Posts Tagged ‘guns’

“No, no, no…would you cut that out asshole?”  Roger wasn’t a fan of his authority being challenged.  Apparently, Orlando wasn’t a good listener.  Roger’s team of rag-tag hoodlums was nothing to write home about, but it was all he had and he couldn’t pull this off without them.

“You said to keep the gun on ‘im.”

“Yes, I did say to keep the gun on him, I didn’t say to shoot off body parts.”  The frustration was eating Davidson alive.  He’d planned this heist for years.  He couldn’t believe it was actually a heist.  Although, it was turning into quite the ‘shit storm’ as he so affectionately put it.

Why plan any heist?  Money.  No one remembers the unnamed assailant who robbed a bank or knocked off the casino.  So of course this was purely about money.  Davidson had never been to jail and never committed a crime in his life.  After his wife was caught cheating, his son murdered in a break-in, and getting laid-off, this was as good a time as any to jump into the crime scene.

The long-time securities broker wanted nothing more than to take back what was owed him from his former company.  His last deal brought in $4.8 billion from an oil tycoon somewhere over in Asia.  Once that deal was done, Roger was out on his ass.

Roger found Orlando and his brother Luis at a local tattoo parlor.  Once he got them alone, he was a firm believer they would be all for helping the cause.  All they wanted was around $200,000, because that’s how they divided $4.8 billion by 5.  Roger wasn’t about to correct them.  As for Junior and Rachel, well, they just wanted to be a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

Four of them were checking out the vault while Luis watched for movement outside.  While Roger was handling the demolition, Orlando saw fit to start shooting at the hostages.  Junior just stood silently while Rachel began molesting him.

“You know they’ll find you, right?”  Roger’s former boss sensed he could talk the thugs out of this, but to no avail.  It was probably his talking that made Orlando feel the need to blast a hole in his right shoulder.

Roger had grabbed what he needed and proceeded toward the rear entrance.  Junior and Rachel took a breather long enough to follow behind.  Orlando hadn’t moved.

“Orlando, LET’S GO!”  Davidson shouted from outside the hallway.  After no response, he sent Junior back to see what he was doing.  As soon as Junior walked in the room, Orlando had begun unloading his clip on the innocent bystanders.  Methodically and patiently he took point-blank shots at each one of them.

“What the fuck, man?”  Junior didn’t understand what was going on.

“What?  If we get caught, we might as well take some of these fuckers out in the process.”

“We don’t need no more attention, bitch!”

Orlando turned and pointed his Heckler & Koch MP5 toward Junior and started to unload.  Junior didn’t take long bring his Heckler & Koch HK CAWS automatic shotgun to aim at the madman’s head.  A few 10mm rounds from Orlando’s submachine gun grazed Junior and caught him in the leg, but Junior’s 12 gauge managed to decorate the walls and some corpses with Orlando’s brain.  By the time the fighting stopped, Luis had ran back to inform the crew that some authorities had shown up.

“They’re here, S.W.A.T., tons of ‘em, LET’S GO!”  And as Luis ran into the massacre that was hostages, he saw what used to be his brother Orlando dead in a crimson-soaked mess on the floor.  As the tears and rage began to fill inside Luis, he saw Junior begin to limp off toward the rear entrance.  The Spanish obscenities flew, without so much as a breath, even if they were not understood.

“GO! GO! GO!”  Junior was yelling at Rachel to evacuate.  Roger stood there wondering what the hell had happened.  Finally, a cursing madman in the form of Luis came up the stairs firing aimlessly in front of him.  Junior fell and spun to put Luis down but only to be greeted by Luis emptying what was left of his 100-round magazine into Junior’s lifeless body.  Rachel couldn’t even scream but she did have the gumption to blast 12-gauge after 12-gauge into Luis until, she too, was out of ammunition.

Roger was in awe.  What the hell was happening?  He knew it wasn’t a perfect plan, but bloodshed was never really part of it.  Now he stood, staring blankly at Rachel who was crying unmercifully over Junior.  The tears and the blood were making a pool of stickiness that Rachel didn’t seem to be aware of.  After several moments of screaming for answers about Junior’s death, she took hold of the pistol Junior had in his pants and ended her life instantly.  Roger couldn’t help but wonder if she actually saw the bullet make it through her eye and into her brain stem.

After seconds of silence, Roger began to hear a bullhorn ask for the men inside to come out with their weapons down.  The confusion in his mind made him uneasy and unsure of what to do next.  With a sudden stroke of insanity, Roger dropped his payday and began back to the front of the building.  His demeanor hadn’t changed; he was still all business except he had altered the final chapter to his unfulfilled life.

Roger went over to the equipment bag they had brought in and took out an M-134 Minigun with its 1500 round feed-belt.  He headed outside.  The police mumbled something along of the lines of a last warning, but Roger had nothing going on in his mind other than death.  As the words faded out of his hearing, he smiled and began spraying fire in a semi-circle of bloodshed.  Roger Davidson had never felt anything like this, and he wouldn’t go out any other way.