Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
“We are in deep shit now, Terry, really deep shit.”
I laughed at Brandon’s comment. We hadn’t been working together long, the Society had only put us together for the past three missions, but he was apparently not used to my style of operating. ‘Balls to the walls’ was the expression my mentor and my father, Sebastian Thermon, would say to me on a continual basis while I was in training. I started when I was young, so young that my first real memory is me training. I remember nothing before that. And that training had gone on for the past sixteen years, day in and day out, ten hours a day. It was more than just physical training, however, as I also needed to be smart enough to outwit my target, so learned the classics, ancient weaponry, roman history, greek history, medieval history and even freaking calculus. I was the renaissance man in twenty-first century America. An America overrun by demons, vampires and lycanthropes.
Brandon looked at me, his eyes opening wider at my apparent disregard for our circumstances. Sure we had been arrested. Sure we were in the back seat of a police cruiser with our hands in cuffs. Sure we had the murder weapons in our hands when we were arrrested. But did they have a body? Did they have a victim? I told his as much, but he just shook his head.
“You don’t understand, Terry, they don’t need a body to charge us with murder. Under the Pence act of 2017 the mere fact that we have weapons and the cops don’t like us is enough to make us guilty of something. With old man Vibrance missing we’re going to be charged with his murder.”
“It ain’t gonna happen Brandon. Don’t worry about it.”
The back door of the cruiser was thrown open and a man the size of a small elephant reached in, grabbed me by the shirt and hauled me out of the car. He was tall as my dangling feet could attest to. Now, I must admit being held up in the air by an elephant of a man could be a little disconcerting for some people. For me, I knew it was just another act in the overall story and that I needed to play my part: asshole. So I did.
“If you reach in my shirt pocket, friend, you can find some mints. Take one. No, take the entire pack, you need it.” As predicted the man grew incensed and threw me to the ground just as the police reached us. WIth a casual shrug he tossed the police to the side, but the distraction was enough for me to break the chain holding the cuffs together. As my assailant whirled and twirled and make a nuisance of himself I took the opportunity to withdraw the wire from my boots. Yeah, I know, the cops should have done a better job searching me, but they didn’t expect wire, just a bunch of guns, ammo and knives. They found what they were looking for.
With a spring in my legs that I wasn’t sure I still had, I leaped up on to the back of the elephant man and wrapped the wire around his throat and pulled tight. Really, really tight. It dug into his skin millimetre by millimetre but that wasn’t good enough. Demons didn’t die unless you beheaded them and since they don’t breath you can’t choke them to death. I needed some additional leverage. Just hanging from him wasn’t working. And that’s when Brandon joined me. He grabbed one end of the wire and I held on to the other and we both jerked at the same time.
Needless to say, we were successful and the spray of black blood, the stink from the corpse as it consumed itself in hellfire and the demonic screams as it left our existence, demonstrated that we knew what we were talking about. Now if only we could convince the cops of this before he headed downtown. As Brandon and I high-fived our latest point in the win column our smiles were wiped off our faces as we smelled the sulfur in the air. And not just a tad of sulfur, an entire freaking truck full.
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