The Hard Way — Legacy Forums — Strolen's Citadel

Re: The Hard Way

#121

Kate flinched at the sudden explosion of noise, finding she had drawn her pistol and nearly jammed it in the fat mans ear before she got herself under control. "You both seem to have your hands full." She raised her voice over the echo of the cell phone as it reverberated through the bathroom again, and readjusted her handgun to press painfully against the mans temple.

"When we answer the call, if you say one word we don't tell you to, it'll be your last." Leaning over into the tub she withdrew the cell phone with her free hand, checking the caller I.D for information before proceeding any further.

Re: The Hard Way

#122

For a moment, Frank struggled to hold onto the fatman, at least not without completely cranking his arm off. Hold tight, Frank. Most effective punishment available? Backhand to the groin with his left hand. A little risky, but only if Angelo has a lot more jujitsu training than it feels like it has. Don't flinch from the phone surprise. Blink at the girl jamming her gun into his temple.

The observation had to be made. "Not good." All-the-Way frowned, considering his options. If fatman wasn't quite so fat, slipping to the rear naked choke would have been easy enough, but as it was, this close, his leverage was lacking. Shit. Right thing would have been to cuff the bastard. As it was, all he could do was maintain the hold against the struggling Italian. Hope the man wasn't dumb enough to snap his own arm on the leverage that was Frank's knee.

Re: The Hard Way

#123

The Fat Man ran out of strength way before Frank did, though both men were now sweaty from their exertion.

Phone rings, Angelo goes completely slack. Exhausted from struggling, and out of breath.

"Ok" he mumbles. "Ok, get off, i give up." He sounds like he needs a long nap. Giving up. Defeated. Deflated. Pick a word. He could feel the man go completely limp.

"D**n. You UFC or something?"

Vesti la giubba keeps playing, as Kate holds Angelo's phone. The clown is singing of loss and heartache.

Cutter sits on the bed, nursing his arm. Watching. Listening.

Re: The Hard Way

#124

Anonymous caller, no matter she had a pretty good idea who would be on the other end already, Angelo's employer. Seeing little point in making Mr. limpy struggle to answer the phone Kate thumbed the answer button and greeted the unknown with the same icy tone she used to inform Angelo of who to blame for his brothers death. "Yes?"

Re: The Hard Way

#125

Cutter pulled his sleeve back down after he put his arm back on. Tonight was what they called in the corps a FUBAR.

*****

USMC Hospital, Psychological Evaluations

I want you to tell me what happened?, her voice was artfully measured, each word carefully nuanced and sculpted. Kind of like her legs, wrapped in white stockings. Not pantyhose but honest to god stockings. There had been a glimpse of the garter strap.

"Not really," Cutter had said.

You know that isn't going to be an acceptable answer, she said in a voice that would melt ice cream.

"I know," he had said.

Shall we instead go to the irregularities in your paper work?

"Everything looked right to me,"

Well, how about we begin with your name, John Foster. I see you are still writing your name as Cutter.

"It fits better," he had said. John Foster was a lucky kid who thought joining the marines would be fun. Like playing Medal of Honor, seriously the military had better stuff than any of those video games. You didn't start out with a pistol, or 20 year out of date rifle. John Foster had played football, a moderately good wide receiver, and had a beautiful fiance. John Foster lost his arm, damn near his life, almost his entire platoon, then his fiance and even alienated his family. Shit liked to happen to John Foster. But Lt. Cutter was a cool guy who liked beer, working on engines, and shooting guns. Lt. Cutter was someone people didn't want to mess with. He had a bad ass exterior and a morbid sense of humor.

John Foster had nightmares, and sometimes had moments where he had to breathe really hard and try to force his mind back to Alabama. AL-A-BAM-A, not Al Abama. It wasn't the desert, it wasn't the war. It wasn't the death and the horror and all the things that his mind kept wrapped up and hidden except when he was asleep, or when he was placed under duress.

Why do you think that name is a better fit? she asked. Instead of letting the flow of words out, he shrugged, he always shrugged.

Well, next irregularity on your paperwork is Race, it seems you have listed yourself as 'Cyborg' I am not familiar with that ethnic grouping.

"Cybernetic Organism," he had said, explaining the concept of the man machine hybrid. There was a computer chip in the arm, a thing for ID purposes, so technically he was a cyborg. *better a cyborg than a cripple*

The exam had continued, going over the basics, her words picking at his defences. She was the third psychologist he had been shuffled around to. She was the only one he would talk to. The first had been a joke, take these pills and everything will be fine. Two days later he still hadn't slept and was intimately familiar with what gun oil tasted like.

Rebecca had left him then, unable to deal with his issues, with his missing arm.

The second doctor had been little better. He was a balding older man with ghosts in his eyes. It was only a few weeks after seeing Cutter for the first time that Dr. Schwartz himself was being medicated and under psyche therapy.

Two come aparts and an incident with a gun and his family wouldn't have anything to do with him any more. Its an ugly day when your mother asks you to move out because she is scared of you. Still, according to the shrinks and staff on base, he was doing very well. He hadn't assaulted anyone, he hadn't attempted to kill anyone, and he could function in a broken fashion around people. There were guys coming back who killed their wives then sat on their front porch for a week before blowing their own brains out.

Amazing, the only thing people saw on TV was those images of smart bombs hitting targets in silent black and white, and the phosphorescent glow of night time firefights through night vision. When they did see the veterans, they were shown the dubious Gulf War Syndrome activists, not the guys who had snapped. That was Vietnam, not Iraq.

You seem to have stress atavisms, being in stressful or perceived dangerous situations does seem to have a strong ability to induce hallucinatory episodes, she had said. Her perfume was incredible, he never asked her what it was. Perhaps that was part of the mystery that drove him mad with curiosity.

There are a variety of methods we can deal with this, you have had an adverse reaction to medication.

"Chronic insomnia, suicidal thoughts, boy bands," always with the joke.

I would like you to start practicing meditation, controlled breathing and take up a very low key hobby

"How low key?"

How about starting with something you find unstimulating. Gardening, or bird watching, she had suggested. He had squirmed on the couch, acting uncomfortable, he had really just been trying to look up her dress. Avoidance is also a tactic deployed by someone who didnt want to deal with a situation.

Perhaps fishing

*****

Re: The Hard Way

#126

Cutter has a weird far-away look in his eyes, then glances down at his own phone. "Du Hast", the phone croaks once, reminding him of his earlier missed call and voicemail.

-----------------

"Who the hell is this?" Kate hears the voice on Angelo's phone. Sounds like Robert Loggia.

Re: The Hard Way

#127

SFO-D had had another name for nights like this. Charlie's Foxtrot. CF. Completely... "No, sweetheart. I'm what your taxes paid for." Frank grinned wolfishly as he looked down at the surrendering mobster. "That's your paycheck. Placate him, and you'll live." Gesturing with his head at the phone and the man, Frank half nodded at Kate. Charlie was dancing. Either the music was gonna get faster or he was gonna trip, but Charlie was already dancing.

Re: The Hard Way

#128

Kate gave Frank a icy smile and held the phone up to Angelo's face, keeping her pistol pressed tightly against his temple as a cold reminder of the zero tolerance situation he was in. If the conversation went south it'd be time to improvise, which didn't bode well for Angelo's future.

Re: The Hard Way

#129

"Hello" Angelo mumbles, sounding helpless
"Carmine?"
"Angelo"
"What the @!#$ is going on?"
"Uhh, Mr. Ferucci, I--I am at the motel"
"Who just answered the phone?"
"Some girl"

Pause

"I heard you were dead."
"You did?" Angelo can't think of anything else to say
"Yeah, you and your brother. Heard some ex-military chumps and some girl---"
"We--uh--I---uh--"

Angelo actually looks at Kate and Frank as if asking for advice...

"Angelo, I don't know what the @!#$ is going on, but if you're alive, you get your ass over to the Rollins' compound now. Get my shipment. I don't give a @!#$ what you're current situation is, but you better get your sorry, fat ass over there and---"

Angelo just stares dumbly at the phone as the Robert Loggia sound-a-like rages.

Re: The Hard Way

#130

Kate gave Angelo an amused smile, almost feeling sorry for the man as the torrent of insults and curses erupted form the phone into his ear. Almost. "Tell him you'll do what he wants, and the girl and the two military guys will never trouble him, or the family again unless they go out of their way to bother us first." Hopefully it would get the Italians off their collective backs without further expenditure of ammo. If not, well she had rough plan for that too actually.

Re: The Hard Way

#131

Angelo clears his throat.

"Ok, Boss, I'm heading there now. Don't worry. They uh--those three won't bother us, unless we-I--uh bother them. No, they don't care about your shipment. What? Yes, I'm going now, don't worry, I ---"

He stops talking. Boss man on the other end already hung up.

Angelo mumbles, "Happy now?" and looks like he just drank sour milk.

Re: The Hard Way

#132

For a moment all is quiet. A shaft of light peeks through the grimy window of motel room 208.

Dawn outside.

6, maybe 6:02, Frank figures.

Re: The Hard Way

#133

'One of the things about insomnia, you learn to get by on less sleep,' Cutter said, phasing back into reality. He gave a sigh, too much shit in too little time. He clicked the buttons on his phone to check his voice mail, maybe it would be some good news, or a message from his boss at Wally World. This vacation had been approved weeks ago. He presses the replay button and put the phone to his ear.

Re: The Hard Way

#134

Kate gave Angelo a slight nod of approval and cocked back the hammer of her Sig, her voice cold as ice once more as she recalled men similar to Angelo with cans of gasoline dousing her apartment, recalled the burnt body of her girlfriend as she died in her arms begging for help. "I seem to recall you saying you were going to kill me. You've got a real short window of opportunity to convince me that's no longer an item on your agenda, before I scratch it off my list of concerns. Permanently."

Re: The Hard Way

#135

"He's a professional, kiddo. He's not gonna move without the don's say so. And, he's gonna be so far behind us that he won't have a shot." Frank's voice was low, and certain. "He's been a good boy, so he lives. Cuffs are in my left hip pocket. Get a staunch on his wounds."

It was the start of plan, anyway. They were running out of time. It was a good idea to move from here, Frank thought.

Re: The Hard Way

#136

6 Hours to go...

{Cutter listens to voice mail}

Fat man sits motionless as Kate cuffs him.

Frank eyes the brute.

5 Hours and 56 minutes to go...

Re: The Hard Way

#137

Kate gave Frank a hesitant look as she tightened the handcuffs around Angelos wrists, "I iced his brother, blood's thicker than water, I've already got people far worse then this guy on my tail, so I want to hear it from him if this matter's finished or if I need to finish it here and now." She stared into Angelo's eyes, trying to see if the desire for vengeance burned within, or if he was truly willing to let things rest.

As an afterthought to Frank she added, "The names Kate, I'm no kid, a kid would've hid behind the bar and let you get your brains blown out by his brother, not saved your ungrateful ass. But if you and Gi Joe don't want a girl like me around to help get this mess sorted and find who killed Ronny. just say the word; and I'll be gone before the sun finishes cresting the horizon."

Re: The Hard Way

#138

"My name is Cutter," he hesitates, "Foster, John Foster but anyone who knows me calls me Cutter," he said. "My therapist would say you have some anger issues, maybe some personal identification issues as well. I don't appreciate being called GI Joe any more than you like being called a kid. But let's call an apple an apple, are you even old enough to order a cosmo in a trendy bar that actually cards girls instead of taking a good view of cleavage as proof of age?"

Re: The Hard Way

#139

"Cutter?" She arched an eyebrow and gave him a slightly amused look before quietly muttering to herself. "You don't like the nick name GI Joe, yet name yourself after one of the action figures? Oookay." Speaking louder she asked him the next question that popped into her mind."Shouldn't you be carrying around a katana or something with a name like that?" She shrugged afterward, as if it didn't matter much.

"But let's call an apple an apple, are you even old enough to order a cosmo in a trendy bar that actually cards girls instead of taking a good view of cleavage as proof of age?"

An astute question, lying would be an option, but she didn't see much point in attempting deception. "I'm nineteen and a half if that's what you're asking. While not of age to legally piss away my rent money on booze, I'm old enough to know nothing in life's free, those who can't protect themselves are often the first to be preyed upon. and people like Angelo here just make life worse for the rest of us every chance they get."

Re: The Hard Way

#140

"There is a 'Joe named Cutter?" Cutter asked with a hint of genuine surprise, he was a bit more Voltron than Transformers and GI Joe. "The only ones I know are Snake Eyes because he's a ninja and that hot euro-trash piece the Baroness," he tucked his phone away in his pocket. He wondered what Froelich would think of his message in the morning when they found the bar shot all to hell.

"Thats still funny, I've had that nickname since my first tour in Iraq, back in 91. You know about three months after your daddy got that gleam in his eye and the back rub was more than a back rub. My CO nicknamed me Cutter because I was always making up excuses to cut in the chow line in mess. Had to grab a tray for the CO, or I was just here, or a hundred other excuses. Southern Alabama boy can starve away to nothing if he has to wait in a food line too long." Cutter patted a pocket and remembered he didn't smoke any more, more of a nervous gesture.

"No offense but you are too young to have an attitude that nasty. I'm not saying you ain't tough, and that you haven't been 'there seen things, and done stuff, so please don't point your piece at me. I have seen stuff ghat messed me up so bad I can't remember it unless I am dreaming or am in therapy. Let's take things down a notch or two. We can all be friends here. I have a feeling that we are going to be seeing plenty of each other."

Re: The Hard Way

#141

Kate relaxed slightly and gave Cutter a genuine smile, this one holding a fair amount of warmth to it, her voice warmer, almost inviting. "The attitude came from growing up in the Bronx, mostly raised by a single dad that was also one of New Yorks finest; and didn't want to see his little girl become another statistic." Screw it, might as well share a little of her past with the guy since he seemed genuinely interested. It wasn't like she had much to lose at this juncture.

"As for having seen things, about two weeks ago I saw some guy get capped behind a diner by this thug, sucked to be him, but not my problem I thought. Later that night I find a few thugs like Angelo here but of Russian origin," She paused long enough to give the shark suited thug a not so gentle pat on the head. "They set fire to my apartment and my girlfriend of two and half years. She was pretty near burned alive and died in my arms not long after..."

She stopped as her voice cracked and the reminder of all she'd lost threatened to overwhelm her. Shaking her head Kate blinked back tears, tried to push the memory from her mind and focus on the present. "So yeah, wrong place, wrong time, now the Russian mob wants me dead, I've been trying to find a place to lose myself since." Kate struggled to hold her composure, struggled to make herself grow numb inside once more, resist the urge to blast Angelo's head from his shoulders as some small payback for what his kind did to innocent people, to Rachel.

Re: The Hard Way

#142

"Mmph." Frank didn't like it. Too many damned loose cannons. Fate dealt this hand, though, and he was gonna play it. "Didn't say I didn't appreciate the hand, Kate. And it's Frank." And then he just shrugs. "Don't like killing. And I wasn't planning on leaving him anywhere he can pick up and come after us." Letting go of the fat man was a relief, though. Frank felt like'd he'd just gone all the way with a prosciutto. Disgusting.

"Half tempted to just cuff his ass to the toilet. Let whoever comes by next take care of him. Probably the Rollins. Maybe the cops. Cops would be better. They have the time to play with him." Frank frowned, as he considered. "Whole damn thing is on a timer. Need to get out of here. Deal with the hick clan, find out what they know about Cutters buddy. At round 7 I can find out if that crazy bitch actually was FBI. Can't check the corpse till the cops get done at the donut shop."

Re: The Hard Way

#143

Kate relaxed a little more and nodded in acknowledgement to Frank, considering his idea carefully before responding with a suggestion of her own. "I was thinking of setting fire to this dump, the blaze would melt all the lead we've tossed around here and make it that much harder for the feds or whoever to go all CSI on whatever's left." She paused for a breath before continuing. "The fire would keep the authorities and most of the Rollins occupied, and I'm pretty sure the owner's got fire insurance on a tinder box like this." She gestured with her left hand to encompass the rundown motel.

"As for finding the hick posse, I think we got that covered." She gave Angelo a pointed look. "Your boss told you to get your fat ass to some warehouse, how about you tell us where to find that warehouse and the Rollins?"

Re: The Hard Way

#144

“Yeah” Angelo says glumly. “They got a place, some “compound” or something. 12 miles north.” He rubs his chin on his shoulder.

“Look, wait”, Angelo looks confused—“How did you know about the warehouse, if you got nuthin’ to do with this?” He suddenly asks, confused.

Kate of course did not know about any warehouse, but using the word seemed to work out nicely in this case.

“Yeah, Mr. Ferucci’s delivery truck is supposed to be at the warehouse. Thats 10 miles west from here according to my information. Coming in from somewherenorth in Canada.” He glances at his shiny Breitling, “supposed to be in 9 hours or so.”

Pause

“We’re just here because the stuff is late, so we were gonna go to either the compound or the warehouse, and get Mr. Ferucci’s stuff. The Rollins are supposedly the best transportation men in the Midwest. So Mr. Ferucci's works with them. But I guess something went wrong because the truck is still not here, and that’s pissin’ Mr. Ferucci off, so----”

It was getting convoluted fast. Angelo wasn’t the best explainer, earnest though he seemed. No orator he. At least he didn’t seem to be lying. Wasn't the type.

They could hear the muted sound of thunder, gently rolling across the sky, above their heads and above the flimsy motel roof.

Portentous.

5 hours 44 minutes to go…

Re: The Hard Way

#145

Outside a gust picks up as Cutter glances through the room’s window. Weather is changing. Stuff blows around the motel parking lot.

Wait---Cutter notices--tha’ hell?

His beloved F150. From his angle up here, he can see at least 2 tires are flat. Bastards. Little hope for the 2 on the other side.

Re: The Hard Way

#146

Kate eyes Angelo as a cat would a mouse.
Frank eyes Angelo as a bear would a rabbit.
Angelo blinks a few times, and tries not to look at anybody.

12 miles north…

The Goon Squad was assembled. 10 of them in 5 separate trucks, three pick-up trucks and 2 SUVs. A tight little convoy about become a high-speed one.

{Inside compound}

“You want me go with them boys?”
“No, Earl, I want you to come to the warehouse with me. If anything, and I mean anything goes wrong over there, if the driver gets out and farts wrong, shoot.

Earl says nothing. Just picks up his Bushnell sniper-scope off the table and looks through it, like a kid looking through a kaleidescope. Smiles. Attaches it to rifle.

60 miles east...

Laura Froelich gets inside her Crown Vic and starts driving.

200 miles north...

The big, shiny semi is doing 70/mph.

Re: The Hard Way

#147

“Look, wait”, Angelo looks confused—“How did you know about the warehouse, if you got nuthin’ to do with this?” He suddenly asks, confused.

Late grinned wolfishly and gestured to the cell phone in her left hand. "Your boss was none too quiet yelling at you to get to some compound, it wasn't too hard to conclude a compound would likely be a warehouse of some sort. It's hard to hide illegal goods in a trailer park."

At seeing Cutters confused expression Kate joined him at the window, noticing his truck and resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Good thing my Cuda was moved around back, flat tires are a bitch to get fixed in this part of corn country." Another car, Mercedes license plate "Mommalovesus", that must be Angelo's car, how sweet of him to care about his mommy. How sweet indeed."

Looking over at Angelo she remembered the embers of revenge burning in his eyes from looking earlier. Time to remedy that little oversight, in the best way she knew how; courtesy of thugs like him. 'Anglo, I get the real strong impression you'd still like to do something about me killing your brother..." She let her voice fade as she pulled out his cell phone for a second time and thumbed through the saved numbers.

"The thing is you're not going to, in fact you're going to hope real hard I never come to suspect you're behind any sort of trouble that drifts my way, otherwise," She paused and copied a few noteworthy callers onto her own phone. "I promise you, after dealing with any of your attempts at settling this score I'll have to hunt down and kill some of the people you like calling, such as mom for example."

Kate's voice held the same uncaring icy tone she used when describing his brothers death earlier when she spoke again. "I might not be as creative as you leg breakers, but I'm sure a blow torch and few starving rats could make things memorable. Or perhaps I'll just let the Russian Mafia hear about your mom and a few of these other people being trusted associates of mine and let them deal with it?"She paused to let the depths of her promise sink before continuing. "So either we let this matter rest here and now, or you can attend a lot of funerals in your future, your call."

Looking over at Frank and Cutter she abruptly changed the subject. "So are we putting this place to the torch and clearing out or what?"

Re: The Hard Way

#148

"I'm all for clearing out except for those flat tires, I've only got one spare and one can of fix-a-flat," Cutter said. "But I bet truck tires are fairly easy to come by in corn country, everyone and their gran-pappy drives a truck of some sort," he glared at Angelo.

"I don't give a rats ass about compounds, warehouses, the Russian frakking mafia, or late deliveries," Cutter said. "I'm just supposed to go fly fishing with my burned out CO so my therapist of the month will give me a little gold frakking star on my evaluation. And now some asshat had to go and cap my CO's ranger son and duty honor and a crapton of respect for a man I have to do something about it," he said. He patted his chest pocket for a pack of smokes gone 8 years ago.

Re: The Hard Way

#149

"By the time we scavenge a set of spares and get them changed the hick squad will be all over this place in force," Kate replied, quickly coming up with a viable alternative. "Drive it with the flats a quarter mile or so from here then conceal it in the corn rows and I'll give you a lift in the Cuda, then we can pay a visist to grampa night vision ask a few questions and maybe borrow a set of tires off one of his rigs?" She let the offer hang, seeing little better alternatives, sensing the impending storm was gathering force, and this time it would be more then a brief squall.

Re: The Hard Way

#150

"I'll be honest, the thought of leaving my truck in a corn row doesn't exactly give me god feelings if you know what I mean. No disrespect to you or your car, but where I come from there are three things you don't mess with, a man's truck, his hunting dog, and his wife. In that order," Cutter said.

(wanted to post something just to keep it in my mind)

Re: The Hard Way

#151

Kate shook her head in resignation and looked meaningfully at her watch. "If you really want to stick around to get caught playing auto mechanic by the red neck posse and whatever paid off law dogs they have in tow feel free, but it's likely to result in a gunfight that will trash your truck and give you a few more bullet wounds to bleed from."

She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "There's a saying where I come from, no material possession is worth your life. As for your saying, I'd have to disagree, no piece of crap truck is more valuable then the person they married, and anyone who feels otherwise is a heartless bastard that should be run over with said truck."

Re: The Hard Way

#152

"You know where I come from," Cutter said, a little irritation leaking into his voice, "We have pretty much the same expression, my stuff isn't worth your life. And by that we mean if you mess with our stuff we don't have much compunction about killing you over it." He took a breath, now regretting how assholish he sounded.

"And its a southern thing, a country song kind of thing, and something that you shouldn't take to seriously. But then again I'm willing to bet there isn't any Haggard in your CD collection. No offense intended," he said.

Re: The Hard Way

#153

Kate smiled and nodded in agreement, recalling the lack of anything slow paced or soft in her current music selection. "Most of it is classic rock from the 80's and early 90's, my fathers collection, it came with the car." She placed a hand on Cutters uninjured shoulder and squeezed gently in understanding, the truck was probably one of the most important things he owned, if it was her Cuda she'd prolly feel the same way.

"Let's use the fix-a flat on the front tire so the trucks more mobile, then you drive it to grampa night visions' place and we do a full repair there, that way we're not here for part two of Red-neck revenge and your truck isn't left abandoned."

Re: The Hard Way

#154

"Torching the place sounds good. We'll duct tape this bundle up here, and leave legs a message. She picks him up, or doesn't. Don't really care." Frank shrugs a little, as he frowns. "Rednecks are probably already on the way. Best thing to do is shift slightly, and hit them on the way in. Don't have enough time or materiel to fuck around with IEDs, I'm thinking. Did they slash my Boss's tires, too?"

Re: The Hard Way

#155

"My Dad, rest his soul," Cutter said, "Served in Vietnam, ran napalm twice a day from the port to Ben-Wah air base, then ended up manning a 105 in the Tet offensive, had a few things to say about something like this. First, you sit still too long you end up dead. I think he would have a valid point, this is cornhusker territory and we're not native. They are going to have the advantage on the terrain and in numbers. They will have more firepower too. I'm willing to bet that in the long run, the three of us have better training than all of them put together." He imagined his father sitting in that hideous green and white barqualounger puffing a Lucky Strike and drinking lukewarm PBR. 'Beer is beer, and you don't give a damn if it is warm or cold when you are sitting in the middle of hell, you're just thankful to have it.'

The Old man had understood Cutter, he knew what shellshock was, what PTSD was before it had a long fancy name. It was what happened to the guys who were teachers, or CPAs, or some other bullshit blue collar job who ended up sitting with a necklace of VC ears or celebrated arriving in country by strangling some skinny Vietnamese whore with a bootlace.

"I'd forget about torching the place, forensics will still find some damn thing. If it comes down to it, frakking blame me for it. I won't pass another psych evaluation after this," he said. "Lets just go and get this done with, Jesus will let me rest when I kill enough insurgents."

Re: The Hard Way

#156

Kate nodded at his point, forensics would likely turn up something, also if the owner decided to talk burning the place wouldn't make much difference. "The only other upside to the fire is it might keep the local boys busy trying to save their watering hole, either way, lets clear out of here before we do wind up in another fire fight. It really doesn't matter how good our tactics, weapons, and skill are; if enough of them show up we'll run out of ammo before we run out of targets and that'd be a poor way to end the morning."

Re: The Hard Way

#157

"Torch the place, or leave it, doesn't matter," Cutter said. The urge was more than he could stand and he started searching behind the bar for a pack of smokes. There was no way that there wasn't one. Lost and found maybe? No, just some cheap fake Oakleys, a busted cellphone, some horrid keychains, some outta gas lighters, the kind of debris that you would expect in a hick joint like this. He kept looking, peanuts check, pretzels check, there was even a repellent jar of pickled eggs. Guess that was for special occasions. He opened some of the drawers, his movements slowing becoming frantic, search and destroy baby. He opened a drawer near the cash register and heaved a sigh of relief. It was a sad bar that didnt sell smokes. His hand hovered over the pack of Cheap-O 100s, but then he picked up the familiar red and white pack. $6 according to the label. Frak em, he pulled one, tapped it twice against his arm and opened it.

Back in Iraq he had smoked, and when he came back, that was one of the things that the shrinks said had to go. But he had long since noticed that smoking was under attack, and smokers with it. to hell with all of them. He lit up and took the first drag he had had in 7, or was it 8 years.

"I don't want to die in a bar, my truck isn't going anywhere. So, I grab my spare magazines and phone charger and then we can get out of here," he said. Cutter headed out the door to his truck.

Re: The Hard Way

#158

Kate blinked in surprise, a moment ago the man was willing to trade bullets to keep his vehicle safe, now he was ready to leave it where it lay? Glad he finally made a decision, she only nodded in agreement hurrying out of the bar behind Cutter. "I'll pull my Cuda around front, see you guys there."

Pausing at the tables, Kate waited for Frank to walk past her before lighting a book of matches and tossing it with a flick of her wrist into the alcohol pooled across the bar. Forensics might find something eventually, but she'd be damned if she'd make it easy for them.

Re: The Hard Way

#159

Cutter dug in the back of his truck, grabbing his plastic bag of pain meds and other medicine cabinet fair. nothing ruined his day quite like rubbing a blister on the stump of his arm. He grabbed the overnight camping backpack, and his gun cleaning kit. The two spare magazines rattled inside the canvas sack. It was a heavy bundle, but not quite a GI Pack for weight. He shut the back of the camper shell and sighed, puffing his second cigarette. The flames were already licking up through the windows of the bar. Damned shame all that booze going up in flame, the packs of smokes, and the money in the till. He was a lot of things, but one thing he wasnt was a thief.

The Ford would wait, there was no way that those rednecks would let a turbocharged V8 truck just sit and rust. He could come back for her, or if he went back 'upstate' as they called the looney bin, well not much need for a truck between finger painting and sitting by the window.

Re: The Hard Way

#160

The Boss’s tires were slashed too Kate noticed first as she went for the ‘Cuda. Tough break. Unless Frank had 4 spares, it looked like she was now the designated driver.

He didn’t.

The ex-MP let out a curse.

By the time Cutter was done plundering his truck and Kate pulled up in the ‘Cuda , smoke funnels were coming out of the motel windows.

It wouldn’t be long now…

Wind picks up again. Persistent ever-present swirling gusts now. Newspapers and trash swirl along the parking lot in funnel clouds.

Sky purple. Weird morning. Route 27 empty as far as the eye can see in both directions. Rutted fields of dried mud and soybean farms, stretch out into eternity on both sounds of the road.

6:43am