A bad man cometh…

EB knew that trouble was brewing. Like a storm on the event horizon of the intergalactic plane or just the rank smell of the unwashed masses, he knew it.  EB had been working this beat, the lonely side of nowhere in Vegas for a long time.

It grew on you if your let it.

EB had learned long ago though, to keep moving. Don’t get too close or too deep with anyone. Because when you trusted them, not only would they betray you, but at the worst possible time. So just keep moving…

Early that morning, a inbound fast mover settled onto the desert floor. The craft came in hard and low, showing up as a blip on the radar for only the briefest moment. Earth traffic controllers (ETC) at the Vegas Intergalactic Port noted but disregarded it as hash trash or space junk. The ship was a lander, cheaply made one time use for getting down a gravity well. The skin of the craft still smoked from the burn of atmospheric reentry.

A hatchway creaked open with a puff of corrosion. From the dark interior, a man moved forward climbing down onto the desert floor. Raising his arms over his his head, he stretched and roared in the dark morning air. In the distance, he could see the lights of Vegas. In the distance he knew a rabbit was going to die. The man pulled the slide back on his gun, racking a bullet into the chamber. Flipping the safety off, he shoved the gun into the back of his pants. Today was to be a day of vengeance. Today EB was going to die. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter how, it just mattered that he would breath no more. With that thought in his mind, the man started walking toward Vegas.

As he walked, the man though about what he had lost. A sense of hollowness, when there is nothing left but the conclusion. Once this was done, he would rest. Long into the night. Perhaps in this desert place, away from the city and it distractions. The sweet release of peace without the burning emptiness that he ever felt in his heart.

There was once a girl. His daughter that brought him joy in way he had never know. Her sweet voice, her funny laughter and her brilliant  mind. But that was long ago, he spoke to himself. I shall not be distracted. I will rest when this is over and on the morrow.

The man came with only what he was wearing. No luggage. No tooth brush. No soul. His gun had twelve rounds in it. One for every sorrow. One for every joint in a rabbit’s body he thought. Feet, knees and hips. Hands, elbows and shoulders. Then it would be over. Then he would rest.

The morn came stingingly bright. Burning his eyes and his heart. His flesh felt weary as he entered the Vegas strip. He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew the feeling that guided him. The man walked on. Past the crappy older casinos on the out skirts of the strip. toward the “Disney Land” like atmosphere of the massive casinos.

Hookers solicited him. A good time honey they promised. There wasn’t any good times to be had here or anywhere. To look for something he could find was a pain he just couldn’t take anymore. Hope had fled like the morning mist from the rising sun. All that remained was just the burning.

Walking along he realized he was thirsty. He had been walking for six hours and had covered almost twenty one miles. The man entered a seven eleven and purchased a large quart of water and some beef jerky. He sat on the sidewalk outside and drank the water. The feeling of cool permeated his throat as he drank. This awoke a feeling of hunger in him. He quickly ripped open the jerky and started to chew a great handful. Soon he was pouring the bag into his mouth spill jerky and crumbs onto himself and the ground.

A women walk past him with a disdainful look. Another bum on the strip. Another day in Vegas.

His hunger and thirst satiated. The man looked about and realized he was close to east Cheyenne avenue. Closer. He could feel it stronger now. The rabbit was close. Ducking down an ally, he reached behind him and pulled out his gun. The comforting weight of his gun brought an almost peace to him. Or at least a sense of resolution. He could live with that. Or die with it. Either way, it would be over. And if there was a heaven or hell or something on the other side he would get to see his daughter again. Damn the gods, he wished for that above all else.

Making sure his shirt covered his gun tucked into his belt, he quickly started walking. Down Cheyenne he walked. Dust stinging his eyes he continued forward. The area where he was walking was a down trodden blighted area. Industrial construction yards filled with equipment that were begging to rust covered acres of land.The man continued to walk. As another hour passed he began to loose hope. Perhaps he had lost the trail? The feeling he’d had when he started this journey seemed to have deserted him. With that though, he stopped abruptly and gazed wildly about. Sanity seem to hold it’s claim only by the slimmest of threads. That’s when he saw the the sign. In front of an old two story building. Swedish massages, Book keeping and Tax prep. The last line was “Problems? Solutions! EB the Rabbit – Private Detective 702-555-1212. Time seem to slow for him as he started to shake. His hands trembling, he reached for his gun. Holding it down at his side he headed for the building entrance.

The halls were dark marred paneling with a carpet of indeterminate color. He felt his feet dragging as he walked along the hall. At he end of the hall a door sign read “EB the Rabbit – Private Detective”. Pulling his gun up level in his right hand, he reached forward with his left hand to open the door. The door knob turned toward the right clicking as the lock disengaged. Shoving the door open with a bang the man saw that the office was empty. As he looked around, he notice another door.

His vision narrowed and the knob on the door started to turn. Slowly it seemed to turn. He raised his gun trembling and pointed it toward the door. Feeling like he couldn’t hold the gun much longer, he pressed on trigger. The door opening, the shock rang out as the 9mm bullet departed the muzzle of his gun. The door as opened as the bullet crashed into the person coming through.

It wasn’t a rabbit.

Blood dripped down from his chest. He felt so tired. He just wanted to sleep for a while , just a while. As he began to slowly crumple down to the floor, he noticed that there was a girl on the floor. She looked very familiar. She whispers as he fell next to her in the spreading pool of blood on the wooden flood… Dad.

………………..

EB felt the dark omen that morning. He had lived to tell the tale, but Candy didn’t. Neither did her Dad. Jesus, what happened to him? EB holstered his weapon, picked up the phone to call the police and felt a tear roll down his furry rabbit cheek…

Introduction to the “sweats”

The aliens bastards came from far away. They said they were here for the gambling, but EB thought they were here for another reason. EB was going to find out what it was, even if he had to kill every one of them to find out.

The aliens flew in the night before on an old inter-galactic red-eye. The kind of flight where no one looks to close. Mostly because they don’t care and often because they don’t want to know.

Just another group of half-drunken tentacled lecherous aliens.

Never mind the acidic smell that assaults your nose when you get within 100 cubits of them, the polyp eyes that assault your sense of well-being or the sticky ichor dripping off of their malformed tentacles and malodorous bodies. No, just another weary day in Vegas where cash is king and few if any questions are asked.

The aliens lurched their way into the casino, tentacle limbs waving cash around as honey to bees. Already the hookers of the more desperate variety were starting gather near the alien group. The sick look of dread plastered on their near plastic faces, looking for that drink, fix or whatever twisted high they needed most. The aliens wanted them for their human bodies never considering beauty, to do things they couldn’t get away with in their part of the galaxy. Most of the time anyway…

The casino staff quickly provided a private gaming room for the aliens. A spacious room as a group of aliens waving around cash were always welcomed on the strip. The aliens bastards were known as sweats to most of the denizens of Vegas as they were always oozing some king of acidic mucus across their bodies. EB made a point of never being too near them as their smell was quite a bit above noxious. The aliens racial name EB couldn’t pronounce if he tried (which he didn’t), but in Vegas they were officially known as visitors XTC. Few of the aliens could actually speak in any human tongue anyway and mostly relied on human translators when they could get them.

Again, the common folk just called them sweats. Good enough thought EB.

The aliens sat down on stools that accommodated their large and malodorous bodies with three legs comfortably. If the aliens were uncomfortable, no one really new as they never complained about where they parked their stinking fat alien butts. But complain? My gods they complained. About the heat, about the games, about the girls, about the weather and just about anything else that came within the aliens visual range. Once the group of aliens were seated, the house quickly started games of Monty, Black jack and three card stud, lead by humans that were entirely too comfortable with the screaming terror that sat before them. Cards in tentacles expertly held and dealt with deadly proficiently. The casino dealers having to work to beat hard to beat the aliens at the house games.

EB stood near the door by a large plant watching all of this and waiting to make his move. He did not want to scare them off before he found out what nefarious deeds they were here to accomplish. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait to long as the “sweats” were notoriously impatient in words and deeds.

A short fat ugly pugnacious runt of a man came in though a small side door. He stumped over to the one of the larger “sweats” and whispered into his longitudinal sound acquisition organ. The large sweat seemed to sway with pleasure as he listened. The reached into his bag and pulled out a whip like device. EB had recovered one of these devices from a sweat that had tried to stop a 40 cal bullet with his face and was unsuccessful a few years ago. The N-whip like device caused excruciating neural pain, while no actual damage to the human. The sweats liked to use them on the girls because they didn’t like to pay for the goods they damaged. Cheap bastards.

A group of 13 young slightly attractive girls stood talking among themselves trying not to think about what was to come. The sweat with the N-whip device started toward the girls. As the sweaty alien approach the girls, it thumbed an activation stub on the device. Instantly an electric sheen covered the N-whip. The girls flinched away from the sweat, but were cornered by the place they had chosen to stand. It didn’t matter anyway thought EB, this is why the came to this place. To make money for the rent, the next fix, a free drink or what ever escape they needed from the harsh life of Vegas.

The sweat swung the N-whip back and flailed it across the girls. The N-whip end of the device was somewhat prehensile and it latched onto a young girl. Her screams filled the room as the other hookers backed away from the screaming girl. The sweat just continued to leer at the girl as she screamed. Sucking in the screams of pain like a balm to its murderous heart.

EB couldn’t take the girl’s scream any longer.With his Beretta 40 cal in his right hand, a benchmade war spec blade in his left, and  he leaped forward. Slashing through the N-whip causing it to short out and send feedback that caused the sweat to dance a bit with the electric shock. As EB’s leap carried him through the air time seemed to slow for EB. He carefully place three 40 cal rounds from his Beretta 96A1 into the sweat’s torso causing to be yanked backwards and slammed to the floor.

EB always mindful of the ladies, didn’t want to cause the spray of grey blood from the sweat to land on them.

The other sweats jerked around, their globulus fat shaking as a multitude of the aliens reached for hidden weapon. EB fired another three 40 cal rounds causing multiple sweats to explode with great gouts of grey blood, torn organs and disgusting alien viscera to splatter across the remaining sweats and the not so clean walls of the casino. The shaped charges in the tips of the 40 cal round EB used had only been tested at the gun range. Seeing the sweats explode in a cloud of grey blood and organs put a small smile of EB’s rabbit lips. The remaining sweats had dropped their weapons and were stumbling for any escape route they could find. EB fired another round into the floor behind them helping to “motivate them” a bit more. The sweats ran as a much as a sweat is able, to escape the clutches of death that nipped at their alien motile pod like leg tentacles.

EB looked around and gathered the sweats dropped weapons for further examination back at his lair. Today a few less sweats would get their cheap twisted thrills in Vegas. EB walked over to where the girls stood weeping softly. He bent down and help one girl to her feet. She seemed to be in shock from the N-whip touch. EB reach across to a bottle of cheap whisky and poured three fingers into a dirty glass. “Drink this” he said. The girl took a drink and started to cough. As the whiskey started warm her, she snapped out of the daze she was in. “What’s your name kid” EB asked. “Jenn” she said. Jenn took another drink of the whiskey and made a face. “It needs ice” EB said. Jenn looked at the six foot three inch rabbit and nodded. “Thank you. I though I was going to die” Jenn said. “Those horrible bastards just wanted to hurt us”. EB looked at her and said “That’s what they do. It’s who they are. Rotten bastards that travel from the other side of the Galactic plane just to inflict pain on another living being”. “No more” he said. Jenn looked at EB, took his hand still wrapped around the big black Beretta and said “Thanks. You are my savior”. EB looking back at her, eyes far away replied “No. Just a rabbit with a gun…”

She hugged EB and whispered thanks.

…

Grocery Store

EB stood in line at the grocery store. In line ahead of him, stood three people at the cash register. EB stood with vegetables in his basket and boredom in his mind. EB casually scanned his surroundings as he stood in line. He noted the lazy lilt of the of the boy bagging groceries. The down trodden women ahead of him paying for her few groceries that she could afford. The universe spun around never noticing EB as he finally approached the cashier. As the pretty black cashier began to ring up his groceries, EB again scanned around his environment.

It was then that he noted their entry. Large and mottled green skin they stood out like a pink polka dot beach ball at a wedding. Mucus dripped from visual sensor orbs. These creatures didn’t really have eyes. Just eight stalks that served as sensory organs. The aliens thrived on fresh meat EB thought. Most likely the reason they came to this market, maybe.

They walked along in that strange shuffling gate that always left EB feeling a bit uneasy. The aliens wore rough robes that cover their the sweaty naked bodies. As they advanced toward the cashier’s office where the store safe was, EB began to be concerned. His hand automatically started drawing his weapon before he was conscious of it. EB moved with cat-like pre-reflexes that were too fast to see with the naked eye. As his Beretta tracked around to the Aliens, EB observed the Aliens pulling weapons from beneath their robes.

The world slowed down. As the Aliens drew their weapons they slow almost to a stop. EB’s Beretta tracked the Aliens and his finger tightened on the trigger. The weapon fired  the slide racking back, slamming another shell into the chamber. EB fired 3 rounds into the first Alien. It’s large body smash backward with a spray of purple blood and viscera. Aliens screams of agony filled the air. Twisting to his right EB fired another three rounds into the remaining alien.  Smoke trailed from EB’s weapon as he dropped his weapon down to his side.

Stabbing his weapon back into his shoulder holster, EB pickup his groceries and headed out of the store…

The dirty Ethiopian…

The dirty Ethiopian sat in a chair with bloody knife in his hand. He never like to be very far from it. Sometimes it even seemed to speak to him. To tell him things. His head felt buzzy and strange when that happened. But “THE RAGE” was always with him. It never went away. Like the beating of his measly small heart, “THE RAGE” was ever near. When he killed it felt better. It didn’t go away entirely, but seemed satiated at least for a short time. Then the pressure would build again.

Sitting in the kitchenette of a cheap no tell motel on the wrong side of the tracks in Vegas, the dirty Ethiopian picked at his long dirty fingernails, flicking bits of smelly detritus away from him. His pants were sweaty smelling, stained with urine and blood. His once striped shirt was now a dark shadow of itself much like him. There was a lot to dislike about the dirty Ethiopian.

Laying on the floor at his feet, was a bloodied dirty girl. Her hand and feet were bound and a gag tight across her mouth. She trembled in fear, her eye darting, seeking help. The dirty Ethiopian picked her up on a dirty corner in Vegas knowing the cheap tart would come with him easily if he displayed the right amount of cash. Now she lay on the floor, fear in her eyes of whatever this sick bastard was going to do to her. Her eyes kept traveling back to the knife. She tried hard not to look, but it was mesmerizing. A worn shiny steel blade with just a hint of blood worming into the pommel. She knew not to try to cry out as the dirty Ethiopian had used his fists on her the last time she had tried. Her name was Candy and like most young hookers new to the life, she was trying to make a go of it on her own. Only this had gone wrong.

The dirty Ethiopian stood up suddenly. Shoving his knife into a scabbard in the small of his back, he grabbed Candy by the hair and dragged her back into the bedroom. There he tied her to the bedpost and made sure the gag was tight. Gripping her face in his dirty hand he said “I will be back for you”. Candy struggled to pull away as he held her more tightly. “Easy” the dirty Ethiopian said, “I don’t want to waste the fun on you now”. The dirty Ethiopian slapped her face hard and stepping with small effeminate steps, moved away and out the door. Candy breathing hard listened for the sounds of the dirty Ethiopian. Pulling the gag further into her mouth, panic racing in her heart, she chewed hard on the cloth gag. As all cloth does when wet, it began to fray and give. Soon she could push her tongue through a small hole in it. Candy knew that if she was still tied up on this bed when the dirty Ethiopian returned, she would be raped and tortured until dead. Although scared, Candy was tougher than she looked. The gag fraying, she could finally move her jaw enough to slip it off her chin. She immediately began chewing at the thin “rope” the dirty Ethiopian had used to tie her up. It was more like a cheap clothesline cord you could buy in a “five and dime” store. Chewy hard the cord began to fray. Candy pulled hard at it as she chewed.

Suddenly the cord snapped. Candy stretched and reached for the phone that was just within reach. She thought to call the police but knew that they would never believe her and think that this was just another trick gone bad.  As she reached, she knocked the phone book beside it onto the floor. As the phone book hit the floor it fell open. The page had a large Rabbit in black and white print. Startled, she read the caption below it. “Problems? Solutions! EB the Rabbit 702-555-1212. Trembling, Candy dialed with her free hand the number. The phone answered almost at once. “EB speaking” the voice answered. Now feeling even more panicked that the dirty Ethiopian would come back, she blurted out. “Help! I am tied up at a motel with this creep who’s is going kill me. He’ll be back soon… You’ve got to help me” said Candy breathing hard and trying not to cry.  “Stay on the phone doll” said EB, I’ve got your number on my cell tracking and from that the address and am driving toward you now. Candy could hardly hold it back “I’m scared, he’s a horrible stinking monster” she said.

EB kept her on the phone talking to her, drawing her out. “He is short, fat and stinks like a two weeks rotted cottage cheese” she said. EB felt a little up tick with this. “Did he say anything to you? Anything at all?” asked EB. Candy starting to feel less panicked speaking with EB said ” Yes, something about not wanting to spoil all the fun”. Hear that, EB pressed down harder on the accelerator of his big blue Cadillac. He was less than three minutes away and urged the big Cadillac forward even faster. “Hang on” EB said. “I ‘m almost there. If he returns, don’t look at him, speak to him or do anything else to provoke him” said EB. Candy replied “Ok, just get here!!!”

EB screeched into the parking lot of the no tell motel. Leaping from the big Caddy, the engine not even stopped yet, he ran forward. Weapon drawn, EB started to call out her name. Quietly he called out “Candy, where are you? Sing if you can hear me.” Candy belted out “Let the Skyfall… at Skyfall…“. EB kicked in the door weapon tracking left and right searching for Candy. Hearing “We will stand tall and face it all together…” coming from the bedroom, EB found Candy crying.

EB quickly pull “sweety” his 14 inch blade from his leg scabbard, sliced through the ropes and freed her. Leaping toward him with gratitude, she hugged him fiercely. Pulling her back, EB told her to whisper, he could be coming back.

EB and Candy stayed crouched down for a few moments, when EB realized in his haste, the big blue Caddy was right out from telling all the world (or at least Vegas) that EB was haunting this no tell motel. EB chuckled thinking “Oogh” my reputation… EB help Candy to her feet and said “Come with me. This is no place for a lady”. Candy unsteadily walked out the door with EB holding on to her. He seated her in the big blue Cadillac and then sat down in the driver’s seat. EB pulling out of the driveway of the no tell motel asked Candy ” Do you have a place to stay? I’ve got an extra room at my place with a bath. You can clean up there and rest safely”. Candy nodded feeling unsure that she could stop the tears that were starting to flow into her eyes. “Thank you” she said. Taking a puff on his still smoldering cigar, he answered ” What a rabbit to do? Can’t leave a damsel in distress”.

EB winked at her and pressed down the accelerator.

As he went past a gas station a few miles away, the dirty Ethiopian looked up from the body with a fresh pool of the blood growing on the floor around it. Wiping the blood from his knife on his pants and noted Candy riding the deep blue Cadillac and felt “THE RAGE” grow…

Surrounded! Part Duex…

Time slowed as EB’s finger pressed against the trigger. The slide racked back as the bullet escaped the barrel, traveling at 950 feet per second toward his intended victim. The malicious thug was raising his weapon toward EB as the bullet struck his forehead shearing of the top of his head, splattering brain matter against the wall behind him. His head smacked against the wall with a solid crack and slid down the wall.  EB swung his weapon toward another perp as a bullet struck beside him, small pieces of concrete striking his face. EB weapon discharge a three round grouping into the chest of the oversized thug bent on his destruction. The bullets slapping with a meaty sound as the penetrated the thugs chest, breaking through his ribs, pulverizing his lungs, damaging his heart before exiting he back of his chest and into the neck of a shorter walking piece of barely human excrement.

EB could see a malodorous mob of subhuman thugs loping towards him. EB backed up and looked for an exit, while firing another round into the mob. Spying a door, further down the darkened hallway, EB dashed towards it. He ran into the darkness and kicked the door shut. A shotgun rang out striking the door with buckshot as EB fastened the old-fashioned bolt across it. “Thank God for thick oak doors” thought EB.

He pushed back into the room looking for an escape from the mob of thugs the dirty Ethiopian had sent for him. The room appeared to be a workshop of sorts and there wasn’t a window or door in sight. EB ejected the clip from his weapon and slammed home another one. Outside in the hall, the thugs on a hallucinogenic rampage snorted more of the drug the Ethiopian had paid them with. A large man with a rag tied over his head steadily hammered away with his boulder sized fists at the door, screaming obscenities. EB stepped up to the door, placed the barrel of his weapon in the peephole and fired. The bullet exited the peep-hole in the door striking the large man with a rag on his head in his throat. Ripping out his larynx and slicing cleaning through his carotid artery. The bullet then passed through another member of the mob killing him. So out of his mind on dope, he didn’t even realize he was dead as he died.

EB knew that time was running out and he would need a “Deus Ex Machina” soon to get out of this fix. Stay tuned fellow travelers of this dark path, a rabbit this way comes…

EB frantically looked around the room for something he could use. Against one wall was a stack of cinder blocks, some rope, a five gallon can of gasoline and an ancient reloader. EB quickly moved the cinder blocks to make a stacked brick wall  a few feet back from the oak door. He placed the five gallon gasoline container in from of the wall. Sloshing it about, EB determined it was approximately half full. “Perfect” EB thought. He then disassembled the reloader and scraped the leftover gun powder out onto the floor. Making a trail back away from the wall. EB pulled out his knife “sweety” and stabbed it into the gasoline container. “Sorry sweety” EB mumbled as the gas began to dribble out onto the floor and wet the beginning of the gun powder trail.

As EB edged over to the door, he realized that the thug mob was slowing down a bit.  The drugs in their systems were burning out. “Perfect” EB whispered to no one in particular. EB grabbed the bolt on the door, threw it back and fired his weapon in the direction of the thugs. He heard the meaty slap of a bullet wound in progress and ran behind the wall. As the thugs woke up to the fact that the door was open, they ran screaming in the door. As the first thug slammed into the cinder block brick wall bloodying himself, EB lit the gun powder trail with his cigar.

EB closed his eyes as the gun powder flashed down the line blinding the thugs. Then the real fun began. The leaking gasoline contain lit and a pico second later exploded. Three of the thugs were literally blown apart as the one behind them were immolating, screaming and begging for mercy. EB granted the last of the thugs mercy with a 40 cal. sw round. Not that they would have done the same.

As the fire died down, EB slunk past the burned and destroyed husks of former humanity. Not that they were much human. They had lost these traits long ago when they developed their habit and joined into the thug life. No, EB thought, they were just more casualties of the dirty Ethiopian. His nasty evil plans thwarted for the moment, the dirty Ethiopian had long gone away to plan more acts of terror.

As EB walked away out into the daylight, he took a long hit from his cigar, blew out the smoke and wondering why.

Drowning…

EB ‘s head surfaced above the flood water in the tunnel. He didn’t clearly remember falling into the water, but the fact that he was treading water confirmed in it his mind. Darkness surrounded him and the waters swirling current threatened to drag him further down the tunnel. Off in the distance, he could just hear a radio playing Adele’s Skyfall. In the distance and echoing, it seemed ethereal to EB. Pausing to make sure his weapon was still firmly strapped in its holster, EB then started to swim towards the music. In the darkness, he couldn’t determine where else to go. As he began to swim slowly in the dark of the tunnel, his thoughts began to drift.

As his thoughts drifted time seemed to suspend and EB was forever swimming in the darkness. Feeling the heat being stolen from his body,  EB could only continue to push toward the music in the distance. After an indeterminate time of swimming, EB bumped into a railing. Grabbing it like a drunken sailor, EB felt the relief of a gallows reprieve. EB pulled himself along the railing until he felt steps in the dark. The music was louder now.

Let the Skyfall… at Skyfall…

As EB pulled himself up the stairs, he glimpsed a faint light in the distance. He began to feel a bit of hope in his chest. The day wasn’t over yet and he still could still make it out of this alive.

We will stand tall and face it all together…

Pulling his weapon from it holster, EB advanced into the darkness. The pads of his feet made a quiet sound as he made his way through the dark passageway. As EB advanced forward, he realized the song was repeating itself. EB pondered this as he paused for a moment to field strip his weapon, dry and lube it. Pulling the slide back to jack a 40 cal SW round into the chamber, EB felt that familiar and comforting weight in hand. EB pull a stoggie from his watertight rucksack that he had the clear sense to strap to his back. Dry rounds in his weapon, an Arturo Fuentes cigar lit and clamped between his teeth, EB began to advance again once again…

Surrounded!

EB realized the resounding forces of stupidity surround him in that moment. He knew that if he didn’t soon make a move, they would overwhelm him with their sheer weight and mass. Like a lumbering giant of colossal recidivist ignominy moving forward to crush all in it path. He knew he could not stop it. With 12 rounds left in his weapon, his felt his options were somewhat limited.

As a drop of sanguinous sweat fell from his brow onto his lip, He tasted the salt and felt sad…