Supervisory CIA agent Kelly Oshanonhand stirred in her sleep disturbed by something. The moonlight beamed through a gap in the curtains of her hotel room offering some visibility in the darkness. Kelly had long, fluffy blond hair and bright blue--green hazel eyes set in a very pretty face. She stood five foot eight and had very shapely lady curves along with limbs that rippled with impressive muscle tone from her training with weights, martial arts, running obstacle courses and weaponry practice. She was in her thirties but looked younger. She was in charge of a small team of CIA agents. All of them were staying in the hotel.
Eerily and ominously three large men wearing ski masks crept close to her bed. Kelly bucked up grabbing at her gun on the nightstand beside her bed. The men pounced in a pack upon her position. She gave up on the gun because it was a losing battle. One man was on her legs and the other two dropped atop her upper body. Her left hand grasped the small knife under the magazine on the bed beside her. Her blade blurred in a flash of quicksilver that slashed a path through one foe's forearm, hacking halfway through the limb, handicapping him. Phenomenally fast she smashed her forehead into the face of her foe pinning her gun arm in place. The shocking skull strike stunned him as his nose crunched with crushed cartilage making blood pour and his eyes water. His grip slipped on her gun arm as her dagger darted up nipping his neck in a caress of death. The blade bit through his carotid artery and jugular. Blood jetted as he fell back grabbing at his grievous wound. The other man with a mangled arm delivered a backhand blow with his good limb. Kelly's knife spiked in an uppercut that skewered her foe below his chin, burying the blade to the hilt. His flailing fist hammered her head as he fell off the bed pawing at the hilt jutting out of his jaw.
The third guy on her thighs was confused because his partners briefly blocked his view. But when they fell away he vaulted on her upper body, bashing her back as he snatched her throat. Kelly swooned as his huge hands cut off her oxygen and blood flow to the brain. He was too strong and she knew she was at death's door. Her hand formed in what is called a sword hand strike and she jabbed a stab in his eyeball. It was part skill and part pure lucky shot in the dark. He screamed and snatched at his ripped retina. Kelly thrashed her mass bouncing off the bed. Her hands found her pistol as her lashing legs rammed him further from her. Her Glock popped for several seconds spitting flares of muzzle fire and her fusillade found two foes. She buried bullets into bodies silhouetted in the moonlight piercing the room.
To her horror, the men down were thrashing around grabbing their guns. Whatever plans they had to take her alive had just ended. “Body armor!" Flashed in her thoughts. She raised her aim and sledged their heads in a flurry of fire. One of them managed to squeeze a spurt of shots from a machine pistol that pelted the plaster wall raking the room above her low position. She fired a final round that ended his existence. She lay low, panting in the gloom of the room amongst the mauled men by her bed. More gunshots popped and chattered along with booming shotguns. It was a gunfight cacophony complete with screams and shouts. Her team was in a firefight and she quickly slipped on her Kevlar hoodie that Scot had bought her as a gift. She traded her pistol for her shotgun with buckshot and darted for the door intent on helping her friends in the fray.
***
18 year old Scot Lancer sat at the corner bar feeling like a duck out of water. He was a good-looking kid with buzz cut blond hair and blue eyes. But his handsome features were marred by scars on both sides of his head near his face where he'd been shot and had surgery done. A myriad of other scars etched his face and lumpy often broken nose. He stood only five foot six, but his physique was quite impressive with a lot of bulging muscles and lean waist. His oversized Kevlar hoodie hid his build at the bar.
He was surrounded by a Latino crowd in one of the few well developed Honduras cities in the region. Outside the city limits the poverty stricken peasants starved and often existed without electricity or safe drinking water. Scot was there helping Kelly and her team search for a terrorist cell supposedly operating in the area.
"Scot there's three mean looking men focused on you. Directly behind you discussing how to hit you." Sharon warned him while watching the men.
"Really?" He sighed.
"Really." Sharon insisted.
A nearby drinker glanced at Scot suspiciously, not comfortable with a man that talked to himself.
Only Scot could see Sharon's astral soul glowing beside him. Sharon was a former FBI agent that was murdered and chose not to enter the tunnel of light when she died. She was a beautiful woman in life and remained so after death with long blond hair and blue eyes along with a fantastic figure. At times her astral form was foggy and thick and sometimes quite translucent, but she always glowed.
She'd discovered Scot dying and rescued him to save her partner Leia while avenging herself. Sharon liked being a free flying soul on Earth and used Scot to help catch the killers, rapists, human traffickers and terrorists she found and spied on. As an entity of energy, she could fly very swiftly with phenomenally fast senses and extraordinary agility. No walls could stand in her way from her hunting predators. But Scot wouldn't go after thieves or dealers because as a kid he had sold drugs and stole cars for chop shops to make a living. In exchange for Scot helping Sharon catch evil people, Sharon helped Scot cheat gambling at poker and blackjack by telling him the cards other players had.
Scot could see souls because at age 16 he was hit in the head by a baseball bat attack. He woke up seeing souls and the tunnels of light when they opened. He could also see the dark demons from hell when they came through wormholes to drag evil souls to hell.
"Are they armed?" He asked.
"No guns. One has a knife. The other two look like bulky brawlers. They're gonna start trouble and there's a cop car down the block. You should leave." Sharon advised him.
Scot guzzled his beer and got up to go.
"Too late. Here they come." Sharon warned him.
Scot turned around. Rather than grabbing the gun from under his hoodie, he pulled out money deliberately dropping some on the bar and a couple twenties on the table between the men and him. They looked at the cash he left as he headed for the door. He was hoping they'd take the bribe and let him go. But he was doomed to disappointment as the biggest brawler lunged and punched.
Scot ducked his head so the man's ham-sized hand drummed the top of Scot’s skull. Scot stumbled, but shuffled close bringing his stun gun out and up. The flickering fork of blue energy crackled between the metal points and zapped the monster. The impacting energy jolted through him, making all his limbs flounder out of control. He fell flopping on the floor. The other pair hesitated.
"Behind!" Sharon shouted too late.
Another man paid to rough Scot up was at the bar behind Scot. He chucked his beer glass that smashed the back of Scot's skull. Scot spun and was flung down, pounded by the pair. Scot's combination of many real fights and mixed martial arts expertise came into play. He snatched a falling foot with a jujitsu twist of his wrists that mangled the man's ankle with a sharp pop and crack. The dude dropped screaming and seizing his ankle, out of action. The other guy kept lashing limbs and battering Scot. Almost instantly, Scot snagged an arm and grappled the guy to the ground locking a guillotine choke on his throat. The fellow flopped furiously for a few moments before he slowed in the hold, getting groggy. He was passing out when Scot was kicked in the back.
The impact rolled Scot and he saw the guy that cast the glass now waving a knife. The guy dashed and slashed at Scot's face. Scot's robotic fist clubbed low in a boxing blow in the guy's gut. The foe fell gasping, unable to breathe.
Scot spun as the biggest one that had sock his skull tackled him. They went down in a wild blur of brawling bodies and whiplashing limbs. The bigger dude was good at applying his size and strength for a mounted ground and pound position. Scot jammed a thumb in the guy's eye making the monster howl and twist. Scot turned the tables on him, establishing an arm lock. The massive man roared like a Viking, but tapped the floor in submission as the agony jolted through him. Scot jumped up. The others were stirring .He pulled his pistol pointing it at the nearest pair.
"That's enough!" Scot shouted in Spanish.
They stayed put as he backed toward the door. Two cops coming inside didn't offer any warning. They pulled their pistols and started shooting. Scot felt a flurry of sledgehammer blows to his back that smacked him flat on his face. He rolled low below the cops view due to the tables in the way. Scot saw outstretched arms with a gun stepping in and swung his sights to settle as he squeezed the trigger. Scots 45 popped loud and that round shattered the shooter's skull like a melon under a maul. The cop dropped dead. Scot could see the other cop's legs under the table. Scot aimed and fired. The bullet nailed the cop's kneecap, busting it to bits of bones and mauled meat. The cop dropped screaming and holding his hurt knee, forgetting his gun.
Scot realized he'd just shot two cops. He had to go.
He dashed past people out the back door and jogged to his hotel. He was terrified of doing time in a Honduras prison. He was a CIA consultant with Kelly and her team. The American government with its money received full cooperation from Honduras. But killing cops was something they might insist Scot face justice on. Kelly had told him to stay in the hotel and told her to go out anyway. Now all he could do was escape the country as quickly as he could. He heard gunfire at the hotel.
Kelly carefully peered out her door and spotted two thugs with machine guns riddling a room in a rain of rounds. Their backs were to her. She aimed high, lining her shotgun bead on the back of one's head because they were wearing vests. Her 12 gauge boomed like a belligerent beast and slugged her shoulder with rough recoil. Her plate sized pattern of buckshot bullets plunged through his massive head at the wall in a macabre mass of blood, bone, brains, and lead. He dropped dead missing half his head.
Methodically Kelly swung her gun on the other guy. He tried to turn as she squeezed the trigger. Her buckshot blast pelted the perp to erase his face, leaving a meaty mask of blood. He fell dead. The rooms the men were riddling with rounds belonged to two of her team and they weren't shooting back .But a gunfight was still raging around the corner of the corridor where three other agents were housed. Kelly's bare feet tracked through the blood of her slain foes on the floor. She peeked around the corner. She spotted another gunman with an AK-47 and he fired first. He hosed the hall in a shower of shots that punched through plaster and wood like a blender of bullets. Kelly's prone position saved her from the strafing shots stitching along after her. She risked rolling back around the corner as the storm of shots swept past her position. The gunman tried to bring his jumping gun back her way too late. Sharon's volley vectored low into her foe's vest. The punching pellets twisted him like a top that dropped. His sloppy siege of shots hacked high above her head like a hive of hornets.
Kelly’s shot pelted the perp's head and shredded it, marring the man's facial features beyond recognition. The scarred spray of DNA violence splattered the hall wall. Kelly shucked her spent shell with a pump of her gun. The gunshots inside the hotel had ended, but now there was a renewed cannonade cacophony echoing from outside. Without warning a broadcast of big bullets started shearing through the walls as some massive machine guns started hitting the hotel to mow down and mop up survivors. Kelly slithered like a snake crawling away from the rounds wreaking the rooms her people rented.
***
Scot slowed as he approached the hotel, horrified by the major machine guns on tripod's pummeling the place. He struck closer seeing three 50 cals on the back of trucks with big tarps previously hiding them now tossed aside. It was quite a fireworks show from the flaming muzzles and tracer rounds blazing amongst the bombardment. He used the cars for cover and spotted a sentry smoking while standing guard with an AK-47. Scot aimed down the glow worms on his sights. Scot's shots drummed the thug's chest banging his vest. The surprised guy spun and his gun accidentally erupted, hailing the heavens. Scot's next shot shattered the soldier's shoulder where his vest didn't reach. The ramming round spun him around to fall on his face. Scot rushed in and stomped the guy's skull when he tried turning. Scot snatched the rifle and extra clips from his fallen foe. The guy was dazed as Scot took his pistol too and then shot him in both arms and legs to be sure he wasn't a further threat.
The mega machine guns spouted maelstroms of lead hammering through the hotel creating conflagration noise. The place was being leveled as bullets smashed and crashed past the cheap walls. Scot slipped closer on his foes’ flank and his ripped off rifle rattled and roared, spitting a stream of shots that speared a shooter's back and arced towards the truck bed. The driver didn't have time to react as Scot's swarm of shots smashed past the glass and bludgeoned his head to bloody bits. Scot swung his gun and it chattered and hammered the next shooter, punching the perp's body armor and lacerating his left limb. Scot was seen and he dove as a sweeping siege of shots came out through cars seeking to stick him.
In the hotel, Kelly peeked out a dark window on the second floor. She glimpsed two cannons being taken out by an ally, likely Scot. The final big gun spun and spewed shots seeking Scot. Kelly leveled her shotgun bead on the gunman's head and squeezed the trigger. At the fifty yard distance her buckshot pellets partially pelted the perp with two pellets that plastered DNA remains everywhere killing the culprit.
It was over.
The battle was over. But the night was young.
***
In the aftermath Kelly found three of her team dead, two badly wounded, and one missing.
She called the local police Captain that was under orders of his own supervisors to offer her full cooperation and any manpower she needed in her investigation. Ambulances were dispatched for her wounded warriors and she hid Scot from the police until she found out that the two men he shot at the bar weren't actually cops. They were local thugs dressed in uniforms they'd either stolen or more likely bought off crooked cops. They knew who Scot was and about his CIA team in the hotel. The thugs had come in with a lot of fire power. They were street soldiers from the local crime cartel and that could mean the terrorist cell was paying the cartel for protection.
Amongst the chaos, a couple kids named Pablo and Petra approached Kelly with an offer. Kelly spoke their language and listened to Pablo.
"I recognized some of those men. I saw them kidnap the American woman missing. I think I know where they would take your friend. I can take you there. But if I do my sister and I will be marked for death. I will only help you if you take me and my sister to America and give us asylum." Pablo laid out the deal.
Kelly studied him and spoke firmly." If you lead me to my missing friend I will take you and your sister to safety in America and make sure you become citizens. But if you're jerking me around I'll have the local cops throw you in jail for a long time for hindering my investigation. Do you understand?"
"I won't lead you wrong. I'll honor my side of the deal. Do you honor your side of the deal? Agreed?"
Kelly maintained hard eye contact and held out her hand to shake his." Deal." She nodded.
***
Pablo led them to the right place.
Scot moved through the dark forest following Sharon's glowing astral soul as she helped him move quietly. 7 armed figures followed Scot and they used night goggles to see him. Kelly was right behind him and they both heard the music about the same time. They continued until they glimpsed an old farmhouse ahead. There weren't any bright lights on in the home. All the curtains and shades were drawn offering only dim glows. Sharon told Scot to wait while she did a final fly by. She blurred away.
"Sharon's doing a final fly through." Scot told Kelly and she nodded.
Sharon returned and briefed Scot. "OK, there's a dozen gangsters in the first story living room there." Sharon pointed. "They're drinking and gambling. In the upstairs bedroom there," Sharon pointed again," there's five others having an orgy. There's outside guards here and here," Sharon pointed out the half dozen guards outside hiding prone in places or in shrubs." They're armed with some older model Uzi machine pistols, AK-47s, shotguns with buckshot and semi auto guns too. These bad guys need to be killed quickly before they have time to put up a fight. Show no mercy or they'll be able to hold you off and kill many of your people. Agent Moor is being held in the underground bunker here, which the back has a hidden doorway to go through. Once down there you'll find 11 more men on guard duty. Not including the three terrorists holding Moor. There's a vent system I can lead you through to reach Moor and ambush the terrorists interrogating her. But she's being tortured. She won't survive much longer. Time is short."
Scot nodded and whispered to Kelly what Sharon said. The wind moaned through the trees and rattled limbs together as they planned their assault on the enemy occupying the home and yard in the forest clearing.
Scot aimed his RPG launcher and started the shooting. The grenade whooped from his weapon jettisoned in a streak, impacting through the window in a crash of glass that ballooned into a major explosion inside the gambling gangster’s room. Flames flew out other windows and fanned higher as they consumed oxygen and gained power in a mighty huff of expanding air and fast fed fire. Scot pumped the gun, jettisoning another RPG and launched it at the upstairs bedroom. The RPG catapulted through that window and exploded, making the house blow its top like a volcano.
Kelly's RPGs walloped both sheds with shrubs where there were sentries on watch hidden from view. The sheds disintegrated in fireballs that sent slivers of wood shrapnel showering in all directions along with confetti consisting of blood, bone, and meaty scraps of slain shredded shooters.
As Scot and Kelly broadcasted bombs into the buildings that held the other team, gunners focused fusillades of fire on their previously pinpointed targets. More RPGs rocketed blazing fire by the buildings to pound the ground positions of prone gunmen. Screams and shouts rang out from the few surviving shooters. They cut loose with cannonades spattering bullets back at the muzzle fire flaring from the trees in the forest.
Scot's night sights pegged people as they darted and dodged towards the woods with their weapons whipping around unleashing floods of fire at their foes in the forest. Kelly took savage satisfaction in splitting shots that speared survivors, making men dance before dying with involuntary mad thrashes from the bludgeoning bullets. Kelly pelted armed perps, chopping chests and backs along with lacerating limbs. She sledged heads to shreds. Bullets banged her big guns shield, ricocheting away as she shot through the rifle hole.
Scot's torso was tagged by several shots socking his body armor. He fell and fought to breathe again because there were high powered rifle rounds ramming into him. But swiftly there were no more foes firing back. None of Scot and Kelly's six shooters were killed due to their successful early surprise and expert aim along with holy armor and shields to repel enemy fire. Kelly checked on him and he waved it away. "I'm fine. Make sure we're safe now."
Kelly squeezed his arm and swiftly swarmed the scene with the team inspecting the dead. There were a few wounded perps that were gasping up. Scot moved in last and frowned at the burning building. Load bearing walls collapsed and someone inside screamed in agony as they were burnt alive. Scot went to the back of the house and followed Sharon's guidance. He pulled up a ring hidden under a camouflage tarp. Kelly joined him.
"When we open this bunker trap it will expose a tunnel where right now five shooters with automatic weapons are waiting to pour fire into us. We can't use major explosives or it will collapse the tunnel. Take them out and there's a vent system that I can crawl in with Sharon. She can lead me to Moor and I'll have a chance to save her." Scot explained swiftly again.
"Exactly where are they Scot?" Kelly asked.
Scot walked about twenty feet and stopped to point down. “They’re under my feet."
In quick coordination Kelly's team took action chucking flash bangs below so they strobed and boomed along with tear gas.
Several machine guns were lowered in the hole pointed where the enemy was and fanned the corridor in a cavalcade of bullets that sliced and diced gangsters below. The gangsters spouted blind bombardments that mainly ricocheted around the tunnel or struck sparks on the swat shields Kelly's team used while doing the shooting below. Sharon rose and spoke to Scot.
Scot touched Kelly's arm. "Enough, they're all dead. Let's go."
Scot put on a gas mask and dropped down in the tunnel with Sharon leading and Kelly following with a few of the team. Sharon pointed out the vent and Scot got a boost up, where he ripped the metal mesh screen out and climbed inside. Kelly nervously watched him disappear up there.
Scot felt claustrophobic in the very chute. The underground bunker had existed since the First World War. It had a series of tunnels and large rooms for people to stay. The bunkers were defended by the large local gang that was being paid by the terrorist cell for protection. The vent was full of thick dust, rats, mice, bats, and their droppings. He was thankful for the gas mask and gloves. He was moving through pitch black darkness with Sharon's glowing soul leading him along.
"There's three guards outside twenty yards ahead. Move slower and softer Scot “Sharon warned him.
Scot obeyed the advice. He could hear the gangsters talking and beyond them a woman occasionally screamed and cursed while men yelled questions and blows echoed in thuds and smacks. Scot was grateful for the added noises that helped to bypass the three guards outside the door. He finally stopped and peered through the vent cover Sharon pointed at.
There was a dim light on in the huge room. Both visible doors were barred from the inside. Three dark skinned terrorists were in the room and Scot recognized them as they wanted cell members. Agent Moor was nude with her hands cuffed behind her back and legs spread and cuffed to a block that kept her legs wide. She was bloody, burnt, and beaten. Normally she was an attractive brunette in great shape. But she'd been raped, whipped, burned, and beaten while interrogated.
Scot aimed his P-90 machine gun through the flimsy vent cover. His bursts lashed past the cover and arrowed accurately into his first foe’s face, erasing the features, so he was headless from the strafing slash. Scot's muzzle jumped up and connected, cleaving through a terrorist's torso, eviscerating him. The third armed man boiled to grab his gun. A bunch of bullets bit into his back, carving across and cutting him down from Scot's aim. Quickly Scot climbed through the vent dropping down in the room.
"Scot!" Moor gasped in shock and sudden hope.
"Yep. Hold on." He replied coming over and using a snippet to cut her plastic zip cuffs off. Despite her injuries, she grabbed a gun and bolted upright water, gulping to hunch. He turned his back to her and called Kelly on the phone. She answered immediately.
"Kelly, we got Moor and we're safely barricaded. I killed all three terrorists. But I'm looking at a huge stash of C-4 explosives in front of us. I'm gonna pinpoint where the surviving shooters are by Sharon flying back and forth. Ready?" He asked.
"Go, Scot," Kelly acknowledged.
Over the next 15 minutes Sharon flew through the tunnels back and forth between Kelly, the six enemy survivors, and to Scot explaining where everyone was. Scot passed the info to Kelly by phone. The three guards at each door started pounding and hollering for an answer from the three terrorists because they were confused and getting scared, unable to reach anyone else. Kelly's team chucked flash bangs and tear gas around the corner and extended rifles around the bend. The weapons chattered in fierce flurries finding all three foes at one door. The gangsters tried blind barrages back, making bullets bounce around the tunnel without results. Soon Kelly was knocking on the door and Scot let her in.
Moor was forced to put on one of the body terrorist's shirts that reached her high thighs, offering some cover. Her clothes had been cut off. Kelly touched Moor's arm and they spoke softly briefly before Kelly walked over by Scot. There was a huge stockpile of C-4. The three terrorists were dead. Moor filled in the blanks.
"They were discussing Belize. A bunch of American colleges are doing spring break in Belize. There's also a big business convention booked. They wanted to know if we knew about Belize. These explosives are supposed to go there in three days. The bad fact is there's another cell in Belize now with some of the explosives. Belize is a soft target but sneak in with a bomb and make worldwide news for blowing up a bunch of American college kids on spring break and maybe some big wig American businessmen." Moor explained in a dull tone. She was obviously in great pain.
"Come with me," Scot offered her." Let's get you out of here and outside to get medical help. Kelly has this handled. There's a local kid named Pablo outside that led us here to find you."
"Yes, Kelly agreed with a sympathetic look at Moor." I've got this."
Scot and Moor left. Moments later the three guards at the other doorway tried escaping and surrendered outside when blinded by lights and shouts from ready shooters out there.
"Pablo really came through for us." Kelly said to herself staring at a mountain of explosives and mentally mapping out the route she would take to secure the explosives, get her people good medical help, and stop a terrorist bombing in Belize.
Bio:
Tom Kropp’s work has appeared in Chiron Review, Short-Story Me, Down in the Dirt, Churches, Children and Daddies, The Horror Zine, Flash Phantoms, Blood Moon Rising, Freedom Fiction, Dark Harbor, Lowlife Lit, The Listening Eye, J Journal, Evening Street Review, Conceit, Spontaneous Spirits, Bracelet Charm, Spotlight on Recovery, Muscle and Fitness, Outdoor Life, Woodworker’s Journal and many other magazines. His play Jailhouse Confessions was performed at the Kennedy center in Washington, DC in 2019. You can find more of his writings at tomkropp.wordpress.com and Scars Writings websites.