home

search

Chapter 14: Spooked.

  Alexander sat on the couch, holding Azazel, left behind in the escape.

  “We’re not outsmarting this man, this is multiple levels of proof. We cannot outshoot him, we cannot fight him hand to hand, we cannot bribe or reason with him and we cannot contain him. His inventions are better, his illusions are better, he’s stronger than us all. I now very much understand why he was able to walk into a safehouse with 30 killers and walk out unharmed, with a building of corpses in his wake. Now he is protected by something somehow even worse. And as you say, this is when he has left god in the parking lot. So do tell what miraculous things must be capable of if God bothers to tag along for a mission…or the devil, as she seems to do now consistently? What miracles must we perform to be even relevant to a plan that would so much as slow down their progress?” He shrugged. “Shall we unleash an army of angels pulled forth from out of our assholes!?” he added as a knock on the door startled them all. Tanner grabbed her little red sub-machine gun and headed to answer it. She opened the door and stared in shock at 2 men in full Army ranger gear.

  “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” Gabe said, trying to enter and getting a barrel to the face.

  “Why are you just walking in, you don’t just walk in, nobody invited you, why are you even here?” she rattled off.

  “I followed you from what I assumed the news will call: the halftime massacre. Where’s Mister Black?"

  “Wouldn’t we all like to know?” she sighed.

  “I’m not playing games, Jill smith or Tanner, or whatever your name is. You shot him and took him, I want the head, and if he’s alive, I’m still collecting his head, just slower.” He said, looking very serious.

  “Mike’s not here right now, if you’d like to leave a message, please find his ass and get it. Yea, I shot him, yea, we brought him here. Fun fact, he’s gone now, I got a crippled team and a dead guy in the basement as a result, so this is not a thrilling time to fuck around with this. He’s only getting further away as we stand here. We’re not chasing him like this. Go. Go get him. Please.” She said, crossing her arms, red SMG dangling with attitude.

  I wanna know answers to a lot of questions, and I am prepared to get them by fo-” he said as Yuri and Alexander stepped out behind Tanner, A pair of CZ Bren rifles aimed at the Archangels faces.

  “Please.” Alexander grinned. “Do finish that statement. We have one body to dispose of already, it would be a shame to have to start all over later when we can just do 3 at once. Pretty please, with a cherry on top, threaten her safety. I could very much use the therapy of a quality headshot right now, and thus far none of my bullets are doing shitting fuck-all to Mike or Nadja. I would prefer to kill Mike, but you seem to be such a willing little mortal volunteer.” he said, clicking the selector to auto, purely for effect.

  Gabe and Dyson sat unarmed in some wooden chairs as the trio of armed killers sat across from them.

  “Gabriel Thomas Gram, Army Ranger, 8 years, special operations in Iraq, counter terror unit, this is Charles Dyson, Marine Corps Force Recon, 6 years. We’ve both seen active combat and specialize in some of the best weapons in the US military. I’ve raided buildings with 20 armed terrorists and cleared it, without a casualty on the team, and I just lost 6 good men to one gray-haired psychopath and his Russian girlfriend. What in the hell are we dealing with?” Gabe asked.

  “My ex boyfriend.” Tanner sighed. “Trust me, at this point we’ve lost more men than you. Long story short, Mike used to do something like you, he took down the bad guys, and he gave me the crash course on it, and then Nadja showed up, and he flipped sides. Nobody knows why. He turned on us. He killed our man in the basement, broke Yuri’s hand, busted up Alex, and…he killed your brother. We lost a whole team that day trying to fight two of them. I know him better than anyone and honestly, I don’t know what I really knew him at all. I don’t know why he’s that good, and nobody knows where Nadja even came from. The original theory was that she’s the Russian president’s daughter, Nadja Morozov Ivanova. Seeing as how, she goes by that name and claimed that. Except there’s a few problems with that. Nadja Ivanova, died 10 years ago. Yuri dug up the records with a little favor pulling. We have no idea who she is or why she seems to have the backing and funding of a president’s granddaughter, when she’s dead. So some bitch with a stolen identity seems to have even the Russians confused, and now she’s turned my Mikey into some fucking murderous monster. He’s twice as good as he was before, except evil, those are the answers.” Tanner shrugged.

  “Why was Caleb involved?” Gabriel asked.

  “Because we’re all criminals here, trying to fight the monsters in this world, and Caleb stole a car from a guy with a dead body in the trunk and was wanted for murder charges. We took him in, he wanted to help.” She explained as Alexander cleared his throat.

  “Caleb wanted to impress Tanner. Our job in the…cursed courthouse trainwreck, was to dart Mike and bring him in, and Mike simply shot him first. No warning, no sympathy, shot to the head, and I received a lucky glance and played dead until he kept going. Caleb was dead before he hit the ground. Mike simply…does not compromise and cannot be bothered with anything in his way. Caleb was unlucky, twice.” Alexander said, looking agitated at the memory. “I should have shot Mike in the back. I should have brought a real gun that day, and the moment he turned, joyously emptied the weapon into his back and danced in victory.”

  “So what is he, former Green Beret, KGB spy?” asked Gabe.

  “Plumber.” Tanner said softly. “Fixed people’s plumbing and…did some home gunsmithing in his van. Pastor before that. At least that’s what I was led to believe."

  “That bitch of his is sure something else.” Dyson huffed. I swear someone hit her that night we took them on, I figured she was done for. 2 days later, she’s pulling a hostage from a shootout, not a mark, limp or visible problem. My buddy, God rest his soul, Jimmy Pitt, everyone called him Mad Dog,” he said, taking a moment to breathe. “Brock said she killed him after taking a fully loaded m4 to the face. Brock’s seen some live action in the Army, he wasn’t exactly a greenhorn or some wanna-be nobody, the man had training and active duty, and he swore she wasn’t human. He said she took a full mag without armor and didn’t give a fuck, put 2 in Mad Dog’s head.”

  “Can we talk to him about what he saw?” Tanner asked.

  “No... he’s dead. She put about 15 rounds of 9mm in him earlier at the halftime fuckup. He was one of the best shots with a rifle I knew, and he didn’t get a shot off or even see her coming. He was still in position, fully loaded, round in the chamber, safety off” He sighed. “She’s not a damn ghost, but she’s good enough to scare someone like Brock, and I didn’t know that was possible. I’ve been in two firefights with her and still haven’t actually seen her. I spent that entire first fight with thermal goggles on and only ever saw the preacher.”

  “Because she doesn’t show up in thermal scopes.” Tanner sighed. "Son of a bitch, Mike isn’t joking.”

  “You wanna run that back again and make it make sense?” Dyson asked.

  “Mike told me she doesn’t have any body temperature. He hunts with thermals, and he said once that she was colder than the surroundings. I didn’t believe him, because Mike is obviously crazy…mostly.” She pondered.

  “She is shape-shifting demon that hunts souls.” Yuri blurted. “She has mine, I want it back. I want to go home to Russia. Why are we looking at me like I am crazy?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Well, not long ago…” Alexander began. “I would have insisted you are crazy for that statement. But then Mike pulled a miracle escape in the pitch dark, and I swear he could see me, not a shred of light in that basement, no optics, he looked right at me and disarmed me like I was nothing. And earlier today, I had a shot on Nadja. This very rifle here, a hundred, maybe a hundred and 20 yards, placed the dot on her skull and fired, the round hit low and center spine. She…stumbled slightly. She appeared lightly inconvenienced.”

  “Body armor, bro. Always run black tips on a 556." Dyson sighed.

  “Well, how fitting of a suggestion because I specifically received that very armor piercing round for the job, and she was wearing a flexible corset and a T-shirt. Pray tell... What, brand of Victorian gothwear makes a form fitting bulletproof corset that passes through a metal detector and stops an armor piercing round? And yes, I am sure I hit, I saw the fabric fray and the impact sent her staggering. She then simply regained her footing and waltzed calmly my way, blood stained center mass and returning fire. Naturally, I proceeded to fuck off vigorously and live to fight another day, just hopefully never with her." he sighed.

  “Is everyone crazy?” Dyson chuckled sarcastically.

  “You’re the only one who hasn’t seen her.” Gabe said. And you were wearing thermal goggles. I saw her very clearly, dodging gunfire and trying to kill me. I saw her with my own eyes and in the night vision scope, and then the preacher told me something I’ll never forget: You wanna believe in hell? Switch to thermals. He said it just as calm as could be. I expected to see him throw a molov or pull a flamethrower from his ass with that line. I switched to thermals and there he was…and there she wasn’t.” he puzzled.

  “Gabe, she just…hid somewhere. There was a second or two between switching optics, she could have run closer and ducked down, or got behind something in the dark we didn’t see, some kind of barrier. We know she’s insanely fast. Anyone that fast could cover some ground in the gap between moving the scope and getting the goggles up to that tiny damn window. Am I the only person in this room that hasn’t lost their goddamn mind? Seriously?” he asked as the room got oddly silent. Tanner looked wide-eyed.

  “I mean…everyone else here has met her, or shot her, or shot her a bunch, or watched her hypnotize their boyfriend.” Tanner shrugged. “Soooooooo…”

  “I was bodyguard for 6 months.” Yuri sighed. “Believe me, I have seen things humans do not do. Horrible things. That was not Mike in that room. It was her, shape-shifted, or…speaking through him. Possessing him. You do not forget those eyes. There is nothing behind them but blackness and hellfire.”

  “Gabe, bro. You’re spooked. I get it. We all are. I was there. Some weird shit went down, but these are a bunch of tweakers telling ghost stories because they got their asses kicked by a pro.”

  “Damnit Dyson, so did we, so why are we spooked? Why are WE, the only two left alive of a trained fucking team of vets, who got the drop on them, from an armored vehicle with enough guns to bring down a 30 man insurgent cell, and we're spooked by a skinny Russian girl who fucked us all up with a damn pistol? Explain that.” Gabe asked.

  “Man, I can’t. I got nothing, and I know you believe in all that churchy stuff, Gabe, but wake up. She’s flesh and blood, and body armor and some kinda crazy training, not magic devil shit. Fucking A, Gabe. She had support. That preacher had like 5 guns on him, probably armored to the hilt, there was a sniper somewhere throwing some big damn lead we just didn’t see. He had a crew and someone with an anti-material rifle.”

  “He had this.” Tanner said, plopping Azazel on the table. “Just them, and this. He made that. One man with that and a pistol, something like this, probably.” She said, taking out her gun and kicking out a round on the table. “With bullets he invented himself. He used to make me guns too.” She said coldly. Gabe picked up and inspected the gun in awe. Checking the 3 magazines and placing the bullets on the table in a row.

  “This keeps getting weirder and weirder. I can’t even identify one of these calibers. Gabe sighed.

  “This…” Alexander sighed. “Is the most complicated gun I have ever seen, or fathomed in my life. It uses a single fixed axis of aim for everything, two moving barrels, both chambered with some insane long 45Acp, one necked down to 7mm, machined from a single piece of what I assume is some incredible steel to hold the power of the rounds. It has not two, but 3 magazines of 3 entirely different kinda of ammo at once, loads off the same bolt and carrier, operating off 3 sets of recoil springs that rotate with the barrels. It operates as an open bolt OR closed bolt gun, depending on whether this set screw is engaged, so you can change calibers without ejecting the round and wasting a shell. Integrally suppressed, both barrels operate off the same suppressor and the gas system aligns with whichever barrel is not currently in the axis of shot. The sights fold, the grip folds, they both deploy when the bolt is moved, a bolt handle that not only rotates and changes the barrel with selected caliber but also uncovers the corresponding magazine to fit the correct barrel, so no matter what you do you cannot load the wrong bullet in any magazine but the one intended, into the slot intended, that automatically ends up with the barrel intended when the lever is set to the intended position. This top magazine holds Seventy-Five, fucking, rounds... of your beloved 7mm pistol caliber he invented along with the other…4 in the gun, presumable a dozen more knowing Divine Michael…”

  “Mike. Michael was his grandpa.” Muttered tanner.

  “Thank you for the correction, we wouldn’t want to be rude to the man who is reeking terror on the country for what might be the literal devil in the dead flesh of a Russian girl.”

  “Sorry. Old habit.” She muttered.

  “The point I’m trying to make is, this man invented new materials to invent an entirely new system of ammunition, and a gun that takes any of them you could want. This to me looks like an armor piercing round or something for very long range, this one I believe is a shotgun shell. What do we have here, why it’s a massive fucking solid copper round that looks to be for killing elephants behind concrete walls. I have no better theory. This one is ribbed for someone’s pleasure, what does that do? Nobody knows but him but, it’s intentional and there are 5 of them in the magazine, identical and detailed."

  “I…” Tanner shrugged, “Probably something subsonic. Mike loves his silent high-powered, high mass rounds”

  “See?” Dyson shrugged. “He’s got Russian spy shit like that, and you people don’t think they got flexible body armor you can’t get on the market? They’re kitted up like crazy. We need a damn 50 cal.”

  “Carl had a 50 cal.” Tanner sighed. “And a team of like 12 killers. Oh, he’s dead too. He never brought it back. I think he sent like…a whole team of merchants after them at a hotel once. Spoiler, you'll never guess this part. They’re all dead.”

  “I’ve seen that security camera video.” Said Gabe coldly. “I have some freeze-frames on my laptop that will give you nightmares.”

  “This is so stupid. You wanna dip the guns in holy water and spray garlic on your armor to ward off the vampires, be my guest, whatever helps you man up for this shit, but I guarantee you put a round in her head, she drops like a rock, blood and brains, man. Say whatever prayers you need to, fucking paint crosses on the bullets if you want, wear some amulets, I don’t care. She’s not immortal. She’s half human and half narcotics. Nothing about this bitch is supernatural.” Dyson scoffed.

  Nadja sat squatted in the dark, her pupils locked forward, shifting slightly in the light of the full moon from the window, reflecting orange as they moved from a small open cage on the windowsill to the vodka bottle next to it. Two Recluse revolvers filled her hands, wrists resting on her thighs as the guns nearly touched the floor. She closed her demonic eyes and exhaled slowly and quietly.

  With both eyes still closed, she extended them outward in both directions, and fired 6 shots in nearly perfect unison, standing up and checking her aim. She sat down one revolver and traded it for the bottle of vodka, counting the dead mice up to 5, and hearing the squeak of one still moving. She reached behind her back and silenced the last one. Feeling annoyed.

  Mike Tinkered in his workshop to the sounds of Dark blues, as she entered, and harshly sat down one revolver.

  “This one is off.” She said firmly. “A half-inch at 16 feet in the worst cases.”

  “Damnit.” Mike huffed. “I was afraid of that. Unfortunately, if I attach the sight rail permanently, then it won’t fold up. So I guess that one just stays with me. Doesn’t do any good to have a gun that fits in a shoe, if you have to bore-sight it in every other time you re-assemble it. The other 2 work fine, I’ll just take that one. I actually have to aim to shoot things anyway. I can use this one.” He sighed, marking it with yellow tape on the barrel.

  “You can’t fix it?” she asked.

  “It’s 9 thousand dollars a gun to make new ones, and they’re made of very time-consuming layered plastic and spider silk cloth. They come out as straight as they come out. One of them isn’t returning to zero. What do you want me to do? I can’t make any more, there’s no more spider-silk fabric left. You broke the other good one, we got 4 left, and one of them is just not fitting tight enough for your tolerances. I’ll take that one as my spare, my main one is fine, you can have my spare, it zeroes great. We both have 2." he said, looking pissed off.

  “I assume getting Azazel back is not an option?” she sighed.

  “No, that’s theirs now. I’ll just go back to the MPX and carry a barrel change for the 450 blackout. It’s less convenient, but it works. Nothing has changed, the same people will die, there just may be a slight delay in the reload time, occasionally.” He confidently smirked, placing the yellow tape marked gun aside. “Old Yeller here will be for close kills only, I guess. Fine with me.”

Recommended Popular Novels