Holiday Man found it odd that the man wanted to meet him at the warehouse. But Holiday Man obliged, since this man was the only one who had a target bigger than ten people. Tomorrow was Independence Day, the Fourth of July. Holiday Man’s favorite holiday because of the weapons. Mostly explosives, except for a red, white, and blue pistol. The man’s e-mail had said that he had a target of over fifty people, while the other e-mails had only offered three at the most.
Holiday Man parked his car near the warehouse and stepped out. The warehouse was in a bad condition, with multiple broken windows and faded paint and graffiti. He knocked on the rusty door, orange dust sticking to his knuckles. He wiped them off, cursing, as a man answered the door.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“Unimportant. I’m here too speak to a man named Ray Collins,” Holiday Man told him.
The man closed the door, muttering something about being right back. Holiday Man waited impatiently, tapping his foot. As he stood there, he realized he had to pee.
The door opened again and a scarred and broken looking man stood there. “You must be Holiday Man,” the man said.
Holiday Man nodded. “And you must be Mr. Collins.”
“You can call me ‘The King’,” Collins said.
“I’ll call you that when I feel like it,” Holiday Man told him. “For now, I’ll call you Collins.”
Collins frowned a little but continued on with his polite manner. “Follow me, and I’ll tell you about the target.”
Holiday Man followed Collins inside the warehouse. The interior was covered with amazingly artistic graffiti. of a gold crown with blood red jewels in the gold. Underneath the crown were three black rings shining along with the crown.
“As you have probably already guessed, we are a gang,” Collins said to Holiday Man.
“Evidently so,” Holiday Man responded.
“We call ourselves the Ringed Kings. We’ve just started out. Which brings me to the reason I’ve contacted you.”
“I was hoping you’d get to that.” They had entered a room with a small desk in it and a few chairs. Collins sat behind the desk and gestured to a chair.
“Please, sit,” he offered.
“I’ll stand,” Holiday Man said politely.
Alright, then. As I’ve told you, we’ve just started out. But in order to ensure our success as a gang, we need the one other gang in this city eliminated.”
Holiday Man nodded, understanding. “Yes, the Ripstings, I’ve heard of them. Territorial bunch, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. So far, they’ve only warned us with threatening graffiti on our vehicles. I brought you here so the Ripstings wouldn’t learn of this plan. I’m paranoid like that.”
“Understandable,” Holiday Man told him. “Now, about the price-”
“Don’t worry,” Collins interrupted him. “I can afford it.”
“Well, then. I guess that will be all.” Holiday Man moved toward the door. “I know where the Ripstings’ headquarters are. Just remember, I expect my payment within a week of killing.”
I’ve already got it ready,” Collins told him.
Holiday Man nodded and headed out the door.
The hill was just too perfect for this mission. It had the cover of trees and high vantage point.
Holiday Man set up his explosives, all of them rocket launchers. There were people patrolling the large building that the Ripstings’ called their headquarters.
Most of the gang members were inside the building. There was a celebration going on.
Holiday Man picked up one rocket launcher (he had four and one additional rocket for each) and aimed at the front gate, where there was heavy security. Holiday Man smiled as he pulled the trigger, and the rocket shot out with a loud screech. The men at the gate didn’t have time to move out of the way before the rocket made contact with the ground.
There was a huge burst of color and dirt was blasted upward.
Holiday Man reloaded the rocket launcher and aimed at the building’s base. He fired and another explosion of color ensued.
After tossing the rocket launcher aside, he picked up another one. He aimed at the base again but at a different spot. Holiday Man saw the Ripstings’ gang symbol (a black scorpion with an “R” in the background) and fired at it.
This time, there were flashes of purple and green people were starting to exit the building in masses, but only through the front door.
Holiday Man smiled.
He loaded the second purple and green rocket and fired at the mass of people. the explosion took out at least half the people there.
Holiday Man grabbed the third rocket launcher and fired at the now smaller mass of people.
This time the explosion was bigger and had a distinct pink and blue hue to it. The mass was completely obliterated now, but the patrollers from the other side of the building had come. They had spotted Holiday Man and were shooting at him.
Holiday Man ducked behind a tree and shot two men. The other five caught on and started shooting at him again. Holiday Man ran through the trees undetected, and took cover behind another one. He managed to shoot three more before he was noticed again. He ran again, back to his original location, and picked up the rocket launcher he’d been using. He loaded another rocket and fire quickly at the two remaining men. There was pink and blue again and an explosion, and then there was no one left.
Holiday Man picked up his last rocket launcher, and looked at the building. He decided to just destroy the building, so the Ripstings would at least have to start all over if anyone of the few survivors decided to revive the gang. Though Holiday Man doubted it.
He fired at the center of the building and there was a huge burst of red, white, and blue. The buildings looked like it could only withstand that last shot. One more would do it.
Holiday Man whistled the national anthem as he loaded and fired the rocket launcher. Another large burst of American colors and the building crumbled and fell.
Still whistling, the sounds of the building falling echoing in the hills, Holiday Man packed up his rocket launchers and headed towards his car.
“Wonderful job!” Collins congratulated Holiday Man.
“Thank you,” HOliday Man replied.
“I don’t think I would know anyone else who could do a better job. Here’s your payment.” Collins slid a wad of fifty dollar bills to Holiday Man.
“Thank you, again. Do I get to keep the rubber band?” Holiday Man asked.
“By all means.”
Uh, listen,” Collins began. “While I have you here, is there any chance you’d like to join our gang?”
“None what-so-ever,” Holiday Man responded. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have other business to attend to.”
“Of course. Contact me if you need help with anything.”
“Sure,” Holiday Man said, though, he doubted he’d need any help in the future.
Detective Alfred Larson was sitting at his desk, thinking. He was still working on the case that he’d gotten on Earth Day. He’d gotten very little progress. He’d only figured out the the murders were all linked because they were holidays.
Larson sat back in his chair and sighed. What a lousy way to spend the time on the Fourth of July.
He sat up. Fourth of July. Larson cursed and turned on the news. Sure enough, there was a breaking news story about a mass murder at a warehouse. The warehouse looked completely destroyed.
Then his phone rang again, just like on Earth Day, and Larson’s boss told him to go down to the warehouse.
© Copyright 2016 The Novelist. All rights reserved.
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