Chronicles of Hazard City

 

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The Merc and the Ghost

The full moon shines over the corrupted city. Dylan Price sat alone in a bar, his black leather jacket hanging down almost to the floor. His sat one leg bent resting on one leg of the stool the other firmly on the ground. Dressed in all black he sat almost looking like a silhouette sitting in a chair.

He grabbed hold of a small shot glass in front of him. He lifted it up emptying the amber liquid into his mouth, and then he slammed the glass down onto the bar. The bartender walked over to him and poured another shot of whiskey glass. Dylan slide the bartender a group of twenty-dollar bills. “Leave the bottle,” he says.

The bartender took the money and left the bottle. Dylan drank a shot then poured another. Another man walked up to Dylan. He leaned over, “This place ain’t for you.” He then grabbed the bottle with his left hand. He started to slide it towards him.

Dylan grabbed hold of the bottle. He turned his head towards the man. The men looked at each other for a few seconds. The man moved his eyes down directing Dylan to do the same. He looked at the man’s waist and saw a gun tucked in his belt under his jeans. Dylan looked into the man’s dark brown eyes, “I have a flight that will be taking me to the Middle East around sun up. I’m here to drink in peace. If you would like to change that, then go for that gun. But if you reach for it, I will kill you.”

The other man was large, one of the largest in the room. His face had a few wrinkles, his short beard a mixture of gray and black hair. His body was scarred in a few places, the most noticeable scar going down his right arm. He held onto the bottle for a few more seconds before letting go. He backed away from Dylan and sat down with a group of people.

An hour passed. Dylan didn’t drink much. He knew that the man that had approached him was on his fifth or six beer. Dylan noticed that he was drinking with his right hand his lower two fingers were always extended. He was very drunk, and shouting at everyone around him. Dylan figured he’d be back in a few minutes to threaten him again. If he did, Dylan thought he could just ram his head into the bar and then he could start drinking again. That’s when the bar’s doors flung open, and a woman, dressed in a small tube top and short mini skirt, limped into the bar her high heels clicking as she took each step.

She looked like she was already drunk as she stumbled around and almost fell into the bar near the stool where Dylan sat. The bartender walked over to her, “I can't serve you, lady. Come back when you sober up some.” He tried to walk away when she grabbed his arm.

“Please help,” the woman said. The woman’s legs nearly gave out as she coughed at the bartender, “Hospital.”

Dylan looked at her. Her short blond hair and clothes were both covered in mud and water. There was a dark spot on the lower part of her shirt. He leaned over and pulled up the stained shirt up. Dylan saw a group of bruises around her stomach and a small stab wound in her side. It was bleeding badly. Dylan grabbed hold of a towel that was on the bar and pressed it to the wound. Dylan stood, “She needs an ambulance.”

“They don’t come here,” the bartender said. “People in the neighborhood been callin in and then robbing the truck.”

“Then where is the nearest hospital?”

The man that approached Dylan earlier yelled, “Don’t tell him shit.” His words slurred a little as he spoke, “She’s branded like one of Vanco’s girls. If she dyin there is a damn good reason.” The bartender looked back and forth between the two men. “Let me make this simpler…” the man drew his gun. Dylan saw it as a Baretta nine millimeter, “You open your mouth and I put a bullet through it.”

Dylan looked at the bartender then the man holding the gun. He looked towards the bartender. Dylan grabbed the bartender’s hand and pressed it on the girls wound, “Keep pressure on the wound, one second.” Dylan left the bar and started to walk over to the other man.

“You have any idea who you are walking towards,” the man yelled, “I worked for one of the five families. I was an enforcer for Dragon Master. People moved when they saw me on the streets. I was feared throughout the city.” Dylan was right in front of the man.

“But then you got older,” Dylan said, “People stopped being intimidated by your size, and you started to have to fight for your respect. One of the fights left you with nerve damage in your right hand, and now you’re here. You act tough, but you know no one is scared of you anymore.” The two stood a few inches from one another. “Put the gun down.” The man cocked the hammer back.

Dylan sighed and shook his head, “I really wanted one night of peace.” Dylan reached up and took the gun by the top. He pressed the release, and swung the slide lock down. He did it all in one motion. He then jammed the slide into the guy’s neck. The man fell to the floor unable to breathe.

Dylan walked back to the bar. The bartender had a look of shock on his face as Dylan looked at him, “Now where’s the hospital?”

“Half a mile east,” the bartender said his eyes wide.

Dylan took the woman by the arm and led her out of the bar. As they were walking out, she looked at him, “Who are you?”

“My name is Dylan Price. You’re going to be ok,” Dylan reassured her as he led her into the dark streets.

The two started east towards the hospital. “Can you tell me what happened?” Dylan asked.

The woman was barely able to focus. Dylan could feel her legs giving out more and more. “Hey,” Dylan brushed some of the hair out of her face, “I need you to stay awake.”

She continued stumble around. Dylan took two fingers and put them inside the knife wound. Her eyes shot open and she tried to yell. “Don’t, please I won't talk. I won't go to court tomorrow. Just please let me leave.”

“Who is after you?”

She started to fade again, “The Ghost,” she started to mumble and not make sense.

“We’re almost there,” Dylan said, “Just hold on for a few more seconds.”

“KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM,” Dylan heard gunshots and then felt the woman get heavier. Dylan let her fall slowly and saw three bullet holes on her back. He looked around and saw a man in a white suit with a large scar going down the right eye. He was holding a silver revolver with a small trail of smoking coming from the barrel.

“Why?” Dylan asked.

“I have stopped asking that question,” the man replied.

“Who are you?”

The man looked at Dylan, “In good time,” smiled he had a small phone in his hand. “Hello, police I just saw a shooting officer down. They’re less than a block away from Memorial General Hospital. Please hurry the man is still here.”

Dylan turned his head his mouth, open a little, as the man continued, “Describe him. He’s about six two, little over two hundred pounds, white male wearing a black leather trench coat and black shirt and pants. He is still armed.”

Dylan turned and saw the flashing lights coming. The cops were coming and quick. Dylan looked down at the woman’s body. Her eyes were still open. Dylan shut his eyes, “I’m sorry,” he quietly said. He shut her eyes and then took off down a nearby alleyway.

The two cars arrived at the scene. One got out and radioed for backup while another checked on the woman. The two remaining took off towards Dylan. They ran down the alleyway but didn’t see him on the other side. Dylan quickly ran up a pipe and got onto a nearby roof before the cops were able to move a light onto him.

Dylan looked down at them from a nearby rooftop. Dylan started to run jumping from rooftop to rooftop. When he was a blocks away, he reached into his pocket and pulled a driver’s license out. “Liza Marie,” it read.

Dylan got off the roof and walked on the side of the street. It was quiet. The police were blocks away from him. Dylan spotted an old Lexus. He smashed the window and unlocked the car. Once inside he filled open the sun visor and out dropped a set of keys. “People are idiots,” Dylan thought.

Dylan started to drive until he got to the docks, where he parked in front of a set of metal containers.

The containers were laid out like a maze, a maze that Dylan could navigate with his eyes closed. He reached near the center and knocked on a container that was painted red. A few moments passed, then Dylan heard an unlocking sound and he opened the container door. Just inside there was a clear strip door. Dylan walked passed it and into a long metal hall where a man in a motorized wheelchair sat, his arms crossed looking at Dylan.

“What are you doing here? The sun is going to be up in less than an hour. Your plane is leaving soon.”

Dylan just looked at him, “I can't go Zeek.”

“Why,” Zeek said. Zeek scowled as he spoke the wrinkles on his face getting deeper. He was dressed in a stained plaid button down shirt and faded jeans. His hair and beard were a few inches long. His hair was mostly gray, but he still had a few patches of red hair.

Dylan pulled out Liza’s license, “This girl was shot.”

“So?” Zeek said, “People get shot every day.”

“Yeah, but she was under my care. I want to know why,” Dylan said.

“No, if Legion finds out you’re in the states they will come in gun first. There is a job in the country of Hadi. You go there, do the job I'll see what I can find out,” Zeek said.

“Can't do it, Zeek,” Dylan said, “Send Angel or Spencer on the job.”

“I can't give it to them,” Zeek replied, “Angel isn’t experienced enough too go alone on this one. Spencer doesn’t work to well in close combat, and the job would require him to walk through tunnels. The client needs you, or they will have to contract to Legion for it.” Legion, a private military that was used as the main military of the West, black ops group in the East, and Dylan’s former employer.

“I need to stay. If you want to drag me on that plane you’re going to have to fight me,” Dylan said.

“Ah hell,” Zeek said, “I didn’t like the client anyway.” Zeek turned his chair around and went through another strip door. Dylan followed and entered the main area of the shipping container a place that was much wider than the initial container looked.

Zeek had taken two groups of nine containers and welded them together. He then cut holes between them all to serve as doors. The structure served Zeek as a base for more urban areas. Dylan looked at the walls and saw that most of them only had pegs on them with nothing else.

“Where are the weapons?” Dylan asked.

“Overseas, we were breaking down remember,” Zeek replied. He stopped at a long steel table and pulled out two plastic cases. “These are the only weapons I have left. I was going to give you one of these when we got to Hadi, but now.” He opened the case and pushed it towards Dylan. Inside were two Ruger SR1991 forty-five caliber pistols inside two black holsters.

“Thought I could use something a little stronger,” Dylan said picking up one of the guns.

“Yeah,” Zeek said, “I made some upgrades. I replaced the hammer, slide stop, sear, and formatted the magazines to hold ten round instead of eight.” Zeek opened the other case and showed it to Dylan. “Standard throwing knives, nothing special about them, but since when did you need special. Other than this, I don’t think I can be any more help equipment wise. Everything else is heading back to my main camp, and I won't be able to get it back for a few months.”

“I'll make do,” Dylan said, “Besides it’s not like I'm going to war. Just want to know why one woman was shot.”

“Sometimes asking a simple question can get you killed,” Zeek replied.

Dylan took the two gun holsters and strapped them to his waist. One was on his right hip the other was on his back. He picked up a few of the knives and put them inside his coat.

“You even know where to go?” Zeek asked.

“License has an address on it. Figure I would start there and see who she was. Then I would figure out why she was shot. Can you look into her and see if you find anything?”

“Alright, I'll call you if I find anything.”

Dylan walked out of the room and out of the shipping container. Dylan looked around for a few seconds then he started to walk forward to a blue color container. Dylan reached into his pockets, and pulled a small silver key out. He unlocked the container and opened the door wide open.

Inside was something hidden under a tan sheet. Dylan grabbed the sheet and pulled it off to reveal a black 1964 Ford Mustang. Dylan got into the car and started it. The engine roared, and Dylan drove off.

Dylan drove to address listed on Liza’s license. Dylan got out of the car and looked at the apartment. It was a rundown old brownstone. Dylan looked at the stoop, the steps were cracked, and the railings were rusted almost to the point of holes being put into the metal.

Dylan walked up to the steps. He felt a few of the stones on the steps move when he stepped on them. He got to the door it was cracked, and the doorknob was a little rusted. Dylan tried to turn the handle. The door was unlocked. Dylan turned the handle and pushed the door forward.

Dylan started to hear the door start to creak as he opened it. Then he heard a soft click. Dylan’s eyes widened and he jumped over the railing on the stairs. The door was turned to splinters as the house exploded. Dylan was on the ground. Dylan’s vision came and went until he collapsed.

A bright light flashed in front of Dylan. Dylan’s eyes opened. His vision was blurry he knew he was in a mostly white place with lights that were bright enough to blind him.

Dylan moved his arms and felt something almost like a bracelet over his wrist. It stopped Dylan from moving very far. He was in a bed, but not one that was meant for a home it was thin and rough. Dylan clothes had been replaced with a thin gown. Dylan vision didn’t have to clear for him to see he knew he was in a hospital with his hands cuffed to the hospital bed.

Dylan looked around, and his vision started to clear he saw a young Asian woman sitting in a chair next to the bed. She was dressed in a business suit with a black jacket and skirt and a maroon button-down shirt underneath. Her black hair was tied back in a bun, and she had on black rimmed glasses. She looked at Dylan; her arms crossed her eyebrows slanted inward.

“So I have reports that a man in all black fled from the scene of a shooting that killed a woman. That woman was my witness. So who hired you,” the woman asked.

Dylan was still groggy, “Who the hell are you? And where am I?”

“Hospital,” the woman said, “I'm Haruna Wu, assistant DA, and the woman who will ruin your life if you don’t answer my question.”

Dylan grinned a small bit and said quietly, “Someone beat you to it.” Dylan looked at her. He couldn’t place it but something about her was different.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“Let me guess,” Haruna said, “A man in a white suit killed her.”

“Yeah, how did you…” Haruna interrupted Dylan before he could finish.

“Every once and a while some hitman will claim that a man in white killed a witness, but they have never had any evidence to back it up,” Haruna said.

“Do they ever give a name?”

“No,” Haruna said.

“Who was she a witness against?”

“You didn’t even ask?” Haruna said.

“Lady, if I killed her. I wouldn’t still be in town,” Dylan said, “Whoever she was going to testify against hired a hitman. I want to know who the hitman is. So who was she going to testify against?” Dylan started to sit up. His body hurt a little, but he ignored the pain.

“Liza’s boss was Henrietta Vanco, she controls most of the brothels in the city,” Haruna said. She started to believe Dylan a little. She leaned forward her hands in her lap. “I had a good case against her, but Liza was my lynchpin. She was able to connect every piece of evidence together.”

“Can I get you to take the cuffs off?” Dylan pulled at the cuffs, “I can help you. Liza died in my arms; I'm looking for the man that killed her. If I find him, he can help you. But I need to get out of here first.”

“No,” Haruna said, “I don’t know if you killed Liza or not, but I can't let you walk out of here.”

Just then, the door opened and in walked a man in a white lab jacket. He had his face bent down reading a chart; both Haruna and Dylan could only see the top of his blond spiky hair. He started to look up slowly. He was wearing a pair of wire rim glasses. You could see he had an athletic body type and was a little taller than an average man was. Dylan smiled as the man’s face came into view. He was reading Dylan’s chart and looked at Haruna. “I need the room to check him out.”

Haruna stood up and walked out of the room. She looked at Dylan, “I'll be right outside this door.”

The door closed, Dylan looked the other man. “Please tell me you got my stuff before an actual doctor found me.”

“Yes,” the doctor said, “I put in locker 348; it’s on the third floor. You need to get there now.”

“You have a way to get me out of this room.”

“Not yet, but I can tell you three gunshot victims have come in the last fifteen minutes.”

“That not odd here.”

“I have a feeling most don’t have ten large family members come in with them. All have Russian tattoos and all have guns.”

“You think they are here for me?”

“No, you haven’t done anything yet. They’re here for that ADA,” the doctor said.

“How do you know?”

“They almost came in with her. They’re waiting for her.”

“What kind of guns?”

“I could make out a few pistols and a few small submachine guns, but they could easily have bigger stuff.”

“Get these cuffs off of me.” Dylan pulled at the cuffs then looked at the doctor, “It is good to see you, Miles. How did you know I was here?”

Miles took a key out and stuck it inside the handcuffs. “I been watching for a while, Dylan. I'll see about distracting the prosecutor.” Miles walked out of the room. He looked at Haruna, “I gave him something to help him sleep.”

“Great. He just started talking,” Haruna said.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Miles said.

“I should really get back in there just in case he wakes up,” Haruna said.

“Trust me,” Miles said offering his hand, “He isn’t going anywhere.”

Haruna shook Mile’s hand, “What is your name again?”

“Doctor Steven Kevorkian,” Miles said.

The two let go of each other’s hand, walked away from the door, and exited the hall. “I don’t think I have seen you before. When did you start here?”

“I haven’t been here long,” Miles said. “I just transferred from a hospital in New York.”

“You have a family, Dr. Kevorkian?”

“No,” Miles said, “My wife passed away a few months ago.”

“I'm sorry,” Haruna said.

“We all have few tragic stories. I thought it would be good to move to a different city. You know. Get a fresh start,” Miles replied.

While they were walking down the hall, Dylan had already taken the handcuffs off and exited the room. He started walking down the hall and found his way to an elevator. He looked and saw he was on the fifth floor, “I need to be on the third floor,” he thought.

The elevator opened up in front of him he saw a man the size of a bear standing in the middle of the elevator. He was wearing a white short-sleeved button-up shirt with the buttons undone to show the muscle shirt underneath. Dylan breathed deep, “Russian?”

The man nodded, “Out of way.”

“You have a knife in your pocket, don’t you?”

The man smiled and nodded. Dylan rubbed his nose, “I was really hoping I would get to my guns before running into any of you.” The man turned his head sideways towards Dylan.

Dylan pushed the man back farther into the elevator and slapped the button on the elevator wall that had the number three on it. By the time the elevator doors opened again, the man was on the floor knocked out.

Dylan was standing facing the door and saw that there were four men standing in front of the elevator. All of them were holding pistols. They looked at the unconscious man behind Dylan, and all pointed the pistols at him.

Dylan looked at each one. They were arranged with one in front, then two in back, then last one was standing closest to the elevator. The first man in front was wearing a red and black button down plaid shirt that had two buttons undone. Underneath the button down shirt was a white cotton sleeveless shirt. Next to him was one of the men in the back. The man had an icy stare as he looked at Dylan. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and had a long scar going from his chest to his neck. Next to him was another man who was easily the strongest his shirt looked like it was painted on. The final man was younger than the others were. He looked to be no more than eighteen years old.

“Guys we really don’t have to do this.” Dylan walked out of the elevator with both hands held up.

All the men cocked back the hammers on the pistols. “Guess we do. Can this at least wait till I have pants?” One of the men shook his head.

“Pity,” Dylan said.

Dylan grabbed hold of the man with the scar on his neck and the strongest man and pulled the two men forward. The men stumbled forward and knocked into the other two men. They all shot their guns, but only shot into walls or floor.

Dylan struck the two men he pulled in the throat making them fall. By the time they fell, one of the younger man had rotated and pointed his gun towards Dylan.

Dylan grabbed the gun and pressed the release to make the magazine drop out of the gun. Dylan then removed the gun from the young man’s hand. He then struck the man in the nose. The one in plaid was the last shooter was rotating to shoot at Dylan. Dylan caught his arm as it moved and broke his elbow over his shoulder. Dylan then took them and rammed their head into one another. Dylan walked away from the Russians and saw most people running away from him. He got to the locker and went inside.

On the fifth floor, Miles and Haruna both heard the shots on the third floor. Haruna turned and ran back towards Dylan’s room. Miles followed her and caught up to her as she entered the room. She was standing in the middle of the room looking at an empty bed. She looked at Miles as he entered the room, “I thought you said you put him to sleep.”

Miles closed the door as he walked towards Haruna. He took out a syringe filled with a clear liquid, “Yeah, I'm sorry, but I need to get you out of here.”

“What is that?” Haruna backed into the room.

“Something to put you asleep,” Miles said, “I’ve found that people are easier to get out of hospitals if they’re dead. Sleep is close enough for now.”

Miles took a few steps inside until they were both near the center of the room. Just as Miles reached for Haruna, the door swung open and in stepped four men.

The men were all dressed in scrubs attempting to blend in. Miles could see the tattoos on their arms though. One man had a tattoo on the back of his hand of a black skull. Another had a cross going up his right arm. One of the other men had a baldhead and decided to put a spider web pattern. The last man had the words ‘Save Love,’ on one hand and ‘Keep Freedom,’ on the other. The last one was holding the door open for the last member of their group to join.

A second passed, and in stepped a man so tall that he had to duck under the doorframe to pass. He walked in and closed the door. He took his shirt off and showed he had a set of epaulettes on his shoulder. The epaulettes had a skull on them.

Miles looked at all five of them, “You guys here for her?” The largest man nodded. “Great,” Miles turned to Haruna, “I was hoping to get you out before they found you.” Haruna’s face scrunched up.

Miles looked at the five men; the four smaller men were about the same height as Miles with similar builds, but all started to draw weapons. The man with the skull tattoo and the one with the spider web both crew small pistols. The one that had the cross and the one with the words both drew large combat knives. The big guy just kept standing behind them.

Miles closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, the man with the words on his arm rushed him. Miles kicked the man in the front of his knee causing him to fall back. The man with the skull tattoo turned his gun on Miles and began to pull the trigger. Miles rolled forward just as the gun fired.

Miles was under the man with the skull tattoo. Before he could step back Miles came up with an uppercut to his stomach. Miles looked over and saw the man with the cross was coming towards him with his knife. Miles turned his leg and kicked the man in the chest sending him into the wall behind him. Miles knocked the gun out of the skull-tattooed man and flipped him over his shoulder. Miles saw the gun slide across the room, but saw a knife right in front of him.

The man with the spider web tattoo turned his gun on Miles as he went for the knife, and smiled. Miles was on his knees, couldn’t move, and couldn’t dodge. The man then turned his gun towards Haruna. Miles picked up a knife and threw it. The knife hit the man in the wrist as he fired his gun. The gun shot the side of a wall.

Miles turned and saw that the man with words on his arms was starting to stand. Miles punted him in the head. He pulled the syringe out of his pocket and shoved the needle into the man with the epaulettes on his shoulders.

The man with the spider tattoo on his skull was yelling in pain as blood came out of his wrist. He turned to look at the others and saw that most of them were already down. He turned to look at Haruna and saw Miles in front of him. The man lifted the gun and tried to pull the trigger. His hand wouldn’t move.

“Knife must have cut a few nerves,” Miles said. He reached up and took the gun shooting him in the chest.

Miles let the man he just shot fall. He looked around, “Just as I saw it.”

Miles saw that the biggest of the five men was still standing. “Thought that would put me out,” he said removing the syringe.

“A drug that I measured out for a hundred and twenty pound woman? No, I didn’t think it would put you down. Just slow you down,” Miles said.

The man took a step forward Miles saw his leg wobble as his foot hit the ground. The man took another step and lunged at Miles. Miles rolled his shoulders and moved out of his way. The man stumbled forward. Miles tripped him, and he went out into the wall. The man was out cold. Miles then turned to Haruna.

“What's going on?” Haruna asked.

“I don’t really have time to explain. My name is Miles Jackson. These men are here for you, to catch or kill I don’t know, but I'm going to get you out of here,” Miles offering his hand to Haruna.

“I'm guessing you’re not a doctor,” Haruna said.

“No, I'm doing a favor for a friend,” Miles said, “But we have to get you out of here.”

Miles took Haruna by the hand and pulled her towards the door. He opened the door and saw a short fat balding man walking towards the room his arms inside his long jacket. The man’s arms started to rise as he pulled a sawed-off shotgun out of his coat and pointed it towards Miles.

Miles slammed the door and pushed Haruna out of the way of the door before falling flat onto the floor. Just as he hit the ground, he heard a loud blast of the shotgun going off and then felt the pieces of the door falling on top of him. Miles rolled out of the line of the door. The man kicked what was left of the door down as entered the room. His gun was lowered he was reloading two more shells.

Miles heard the gun click as the gun was loaded. He pointed the shotgun at Miles.

A gunshot echoed throughout the room. The man fell to the floor. A bullet entered into the side of his skull and blasted out the other side. Dylan entered the doorway holding one of his pistols. He looked around the room until he saw Miles on the ground, “You’re getting rusty,” he said. He offered his hand to Miles.

“How many did you take out?” Miles asked as he grabbed Dylan’s hand.

“He makes six,” Dylan replied, “You?”

Miles looked over into the room, “Five.”

“How many do you think are left?” Haruna asked.

“That’s a good question,” Dylan said looking towards Miles.

“I saw three groups of ten people coming in,” Miles said, “So nineteen more people looking for Haruna.”

“Unless more came when you weren’t looking,” Haruna said. “How do you know they are after me?”

“When Dylan arrived here he was being watched by at least five different officers,” Miles started, “When you arrived all those officers left. To maintain a cover I took a trip through the ER. I saw one group of three Russians came in with small cuts on their body. They were all seen by the same doctor were going to be kept here over night. When their family arrived and it turned out, they were all two hundred pound men I figured they were here for something.”

“Any chance there are more,” Haruna asked.

Dylan looked at Haruna, “Unlikely. Thirty is a lot for one woman,” Dylan said, “Any idea why they are after you?”

“I don’t know,” Haruna shrugged her shoulders as she thought for a moment. “I'm the lead prosecutor on the Vanco case, but losing Liza makes it almost impossible to convict.”

“We’ll figure it out later,” Miles said, “For now we need to get her out of here.”

“What do you think they are going to do?” Dylan asked Miles.

“I did a count of how many exits there are from here. There is one major entrance for civilians and one for ambulances and emergency vehicles. There are also several emergency exits. If I were them I would put as many people at the front as possible, but focus on hunting.”

“So we might be ok if we get to the first floor,” Haruna said.

“Maybe, or they could have people watching the emergency exits,” Miles said.

“You think they have snipers watching the hospital?” Dylan asked.

“Not sure,” Miles said, “But it’s possible.” Miles bent down and picked up the shotgun.

“What do you think we should do?” Dylan asked.

“I find it hard to believe that the police haven’t been called yet,” Miles said, “How long till they arrive?”

Haruna looked over the Russians that were dead on the floor. She pulled on their clothes until she saw an Orthodox Cross tattooed on their chest. Haruna turned to Miles, “Police aren’t coming,” Haruna said, “These guys are part of the Russian mafia. They have bought off every cop in the area so they can operate freely inside this part of town.”

“So we either get you out, or we kill all of them,” Dylan said.

“Pretty much,” Haruna was noticeably looking around quickly. She crossed her arms.

Dylan looked at Miles and smiled, “Get her out of here.”

“And what will you be doing?” Haruna said.

“I'm going to distract them,” Dylan said. He turned and walked out of the room.

“Dylan,” Dylan turned to look at Miles, “Take the stairs.”

Dylan nodded and walked to where the stairs were. He kicked the door open. The noise echoed up and down the staircase. Dylan entered the door and heard people running up the stairs.

Dylan drew one of his guns and walked down to meet them. Dylan turned a corner and spotted the first man. He fell back as blood splattered on the wall behind him. He was running up the stairs holding a small submachine gun. Dylan pointed his gun and shot then man through the throat before he could even turn his gun on him.

A second man started to shoot a pistol at Dylan. The bullets missed, but hit the wall behind him. Dylan felt the dust of drywall hit the side of his head. He turned and shot the man in the chest two times. The man’s chest exploded as he fell to the ground. A third Russian rushed at Dylan with a large meat cleaver. The man swung, barely missing Dylan. Dylan used the man’s momentum to throw him over the side of the staircase. The man fell four floors down, screaming the entire way, before he broke his neck on the bottom floor.

Dylan stopped for a second; he heard a man shouting in Russian. Dylan turned the corner on the staircase and shot a fourth man speaking into a radio. Dylan could hear someone yelling through the radio. He was speaking fast and in Russian. Dylan bent down and picked the radio up.

Dylan pressed the button to send a message, “Your men are dead,” Dylan said. “I'm coming for all of you.”

Dylan kept going down the stairs, “Who are you?” was the reply on the radio.

“My name is Dylan Price.”

“Whatever did we do to earn your attention Mr. Price?”

“Nothing,” Dylan replied, “I just don’t like thugs who go after women in hospitals.”

“How chivalrous of you. You prepared to die for the bitch?”

“Based on what I have seen that won't even be a factor.”

“You have seen nothing. We are watching every exit, and we have more than two dozen men going through this hospital.”

“More like less than a dozen,” Dylan said, “I have already taken out fifteen people. You better send more if you want this to be fair.”

The voice grew angrier; he started to shout through the radio, “You think you’re so tough. Why don’t you come to the front entrance so I can gut you like a fish?”

“Be there in a few seconds,” Dylan said as reached the first floor.

While Dylan was descending the stairs, Miles and Haruna were attempting to escape the hospital. The two made it to the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. The elevator doors closed and started to go down. Haruna looked at Miles, “Who is he?”

“Dylan?” Miles replied.

“Yes, Dylan,” Haruna said.

“He’s complicated,” Miles said.

Haruna pressed the emergency stop button, “Then give me the uncomplicated version.”

“You want to do this now?” Miles looked at Haruna. Haruna folded her arms in front to her and stared impatiently at Miles.

Miles sighed, “When I knew Dylan, he was the best soldier I had ever met. Events have changed him a bit, but underneath it all he’s still the same man.”

“What events?” Haruna asked.

“I don’t know. The reports said he was responsible for destroying a village in the Hadi Empire.”

“But you don’t believe them.”

“No,” Miles said, “Dylan Price is a lot of things, but above all he is an honorable man. He would never let an innocent person die. So I find it hard to believe he would kill an entire village.”

“And that’s why you’re here helping him.”

“It’s part of the reason.”

“And what's the other?”

“If not for Dylan Price I’d be dead a thousand times.”

Haruna pressed the emergency button again, and the two continued to the second floor.

The door opened, and Miles led Haruna to just over the front entrance. Miles looked down to spot a ledge that was just above the patient entrance. He broke a window.

Dylan found his way to the front entrance. The metal double doors were closed. Dylan reloaded his pistol and kicked the door open. Dylan walked through the door and into a large waiting room.

There were a few dozen people inside the waiting area, but only fifteen of them were the armed Russians that Dylan was hunting. Dylan expected to have fifteen guns pointed at him but only saw a couple assault rifles pointed at his chest. Most of the other weapons were small pistols and pointed at civilians in the room. Only one man wasn’t pointing his gun at anyone. He was young and dressed in a black and gray suit and had long greasy black hair with a short black mustache and beard.

“Drop your weapons Mr. Price,” the man said.

“You must be the man in charge here,” Dylan said.

“I said drop your weapons,” the man repeated himself. His voice got a bit deeper. “The name is Albert Vasiliev.”

Dylan pointed his gun at Albert, “Tell your men to back off.”

“Or what?” Albert began, “You’ll shoot me?”

Dylan pulled the hammer back on his pistol, “Pretty much.”

Albert reached over and grabbed a girl up by the back of her neck. He took a long silver revolver he was holding and placed it on the side of her head. Dylan looked at the girl. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Vasiliev pulled the hammer back on the revolver, “Holster your weapons or I shoot this girl in the head,” he said, “You have to the count of five.”

Dylan didn’t move. He began counting, “One… Two… Three…” a gunshot rang out. Albert’s revolver fell from his hand and hit the ground. The gun bounced a little. Everyone looked towards Dylan. Albert fell to the ground the right side of his skull missing from a bullet wound in his eye. The girl dropped to her knees her the side of her face covered in Vasiliev’s blood.

“Ok,” Dylan said, “Put the guns down boys.”

The men didn’t move they just kept looking at Dylan, their eyes wide.

“Seriously do any of you think you’re still getting paid? You can put a bullet in me, but then you still have to find the prosecutor. She’s more than likely left the building.”

“You have any idea who that was?” one of the men finally asked.

“Do I need to?”

“That was our boss’s youngest son,” another man said.

“Really,” Dylan said, “His youngest son?”

The men all nodded, “You’re a dead man.”

“Well it was a good try,” Dylan said.

All the men turned towards Dylan. They all raised their guns and started shooting. Dylan drove towards the admissions desk. Bullets tore into the desk. Some managed to get through and almost hit Dylan. Dylan waited behind the desk until he heard a small pause in the gunfire.

Dylan stood up and started shooting. Most of the men were reloading. Dylan slid over the desk and kept firing. He quickly ran out ammo for his guns and put them back in his holsters.

Dylan got close to one of the men who had just finished an SMG. He swung to fire at Dylan only to feel Dylan’s hands on his forearms preventing them from rotating the gun. Dylan struck the man in the throat and took the gun from his hands. Dylan turned and saw that several others were turning to start firing again.

Dylan spun the guy he was holding in front of him to use him as a shield. The other Russians hesitated, not wanting to fire into their own man. One pointed his gun and started shooting into the man Dylan was holding. Bullets started ripping the man apart and caused Dylan to fall back. Dylan fired the SMG into what remained of the Russians. The bullets wounded some and killed a few others as Dylan fell to the ground. The SMG was out of ammo he lay there motionless.

Only a few Russians remained. They started to walk up to the carcass that was once their man. Dylan was laying on his side. It looked like he was bleeding. A man bent down and started to flip him over so they could put a bullet between his eyes.

“Not so tough now,” he said as he touched Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan turned, knife in hand, and stabbed the man through the heart. The remaining two men pointed their guns and were about to fire when a loud boom echoed through the waiting area. One of the Russians fell to the ground his back and chest turned inside out. The last Russian turned to where the shot came from just in time to hear another shot take his head off. Miles was standing at the entrance. He walked in and offered Dylan a hand up.

Dylan took Miles’s hand and got up. He walked over to where the silver revolver was and put the hammer back down. He looked over at the girl, “You ok?”

She grabbed Dylan and hugged him, “Thank you.”

Dylan broke off the gun and walked out of the hospital with Miles.

Miles and Haruna had jumped from the second story to the top of a ledge that hung over the patient entranceway. When Dylan started shooting inside Miles had a good enough distraction to get Haruna off the ledge and away from the hospital.

“We better get out of here before more arrive,” Dylan said.

The two left the hospital, outside was a large red Corvette. Dylan looked at the car and saw Haruna was in the passenger seat. Dylan looked at Miles, his eyebrows raised. “I may have barrowed a car when I got into town,” Miles said. Miles walked to the driver’s side and got in. Dylan bent down. Miles rolled down the window.

“What are you going to do,” Haruna said.

Dylan shook his head, “Where is my car?”

“The black Mustang?” Haruna asked.

“Yeah, a black Mustang,” Dylan replied.

“In an impound lot,” Haruna said, “It’s on Fourth Street. Not far from here.”

“Take it you’re not coming with us,” Miles asked.

“No,” Dylan said, “Keep her safe.”

Dylan walked away from the car, “Dylan,” Haruna yelled.

Dylan turned and walked back to the car.

“Did you really see a man in a white suit kill Liza?”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, “He’s real. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him.”

“The cops call him Ghost. I hope you find him.”

Dylan smiled at Haruna and started to walk away heading towards Fourth Street. As he walked down the sidewalk, he saw several black and white cop cars heading towards the hospital.

“Must have gotten word the Russians were all dead,” Dylan thought.

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Madam Vanco

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Miles said to Haruna. They were far from the hospital, and Miles was confident that they weren’t being followed.

“Take me to the courthouse,” Haruna said.

“You sure,” Miles asked, “The Russians are not going to stop looking for you.”

“I have court in…” Haruna looked the watch on her wrist, “Five minutes. It’s the Vanco case. If I'm not there, the judge will throw it out.”

“Isn’t the judge going to throw the case out regardless? Your witness is dead.”

“Probably, but if I'm there; then I can try and buy more time.”

“Ok,” Miles said. He turned the car around and started to head to the center of Hazard City. Miles drove fast and arrived before the Vanco case began. Haruna got out and ran up the limestone staircase to the entrance.

Haruna hurried through security and tried to get to her courtroom. She looked down at her watch, “Great, three minutes late.”

She straightened her clothes and opened the doors to the courtroom. The courtroom was filled with a mixture of Vanco's men, reporters, and civilians.

Everyone’s head turned towards Haruna as the large cherry wood doors opened. “Miss. Wu, you are late,” the judge yelled.

“I’m sorry, I was detained,” Haruna said.

The judge was an older man; he was known for being unforgiving with prosecutors and gave no benefit to the police.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” the judge snarled, “Where is your second chair?”

Haruna stood at her table and looked around. Haruna expected Noemi Piazza to be sitting at her table, but she wasn’t there. Haruna looked over at the defense team. She stood, her mouth open a little. She tried to stay firm, but Neomi was young. Given what happened to Haruna earlier, she was worried.

A small smile started to creep onto the face of a well-dressed attorney sitting with the defense team. Sitting next to him was a well-dressed woman that looked to be in her forties. She was wearing a white skirt that ended just below her knee, and a white jacket with black trim.

Her legs were crossed and sat there unworried. She almost looked bored. When the judge started in on Haruna, a smug smile appeared on the woman’s face. She was the infamous Henretta Vanco.

“Your honor,” the defense attorney stood knocking the dust off his tailored suit, “We are prepared to start. Let us proceed without Miss…” The defense attorney looked at Haruna, “Who was your second chair again?”

“Miss. Piazza,” Haruna said, “I will have the police look into her absence, your honor. For now, I am ready to proceed.”

“Fine then,” the judge said, “Now Mr. Martin. You wish to preclude a witness from testifying.”

“Yes your honor,” the defense attorney started. “Your honor we contend that there is no witness and that these charges were brought because of a vendetta Miss. Wu has against Mrs. Vanco.”

“Your honor that has nothing to do with this,” Haruna replied, “Yesterday my witness was shot by an unknown assailant.”

“How convenient,” Mr. Martin yelled, “And how do we know that Miss. Wu didn’t just pick a name out of the obituaries.”

“We corroborated her statements. She used to work for Mrs. Vanco,” Haruna replied, “We the people contest that Mrs. Vanco orchestrated a hit on one Liza Marie so that she could escape these charges.”

“Do you have any evidence to back that up,” the judge asked.

Haruna looked around, “No, but a Russian hit squad tried to kill me today.”

“Really? And how does that help your case?” Mr. Martin yelled.

“It shows your client’s guilt,” Haruna said.

“Did the Russians have any connection to Mrs. Vanco?” the judge asked.

“No,” Haruna said, “To my knowledge no one was caught by the police.”

“Miss. Wu, you are not giving me anything. You have no evidence to connect any of these events to Mrs. Vanco. Your witness was never questioned by a defense attorney. Now she is dead, and you can't link her death to the defended in any way. I'm not allowing her testimony into evidence, and I'm dismissing the charges,” the judge yelled.

“Please judge just give me a little more time,” Haruna begged.

“No,” Judged replied, “You have had all the time you need. If you ever bring charges against Mrs. Vanco again and don't have substantial evidence to back them up. I will personally make sure your license is pulled. Mrs. Vanco you are free to go.” The judge banged his gavel.

Haruna fell into her chair. She noticed the judge leaving, but didn’t see that everyone started to file out. The door to the court closed.

Haruna woke from her trance and looked around. She was alone with the defense team and a few people in the gallery. The people in the gallery were known members of Vanco's gang. Madam Vanco stood up. 

Vanco turned towards Haruna, “When are you going to give up?” She started to laugh at Haruna. "You are never going to beat me." A smug smiled appeared on her face as she began to walk around the courtroom.

“Where is Noemi,” Haruna turned towards Madam Vanco.

“Not sure,” Madam Vanco was calm, “I didn’t think I needed a hit squad for her. I just sent a few guys to grab her. You should not come after me with someone so beautiful. The guys I sent were more than willing to take her as payment.”

“You kidnapped an assistant DA,” Haruna said, “You’re going to jail for life for that.”

“I don’t think so,” Madam Vanco snapped her fingers. Two guys started to walk out of the gallery. One was a few inches taller than the other and dressed in a cheap shirt and jeans. The other was dressed similar, but with a silver neckless around his neck. They grabbed hold of Haruna’s shoulders and pulled her from the chair. They bend her over the table.

Haruna tried to struggle against the men, “Get off me!”

Madam Vanco walked over to Haruna, “You know I get a discount for my legal services. All I need to do is offer my defense team a couple of girls a year. Free of charge of course, but this time things changed. The head of my legal defense team, Mr. Roy Martin needed something very specific after beating you. He wanted you, and he wanted to take you inside the court.”

The defense lawyer stood and walked over to Haruna, “Before I start I would like to make a few motions.”

Vanco smiled, “Be my guest.” The lawyer grabbed hold of the bottom of Haruna’s skirt and pushed it up. Haruna was struggling and was about to scream when Madam Vanco put her hand over her mouth. She sat on the table and watched as her lawyer grabbed hold of Haruna’s underwear. He ripped Haruna’s underwear off her body. Haruna tried to stand, but the lawyer pushed his forearm into her back. He proceeded to spank Haruna.

Roy smiled, “I been spanking you all over this court for years, and today I get to do it physically.” Everyone left in the room started to laugh. Tears started to well up in Haruna’s eyes.

“You know the amazing thing Haruna,” Vanco said, “He's spanking you. He's going to rape you. He's going to do it all right on this table inside this courtroom, and nothing is going to happen to us.”

Just then, she heard the door open. Everyone turned around to see who entered the room. All the men stood, and Madam Vanco got off the table. The men who held Haruna’s arms drew small plastic pistols. “Who the hell are you?” Madam Vanco yelled.

“Oh that doesn't matter yet,” Haruna stood from the table and saw an old man walking towards them. “You know I never liked plastic guns. They break too easily.”

“Get out,” Madam Vanco said.

He stood unafraid, even with the guns pointed at him. He was wearing a cheap suit and tie. His short dark hair stood straight up as he reached into his coat pocket. “I always liked metal guns. Even the carbon fiber guns that the department uses just don't feel right. I miss my old revolver.”

“Wait,” the lawyer’s eyes got wide, and he started to back away from Haruna, “a… a… cop.”

“Not exactly,” the old man pulled out a leather case and opened it to show a silver badge. He threw it at the lawyer.

The lawyer opened the case and looked at it. He placed his hand on the two men holding guns at the detective. He whispered something into Madam Vanco’s ear. She smiled a little, “Detective Lee, I heard more than a little about you.”

She took two steps and took one of the guns from her men. She pointed the gun at the detective’s head.

The detective was calm, “Really? You’re going to shoot me here in the courthouse.”

The detective reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver cigar case. He opened it and took out a small cigar. He then lit it from a lighter he kept inside the case. He breathed in the cigar, and then he breathed out the smoke into the air. “I'm guessing since you have guns pointed at me, and are sexually assaulting an ADA you have done something to the cameras.”

“Yeah, no one is coming to save you,” the taller thug behind Vanco said.

The detective took another puff of smoke. “No, probably not,” he started. “You know when I started here I could smoke anywhere I wanted.”

“Fascinating pops,” the thug wearing the silver neckless said.

“Yeah, but then they passed all those smoking regulations, and now I can't smoke anywhere near the courthouse. Some of us would go to the prison transfer area, but we would never smoke inside of a courtroom. Do you know why?”

The lawyer’s eyes widened, “Why?” Madam Vanco yelled.

The detective smirked and said, “Smoke detectors.”

Just then, a loud siren started to go off. Madam Vanco threw her gun away. The taller thug she was with didn’t. A group of cops burst through the door. They saw the thug with a gun. Madam Vanco screamed towards her man. The cops tackled him to the ground and got the gun away. Another cop came in with a gold badge; he stood in front of Detective Lee, as Madam Vanco’s man was taken out. “Detective Lee, we warned you about smoking in the courtroom,” he said.

“Sorry Sergeant,” Lee said.

The sergeant looked down and saw the other gun. He nodded towards Detective Lee, “I think we will let this one slide.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Lee looked over at Haruna. Haruna walked quickly over to where he was.

Both left the courtroom while Madam Vanco was explaining what happened.

Outside the courthouse, the two were walking down the long staircase. “What the hell were you thinking,” Lee yelled at her.

“What do you mean?” Haruna replied, “If I didn’t show up today I would have been in contempt.”

“We both know that’s not what this is about,” Lee replied.

“What do you mean?” Haruna stopped.

Lee went down a few steps, “How many years since your sister disappeared? We both know Madam Vanco was behind it.”

“So now I'm going after them?”

“Her,” Lee replied, “And this one was your best chance yet.”

Haruna’s eyebrows narrowed a little, but then she looked down. She sat down on the stairs, “What if this was my last shot at her?”

“She is a criminal,” Lee said, “And she thinks she’s untouchable. Vanco will mess up again, and you will be there to capitalize.”

Lee turned away from Haruna and started to walk away, “Oh by the way, when the Russians put a hit out on you. Make sure you call me. I have been looking for you everywhere.”

On the other side of town. Dylan drove from the impound lot back to the docks. Zeek was waiting outside the entrance to his hideout.

“What took you?” Zeek asked.

“Got held up,” Dylan said exiting the vehicle.

“You find anything at the girl’s apartment?”

“No,” Dylan said, “The house exploded when I opened the door.”

“We live a charmed life,” Zeek said with a chuckle. He turned his chair around and started to go into his hideout. “So did you have something to do with that shootout at the hospital?”

“Yeah, that was me,” Dylan followed Zeek into the shipping containers.

“Were they after you?”

“No, they were a group of Russian thugs attacking a hospital. One held a gun up to a girl’s head. I made the right call.”

“You want to find them?”

“Yes, I’m going to need more ammo.”

“I don’t have any. I don’t have any information either. Dylan are you sure you want to be doing this?”

Dylan sat down on a metal bench facing away from Zeek, “No, but there is this woman.”

“Oh god,” Zeek rolled over towards Dylan, “You didn’t.”

Dylan looked towards Zeek. Dylan shook his head quickly, “No, nothing like that. She is a prosecutor. The girl that was shot under my care, she was a witness against someone named Madam Vanco. Are you able to look her up?”

Zeek turned around and went over to a set of monitors. “You’re lucky I hadn’t had time to send back the computer.” Zeek started typing on a keyboard. The screens lit up and started pulling up photos and information.

Dylan looked at the information on the screen, “Wow, and this is just articles and court appearances.”

“Yeah, that prosecutor isn't named Haruna Wu by chance?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“She has brought almost thirty different indictments against Henrietta Vanco in the last three years.”

“That explains why she was targetted.”

“You said they were Russians that performed the hit. You get a name?”

“Vasiliev, Albert Vasiliev,” Dylan said.

Zeek typed the name Vasiliev into a directory. A large list of names came up. Zeek looked up at Dylan, “This is a long list. It’s going to take time for me to go through it.”

“How long,” Dylan asked.

“I can look up the name and see if a Vasiliev has been taken to court, but finding his address will still take a few days.”

“Damn,” Dylan said, “I don’t think Haruna will have that long. These guys might try and hit her again.”

“They might, I'll work as fast as I can.” Just then, there was a knock at the door. The sound echoed throughout the entire hideout. Zeek pressed a button on the computer and the text on the monitors faded. In its place were pictures of the front entrance.

Miles was standing at the front entrance to the hideout. He was no longer dressed as a doctor; he was standing in a black and white suit. “Come on, Zeek I know you’re in there,” Miles yelled.

Zeek turned towards Dylan and practically growled, “How long has he been here?”

“I don't know, a few days maybe. You know he is on our side,” Dylan said.

“You know how much I hate spooks. You can't trust what side they're on. Now you’re bringing one to my hideout,” Zeek said.

“No, I don’t know how he found this place. Maybe he knows something.”

“Fine let him in,” Zeek growled.

Dylan went to the doors and unlocked them. Miles opened the doors and walked into the shipping container. “Took long enough,” Miles said, “I guess the old man is still pissed.”

Dylan shrugged, “The man hates spies.”

Miles walked into the main areas and saw Zeek typing at the computer. He walked over to Zeek, “What are you trying to find,” Miles asked.

Dylan followed Miles, “We are trying to find information on the Vasiliev family.”

“You able to help with that,” Zeek asked.

“Nope,” Miles said, “I haven’t been in the city long enough to find out anything about the minor crime families.”

“They didn’t seem like a minor crime family an hour ago,” Dylan said.

“Should hear the rumors about the other families. I do know about an information broker in the city. He should know where to find the Vasiliev family,” Miles turned towards Dylan, “His name is Samuel Thane. He should be at a bar on the corner of Tenth and Washington.”

“If that’s all you have, then you can leave,” Zeek said. Miles shook his head and walked towards the exit.

Zeek turned his head towards Miles, “Hold on a second.” Miles turned towards Zeek. “How did you find this place?”

Miles smiled, “I found Dylan, and then I looked for you. Found a group of containers that weren’t scheduled to ship out. You are not that hard to find Zeek.” Miles exited the room and left the storage container.

Dylan looked at Zeek, “I know you don’t like spies, but Miles is not a bad guy.”

“Jury is still out,” Zeek said, “Find this Samuel guy. Ask him about the Vasiliev family. I'll keep researching the Vanco family. I'll see if I can find anything.”

A few miles north of the courthouse. A meeting was being held in a building that was under construction. Madam Vanco stood next to an elevator waiting for the other members to show up. She stood, tapping one of her black four-inch heels. Her arms folded she stood impatiently waiting. “I can't believe how long they are making me wait,” Vanco said to the three men that were behind her.

A few more seconds passed, Madam Vanco threw her hands up and pressed the down button on the elevator. “Fuck this,” she yelled, “Who do they think they are? Making me of all people wait.”

“The man think's he's God,” a deep voice called out from behind Madam Vanco. A man stood with his back on a stone pillar. He was almost as tall as the ceilings and had muscles that showed even through the white suit. Standing in the shadows of the pillar made his dark skin even darker. Henrietta Vanco looked at him and smiled.

“Rhino, you’re the only reason I even bothered to show up,” Vanco took a few steps towards the man. She straightened his white tie, “How did you like the last offering we gave you?”

“They were a little fragile,” Rhino said coming off the pillar. “Next time give me a few girls that can take a few hits. You might get one of them back.”

“There won't be a next time,” the elevator doors had opened and out stepped two men. One was dressed in a white suit, with his pale white skin almost making him glow in the light. The only darkened area on his skin was the scar that went down his right eye. He was the hitman known as Ghost.

The other man was much different from the other two. For starters, he was shorter and older than both men were. He walked into the light and took off the hood to his dark brown cloak. He stood with his black shirt and pants making his light brown skin look a couple of shades darker. His hands and forearms were covered with a pair of dark brown leather gloves.

He walked over to Madam Vanco. “Marcus, how's life? Thank you for dispatching with that little whore. I guess you want your payment.”

“No,” Marcus spoke, “I have a message from the Kingpin. We protect you no more. We told you not to go after the prosecutor. We told you that we would take care of it.”

“Oh that wasn’t me, darling,” Vanco started.

“We don’t care if it was you or your husband. You don’t touch DAs unless we approve first.”

“And who do you think you are to be talking to me like this? You’re just a dog, for a boss that no one ever sees.”

“Watch your tongue Vanco or we will be cutting it out,” Ghost yelled from near the elevator.

“And you watch yours pup,” Rhino yelled.

“I want a meeting with him,” Vanco said to Marcus. The two stood chest to chest.

“No one gets a meeting with him,” Marcus replied.

Vanco looked at her men and snapped her fingers. The three men she brought took out pistols and pointed them at the back of Marcus's head.

All three men were about to pull the trigger. When Marcus turned towards them. He moved as if time stopped. He reached under his cloak and pulled a long sharp curved knife. He cut each man ten times in only a few seconds. He turned back to Vanco and presented the knife to her as her men fell.

Vanco’s eyes were wide as she reached for the blade. She grabbed the top of the handle. Marcus didn’t let go. He held onto it for just a few seconds. “You are not the first to run the whorehouses of this city. The Kingpin replaced one. He can replace another.” Marcus let go of the knife, “To remember the message.”

Marcus turned and walked back into the elevator. The doors closed behind them, and they started to descend, “You weren't as quick as you thought,” Ghost said.

“Not as young as I used to be. Thank you,” Marcus said.

Madam Vanco walked away rolling her eyes as she did. Rhino looked at the bodies of Vanco’s men, and he saw a small knife in the back of one of them. Rhino smiled.

Dylan staked out the bar that Miles told him about. He had been sitting for a few hours, his car was off, but his keys were in the ignition. All he saw was a rundown bar, but he never saw anyone going in or out. Dylan was about to head back to Zeek’s and see if he found anything.

A gun appeared beside his head. The gun was a Glock with its barrel inside the window of his car. It was only inches away from Dylan's head. He turned his head and saw a young black kid holding the Glock, and standing next to his car.

“Out of the car old man,” he said.

“How old are you son?”

“What's it matter to you? I said out of the car.”

“You know you made two mistakes.”

“Not from where I'm standing."

Dylan suddenly pushed open the car door. It smacked into the kids arm and sent the gun flying.

Dylan got out of the car and grabbed the kid by his jacket. “Mistake number one, you were holding the gun to close to me. You had my attention you didn’t need to be that close anymore. Mistake number two never put the gun in the path of the car door.”

The kid looked at Dylan, “Well go ahead kill me.”

Dylan just stared at the kid. “Personally, I think you should just let the kid go.” Dylan looked and saw a black man leaned up against his Mustang. The man was around Dylan’s age and height. He was wearing a pair of black running shoes, jeans, with a white t-shirt and brown leather jacket. Dylan let the kid go. The kid stood there for a second.

“Go on home, little gangster. Your mom is going to worry,” the man on Dylan’s Mustang said.

The kid nodded, and took off down the street. Dylan turned towards the man and said, “Are you Samuel?”

“Yeah, and you're Dylan Price,” the man said getting off Dylan’s Mustang.

“How do you know my name,” Dylan asked.

“Words out to look for a white man dressed in black,” Samuel said. “You are in black, and you’re probably the whitest man in this area. What are you doing here?”

“Miles said you might have information.”

“Who,” Samuel asked, “I don’t remember giving information to a man named Miles.”

“He probably didn’t go by that name. You are an information broker.”

“Among other things.”

“I need some information about the Vasiliev family,” Dylan said. “I want to know why they attacked a hospital.”

Samuel turned away from Dylan for a moment. “You got something to trade for the information?”

“No, but I'll owe you a favor,” Dylan said.

“I heard what you did at the hospital, but let’s say I give you this information. What will you do with it?”

“Go and find out why they wanted to kill Haruna Wu.”

“And if you die in the attempt? Who will I turn to for that favor?”

“Miles Jackson will take care of it.”

“Well, you see that’s where we have a problem. You are bringing up that man again. You say he knows me, but I don’t know him. How can I say whether he exists? And even if he does. How do I know if he can do me a favor?”

Dylan looked at Samuel, “What do you want?”

“Money,” Samuel said.

“How much,” Dylan asked.

“Ten thousand,” Samuel replied.

“For a location, I think I can just beat it out of you for that price.”

“Well this is where being an information broker comes in handy. You want to find Boris Vasiliev. He is the head of the Russian family. He's not hard to find. All I have to do is take you to a warehouse a few miles from here and call a number. He promised a ten thousand dollar reward for you alive. I think he wants to skin you alive. So you get Boris Vasiliev, and I get ten grand.”

“What will you do with the ten grand?”

“Why do you care?”

“Tell me and you have a deal.”

“Alright, One of the local school needs some repair work done. Eight grand will help that along.”

“And the other two,” Dylan asked. Samuel raised an eyebrow towards Dylan. “I got to know who I'm getting into business with.”

“Weapons, and information,” Samuel said.

Dylan offered his hand towards Samuel, “Deal, just one thing, I need ammo for my pistols.”

Samuel grabbed Dylan’s hand and shook, “Won't be a problem. But you are the one driving to my warehouse.” Samuel walked around Dylan’s car and got into the passenger seat. Dylan got into the Mustang.

Across town, Ghost and Marcus were walking, “Is Vanco going to be a problem,” Ghost asked.

“I don’t know. I have met a few people like Vanco. We had to kill most of them when we took the city,” Marcus said.

“I remember those days. You had just taken control of the Sicarius, and I had just joined. You were a different type of leader. You treated everyone with respect, whether it was an old assassin or new.”

“That was ten years ago, but I still remember you. You were eighteen and completely savage back then. You were deemed uncontrollable by some. But it worked for you. You competed to be the head of the Sicarius and almost won. If you were a little more methodical, you might be the one in the dark clothes instead of me.”

“It was good that you won. Not sure, we would have survived with me as the leader. Even now I tend to be a little more savage than necessary.”

“We would have survived fine,” Marcus said. “I was hoping that you would take over as head of Sicarius when I retired.”

Ghost stopped, “That’s not worth thinking about. You have decades left.”

Marcus turned towards Ghost, “Ten years is a long time to be the leader of us. Before coming to Hazard, a leader only lasted eight years. Time has weighed on me, as it will on you. New blood is needed.”

“It would be an honor,” Ghost bowed to Marcus.

“I will speak to the council. For now just as a precaution watch over Haruna Wu. I don’t want Vanco killing her.”

Dylan and Samuel made it to the warehouse. Samuel made a few calls while Dylan was driving. He turned towards Dylan, “Alright it's set up. Boris Vasiliev is coming here to take custody of you.”

Dylan and Samuel got out of the car. Samuel opened up the warehouse and walked to the back.

“Wait here,” Samuel said. He walked to the back for several minutes.

Dylan looked around, a warehouse full of boxes, and old rusted machinery. There were many places that Dylan could use for cover.

When Samuel returned he had two boxes of forty-five caliber bullets, “Arm up then hide your weapons. They are probably going to search you.”

Dylan took the bullets and started to load his pistols. “How long till they show,” Dylan asked.

“Won't be long, you got minutes.”

“Not going to help are you.”

“With the fighting,” Samuel looked at Dylan strangely.

“Yeah, you’re not going to help me out with the fighting.”

Samuel laughed for a second then he looked at Dylan and saw he was serious. “No, I'm getting my money and leaving.”

Dylan nodded; he took the clips for his guns and loaded them in. He then placed his guns between a set of boxes.

Samuel picked up a rope, “You got a knife?”

Dylan reached into his jacket and pulled a small silver knife out.

Samuel held out his hand, “I'll hide it up your sleeve. They won't find it, but you will be able to cut the rope with it. Just make sure you wait till I get out of the warehouse. Also, do me a favor, make sure no one leaves. Boris has one more son, and I don't want him looking for me.”

Samuel placed the knife against Dylan's wrist, then started wrapping the rope around them. Dylan could feel the knife, it was cold against his skin but was well hidden. If his wrist were checked, the jacket hid it from sight, and the rope made it hard to feel during a pat down.

A few minutes passed, the warehouse doors started to open. Men began to flow in. Dylan noticed more than thirty guys were spread out in every direction. None of them looked at Samuel, or Dylan, they just kept looking around. “There ain’t nothing around here. Just bring him in already,” Samuel yelled. “I got business elsewhere.”

“Interesting choice of words,” a voice called out to Samuel. The voice spoke in a thick Russian accent as it moved closer towards the two. A man walked in front of him. Thick black hair and a short black beard this man's icy stare looked at Dylan. “However did you get him?”

“He came to me, wanted help finding you guys,” Samuel said, “Was stupid enough to let me tie him up.”

The man walked forward. He was well dressed, a dark blue navy overcoat, with a gray jacket, vest, and pants, then a white button down shirt and black tie. He walked with a black walking stick clicking on the ground. “When I heard you killed fifteen men at once. I thought you would be smarter.”

“You are not Boris Vasiliev,” Dylan said.

The Russian smiled, “No, I am not my father. My father demanded to come, but I just couldn’t let him be the one to get you. You see he would have made your pain last for months, but I… I just can't let you live that long.”

“You’re Andrew Vasiliev,” Samuel said. Samuel’s eyes grew wide.

The man nodded his head. He reached into his overcoat, pulled a pistol out, and pointed it at Dylan’s head. Samuel pushed Dylan down. Dylan let the knife drop into his hand. He started cutting the rope.

Andrew turns towards Samuel, “You son of a bitch. You were going to betray us.”

Andrew started shouting Russian. His men started to gather behind Andrew and pulled out weapons. Bullets start flying. Samuel grabs Dylan and starts pulling him behind a couple of boxes. “So it turns out you are going to help after all,” Dylan yelled over the gunfire.

“I don’t set up executions,” Samuel yelled. Dylan got the rope off his hands and leaned up against the box. “Where are your guns at?”

“Over there,” Dylan pointed to a group of boxes that were ten yards away. “What's in the boxes we are against?”

“Fuck if I know,” Samuel said, “Kinda hopin metal.”

The gunfire started to shoot through the box. Suddenly the guns stopped shooting. “Samuel, send Mr. Price out. He dies tonight. You might not. Send him out and we can work on an arrangement that will let you walk away.”

Samuel looked at Dylan, “If you take the deal you won't be walking out of here.”

“I ain’t stupid,” Samuel thought for a second, “You able to take these guys?”

“If I have a distraction, maybe.”

“Then take them,” Samuel said, “I'm coming out, don’t shoot!”

Samuel stood, and came out from behind the boxes. He looked at thirty armed men standing in front of him. At their center was the man known as Andrew Vasiliev. Samuel stood five yards away from Dylan. “Last chance,” Andrew said.

“You guy smoke,” Samuel said, “I used to, but stopped. I still carry the lighter.” Samuel flicked his wrist, and a golden lighter appeared in his hand. “Get out of my warehouse.” Samuel threw the lighter down, and then jumped towards the nearest cover.

The lighter hit the ground, and the ground started to catch fire. The fire began to spread in all directions, but some followed pathways. The fires started to head towards a grouping of large red and white barrels. The barrels exploded sending all the men to the ground and fire in every area of the warehouse. Dylan ran towards his guns and grabbed them from between the boxes.

The men still trying to escape the flames. Andrew stood shouting at his men trying to get control. Dylan opened fire. One shot, one kill. Twenty Russians died before they even knew that Dylan was out in the open. Dylan thought to reload, and just keep firing, but stopped.

The flames were still spreading. The smoke made it hard for anyone to see. Andrew looked around. He only saw small portraits of his men. One by one, they all started to fall to the ground. Dylan walked through the smoke. He would sneak up to each of the remaining Russians. He took his knife and rammed it into each Russian. Dylan would make sure that he would tear the knife from each man sending the maximum amount of blood and guts to the ground.

Andrew looked around he saw no more portraits. He turned and saw Dylan standing in front of him. He threw a punch at Dylan.

Dylan caught his arm and broke it before striking him in the skull with the bud of his knife. He dragged Andrew out of the warehouse. He saw Samuel standing there clapping. “That was nice,” Samuel said.

“How did you know where the throw the lighter?” Dylan threw Andrew in front of Samuel.

“I’m one of the few criminals in Hazard City without an army. Every safe house I got have a few traps in it.”

“Sorry I made you burn that warehouse.”

“Don’t worry about it. I never liked that one anyway,” Samuel said. “Besides these guys were going to pay me.” Samuel lifted a silver case, “Went ahead and looked in his car. Looks to be more than ten grand.”

“Happy endings all around,” Dylan said, “Now let’s wake this man up. I'm guessing the fire department will be coming for the fire.”

“One of the few things no one wants spreading. Fire,” Samuel said.

“Good so they will find this jackass here,” Dylan said, “Why don’t we wake him up? You got any rope left?” Samuel smiled and nodded.

Dylan tapped on Andrew’s face until he started to stir. He was hanging upside down by his ankles. Dylan was laughing at him.

“You let me down this instant,” Andrew yelled.

“No,” Dylan replied, “Your little brother tried to kill Haruna Wu.”

“That bitch deserved it,” Andrew yelled.

“Who ordered the hit?”

“We don’t take names.”

“Who ordered the hit?”

Andrew spits at Dylan. Dylan took out his knife. “I'm not asking you again.”

“Kill me see if I care. My father…” Dylan didn’t even let him finish.

“Your father isn’t here, and I'm not killing you.”

“You don’t have the balls to do it fine, then let me go.”

“Dylan we don’t have time for this attitude. The fire department will be here in a couple of minutes,” Samuel said.

Dylan looked at Andrew, “He is right.” Dylan started taking Andrew’s belt off.

“What are you doing?” Andrew’s nose and forehead scrunched up.

“I don’t have time to torture you for information. Either tell me or this is going to get very uncomfortable for everyone, but mostly you.” Dylan unbuttoned Andrew’s pants and pulled out his penis. Dylan and Samuel looked down at Andrew.

Samuel started to laugh, “Coming up short in this department are we.”

Dylan started to take the knife towards his penis, “Wait… wait… for the love of god wait,” Andrew yelled.

“Yes,” Dylan leaned down.

“Timothy Vanco,” Andrew said. His face had gotten much paler.

Samuel leaned over to Dylan. Samuel whispered “Madam Vanco’s husband.”

“Oh,” Dylan said. "That makes since.” Dylan put the knife away.

“So we are done here? You can cut me down.”

“No,” Dylan said, “Look here's what you’re going to do. You are confessing to every crime you have ever committed.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise you will be released,” Samuel said.

“And if you’re released while I'm still in town, then I will find you and cut your testicles off,” Dylan said. “You will be taken to a police station. You will confess on camera to Haruna Wu. You get no bail. You get no plea. You're going to jail. You don’t get out.”

Dylan stood and started to walk away. They got to Dylan’s Mustang when Samuel turned towards Dylan. “That was great. I thought you were going to cut his testicles off.”

“I was,” Dylan said as he got into the Mustang. The two drove out of there and got a few miles away before the firetrucks got there. The police were called to take Andrew Vasiliev into custody.

The day turned to night on the city. Haruna ascended the stairs, her heels clicking on each step. She opened the door to her floor and walked down a narrow hallway. When she arrived at her door, she knelt down to pick up a package. Taking hold of her keys, she unlocked the door, and walked inside her apartment.

The small one bedroom apartment didn’t have much in the way of luxuries, but it was enough for Haruna. She sat her leather briefcase down and placed the package on the counter in the kitchen. She looked at the package. It was small, with no address on it or name.

Haruna opened the package and saw a small cell phone in it. She picked it up. It was an old flip phone. The phone lit up and started to ring. She answered, “Hello.”

“If you ever need me. Call me using this phone,” Dylan was on the other line.

“Mr. Price,” Haruna said smiling, “I had an interesting end to my day. A member of the Vasiliev family was brought in today. He said that Timothy Vanco hired his family to kill me. He gave evidence about Timothy Vanco and pled guilty to almost every crime in the book. You wouldn’t know anything about this would you?”

“Not a thing,” Dylan said, “Might have just been an attack of conscience.”

“Right,” Haruna rolling her eyes, “How did you find where I live?”

“I have a friend that’s good at finding people. You should get some rest. You look tired.”

Haruna looked out the window but saw nothing. She looked at the phone and saw that the phone call had ended a few seconds ago. Dylan stood a few rooftops away. He was putting a cellphone in his pocket smiling as he did.

 

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Fighting

Haruna stood outside a glass window looking into a large hospital room. She was looking at someone, possibly a man, laying on a small bed. His arms and legs were in casts unable to move. His body bandaged from head to toe he looked like a mummy you would find in an Egyptian tomb. Haruna was joined by an older officer who put his hand on her shoulder.

“This is my fault,” She said a tear in her eye.

“It’s not your fault,” the officer said. “Rayas is a good cop. He was probably the best trained fighter on the force.”

“Did he say what happened?” Haruna asked. “Was he found out?”

“He doesn’t think so. He said all of this happened during a qualifying match. It’s a little hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“The doctor talked to me. Told me he had his ribs beaten, arms broken in several places, legs nearly destroyed, multiple concussions, and he’s blind in his left eye, I didn’t know humans could do this without weapons.”

Haruna looked back at the man in the bed. “Let me know if anything changes.” Haruna started to walk down the hall. She passed by a woman dressed in a black dress. She was talking with Rayas doctor. She nearly collapsed, and started to cry as the doctor spoke.

“You,” she yelled as Haruna walked passed. Haruna kept walking. The woman stood and turned towards her. She started to take steps towards Haruna. “You did this to him!”

Haruna got into an elevator and started to go down. A small tear started to go down her cheek.

Dylan was across town at Zeek’s hideout, it had been weeks since Andrew Vasiliev went to jail. The two had been looking for any signs of Ghost. Zeek was sitting in front of his computer. Dylan was right next to him.

“You really can't find anything?” Dylan asked leaning up against the wall.

“He lives up to the name. Problem is I don’t have full access to the police database. Maybe your prosecutor friend can help with that.”

“Probably could, more than likely won't.”

Haruna sat in her office. She was looking over police files of men who were badly beaten. Many of them were just hospitalized with several broken bones, but a few pictures had men’s faces caved in. Haruna reached into her purse and pulled out the small phone that Dylan gave her. She opened it and called the only number in the phone.

Dylan’s pocket started to ring. He answered, “You OK?”

“I'm fine,” Haruna replied. “But I need your help.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow, “Ok, what's going on?” Zeek turned his chair towards Dylan and put his hands in his lap.

“I came across a case. People are being beaten badly. Most are just hospitalized, but a few are being killed. The M.E. says that most are just getting punched in the nose hard enough to send part of it into their brain, but a few are getting their skulls smashed.”

“And you need to find the fights?”

“No, we already found them. We sent someone in already. He was supposed to be one of the best hand-to-hand fighters on the force. They managed to hospitalize him. He is hurt pretty bad.”

“And now you want me to fight,” Dylan said looking down at Zeek.

Zeek grabbed the phone from Dylan, “Where do you need him to be?”

“Who’s this?” Haruna raised an eyebrow.

“Friend of Dylan’s, where do you need him?”

“I don’t know, been told the fights change daily.”

“Who runs them?”

“A man named Brock Doyle. I have a contact you guys can use to get into the fight.”

“You know if your officer was found out?”

“No,” Haruna replied.

“Fuck your contact then. If you can't tell me if he was compromised then I don’t want him around my guy. We will get Dylan into the fight.”

“You even know what I need?”

“We know, evidence you can use in court.” Zeek closed the phone and threw it at Dylan. He looked Dylan in the eyes, “Brock Doyle, is the target go find him.”

Dylan caught the phone and put it in his pocket. “Not even wanting to discuss it Zeek?”

“No, not really, you been inside this hideout for weeks. I been at that computer looking up every piece of information you want. You have been pacing around here like a mad man. You need to go out. Find Samuel see if he can get you into this club.”

“And if I say no,” Dylan turned his head towards Zeek.

“Then you can be the one to tell Haruna. You can't help her find a group of wannabe MMA fighters because you want to hunt…”

“For an assassin,” Dylan interrupted.

“For a wild goose,” Zeek finished, “I didn’t say that I would stop looking for information on him. Until I find something, you have got to stay busy.”

Dylan got off the wall and started walking towards the exit, “It still wasn’t your call to make.”

Zeek looked at Dylan, “How many times have you taken apart your gun and put it back together today?”

Dylan went to the same bar where he met Samuel before. He saw no one around. He got out of his car and walked up to the bar. “I should really have gotten Samuels number or something to find him.”

“You seem to find me fine,” Samuel walked out of the bar. “You need help again?”

“Could say that,” Dylan replied. “It worked out for you last time.”

“Yeah, only Boris Vasiliev is lookin to have a chat with me.”

“Sorry to hear that, but I do need information.”

“Who am I pissing off today?”

“Brock Doyle, he…”

“Hell no,” Samuel said, “Not helpin you there. Vasiliev I can hide from, hell if I’m in the mood I can even fight back. The Doyle family, they are another situation all together.”

“What's the big deal about them?”

“Wow, you’re really are from out of town. Doyle, Vanco, Lacatero, Rossi they are the four controlling families. They run these streets the other families, like the Vasiliev, they pay to operate here. When they say, the Vasiliev family bought the cops in their area. They mean that the Vasiliev family paid the five families, and they tell the cops not to bother them.”

“Five, I counted four.”

“The head of the fifth family is called the Dragon Head, but no one has ever seen them. Hell I can't even tell you if they exist.”

“You’re scared of these guys?” A dismissive smirk came across Dylan’s face.

“Scared? No, but I do like breathing. You want into the fights that Brock hosts. Find them yourselves.” Samuel turned and started to walk away.

“I ain’t the one asking,” Dylan shouted.

Samuel turned around, “Who is?”

“Haruna Wu,” Dylan took a few steps towards Samuel.

Samuel looked down and started to shake his head. “I can't do it. Fighting the Doyle family means running for a while, I keep an eye on this neighborhood. I make sure no one is getting into trouble. Some of these families rely on that.”

“What about that kid that tried to steal my car a few weeks ago?”

“I didn't see him till it was too late. Was too busy tryin to figure out what you were doing.”

“What will it take for your help?”

“Why you want me so bad?"

“I trust you a little more than just some random guy." Samuel looked at Dylan. His eyes drifted upward. "They beat on a cop Samuel. They have smashed people’s skulls.”

Samuel paused for a second, “You’re watching my back?”

“I never turn my back on a friend.”

“Alright, only way we are doing this is if we get a third man involved.”

Dylan smiled, “I know just the guy.”

Dylan pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Dylan talked for a few seconds then hung up.

A few minutes pass, Samuel and Dylan went inside the bar. Samuel pulled out a bottle from behind the bar and they started drinking. “So what's the deal with you and this ADA?”

Dylan took a shot, “What do you mean?”

Samuel smiled and drank half of a shot. “This is the second time you helpin her. Last time you were lookin for information on people who held a contract on her. Now you’re looking for evidence for one of her cases. Are the police so bad that she started contracting investigations out with you? I have seen that Miss. Wu before, payment plan must not be too bad.”

Dylan just smiled. “Ain’t like that.” Dylan took another shot. “My boss told me to do this. He doesn’t like me having too much time on my hands. I think he knows that if I stop for too long I start to dwell on what I’ve done.”

“You don’t seem like that bad of a guy.”

“We all have regrets. I was a soldier for years. No one walks away from war without a few scars.”

The entrance to the bar opened and in stepped Miles. “Least that’s part of your reason,” he said. He pulled up a chair beside the two men. He offered his hand to Samuel, “Name is Miles Jackson.”

“What's the other part,” Samuel said shaking Miles’s hand.

Dylan smiled, “I like fighting.”

“And he's one of the best at it,” Miles said.

“I guess I understand,” Samuel said. He looked over at Miles, “You know what's going on?”

“Not really, probably could guess Dylan’s about to do something stupid.”

“Pretty much,” Samuel drank a shot, “He's going after one of the big families. He picked a good target though, Brock Doyle ain’t that high up the family tree. He runs a fight clubs all over the city. Almost each day he has a new tournament going on, sixteen slots in each of them. They’re broadcasted online through some of the most secure channels I have ever seen. Even the best hackers have to pay to get in. It will take a lot of money to find the fight. At least if you’re someone who wants to view.”

“And if you want to fight?” Dylan said.

“If you’re a fighter the rules change a little,” Samuel continued, “I’ve seen these fights before. They can be brutal by almost everyone standards. You’re going to need to qualify to get in. If you lose the qualifier, they don’t want you coming back. So you get beaten down by every fighter.”

“How did these fights start?” Miles asked.

“Doyle family has been holding fights since they were in Ireland. Brock started as a fighter. The guy knows more about fighting than any one member of the Doyle family. He is also a big guy.”

“How big,” Dylan asked.

“About four hundred pounds, most of it muscle. He’s also a lot faster than most people think. One second, he’d be in front of you, next he'd be behind you.”

“He has a weakness right?” Miles asked.

Samuel smiled as he drank another shot, “He is predicable. He tends to charge at the beginning of most fights. He also relies too much on striking for his own good.

“You sound like you have watched a lot of his fights.”

“I was a gambler. Which brings me to why you’re here.” Samuel turned towards Miles, “I need you to bet on your boy here.”

“Why can't you?” Miles asked.

“Simple, coaches can't bet. For me to get him in I'm going to need to be his coach.”

“So I win, you'll get paid," Dylan said

“Pretty much, but I'm going to need another favor to.”

“What,” Dylan asked.

“I need to talk to Haruna when this is over.”

“You got it,” Dylan said. He offered his hand to Samuel.

He shook Dylan’s hand. Samuel poured each man a shot from the bottle. The three lifted the glasses and drank.

Samuel put his glass down and stood. He opened his phone and started dialing. He waited a second then hung up then dialed again. He did this three more times. Samuel walked towards the door. Dylan and Miles both followed him.

Once outside, Samuel turned towards Dylan, “I just called a very specific number. The fight coordinator is a very particular man. He wants people to call five times hanging up at a specific ring.”

“Like a safe combination,” Dylan said.

“Yeah,” Samuel replied, “Get it right he calls back, and asks you for your fighter’s name, weight, and height, then he gives you the right address. Get it wrong he still calls, and asks about your fighter. But then gives you the wrong address.”

“How did you learn the combination?” Miles asked.

“It doesn’t change that often. Most people ain’t stupid enough to go after a fight clubs ran by a Doyle.”

Samuel’s phone started to ring. Samuel answered, “His name is Dylan Price," Samuel looked Dylan up and down. "He's about six two, probably weighs close to two hundred forty pounds.”

“We’ll be there in three hours,” Samuel hung up, “It’s on a hundredth street. Come on if you’re going to fight you’re going to need gloves.”

Samuel walked to Dylan’s car. Miles looked at Dylan as Samuel left, “I’ll head to the area now. I'll scope it out, and will keep an eye on the place."

Dylan grabbed Miles’s forearm. “Keep an eye out,” Dylan replied as he started to follow Samuel.

Time passed slowly, Dylan drove with Samuel to another one of his warehouses.

Samuel searched around the warehouse for a few minutes.  He found a pair of black fingerless gloves and handed them to Dylan, "These should protect your hands a bit."

"Thanks Samuel," Dylan said putting on the gloves.

"Make sure you keep your guns in the car. They don't allow weapons near the fighting area. If things go bad, then we have a better chance of escaping without guns than with."

Dylan nodded, "No guns it is. I know you're taking a risk on this one. Thank you."

Samuel grabbed hold of a neckless around his neck. "It's worth it," he said.

When they arrived at a hundredth street, they saw they were standing in front of an old abandoned church. The church had cracks and moss growing on all the walls. The roof looked like it had lost all of its shingles. Dylan was dressed in only a pair of black pants and a black t-shirt. He walked into the church with Samuel next to him.

The inside wasn’t what Dylan was expected. There was a bar off to the side. The pews that would have made up the main area where gone, replaced with people standing in a circle. The people were jumping and cheering as Dylan saw two men trading punches at the center of the crowd. He kept looking on and saw that in the area where the preacher normally stood. It was turned into a VIP area where it was filled with girls in string bikinis and men dressed in open button down t-shirts and pants. The largest man there was sitting in a black leather chair and sunglasses.

Dylan looked through the crowd. He saw Miles in the background standing. He was handing money to a man in a pair of gold rim sunglasses. The man was short and thin. He was dressed in a white jacket that lit up as he walked through the crowd his small chest showing beneath. “That him,” Dylan elbowed Samuel.

“Yeah, he’s the fight organizer,” Samuel said, “If you like the way your face is arranged, then don’t piss him off. He’ll put you against some monster.”

“I'll try, but that’s really not my strong suit,” Dylan said.

The man walked over to Samuel. His blond hair was standing on end with the black roots showing through, “Samuel my man. Sorry to see you can't lose some money to us today. Was also sorry to hear about your last fighter, I heard he can't walk no more. This your fighter? I have to say I thought he be a little different.” The man offered his hand to Samuel.

Samuel shook the man’s hand. “I told him the risks. This guy needed into the fights. I figured it was worth somethin to him. Turns out it was worth enough to get me to stand next to him,” Samuel said. “Who do you got fightin next? Any chance we can get a fair contest Kaz?”

“Fair? All my contests are fair my brother,” Kaz said. “We do have a vacancy coming up next though. How about your boy takes on Titan?”

“Titan, na man; he ain’t fightin Titan.”

“Who’s Titan,” Dylan asked.

“A six foot ten inch monster,” Samuel said, “He’s almost able to rip a normal man in half.”

Kaz looked back to the area where the fight was going on. He smiled as he saw the finishing blow. “Yeah, he's also the monster that broke your last fighter’s back,” Pointed at Dylan, “And he fighting him in five minutes or he can go home.” Kaz pointed at Samuel’s chest. “This choice is yours, boy.”

“Fine,” Samuel looked at Dylan, “He will fight Titan.”

Dylan and Samuel were led to the fighting area. Dylan stood next to Samuel as Kaz walked into the center of the ring.

Samuel tapped Dylan on the shoulder, “Look this guy is big, tough, and can take a beating.”

“I fought the type before Samuel. You don’t have to worry.”

“Just want to keep you out of the hospital.”

Dylan stretched while Kaz grabbed a mic and started talking. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we got ourselves one hell of a contest. We got ourselves a newcomer. Standing at six feet two inches tall, weighing two hundred and forty pounds. Dylan Price!” Kaz shouted into the microphone and pointed to the area where Dylan was standing.

The ring erupted in cheers as Kaz continued, “And his opponent standing at almost seven feet tall. He weighs three hundred pounds. He is the monster, the man that stand above a god, Titan!” The crowd’s yells started to grow louder as a sea of people parted.

A man stepped forward his head bald, his face covered in a long goatee. His body was covered in several tattoos, the most notable was a set of tribal tattoos that covered his shoulders and went down both his arms. He also had the name Titan spelled on his back in big black letters. He was only wearing a pair of black wrestling trunks, boots, and a set of sweatbands across his wrists.

“This guy looks like he carved from stone,” Dylan thought.

“Sure you don’t want any advice on how to take this guy?” Samuel asked.

Dylan thought for a second, and then said, “Don’t think we have time.” Kaz motioned to both men and started the fight.

Titan rushed Dylan. He picked up his leg and tried to kick Dylan’s head off. Dylan ducked under his leg. He stood behind Titan and started to lay a couple of punches into his lower body. Titan barely moved. Dylan started to back away when Titan moved his arm back knocking Dylan to the ground. Dylan rolled. He was on his knees on the other side of the ring. He looked at Titan.

Titan stood smiling, “That the best you got?” he said smiling.

“Going to be one of those days,” Dylan muttered as he stood. Dylan walked to the center of the ring as Titan started to circle him. He was as a shark circled his pray. Titan got low and came at Dylan slow. He started throwing long-range jabs at Dylan. Dylan blocked most of them, but a few made contact with Dylan's head.

Dylan was focused on the other arm. When Titan finally throw a cross, he ducked and then grabbed the arm. Dylan attempted to snap the arm under his shoulder, but didn’t see the fist coming.

Dylan was struck several times in the skull by Titan. Dylan let go of the other arm and backed away from Titan. Dylan’s vision blurred a little, “He hits harder than I thought,” Dylan thought. He looked at Titan. He was standing his guard up he was starting to breathe heavy.

Dylan smiled. He stayed low and kept his arms closed in around him. Titan came at him. Dylan blocked punch after punch. Dylan watched Titan when he saw his leg start to move he rolled out of the way. Dylan didn’t throw a punch. He didn’t counter. He didn’t attack he just blocked and avoided.

Titan grew frustrated. He started just charging at Dylan and started throwing rapid punches attempting to break his guard. The attacks took a toll on Dylan his arms were becoming bruised. Titan threw a kick aimed for Dylan’s head. Dylan ducked and stepped a few feet away from him. Dylan lowered his guard. He stood straight and motioned for Titan to come at him.

Titan ran at him. Dylan blocked the first punch. Then he delivered one to Titan’s chest. Titan’s movements were sluggish. The punch pushed him back and he nearly fell. Titan came back with a wild right. Dylan ducked under it and kicked the back of Titan’s right knee.

Titan fell to one knee. He looked back at Dylan just as Dylan delivered a right hand to his face. He fell to the ground knocked out cold.

The church fell silent. Kaz grabbed the mic, but he didn’t say anything. Dylan turned his back on Titan and walked to the center of the ring. Samuel walked out and grabbed Dylan’s hand. He rose it above his head. The crowd started to cheer as fighters started to gather around Titan. Kaz came up to Dylan and Samuel.

“That was nice,” Kaz said. “You qualify for tonight’s events. Michelle!”

A blond woman in a black bikini walked over to the three. “Yes, boss.”

“Take Mr. Price and Samuel to the locker room.”

The woman nodded and waved at Samuel and Dylan. The two followed Michelle into a small wooden hall. They came to a staircase and went down into the basement. Michelle stopped in front of a large double door. “Through here.”

“Thank you,” Dylan said. Michelle turned and walked away.

Samuel turned and watched Michelle leave. He then looked at Dylan, “Could be worse ways to spend an evening.”

Dylan shook his head, and entered the locker room. The locker room was almost abandoned. There was one man sitting on a long bench in front of a small wooden locker. He turned towards Dylan. He was an older man dressed in blue athletic shorts. “I didn’t expect to see anyone for a few minutes. Who’d you beat?”

“Titan,” Dylan said.

“Big, and strong, but no technique or cardio,” the man said, “Good job though. I don’t think many people have beaten him.” The man got up and walked towards Dylan, “I'm Sam.” He offered his hand to Dylan.

Dylan took Sam’s hand, “Thanks, this is my coach Samuel.”

“I don’t think I have met you. Good luck,” Sam offered his hand to Samuel.

Samuel took Sam’s hand. “Thanks,” Samuel said.

Over the next few hours, several other fighters filed in. When the last to qualify came in, the fighters numbered around sixteen, Kaz came into the locker room and stood in front of the fighters.

“Alright the last one to qualify has, now we begin. This a sixteen fighter tournament, it will be single elimination. You lose you’re done. Last fighter standing gets to fight the champion. There are no rules for each fight, except each fighter fights alone, no outside help.”

Kaz looked around, “Each fight will last only three rounds. Each round will last a total of five minutes. If the refs break you up then you go to your corner. If you go at it again, you are disqualified. If you keep fighting after you’re disqualified then we are not responsible for what happens to you. First fight will be Dylan Price against Song Wang. The rest are posted on the wall outside. Dylan and Song you have five minutes to get ready.” Kaz walked out after finishing.

Dylan turned towards Samuel, “You know anything about this guy?”

“No,” Samuel replied.

“Great,” Dylan said. The two walked out of the locker room. The two arrive in the main area. It had changed a lot since they had been downstairs. The circle of people that formed the ring was gone, and in its place was an eight-sided cage. Dylan kept scanning the crowd until he spotted Michelle. She was sitting in the VIP area next to a very large man dressed in work out shorts and a dark gray hoody. Samuel saw Dylan staring.

“I wouldn’t stare to long if I were you,” Samuel said.

“Why?”

“That’s Brock next to the girl. He doesn’t like anyone looking at him to long.”

“I'm looking at the girl.”

“He won't care,” Samuel said.

Kaz got into the cage, and walked to the middle. “Ladies and gentleman, our first contest is a three round match. The rules are, first to tap out or knockout his opponent is the winner. Introducing first, a newcomer to our fighting pits, he stands at six feet two inches tall. He weighs in at two hundred forty pounds, Dylan Price.”

 Samuel led Dylan to the entrance to the cage. Dylan walked into the cage, without Samuel. He was pointed to a corner by Kaz.

Samuel walked the outside of the cage and got as close as he could to Dylan. “Let’s hope this guy is a pushover,” he said.

Kaz shifted from his right to his left, “And his opponent standing at five foot six inches tall. He weighs in at a small two hundred and five pounds, Song Wang,” Kaz pointed his hand to the door.

A small man walked through the gate with a black towel over his head. He walked to his corner. His chest bare, he only wore a pair of black pants with no shoes. He had taped his feet, hands, and half his forearms. Dylan noticed that the tape on his hands and feet were both covered in dark red stains.

Kaz started to leave the ring. The man known as Song Wang took the towel off his head to reveal his short black hair and a small x shaped scar in his right cheek. The bell rang to start the contest. Instantly he went from standing tall, his arms at his sides, to a fighting stance, with his legs bend and his arms in front.

Dylan stayed in his corner for a few seconds just watching Song. Song didn’t move just stood like a stone statue. Dylan approached the center of the ring, and still Song didn’t move. “What's he planning,” Dylan thought. Dylan moved to where Song was just barely in his reach of his jab. Dylan launched the first attack sending a jab towards Song.

Dylan’s jab didn’t hit. Song moved, in a second he was under Dylan’s arm and started striking Dylan again and again in his stomach. Dylan felt six blows in less than one second. Blood came out of Dylan’s mouth as he was knocked back with each blow. Song kept moving forward as Dylan fell back. Dylan couldn't breathe the air was forced out of him with each blow.

Song's attack continued he jumped, and delivered a bone crushing spin kick to Dylan’s head. Dylan was knocked to the ground. Song turned and started to walk towards the exit. Dylan laid on the ground motionless. Samuel shouted at Dylan to “Get up.”

Song reached the entrance and saw that the doors were chained. The people outside shook their heads at Song and pointed towards Dylan. Dylan started to get up. He stood and motioned towards Song to come at him again. Song reassumed the fighting pose that Dylan saw earlier. Dylan started to move towards Song, but the bell sounded, the round was over.

Dylan went to his corner where Samuel stood with his mouth open. “He's fast,” Dylan said to him.

“I saw. He hit you fifty times in a few seconds,” Samuel replied.

“Felt like it. Few blows should slow him down.”

The bell rang and Dylan turned around and saw Song standing in his fighting stance. Dylan walked towards him. He delivered another jab towards his head. Song moved again and almost unleashed another attack. Dylan expected it though. As Song moved, Dylan attacked with his other arm and delivered a devastating right hook to Song’s skull. Song stumbled back and Dylan almost moved forward. Song recovered to quick though. He jumped, and hit back with a backspin kick to Dylan’s head. Dylan staggered back and nearly fell.

Song was on Dylan in a second. He jumped onto Dylan’s body and started beating him into the ground with punches to the head. Dylan could feel the back of his head hit the concrete with many of the blows. Dylan started to block but the punches came to fast. No one punch hit with enough force to knock Dylan out, but the small taps were adding up. The bell rang the round was over. Song stood and walked to his corner. Dylan did the same, though much slower.

Samuel looked at Dylan, “You have to knock him out.”

“I been trying. He’s too fast to track.”

“Then trap him,” Samuel said, “If he can't move then you have the advantage.”

Dylan nodded then the bell rang. Dylan walked to the middle of the ring. “God I hope I'm right or he's going to kill him,” Samuel said.

Dylan walked up to Song. He stood tall and then ran at Song. Song ducked under him and took a few steps back from Dylan. He looked at Dylan confused. Dylan turned and punched again this time Song jumped at tried to deliver another spin kick to Dylan’s head.

Dylan took the kick, but caught the foot as it left him. He pulled Song towards him. Song responded by punching at Dylan twice. Dylan dodged both punches and was behind Song. Before Song could turn around Dylan wrapped one of his arms through one of Song’s arms and placed his forearm behind Songs neck. He then took his other arm and wrapped it under Song’s chin. He then applied pressure on Song’s throat. Song flailed around trying to loosen Dylan’s hold.

Song slowed and eventually stopped. Dylan fell back wrapping his legs around Songs stomach. Song started to fade. A ref came into the ring and looked into Song’s eyes. They had glazed over as he was out cold. Dylan was ordered to let Song go. He did and had his arm raised as the victor.

Dylan left the ring and ventured out into the crowd. Blood coming from his mouth, his nose, and the back of his head Samuel wasn’t happy. “I wish they had doctors.”

“I'll be fine,” Dylan said.

“I wouldn’t take another beating like that again, or it might kill you.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Dylan said, “We able to go to the locker room?”

“Yeah,” Samuel said, “Maybe we can see about getting you patched up.”

Samuel and Dylan got downstairs as another fight started. When Dylan came in, he saw the locker room was abandoned, all except Sam. Sam was busy taping his hands before putting on a set of boxing gloves.

He looked towards Dylan, “You look like you just got the hell beat out of you.”

“Feels like it to,” Dylan responded.

“You know where I can find something to clean him up,” Samuel asked as he sat Dylan down on a wooden bench.

Sam reached into his locker and threw a few packages of medical gauze. “Try those,” he said. He finished putting his gloves on and walked out of the locker room.

“Can't wait to fight him,” Dylan said.

“Yeah, he’s going to be a fun match for you,” Samuel said as he took the gauze out of the package.

An hour passed, fighters came and went. Most were like Dylan trying to get patched up, but some were there to pick up their bags and leave. It wasn’t long until Sam came back into the room. His fists were covered in blood. Kaz followed them into the room. Dylan looked around and only saw eight men left standing.

Kaz looked around, “Congratulations boys, you made it to round two. Dylan you will be….”

The door to the locker room swung open. In stepped a large man who whispered something into Kaz’s ear. Kaz nodded and the man left.

Kaz looked at the fighters, “Everyone head upstairs. There is something we need to take care of.”

Samuel and Dylan looked at one another. All the fighters emptied the locker room and walked the staircase to the main area. Dylan looked towards the ring as he saw the large figure of Brock Doyle standing in the center. Dylan looked at his body.

Brock didn’t have the body of a god or look like he was carved out of granite. The untrained eye might have called him fat or even obese, but Dylan could see much more. Under the athletic gear that he was wearing, Dylan could see that the large chest, back, stomach, and arms that he had was all muscle. From the look of him, he could have been the strongest man on the planet. Dylan then looked at Brock’s legs and saw the tiny form of Michelle at his feet.

All eight fighter stepped into the cage and surrounded Brock. Brock kicked Michelle towards one side. “Who’s the first to fight?” he growled.

Kaz walked into the ring, “Mr. Price.” Kaz pointed at Dylan.

“Mr. Price, how would you like to bypass the next round?” Brock walked up to Dylan.

Dylan looked up at Brock who stood a good head above him, “What would I have to do?”

Brock smiled and turned his back to Dylan. He grabbed Michelle by her hair. “I found this bitch snooping through my things a few hours ago. I had a few friends send her pictures around see who she was.” Brock turned back to Dylan. He dragged Michelle by her hair towards Dylan. She didn’t scream, she was out cold her body not even fighting Brock as he pulled her. “My boys called back while I was fucking this bitch. Turned out I was screwing a cop. I want to send a message.”

Brock put his arm on Dylan’s shoulder and smiled at him, “Kill the bitch for me and you go to the next round. No fighting necessary.”

Dylan looked at Michelle, then to Brock. “I think I would rather fight.”

Brock’s smile faded, “Fine, have it your way. You will fight in the second round, in a three-way fight to see who moves forward.” Brock turned to the man next to Dylan.

The man was a few inches taller than Dylan was. His hair was a dark red and his skin was as pale as possible. His hairstyle was a long Mohawk, with a short thin beard on his face. Brock looked at the man.

“What's your name kid,” Brock said.

“Donovan O’Toole,” the man said in a thick Irish accent.

“What do you say?” Brock took a step towards O’Toole.

“I never run from a fight,” he said.

Brock smiled and started to walk out of the ring.

“Wait,” Dylan spoke just as Brock got to the entrance.

“You had your chance Mr. Price,” Brock said.

“No,” Dylan said, “I want to make a bet.”

“Fighters don’t bet,” Brock said. He turned around and looked Dylan in the eyes.

“I fight, in round one against the Scotsman…”

The man next to Dylan turned towards him. “I'm Irish,” he responded.

Dylan turned his head toward O’Toole, “Whatever you say leprechaun.” Brock took a step towards Dylan. “Put me up against the Irishman. If I win she goes free.”

Brock turned to Kaz. He motioned for Kaz to walk over to him. Kaz and Brock were whispering to one another. He looked at Dylan, “No. You want to save the girl. You will fight Mr. Donovan O’Toole, and…”

Brock pointed at a black man that was standing on the other side of the ring. He was about the same height and weight as Dylan only he looked to be a little bit stronger than he was. His black hair was short and he wore a pair of black wrestling trunks. “You will also be fighting Mr. Rychlon Johnson, and…”

Brock pointed to a man behind O’Toole. The man was a little taller than Dylan was. His body was skinny but was lean and strong. He had his hand and half his forearms taped with his fingers able to move freely. He had short brown hair and a small goatee on his face. “You will be facing Aaren Glazier. You win the girl can go. You lose you die with her.”

“Three opponents at once,” Dylan said.

“Take it or leave it,” Brock said.

“Fine,” Dylan said, “But if I win. I fight you right after.”

“Whatever you want kid,” Brock turned to the other fighters, “Everyone else leave.”

Everyone except for the four men who were supposed to fight started to leave. Sam passed Dylan, “You sure about this?” he asked.

“Nope,” Dylan said. “It’s not my first bad idea. It’s probably not going to be my last one either.”

Sam got close to Dylan, “The Irishman, strong, lean, hits harder than you think. It won’t last long though he runs himself out of energy quick. When he runs out of gas, break his leg. He likes to end matches by kicking people in the face. Aaren, his arms and legs are big. He’s faster than you think. Take him to the ground. He has no grapple or ground game. Johnson, he’s flashy, energetic. He’s also young, and doesn’t know how to pace himself.”

“Thanks,” Dylan said.

“Kick their asses,” Sam said slapping Dylan on the shoulder.

Sam left the cage. Brock grabbed him as he left. “You don’t approve.”

“Just giving him a chance,” Sam said.

Dylan dragged Michelle to his end of the cage. Samuel stood nearby. “Kick there ass Dylan,” Samuel said.

The bell rang, Dylan turned around. He walked to the center of the ring, as the three men started circling him. Johnson was to Dylan's left, Glazier to his right, and O’Toole was in front of him. They all smiled at Dylan.

Dylan looked at each man, “You boys think this is going to be easy don’t you.”

The three looked at Dylan confused. “You actually think you can win?” O’Toole said.

Dylan shrugged his shoulders. The three men attacked. Dylan lifted his leg and kicked O’Toole in the stomach. It was right before Glazier and Johnson grabbed him. The two men were trying to contain Dylan and keep him in the center of the ring. O’Toole was knocked back by the kick, but quickly recovered. He pounced on Dylan. He started delivering punch after punch to Dylan’s skull.

Dylan got one of his arms free and grabbed O’Toole by the back of his hair and pushed him towards Dylan’s head. The two guy’s head smashed into each other. O’Toole was knocked back, then to the ground. Dylan's head was dazed. He was only standing because Johnson and Glazier were holding him. Dylan's vision was blurred for a few seconds. He started to elbow the back of Johnson. He fell to one knee, and let go of the pressure keeping Dylan in the center of the ring.

Dylan was pushed passed Johnson towards the left of the cage by Glazier. He rotated and threw Glazier into the cage wall. Dylan turned and saw Johnson running towards him. He waited for half a second then lifted his foot and kicked Johnson in the stomach. Johnson stopped and bent over, the air knocked out of him. Dylan looked back and smiled. He grabbed Johnson by the back of his head and threw him into Glazier who was just then standing up.

The crowd started to cheer and clap. Dylan started to hear chats of his name being called throughout the church. He looked over and saw O’Toole was standing in the middle of the ring. Dylan walked up to O’Toole and stood chest to chest. O’Toole threw the first punch. Dylan blocked. O’Toole kept throwing punch after punch. Dylan just kept his guard up. He started to notice that O’Toole’s punches were losing force. “Wow, Sam wasn’t kidding. He needs more cardio,” Dylan thought.

Dylan started playing with O’Toole’s punches. He would block one punch, and then push O’Toole away. Dylan looked over and saw that Johnson and Glazier were recovering. Dylan let one of O’Toole’s punches pass. He leaned back and out of range of the punch. When O’Toole’s punch passed, Dylan took O’Toole’s arm and snapped it over Dylan’s shoulder. He then swept the legs from under O’Toole sending him to the concrete floor.

Johnson and Glazier were both standing when Dylan turned to look at them. Both of them had their eyes on O’Toole who was rolling on the ground holding his arm. “You guys just want to quit?” Dylan asked.

Neither man responded, Dylan stepped towards then when the bell rang. The refs got in the ring, pulled O’Toole to one corner, and started to look at his arm. Glazier and Johnson followed the refs and stood on the other side of the ring.

Dylan walked to his corner. He leaned over and looked at Michelle. She was starting to wake up. “Good, I was starting to get tired.”

“What's going on?” Michelle looked around and started to get up.

“Those three men are here to hurt me, and kill you,” Dylan said.

“Though they aren’t really doing a good job of that,” Samuel added.

“That was mostly luck. It won't happen next round,” Dylan said.

“It didn’t look like luck,” Samuel said.

“If Jackson held my arm better they would have killed me,” Dylan looked at Samuel. “That also took more out of me than I thought it would. These guys are not going to go down easy.”

“What can I do to help,” Michelle said.

“Can you fight?” Dylan asked.

“Yes,” Michelle replied.

“Ok, go after the red head. He has a bad wing,” Dylan said. “I need to know. What do you know about Brock?”

“Enough to send him to jail for a really long time,” Michelle said.

Samuel pointed to the other side of the ring. “You guys better get back. Looks like they’re done with O’Toole’s arm,” he said.

Dylan and Michelle turned around and saw that the refs were walking out of the cage. O’Toole’s arms was deemed ok enough to fight, but it was just hanging on his arm. Dylan knew he snapped the joint so there was no way he would be able to move it. Glazier and Johnson started to move forward towards Dylan and Michelle. Dylan walked forward.

Michelle started to follow him. Dylan turned his head towards her, “No, wait for O’Toole to start.”

“I can help,” Michelle said.

“I know,” Dylan said. “But if you die against one of these two then everything I'm doing now will be for nothing. Let me fight these two.”

Dylan looked towards Johnson and Glazier. The two large men smiled at Dylan. O’Toole talked to them during the break. Dylan wasn’t sure what he said, but the two stood their shoulders back, their faces smiling almost like a joke was told.

Dylan looked behind them and saw Brock standing in their corner talking to O’Toole. Dylan looked back at the two fighters in front of him. The both stood arms out front, legs bent ready for a fight.

Dylan threw a punch at Jackson. Jackson caught the fist in his hand. He started to squeeze his hand. Dylan felt the bones in his hands move and pop. Jackson pulled Dylan forward. Glazier was waiting. He hit Dylan with a right cross to the side of his face. Dylan fell to the ground, his mouth filled with blood almost instantly. Johnson held onto Dylan’s fist though and pulled him up. Jackson put his right forearm across Dylan’s throat and moved his arm behind him. Glazier started hitting him in the ribs and stomach. Dylan tried to struggle, but Johnson was much stronger than he was.

After ten hits, Dylan’s vision started to go in and out. Just as Dylan was going to pass out, Johnson let him go. Michelle had seen enough. She walked forward and started hitting Johnson with small jabs to his back. Dylan fell as Glazier looked over at Johnson. Glazier took a step towards Michelle. Michelle ducked down and delivered two quick jabs to Glazier’s legs causing him to fall forward onto his knees. Michelle then kicked the side of his head with her heel knocking him out.

Dylan looked at Michelle. He spoke in a low tone, “Maybe I should have stayed back.”

Michelle smiled. “Never under estimate a lady from Hazard City.”

Dylan started to stand up, “I'll try to remember that.” He turned towards Johnson. He was still on his knees his eyes foggy from the repeated hits from Michelle. Dylan punched Johnson with everything he had left. Johnson’s head turned blood and spit flying as he hit the ground.

Dylan then turned towards Michelle. “What did you do to these guys?”

Michelle smiled, “Nerve strikes. There good for taking down larger targets.”

Dylan looked over and saw that O’Toole. O’Toole was looking at the two of them, his eyes were wide, his mouth open. Dylan looked back at Michelle, “I think he is as shocked as I was.”

“Shall we kick his ass?” Michelle asked.

Dylan wiped some blood off his lips. “No. I think I have some issues to work out.” Dylan started walking towards O’Toole.

O’Toole stood and put together the best guard he could with one arm. Dylan looked behind O’Toole and into Brock’s eyes. O’Toole threw a punch at Dylan. Dylan blocked with one arm then just reached out and grabbed O’Toole’s broken arm. O’Toole winced in pain. Dylan grabbed O’Toole by the throat. He brought his face close to his. He just smiled and threw O’Toole’s head back.

O’Toole’s head fell back and hit a metal pole that held the walls to the cage. Dylan followed O’Toole’s body and grabbed his head. He drove it again and again into the metal. He did this while looking at Brock. After fifteen times, Dylan stopped and let go of what was left of O’Toole’s head. Dylan turned and walked back to the center of the ring. O’Toole’s body rested at the bottom of the pole half of his skull was smashed in.

The bell started to ring the match was over. Brock walked into the ring. He walked over to the bodies of Johnson and Glazier. “Disappointing,” he said. He lifted one of his massive feet and slammed it down onto Johnson’s head crushing it. He then did the same to Glazier. His feet covered in blood he started rubbing them on the ground to get the bits of skull and brain off his boots. He then looked at Michelle, “Now we have a problem here.”

“Not really,” Dylan said. “You said if I win I get to fight you, and she goes free. We won.”

“You see though. She knows just enough to get my ass thrown in jail,” Brock said. He took a few steps towards Dylan.

“Don’t you dare,” Sam came into the cage and came chest to chest with Brock.

Brock started to growl and pushed Sam back. Sam came back with several blows to the stomach and head of Brock. Brock was knocked back.

Sam turned towards Dylan, “Get out of here now.”

Dylan grabbed Michelle and led her out of the cage. Michelle pulled at Dylan’s hand, “What are you doing? Brock will kill that guy.”

“Getting you out of here,” Dylan said. The crowd was fixed on the fighting in the ring.

Sam was dodging Brock’s punches, and peppered Brock with shot after shot. Brock was knocked back into the cage. Sam pushed forward and threw another hard right directed at Brock’s face. Brock ducked and was under Sam’s arm. Before Sam could move, Brock sprang up and picked Sam up by his chest. He slammed Sam spine first into the ground. Brock mounted Sam and started delivering blow after blow to Sam’s head.

Dylan got Michelle over to Samuel. “Samuel,” Dylan pushed Michelle towards him. “Get her out of here.”

“What about you?” Samuel asked.

“I got a fight to win,” Dylan replied running back towards the cage entrance.

Samuel grabbed Dylan’s arm. “The guy is a juggernaut. Be smart, and play to your strengths not his.”

Dylan nodded to Samuel. “Thanks Samuel. Now get her out of here. Bring her to Haruna Wu, and no one else.” Samuel nodded letting go of Dylan’s arm. Dylan ran back to the cage entrance.

Sam was getting pounded by Brock. His nose was broken and bleeding. One of his eyes was swelling. Brock was about to laid the final strike into Sam’s face. He aimed his fist into Sam’s nose trying to shove it into his skull. Right as he was swinging back, Dylan tackled him off Sam.

Sam moved his head up and saw Dylan. “What are you doing? Get out of here he’s going to kill you.”

“He's going to kill you to,” Dylan replied.

“That was my choice,” Sam said.

“And this is mine.”

Brock stood he looked back at Dylan. There was a rage in his eyes. He reached down, ripped his shirt off, and took a step towards Dylan.  Dylan put his arms up and held his ground.

Miles was at a small makeshift bar. He smiled as he saw Dylan ready to fight. “I wonder what will happen. Two unstoppable forces meeting. The impossible strength of one man and the unbreakable will of another.” Miles said to no one in particular.

“Mr. Smith,” the bartender walked over to Miles, “Would you like to cash your bet out?”

“I don’t think so,” Miles said, “Put it all on Dylan.”

“Are you sure,” the bartender asked.

“Yes, as I recall a Doyle never welches on a bet.” Miles said, “Correct?” The bartender slid a note to Miles. He read the note and smiled.

Brock ran towards Dylan. Dylan stood his ground. Brock swung one of his massive fists. Dylan ducked under it, and responded by hitting Brock’s stomach. Brock didn’t move he just smiled and took another swing at Dylan.

Dylan dodged and kept peppering rights and lefts into Brock’s stomach. After ten punches, Dylan saw he wasn’t doing any damage. The muscle in his stomach was too thick he didn’t have the power to penetrate. Brock threw another punch. Dylan didn’t see it coming. He hit the ground from the one blow.

Brock laughed. He picked Dylan up by his throat and held him up. He started applying pressure to Dylan’s throat attempting to snap it like a twig. Dylan was lifted high enough that he could see Miles at the bar. Miles lifted a shot glass filled with a lime green liquid. Dylan looked down at Brock and smiled.

Dylan had been here before. Miles and Dylan were working for the army then. They were on an island owned by a couple of drug lords. One of their bodyguards was a little smaller than Brock. The two were fighting each other when he picked Dylan up by his throat. Dylan survived and he and Miles had Absinthe, a green liqueur, to celebrate.

Dylan spit in Brock’s face. Brock turned red and brought Dylan closer to him. Dylan smiled and pressed both his thumbs into Brock’s eyes. He screamed and let go of Dylan. Dylan started to breathe again.

Brock was blind. Dylan was standing tall. He started to move around Brock. Dylan jumped and planted both his feet into the back of Brock sending him into one of the cage walls. Brock fell to one knee his head buried in the wall. Dylan stayed away from Brock for a few seconds. Brock stood and turned around away from the wall.

The blood from Brock’s eyes was trailing down his face almost making it seem like he was crying red tears. He opened his mouth to speak. “Have you no shame? Blinding a man during a fight,” he said.

“Weren’t you going to stomp a girl’s head in?” Dylan replied.

Brock smiled and ran towards Dylan. Dylan rolled out of the way and Brock hit one of the metal pillars that held the cage together. Brock slumped to the ground he was out cold.

“Only fools rush in,” Dylan said as he exited the cage. Dylan left the church and got in his car to get to Haruna’s office.

Haruna was working late, as normal for her. She hadn’t heard anything from Dylan. She was both nervous, and glad she wasn’t summoned to the hospital to look at his body. She looked at the clock, “Good lord, it’s almost midnight. I better get home.” Haruna started to pack up her things when Samuel came into her office. He was closely followed by Michelle. Both had clearly ran the entire way there.

Haruna looked at Michelle strangely. She was still dressed in the bikini that Brock had her wear. “Can I help you?” Haruna said.

“I'm a friend of Dylan,” Samuel said. He stood up straight, “This is…” Samuel was cut off before continuing.

“Officer Michelle Sonja from organize crime,” Michelle said.

“What are you doing here?”

“You wanted Brock Doyle. She can give him to you,” Samuel said.

“What do you have?”

“I have photos of him drugging girls then raping them. Footage from his website of him crushing someone’s skull with his boot.”

“Bring it to me, and I'll fry his ass,” Haruna said a smile on her face.

“Will get you everything as soon as possible,” Michelle said. “Now if you wouldn’t mind I would like to go call my squad. Probably get a lift home.”

Michelle left leaving Haruna alone with Samuel. Samuel closed the door after Michelle left. “You have something else?” Haruna asked.

“Not for this case,” Samuel said. “Dylan said that I could have a second to talk with you as long as I helped him tonight.”

“What would you like to speak about?”

“There is a cold case. Police didn’t really look into it, but I figured you might.” Samuel started pacing around her office.

“Calm down, what happened?”

Samuel stopped, “I want you to look into who killed my son and wife Jamal and Stacy Thane.”

Haruna's mouth fell open a bit. “When was it?”

“Three years ago,” Samuel said.

“Do you know why?”

“A guy came to me. He asked me for information on someone. I told him no. He told me someone named Dragon Head wanted it. I still said no,” Samuel sat down on a table. “Next day, Stacy took Jamal to a daycare. The car blew up before she could pull out of the driveway.”

“Police never investigated?”

“They showed up took some statements, then they buried it so deep I can't get to it.”

“You know anything else?” Haruna asked.

“Guy named Rhino showed up the next day asked about my car. He then asked about the same person, Jasmine Wu.”

Haruna nearly fell to the floor. “I think we have a lot to discuss,” she said sitting down at her desk.

Hours passed before Samuel was done with Haruna. He left her office and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. Samuel shook his head and tried to recompose himself. He got out of the elevator and left the building. He saw Dylan sitting on his Mustang outside the justice building.

“Thanks for not coming in,” Samuel said.

“Figured if you wanted me to know, you would tell me,” Dylan said.

“How did you survive Brock?”

“Took his eyes, he's body wasn’t too far after,” Dylan said. “Come on, Miles wants us to meet him at the bar.”

Dylan got off his car, and walked to the driver’s side. Samuel got in and sat back.

When the two arrived, they saw Miles sitting on the trunk of his Corvette.

“Nice of you guys to show up,” Miles said as the two got out of the car.

Samuel walked up to Miles, “What do you want? I would like some sleep tonight.”

Miles got off his car and opened his trunk. The three men looked at three black duffle bags.

“I'm going to be pissed if there are bodies in any of these,” Dylan said.

Miles smiled and unzipped one of the bags. Inside was hundred dollar bills.

“Wow, it’s a lot of money,” Samuel said. He reached inside and picked up a group of bills. “Is this all from the bets?”

“Yeah,” Miles said, “I took the two grand you gave me. I doubled it with my own money. Then bet it on Dylan in his first fight. He was going about four to one. When he won, I kept betting on the other prelims fights. When Dylan fought the three on two fight, I bet it all on Dylan. I think he was going somewhere around a hundred to one. Then the final fight, Dylan was down five to one. All and all I think I walked away with a couple of million.”

Samuel smiled, “I didn’t expect this much. We will break it into thirds. Doyle ain’t going to like payin this much money to one man.”

“I’ll be fine,” Miles said. He slipped into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black cell phone with a large green button on the side. “If you get in trouble though, press the green button and I'll get a message.”

Samuel took the phone, “Thanks. I'm going to have to disappear for a little while.” Samuel looked over at Dylan, “Keep a good eye on that prosecutor. She’s a good woman, probably the only good cop in the city.”

Dylan nodded. Samuel took one of the duffle bags, and walked towards the bar. He walked in and a few seconds later, the bar exploded. Dylan and Miles looked at the fire.

“He ok,” Dylan asked Miles.

Miles looked at his phone, “Got his phone moving north. How did he get out of there?”

“Good question,” Dylan turned and walked back to his car as the fire burned.

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