Enveloped in her fluffy white bathrobe, Corey stared at her collage of all things Jacket, and reflected on what had been done. She searched her emotions, her soul, trying to determine how it was she felt about her "transformation" as well as the release they had given the city, relieving it of dozens of Eastern European thugs. She tightly closed her eyes, attempting to pressure cook some kind of reaction or a revelation, anything… to her surprise she identified the feeling hanging over her like one ton weight. She was unfulfilled.
She glanced into the living room, as she opened the bathroom door. Tony was still sound asleep, laying sideways on the couch, his arms tightly crossed against his stomach for warmth. Corey checked the time, it was three in the afternoon. Tony would probably sleep into the late afternoon if she didn't try and wake him. She shook her head and went back to checking on the freshly washed clothing, slipping her orange pants and hot pink sports top on, before hanging up the robe.
Was this it? Was she a fool to expect anything more? Corey was near paralyzed as question after question began to circle within her mind. What was it she had hoped to feel after all of this? Pride? A sense of accomplishment? Corey realized she probably hoped her new self would have become one with her, and replace the boring, glum Corey with the cool adventurous zebra persona she had created. Only, thats not what happened.
Corey still felt like her old self. She thought about going back into the waste basket, to fish out her ruined mask, hoping it was simply her lack of immersion keeping her from what she wanted, but she knew the problem ran deeper then that. After all, all she had really had done was kill a whole lot of people.
Her eyes darted towards her wall of vigilantism through the open doorway, in realization. Jacket hadn't just killed a lot of people, he had killed them all. He did what she had done, but on a far grander scale. Over a dozen buildings were linked to Jacket's bloody spree. He killed his way all the way up to the top, to the leader of the Russian crime syndicate, who had blown his own brains out, rather then face Jacket's wrath. Of course she didn't feel fulfilled, of course she would feel numb. Jacket didn't clap his hands and pat himself on the back after his first vigilante spree, he kept going, he finished what he started.
Corey's eye's filled with newfound determination. They were not done yet. Roman's apartment complex was not the only target they had considered for their vigilante spree. They knew where Roman was supplying the drugs to his dealers, a shady used car lot in one of the seedier neighborhoods in Miami. It would be a step down from their assault on Roman's building, but it would at least be something.
No doubt Darius would want them to deal with the dealers non lethally, to send a message to the rest of the degenerates of the city. While it might get them in better standings with the Fan Club bar, she had her first taste of blood now. It would be nearly impossible to ask her to go back to non lethal restrictions.
All she needed now was to share her revelation with Tony. She woke him up by fixing them dinner (Tony's breakfast) just a half dozen eggs, scrambled in a skillet. She clomped her feet, she slammed the fridge door, banged the pans, making every action as loud and sudden as possible so that Tony could wake up "on his own"
When he finally got the hint and redressed himself, he proceeded to wolf down most of the eggs, staring straight ahead in silence, still in a daze from his power sleep. When she explained her revaluation, that they had to keep going and finish off Roman's organization while they were still reeling, Tony looked at her like she had sprouted a second head.
Corey was surprised, to say the least, that Tony rejected her plans outright. He seemed to need this more then she did, on a purely biochemical level. After some convincing though, Tony begrudgingly agreed.
Corey explained how Roman and his operation would be scrambling after their attack, so they would try and move their product to safety, and that's when the two of them would strike. She was impressed at how factual she sounded. In truth she had no way of knowing the inner workings of Roman's operation, she simply needed there to be a juicy target waiting for them. She needed another win to take the place of the fear that this had all been for nothing. She needed to know, if they had or hadn't made a horrible mistake by divulging their fantasies.
Corey buried her existential issues for the time being. She followed Tony as they wandered through the night streets of Miami, Tony's mask and body armor, stuffed in a large black garbage bag that Corey carried. She tried desperately to tap back into her inner zebra, as Tony selected a new car for them to steal, smashing the window with his fist and unlocking the door with practiced ease. As she walked around and sat down in the passenger seat, and waited for Tony to finish hot wiring their new ride, an unexpected image popped into Corey's head.
The image of the bondage bimbo that attacked Corey in Roman's room, flashed in her head. She grimaced as she recalled the woman, twisted and broken on the pavement, inseparable from the dark leather she wrapped herself in. She died tangled in her fetish, her fantasy. Corey swallowed the anxiety rising in her chest. Perhaps she and the leather clad woman were not so different. The thought that she might one day become like that woman trapped in her own blood lust and bound by a series of unhealthy decisions, filled her with dread. Yet here she was, riding shotgun in a vehicle steered towards another massacre. Corey's stomach gurgled.
. . .
"Getting close now…" Corey muttered softly as she watched the street sign for their next turn come into view. Corey did her best to try and bury the fearful reluctance in her voice, but as she predicted, it wasnt enough. Tony grunted as he glanced at her from behind his mask, giving her a sideways glare, before making the turn. Corey looked away, keeping her eyes straight ahead. While just yesterday Tony was the only one in the world with whom she could share her dark fantasies with, now he was the one she didn't dare reveal her new found doubts too. She shifted the mask on her face in an attempt to appear busy. Anything to keep from showing weakness in front of her partner in crime.
Her new mask wasn't even made of rubber, but cheap plastic. She dropped down the vanity mirror on the car visor and rechecked how it looked. It was surprisingly graceful, and beautiful compared to her far more expensive and realistic looking rubber mask. The dark eyes and feminine maw and nose of the creature, reminded Corey of some kind of African tribal mask, only with softer lines. She had picked it up at store where she remembered seeing it in earlier, before Tony jacked them a new car. Corey felt it was a passable successor to her old one, at least for now.
Corey felt the tension in the air between her and Tony, as they neared the shady used car lot. Tony hadn't said more then a few words the entire trip, but from the scowling look in his eyes, and the way his muscles bristled, she could tell he sensed the conflict in her. "Drive around, dont just drive straight in." Corey said, trying to sound as cool and nonchalant as possible. Tony scoffed, but did as she said.
She narrowed her eyes at the building as they grew near. It was obvious from the boarded windows and holes along the front of the building, that a firefight had taken place here. She racked her brains, remembering that she had heard about a gang-on-gang attack happening somewhere in this part of town. Her stomach burned with anxiety. She'd never hear the end of it from Tony, if they pulled up only to find out Roman had moved his base of operations.
Tony parked the car near the back of the lot building and turned to Corey. "Let's finish this." Tony's words reverberated with violent intent. Corey felt the cool and collected zebra persona begin return as the air of danger fell around her. She gave a small nod back, before pulling the release latch of the stolen vehicle.
Corey knew she had to speak up now, before the berserker lost himself in his own adrenaline. "You wait here in the back, I'll scout around the front." Corey said quickly. Tony turned his head back at her as he continued to march towards the back door. "Why waste time? Lets just bust in, and fuck um up." Tony snarled.
Before Corey could object, Tony approached the back door of the car lot building. He reached foreword and checked the simple door knob, giving it a shake. Locked, just as Corey expected. Tony looked back at Corey, before turning back around, lifting his leg to kick the door in. "Wait." Corey said quickly. Tony hesitated, losing his balance as he shifted foot back to the pavement. He turned his head around and cast her a whithering look. "We dont know whose in there, we cant just smash up innocent people…" Corey said. Tony snorted in disgust. "I dont give a shit who we fuck up. If their here, they chose to be. Its on them. Fuck um." Tony said, spitting the words from the side of his lips.
Corey took a deep breath before replying. "Just let me scout around for a bit… I take to long or you hear anything, go ahead and break the door in. Just dont hit me in the confusion." Corey said, doing her best to sound like a professional, and not like a nag. Tony rolled his eyes and tightly clenched his fists, as he looked down at the door like he was trying to glare a hole through it. "Don't take to long." Tony ordered.
Corey slowly crept around the side of the building, admittedly taking far longer then she thought she would. Every noise her white skater shoes made, was like an earthquake in her ears. She probably looked like an idiot, moving in slow motion as she moved quietly to the front corner of the building. She quickly jerked her head around the corner of the building, taking in all that she could before quickly jerking her head back.
As Corey reviewed the quick glimpse of what she saw, she initially assumed the coast was clear, but a feeling deep in her gut told her something was amiss. She poked her head around the corner again and quickly realized what that something was. The boards put in place over the shot out windows had bullet holes through them, lots of them. She glanced down at the pavement in front of the building, at the pieces of glass fragments scattered about.
Corey narrowed her eye as her mind bubbled with questions. "Had this building become a war zone twice already? Once after the shot out windows were boarded up already? If so, how recent was this last attack?" The sound of muffled voices from the building silenced her inner monologue. "Where's the drugs?" A voice said, barely audible, even with Corey straining her entire body to listen. "Got some weed on this guy… just a few onces…" Another voice said. "Barely worth our time…" The first voice responded. "Help me check their wallets, we're not going home empty handed."
Corey deciphered what it was she was hearing, they had stumbled upon a robbery. She knew that wouldnt change anything, especially if she ran it by Tony. Robbers, Russian mob, drug dealers, it was open season on scum bags as far as he was concerned. A voice, closer then the rest, again interrupted her thoughts. "I'm going to get some fresh air…" The voice mumbled.
Corey pulled herself back around the corner, as the front door of the building began to swing open. She held her breath as she took a retreating step backwards, her ears tuned to the sounds of heavy footsteps. She wasnt sure if the man exiting the front door had seen her or not, but what she did know, was that the footsteps were coming her way.
She fought the urge to tuck tale and run. While that could get her out of harms way before the attacker had time to fire at her retreating form, it would give away her position, if it wasnt compromised already. She took another step back, looking around her for anything that could be used as a weapon. A small piece of the sidewalk moved under her foot. She looked down at the sorry state of the inner city pavement, before reaching down and removing a fist sized chunk of rough, jagged concrete. It wasnt the most ideal weapon, but it was what she had. "Beggars cant be choosers."
Corey's body stiffened as she heard the heavy boot crunch against the sidewalk near the front of the building. After calming herself with a deep breath, she held the slab of concrete back, poised to throw. She would need to be fast as well as accurate. The wandering man took a step from around the corner. The instant Corey's would be assailant came into view, her arm exploded forward, sending the piece of rough, porous sidewalk darting through the air.
The chunk of concrete bounced across the masked gunman's forehead. Corey held her breath, as the gunman leveled his gun at her. Before she could turn and break into a sprint, she noticed the gun waver, and the gunman's legs begin to wobble.
A surge of triumphant joy burst in Corey's chest, as she saw the large gunman fall straight back and his gun clattered against the pavement besides him. She flew foreword before leaping straight into the air. Her knees slammed against the gunman's large, bulging stomach as she fell upon him. The gunman groaned as his breath was forced from his lungs. Corey's hands flew to the gun at the side of the large man's body, pulling up the complicated looking submachine gun. In the dark night lighting, she found herself unsure which way she should even hold the thing.
When she finally flipped the gun's handle in her right hand, she plunged the barrel of the gun against the masked gunman's face, only to have his meaty arm grab her by the wrist and wrench it aside. Corey struggled both of her hands to level the gun back into the masked face of the robber, when she felt something jab against her ribcage, causing her to wince in pain, her body still racked with soreness from being slammed around the inside of an elevator like a sack of potatoes. She looked down in horror, realizing her mistake. The gunman had a second gun. She grit her teeth, and did her best to level the robbers own gun towards his masked forehead, even as the gunman held her life in his hands, more specifically, on his trigger finger.
Corey noticed the gunman hadn't moved much since shoving the second submachine gun against her ribcage. She looked down at his brown eyes from the holes in his mask, and realized he was staring back at her. The large, broad man was clearly obese, his gut was actually a rather comfortable cushion for her legs. If it wasn't for the rough nylon of his combat vest, and the hard, metal plates inside them pressing up against her hot pink knee pads, the fat man would have made an excellent bean bag chair. The open mouthed, snarling jaws of the bear mask that the gunman wore glared up at her, while the gunman's own eyes were wide with awe. It took a moment, but it eventually clicked. The gunman was wearing an animal mask, just like she was. Mark's brown beard and brown eyes suddenly flashed in Corey's mind, as well as a random memory she had of her rubbing the big guy's whiskers like an idiot before being shoved away.
"Mark?" Corey whispered in disbelief. The gunman's head shuddered in response, and she felt the gun pull away from her side. She quickly sat back, into a crouching position, before noticing the big man struggle to get up. She offered him a hand, which the gunman took after dropping the gun in his left hand. She pulled the fat man up into a sitting position, and simply stared back at him, wordless. The gunman, who had to be Mark, was so astonished, he didn't seem to notice he had released both of his guns, and that Corey still held one of them in her hands. "Corey…" Mark whispered, his voice dripping with reverence. Before Corey could say anything in response, the loud crash of the back door being battered open by Tony's foot filled the night's sky.
Earlier
Tony was fed up with waiting. He didn't know what was going on in that dizzy chick's head, but it was driving him nuts. They just committed the killing spree of the century, facing down armed guards, impossible odds, and came out on top. Tony would of thought that would be enough for the little mass murderer, but the next day, before their wounds even began to heal, she has the idea to launch another attack "to keep them off balance" or some shit.
Tony didn't know what got into her, but it wasnt like he could refused. If he wussed out, because he had a few boo boos on his hands, some soreness in his arms, he would be the very definition of a pussy. He couldn't allow a woman to out man him, so in the end he had no choice but to go along with her crazy shit. Tony gripped his fist and felt the blossoming pain in his broken knuckles. "Whatever… it'sonly pain." Pain couldnt stop Tony, it wouldnt even slow him down.
Tony might have admired Corey, for being as tough as any man he'd known, if she wasnt so stereotypically moody. It took her a whopping twenty minutes, to suddenly transform back into the timid little girl, hiding behind her mask and taking a minute to think about what it was she wanted to say instead of just fucking saying it. He pushed Corey and her mood swings out of his head. Right now, it was time to fuck shit up.
Tony's foot crashed through the back door like a medieval battering ram. As the door flew from its hinges from the shear force of Tony's leg, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. Three dead bodies, shot multiple times, were scattered around the building. Two masked robbers, were looting the cash from the corpses wallets, as well as any jewelry or drugs they could find on their persons. The two robbers stared up at him as he hulked towards them.
Fire was spewing from Tony's eyes, hungry for a challenge. As one of the robbers fumbled for his pistol, the other bird headed bandit fired up a battered chainsaw lying on the ground besides them. The chainsaw wielding robber rose to his feet before swinging the whirling teeth of the saw towards Tony.
Tony wasnt impressed. He caught the chainsaw wielders blow by the plastic housing of the smoke spewing machine, stopping the attack dead in its tracks. The chainsaw wielder tried desperately to move the spinning blades towards Tony's arms, but his grip stood firm and unwavering. Before Tony could bash the robbers brains from their masked head, the "number two" robber, pulled his pistol, leveling it up at Tony.
Tony removed one hand from the chainsaw housing and slapped the back of his gloved fist across the side of the gun. Pain radiated through his hand as a gunshot rang out, just missing blowing a hole through Tony's hand. The backhanded blow had so much force, it spun the masked robber to the side, yet still the bastard didnt let go of his gun.
Tony's muscles bulged as he continued to keep his ironclad grip on the chainsaw housing, keeping it at bay with one arm. As the gunman swing his pistol around, Tony reached out and caught him by the hand that held the weapon, lifting the barrel towards the ceiling as a second shot rang out. He curled his fingers tightly against the gunman's fingers and knuckles, squeezing them around the handle of the gun painfully. He felt the bones begin to creak as the gunman fell to his knees, grunting in pain.
Tony felt like Hercules himself as he held the two masked bandits, one in each arm, until the combat boot from the chainsaw wielder flung upwards into his groin. His body shuddered as pain lit up his senses. His grip momentarily slipped from the saw, and Tony juked his upper body back, to avoid the swirling metal teeth from tearing through his masked face. Before the bird masked bandit could bring the whirling blades down on his head, Tony regained his grip on the saw, only for the gunman to slip his hand and weapon from his grasp.
As the number 2 bird leveled his pistol, Tony's back of his cracked knuckles across the gunman's jaw, spinning him around. The gunman's legs wobbled for a moment, before collapsing out from under him, sending him face first against the ground. Tony threw his second hand back to the chainsaw housing, to hold the saw away from his face just as the chainsaw wielder threw his entire body behind it, moving the whirling blades dangerously close to his masked face.
Tony looked past the saw, matching the wild, unstable eyes of its wielder with a furious glare of his own. He roared as he swung the saw housing to the side with all of his might. Though the chainsaw wielder could barely stay on his feet, the stubborn fucker refused to let go of the saw. Tony jerked the chainsaw housing back and forth with similar results, until finally turning his body completely around, spinning the chainsaw and its wielder through the air before hurling them both towards the nearby wall. The chainsaw bounced and clattered against the ground besides the masked robber, who slowly slid from the small hole their rump made inside the dry wall.
Tony scoffed, as the stubborn thug refused to quit, trying to start up the saw once again with shaky, uncoordinated hands. Tony wasnt about to let that happen. He lumbered towards the fallen robber, ready to bring his foot up against the masked head and splatter its insides against the wall behind it.
Tony felt the impact of the gunshot against the back of his vest before he even heard it. He staggered foreword, as three more bullets slammed into his back. Tony looked over his shoulder at the gunman, who rose to his feet slowly, raising the gun to aim at his head. He grit his teeth, realizing he had made an error not killing him first. His eyes seethed at the gunman with tenacious hatred. The gunman blinked, his calm, machine like focus seemingly wavering at the intensity of Tony's glare, and something what looked to be respect blossomed in his eyes. Tony growled back at him. He didn't want friends, he wanted victims. His only regret was that he wouldnt be able to kill them both, before the gunman emptied his gun into his brain pan.
Tony wondered how many shots to the head it would take to finally bring him down, and if he would have enough time to reach the gunman, after smashing his partners brains against the wall. Before he made any moves to finish off the downed chainsaw wielder, he saw Corey creep into view. He smirked under his mask, and kept his defiant gaze glued to the soon to be dead gunman's eyes.
Corey lifted what looked to be an MP5 submachine gun, and leveled it at the gunman's head. When Corey was close enough to where even a blind monkey could make the shot, Tony whirled around back to the chainsaw wielder, bringing his brown cowboy boot back so he could drive the pointy tip through the robbers teeth.
"Tony STOP!" Corey cried out. Tony staggered, as he let his foot fal back to the ground, aborting the kick as it was midway to the robbers face. The gunman's body stiffened, but he kept his gun trained on Tony's head, even as Corey nudged the side of his masked face with the barrel of her gun. "Drop the gun." Corey said calmly.
The gunman hesitated, before eventually obeying. "Great, now lets…" Corey didn't get to finish her sentence. She gasped in shock and pain, as the bird masked man crashed his elbow back against her stomach, and grabbing the MP5 with both hands. Corey's body was swung through the air before slamming against the ground, as the gunman threw her down by their grip on the gun. She groaned in pain, as the gunman stomped his foot against her stomach before trying to wrestle the gun from her grasp.
Tony couldnt focus on Corey's fight. All his focus was on the roaring machine bringing brought up between his legs. He quickly threw his hands down, keeping the spinning blades from either of his inner thighs, but thats all he could do, hold the plastic housing, as the robber, with an infinitely better grip on the weapon, jerked it back and forth against his grasp. He clenched his teeth as he focused all of his strength, keeping the saw from moving more then a few centimeters, each time the robber threw their body side to side.
Tony didn't like the position he was in. To keep his knees and thighs away from the whirling blades, he was forced to widen his stance. This brought his groin dangerously close to the side of the spinning saw. If he lost his grip on the saw, he lost a leg. If he lost his balance, he lost his dick. If things didnt change, and soon, he may be forced to make a choice between the two.
# # #
Corey struggled to catch her breath, as the gunman, who Mark informed her was Ash, continued to press his heavy boot against her chest. She lifted her foot and kicked Ash in the face, as he struggled to pulled the weapon up from her grip. Ash's body shuddered, as he attempted to ignore the big hit, but a second and third kick drove her point home. Corey swung her heel up against the stunned Ash's throat, pushing up against it and lifting his chin as she doubled her efforts to rip the gun away from his grasp.
Corey managed to fully fill her lungs, elevating the pressure on her chest. "Ash stop!" She cried out. Ash continued to struggle for a moment, but eventually, his body grew rigid. "It's me, Corey." She said, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. Ash blinked and stared down at her, but otherwise made no effort to get his foot from her chest, and more alarmingly, his hands from the gun.
# # #
Alex thrashed with all her might against the tiger masked brutes unwavering grip. She smirked when she saw it, a crack in the big man's ferocious glare. He wouldnt be able to keep her saw away forever, all she had to do was keep thrashing her weight and his death grip would slip. When that happened, she would carve the big lugs powerful limbs off, one by one.
As the two of them continued to struggle over the saw, a pair of heavy footsteps approached behind the tiger masked man. A loud burst of automatic fire tore through the wall above her and the masked man's heads, sending drywall particles and dust spraying down against them. When the long automatic burst finally ended, a loud deep voice bellowed at them.
"Stop fighting!" Mark commanded. Alex froze and so too had her assailant, who did nothing other then hold the weapon still. She watched in surprise as Mark removed his mask, and glared at the two of them. The tiger masked man immediately stood up straight, releasing the saw, seemingly no longer interested in Alex at all.
Alex grimaced, somewhat offended that Mark could draw a crowd better then she could. She scrambled to her feet, looking around at the other four figures, standing or rising to their feet as well. To her surprise, Ash was helping the zebra masked vigilante to her feet. She looked over to her brother with questioning eyes. Ash simply looked back, seemingly dazed from his fight with the zebra mask. Alex turned back to Mark and fumed. "What the hell is going on?"
# # #
Mark panted, still feeling the pain in his stomach from where Corey landed on him with her knees. He had been getting his ass kicked all over the place, between his capture, torture, and now this. Not only that, but the shock that Corey and Tony where here, in masks, on their own volition, had completely rocked Mark to his foundation. He grunted as he straightened back up, noticing for the first time that the entire room was staring at him expectantly.
Mark stretched his shoulders back, before addressing his audience. "Everyone… take off your masks." Mark said, doing his best to sound like a leader. The four masked vigilantes simply stared back at him in response. Mark sighed and grumbled, before turning to look directly at Corey. "Corey, come on… take off your mask." Mark said, more pathetically then he intended.
Alex straightened as if struck by lightning, before glancing back at Corey wide eyed. Corey nodded at Mark, removing her plastic mask, and shaking her long black hair free of the cheap elastic string. Mark couldnt help but stare as she did so, his crush returning with a vengeance upon seeing her unmasked in her oddly colorful vigilante outfit.
Alex turned to her brother, who stared back in bewilderment. Tony looked back and forth between the four of them, his head making quick jerky movements as they changed targets, like some kind of pent up animal, or a really agitated bird. From the way his fists were still clenched into angry balls of hate, Mark realized he should keep his guard up.
Ash reached up to his own mask, but kept them there, as he looked on to Alex, seemingly for permission. Alex reached up and held her own mask in response, and the two of them slowly pulled their killer swan persona's over their heads. Alex shook her head, to get the strands of sweat soaked hair from her forehead that had fallen free from the unraveling bun her hair was in. Ash made a strange face, moving his jaw around, as if testing it for injury, as he scanned the faces of the new vigilante members.
All eyes were now on Tony. The big man looked around in agitation, from the corner he had backed himself into, away from the others. Even though the brute seemed opposed to the idea of removing his mask, it was clear to everyone in the room who it was under the tiger mask, from his muscular form and aggressive body language.
Mark shook his head."What the fuck is going on?" It seemed like everyone from the Hawaiian conflict all gathered around in masked vigilante outfits, and at the exact same time. This was to weird to be a coincidence. He hadn't seen some of these people since the war itself, and now, here they all were.
Corey was the one who finally broke the standoff between the rest of them and Tony. "Common Tony, take the mask off already…" Corey said sullenly. He glared back at her. "I was going to!" He snapped. Tony swore under his breath, as he slowly removed his ravaged mask…
Halloween Night
Corey lifted lifted her mask up over her head, before shoving a slice of pepperoni pizza into her mouth. After her initial bite, she calmly nibbled it, content to sit back on the couch and take in her surroundings. There they all were, in masks, at the Fan Club bar, just like any other night, only this time it was Halloween. She turned her head and looked at the assortment of junkies, punks and freaks, not so unlike the usual patrons of this shit hole establishment. She spotted Darius by the bar, talking loudly and laughing with his throng of friends. She noticed him point at their direction from time to time, most likely associating himself with the true kings and queens of this club.
Besides her on the couch, Tony was taking a swig from his beer, lifting the front of his mask up with the neck of the bottle, before letting it slip back over his face. The muscles of his arms were bulging with frustration, to the point where Corey mused there was a good chance the man might shatter the bottle in his hands.
Tony's masked head snapped away from his drink, as he swiveled it side to side, scanning for the source of the alien, electronic noises. Corey smiled to herself. There was some punk with a gameboy behind them, next to a box of masks. She could have easily told Tony, but it was more fun to watch him occasionally jerk his head around like a lunatic.
Tony snarled and relaxed back down onto the couch. "Happy fucking Halloween…" Tony grumbled. Ash gave a quick scoff from his spot on the couch next to Tony. He was looking around at the occasional admirer, who only approached from a distance, and only to stare for awhile before returning back to the safety of the party. "Same shit, different day." Ash said as if confirming Tony's discontent.
Corey followed Ash's gaze, or at least where the bill of his mask was pointed, and realizing he was staring at a shy looking, brown haired man, sitting nervously on the love seat on the other side of the room. She watched the young man look down at his lap, before occasionally glancing up at them, only to look away again. Corey saw Ash's gloved hand move out of the corner of her eye. Ash reached his arm out, and pointed his finger like a gun at the young man. The young man looked down at his lap, and kept his gaze there for the rest of their time at the bar.
Corey shook her head with a slight smile. It was probably a good thing Ash was venting some of his innate psychosis in a harmless way. The more she spent time around the twins, the more concerned she became that the entire group would devolve into insanity, unable to properly function in society. Then again, it wasnt like she had been spending much of her free time doing anything else, but hanging out with psychos, adrenaline junkies and postal killers. It might be a little to late to pine for normalcy, so Corey did her best to push such thoughts from her mind, her smile fading back to her usual blank expression.
She glanced over at Alex, who unlike the rest of them, was not lounging about on the coach, but had been playing the part of the social butterfly. Unlike the rest of them, Alex wasnt above using her "celebrity" status here at the club, to score praise and even drugs from the rest of the patrons. Corey grimaced. It was probably everything Alex could ever want, a court of nobles, all waiting to give their praise.
The queen of the psychos… it was a fitting title for Alex. She embodied everything people thought of, when they thought of the 50 Blessing killers. Wild, crazy, violent… and yet still somehow alluring. She wasnt surprised when she first found out that Alex was a masked murderer, she was surprised she didn't notice it sooner. She was always insane, her and her brother. She wondered if her equally crazy brother ever got jealous when the queen bee was playing court, and not dotting on her little brother.
Corey noticed Alex had stopped talking to her throng, and was now staring at the four of them now, seemingly in a trance. She narrowed her brow as she watched the masked woman. She was about to say something to Ash about his sister, when Mark chimed in from his spot on the couch. "I thought tonight we were going to do something special?" He asked nervously, from his spot on the couch, furthest away from her.
Corey noticed Mark would sit down next to her whenever he could, but not when Tony sat next to her first. Tony on the other hand, didn't seem to care who sat where, though he did park himself next to Corey more often then not. So she often found herself either between Mark and Tony, or by Tony, with Mark seemingly sulking on the other side of the room, pretending like he wasnt sulking.
It was clear to Corey that Mark really, really didn't like Tony, and she couldnt exactly blame him. It was a relief having three more bodies in the crew. That meant three more buffers for Tony's constant angry negativity. She had meant to get Mark alone and talk with him about it, but she was never good at intimate conversations, and lost the nerve each time she thought about trying. With her luck, she might just tip Tony off, and cause some kind of a macho bullshit between them, and that wouldnt be fair to dump on Mark.
Ash nodded to Mark. "We have a few places in mind, full of people nobody would miss." Ash said nonchalantly. Mark nodded, lifting up his mask before taking a swig from his plastic bottle of Dr. Pepper. Corey could tell he was doing his best to look tough for the rest of them, but the nervous bouncing of his knee told her a different story.
They had been together now for quite awhile, but they hadn't so much as committed an assault and battery, at least not as a group. This gave Corey plenty of time to wrestle with her beliefs and existential crises. While Mark helped balance the group out, with a bit of humanity, Alex and Ash were far worse then Tony, in terms of being crazy. She wasnt sure if the twins could even be classified as part of the human race anymore, but sitting behind it, peering from the bushes.
Corey was pulled away from her brooding, when Tony let out a throaty growl. "Man this party stinks. I fucking hate these people." Tony snarled. Corey's body stiffened. This Halloween was supposed to be special, so they left it up to her, to throw them a little party, like she was some kind of expert. She made flyer's, and coordinated it with Darius and the bartenders but she somehow knew it was going to somehow be her fault, that their group of anti social maniacs didn't get along with the junkies and degenerates who called themselves regulars.
Ash shook his head. "Who invited all these morons?" Ash said, giving Corey a quick sideways glance. Corey chomped another big bite of her pizza, narrowing her eyes so she glared straight ahead. "I fucking knew it…"
Mark fidgeted, shifting in his spot on the couch, before digging deep and speaking in a confident, yet nonchalant voice. "What do you guys think about tonight? We gonna do it?" Mark asked, as if it was no big deal. Corey noticed he even managed to keep his knee from bouncing. Ash leaned towards Tony, something Corey noticed he did a lot of. Whenever his sister wasnt nearby, the little minion seemed to wait for Tony to have an opinion, before having one himself. Corey wasnt sure why the arguably smartest person in the group, was such a natural born follower, but it did make sense for Tony to be the replacement Alex. He was what they call an "Alpha male" after all.
Tony hesitated, but only for a moment. He took an angry swig of his beer, spilling a spurt onto his combat vest when he yanked the bottle away from his lips. "I dont see why not. I'm sick of this shit." Tony snarled. Ash responded almost immediately. "Yea, lets do it!" The minion said. Mark glanced past Alex, to where they had parked the van. "The weapons are in the car, right?" Mark asked, a bit less confident then before.
Corey looked around at the three of them, all psyching themselves up for their first bit of mayhem as a group, and they were going after punks they knew literally nothing about. She felt a twinge in her stomach, as the images of Roman's bimbo bodyguard flashed in her mind again. "So we are actually doing this?" Corey asked, turning her gaze to Mark.
The confident act Mark had put up evaporated into thin air as soon as Corey asked her simple question. She actually felt bad for Mark. Of all of them here, he was the only one who had fate drag him into this. Even Corey was here because she chose to be. If Mark hadn't been set off by those Russian thugs, and then later kidnapped and tortured, he may have still had a chance to be normal.
Mark looked to Tony and Ash, as if needing clarification that they were indeed going on their first spree or not. "Yea, lets go do it." Ash said, looking to Tony. Tony downed the rest of his beer and stood up from the couch. Corey followed, and so did the rest of the group.
Corey wasnt sure if killing a bunch of drug dealers and junkies was the best usage of their time, but it had been awhile since any of them had a taste of violence. While she knew Mark shared in her sentiment, that they should be targeting gang bangers and murderers over random street trash, they were actually outnumbered. Alex, Ash and Tony didn't care who it was they killed, as long as they could get away with it. Corey felt ashamed to even bring the issue up again, as if wanting to do more then simply kill for killings sake was somehow the wrong thing to do.
"Whatever." She was just going along with the flow on this one, next time she would push for more exciting targets, like a pimp or a gang leader. For now, she and the gang would satiate themselves on the dregs of society.
Corey stopped in her tracks, when she noticed Alex was still standing, staring at them, or rather in their general direction. Ash too noticed this, and narrowed his eyes. "Sis?" Alex snapped from her daze. Her wild blue eyes flashed around the group. Corey stared. She did not know what had happened to the psycho bitch, but whatever it was it had her spooked. Mark laughed it off, and patted Alex across her green shoulder pad with his big leathery mitt of a hand. "Whats wrong Alex?" Mark said cheerily.
It had surprised Corey to no end to learn that Mark seemed to get along with the twins so well. She wasnt sure why, but it bothered her. The big man's jovial grin slowly faded when his question went unanswered. "You see a ghost or something?" Mark said. Alex blinked and looked into his brown eyes, with an expressionless stare. "Yea… something." Alex muttered.
Through the mask Ash was wearing, Corey could physically feel his concern. "Whats wrong? Tell me." He said. Alex shook her head. "Nothing! We hitting those pieces of shit tonight?" Alex asked, her cheerful, murderous light already beginning to flicker behind her eyes. Ash nodded as they collectively began to walk from the Halloween party through the side exit, to where the van was parked. "Yep, we decided tonight was the night." Ash said. Alex nodded. "Wouldnt have it any other way…" Alex finally said. Corey did her best to scan Alex out of the corner of her eyes, but her masked face provided no answers. Whatever it was Alex had seen or heard, she would take it to her grave.
Epilogue
Roman hid the agonizing pain he felt, as he stepped from his bedroom in his downtown apartment building. He couldnt afford to show even the slightest hint of weakness. Especially not now of all times. Before him, in his penthouse suite, dozens of henchmen, all clad in their white and light blue colors, stood at the ready behind the couch and end table.
Roman grimaced as he felt the stitching from his wound shift, when he raised his hand to make a fist. "Spread the word to every thug, gunslinger and wise guy. Its open season on masks. You see anyone wearing an animal mask, man, woman, child… kill them. Ten thousand a piece, for every bloody mask you bring me. I want those masks." Roman commanded with a cruel grimace across his lips.
Before him, sitting on the couch, his three most trusted lieutenants waited for their individual instructions. Roman first turned his eyes to his capable enforcer. "Viktor… tear the city apart. Start with that club of degenerates and junkies. Get as much information as you can out of the patrons, and dont you dare be gentle." Roman said. Viktor gave the slightest inkling of a nod before leaning back on the couch.
A familiar voice cooed out from the figure sitting besides Viktor. "What about me, my love? I'm sure you could use my… talents… to serve you." Suki purred. Roman's face hardened at her usual predatorial banter. Instead of answering, he turned to the tall man, his faithful driver and bodyguard, who sat next to her on the couch. "Take Suki and some of the men in the car…" Roman said begrudgingly. Suki smiled sadistically. "Thank you love… I'll save you their masks… but the rest of them, are mine." She cooed. Roman nodded, that was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Good hunting." He said.
Roman took a step foreword. "You have your instructions. Show no mercy, and expect none in return if should you fail. Not from them, and least not from me." Roman said with a scowl. The room full of white jackets and blue shirts stared back at him blankly. Likewise his lieutenants stared back at him, as if frozen in time.
Roman snarled, he was used to repeating himself to the underlings, not his top men. "That means go… now." He commanded. The entire room continued to stare at him, unmoving, unblinking. He felt a chill begin to crawl up the back of his neck. Emotions to powerful to be fear, began to emanate from inside himself. Something was wrong… no, everything was wrong.
Roman felt a sudden weight upon his eyelids. At the same time, an unnerving wave of weariness rustled through his mind, causing the mob moss to stumble. He blinked and rubbed his eyelids. When he opened them, he couldnt believe what he saw.
The entire room was a massacre. The bodies of his white coat wearing minions were scattered all over the room, their bodies ravaged by bullets wounds, blunt force trauma and severed limbs. He looked down at the couch, where his most trusted henchmen sat and nearly gasped at what he saw.
Viktors head stared back at him from atop the coffee table, next to one of Roman's bonsai trees. The rest of him was crumpled back against the couch in a bullet riddled mess. In front of the coffee table, Suki's body was broken and mangled, her limbs twisted, her skull crushed inward. If it wasnt for her leather mask, he could barely tell which end of her was up.
It was the sight of his bodyguard, that troubled him the most. The man who had been with Roman the longest of all of them, was lying face first against the couch, except it was no longer face first for the tall man's corpse. His head had been bent backwards at an unholy angle, staring back at Roman, upside down, with hallow eyes.
Roman stared at the bloody carnage before him, at the piles of twisted, mutilated bodies. The sickening, crawling sensation he felt earlier intensified ten fold. It was then he laid eyes on a figure he hadn't noticed until now. Sitting on the couch, in the middle of his bloodied lieutenants, where Suki had once sat, was a man wearing a yellow and white letterman jacket, with the mask of a rooster over his head.
Roman's eyes widened. Every man of Eastern European descent would recognize this man. It was him, it was Jacket! As soon as the thought of the figures identity blossomed in Roman's mind, the masked entity before him somehow sensed what it was he was thinking. The rooster mask twisted and smirked back at Roman, as if the mask on its head was alive, as if his attempts to understand the supernatural being before him, was laughable to it. The movements of the mask was unnatural, impossible. It blinked, it shifted, it breathed. It didn't move like a living rooster would move, but it twisted and shifted, mimicking human expression's.
The rooster mask's eyes narrowed condescendingly. It's beak twisted into an annoyed snarl, showing a row of human teeth nonsensically lining the inside of its beak. It felt as if Roman's very presence offended it. "What good is a puppet master, when all his toys are broken?" The rooster mask said, every syllable piercing into Roman's mind and heart, and echoing through his body.
Roman shuddered before the being, and did not answer. The rooster continued, as if it expected Roman to lose his nerve. "You spent so much time focusing on controlling others, that I dont think you've done a single thing your entire life that didn't involve using people." The rooster mask said, shaking his head in mild disgust.
Roman's wounded pride overwhelmed the sense of dread enveloping him. He grit his teeth and snarled defiantly at the rooster mask. "I lived my life the way I saw fit! I have no regrets!" Roman yelled. The rooster mask sighed, unimpressed. "You tried so hard to take command of your life… but it was always going to end this way, no matter what you did." The rooster mask said, almost piteously. The thought of being pitied, even sarcastically by some chicken faced deity, boiled Roman's blood.
The rooster watched Roman as he clenched his fists in anger, before twisting it's beak into a sneer. "Oh I'm sorry, did you want a happy ending? Did you think you were going somehow avoid, what it was you got coming to you?" The rooster said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Roman's body trembled. What did he mean? What was coming to him? Roman's wounded pride gave way to the feeling of doom gnawing at his gizzard.
Roman's lips shuddered, as he worded his final question. "What are you…?" Roman whispered. The rooster mask sighed, as if disappointed, before raising his beak ever so slightly, taking up a haughty air of arrogance and condescension as he looked down at Roman. "I am everything beyond your control. I am the reality you spent your entire life trying to avoid." The rooster mask chided.
Roman's legs wobbled, as tears rose over his eyelids. He didn't understand what the words meant, but they mortified him all the same. The rooster mask watched him with mild amusement for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders. "Hey look on the bright side… you got to do things your way, right? Just remember… you did this all to yourself." The rooster mask said with a smirk.
Roman's eyes snapped open as if he was struck by a lightning bolt. He sucked in a gasping breath and desperately looked around at his surroundings, even before his eyes had time to focus. Medical equipment, an IV stand, a tube in his wrist, stitching on his bicep. He was in a hospitable room.
Roman groaned in agony, his throat felt as if someone had shoved a hot iron into his esophagus. It took a moment to gather his willpower, but he eventually managed to pull himself from the hospitable bed, into a sitting position. He jerked the IV from his vein without so much as a wince, and stepped his bare feet onto the cold hospitable tile.
It was then realized he was wearing a hospitable garb, with a slit exposing his backside. He didn't care. He had to get out of this death trap. Thats what hospitals were when you were a marked man. 50 Blessings wanted him dead, they would find him here eventually, if they hadn't already.
Roman walked to the door to his room, and reached out to press the latch. He stopped, when he heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, saw the shadows where the figures feet eclipsed the light from the hallway. He grimaced, it was most likely a nurse or doctor, coming to check in on him. They would undoubtedly try to stop him for leaving, but they wouldnt understand, they would be condemning him by doing so.
Roman felt a chill run down his spine, as he watched the dark shadows under the door. The figure had been standing in front of the door for a few moments now, and the door had not opened. He felt his instincts scream out in his brain. Something was wrong. He knew he had to do something, and quickly… but what? In his weakened state, his options were limited. He took a single step away from the door.
A bullet tore through the thin wooden door and punched through Roman's cheekbone. His eyes widened in surprise and horror, as he felt his body slam back into the cold tile below. Three other bullets ripped through the door, before the shadowy figure behind it, lifted the latch and opened it a crack.
Roman panted and gasped for air, as he felt the blood running from the wound just below his eye, and waited for his executioner to show himself. He saw a suppressor attached to a pistol poke through the crack of the door, before a bald, dark skinned head scanned the inside of the room. He carried a silenced 9mm Barretta, wore a white suit and dress pants, with a light blue shirt underneath.
Roman's eyes radiated with horrified realization on who it was who now stood over him. It was The Son's right hand man, the dark skinned ghost of the cleaning business. He shook his head in disbelief as the henchman looked down at him, leveling his silenced pistol, aiming the next shot right between his eyes.
Roman managed to spit out his final words before the henchman managed to pull the trigger. "Why? I'm far to valuable for this." Roman insisted. For some reason, Roman's words seemed to have gotten through to the trigger man. The henchman closed his eyes, taking a deep sigh, before opening them again. "Because we're not all fucking idiots, that's why. You're a good earner, maybe the best, but you have no goddamn respect for anyone, or anything that doesnt serve you. How much shit was the boss going to take? You fucking up a shipment, was all the excuse he needed, now he doesnt even lose face for doing what needs to be done." The henchman said, far more annoyed and emotional then Roman could have predicted.
Roman stared up at the henchman, letting his words burrow into his mind. It was true. He did everything in his power to avoid being the one discarded in the back of the truck… but in the end it was all going to end the same way regardless. A chill ran through his body as he realized, it was as the chicken deity said.
Roman took a deep breath, and readied himself for the killing shot. The henchman grimaced and shook his head one last time. "You did this all to yourself." The henchman muttered, as his fingers squeezed against the trigger. Roman couldnt help but laugh, before the bullet pierced his brain.
End