Retribution.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
A sort of prequel.

Submitted: March 11, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 11, 2008

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A A A


Retribution

Grunt. Growl. Nash. The scraping of feet on the cement floor. In the shadows of the room, a chuckle was heard. A strong breeze blew, as a coat sliced the air, someone whipping around to face the shadows.
“What?” the man snarled. He was somewhat tall, with a lean, yet muscular frame. The room was too dark for the features of his face to be seen, but his grey eyes clearly stood out, gleaming in the darkness.
“Why the hell are you getting frustrated, Jack?” said a voice from the shadows.
“When the boss gets pissed, we tend to get screwed” said Jack harshly. Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps were heard. Another man emerged from the shadows of the room. He was tall and muscular, had blonde hair all combed back, and light blue eyes.
He chuckled, and then replied, “The boss has been in a good mood. And if anyone is to get in trouble, it will be that guy.” He leant against the wall and started humming.
“That punk doesn’t know what he’s doing…” said the other man slowly. Turning around, he stared at the ceiling. The man also had very long black hair that reached his knees, and which was kept neatly in a ponytail.
There was silence. The room was lit poorly by several fluorescent lights that worked sporadically, and water dripped slowly from the ceiling overhead. Among the rough, granite walls were two wooden doors that faced each other. There was nothing in the room, except for an old wooden table; two guns lay on the top.
“Hayes, remember what happened last time?” asked Jack slowly.
“Yes, but I doubt we’ll have our --”
Hayes was interrupted by one of the doors slamming open, hitting the wall with a thunderous bang. At the door way stood a young man. The man had short, sandy brown hair, a smooth shaven face, and hazel eyes. As one of room lights flickered lit for a moment again, a most furious expression could be seen on the young man’s face.
“So where the hell is Snake?” growled the young man. Jack and Hayes looked at the young man with temporary disbelief, and then Jack picked up a pistol off the table and pointed it at him.
“Sam, you finally decided to show up, huh?” said Jack angrily. He cocked his pistol and added, “And you think you can just bust your way in like that, huh?”
“Jack, you’re wasting more time by talking to this punk” said Hayes grimly. “Just show him to the boss already.”
Jack gnashed his teeth, and then pointed at the other door and said, “He’s in there. I hope he whips your sorry ass.” Sam immediately shoved Jack aside, as he headed towards the door, a determined look on his face. Jack snarled in outrage at being pushed like that and whipped his gun to aim it at Sam’s head. Hayes looked at Jack and shook his head slowly; Jack sighed and lowered his gun, sighing in disgust.
Sam opened the door slowly and entered the next room. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the room slowly. The walls were paneled with wood, the ceiling was painted a bluish hue, and there was a thick green carpet lining the floor. Several book cases were present, along with a large steel cage that housed -- Sam started – a sleeping leopard. A large window took up much of the back wall, and moonlight shone through it into the room. In front of the window was a desk, and at this desk, a man was seated; a man who grinned cruelly at Sam.
Sam stared at the man with silent disgust; walking towards the desk, the man’s features came into view: Short, blonde hair, a crooked nose, and grey eyes.
“Sam… so you didn’t stand me up,” said the man with a laugh. “Good thing too, otherwise my men would have had a little more fun with your brother.”
Sam snarled and rushed at the man –
“You don’t want to hit me. If you do, your brother will get hurt a whole lot worse.” said the man grimly. Sam stopped a foot away from the desk. On the top lay several papers, two phones, a metal box, and a knife pinned to the surface of the desk.
Sam clenched his fists, and then said slowly, “I’m here to bargain for my brother. What is it that you had in mind for me to do, Snake?”
“Well, I need you to boost me a car… the same car your brother couldn’t boost,” answered Snake,
“Huh, I don’t get why you just can’t get someone else to do it,” Sam commented. “Either way, this should be easy enough for me – ROAR! – The leopard had woken up and began snarling at Sam.
“Shush my beauty, you might have Sam later on,” Snake chuckled. Sam whipped his gaze away from the leopard and stared at Snake. “That is if he fails to do what his brother did,” said Snake, looking at Sam with a devious smile.
“I’m not like my brother,” Sam said with a frown. “Now what was this all about?”
“Hah,” said Snake, “three weeks ago, one of my crews spotted a Bugatti Veyron driving around the city. The driver was here for some business and would be on his way in a month. The chance to acquire a Bugatti Veyron, easily, doesn’t come often.
“Greedy bastard,” growled Sam.
Snake laughed, and then continued, “Well, unfortunately, I did not have anybody at hand to get that car for me. Most of them were away doing some business at the airport. So I looked up some mercenaries and I found you, Sam Rhodes, the great leader of the ‘Booster Club’ on the western shores.”
“Not anymore…” grunted Sam.
“Yes,” said Snake, nodding his head, “you had turned clean, so getting you to do the job would be a waste of time. However, your younger brother was on the list, and he was still in the business of boosting.”
“Tommy…” Sam sighed.
“He must have really looked up to you,” laughed Snake. “So I give your brother, Tom, a call. He was more than excited to do it, in fact, he insisted on taking the job. So I give the job to him. He spends about a week researching the target, and then he gives me a call telling me I’ll have the car by evening. So I wait. It’s the next day, the Bugatti Veyron is not in my possession, and your brother has vanished. I get some guys to track him down, and he gives them this message: He isn’t going to boost the car, and that I should find somebody else to do it.”
“So, what’s the problem then?” asked Sam slowly.
Snake began to laugh crazily; managing to control himself, he coughed and said, “If you take a job on for me, you carry it out, no fucking exceptions.”
“What the hell?” Sam burst out. The leopard looked at Sam and growled; Sam, taking a deep breath, said, “He didn’t take your money for the job yet, so why the hell didn’t you get someone else to do it?”
Snake laughed some more; leaning back in his armchair, he answered, “Well, I just figured I’d teach your punk brother a lesson in keeping promises.”
Sam snarled and said, “You think you’re so smart, huh?” Snake looked into Sam’s eyes with a smile on his face. “Mark my words; you’re going to get it in the ass for doing crap like this!”
“I had your brother tied to a chair and beaten,” said Snake, the smile gone from his face. “I could have him nailed toa wall and beaten. Don’t test me.”
Sam, his chest heaving with anger, said nothing to this.
“Good,” said Snake smiling again. “Now I think you have a car to get me. You should probably get to that, since there is less than a week left.” Sam turned around and walked towards the door; the leopard looked hungrily at him. “A week till the Bugatti Veyron is out of this city,” added Snake. “And a week till I have your brother hung from a crane, unless you can finish what your brother couldn’t start.”
Sam stopped at this last comment; clenching his fists, he cracked his knuckles. Snake looked at him, expecting him to say something. But Sam simply started towards the door again, opened it, left the room, and slammed the door shut. Snake got out of his chair and walked to the leopard cage; squatting, he petted the leopard.
“Bugatti Veyron, or not, I’ll kill his brother and him.” whispered Snake to the leopard, who looked at him with a lazy eye. “And maybe his family for good measure too,” Snake added with a laugh.
“Tuesday, March 11th. I can finally get this done tomorrow.” Sam was sitting in his apartment, finishing the rest of coffee. He was leaning back in an old, black couch, looking over a marked-up calendar. “I just need that last guy, but Snake is a stingy bastard. Who knows, maybe he’ll get on.”
Sighing, he got up and looked outside his grimy apartment window. It was morning; car horns sounded noisily outside in the busy city streets, and crowds of people walked along the sidewalks, rushing to wherever they had to go. Sam turned around and walked to the small kitchen to get a can of soda. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a white vest.
The phone rang; Sam hurried to pick it up, knocking into a partly broken table in the process. Rubbing his throbbing knee, he answered the phone. “Yeah, oh, oh I see. So no? Whatever.” He slammed the phone down.
Grunting, he sat back down in the couch. Picking up a notepad that was lying on the patched carpeted floor, he muttered to himself. He took a pen out of his pocket and sucked on it, staring at the notepad’s contents: A list of names, some of them crossed out. Sighing, he crossed out another name; throwing the notepad into his bedroom, he swore loudly.
“Damn you, Snake,” he said loudly. “Ah, Tommy, why did you have to follow after me? Mom was right; I shouldn’t have let you be.” Sam sat quietly for a few moments. Then looking at the dusty clock perched on the beige wall, he went to his bedroom to get changed. Getting a clean shirt on, and a black jacket, he stepped out of the apartment and hurried down the broken stairs to the street below, disappearing among the crowd.
He spent the rest of the day meeting up with several of Snake’s men in various clubs, bars, and garages. He had handpicked all of those men to help him boost the car. Getting them wasn’t an easy job. Snake kept refusing his selections, arguing that they were valued men. Sam had argued back that he wasn’t going to be able to boost a Bugatti Veyron without having the right people to back him up.
In the end, both of them gave in; Sam got some of the men, but not as many as he would have liked. Sam still had doubts to whether these men were up to the job. Sam contemplated this, as he sat in a crowded bar, watching evening become night.
“I should have learnt how to bypass car security systems, so I could boost them myself, muttered Sam, as he sipped a glass of brandy. “And owners of a Bugatti Veyron don’t tend to be lax on the security of their cars. But maybe I’m just being too cautious. This crew I have may do.”
He watched the people who entered and left the bar. He had just been done talking to one of the men, on how they should approach the car. He liked the plan, but couldn’t help feeling uneasy; he wondered why he felt that way.
He listened to the music playing overheard from the multi-color lit ceiling, trying to figure out what was troubling his mind. He caught the eye of a pretty waitress looking at him, but he didn’t pay much attention. Seated in a wooden chair, he leant over his table and put his head in his hands.
It came to him. “Why did my brother refuse to boost the car, after he took the trouble to prepare for the job?”Sam asked himself. “It’s not like him; he never backs down, even from things that are way over his head.” Sam sighed; he would never forgive himself if anything happened to his brother.
Downing the whole glass, he paid is tab and left. As he walked down the dimly lit street to his apartment, he looked at the bright night sky and prayed that he and his brother could walk away, unscathed, after this. Sighing, he quickened his pace and hoped he could get a good night’s sleep. He needed to be focused for tomorrow.
An elegant clock, in the lobby, read four thirty p.m. Several men in dark suits sat in leather armchairs around a coffee table. Some were sipping glasses of water, while others were taking a drag on their cigarettes.
“Where the heck is that guy?” asked one of the men, looking slightly annoyed. “I thought he said he would be here before ten thirty.”
“That guy always seems to run late,” answered another. “Jack was freaking out day before yesterday because Sam came in late to see the boss.”
“There he is!” cried another man. He pointed at Sam, who was dressed in black jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and a leather jacket; Sam was also carrying a small bag. He looked slowly around the large lobby; spotting the men, he grimaced and walked over to them.
“Finally made it, huh?” commented one of the guys.
“Yeah, I was just double checking things,” replied Sam, who looked nervous, yet determined. “We have about twenty minutes before we do this job, so let’s get things straight.”
Everyone gave Sam their full attention; Sam smiled a bit and began, “Right, the guy who owns the Bugatti Veyron is currently finishing whatever business he has in this hotel. Taking a look at the schedule we managed to obtain, he should be done very soon.” Sam looked around to see if everyone was with him so far; he continued, “I have a man stationed on the floor his room is on; he’ll give us a signal when he sees him about to come down. That’s when we set ourselves in place.” Everyone nodded; pleased that things were alright so far, Sam helped himself to some pecan nuts lying in a dish on the coffee table.
They sat silently, waiting for Sam’s man to give the signal. The men started when Sam’s cell phone suddenly rang; Sam answered it, looked at the men, and then after a pause, nodded. The men nodded back and got up; Sam turned the phone off and signaled to them to follow him.
Sam led them down a corridor leading away from the lobby. At the end of the lobby were two heavy doors. Looking around to see if anyone was present, he opened the bag he had been carrying earlier; he took out a small electronic device, which he then hooked up to the door lock, via two wires. He worked on the devise, and then – click – the door unlocked itself.
Smiling, he signaled to the men to start moving again. He pushed on the handle – WHAM! Another door in the corridor suddenly banged open. Sam and everybody else froze; then turning around slowly, they looked at the open doorway. Several security guards were staring at them with puzzled looks. Sam and the men stared back, not making a single sound.
“Hey!” cried one of the security guards suddenly. “We have a real emergency to deal with.” The other security guards started, and then continued on their way, hurrying down the corridor; they disappeared from view, as they ran up a flight of stairs.
Sam gave a massive sigh of relief, while the other guys groaned. Wiping the cold sweat off his forehead, Sam opened the heavy doors and signaled the others to follow. The men, muttering to themselves, followed Sam down a dark, marble staircase.
They entered the hotel parking lot through the doors at the end of the staircase. Hurrying, Sam led them around the large, concrete lot, making sure that all of them were being as quiet as they could possibly be.
“There it is,” whispered Sam. The Bugatti Veyron was innocently parked several feet away from them.
“That is one hell of a car,” commented one of the men, who were clearly in awe of the vehicle.
“No kidding,” replied another. It was a very impressive looking car; an unusual, yet elegant, aerodynamic design, a superbly polished body, and sleek racing tires. The red and black paint job, with the platinum rims and fenders, enhanced the beauty of the car even further. Looking through the tinted windows, deep black upholstery and teak wood paneling made this car look terrific, both inside and out.
“No wonder Snake wants this car, even with the Mercedes Benz he has,” said Sam in a high voice. “This car is to die for. And being worth a million dollars plus, the Bugatti Veyron is that much more covetable.”
“The boss isn’t going to pay that much though, even for a car like this” said the men, in agreement with each other.
“Enough,” said Sam suddenly. “Everyone get in place.”
Each of the men reached inside their suit jacket and pulled out a MP5 submachine gun; under the direction of Sam, they each assembled themselves behind the pillars that were in close proximity of the car. When all the men confirmed they were in place, Sam approached the car and placed a tiny incendiary device on the driver door handle.
“This way, I can remote detonate the devise and stun him,” muttered Sam to himself. Signaling to the men that all was set up, Sam hurried and positioned himself behind a car adjacent to the Bugatti Veyron. Sam double-checked everything with a glance; taking a deep breath, he checked his watch. Settling himself comfortably, Sam proceeded to wait for the driver to arrive and open the car; then they could make their move.
“Hopefully, there won’t be any problems, where we have to kill the guy,” Sam sighed to himself. “I just want to get this over with and get Tommy back.” After several minutes had passed, Sam took out a pistol from his jacket; cocking it, he knelt and kept it in a readied position. “Alright, give yourself up to me darling,” Sam said, in reference to the car.
An exit door opened; Sam and the men took a sharp intake of breath. A tall man came into view, approaching the Bugatti Veyron purposefully. The man was dressed in a dark grey suit, with a deep red tie on his black shirt. As the man got closer, his features came into view; he had wavy, black hair, a perfectly proportioned face, and dark green eyes. The man was just feet from the car; the men waited for Sam to give the signal, as Sam waited for the man to come nearer, so that he could detonate the incendiary device.
The man brought his hand to the handle; then froze. Sam swore under his breath, wondering why the man had stopped. “He couldn’t have possibly have noticed the device,” Sam thought to himself. Suddenly, the man turned around, and Sam got a closer look at his face; Sam suddenly felt uneasy. The man’s expression seemed to chill his very depths, and those dark green eyes seemed to stare right into his soul. The man glanced around, and then turned back to the car, bending to examine the handle. “Shit!” thought Sam in despair, and deciding to waste no more time, he gave the signal.
Simultaneously, while loading their MP5s, the men stepped around the pillars – BANG! BANG! BANG! Sam jumped and ducked beneath a car. Looking under, he saw three of his men collapse to the floor, blood running from a hole in each of their heads. Sam was in shock and had no idea what – BANG! BANG! Two men suddenly fell to the floor, right in front of him; Sam yelled in fright. Both men were bleeding from their mouths, a bullet lodged in each of their throats.
“DON’T MOVE!” yelled two of Sam’s men, all of a sudden. Sam rolled from under one car, to another, and looked up; the driver was standing perfectly still, holding two silver magnums in each hand, both of which were pointed upwards. The two men, who had cried out, had their guns trained on the driver; both men were shaking severely. Sam noticed a black pistol, still smoking, lying on the floor.
Sam, regaining some strength and presence of mind, rolled out from under the car and got up. The driver snapped his gaze to Sam, who quickly, yet shakily aimed his gun at the driver. “Dr- drop the guns!” shouted Sam, his heart racing.
The driver said nothing; he looked perfectly calm, almost emotionless, as he stared into Sam’s eyes. Sam couldn’t believe how this man had killed five highly trained men so quickly. “Who was he?” Sam thought fearfully.
“You’ve wasted my time,” the driver said suddenly. He had a deep, yet subtle voice. “I believe you’re here for my car. It’s… unfortunate that you would choose to steal it.” Sighing, he added, “You just walked into this really.”
“We said DROP YOUR GUNS,” repeated the men, yelling this time. The driver turned their gaze on them; uneasy looks passed their faces.
The driver turned his chilling gaze on Sam again; giving a tiny smile, he said, “Judging by this whole scenario, you all have been hired to rob this car for someone.” Sam shook his head unconsciously. “I wonder how much you were paid to dare do something like this.”
“Well,” answered the men. “Now, just- just DROP the guns already!”
“One should really consider what they do for money,” the man commented.
“Just drop the pistols,” said Sam. He had never felt sorrier for himself, in his whole life.
“As you wish,” answered the driver, his face becoming emotionless again. He dropped both pistols from his hands; the men lowered their guns, and suddenly, the man kicked the falling pistols up with his leg, back into his hands, and before the men could react properly, he pulled the triggers and fired several rounds into their heads.
Sam dropped his gun, as he watched the bodies collapse heavily to the cold, concrete ground, He was in pure shock of what had just happened; suddenly, it came to him why his brother had refused the job. The owner of the Bugatti Veyron was no ordinary man. “Tommy must have known what he would be getting himself into, if he boosted this car.” Sam groaned to himself in despair.
The driver dropped the two silver pistols to the floor and withdrew another pistol from his suit jacket. Looking down on Sam, a pitiless look on his face, he pointed the gun at Sam. “Things don’t always turn out as you expect them to,” the man said. “But rest assured… you’ll never face this problem, ever again.” He cocked the gun –
“Before you kill me,” Sam said suddenly, “Realize that I didn’t want to do this.”
Looking taken aback for barely a second, the man asked, “Then why take on the job?” He continued, “Oh yes, the pay must have been --”
“No, I did this… for my brother,” answered Sam, looking down at the ground. He didn’t want to see the shot coming.
“Wait…” the man said slowly, “what do you mean?”
“I was the leader for this boosting,” replied Sam. “Those guys were paid for this job- I wasn’t. I was forced to do this in return for my brother’s life.”
The man stared at him for a few seconds, and then said, “So I see. Looking at the dead men, he asked, “What’s the name of their boss?”
“I don’t know,” answered Sam, “but he goes by the nickname ‘Snake’.” The man had a thoughtful look on his face; Sam looked hopefully into his eyes.
“I’ve heard that name around…” the man whispered. Suddenly, he lowered his gun, turned away from Sam, and walked towards the dead men. He checked their pockets, apparently looking for something; standing up, he held a cell phone that he had retrieved. He then walked towards his car, unlocked it, and reached inside of it; Sam couldn’t see what he was doing, but after several minutes, the man closed the car door and walked back to Sam. He tossed the cell phone back to the dead man and held a small notebook in front of Sam.
Snake, according to the information in my notebook, is the name used by the man who heads the Kazezoku clan in this city,” the man explained to Sam. “His family runs a small airline support company, as well as several illegal operations, ranging from money laundering, boosting, and drug trafficking.”
“I could have told you this myself,” Sam said, a small smile on his face.
“Right,” the man said without much reaction, or expression. “Using a GPS device in my car, I managed to get a few locations from the information stored in that cell phone I picked up.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” said Sam with a frown; he hadn’t forgotten that he was about to have a bullet in his head a few minutes ago, and he wanted to know where this was all going.
“I wouldn’t doubt Snake having forced you to do this,” answered the man. “But just to make sure, I will just do a little check up.”
“Are you going to kill me?” asked Sam tentatively. Sam couldn’t gather much from this relatively emotionless man, and he wasn’t being quite informative either.
“Maybe,” the man answered simply. Sam could hear cop cars in the distance. The man heard them too and smiled; then said, “Now I advise you to get going. I’m already terribly late and I have things to set straight. Having said that, he turned around and walked back to the Bugatti Veyron; he got inside and started the powerful engine, which roared to life.
“I better get out of here,” Sam muttered to himself, thoroughly relieved that he had lived through this whole mess. But he wasn’t all that reassured; the man was terrifying. He caught the man looking at him through the door window; those dark greens boring mercilessly through his own. Sam shuddered, then yelped as the car suddenly shot off down the car park, down a ramp, and out onto the street, soon disappearing from sight.
On the other side, Sam saw several cop cars assemble themselves around the hotel main entrance. He also heard the sirens of a S.W.A.T van in the distance. “Why are these guys here?” Sam wondered; suddenly, he remembered the security guards, who had run into him and the men in the corridor, earlier on. “I say that guy had something to do with that… he did have business in this hotel.”
Deciding to waste no more time, Sam broke into a run, looking back at the blood splattered pillars, with the dead bodies strewn around them. Sighing deeply, he ran even faster, as he heard the S.W.A.T van stop in front of the hotel. Soon, he exited the car park and found himself on the street.
Mingling himself in the crowd, he wondered what to do next. “I should probably get back to Snake’s hideout and tell them what happened,” thought Sam. “I might get shot because of what went down, but they might go ahead and kill my brother if I don’t show up.” Sam decided to get back to his apartment and get cleaned up; he groaned- he had so much more trouble on the way.
The late afternoon sun shone through the window, casting a reddish glow on the wall at the back of the room. Two men stood utterly still, hands crossed behind their backs, near the door set in the back wall. Snake sat at his desk smoking a cigarette. He looked quite annoyed, but not as annoyed as the men standing before him.
“I told you that punk would never deliver,” shouted Jake, evidently very furious. “I say go ahead and waste his brother already!”
“Calm down Jake, he’ll deal this as he sees fit,” Hayes said quietly, pulling at his blonde hair. Jake spun around, almost whipping the desk with his long ponytail, as he stormed around the room in silence.
“Jeez, Jacky, you almost take this more seriously than I do,” commented Snake with a tiny smile. “Keep quiet, before you wake up my darling Sandra.” Jack froze and whipped his gaze at the sleeping leopard in its cage. He let a deep breath go, and then leant against the wall.
Snake finished his cigarette, stubbed it on his desk, then threw it in the trashcan under; straightening his black tie, Snake got up from his desk. “I have a dinner to attend,” he said, “whether Sam shows up or not, take his brother to the docks and hang him, preferably from the biggest crane you can get your hands on.”
Hayes smiled, and Jake said, “No problem.”
“And if Sam does show up, listen to whatever story he has, then kill him.” Snake said calmly.”
Suddenly, a man burst into the room; he seemed to have run here, judging by his heavy breathing and sweating.
“What’s the matter, Lez?”
“Boss- Sam’s men are dead, and Sam has vanished!” the man burst out.
“What?” Snake cried. “What do you mean?”
“The driver, he killed all of them!” the man answered. “Jack sent me to check out the hotel after Sam supposedly took too much time. Police all over! And I saw the coroner taking away eight bodies -- seven of them ours. I don’t know what became of Sam.”
“But how do you know the driver did it?” asked Jack, apparently almost speechless.
“I managed to get a look at the videos for the parking lot cameras,” the man replied. “It was easy in all that mess; I just nicked a cop badge and made my way to the security room.”
“Nice,” said Hayes with a chuckle.
“I’m telling you, that driver guy is a demon,” the man commented. “The way he killed those guys…”
“And they were good too…” Jack said in a daze.
“And anything on Sam?” the boss asked, seething with anger.
“Sam was way off camera,” the man answered. “And after the driver wasted everyone, he also went off camera. After several minutes, I saw the Bugatti Veyron driving off. Rest is history.”
Jack remained silent, a troubled look on his features; Hayes simply leant against the wall, drumming his knuckles; and Snake stared at the man with a terrible look on his face. “That’s the worst fucking news I’ve ever heard,” he said in a quiet voice. Suddenly, he whipped out his gun and fired several shots in the man; the man went down with a heavy groan, crashing to the floor. The leopard stirred a little and the two men at the door didn’t react at all.
“Jack- Hayes,” said Snake, putting his gun back in his jacket, “get the necessary guys, get some more information on the driver, and then find him and KILL HIM.” Snake took a deep breath, recovered his composure, and strode to the door. “And get to this immediately,” Snake added. “And if Sam does show up, get the necessary details, and then waste his sorry ass. In fact, hang him with his brother.” Having that said, Snake strode out of the room, slamming the door shut.
“Well Jack, let’s get the guys in here,” said Hayes.
“Right, this driver guy doesn’t know what shit he just got himself into,” Jack said with a grunt of disgust. Jack made a call from his cell phone; after a few minutes, he put it away, and the nodded to Hayes, who nodded back. Jack seated himself at Snake’s desk, while Hayes sent the two men at the door, out of the room.
After about twenty minutes, a large group of men entered the room. Every single one of them was carrying some sort of weapon; shotguns, Uzis, and double pistols. Jack and Hayes looked around with grim approval. Jack and Hayes took out their own guns too, and then called for attention.
“Alright,” began Jack, “someone decided –
The door flew open; Sam was standing at the doorway, a nervous look on his face. He had changed into a new set of clothes, and he was holding – Hayes eyes widened – a grenade in his left hand, his fingers curled around an apparently opened pin; he just had to let go of the pin, and then there would be silence…
Nobody knew whether to point their guns at Sam, and instead looked at Jack for an indicator of what to do. Jack looked thunderstruck, while Hayes looked at Sam through narrowed eyes.
Sam spoke, “I’m just here to talk. If you shoot me, this whole place will be blown sky high.” He shook the grenade in front of everybody.
“We know what happened, Sam,” Jack said slowly. “We know what went down, don’t worry.”
“Good, then you’d know it’s not my fault at all,” Sam said, sounding slightly reassured; he stood more comfortably. “Where’s Snake?”
“Out,” replied Hayes suddenly. “We’re just here to figure out how to waste that dumbass driver.”
“Right,” replied Sam, “but you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. The guy isn’t any ordinary guy. He wasted five guys in a split minute! And killed another two in the most insane way I’ve ever seen.”
“Which is why we kill that guy as quickly as we can,” answered Hayes.
“Maybe it’s just better for you guys if you just let this go,” said Sam.
Jack started laughing; then cried, “Oh, ‘just let this go’?” He cocked his gun and said, “This guy killed seven of our best men, seven! I’m going to have this guy put down so fast it’d make Snake’s head spin.
“Agreed,” said Hayes approvingly. Sam just shook his head, the grenade trembling in his hand.
“Now let’s get to the order of business,” said Jack seriously. “Our primary goal is to hunt the driver down and kill him. Once we get his location – his phone rang and he answered it; putting it down after a minute, he continued – “And we have his whereabouts. He checked himself into a motel around the city suburbs.” He then pointed outside and said loudly, “Evening is here, and this guy will be gone by tonight. Let’s get moving – Hayes, you take one half of the guys and recon the motel, I’ll take the others and set ourselves nearby. Once you guys give us the go ahead, we’ll all go at the same time and take the driver out.”
“What about other people in the motel?” Sam interrupted with a frown on his face.
“They were at the wrong place, at the wrong time,” replied Jack sharply. The other men chuckled, and Hayes smiled. Sam looked at Jack, disgust etched on every feature of his face; the grenade almost slipped in its harsh, tightening grip.
“Alright let’s get a move on,” Jack said. “The driver won’t even know what hit him. He’s going to be sorry for ever messing with us, and all over a damn car. I wonder who he thinks he is… either way, he’s going to get it tonight.” Jack signaled for them to move out, and he walked towards the door, adjusting his gun --
The room door exploded; Jack flew backwards onto the desk, collapsing it to the floor. Sam had been chucked sideways into the wall by the blast, dropping the grenade in the process – it was a dud. The leopard roared from its cage, Hayes rolled behind the collapsed desk, and the other men aimed their guns at the broken doorway, looking with wide eyes for – a claymore rolled into the room – the men yelped. Sam threw himself to the floor; there was a blinding flash, the windows shattered with the roar of the blast, which tore the paneling off the walls and the limbs off some of the men – Hayes was impaled by wooden shards from the wall; he collapsed to the floor.
Sam winced in pain; his knee was broken and his face and left arm were burnt. He opened his eyes, and glanced around from the floor. Nothing looked the same, and the smell of scorched blood nauseated him. As the heavy dust cleared, he saw the outline of a man at the shattered doorway – he gasped.
“Pitiful,” the driver said. He threw a smoking grenade launcher aside and walked into the room holding a shotgun. Several of the men who had survived, groaned from the floor before, their breath rattling from their broken bodies. The driver put them out of their misery with a shell in each of their chests, the shotgun sounding solemnly with each blast.
Jack crawled around the crippled desk, coughing and trying to cock his gun. He looked up and saw the driver casually aiming his shotgun at his spine. A look of fear came upon Jack’s face, not because he was about to die, but because of the chill those ever pitiless green eyes gave him.
“Next time,” the driver said calmly, “know who you’re dealing with.” Sam could not help but smile at the irony, even through the pain searing through his body. Jack shook his head and moaned; the next moment, his chest exploded, blood flying through the window from the shot. He twitched, and then moved no more.
“This man is from hell,” thought Sam, ignoring the feeling of faintness that was clouding his head. “Thank God that Tommy knew better than to steal this guy’s car – this whole mess over a fucking car! These guys were on their way to kill him, but this guy got to them first…. what are the odds.” Sam shook his head. “Such vengeance; this is real retribution.”
The driver walked around the room, looking at nothing more than once; the leopard sat in its cage, dazed, but unhurt, due to the toughness of the cage he was in. The driver came up to Hayes, who was on his back, blood running down his mouth. Hayes was still alive.
“What is the name of your boss?” the driver asked, his voice sounding ever emotionless; he cocked the shot gun.
Hayes gurgled, then said, “Snak –
“His real name,” said the driver.
There was silence, interrupted only by the bloody coughing of Hayes; then he choked out, “Gary – Gary Andrews.” The driver paused – BANG – he killed Hayes. The driver looked around the room silently, apparently not having noticed Sam at all. He then walked over to the collapsed desk, and rummaged around it. After looking around some documents, a cell phone, and a folder, he smiled.
“Gary Andrews,” it is he said. Dropping his shotgun to the floor, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pant pocket; he wrote something down with a charred pencil, which was lying on the desk. He then sat down on the chair, which had survived the blast, putting his feet on top of Jack’s body.
As Sam struggled to his feet, trying not to put pressure on his broken knee, he watched as the leopard silently got out of its cage, walked to the driver, and then proceeded to rub his leg, purring loudly. The driver gave a tiny laugh and scratched behind the leopard’s ears.
“Sam, your brother is stowed away in a warehouse two blocks from here,” the man suddenly said, startling Sam. “There is nobody guarding him, so you don’t have to worry. You should look after your injuries first.”
Sam stared at him and the leopard, who growled; then grinning broadly, he said, “Thank you, Mr.? –
“Alan. Alan Conrad,” replied the driver. “Next time, be careful of what you get yourself into. And take care of your little brother.” Alan nodded, and turning around, he left the room and its remains, dragging himself out of view.
“Gary Andrews,” Conrad said to himself. “You should be satisfied with what you have. The 'snake' is only safe in its burrow.” He got up and straightened his suit, wiping the dustoffit.Cold air flooded through the broken window; he walked over to it and looked outside. People and cars bustled in the lit streets, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky.
“I guess I have a meeting to plan with you, Mr. Andrews,” Conrad said with a small smile, absentmindedly petting the leopard who sat next to him.
“Retribution does not end here.”


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