The cell phone began to ring noisily, causing David to wake up from the decent dream he had, and fall off the bed. He quickly got up and looked at the clock seeing that only three hours had past. Grumbling a slew of cuss words, David picked up the phone, yawning from the lack of sleep.
"Yeah?" David yawned again.
"Good, you're awake!" the voice on the other line said happily.
Knowing who's voice it was, he grumbled. "Brett? Do you know what time it is?"
"It's the morning lazy ass!" Brett yelled. "Rise n' shine trooper, we got some work to do."
"Morning means sun! Do you see any sun? It's five-thirty in the morning...lemme get some sleep," David groaned sounding irritated as he slowly got up.
"Listen, I would call up your brother on this but he didn't answer his phone."
"Gee, I wonder why," David sarcastically remarked.
"Look, I need someone who's a fast shot at this and my wife is too busy making breakfast and cleaning the guns, I'll pay you. Come on now, help a war veteran out." Brett asked almost sounding desperate.
"If it pays well then fine, I'll take the job. What are we doing?" I'll explain it once I pick you up."
"Fine, I'll be at Bean Machine at the red light district." David said yawning loudly as he hung up. What ever that nut job wants, better be worth it, he thought as he skipped a shower, and threw on a black tank top, matching black t-shirt, along with a pair of denim jeans, and steel-toed boots. Remembering he already had a magazine in the pistol, he grabbed his two-toned Beretta including a holster, and attached the holster to the belt on the back of his jeans. Once he was done, he went to through his drawer and grabbed one extra clip for his Beretta and pocketed it.
After applying deodorant and grabbing his wallet, David went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face to wake him up, followed by headed out the apartment, closing the door behind him, and locking it. His eyes were slightly red, as he yawned again once more walking slowly towards the elevator. He made it inside, and lazily hit the button for the garage level. He yawned again as the elevator slowly went down and closed his eyes for a few seconds. As the elevator made it down and opened, he took his time getting out, and looked at his car shaking his head. I'm way too tired to even take a drive there, David thought as he began walking towards the sidewalk.
The sun barely came up as the sky had a lavender-blueish haze, followed by light drizzles of rain falling down on the city. David thought to himself he needed the cold rain to fall on him to wake up, as he continued walking. He stopped yawning, as he walked past several tired-eyed hookers, and wondered why they even bothered to display themselves at this time of the morning, let alone while it was raining.
Guess their rents due today, David thought with a chuckle as he saw Bean Machine just a few minutes away from him as he hurried, in what looked like the sorriest, sluggish, half-assed jog anyone ever saw. People chuckled as David continued to jog, but he couldn't give a rats ass what they thought. He needed caffeine running through his body from the lack of sleep he got.
The coffee shop had a bright neon sign along with a huge coffee cup that was rotating at a snails pace, while there were several people walking in and out, in need of their caffeinated fix. David arrived as he saw a not too small line and, stepped inside knocking down a weary-eyed college kid on the floor, causing the unfortunate to spill his latte on his laptop.
"Sorry about that," David apologized as he stepped over him and headed towards the line.
The ornamentation had a lot of warm colors, as some people were sitting down drinking coffee, playing chess, or Chinese checkers, playing tabletop RPG games, looking through whatever on the internet on their laptops or at the desktop computers over by the corner. The smell of coffee was strong as he took another step, getting ready to take his order.
David looked at the choices, and saw someone holding two plates of a fresh batch of brownies. Only difference was, one plate the brownies had a few green flakes, as well as a few green pieces hanging out of them. He then saw the sign next to them saying 'Buddy Brownies', and wondered for a moment what the hell it meant. Buddy Brownies? Bud...nevermind, I get it, David thought as he shook his head.
The other plate of brownies didn't have weed in them but contained several white pieces of what looked like broken pieces of pills, and dusted lightly with some kind of white powder. The sign next to them had said 'Coca-Brownies', to which David knew right away that they had cocaine sprinkled on them. He then looked up, seeing he was next in line as he saw a lady give her order to the man upfront.
"Yeah...let me get a tall High Noon, two grande Gunkachinos; one with hazelnut and the other vanilla with extra sugar. And let me get six of those Coca-Brownies to go please."
The clerk rapidly entered the customers order in, and then looked up at her and said in a cheerful manner, "That will be $37.55 please."
While the transaction took place, David felt his phone vibrate. Taking it out, he saw that Brett was calling him once again. Seeing that this was going to take a while, he decided to answer the phone. "What is it?" David asked still sound cranky.
"You over at the shop?"
"Yeah, just getting myself something to wake up. Listen, I'll be outside, in a little bit, this shouldn't take long." I hope, he thought to himself as David hung up. He saw the woman take her order while already chowing down on two of the Coca-Brownies. "Try not to OD on your way out miss."
"Huh?" She said looking at him confused with a mouth full of chocolate with cocaine and Pep Up energy pills in them.
"Nothing." David answered dismissively, and walked up to the front.
The cashier was a blonde haired white boy, with light brown eyes as he greeted with a energetic smile. The letters on his nametag looked smudged but, after staring at it for a bit, it read 'Alvin', as his left hand was slightly shaking. He looked like he was either hyper on the drinks, or nervous as hell. "Hi! How can I help you this morning?"
"Coffee. Small. Black. No cream. Three sugars." David requested, sounding monotone.
"We don't have small sir," Alvin explained as his smile faded just a bit. "We have tall, grande, and venti."
David raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me for my slight ignorance, but wouldn't a small be considered tall in that case?"
"Uhh...no?"
"Whatever, I'll have one and that's it."
Alvin then looked David and smiled again. His hands started to shake a bit more as well as he punched in the order on the touch screen. "Would you to order a Speedball and a Buddy-Brownie as part of our 'Up and Downer' monthly special? It's only fi..."
"No," David answered, cutting off the cashier while, becoming slightly irritable. "Just coffee...in a small Styrofoam cup...with blackness...and three sugars. That's all."
"Well...alright." The shaky cashier nodded. "Will that be on your credit card?"
"Huh? No! What the hell would I pay a cup of coffee on a credit card?" David said demanding an answer.
"Well if you like, you can sign up for a Bean Machine credit card," Alvin replied as he handed him a form that was several paged thick. "We can set you up with a temporary card for now if you like, all we need is your full name, and your zip code."
"My name is 'forget that shit', and my zip code is one." David answered sarcastically.
"Uhh...I don't believe that's your real name let alone a correct zip code sir."
"Sure it is," David smiled almost looking evil when he did it. "It the first zip code ever created. It's also stands for, I'm the first person that isn't going to give you all my personal information just so I can get a fucking card that will put my ass in so much fuckin' debt, my grand-kids will be filing for bankruptcy!"
The cashier hesitated for a brief second, but he continued to to press on the sale. "But if you act now, you will be able to save up to fifteen percent of your next purchase."
"You already wasted the people reading this chapter, the writer, and myself, fifteen percent of our lives from your bullshit!" David yelled angrily, not only raising his voice, but breaking the fourth wall. "Now just give me my coffee!"
"I'm only trying to help you out sir." Alvin complained.
"Then gimme the goddamn coffee! Is that so fucking hard for you to comprehend!"
"Hey, what's the hold up?" A guy behind David was shouting. "Can't this hurry up? I got three kids waiting in the car for their lattes!"
Turning his head, but stared at the man that yelled at him, David retorted. "Well, then mister father of the motherfucking decade; go be a family man and, keep an eye on them, instead of coming up here without them and, then start to cry when something happens to them!" The man looked at David, then ran out the store while David himself turned back and, looked at the clerk. "As for you jizz licker, coffee. NOW!"
"Uhh..."
"I didn't order an 'uhh', I ordered a cup of coffee, with three sugars, no cream dammit." David demanded. His left eye was started to twitch, as he continued to glare at the cashier.
"You know, after this purchase, you can be eligible to win a Gunkachino machine in our weekly raffle...you just gotta sign this form..."
David snapped as he drew out his Beretta and aimed it directly at the cashier's face. "FUCK YOUR FORMS!."
The patrons saw the gun and freaked out screaming, while running out of the store shouting in panic.
"Holy fuck! He's got a gun!" A male customer shouted as he stared at what he was witnessing.
"Ahhhh! Run!" An old man wearing a Daytona Billfish jersey and cargo shorts screamed as he pushed down a young woman, while hobbling towards the exit.
The young woman that pushed down screamed in terror. "I don't wanna die! I haven't gotten my v-card punched in yet!" She scrambled up to her feet trying to get out, only for a employee to knock her down.
As the customers ran out screaming, pushing each other out of the way to make it to the door, David didn't budge an inch as he trained the sight of the nine-millimeter pistol at the clerk's face, glaring at him, steamed. "Listen here barista bitch; if I don't get my coffee, we're going to see what your brains look like after they've been blasted out by a bullet. Now, if you don't mind, get my coffee."
Pissing on himself from downright fright, Alvin, complied as he ran and got a cup and filled it up with coffee. When he was finished, he closed it with a lid, and grabbed three sugars, including a coffee stirrer. When he had it displayed in front of David, he then grabbed a bag to which David called out to him.
"Don't bother with the bag." David said calming down, as he set the gun on the counter. They were the only two in the store as David opened the lid, followed by tearing the three sugar packets and, pouring them in the coffee.
As David started to stir the coffee, Alvin was shaking and whimpering in fear, as he stared at the gun that David placed on the counter which was several inches away from his hand. Opportunity was knocking on his door, as he stared at the gun, and then at David who was casually stirring his coffee. Getting brave, Alvin quickly seized the pistol and pointed it at David.
"Gotcha asshole! Don't move!" Alvin screamed.
David stirred his coffee, as his eyes shot up, looking at the pitiful sight of the clerk who had his gun. Emitting a sigh, he finished stirring his coffee and closed the lid, while staring at the cashier with a straight face that showed no fear whatsoever. "Be honest with me...is this the first time you ever got to hold a gun? Cause you got the jitters...bad."
Alvin was shaking more as he tried to be brave. "It's not the first time! I've held a gun before!"
"Yeah? Did it shoot out water, paint or little bb's?" David smirked challenging him.
"Don't make me do it!" Alvin cried out. His hands were trembling so bad, the gun looked like it was going to fall out of his hands.
"Go ahead...what's stopping you?" David said as he gave the frightened clerk a eye-piercing stare.
The moment the clerk blinked, David's right hand shot up, yanking the gun from out from Alvin. "Rule number one; if you're going to shoot someone, make sure the safety is off," David replied, thumbing the safety off the gun and pointing it at him. He continued staring down at the clerk while still smirking. "BANG!"
The clerk jumped back screaming hysterically, while David laughed at the sound effect he made. "Oh, God! Please, don't!"
"Relax, I didn't shoot you," David promised, as he placed the Beretta back into the holster. "I'm not going to waste a bullet on a guy like you," He then grabbed his coffee and slowly sipped it. His eyes grew wide, as he spat on the ground, and stared at Alvin. "The fuck is this!"
"It;s coffee, just like you said!" Alvin said getting defensive.
"I said regular! This is decaf!" David shouted.
"But you never said which one!" The cashier whined.
"Who the fuck drinks fake coffee at this time of the morning!" David shouted as he threw the cup of coffee at the cashier. The hot contents hit the man the face causing a sizzling sound, followed by Alvin shrieking like a white woman being screwed by a big black man, as fell down, holding his face, hollering in tears.
David stared at him and sighed, as he then glanced at the video camera that was above them. He noticed that were wasn't any blinking red light. "Hey, buddy. Be honest with me; is the video cameras to this store working?"
Alvin was now choking back on sobs as he looked up and slowly nodded his head. He still had his face covered, but he continued nodding.
"Good. Then you don't mind me going behind the counter for something do you?" David asked as if the cashier had a choice. Alvin didn't say a word, as David nodded with a small smile. "You're too kind."
As Alvin continued to cry in long overdramatic sobs, David headed towards the cash register. He glanced at the touch screen, entering an order just so the register would open, and grinned as a sound came from the machine, opening the register in front of David. Inside were a small stack of twenties, fifties, and a bunch of one dollar bills. Whoever thought coffee was such a moneymaking machine, David thought as he started taking money out of the drawer and into his pockets. The cash would help greatly to pay Paul in tribute, as well as a bit of money for himself. Hearing a police siren, he picked up the pace, making sure to get every last dollar out of the register. Sure it seemed greedy for a moment, but the clerk deserved it for trying to shovel all of the ideas down David's throat.
"You know, I'd see a doctor about that," David commented, as he started to heads towards the door.
POP-POP-POP-POP!
Four nine-millimeter rounds echoed, shattered a glass window next to David showering the beige tile floor with glass. David's natural instinct kicked into high gear, as David flipped a table, and crouched down, using it as cover. He then quickly, drew out his Beretta once more as he peeked up and saw four cops coming out. Two of them were carrying Glock 17's while the other two were each brandishing Remington M870P shotguns.
"Ok...where the hell is Brett?" David mumbled to himself, as he saw one of the cops look at him, and ducked down.
"I see you, you little shit! Hand's in the air!"
Before David could say anything sardonic, the four cops opened fire. The frame to the window they shot at, was torn off, as well as pieces of wood, and plastic exploded into fragments. David on the other hand, barrel rolled towards a small pillar. The cops despite having little bit of guns, were relentless as they continued their suppression fire towards the shop.
"Jesus! Don't I get my Miranda Rights, or at least a chance to surrender?" David yelled as he knelt down, flipping a wooden table and dragging it towards him making extra cover.
"Yeah! You got the right to shut the fuck up, and surrender to this shell!" One cop shouted as he unloaded a hail of twelve-gauge buckshot, destroying a vase, including a sugar dispenser.
"What's the matter? I bother you on your coffee break, or did I bother you cops while you were busy banging the neighborhood slut?" David yelled, riling them up.
It didn't help at all as more shots continued to hit pieces of furniture, the wall, and mirrors. David slowly peeked out and saw one of them that was carrying a pistol, ejecting a clip. Using this small window of opportunity, David unloaded a bullet directly into the cop's left cheek. The cop fell down hard holding his face, crying in pain, while the remaining three watched him fall.
"You just fucked yourself pal!" One cop, who was ranked lieutenant yelled out as he pumped his shotgun and fired, missing David by a couple feet. He went back to cover behind the squad car, and pointed at his fellow officers. "I need you to get an ambulance here right away!"
"Got it lieutenant!"
"And you, call in dispatch and let them know we have a injured officer, make sure to request a WL3. I want a copter around this area."
"Understood sir!"
He wasn't able to hear much, but David knew exactly what a WL3 meant. "Goddamnit," Muttering a curse, David quickly pulled out his cell phone, calling Brett. The phone rang several times before he heard the song 'Freebird' playing in the background.
"Yeah, what's up!"
"Cops! I need to get out of here! Pronto!" David yelled into the phone, while blindfiring several shots.. "Meeting at this spot is way too dangerous!"
"Don't worry David, I'll be there in less than a minute." Brett firmly assured as he was soon arriving towards his destination. "Just sit tight and hold on."
More gun shots were ringing off as David ran towards the back of the shop, emptying a clip. A few bullets missed him and instead drilled several holes through a picture frame of the employee of the month, ripping the picture to shreds. Kicking the door open to the back, David ran inside, closing the door behind him and began running through a corridor containing nothing but cleaning supplies. He managed to see an exit but it was blocked off by several boxes containing old paint cans, and rags that were soaked in oil.
"Who just leaves this crap around here?" David said staring at the boxes of highly combustible stuff. He admitted that, all of the stuff would make a great fire, as he started pushing the boxes to make it towards the exit. He then heard that the cops were inside the shop and yelling at the cashier he threw decaf at.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know! I've been on the ground screaming!"
Picking up the pace, David kicked away the last of the boxes blocking the exit, and opened the door. It wasn't raining as David, managed to step outside. Tucking his pistol back into his holster once more, he closed the exit door, while checking out his surroundings.
It was small back area, with more cardboard boxes, a bunch of used condoms, and condom wrappers scattered, and a bum who was surprisingly asleep from all the shooting, and people yelling going on, while using a flattened basketball for a pillow.
David saw a chain link fence, and proceeded to scale it, until he managed to get on the other side, and jumped off. Once he did, he laughed to himself, evading the cops once again, until he saw a helicopter heading towards the area. Annoyed at their persistence, David pulled out his Beretta again and aimed at the cockpit. He knew that their windows weren't bulletproof, and a single shot would do the trick. His index finger was gently touching the trigger of the nine-millimeter handgun, as he watched it descend and touch the ground. Ok,this is new, he thought as he heard a voice on the loudspeaker.
"It's me man! Get in here. Quick!"
"Brett!" David yelled, actually happy, as well as shocked to see him arrive in a Police Maverick. Not wanting to stay around for another minute, he hurried towards the copter, and looked behind him. Their wasn't anyone behind him as he opened the passenger side to the cockpit, and opened quickly, followed by getting inside. "What took you so long man?"
"You try refueling a helicopter at a gas station!" Brett answered as he took the controls, and lifted off from the street hard. The Maverick was now up in the air, and flew away from the scene of the crime. "What exactly did you even do man? When I was refueling, I heard on the police radio, that there was a WL3 in progress."
"Let's just say, all I wanted was some coffee to wake me up. And after dealing with that brief shootout, I'm wide awake now." David said, leaning back against the leather seat.
"You should have went to Tarbrush. Wouldn't have went through all that bullshit."
"Yeah, I suppose," David sighed as he checked his watch, and saw that thirty minutes had went by, since the incident. "So what's the job that Paul wants me to do?"
Making a small turn, Brett answered. "Well, Paul isn't asking for your help in this one. I am."
"Really, what's the job?" David asked sounding curious.
"There's this big red moving truck, that's shipping a bunch of guns..."
"Hold up," David said cutting Brett off, and sounding irritated. "You woke me up early in the am, to knock off a truck full of guns? You got a goddamn armory full of 'em!"
"Let me finish here," Brett said getting loud. "These aren't just any kind of gun's you find at a store, or a dealer, or some fuckin' mom and pop store. These are fully restored guns, from various wars this beloved country has fought in. Korean War, Vietnam, Gulf War. Hell, even a couple of rifles from World War II. On top of that some war memorabilia, like uniforms, medals, that sort of thing. We gotta make sure we get them before they arrive at the museum."
"Ok, but how are we going to find a big red moving truck? There's a ton of them." David mentioned.
"I got a tip, that the driver spray panted a giant American flag on the sides. All we gotta do is stop the van, and it's little convoy, grab the stuff, and pull out of there, before things get worse." Brett said, explaining the plan.
"Alright...so we just find this red van with a gold eagle painted on the side. Shouldn't be so hard, but if you were going to nab several crates, then why didn't you come with a bigger helicopter, like the Annihilator?" David questioned.
"Gotta fix that up, that sum bitch soaked up more bullets than I thought, when you and your brother went out to that farm and trashed it. The belly of that gunship took a beating, and the tail rotor took some damage. Nothing serious, but better safe than sorry ya know?"
"Guess so," David replied, as they crossed over the Lionel Bridge, headed towards downtown. "So what do we have to take on the convoy?"
"I got you a an assault rifle, with a couple of mags, including an M60 and enough ammo to kill off a couple squads."
"Good," David nodded as he unbuckled his seatbelt and headed to the back of the Maverick. There was a SCAR-H and a stack of eight magazines close by. The assault rifle had a forgrip, including a red dot sight, a flash suppressor and a laser sight. He did a quick look at the weapon and smirked as, he set it down, and took a glance at the M60. It looked heavy and contained a medium sized bag on the side of the weapon. It was also on a stand that was bolted down on copter.
"Hey David, I think I see the van! There's several other cars and I think a couple of motorcycles along with it." Brett yelled out as he started to descend altitude. "It's gotta be the convoy."
"Give me two minutes to get myself situated." David called out as he sat down in the seat behind him, followed by cocking the helicopter mounted M60. Leaning forward, he opened the doors, feeling the cool air hit him in his face. He moved back holding onto the heavy weapon as the felt the Maverick lower down a bit.
"Ten seconds!" Brett yelled out as he pressed play to a stereo player. The song 'Powerslave' by Iron Maiden boomed loudly inside the helicopter as he turned to the side, giving David a view of the van and its small convoy. "There they are! Take no prisoners David!"
"I won't," David muttered as he aimed at a biker, who was riding on a black '08 Double-Y motorcycle, and pulled the trigger. The heavy weapon shook for a second, but it brought down the biker, as armor piecing rounds tore into the biker's hip. He pulled the trigger again, shooting at a black '08 Buffalo.
Bullets ripped through the windshield, tires, including the side, causing the driver inside to jerk the steering wheel in panic as he veered right into a brick wall. The remaining cars, returned fire at the Maverick, causing Brett to jiggle the control stick, pulling away.
"Come on David! This whirly ain't cheap to fix boy! Take them out!"Brett yelled.
"Watch who you're calling boy!" David warned as he struggled to get his barrings straight. He then aimed the M60, at another biker, and fired off a few rounds, tearing the front wheel, causing the poor man to flip off his bike and, smash against the ground, shattering his collarbone, and neck. As David, continued shooting, he saw that they weren't just regular bikers. These wore business suits. The kind that belonged on either rich businessmen. Or people who belonged to a certain group of killers...with badges.
FIB
Fuck! David thought, as he quickly aimed at the red van's tires. "Brett! I thought these guys were just regulars! They're the goddamn feds!"
"Yeah! So what?" Brett replied, as the side window cracked, forming a spiderweb pattern due to the gunfire.
"SO WHAT? These guys are fucking killers!" David yelled.
"And so are you!So shoot back at them!" Brett commanded.
David moved the light machine gun, shooting at the driver in the van. While some of the rounds, tore into the door and into the driver, one of the FIB agents in the second Buffalo, shot at David with a HK MP7. The round bored in David's shoulder, causing David to yell loudly as he felt the pain. He screamed as he aimed at the red van, pumping more bullets, killing the driver, shredding the back tire.
The van swerved, followed by hitting a lightpost. It slowed down once it crashed into several parked cars, while the remaining four bikers, and three FIB Buffalo vehicles stopped, close by. Each of them was dressed in a black suit, with a white earpiece, followed by wearing Kevlar vests. Already knowing what to do, they each got out, carrying their submachine guns, shotguns, and fired at the Maverick.
Bullets hit the side, but it was nothing serious. David's shoulder was starting to hurt as he turned the machine gun at the small group. He tapped the trigger several times, sending white hot lead towards his target. One FIB agent, took a round directly in the chest, ruining his suit, and ending his life. The others by him quickly spread out, looking for cover, while taking potshots at David.
"Brett, set the chopper down, I'll deal with them myself!" David said as he fired off a few more rounds into the engine of the FIB Buffalo, causing it to smoke and set on fire, burning one of the agents. David stifled a laugh as he watched the man's wails and cries as he was being burned alive.
"Are you crazy! They'll tear you apart!" Brett shouted. "Forget it!"
"Look, one of those assholes shot me in the shoulder! So I'm pissed! Now, set me down!" David yelled as he removed the M60 off the mount. He then saw a small box of M67 fragmentation grenades, and smiled, as he grabbed a few. "Distract them for a bit, while I pick them off!"
"Crazy sonofabitch...alright, you got a few seconds till I touch down, so get ready."
Way ahead of you captain, David mused as he held on while the helicopter set down.
Brett lowered the Maverick down, while FIB shot it several times, missing. "Touchdown! GO! GO! GO!"
David replied, jumping off, and jogged towards the first sign of cover, while the Maverick pulled up and away. David got to cover behind a rusty brown '01 Lobo, and glanced at the FIB shooting at the helicopter, unaware of him. Pulling a grenade out of his pocket, he pulled the pin, and chucked it hard right at an FIB agent's foot. David ducked down as he heard the loud explosion, followed by the guy being launched in the air, and hitting the ground dead.
"Fuck was that!" One agent screamed as he looked around, only to be pulled back into cover.
"Check over in that area! We need to hold it till N.O.O.S.E. shows up!"
Guess again, David thought with a grin as he propped up the M60 and aimed at the closest agents near him. He then, pulled hard on the trigger sending bullet after bullet through the air, hitting some of them, and watching them fall down in awkward looking poses that even rag dolls couldn't perform.
David silenced each of them, followed by throwing another grenade, killing one that was ducked behind, a '92 dark blue Stallion, as well as destroying the vintage muscle car. He instantly ducked down once more, as several FIB agents noticed him, and opened fire. Bullets shattered through the windows, tires, including piecing through the Lobo's seats. David stayed squatting down as he brought up the machine gun and blindfired. He waved the weapon in a sweeping motion, as one agent tried to get to cover but took a bullet straight into his head, forcing the agent's brains to gush out of the exit wound.
Another agent took a bullet in the gut as she fell down and, tried to scramble back up, firing her MP5/10A3. She pulled the trigger, spraying ten-millimeter rounds at the hood of the car. "Surrender now!" she yelled as he emptied the entire clip causing the Lobo to pour out thick black smoke.
"Surrender to this!" David shouted as he poked out from cover and fired off several rounds. The bullets slammed into the woman's torso, drilling through the body armor and into her stomach and solar plexus. The sheer force, caused her to fall face first to the ground. He then aimed at the remaining few that ducked again, and fired at them. In a few seconds, the machine gun was empty, as David dumped it on the ground. He then quickly pulled out another grenade, followed by pulling the pin and throwing it at them, along with another frag grenade. The resulting explosion followed by intense screaming, and bodies flying in different directions, let him know, they were hit. He quickly got up, pulling out his Beretta, while looking around for any stragglers as he jogged towards the van.
The driver's legs were broken, along with his shoulder, as he looked up and saw a man approaching the van. Struggling, and crying out in pain, the driver reached for his Colt 1911A1, only to feel his body jerk for several seconds as, eight slugs tore through his clothes and, into his back.
David watched the man cry out in pain and die seconds later, as he opened the door, pulling the dead body onto the ground, and patted him down. He found only a lousy five dollars, and a small, blue, plastic comb. Hurrying, David headed for the back of the truck, shooting the lock, followed with pulling up the metal shutter.
Inside contained several wooden crates with a red 'X' spray painted on them, including a crowbar conveniently on top of a crate. Wanting to see what was inside, David snatched the crowbar, and pried one of the crates apart to see what was inside. When he lifted the top up he heard a gunshot go off, as well as seeing part of the crate chip off, due to the bullet. David whipped around, seeing that an agent still didn't know when to quit.
Half of the agent's face was burned, as he walked slowly with a limp. His vest was exposed as it looked like it was in a complete mess. Few of his teeth were badly chipped, including both of his arms was badly broken. He was holding an HK USP awkwardly, tilting the gun on it's side. It was a feat to see the sad sack, hold a gun despite the condition he was in.
"Got...y-you...now." The agent slowly drawled out as he struggled to pull the trigger.
David shook his head at the pitiful man. "Look, you're fucked up already...drop the gun and fall back on the ground. Trust me; it's better than what I'll do if you even try to shoot me."
"Fuck...you...p-p-pal." The agent seethed, spitting out blood on the word 'pal', as he mustard enough energy to shoot at David...and missed.
Very badly.
The bullet not only missed David but, it ricocheted against the inside of the side of the metal van, but bounced back, slamming into the poor agent's face. The man had a surprised look on his face as he fell back, with a bullet hole through his forehead.
"Damn..." David muttered, shaking his head staring at the agent's body. He then quickly, pulled his phone out and called up Brett. "Yeah, it's me. I took care of everyone. Come land the copter here, but hurry it up, we don't have much time before more of them show." He quickly hung up, as he turned around to get a look at the stuff that they knocked off.
Inside the crate were a few M16A1's along with a few MAT-49 submachine gun's, a Chinese made SKS rifle and Sterling L2A1 British sub-machineguns. An old looking M79 grenade launcher, was leaning against several belts of 7.62mm that belonged for an M60 machine gun including another vintage weapon that nestled aside. Pulling out an old M14 including a clip, David turned around and saw the Maverick approach close by the van.
Brett came out of the helicopter, making a beeline towards the van. He saw David holding the old weapon, as he grabbed a box. "How does it feel holding to a piece of solid firepower?" he asked grinning ear to ear.
"Heavy," David commented as he inserted a clip, and cocked it. The pain in his shoulder throbbed as set the weapon down and, assisted with his partner in carrying the boxes to the copter. By the time he was done loading the first box on the Maverick, he heard the sound of the police sirens as he looked up in shock. Several police cars approached them, followed by a S.W.A.T. van. "Brett, we gotta hurry this up!" he yelled, as he brought up the semi-automatic rifle and fired off several rounds directly into the windshield of a cop car, killing the driver.
As that police car crashed into the wreckage of one of the FIB Buffalo cars, the others stopped, and immediately got out, followed by opening fire at the two of them. While Brett performed a shoulder roll and got out of the way, David wasn't so lucky as he caught two bullets in his left thigh.
David shouted in pain as he fell to the ground. His thigh was burning as David cried out, fighting through the agonizing feeling that was running though his whole leg. He felt the back of his collar being tugged as Brett was dragging him towards the Maverick with one hand and, firing a Mini-Uzi with the other. David brought up the rifle and fired off three shots into a cop's groin, and two more into another cop's throat, killing them both.
"We gotta get the hell out of here! This spots getting hotter, than a Cambodian whorehouse during the rainy season!" Brett shouted, spraying his weapon back and forth before the gun went dry.
"What?" David shouted at the ridiculous comment.
"In other words; fall back!"
"We gotta get the other boxes! There's three left we haven't gotten." David complained as he fired a round into a S.W.A.T. officer's chest, followed with a few more rounds into helmet, hopefully piercing through and embedding a bullet inside the man's skull. "We aren't gonna cut and run!"
"Do you see what we're up against!"
"Do you see what we have?" David countered. " What kind of solider are you Hawkins? We got guns, explosives, and all types of shit. When you said you wanted to get the stuff, I said that I would. I don't pull half-assed missions!"
"It's two against thirty-something cops David!" Brett explained as he quickly reloaded his weapon and fired from cover. "There could be more coming on their way! Maybe even N.O.O.S.E.!"
"Good! I can use the challenge...and seeing that I've been shot twice. I'm looking forward to getting back at them. Now hand me a mag for this weapon!" David shouted as he got down on one knee, ignoring the pain his thigh. He fired at a patrolman that was assisting his fellow officers. The bullet's struck the poor cop in the face, tearing into his jaw, causing a chunk of it hang on a piece of skin before breaking and falling on the floor, along with the cop as he fell. "We don't fall back, we tough it out, till its all said and done."
"You know, this country could use more people like you David! We'd win more wars that way!" Brett said laughing as he tossed the Mini-Uzi, and grabbed an M79 grenade launcher, along with a bandolier of forty-millimeter grenades. Inserting one of the grenades in the launcher, Brett fired one directly at the S.W.A.T. van, destroying it, along with several cops. He ejected the spent shell, and instantly reloaded a second one, while tossing the extra mag that David asked for earlier. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah, just about. Hurts like a bitch though if you ask me!" David yelled out. His Beretta was empty, as he shoved it back into his holster, along with reloading his M14. "Cover me, I'm gonna head back to the van."
"Roger that!" Brett shouted as he fired off another shot. The grenade flew through the air and struck right into ground near a cop. The blast radius wounded some of the officers but, for the cop that several inches away from the explosion, blew off both of his legs, along with causing him to fly back several feet, while screaming for God.
Popping up from cover, David raised his weapon and fired twice into a cops head, splattering his brains all over the hood of a police car. He was limping a bit, and could use a bit of treatment, but it was going to have to wait till it was all finished. He pulled the trigger once more, pumping two more rounds into the chest of a policewoman's hip, causing her to slump to the ground and cry out in pain.
"Ahhh! Fuck...this hurts!" The female cop cried out.
"Well, let me make it feel a lot worse," David answered back, with a single bullet to her head, causing her fall back on the street, dead. He then heard the sound of several ambulances in the distance. He knew that they were coming here, and it would provide useful for a getaway car, in case something happened to the Maverick. He ducked behind a cop car and fired off several more rounds, striking an officer in his knees, as well as into his gut. It wouldn't kill the cop on the spot, but if he wasn't given any medical attention within the next ten minutes, the loss of blood would do him in.
Back at the Maverick, Brett fired off another grenade into a cop car, killing a group of policemen and policewomen as they flew in different directions. Guns, and body parts were all over the place, as Brett smiled at the carnage. "Shit...just like in the Battle of Sydney...great stuff." He chuckled as he quickly ejected the shell and, inserted another one. He quickly fired at few cops that were trying to fall back to another car for cover, but they couldn't make it as the forty-millimeter round made impact towards the ground right by them, sending white, hot shrapnel, followed with sending them flying to their deaths in different areas on the bloody street. "That's right you fuckin' Australians! Run! Run like the beer guzzling, kangaroo fucking, dingo eating bastards you are! You know who you're fuckin' with! America!"
Great...this son of a bitch is having a flashback! David thought as he threw the rifle across his shoulder and started to grab the crate. He quickly ran towards the helicopter and set the box down. As he ran back towards the van for the second box, he saw Brett smoking a cigarette as he stared at the bodies of the dead and the dying.
Throwing the grenade launcher into the helicopter, Brett pulled out a Colt 1911 pistol from out of his back pocket and, started walking towards those who were whimpering and crying out in pain. He saw one trying to crawl away from him as he quickly approached the cop and put two into her brain, killing her. He smiled as he stared at the many injured, and started to laugh, like a madman, while he killed another badly wounded officer. "You...all of you assholes...after that little stunt you pulled ambushing us at that town...I'm going to personally enjoy torturing you guys...one, by fucking one."
A S.W.A.T. officer, heard him clearly as he tried to reach for his pistol, only to feel a boot press against his lower back. He screamed as he next, saw the gun being picked up by Brett, and then felt his body being kicked.
"Turn over. I said turn the fuck over!" Brett yelled. The officer did as he was told, as he murmured a small prayer, as Brett pointed the weapon at him. "You're in for it now you Aussie cocksucker."
The officer stared at him wide-eyed, as he slowly shoot his head, pleading. "Please...I-I...I don't wan...wanna die!"
"Circle of life buddy...and your life is over." Brett commented as he pumped every bullet from both guns, into the officer's chest, overkilling him in the process. He then, stared at the body and began to laugh hilariously, as David walked beside him staring at him. He turned his head staring at the Italian hitman and cackled. "War's hell, ain't it kid?"
The fuck is wrong with you!" David said yelling. "You having flashbacks?"
"That's now how you speak to a superior officer, private!" Brett shouted.
"The war's over Hawkins!" David yelled hoping, Brett would snap out of it. "Get a goddamn grip, we got to pull out of here! Now!"
"We still got a job to do!"
Ok, I've had enough, David thought as he quickly dropped the crate followed by giving Brett a right hook to his jaw. The punch wasn't strong enough to break anything or cause him to pass out, but it caused him to stagger and fall to the ground. "The job's finished. We're pulling out. So, get a move on!" He picked up the crate and limped towards the copter. Once he was done, he saw Brett walk towards the Maverick, dropping both pistols as he headed towards the cockpit. "You alright?"
Brett was slightly shaking, as well as sweating copiously. "Yeah...I am." Brett promised, shutting the door, while David shut the side door to the Maverick, and sat down grimacing at the wounds he just received. He then started up the helicopter, which only took a few seconds. He didn't bother turning on the radio, as he felt ashamed for how he just acted.
The Maverick was up in the air and pulling away, from the mini war zone that just occurred, as ambulance vans appeared, followed by more police cars, and FIB Buffalo cars. David knew they wouldn't be able to catch up with them but he kept staring at Brett and shaking his head at the stunt he pulled that would've nearly gotten both of them killed. There was a cackle on the police scanner, followed for a voice.
"Attention all units,suspect isn't there...we got multiple dead and critically wounded...shit looks like a war here...we need additional ambulances in the vicinity right now..."
Brett turned the scanner off, with a heavy sigh. He glanced at David who was bleeding a bit, but quiet. "How bad are those wounds?"
"Moderate...nothing's broken I guess." David replied.
"Well, soon as we get the stuff offloaded, I'll see if my wife can stitch you up. Don't worry, I'll have your money ready for you."
"What I want to know is what was up with you back there?" David questioned Brett. "What was with that little episode you had?"
"It...was nothing David. Don't worry about it," Brett replied. "I'm alright."
"Bullshit," David answered back. "You were talking about getting revenge on them for some fuckin' ambush. Now tell me the truth Brett, cause what you did was downright stupid, and could've gotten both of us killed!"
Brett was quiet, as he rotors of the copter hummed. He turned his head, staring at David's face, that was demanding answers. Turning his head as he piloted he then confessed. "Those guys...the S.W.A.T. guys...they looked like the troops that I took on back in the war. Hell, you know we gave them weapons, including extensive training before the war started...and they paid us back by attacking Los Santos."
Raising an eyebrow, David spoke, "Wait, it couldn't be them. On the news, they said it was a huge gang war that was all over the damn place. It was like the riot they had back in '92, only worse."
Brett scoffed. "You believe what the news tells you? They only covered it up cause they didn't want the country going into panic over two wars. One from the Australians and one in the Middle East. So the war from down under was all hush-hush, and worried about the war that damaged the fat cats economy in Washington. Still, it was insane what we went through...the town I mentioned," Brett paused as he sighed heavily. "It was a goddamn slaughter... a ton of them. There wasn't any back up, but we dug in and held in there...but, after four hours...out of thirty-five of my best people that with me...I was the only one left alive."
David heard the strain his voice as he sounded like he was about to break down. Survivor's Guilt Syndrome...Christ, David thought as he nodded.
Brett continued to talk as they were almost at the junkyard. "When I finally got back-up, they saw me...burn marks, bloody from multiple wounds, holding onto an empty pistol covered in gore, that I used to bludgeon people."
"Look, I understand what you went through. But it was long ago...you're alive. Be glad you are." David said showing some sympathy.
"Deep, down I'm not glad I'm alive. I often wished, I had died with my fellow men at that spot. Everyday since that day, I had fucking episodes where I see that incident happen to me, where I see my boys bleed out, crying that they wanted to go home...and I tried...I tried to save them...but I wasn't even able to."
David heard him choke out a small sob. "What about Paul? He wasn't in your unit?"
"He was already discharged before that shit happened. He found out about it when I got out and told him during my homecoming. In the end, after I was treated, they medically discharged me and sent me back home. They said I was cured after the extensive therapy and meds...but that didn't even help..only made the flashbacks worse. Tried to get a job out here...couldn't. Fucking president, was too busy starting the war out in the Middle East. He didn't bother to give a helping hand to the vets that were in that 'secret war'. Back in that war, I could pilot a gunship, a tank...a jeep. Fuck man, we were in control of multi-million dollar equipment, and when I came back, I couldn't hold a job parking cars." Brett shouted as he tried to keep his composure, but tears streamed down his face, as he started to land the Maverick. "Guns were all that I knew...I tried to get a job as maybe an instructor at the base over at Fort Jagg...nope. So what did I do? Run guns...and shit, just so I can get my wife and I something to eat. It was supposed to be for a few weeks...but when the economy took a hit...the small time hobby, became a full time career."
"I'm sorry...sorry that you went through all that. Growing up, I couldn't care less about you military types, cause I would think that you were fighting for a lousy paycheck, and in the name of 'freedom'." David said as he sighed as well as he glanced at the time and saw it wasn't even close to twelve yet. "Listen...sorry if I yelled at you back there about it."
"Don't worry...I needed it...I'll try not to have those flashbacks if I ask you to help me out alright?"
"You sure?" David wondered.
"Guaranteed."
Once the Maverick landed, Brett shut off the copter, while David got out. Brett followed suit, as the two of them headed towards the armory. David felt fatigued as he struggled to carry the crates, but held on for a bit till they were done with the last one. When the two were done, David headed inside the armory, while Brett went in and got his wife to pull out a medical bag. He downed two pills that Betty told him were high-grade painkillers, and went to sleep while she went to work stitching David's wounds.
Two and a half hours had past as David was resting only in his jeans and boots, as he felt his phone vibrate. Opening his eyes he saw a Barret Model .50 cal sniper rifle, on a table next to a bunch pistols and submachine guns. The pain in his shoulder and thigh were gone as moved his body a bit and didn't find a trace of pain at all. He felt the phone vibrate once more, as he reached for it in his pant's pocket, and checked it. It was brother.
"Yeah, Randy. What's up?"David asked yawning. He also saw a note that had not only a small stack of hundred dollar bills, along with a small bottle of painkillers.
"The fuck have you been! I've been calling you all morning!"
"Asleep," David answered irritated at Randy's high octive voice when he was panicking.
"Well wake up, you gotta come to the club Right now!" Randy yelled.
"Is someone trying to smash it up?" David feeling more alert after hearing what he said. "Is it the Cuban Cartel again?"
"No! Someone already did! It's somebody else! Just get here now!" Randy yelled again before hanging up.
David pocketed his phone as he shook his head. I know it had to do with those Bloodhound guys...I fucking know it, David wondered as he grabbed a couple of nine-millimeter magazines for his Beretta, along with an AMT Automag, with a holster and a few .44 mags. He threw on a Kevlar vest, followed by putting on his black tank-top. He saw his black shirt and saw that it was stained badly in blood, including the bullet hole that tore through and hit him earlier. Tossing it in a trash bin, he went and grabbed an Ithaca Mag-10 Roadblocker semi-automactic shotgun, including a box of ten-gauge shells. When he finished loading up the shotgun, he grabbed a few more shells and stuffed them in his back pocket. He didn't count how many he took, but with a devastating ten-gauge shotgun, and a Automag, it would be more than enough to go after them.
Stepping out of the armory with new equipment, David jogged, exiting out the junkyard. It wasn't raining anymore and was now sunny. The city's weather was so random, but it didn't bother him much about it as he spotted a beige '98 Idaho arriving into a strip mall parking lot, in front of a Lackluster Video store. Seeing his chance, he walked across the street. Cars were honking at him to move out the way, shouting obscenities, but it didn't matter to David but that car sitting in the parking lot. When he arrived on the other side he saw the lady walk in, carrying a bunch of DVD's in her hand while struggling to open the door. He walked up to it ready to bash the window until he glanced at the door.
Opened...good for me...bad for her, David mused as he opened the door, stashing the shotgun near the passenger side, followed by getting in and seeing the lady left the keys in the ignition. Jeez, dumber than I thought, he thought as he turned the key and started the car.
The owner of the two door vehicle, came out rushing at him armed with only a purse. "Get out of my car! Get out goddamnit!" she cried.
"Sorry! I'll bring it back, I promise!" David yelled back, laughing to himself as he threw the car in reverse, and pulled back while she ran at him frantically, starting to cry. Throwing the car into drive, he drove out of the parking lot and down Manhiem, before taking the quickest route possible; the freeway.
The cell phone started to ring again, as David raced down the freeway, cutting off traffic including a Wintergreen police motorcycle, causing the biker to bring up his siren. It was a bike despite it's age, was a reliable bike for policemen on the highway, with decent steering and brake control. Only weakness that they had was little protection in the tires, and any bullet even a twenty-two caliber pistol could rip through it.
David uttered a cuss word, but it didn't phase him still as he grabbed the cell phone from his pocket. "Yeah, what is it Randy?" David yelled as he could hear the siren of the motorcycle getting closer.
"The fuck are you? I called you five minutes ago!" Randy yelled.
"Are you hurt in any way?"
"No." Randy simply answered.
"Then chill the fuck out ok? I'll be there in a bit!" David yelled back as he quickly hung up the phone as he saw the policeman on his bike ordering him to slow down and pull to the side. "Not in the mood to play," David countered. He wasn't going to waste a bullet or a shell as he gripped onto the grain of the steering wheel and jerked it to the left, straight into the side cop's bike, in an effort to scare him off.
"Pull over now!" The cop shouted as he tired to control the handle of the motorcycle draw out his Glock to subdue David.
Seeing the black handgun, David jerked the steering wheel once more into the Wintergreen, causing the biker to shout at him as he popped a wheeling and fell off the motorcycle.
The poor cop landed on the ground, breaking a few bones, and tumbled around, while the Wintergreen motorcycle crashed into rail. The policeman could barely get up as, cars behind him honked nosily, swerving out of harms way.
David glanced at the incident he caused behind him, and shrugged. He wanted to test me,and lost...oh well, he thought as he turned his head looking at was in front of him as he took the off ramp, towards the Red Light District, hoping things were alright with his older brother.
Don't worry Randy...help's on the way...
The scene where Brett talks about how he could fly a gunship, and do such and couldn't handle a normal job after coming home, is from the final scene of First Blood. Pep Up pills is a parody of the energy pills No-Doze. I think it was time to flesh out Brett's character and give him a personality where he was a gung-ho patriot, but one that has psychological episodes due to the war he went through, and on top of that a struggling one working to make ends meet.
Yes, I did it! I made our hitman...BREAK THE FOURTH WALL. I debated for a while, and wondered if it would work, and after reading the argument in the coffee shop, and I laughed. Hopefully, you like it too. Who knows, I might try it again next time...maybe. Also the incident where the clerk is suggesting on different things to David before David pulls the gun on him, is taken a bit from the animated clip of Foamy the Squirrel. Hopefully you guys enjoyed and reply! Stay tuned and have a great day! ^_^