27(S3E1)-The jerk-off in the floral print

Episode 27

(Season 3, Episode 1)

The Jerk-off in the Floral Print

“I’m tellin’ you that shit is amazing.”  Roland said with more feeling, as he and Carlos sat in a car outside the strip club.

“You have got to be kiddin’ me.”  Carlos shook his head as he watched the strip club front doors that their target had entered three hours ago.

“Seriously ‘Los,” Roland continued.  “I didn’t think it was going to be good, but once I tried it I, got fucking hooked!”

Carlos shook his head and decided to change the subject.  “I still don’t understand why the Senator wants this guy.  What’s so special about this jerk-off in a floral print shirt and a fucking fedora?”

Carlos and Roland were part of Senator Jared Roman’s security detail.  Normally, the job of following and capturing men of questionable stature would not be on the list of duties for a couple of bodyguards, but they were part of a private service.

Full service.

When it came right down to it, these were more like mob enforcers than bodyguards. That is why the Senator paid the big bucks.  He wanted a private army.

“He knows something about some hit man who was hired to kill the Senator.”  Roland explained.  “They think he can help.”

“So they hire one lunatic to deal with another?  Seems pretty stupid to me,” Carlos replied, “and anyway, isn’t that our job?”

“Beats me.  They pay me, I do what they say.  You know?”  Roland responded, then continued, unwilling to let the previous conversation go.  “So, why the fuck won’t you try it?”

Carlos turned toward him.  “Why the fuck would I ever try haggis?”

Roland frowned.  “Aww, come on man, you don’t know till you try, right?”

Carlos shook his head.  “Mother fucker you are black!  What the fuck are you doing eating cut up sheep’s heart and oatmeal boiled in a fucking stomach?!”

Roland frowned.  “Really, you’re playing the race card?”

Carlos looked surprised.  “The race card?  Mother fucker how am I playing the race card?”

“Because, you are using the color of our skin to get out of trying something new.” Roland defended.

“You dumb nigger, the race card is when a black person uses their race to accuse a white person of racism.  We are both black.  I can’t use the fucking race card on you.” Carlos yelled at Roland.

Roland looked sullen.  “You’re avoiding the issue.  You should try the shit before you knock it.”

“No self-respecting nigger eats haggis.”  Carlos said, finally.

“I totally agree.  Haggis is not N-word food.”  The voice sounded from the backseat.

Carlos and Roland turned and saw the man they had been sent to follow and capture. Rockwell was wearing a cheap fedora and a floral print button up t-shirt.

There was a moment of absolute silence, and then both Roland and Carlos went for their guns.  They were both trained professionals, despite their conversation selections, and would be more than fast in any normal situation.

At the time, they had their guns in shoulder holsters under the suit jackets.  With the seat belts clicked in it was rather difficult to reach them.

Rockwell, on the other hand, had his .38 caliber revolver on his thigh.  This gave him plenty of time to casually pick up his gun and pull the trigger.  The shot hit the back of Roland’s head then passed through seven inches of brain matter, ripping its way out of the front of his forehead.

Carlos had his hand around the butt of his gun when he felt the barrel of Rockwell’s gun against the back of his head.  He stopped moving.

The corpse in the passenger seat that used to be called Roland lurched forward until his head met the dash.  Blood leaked from the hole in his head and onto the floor.  The bullet had passed through the windshield, making it spider web.  A spatter of blood and brain matter colored-in the disturbing work of art that the glass had become.

“Aww, poor Roland.”  Rockwell crooned, “but it goes to show, true n-words don’t eat haggis.”

Carlos slowly pulled his hand out of his coat and raised them up in surrender.  “N-word?”

“You know,” as Rockwell answered, he waved the gun around carelessly.  “I try not to say the word itself.  I believe it only contributes to a cultural stereotype and racial hatred.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow.  “What the fuck are you talking about?  You just shot Roland!”

Rockwell’s eyes narrowed.  “Don’t play the race card.”

Carlos shook his head.  “Does anyone know what the race card is?”

Stone was sitting next to Rockwell.  “It’s calling someone a racist even when they are not, in order to get away with something.”

Carlos didn’t hear Stone because Stone wasn’t really there.  He was in Rockwell’s head.

“Of course, you would agree with him.”  Rockwell said angrily, to the empty seat.  “You always were the sympathetic one.

Stone rolled his fictional eyes.  “This is about the school house again, isn’t it?  I’d like to remind that you didn’t exactly want to kill all those kids either.”

“Fuck you Casper!” Rockwell yelled at the phantom.  “Just because I didn’t want to, doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t have!”

 “Yeah right, tough guy,” Stone muttered.

Carlos, feeling that the random screaming match with the backseat had moved the conversation off topic decided to take it upon himself to center it.  “Look, I was sent to bring you back to my boss, that’s it.  I don’t get paid enough to deal with this lunacy.”

Rockwell’s attention returned to Carlos.  “Well, in that case, I’ll make this simple.  You tell me who your employer is and what he wanted me for and I’ll let you go on your way.”

Carlos wanted this over and had no real loyalty to the old white bastard.  “Senator Jared Roman.  He wants you because he has made some international hit list because of his purposed gun laws.  He thinks you can protect him from the guy they hired.”

Rockwell listened then when Carlos finished he pulled the trigger and put a bullet through Carlos’s head.  “Be on your way then.”

“That was unnecessary.”  The apparition of Stone had returned as Rockwell stepped out of the car and slid the revolver into the back of his pants.

“You are such a softy,” Rockwell said as he walked away.

****

Jared Roman was little over 50, but he looked like he was 90.  He was old and short and thin.  His hair was full white and coming out in husks.  He walked hunched over because of a back issue he had since he was 20.

Bolo, the walking mountain of midnight that was his head of security, secretly hated the old bastard.  Bolo was positive that his team had been hired because Roman still believed in slavery.  Not to mention, the stuff he was positive Roman had done to his daughter.

The sad fact was that Roman paid well.  Better than the rappers that Bolo had worked for in the beginning of his career.

“This is a bad idea,” Bolo said again, still trying to talk Roman out of bringing Rockwell into this.

“Do I pay you to think?” Roman snapped with a raised eyebrow.

Bolo frowned, his heavy brow furrowing.  “Yes, you do. About your protection. This is unsafe.”

“Well, you think all you want, but it is my call to bring him in and I pay your bills, so you will deal with it.” Roman said sternly.

Bolo momentarily entertained the idea of crushing the little man’s head.  “Your call, sir.”

The door to Roman’s office where the two had been talking was punted open.  The door slammed into the wall and Bolo instinctively went for his gun but stopped as he saw Rockwell standing there with his revolver trained on the big man.  “I think it’s actually my call, fuckers!”

Bolo frowned and took his hands out of his suit.  Roman stared, wide-eyed.  “Who the fuck are you?”

Rockwell was taken aback.  “Who the fuck am I?!  I’m the fucking man of the hour!”

“Rockwell?” Roman asked.

“The one and fucking only!” Rockwell answered, walking in and sitting down in the comfy guest chair.

“Where the fuck is Roland and Carlos?”  Bolo asked angrily.

“They retired.” Rockwell said then smiled. “From life.”

“That was awful.”  Stone appeared in the corner of the room.

“You murdering son of a bitch!” Bolo yelled but Rockwell ignored him.

Instead, Rockwell focused on his personal ghost.  “Oh, up yours.  You wouldn’t know good taste if it bit you on the ass.”

Bolo stopped, confused.  “Who the hell is he talking to?”

Roman’s narrow bird like eyes watched the lunatic, interested.  “He’s talking to his old partner, the man died two years ago and Rockwell now talks and sees him wherever he goes.”

Rockwell’s attention turned to the old man.  “You really have done your homework.  You got you hands on my mental health records.”

Roman nodded slowly.  “I trade in favors boy, something you might be interested in.”

“Well I’m not, sorry to burst your bubble.”  Rockwell said with a grin.  “I am however, interested as to why a U.S. senator would want a committed, psycho, hit man to protect him?  What could possibly scare you so much that you resort to coming to me?”

Roman watched him for another second then walked to his desk and pulled out a file slapping it down in Rockwell’s lap.

“Shaky.”  He said the one word with endless weight.

Rockwell became serious and looked down at the file.  “How do you know that name?”

“Because he is hunting me as of two days ago.  I have a source in the C.I.A that told me he entered the country today.” Jared said, matter-of-factly.

“No.”  Stone was now right in Rockwell’s face.  “You can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Rockwell asked his specter.

Jared looked confused.  “Are you talking to me or Stone?”

“Because you can’t win.  Not without me.”  Stone said with concern.

“I’ll do it.  Where can I go to sleep?”  Rockwell asked Roman.

Roman hesitated, trying to figure out who Rockwell was speaking to.  “Bolo, show him to the guest room.”

Bolo was shocked.  “Are you kidding?  He killed two of my men!”

“They signed on knowing the dangers.  Now don’t talk back to me, boy!” Jared snapped back.

Bolo again curbed his pride.  It was a lot of money.

Rockwell stood to find Stone in front of him.  “Seriously, you remember him Rockwell.  He’s on another level.”

Rockwell cocked his head to one side.  “You always did love to tell me ‘no’.  You don’t get to tell me ‘no’ anymore.”

Rockwell walked forward and Stone’s ghost relented… at least for now.

 

 

26(S2E13)-Play that song... One more time...

26

(Season 2 Episode 13)

Play That song… One More time…

In movies like Lethal Weapon and Die Hard there is no paperwork.

Sure, they make jokes about how they will eventually have to do it and threats would be made to ‘want to be’ police officers by telling them police work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, that there’s a lot of paper work.

You never actually see any of it though.

You only ever see them foil international drug dealers or bring down German bank robbers with a stunning array of gun fights and explosions.  You never see any of the paperwork.

This irritated Detective Tim Grates.

Any time an officer discharged his weapon, got into a physical altercation, used a taser, wrote a ticket or any other cop-like duty, they had to fill out a report.

As a child Tim Grates loved those movies.  As an adult police officer, he found them exhausting.

Just one of those movies would require, literally, years of paperwork.

Tim groaned and rubbed his eyes, turning away from his computer for a second in order to remain sane.

He took a drink of his coffee.  It was paperwork day and Tim was only about halfway through.

Batman didn’t have to do paperwork.

Tim smiled.  He then opened a new window and went to his Facebook account.  He clicked on the Status Update area and typed in the words.

Batman didn’t have to do paperwork.

He smiled at his witty comment and pressed enter.

His phone rang, interrupting his procrastination.

He pulled it out of his pocket.  The display showed the number as unavailable and Tim frowned.  It was probably a bill collector.

Tim was about to put it back in his pocket when he got a feeling.  It was a feeling like this was an important call.  He wasn’t sure why, but he decided to answer it.

“Hello?” He asked not using his name because if it was a bill collector he could say they had a wrong number.

“Hello?” the male voice chimed back.

“Who is this?” Tim asked becoming confused.

“Who is this?” The voice asked back, becoming angry.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Tim asked becoming frustrated.

“I’m starting to think so!” The voice on the other end said angrily.

“Look, I’m busy, so if there is something I can do for you?” Tim asked, preparing to end the conversation.

“God Damn, I hate fucking cops!”  The voice screamed.  “This is Rockwell, the Rockwell, as in patient 1314, as in killed more people than disease.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, it couldn’t be.  Why would he be calling Tim personally?  How had he gotten Tim’s number?

“I just shot a whole bunch of people down here at the Gund.” Rockwell stated, plainly.

“You mean the Quicken Loans Arena?”  Tim asked.

Rockwell became agitated.  “Are you fucking kidding me?!  I just killed a bunch of people and you want to split hairs on the arena’s name?!  Fucking cops!”

Rockwell hung up.

Tim had to take a second.  If it was a joke or a prank and he sent everyone out, he would lose his job.

Tim looked at the computer screen and endless paperwork that was waiting for him.

Worse things could happen.

**** 

Maggie ran through the halls of the arena at full speed.

That had gone wrong fast, this wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.

Damn, that Creegan.

She just couldn’t get rid of him.  He was always showing up like a stray dog you couldn’t get rid of.  She should have known she couldn’t kill him.

Stubbornness like that was un-killable.

She got to the walkway between the garage and the arena and stopped for a second, seeing the bodies of Elmo’s guards.  One of them had managed to pull his .38 snub-nose and tried to shoot his attackers.

Obviously this action had been in vain.

She picked up the gun and slid it into the front of her pants.  Before stepping over the bodies and continuing to the garage, she reached into her pocket and grabbed her keys.  Fumbling with them, she walked fast breathing hard across the concrete floor, her shoes making an echo throughout the structure.

Coming to the door of her rental she found her keys.

“Hey, Maggie.”  Creegan’s voice was calm but laden with intent from behind her.

She bit her lip and swore in her own head.  She had to think or this was going to be the end of the road.  She quickly pulled the front of her shirt over the gun so he wouldn’t see it, then she turned.

“Jim…I…”  Maggie fumbled with the words.  She was usually good with words but had nothing to say to the man she had used up, shot and left for dead.

Jim Creegan stood three feet away with Clay’s blood splatter dripping off of him.  His eyes were dark and intense.  She couldn’t quite meet them with her own.

There was a finality in them that scared her.

“You what?” Creegan asked.  “You shot me.”

Maggie looked away then back at Creegan.  “Yeah I did.  Sorry.”

Creegan raised an eyebrow.  “Sorry?”

Maggie looked back toward him, softening her features, doing everything she could to look vulnerable.  She needed to get Creegan’s savior complex to kick in.  “I made a mistake.”

“You made a mistake?” Creegan looked confused.  “You shot me.”

Maggie smiled internally.  The second time he said the words she could hear the depression in his voice.  He was like a child needing to know why.  He was still in love with her.  She had him exactly where she wanted him.

She stepped forward.  “I had a plan, Jim.  I knew you wouldn’t approve so I made a decision, and it was the wrong one.”

She could see his eyes soften.  She could see their history rolling through his very male, very easily controlled brain.  She knew how this was going to play out already.  She would continue to play on their history.  She would play on Jim’s chivalry.  She would play on his savior complex.  She would get close.

This time she would shoot him in the fucking head.

“So what do you expect me to do, just let that all go?”  Creegan asked angrily.  “Just forget? How many times have you sold me out or left me to die or vanished when I needed you?”

Maggie nodded, mocking a scolded look.  “I know, Jim.  You have no reason to trust me, but it’s all over now.  Elmo is dead.  We have all the power and all the money…”

She stepped in with one hand wrapping around the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss, her other hand subtly going for her gun.  “We can be together.”

Maggie’s hand wrapped around the butt of the gun.  It was all over now…

****

Jim cocked his right hand and punched Maggie in the face with every bit of strength he had.  The blow hit her in the right eye and sent her to the concrete floor.  She was out cold.

Creegan stared down at her then squatted next to her and pulled the car keys out of her pocket.

“You don’t know me.”  Creegan said then he unlocked the car and got in.  Starting it up, he smiled and backed out, leaving Maggie sprawled out on the concrete, gun sticking out of her pants, and a little blood coming out of his lip.  Her eye had already begun to swell.

He laughed then pulled out of the parking garage and merged with traffic.

In the rearview mirror, he could see the cop cars and swat vans swarming the arena.

He wondered if he could get his job back.

The insanity behind him became smaller and smaller until it was gone.

****

The next morning…

She had woken up in the ambulance.

Handcuffed.

The cops had been all over the Arena and Maggie was picked up on suspicion, taken to the hospital to get checked out, then thrown into a holding cell.

Damn that fucking Creegan.

Now she sat in a holding cell.  Waiting.  Nursing her eye and fat lip from the one ton punch Jim and laid her out with.

Damn that fucking Creegan.

She heard the door at the end of the hall open and she sat up.

It was about time.

The guard walked down the hall and opened the cell door.  “You are free to go.”

Maggie stood up.  “’Bout damned time!”

The guard looked at her with sarcastic amusement.  “Well if your stay in the county lock up was unsatisfactory, feel free to not tell us about it and make sure to go fuck yourself.”

Maggie frowned at him then walked past him.  She was taken through the rigmarole of the release and then let into the main lobby.

She smiled when she saw him.  “What took you so long?”

Standing in front of her was Antonio Rodriguez.  He was smiling.  “I had to identify a body.”

“So, is it done?” She asked, walking over to him slowly smiling.

“Indeed my dear.” Antonio said and smiled back.  “You and I run the business.  Roberto is dead.”

The two kissed long and hard.

(Season Two ends here.)

Episode 25(S2E12)-Face to Face

25

(Season 2 Episode 12)

Face to Face

Then…

Her father was a big man, both metaphorically and physically.

In the physical sense he wasn’t actually that tall, but given the fact that Patty was only four at the time, he was tall to her.  He was built like a truck.  He was a professional boxer at the height of his success.  His arms and chest bulged and threatened to bust out of his shirt.

In the metaphorical sense he was big, as in great.  He was a single father.  Patty’s mother had died giving birth, but her father had never given up, having climbed the ranks in Europe while never losing track of Patty and what was best for her.

Now they stepped off the plane and on to American soil for the first time, her dad had gotten a break and an offer to fight in the big leagues, possibly for the word title one day.

“Are you scared, wee lass?” Her father said with the same broken English that Patty would come to speak for the rest of her life.

Patty nodded.

“Did you forget who you are standing next to?” He asked with a grin.

She smiled.  “I’m standing with my da.”

He nodded.  “And your da is the strongest man in the world, right?”

She nodded happily.

Like all parents, Patty’s father lied.

****

Now…

The first shots where Patty’s signal.

She didn’t take time to look around and see what chaos was happening around her. Patty’s eyes were on the prize as she burst into forward motion, her eyes locked on the man who stood in front of her.

Elmo Kincaid.

She hit him full force and wrapped her arms around him pushing him backward, shoving him back through the entrance hallway that he had been standing in front of.  The two crashed into a folding table that was next to the wall.

The two broke the flimsy wood and hit the floor in a heap.  Patty reached into her pocket and found her brass knuckles.  Before she could bring them out to drop the hammer on Elmo she felt his boot against her chest.  He thrust his foot forward and set Patty backward across the hallway and smashing through the door to the locker room.

Patty lost her footing as she went through the door.  Falling backward she tucked and rolled to her feet, her hands came out of her pockets with her signature brass knuckles.

Elmo stepped in after her.  His teeth were gritted and his fists were clenched.  “Alright girl, let’s do this.”

****

Then…

Patty watched as her dad’s trainer taped his hands.

He was minutes from stepping foot into the ring with a former champion.  This would be the biggest chance of Patty’s father’s career.

“Who’s the strongest?” The trainer would ask over and over, his words meant to psych up her boxer father.

Patty repeated the words in her own head with the trainer as she watched.  Her father, her hero, was preparing for battle.

It was at that point that her father’s sponsor, fight promoter and benefactor walked in.

Elmo Kincaid.

Patty smiled.  “Uncle Elmo!”

Patty ran to Elmo and hugged him.  He chuckled.  “Jesus girl, you have got to start speaking English.”

“Sorry sir, she takes after me.”  Patty’s father beamed with pride.

“No problem with that, it only means she’s going to be one tough woman.” Elmo replied, smiling.

“I haven’t won yet, sir.” Patty’s father said seriously.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Elmo said with a grin.  “Stop calling me sir.  Now go win me that fight.

Patty’s father did not win the fight.

During round four, a punch to the temple gave him an aneurysm.

Patty’s father died that night.

****

Now…

Patty didn’t need to think about it.

She charged forward and threw a big right hand but Elmo was ready, blocking with his forearm before jabbing with his left to Patty’s chin.  The blow hit flush and stunned her. Kincaid snapped off another two quick right hands to her chin.

Patty staggered and Elmo stepped in with a big left cross.  Patty regained herself in time and she ducked the heavy haymaker and brutally uppercut him to the abs.  The blow made Elmo wheeze.

Elmo would have staggered if he had time.  Instead, Patty brought her other hand into Elmo’s other side driving her hand deep into the left side of his rib cage.

Elmo knew he was in trouble and he stepped in with a hard forearm to the side of Patty’s head.  The blow was hard and she flew over one of the benches and crashed to the floor.

****

Then…

She was twenty-two now.

She dropped the ring on the table.  It was a man’s ring, covered in diamond studs.  It was easily worth $1,200.00.

Elmo looked at it with confusion, then back to Patty.  “What the fuck is that, girl?”

Since Patty’s father’s death, Kincaid felt responsible and had taken her in.  Patty had always been grateful.

“It’s Ricky Bartly’s ring.  It’s a down payment on his debt.  He won’t be needing it since the finger it was on is broken now.”  Patty briefed Elmo.

Elmo picked it up then dropped it and leaned back, staring at her.  After years of living with her she had refused to drop the accent and he had gotten used to it.  He had done everything in his power to keep her out of the business.

“You want in.  I get that, but this business is ugly.” Elmo said sternly.

Patty raised her eyebrow.  “Maybe so, but I ain’t pretty.”

Elmo decided she wanted this, which was sad to him because in the end it meant she was going to get hurt.

****

Now…

Elmo stepped on and over the bench to advance on Patty.  She was attempting to scramble to her feet But Elmo was faster, catching her head and driving his knee into her nose.

It broke and blood began to flow as she stumbled and fell back to one knee.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Elmo asked her as she tried to shake it off.  “You wanted into this business and this business is about kill or be killed.”

Patty came to her feet with a rising uppercut.  The speed and suddenness of the attack took the gnarly gangster off guard and connected on the bottom of his chin.  His front teeth slammed together and one of them shattered.

Elmo was thrown off his feet and crashed backward through the bench, the wood snapping in half.

Patty staggered back to her knees, the blow having come from a place of desperation would give her time to recover.

Elmo rolled in pain, the blow more than stunned him.

****

Roberto gasped like a fish.  He was bleeding to death from the high caliber bullet wounds that had struck him in the chest, mere minutes ago.

How had it gone so wrong?  Someone had been waiting, and who was that woman?

He felt the lights dim and thought death was finally coming…

Antonio was standing over him, grinning.

“Brother…” Roberto managed to wheeze out the words, hope filling him.  “Brother.  Help me…”

Antonio bent down over him.  “No, I don’t think so.”

Roberto looked at him confused.  “Brother… what are you doing?”

“You know brother, you never had any fun.”  Antonio explained.  “You were always so determined to follow in our father’s footsteps, you were all business.  Do you know what the problem with being all business is?”

Roberto stared as he began to realize his brother was not there as a savior.

Antonio answered his rhetorical question.  “When you’re all business, no one likes you.”

Antonio shrugged.  “Me however, they love me.”

“You can’t do it alone…” Roberto said desperately.  “You don’t have the commitment…”

Antonio nodded.  “I couldn’t agree more, that’s why, while you were trying to get that mythical flash drive back, I was finding your replacement.  Goodbye brother.”

Antonio put his forty-five caliber handgun to Roberto’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

****

“You were my fucking da!” Patty screamed pulling herself to her feet and charging forward.  She cought Elmo’s pants and neck as he was standing and slammed the man face first into one of the wooden lockers, shattering the wood.

Patty pulled him backward out of the wooden mess, his eyes where unfocused.  Patty fully cocked her left arm then launched her brass knuckle covered hand foreword, breaking Elmo’s face.  The blow cut his cheek and sent Elmo crumpling to the floor.

Patty wiped the blood from her face and stepped in for another shot but Elmo’s hand went up in surrender.

It was over.

“I’m done girl.”  He coughed out through the blood.  “I’m tired and I’m old, and I’m done.”

Patty stood over him breathing hard from the vicious fight.  “Why?”

“I never wanted to.”  Elmo said pulling himself to his knees.  “You made yourself part of the business.  I wish you had never dropped that ring on my table.”

“Fuck you,” Patty said coldly.  “Ain’t that simple.  Fuck you for making it sound like it was.”

Elmo was shocked by her response but nodded.  “Maybe you’re right.”

Patty’s shoulders sagged.  She now saw Elmo for what he was, an old, over-the-hill ex-gangster who was trying to hold on the something he had lost long ago.  The fight left her.  She realized he couldn’t hurt her.

Two gun shots broke the touching moment.  Blood misted from the fresh holes in Elmo’s chest and he went down.

Patty spun around to see Antonio standing there smiling, holding the smoking gun.  “I am glad to see you two reconcile.  I never got the chance with my father.”

He turned the gun on Patty and fired.

Patty was suddenly tackled as the shots went off, the shots meant for her.

Elmo had found a way to use the last of his life to save Patty.  After she hit the floor she felt Elmo Kincaid fall on top of her.

She looked up into his eyes and he smiled through the blood and the broken teeth.  “I’ve never said this to anyone.  Patty… I’m Sorry.  I love you”

Elmo Kincaid went limp.

“God damn old man.” Antonio said as he stepped up to finish Patty.

“Boss!” A Cuban man ran into the room yelling.  “Boss the cops are her.  We have to go!”

Antonio nodded and ran out after him leaving Patty still breathing.

She didn’t move, however.  Instead she just wrapped her arms around the body and did something she hadn’t done since her father died.

She cried.

Elmo Kincaid.

The Muppet.

Uncle Elmo.

Was dead.

24(S2E11)- De Nada

24

(Season 2 Episode 11)

De Nada

Anyone who was from Cleveland called it The Gund.

Before the age of corporate sponsorship, that was its name.  Gund Arena, home to the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Lake Erie Monsters.

It was actually called Nationwide Arena, but if you were from Cleveland, you called it The Gund.

Elmo Kincaid was a season ticket holder on both teams, he also owned a private box for such events, and currently he had confiscated the building for a couple of hours between noon and 2:00 pm.

It was going to happen here.

Patti and Creegan walked down the long crossover between the parking garage and the arena.  One of those enclosed, suspended walkways over a busy Cleveland street.  Two men waited at the entrance.

They did not work for the arena.

They were both large men; one white, one black, wearing street clothes.  Neither was particularly well dressed.

The word thugs came into Creegan’s mind.

“Hold up,” the white one said, raising his hands.  “We’ll be taking any weapons you got.”

Creegan shook his head.  “We agreed no weapons at the meet.”

The thugs laughed.  “Yeah, right.  Everybody always agrees to no weapons at the meet, that’s the only reason meets ever happen.”

“We don’t have any weapons,” Patty said.

The thugs looked at her and both were confused by her accent.  The Black one questioned.  “You have a harpoon?”

Creegan cracked a smile.  He couldn’t help it.  Patti looked at him angrily, then back to the thugs.  “WE DON’T HAVE WEAPONS!” she annunciated.

“Oh!” They both said, understanding now.  “We still don’t believe you.  Gotta search you.”

Patty and Creegan assumed the position and the trained thugs did a thorough search.

“Wow,” the white one said.  “They really don’t have anything.”

“You can go in,” his partner said to Creegan and Patty.  “Head down to the baseline of the basketball court.  Elmo will meet you when he thinks it’s safe.”

Jim and Patty nodded and walked in through the large hallway that circles the arena and into the arena itself.

With no one in the building and nothing happening, there was a feeling of smallness.

Creegan and Patty walked down the stairs through the seemingly endless rows of chairs, then out onto the basketball court.

They stopped on the base line.

“As much as I love you, Patty,” Creegan and Patty turned as Elmo walked onto the court across from them, “I never figured you for this kind of scam.”

Patty’s eyes narrowed on her target, they were face to face.  “I never figured you for a backstabbing cunt.”

Elmo scowled.  “We’re criminals.  That’s how it works.”

“That’s a cop out,” Patty shot back.  “You know it was more than that.  You were like-”

“Like what?” Elmo cut her off.  “A father to you?  Don’t start that shit.  I did what I had to do.  Now gimme the thumb drive and we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Not that simple.” Patty stated.

“She’s right,” a woman’s voice suddenly broke into the tense conversation.  “It’s not that simple because they don’t have it.”

Elmo, Patty and Creegan turned to see a large, very frightening black man.  Standing directly next to him was a woman with near crimson hair in blue jeans and a leather coat.

Maggie.

****

The thugs had names.

The white thug was Paul.

The black thug was Lavon.

After the guy and the woman had passed their job was mostly done.  They just had to sit and watch the entrance, which was exactly what they did.  While sitting there eating their burritos.

“Hey, can I get some of that fire sauce?” Paul asked Lavon, who promptly handed it over.  “Gracias.”  

Paul smiled at his use of Spanish in light of what they were eating.

“Se Nada.” Lavon said back.

Paul looked at him confused.  “What?”

Lavon looked up from his burrito.  “I said ‘Se Nada’.  It means you’re welcome.”

Paul scowled.  “No it doesn’t.  You mean De Nada”

“No, I mean Se nada,” Lavon said irritated.  “I think I would know better than you.”

“You’re black, not Spanish mother fucker.”  Paul fired back, “Senada is like a classical music concert or some shit.”

Lavon shook his head.  “That’s a sonata, you dumb son of a bitch.”

Paul frowned.  “Well I know that Senada ain’t you’re welcome in Spanish.  Se nada ain’t nothing in nothing.  It’s De nada!”

“He’s right.”  A well spoken Cuban voice broke into the argument and both men turned, realizing all too late that they had completely failed to watch the entrance because of their argument.

They saw a good looking dark haired Cuban man in a white suit standing in front of them with his hands in his pockets.  Next to him where two more well dressed Cuban men. The Cuban men were holding Uzis.

“De nada is Spanish for ‘it is nothing’.  It would be the proper response to a gesture of gratitude.”  He said clearing up the argument.  “Now, where would I find your boss?”

****

Creegan stared in disbelief and anger.  It had to be that she was somehow mixed up in all this.  She was the bane of his existence.  “Maggie.”

“I’m starting to believe you are un-killable, Jim.”  She said with a frown.

Creegan’s face became that of pure rage and he began to move toward her.

Clay stepped out from behind her and raised a gun to Creegan’s head, stopping him in his tracks.  “Calm down, big man.”

His low dangerous voice washed over Creegan.  Creegan stopped and looked at him, “You don’t know what you are dealing with.  She is the devil.”

Clay’s mouth twitched, which may or may not have been the closest he ever got to a smile.  “Your relationship with her was personal, mine is purely financial.”

Creegan shrugged.  “Well Maggie, looks like you found the perfect man.”

Maggie puckered her lips.  “Oh that’s not true Creegan.  After all, you worked for me for nothing.”

Creegan growled at her.

“I hate to interrupt.”  Elmo didn’t.  “But what the fuck is going on.”

Maggie turned toward him.  “They baited you out so that they could kill you.”

Elmo raised an eyebrow.  “Interesting.  You have proof, bitch?”

Maggie pulled out the flash drive and raised it into the air.  Elmo’s heart dropped.  “I have proof because, as I said in the beginning, I have this.”

“I will be taking that.”  Roberto’s Cuban voice cut the air as he and his two back up men walked out onto the court, opposite from Maggie.  “After all, it is rightfully mine.”

****

Rockwell watched all of this play out through the scope of Natasha; Natasha being a Dragnov Sniper rifle, a Semi automatic weapon that looked like an AK-47 from the future.  He had gotten to the arena early and snuck in and waited.

“Well that changes everything.”  Stone was sitting in the seat next to Rockwell.

Stone was not sitting in the seat next to Rockwell.

“How do you figure?” Rockwell asked as he continued to watch.  “The plan was to take out Elmo when he shows himself, and walk away a free man.  What changed?”

Stone shrugged.  “Well the Cuban drug dealers and that dirty, dirty, bitch down there. You take out Elmo, it means the end of Creegan and Patty.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Rockwell asked.  “Once Elmo’s done I’m free, so who gives a shit?”

“You do.” Stone said bluntly.

“How you figure?” Rockwell asked, turning from his scope to look at his friend’s ghost.

“Two reasons.” Stone explained, “One, you still haven’t taken the shot, two, you’re having a conversation with yourself about why you care.”

Rockwell looked back into the scope.

“I got this.” He said as he took aim and fired.

Two shots echoed through the arena as Rockwell smoothly squeezed the trigger twice. His military training kicked in.  When against an enemy battalion, you find the leader and take him first.  This disorients the soldiers because they are trained to follow orders. The lack of these orders helps to break them.  It’s the same with Cuban drug lords.

The two shots hit the man in the cream suit within a second of each other.  He staggered, his eyes going wide, and fell.  The drug dealer’s foot soldiers watched in utter confusion.

Rockwell adjusted and fired two more quick shots.  As the Cuban guy to the right Of Roberto’s head exploded, he staggered and fell.  The last remaining Cuban decided he had made a terrible mistake and turned and started running.

“Watch the black knight.  He’s going to take Creegan.” Stone stated calmly.

“I see it.  I see it!” Rockwell responded, sweeping his gun back toward the large black man with the gun trained on Creegan.

Rockwell was positioned behind him, which made the shot tricky.  No matter how much Hollywood said the opposite, human bodies don’t stop bullets.  With that in mind, a kill shot would potentially go through the target and kill Creegan.

“Fuck!” Rockwell cursed himself.

“Take the shot.”  Stone implored him.

Rockwell took the shot, hitting the target in the upper right quadrant of his body.  He fell out of view.

Rockwell swept the gun to find Elmo but he was gone.

As was Patty.

Creegan looked up at him from the floor and did a salute before sprinting off after Maggie.

“That’s that.” Stone stated.

Rockwell grinned.  “What about that guy?”

Stone looked to see the last Cuban trying to run away up the steps to the arena.  He was very close to the exit.

“$20 says you can get him,” Stone said.

“You’re one mother fucker.”  Rockwell took a shot.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another.

“OH, THERE IT IS!” Rockwell yelled and jumped up, pumping his fist.

“Damn, he was almost out.” Stone said shaking his head.

“Yeah but he’s fucking dog food now, ain’t he?” he said rhetorically.  “Pay up asshole!”

Stone raised an eyebrow.  “I’m a mental ghost brought on by your fractured brain’s need for order.  How exactly would you like me to pay you?”

Rockwell frowned.  “Damn.  I guess you got me there.”

 “Time for the last part of the plan.”  Stone brought the focus back to the job as he always had.

Rockwell nodded.  “Pick up walk away and call the cop for clean up.”

“What’s next for us?” Stone asked.

Rockwell shrugged as he pulled out his phone.  “I’m not a plan sort of guy, but whatever it is, it’ll be fun.”

Stone followed, shaking his head.  “Fun for whom

23(S2E10)-Spinning in the Spider Webs

23

(Season 2 Episode 10)

Spinning in the Spider Webs

Elmo Kincaid hung up the phone and for the first time in two months, he smiled.

Things were finally going his way again.

The phone rang.  Elmo looked at the Caller I.D. and smiled.  It was her, the black hearted bitch who had tried to play him.

The key word was tried.  He answered the phone without saying a word.  He wanted to give her plenty of rope.

“Hello my perfect, little pet drug dealer.”  Maggie said on the other end.  “Now that we have an understanding and I have relocated to avoid more of your pathetic attempts to kill me, it’s time for me to tell you how to pay me.”

“No.” Elmo’s voice was low and cold.

There was a small pause on the other end out of obvious confusion.  “Did you just say ‘no’?”

“Yes, I said no.”  Elmo replied.

“I don’t understand.”  Maggie said out of frustration on the other end.

“No.  It’s a one syllable word that means FUCK YOU, BITCH!” Elmo said as he stood so fast his chair toppled behind him.

“Look old man, I think you have failed to grasp the situation-” Maggie was cut off by Elmo.

“NO.  You don’t grasp it.  I know you’re full of shit, you don’t have the fucking flash drive!” Elmo yelled into the phone.

“I have it, you know I have it!”  She yelled back frustrated but Elmo wasn’t listening.

“You thought you could play me?!” Elmo continued his rant.  “You honestly thought you could bluff the most powerful man in Ohio and walk away?!  I like to keep things quiet but I’m going to make an exception for you.  After I get my flash drive back tonight I’m going to find you, then I’m going to fillet you like a fresh cut fish and hang you from the Terminal Tower!”

Elmo slammed the phone down so hard the plastic piece of communication equipment shattered.

****

Before that…

Creegan watched the sun come up in the distance, illuminating the sky in a series of oranges and reds.

They were parked on the top of a parking garage downtown.  They had come here to get some privacy while they had done their best to deal with Rockwell’s leg injury.  They had bandaged it and sterilized it as best they could.

That was around four in the morning.

It was now seven.  Creegan was the only one still awake.  Rockwell had stretched out in the back while even Patty had nodded off in the passenger seat.  Creegan couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t stop thinking.

At first he had brain stormed about a way out of this ordeal.  He feared Patty had kept him around to be the thinker.  Creegan was never the brains, always the muscle.  That should have been obvious from the first ordeal.

That should have been obvious from his constant choices to help Maggie.

Creegan touched the scar on his chest where Maggie had shot him.

He had been happy at the Bent Elbow, working for Paul and finally putting his life together.  He could have probably gotten his job back even after the ordeal with the hunters.  But now?  He wondered if Paul had rented out his apartment.  Paul probably thought he was dead.

Creegan had thrown it all away for Maggie.

Just like the train.

Just like high school.

Every time he had ended up alone and worse than before he had met her.

Creegan pulled out the phone and stared at it.

Maggie was smarter than Creegan.  Most people were and that’s why he always ended up in the gutter.

“You got a plan?”  The thick Irish voice startled Creegan who turned sharply to face her.

“I have an idea,” Creegan said looking back to the phone.  “But it’s not a very good one and it will probably get us all killed.”

“It’s the three us, wounded and exhausted and a trunk full of weapons, against the most powerful drug dealer in Ohio.” Patty said as she bent forward and scratched her eyes.  “We’re probably all going to die anyway.”

Creegan shrugged and nodded.  “I guess you got me there.”

“So, out with it.”  Patty barked.

“Elmo still doesn’t have the flash drive,” Jim began to explain.  “All of the other crazy aside, he needs to have that in order to be safe from the Rodriguez brothers.  If we had it we could draw him out.”

Patty raised an eyebrow.  “You have the flash drive?”

Creegan shook his head.  “No, but I know who’s got it and it’s not Elmo.”

“Your girl from before?  Maggie.” Patty answered her own question.  “But how do you know she hasn’t given it back to him?”

“It’s valuable.”  Creegan gave a forlorn smile.  “She shot me over five grand, you think she would hand over a flash drive that gives her control over a drug lord and his kingpin?”

Patty stared at Jim for a short time then asked.  “I don’t get it, you’re a good guy.”

Creegan looked confused, “Thanks?”

Patty shook her head, “What the hell are you doing in all this?  What the hell were you doing with a woman like that?”

Jim took a deep breath and pondered that.  “Nothing was ever good enough for my dad.  My mom was a lunatic.  Maggie made me feel special.  When you’re with Maggie, she makes you feel special”

“That was so fucking gay!” Rockwell had been awake and listening in the back and could no longer take it.  “Seriously, do you need a fucking hanky?  I can’t believe this giant fairy beat us twice!”

Creegan took a deep breath and became frustrated.  “Fuck you, Rockwell.”

Rockwell sat up between the two front seats.  “And as far as the plan goes, you are never going to convince The Muppet you have the thumb drive without proof, and we have none.  He’s got no reason to listen to us.”

Creegan reluctantly nodded.  “As much as I hate to say it, Rockwell is right.  I have been up all night trying to figure out how to get Elmo to buy it.”

“The fuck you have!” Rockwell cut in.  “You have been thinking about Maggie, you fucking sissy!”

Creegan’s face became stone.  “You are on my last fucking nerve!”

“Cut them some slack.”  Stone was sitting next to Rockwell.

Stone was not sitting next to Rockwell.

Rockwell turned.  “Fuck you, Casper!  They need me, not the other way around.”

Patty and Creegan became confused and watched Rockwell in the rear view mirror.

“Come on,” Stone said.  “Even you aren’t stupid enough to think you can do this yourself.”

“Stupid is teaming up with a chick that has daddy issues and a fucking pussy bitch.” Rockwell replied.

Patty and Creegan would have gotten mad at these comments if they weren’t so caught up in the fact that Rockwell was having an argument with himself.

 “Don’t be a bitch.”  Stone said finally.

Rockwell crossed his arms and sat back like a spoiled child.

Patty and Creegan continued to stare.

Rockwell caught them staring and got mad.  “What?!”

Patty and Creegan shook their heads, deciding it best not to put in their two cents.

Patty turned to Creegan.  “Let me make the call.”

Creegan looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

Patty shrugged.  “I have never lied to him before.  Even after all this, he still trusts me.  I’ll tell him I want back in and that I tracked down the flash drive and got it off of you.”

Creegan nodded and handed the phone to her.

****

After…

Maggie hung up the phone with a look of quiet rage.

“Something wrong?” Clay asked from the darkness behind her.

“Somebody’s fucking with the plan,” Maggie said angrily.

“I see.”  Clay said neutrally.

Maggie took a second to consider all the people that knew she had the flash drive.  She thought they were all dead.

“I left a loose end somewhere.”  Maggie said unhappily.

“We should tie it up,” Clay stated promptly.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Maggie said as she looked through her contacts for Roberto’s number and dialed it.  “We’re going to finish this tonight.  Ahead of schedule.”

****

After that…

Roberto hung up the phone and turned toward Antonio who sat on the couch drinking.  “Call everyone we have in the area.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow.  “We’re doing this tonight?  I thought we were waiting?”

Roberto smiled.  “Elmo is going to a meeting today to get the flash drive back, and we’re going to be there.”

Antonio nodded.  “Alright, I’ll put a man on Elmo and we will follow him to the meet.”

“Tonight we end this, brother.” Roberto smiled.  “Tonight we make our father proud.”

Antonio smiled weakly.  “Yes brother, tonight you will follow in his footsteps.”

They toasted to success.

22(S2E9)-Not Fast Enough

22

(Season 2 Episode 9)

Not Fast Enough

Rockwell did not enter the house.  In his mind there was no need.

His tommy-gun fired forty-five caliber rounds, which had more than enough power to pierce the wall from the outside.  With that in mind, Rockwell began to strafe along the deck pulling down on the trigger, letting bullet after bullet rip through the kitchen drywall.

A weaker person would have run or hid as the high caliber bullets wreaked havoc on the large kitchen.

The Librarian was anything but weak.

Instead, she brought herself to her feet and strafed from the inside of the kitchen, holding the trigger on the Saiga.  Loud boom after boom sounded before the shells took large circular chunks out of the wall.

The gunfire sounded everywhere as they both moved their volleys, sending wood and cabinet pieces everywhere.

This continued for a full thirty seconds.

They both reached the end of the wall ending up staring at each other through a sliding glass door.  Both of their guns went empty.

They stared at each other in amazement.

Both of them looked back at the fifteen foot stretch of wall and large number of bullet holes.  They then looked back at each other.  Somehow they had emptied their respective weapons at each other from ten or so feet away and failed to hit.

Rockwell chuckled.  “Go figure.”

The Librarian’s eyes narrowed.  “Indeed.”

Rockwell read her mind.  “You are thinking about how fast you can get a clip in that shotgun of yours.  I’ll save you the trouble, the answer is not fast enough.”

Her eyebrow rose.  “You think highly of yourself.”

 “Bitch.”  Rockwell grinned.  “I’m gonna fucking decimate you.”

The Librarian took a deep, exhausted breath.  “That is physically impossible.”

Rockwell’s face became interested.  “Explain.”

“Because,” the librarian shook her head.  “To decimate means to take a tenth of or from. So, unless you are planning on destroying me in ten percent increments, your statement makes no sense.”

Rockwell began to smile from ear to ear.  “Interesting… ten percent increments huh? That’s gonna be a tall order, but I’m up for the challenge.”

There was another half second of staring.

The Librarian ejected the spare clip and went for another.  Rockwell did the same.

Rockwell was faster.

In the millisecond before The Librarian could rack the slide to chamber a shell, he pulled Bonnie, his tommy-gun up, leveled and fired a burst.  The sliding glass door shattered and fell away.  A number of rounds found their mark in The Librarian’s Kevlar vest.  The force from the rounds was dispersed like a punch to her chest and she staggered backward.

Another bullet caught her in the right shoulder as she reeled, forcing her to drop the big shotgun.  Unbeknownst to her, the door to the basement and Don’s operation room was directly behind her.  She crashed through it and tumbled down the open staircase.

She hit the tile floor and rolled backward along it, crashing into the operating table and coming to a rest face down.

Rockwell was pleased with himself.  “Like I said, not fast enough.”

He moved through the door where the glass was.  Stone was standing next to the staircase to the basement.  “Carful.”

“Fuck off, Stone.” Rockwell replied as he passed the apparition. “It’s ass-kick o’clock.”

Rockwell came to the bottom of the stairs with his gun dangling at his side ready to move in for the kill.

The Librarian rolled over onto her back with a Walther PP-7, a small twenty-two caliber seven shot automatic handgun.  Rockwell recognized it because it was the gun that James Bond always used.

“Shit.” Rockwell uttered.

The Librarian fired her fist shot and it struck Rockwell in the upper thigh.  He yelped and grabbed his leg.  Her second shot missed.  Rockwell reacted, putting all of his effort into a leaping dive to the right, sending himself over a medicine table and crashing to the other side in a hail of pill bottles.

As he flew through the air he heard The Librarian’s gun pop off another round.  He felt a vibration rock through his gun arm and heard a terrible metal on metal sound.

Rockwell landed and grimaced in pain as his leg began to bleed.  “God dammit!  She shot me in the fucking leg.  Why does everyone shoot me in the leg?!”

 Stone was standing over him.  “I warned you, now look what’s happened to your gun.”

Rockwell looked down at the gun and saw the terrible sight.  The Librarian’s third shot had hit the clip and mangled it.

“You’re screwed.”  Stone stated.

“Fuck you!” Rockwell yelled back.  “Can’t you ever be constructive?!”

“Hey, I am your paranoid delusion.  You want me to be constructive, make me constructive.” Stone replied.

“Are you talking to me?” The Librarian asked, confused.

Rockwell shouted back from behind cover.  “Does it sound like I’m talking to you?!”

“It is a fair question.  After all, there is no one else here.” She rebutted.

Rockwell shook his head.  “I showed up in a Hawaiian shirt and a fedora in the middle of September with a tommy-gun.”

The Librarian was befuddled and shouted back.  “This is all true but I don’t understand how this justifies talking to yourself.”

“It doesn’t.  “Rockwell explained.  “It justifies the crazy, and the crazy justifies anything.”

She seemed to accept that, but the conversation had given Rockwell time to think. “Hey, any way we could make a deal?”

Rockwell knew there wasn’t.

“Of course, but why?” She asked.

“You last shot hit the drum on my magazine.  I’m out.  Listen, you spare me, I give you Patty and Creegan.”

Rockwell was not going to give her Creegan or Patty.

“Alright, your life for theirs.”  She said.  “We have a deal.  Throw out the damaged magazine”

They had no deal.

Rockwell detached the damaged clip and tossed it off the cover and into the middle of the room.

“Okay, I’m coming out.” Rockwell said before bracing the rifle against his should and gripping it tightly.

One shot at this.

Rockwell stood and brought the machine gun to bear on the confused Librarian.  He pulled the trigger.

The tommy-gun kicked and fired, sending a single bullet though The Librarian’s throat.

She stammered as her carotid artery spewed thick dark red blood.  Her eyes filled with the look of horror.

The tommy-gun had a bullet in the chamber, which protected the round from the damage to the clip.

The Librarian tried to bring the handgun up to fire on Rockwell but lost her strength and dropped the gun, lurching forward and crashing to the tile floor in a pool of her own blood.

Rockwell walked out from behind the cover then turned back to Stone.  “How about that shit?”

Stone shrugged.  “Not bad.”

Rockwell’s face contorted.  “Not Bad?!  Are you fucking kidding me?!  I just pimped the bitch with no clip in my gun and a bullet in my fucking leg!”

“She’s five foot ten and wearing a sundress.”  Stone down-played the accomplishment.

“The auto shotgun wasn’t wearing a god damn sundress!” Rockwell began.  “You know what?  I don’t know why I expect things to change. You were a fuck when you were alive and you a bigger fuck now that you’re dead!  You just pop in from your ethereal pedestal and tell me I fucking suck before popping back out again!  You know what, dickhead?  I would like to take this fucking time to remind you who’s still breathing.  Me!  That’s right, mother fucker.  Me!”

They stared at each other in silence for a short time.

“Are you done?” Stone asked.

“I’m never done, asshole.” Rockwell replied, “I ain’t ever done.”

****

“We should go.” Patty grumbled from the backseat getting antsy as the gunfire in the house had come to an abrupt stop.

“Give him a second.” Creegan said, staring at the house intently, wishing he could see what was happening inside.

“Him?!” Patty asked raising her voice.  “It’s him I’m worried about.  Give me a bitch in a sundress any day!”

“He could have killed us on the deck, but he went after her.”  Creegan explained.  “He’s here to help.”

Patty’s eyebrow went up.  “I doubt he understands the meaning of the word help.”

Jim didn’t respond, which left a short silence.  Patty was about to respond when the house exploded into beautiful orange and red flames.  The house had been made to burn from the inside and became an inferno fast.

It was at that time that they both saw him, limping across the yard toward the car.  The fire behind him scorched the skies.  It was as if hell had failed to catch the lunatic again and was throwing a temper tantrum.

Rockwell was smiling.

“You sure about this?” Patty asked as they both watched the frightening scene play out like a bad movie.

 “I am one hundred percent positive, Patty…” Creegan answered.  “That I am absolutely not sure about this.”