Info on parts before.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," a blond-headed boy with a nine millimeter shook his head at the officers. "Took you long enough boys."
Doug and Tom rose their hands in the air slowly. Already both were looking for different escape routes.
"You two," the youth said cockily, "have been a pain in our sides. Ever since that drug bust we have been just waiting for you guys to make a slip up. Lo and behold, the two of you at the end of a gun."
"Don't know what you think you're doing Wayne, but I can promise you it's not a good idea. You don't know your boss. You're the tool, and he'll throw you away like the others as soon as you've served your purpose." Penhall kept talking with the hopes that the punk wouldn't notice Tom slipping closer and closer to the door on their right.
"Oh Doug," the kid replied swinging the gun to cover Tom. "You talk too much. And now," he waved them by with the firearm, "we are expected somewhere. Hanson, come walk in front of me. Penhall, anything goes wrong on our way outta here, and you won't have a partner for long."
Hanson glanced apologetically and Doug as he went to stand in front of the kid. The cold metal of the nine mil sent a shiver down his spine. It never got easy to have a gun pointed at you.
The trio walked slowly down the hall toward the two doors that would lead to freedom. Doug kept anticipating opening those double doors. Maybe they could distract the kid and make a run for it. To where he didn't know. They had to have people all over the place with an organization that went that deep. Unfortunately, the boy had a firm grip on one of Hanson's arms, and Penhall could see the gun digging into his partner's back. They'd have to time this just right, and it just wasn't worth the risk.
Bright sunlight made them all squint once they were outside. The kid turned to Doug and handed him a pair of keys.
"Walk over to the car and unlock the trunk."
Doug did as he was told, but didn't like the way things were turning out. If they were forced to get into this car, they'd lose any control they ever had over the situation.
"Now tie him up Tom." The kid's use of his first name made Hanson's blood boil, but there was nothing he could do about it as the gun was moved from his back to aiming point blank at Penhall's skull. He finished tying Penhall up as loosely as possible with the kid watching, and, with sorrowful eyes, pushed Doug into the trunk and locked it, as ordered.
"Your turn." The kid waved him over, and he approached cautiously. Right when the kid moved the gun to start tying his hands, he jerked suddenly, sending the gun flying.
"You son of a bitch!" Wayne yelled, his face red with fury. He attacked Tom with his fists, Tom weaved and ducked, leaving the kid punching nothing but air. Hanson brought a sharp uppercut to the kid's chin, and Wayne fell like a log.
"That's right you asshole," Tom panted. "You don't screw with cops." He was reaching into the kid's pocket for the keys when there was the unmistakable crack of a gun firing. Hanson turned just in time to see Score handling the thrown firearm when fire pierced his shoulder with unabridged agony. He screamed once, then fell, not feeling the ground as his vision faded to black.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," a blond-headed boy with a nine millimeter shook his head at the officers. "Took you long enough boys."
Doug and Tom rose their hands in the air slowly. Already both were looking for different escape routes.
"You two," the youth said cockily, "have been a pain in our sides. Ever since that drug bust we have been just waiting for you guys to make a slip up. Lo and behold, the two of you at the end of a gun."
"Don't know what you think you're doing Wayne, but I can promise you it's not a good idea. You don't know your boss. You're the tool, and he'll throw you away like the others as soon as you've served your purpose." Penhall kept talking with the hopes that the punk wouldn't notice Tom slipping closer and closer to the door on their right.
"Oh Doug," the kid replied swinging the gun to cover Tom. "You talk too much. And now," he waved them by with the firearm, "we are expected somewhere. Hanson, come walk in front of me. Penhall, anything goes wrong on our way outta here, and you won't have a partner for long."
Hanson glanced apologetically and Doug as he went to stand in front of the kid. The cold metal of the nine mil sent a shiver down his spine. It never got easy to have a gun pointed at you.
The trio walked slowly down the hall toward the two doors that would lead to freedom. Doug kept anticipating opening those double doors. Maybe they could distract the kid and make a run for it. To where he didn't know. They had to have people all over the place with an organization that went that deep. Unfortunately, the boy had a firm grip on one of Hanson's arms, and Penhall could see the gun digging into his partner's back. They'd have to time this just right, and it just wasn't worth the risk.
Bright sunlight made them all squint once they were outside. The kid turned to Doug and handed him a pair of keys.
"Walk over to the car and unlock the trunk."
Doug did as he was told, but didn't like the way things were turning out. If they were forced to get into this car, they'd lose any control they ever had over the situation.
"Now tie him up Tom." The kid's use of his first name made Hanson's blood boil, but there was nothing he could do about it as the gun was moved from his back to aiming point blank at Penhall's skull. He finished tying Penhall up as loosely as possible with the kid watching, and, with sorrowful eyes, pushed Doug into the trunk and locked it, as ordered.
"Your turn." The kid waved him over, and he approached cautiously. Right when the kid moved the gun to start tying his hands, he jerked suddenly, sending the gun flying.
"You son of a bitch!" Wayne yelled, his face red with fury. He attacked Tom with his fists, Tom weaved and ducked, leaving the kid punching nothing but air. Hanson brought a sharp uppercut to the kid's chin, and Wayne fell like a log.
"That's right you asshole," Tom panted. "You don't screw with cops." He was reaching into the kid's pocket for the keys when there was the unmistakable crack of a gun firing. Hanson turned just in time to see Score handling the thrown firearm when fire pierced his shoulder with unabridged agony. He screamed once, then fell, not feeling the ground as his vision faded to black.
