My homing device allowed me to follow them all around the city. I spent most of last night checking over missing child reports, and most of them seem to come from right around the area we're in. The van pulls up in to a side road near a junior high school, minutes before dismissal. I hid my car and watched for almost an hour in the bushes until one girl came by all alone. One of the men stepped out of the van and started talking to her. The other left the vehicle quietly and began circling around behind her. He grabbed her, putting his hand over her mouth. I stepped from the bushes.
"I don't think that belongs to you"
The kidnapper with the girl looked up and the other tried to draw his pistol. I threw a knife, the perfectly-balanced weapon imbedding itself up to the hilt in his forehead. The other threw the girl to the side and tried to run. I pulled out my .75 caliber hand cannon and shot him in the knee, blowing his leg off below the joint. I pulled my knife from the forehead of the first criminal as I walked to the second. I turned and realized that the girl was still standing there, watching me.
"Run along. You don't want to see this." I told her.
She listened. Good girl. I stood over the dirtbag.
"Oh, oh GOD"
"Who do you work for"
"I wo-work for Mr. Milton"
"One of Fisk's boys"
"H-he used to be! He went into business for himself now! He's on a freighter anchored about two miles from the harbor"
"Any innocent people with him"
"No"
"Good." I said as I shot him in the face. His brains didn't splatter as much as they usually do. The high-velocity round three-quarters of an inch wide just went in and out. But it was still more than enough to do the job. I quickly spray-painted my 'logo' on the side of the van facing the road, so everyone who passed would see what happened to people who sink this low and have no doubt as to who would come for them in the night. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my snorkel.
"I don't think that belongs to you"
The kidnapper with the girl looked up and the other tried to draw his pistol. I threw a knife, the perfectly-balanced weapon imbedding itself up to the hilt in his forehead. The other threw the girl to the side and tried to run. I pulled out my .75 caliber hand cannon and shot him in the knee, blowing his leg off below the joint. I pulled my knife from the forehead of the first criminal as I walked to the second. I turned and realized that the girl was still standing there, watching me.
"Run along. You don't want to see this." I told her.
She listened. Good girl. I stood over the dirtbag.
"Oh, oh GOD"
"Who do you work for"
"I wo-work for Mr. Milton"
"One of Fisk's boys"
"H-he used to be! He went into business for himself now! He's on a freighter anchored about two miles from the harbor"
"Any innocent people with him"
"No"
"Good." I said as I shot him in the face. His brains didn't splatter as much as they usually do. The high-velocity round three-quarters of an inch wide just went in and out. But it was still more than enough to do the job. I quickly spray-painted my 'logo' on the side of the van facing the road, so everyone who passed would see what happened to people who sink this low and have no doubt as to who would come for them in the night. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my snorkel.