Pistol at arm's length before him Warlock swiveled towards the counter.  The old man was either dead or being held at gunpoint from behind the beaded curtain.  Neither was a good situation but Warlock was betting on the first option.  It was clear someone else was in the station with him and they weren't happy.  There was just an "off" aura in the place.  Come on motherfuckers, I'm ready for you. 

    His eyes roved to the curtains briefly and noticed a slight rustling disturb the heated stillness of the air.  Mechanically raising his pistol to the left side of the door-frame he fired off a shot.  The bullet chipped off bits of grey colored wood and the ejected casing landed beside the cash register with a clang.  There was no response for a long moment, but Warlock knew someone was behind the beads.  To shoot or not to shoot was his major question. 

    He answered his own question by pulling the trigger six times.  Blood arced through the beads and went as far as the counter as Vick's lifeless body fell out and onto the floor.  Warlock's eyes widened, "shite," he muttered.  Leaning over the counter he looked down at the fresh corpse.  Vick was staring up at him with blank eyes; body resting against the door frame diagonally.  His uniform was shaded violet in the soaked blood that still seeped out of the wounds and pooled on the floor.  Through the mess he could see two bullets had struck the man's heart, one near the left side of his throat and three more in the gut. 

    "Sorry old man," Warlock clicked his tongue and shook his head.  "Shoulda moved,"

    "gently caress the old man," a voice responded from behind the bloodied beads was his only warning.  A large figure congealed in the heavy covering and an ax head poked through at about chest height.  "Put down the gun and use the knife,"

    "Why should I?"

    Warlock warily eyed the shadow taking up the entire door frame.  Savage was supposed to be about the same size.  shite, this is too early.  Why do I have to meet the wanker now? Warlock thought as he swallowed nervously.  The gun in his hand began to feel really heavy.  "You know why," the deep voice responded quickly. 

    "No, I don't,"

    There was a blur of a shadow as the hulk that was Savage lunged out in a wriggling force of beads.  He leaped over the Vick's corpse and gripped the edge of the counter to use the momentum and propel himself over the register.  It was so fast Warlock leaped back and threw the gun at the mass of man without thought.  Savage was not fazed and landed heavily on the ground inches from Warlock.  He didn't stop there though and gripped Warlock's shoulders to hurl him into the chip aisle of the store.

    Shock of how fast everything just happened stalled the pain as his left shoulder bounced off the tiled floor and the back of his head glazed the bottom shelf.  He groaned as the pain started to lance down from the base of his neck to the base of his spine.  His shoulder was numb as he tried to stumble back up and grip the second of fourth shelf hard.  Warlock warily noticed Savage standing at the edge of the isle with an ax in hand and another strapped over his shoulder. 

    Stumbling again Warlock felt adrenaline surging through him, and a deep rage that would gave him new strength.  Pulling his lips back in a snarl he glared up at Savage.  The hulk-like man was standing at the edge of the aisle and silhouetted behind the grimy orange sun light.  Warlock could only make out vague details because of the blood soaked hooded cloak Savage wore.  It was made of what looked like brown leather but stitched with a dark scarlet thread. 

    Warlock then realized what was wrong with his idea of using a gun.  The hulk had a barreling chest wrapped in a bulky bullet proof vest.  His arms were the size of tree trunks and squeezed loosely by the excessively wide sleeves.  And then as he pulled his hood down Warlock nearly had a heart attack.  He did not want to see the eyeless man who could still see.  "They call me a myth, but I am much more.  Ask me what else I am before I kill you," Savage said calmly.

    The deep monotone dripped with so much evil and pure creepiness, Warlock submitted.  He briefly nodded and backed up.  "What else are you?" he asked meekly. 

    "A father,"

    "So," Warlock muttered, shrugging.

    Savage cocked his head, lifted the giant ax in his right hand.  He released the rectangular projectile with a limp wrist; it was fast and whooshed through the air.  Gasping, Warlock ducked down just fast enough.  There was a grunt behind him and blood splashed into his short hair.  Jerking forward, he turned and eyed the poor bastard who had slunk behind him.

Elena stood still with her little fists at her side.  He noticed her knees slightly shaking and Savage's coiled arms bunching tightly.  It was fear that was driving her to answer that Savage was her father.  A rage was starting to build within him.  Warlock hated when oppressive fear was struck upon someone, especially children. 

    She still hadn't answered yet.  "Elena, answer the question," Warlock said quietly.  His voice held an old authority he rarely used on children.

    Her chin trembled and she looked ready to cry and run.  It happened so fast neither man had much time to respond.  She shook her head  and jerked away from Savage to run quickly down the aisle.  Her crying echoed through the narrow space.  Before she vanished around the corner Savage whirled around and pulled a metallic object from his cloak. 

    Savage made chase and Warlock followed without second thought.  His feet slipped violently on the blood but he caught his balance quickly and surged forward with renewed speed.  All he could really see was the cloak flapping madly and he reached for it.  Fisting some of the grungy cloth he pulled back and wheeled to a stop.  He actually kept going though, being dragged along instead. 

    "shite," he breathed in a panic.  Resorting to the only other option he had Warlock lifted the ax as his free shoulder struck the corner hard in a sharp turn.  Almost losing his grip he struck at the man's spine hard and pierced a small chunk of body armor.  It was distraction enough for Savage to stop but Warlock's chin collided into solid back. 

    Groaning he stumbled back and jerked the ax out of Savage's body and narrowly avoided a swing at his head.  Finally the adrenaline surge worked it's magic as Warlock stood and jumped back.  Savage faced him fully and swung with the ax again.  Warlock parried with a sharp blow to the his ax's broad side but stood strong despite the forceful impact.  He took his own strike with ducking and swinging at Savage's knees but the man was agile. 

    Leaping over the ax blade his boot lifted a few inches higher and connected with Warlock's chin.  His teeth lanced off of each other and his jaw felt dislocated.  The strike made his neck snap back uncomfortably and he felt air below him, not ground.  Screaming as the sliced shoulder met hard ground again he immediately had to roll to the side as Savage cried out and swung down.  Chunks of tile split the skin above Warlock's eye.  His own ax had arced a few feet behind him. 

    Savage had to pull at the ax a few times and Warlock used the distraction.  Bucking his legs up he kicked sideways at the back of the hulk's knee hard.  Flipping his own body over he didn't see Savage fall on his knees.  Without a pause he jerked himself up and leaped for the ax.  Jerking his unhurt shoulder into the shelves of Fritos he swirled on an ankle and turned. 

    The hulk left the ax still impaling the floor and lunged forward as Warlock did the same.  It felt like hitting a freight train head on and the air was knocked out of him.  Massive hands wrapped around his throat and lifted him high in the air.  His eyes widened as there was a brief pause before the hands clenched even tighter and pulled him to the ground like a rag doll.  Warlock saw the ax sliding to the side by the counter before briefly blacking out from the pain.  His spine felt like it had snapped and the hands were still around his throat. 

    Warlock weakly kneed the man in the gut and then brought his leg down again.  His airways were being blocked by the bulky fingers.  All he needed was one second's worth of breath and he fought for it with a vengeance.  He wasn't going to die today.  Especially not by a gently caressing freak of nature some called a local legend.  The hulk stupidly loosened his hold and stood with Warlock still in one hand. 

    Blinking as the blood surged through his body Warlock lashed out with his new energy.  His fist struck Savage's throat with a vicious blow that sent his head jerking back.  He followed immediately by a second and third punch to the nose.  It hurt but he didn't care.  What did hurt badly was the gloved paw of a hand unflinchingly striking his hand.  He didn't even see it but he did notice the thick knee coming up fast and jerked back.

    Gravity dropped Warlock to the ground but he recoiled and sent his elbow into Savage's gut as fast he could on the way up.  He counted three times but they were weak and Savage lifted his knee into Warlock's chest.  Warlock bounced off of the edge of the shelf and winced but swung out.  His wrist was caught and twisted savagely and he screamed.  He wrenched his caught hand back and pulled Savage into a clothesline to the head with his biceps.

    Savage grunted and almost toppled onto his back but he jerked forward.  His lips drew back and a fresh cut seeped blood from below his left eye socket.  Warlock ducked a right jab but lost his breath to a left liver shot.  Doubling over he couldn't move fast enough to avoid the knee that appeared in his vision.  Thick fingers gripped his short hair and flung him to the side. 

    It wasn't as hard this time and Warlock gripped the edge of the counter for balance.  He glanced over his shoulder for Elena.  All he wished right now was a little help.  The little space he had was horrible for fighting with how large the man was.  Blood tickled his nostrils and dripped to the floor and he irritably wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Okay!  I'm done with the story now! 


********



The left arm of Savage had fallen off completely with a little blood spray but the right one was still hanging loosely from a few tatters of tendons and muscle.  His body finally fell to the side with a loud thump.  Warlock numbly wiped his face in vain to get the gore off of him.  "Wow, that was some hardcore shite," he mumbled.

    "What sucks for you is a little fourteen year old beating his ass,"

    Warlock slapped the back of his bloodied hair into the counter and rolled his eyes up.  "With a gently caressing shotgun!"

    "No way I could've beaten him any other way,"

    Groaning, Warlock slipped his hands through the slick blood and stood.  He turned around and looked down at Elena.  More blood had washed her entire head and upper chest.  "Yeah, well the next time you kill someone, do it honorably."

    "Maybe you should quit fighting honorably beat all their asses to hell," Elena shrugged her shoulders and grinned up at him.  He took the shotgun from her and checked the shells. 

    "I thought I could beat him fairly.  Anyways, where the gently caress is my pistol?" he asked, looking around.  The gore of Savage blended with the brains of the bastard who shot off his own foot.  His eyes swiveled around to the left and found the blood from the ax-impaling-eye man in brilliant Jackson Pollock fashion against the orange-y light.

    The pistol's cold barrel tapped his elbow and he grabbed at it.  As his eyes and body swiveled towards the short hallway that led to the bathrooms he fingered the gun stock.  "Well you can't.  And I don't even get a thanks?  Just a 'that was some hardcore shite'?" she almost yelled at his ear.

    "Alright enough, just shut the gently caress up," he told her.  He considered his options.  Two more clips for the pistol hid in his deep pockets, and he figured he'd need more.  Or he could go for the shotgun if it wasn't pump action.  He looked closely at it this time.  It was made of black synthetic material.  "Is this a Benelli M3?" he asked the girl.

    She blinked up at him for a moment, glanced back down to the shotgun.  "Yeah,"

    "How many more shells?"

    "Seven,"

    Warlock nodded and pursed his lips and placed the pistol in the small of his back.  He didn't have a spare holster from his last mission.  "gently caressing hell, now I'll get hardcore."

    Elena giggled and clapped with glee.  She looked demonic from all of the blood, but he was still soaked to.  "I have extra shells down here,"

    "Okay, give them to me,"

    She dug around under the counter for a second.  "Whoops," she said, shoving her arm back under.  "Those are for the Gatling gun,"

    Warlock's eyes widened in horror.  "You have a gently caressing Gatling gun?"

    "Yeah, Perry had everything.  He even created a mini-gat as he called it."

    "Huh?  Who's Perry?"

    Elena jerked her chin towards the giant who lost a foot.  "Savage he wasn't either.  Like a giant teddy bear,"

    Warlock laughed at the name.  He couldn't help it. 

    "You know your back is bleeding like crazy right?"

    He nodded and frowned.  "Love to ruin someone's fun huh?"

    She shrugged and clicked her tongue, running a small hand through her dirty blond hair.  "The one-liner going through my head was pretty funny I think though,"

    "When?"

    "Right as I shot Savage,"

    "What was it?"

    "Eat lead not veggies b****!" she screamed. 

    Warlock laughed, "Yep, I think that's a good one."

    Finally lifting the shotgun in his hands, he aimed it towards the hallway and enjoyed the grip.  He felt like a total bad-ass and he couldn't help a smile from spearing his cheeks.  The stock caressed his cheek like a lover after sex.  "Thanks,"

    "Are you good with reloading?"

    "Yes,"

    "Get yourself a good gun if there's anymore around here and be my re-loader."

    "I can check it out with you?" her voice was excited. 

    "Yes, but hurry, we need to clear the place out."

    Warlock wouldn't have normally let the girl go with him.  But she was great with guns and with how many men he heard Savage had...

    Three men entered Warlock's field of vision from the hallway and a door shut.  The first one to appear was average height but had an expansive gut and long black sideburns with no hair on top.  He was wearing jeans and a green t-shirt with copious amounts of sweat in the armpits.  Warlock sneered at the sight and didn't give the man a chance. 

    It was shoot first or be shot, the second main motto of his life.  The god-like shotgun in his hands mechanically swiveled toward's the man's head.  His right index finger lightly tapped the trigger and the explosion jerked against his shoulder.  White heat burned his eyes and expelled the lead into the middle-man's head. 

    A beautiful, glistening mixture of blood and brains painted the hall entrance and the body fell back from the light.  Warlock saw the gruesome damage it did to the man's gut before the fresh corpse was pulled deeper from the entrance.  He cocked his head as the man's flap-like legs jerked wildly into the darkness with a trail of smeared blood.  White-orange rapid bursts of brilliance bounced out at him.  Warlock leaped towards the entrance and rolled over the body Savage. 

    Pinning himself against the aisle behind cookies Warlock risked only a brief glance over his shoulder.  The Uzi's immediately went off again and glazed by his head.  He didn't get a good chance to look at the shooters.  Warlock moved onto the second (drink) aisle's entrance and ran down to the other end.  Again planting himself behind moderate safety, he looked around the corner to find the two men had spread out. 

    One of the shooters had centered himself along the corner of the hall entrance and was crouch walking towards him.  He was a tall man with flat gut and tattoos of a topless woman on his chest.  The goon's long blonde hair was stringy and his stubble light.  The second goon appeared behind him in a ski mask and the same pants but red shirt.  Goon 2 was considerably bulkier in muscle than his comrade. 

    Goon 2 wrapped a heavy hand on the other's shoulder.  The first goon had stopped over the dead body with the shredded face and looked down in disgust.  "I got the guy, you get the girl,"

    "gently caress off and get the girl.  And get your gently caressing hands off of me, damn I support gay rights!" the first goon shrugged off the second. 

    "I don't want killing a little girl on my conscience,"

    "You're afraid of the bodies over there pussy," Goon 1 retorted.  He was one foot away when he stepped over the blood.  "Now kill that little b****.  We don't need her, Savage is dead.  So she dies to,"

    Warlock drew his lips back and flipped the gun to face forward again.  gently caress the bat violence, just shoot them.  So he stood out of the aisle unexpectedly and pulled the trigger blindly.  The shot went high and blew the florescent light above them to sparks and hot glass.  The men screamed and scattered into the aisle.  Goon 1 slipped on the blood and Warlock jerked the shotgun down and pulled the trigger. 

    He missed because the goon was fast enough but his right ankle exploded in bone and blood.  Goon 1 screamed and rolled out of Warlock's sight.  Both men shot at him through the aisle partition and soda bottles exploded in his eyes.  He stumbled away while slipping on the drinks and headed for the end of the aisle.  Eyes stinging he swung the shotgun until he felt the barrel press against a shelf. 

    The goon's screamed in pain and there was a loud thump.  Simultaneously a crunch sounded and blood soared from above and onto Warlock's arm.  "What the gently caress?" he mumbled, glancing up and standing straighter.  It was silent except for an intense moaning from the other side.  Warlock glanced over the partition and his eyes widened in shock.

    Elena was crouching between the two men.  Goon 2 had a large knife impaling the crown of his head.  Blood ran from his mouth so thickly Warlock couldn't see his teeth despite it's travel down the man's red shirt.  The scarlet liquid bubbled from where the knife entered the head and dripped to the floor from the mask.  So much blood had been spilled today Warlock hoped it would be over soon.  His own blood loss was weakening him.

    "Now that's hardcore," he muttered at her with squinted eyes.  Warlock focused on the gruesome fate of Goon 1.  His long blonde hair was blood matted and he was moaning weakly now.  Elena hugged his shoulders with one arm and held another large blade to the man's crotch.  Blood was still spurting from his torn shaft (which Warlock couldn't see) along the floor in thin streaks. 

    "I can't believe I'll have to live with what you put me through for so many nights," Elena whispered hoarsely in the man's right ear.  She twisted the blade like a doorknob and blood arced and flowed freely from the now completely ruined nuts.  Warlock squinted again in fear for his own nuts.  If he was a dog he'd jump in front of a car if she was the vet about to fix him, it was that scary. 

    And then what she said finally dawned on him.  She was molested often under Savage's care.  He had taken her in retaliation against his second hand man.  Mr. Carlton was actually an undercover head sheriff for the town.  He was discovered as a spy but he didn't get death.  He got something much worse.  The loss of a loved one.

    "It'll be okay Elena," Warlock said loudly.  She finally glared up at him, her lower lip trembled slightly but her green eyes stayed strong.  She nodded, blinked, and stared back at the man in her arms.  "Finish the wanker off."

    Elena nodded again and tore the knife out of Goon 1's crotch with a thick spray of blood.  The girl was still crouching gracefully in the heavy puddle of scarlet.  Warlock flinched at her action and absently checked his own nuts again.  They were in full order.  And then Elena pulled the tip of the serrated blade up to the man's leather belt.  He was sucking in wheezily now, eyes raving towards the ceiling. 

    The man uselessly scrabbled at the ground.  Warlock felt nothing for the man.  Raping little girls was the greatest sin to him.  Death must come to all pedophiles.

    Blade glistening in the light, Elena drove it deep into the man's gut.  Blood squirted out of the large jagged wound as she sawed at the flesh from his belly button all the way to the top of his rib cage.  Goon 1 was screaming the entire in extreme pain.  Elena's face was so bloodied it disguised everything but the wide and enraged white's of her eyes. 

    Finally she finished the man off by placing the serrated edge against his throat.  She whispered something in his ear and slipped the knife in easily.  Elena was driving it in slowly and blood only seeped from the ever widening gash.  That was until she jerked it in deep and shredded the jugular artery.  Gleaming scarlet fluids gushed freely against the floor in a wide cone with a splashing sound.  The blood must have been ankle deep by now.  Some of it sprayed into Warlock's face and he wasn't surprised.

    The goon stopped moving and his head rolled to the side; pinning the knife's hilt to his shoulder.  Elena stood and looked up at him.  Neither said anything and their faces were grim.  They held eye contact for a long time but only silence held a barrier between them.  Heat still suffocated them in it's ever present job of misery.  Blood and shite congealed with it to form a disgusting mixture of unbreathable air. 

    Finally Elena walked to the closer end of the aisle while narrowly keeping her balance against the blood.  She disappeared around the corner and headed for the short hallway.  Soon after a door creaked open and slammed shut.  It must have been the bathroom so she could clean herself off.  There was no reason to run from him.  A great idea actually.  Get cleaned up before they called her father.