Chapter 29 Beast
BEAST
It's hot. The air over the asphalt wavers like a mirage as we ride into the empty parking lot.
Towering over us is an abandoned factory, the sun setting behind it, throwing light in our eyes and reflecting off the steel structure.
Kozlov suggested it as neutral ground, away from both our territories.
Fucking ballsy of him to call his side of things a territory, but no one disputes that South Side is our turf.
The faded sign high on the wall says Hellstrom Machining if you squint a little, but there's hardly anything left of the lettering.
A couple of rusted conveyor belts extend from the upper floor, connected to truck loading stations, the asphalt discolored by years of oil leaks and who the fuck knows what else.
Old containers are stacked on one side, almost like they were thrown aside by some kind of giant.
Long shadows create enemies in every dark corner, but everything is quiet.
Too quiet.
"It's a trap. What the fuck else could it be?
" I growl at Piston and Zero as we stop our bikes, but stay ready to move with our feet on the ground.
We're not alone, of course. The Eagles have shown up strong, another twenty or so bikes line up with ours and another dozen have found positions at range to cover us if shit turns sour. We come prepared.
Nobody thinks Kozlov's proposal to discuss a compromise is legit. A guy like him doesn’t go from where we were to a cheery little truce overnight, but we’re here to see what his move is.
King looks my way. "Probably, but we know that going into it. I can't imagine this fucker has the power to rally enough goons to give us much contest."
"Suppose we'll see." Eagle-eye squints as he looks around suspiciously.
"I don't like it," Zero says with a grimace. "We're out in the fucking open, and there's too many places for fuckers to hide. They don't have to be many if they've got snipers."
King nods. "Agreed. They were supposed to be waiting for us." He speaks into a little mouthpiece, "Got us covered?"
Quickshot's voice responds, "Clear view. Nothing comes in or out without us getting a bead on it." If Quickshot can't hit something, then nothing can, but adrenaline's got my senses on high alert.
Eagle-eye takes a step forwards, drops his hand onto the gun at his waist and yells in his booming voice, "Come the fuck out and meet us like men. None of this hiding around bullshit!"
There's a moment of silence, and then it’s broken by the sound of metal screaming as it grinds against metal.
The huge garage door at the front of the factory slowly opens, the rusty machinery protesting with every turn.
I don't know what the fuck is up with all the drama, but Kozlov should be working in a fucking theater.
The inside of the factory is a black hole in the wall. With the sun on the other side and no lights on inside, it's impossible to fucking tell what's going on.
"At least five people moving around, and some kind of vehicle," Quickshot reports. His sniper scope has dark vision. Maybe we should get some of that for the rest of us, too.
"We know you're in there," Eagle-eye yells. "Enough with the bullshit."
Five shapes materialize, walking towards us with slow, measured steps.
The only thing missing is whistling music and tumbleweeds rolling by.
Sounds of spurs, maybe. Four of them are carrying assault rifles, but the guy in the middle looks unarmed.
He steps out in front of the others. No idea who he is, but it sure as hell isn't Kozlov.
"What the fuck is this? Where is he? We got you fuckers covered from all angles. Make one wrong move, and this factory turns into a fucking morgue."
"Mr. Kozlov's busy." The guy's voice is raspy and ragged, like he got his throat cut once, and it didn't quite do the trick. "He sent me to negotiate in his place. I'm Dimitry, his first."
I swear, Kozlov based his whole operation off a movie he watched once. Next I'm expecting vampire cowls and smoke effects. I glance over at Piston, who returns it with a shrug. Drama or not, machine guns are no fucking joke.
"I'm just gonna ignore the fucking disrespect of sending a stooge to do his negotiations here for a moment.
What's his offer? Anything less than staying the fuck out of the Ditch is a no go.
We don't have to own it, and we don't fucking need it, but we're not letting him set up camp just outside our border.
" Eagle-eye crosses his big arms over his barrel chest. His thick mustache bristles.
"That's going to limit our expansion. We need at least half of Detch. The other half should be more than enough buffer for you. Who bothers the mighty Screaming Eagles anyway?" He shrugs. "No one dares."
King scowls at Dimitry, looking as skeptical as I feel. "Funny, this feels like someone daring. I don't fucking buy it."
"He's had time to calm down. To think. There's nothing to be gained by a war between our organizations. Why don't we just split the pot and we both profit?"
I squint into the darkness behind Dimitry, trying to see what's going on beyond the big garage door.
Quickshot said some kinda vehicle. There's something looming in the shadows, and I don't think it's just someone's pickup truck. I know it’s a trick, but what?
Two more guys with assault rifles come out the door and take up positions on either side.
"Ballsy," Eagle-eye rasps. "Considering that we hold all the cards. What’s in it for us? The Ditch is a buffer zone. We don’t own it or profit off it other than as a safety net. Here’s my counteroffer. You stay out of it, and we're not gonna hunt you down."
"That's unreasonable," Dimitry snarls. "That's no compromise. Just a threat."
Something moves on the roof.
Eagle-eye shrugs. "You didn't have to come piss on our doorstep. That was your—"
"Down!" I throw myself at Eagle-eye, just as the crack of two gunshots fill the air, one right after the other.
Something passes by with a high-pitched whine, but doesn't hit anyone.
There's a scream, but it comes from the roof, as a man dressed in black is knocked back by the force of Quickshot's bullet.
He bounces off the wall he used for support and falls over the edge.
The body hits the ground like a wet rag, his sniper rifle landing next to him with a loud rattle.
"What offer was he going to make?" Zero asks calmly, but his piece is in his hand pointed right at Dimitry's head. "Pretty sure there was no compromise there."
"Should've known Kozlov was too much of a fucking coward to even show up to his own ambush," Eagle-eye scoffs. "Or maybe he knew, and you're just a sacrifice."
I don't see this Dimitry guy volunteering as a sacrifice. Kozlov can't possibly have that kind of loyalty among his men. He'd need something way bigger than this.
Something mechanical roars to life inside the garage.
"The fuck?" Piston peers at the garage door.
Whatever it is, the engine sounds like it's running on nails and broken glass. Metal squeals and the thick scent of motor oil fills the air.
"Fuck, get outta there!" Quickshot's voice is loud enough through the receiver that we all hear it.
The vehicle that comes out of the factory is a monstrosity.
Body of a pickup truck, tank treads, armor plates welded to it with narrow cracks to see and shoot through, sprouting barrels like a fucking hedgehog.
And a mounted machine gun on top that swivels as the guy manning it points it in our direction.
Dimitry jumps out of the way, taking advantage of the distraction.
His goons with the assault rifles bring them to bear and then hell breaks loose.
Everyone spreads and jumps for cover. Rebel and Badass gun down one of the guys together, Zero puts a bullet between the eyes of another, but there were more inside.
Had to have hidden deep enough that not even Quickshot's scope could pick them out.
I run for the closest loading station, throwing myself behind one of the support walls. Piston joins me, and Zero a few moments after.
Animal roars and goes down, clutching his thigh. Motherfucker. I aim my gun, looking for who it might've been, but the guy drops in time with a crack from somewhere behind us. Quickshot or one of the other snipers.
"Cover me!" Hunching over so I'm a smaller target, I run over to him as quickly as I can. Piston and Zero lay down cover, and I get there at the same time as Badass. "This way."
I get Animal up and over one of my shoulders, while Badass takes the other side, and we run him back to our cover, bullets kicking up dirt around our feet, but thankfully not quite connecting. Animal grunts when we put him down, but the wound doesn't look too bad. Badass already has a bandage out.
The armored monstrosity turns in place on its treads, while the guy behind the armored machine gun turret on top, spins and puts down fire across the whole lot.
Fuck, you'd think we'd be used to wild stuff happening, but who the fuck expects Mad fucking Max?
The guys with assault rifles are laying down cover fire from behind the walls of the garage, and our boys are taking pot shots at them, but are largely pinned down.
Quickshot and the other snipers pick off targets when they reveal themselves, but there's so much to hide behind that they can't save the day on their own.
"We gotta take out the fucking truck!" Piston yells over the gunfire.
Sure, but fucking how?
"Three prong attack," Zero says. "You guys distract, I come up behind."
"Why the fuck are we always the decoys?" I glare at him.
"Do you know how to snap a man's neck clean in under a second?" He asks it as matter of fact as if he's wondering if I know how to make lasagna.
But he has a point. My methods don't tend to be as neat and exact as his. I get the same result eventually, but it's messy. "Fine. Piston?"
"Fuck it, let's go."
We come out together, guns blazing. I try to put bullets into the cracks in the armor, where fuckers inside are shooting out.
Not easy while running, but as long as it keeps them on the defensive, it means fewer bullets coming my way.
As both the truck and the turret spin in our direction, Zero darts out the other way.
One of the guys with the rifles aims, but doesn't get any further than that before Zero drops him.
Dirt kicks up around my feet. Fuck. Not gonna be much help if I end up a corpse out here.
As Piston and I get in close, it's easier to keep ahead of the spinning. And then Zero jumps up on the back, pulling himself up to the turret on top. The back is open, and he takes full advantage of it. He sold himself short. I don't think the neck snap takes him even half a second.
He drops off the truck, dragging the body with him as a shield against bullets from the factory.
That gives me an opportunity. It's my turn to throw myself at the vehicle, and I use one of the armor plates to lever my way up.
The little gunner's nest is tight, but I squeeze in, and then I'm the one in charge of the machine guns.
I grin like a kid who just got a new gaming console for Christmas.
Suddenly things feel a lot more in our favor.
I spin around, aiming for the factory and pull both triggers.
The whole metal monstrosity shakes as the barrels fill the air with lead.
It fucking shreds through the sheet metal siding and takes chips out of the concrete support pillars.
It doesn't take long before the shooting from the factory dies down.
The last thing I do is spin and aim the machine gun straight down at the top of the truck cab, and pull the triggers. There's no armor on top, and the bullets tear it apart. The truck stops. I don't even wanna fucking look inside.
By the time I'm back on the ground, we've got the situation under control.
The goons still breathing have surrendered.
Animal's gonna be alright. A couple of others took a flesh wound or two, but nothing that Doc or Emily can't patch up.
Zero, Piston and me are good. This shit could've gone so much fucking worse.
Eagle-eye is safe and sound and standing over Dimitry with a gun pointed to his head. Kozlov's errand boy is bleeding from an ugly wound in his side. "Where the fuck is Kozlov?"
He shakes his head, eyes big and staring at Eagle-eye's barrel. "I don't fucking know. He said this would be easy."
Eagle-eye snorts. "He was right. Just didn't say who for."
Then he pulls the trigger.
I wince and look away. The fucker made it personal and took the punishment for it. The rest of the survivors we let go to spread word after relieving them of their weapons. A little fire in the truck's gas tank and it goes up in a fireball that they can probably see from the clubhouse.
Eagle-eye looks at us, taking stock with his steely glare and nodding his head. "That went well. Looks like negotiations are off the table. If it's war Kozlov wants, he's gonna fucking get it."