3 Cheers For Sweet Revenge

3 years ago...

Oh baby here comes the sound!
That empowering intimidating sound of the chamber of a gun, being locked and loaded.
It's almost orgasmic, that full metal jacketed hollow point bullet, being slammed into a well oiled hole....

I snapped out of my trance, regaining my senses as the bullets flew overhead.
It was the Haldol anti-psychotic, they shot me up with it after I had gotten off of that train from New Orleans.
That's how we do it in the murder scene, all of that just to settle up the score.

My hands gripped the pistols tightly, anticipating my turn to return fire from my .45 ACP Hardballers. Ooh..so exciting!

God I wish you were here Helena, I'd never have a fear.
The fear of dying, the fear of missing my target, the fear of losing you.
Joe's dead, he took the first hail of bullets for me. He pushed me away as our target made us out.

He's not even 3 feet from me, crouched behind a granite and marble wall for cover.
C'mon girls, let's work!

I made sure to hold my pistols sideways, so the ejection ports were pointed upwards, so the muzzle jump and kick of my high caliber weapons would help me aim and find my next target.
I had more than enough ammo tucked away in my jackets liner pockets and attached to my belt.
Ammo was not an issue here, my vulnerability was!

Oh Helena....you're beautiful....

You never wanted it to be this way did you my love?

I found a target hiding behind some dry wall, his shadow betraying him as he reloaded his TMP. I took careful aim, and squeezed off two quick trigger pulls, the high velocity rounds burrowing through the frail wall. He didn't have time to scream, as his blood painted the ivory white floor.

There was no point checking on Joe, I kicked his foot with my own, yes he was dead.
I kept a pistol trained for targets as I rifled through his body, grabbing a small "Baseball" grenade he had tucked away. He never really carried fire arms, he was our explosives expert.

I saw movement to my left, a foot and the flutter of a coat. I immediately opened fire, sending two more bullets. The brass casing ringing out like miniature bells on the hard polished floor. They moved again, and I fired four more times, my arms jolting from the kick of my weapons.

I moved quickly but with caution. I kicked over an overturned table and found my prey.

He looked up at me, blood frothing from his mouth, three bullet holes the size of silver dollars in his chest, shoulder, and leg.

"We're gonna kill you! W-we know..who you are!" he wheezed at me.

I smirked at him before emptying my last two remaining rounds into him.
I immediately ducked down for cover, as I quickly reloaded my weapons, ejecting the empty spent 7 round magazines, they clattered loudly on the floor. I slapped in two fresh clips, and released the bolt catch, chambering the bullets.

I did a quick look over of the scene, Joe dead, That one thug dead behind the dry wall, and this joker in front of me with more than enough bullets in him.

I was sweaty from the adrenaline and rush of the gunfight, but I was satisfied and tired.
I holstered my pistols in their respectable shoulder slings and chirped over to my employer.

"Is it clean?" he asked.

"Indeed. Get a cleaner here, I'm moving out to our agreed RV point."

There was a short pause before he replied, "Okay, be quick and don't get caught. We got an update on some things. We might have a problem.."

"A problem? What do you mean?" I asked, mopping my brow with an embroidered handkerchief.

"Nothing, just get your pretty ass back her ASAP!"

I sighed, "Yeah, I'm on it boss!", and ended the conversation.

As I walked out of the 5th floor lobby of the Hartigay Building, I unpinned the grenade, tossing the useless scrap of metal to the side. I released the spoon of the grenade, hearing the tell tale "PING!" of metal scraping metal. I smiled at it.
I tossed the grenade over my shoulder, hearing it bounce twice before rolling violently.
I had 5 seconds to stand clear.

"1 Mississippi.."

Down to the stairwell.

"2 Mississippi..."

Passing the 4th floor marker.

"3 Mississippi..."

Wiping my hands clean as I pass the 3rd floor

"4 Mississippi.."

Donning my John Lennon sunglasses passing the 2nd floor.

"5 Mississippi...!"

Down the final flight and calmly but briskly walking out as the explosion rocks the building.
Shattered glass, and concrete rain down behind me.
How could such a small fragmentation grenade cause such a ruckus?!

Oh yeah...Joe...those Composition B explosives you had on you....the were supposed to be set and primed in the parking garage.

Guess no one told you...Sorry.

"Give 'em hell kid.."