and dropped it into his pants. I hung onto his arm, back fisted Roofless who was bringing the shotgun around and took a step back, spinning Beef between me and Trench and into Roofless. I heard grunts and the shot gun hitting the floor, but I was already moving towards Trench, the gun was coming down until it met my outstretched hand. I pulled his arm straight and threw a palm strike at his elbow in a break attempt but he bent it and the gun went off. Five Spot had picked an inopportune time to re-enter the room as the round took him in the throat. I held onto Trench's arm looped my other arm through his and swept his legs out from under him, the gun reported again as he went down. An elbow combined with the fall took enough out of him that I could liberate the firearm. I put one in his head as I stood and turned. Beef had miraculously managed to avoid hitting himself when the gun fired. I almost hated to ruin the unbelievably relieved look on his face as I double tapped his chest and put one in his forehead. 

   Roofless was starting his turn Shotgun in hand when the hot metal barrel hit him in the back of the neck. He froze. I relived him of the Shotgun tucking the .45 and it's four remaining rounds into my belt (with the safety on of course).

"Take me to her, now."

" Aright dawg a'ight shit, Bitch wasn't wurf all dis..."

   A short shot to his kidneys with the rifle stock made him reconsider his statement and a sharp indrawn breath let me know my point had been made.

   We walked down a decrepid hallway of a repurposed abandoned warehouse. Apparently these things come standard in the "Crew" set up package because every crew I'd encountered "laired" in one.

"Is ther a real estate agent for this type of place or are you guys just spawned here?"

"Da fuck u talkin..."

   He was cut off by the hollow bonk of the shotgun barrel glancing of the back of his head.

"Rhetorical." 

   I guess sometimes it really does need to be explained.

   We came into the docking Area and I saw several vehicles many of them having that appropriated air. Some of them looked like they were being kept in decent condition but an old abandoned docking station is not a good place for anything of value. 

"You left her down here?"

   I was pissed. He was silent, apparently unlike myself a couple  of stern blows had a holding effect on his tongue.

"Where?"

   He motioned towards a section of the chamber that had some type of partition set up it was lit and enclosed and they were apparently holding her there. I thought of their hands on her, and what they'd done and snatched Roofless around to express my feelings. Whoever was creeping up behind us chose that moment to kick something across the floor. 

   I dropped into a back roll and the two shots took Roofless high in the right shoulder. As I came to my feet I spun and extended the shotgun. I heard a crack accompanied by a feminine gasp of pain and her firearm skittered across the floor. I stepped in closing the distance and swept her legs out from under her but held on and guided her to the floor almost gently. I grabbed her injured arm and she hissed in pain. A quick glance at Roofless showed him already damn near a pint short. He was groaning and trying unsuccessfully to staunch the bleeding with his left hand. I took a good look at the new talent.

   The barrel of the shot gun sat underneath a strong mixture of Afro-Asiatic features, coffee colored skin with dark almond eyes framed a small button nose and large full lips. She wore a black knit cap pulled low under a zipped up Hoodie and an open leather motorcycle jacket. Her combination of BDU pants and magnum boots suggested military and or law enforcement influence. The Hoodie stretched over notable curves and She was somewhere in the area of five and a half feet.

"Hey."

"You're not Trench."

"No ma'am he's in the other room leaking out of a new blowhole. So am I to assume you wish to communicate that your attack was not personal."

   She looked at me, hard, assessing. 

"Is Roofless the last one left?" 

   I glanced over at him but didn't completely take my eyes off her... she could be tricksey. He was trying to drag himself towards some cover and not really making good progress. 

"I believe so. you have business with these chaps?"

   She paused and a recent wound briefly opened behind her eyes, she forced it away and grunted out 

" My little brother."

"They have him?"

"Not anymore..."

   I took a beat to digest. The math on her story was solid and I released her arm and swung the shotgun towards Roofless. She quickly rose to her feet and worked the arm it appeared functional. She assessed me then looked over at Roofless. 

"you get what you needed out of him?" 

"Pretty sure, though if you intend to put him down I'd have to ask u to wait for confirmation."

"I got a few questions myself, let me know when you're solid."

"can do."

   I headed towards the partition. Behind me I heard her recover her pistol. There were a couple of quick steps then I heard Roofless let out a groan as her foot connected solidly with his stomach. She barked out a few colorful expletives I wouldn't expect from a lady and put fourth some hard questions. Apparently her little brother had been playing the mule to get in the crew and got hit in a bad transaction. She had gotten the why's and wherefores and was in the process of expressing her displeasure to all involved. Roofless seemed to top off the list as I had removed all the others from the field of play.

I hit the partition and stopped. I took a deep breath. I reached for the curtain with a not quite steady hand. I pulled it open. I saw her. 

   Her name was Grace and she was a 1970 Plymouth HEMI 'Cuda four speed 440. The entire interior had been restored and we'd had some Rims hand cut and anodized to match the paint job. She was painted a dark charcoal which in any but direct sunlight looked black. She had twin glossy black racing stripes and anodized grill and black-outs covering all her lights. She had been my god-fathers and he and I had spent an entire summer restoring and customizing her before he passed. I kept her at Pops because he had a climate controlled garage. We only brought her out for special occasions and Nobody but me or Pops drove her... the fact that one of them had made me wanna kill 'em all again.

I could hear further hard questions being put to Trench and I called out "We're good here!"

The distinct report of a 9mm Glock sounded 7 times. ‘Parrently she was plenty upset about the loss of her brother. I left her to her business and did a pre-flight check. They had done little to no damage. I opened the door and sat down. I breathed. Keys were still in the ignition. I started her up and stepped out to open the bay door...

   I was four blocks away about to get on the highway. I had called Pops and let him know I was bringing her home. Beside me the stuttering rasp of a motorcycle approached. I tucked the .45 beside my right leg safety off. I glanced to my left. Sitting on a street tricked Yamaha YZ 450 F Supermoto was a familiar pair of BDU's, magnum boots, and now zipped up leather motorcycle jacket. She flipped up the visor of her helmet as I rolled down the window. 

"I need a beer and I hate drinkin alone. What are you doing?"

"Dropping off the car, checking on Pops cleaning up and meeting u at...?"

"You know Bobby's on fifth?"

    I did.

 " Gimme an hour and a half."

   She nodded dropped her visor and the light turned green. I pulled onto the entrance ramp clicked on the radio and smiled.