Sure, the guy could bring in a fancy bounty or two, but that wasn’t the same thing as killing dozens of men. Brownstone’s only real power was spreading bullshit and having people buy into it.
Absolute Zero knew all about that because he played the same game. A few words here and there to the right people and everyone started believing you had special powers and Oriceran tricks you could use. Then they paid you more, or they didn’t mess with you.
The hitman followed the Humvee onto the highway. Brownstone was delivering himself to death. A few surprise bursts from a gun, and the cocky bastard would lose control. Finishing him off while he lay half-dead in the wreckage would be easy.
The hitman grinned. “I’ll raise a glass to you during the vacation I take after this, Brownstone.”
Absolute Zero’s grin vanished as the Humvee jerked off the road onto an embankment.
“Shit.” The hitman didn’t have his gun out. He wasn’t sure how Brownstone had made him.
He pulled onto the embankment after the Humvee, which was now barreling toward an abandoned industrial complex.
The hitman sped up, his engine howling. His motorcycle sped after the other vehicle, which turned a corner between two warehouses. Several seconds later he reached the same area, and he screeched to a halt.
The Humvee had vanished.
“Damn it.”
Absolute Zero jerked his head back and forth, looking for some sign of his prey. You made me. I’ll give you credit for that, Brownstone, but you still ran away, which means you’re afraid. For a guy who was supposed to have mowed down dozens of men, you seem a little chickenshit to me.
The hitman shook his head, conceding defeat. He’d track down the target again soon enough.
Absolute Zero turned his bike and headed toward a nearby street. Half a minute of driving brought him to an overpass next to the industrial complex. Movement caught his attention, and he saw the Humvee pull into an old warehouse.
He smiled slowly. Got you, sonofabitch.
6
Lieutenant Maria Hall took a sip of her coffee, wondering whether she would have preferred to have been on vacation. Chaos was descending on the city, all because of one arrogant bounty hunter. Half a million dollars was enough to convince even an honest man to take a shot at James Brownstone, let alone the vast number of criminal scumbags who populated LA.
Damn it. Why couldn’t he have run to Mexico so this crap wasn’t LAPD’s problem?
The LAPD’s Anti-Enhanced Threat teams provided the thin line of protection between civilians and the dangerous terrors that contact with Oriceran had unleashed upon the city, country, and planet. As far as Maria was concerned Brownstone was one of those threats, and he needed to be off the streets.
The AET commander didn’t give two shits that all his records claimed he wasn’t Oriceran. Even if he was born human, he’d obviously tapped into the same kind of artifacts that half his bounties used. He was the textbook definition of an enhanced threat.
Another of her team members, Sergeant Weber, ran into the break room. “Lieutenant! We’ve got eyes on Brownstone again.”
Maria gulped down the rest of her coffee and rushed out of the room behind the man. Two more members of her team ran down the hall, and all four darted into the drone surveillance command center.
The lieutenant didn’t like the eagerness on the faces of her subordinates. Too many people in the LAPD admired Brownstone when they should have been keeping in mind he was nothing but trouble. Once he was out of the picture the city would be safer.
Screens tiled three of the room’s walls, each with a feed from an AET drone. They didn’t normally have so many active, but with the Great Brownstone Hunt in full swing, no one could complain it wasn’t a good use of resources.
There was one larger screen in the center of the wall directly in front of the door. It was currently blank.
Weber slid into a chair in front of a computer and entered a few commands. The center screen lit up with an aerial feed showing Brownstone standing next to a warehouse door, arms crossed like he was waiting for someone.
“Look at him,” Weber exclaimed. “You wouldn’t know that hundreds of criminals are hunting him at this very moment. Got to respect that.”
“No I don’t,” Maria said. “He’s just a cocky sonofabitch.” She narrowed her eyes. “What about the biker from earlier?”
Weber gestured to a smaller screen showing a drone focused on the motorcycle. “He took the long way back. We think he’s trying to surprise Brownstone.”
The lieutenant turned to the other team members. “Get a team ready to deploy ASAP.”
They nodded and ran out of the room and Maria returned her attention to Brownstone.
The bounty hunter glanced in the direction of the cyclist and slipped into the warehouse through a side door. The motorcyclist slowed as he approached the warehouse, pulling out a machine gun pistol.
“The guy should have taken his chances on the highway.” The lieutenant scoffed. “I can’t believe he thinks he can get close to Brownstone. Stupid idiot. He’s playing to Brownstone’s strengths.”
Maria stared at the screen, not wanting to miss a single detail. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen. She wanted Brownstone off the streets, but just because he was a walking disaster didn’t mean she wanted some asshole criminal to kill him.
Justice wasn’t the same thing as revenge. That was the big lesson Brownstone needed to learn, and if she had her way she’d be the one to teach it to him.
“What the fuck?” the lieutenant exclaimed.
The door to the warehouse sailed off its hinges and flew straight toward the motorcycle. The hitman managed to get off a single burst from his gun before the collision sent him and his bike to the ground. Pieces of metal shot away from the damaged bike.
Brownstone emerged a moment after with a huge pipe in his hand. He rushed toward the still-stunned motorcyclist and smashed the gun out of his hand. The weapon clattered against the side of the warehouse.
“Oh, damn.” Weber winced. “That looked like it hurt.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a freaking game, Weber.”
The sergeant winced again, an abashed look on his face.
Brownstone slammed the pipe into the man’s stomach and the criminal flew backward, smashing into the wall of the building. His helmet went flying and he crumpled to the ground holding his stomach.
Maria squinted at the downed man, his face now revealed. “Huh. I think that’s Absolute Zero. Didn’t even know he was back in the city. Thought he was smarter than to pick such a dangerous target. He’s not in Brownstone’s league.”
“Lot of money on the line. Guess he got greedy.”
“True enough.”
Brownstone’s mouth moved, but the drone’s distance made trying to read his lips pointless.
The lieutenant tilted her head, concentrating on the audio from the drone feed.
“There’s not a lot of ambient background noise,” she told Weber. “Enhance the gain and use the central directional mic. We need to know what he’s saying.”
“Why not just get closer?”
“We don’t want Brownstone to know we’ve got eyes on him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Weber adjusted a few settings.
The background static increased, but they could clearly make out voices now.
“Fuck you, Brownstone!” Absolute Zero groaned.
“Bet them broken ribs hurt like a sonofabitch, huh?” Brownstone asked, kneeling next to the hitman. “You think I didn’t know you were following me from the minute I left that place, asshole? I’m almost insulted.” The audio feed was muffled and weak, but still understandable.
The other man rolled onto his back. “Nothing personal. Just wanted the money.”
“You see, that’s the problem. You say this is nothing personal, but it’s very personal. You’re trying to fucking kill me.” Brownstone shook his head. “I go out of my fucking way to
make shit clear to all of you, but you assholes never learn no matter how many times I’m forced to teach you the lesson. You ever stop and think about why the Harriken put a hit on me? Didn’t you hear the rumors?”
Absolute Zero’s face remained tight; the pain evident from his face. “I thought it was bullshit. Smoke you were blowing up all our asses.”
Brownstone stood. “Nah. I don’t spread rumors that aren’t true. You see, if you never lie about who and what you are, you’ll always live up to the hype.”
Maria snorted. Brownstone brought arrogance to a new level. That was a power in and of itself.
The hitman shook his head, disbelief all over his face. “You’re saying those Harriken didn’t die in some sort of shoot-out with other gangs or Grayson?”
“Yep.” The bounty hunter nodded slowly, then stomped on the motorcyclist’s hand; he’d been reaching for the gun. A bloodcurdling scream filled the feed.
Maria winced. “Damn, Brownstone! You could have just kicked the guy’s gun out of his hand.”
Though if she were being honest with herself, she would have probably put a bullet into a hitman going for a gun. In this case, Brownstone was being more merciful than AET would have been.
The bounty hunter leaned down. “The Harriken killed my dog because I wouldn’t let them kidnap a little girl. Bad shit followed. You connect the dots.” He shook his head. “I don’t like to involve myself in shit that’s not a bounty or personal, but lately it seems like a lot of people have decided to get me involved. It’s really pissing me off. Well, that and the whole blowing-my-house-up thing.”
Absolute Zero shook his head. “I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t have eyes on you until an hour ago.”
Weber looked up at Maria. “Isn’t that an admission of multiple counts of murder?”
Maria shook her head. “Nah. The way he worded it doesn’t directly implicate him. We’d need something more concrete to tie him to it, especially with homicide looking the other way.”
Static filled the feed for a second as Brownstone rested the pipe on his shoulder. “I’m trying to figure out what to do with you. Part of me says I might as well thin the herd a little while you’re all so rabid, but that almost seems unfair. I expected entire teams to come after me, not one stupid dumbass.”
Weber whistled. “You think he’s going to kill him? This isn’t self-defense anymore. If we get that on the drone feed, there’s no way anyone else can cover for him and he’ll serve hard time. How many guys at the ultramax do you think Brownstone personally sent there?”
Maria shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky. If Brownstone kills the guy, we’ll have an APB out on him in minutes. LA isn’t his damned kingdom, and it’s about time he learns no one’s above the law. I’m tired of half this department covering his ass and all but begging to carry his balls around for him.”
Jiro Ikeda stood behind one of his subordinates at a computer desk staring at the LAPD drone feed being streamed to the monitor.
“Such arrogance.” He sneered as he watched Brownstone strut around the downed hitman. Jiro didn’t even need to know what the swaggering oni was saying to be annoyed. His eyes narrowed. “How long will we be able to access their drone feed like this?”
Ikeda’s subordinate shook his head. “We can’t be sure, Mr. Ikeda. The last time we slipped malware into the LAPD system it took them weeks to figure it out, so we might have use of these feeds for the entire hunt.”
Jiro took a deep breath. “Never assume your enemy will be even more foolish the second time you launch the same attack. We must act on this information as soon as possible. Ensure that someone is on their way to kill Brownstone. For now, let it be someone from outside the organization. They are pawns to be sacrificed. When he grows weak enough, we will move in for the kill.”
“Yes, Mr. Ikeda. Right away.”
The Harriken leader’s attention returned to the monitor. “Savor your victory, Brownstone. You will die soon, and I will amuse myself with thoughts of your fear at the end.”
Maria sighed, both disappointed and relieved by what was unfolding on the screen in front of her. Brownstone hadn’t killed the hitman. Instead, he’d tied the man up with some cable he’d retrieved from the warehouse.
Okay, so you’re not a complete thug, Brownstone. I’ll give you a tiny bit of credit for that, but I’m still going to take you down.
Weber shook his head. “Guess we don’t have anything on him, ma’am.”
Brownstone disappeared inside the warehouse after he finished restraining the wounded man, and a moment later a side door flipped open and the Humvee emerged. It stopped, and the bounty hunter hopped out.
“What’s he doing now?” Maria asked. “Did he change his mind?” She winced, wondering if Brownstone intended to run the man over, but if that were the case he wouldn’t have exited the vehicle.
The bounty hunter looked directly at the drone and waved.
“Damn it, he made us.”
“I wonder how long he’s known the drone was there,” Weber mused.
“Probably the whole time. Maybe he didn’t off the guy only because he knew we were watching.”
This wasn’t over yet. Brownstone was one man, and she had the resources of the entire LAPD.
The bounty hunter flipped the drone off and jumped back in his Humvee, and a moment later the vehicle roared away from the scene.
Something flashed on the monitor in front of Weber.
“What is it now?” the lieutenant asked.
“Brownstone called it in. Even mentioned there’s drone evidence of him defending himself against a man with an illegal weapon.”
“Damn it. That asshole played us.”
Weber shrugged. “We could still bring him in.”
Maria shook her head. “For what? Self-defense and leaving the scene? For now, just write it up. I’m sure I’ll have a list of crimes and infractions a mile long by the time this is over. We’ll wait until we have a rock-solid case to bring that bastard in.”
7
James found the whole thing with the hitman less frustrating than the battle he had waged to get the fucking Bluetooth in the Humvee synched with his phone after driving away.
Just because he was trying to fend off every hitman in Los Angeles didn’t mean he couldn’t listen to some barbeque podcasts at the same time.
The next few days and weeks struck him as a good time to get caught up on the latest news. He’d need a way to relax after killing a hitman or fifty.
“Finally,” he muttered when the Bluetooth icon appeared on his phone. He tapped a few buttons to initiate the download process for his favorite podcasts.
Not that he had any grills, spices, or recipe books anymore. He couldn’t even go buy a new one without risk of the store exploding around him.
When the bastards had destroyed his home, he’d been too distracted to pay attention to the smell. With all those spices burning up, he wondered if the firefighters had gotten a little treat in the end.
He sighed. Fuck. I don’t even know where to get some of those spices anymore. Fuckers. I’m gonna make the Harriken buy me five hundred years’ worth of damn spices and some crap made from a rare-ass Oriceran plant that only blooms once every hundred years or whatever.
James’ stomach rumbled. All that thinking about spices and barbecue reminded him of how little he’d eaten that day. Trying not to get assassinated could throw a major wrench into your normal routine, especially for a man like him.
A little barbecue would be nice. It wasn’t fun kicking ass and beating people down on an empty stomach. He needed the fuel to fight an entire city, maybe even an entire county.
The bounty hunter glanced at a passing street sign and nodded.
“Oh, that’s right.”
Phillips Bar-B-Que was close and they took orders for pick-up, which meant that if he timed everything just right he could grab his barbecue without criminals showing up to level the place with zombies
or grenades.
Damn, this was annoying.
James took the nearest exit and pulled into a side street to make the call. He didn’t want to try to order, dodge bullets, and drive on the 110 at the same time. There was too much traffic on the highway, and there was no way he’d avoid getting innocent people hurt or killed.
His mirror and over-the-shoulder checks didn’t reveal any obvious tails, but James assumed another killer would show up soon enough. He’d thought about finishing the previous guy just to make a point, but the LAPD drone had made that too complicated.
And the paperwork.
After the warning he’d received from Sergeant Mack after taking King Pyro down, James knew that despite his respect for and best efforts to reach out to the cops not everyone in the LAPD appreciated what he did. A couple days ago he wouldn’t have cared that much, but now with everyone bearing down on him, having extra enemies on the law side of things didn’t help.
James pushed the thought out of his head. He’d worry about the LAPD later. They’d been watching and could have come after him, but they hadn’t. That meant he still hadn’t crossed whatever line they’d set.
It wasn’t cop time or hitman ass-kicking time. Now was barbecue time.
He dialed and switched to speakerphone.
“Philips Bar-B-Que,” a man answered.
“I want to place an order for pick-up,” James rumbled. “Your five-pound special. You still have it, right?”
“Yes, sir… Hey, wait a second! Is that you, Brownstone?”
The bounty hunter wasn’t surprised that the man recognized his voice. More than a few people had told him he sounded like an engine giving birth while dying. Most people found the sound memorable.
James considered lying for a moment, but no one who made barbecue that tasty could be truly his enemy. Maybe the Harriken were all secretly expert pit-masters and they’d relax and share a beer together after he killed another fifty of them.
Eye For An Eye Page 5