This is the rewrite of Protect and Serve. Now that I have a better idea of what I'm going to do with the OCs I recieved, I can write a better story. I also improved my skills since the original version, which I started years ago.
...
I don't know where I am. What I do know is that I'm pissed. Idiots tried to tie me up in either a abandoned warehouse, or a dirty basement. There's a lot of leaky pipes, and the walls look old.
"Look who's finally awake." I recognized the voice. Falconeri, mob boss. The guy that brought me here. He has a henchmen standing next to him. Falconeri uses the his thugs to make him look tougher by controlling them. Like someone walking a guard dog. The muscle is holding a Baretta in his hand.
"What do you want, Falconeri?" I asked. Falconeri is a predictable breed of criminal. He abducts people when he wants something from them. Unless it's death. He wastes no time with death.
"I want you to take me to prison, without any trial." Falconeri explained. Interesting. A criminal blatantly asking me to put him behind bars.
"And why would you want that?" I asked. There's obviously a larger plan. He knows that I'd notice if I caught him legitimately, and he made it into prison with due process.
"So I can have a meeting with Abram Trotsky." Falconeri answered. Trotsky was one of Falconeri's rivals. I arrested him last week, while he was attempting to relocate his organization.
"What do you want with Trotsky?" I asked. With Trotsky gone, crime started dropping with the two no longer competing with each other. If he wasn't so goddamn rich, we'd have put him behind bars years ago. The same with Falconeri. The two know exactly who to pay to bypass the legal system.
"Trotsky stole some things from me that I want back." Falconeri answered. The two had a turf war going on for the past eight months. It started after Trotsky raided one of Falconeri's warehouses. That's likely what Falconeri is referring to.
Falconeri's radio buzzed. "Boss, you should see what's going on outside." Someone reported.
Falconeri grabbed his radio. "Are the police there?" Falconeri asked.
"No, but—" The guy on the other end of the radio sounds disturbed. If the police aren't what's scaring him, then it must be bad.
"What did I say? If the pigs aren't coming, then I don't care." Falconeri shouted. Falconeri took a moment to berate his goon over the radio. The bodyguard stopped paying attention to me. This leaves an opportunity to escape.
My arms are tied to pipes. Whoever did the tying was an ameteur. They tied the rope like a child who doesn't know how to tie their own shoelaces. I can undo the knot, with my hands tied behind my back. Which they are.
I need to act quickly, if I don't want to die. I punched the thug in the face while grabbing his gun. I shot him in the chest. He collapsed, clutching his chest. Shot through the heart.
Falconeri made a run for the door. It's located at the top of a stairway. I fired on shot at him while he was running up the stairs, shattering his right kneecap. Falconeri fell down the stairs, and started cluthcing his broken leg. "I'll have you sued for police brutality!" Falconeri warned. He's done it before. Pay off the right people, and you're basically untouchable.
The thug got up from the ground. That shouldn't be possible. If the bullet missed his heart, one of his lungs should be filled with blood. He walked slowly, staggering with each step, making an unrecognizable sound.
"Trevor, what the hell are you doing?! Rush him!" Falconeri ordered. I shot Trevor two more times. Both times in the chest. He flinched, but kept moving. Like the bullets didn't even hurt. I aimed the next bullet for his head. That stopped him instantly. What the hell was he?
And now there's banging on the doors. The doors are positioned at the top of a flight of stairs, giving them higher ground. I kept my gun aimed, and grabbed Falconeri as a human shield.
The doors were bashed down by a mob. These weren't Falconeri's men. They looked dead, like they had their souls ripped from their bodies, and were left behind to act as an emotionless legion of killers. They all tried to pour through the door at once. I shot through one of their chests, and they reacted the same as Trevor. Flinching, but not wounded. Headshots were just as effective as they were on him.
Trevor only had one magazine, but that was all I needed to clear the exit. I should leave quickly. Falconeri isn't my problem. Figuring out what these dead people are is.