Before Jay’s passing, he ensured I knew all surveillance channels we used, the blueprints of all buildings, and every nefarious deal Dean and Bryce were and are a part of. I’m armed enough to bring them to the police on a platter… but where’s the fun in that? I’d rather gut them and let them wear each other’s intestines before they bleed out.
The next shift would be here within the hour, and I wanted them to have fireworks upon their arrival, so down to business I get, and hunker next to the marijuana section. This warehouse has Emerson written all over it. He always was the damn drama queen of the group, organizing things to theumpteenth degree, but it was one thing I loved about him. He was the calm to my chaos.
As I slip through each organized section, I sporadically place devices between shipments. Pills, powder, grass—it’ll all burn the same once I light this bitch up, but first, I’m about to become employee of the month, and clean up isles two, five, and seven.
My internal banter causes a giggle to slip free, attracting unwanted attention. “Shh… Did you hear that? Sounded like… a giggle?”
“Shut the fuck up, Greg. Ain’t no one heregiggling.” The guy next to him growls while adding another package to the pill pile.
“I know what I heard.” He’s glancing around, sensing my presence. Slowly, my knife slices through the plastic containing little blue pills. They hit my palm before I let them pour to the ground, confirming that Greg did hear something out of the ordinary. “See! I fucking told you. Someone’s here!”
There’s no visibility from their side of the aisle to mine, but there is a gap at the bottom of the shelf, enough room to slip a blade through. The slice of metal through flesh is an endorphin I’ll never tire of, especially when screams fill the air, and he drops to the floor. The Achilles carving up so prettily, like the spiral hams on Thanksgivings past.
Without my arm blocking the gap, Greg’s pain-filled eyes latch onto mine, sparkling with glee. Another giggle slips free, enjoying the agony on his face. “Hey, Greggy-poo!”
“She’s there! On the other siii…” He tries to warn his partner, before a well-placed jab sinks into his temple, silencing him permanently.
“Fuck,” his partner whispers, voice shaking.
Fortunately, no guns are fired, and the radio deafens the two dildos in the back. Their ignorance gives me a moment to play.
As I round the shelf slowly for show, clinking my knife against the metal railings, I sing-song, “Oh, Danny boy! Oh, Danny boy… you’ve been naughty.” He shuffles back a step from whatever he sees glinting in my eyes. “You’ve been judged and found guilty of your sins. I’m here to collect.”
“Fuck you, you little bitch.” His hand whips behind his back, going for his gun.
Unfortunately for him, my knife’s already sinking into his neck, loosening his grip on the gun until it falls to the floor. Moments later, he tips towards the concrete, clutching his neck desperately. His maw silently opens and closes until he finally finishes choking on his own blood and dies.
“Greg! Dan! One of you motherfuckers pick up your phone. Where are you?” Heavy footfalls clang down the metal stairs from the next level. These morons are practically handing me their lives. “Dammit! Where the fuck are…” He notices Danny-Boy seconds before my knife slices through the back of his knees. Whoever designed this place shouldn’t have left blind spots under the stairs.
Mr. Henry Tatum—president at keeping his mouth shut while trafficking underage kids—screams like the little bitch that he is and falls down the rest of the stairs. His face greets the concrete first, breaking his nose, and smashing a few teeth out. As he breathes, blood spittle’s the ground like a splatter painting next to discarded teeth.
Henry groans loudly, attempting to yell for Patrick, the last man standing in the warehouse—my last target. He hasn’t moved, but his eyes are wide with fright, signaling a broken back. All the better to let him burn.
One more to go, and this place will be brighter than the Griswald’s on Christmas when I blow the roof off the building. Tired of waiting for the next lackey to get with the program, I hurry things along by whistling, drawing attention to this side of the warehouse.
The tune toThe Dock of the Bayblasts into the quiet building, bouncing off the walls like I’m a one-woman show, and the world’s best whistling marmot. Laughter burst free, joining the cacophony of noise, picturing those giant squirrel bastards.
Patrick’s a smidge smarter than his comrades and at leasttriesto sneak up on me, gunactuallypulled, and ready. His ugly mug peeks around the corner, tracking the echo of laughter, eyes desperately seeking the source.
“You’ve been judged, Patrick.” I twist around the end of the pill shelf as a bullet flies past my shoulder, slicing through plastic, and spraying little blue tablets in its wake.
“Fuck you, bitch.” He spews hatred, along with a few more rounds, guessing where I’m hiding.
Another giggle erupts as my favorite green blade glides through the air, piercing its target’s collarbone, severing the brachial nerve, and rendering his left arm immobile. It’s not his gun hand, though. I want a bit of a challenge tonight.
“Now, now. That’s no way to speak to Death. I’ve come for your sins, and you’ll pay for them with blood, and agony.” If I’m not mistaken, I hear a whimper after my spiel, enticing a devil-may-care smile. “No use in whimpering. Did you allow little Tommy to have that luxury, hmm? When he asked you to stop, did you? When he cried for his pathetic druggy mother that you fuck to stay close to her kid, did you stop!” Another blade cuts through the space between us. Faster. Harder. An entombment of hatred for what he and every person like him stand for.
The shouts of pain and clatter of his gun are music to my ears. I’d love nothing more than to bask in their deaths all night, hearing them scream and beg for mercy, but time is another enemy as the next shift is due soon. Not another minute wasted, I flicked two more blades at his retreating form.Fucking coward.
They sink deep and hit their mark. Not enough to kill, but maim, bringing him to his knees without chance of escape. “You’ll never get away with this! You have no idea who you’re fucking with, do you, bitch?”
He tries to laugh in the face of his death, but it’s all wiped away when I step out from the darkness seamlessly. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m fucking with.” I proceed to read his crimes aloud for fate to decide what to do with him once I pass him to the underworld. “Today, you get the judge, jury, and executioner. Deliberation didn’t take long.Death,the verdict.” He flinches at the glint in my eyes, shining as brightly as my blades before they found purchase in his flesh.
“Fucking crazy bitch.” The words are spit as he attempts to drag himself closer to the exit, which helps me, because I want him close to his friend. “They’ll come for you.” Blood trails behind him in rivulets, painting the concrete red.
A swift kick to the ribs stops his caterpillar crawl. Baring my teeth, I growl, “I’m counting on it.” The snarky attitude is washed from his face, replaced by true terror. “Finally, there it is. Now, move closer to your friends.” His donut middle doesn’t allow him to crawl well, but they’re next to each other. For fun, I cinch their hands together, creating a chain of bad guys instead of gingerbread men. “There! Aww! You four aresocute. I wish I had time to drag the others in here and connect them.” Shrugging, I pull out a can of lighter fluid, and step forward. Two of the four are already dead, but the last two can suffer enough for all of them. “Now be good boys and try not to scream too much. Believe it or not, that’s the worst part. Tends to give me aheadache.”The Dock of the Baypicks up where I left off whistling, as I begin to douse the four of them with flammable liquid.
It doesn’t take long for them to figure out what’s going to happen next. Protests rise, passionate pleas, all falling on deaf ears. No one listened while they defiled the innocent, and neither will I.