by Drew Blank
I thought you’d like that, Phil gloated. I’m not going to leave it on, because it restricts your vision. If you need it, just tell me, but otherwise I’ll keep an eye on it for you. Let’s test out the night vision again, shall we?
With that, the thermal images disappeared and the back yard lit up in a bright, saturated green glow.
Is it working for you? Phil asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, “but I doubt I am going to be needing it tonight.”
You never know, he responded ominously.
“Thanks. Now I’m sure I’ll need it, ass,” I hissed back into the two-way. “How about you make yourself helpful and tell me how you’d like me to get in there?”
It’s easy. When I was staking the place out the other
day I noticed that the bathroom window in the back of the house was unlocked, Phil pointed out. See this window here? Again the monitor flipped on in my left eyepiece, but this time it was a shot from the night vision camera staked to my left, showing the rear of the house. On the monitor came a squiggly white line, like the kind you see sports commentators use, circling one of the windows.
“Okay, that’s just weird,” I said in reference to his new drawing toy.
Ya like that? It was a little last minute addition. He informed me.
“Yeah. It’s cool. Just don’t draw any… okay, there it is. Good. Great. Thank you.” Covering my left eye’s field of vision was a crudely drawn penis and it was apparently attacking the house.
Sorry. That was me. I had to do it. Twisty chimed in over the radio.
“You’re lucky you’re cute. Now can you please erase the dick from my eye so I can go beat up some drug dealers and come home?” I attempted to stay on task.
Done. The phallus disappeared. Now go kick some ass, babycakes! Twisty cheered me on.
“So, you want me to go in through the bathroom window? And then what?” The plan was still very vague.
The bathroom opens directly into the main living area, where all the guests seem to be congregating. You’ll have a clear view of everyone. Phil directed me. And then you just do what you do so well.
“Thanks coach,” I joked back. “You have it all planned out.”
Just roll with it. Now get going. Good luck and God speed. That was the extent of Phil’s pep talk.
“God speed?” Not terribly encouraging coming from
a strict atheist,” I pointed out.
Will you get your ass in there, already? Twisty put less emphasis on positive motivation as she barked through the speaker in my ear.
“All right all right. Don’t get your panties all tangled on my account,” I said.
I don’t even know what that means. Twisty came back to me. Oh, and Drew. Just so you know. I’m not wearing panties. She whispered seductively into the microphone on her end.
“Ummm…wow.” I gulped.
Hey Drew. This was the first I had heard from Jim since arriving at my destination.
“Yeah Jim?”
I’m not wearing panties either.
“That’s good to know.” The effect Twisty’s last comment had on me immediately wore off. “On that note, I’m goin’ in.” I slipped off the trench coat and hat, and hung them delicately on a branch of the dead elm behind me. Dom would definitely discover the hat and coat if the situation came to the need for police attention. It would be a nice little calling card.
Creeping through the back yard I made it to the bathroom window, discovering that it was still unlocked.
“So how many people are inside, anyway?” I asked Phil as I slowly lifted the warped, wooden frame.
The infrared shows seven people in the house. Here. Check it out. The monitor again appeared displaying the fuzzy glowing figures inside. See the one outlined in blue? That’s you. The titanium lining your suit sends off a different temperature, so we can always tell you from the others.
“One of those fuzzy red guys looks kinda… ummm… big,” I said, commenting on a silhouette that seemed to tower over the rest, as well as double them in width.
Yeah. You might wanna take him out as soon as possible. Phil advised me.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
I can’t quite tell, but I think everybody in there is armed, just so you know, Phil warned. See the blue spots around their waists or chests? Probably guns.
“Great. Guess we’re gonna give this suit a good test tonight.” Surprisingly, I wasn’t worried. I had faith in my friends’ abilities.
Just remember, your face isn’t bulletproof, Jim muttered through the receiver.
“Thanks. Good advice,” I said.
As I climbed through the window it occurred to me that the suit actually helped me move with greater ease. Not that it increased my mobility, but I found I used less caution with tasks that could otherwise harm me. Like, for instance, climbing through a rotted window frame that would undoubtedly leave dozens of splinters in bare skin and maybe house a stray nail or two that could give a person a nice case of tetanus, the suit allowed me to glide past such obstacles without worry. I slipped through the window quietly, lowering myself to the ground without a sound.
The bathroom was what one would imagine from an abandoned house on the verge of being condemned. Yellowed wallpaper peeling from the drywall matched the yellow and orange rust forming around the faucet and drain in the sink. A shower curtain hid the bathtub that, even with the titanium lined gloves, I had no desire to touch. With the infrared cams I knew there was no one hiding behind it, so I had absolutely no reason to investigate further. I would let whatever was growing in there do so in peace.
“Okay. I’m in,” I whispered to my handlers.
Good. Now, there are six people in the room directly ahead of you. To your left, when you step out, there is a door. Someone is in that room, so keep an eye out. Phil laid out the room ahead of me.
“Gotcha.” Having Phil working as my eyes was more effective than I ever could have imagined. “Pop up the thermal cam for me again,” I said quietly. Without a word, Phil obliged and turned on my monitor.
Formulating a plan of attack? Phil asked after a moment of silence.
“I was going to, but I have a hunch I’m gonna have to wing it.”
Why? Phil asked, obviously oblivious to the figure that was approaching the bathroom door.
“Thermals off,” I whispered forcefully.
With my field of vision back to full, I readied myself as the knob to the bathroom turned. Luckily it wasn’t the massive yellow shadow deciding at that moment to use the john. Not that I thought I would have any less luck taking him on in an enclosed space. I would just hate to interrupt a trip to the shitter for someone that size. The whole ordeal could start off a lot messier than I had originally planned by stomach kicking a three hundred pound man with a turtle head poking out. Regardless of who was about to open that door, I would be disrupting something important enough to make them decide to use the nauseating indoor outhouse I was standing in.
The door swung open and I took no time to try and identify the poor soul that probably just wanted to take a piss. With no hesitation I put my left hand over his mouth and with my right spun him around by his slick, black ponytail. In the moment he was limp with shock I successfully positioned the shorter than average Asian guy tightly in the crook of my arm by his throat. Flailing for freedom, his shoes beating against the doorjamb alerted the other partygoers of my presence.
The advantage to being in the bathroom was I wouldn’t have to fight all of them at the same time. On the other hand, I would be an easy target to put a bullet in. It would also be easy for someone to grab whatever money they had and run for the front door and I really was in no mood to take chase.
Using my new friend as a shield, I made my way to the center of the room, gripping tightly to his head, tempted to try out that neck snap thing you see in the movies. I had always heard it was impossible to break someone’s neck that way, but I had my doubts. I was not aware what loyalty, if
any, these people had to the man I was gripping by the skull, but I was sure he was a more effective shield alive than dead.
My first order of business was to increase my odds by eliminating one person in particular. Remembering what a coward Randy was during our first altercation, I was hoping it would be easy to convince him to run, avoiding the awkward moment where I might have to kill a coworker. Freeing up one hand, I pointed directly at Randy.
“You!” I yelled. “You should have learned your lesson.” The breathy growl I had been using while in costume was quickly becoming second nature.
“Oh fuck!” Randy exclaimed as he bolted for the door.
“Where the fuck you going?” This came from the man who had cast the extra large silhouette on the infrared earlier. Standing easily six foot six and weighing well over three fifty, the huge Latino was plenty intimidating with his gun aimed directly at my head as he bellowed at the reliably spineless Randy.
“Fuck you guys! I’m not fucking messing with this crazy fucker again!” Randy emphasized his point with the slamming of the front door behind him and his excessive use of the word fuck.
Randy’s exit took less than ten seconds, then it was all eyes and guns on me and my unwilling dance partner. Next to the mammoth Mexican was a scrawny black kid dressed as the ultimate gangster stereotype. His black and white Nike tracksuit was complemented by several gold chains that I was pretty sure were going to help me in bringing him down. His gun was cocked to the side like the gangbangers in Hollywood do it. Tom always assured me that is a great way for a moron to break a wrist.
Across the room from them, to my left, were the owners of the other two guns pointed at me. One was a very nondescript white kid dressed in a plaid button down shirt and blue jeans. Beyond his sandy blond hair being a little tousled, he looked like the all American boy. My guess was he handled business at the community college just outside of Cross. Unlike the big Mexican and the gangbanger, you could tell he was not accustomed to drawing a firearm. The 9mm shaking in his fingers looked so new I wouldn’t have been shocked if it still had a price tag on it.
Next to the college boy was his future mirror image. A man in his mid thirties, dressed impeccably in a black pinstriped suit that may have cost more than the suit I was wearing. It was difficult to see his eyes behind tinted glasses, but the general air about him was one of complete disinterest. Though he had a gun drawn and pointed at me, he seemed put out by the whole thing, as if I was simply an inconvenience. I assumed he had not been watching the news or he would have known I was more than just a nuisance sent to mess up his schedule. My initial suspicions were that he was Benji Carver, until Phil’s voice rang in.
Don’t forget there’s still someone in the other room. Whoever it is is right by the door, and they’ve got something in their hand. My guess is it’s a gun.
Though I had nothing to base it on, I was relatively sure the voyeur in the other room was Carver. The asshole in the suit was just some white-collar dealer, out of his element hanging with the other ruffians.
“Let go of him, you fucking freak!” Now the big Mexican was directing all his attention and rage at me.
“It’s just Freak, thanks,” I said as I adjusted my hold on the little Asian man. Using the hydraulic grip Jim had worked into my titanium gloves, I was confident he wasn’t going anywhere. “And I have grown quite attached to your little friend here. I’m thinking of taking him with me.”
“You have three seconds before I put a fucking bullet in your goddamn head, asshole!” The giant cocked his gun and was ready to shoot. Obviously they were looking out for their colleague or they would have opened fire already.
“Okay, fine.” I challenged him back. “One…Two…” Before reaching three I lunged to my left, crashing into the college kid. He seemed least likely to know how to use a gun, let alone fire it. Among the commotion I managed to keep hold of the Asian guy’s right arm and clasp onto the young kid’s left elbow. Using the two stunned criminals as a blockade, I charged the huge Latino. My strength, speed and combined weight with the other two was not enough to even budge him. I released the human projectiles into his torso, freeing my hands quickly enough to deliver an achingly strong blow to his groin with my titanium lined gloves. The giant crumbled to the ground, toppling his partners underneath his massive body. Leaping out of the way, I jumped onto the big Mexican’s back, pounding into his spine with my metal reinforced boots.
“What the fuck is your problem, cocksucker?” The black kid that had stayed close to the big Mexican for protection was now stepping back, trying to hold his gun steady between trembling fingers. Before I could answer his eloquently worded question, a deafening blast shook the room and I felt something hit me from behind.
Spinning around and jumping off of the fallen Mexican, I got a glimpse of the pinstriped asshole grasping his smoking pistol in both hands. I had become so intent on leveling my largest foe, I left myself open for attack from the other degenerates. The pretty boy took advantage of my misguided focus by firing a bullet at my spine. He was bound to be upset when he discovered his bravado would not be rewarded with any accolades, but a brutal beating instead.
“Nice shot, Armani,” I snickered from the crouched position I had taken on the floor. “Now it’s my turn.” Remarkably, I barely even felt a dull pain from the spot where the bullet made impact. Though I could still not see the guy’s eyes past tinted lenses, I could tell his disinterested gaze had turned to an expression of panic, if not fear. The baton was already in my hand and triggered when I dove for the man in the expensive pinstriped suit. Not allowing him time to squeeze another shot from his gun, I clubbed his temple with the cold steel bludgeon. Not surprisingly, he fell.
Pivoting on my right foot, I faced the gangbanger who had been almost frozen by what was happening before his eyes. Anticipating his knee jerk reaction to shoot, I rolled to the ground and bowled myself into his knees. He managed to pull off a shot while falling backwards, sending a bullet into the ceiling and showering us both with drywall.
“Get the fuck off of me, you fucking freak!” He wailed as I got to my feet and stood over his chest. With a quick stomp to his hand, the metal lined boots crushed his fingers surrounding the gun, causing him to shriek even louder.
“C’mere,” I said as I wrapped my fist around the chains adorning his neck. His limp body followed my lead, leaving the gun behind.
“Fucking let go of me! Fucking let go! You’re dead! You hear me? Dead!” His hollow threats echoed around the room as I gripped the chains tighter and forcibly brought him to his feet.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make out what you were saying through all your crying. Did you actually think you were in a position to threaten me?” My whisper would have barely been audible if I didn’t have him inches from my face.
“Fuck you, asshole!” He screamed at me. “You ain’t shit! Hear me?”
“How could I not hear you?” I replied coolly. “You are literally yelling into my mouth. Of course I hear you.” I then proceeded to twist the chains in my fist, tightening them around his neck and restricting airflow. Controlling him with the solid gold noose, I forced him to get back down on his knees. Releasing the shiny restraints slightly, I delivered a right cross to the gangbanger’s jaw that would have sent him sailing across the room had he not been on a short leash. Brass knuckles had nothing on titanium framed gloves. One punch mangled the kid’s face, leaving him bloody and, most importantly, unconscious.
It was at that moment I learned a valuable lesson I probably should have learned earlier when the pretty boy in the nice suit shot me from behind. I needed to stop putting my back to people, even when I think they are out like a light. It was unclear what struck me from behind at first, but it was enough to knock me to the ground. Quickly turning around to try and avoid any further attacks, I saw the Mexican towering over me with a wooden baseball bat in hand. The little Asian guy and the college kid were using the hulking beast of a man as cover, trying to lo
ok menacing nonetheless.
“Here’s where I send you to Hell, pussy.” The Mexican grunted, lifting the bat over his head, ready to strike again.
While the first strike from the bat knocked me off my feet, I really didn’t feel a thing. Jim’s pseudo armor was being given a pretty good test that evening.
“Hey Chico, one question before you do me in,” I grunted from the floor.
“What the fuck do you want, shithead?” Why he humored me, I had no idea.
“Did you eat The Man?” The Mexican simply returned a confused and furious growl as he pulled the bat back for a full swing.
You don’t know Dragnet, but you know Chico & The Man? What the hell is wrong with you? Phil had remained quiet through the battle up to that moment but apparently he felt that was as good a time as any to point out the glaring limitations of my pop culture knowledge.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said to Phil, forgetting for a
moment the others may be a tad confused by my one-way conversation.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” The huge Latino was now enraged and undoubtedly ready to bash my skull in.
“Your mother.” We orphans always found ‘your mother’ jokes especially entertaining.
Without a word, only a guttural, animal like roar, the big Mexican brought the bat down on me with a strength and rage that could have stopped a truck or at least a small sedan. Putting all my faith in Jim’s innovations, I simply held up my forearm and blocked the blow from the bat. The titanium frame held up perfectly against the attack, sending only a slight reverberation through my body. It tickled my nose, which was an unusual sensation at that exact moment.
After deflecting the blow, I twisted my arm around and grabbed the far end of the bat. Stunned, the Mexican simply stared as I used the hydraulic grip of the gloves to pull myself up with one hand.
“Uh oh,” I growled. “Now you’re in trouble.” The big Mexican tried for a moment to retrieve the bat from my grasp, but it didn’t take long for him to discover the futility of his attempts.