Image by Adina Voicu from Pixabay
Rain flayed the ally with cold daggers of ice.
Katie Johnson shivered as drops of liquid cold trickled down her neck. She stared at the mercenary standing in the shadows next to the dumpster before signaling forward and counting down; three, two, one, go.
Boom… the explosion rocked the ally as the C4 did its work. The hired muscle burst through what was left of the mangled door, strips of flesh cascading from the twisted metal where the guards had been caught by the shrapnel. Katie grinned as she strode through the portal, her impressive frame eclipsing the dim light from the ally.
She ducked behind a crate as gun fire thundered all around. Bouncers and knifers charged past - mental meat for the hail of bullets. The rhythm of the moist thwacks from the bullet's impact built in a crescendo of mounting bliss… the sonata of death played all around. A memory lingered for a moment in her twisted soul.
A child crying. Dark figures pulling her baby from her arms and a voice intoning “You work for us now. Remember that always if you want Samson to live.”
She shook the memory from her thoughts as she walked out into the hail of gun fire, body armour deflecting bullets left and right. She watched as one grunt ran past her to the safety behind her powerful frame. He wasn't quick enough, a bullet ricochet from her armoured chest to spat a garish welt in the morons head.
Fucking hired muscle, they were good for a job like this but brains were never their forte. Ha ha, this one was distinctly lacking now.
Nearly all of the grunts were done now, staggering in the dim haze of gun smoke or squirming in their own blood and faeces on the floor. She backed away toward the door with her 3 hired mercenaries behind her picking off the enemy soldiers as they advanced. They exited the building and retreated slowly down the alley as InvestingPennies’ Costra Nostra poured out, raining hails of bullets to mingle with the bitter rain.
The trap was sprung. Katie – Big Momma – Johnson shrieked with all of her twisted soul. Shrieked for the death of her first born, shrieked for the son who had been taken away… but most of all she shrieked for the sheer fucking uselessness of it all. Death answered.
Sniper bullets cut through the enemy like a scythe through grass. Drops of blood sprayed high in a rain of sparkling claret, mingling with the bitter tears from the city sky. The sun broke the clouds as people died all around her. Katie Johnson stared at the rooftops where a group of snipers had just been blown from the parapets by a thug with a bazooka. She strode forward with her three mercenary recruits.
This one I will have to deal with myself. Today is a good day to die anyway... Or maybe not!
The end.
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