B.A.C.

[MalReynolds]

Kevin was surprised to get the phone call from Alan, having not spoken to Alan for the better part of ten years.

He walked in from the grocery store, emptying his pockets on the counter and calling for Lisa, who, if you asked Kevin, was the most beautiful girl in the world. As with most men of a sensitive nature, Kevin’s one weakness was his implicit trust in his emotions and his fallibility when it came to admitting that he had no real definition of love and therefore attached himself to women far too quickly to be safe.

Lisa was beautiful. Locks of golden yellow curls that bounced around her face without any maintenance and a laugh that could power a thousand watt light bulb. He considered himself lucky to have met her a in May, less than one year ago. They were already living together, although Lisa’s job often took her out of the house for long stretches.

“It’s part of being a risk analyst,” she told Kevin one night.

“I know. I just wish you could be around more.”

She half smiled at his needy whine. “I’ll be back in a week.”

Kevin had quickly learned that the timeframe she gave was a rough estimate rather than an itinerary, and he never set his watch to her arrivals.

Both of them had enough secrets to fill a phone book. Lisa wasn’t really a risk analyst, and Kevin didn’t really operate a cement mixing truck.

In the prime season, Kevin would pick pocket. In the bustling streets of Richmond, it was more than easy. Cary Street was often overpopulated with young drunk or stoned college types and it was all too easy to slip his hand into one of their pockets and make off with a hundred dollars worth of drug money. During the summer, he could expect to pull in $800 a day easily without anyone batting an eyelash.

It was enough to keep up the rent on his massive studio apartment on the outskirts of the city, overlooking the James river.

The summer had grown to sweltering proportions, however, driving many people indoors to the safety of the air conditioning, Kevin included. He had enough money set aside in a rainy day jar just in case the world came to a dangerous and screeching halt, forcing everyone indoors forever.

The heat, combined with a vicious drought had lowered the water level of the James, revealing a series of large rocks that spanned from shore to shore. Almost every day, Kevin would watch as young people and old people alike would cross the rocks to get to Belle Island, a blessed shaded sanctuary. In almost every one of the jutting rocks was a hole of some kind that led to a pool of unnaturally deep, stagnant water. Hundreds of thousands of them over hundreds and thousands of rocks.
Kevin watched from one of his windows as a small child fell into one of the holes a few summers ago, drowning. The hole was too narrow to lower any person into and too deep to reach down. They brought jackhammers out, but by the time they had widened the crevice, it was too late. The child was taken by the murky water.

That sink hole was irregularly shaped, but more hidden than the others, making it a dangerous hazard. It was just below the lip of an overhanging rock, so any one person who stumbled backwards after jumping down faced the risk of a very nasty passing. The emergency services hated the summer months, especially when there was no rain to raise the water level. There was nothing they could do to force people off of the rocks, short of opening fire. It was nothing but a huge liability.

Kevin had crossed the rocks many, many times before, always tying his hair back with a head band he had gotten from his college frat, Ki Alpha Epsilon. Naturally, he didn’t graduate college, opting to drop out. He was forced out of his fraternity after nicking the wallet from the alpha male of the group and shortly thereafter found work as a small time thief with a wit and charm about him that made him impossible to accuse.

Alan had found the wallet incident amusing, but to stay in the fraternity, had to cut all ties with Kevin.

Which was why Kevin was so shocked when Alan called.

“Kevin Dunnugh?”

“Yes. Who am I speaking with?”

“Alan Beach.”

Kevin paused. “Alan Beach? Ki Alpha Epsilon?”

“We’ll rock you all night sweet Suzy.”

“Jesus,” Kevin said, sitting down. “What occasions a call like this? I haven’t spoken to you since I got ousted.”

“You were a pretty cool guy back in the day, Dunnugh.”

“You didn’t call me to tell me I’m a cool guy. What’s up?”

“Well, I’m in town for a few days. I was wondering if you wanted to get something to drink?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. When? Where?”

“Uh... Soon. Real soon. It’s gotta be soon.”

“Okay... You free tonight?”

“Sooner.”

“Well, I’m free right now.”

“Golden. Meet me on Belle Isle, near the foot bridge.”

“The one near the pond or the one near the reservoir?”

“The one near the reservoir.”

“You bringing the drinks, Alan?”

“Of course.”

Kevin smiled and hung up the phone, changing into a black t-shirt and khakis before stepping outside of his apartment and making his way across the rocks.

-

Alan was worse for the wear, pacing back and forth at the bottom of the bridge, hanging out under one of the supports. Kevin didn’t see him at first.

“Hey, over here.”

Kevin turned around, confused, and walked right past Alan. Alan reached out and touched him arm.

“Under here.”

“Hey, Alan. Are you okay?”

Alan nodded. His eyes were dropping like he hadn’t slept in a few days and his clothes were torn up. A festering bite mark adorned his left arm.

“No, you’re not okay. What’s going on, Alan?”

“A fight with my wife. You think I could crash with you for a while?”

“What about that bite on your arm?”

“Dog. Here, have a drink.”

Kevin nodded along, uncomfortable.

“You first.”

Alan shook his head and tipped the bottle to his lips, taking a swig.

“Your turn.”

Kevin grabbed the bottle and took a swig. It was very sweet.

“Should we get you to a hospital, man?”

“No. Let’s not talk about how I look. Come on, just sit down. We’ll play catch up.”

-

They talked at great length about where their lives had gone, the divergent lines since their parting at college. Alan worked for a factory group off the coast of California that was under scrutiny by the IRS for tax evasion and had subsequently been laid off.

“That’s not good,” Kevin said, his speech slurring as he took another swig.

“No,” Alan said. “Not good.”

They both heard feet on the foot bridge above. Alan stared at the sound, unblinking.

“You waiting for someone, Alan?”

“I can’t do this, Kevin.”

“What?”

From his pocket, Alan produced a small box with an orange straw at the end.

“What’s that?”

Alan tossed it to Kevin.

“You remember McKlusky?”

“Sure. Philosophy professor.”

“Yeah. You need to get that to McKlusky.”

“How do I open it?”

“You? You don’t. Blow into the straw.”

Kevin did. The box beeped several times, but nothing happened.

“Came up with that in California. Tried to shop the idea around, it never stuck. Put your car keys in the box, drink too much, box won’t open. Get a clear BAC, box opens, you get your keys.”

“Why’d you give me your keys?” Kevin asked, giggling.

“Those aren’t my keys in there. I can’t do this, Kevin.”

“What’s in here if it’s not your keys?”

“You need to get that to McKlusky.”

The sound of feet overtop grew louder.

“And you need to go now.”

Before Kevin could say another word, Alan had pulled a revolver from his waistband.

“Get out of here.”

Alan moved the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger, sending a fine spray over the support of the bridge. His body slumped towards the river, his arms falling loose at his sides.

Kevin could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he choked it back down.

“Son of a bitch, son of a bitch,” he muttered. The footsteps grew louder and moved down the stairs, around to the support where the three armed soldiers found Kevin slouched against the support.

“Is everything all right here, sir?”

“No, no, no, man, Alan shot himself, he shot himself in the head and –“

“Do you have the box?”

“What?”

“Kevin, do you have the box?”

Kevin paused, staring at the soldier directly in front of him. He blinked a few times, staring at the commendations the soldier had received that crossed his chest. They weren’t from the US army.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Where’s the box?” The lead soldier asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The soldier on the right moved forward and slammed the butt of his gun against Kevin’s shoulder.

“Where’s the box?”

Kevin bit his tongue, his eyes welling up.

This just wasn’t his day.

“I don’t have any box.”

Before the soldier could strike him with the gun again, Kevin produced the small revolver that Alan had used and fired once into the soldier’s leg. He cried out in pain and fell forward. Kevin caught him and held the man’s temple against the revolver.

“Back off, both of you.”

It was an empty threat. The lead soldier fired a shot into the captive’s head.

“Where’s the box?!”

Kevin wasted no time bringing up the side arm from the dead soldier and burst firing a few times into the lead soldier. Before the left flank could even turn, he was on the ground, bleeding out of seven different holes.

“****, ****, ****, ****, ****,” Kevin whispered, moving over to Alan.

“What the hell is going on, man. What the hell is going on!”

He reached into Alan’s pockets, looking desperately for car keys, but finding nothing. In his back pocket, he found a folded up piece of paper. He quickly unfolded it and looked it over.

It was a note to him that Alan had forgotten to give before exiting.

“McKlusky is the key to this, Kevin. They’re after me. If you can’t get it to McKlusky, you make sure no one can get it.

“Alan.”

Kevin sighed and stood up as he heard the sound of more boot approaching from the foot bridge.

“Oh, Christ.”

[whiteflame]

I like it, its my type of story, although most likely your going to get me addicted to this story.

[MalReynolds]

“Oh, Christ.”

He moved under the support, hiding in the shadows until he could no longer hear the footfalls of the troops. Kevin ducked down, rifling through the pockets of the dead man closest to him and pulled a small slip of paper out. Only the words “Belle Island,” followed by Russian script followed.

“Russians? Are you kidding me?”

Kevin turned around, sending his fingers down his throat and expelling a fair amount of the noxious liquid from his stomach, sending the bile splashing to the ground around his feet. He paused, listening for oncoming feet but there was nothing. In silence, he pulled the box from his pocket and blew into the straw. It beeped three times, but did not open.

The trees across from the footbridge began to shake lightly as if someone were approaching but had lost their way. Not willing to take another chance, Kevin ran into the hot field towards the tree line, stumbling over his feet and clutching the revolver by his side.

He burst through the trees, brushing past branches left and right, trying so hard not to fall over any of the roots that were sticking out of the ground, trying hard not to mistake the branches that were grabbing at him for Russian military, trying to keep his head cool all while it was swimming.

If the alcohol didn’t have an effect, the situation certainly did.

Unfortunately, the alcohol did have an effect. That sad, strange effect that overtakes so many people every day. Kevin began to breathe heavily, trying to regulate his breathing, in his nose, out his mouth, in his mouth, out his nose, through his ears and out his eyes, all the same. The ground, with every step, was rushing up not only to meet his feet, but his eyes, and his head, and his arms.

When Kevin finally stabilized himself, he realized he had rolled down a fairly large hill and was sitting like a damned fool with his lets in patty-cake position and the revolver hanging loosely next to his crotch. Shaking his head, he stood, and stared across one of the few lakes that dimpled Belle Island. He collapsed to his hands and knees and stared at his reflection, past himself and into the sun.

“What the **** is going on?”

Naturally, his reflection abstained from answering him.

Kevin made the mistake of blinking, and in that second a Russian was upon him. His eyes opened and met the eclipse of the sun via the head of the tiny Russian, and he dove forward into the water. The Russian shouted something in a language that sounded very much like Russian, and began firing his gun into the water.

Kevin dove down, pushing the water out of the way and affording a glance every now and again to watch the bullets streak the water. Reaching the bottom, a good ten feet down, he grabbed onto a root and tried to make out the shape of the Russian on the shore above, but the water was far too murky.

Within seconds, his lungs began to burn and he let out his breath, sending a squadron of bubbles to the surface.

More gunfire, but the bullets stopped just short of Kevin, meeting heavy resistance in the water. They curiously dropped like fallen angels all around Kevin, whose face, in all of its glory, purpled.

He grabbed a rock and swam quickly back up to the surface, his vision narrowing as he approached the breaking point.

The Russian was in the water, preparing to dive down and remove the box from the dead man. Kevin surfaced behind him, and without a second thought brought the rock down upon the Russian’s head, knocking him unconscious and sending him to the bottom of the lake with the weight of his equipment.

Gasping, Kevin swam to shore, collapsing and pulling the revolver from his waste band. The bullets were absolutely useless now.

When his vision cleared, he clambered back up to his feet, kicking a spray of sand into the water.

“Just not my day,” he said under his breath, turning back to the forest. Instead of climbing back up the hill he had recently tumbled down, he began to walk at the foot, the crease where hill met flat land.

The sound of footfalls echoed behind him.

“And I can’t get a break, either,” he said, quickening his pace and dashing headlong into the overgrowth. They had to be communicating by radio, otherwise how would they have known his position? The Island is a large place.

In a drunken fit of lucidity, Kevin grabbed a tree branch and began to pull himself up, standing crouched on a branch, waiting for the squad to pass.

Five of them ran forward, none of them bothering to look up except the very last, who had been splashed with the water that still ran off of Kevin.

Their eyes met briefly as Kevin jumped down, full tackling the soldier to the ground. The soldiers head smacked against a rock, but it didn’t stay grounded for long. Kevin pulled the body up and fired the machine gun at the other soldiers, using the body as a shield. It would have been practical had the enemy been firing at all, but Kevin quite literally had the drop on them.

Slinging the gun around his shoulder, he loaded extra clips into his pockets and continued pressing forward.

He could see his apartment from the broken bridge that sat next to an abandoned hydro electric plant. Nothing stood in his way except the rock path that he had crossed hours earlier to meet up with Alan.

How long ago that seemed.

They would probably be waiting for him back at the apartment. They would probably be holding Lisa captive, willing to exchange her for the box or its contents. Why else would anyone be in love except as a bargaining chip?

Instead of crossing the rocks, he jumped down off of the bridge next to the plant and entered through a broken window. All the machinery had been looted shortly after the plant shut down, leaving nothing but a trash strewn floor. The stairs that originally led to the second floor were nothing but a pile of debris directly under the landing they used to lead up to.

Kevin leaned back against the wall, and stared up at the hole in the ceiling. The sun was moving so fast.

Time would stand still for no one.

Bats descended from the ceiling, circling Kevin before flying out of a window.

“Someone’s down there.”

“What?”

The voices were detached. Kevin pulled the gun up to his shoulder and kept an eye on the landing.

“The bats flew out. Someone messed em’ up.”

“Just keep quite. They might hear us.”

“Whose up there?!” Kevin called out. His voice sounded strange to his ears.

“****.”

“Whose UP THERE?! I swear to God if you’re Russian I’m going to shoot you where you stand!”

“Russian? You’re a Russian!”

“Do I have an accent? DO I STINK OF ALCOH – DO I HAVE AN ACCENT?!”

A face appeared over the landing.

“Jesus Christ, Kevin Dunnugh?”

Kevin stared up at the eyes. The face was obscured by a black mask.

“Yeah. Kevin Dunnugh. Who the hell are you?”

The mask came off, revealing a thin white face with a puff of blonde hair. Another head popped up behind him, liberty spikes ready to launch off of the mans head.

“Nick Basil?”

The blonde man nodded.

“Ki Alpha Epsilon,” Nick said.

“We’ll rock you all night sweet Suzy,” Kevin said back. “I haven’t seen you since I stole your wallet.”

“Frankie, lower the ladder. It’s Kevin, man.”

“Kevin?”

“Yeah.”

Within seconds, a rope ladder had lowered. Kevin helped himself up onto the second floor.

The first thing he noticed was the windows – they were painted almost entirely black with small spaces at the corners that had been left untouched.

The second thing he noticed happened to be the large gun that Frankie was holding.

“I can’t shoot this thing for ****. Got a bent scope,” he said, frustrated. “What the hell is the point of any of this if I can’t snipe?”

Eric was pulling the ladder up. “He whines about that. We’ve been chased for two days and he complains about his scope being bent.”

“The Russians?” Kevin asked.

Eric nodded. “Yeah. They were after me, Frankie and Alan. You remember Alan, right?”

Kevin shook his head. “Of course. Why are they after you?”

Eric laughed. “Why are they after you?”

“They think I have something.”

Frankie perked up. “What? Do you have it?”

“Have what?”

“We left a box with Alan – it’s very important. Do you have that box?”

“I haven’t seen Alan in 10 years. Since you kicked me out of the frat, Eric.”

“Godammit, they might have the box already then. I hope Alan found McKlusky.”

“What happens if the Russians get the box? What box?” Kevin asked, sliding back.

“A box that shouldn’t be opened by anyone that can’t understand what’s in it. I helped make it and I can’t even – I wouldn’t even want to open the ****ing thing. McKlusky, he’s the only person.”

“What’s IN the box?” Kevin asked.

“Need to know basis, Kevin,” Eric said. “And I don’t really think you need to know. But we’re all in the same boat here. The Russians are after all of us.”

“Who are they? Army? KGB?”

Frankie sighed. “No, man. They might be political, but their tats make em’ mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries...”

“Yeah. They’re probably working for the Kremlin, though. Oh, what the **** do I know,” Frankie said, sitting down.

“Two days... How long have you two been up here?”

“Ten hours. Enough time to see three or four squads of mercs run past. Makes me think they don’t have the box, they way they’re running around.”

“One of the squads even checked the building, but didn’t think there could be anyone up here.”

“You two are a regular bunch of Anne Franks,” Kevin said, cracking a smile.

[whiteflame]

Waiting for you to post the next chapter...

[FoJaR]

wet bullets work

[ShastaTwist]

Sounds like Mal didn't do enough research.

[whiteflame]

haha. I'll research that.

[MalReynolds]

To my knowledge, once water breaches the poweder, the bullet can't spark enough to create the combustion required to fire the gun.

Even so, if water hits the bullets, there's still a high chance they'll misfire.

Also, psh. Research.

[whiteflame]

Post The Next Chapter.

[MalReynolds]

“Sue us. I don’t plan on dying at the 11th hour, so don’t jinx us.”

“Sorry.”

Eric moved to the wall, leaning back. “I just can’t get over the box, man. McKlusky is the only person that should open it. If anyone else... They’ll **** it all up.”

“Right. McKlusky has to open the box that has the mystery item inside of it. The mystery item that no one is allowed to know. Can I at least know what it’s called?”

Eric and Frankie grinned at each other. “We named it the MacGuffin.”

“And you two, you think you’re clever?”

“Oh, we are,” Eric said.

“If you’re so clever, how come I got your wallet again? Frank said, holding his hand out. The smile quickly vanished from Eric’s face.

“I forgot how good you were at that.”

Kevin nodded. “I hate to do this, but I’m ****in’ beat... And a little drunk. You guys think you could handle it if I let myself fall asleep?”

Frankie nodded and tapped the barrel of his gun twice with his ring finger, the sound of metal on metal echoing slightly in the abandoned building.

“Well, goodnight, then.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Kevin.”

“The good ****ing afternoon. Christ.”

-

He awoke to the sounds of Eric and Frankie arguing quietly amongst themselves.

“I hear their leader is a real killer, man,” Eric said.

“Of course their leader is a killer. They’re leading a pack of ****ing mercenaries!”

“What should we do about Kevin?” Frankie said, sighing. “He had the box the entire time.”

“Oh, **** it,” Kevin said sitting up. “Yeah, I had the box. Big deal. I wasn’t going to open it.”

“Like hell,” Eric swung his gun around. “Like hell. I bet you’re working for the Russians, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

Frankie stood up, rifle in hand. Kevin reached down, but his machine gun was resting against the wall.

“You know. Of course you know. Working for the Russians like that. Where’s Alan?”

“He offed himself. That’s how I got the box. He told me to get it to McKlusky.”

“Bull****.”

“Call bull**** all you want, but that’s what happened. About two miles from here, under the foot bridge is Alan’s body. He shot himself in the head with a revolver.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Frankie said.

“You can’t trust a thief.”

Kevin frowned, pushing himself to the standing position and swiftly grabbing a rock.

“Look, I don’t know what’s in the box. I don’t want to open the box. I want to keep it away from the Russians and I know McKlusky has to open it, but I want to know WHY the Russians want it.”

“This whole thing is a trap, man,” Eric said, pulling the slide back on his pistol.

“Fine, then,” Kevin said, rearing back and pitching the rock through the painted black window. In the five seconds it took Eric and Frankie to react, a gun was fired from the roof of Kevin’s apartment across the river, through the trees, and into Frankie’s body, where it decided it did not want to take up residence and continued on, lodging in Eric’s skull.

They both pitched forward.

In the five seconds it took the sniper to locate the disturbance and fire, Kevin had dropped the ground, rolling the ladder out. Without raising his head or arms, he grabbed his machine gun and took the box from Eric’s cold hand, clambering down the flimsy ladder as quickly as he could.

He hid behind a tree, ducking out occasionally, but the sniper had moved on, perhaps afraid of drawing police attention.

“Gotta find McKlusky,” Kevin said to himself as he made his way to the rocks.

It was less then a minute on the rocks before he heard the sound of the air splitting three hundred times a second behind him.

And within moments the Apache was bearing down on him, spotlight illuminating his path and casting a shadow behind him.

“What the ****!”

Kevin picked up his pace, running, as the machine guns kicked in behind him, tearing up the rocks where he had been standing moments earlier. Twisting in the wind, the ‘copter straightened itself out.

The Russians has bought the Apache dirt cheap, never thinking they would really have to use it for anything like this, and thus had opted out of a laser targeting system for the guns.

Kevin kept a fast run across the rocks, cresting one and diving down onto the next, avoiding the murky water of the James but trying to find a place, any place to hide. There was nothing. There was a football field of uneven stone and bullets between himself and the apartment, as well as a roughly painted black Apache.

The ‘copter circled back around, firing again, this time cutting in front of Kevin. He stopped and doubled back, forced to run upstream towards a broken sky-bridge.

Salmon had it easier.

“Gimmie a bear, gimmie unbeatable ****in’ odds!”

But his cry was lost to the sound of the rotors cutting up the night sky. The Apache sloppily turned towards Kevin and started firing the guns again, but the left most chain jammed, the gun falling off of the helicopter.

The Apache turned back, preparing for another sweep with just one gun.

Kevin crested the top of a rock and dropped down, losing his footing and tumbling backwards into a sink hole. His mind flashed to the child he had seen drown three years go. This pit had claimed a life already.

Kevin sank down, deeper and deeper, until he reached the bottom. He could no longer see the surface.

Quickly, he pulled the box out and took a deep breath, blowing into it. It beeped three times, lighting up just enough for Kevin to see the veritable cavern he was. Shadows swirled across the room and Kevin saw that this cave had another hole, a possible exit.

He dropped the box, and swam quickly to the opening. He swam upwards, careful not to bash his head on any overhanging rocks, but the tunnel was tight. It cut through the rock at a 45 degree angle upwards. Hand over hand, he pulled himself to the surface, coming out of another sink hole by a downed tree, near the shoreline.

Standing by the trees, he watched as the helicopter circled around, trying to find him.

He smiled to himself.

The smile faded as he felt cold metal against the back of his neck.

“The box.”

“I don’t have it.”

A gun ****ed behind him.

“The box!”

“I don’t have it!”

“Where is it!” The gun dug into his flesh.

“I’ll never tell you.”

“Oh, right. We don’t have ways of making you talk or anything.”

His arms were ripped behind him and he felt the cold steel of handcuffs slide over his wrists. There was an audible click as they locked in place.

“Oh, Jesus,” Kevin said. “I’m about to puke!”

Before they could slap the other cuff on, his hands were in front of his face holding back vomit.

The Russian grabbed his hand and slapped the cuff down, his hands out in front like a prisoner on a chain gang.

“You’re coming with us.”

“Us?”

Kevin turned, and watched the woods come alive. People up under blankets of leaves, pulled around from behind trees. On the moonlit hill, Kevin caught a glimpse of the sniper that had saved his life, but to what end? To take it another day?

He shuddered. All he could make out was the silhouette of the tiny person, leaning against their gun.

“That’s improper rifle maintenance!” He shouted.

They dragged him up the hill towards a black SUV, opening the back door and tossing him inside. There were no interior door handles in the back. There was a Plexiglas divider between Kevin and the driver. He was cold, wet, miserable, filled with adrenaline and shaking.

Grinning, he slid the key to the handcuffs from under his tongue and let the small piece of silver drop to his waiting hands.

[FoJaR]

Originally Posted by MalReynolds

To my knowledge, once water breaches the poweder, the bullet can't spark enough to create the combustion required to fire the gun.

Even so, if water hits the bullets, there's still a high chance they'll misfire.

Also, psh. Research.

lolololol are they useing old pirate one shot ramrod loading takes 293843 hours pistols?

because ammo can get wet.

[FoJaR]

also if you want you could write mroe and that would be fine

[MalReynolds]

I ended up hating the story and turning it into an action cliche farce which ends with Kevin and Lisa killing an eight foot tall man with the head of a chicken.

If you all really want the last part, I'll post it, but it's not worth it.

[whiteflame]

Post it, way to kill my favorite story yet, you jackass.

[MalReynolds]

He rode in silence for ten minutes before growing bored with the back seat. He hit the divider, and felt the car swerve.

“HEY! CAN YOU TURN ON THE RADIO?!”

There was no response.

“I know you can hear me! You swerved, asshole! Cut the radio on!”

Suddenly, a click and the sound of static filled the back seat.

And within second, the Russian folk music began blaring.

Kevin tried to hit the divider, tried to yell, but the music was too loud. He spent the remainder of the car ride squeezing his hands together, cringing, crying, vomiting.

The event, in and of itself, was intense.

When they finally reached the nondescript building on the outskirts of Richmond, Kevin was near dead from the banjo and high pitched warbling. He spilled out of the back of the SUV onto the ground, staring up at his captors.

“So, you’re just going to torture me, then?”

“Until you tell us where to box is.”

“Go to hell.”

They picked him up and dragged him into the building. It was an abandoned warehouse – what better locale to set up a base of operations than an abandoned warehouse – with two floors. Floor one looked to be a pressing room back when the building was useful. They dragged Kevin up a flight of concrete stairs into the corner office, which sat on stilts and overlooked the factory floor.

The corner office used to belong to the foreman of the warehouse, before the building was left for dead. Opposite of the stairway was another door which led into the accounting and administrative offices of the building. Eventually, the hallways behind the foreman’s office looped back around, down a flight of stairs, and out into the pressing floor.

The Russians sat Kevin down in a wooden chair. He quickly surveyed his surroundings, and frowned when he realized the closest object was a particularly large Russian named Ivan who was carrying 60 pounds of rope in one hand and a phone book in the other. Kevin sighed, discreetly slipping the keys into the handcuffs. Ivan dropped the rope at Kevin’s feet, grinning, and Kevin brought his legs up against Ivan’s testicles. Ivan doubled over, and Kevin applied a great amount of pressure with both of his fists simultaneously to Ivan’s nose, which caused Ivan to recoil backwards and fall through a large glass window and onto the factory floor below. Ivan wasn’t quite dead and was swearing revenge on Kevin under his breath, something along the lines of, “That really ****ing hurt, Jesus Christ, I was just going to give you that rope as a present and then you’ve gone and made me want to kill you...”

The other two Russians in the room seemed to be caught unaware, and then seemed to be caught with a chair smacking across their faces as Kevin picked up the wooden chair and brought it over their faces once, twice, three times! A fourth rendered one of them dead and the other into a blubbering pile of blood, teeth, and autism.

Rearming himself, Kevin reached down and took one of the machine guns from the dead Russian and nudged the bleeding one with his foot. No longer a threat, Kevin left him alone, stepping out through the back, into the office section, slamming the door behind him. There was a loud noise that can only be akined to the sound of a ten ton room collapsing thirty feet behind him, and when Kevin opened the door, he was surprised to find that the office had fallen. He stared down at the wreckage at Ivan’s legs, which were sticking out from under a large concrete beam.

Now Ivan was quite dead.

Keeping his head down and firing a shot at a curious mercenary who came out to see what the ruckus was every few seconds, Kevin made his way down the hallway, eliminating a large amount of mercenaries. By the time he reached the end of the hall, over ten had come out to see what the room collapse sound was, and seven more had been intrigued by the sound of gunfire. Only one slightly depressed Russian had been intrigued by the sound of imminent death.

Kevin dropped down the stairs, moving towards the door that would put him on the pressing floor, and kicked it open.

The work day starts at 8 a.m.

About five hundred Russian mercenaries had punched in and were standing in single line formation, watching the front door.

As quietly as he could, Kevin tried to turn around and go back up the stairs, but accidentally dropped his gun, sending a spray of gunfire every which way, and sadly alerting every Russian in the room (with the exception of Mikhail, he was at the front and was sadly deaf) to his presence. Before they could shoot Kevin, the front wall exploded in a fine spray of powder and inferior architecture.

In swarmed a thousand troops shouting things like, “Cheerio!” and “Let’s take the lift!”

Kevin had never been more glad to hear the British in his entire life. He stooped down, picked up the gun, and helped eliminate the Ruskie threat.

BANG!

BAM!

BULLET COMIN’ ATCHA!

ZING!

ZONG!

RIGHT PAST YOUR EAR!

There goes a brit, rappelling down the back wall without a rope!

Watch as Kevin dive-shoots six Russians in a row!

Time crawled. What felt like an hour went by, and the majority if the Russian threat had been eliminated. Kevin moved tentatively towards the British troops, who were standing at attention.

“Thank you all for saving my life,” Kevin said.

A voice called from the back of the room, small and female.

“It’s no problem, Kevin.”

Kevin turned. The voice lacked an accent and sounded very much like Lisa.

Much to Kevin’s surprise, it was Lisa. She moved forward, sniper rifle in hand.

“This isn’t risk analysis,” Kevin said, bewildered. “What the **** are you doing here?”

“Saving your life.”

“That’s okay, I guess.”

She smiled. “So, do you have it?”

“Have what?”

“The box.”

“Jesus ****ing Christ I’ve had it up to my ****ing brow line with that thing! NO! I don’t have the box! I’ve been chased all day I’ve been shot at and I’ve almost drowned six or so times, two of my college friends died –“

“I shot them,” she said.

“You shot two of my college friends, and I just killed a warehouse full of mercenaries. **** that box. **** it, **** it, **** it. Even if I had it, I wouldn’t give it to you!”

“We’d take you to McKlusky.”

“I wouldn’t give you – You’d take me to McKlusky?”

Lisa nodded. “We’d help you get the box to him. Alan, Frankie, and Eric, they weren’t working alone. They contact us to help.”

“Who exactly are you?”

“We’re mercenaries from the UK.”

“Naturally. ****ing Russian mercenaries, my live in girlfriend is a mercenary, Christ, I bet I’m a mercenary and I don’t know it.”

“So you’ve found out about the memory implant, then?”

Kevin’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Kevin, I’m just dicking around with you. You’re not a mercenary.”

“God, I need to get some sleep... Hey, wait, if you were working with Alan, Eric and Frankie, why the hell would you shoot Frankie and Eric?”

“They were about to kill you.”

“Yeah, but they had the box!”

“But they were about to kill you. Are you really going to chap my ass for saving your life?”

Kevin sighed. “I guess not. Why didn’t you all come sooner? I almost bit the big one back here.”

“Tea-time,” she smiled.

“You’re not British!”

“And I helped you out by sniping people! God! It’s nothing but complaining from you!”

The soldiers closest to the pair moved forward and whispered, “If you want us to go somewhere, we can. James has a Frisbee and he won’t shut up about it. We can go outside if you need a moment.”

Lisa sighed. “That’s quite alright, Todd.”

“I’m not Todd.”

“There are a ****in’ thousand of you. You’re all Todd except for the retard with the Frisbee. That’s James.”

Not Todd sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So, you’ll help me find McKlusky?”

Lisa nodded. “We have a pretty good idea where he is, actually.”

“Even if I don’t have the box?”

“Even if you don’t have the box. Hey, we’re the good guys,” Lisa said, smiling. “At least, I think we are. We don’t know what’s in the box either.”

“Well then, we can’t waste any time. Let’s get the box to McKlusky!”

Kevin looked down at the collapsed office and noticed that Ivan was no longer poking out from the bottom.

“Oh, great. He’s not ****ing dead.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“This big Russian guy. This whole ****ing office fell on him and he’s not dead.”

“Was he wearing red socks?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Kevin, you’re wearing red socks!”

“What?”

“Just dicking with you. You’re looking in the wrong place. About three inches to your left.”

Kevin adjusted his head slightly and saw that Ivan was still, in fact, quite crushed to death.

“But we have to get out of here now, Kevin. There’s plenty more Russian mercenaries where these guys came from.”

“... Russia?”

“There’s trouble coming and we have to get moving now. Get the box and we’ll buy you some time to get it to McKlusky, but they outnumber us, and eventually one of them is going to actually fire a gun at some point, and it may or may not kill someone.”

“Good point,” Kevin said. “Let’s roll.”


They made quick working, moving back towards the river.

“How do you know what hole you left it in?” Lisa asked.

“Kid drowned out there a few years ago and I saw it happen. That’s how.”

Lisa nodded. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

It was a quick dive into the hole to retrieve the box. Kevin quickly talked down one of the Todds, who was wearing diving gear, stating that they would not fit into the hole.

Kevin quickly dove down and retrieved the small metal object, bringing it back to the surface.

“Where’s McKlusky?”

“Virginia Commonwealth University, East Building. His class just let out. Let’s go.”

Kevin and Lisa clambered into the SUV and sped off into the city, weaving in and out of cars, before passing the Seigel Center and arriving at the East Building. Students were filing out, all attractive and nineteen, but neither Kevin nor Lisa paid attention to those rockin’ bodies. Kevin charged the building, his machine gun held out in front and the wet, metal box pressing firmly against his leg.

“Upstairs!”

Kevin ran, taking them two at a time.

“Third door on the left!”

Kevin shoulder checked the door, falling backwards. He tried the handle and gained entry.

“I’m in! McKlusky! MCKLUSKY!”

“What?” A voice slurred from the back.

“It’s me, Kevin Dunnugh –“

“Ki Alpha Epsilon. We’ll rock youallllll night sweetSuzay!”

“****,” Kevin muttered under his breath. “Lisa, McKlusky is ****ing drunk!”

“****,” she said, rounding the corner.

The sound of the broken apache burst through the window.

Kevin threw the box at McKlusky and made his way down the lecture hall.

“Into the back room!” He said, grabbing McKlusky by the beard. “Can’t have you killed. How much did you have to drink?”

“Just four, just four.”

Kevin tossed him into the back room. “Stay the **** put and keep breathing into the box.”

McKlusky nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Also, I stole your wedding ring just now.”

McKlusky looked down at his hand, but Kevin had already shut the door.

“Take to the window. They only have one gun on that thing and it ****ing sucks,” Kevin said. Three Todds ran through the lecture hall doors and were promptly cut down but the chopper’s machine gun.

“I was way wrong.”

Kevin returned fire through the windows, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off of the chopper. Lisa was lining up a shot in the back, prone behind a desk.

“Kevin, keep these ****ers off of me while I get a shot!”

“What ****ers?” Kevin asked, turning. Russians were filing into the room.

“Oh, right.”

Letting out spray after spray of gunfire at the Russians, Kevin grimaced. Their bodies were clogging the doorways. Eventually, the lecture hall floor had half of an inch of blood from all of the bullet holes.

“Mother****ers gotsta die!” Kevin shouted.

“I got it!”

Lisa fired one shot from her sniper rifle and it flew through the pilot glass on the helicopter. It spun around three times before falling straight to the street below.

“Come on! McKlusky isn’t going to be straight for at least another three hours!”

Lisa and Kevin took a stand at the bottom of the lecture hall, focusing on the door. The Russians kept pouring in, and they kept firing. When their guns would die, they would drop and pick up a new one from the dead mercenaries. Outside, on the street below, the UK mercenaries had their hands full. Their snipers were stopping Russians before they could rappel into the lecture hall, and on the ground, troops were squaring off against troops.

The sun was moving behind the buildings, when there were screams from the outside.

Before Kevin or Lisa could ask, they were met with the leader of the Russian mercs. He tore the wall down between the two doors of the lecture hall, and eyed the two, bloody and bruised, on the ground.

He wasn’t quite a man, moreover, he was a goliath. Standing eight feet tall with muscles that ripped purely through his shirt, and the head of a chicken.

Literally, he had the head of a chicken, although it was the size of a human head.

And he didn’t speak, he ‘buckawed.’

This made him much less fierce, but he charged into the room regardless, pecking at the dead bodies and firing twin Uzis.

Lisa jumped back, pushing McKlusky’s desk up, and Kevin took cover.

“What the ****! WHAT THE ****?! ****!”

“What?” Lisa asked.

“He’s got the ****ing – he’s a chicken!”

“No, he just has the head of a chicken.”

There was a loud buckaw.

“And he talks like a ****ing chicken, Lisa! **** this!”

Kevin stood and stared at the chicken-monster-thing.

It stared right back.

Kevin pulled his gun up and fired a burst into the creature’s head.

It died.

Kevin felt a small twinge of regret for killing such a magnificent creature, but the body ran around for at least a minute, the hands reaching up for the stump where the head used to be. It was running around like a chicken with its... well, you know.

Kevin slid down behind the desk, staring at Lisa.

“Good shot.”

“****in’ chickens,” Kevin muttered. “I hate em’.”

“So, what happens now?”

“The Russians are going to be clueless without their leader,” Lisa said. “We can relax.”

“Relax?” Kevin said. “****.” He rested his head on her shoulder when the voice called from the back room, the unmistakable warble of McKlusky.

“I got it! I got the box open!”

“GOOD!” Kevin shouted. “Now **** this! I’m going home. I’ve been shot at all ****ing day, and I almost drowned like... Twice, I think, and I killed a man-chicken hybrid and **** this day, it ****ing sucked and I hope nothing like this ever happens to me ever again. Jesus H CHRIST, what the ****! This day was just ****ing sucktastic.”

Kevin stood, and turned to Lisa. “Also, we’re out of milk. Could you pick some up on the way home?”

Lisa nodded.

Kevin walked out of the lecture hall, down the stairs, and out the building. He walked for an hour back to his riverside property, and walked into his apartment. Sighing, he kicked off his shoes, crawled under the covers, and fell asleep.

END.

[whiteflame]

What the **** was in the box, DAMNIT MAL.

[ShastaTwist]

Sorry, but the ending was cliché.

[Raziel_Darkeden]

It would help if you just posted it all in one big post.

[MalReynolds]

It would probably help more too if I wrote it all out at once instead of posting it five pages a day as I write it.

It would probably also help if I didn't use passive voice.