himself, fumbling to get the words out as fast as he can. “Holy fucking shit! I remember. Ah man, it’s you! I’m fucking sorry, man. Oh my God.”
“What?” asks Rasnick.
“Nothing. He’s got the wrong guy,” says Leon.
“No, no I do not,” Brobee continues. “Big Ugly and this poor bastard…there was video online.”
Eyes around the cabin go wide, even Chats. Leon’s lip trembles ever so slightly as he speaks. “I escaped, and that’s it.”
Brobee keeps riding his train of thought. “Fucking awful, horrific. Bad, bad, bad.”
Pike just wants to know. “What happened?” Brobee leans in and whispers into Pike’s ear. Pike makes a face like he swallowed a bug wrapped in dog shit. Can’t even look at Leon, all he can do is glance to his shoes.
Leon spits out, “Nothing happened. I busted out and escaped. Nothing happened.”
Patience is almost bouncing out of her seat wanting to know. Pike whispers in her ear and her gorgeous features melt into a response similar to Pike’s. She looks to Brobee in disbelief.
Brobee says, “It was all over the web. There was this comment forum; it was big deal.”
Leon’s anger ripples just below his skin. “I said nothing happened.” He stops as he watches the whisper-wave spreads the story through the cabin and the remaining members of the crew.
Brobee asks, “Somebody got a laptop? I’ll pull it up”
Leon loses it. Cover be damned. “Nothing fucking happened, you fucking retarded cocksuckers! Now shut the fuck up before I execute every fucking last one of you.”
The cabin goes silent.
Really, what do you say?
Leon takes a shaky breath, pulling it together best he can. “Do you people have any idea who we are going after? This guy will burn down your dreams and eat your soul. If he likes you, he’ll
just
kill you.” Silence as the crew shares looks. “He is absent conscience, heart, or any form of reason. Living, breathing evil with 2400 SAT score. Do not, please, do not take him lightly or we will all die, badly.”
The crew takes a moment to soak in Leon’s words, his sincerity. It’s all over him; he has seen things that no man should see.
Slowly the cabin begins to swell with laughter. The crew can’t contain themselves. Patience is close to rolling in the isle. Chat snorts.
Pike busts out, “It was on the web?”
“Oh yeah, man, it was epic,” wails Brobee.
A good time, all at Leon’s expense.
12
I n the hall in front of the penthouse suite, the same penthouse where the crime lords met, two armed goons guard the door, another at the elevator. The elevator doors open, and as the goon on elevator duty turns he catches a silenced 9mm to the head.
Goon one down.
Buster and Talley spring from the elevator wearing ski masks, black painter coveralls zipped to the neck, shoes covered. Buster blasts out the camera overhead while Talley takes out the two remaining goons at the door with head shots. The whole thing takes four seconds, maybe. Impressive, to say the least.
Inside the penthouse stand more goons, shoulder holsters heavy with guns at the ready. Cherrito and Waingrow are watching a Lakers game. Bosko sits in a chair reading
People
. Doren is resting comfortably in another room.
The room’s door lock clicks, light going green. The door flies open as the masked Buster and Talley storm in. Their movement is constant, efficient, with not a single motion or bullet wasted. Controlled three round bursts. These are not meth-zombies shooting up a trailer park in search of a hundred bucks and a roll of quarters. These are highly trained individuals who do this kind of thing for a paycheck, pension and dental. The goons are dead before they can even draw their weapons, let alone fire a shot.
Cherrito and Waingrow are next.
They are unceremoniously removed from this Earth with a shots between the eyes. Bosko barely looks from his magazine, a crime lord thinking he’s untouchable, that nobody would have the sack to even think
“What?” asks Rasnick.
“Nothing. He’s got the wrong guy,” says Leon.
“No, no I do not,” Brobee continues. “Big Ugly and this poor bastard…there was video online.”
Eyes around the cabin go wide, even Chats. Leon’s lip trembles ever so slightly as he speaks. “I escaped, and that’s it.”
Brobee keeps riding his train of thought. “Fucking awful, horrific. Bad, bad, bad.”
Pike just wants to know. “What happened?” Brobee leans in and whispers into Pike’s ear. Pike makes a face like he swallowed a bug wrapped in dog shit. Can’t even look at Leon, all he can do is glance to his shoes.
Leon spits out, “Nothing happened. I busted out and escaped. Nothing happened.”
Patience is almost bouncing out of her seat wanting to know. Pike whispers in her ear and her gorgeous features melt into a response similar to Pike’s. She looks to Brobee in disbelief.
Brobee says, “It was all over the web. There was this comment forum; it was big deal.”
Leon’s anger ripples just below his skin. “I said nothing happened.” He stops as he watches the whisper-wave spreads the story through the cabin and the remaining members of the crew.
Brobee asks, “Somebody got a laptop? I’ll pull it up”
Leon loses it. Cover be damned. “Nothing fucking happened, you fucking retarded cocksuckers! Now shut the fuck up before I execute every fucking last one of you.”
The cabin goes silent.
Really, what do you say?
Leon takes a shaky breath, pulling it together best he can. “Do you people have any idea who we are going after? This guy will burn down your dreams and eat your soul. If he likes you, he’ll
just
kill you.” Silence as the crew shares looks. “He is absent conscience, heart, or any form of reason. Living, breathing evil with 2400 SAT score. Do not, please, do not take him lightly or we will all die, badly.”
The crew takes a moment to soak in Leon’s words, his sincerity. It’s all over him; he has seen things that no man should see.
Slowly the cabin begins to swell with laughter. The crew can’t contain themselves. Patience is close to rolling in the isle. Chat snorts.
Pike busts out, “It was on the web?”
“Oh yeah, man, it was epic,” wails Brobee.
A good time, all at Leon’s expense.
12
I n the hall in front of the penthouse suite, the same penthouse where the crime lords met, two armed goons guard the door, another at the elevator. The elevator doors open, and as the goon on elevator duty turns he catches a silenced 9mm to the head.
Goon one down.
Buster and Talley spring from the elevator wearing ski masks, black painter coveralls zipped to the neck, shoes covered. Buster blasts out the camera overhead while Talley takes out the two remaining goons at the door with head shots. The whole thing takes four seconds, maybe. Impressive, to say the least.
Inside the penthouse stand more goons, shoulder holsters heavy with guns at the ready. Cherrito and Waingrow are watching a Lakers game. Bosko sits in a chair reading
People
. Doren is resting comfortably in another room.
The room’s door lock clicks, light going green. The door flies open as the masked Buster and Talley storm in. Their movement is constant, efficient, with not a single motion or bullet wasted. Controlled three round bursts. These are not meth-zombies shooting up a trailer park in search of a hundred bucks and a roll of quarters. These are highly trained individuals who do this kind of thing for a paycheck, pension and dental. The goons are dead before they can even draw their weapons, let alone fire a shot.
Cherrito and Waingrow are next.
They are unceremoniously removed from this Earth with a shots between the eyes. Bosko barely looks from his magazine, a crime lord thinking he’s untouchable, that nobody would have the sack to even think
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