Chapter 36: Like a Knight on a Steel Horse
Artie rushed towards the Red Light District at full speed, dodging his way around several cars on the Eastwood Bridge. In the rearview mirror he could see Iceman's Patriot struggling to keep up behind him. He wanted to go it alone, but the gun runner insisted on tagging along, adamant about wanting to pay back his friend's kindness. There was no time to argue with him and he knew he could use the backup against a vicious outlaw motorcycle gang, so together they raced to save a damsel in distress.
He mentally pictured the bikers falling before his feet, looking over to the L85 assault rifle that came equipped with an M68 Aimpoint scope, compliments of Iceman. In addition to the rifle he was also equipped with a brand new Kevlar vest, more ammo for his Desert Eagle, an AA-12 assault shotgun with Frag-12 explosive shells, and a line of fragmentation grenades.
Night had fallen over the city and traffic had been more abundant than expected, yet the hitman wouldn't let that deter him from saving a woman he had grown attached to, cutting past an oil Tanker and then a Dragon Wagon at breakneck speed, Iceman's Patriot ramming into the latter as he attempted the same maneuver.
He remembered by heart where the Silver Dollar Saloon was located, having been there for a few drinks after vising Queen Sheba's Revue along with Zeke and Iceman. It had been a place known to be frequented by plenty of undesirables, but never had he thought the Children of Chaos would visit that kind of establishment, thinking it would be too upscale for a gang of roughneck bikers.
Part of him asked why he should risk sacrificing himself to save this particular woman, especially one he felt as if he still didn't completely know well enough. He still didn't think of her as an actual 'girlfriend,' but she was still someone he had grown to like and he knew it would be the right thing to do, having seen firsthand who outlaw bikers treated their women like property rather than as actual human beings, or worse.
"I'm planning on getting the hell outta here once that blockade is lifted. No point in me getting attached to anybody in that sort of way," Artie thought to himself, remembering how he had repeatedly brushed off Gino's suggestions of him signing up for Love-Meet to 'find that special someone.' Big words coming from someone who had only succeeded in getting a bunch of spam promoting 'male enhancement' products.
He came to a four way intersection and was about to speed through when he noticed a police cruiser pulling up alongside of him. Not wanting the trouble, he came to a halt and waited impatiently for traffic to pass. Iceman had come to a halt behind him and he could see the gun runner making gestures at him in his rearview mirror, letting him know that he was ready to go and fuck shit up. The man pounded away impatiently at his steering wheel and could be heard turning up his heavy metal music as a means of venting his built up aggression.
"C'mon god-fucking-damn it, I've got somebody to rescue!" he shouted as a semi passed through. He was practically hammering away at his own steering wheel as "Knock Me Down" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers blasted on Radio GX, pounding in unison with the drumbeats, doing whatever he could to distract himself as he waited.
When the light finally turned green he had to resist the urge to scream "Hallelujah" and stepped on the gas, speeding up when the cop car finally disappeared from sight.
"No turning back now," he muttered to himself, knowing she deserved better than what those bikers would have likely had in store for her.
Speeding down the streets as fast as he could without running anybody over, it was only a matter of time before he finally reached the Red Light District and began darting his head back and forth for any possible threats as he came within distance of the Silver Dollar Saloon, a building designed to look like an authentic Old Western saloon from the outside.
A graffiti-covered Gang Burrito was parked out in front of the aforementioned bar/whorehouse, surrounded by several different kinds of motorcycles. Two burly tattooed men stood guard near the opened backdoors while two more could be seen dragging two struggling prostitutes about and tossing them into the back. Gunshots rang out from inside and several patrons ran out of the building, followed closely by several more of the grungy leather-clad men, one of whom had Gladys over his shoulder.
"Let me go you fucking baboon!" Gladys hollered as she struggled with the overweight biker, a man with a salt and pepper beard. She eventually managed to free one of her hands and yanked hard on the man's braided ponytail.
"You bitch!" the man spat before grabbing her and throwing her hard against the van before he was stopped by one of his brothers.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Watch it man! The boss ain't gonna like his property all dinged up if you're gonna be all rough with her like that," the other biker spoke.
"I'll never be your property you fucking asshole!" she cried before spitting in his face. She continued with her struggle and was just about to be thrown into the back when she spotted a familiar Sentinel charging into view.
"Artie!" she blurted out before being tossed inside and having the doors slammed shut behind her.
The bikers heard her calling out his name and turned to see the sedan charging towards him.
"Fuck, must be her boyfriend or something," a skinny bald man with a weasel-like face spoke up.
"Yeah, well she's our property now!" the same overweight biker proclaimed as he withdrew a 40mm grenade launcher and took aim, "Let's see how you like this pretty boy!"
"Yeah, finders keepers!" the skinny biker cried out.
Artie saw the grenade launcher being pointed in his direction and his eyes widened.
"Fuck!" he hollered as he opened the door and threw himself out, hitting the pavement and rolling about as his unmanned car sped forth. From his distance he could hear the loud 'bloop' of the launcher firing and tried pushing himself back to his feet, but it was too late.
An explosion rang out and the hired gun was flung forward by the concussive blast, again hitting the ground hard. Iceman had finally caught up and saw his friend lying on the ground before him, slamming on his brakes and skidding the Patriot to a sideways halt to avoid running him over.
"Ah…fuck!" Artie grunted as he crawled along the ground, slowly opening his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again when he was nearly blinded by the bright fire burning before him, the fire that had once been his car.
"Motherfucker…I liked that car!" he grunted as he shoved himself back to his feet, regaining his balance with help from Iceman.
"Your car's the least of your worries right now pal," Iceman said raising his M-4 and firing upon the encroaching bikers, dropping one of them in a hail of screaming metal.
"Kill those sons of bitches!" another biker ordered and the remaining Children of Chaos opened fire simultaneously in a cacophony of light automatic pops and the deeper booms of discharging shotguns.
The gun runner had a point as Artie was forced to take cover behind a parked Cavalcade FXT and blindly fired with his rifle until he reached the rear end of the vehicle, bullets chipping away at the sturdy truck's surface the entire time as he tried to think of something.
"Ain't anywhere to run! You kill a brother, we kill you, simple as that!" a biker shouted.
"You're only delaying the inevitable, y'know that boy?" cried another.
"Quite a big word coming from a fucking grease monkey," Artie shouted back.
Another 'bloop' sounded and the errand boy knew he was in trouble, forced to dive as the bikers continued firing away mercilessly when the truck exploded behind him. With no other cover to take, he leapt into the air firing his gun, managing to strike one of the Children in the lung and send the man convulsing to the pavement.
Before Artie could fully return to his feet, he was struck three times in the chest by one of the bikers, the bullets halted by his bulletproof vest, but still knocking the wind out of him. He managed to pull himself behind cover, this time behind an Oracle, still gasping for air and wincing from the throbs from where he was hit.
Across from him Iceman wasn't fairing much better, the Children pinning him down with a relentless volley that left him wondering if they had the entire stockpile of Fort Rushmore at their fingertips. It was tempting for him to pull out a grenade, but then he remembered the van was nearby and he didn't want to risk accidentally killing Gladys.
Artie raised his rifle and popped out, firing a few rounds into the gathered mob and managing to drop three of the bikers and also destroying one of their motorcycles before he was forced to reload.
"My baby!" one of the grubby men called out, "You're gonna fucking pay for that!" he snarled.
Before he could pull his rifle's bolt back, another 'bloop' sounded and the hired gun was forced to leap wherever he could as the grenade struck the Oracle he hid behind, sending him flying through the air yet again.
"Goddamn it," Artie gasped as he crawled along the tarmac, feeling the heat washing over his body. The fire had singed his clothes, but it was a small miracle he wasn't burnt more severely. It was also a miracle that no fragments of shrapnel had embedded themselves anywhere important. Aside from that he had suffered a few minor cuts and bruises.
What mattered though was that he was still alive and still able to kick some ass.
"Have you gone soft on me or something?" Iceman grunted, "Christ, you've spent more time sucking concrete than kicking ass."
"I never knew you to be much of a talker," Artie scoffed in reply, "We need to kill that fucker with the grenade launcher," he hissed as he watched the portly man load another canister.
Aside from the grenadier, there were six other Children left. Artie surmised they must have been having some kind of gathering before this mess, but still had to ask why they would be after Gladys of all people. For now, he had to focus on killing them.
Iceman nodded in reply and fired another volley in hopes of striking the aforementioned biker, only to succeed in grazing the man as his aim was thrown off by a stray round finding its way into his chest, stopped by his Kevlar vest.
Artie noticed his friend's predicament and fired a burst towards the amassed bikers, finding his own shots thrown off by a few stray rounds finding their way into his chest, but he had succeeded in disarming one of the bikers with a shot to the wrist.
"Damn, I'm gonna need a new vest after this is over with," he told himself before firing again, missing a biker who had taken cover behind his Wolfsbane. He noticed that their rate of fire was beginning to slacken. Perhaps they were either running low on ammo and being more conservative with their shots or were getting ready to take off.
Slapping a fresh clip into his rifle, Artie propped himself onto a nearby Idaho and used his rifle's scope to take aim on the husky biker. "Nighty night fatso," he thought while squeezing the trigger, sending a three shot burst into the man's chest and ending his menace once and for all.
"C'mon, let's quit fucking around and get outta here!" one of the bikers called out climbing into the Burrito's driver seat and taking off, leaving his five surviving colleagues to follow behind on their bikes.
"Sons of bitches," Artie grumbled as he fought off the fresh waves of pain still coursing through his chest and making his way over to an abandoned Revenant. "C'mon Iceman, we've gotta stop them!" he called out as he climbed on and started it up.
"Right behind you brother!" the gun runner called back climbing into his Patriot as some concerned patrons emerged from the Silver Dollar Saloon and watched the two men take off after the bikers.
"Bastards aren't getting away so easy," he thought as he turned up the radio's volume, currently set to Rock of Rushmore 89.5 and playing "Sweet Soul Sister" by The Cult.
Artie sped after the fleeing bikers, taking a sharp right turn onto a sidewalk and knocking over an overweight prostitute before making his way back onto the street. He withdrew his Desert Eagle and opened fire, but unfortunately the biker ahead of him was more skilled than expected and managed to dodge most of his shots. He fired again and the last shot grazed the man's side, yet he kept speeding forth as if nothing had happened.
The other bikers were aware they were being followed and withdrew machine pistols to return fire, scoring several hits on the errand boy's bike, but missing Artie himself. He was undeterred and continued firing, eventually hitting the same biker and sent him spilling to the concrete, only for him to be crushed beneath Iceman's wheels.
"Like I said you're not getting away so easily!" the errand boy called out as he continued after his brothers.
"Fuck you yuppie scum!" one of the bikers called out before tossing a Molotov cocktail over his shoulder, which Artie barely managed to avoid as the other Children peppered away with automatic fire, one of the bullets nicking his arm.
The hired gun raised his Desert Eagle and fired wildly towards his attackers until his clip ran dry.
"Well fuck me blind," he grumbled.
There wasn't much time to complain as he drew closer to the bikers and saw the closest man trying to take aim with a sawn-off shotgun and steer his cycle at the same time. "You're gonna die pretty boy and then we're all gonna fuck your girl 'til she bleeds like a stuck pig!" the man shouted.
Unfortunately for the biker, his attempt to multitask was causing him to slow down and it gave Artie the spare seconds he needed to pick up speed and ram the man's bike hard enough to send him tumbling off the back and land hard on his side, yet Iceman had passed him by already and wasn't able to turn him into a human speed bump. All wasn't lost though.
"Somebody's gonna bleed alright," Artie shouted back as he unclipped a frag grenade and tossed it over his shoulder. The grievously injured biker could only scream in terror as the explosive rolled towards him. The hitman ignored the following explosion and focused only on going after the remaining bikers and the van they were escorting.
The Gang Burrito maneuvered its way recklessly through traffic, smashing through any vehicle that stood in its way and running over any pedestrians unfortunate enough to be there. The intensity at which they moved caused the hired gun to wonder why Gladys could be so important to them that they would cause such mayhem just to get her to wherever they needed to be.
"Just fucking focus on saving the lady goddamn it," his mind screamed to him as the bikers came into sight and continued firing away at him and Iceman, most of their bullets striking the Patriot, but thankfully the lumbering vehicle had bulletproofed windows, assuring his friend was safe.
Artie was still moving at a fast pace and unable to reload his Desert Eagle while bullets flew all around him. It was by some strange act of God (or whatever was out there) they hadn't succeeded in popping his tires and he still charged forth as his enemies fired away. A warm sensation suddenly overcame the hired gun's upper arm and when he looked down his eyes widened. He had been shot dangerously close to his shoulder. Granted it was a flesh wound, but it was still of concern.
"Not my first time being shot and it sure as hell probably won't be my last either," he thought while continuing forth, moving around another Patriot to dodge some of the bullets fired upon him as they entered Hellcat-controlled territory. Some of the aforementioned tan-clad gang members were present and fired upon the intruding procession, but nobody was killed.
"You pricks are just gonna have to wait your turn," Artie grumbled to himself as he continued his pursuit of the fleeing bikers, plowing through an intersection and causing a cab to crash into some older guy riding on a Faggio scooter, the cab later finding itself flipped over when Iceman's Patriot connected with it.
Eventually they reached the Jansport district and the Burrito slammed its way through the parking lot of the Cluckin' Bell where Randy used to work, followed by his biker cohorts, the latter of whom plowed through a group of employees on their cigarette break, eliciting actual squawks from them as they lay dying.
"For God's sakes, somebody fucking kill those sons of a bitches!" the lead biker called out as they passed through Nixon Park.
"What the fuck do you think we're trying to do?" another called back, not even bothering to stop for a homeless child chasing after a stray cat with a baseball bat.
The chase would eventually find its way to the nearby Steel Junction district, which was its usual dead self, the numerous drunken bums stumbling about seemingly oblivious to the chaos taking place right under their noses.
"Don't worry, we're close!" Artie heard one of the bikers calling out and he wondered what they were talking about.
He would soon get his answer as the Burrito and bikers took a left hand turn into the parking lot of a rundown joint called the Sleepin' Eazy Suites, its neon sign one of few functioning in the entire district, albeit with several of its lights burnt out so it looked like it read 'Sleazy Sites.'
In the parking lot there were several more motorcycles parked and he knew this could only mean one thing.
"We've got company boys! Kill those motherfuckers!" he heard one of the bikers calling out as the man leapt off his bike and began firing upon his pursuers with his machine pistol.
"End of the road pretty boy!" another called out as the hitman was forced to ditch the Revenant and take cover behind a crumbling fence, ducking low to the ground as the bullets tore through the weathered wood.
"Hey buddy…ya' gots any spare change?" a voice slurred next to him and almost making him jump.
It belonged to that of a shaggy-haired man who wore nothing but a pair of ratty bib overalls, looking much more like he belonged in the boondocks than in some urban ghetto.
"I needs me some money…" the man slurred, holding up an empty bottle of Commander Kidd spiced rum.
"Score," Artie said grabbing the man under his arms and hoisting him back to his feet.
"Uh…hey…um…where we going?" the man drunkenly mumbled.
Artie didn't bother to answer as he shoved the man in front of him and made his way back onto the street, where Iceman had taken cover behind his Patriot and was exchanging fire with the Children who had emerged from their hotel rooms. He pushed his way into the onslaught, his human shield quickly turned to Swiss cheese by a merciless salvo, yet it gave him an opening to drop one of the bikers with rounds to his chest and neck areas before hitting a man several times, but not killing him, his screams of pain filling the nighttime air.
"Sons of bitches! We'll show you what Chaos is all about!" one of the remaining bikers shouted before withdrawing a Molotov cocktail and preparing to chuck it in Artie's direction.
"Fuck, not another one of those!" he thought to himself as he prepared to open fire, but thankfully Iceman had beaten him to the punch, striking the man in his groin and abdomen, causing him to drop the explosive and set himself ablaze. Furthermore, he was near his motorcycle and he fell backwards against it, igniting the gas tank and creating a small explosion that sent one of his buddies flying backward.
Artie looked over to the Burrito and saw both its doors had been opened, the ladies nowhere in sight.
"Time to end this," he whispered to himself looking over to Iceman, who seemed to be handling himself pretty well, aside from the biker who was sneaking up on him from the catwalk above. Raising his rifle, Artie fired off another burst that sent the burly man tumbling over the railing and landing hard on top of a parked Streetfighter.
"I'm going in," the hitman shouted to his friend and charged towards the front entrance, only to be confronted by another grungy man with a sawed-off shotgun. He quickly raised his rifle and shot it out of the man's hand, severely mangling his right arm in the process.
"It ain't over you piece of shit! You hear me? It ain't over!" the man screamed defiantly before Artie fired a burst into his face.
"It is for you, asshole," the hitman spat before kicking open the front door and finding himself in a rancid lobby that likely hadn't been cleaned since the Stone Age.
Right away Artie was confronted by two more Children who had been blasting heavy metal and drinking a few beers. Quickly drawing his assault shotgun he cut down both men before they could get their guns on the coffee table at the other side of the room.
"Shit, we've got company boys!" another voice shouted and one of the doors came flying open, a burly biker stepping into view with a pump-action shotgun. He was quickly cut down by a blast from the hitman's assault shotgun, literally finding himself disemboweled and slowly bleeding out all over the already heavily-stained carpeting.
The creaking of an opening door came from behind Artie, prompting him to instinctively throw himself over the front counter, landing next to the motel's whimpering owner, who laid curled in a fetal position with a yellow spot the size of Lake Bitchagan beneath him. The hired gun shot him a death glare before the counter's wooden surface exploded above him.
"You're gonna pay kid!" the biker called out before firing with the vigor of a ravenous animal, showering the hiding gunman in wooden fragments.
There was no time to fuck around. Artie needed to find Gladys and get the hell out of there. Reaching for the line of grenades, he quickly plucked another one, pulled the pin and chucked it over the counter.
"Oh sh-"
A deafening boom filled the air, followed by the sweltering heat and the concussive force. Smoke filled the air, leaving the hitman blinded and gasping for air, but not able to stay in one place for too long. He readied his shotgun and peered around the shredded corner and found to his relief that the biker was dead, along with most of the wall blown apart behind him and another biker who had been in a bathroom stall was also impacted by the blast.
Pushing himself back to his feet, the hitman finally had time to reload his Desert Eagle and proceeded down the corridor behind him, leaving the frightened owner alone and to the wolves.
He dashed down the hall and came to a corner. Footsteps were heard coming towards him and he shot his arm out prepared to blind fire, only to catch himself when he heard a woman's screams. He peered around to find a half-naked woman running towards him.
"Get back here you-" a gruff voice called out as a biker came stumbling out of a nearby room with his jeans still around his ankles, only to nearly trip over them when he noticed the pissed off Italian standing before him with an automatic shotgun in his hands. Without hesitation, Artie fired a barrage into the man's chest and sent him tumbling hard against the wall behind him.
Artie looked down and recognized the frightened woman as one of the prostitutes who had been kidnapped along with Gladys. It was a surefire sign he had to be getting warmer.
"Run to safety!" he ordered.
"Oh thank god," the woman blurted out before taking heed to his words.
With an innocent bystander out of the way he resumed his hunt, kicking down several doors to find Gladys, but only succeeding in finding rooms with foul smelling beds, heavily-stained sheets and pillows that were flatter than a 10 year old girl's chest, truly the kind of place a person would only go if they had come down to their last dollar, but still no signs of Gladys.
He was approaching the door leading to the second floor stairwell when suddenly the door came open and he was met by a guy scrambling for his AK-47. Artie wasted no time with any martial arts-style takedowns and put him down with a single round to the chest before stepping over his lifeless corpse and ascending the stairs.
"Motherfucker die," a voice screamed from his left and Artie was rattled by a table being overturned, followed by a balding biker gunning for him with his MAC-10.
"The Lord forgives, the Children don't!" another voice called out as another AK-47 toting biker stepped in. Artie wanted to return fire, but couldn't due to their respective guns rapid fire rates. It was tempting to pull out a grenade, but he didn't want to risk damaging the building's likely weakened structural integrity, nor risk setting a fire while Gladys could be nearby.
"Give it up bitch boy and we might make it fast for ya'!" the second biker chuckled while his buddy laughed like a hyena the entire time.
Cappellis never gave up in the past and Artie certainly wasn't about to start a tradition out of it. He loaded some Frag-12 rounds into his shotgun and fired some towards the two bikers in an effort to make them stand down, his rounds punching craters into the walls and ceiling. He then saw a sprinkler fixture and fired into it hoping it still worked. Sure enough it still did and the closest biker found himself getting a long overdue shower, giving him the much needed room to fire an explosive burst into the man's chest, leaving a small crater as he fell to the floor with a sick thud.
The other biker was nowhere to be found and Artie listened for more signs of activity before carefully making his way along the wall and was about to round a corner, just when the wall suddenly exploded behind him.
He threw his arms up on instinct and in the process dropped his shotgun, caught by surprise as a pair of meaty hands wrapped around his throat and he was thrown across the hall, connecting face first with another door. Left wobbling following the blow, he was grabbed from behind and placed in a chokehold.
"Give it up pretty boy, you and your girlfriend are gonna be dead when this is over with! Nobody crosses the Children of Chaos and lives!" the biker snickered as he shoved Artie into the wall hard enough to leave cracks. With another hard heave Artie found himself tossed backwards onto a ratty floor.
The same burly, gray-haired biker stood over him now armed with a switchblade, collapsing to his knees and attempting to bury the blade in his face. Artie brought his arm up and felt a sharp pain as the knife drove into it, the mad biker twisting it to increase the pain. He was already fatigued from the stress of battle and weakened by his injuries, but he managed to shoot his other hand up and get a firm grip on his assailant's wrist, trying to push him back and prevent any further damage.
"You got some spunk in you little boy, but that ain't gonna be good enough," the biker hissed through gritted teeth, his breath reeking of alcohol and chewing tobacco, "I'm gonna have fun stickin' you hard," he said pulling the knife out of Artie's forearm before raising it high above his head again.
Summoning up his inner strength, Artie shot his fist up and caught the guy square in the mouth and finally managed to push him off. He rose to his feet and went for a kick to the man's kneecap before throwing him against the wall and head butting him hard in his nose before driving a knee into his groin.
"A Cappelli never gives up," Artie whispered to the man before shoving him backwards through the nearest door. His opponent defeated, he leveled his gun and fired a round into the man's face.
"Now where can she be?" the hired gun asked himself looking down the corridor at all the plain brown doors. In typical Children fashion, heavy metal music was blasting at maximum volume, muting out any other sounds that could give away her location.
Walking towards the nearest door he kicked it in, only to find himself in another ratty room where a frightened dark-haired woman laid on a roach-infested mattress, clad in nothing but a thong and one of the bikers' vests, perhaps one of their girlfriends. Whoever she was, she didn't seem interested in fighting him.
"Get the hell outta here!" Artie screamed at the woman and she complied, rushing past him with a blanket wrapped around her body.
Making his way back into the hall he then approached the next door and kicked it open, finding another empty room littered with empty alcohol bottles, food wrappers, discarded clothing and other miscellaneous junk. He did however find a duffel bag resting on the bed and went over to inspect it, his eyes widening as he opened it.
There were all sorts of small bills inside, likely the profits from drug sales and other illegal activities. Exactly how much was in there he didn't know and didn't have time to count it. Whatever the case, it was still money and would be good compensation for him being called out of the blue like this.
A deep pain to the back of his shoulder halted his discovery and he found himself thrown forward onto the bed.
"Time to die buddy boy," a raspy voice came from behind.
Artie fell to the floor just in time to avoid a second strike from the baseball bat his assailant had been carrying and he turned around to see the man standing tall over him. His shoulder was hurting like a bitch, but he couldn't allow that to slow him down as the man drew back for another grand slam, almost striking him head on with a blow that instead shattered the lamp above him. Out of desperation he shot his leg out and caught the biker in his shin, but he still kept coming at him and was going for another strike when a gunshot rang out from behind, sending him falling to the floor.
"Who's the damsel in distress here? Gladys or you?" the hearty tone of Iceman called out.
"Ha ha, save the comedy for later 'roid monkey," Artie grunted as his friend came over to help him back to his feet, a strangled cry of pain escaping his lips as he was helped back to his feet.
"Whoa, sorry 'bout that dude," Iceman apologized, but was cut off.
"Worry about that later. We've gotta find Gladys," Artie grunted, stopping to massage his throbbing shoulder for a bit before scooping up his gun, "Take that bag with you while you're at it. You'll like what's inside, trust me."
"Get back here you bitch!" another gruff voice called out, catching both men's attention.
They returned to the corridor to find another woman fleeing from a gangly biker, the other woman who was captured along with Gladys, yet no sign of the woman they were looking for. Before the biker could react, he was cut down in a hail of gunfire, saving the nameless woman from the horrific fate that would have likely befallen her.
With that threat out of the way, the two men decided to head straight to the door where the music was coming from, Artie readying his Desert Eagle and Iceman going for his Colt Anaconda. Looking over to his friend, the hired gun mentally counted down to three and with a nod, both men kicked the door down at once.
"Artie, help me!" Gladys' voice called out.
They were in a room slightly larger than the others, where the ex-hooker had been tied down to a bed with most of her clothes ripped away. Standing over her was a tall blond-haired man in his boxers and in the other corner of the room was another man with long curly black hair in a similar state of undress.
"Son of a bitch!" the blond-haired man called out rushing towards the nearby dresser in an attempt to grab his sawed-off shotgun, but Artie was quicker and shot the man three times.
"Malcolm!" the other man cried reaching for a nearby baseball bat, but he too would be dropped by a hail of gunfire as Iceman was there to cover his friend.
With the last two Children dealt with, Artie ran over and ripped the radio from the wall and tossed it across the room, smashing it to tiny pieces and leaving them in relative silence aside from Gladys' frightened whimpers. Running over to the mattress, he quickly ripped away her restraints and helped her into a sitting position.
"Oh my god! Thank you so much Artie!" she cried throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his chest, "I thought they were going to kill me!"
The errand boy gently pushed her away and looked down to her state of undress and then over to the fallen bikers. "They didn't, did they?" he asked turning to face her again.
"No…" she trailed off bursting into tears, "…they were going to when you showed up…like they were going to 'relive the good old days' they said…"
Hearing those words made Artie pull her close and gently stroke her long hair, "Well they're never going to hurt you ever again. You can count on that."
Before he could say any more the wail of a police siren called out from a distance.
"I hate to break up your happy little reunion, but we need to get the fuck outta here now!" Iceman called out.
Artie made his way back into the hall and took a spot next to his friend, looking out into the courtyard to see an entire platoon of police cruisers showing up along with a N.O.O.S.E. Enforcer and a Maverick circling overhead.
"Oh shit, we can't go out there! They'll kill us!" Gladys protested as she scrambled back into her clothes.
"This is the R.C.P.D., throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up! Failure to comply will result in the use of lethal force!" a cop shouted through a megaphone.
"What are you going to do? You can't just go out there and go toe to toe with all those flatfoots!" Gladys gasped in horror.
Iceman looked over to Artie and furrowed his brow, "Damn you to hell for making me do this."
Artie was perplexed by his friend's words and kept his pistol ready in case the man was going to betray him. Instead, the gun runner reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly dialed a number and got away from the window.
A deafening boom came from outside and the entire building's rickety foundation was shook.
"What the fuck?" Artie grunted as he looked out the window to see a smoldering pyre where Iceman's customized Patriot had swerved to a halt. The explosion had swallowed up the nearby squad cars and claimed the lives of several officers in the process; the survivors sent scrambling for cover.
"What, you've never seen a whole shit ton of C-4 get detonated?" the weapons dealer snapped, "You have any idea how much it's gonna cost me to get another customized Patriot like that?"
"I think right now we should be worried about getting the hell outta here," Artie retorted, "Any ideas how we're gonna get the fuck outta here since you just took out our ride?"
"We're just gonna have to 'improvise,'" Iceman replied leading them down the hall, "I've been here before. There's a backdoor into a nearby alley, should be a ride there, guy who owns this place gets all sorts of 'unique' guests."
The trio charged down the corridor, Artie stopping briefly to pick the Sig Sauer P226 from a dead biker and give it to Gladys, who reluctantly accepted it, smelling the stench of an accursed freak of nature. She had wanted to horribly desecrate all of their corpses in the worst possible way for what they had tried doing to her, but there would be no time for that.
"Quick, take that next left!" Iceman pointed as they prepared to round the corner, only to be halted as a door suddenly flew open behind them, followed by a gunshot and Artie wincing, a chunk of flesh torn from his lower left leg.
Gladys spun around to find a rat-faced biker having gotten the jump on them, a smoking Glock-17 in his hands. Wasting no time she raised her gun and fired four rounds into the weasel's chest.
"And stay the fuck down!" she spat to the freshly deceased man before reaching down to help up Artie, "How's your leg?"
"It's bleeding like a bitch, but I'll make it. He just grazed me," Artie grunted bracing himself against a nearby wall.
"We can't take you to a hospital. They'll have cops there looking for you," she said lending a shoulder to support him, "We can take you back to my place. I'll fix your wounds for you like I did last time."
"Will you two hurry the fuck up?" Iceman called from the bottom of the stairs, "I've got us a ride outta here!"
The duo carefully made their way down the stairs and to the back alley, where Iceman had managed to hotwire a ratty old Greenwood. Gladys wasted no time climbing into the backseat, but before Artie could make his way in he was distracted by more footsteps coming from behind.
"Shit, it's him!" a voice called out, belonging to another Children of Chaos member who had been running from the cops with two of his brothers.
"I don't have time for this shit," the hitman spat raising his L85 and firing a salvo of lead upon the approaching bikers, killing two and leaving one injured as evidenced by his screams of pain. There was no time left to finish him and Artie pulled himself into the backseat. "Drive!"
"Heh, you're the boss," Iceman sarcastically grumbled, switching the car's radio over to 94.3, now playing "Damien" by Iced Earth.
XXXXX
"Ahhh!" Artie cried out gripping onto the kitchen table.
"Heh, and I thought all you 'big badass hired gun types' were supposed to be tough," Gladys laughed as she applied alcohol to the wound on Artie's left leg.
She had already treated the wound to his arm and even that had been like pulling teeth, not even her warm kisses could soothe the pain raging throughout his body.
"Alright, I'm almost done," the ex-hooker said pulling out a roll of bandaging and some gauze pads, applying more antiseptics to his leg wound before applying the gauze and then wrapping the bandages around his leg. "Okay done. Not exactly good as new, but it's the best I can do for now."
"At least until I can get over to that mob doctor Boomer referred me to," Artie replied as he sat up in his chair.
They were in Gladys' kitchen and the hired gun was stripped down to his boxers as his wounds were tended to. Once she was done he had wanted to put his clothes back on, but she wouldn't allow him seeing as how he probably wouldn't be making it home tonight without a car. It was late and she was preparing him a sandwich.
"So…" Artie trailed, not knowing if there would be any right way to ask the kind of questions he wanted to. "So…what was that all about with those bikers coming after you like that?"
As expected, Gladys did not reply right away and looked off to the side, knowing the discussion would soon come down to this. She swallowed heavily before speaking, knowing it would be difficult even for someone she knew she could open up to.
"I have a history with the Children of Chaos…one I'm not very proud of," she said taking a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "I used to date one of their enforcers. His name was Marshall, the guys called him 'Big Mar.' Despite what he did for a living, he really wasn't like the rest of them. He was very sweet, faithful and down to earth, always treated me well. How he ended up with those guys I honestly have no idea."
Gladys again paused before continuing, "His brother was also in the group and he was jealous of him having such a great woman in his life and most of the guys were worried he was going to leave the club because of me. They wouldn't stand for that…so his own brother killed him…his own brother! He shot him dead in cold blood and kept me as his 'prize.'"
Artie listened intently as the woman spilled her guts to him. Deep down he wondered if he should change the subject, yet he stopped himself knowing this could be therapeutic for her and he let her continue.
"Jesse was nothing like his brother. He was a drunken, boorish brute who raped me and beat me God knows how many times," she choked out, but forced herself to continue. "He would force me to do drugs with him and would fuck other women right in front of me every chance he had, treating me like I was his fucking slave. He never cared about me; he just viewed me as a trophy to show the guys he had one upped his brother. I had to thank God that this didn't last for long."
"What happened then…if I may ask?" the errand boy spoke up, unsure of whether or not he was making the right move.
"The Luciferian Brotherhood, the sworn enemies of the Children, they killed him. He killed one of their brothers, so they tracked him down and shot him up, even set his bike on fire while he was still on it. Forgive me if I sound cold-hearted for saying this, but I never felt so happy to have someone die," Gladys spoke, a bitter smile creeping across her features.
"Indeed he sounded like a prick and got what he had coming to him," Artie replied and the woman nodded in unison with him as he gently patted her hand.
"But it didn't end there. I was still the 'property' of the Children and still had to do whatever they said and all along I've been working for them. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner, but I've been with them all along. In exchange for the work I do for them, they protected me from anybody else," she explained motioning to their current surroundings.
"So why did they kidnap you?" Artie demanded.
Another pause followed before she spoke up, "Because I told them I was leaving."
"And what finally gave you the strength to leave them?" he asked.
"You did," Gladys replied bluntly, "After that talk you and I had a while back…it really left me thinking, with what you said about Kenna trying to turn her life around. I figured if she can do it, then why can't I? I knew the Children wouldn't take it well, but it had to be done. I realized I couldn't keep living my life like this."
Artie was floored by what he had just heard. He couldn't believe a woman was trying to turn her life around because of him of all people, more so he found it hard to believe he could ever have such an impact upon a person.
"Christ, I'm a fucking mob cleaner, not a motivational speaker. How could I ever motivate anybody else to 'better themselves?" he thought to himself as he looked up and noticed Gladys staring at him intently, waiting for him to speak.
"Wow…I really don't know what to say to that…but I must say it's truly a good thing that you're going to attempt to better yourself. I truly feel honored that you would credit me with such betterment for your life," Artie replied, unsure of whether or not he was spewing a load of crap.
"Well you did and when the blockade is lifted I've decided that I'm getting the hell out of this city once and for all…and if it's not asking for too much, I'd really like to come along with you," the young woman spoke, stopping herself abruptly and clasping her hands together, again looking away in embarrassment.
"Damn, has this woman fallen in love with me already?" the errand boy asked himself as he noticed the intense stare in her emerald eyes when she again dared to look at him. It was now his turn to take a couple of deep breaths before speaking.
"Wow…well I really don't know what to say…again, I mean you and I haven't known each other for very long…" Artie stammered before being cut off by Gladys.
"I mean it Artie. I want us to run away together once we're able to get the hell out of here," the ex-hooker spoke before reaching over and pulling him close, kissing him passionately much like she had done the last time he was over, which eventually led to them having sex.
"Oh man…now I really don't know what else to say," Artie thought to himself as Gladys continued forcing herself upon him, eventually removing her top and pulling him closer.
For now he would just lay back and enjoy the moment.
Author's Note: And so ends what would have been an "out of the blue" mission like the "Bleeding Out," "The Holland Play" and "Blood Brothers" missions from GTA4. I figured I didn't want to do too much of featuring Randy's special ability of him being able to hack into the R.C.P.D. database and being able to erase your wanted level, so I redid the ending from the original.
Commander Kidd Spiced Rum is supposed to be a spoof of Captain Morgan spiced rum, another allusion to a real-life pirate, in this case William Kidd.
Well I think that's everything for now so until next time read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/