Poor Bastards and Rich Fucks

by John Bruni

  “I . . .” Jimmy sighed. “Fine.” He knew he wouldn’t kill women or kids, and he wouldn’t let Jack do it, either. He hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

  “Good. I call dibs on Coppergate. I want him to know why he’s dying, and I want to take my time explaining it to him.”

  Jimmy didn’t want to know what his friend meant by that. Instead, he followed Jack down the majestic corridor, guns at the ready. As they went, they stopped to investigate each room, hoping to find their enemy.

  The parlor was the third room. Jack peered through the door and when he saw the occupants, he couldn’t help but grin. Jackpot.

  He poked the shotgun in, took aim at Charles Wingate and fired without hesitation. Wingate flopped to the ground, minus his head. Only his scalp remained intact, and even in death, it remained well groomed.

  Jimmy saw one of them, a burly woman dressed in a suit, had a hand cannon, and she brought it up, aiming at Jack. Jack, reloading his shotgun, didn’t notice. Instead, he glared with hatred at Richard Coppergate. Jimmy whirled his shotgun around and aimed it at the woman. Still, he didn’t think he could pull the trigger.

  He hoped it would scare her. “Don’t!” he shouted.

  She didn’t scare easily. Instead, she shifted her aim to Jimmy.

  Time oozed down a molasses stream, and in that extended moment, Jimmy knew she would shoot him if he didn’t shoot her first. Yet, he hesitated, his finger frozen on the trigger. His mind screamed at his body to take some kind of action, anything, before she gunned him down.

  Then, instinct finally kicked in, and his hand acted on its own. He pulled the trigger a second too late. They fired at the same time. Coppergate’s assistant, peppered with scattershot, flailed back, her chest perforated in a hundred red places. As she died, Jimmy felt something bite into his own chest. He looked down, surprised to see a hole under his right nipple. He tasted blood in his throat as his legs lost all power and folded beneath him. Jimmy hacked up a crimson knot on the floor.

  “Shit!” Jack snapped the shotgun closed and pointed it at the assistant, making sure she was dead.

  Edward thought it might be time to leave. He had no doubt that Coppergate had some kind of trump card up his sleeve, but he really didn’t want to wait around for it. He broke for the door into the living room, which would lead him out to the hallway and toward the front door.

  Just then, William saw the assistant’s gun on the carpet, and he dove for it, his muscle memory recalling his time in the war. Not that he’d seen any action, of course. His money made sure he stayed far away from any military conflict. But he remembered hours of drills, and it came back to him in his moment of need.

  Jack didn’t know who to shoot. He didn’t want Edward to get away, but then again, he didn’t want William to have a free shot at him.

  Fuck it. He turned on William and opened up on him. William’s chest exploded into mush, and he had no idea what hit him. His organs, visible through the ruin of his broken ribcage, quivered like the cogs of a dying clock before they stopped.

  Jack whipped the shotgun up, hoping he could get Edward before he escaped. Nope. He was gone. Not that it mattered, since Jack had used both barrels on William.

  He took this moment, while he reloaded, to look down at Jimmy. The journalist’s eyes were closed, and his wound bubbled with saliva. Jack could hear Jimmy’s wheezing breath and knew that his friend would die if he didn’t do something quick.

  Jack felt something sharp connect with the side of his head, and he reeled, sparks flaring up in his vision. The shotgun leapt from his grasp and thumped to the floor. He blinked and watched stupidly as Elizabeth swooped down on him with another kick, this one aimed at his face, her high heel on course with his left eye.

  ~

  Richard Coppergate watched Elizabeth jump into action and smiled. He wished he could stick around and watch her wipe the walls with her opponent, but what if she lost? Then, who would be next?

  No, that wouldn’t do. Coppergate flipped the blanket aside and stood on his robotic legs. A jolt of pain went through his body as he did, but he had expected it. He only wished he had something to cover his swinging dick. He liked this one the best of all that he’d collected over the years, and he didn’t want it to get snagged on something, or shot off.

  He blocked out these thoughts as he ran for the door Edward had used mere seconds ago.

  ~

  Jack slapped her foot away just in time to save his eye. Elizabeth whirled around and almost lost her balance, but she managed to use the momentum to come back with another kick, which Jack easily deflected. This time, he grabbed her leg and pushed her down to the floor.

  She rolled back onto her hands and pushed herself hard, flipping back to her feet like a ninja. She growled and moved at him again, this time with such a flurry of blows that Jack had never seen before. He managed to parry the first few punches and chops, but she was too fast. His eye swelled up and closed on him, and his nose, brow and lip started bleeding.

  Elizabeth dealt a hard knee to Jack’s balls, doubling him over, giving her a nice target to kick. Her foot connected with his jaw, knocking him back to the floor. He spat up blood and one of his teeth.

  The pain didn’t register with him, not yet. Fury blinded him to it. He roared and kicked out, connecting with one of her shins. She yelped, falling first to her knees and then to her side, clutching her leg.

  No more time for games. Jack whipped out his handgun and fired into her body, not stopping until the hammer clicked several times on empty chambers.

  She stared up at him for a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Six holes gleamed in her, four in the chest, one in the belly and one in her face. Her jawbone hung only from one corner of her mouth, and blood gouted from the other.

  Finally, she understood. A single tear rolled down one of her cheeks. Then, her body unraveled from the sudden lack of tension, and she died.

  Jack forced himself to his feet, and while his head swayed back and forth from the dizziness, he reloaded his handgun as fast as he could. Then, he looked up and saw that Richard Coppergate had left them. He could have only gone through the door into the living room. He wanted nothing more than to track the old man down and fire every single bullet he had into his ancient head. But in the deafening silence, he could still hear Jimmy’s labored breathing.

  Jack glanced once more at the gaping door. He cursed and rushed to his friend’s side.

  3

  The doctors both led a semi-conscious Wayne Richards down the hallway toward the parlor when they heard the gunfire begin. The doctors stopped in their tracks, holding Wayne up.

  His eyes popped open all the way, and he struggled through the mist of the drug Bob had used on him. It took him a moment to figure out what was going on, but when it clicked, he felt adrenaline rush through his system.

  The doctors had done a pretty good job of patching him up. He could feel the stitches in his previously duct taped arm, and bandages covered up a half-dozen wounds. Still doped up a little, he didn’t feel anything yet. Good. He had no idea what the day had in store for him.

  He rushed toward the parlor, hoping he could help his newfound friends end this thing, once and for all.

  The doctors exchanged a glance. The protégé said, “They paid you, right?”

  “Of course. I always insist on being paid in advance.”

  “Good, because I think it’s time to quit. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Agreed.”

  They turned in unison away from Wayne, hoping they could get to their cars and out of there before the police showed up. Both had lost their licenses due to malpractice, and neither of them wanted to add jail to their woes.

  Just as Wayne drew close to the parlor, he saw someone run out of the door to the living room. He glanced down the hallway and saw Richard Coppergate hobbling toward the back of the mansion on . . . were those robotic legs?

  “Hey!” Wayne yelled. “You! Motherfucker,
don’t you move!”

  Coppergate glanced back, but he did not stop trying to run away.

  With a roar, Wayne hurled himself down the hallway. Though still handicapped by his injuries and the drugs, he managed to move faster than the old man. Wayne felt like he was in high school again, playing on the football team. He launched himself at Coppergate, tackling him to the floor.

  The two of them skidded along the waxed, gleaming tiles. Before Wayne could pin Coppergate down, Coppergate rolled and threw a metal knee into Wayne’s gut. Wayne lost his air and fell backwards.

  Coppergate, his arms too weak in his old age, tried to push himself to his feet, but he couldn’t. “You fool,” he said. “You could have had it all. Why didn’t you take the money?”

  Wayne managed to stand finally, breathing heavily, and he moved toward Coppergate. The old man tried again to get to his feet, but Wayne kicked him in his sinewy, emaciated chest, knocking him on his back.

  Wayne slumped down on Coppergate, straddling his chest, planting his knees on the old man’s arms. He drew his arm back, aiming a fist at Coppergate’s gleaming mouth.

  “No!” Coppergate screamed. “You don’t—“

  Wayne brought his fist down, cleaving Coppergate’s brittle jaw in two at the chin. His knuckles plowed through the old man’s razor-sharp teeth, mowing them down like blades of grass from his weakened bone structure.

  And then his fist, now fully in Coppergate’s distended mouth, struck the tooth farthest back, and the world erupted into blood red agony.

  4

  Edward huffed, nearly out of breath, as he ran for the front gate. He could hear more gunshots behind him as he fled, but no one followed after him. Holy shit, he might actually make it!

  He slammed against the gate, desperately trying to open it up. No good. It was locked. “Fuck!”

  The control panel stood by the gate, and he started pressing buttons at random, hoping to hit the correct combination by pure luck.

  Nothing happened.

  It had been a long time since he’d done something physical, and he wondered if he could make it over the top of the gate. One way to find out. He put his hands on the bars, and just as he braced his foot below them, ready to boost himself up, he heard something click in the back of his neck.

  “What the fu—“

  His head erupted, spraying his brains on the bars and between them. His body staggered back for just a moment, as if it didn’t realize his head had been blown completely off, and then he fell to the grass, leaking the remainder of his blood out onto the ground.

  5

  Bob thought it was one of the most fucked up things he’d ever seen. In his time, he’d seen a horse fuck a guy to death. He’d seen a woman shove her arm up to the elbow into a fuckslinger’s pussy. He’d even seen a young couple gakked out on Berserker cutting each other up while they fucked each other.

  But he’d never seen a dude’s head explode for no reason at all.

  He watched Edward Bridges die, and it took him a second to realize that some of Edward’s brains had splattered on his shirt. Grimacing, he picked off the smoking meat and let it fall to the sidewalk.

  The taxi finally arrived, disengaging from the track long enough to park in front of Wingate’s mansion. Bob took one last look at Edward’s corpse and shivered, thankful that he hadn’t gone back to check things out.

  He got into the taxi. The driver turned around. “Where to?”

  “The nearest bar,” Bob said. “I feel like getting laid tonight.”

  Epilogue

  1

  At first, he only knew darkness, and he wondered if at long last he’d finally died. When he found the energy to open his eyes, he saw he wasn’t in hell, as he’d expected. Instead, he saw the cracked and burned ceiling of Charles’s hallway.

  Richard Coppergate shifted his eyes down to examine the damage. A good deal of his flesh had been scorched away by the explosion, revealing his reinforced bones and machine organs. His metal heart thrummed strongly, and despite the loss of his cock, he felt thrilled to be alive.

  Near his feet, he saw what remained of Wayne Richards’ body. His head had been blown to pieces, leaving his spine, poking out through the ragged stump of his neck. His shirt had also disintegrated, showing his charred, scrawny chest. Blood poured from Wayne’s body and it pooled on Coppergate.

  He grimaced. Sure, he’d been lying about the cure for the Red Death, but he knew scientists were very close to figuring it out. Of course, such a cure would only be available to people with lots of money, so Coppergate didn’t worry about it too much.

  The grimace squirmed across his broken teeth, turning into a slippery grin. He’d survived. Despite the sudden turn of events, he’d survived as all the others died. His body had been ravaged by his enemies’ best efforts, but they’d failed, as they always would. Who knows? Maybe his body would heal in a particularly gruesome way. Nothing would please him more than adding disgust to fear.

  Drool oozed down his mangled jaw and cut a trail through blood until it slopped down onto his blasted metal-reinforced ribcage. Disjointed giggles fell from his mouth as he struggled to get to his robotic feet.

  2

  Jack treated Jimmy’s injuries to the best of his abilities. He’d found a straw on the minibar, which he used to drain Jimmy’s punctured lung, easing the sucking chest wound that would have undoubtedly killed him within minutes. He heard the explosion from the next room, and as he finished patching Jimmy up, he remembered Wayne. At first, he wondered if maybe they hadn’t made the deadline, but when he checked the time, he saw they still had a few hours on the countdown. It couldn’t have been Wayne.

  He stood and took his shotgun with him, reloading as he walked. In the living room, he could see smoke drifting through the open door to the hallway, and he could smell meat cooking. Carefully, he ducked down and peered over the threshold.

  When he saw Wayne’s corpse, he felt his stomach sink. Sure, Wayne knew what he’d gotten into, but he didn’t deserve to die like this. Jack thought him very courageous, and he found that quality lacking in almost everyone in this modern world.

  And then he saw the metal and burnt flesh contraption that was Richard Coppergate. Little more than bone and shiny steel, he still tried to escape, crawling on his skeletal hands and robotic feet.

  Jack couldn’t believe such a creature could live. He’d read plenty of science-fiction over the years and had a pretty good idea of what today’s technology could do, but androids? He didn’t think it possible. How much of Richard Coppergate was still human?

  His skull, some of which peeked through his tattered scalp, looked ordinary enough, but the rest of his bone structure had been reinforced so much he couldn’t possibly be human. None of his organs were made of flesh. Jack wondered if he even had a human brain still, or if it had been replaced by a machine.

  He pointed the shotgun at the back of Coppergate’s head. “Hey, motherfucker.” His voice reverberated throughout the hallway, and Coppergate, using the greatest effort he could muster, turned and faced Jack.

  Coppergate said something, but it came out garbled, a mixture of human and a malfunctioning phone.

  Jack wanted to walk up to the creature and blow him away point blank, but what if Coppergate had a reserve of power left? No, he couldn’t take any risks.

  Still, Jack wished he had more time to enjoy this moment.

  He pulled both triggers of the shotgun, sending buckshot into the remains of Richard Coppergate’s body, denting his organs out of shape, punching through his skull and shattering the eyes that had inspired so much fear over the years.

  Jack noted the human brains leaking out of Coppergate’s shattered skull and thought he should have known better.

  The contraption of flesh and metal that used to be Richard Coppergate folded in on itself like a dead spider, and after more than two centuries, he finally died.

  Jack smiled and took a moment to admire his own handiwork before he ran back to
Jimmy.

  3

  By the time Jack got back, Jimmy had woken up. He couldn’t talk, and he could barely breathe, but for the time being, he was conscious. Only then did Jack realize how badly fucked they were. The cops would be able to access the rich fucks’ LiveStreams, and they’d be able to see what really happened here. He’d been hoping to set up a believable story and then hack into their systems to erase the truth. He just couldn’t do something like that without his equipment at home. In theory, a dead man’s LiveStream could be hacked, but to the best of Jack’s knowledge, it hadn’t been done. Maybe the cops had a way that they haven’t made public yet, but he knew for certain he couldn’t do it without his pills.

  He didn’t feel very concerned for himself, since no one really had any records concerning him, and his face would be blanked out of any footage taken of him, but he felt very worried for Jimmy. Now, as he looked down at his wounded friend, he heard sirens in the distance. He couldn’t even drag Jimmy out of here to take him on the run. Fuck.

  He knelt down by Jimmy. “I can’t stick around here, so you’ve got to listen closely. This is the story, all right?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “You came here to meet with Richard Coppergate concerning some story you’re working on. Something about, I don’t know. You think of something. You’d know better than me. With me so far?”

  Jimmy nodded again.

  “In the middle of your meeting, all these crazy fuckers armed with shotguns—maybe some leftover punks from that riot—showed up and screamed something about death to all rich fucks. Maybe they had some kind of agenda, like the environment or the class war, or whatever you think the cops would believe best. These punks, they started blasting everything to hell, you included. Okay?”

  Jimmy nodded a third time.

  “Good.” Jack grabbed the gun from Jimmy’s hand and scooped up the rest of the weapons he’d brought with him. He’d have to destroy them later, but he couldn’t worry about that now. “The story isn’t going to hold up when they check Coppergate’s LiveStream. I just hope they hold off on that long enough for me to get back home and hack the system. Try to stall them if you can.”