One Hell of a week
CHAPTER #1
Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat…
The rhythmic drops roll off the metal roof and hit the dusty concrete floor of this smelly abandoned loft. Thunder reverberates through the walls and lightening illuminates the scene. I watch the shimmering street lights bounce off the wet moving asphalt, eyes fixated to a door four stories down. I see everything, hear everything, sense everything bustling around me. Muddy yellow taxis moved sluggishly through the dirty puddles and people stroll by not knowing they pass in front of my line of sight. Paralleling my breaths with the raindrops I sit in wait, breathing in the humid air, feeling the dampness on my arms. The red milk carton I've been sitting on for the last hour is beginning to leave diamond shape marks on my butt and its getting on my nerves. I hold the rifle steady against the white pealing windowsill and mutter silently in irritation.
"When is this mother fucker gonna finish his God damn sandwich and leave?"
As if the Man upstairs, or the Asshole downstairs heard me, the fat cat in a suit two sizes too small with mustard stains on his tie, steps out onto the dirty damp pavement. The bells on the door ring, deafening in that moment where I only see him. One breath in, line it up, breath out and pull the trigger. The bells on the door no longer rings, but the ringing doesn't stop, the high pitch shrieks reverberate against the cold steel and hard walls of the loft. I walk back and observe my work, as if I were an artist finished with a masterpiece. He lays slumped, face down drowning in a murky puddle, the river of red begins to gush and flow from the back of his head. The swarm begins to form and I watch on, disassembling the thing that caused this panic. I run my hands over the grooves and corners, feeling and breaking it down into something so small you would never suspect there to be anything in the bag. I walk out of this room, like so many times before, leaving nothing but boot prints on the dust covered floor. I smirk, knowing how big of a price the Russians had on this poor bastard's head, and it was all for me. A smirk turning into a full-on smile but it disappears as soon as my foot hit the last step of the stairs and I already knew what was going to happen. A blue aluminum baseball bat swings above my head, it goes through the drywall sending white dust everywhere. I catch the glint of a sizeable knife and before the blade gets to me a fist comes into contact with my face. It's a shock but I move to redirect the blades course from my gut into the back of baseball bat guy. The familiar slicing sound goes through my mind, all the way through, straight to the kidney, ouch. I can feel the blood rundown my face, I can already feel that one of my two front teeth are cracked and I taste the blood in my mouth. A third, this one already has the silver barrel pointed at my head, grabbing the now shish-kabobbed guy I run at the gun toting asshole and he gets three shots into his buddy and one pierces me, midthigh, hitting the bone. I yank the knife out, and stick it right in the money spot. Tearing it all the way through, his throat gurgles and bubbles, spit and blood leak out of his mouth and he falls to the floor. A snarl of Russian curses come from the last man standing, and I hear the whistle of the baseball bat come towards me. I throw up my left arm before it hit my face and deflect it. But I can feel that one of the bones in my arm is broken and the throbbing is excruciating. A strong hand pulls my shoulder back and a thin blade enters my side, right where it counts. The guy back away to retrieve the bat but before he got to it I pull out out the blade and crush my hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Bad thing for him, I'm good with these pesky little shits too. Flipping the knife around I throw it right into his right eye, straight into the brain and he drops like a sack of potatoes.
"Son of a bitch, that was a long blade" I say through bloody gritted teeth, the small 3 inch cut is leaking blood down the side of my body and no matter how hard I press it won't stop the flow.
I can already feel the internal bleeding, I fall to the floor and my leg bends the wrong way and my head hits the cold ground, I cry out. The sharp ringing in my head stops and I begin to hear the familiar sound of the hard heal patent Italian leather shoes echo across the floor. And He is in the door way. I feel the warm trickle of blood escape my mouth and I smile with red teeth at my very own Russian benefactor.
"I knew it, I fucking knew it was going to be you" I said the words, curling my lips into a shit eating grin.
"Well Anastasia, it was quite a tantalizing offer wouldn't you think? I mean a million, hard cash for a simple oversized politician was a little too good to pass up now wouldn't you think? I know the Yakuza made you an offer to take me out after this job for something around, hmmmmm what was it? Almost 35 million?" his thick Russian accent laced his words, heavy with venom and bitterness. He walks forward and kneels in front of me, those cold grey eyes devoid of life. He grins with faded thin lips, so I decided to give them some color. I spit at him, drops of crimson dot his porcelain face and he rears back in disgust. He takes his pocket square out of his jacket and wipes his face. He walked over and dug his heal into the bullet wound in my thigh and I grit my teeth so hard I hear a tooth crack.
"Well my darling, it was nice doing business with you. I was going to give you a quick death, but I changed my mind." He finally takes his heel off the wound and steps away. Turning his back, those few seconds gave me enough time to reach for that gun in the now dead, hand of my previous opponent.
"Hey, Alexander! One last thing you communist piece of shit!" I spat out, I swing my arm around and lined it right up, right in between the eyes when he turns around. He hangs his head and takes a deep breath and turns.
"What is it bitch…." Hahaha yeah that's right, what was that? A nice round hole, right in between those steely eyes. I let my hand drop and he falls to the ground with a thump. I feel the cold weight of the gun, it gets heavier and heavier, I feel the blood begin to pool around me. I let my head back and I smile, staring at the ceiling, I listen the hustle and bustle of New York for one last time. Oh well, 20 years of this shit is enough for me, I'm too tiered and have too much blood on my hands. I'm worn out from the pain. I smile, knowing that its finally over, all the sleepless nights, all the wounds. The hazy tunnel appears and I embrace it. But then I then hear a soft flutter of wings, the pushing of dust around me. Soft black wings, smooth and warm feathers envelope me. I try to keep my eyes open, try to see what it is. And a silky deep voice reverberates through my mind.
"It's alright dear, close your eyes, there is nothing left for you to see in this world"
And with that reassurance I drift off into an endless sleep.