When one decided to plan a rescue and an overthrow of the established regime, one does not pack along dead weight. We left the wounded and stupid behind. We also left the dead weight that didn’t really want to help with our insane plans. This meant our group consisted of six psychopathic serial killers, including Brent Timmons, who I would not let have the scimitar I had confiscated. Two mass murderers that I was fairly certain were loyal only because it afforded them the opportunity to kill. One contract killer that was freelance and really didn’t mind hanging out in the Fortress, he had claimed the challenge was gone from the profession. Most people were too much like sheep to make the jobs any fun. Five US Marshals including Parsons and Demetrius Lazar, who I was surprised had not gone with the menfolk to rescue the other Marshals. The warden who was a pretty good egg, despite aging not being kind to him. Fiona, who I hadn’t included as a US Marshal, because she was a member of the SCTU, and myself.
After a little debate, we had given Bella the gun that I had been given. Timmons had gotten my baton, which sort of irked me, but made sense since he was technically a swordsman. Demetrius Lazar had given his back up gun to Lewis Branch, a serial killer who appreciated a well-placed bullet wound. A knife had been scrounged up for another serial killer by the name of Adam Grodgen, which worked out because Adam really liked getting up close and personal with his kills. He even preferred killing heterosexual men who liked to beat up women, which rather made him less of a bad guy and more of a wayward soul. The others were improvising with things we had found in the kitchen. One of our mass murderers was carrying a very large, very heavy skillet. I was almost sure it would stop a bullet.
The plan was for them to start at the sixth floor. These doors had not been opened using the master codes, or if they had, they had been resealed. I had hoped to catch up with them, but a man who looked like Frankenstein stopped us on the second floor.
He was tall, stocky and had more scars than I did. He grunted at us, which wasn’t a good sign. I had no Marshals from the secure ward and no references to draw from. However, I was willing to bet money that he had come from that particular area. We had a decision to make. Gunfire would draw attention, attention that we didn’t necessarily want. That left us with hand-to-hand combat and while some of our group seemed eager to test their might, others visibly paled.
“Lance Roberts,” Fiona told me. “Captured in 2002, killed three hundred and forty-six people in the space of three years, super psychopath, and preferred women victims. Took them to the woods, tied them to a tree, and then made tiny cuts on their bodies with a pocketknife. Cause of death in all cases was exsanguination. Caught by Blake, Green, and two other former members of the VCU. Killed the fifth during the take down by slamming his head into the ground and stomping on it, repeatedly, while being shot, repeatedly.”
“He literally performed death by a thousand cuts?” I gave her a sideways glance.
“Yes,” she answered. He wasn’t charging us. I wasn’t sure why. He was just standing there, grunting at us, and making weird hand gestures.
“Anyone speak grunt?” I asked, only half joking.
“No, but you would think he would be trying to kill us by now,” Timmons offered.
“That is why I asked. It is like he is trying to tell us something,” I commented, turning to look behind us. There was no one there. “Do you understand me?” I asked Lance Roberts. He nodded. “Progress. Are you going to try to kill us?” He shook his head. More progress. “I do not understand what you want us to do, but we want to take back the prison. Do you understand?” He nodded.
He took a step towards us. Several people stepped back, but I held my ground. He reached out his hand towards me. For a moment, I thought he would throttle me and I’d have to cut his arm off. Instead, he tapped the badge strung around my neck and grunted again. I was totally lost. He repeated the gesture and then held his hand up in the air. It was below his chin, but it was approximately seven feet from the ground.
“Who were the other VCU agents?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” Fiona answered.
“Alejandro Gui?” I asked. I didn’t know many seven feet tall US Marshals. They just didn’t make them that size. Roberts nodded his head. “He is dying or dead at this point, I’m not sure. Friend?”
Roberts’ face darkened and he sneered. His head shook furiously and he pointed to a scar on his neck. It looked like someone had tried to slit his throat.
“Gui did that?” I asked. He nodded. So, he wasn’t a fan of Alejandro. I could understand that, because I wasn’t either and that was before he tried to kill me. “Do you want to go see his body, finish off the job if he is not dead?” Roberts shook his head. He pointed to me, his finger pushing against my breastbone with force enough that I had to work to remain still. After a moment of this, he drew a line across his throat and then pointed at me again.
“Okay, I do not know whether you want to kill me or you want me to kill Gui or you know I tried and you are thanking me.” I frowned at the large man. He stuck out his right hand. After a moment, I took it and he shook it heartily. “So, want to kill some more serial killers? We could use a super psycho on our side,” I told him. He nodded. I added one giant, super psychopath to my mental inventory. Everyone else seemed a little hesitant about the addition. I was of the mindset that he might come in handy. If he didn’t, I was fairly certain some of those scars could be reopened with a sword and a baton.
We were about to continue when someone said my name. It was drawn out, long and slow, each syllable pronounced, a feat since Cain only has one syllable. I didn’t look around for the voice and its owner. I knew exactly who it belonged to. When I was in college, a serial killer that had attacked me and lived. He’d been rather intent on raping and torturing me and I had been rather intent on not letting it happen. In the fight, he’d gotten a good head bashing from an Anubis statue before I stabbed him seventeen times with a butcher’s knife. I should have stabbed him about seventeen times more, but I had been young and thought that seventeen was surely enough.
“You want no part of this, Collins. Slink back to wherever you came from and we will call today’s match a draw,” I told him.
“I have been waiting a long time for this,” he responded.
“You are either going to die or keep waiting,” I told him.
“Turn around,” he commanded. We all did. He was packing a shotgun.
“You have two shots. We have eight serial killers,” I reminded him. “And there is the possibility that you will have to use both shots on just one serial killer, and then reload. During that time, any one of us could take you down.”
“I don’t want them, just you.”
“You’re a fucking imbecile,” Timmons told him. “Even if you ignore the armed serial killers, she’s wearing a vest and that shotgun isn’t going to get through it. You don’t have the aim for a head shot with that thing and even if you did, you’d hit Roberts in the process. That isn’t going to stop him; it’s just going to piss him off. So, you’ll have several pissed off serial killers to deal with. You should take the lady’s advice and go away.”
“Too much talking,” I said and went to step forward. Roberts grabbed me roughly by the arm and pushed me to the side. The shotgun fired two rounds in quick succession. For a moment, the quiet was deafening. The moment passed and was replaced by screams. Roberts hadn’t even made it to the man, before Adam was on top of him. The knife moved in a blur of up and down motions. He could certainly use it. When he wasn’t stabbing Collins, he was slicing at him. Timmons moved in with my baton. I moved towards Roberts. A small trickle of blood escaped a wound on his arm. In his haste to stop the big man, he had only grazed him. Parsons, Fiona, and Bella all moved backwards towards me.
“I feel like I should protest this,” Parsons said.
“Me too,” Fiona told her. “But I won’t because he’s an asshole who is obviously too stupid to live.”
“Wow,” Bella looked at her sister. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“It’s hard to be around the SCTU and not have them rub off on you.” Fiona shrugged. She really meant me, but there was no reason to point that out.