21(S2E8)-Rock & Roll

21

(Season 2 Episode 8)

Rock & Roll

“You think he’s going to help us?” Patty asked with her heavy accent as she and Creegan ate the sandwiches they had made for dinner.

Creegan stared at her unable to comprehend what she had said.

Patty rolled her eyes, “Rockwell… do you think he will help us?”

Jim put it together, “Oh, it didn’t look good. He wants us both dead, me in particular.”

Patty shrugged, “Screw him then, we do it ourselves.”

Creegan gave her a dirty look, “These people have guns and numbers. We can’t just punch our way out of this.”

“I’m sick of waiting!” Patty yelled at him, “We need to do something.”

“You need to get out of my house,” Don walked into his large, expansive kitchen.  “You two have been squatting long enough.”

Patty frowned at the old, pear-shaped doctor.  “We just need a couple more days.”

The doctor shook his head.  “Well, you don’t have a couple more days.  The Rodriguez   brothers are in town and they are here because they are sick of being jerked around with all this.  So, it’s time for you to stop eating my sandwiches and get the fuck out.”

Patty nodded unhappily. “All right Don, we’ll be out tomorrow.”

Creegan stopped eating.  “The brothers are here in Cleveland?”

Patty looked at Creegan, confused by his interest.  The Don nodded.  “I got a friend who still does medical work for Elmo and the brothers paid him a visit last night.”

Creegan grinned, “Now that is something.”

The front doorbell rang and Don grumbled before plodding off to get it.  “Now who the hell is that?”

Patty’s eyes never left Creegan. “What?”

Creegan looked at her. “If the Rodrigeuz brothers are here, it’s because they don’t think he has the flash drive anymore. They are here to get it and put him out of business.”

Patty shrugged, “So?”

Creegan took another bite, chewed and swallowed.  “So, we tell him we have the drive and we can force him out into the open.”

The conversation was ended by the thunderous boom.

****

She woke up freezing.

Blasted Cleveland, the librarian thought as she realized the temperature had dropped almost 20 degrees in the course of four or five hours. She pulled a long-sleeve, cotton, open shirt-like thing over her arms and got out of her rental car.  She walked around back and opened her trunk.

She found her vest and slipped it on, fastening the Velcro straps that secured it. She then picked up the weapon she had chosen; a modified Saiga-12.

The Saiga-12 was a Russian automatic shotgun. It had been modified to be smaller and easier for a woman of her frame to use. Being a shotgun, it was good for breaching situations and multiple targets, which had been the reason she had selected it for this task.

She placed a box magazine of ten shells in the gun and secured it. She then picked up a two more clips and placed them in the packets on her vest.  

She cocked the gun and chambered the first shell.

She then calmly walked down the Shaker Heights street in the night.  No one came out or saw the heavily armed female death-machine approach Don’s house.

She rang the door bell.

She waited for a little bit and then heard the door lock begin to click open.

The Librarian shouldered the weapon, aimed it at the door handle and fired.

The gun kicked against her shoulder, the door handle exploded. She heard a scream from inside before she put her foot over the threshold. It swung open and an old pudgy man was on the floor, bleeding from his destroyed hand.

She took aim and fired.  Don’s head ceased to exist.

“No!” The Librarian looked up and saw Patty screaming at her.

She brought the gun up to take her first target. Creegan suddenly appeared around the corner and grabbed Patty, dragging her backward into the kitchen.

The Librarian pushed forward, firing two quick shots as she approached. The shells struck the doorway to the kitchen and wood splintered into the hallway.

She had them cornered.

****

Creegan heard the shot and knew they had been found.

He was out of his seat a second later. He heard the second shot and Patty scream. Creegan saw the strange female assassin at the end of the hall inside the doorway, standing over what used to be Don.

She brought her gun up and Creegan grabbed Patty, dragging her backward into the kitchen as the shotgun boomed two more times.

Creegan dragged Patty behind the center cooking island, putting it between them and the killer.

“We have to go!” Creegan yelled at a slightly distraught Patty.

She nodded and they moved low along the island toward the back door.  Patty reached for the door and another boom echoed through the kitchen. The door splintered and Patty reeled backward in reaction to the shot.

Creegan knew it was now or never. He exploded forward, tackling Patty through the door.  Their combined weight splintered the door. He heard two more booms and could only hope the shots didn’t hit them as they crashed onto the wooden deck.

“Now that was fucking entertaining,” Creegan heard a voice say above him.

He looked up and saw him standing there in his Hawaiian shirt and a fedora and… What the hell was he holding?

****

“A Tommy Gun?” Stone gawked from next to Rockwell as he pulled it out of the trunk of the stolen car. “How the fuck did you get one of those?  There’re like four in existence.”

Rockwell wiggled his eyebrow. “Jealous? I have my ways.”

“Does the thing still shoot?” Stone asked about the very old gun.

Rockwell looked hurt. “Don’t talk about Bonnie that way! She will work, and I have always wanted to use her, but somebody has a thing against overkill.”

Stone shrugged, “Fat lot of good that did me.”

The booms in the distance started and Rockwell smiled. “Time to rock and roll.”

****

“Rockwell?” Creegan asked, confused.

“The one and fucking only.” He responded with a smile.

Creegan’s eyes went to the large drum feed machine gun dangling at his right side, “Are you going to kill us?”

Rockwell shrugged, “Undecided… but not till after the Muppet’s dead.  You made a good case.”

The Librarian came around the island and into the doorway.

“Hold on,” Rockwell said as he whipped the Tommy gun up and watched the Librarian’s eyes bulge.

“What’s up, bitch?!” Rockwell yelled as he held down the trigger and the ancient weapon began to fire, round after round.

The Librarian drove back into the kitchen as the forty-five caliber machine gun rounds tore the door frame and the corner of the center island to shreds.

He let off the trigger with a “Woo,” then looked down at Creegan.  “There’s a car out front, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Creegan looked at him confused. “Are you going in after her?”

Rockwell looked suspicious. “Is that a trick question?”

Creegan decided it was best to let Rockwell do what he had to do. “Be careful, she’s got a vest on.”

Rockwell frowned. “A vest?”

Creegan nodded as he and Patty stood and moved off the deck to circle the house for the car.

Rockwell shouldered the Tommy Gun and went in after her.  “Only pussies wear vests.”

20(S2E7)-Hell Breaks Loose

20

(Season 2 Episode 7)

Hell Breaks Loose

“So, what are you going to do?” Stone asked from his corner of the room.

Rockwell’s last visitor, Jim Creegan, had given him a lot to think about.  Although Rockwell had told him to fuck off, the seed had been planted.

The door slide made that metallic sliding noise and two orderlies entered the room.  One was carrying a straight jacket.  “1314, you are being released into general populace today.  You need to put this on.”

Rockwell ignored the orderly.  “I don’t know, I have always wanted to kill the Muppet and, in the end, Creegan isn’t the reason you’re dead.  Maybe I can find out who is.”

The second orderly looked at the one holding the straight jacket.  “Who’s he talking to?”

The orderly holding the jacket shrugged.  “We work in a mental hospital.  Who knows who he’s talking to.”

Stone looked surprised.  “That’s interesting.  Didn’t figure you for the vengeance type.”

“I’m not,” Rockwell answered.  “But I think it’s time I get back in the game.”

“Alright, 1314.  Enough with the talking to yourself.”  The head orderly interrupted, “Time to put this on.”

Rockwell growled at him then stood and put his arms out.  “I just have one little problem.”

“What’s that?” Stone asked as the orderly approached him to begin putting the jacket on him.

“Well,” Rockwell began as the orderly shipped the sleeves over Rockwell’s outstretched arms.  “Breaking out, I mean I was always a shooter.  You were the fighter. I don’t have any guns here.”

The assistant orderly circled to Rockwell’s right, uneasily.  “Seriously man, he is starting to freak me out.”

 The head orderly turned toward his assistant.  “It’s just talk.  Chill out.”

“First off, you’re not that great a shooter.”  Stone said calmly in response, “Second, you were trained at the same place I was.”

“He’s talking about breaking out.”  The assistant responded worried.  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“They all talk about breaking out.”  The head orderly said.

“Your point?” Rockwell asked Stone.

“Maybe you’re not the best fighter in the world but you’re a trained killer.”  Stone answered.  “Where do you think these guys were trained?”

Rockwell began to grin.  “Fucking,Tri-C.”

Rockwell suddenly threw his head forward with a snap, bashing his forehead into to nose of the head orderly.  The head butt was comparable to the force of a fastball hitting him in the nose.  The orderly’s nose shattered and he fell in the opposite direction, crashing to the ground.

“Holy shit!” The assistant had time to yell before Rockwell turned and leveled a front kick to his solar-plexus, sending the assistant backward into the wall and gasping for air.

“That was sloppy.”  Stone said criticizing the kick.

“Fuck you, worm food.”  Rockwell responded, pulling the unhooked straight jacket off, throwing it to the floor.

The head orderly was incapacitated and probably dead, his nose bleeding profusely. The assistant had fallen to all fours, and between gasping for breaths, he was praying.

Rockwell calmly walked over and crouched in front of him.  “You know the stories about me, right?”

The assistant stared at him with fear in his eyes and nodded.

Rockwell smiled.  “Good.  That saves me fucking time.  See, now that you know, I don’t have to explain what I can do to you, then watch you not believe me and have to prove what I can do.  With your admission of understanding, it cuts through all that fucking red tape, torture bullshit and gets right to the heart of the matter.”

“I am your fucking God.”

The assistant began to whimper.

“What I want, you give.”

Tears rolled down the assistants face.

“What you don’t give, I take.”

The assistant lost bladder control.

“Understood?” Rockwell asked.

The orderly nodded.

“Good,” Rockwell smiled.  “So, what kind of car do you drive?”

****

“A little over the top.”  Stone said as they stepped out of the car.

Rockwell slammed the door shut.  “What was?”

They stood in a large rented storage place.  Each unit had a number and a locked sliding metal door to keep everyone out.

“That ‘I am God’ thing with the orderly.”  Stone said as the two walked away from the car.

“It’s called fucking showmanship, asshole.  I always had it and you didn’t.” Rockwell said as he counted the numbers on each unit they passed, looking for one specific one.

“That right?” Stone responded coldly.

“Damn straight.”  Rockwell said, stopping in front of unit 1134.  “That’s why you needed me, mother fucker.”

“Yes, I needed you,” Stone said sarcastically.  “I can think of so many times that showmanship saved our lives.”

Rockwell unlocked the pad lock with a paper clip, having lost the key a long time ago. He grabbed the handle and pulled the unit open.

“Jesus, Rockwell.”  Stone said with wide eyes as he looked in at the guns of all shapes and sizes lining the walls of the small ten by ten storage unit.  All the guns were different, like some kind of twisted collection of hard to find extremely dangerous weapons.

Rockwell’s teeth showed as he smiled ear to ear.  “Meet my ladies, Stone.  Now, that is fucking showmanship.”

****

She watched him enter.

Two blocks down, she watched with binoculars as he walked up the street, looked both ways, then walked up the drive and into the house.

Seeing him had been a bonus.

She had tracked Patty from the events at the hospital.  She had acquired the crime scene photos as well as the file on the now-famous day, through a source and had studied them furiously.

The three she had been hired to execute had all been there that day, and although it was impossible to know the exact details of what had transpired, it was easy enough to infer.

Her first target had been Patty, deciding to save Rockwell for last since it would be the biggest challenge.  After all, she would have to break into a mental hospital to get to him.  Creegan would be the second most difficult, since he wasn’t in the crime scene data and she only knew he had been there because of her employer’s assurance.

Then there was Patty.  She also wasn’t in the file, but Elmo had told her of Patty’s involvement.  After reading the file and the large amount of unmatched blood found in random and strange locations around the hospital, she could infer that Patty had been injured.

Patty would have needed treatment, and she would have been unable to go to a hospital for fear of the police or Kincaid.  That left her to seek help through illegal channels. After some digging, she had found the house of the doctor.

The rest was academic.

Seeing Creegan had been a pleasant surprise.  Creegan and Patty had somehow linked up and were working together?  Maybe they just both knew the same illegal doctor?  The reason didn’t matter, only the outcome.

She could kill them both tonight.

The Librarian put down the binoculars and walked back to her car.

She got in and reclined her seat, deciding to get a couple of hours of sleep before night fall.

She had a busy night ahead of her.

19(S2E6)- Peace Talks

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

18(S2E5)- The Wrong way to die

18

(Season 2 Episode 5)

The Wrong Way to Die

The door exploded open and Terrance screamed.  “Get them up, mother fuckers!!!”

He was followed by his three brothers in arms, James, Leonard and Damien.  All of them held Uzis and were ready for war.

Earlier that day, The Muppet had called Terrance and told him to round up a crew.  He had informed him that he needed to go to the penthouse of the Ritz and kill everyone there.  When The Muppet says jump, you jump.

Terrance didn’t mind, however, being a small time pusher had its perks but the fun was in the killing.  Selling junk to junkies and haggling over prices was fine but at the end of the day, there was no rush like shooting someone.

“What the fuck, T?!” James asked as he lowered his gun.  “There ain’t nobody here, dawg.”

Sadly, this seemed to be true.  The penthouse was completely empty.

“Naw, the lights are on.  Somebody’s here,” Leonard chimed in.

Terrance nodded.  “Good call, Leonard.  Lets sweep this bitch, room by room.”

Leonard became frustrated.  “Yo man, that’s not my name.”

James rolled his eyes.  “Oh Jesus, not this shit again.”

Leonard’s angry eyes shifted back and forth between Terrance and James.  “No, fuck you both.  My name is Lion.”

Terrance shook his head.  “First off, your name is Leonard.  FUCKING LEONARD! Second off, why the fuck would you want to be called Lion?”

Leonard pointed with his gun when he talked.  “You know I want to be respected.  Ain’t nobody gonna respect a guy named Leonard.”

“You think the name Lion gets you street cred?!” James broke in with wide eyes.

A sultry female voice suddenly interrupted them.  “Out here, guys.”

The four of them jerked into ready position, guns up and cocked to the side.  Terrence was the biggest.  He was wearing a wife beater and had a sleeve of tattoos covering his arm.  James was large but in a rounder way, and Leonard was thin and small and very light skinned for a black man.  Damien was average and quiet and Terrance had always kind of, been afraid of him.

“Seriously, guys.  I know you are here for me and I’m out here.”  The voice called out a second time.

It was coming from across the room and outside on the very large balcony. Terrance nodded to the others and walked across the room, cautiously with his gun up and ready.  The other three followed him.

Outside on the balcony they were confronted with the last thing they were expecting.

Lying in the afternoon sun was a curvaceous, crimson-haired, white woman.  She was wearing nothing but a hotel robe and a smile.

She was shaved… everywhere.

“Damn.” James let the word linger.

“Fucking hell, girl.”  Terrance began as he lowered his gun.  “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Sunbathing.”  She said.  Her grin was playful.  “It is my room, after all.”

A ping of regret hit Terrance.  “Well, that is just too damn bad.”

She mocked a frown.  “Why’s that?”

Terrance chuckled.  “What girl, you think we carrying these guns with us for show?”

“Would it be racist if said yes?” She asked, sarcastically.

Terrance smiled.  He liked them playful.  “Look baby, we are here to kill you and everyone else in this place.”

Oddly the woman did not show any fear, instead she remained playfully flirtatious.  “Well, that just ruins my day.”

Terrance stepped in closer, wanting to dive into her ivory skin.  “Well, as I see it, you can die the right way or the wrong way.  This doesn’t have to be all bad.”

She sat up and looked.  “Well, in that case, I only have one question.”

“What’s that, girl?” Terrance asked with a smile and a nod of his chin.

“Weren’t there four of you a minute ago?” She asked.

Terrance became confused.  “Of course, baby there are…”

He trailed off when he turned and saw that Damien was gone.  He looked at both Leonard and James questioningly but they were both still staring at the woman.

“Where the fuck did Damien go?” Terrance asked them and neither responded.

Terrance slapped James hard across the mouth.  “Wake up mother fuckers.  I asked you a question!”

They snapped out of the hypnotic spell and looked around.  “He was right behind us a second ago.”

They heard a crash from inside the penthouse.

Terrance dropped the flirty outlook, turning back toward the woman.  “Don’t move.”

She smiled back.  “Where am I going to go?  I’m on the penthouse balcony.”

Terrance gave her a hard look then turned his attention back to the room.  Coming around the corner, his eyes exploded open.  Damien was dead.

He was laid out over the expensive coffee table in the middle of the main sitting room. His throat was covered in blood and his eyes were wide and staring at the ceiling.

“What the fuck!”  Leonard yelled.

James vomited into the corner.

Terrance took a deep breath and walked quickly to his dead friend.  “What the fuck is going on?”

Leonard walked over, wide-eyed to Damien’s freshly dead body.  “Let’s just kill the bitch and get out of here.”

“Aww come on, guys.”  The woman was standing in the doorway now, smiling.  “I thought you were going to kill me the right way.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!” Terrance screamed and pointed the Uzi at her.

 James staggered toward the rest of them.  “Oh my God.”  He said and then puked again.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her sexy voice laden with intent.  “You don’t want to play anymore?”

Leonard’s blood exploded all over Terrance’s face.

“What the fuck?!” Terrance screamed.

Behind Leonard stood the largest black man Terrance had ever seen.  He stood six foot seven, and was built like a house.  His head was clean shaven.  One of his massive ebony hands was wrapped around Leonard’s mouth, the other held the giant bowie knife the he had rammed into the back of the base of Leonard’s neck and driven out the front of his throat.

Where had such a big man come from?  How had he moved so fast?

Terrance had no time to move.  The specter kicked Leonard’s, now lifeless body, into Terrance, sending him toppling backward over the coffee table and Damien’s body.

“James!  Shoot him James!” Terrance screamed as he fell backwards.

“What?” James asked, dazed and half covered in his own vomit.

The killer was already on him and, as he turned back from his puking, the man drove his huge knife upwards into the bottom of his jaw, piercing the roof of his mouth and stopping in James’ brain.

Terrance scrambled to get to his feet and out from under his dead friends.  He finally freed himself and stood, pulling the Uzi up with him.

He wasn’t fast enough.

The attacker’s eyes were empty, black holes; devoid of life.

He was death.

The killer grabbed Terrance’s outstretched gun arm by the wrist and twisted it, forcing Terrance’s elbow to point upwards.  The attacker then brought the knife, stabbing vertically through Terrance’s elbow, impaling it.

Terrance screamed in pain and the attacker quickly elbowed him in the mouth. Terrance saw stars and fell backward to the couch.  By the time his vision un-blurred, a second later, he saw the large and deadly knife coming down at his face.

That was the last thing Terrance ever saw.

****

Clay drove his knife into the gang bangers head by way of the eye.  He felt the body go limp.  He took a deep breath and pulled the knife out before standing upright.  Clay was dressed in black jeans and a black button up shirt.

He had always found that it was harder to see blood stains on black.

“Mmmm, Clay.”  Maggie cooed from the doorway to the balcony. “That was just, downright sexy.”

Clay turned to her and raised an eyebrow.  She was still standing, basically naked.  Her robe was barely falling over her tits.

“Your view of sexy is somewhat askew, if you don’t mind me saying.”  Clay spoke with a deep resounding voice and perfect elocution.

Maggie tugged at the side of her robe as if to bate Clay, intimately.  “I should tell you Clay, if you wanted it you could have it.”

“Thank you, but no thank you, ma’am.  I have work to do.” Clay gestured to the bodies on the floor and the process of getting rid of them.

Maggie frowned.  “They aren’t going anywhere.  Why don’t you claim your reward?”

“My reward is the generous sum of money you are paying me, and with all due respect ma’am,” Clay looked over Maggie.  “I believe it would be safer to be fellated by a cobra.”

Maggie shrugged, “Suit yourself.  I’m going to go call The Muppet and remind him that I own him.”

Clay nodded as she picked up her cell from the table and stepped back out onto the balcony.  He then looked around at the dead bodies… time to get to work.

17(S2E4)-The Rodriguez Brothers

17

(Season 2 Episode 4)

The Rodriguez Brothers

“Of course not, he doesn’t suspect a thing.”  Antonio said as his eyes shifted from his phone to the two very attractive prostitutes sitting on his couch.  “Everything is going according to plan.  I’m sure he’ll find me tonight.”

Antonio was in the V.I.P. suite of his personal night club in Miami.  He was pacing back and forth in his black suit.  The shirt was a flashy, red, satin thing.  The top three buttons were unbuttoned and a necklace hung there.  The necklace was a golden representation of what Cuba looks like on a map.  In one hand he had a glass of liquor and in the other was a phone.

Antonio Rodriguez.

“I love you baby.”  As he said this into the phone, he shook his head to tell the hookers the opposite.

The women giggled.

Antonio was done and he hung up the phone.

“There.”  He said to the hookers in Spanish.  “Now we can have some fun.”

The prostitute to Antonio’s right asked back in Spanish.  “Hey Antonio, what gives?  I didn’t think you had a wife.”

Antonio laughed out loud.  “Of course not, that was a business associate.”

“Didn’t sound like business.”  The second girl said.

Antonio plopped down on the couch in between the two women.  “Definitely business, but I do have a way of mixing business and pleasure.”

Antonio and the women laughed.  “How does she work with you?”

Prostitute number two asked the question as her hand began to dive into his shirt. Prostitute number one decided to put her tongue into Antonio’s ear.

Antonio was going to have a good night.

“It’s all problems with Cleveland.”  Antonio said as he tossed back the rest of his glass.

Prostitute number one stopped and recoiled on the name on the city.  “Cleveland?  What do you have to do with Cleveland?”

Antonio sighed.  “Yes, I know it is a very un-sexy place, but my brother and I are equal opportunity drug dealers.”

Prostitute number one’s smile returned and she giggled at Antonio’s joke before returning to his ear.  Her hand moved slowly lower.

Antonio tended to babble when he became aroused.  “Yes, well this American asshole  named Elmo has always had us blackmailed into giving him drugs at factory prices.  But it seems he lost the evidence he was using and there’s a bit of a scramble.”

Both prostitutes hands hand found their way to the seat of his pants and Antonio decided story time was over.  “That’s right, senoritas.”

The door to the suite banged open, startling the prostitutes and Antonio.  In walked another Cuban man, who bared a striking resemblance to Antonio.  The new man however, wore a cream colored suit and was extremely well kept.

Roberto Rodriguez.

Antonio became frustrated.  “Jesus, Roberto!  I’m kind of busy.”

Roberto stormed across the room and stopped two feet in front of the couch.  “Busy?  Is this what you call busy, brother?  Fucking hookers while our empire is threatened?”

“It’s not threatened.”  Antonio scuffed.  “You are overreacting.”

 Roberto put his hand up to stop Antonio’s speech.  “Tell your whores to leave.  We need to talk.”

Antonio shook his head.  “Screw you, brother, and anyway, they know about Cleveland already.  They are my personal women.  I trust them.”

Roberto exhaled in anger and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if to stop a headache before it started.  “You trust hookers?  Do you ever listen to yourself?”

“Oh, brother.”  Antonio said in a condescending voice.  “It’s alright…”

Before he could finish, Roberto pulled a Pearl handled Chrome .38 Caliber revolver and then he shot prostitute number one.  Prostitute number two would have screamed if she had time.  Roberto swung the gun past Antonio to prostitute number two and shot her in the face.

“Holy fuck!”  Antonio screamed and stood.  Blood spatter showered over him.  “Christ, Roberto!  I’m covered in dead hooker!”

Roberto frowned and eased up, dropping his gun hand to his side.  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Antonio?”

“Me?!” Antonio said as Roberto reached for the coffee table to grab the courtesy phone.  “Last time I checked, I wasn’t randomly killing your hookers!”

“I don’t have hookers.”  Roberto said angrily, as he put the phone to his ear.  “Yes, we need a cleaning crew in here.”

Antonio walked to the table in the corner and grabbed a napkin, attempting to clean the blood off himself.  “That’s your problem.  You need to have some fun.”

Roberto turned toward Antonio, rage burning in his eyes.  “That’s my problem?  I have an idiot brother who can’t keep his mouth shut about our worldwide business and that’s my problem?”

Antonio frowned.  “Everyone knows about our worldwide business, brother.  Because, we are worldwide businessmen.”

Roberto ignored that comment.  “As far as fun, when the fuck am I supposed to have fun, eh?  Before or after I single handedly keep our livelihood afloat while you use that money to buy stupid whores? Do you think this would make our father proud?”

“Unlike you, I never cared what our father thought of me,” Antonio replied with a shrug, “After all, he was the reason mother died so young.”

Roberto cocked his head to the side.  “You dare to speak of father like this?”

Four men in suits entered the room nonchalantly and began to clean up the bodies and the mess.

“Do I lie?” Antonio answered.

Roberto took three long steps and whipped his gun, backhanded, across Antonio’s face.  The blow sent Antonio backward over the cheap table and to the floor.  Antonio’s face was now bleeding.

Roberto pointed the gun at his brother’s head and pressed the barrel to his temple, “You know, brother, it gets harder every day to put up with you.  I’m starting to wonder why I do.”

Antonio became legitimately nervous.  “I’m sorry brother.  Please reconsider.”

Roberto took a deep breath then pulled back, holstering the gun.  “Fuck it, get up.”

Antonio stood and now wiped his lip with the napkin.  It would be fat and swollen tomorrow.  “What has you so bothered Roberto?  It’s the Cleveland thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”  Roberto answered.  “First our hit man, then our cleaners.  All dead.  I believed the evidence to be back in the hands of that dirty old bastard, Kincaid.”

Antonio raised a knowing eyebrow.  “Something has changed?”

Roberto nodded.  “Yes, I received a call from a woman today telling me she has the evidence and that she owns Elmo Kincaid now.”

Antonio shrugged.  “So what?  It is unfortunate that we are still in the same position as before in that city, but isn’t it business as usual?”

Roberto shook his head.  “No, don’t you see?  Something is fishy.”

Antonio laughed.  “We have sent in a hit man and a cleaner team and they are all dead.  That town kills people.”

Roberto had a long pause.  “We are going.”

Antonio frowned like a spoiled child.  “Oh come on, brother!  Cleveland is terrible!  The town is cold and there is nothing to do there!  I do not want to go to Cleveland.”

Roberto shot him a look.  “We are going, brother.  I have had enough of this amateur bullshit.  We are going and getting that evidence even if I have to kill everyone in that city to do it.”

“If you did you would be doing them a favor.”  Antonio joked.

Roberto did not laugh.  “Pack brother.  We leave tomorrow.”

Roberto stormed out and Antonio watched.  As soon as Roberto left, he began to smile.  “Perfect.”

Antonio pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.  The line rang twice and the other end picked up.  “Hook, line and sinker.”

The voice on the other end replied.

Antonio smiled.  “Just like I said, baby.  We’ll be in Cleveland tomorrow.”

****

Elmo sat in the office of his house.  It was a nice place in Shaker Heights.

It was around noon and Elmo was almost through his third stogie and his seventh beer. No more than three months ago, he had the world on a platter.  Everyone was eating from his hand.

Now it was all shit.

He was being blackmailed by a small time bitch on a power trip while one of his oldest friends was out there, probably plotting his death.

Patti.

Not that he could blame her, Elmo had done her good.  But that was the way in this business.  As much as he liked her, he would have to make the hard calls.  Loyalty usually just got you killed.

He had hired the Librarian to deal with that, though, as well as Rockwell.  Elmo had to tie the loose ends up, and fast.  He was going to have enough trouble dealing with the Rodriguez brothers.

And this evil, Maggie, bitch.

Almost as if he called her, the phone rang.  He stared at it for a second, somehow knowing who was on the other end.  Finally after three rings he put out the cigar, rubbed his eyes and answered the phone.  “Yeah.”

“Well hello Elmo.  Can I call you Elmo?”  It was her.

Elmo growled.  “I would rather you didn’t.”

“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” She said, taunting him.  “I know you are a busy man Elmo, so here’s the deal.  I want my first payment tonight, at the Ritz, downtown.  Have your men bring it to the penthouse.”

Elmo’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re playing with fire here, lady.”

“A threat?” Maggie asked.  “Oh it’s about time.  I was starting to think you weren’t up to the task.”

“Fuck you.” Elmo said.

“You’re a little old for my taste.”  She said, without missing a beat.  “Tell your man 6:00 sharp.”

She hung up.

Kincaid smashed the handset to the base.

Kincaid took a deep breath, then he picked up the phone and called his man, Terrance.

“What’s up, dawg?”  Terrence answered with his usual inner-city rhetoric.

“Terrance, I want you to get your boys together.”  Elmo spoke with purpose.  “I want you to go to the penthouse of the Ritz tonight at 6:00 PM…”

“… And I want you to kill every mother fucking person in that place.”