12. Twisted Sister - I Wanna Rock
"Alright," I panted, "stealth is back on the menu." I admitted to myself lying in my empty bathtub.
Friday evening, tomorrow, I was going to hit them. Peppe had passed along, that the talk on the street hinted at an event being in the works for Saturday, which apparently meant that the Ibanescu clan and most of their foot soldiers were going to gather in their apartment building slash headquarters to prepare the show.
It had seemed, that Peppe had felt the need to strengthen my resolve because he had mentioned in a seemingly offhand comment, that he wasn't sure if the event was about dog fighting or had something to do with their budding business in human trafficking.
Currently, in this very moment, I didn't give a shit.
You see, I wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but I tended to use my common sense whenever possible and think things through to the best of my abilities. And that's exactly why I usually didn't like surprises, I wanted to know what I could expect in any given situation and be absolutely sure that I could handle it.
I knew I could dish out the violence. Increasingly intense training meant, that I could now move with my armor and helmet as if they weren't even there. As long as I could support my muscle growth with the required nutrient supply, which, to be honest was noticeably starting to eat in my dwindling funds and studiously underwent my heat treatment to promote the accelerated healing and prevent any and all fatigue in my muscles I would keep getting stronger and faster every single day.
It had gotten to the point where I had decided to buy a couple of heavy security chains to function as additional weights. Either to wrap around the head of my axe or around myself to make the most of my enhancements.
Like I said, I knew could deal the damage, but I really wasn't sure if I could take the punishment that was inevitably heading my way.
That burning question had gotten me into my empty bathtub and to the not entirely unsurprising conclusion, that I must be a bit touched in the head already.
Bottle of wine for some liquid courage, now half-empty, some proper rock music to get the blood flowing and my infra-red heater pointed at the edge of the tub where my left thigh was still resting.
Yes, I had been as prepared as possible and had even used my trusty stress ball as a gag to prevent me from biting off my own tongue or damage my teeth.
I had been a smart cookie just so I could be a dump moron and stab myself into the thigh to look how much it would hurt.
Is that what they meant by suffering for your art?
Probably not, I thought as I reached out of the tub and blindly grabbed for my bottle.
I quietly approached the banged-up van parked at the street from behind and gave three solid knocks to its side, announcing my presence to the two men in the cabin.
Hearing the passenger window wind down I calmly made my way forward and came face to face with Paulie.
Acknowledging Bobby at the wheel with a friendly wave I focused back on Paulie, my former mentor of sorts.
"Since sundown we didn't see much light in the apartment building itself, but a couple of cars went around the back, probably towards their backyard." He said while keeping his eyes on the building in question some ways down the road.
He paused for a second. "If I were to guess," he said, sounding reasonably certain, "some of them are in the basement where we think they keep their dogs in some storage lockers and the rest is in the backyard setting up the pit and whatever they need for their shows."
I kept quiet, guess, it's nice to have some information, but I wasn't exactly SWAT so further use was pretty much lost on me.
"Did anything happen recently?" I asked instead.
"Some twenty minutes a car with two men left." He answered with a shrug but turned to me and handed me a walkie-talkie.
"We give you a heads-up should someone arrive, and you can radio us when you are done, otherwise we'll keep the radio silent." He gave me a once-over; I didn't see any concern but something I couldn't quite decipher. "You certainly look the part and don't worry about any stragglers; some boys will deal with them. Your only job is to clean that house."
"Let's get this shit done with."
Cloaked in darkness I stood at the junction diagonally across the old three-story apartment building decked out in dark brick and graffiti where the Ibanescu made their home.
The freeway in the distance and the Amusement Mile somewhere behind it. I was at the northern edges of the East End. Even for Gotham this part was run down, here you wouldn't want to stay outdoor even in broad daylight.
My gaze followed the broad side of the building until I saw the fenced-off backyard. I could see bright lights and hear the music over the fence which supported Paulie's assessment.
Axe hanging loosely in my right hand I contemplated my options.
I could force myself into the house, quietly take stock of the inside, take out who I came across, and get a good view of the backyard from an upper story. Or I could jump into the backyard and blitz them while their pants were down and then work myself through the house having dealt with the majority of them.
Despite my better judgment, I was heavily leaning towards the second option. I didn't see any lights in the house and I kinda wanted to get this done with as quick as possible.
"Fuck it." I casually swung my axe upwards and rested the handle on my shoulder. Purposeful steps carrying me over the street and towards the music.
Following the wooden blanks around the corner I saw three parked cars and a mesh wire gate leading into the backyard. The music now obnoxiously loud I still made an effort to be quiet as I moved towards the opening to get a look inside.
A trash littered backyard illuminated by a back porch light and two small flood lamps. I could spot six men trying to appear like they were working, stereo equipment under a corrugated iron carport, and a small pile of beer kegs.
The men were singing and laughing around what looked like a half-built wooden pit, those that didn't nurse a plastic cup were hammering parts together with various degrees of enthusiasm.
"Hard and fast, I can take them." I muttered, psyching myself up, the grip on the wooden handle of my axe tightening in anticipation. In my mind's eye I could already see my path and every swing I was going to make.
"Human trafficking!" I reminded myself, that was everything that mattered to me.
I was off, 10 short feet and then I would be behind the man closest to me. My right hand now further up on the wooden handle so that the first swing wouldn't have to be so wide.
I didn't use the axe on the first man however, a devasting punch with my left fist squarely to the back of his head meant, that I could retain my momentum and bury my axe in the side of another man's head just a step further.
My momentum carried me smack into the middle of the singing and drinking men. Refusing to give them even a single chance to shout in surprise I dislodged my axe with a backward spin, I let my grip slacken for a heartbeat, and used the now greater reach to split the face of the next man diagonally.
Breathing quick and erratic, adrenalin seemingly burning me from the inside, I leaped across the entire pit now with both hands on my axe in an overhead strike towards my next victim.
He stumbled backward in a panic, but my sharpened lump of steel was faster. I ignored my handiwork in favor of the two remaining men.
The one closest a blubbering mess crawling backward to my left. He was next. Straightening from my crouch above him I heard the beginnings of a shout from the last man.
An irrational panic seized me, I couldn't help it, I tossed my axe with all my strength towards the noise. A blink and I saw my weapon lift the shouting man straight of his feet, the force of my throw and the weight of the axe biting deep into his chest.
No idea how many seconds I needed for this, but explosive pants forced themselves out of my lungs as if I just finished a marathon. I could feel my heart pounding and sank down to one knee, desperately trying to just calm down.
"Fucking…Hell." I said quietly, barely hearing myself over the music blasting. Pushing myself up I trudged across the pit, stepped over the wooden barrier, and dislodged my axe. My eyes on the house and not on the carnage around me.
Steadying my steps, I made my way to the back porch and found the door thankfully unlocked. I stepped inside and found myself in a darkened hallway.
'Now what?'
Given what Paulie had said chances were high I was going to find people in the basement. Stepping further into the hallway I pulled a cheap flashlight out of my coat and saw a door build into the stairwell, which led up to the next floor.
'I guess this was the basement.' I thought as I stepped closer to the door, trying to listen for something, really.
My gaze however, stayed on the steps up.
I really didn't want anybody to come from behind and potentially trap me in the basement with no obvious way out.
Pushed into a corner, getting riddled with bullets until I would eventually die. Yeah, no, up the stairs I went.
It was eerily quiet, and the only light was from my own little flashlight. The view out of my masked steel helmet being equally underwhelming meant that things quickly became somewhat nervy.
Listen, ease the door open an inch, listen again, open the door some more and check the inside.
This went on until I reached the third and final floor. I was nearing the end of the hallway when an absolutely disgusting smell hit me like a ton of bricks.
At the end of the hallway, a window to the backyard let in a few rays of light from the flood lamps down below, and like the floors before there was a door right at the end. Creeping forward, my own light pointed squarely at the door I felt the smell, the stench, intensify.
"What the hell?" I breathed out, as I eyed the multiple locks bolted along the doorframe.
'Was that…?' I leaned in closer to the door.
'…' I turned towards the staircase…and took off my helmet. I leaned back in towards the door, this time no layer of solid steel between my ear and the wood.
'Is that…sobbing?!' Oh, fuck no. Please no.
I hastily put my helmet back on and took a step back.
My eyes on the spot where the three locks connected to the door and braced myself.
Axe in my right, flashlight in my left, and I kicked with all my strength the door in. The shattering wood impossibly loud in my own ears. Even louder however were the frightened sobs and cries of surprise.
Feeling on a timer now I immediately stepped inside the room and almost stumbled right back in shock when my light flashed over thin limps right next to the door.
A light on the ceiling flashed on and thankfully my limited view prevented me from getting blinded.
The sobs turned louder, the cries of surprise turned to cries of terror and I wished for a single moment, that I had stayed in bed this morning.
Four women in various stages of undress and malnutrition were scattered around the small room.
"Police!" I yelled the first thing that came to my mind that should be unambiguous enough to calm them down.
"Police!" I yelled again and almost sighed in relief when they quieted. Only the occasional sob puncturing the silence.
Suddenly, as if a dam had burst, they talked and cried over each other. I tried to listen and momentarily felt disorientated when I didn't hear English, but perked up, nonetheless. I understood pieces. Romanian?
I could work with that.
"Aiuto!" 'Help' I yelled in Italian and saw some of them stiffen.
"Ajutor!" One woman replied with a noticeably different accent and I furiously nodded.
'Fuck it' I ripped my helmet off again, immensely grateful for the balaclava, and immediately made the shushing motion desperate for them to shut up again.
Which they thankfully did, but that was exactly the moment my face drained of all color as I heard the furious barking from somewhere downstairs.
Horror seized me, which the woman seemed to pick up on as pure dismay washed over their features.
'Snap out of it!'
'I'm the monster in this goddamn house!' That thought seemed to have done the trick, I wouldn't die to some fucking lowlifes and their fucking mutts. I was going to kill every single one of them. And then I was going to look for the next little gang. And the next.
I slammed the door, or what remained of it shut, grabbed one of the filthy mattresses and pushed my whole weight against it. Essentially barricading the room as best as I could with what I had.
Deeming it good enough I turned back to the woman and motioned for them to come closer.
"Tenere!" 'Hold!' I said in Italian and pushed against the mattress again, preying that they understood me.
"…ține." One woman hesitantly said, and I almost cried in relief.
Then I put on my helmet, hefted my axe, stepped away from the mattress, and pointed at myself.
"Uccidere." 'Kill' I stated, resolve strengthening every heartbeat, and stepped out into the hallway, which was now brightly lit.
I heard the barking of multiple dogs now coming directly coming from the stairs at the other end of the hallway. Voices, too. The single Epipen feeling heavy in my pocket.
'Come on! Come and get your treat!' I steeled myself but still felt my heart punch against my throat.
Then I heard it, rapid steps, claws on wood, and almost all fight left me when three vicious-looking beasts shot around the corner and down the narrow hallway.
"Come on!" I shouted through clenched teeth, both hands in a vice grip around my axe.
Two were side by side, the third nary a thought directly behind, I saw the first two leap and swung my axe with every single shred of strength and desperation horizontally across.
I felt resistance and I thought I managed to smack them both into the wall, but every conscious thought was ripped away as pain exploded in my right forearm. Jaws dug deep, flesh was torn and punctured, bone was broken under the pressure and I cried out in desperation and blind panic.
Through a watery gaze I saw a snout and punched it with my left fist. I missed, I dropped to my knees in pain, and punched again. This time I felt something soft give away and heard a pitiful yowl. The pressure on my arm lifted for a heartbeat and I blindly grabbed for anything.
I managed to get a hold of something thin and hard. A leg? It didn't matter, I swung it around and threw it behind me. Hearing the shattering of glass and the yowls silenced I staggered to my feet.
Suddenly I heard a quiet growl before me and blindly swung my axe, once, twice, a third time, until I couldn't hear anything over my own heartbeat.
Eyes closed in exhaustion, I slumped against the wall. Dimly I already felt my body respond to my injuries. No wonder, given that I was practically drowning in adrenalin.
I forced my eyes open and staggered my way towards the staircase, I still had a job to do.
Standing at the top of the flight I couldn't make out what awaited me at the bottom of it. I had the distinct impression, that the men directly below me were probably feeling exactly the same way.
Who dared to make the first move, who dared to leave his position of relative safety?
The house was eerily quiet, and I was grateful for it. It allowed me to think.
I took a silent step away from the staircase so that I wouldn't immediately stand in their sight if they decided to go on the offensive.
My eyes drifted to the two bloody messes lying where I came from.
Precious seconds later and I stood at the top of the stairs again, this time my hands wrapped around the two collars of the sorry mutts that attacked me.
No point in wasting any more time and I unceremoniously tossed them down to the floor below me.
To my vicious satisfaction I heard two shocked shouts and more importantly two guns unloading.
Shots still flying, I grabbed my axe and made my way down the stairs like an avalanche.
Something pinged off my helmet, something bit into my thigh and I stumbled, but then I heard it 'click, click'.
My axe sliced through the air, no rhyme no reason, until finally my right leg gave away and I awkwardly staggered into a forward roll. Glancing behind me I finally collapsed completely in pure relief.
I heaved myself into a sitting position against the nearest wall and tiredly dug around in my coat pocket for my Epipen.
Eyeing the blood that was leaking out of my thigh I decided to inject the epinephrine into the biggest muscle I could reach in the side of my neck.
I put the finished piece of plastic back into my pocket and grabbed my walkie-talkie instead. About to give the all-clear to Paulie I remembered that I still wasn't finished.
'Shit!' I had to check the basement first.