Law enforcement officers are highly trained driver’s. They are trained to drive in any climate and weather condition, in any situation and do so in a professional manner. Basically, drive the least like a dick out there. Shouldn’t be too hard right? Or maybe, just maybe, they think they are above the law. Maybe they are, above the law. Just not the Rage’s law. He takes dicklike driving from trained professionals as a direct insult and even a challenge. Thank you, he hasn’t been this excited since beginning his metal forging career after I let him watch Forged in Fire on TV. That didn’t turn out like you would expect either.
I got the forge all set up, picked up the correct type of metal and started heating it to the proper temperature. The Rage was all too happy to grab that hammer and start whacking away. Sure, looks easy on TV doesn’t it? It ain’t! Fuck me in the ear hole, it’s a lot of damn work! In the end, he bashed our own hand, sent a hot ember flying down our shirt collar and burned all the hair off both arms doing it. Plan B…. quickly. We heated up the piece of metal and gave Tango a nice tattoo, I didn’t want to waste the materials or the effort. Don’t need the power washer when you have hot metal. I bought the Rage a couple of cool swords from Amazon and called it a day.
Back to professional drivers, not. Jr should have been named Richard! We followed him to see what he was planning for our upcoming meeting with his daddy, you know this itchy sphincter is planning something. Let’s see, he used the lights and siren for no other reason than to get where he was going faster. Fuck all of us lowly law-abiding citizens (you maybe, pretty sure that doesn’t apply to me) who were just trying to go through their day without some idiot ruining it. He cut off 3 drivers, did not signal his turns…ever, and he went through 2 red lights. That was the first mile. Power corrupts, complete power corrupts completely or some crap like that. I don’t really care exactly how the saying goes, I have seen it over and over again. You give someone a little power and it goes right to their head and they think they can do what they want. Might have been true before the Rage came to town.
Jr pulled up in front of a warehouse and 4 men dressed in black from head to toe slid into the rear of JR’s SUV. All were carrying several weapons. Tsk tsk tsk. They are not playing by the rules. I dialed Zulu and set the meeting. I then dialed up my friends Dead and Lee. I’m not sure what their names really are, that’s just what we call them after seeing what they can do with a sniper rifle. They helped me out in Detroit and are watching my back now as well. They are already in position enjoying a snack I’m sure. They eat almost as much as the Rage does.
I arrived at the meeting site and waited for Zulu. About 10 minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot and stops his car in front of me and left his lights on trying to keep me from seeing the fuckerey that is going on behind them. All part of the game boys. Zulu gets out of the driver’s side and Jr the passenger side. Jr opened the rear door and pulled Yankee out, looking much the worse for the wear. I bet he wished he was staying at Chateau De Simon, doesn’t look like he appreciates his current accommodations. I can maybe get him a coupon for a future stay.
They walked towards me and when they were about 30 feet from the SUV, I hit a button on my cell phone and the SUV exploded, the 4 uninvited occupants still inside. What, I didn’t tell them to bring friends. I think this pissed off Jr because he shoved Yankee to the ground in front of him and drew his weapon. Before the gun came level, I heard a thump and the gun hit the pavement with a clatter. Jr started screaming and held up his hand, hole going right through the center of it. That is sure going to affect his golf swing.
I walked over to Yankee, who was still on the ground trying to figure out what was going on, all the while staring into the eyes of Zulu. I shook my head no and his arm relaxed back to his side again. I leaned down and grabbed Yankee by his throat and pulled him to his feet and then choked him out. He hit the ground like a ragdoll, his purpose served. (You remember the prop we used on Field Boss’ wife to simulate death…. I have to give the legitimate authorities someone to play with). Zulu didn’t need to know that.
To his credit, Jr didn’t give up. He should have and he might still be breathing, but bless his cold dead soul, he didn’t. I saw Zulu’s expression change slightly and felt the air around me move. I turned around and dropped to my knees. At the same time, I fired a vicious right uppercut as hard as I could right into Jrs coconuts. I don’t care who you are, any man taking a shot like that is going to know what the ground tastes like. I rolled over and slammed my elbow right across Jr’s face, a loud crack sounded as cartilage shot into his brain. He was done then. I looked up and Zulu was reaching behind his back and I could see his arm coming forward, a crazed look in his eyes. Suddenly, the gun fell from his hand and he fell to his knees. D was standing behind him, his 2nd throwing knife already in his hand.
I pulled the knife out of Zulu’s shoulder and raised it over my head, ready to end Zulu, when a voice came crackling over my ear piece and said something that stopped me in my tracks. The game had just changed….