Chapter 10
Rubbing his hands together to build up friction, Rizzo blew his warm breath into his palms. So fixated on fighting the chill of late February, his neglectful watch of the street failed to notice the shadow that zipped across the far wall.
"How much longer?" one of the mobsters called out irritably. A pair of men set down a heavy crate inside the delivery truck with a grunt.
"Keep ya pants on, we're nearly done!" one of them shot back as he bounded down the loading ramp of the truck. Rizzo grumbled to himself as he turned back toward the street. The truck was parked outside of a warehouse on the edge of the Industrial District of Gotham City. The road stretched far both left and right. The hour was late and no other vehicles crawled on the slick, black road. The street was eerily silent which set Rizzo even more on edge. It didn't matter to him that there were eight of them, all armed with automatic firearms, they were still exposed, out in the open. Two of the mobsters posted on either side of the wide open doors of the warehouse while Rizzo and another comrade stood watch at the gate. The other four for the last long, numbing six minutes had gone back and forth hefting the weapons crates from the warehouse to the truck. The boss seemed extra adamant that nothing went wrong during the delivery. Rizzo scoffed, if the job was so damn important, why not send more muscle? Suddenly numerous metal canisters clattered on the street around them. The realization was instant but Rizzo was a split second too slow.
"Look out!" he shouted. Plumes of grey smoke burst from the ends of the grenades. Almost instantly, a shroud of smoke engulfed the mobsters. A crate slipped from one of their fingers, dropping a crushing his toes. His cry out was blotted by the tearing rattle of machine gun fire. Rizzo panicked, looking left and right as he raised his HK MP5. Faint flashes of light glowed in the grey smoke. Rizzo fired in the general direction of the muzzle flashes, laying streams of automatic fire as he fumbled in the smoke for any source of cover. All around him, his comrades yelled and cursed as they too scrambled to fend off the advancing machine guns. Over the barrage of gunfire, a car approached, halting abruptly out in front of the gate. The doors opened and three more figures emerged, adding to the advancing machine guns. As the figures pressed inward from all directions, Rizzo could make out dark figures in the smoke. A stream of gunfire strafed in his direction, cutting him down just above the knees. Rizzo dropped to the hard paved ground, screaming in agony. He could feel his blood pooling under him. For a moment, Rizzo just laid there, deafened by the gunfire around him. Straining to stay upright, he dragged himself across the lot until finally he came to the wheel of the truck. To his left, one of his comrades laid dead, his eyes wide open and empty like his mouth, leaking blood. Finally the gunfire ceased, leaving only the ringing in his ears. Rizzo forced his eyes open, finding three men standing over him. Their faces were covered, two with gas masks, the third with the black wooden visage of a skull. Black Mask glared down at him, his military standard M4 rifle set against the shoulder of his long white coat.
"Thanks for doing all the heavy lifting for me," a gruff voice said with the slightest trace of an echo within the mask. He lowered his M4, held out with one hand to Rizzo's head. "Say hi to your boss for me." The rifle fired, giving off an instant crack and flash of the muzzle.
TO BE CONTINUED…