Contract Killer is in Too Deep

The door to the manager's office flew open, and a nude Johnny Knox, the remaining Tuxedo Brother, charged out of it. He stopped, and his eyes grew wide in recognition.

"ASSHOLE!" he cried.

"Good to see you, too," I said. Then we were racing at each other like the opposing armies in 'Braveheart.' Great movie, but I didn't want to star in the real-life version.

Knox caught me with a hammer blow to my gut. I felt the air rush out of my lungs, and then he wrapped a hand under my armpit and another over my thigh and flipped me over his head. The room spun, and then my back crashed onto the grated floor of the platform outside of the manager's office. I should have been grateful I hadn't landed on the stairs, but at the time, all I could feel was a slamming pain as my teeth came together. Very quickly, I was losing this fight.

As if coming from another dimension, one far from Earth, I could hear the girl screaming in the next room. She probably thought she was having a bad acid trip.

Knox barreled up the stairs towards me. I met him with a driving kick into his swaying groin. I felt the soft flesh of his cock and testicles squish beneath the rubber sole of my tennis shoe. His apish, guttural voice turned high-pitched and girlish. The short-lived victory made me so giddy I could not contain a loud, heartfelt laugh.

I made it to up to my hands and knees, but Knox recovered enough to slam his kneecap into my face. I saw stars, went dizzy, and skidded backwards across the platform. I would have been over if not for a safety rail at its edge. My body was one big, throbbing ache.

I heard thudding footfalls. Knox was again on the move. I opened my eyes in time to see two mammoth hands close over my neck. I thought he planned to squeeze the life out of me, but instead, I felt the ground under me disappear as I was lifted into the air. Knox was going to toss me over the rail. The fall might not kill me, but it sure as hell could incapacitate me or, worse, break my neck.

I jabbed at Knox's eyes with my thumbs, and my right made contact. I felt something squish and bulge as my thumb went in deep. Knox screamed and twisted, and half-blind, he flung me through the air but not over the rail. Instead, I went through the plate glass window of the manager's office.

The glass exploded around me, and it and I went crashing into the wood floor of the office. Now the girl's screams did not seem so distant. They pierced my ears and drove into my brain like iron spikes. I felt blood dripping from my scalp, wet and warm and sticky. I staggered to my feet and wiped it from my eyes just in time to see Johnny Knox storm through the door.

His left eye swung from the socket like a pendulum. It looked like a socket pulled out of a wall, the cords still attached. Knox's jaw was set, and I could see his pulse throbbing from a vein in his neck. His coils of muscles were so tense that they might pop like stretched springs. The expression on his face signaled imminent death for yours truly.

Knox raised one sledgehammer-fist to batter my face into jelly, and he opened his mouth just long enough to say, "You're one fucking dead motherfu-..." when a jagged piece of glass suddenly protruded from his throat and the rest of his sentence was just blood-choked gurgles.

The girl, the waif with the dirty blonde hair and the glassy eyes, said, "You took the words right out of my mouth." Then she shoved the broken glass deeper with the palm of her hand, and Knox stumbled back, staggered out the door, and twitched over the safety rail. I heard him hit the concrete with a meaty thud, one fucking dead motherfucker.

***

I guess I'm turning into a softie. The limo had mysteriously reappeared outside as if Veronica knew exactly how long it would take for me to kill Johnny Knox. I had the waif with me, the twenty-something user who had saved my life. I wanted to return the favor.

The back door of the limo opened, and Mrs. Dread leaned out with a demonic grin. The diamonds around her neck glittered like imitation stars. I wondered vaguely if she had ever cleaned off the mess I had spewed on her. I spotted a small crusty stain at the curve of her cleavage that could have only been dried semen.

"So do we have a deal?" Veronica said.

"Get this kid some help," I replied.

"If we have a deal."

I paused, sighed, and looked Veronica Dread dead in her hellish eyes. Some cultures believe that eyes are the windows to your soul, but when you looked into Veronica's, nothing was there.

"Deal."

~the end~