Author's Note: This chapter is the second part of "The Iceman Cometh."
Chapter 6: Estate of Emergency
The drive to Salmon Ridge had taken the duo over to Jefferson Vale, a trip hampered by traffic, road construction and the police chasing after Iceman when they caught him speeding. It had taken some driving along the side streets before he had managed to lose them and was now coming to their intended destination.
Salmon Ridge was an upper class neighborhood with streets lined with mansions and fancy sports cars parked in their driveways, almost all of the houses having their own private pools, tennis courts and in one person's case, their own baseball diamond. The community was also home to the Mary Pines Country Club, the Galileo Observatory and the Jefferson Cricket Club.
"No doubt we're standing out like sore thumbs already," Artie thought to himself looking over to his right where a number of young adults had congregated outside the Rainbow Party disco, all of them surrounded by fancy street racing cars, and a few of them clad in banana yellow jackets. He looked over to his left where Iceman was smoking a cigarette while blasting his heavy metal, arousing a few stares from the group, as well as those of other fancily-dressed locals.
"Alright, we should be close. This Cotton Dale prick can't hide forever," Iceman said lowering the volume as he turned onto a street lined with weeping willow trees and was scanning his head back and forth for anything that could have screamed 'home of a two-bit pimp' to him.
Artie too kept his eyes peeled, finding himself temporarily distracted by an attractive blonde sunbathing on her front lawn in a pink bikini. Once she was out of view his eyes returned to the houses and he shot a finger out, "Over there."
"Think you found it?" Iceman asked, stopping when he saw what he was talking about.
Artie had been pointing to an estate surrounded by a gate, which itself had the initials 'CD' on the handles in solid gold.
"That's gotta be the place," the errand boy replied, noticing a man in a purple suit on one of the balconies whom he assumed was probably a lookout.
"Well then it's time to get to work," Iceman said driving around until he found a back alley behind a Zip clothing store and switched the SUV off.
Climbing out the gun runner made his way around to the back and opened the tailgate, causing Artie to let out a loud whistle.
"Jesus fucking Christ man, do you always drive around with your little arsenal in the back of your truck?" the errand boy asked as he observed all the firearms and explosives present.
"Hey, I am a gun runner remember," Iceman said pulling out a Kevlar vest and handing it to Artie before taking one of his own.
"Well why did you have to take me over to that Ammu-Nation when you could've just given me something right outta your own vehicle?" Artie asked as the dealer strapped a holster around his shin and slipped a KA-BAR combat knife into it.
"Gotta give my buddy business every now and then, plus I thought I'd at least get a laugh out of seeing how you'd handle Colt. You definitely showed more balls than I expected," Iceman said grabbing a Type 68 AKM assault rifle along with a few clips.
"Uh…okay," Artie replied not knowing whether he should take that as a compliment as he grabbed a Benelli M4 Super 90 semi-automatic shotgun along with a handful of shells and a line of M67 fragmentation grenades.
"Relax man, just stick to the game plan and we'll be having some beers once this shit's over with," Iceman replied grabbing his own line of grenades.
"Which is?" Artie asked loading shells into the Benelli.
"We go in and blast the shit outta those motherfuckers, grab my cousin and any other women we can and then get the hell outta there," Iceman replied, "If we can save more than one woman from this prick's tyranny we might as well do so," he said performing a last minute check over his weapons.
"Can't say I disagree with that," Artie nodded in agreement following after his companion as they attempted to find a way to sneak around the compound walls.
They eventually found a spot where a Caddy had been abandoned near one of the outer walls and Iceman was up first, followed by Artie. Once they cleared the wall they took cover behind a hedge, listening to the thumping bass of music coming from within, leaving them to wonder if he was having a party.
The duo snuck along until they happened across a guard in a custom-tailored purple suit crassly relieving himself on the statue of a nude angel. Iceman raised hand signaling for Artie to stay put and withdrew his knife, sneaking up on the thug and clamping his hand over the man's mouth before drawing the blade across his throat. Looking around to make sure nobody saw him, he dragged the man's corpse over and positioned it behind the bush, with Artie stopping to search his pockets for money and ammo, finding $60 and an extra clip compatible with his Glock.
"Shh, someone else is coming," Iceman whispered and peeked around the hedge to see another purple-clad guard who was walking past with an Armalite AR-180B equipped with a laser sight, a joint stuck between his lips.
"This asshole's mine," Artie replied pulling out his baseball bat and waiting for the thug to pass before sneaking up on him and waiting until he was nearly touching him before wrapping the bat around the man's throat and choking him violently before letting him fall to his knees. With the man left helpless, Artie took a step back and delivered a home run swing, obliterating the man's head in a gory mess that sent brain matter flying against the nearest exterior wall with a wet splat.
"Heh, if this organized crime bit doesn't work out you should give the Statesmen a call. They've been having a pretty shitty season so far," Iceman snickered as his companion dragged the man's body behind a fountain.
"I'll keep that in mind," Artie sardonically chuckled as they crept along the house, stopping as they spotted another guard, whom Iceman would dispatch with a stab to the lower back, followed by him slicing the man's throat to assure his death.
The duo crept along until they came across another flower garden with a large fountain in the center. A guard relaxed on a wooden bench with his back to them, a bottle of malt liquor in his hand and an MP5 submachine gun resting next to him.
"Man, fuck that Cotton Dale nigga'," the guard grumbled, "I oughta' be inside with all those hot bitches."
"You want this one?" Iceman asked.
"Gladly," Artie nodded again raising his bat and creeping up behind the guard, drawing his arms backward and delivering another swing for the fences that crushed the man's skull like a watermelon.
"What the fuck?" they heard a voice call out and turned to find another guard stepping outside with a Remington 870 shotgun in his hands.
"So much for sneaking around," Artie muttered as he leapt for cover behind the fountain, leaving Iceman to finish off the thug with a barrage of rounds to the chest.
Muffled screams were heard from within the mansion and Iceman looked up to see one of the plate glass doors sliding open and another thug emerging with a rifle in hand. Again Iceman would be the quicker of the two and fired a three shot burst that caught the man in the chest and sent him tumbling over the railing, hitting the grass with a sickening crack.
"We got some sucka's rollin' up on us!" the heard another guard call out and three more guards emerged, two of them packing shotguns and the third packing an AK-47.
"Time to rock n' roll!" Iceman shouted to Artie raising his rifle and firing upon the trio, who had managed to scatter for cover.
"You cracka' bitches are gonna be sorry," one of the shotgunners called back as he stepped out to fire a blast at Artie, his round of buckshot shredding through the wooden bench and the flowers behind it. The hitman withdrew his Uzi and fired a salvo of screaming lead upon the thug, who managed to retreat in time. Two more guards had appeared and were firing wildly upon the invaders.
Artie and Iceman found themselves outnumbered and seriously outgunned, a dire situation which left the hitman scanning the area for anything he could use to his advantage. "Looks like I have no other choice," he whispered to himself and unclipped one of the grenades, pulling the pin and chucking it out into the open. There was an "Oh shit" heard before the grenade detonated, followed by shrieks of agony.
Iceman watched as the guard was sent flying backwards with both of his legs severed below the knees. Another guard had thrown himself to the ground with his hands over his head and was now pushing himself back to his feet, allowing the weapons dealer a one shot kill that completely obliterated the entire upper half of the hoodlum's skull before switching his aim towards another Ryder armed with a Tec-9 and filling his stomach with flesh-tearing rounds.
Artie had been forced to take cover behind a small brick pillar, its surface rapidly chipped away by the continuous automatic fire from the relentless hoodlums. How many were left, he had no clue, but knew he had to take them all out or else they would hound him and his companion until the very end.
Peeking out from behind the pillar, he spotted a thug that had taken refuge alongside the patio who was armed with an AK-47 and preparing to return fire upon the retreating Iceman. Steadying his aim he squeezed the trigger and knocked the gun from the man's hands, followed by an additional three rounds that found their way into the man's chest.
"You can't kill us all you sons of bitches!" another thug called out, "Sooner or later we're gonna get cha' and string you up by your puny dicks!"
"You assholes are gonna pay for kidnapping my cousin! Nobody fucks with my family!" Iceman hollered back as he stepped out to fire another barrage, a few of his rounds catching a thug that had attempted to dive for cover back inside the house. The man writhed on the ground screaming in agony unable to do anything else. He would soon bleed to death from his injuries.
"C'mon Artie, I'm through fucking around with these yahoos. Let's find my cousin and get the hell outta here!" Iceman called out, just in time to take a few rounds to his covered chest. The man's adrenaline was pumping on overdrive and he systematically moved forth firing another barrage into the oncoming wave of guards. When he was angry he barely registered pain, another reason behind his moniker.
The Uzi had run out of ammo and with no time to reload he drew the Benelli and fired a blast that blew another man's leg off beneath the kneecap, leaving the hapless hoodlum to scream weakly before he bled out. Iceman's AKM had run out of ammo and Artie covered him as he reloaded, pumping another round that destroyed a guard's shoulder before finishing him off with another blast that left what remained of his intestines spilling out of the fresh gaping wound. Carefully stepping around the fresh blood pool he chased his companion inside.
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"What? What the fuck do ya' mean ya' can't stop those bastards causin' all that ruckus outside? There's just two of those dickless faggots, how can y'all be that damned incompetent? Fucking kill them already!" Cotton Dale screamed into his cell phone, the veins on his skinny mahogany neck threatening to burst from beneath the surface at any given time.
"They can't be that hard to kill," he continued in his high-pitched wail, "Find them and fucking kill them! They're not freaking Marvel Man or any of those other comic character types, they can be fuckin' kill by a bullet to the skull y'know. It can be done. Either way they ain't gettin' up here, now do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear boss, we'll have them dealt with right away," the man on the other line replied before hanging up.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" the pimp bellowed, tossing his cell phone to the floor and shattering it into a million pieces. Despite his scrawny frame, the man could possess the strength of a buffalo when deeply angered; one of his own subordinates learned that the hard way after he spilled his wine on the carpeting in his dining room.
"And what the fuck are y'all starin' at? Get yo' bitch asses back into position! I ain't payin' y'all to stand around lookin' pretty like my ladies!" the pimp shouted raising his cane into the air.
The guards posted around the large room nodded anxiously as they stood with weapons drawn. Everybody was on edge after receiving the news of two men having found their way onto the estate grounds and now working their way inside.
Nonetheless, it was a battle Cotton Dale was prepared to win.
"Nobody fucks with tha' Cotton Dale and gets away with it," he grumbled to himself sitting down on his plush tiger-print couch and reached for the nearest bottle of any alcoholic substance he could find, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a drink.
The room he was in right now he considered to be his 'man cave,' more like a 'man palace' for a fellow of his expensive tastes, one that made many lower level High Ryderz green with envy.
The living area he presently occupied was lined with comfy couches and chairs, as well as possessing its own state of the art home entertainment system with a high-definition television built into the wall across from him, currently playing a classic Candy Suxxx flick 'That Can't Be Legal,' lights and smoke machines for a club-like ambiance, a mini-bar installed in the corner, more than one pool table, an air hockey table and a whole bunch of stripper poles and cages, along with a fish tank filled with all sorts of exotic imported fish. There was even a baby grand piano set up, where at the moment, a frightened player continued to perform under the threat of being shot dead by the mentally unstable pimp had he refused, a fate that had befallen the man before him.
"That's right, you bitches just keep comin' to me," he thought pulling out a Cuban cigar and lit it with his expensive gold-plated lighter.
"Hey Boss, you think we should call for reinforcements?" a shotgun-toting thug asked, reaching into his pocket for an unseen cell phone.
"For now just wait, there can't be any way those bitches could make it this far," the pimp replied chugging the contents of his glass down and slamming it hard onto the counter before standing up and reaching for his cane, which had a design of a nude woman carved onto it.
"Now to have some fun, not going to let those bitches ruin the mood for me," he thought to himself hobbling over to the double doors leading to his bedroom.
The master bedroom was one fit for a king.
The room screamed grandeur with its white carpeting, marble pillars, torch-like lamps, numerous well-maintained plants and spectacular view of the forests and mountains of nearby Roosevelt Hills. It had also been customized to fit his personal needs with a hot tub installed in the corner of the room, several stripper poles, another home entertainment center, numerous expensive paintings lining the walls and other crafts placed carefully around the room. In the center of the western wall was a king-sized bed that would make anybody rush for it right away, wanting to be enveloped by its seemingly endless comfort…everybody except its current occupant.
Lying on the bed was a dark-haired woman whose hair was highlighted by aqua blue streaks. Her clothes were ripped and her face was bruised from a recent beating. Her mouth was gagged and her wrists and ankles were bound together tight enough to prevent any kind of resistance.
Wasting no time Cotton Dale hobbled over and sat down on the bed next to her.
"Ah Kenna, you have no idea how happy I've been since ya' decided to come crawlin' back to your favorite daddy," he cackled, gently stroking her cheek and playfully brushing an aqua blue tuft aside, prompting a muffled shriek as she attempted to thrash her whole body at him. She was stopped dead in her tracks by a vicious backhand, the pimp's rings leaving scratches across her delicate cheek.
"Don't cha' get it honey? Nobody leaves the Cotton Dale, nobody…unless it's in a body bag!" he snickered dementedly, "Now, I remember how ya' were always one of my top moneymakers baby and all the dough ya' brought me…how's about we take ourselves a little stroll down Memory Lane…and I rediscover why I hired you in the first place," the pimp said shoving the woman flat onto her back.
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The duo pushed their way into the kitchen and following another shotgun blast, a tall thug's head was reduced to nothing more than tiny crimson chunks.
"Any idea where the prick is?" Artie asked ejecting a spent shell casing.
"Don't know, but we're gonna rip apart every room if we have to," Iceman replied stepping over the eviscerated corpse of another High Ryder as he pushed his way into the dining room, ducking for cover as a thug equipped with an M24 sniper rifle fired a round in his direction as more thugs carrying submachine guns filtered into the dining room.
Artie was quick to back up the gun runner, peeking into the dining room and firing a blast from his shotgun that sent one of the guards crumbling to the floor and pulling the table's apron down with him as he fell. He took aim and shredded another thug's chest apart before he was forced to duck back into the kitchen, but having bought enough time for Iceman to peek up and fire a volley of rounds at the sniper and catching him with a round to the collarbone.
By now the hitman had reloaded his Uzi and fired a burst into the side of an oncoming High Ryder, collapsing the man against the table before Iceman killed him with a blast to the face. Artie threw himself into the dining room rolling for cover behind the dining room table and popping up to fire a burst at another guard, who ducked out of the way and tried to fire at his shins, forcing the errand boy to leap backwards. Pulling out a hand grenade he chucked it over the table, causing the guard to leap up and try running away, only for him to be cut down by a barrage to the back. He was still caught within the blast radius and was flung forward into an antique grandfather clock.
A woman's scream rang out as Artie ducked down to avoid another guard aiming towards him from the catwalk.
"You think that could be Kenna?" Artie asked as he reached over to grab the M-4 of a recently deceased thug.
"We're gonna have to find out," Iceman shouted back as he bolted up and ran over to kick open a nearby door, only to throw himself against the wall a second later to avoid a barrage of rounds fired in his direction.
"You bitches ain't going any further!" a thug cried out before firing another salvo of hot lead. "Give it up now and we'll make it quick and painless!"
"Like fucking hell you will," Iceman shouted back before drawing his Colt Anaconda and firing two quick rounds, both of which missed and seemed to piss his attackers off even further. "I ain't got time for this shit," the smuggler said pulling out another grenade and chucking it into the hall, another explosion ringing out followed by the dying screams of another thug. "C'mon!"
The duo exited the dining room and made their way through a side corridor, much of the once pristine carpeting now blackened by the explosion and several paintings knocked from the walls. The woman's screams came from down the hall and were followed by another voice.
"Keep shooting! I don't care what's going on out there! We have a deadline to meet. We'll edit all the gunfire and explosions out!" a man's voice called out.
"It came from over there," Iceman shouted making his way over to a nearby door and hugging the wall. Artie took a position at the opposite side and the gun runner counted down from three on his fingers before delivering a hard boot which knocked the door from its hinges.
The duo found themselves in a small study where two frightened women were engaged in a threesome with a bald muscular African-American male while a lanky man in a purple baseball cap sat in a director's chair and another man held a portable camera.
"We're shooting a porno! Get the fuck outta here you bastards!" the director shouted before he was cut down by a round to the throat compliments of Iceman's revolver. The cameraman would soon follow after taking a bullet to the chest and the actor was left screaming in pain after the gun runner fired a round into his crotch.
"Early retirement's a bitch, ain't it?" Iceman asked before turning his attention to the two women, "Get the hell outta here!"
The two frightened naked women ran screaming out of the room while the duo left the once well-endowed actor to slowly bleed to death.
"Not her, we gotta keep moving," Iceman said reloading the AKM and stepping back into the hallway, where two more High Ryderz had stepped in guns blazing. Out of desperation Artie leapt across the hall and ended up crashing through a nearby door, shrugging off the pain as he pushed himself back to his feet and fired a volley at one of the thugs and sent him slumping against the nearest wall while his companion managed to drop the other with several rounds to the chest.
Artie was about to reenter the hall when he heard a frightened whimper coming from behind him and turned around to see a blond-haired woman cowering in a corner, clad in nothing but a sullied purple towel.
"Where's Kenna?" he demanded, keeping his rifle raised as he didn't know if the woman had something hidden on her or not. Nevertheless, she appeared to be frightened with her mascara turning her tears an ominous black.
"He…He…took her!" she stammered throwing her arms protectively over her head.
"Cotton Dale?" Artie asked.
"Y-Y-Yes…she was his…favorite…" the woman whimpered, "Please don't kill me!"
Artie cursed silently to himself before hearing more feminine screams in the distance. Checking his current clip he turned to the woman, "Alright, get out of here now!"
"C'mon, we gotta fucking move," he said to Iceman upon reentering the hallway and the duo proceeded back into the war torn dining room and through the double doors, immediately looking to their right to find three High Ryderz struggling to hold back a small group of hookers who were attempting to escape, smacking them around with the butts of their automatic weapons.
"You bitches ain't goin' nowhere! You're Cotton Dale's property!" one of the crooks shouted.
Not giving the men any time to react, Artie opened fire and caught one of them in the back of the head, splattering his brains all over the women they had been abusing. He then turned his attention to the other two thugs and let loose with a volley that tore both men's chests open and spilled their insides on the floor around them. Two more thugs appeared in an attempt to avenge their fallen friends, only for one of them to wind up with his brains painting the light blue wallpaper behind him and the other felled by a round to the throat which sent his blood gushing out like a fountain.
"That's how you fucking do it Artie!" Iceman hooted just as another door opened behind him and a chubby thug emerged with his pants around his ankles and a sawed-off shotgun in his hands, one to fall after one of Iceman's rounds bore a crater through his face.
"Get the fuck outta here!" Artie screamed to the frightened women, just as a woman clad in a dominatrix-like leather outfit and wearing a purple trench coat appeared from around a corner armed with a SPAS-12 shotgun. Not even bothering for the frightened hookers to clear out she fired a barrage of buckshot that caught one of the women in the back and struck vital organs, leaving her dead before she hit the ground. Artie in turn responded with a barrage to the woman's stock, leaving her puking out blood as she lay dying.
"Too bad, you were hot. I would have fucked you," Artie spat tossing the emptied M-4 to the floor and again pulling out his Benelli.
"No time to be resorting to necrophilia Chief, I've got a cousin to rescue," Iceman said pushing him forward and they continued down the corridor until they were met by a bloodied Latina.
"Over here fuck face!" a voice called out from behind and a thug stripped down to his boxers grabbed the woman from behind, an Uzi in his free hand. He laughed hysterically as he squeezed the trigger, forcing both men to dive for cover in rooms across from each other.
"Where you going? We wanna play!" the thug laughed while his human shield pleaded for her life.
"Time to put that target practice to use," Artie thought as he withdrew the Glock, unable to hear the armed goon's approach due to the woman's frantic sobs. He mentally counted down and with a deep breath stepped into the hallway and squeezed off a round.
The bullet tore off the man's right ear and he screamed in pain, forcing him to release his hostage, but not before he squeezed the trigger and several of his rounds found their way into Artie's bulletproof vest and knocked him backwards into the wall.
Heavily winded and feeling like he had just been pelted by a bunch of bricks, Artie raised the Glock and fired out of desperation until he managed to spot that all important flash of red, followed by the man's pained gurgling as the rounds found their way into his exposed chest and stomach.
With the woman fleeing in terror the hitman returned his focus to finding Iceman and found him in the adjoining billiard room, where he was in the process of freeing a woman with her arms tied above her. Artie's eyes widened as he recognized the blonde-haired woman, even underneath the scratches and bruises of a recent beating.
"Sunny?" he asked as Iceman ripped the duct tape away from her lips.
The woman grimaced in pain and coughed up a storm before replying, "That bastard…he said he needed to 'expand his market' and had some of his shit stain goons kidnap me and a bunch of other girls. I tried to put up a fight, but there were too many of them."
"Damn that fucker," Artie grumbled before taking notice of her ripped clothing; "They didn't do anything to you, did they?"
"Nope, but they were about to when they heard all the gunfire," the hooker replied straightening out her clothes, "Thank God you two showed up when you did. You're both regular knights in shining armor, y'know that?"
"Well I'm glad to be of service, but you'd better get out of here now. Iceman and I are here to kill that Cotton Dale fucker and rescue his cousin," Artie replied scanning the blood-drenched hallway to make sure the coast was clear.
"Then count me in," Sunny said rushing over and grabbing a Skorpion Vz 61 submachine gun from the nearby bar counter.
"But Sunny-" Artie was about to protest, only to find himself cut off.
"I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself," she sharply retorted, checking over the gun with the precision of someone who bore some familiarity with firearms, "I wanna stop this prick as badly as you do after what I saw him do to those other girls."
"Then what the fuck are we doing standing around here with our thumbs up our asses? We've gotta fucking move!" Iceman said taking off down the hall, stopping only to blast a purple-clad thug emerging from a bathroom.
The trio eventually came to a stairwell where two more guards armed with assault rifles waited for them, forcing Iceman to take cover behind a marble pillar while Artie and Sunny took cover behind a display case filled with all sorts of ancient armor and weapons.
Waiting for their enemies to run out of ammo, Iceman stepped into the open and fired another barrage that ripped away the plaster above one of the kneeling guards and managed to graze his shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. Leaping to his feet in pain the man was soon finished by a fatal round to the throat.
Artie took notice of the other guard rising to his feet ready to fire and leapt out to fire a round directly into the man's kneecap, sending him writhing to the ground before Iceman pulled out a grenade and chucked it in his direction, blowing the man's blackened carcass down to the floor below.
Two more thugs, a man and a woman, both attempted to ambush Artie and Sunny, but the hooker handled herself pretty well and dropped them both in a lethal spray and succeeded in knocking the weapon out of a third Ryder's hands before her clip ran dry.
"I'm out," she cried over the rattle of automatic fire.
Artie watched as one of the guards became filled with bravado upon the revelation and made a beeline for the woman. "What a fucking suicidal idiot," he thought firing a barrage into the oncoming creep.
Iceman managed to take down any remaining guards and charged up the stairs towards a set of double doors outlined by pink neon lights.
"Alright, we've got those fuckers. Let's show these bitches we mean business," the muscular weapons dealer shouted as he performed a textbook football tackle through the doors, managing to take one of Cotton Dale's hired guns by surprise and send him flying over the nearby railing.
The deafening rattle of numerous assault rifles discharging simultaneously soon followed and Iceman was forced to take cover behind a partition.
"Now's our cue," Artie said to Sunny as she swiped up a downed thug's AK-74 and the two of them charged inward as the other guards were distracted.
The gun trained his Benelli on a thug positioned near a gaudy black and white tiger-striped couch and let loose, sending him sprawling onto it and painting its surface a dark shade of crimson. Taking cover behind a loveseat he popped up and fired upon two other thugs positioned near a pool table, sending the first thug slumping onto its surface and then shooting down the overhead lighting fixture and striking the other man with it before killing him.
"Just like the movies…only better," Artie thought to himself as he fired into another guard and sent him falling backwards into a large fish tank, cracking the glass and spilling its contents all over his freshly-bloodied corpse.
Grimacing slightly at the recoil of the powerful AK-74, Sunny didn't let it slow her down as she took down three thugs that had taken cover behind the mini bar and then adjusted her sights over to the nearby baby grand piano, where she fired a barrage into a thug standing near it and sent the man slumping forward, the piano's lid coming down and breaking his neck.
Iceman crouch walked along a partition, popping up every few seconds to fire at Cotton Dale's henchmen. He was more concerned about finding Kenna and was getting fed up with the wave after wave of High Ryderz being sent in his direction.
A frightened whimper startled the weapons dealer and turning with his gun raised he found a lanky man in a white tuxedo shirt and black bowtie cowering with his hands over his head. Looking up the man took notice of him and tried crawling away, but Iceman quickly snatched him by the ankle and twisted it at an awkward angle.
"Tell me where the fuck Cotton Dale is or else I break your ankle in three different places," he growled, clamping down for emphasis, but not enough to actually break his bones.
"He's in the master bedroom!" the man blurted out, "Through the double doors. He took some woman in there with him too!"
"Kenna," he blurted aloud, releasing the man and peeking towards the back of the living quarters, where he spotted the double doors with the initials 'CD' painted on them in gold paint.
"Stop these fuckers; I'm going after that needle-dicked asshole!" Iceman ordered throwing himself over the partition and charging head on towards the double doors, ignorant of the bullets whizzing past him and leaping over the bodies falling beneath him as Artie and Sunny provided cover.
With another mighty shoulder tackle Iceman threw himself through the double doors and came to a tuck and roll, only to be met by the pumping of a shotgun.
"Why hello Iceman, I see we get to meet again," a high-pitched voice chuckled.
The weapons dealer looked up to see a lanky African-American standing before him clad in a fluffy floor-length purple mink coat with the initials 'CD' embroidered on the back in rhinestones thanks to the numerous mirrors lining the walls, a matching pimp suit underneath, black and white dress shoes, and countless gold necklaces around his neck and large rings on every finger excluding his thumbs.
In the man's hands was the source of the pumping noise, a cane which had the figure of a nude woman carved into it.
"Shit, I forgot about the cane. It's really a disguised shotgun," Iceman scolded himself, left to the mercy of a madman.
"I recall the last time we met, ya' put a bullet in my knee," Cotton Dale spoke, his voice turning into a near-feral growl, "I couldn't 'test drive' any of my new bitches for weeks because of you."
"Yeah…I remember that…" Iceman replied, trying to think up a plan spur of the moment.
"I take it ya' musta' come to say goodbye to your cousin, didn't cha'?" Cotton Dale taunted, "Tryin' ta' play tha' big strong hero and everything…didn't cha' know that's only in the movies? Christ, havin' the people be pullin' that shit 'round these parts only gets themselves killed. Don't be worryin' too much though, I am a fair man and will give ya' tha' chance to say goodbye."
Stepping aside, Kenna lay on her side with her wrists and ankles bound together, most of her clothing tattered and her face covered in dried blood. Iceman saw the fear in her eyes and it made his blood boil, forcing him to do everything he could to not lash out at the shotgun-wielding pimp.
"Such a touching moment this has been, but now it's gotta end," the pimp said training his shotgun cane on Iceman's forehead, "When you're on the highway to Hell, you'll know why ya' shoulda' never fucked with the Cotton Dale."
It suddenly clicked in Iceman's mind.
All this time Cotton Dale had been standing on a royal purple throw rug and the smuggler himself was at the very end of it. Without warning, he clamped down and yanked the carpet as hard as he could, forcing the pimp flat onto his back and firing his shotgun into the ceiling.
"Now you fucking die you two-bit dog!" Iceman roared pulling out his Colt Anaconda and firing every round into the pimp's face until it was reduced to a pile of ragged bloody strips.
"Burn in Hell you rapist bastard," he muttered taking one last glimpse at the dead pimp before walking over and pulling out his knife to slice through his cousin's bonds.
Kenna quickly ripped the duct tape away from her lips and fell into her cousin's waiting arms.
"Oh god Pete…I was so scared! I thought I'd never see you or anybody else ever again! That fucking bastard wanted to drag me back to Hell all over again!" she sobbed bitterly, squeezing her muscular cousin tightly.
"Don't you worry Squirt, you've always been like a little sister to me and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I allow anybody else to touch you like that ever again," Iceman replied looking down and noticing the blood all over her legs, "He didn't, did he?"
"No…," she gasped, "…but he was close…he would have too if you didn't come when you did…"
Iceman sighed deeply in relief as he held his cousin and gently stroked her matted hair. It was a small victory, not just for him, but his newfound friend as well. He looked back into the living area, where Artie had just gunned down the last remaining henchman and carefully approached his body.
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After one final burst the last guard fell flat onto his back with five smoking holes in his chest.
"Piece of cake," Artie chuckled ejecting his spent clip and reaching into his pockets to find nothing left for his Uzi.
"Hey Bub, are you there?" he heard a voice calling out.
"The hell?" Artie whispered as he carefully approached the body, almost expecting it to be booby trapped or something along those lines. Nudging the body with his shoe there was no movement. Using his foot to overturn the body he found an orange and black Whiz cell phone underneath.
"Bub, talk to me!" the voice called out from the other end.
Picking the phone up, he saw the call was made by some guy named Jocko and listened for any suspicious background noises, hearing some loud hip-hop music playing in the background, followed by a few more voices and revving engines.
"Shit, he's not talking. Somebody must've gotten to them. C'mon High Ryderz, let's roll out!"
"Oh fuck, we've gotta get outta here. The High Ryderz are gonna be sending back up," Artie shouted.
"We're right behind you," Iceman called out helping Kenna out of the master bedroom with her arm around his shoulder.
The quartet made their way through the once grand halls of the war torn estate and had succeed in reaching the front doors when the front gates opened and two Broadways came into view followed by a purple Stretch that was blasting "Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO.
"We're too late!" Sunny shouted.
Granted there were only three vehicles and not a much larger army, but it still dealt much concern for four weary individuals that had just survived one hellacious battle and were dangerously low on ammo, most of it already expended against the desperate, undisciplined thugs they had just gone up against.
"Looks like we're just gonna have to fight our way out," Artie said pumping his shotgun.
A smile crossed Iceman's face as he looked back to his three companions, "That's exactly what I wanted to hear!"
"Time to die you inbred fucks!" one of the Ryderz shouted stepping out from the Broadway with an Ingram MAC-10 in hand, managing to squeeze of a few rounds before Iceman dropped him with a round that blew off the left side of his forehead, obliterating the portions of skull underneath.
Three more thugs emerged from the Broadways and six emerged from the Stretch, all of them scrambling for cover behind their vehicles and statues lining the driveway as Iceman fired another barrage, his rounds tearing through the front windshield of the Stretch and flattening its two front tires. It became personal for the smuggler when they kidnapped his own flesh and blood and he desperately wanted to kill as many of them as possible for committing that grievous sin.
Noting his close proximity to one of the Broadways, he pulled out one of his grenades and rolled it beneath the lowrider, bolting for cover behind another statue as another explosion rang out and the car burst into flames, its burning husk overturning onto the Stretch. The frightened High Ryderz rushed out from what was supposed to be their protective barrier, right into the waiting bullets of his companions.
Artie smiled as his shells tore through the chests of the attacking High Ryderz, both of them lurching violently in their last few moments of life. A second later, the car exploded and incinerated their remains.
A loud rattle from his left jarred the errand boy from his thoughts and he turned to see Sunny returning fire with some of the gangbangers, handling the rifle's recoil surprisingly well. It made him wonder if she had experienced battle firsthand in the past.
One of the thugs she fired at was quickly dropped by a barrage of hot metal rounds tearing through his stomach and another was forced to drop his shotgun after taking a bullet to the shoulder, only to be sent staggering pitifully for cover and meeting his end via a round through the cranium compliments of Artie.
"You High Ryderz are fucking wimps! I can't believe there are people out there afraid of you," Iceman taunted as he managed to drop a goon trying to run away and watched as another attempted to flee, only to be taken down by the combined effort of Artie and Sunny. That had been the last of the reinforcements and the fighters lowered their weapons, staring passively at the burning vehicles and shot up corpses bleeding out.
"C'mon, let's get the hell outta here," the weapons dealer said facing his newly-liberated cousin.
"Wait," Artie said raising his hand and then approaching a freshly-deceased High Ryder. Kneeling down he patted the man's body, finding two unused clips for his Glock, as well as $250 in cash. "Better see what else we can find."
In the end they managed to forage a hefty sum of ammunition, as well as all the money they emptied from the corpse's pockets. Searching through the trunk of the remaining Broadway, Iceman found a duffel bag carrying twelve thousand dollars, which they would divide amongst themselves. Four thousand the dealer would keep for himself and Kenna, four thousand would go to Dixie and the last third would go to Artie himself, two thousand of it he would give to Gino and use it to help out back at the struggling Little Black Book.
"Now we can roll out," Artie said motioning for the two women to follow him and Iceman back to the latter's waiting Patriot.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was a thankfully uneventful ride back to The Little Black Book and one which left Artie leaping out of the Patriot as soon as it came to a halt.
"You going to be alright?" he asked Iceman while reaching in to grab his gear.
"We'll be alright don't worry," the weapons dealer replied adjusting his shades, "That was some badass shooting back there my friend. As far as I'm concerned you've proven yourself plenty. You're an alright guy Artie, we should hang out sometime," he said producing a business card and handing it to his newfound friend.
"Anytime man," Artie said as Kenna climbed out of the backseat and threw her arms around him.
"Thank you so much…I honestly don't know how I could ever thank you for what you did. If it wasn't for you…that bastard probably would have killed me," she tearfully exclaimed.
"You don't have to worry about him anymore. He'll never come back to haunt you," Artie replied releasing her from his grasp and then turned to be embraced by Sunny.
"I owe you a big thanks too, sugar," she said giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Anytime," he nodded to the blonde-haired woman and turned to the reunited cousins, "Thanks, I guess I'll be seeing you guys around soon," and he watched as they drove off into the distance.
"God I need a fucking drink after that mess," he told himself as he entered the bar.
Author's Note: For once we get to see a big badass Mafioso playing the knight in shining armor, who says Artie can't be good with the ladies in his own little way?
The Rainbow Party disco Artie and Iceman pass is inspired by a sexual term, using text I've borrowed from Wikipedia, this is the direct definition:
"A rainbow party is a supposed group sex event featured in an urban legend spread since the early 2000s. A variant of other sex party urban myths, the stories claim that at these events, allegedly increasingly popular among adolescents, females wearing various shades of lipstick take turns fellating males in sequence, leaving multiple colors (a "rainbow") on their penises."
You'd be surprised at some of the stuff you find there, outside of the Urban Dictionary of course. *Evil wink*
The manner in which Artie kills the first guy with his baseball bat in this chapter is inspired by the baseball bat's "Gruesome" execution in "Manhunt," had to throw out a reference there (a game that truly redefines 'spreading the sickness').
Well that's it for this installment so tune in for the next and make sure to read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/