Lobo’s Contract (part 1) – Hunting Spork

(Note:  This story includes same rather harsh situations – including violence – a Lot of violence.  This may not be appropriate for younger readers)

This was his favorite part.  The tracking was done.  The target was completely unaware.  CT was standing with his back against the wall of this cheap no tell motel.  He reached out and put his hand against the door marked with the number thirteen.  A smile crossed his face, as he brushed his lucky number, and reached for the handle.  It had only taken him a few days to find this particular scumbag.  Then he stalked him for two days more.  Following the greasy little thug, learning his patterns.  Now it was time to bag him.

This time the target was just some two-bit thug, called Spork, who that got a little too big for his britches.  Spork that decided he knew better than his boss.  Normally this kind of job was too small for CT, but this wasn’t a normal day.  Before running this small time mobster grabbed a rather large bag of cash, a hot piece of ass, and a Ferrari.  Unfortunately for him all three items belonged to his boss at the time.  Lucky for CT his boss can’t be seen this side of the border, so boss put out a contract to bring back the Ferrari, with everything else stuffed into the trunk.

CT is the man who got the contract.  CT is the man with his hand on the doorknob of room thirteen.  It was almost too easy.  The room faced the back of the building, away from the road, and the light outside the door was unfortualy broken.  CT saw to that earlier that day.  Standing against the brick wall his hand reached across the door and now he gently twisted the handle.  The doorknob resisted turning.  A smile just started to creep onto the corner of CT’s face.  This was going to be fun.

CT slowly brought his hand back to his side and pulled a gun from a holster on his hip.  The Glock was a twin of the gun already in his left hand.  At six feet tall and built like a Chicago Bears linebacker he was already an imposing figure.  Add the combat boots, leather jacket, and the hand cannons, it is safe to say first impressions usually fell in his favor.

His heart started pounding as he once again checked the safeties on both guns.  He closed his eyes and savored the rush of adrenalin running through his veins.  With a deep breath he turned to stand before the door and with a battle cry he kicked out exploding the door.  The room was lit in a low red light, CT saw the bedside lamp had been covered by a shear red nightie.  In the bed was a naked young woman trying to cover herself with bed sheets that had been strewn across the room.  CT stepped into the room away from the doorway that was framing him.  He didn’t want to make things too easy for them.

He leveled one of the glocks at the woman standing in the corner of the room a thin sheet now draped across her body.  “Quiet,” growled.  Looking down the barrel of the gun brought her ear piercing screams to a new and even higher register.  CT moved across the room slapped her across the face with the side of his left gun.  She dropped instantly now quiet and unconscious.  The sheets started to turn red where her face lay across them.

CT returned to scanning the room.  The unconscious girl was the only one in the room, but he quickly identified what appeared to be men’s clothes thrown around the floor.  In an ashtray beside the bed was a pair of burning cigarettes.  Suddenly he saw the light from under the bathroom door wink out.  “Spork.”  CT called out.  “If you come out here right now, I’ll let you walk out of this room.  If I have to go in there, I’ll carry you out.  There won’t be a second warning.”

CT moved to the front of the door, and raised his foot for another devastating kick.  Suddenly sections of the door burst at him.  He dove to the side landing under the sink that was positioned outside the restroom.  The glass mirror above him shattered.  Shards of glass rained down on him as he tried to pull deeper under the sink away from the slicing rain.  He could feel the burning in his eyes as blood rain in blurring his vision.  He tried wiping away the blood, with an arm, but only seemed to push the slivers of glass deeper into his head.

“SPORK, you better save the last bullet for yourself.  ‘Cause I’m going to shit down your neck when I get a hold of you!”  The gunfire stopped in the sudden silence of the room he could hear people in the neighboring rooms screaming.  Now he was on the clock, in this neighborhood the cops were just a few minutes away.

He rolled across the floor to try and get out of the glass.  Cutting himself a dozen times doing so.  Gritting through the pain and blood, he stood up beside the door.  With a deep breath he stepped away from the wall and threw a back kick beside the door latch.  The door latch ripped away from the wall and the door flew open with a crash.  CT dove away from the door way ready for more gun fire.  When none came he set down one glock and cleared the blood from his face.  Now he grabbed his gun and stood in the doorways already sure what he would see.

The bathroom floor was littered with wood splinters from the mangled door.  The air was still heavy with gun smoke, but there was nothing else of interest in the room.  Nothing except a small open window on the wall.  CT stuffed his guns hard into their holsters.  Frustrated he pulled off the shower curtain, just to be sure there was nothing left in the bath room.

“Son of a bitch.”  He cursed to no one in particular.  He scanned through what was left of the room.  The bathroom door had been shot full of holes, and was now hanging sideways since the top hinge gave away with his last kick.  The floor of the room was littered with shared of broken glass from the mirror.  Even the cheap little tv that was formerly on a low dresser now had a hole in it.  In the corner was the only thing left of value.  The loud mouth girl was still Laing unconscious from where he left her.

With one hand he reached down and grabbed the back of her head and dragged her to what was left of the front door.  Just inside on the floor was the number thirteen proudly stenciled across a bit of wood that used to be a door.  CT paused and spit a bloody ball of phlegm onto his formerly lucky number.  Looking back at the room he noticed for the first time the room was sprayed floor to ceiling with blood the vast majority was his.

The most inept police squad should be able to pull enough DNA from this horror scene.  There was no science worrying about it now.  He had to get rolling before the police arrived.  He resumed walking out of the room the unconscious girl dragging along behind him a trail of blood following CT all the way to his car.

He could now hear the sirens echoing through the streets.  He popped the truck and threw the girl inside.  With a grunt of equal parts pain and frustration, he sat down in the car and pulled away for the motel.  Leaving all the crazy behind.  He saw the first police car pulling into the parking lot as he was driving way into the night.

In most areas of the world, CT would be in real trouble, but this was Vegas, and Vegas was CT’s town.  In this city there were an endless supply of back rooms that you could have for the right price.  The higher the price the fewer questions asked.  A few blocks and a C note away from the scene of the crime.  That is how they referred to the hotel on the eleven o’clock news.  It was now the scene of the crime.  Two persons were missing, and half a dozen more were injured in some way by crossfire.  If the cops hadn’t arrived as soon as they did there would have been dozens of victims.  All looking to grab a quick buck at someone’s misfortune.  This is Vegas baby.

The girl that CT pulled out of the hotel was now tied to a chair with duct tape.  She was still naked except for a washcloth stuffed in her mouth and a pillowcase pulled over her head.  CT was working at the sink trying to remove the bits glass that covered him, and stop the bleeding from the dozens of cuts.  He was digging out a thin shard that was deep in the back of his right hand when there was a knock at the door.

CT made his way to the door and silently pulled a pistol with his left hand.  A blood red hand towel wrapped around his right.  When he was safely to the side of the door, back against the brick wall he called out.  “Yea?”

“I got what you asked for.”  Came the voice from the other side.

CT opened the door till the chain lock pulled tight.  “Push it in” He called back.

A plastic CVS shopping bag was being stuffed through the crack in the door frame.  After a few seconds the bag disappeared and a collection of Band-Aids, ointment, and peroxide were pushed through the crack.  Then a voice called out “twenty-dollars.”

CT held a pair of twenty dollar bills to the door crack.  “Get lost, don’t come back.”  CT growled.

The twenties disappeared, followed by the sound of footsteps running away.  CT closed the door leaving a bloody hand print as he worked the deadbolt.  Eventually the glass was removed, the bleeding was stopped, and CT lay back and slept.  Eventually, the girl cried herself to sleep.

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