Russell Brooks - Pandora's Succession

The man bent over slightly to look Fox in the eye. “I said get out! I won’t repeat myself.”

With no other alternative, Fox turned off the engine, left the keys in the ignition, and stepped out with his hands exposed. The first two gunmen backed away at forty-five-degree angles beside Single-brow forming a triangle.

Fox stood still, and smirked. “I’ve got to hand it to you guys, being able to get this far without any help.”

Single-brow’s eyes narrowed as he threw an underhand punch to Fox’s stomach. The blow was so heavy that Fox buckled over and fell to the ground, winded. Too disoriented to stand on his own, he felt himself being lifted up and thrown against the side of his car.

Single-brow frisked him from top to bottom and then struck him in the forehead with his palm. “You weren’t told to speak.”

Fox breathed hard as he gave Single-brow a threatening stare in the eyes. That’s the last time you’ll hit me. His two Berettas and his cell phone had been removed. No surprise. At least his diversion was enough to distract Single-brow long enough that he forgot to examine the pen that Levickis had given him.

“Now go to last car. You’re coming with us.”

“What for? I already have a car,” panted Fox, still winded. He knew it would provoke Single-brow, and as expected, he threw another punch towards Fox’s stomach, but Fox swung his left arm downwards in a semi-circle and knocked his arm sideways, causing him to turn in the same direction. With his opposite hand, Fox grabbed the shoulder that fell closest to him while he was off balance. He pulled, spinning him around, while he removed the Elite II, all in one motion, and popped off a shot into each gunman before they reacted.

Single-brow couldn’t move, not with the way Fox held onto him. He gasped as he stared at the two corpses, blood oozing onto the street from the single bullet hole between their eyes. Fox breathed out a warm breath on Single-brow’s neck, just enough to cause the tiny hairs to stand on end, and jammed the sidearm into the small of his back. “No, you’re coming with me.”

“Let him go!” yelled an angry voice. “You’re surrounded.”

When Fox looked, four more men with Micro-Uzis appeared both beside and behind him to replace the two he had laid waste to. The man who spoke to him was among the four. Fox noticed how his face reddened under the street lamp above, exposing his buzz cut.

“I’m warning you. Let him go,” Buzz-cut repeated.

Fox turned and saw Buzz-cut’s entourage. Had they not been there, he would’ve gotten away. Fox threw Single-brow’s gun to the ground and shoved him away.

Immediately, one of the gunmen rushed Fox and pulled him away from his car, shoving him in the direction of the last car they drove. Fox caught a glimpse of his face under the streetlight. He had stubble and a thinning black hairline that he tried to hide with a comb-over that didn’t quite work.

Buzz-cut and another man got into Fox’s car while the others went back to the remaining two cars. Only Single-brow and Comb-over headed to the back car. Fox saw the other cars take off quickly. That was no surprise since there were bound to be witnesses who saw Fox waste the two men in self-defense. Within a few minutes, the entire block would be crawling with police, crime scene investigators, and paramedics.

Comb-over opened the car door for Fox. As he was about to get in, he saw a more fancy-dressed man in the backseat. Unlike the other thugs, he wore a suit and tie.

“Get in,” said Comb-over.

“Wait,” said the white-haired man, looking away from Fox towards Single-brow. “Are you okay, Comrade?”

Single-brow’s mouth slanted downwards on both ends as he looked down, followed by a slow nod. “Yes…yes, sir. I’m all right.”

“Are you sure, Comrade? Because from what I saw, Fox disarmed you and used you as a human shield. Now three of my men are dead.”

“Three?” He looked back at the two bodies on the ground. “Sir, there’s only…”

Fox understood what the white-haired man meant, obviously before Single-brow did. The man pleaded apologetically, but the white-haired man was unforgiving. He gave a nod to Comb-over, who aimed his Micro-Uzi at Single-brow with a large grin. A few staccato shots later, his body was thrown to the ground with blood pouring from his face, chest, and stomach. Comb-over then swung the gun at Fox. He grinned again.

“No, Demyan!” growled the white-haired man. “He rides with us, remember?”

Fox couldn’t help but notice Demyan’s smile drop, followed by a huge sigh. While his weapon was still pointed at Fox, he waved its tip towards the back of the car and stepped aside, allowing him to pass. A hard object struck Fox at the back of his head and the world went spinning.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the white-haired man beside him, twirling a pen. He gingerly touched the back of his head as he tried to look around. Fox didn’t feel any blood between his fingers, and didn’t have to look outside to tell that the car was speeding. Jesus, how many more times can my head take another bashing?

The white-haired man turned to Fox. “It still hurts, doesn’t it? It could’ve been worse for you. I noticed that you’ve made friends.”

“Yeah, I was going to invite him out for a drink, but he had a date.”

“Don’t patronize me with your dull humor. You’re a pest and I’m tired of people like you getting in my way. Lucky for you, I’ll give you the chance to redeem yourself. Tell me, what did you learn from your friend?”

“He didn’t say much. He had to catch the bus. Since you know so much about me, why don’t you tell me about yourselves?”

“You know exactly who we are, even though we’ve yet to cross paths personally.”

Fox took a closer look at the pen the man twirled, as he stopped doing so for a moment. “That’s all right. From the word, October, that’s written on the pen you’re twirling, I can assume that you’re all members of the October Cell of Ares. Seeing how you’re dressed, you’re their leader, and like the other leaders of the other cells, nameless. Do you mind if I call you the October Man?”

“Don’t antagonize me. I know he shared intelligence with you. You’re going to tell me what it is and everything you’ve found out since you’ve been here. I’ve dispatched a squad to go pick him up.”

“So you don’t need me. I guess I’ll be on my way. Driver?”

Demyan spun around in the front passenger seat and aimed his Micro-Uzi between Fox’s eyes.

The October Man threw out an arm with an open palm. “No! Not in here.”

Fox looked into his trigger-happy eyes. “He’s right. You wouldn’t want to stain your boss’s suit.”

Demyan sneered and pointed the sidearm away from Fox towards the ceiling, but kept his eyes on him. Fox knew that he ached to use his weapon, and his face became even more menacing when the October Man did not grant him his wish-this time.

“Joke as much as you’d like to. You may not feel threatened right now. But where we’re going, both you and your friend will tell us everything. And I promise that it won’t be comfortable for either of you. You’re familiar with our classic torture techniques.”

“Of course. Come to think of it, in the past twenty-four hours I’ve had my head bashed in with the butt of gun-twice, I’ve been kicked in the shins, and punched in the stomach. A good, old-fashioned interrogation should be fun.”

The October Man didn’t answer. Fox hoped he could stir up his temper. It appeared to distract him. But the one thing that Fox knew that Ares operatives excelled in was their torture techniques-using medieval or ancient methods as a signature. He recalled uncovering one of their victims in the past. The shirtless man had been strapped to a table with a cage on top of his stomach. Fox still had memories of the foul smell in the room before he had seen the large hole in the victim’s stomach-with a rat gnawing away inside. Apparently the cage that housed the rat had been heated, freaking out the rodent so that it had burrowed its way through the man’s stomach and intestines in order to escape.