Author's Note: Hey everybody. Long time no see. Hope you're all doing well. It's been, as usual very busy. Next couple of weeks are hectic, but I've got some plans to update my stories during the holiday season. Keep an eye out for Aftermath. Queens of Fire not sure, although there may be a one-shot or two on the way, alongside this is a new project. It's part of a new interconnected series of fanfics I'm developing. I got the idea after watching spy films/wrestling during my down time. Much love to the Queen of Femslash herself, XoMissDaisyoX, as well as CallmeJoz, Ads611, and shiki94 for their support. I hope you enjoy it, because I'm excited to be starting a new genre. Hope you all have a great day! And feel free to review! It's always appreciated. Without further delay, please enjoy!
Rating M: for violence, coarse language, and mature themes/events throughout. Remember that this is Femslash, so if that's not your thing, you might not enjoy this. I do not own the characters, they belong to WWE, AEW, Impact, and other promotions, respectively. This story is entirely fictional.
Dangers of Deville
Chapter 1
By Jurassicfatt
No One's Pov, Saturday, Unknown Building, Tampa, Florida, Midnight
Loud music blares from La Viviana nightclub, located in one of Tampa's best districts for young people, party animals, and anyone looking to take their mind off work. Multi-colored lights can be seen shining past the bottom of the club entrance, the door guarded by two large suited bouncers, each of them weighing at least 250 pounds. One, a large barrel-chested man, with short black hair and a round face, stands with a clipboard. The other, a taller man, with black skin, bald head, and painted eyebrows, remains motionless near the red rope, his arms crossed over his chiseled physique, with a stern look over his face.
"Let them through, Bobby." the clipboard man says to him, in a rather deep voice. Bobby opens the rope, letting two young men into the club. They go through a metal detector, before passing through the double doors. A long line of attendees, men dressed in suave dress shirts, pants, and dress shoes, and women in fancy dresses and heels, wait in anticipation behind the red rope, as the two men let in those with tickets. A few drunken idiots try to come in without them, and are promptly dealt with, flying face first onto the sidewalk. These bouncers don't mess around! After a few minutes, the club begins getting full, before a new woman comes into view.
Unlike the other girls, this one is decked in a black suit, silk shirt and tie, middle button done up, her dress shoes shining in the light of the streetlamps. Her long dark straight hair frames her face, bringing out her big brown eyes and skin tone, a very light tan. She has black mascara, lipstick, and eyeshadow, but not much else in terms of makeup, letting her beautiful natural features out. She walks to the rope, her footsteps echoing off the sidewalk, her aura and demeanor drawing the attention of the other attendees, many in awe at her confidence. Some guys and girls stare, entranced by her beauty, while others laugh and point, whispering to each other.
"God, what a fucking loser! She's never going to make it into Viviana looking like that!" a brunette in a white dress murmurs. She's standing only a few feet away from the suited woman. Her blonde friend lets out an obnoxious laugh, covering her face.
"Yeah, Viviana isn't exactly 'her' scene."
The two bouncers stare at her, and the woman hands them a ticket. The first one looks over his list.
"Name?" he asks, his tone stern but neutral.
"Deville. Sonya Deville." the woman states, putting a hand to her hip. He looks through and nods.
"She's good. Let her through. Club's getting full. We may need to wait a few minutes to let more people in." Just as Bobby grabs the rope, the brunette from earlier speaks up.
"Um, excuse me? Just what the hell are you doing? You're letting 'her' in?!" the woman in white yells, emphasizing her point with an accusing finger towards Sonya. Her blonde friend crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. "What the fuck is this? We paid good money to come here, and what, 'dyke-central' is going to steal our spots! No fucking way!" Bobby starts going towards the two, but Sonya holds up a hand, before turning to look at the screaming woman. Slowly, she walks straight up to the brunette, staring into her eyes with an intensity that causes the onlookers behind her to back away. "What do you want? Come to peek at my bra?"
Sonya stops right in front of her, before speaking. "I wouldn't normally give you the time of day, but since you seem to judge a book before reading it, let me make this simple. I paid for a ticket. I dressed up for this event. Viviana doesn't judge me based on who I like, women or otherwise. Only assholes like you do. And, if you were so afraid of meeting 'dykes' like me," she says with air quotes, then puts her hands down, "then you shouldn't have gone to a club in 2022." Sonya begins to turn, before looking back. "Oh, and for the record, I like boobs and all, but personality and humor really get me going. Two things you and your homophobic friend obviously do not have. So, please, don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole." The woman's jaw drops as Sonya effortlessly turns back and walks into the club, the other people in line cheering and clapping for her as she does.
Sonya's POV
As the doors close behind me, I start scanning my surroundings. A Jason Derulo mix blares in the background. Multicolored lights shine all throughout the club, a mixture of greens, blues, purples, and yellows focusing towards the center, its smooth gray dance floor covered in dots. Not that you could see them, with the dozens of partiers dancing all over it. The high ceilings, with very small windows, let in a glimmer of moonlight. Two bars, long ovals with several bartenders, who mix drinks like crazy, are filled to the brim, the orders coming in non-stop. Couches and chairs are filled, and VIP boxes with champagne flutes, sushi, and beef sliders sparkle in the light. I make my way to the bar, drawing the ire of some, and the lustful eyes of others. Not tonight, Dar, I think to myself. Standing near the bar, I nod to the bartender, a blonde man with blue eyes and a white dress shirt.
"Glass of red wine and a water, please." I ask.
"Any brand?" he asks, his voice higher than I expected.
"Spanish or Italian, please."
"Coming up." he responds, before walking towards another section and bringing two bottles. "Any preference?" I point to the Spanish Toro Loco label in his right hand, and he begins to pour.
"You know, you could have just told her to go fuck herself?" a voice chimes in my ear. I take my drink and water, thanking the bartender, before fixing my hair over my left ear, hiding the communicator.
"I think I just did, Mandz. Besides, she deserved what I told her. Bitch." I say under my breath, so only Mandy can hear me.
"What exactly are we doing here, again? We're not exactly in our jurisdiction?" Mandy tells me, before I cut in.
"Something's not right about the way the police handled the investigation. You know that as much as I do. Ronda knows those 'officers' were fishy. They weren't even wearing gloves when they examined the crime scene!" I whisper yell.
"Okay! Okay! Didn't need that earful, Dar. And yes Ronda, understood." Mandy exclaims.
"Sorry, it's… difficult to talk about." I admit.
"I know. I miss her too, Dar."
"You and me, both." Shayna Baszler was commander of Team Mercury, a specialized Coast Guard unit tasked with handling anti-trafficking operations off the Tampa coastline. While anti-drug operations were the crux of their ops, illegal weapons, tobacco, and alcohol were also frequently seized in searches. Myself and Amanda Saccomanno, better known by our codenames 'fighter' and 'goddess', are part of that team. She was my mentor, and a great friend at that.
Three months ago, Baszler was gunned down in front of our Coast Guard base in Tampa. An investigation was conducted, but from the minute the team met the officers on scene, I knew something was off. Evidence was collected, without gloves, which of course could contaminate samples. Building was shut down for three days. Her locker was raided, as was her office. Everyone was questioned, including Captain Ronda, but only she was given a phone number from the Coast Guard Police Department (CGPD) officers. She shared the number with everyone, but we always got their voicemail, which Ronda screamed about constantly. I travelled with Ronda and another co-worker, Otis, to the CGPD department area off-site, in Miami, but given it was an active investigation, we were not permitted to speak with investigators. We sent pictures of their mishandling of evidence, but nothing happened. Luckily, when the building was reopened, security cameras had captured part of the detective's conversation. While all footage from the incident had been confiscated, the team and I were able to overhear one detective talking about the shooting looking like a 'professional hit' from someone named 'Tito', who frequents La Viviana. Recognizing the name, we used the Guard's archive, and our team was able to I.D. the man. Tito Esparanta, an ex-military contractor, now assassin, working for the highest bidder. He'd been working with Cuban smugglers over the years, many of whom Mercury had arrested on drug and weapon trafficking charges. Baszler had been adamant about working with federal authorities to keep these smugglers away from Florida's coastline. And Tito was connected to them. 6ft., 230 pounds, and bald, with a distinctive black falcon tattoo on his neck. Ronda had set up the sting operation, with Otis, Gable, Mandy, and I involved. Our mission: to find Tito and question him, before handing him over to the Department of Defense (DOD), who keeps tabs on Coast Guard operations all over the U.S. We all wanted to get information as to what happened to our friend, and if the CGPD would be no help, then we'd take matters into our own hands.
But Mandy did have a point. They were Coast Guard personnel, not police. Yes, they had the ability to do investigate and arrest people in a multitude of situations, but they were not in charge of this investigation. This was a CGPD matter, and frankly, out of their comfort zone. Not to mention, 10 years in the Guard- 4 in training, 6 on missions- had taken its toll. Mandy and I both feel our time with it has passed, and have been transitioning to other lines of work. Mandy, already successful in weight-lifting, had been given photoshoots with Calvin Klein. A former MMA fighter myself, I had also been contacted, and was now in shoots alongside my bestie. We also just launched our own Donut business, a testament to our frequent 'road-tripping' in off periods and holidays. Our new shop, 'DaMandyz Donuts', has just opened in Cali and we're planning on moving there soon. And for a long time, I have been questioning whether this life was what I really wanted. After years of being part of a 'special task force' that conducted operations all other coast guard divisions did, the allure of Mercury had faded as quickly as it had come in. Corruption was also semi-frequent. Don't get it twisted, they were good people working as Guardsmen. People who had given their all to protect the public waterways. However, not everyone shared the same 'tolerance' for 'certain individuals' on the force, namely minorities and Queer folk. And several times over the past years, directors had been arrested for everything from embezzlement, extortion, and even colluding with traffickers. Baszler's investigation had just cemented this point even more. I love the job, but I'm starting to get fed up. And Mandy has just gotten engaged, adding another layer to an already questionable situation.
I take a sip of my wine, laughing to myself. Shayna would probably poke fun at her 'boring' plans. However, there was yet another aspect to this: loneliness. It has been some time since I have dated anybody. Not much free time when you work for special ops unit. My last relationship ended three years ago, on not exactly the best terms. An occasional coffee date here and there, or a drunken fling that usually led nowhere, was the most I was gifted. After a while, I grew tired of dating altogether and started focusing on my work and business. I fixed my diet, stopped watching too much reality TV, learned some new recipes, and started working to better myself everyday. My business is my passion, and I work on it constantly. But that itch to get out there, and find someone special, was back. Despite being touch-starved, I don't want just a warm body beside me; I want a best friend, confidant, and lover. Mandy and I had already discussed leaving with Ronda and Shayna, and they were nothing but accepting and supportive. But with Shayna's death, and the unorthodox way her case was treated, I've become laser-focused on finding whoever did this and bringing them to justice. Just then, I notice someone in a gray suit in one of the VIP boxes.
"Mandy, we may have an issue."
"What?... Ronda wants to know what's up. She's on the comm." Mandy states.
"Daria?" Ronda's distinct voice sounds out, "What's the situation?"
"I found Tito."
"Good. Otis and I are on our way-"
"The district attorney is with him."
"What?"
"The D.A., Thomas Quinby, is with him. And those two officers on Baszler's case, with four other guys. Tito's here. Bald, 230 pounds with the tattoo. But he's sitting right next to the D.A. If we grab him, they may get involved."
"Wait, are you sure Dar?" Mandy questions, her voice in disbelief.
"Same dude who keeps posing with the mayor since they announced the new police protocols last Spring. For sure it's him. I can send a pic-" I explain, before getting cut off.
"Fucking, fuck, fuck!" the sound of a fist smacking something echoes through the commlink. "What the fuck are they doing here?" Ronda curses.
"Well, they are all sharing a glass of champagne with some sliders, so I'm pretty certain it's not discussing an arrest."
"Bastards. I knew there was something up with this whole bullshit. Fuck it! Otis, get the gear. Mandy, you're with me. Gable, keep an eye on the exits. He's coming with us and we're going straight to the authorities. Dar, can you snap a fe-"
"Already done. What now?" I ask, putting my phone away.
"You have that package I gave you?" I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag with two pills, plus extras.
"Are these…?"
"Extra-strength fast-acting laxatives. The minute he goes near the bathroom, we grab him. Just remember to put them in his drink. ETA two minutes on Mandy and I." On cue, a waitress is bringing back his drinks to be refilled. I move to the other bar. Looking around, I put two pills into the bourbon, which quickly dissolve into the mixture. As the waitress grabs the drinks, I fix my hair and smile, trying to appear inconspicuous. She smiles back warmly, before walking away. The waitress gives the bourbon to Tito, and the whiskeys and drinks to the D.A. and other men. Just then, Mandy and Ronda come in from the back entrance, wearing leather jackets. I meet Ronda's eyes and we nod silently, before she motions towards the VIP box. Ronda eyes the tan-suited man, waiting behind a pillar. She notices the gray-suited D.A. and officers, too. A few minutes later, we see Tito holding his stomach, before getting up and quickly going towards the restroom, flanked by two men.
Amanda keeps an eye on the VIP box, as the three of us follow Tito and his guards to the restroom. As he heads in, the two men stand guard in front of it.
"Now what?" Mandy asks.
"Can you fake sick?" Ronda asks, her tone impatient.
"I think so." Mandy says, before holding her stomach, groaning and dry-heaving three times. I laugh out loud. "What?"
"Too much! Hahaha! Just hold your breath for a few seconds and then breath heavily. Put your arm around my shoulder and pretend you're about to be ill." I tell her. Mandy places an arm around my neck and does just that.
"I'll come in from the side." Ronda says, darting into the crowd. I, with Mandy's arm draped over my shoulders, pull us towards the bathrooms. The men stop them, as Mandy begins breathing heavily.
"Listen, my friend's really sick and the women's restroom lineup isn't moving. Can we please get inside so she won't throw up all over the place?" I ask with a desperate tone of voice.
"Sorry. Can't do it. You'll need to turn it around and-"
Punch! Ronda decks the man, knocking him out cold, before grabbing the second one by the throat and elbowing him. She then holds his head under her arm until he passes out, the loud music masking his struggle. Mandy keeps watch while we pull the men into the restroom. When an onlooker notices us, Mandy reassures him the men 'overdrank and we're trying to sober them up.' Nodding, he walks away. That was too damn close. We hear a sound coming from the one closed stall. We exchange a glance, walking up to it, the stained gray door right in front of us. Ronda holds up three fingers, counting down silently, before she kicks in the door. We find Tito… slumped on the toilet, his throat cut and blood leaking onto his neck, clothing, and the floor.
"What the fuck?!" Ronda exclaims, before checking on the man. Just then, another stall door opens, a bearded man in a red suit quickly going towards the exit. "Hey, you?"
The man turns and throws a knife. Ronda and I dodge, the weapon clinking against the tile. Ronda runs full force at the man before he can grab the doorknob. She grabs him and punches multiple times, but he blocks and kicks her hard. I pull my pepper spray out and tells Ronda to duck. She ducks and grabs his legs while I spray him. He dodges the pepper spray and headbutts Ronda, knocking her over. I grab his shoulder, but he pushes my hand and yells, pushing my body against the sinks. Bang!
Fuck that hurt! Just as I'm about to yell, he grabs my throat, choking me. I punch his stomach multiple times, then his head, finally causing him to release his grip. Pulling out a gun, he quickly aims it towards my face. I push it to the side, grabbing his hand and trying to wrestle it from his grasp. As we struggle, Ronda gets back up, running for him and tackling him down. I finally knock the gun from his hand, but he throws a fist back at Ronda, then rolls forward, taking me to the ground with him. He tries laying punches, but I block them, his knuckles colliding with my forearms. I kick him off, Ronda then clotheslining him as he gets up. She starts punching him over and over, but he reverses their positions, kicking her in the groin and stomach before grabbing her hair and throwing her against the bathroom door. I eye the gun and knife, the latter covered in blood. I quickly grab his arms, but he turns his body around, effortlessly removing his jacket, which comes off in my hands. As he tries to punch me, I throw it back at his face and tackle him into the stall, a loud wham echoing out as the door knocks hard into the side wall, its hinges starting to creak. Ronda grabs him by the throat, attempting to choke him out. He headbutts her from behind, making her release him. He kicks me, then tucks his arms in and rolls into the adjacent stall. Ronda and I scramble to our feet as he tries to reach the door and escape. Pulling him back, he starts punching me and Ronda, before choking us. We break his hold and together, use our combined strength to flip him onto his back. I give him a swift kick to the face, my shoe smacking into his left cheek. Ronda begins laying punch after punch on him until he's finally down. She handcuffs him and we drag him to his feet.
"I should fucking kill you, you prick! Move!" she whispers. The man, groggy but not unconscious, follows her demands. Looking in the mirror, I can see a few bruises on my face. I feel even more on my arms and head. Ronda's lip is busted, but she doesn't seem to care.
"He killed him right in here. Who the hell is this guy?" I ask.
"No idea. Whoever he is, he's highly trained. He's coming with us." Ronda asserts. Suddenly, Mandy bursts in.
"Guys, we've got a sit-" she starts, before noticing the carnage. "What the hell happened to you?"
"How did you not hear us?" I question, dumbfounded.
"The music's blaring harder than before. I had to divert some club dudes away and they almost threw up in front here. We've got to move. The other two guys are heading this way. Where's Tito?"
Ronda shows the bearded man, and I motion with my hand going across my neck quickly, before pointing at the man. Mandy's eyes go wide, mouthing 'seriously?', before we all get out. Ronda tells the man to keep quiet if he knows what's good for him. Not that he could say much, given he's pretty dazed as it is, slowly limping next to Ronda.
The four of us go towards the back entrance. We almost reach it, before one of the CGPD officers cuts us off.
"Excuse me, seamen. What do you think you're doing there, officers?" he asks, showing off his gun and holster under his gray blazer. I remember him. Officer Pechenko. His blue eyes stare daggers at Ronda. She meets his stare head on, never once turning away.
Turning, Mandy and I notice the other two men behind us, both holding something in their jackets.
"Best to let the man go, now, if you don't want things to get ugly." he remarks, undoing the holster. The other officer, Louis, look straight at us, going back towards the VIP box, assumably to warn the D.A.
The crowd continues to dance around us, oblivious to the standoff transpiring right in front of them. Ronda stares at Pechenko, before turning her hostage around and running him like a shield into the other two men, knocking them down. We follow her, running into the crowd for the front entrance. Officer Pechenko runs after us, gun in hand. Ronda yells into her comm.
"Gable, get the truck! Change of plans, we're heading out from the front!"
"What? Why the front?"
"Gable! Get the fucking truck!" she yells.
"On it!"
"Otis, meet us. We've got at least four armed men, one in pursuit."
"Got it, Ronda!" he says. We burst passed the crowds, finally making it through the doors. Running past security and across the street, we see Otis waiting for us. Turning back, Mandy and I see both officers and the two henchmen run through, the detector going off as they pull out guns and start firing at us.
Bang! Bang! "Duck!" Mandy yells, the four of us and our hostage ducking behind a Chevy Silverado. The bullets are flying and people are yelling, running in the opposite direction. Otis fires a few shots from his pistol, giving one to Ronda and Mandy.
"Sorry, Son. Could only get two more in haste." he tells me.
BANG! POP! One of the bullets hits the tire, causing the car to sink down, startling us. "Fuck! What kind of luck is this?" I ask.
Ronda fires a few shots off, before turning back. "Not paradise without trouble, huh?" she murmurs.
"Is this really a time to be joking?" Mandy questions. Bang! This one hits the front end. Mandy fires two rounds, before going back into cover.
"Pull!" I hear one of the detectives' scream, before hearing a distinctive sound. Ping! An object flies over the truck, bounces off the wall and lands near us… A grenade!
"Fuck! You bastards!" Ronda yells, and we all book it, hiding behind cars. The explosion goes off behind us, the boom causing my heart to race faster than I thought it could. Suddenly, two more grenades are thrown, the bullets still firing towards us. One bullet grazes my leg, but I trudge forward, knowing if I stop, it's game over. We barely avoid the shrapnel, dodging and weaving, and we turn the corner-
Vroom! Screech! A black van pulls up. Gable pokes his head out. "Guys, get inside!"
Bang! Bang! As the shots ring through, we open the side door, shove the murderer inside and jump in, closing it behind us as Gable reverses back across the street. The detectives and two henchmen fire at us, one now wielding a submachine gun (SMG). Gable makes a quick turn using a drift, making the tires screech once more, then drives off, the bullets hitting the back of our van.
Mandy pulls out her phone and dials. Ronda turns her head.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Making a call."
"To who? We have no idea who's with them or not! We're already going to the safehouse!"
"I'm calling the Feds. They have a direct line on- Yes, hello? Yes, my name is officer Amanda Saccomanno. I'm a Coast Guardsman working in Tampa. Who am I speaking with? DOD Agent Shaun Michaels. Listen, we've just been attacked after subduing a suspect at La Viviana nightclub in Tampa. Requesting immediate support."
Boom! Screech! Something hits our van, causing us all to jolt in our seats and Gable to take evasive action, holding the wheel firmly in his hands.
"What the hell?!" Ronda says, eyeing the side mirror.
"Red jeep. Looks like our friends from the club want this guy back badly." Otis says, eyeing the side mirror.
"Can we lose them?" I ask.
"Already on it." Gable responds.
"I'm calling because both the D.A. and two CGPD officers are involved. They're carrying military grade equipment, including grenades. Yes sir, we have multiple pictures. Can you give us a number or email address? Okay, 555-760-8899. Dar, can you upload the pics?"
I start texting the pictures to the number. I also take a picture of our cuffed assailant. "Sent."
"District Attorney Thomas Quinby is his name. Officers-?"
"Pechenko and Louis, with the CGPD Miami division." I tell her. Ronda glares at me. I look at her, before she pushes Mr. red suit further onto the floor. He's been unusually compliant, so far. Perhaps Ronda hit him really hard, hard enough to completely change his personality. Or knock his senses so he can't resist.
"Did you get that? We also have a captured assailant. He killed a hitman named Tito Esparanta…" Mandy covers the screen. "Okay, so he's got the photos. He's contacting the Tampa branch now." We hear a Texan voice speaking, and Mandy picks up again. "Hello? Yes. D-Did you say there was another unit involved?"
Boom! Ratatatatatata!
"Guys, we've got a Ram 1500 and the guys chasing us are shooting at it!" Otis screams.
"What?" we all yell. Looking into the mirror, I see it: a blueish-black Ram with two occupants. One driver and passenger, the latter firing at the red Jeep. Wait, I recognize those guys! It's the bouncers from the club!
"The bouncers?" I exclaim. "Those are the bouncers from the club!"
"What the fuck are they here for?" Ronda questions.
"Maybe the shootout? There were grenades thrown right outside the club." Gable suggests, before ducking his head down when a bullet hits the left-side mirror.
"Still doesn't explain why they didn't just call the police. Why woul- Hold on! Can Agent Michaels tell us who the other team is?" I ask.
"Agent Michaels?" Mandy asks, then listens for a few seconds. "He can't tell us, but he's giving us a safehouse to drive to." I have a feeling they might be the othe-
Bang! Crack! One of our windows was just shot out, pieces of glass falling inside the van. We hear a few more shots and skidding on the road, but Gable is keeping us away from traffic.
"We already have a safehouse! What the hell does it matter which one we go to? We need to stick to the plan!" Ronda screams.
"We're being chased. Do we really have a choice? We said we'd be going to the authorities. Here they are trying to help." I argue with her. She glares at me, before rolling her eyes.
"Where is the location?" Mandy chimes in. "779 Coral. Got it, thank you. You want me t- Okay." Mandy presses a button on her phone. "You're on speaker, Agent Michaels."
"Everyone, listen to me. Is anyone injured?"
"Yeah!" everyone exclaims.
"We're sending a unit via express depot to 779 Coral. The assailant you have is a wanted fugitive and has been at large for the past 16 months on U.S. soil. Once you enter the depot, we will take him off your hands and your team, no matter how many of you there are, will be examined by paramedics. Take the express lane on the Autoroute and head straight for exit 226. Local law enforcement has been advised to assist, but we have a drone monitoring you, so if anyone, and I mean anyone, tries something, we'll be the first to know. Am I clear?" Agent Michaels explains. We all agree. "Good. Extraction team's already underway. We're going to help you in anyway we can. I'm going to contact the other team's leader now. Line's open, so call if you need anything else."
"Thank you." Mandy and I respond.
"Don't mention it. Drive safe." Michaels tells us, before hanging up.
Boom! Looking through the mirror again, I see the pickup is still ramming the Jeep, trying to get them off our tail. The two men continue firing at the Ram, however, causing the bouncers to take evasive action, swerving around cars to avoid colliding with them.
"There's the autoroute!" Mandy yells. Gable gets on, quickly moving to the service road. We speed down the highway. I look out the window for a second, high in the sky. "Can you see the drone?"
"The lights from the autoroute are too bright. I can't- Wait! I think I see something. Red dot above us, too low to be a plane as we would hear it. Looks like Agent Michaels was right."
Bang! We suddenly jolt forward again. Turning, we see the Jeep is right behind us, the bouncers in the Ram trying to catch up behind them. They just won't quit! I look at Ronda, who kicks the guy lying on the ground.
"You better have the info we need!"
"How much ammo do you have?" I ask. Ronda checks her gun.
"I'm out."
"Otis? Mandy?"
"I'm out of ammo, too." Otis says, checking both the magazine and chamber. "Gable has no weapon on him."
"What?"
"It's still at work. I was in a rush!" he proclaims.
"Goddamn it, Lieutenant!" Ronda screams.
"I've got 5 rounds left." Mandy says. We get rammed again. Boom!
"Mandy, give me your gun!" I demand. She hands me the gun immediately. Ronda intercedes.
"You want to start firing live ammo from a truck going, *checks the speedometer* over 90 miles an hour?!"
"You have a better solution?! Name it and I'll do that instead!" I yell. Checking the magazine, sure enough, 5 bullets remaining.
I go towards the back of the truck, looking through the window. It's broken glass, but I can't get a good shot. Looking around, I see a wrench lying near one of the seats. Grabbing it, I start playing scenarios in my head.
Bang! Another hit, which causes me to jolt, but not lose my footing.
"Uh, Dar?" Mandy and Otis start.
"Give me a second!" Taking a breath, I grab the door and prepare to open it. Ronda gets up, probably to chastise me, but it's too late. Just as the Jeep is about to hit us again, with the gun resting in my right hand, I open the door and throw the wrench at their windshield. They swerve for a second and I fire three bullets at the driver. It breaks through the windshield, killing him. The other man grabs the steering wheel, but looses control and ends up veering off into traffic, crashing into another car. Crunch! I slam the door closed, as I see the Ram stop, now blocked by the obstructing vehicle.
"Yeah Daria!" Gable screams.
"You rock my plum!" Otis continues.
Mandy comes up to me and grabs my face. "That was incredible! You okay?" I nod, giving a small smile as she lets me go.
"Good job, Dar." Ronda says, putting a hand to my shoulder.
"There's exit 226!" Gable asserts, quickly getting off the autoroute. We see what looks like a simple neighborhood. Relatively quiet. We circle and sure enough, we find Coral Street. Suddenly, we hear the distinct sound of a text message.
"Whose phone is that?" Gable asks. We all check our phones, but none of them are on. We turn to look at the red-suited man. Ronda grabs him and checks through his pockets, finding a Samsung. Furrowing her brows, she shows us the text, with a recorded message. Pressing play, a distorted voice comes on.
"Contact successfully completed. Money deposited into your account. Brace."
Looking at the assailant, he's covering his head, assuming a fetal position. Realizing what's about to happen, I start to yell. "Everybody dow-"
Gable suddenly turns hard, as a large vehicle barrels into our right bumper. Ronda jumps down, while Mandy hits the side of the van legs first, going down. I grab her, covering her body with mine as Gable tries to regain control. "Look out!" he yells, before the van collides with a building.
To be continued.
