He had just enough time to slip it back into its holster as Jared threw himself into the burly man’s arms.
“Sir, are you alright?” he asked.
“Does it look like I’m fucking alright?” Jared screamed at the idiot. “Just get me the fuck inside.”
Marr, his intellectually-challenged brain finally grasping the fact something was wrong, lifted Jared up as though he were a baby, and carried him inside.
Rodic, who had watched in stoic silence, held the door open as they hurried past. He remained outside baton at the ready.
Once inside, Jared felt his fear subside, though it was replaced with a weariness that was threatening to overwhelm him.
Marr jabbed at the button to call the elevator at the end of the lobby. He still cradled Jared in his arms. Jared thought about telling the big ape to let him down, but he didn’t have the energy, and his shoulder hurt like hell.
As they waited for the numbers on the digital display to reach zero, he leaned in close to Marr’s ear. “When we’re safe in the apartment, I want you to call Faulks.” He paused, still struggling to catch his breath. “Tell him I’ve been attacked by the woman, that he’s to send a doctor and ten of his best. Make sure they’re armed to the teeth.”
Marr smirked, which enraged him.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Marr’s earlobes. “Did I just make a fucking joke?”
“I think me and Rodic can handle one little girl, sir,” Marr said.
“Just make the call. I’ll feel better when there’s a dozen of you and a doc between me and that psycho. I’ll be fucked if I’m going to end up butchered like the others.”
~
The elevator doors opened in the middle of Jared’s apartment – though ‘apartment’ was an understatement, to say the least. A hundred square foot of quality real estate, filled with the best furniture and antiques money could buy. It was the one place he truly felt at home, safe from the outside world – though, it was a feeling he guessed was about to be truly tested.
Marr carried him over to the ridiculously large sofa; high-backed, hand-stitched leather whose cushions were stuffed to almost bursting. The lights flickered on as the sensor picked up their presence. He was dropped unceremoniously onto the thick leather, jarring his shoulder.
He cursed as Marr – who appeared to be less than sympathetic for his obvious wounds, which he hadn’t enquired about – pulled out his scribe and began to jab at the screen in an effort to find Faulks’ number. To Jared, he worked the phone like a caveman who had just discovered something wondrous but hadn’t quite figured out its purpose.
He put the cell up to his ear. “Get me Faulks,” he demanded. He paused, listening to whatever was being said to him, which wasn’t to his liking. “I don’t care if he’s asleep. Wake him up. The boss is hurt, he says it’s the woman.”
If the recipient on the other end of the line had a retort, it was stopped dead in its tracks at the mere mention of the woman. Marr grunted as he was put on hold. He looked down at his employer, slumped on the couch. He pursed his lips and gave him a nonchalant shrug.
‘The woman’, whose current identity was still unknown to the Inner-Sanctum, but a thorn in its side, all the same, had been spent the last six months killing members of the organisation; members that included colleagues, business acquaintances, and a couple of close friends. And with every death, she took the same trophy: the silver pin which bore the golden dove of Sanctum-One – a particular pin worn only by members of the Inner-Sanctum. The thought made him bring his hand up to his own pin as he sat on his sofa, in pain and miserable.
While they waited, Jared glanced to the window where the glow of the city shone. Hundreds of screens, fixed to skyscrapers, flickered with advertisements and government messages – each fighting for the attention of the citizens below. Many of them belonged to Jared. A constant display of his wealth and social standing, which usually gave him immense pleasure whenever he cast his eye to them; what he’d achieved, always reminding him he was a king amongst men – he was having trouble finding that pleasure in his current quandary.
Looking down at himself, it was hard to believe he was king of the gutter rats. Made to run and hide by that bitch. She’d pay, he promised himself, she’d pay.
Before he could wallow any deeper into self-pity, Marr grunted, breaking the silence. He began to pace back and forth as information was relayed to him. He cut the call, slipping the scribe into a pocket.
“They’ll be here in ten minutes,” Marr said. “Faulks said to sit tight until the cavalry arrives.”
Before Jared could answer, the lights died, descending them into darkness. She was here, and all of a sudden, ten minutes may as well be ten hours.
II
Through the scope of her rifle, Lex watched as Jared Trammel was carted into the building by one of his security guards, shouting and screaming in complete terror. He didn’t realise he was only alive because she allowed it.
In truth, she could have shot all three of them multiple times as they’d dithered on the front steps, rendering them dead in an instant. She’d almost succumbed to the urge and squeezed the trigger; the leather of her gloved finger creaking from the tension of her temptation.
She’d relented, however. The will for inflicting the most miserable of deaths had won over in the end.
It would’ve been too quick.
The men she hunted deserved to feel every moment of their doom. Right to the last wail of agony, to the last drop of blood. She’d promised herself that from the very beginning.
I vowed to answer for your death with every ounce of my being. I promised that the moment your little blue eyes became dull and lifeless. The spark gone forever.
But not my love…
Amusingly, Trammel had thought he’d been pursued from the ground. The image of his face, crazed and sweat-soaked with fear, as he’d charged through the precinct brought a thin smile to her lips.
She lowered her rifle and peered over the edge. The street was washed in the neon glow of the lights lining the sidewalk. The citizens passed in all directions, the tops of their umbrellas floating by like leaves in a stream. Cruisers ripped through the steadily increasing water levels on the smooth tarmac of the road; their tyres splashing the rainwater onto the sidewalk.
To most eyes, it appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary; people going about their lives, oblivious, harmless. To Lex, she saw subjugation, bondage in plain sight. You just had to look that bit closer, a few seconds longer, then it became all too apparent.
It was in their eyes; like cattle, fear most prominent when a government cruiser rolled by. Their heads bowed low, not from the rain or a need to mind one’s own business, but for the desperation to blend in – to avoid drawing attention.
Lex didn’t just see it in the herd, but in the street itself; the ragged, torn posters of political insurgency; faded spray paint, bearing messages of encouragement to rise up and fight back… against crimes committed by the cream of society, by those who should know better…
She holstered the rifle onto her back, swinging it over her shoulder with practised ease, and ran towards the fire escape.
She descended down the fire escape, her rubber-soled boots barely making a sound on the metal stairwell until she reached the bottom – ten feet above the alley.
She vaulted over the railing, landing catlike onto the hard concrete. She made her way towards the end of the alley, keeping her body close to the wall; near the sanctuary the shadows provided.
She was a ghost.
The rain pattered against the roof of her hood, running down her suit in beads. The material was thin which aided manoeuvrability in combat situations, black for stealth, and waterproof. It had cost a small fortune from the underground market; bought from individuals who had a tendency to look the other way if the price was right. It was a little on the tight side, but it served its purpose.
She peered around the edge of the building towards Trammel�
��s apartments. The guard he’d left behind was scanning the street, alert and coiled like a spring. He had a face whose resting position settled on barely concealed rage, with the promise of violence. His nose sat flat, taking centre stage above a lantern jaw peppered with stubble. His little piggy eyes darted from side to side, nervously.
He held a stun-baton down by his side. The tip glowed a faint blue, the promise of a few thousand volts. She had no doubt he carried a pistol or two within his long overcoat, which fell to just above his knees.
Lex made a quick check of her weaponry. She had two sidearms holstered on each hip, the rifle on her back, and an array of knives and small blades strewn about her person. She also had a small collection of grenades because… ‘you never know’.
The street was fairly quiet. Those that passed the opening, where she waited, kept their heads down. Obliviously unaware the strolled mere feet past death incarnate. The streets could be a dangerous place at night. Gangs and a whole host of crazies roamed the streets in search of prey; ready to strike from the darkness.
She looked up to the sky. Several Zeps floated above, advertising their wares, or broadcasting government messages on the sides of their massive bodies. Above the floating monstrosities, the sky was black. There was just too much cloud cover and light pollution to see the stars.
He used to love the stars.
She closed her eyes, pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind. She fixed her gaze across the street. She had a job to do. Men to kill. Another trophy to acquire.
The distance between her position and the thug outside the apartment building was roughly fifty yards. There were a few citizens in the vicinity, but that couldn’t be helped. She hadn’t been naïve enough to expect to get in and out without attracting some sort of attention. Given the high stature of those she hunted, it was unavoidable.
She waited for the guard to give her the best opportunity to attack. She slowly slid a throwing knife out from its sheath, her muscles taut, coiled like a spring ready to pounce. Her world narrowed to tunnel vision – her and the guard.
The guard turned his head to gaze down the street, in the other direction, away from where she was hidden.
Lex bolted from cover without the slightest hint of hesitation. She could feel the adrenaline, the anticipation of combat already building within her. Her heart hammered in her chest pumping blood through her veins.
She made it halfway across the street before the guard cast his gaze in her direction.
That’s all I need.
She threw the knife, her arm a blur. The small blade left her hand and soared through the air. It struck true, the knife embedding itself into the guard’s neck. He grunted in surprise, staggering back. There was surprisingly little blood; the blade ironically acted as a plug for the hole it had created.
Lex sprinted across the road, closing the gap, her only focus on the guard. She was disappointed her throw hadn’t dropped him. He had also managed to keep his grip of the stun-baton, which he raised above his head, the thick metal glowing.
He swung it down as she reached him, aiming for her head. Lex found no difficulty avoiding the blow. As much as it was impressive, he’d remained on his feet, he still had a throwing knife sticking out of his neck.
She pivoted to the side, pulling a dagger out of its sheath. She twisted around his outstretched arm and dealt him two cuts with the razor-sharp steel; one to the lower side, near a kidney, and another to his upper thigh.
Blood spattered the concrete as he fell to one knee, dropping the baton, which clattered onto the sidewalk. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him inside – it wouldn’t do to have a dead guard lying outside for all to see.
She pulled him along the lobby, towards the elevator, her boots squeaking audibly on the polished tiles.
He weighs a fucking ton.
Halfway, he began to struggle. He kicked, trying to gain purchase on the slippery floor tiles. She let him go, his head thumping against the white, tiled floor.
She thumped the handle of her dagger to the bridge of his nose before he had a chance to recover. He reached around to where she had a grip of his collar. The fight left him as he spluttered and cried. Blood flowed over his mouth and down his neck.
The gaping wounds she’d inflicted on his body had created a thick trail from the door. she was surprised he was still conscious. His eyes scrunched in pain and his teeth clenched tight within his bloody mouth.
She grabbed him by the shirt. “What floor is Trammel on?” she hissed. “I’ll only ask once.”
The guard heaved, his breath coming in quick gasps as his body struggled with Lex’s violent onslaught. His broken nose had also caused his breathing to come in an irritating, high pitched wheeze; burbling out of his nostrils with every exhalation.
He spat a mixture of blood and spit in her face. Enraged, she drew the dagger across his throat in one smooth slice. Arterial spray washed over her.
She rose, the guard looking up at her in disbelief; his expression suggested he’d expected some sort of drawn-out interrogation. She shook her head at him as he twitched. “I told you I’d only ask once.”
His eyes glazed over, then became vacant. She waited until the twitching ceased until she removed her throwing knife from his neck. She wiped it on the dead man’s jacket before sheathing it.
Now, she had to think. There were ten floors to this apartment building. She assumed Trammel would be on the top floor – he seemed the type to want to sit at the top of his castle. It would have been good if the guard had told her, saving her a little time.
She looked down at the dead guard. “Asshole.”
She decided her only sensible option would be to head directly to the penthouse. But, just in case Trammel assumed she would do this, and was skulking on one of the lower floors, waiting for her to pass him by… she needed to cover the front door.
She pulled a portable-cam from her belt and placed it on the floor, facing the front door. The small piece of hardware was equipped with a sensor. If it was triggered, the camera would spring to life and send the image to the small high-def screen on her wrist.
If that slimy worm thinks he can escape the building without me knowing about it…
With the entrance covered, she approached the elevator. She was about to press the call button when something caught her attention. A door towards the back corner of the lobby. A sign above it read ‘Electrical cupboard’.
She smiled.
Perfect.
III
The silence seemed to drag on for an age. It felt like his heart was beating in his ears. Jared could make out Marr’s silhouette, his head turning from side to side. Eventually, it was the security guard who broke the silence.
“Shouldn’t the back-up generator kick in?” he asked.
Despite the woman’s notoriety within his social circle, Marr hadn’t really grasped who they were dealing with. Aside from this, Jared was somewhat assured that his security guard didn’t appear to be as shit-scared as he was.
Jared sighed a long, tired breath. He looked down at his shaking hands. His shoulder pulsed uncomfortably. He slowly pulled himself to his feet. Marr tried to help; Jared slapped his outstretched arm away. If Marr was hurt, he didn’t show it. He merely shrugged, taking a few steps back to allow his boss to rise unaided.
“Well, clearly she’s thought of that,” he snapped.
To further dampen his mood – quite literally – the emergency sprinkler system kicked in – ironically one of the only things in his building with an external supply; a mandatory government policy.
He watched the spray wash over his possessions, ruining most of them. Thankfully, they were insured and the pay-out for the items were worth more money than what he’d paid for them. If he managed to somehow pull himself out of this disaster, he could take solace in the fact the crazy bitch had made him some money.
Marr walked past him, towards the open-plan kitchen. He picked up a food tray, raising it over his
head, shielding him from the downpour. Jared wondered what the big oaf was doing until he pulled the vibrating scribe from his coat and placed it to his ear.
While he waited for Marr to finish his muted conversation, Jared squelched through his sodden carpet to his bedroom. Every wet slap his shoes made was another insult from that interfering bitch from hell. Though scared out of his wits, the fact she was skulking somewhere in his building made him seethe with anger.
He entered his bedroom, already soaked through, his mind a blur of all the things he would do to her if they somehow managed to subdue her.
The thought drew his eye to the king-size bed, which took up a fair majority of his sleeping quarters, already had a sizable puddle in its centre. The sheets alone had cost him over two thousand credits. He brought his gaze up to the wall, eliciting a groan at the state his telescreen was in; a small waterfall cascaded down its sides.
Neon Revenge Page 2