Chapter Three #4
Before he can think I have my gun pressed to the back of his skull, my voice low, controlled, terrifying. “Let her go.” Three words, all he needs to hear before his hands are raised above his head, I lean in and take his pistol and radio, leaving him defenseless.
I nod to the girl and she takes off running outside, something tells me she wont report this, she knows the bastard is going to get what’s coming to him.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” I command, producing a zip-tie large enough to cuff his wrists together, I wrap the plastic around his wrists and pull it hard, the thick material cutting into his skin, a hiss of pain escapes his lips.
“Not nice is it?” I whisper in his ear as I shove him into the desk, he lands with a thud on his back, I whip out and wrap my hand around his throat, cutting off his oxygen, his eyes bulge out of the sockets as he tries to claw at me with bound hands.
“Now. Are you going to behave? Cooperate? Or do I have to paint the desk with your brains?” I question him, my grip tightening around his neck as I press the gun to the middle of his forehead, he shakes his head “I’ll cooperate, please…” He chokes out, coughing as he struggles to use his voice.
I nod and let him go, keeping my gun trained between his eyes.
“Sit.”
He does as he’s told.
Good.
“What do you want from me?” He says, voice shaky, terrified.
“I want you to tell me everything you know about Marco Caldera, including where I can find him and what times I can catch him alone.” My voice is steady once again, feeling an odd sense of calm, the weight of my gun in my hand giving me a certain level of grounding.
“Who the fuck is Marco Caldera!” He cries, I tilt my head at him
I produce my phone and pull up footage of him taking advantage of one of the unfortunate women that Marco has gotten his hands on.
“Honesty will make all of this go much, much smoother.”
“I’m sorry man… I’ll tell you anything.” I see tears in his eyes
“I thought you liked it rough Hernandez?” His eyes widen when I call him by his name.
“Your mothers name is Rita, your father is dead, died when you were a teenager, your sister committed suicide when you were done torturing her, the things you did to that poor girl… vile. sick.” I lean closer, clicking off the safety switch and tapping it against his forehead.
“You raped your own sister.” I say, my voice full of disgust as I bare my teeth in a snarl.
“You made her believe that’s what family does, but mommy and daddy never touched her like that, just you, you and your uncle.” I continue.
“Did uncle teach you everything you know?” I begin pressing him where it hurts, where he’s vulnerable, knowing everything that this piece of shit has ever done, has ever had to endure himself “Uncle liked little boys too didn’t he?” I notice Hernandez’s upper lip snarl, good I’ve got him.
“Shut up.” He snaps out, that last shred of fight.
I grin beneath my mask and lean closer so he can see my eyes, letting him see the monster that lurks beneath, I pull my head back and slam it forward, straight into his nose.
A crunch, a cry, a curse and suddenly quiet. I look up from the blood that has dripped into my hands and laugh, a pure, sadistic and psychopathic laugh.
“Oh no! I made a mess!” I cry out comically, leaning forward and smearing the blood from my hands onto his face “That won’t do will it.
” I stand and strike him hard, my fist colliding with his temple, his head snaps with a force that sways him in his chair, his eyes screw shut as the impact hits, a groan slipping free as he tries to shake off the disorientation.
I hit him again, and again until his face is almost unrecognizable.
Once I’m happy with his work I place my gun back between his eyes, they’re swollen shut at this point but he can feel the cold metal, smell the oil that sits in the barrel, feel the weight behind my vice like grip.
“Anything to say?”
And he sings like a bird.
I’m happy with the information I’ve gathered today, I pull the trigger and watch the back of his skull give way to the force that is the nine millimeter round I embedded in the desk beneath him, brain matter and blood pouring from the back, a small well at the front of the entry wound.
I wipe my hands clean, as though his blood taints me in a way that simply wiping my hands won’t fix.
I stare down at his lifeless form and sigh, wishing I had made it last longer, made him suffer the way he has made countless women suffer.
Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me, the Rookie from before, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene before her, I take a step back as she moves closer.
“Leave, I need to call this in or they won’t ask questions.” She says, voice measured, quiet.
“Is your gun registered?” She asks, I simply shake my head once, that’s all the answer she needs.
Before I know it she has her radio in her hand, a warning. I take off running out of the building, stuffing my bloodied clothes into a garbage bag once I’m out of view.
I stuff them into the passenger seat foot well of my car and jump into the drivers seat, taking a different exit route, one I planned before I even set eyes on the warehouse.
My car screeches as I tear down the gravel road.