The assassin was livid at the arrogance of the man. If he had it in him, he’d personally grab the man’s kid and make him scream his final minutes. But for some reason that very thought was repugnant to him.
He could kill most anybody that got in his way, but he couldn’t just kill this child. He posed no threat to him or the mission, that is exactly what it was to him: A Mission.
There were two other men that he was to contact, if they refused then they would be dealt with by the other. It would not be his concern if they refused. But he would advise them of the dangers of refusal.
He really hoped that they wouldn’t refuse, their families would be marked and these people rarely ever backed off. This guy Matt Walker was an exceptional man. He was a warrior and he’d never rest until they were all rotting in their graves.
Oh he’d keep his mouth shut, he loved his son too much to go flappin’ his mouth. But these other two men. . . they worried him.
The assassin stopped off, and ate at Uncle Rudy’s Barbecue, and got sick to his stomach late that night. He was able to place a call between visits to the restroom.
“God only knows what I really ate. Damn Texans, will barbecue almost anything. . .” He dropped the phone a rushed for the restroom not quite making it.
The listener grimacing at the sounds of the stone cold assassin throwing up. What seemed like an eternity the man came back. “I’m not going to make to the other contacts anytime soon. I don’t know how long. . . you’re gonna have to send someone else, if you’re dead set on it being done by tomorrow.”
“Okay-just hang up you’re making me sick with all that retching. I’ll go myself, besides they’re not too pleased with you right now anyway. They wanted Matthew Walker in on this, you should have grabbed his kid, and forced him.”
“Yeah, and he would have snapped my neck, before I got within two feet of that boy, besides I don’t hurt kids.”
The listener smiled grimly: That is one fact that the people will never know for certain. As we speak your entire life has been put on scramble. Nobody, will know exact fact from pure myth. All the people will ever know is that: You Lee Harvey Oswald killed President Kennedy. That is all anybody will ever need to know.
He should never have crossed Rogue Group. When we ask for something to be done, then it is to be treated just like God Himself made the request.
Had he just gave the order for those people to be taken care of, who was going to miss a few hundred people. Cults were popping up all over the country, they could have told the country that it was a mass suicide.
The lambs would have believed it, because that is just how pathetically predictable the nation had become. The government says it so, so it must be fact: There is no Area 51, there is no civil war in Texas, and while we’re at it God doesn’t exist.
They could have culled the rumors of a civil war in Texas, had he just given the order. But he decided to play brass balls and now he had to die.
It was a very cleverly devised plan, set in motion by a certain invited group from Germany and the government of America. They would not fail, they never had in the past. Though it was only a rumor even among their own people. Another presidential assassin may have been part of Rogue group.
John Wilks Booth: “The South shall rise again.”
But all assassins die one way or another. Be it decreed by the courts or by the Chosen. Perhaps by some simple twist of fate. Nasty things have a way of happening to those that are sent to do the dirty work of the cowardly.
Then there are those that are just too well connected, those that are too powerful to be reached. They just bull ahead and continue to kill and destroy lives. But as the Bible says: To all things there is a season.
Hunting Season for the Rogues is now open.
“Listen up shithead! You just walked passed a No Trespassing sign, and then you compound your fuck-up by speaking to me like we’re old friends. I don’t want to hear nothing but the sound of your sorry ass leaving.”
“Stokes. I think you might want to reconsider. . . we have your family.”
Boris’s smile was very cold, “You won’t have them for long.” He replied as he lunged forward and hit the man with a hard right, he heard the sickening crunch of the man’s jaw and neck breaking.
He turned and ran to his truck and drove back to his house, just in time to see three men leaving very quickly. He jumped from his truck and ran into the house. “Brenda! Goddamnit Brenda! Don’t do this to me baby. . . Please be okay.”
He heard Brandon cry out and he ran to the nursery, he smiled as he saw his wife gently picking up their son. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah-Bo told me to come into the house, and to get into the thickest room.”
He still didn’t like Beaumont Stokes, but the man worked hard and had some knowledge in what he wanted. He was also a good fighter, it was a good idea to send her to the thickest room.
He’d always called it the nursery or the middle room. But as soon as Bo refereed to it as such, he went and looked the room over. It really was the best room for defense. They’d do a few more modifications to the room, for should there be a future for the Stokes’s family the house would be their only hope.
The one thing he didn’t like about the man was the way he’d treat Brenda. Of course she’d eat it up, knowing that it was pissing him off. Bo was was a con-artist, no man was that much of a goddamn gentleman.
Brenda was his wife, and it was up to him to protect her. Not some self-appointed white knight gun for hire, he’d best just keep away from her, and keep his dick in his pants. He’d be very happy to rid the world of another scumbag.
Plenty of places to bury people like that, and nobody would ever be the wiser, or even care. Besides who would ever question a cop? He pulled his gun and gave it to his wife. “Anybody besides me comes in shoot them. I mean it baby, you shoot the fucker, and I’ll bury his ass deep.”
“Boris what’s going on?” Brenda asked hotly as Boris rushed out.
“Bo! Where the hell are you?”
“Boris! Get the fuck down! Men on that ridge.”
Boris hit the dirt, and quickly took cover. “How many?”
“Four, possibly five. I sent Brenda into the house as soon as I saw them closing in on the house. Man I thought. . .” He bit off the words knowing that they were useless. He knew that Boris was jealous, and always thinking that he was after Brenda.
Had Boris been in the right frame of mind, he’d have seen the men. Now they were pinned down, and fucked to the max.
The large group of Texans gave shouts of anger as they drove forward across the fields, crushing many of the troops beneath the wheels of their trucks. The men and women armed with shotguns, and rifles caught German’s band of screwballs off guard.
Borga’s dream was totally falling apart, and the Texans, were now back in control of their state. There was no way in hell that they were going to allow some shitball to come in and fuck with their lives.
Bo smiled as he watched the Texans, take the members of Borga’s troops down. It was just about over. Whatever had been in the works had failed, they had not been able to get to Boris’s family.
Who cares who the actual heroes were, all that mattered was that Brenda and Brandon, were both safe. He saw the dark trucks heading toward the house. “Wow! Took you fucks long enough.” What if. . . he shook his head not wanting to play the what if game. The Texans had done the job, that the US Government had failed to do.
Now the real fun would begin.
The government of the 60′s was by far the worst it had ever been, and with liberalism taking a firmer control of the people’s mentality, it was going to get worse.
The asinine questions and acts would soon really begin. They’d start by wanting to disarm the Texans, and they would kill any that opposed them. They wouldn’t care if there were children around or not. They’d just make some bullshit excuse. . .Then End of Story.
Many of the Texans, just couldn’t shoot a man that had dropped his weapon, and sat down with his hand behind his head. The FEDS shook their heads as they jumped from their vehicles. This was not what they’d expected.
“You people need to drop your weapons, then and back away from them.” an agent shouted.
“And you need to go fuck yourself.” a woman shouted back.
Cindy Larris and Dan Parker had strong suspicions that there were still members of Rogue group inside the Company. They just didn’t know who all was on their side. There were still a few that they knew for a fact that they could trust.
“You and your fresh mouth need. . .”
“Need what?” a large man asked. “You people took your sweet goddamn time about getting here to help us. We sent for help months ago, now you’re here and you point your guns at us.”
“This is getting out of hand.” Cindy said as she slowly lowered her weapon and put her other hand out.
She wasn’t the SAC, but somebody had to save these people, Dan would back her up when the time came.
“Agent Larris are you crazy! Do not lower your weapon! Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, I heard you Sid, you always did have a very loud mouth. These people are not the bad guys, and you fuckin’ know it. Stand down all of you. NOW!”
“Do as she said!” Dan said cold tone. The order had come down from the chain. He never liked it when he had to test an agent, these were people that he’d trusted with his life many times, and they’d never failed him.
Cindy Larris had just made the grade as far as he was concerned. She most certainly wasn’t one of the Rogue Pukes.
Bo and Boris were standing side by side (not by choice) and were carefully watching the agents. Something just wasn’t right, there were dirty agents in this crowd. The man and woman standing side by side were certainly clean.
The band of Texans stood their ground, refusing to drop their weapons. They also picked up on the same vibes, as Bo and Boris. But who was dirty and who was clean?
Several of the agents slowly stepped to one side. “You people are under arrest. Either you drop your weapons now, or we will open fire.”
Their answers were making themselves quite clear.
“Sid! Stop this bullshit now!” Dan shouted. “Don’t make us fire upon you!”
“You’re the traitors! You and this miserable excuse of Texas rebels. America, will not fall because of you. We will never surrender to you or anybody else. Whatever happens here today, will only mark the way for a horrific war, that will either destroy the remains of America. . . or help rebuild.”
“These people are crazy.” a woman whispered, her voice carrying further than she intended.
“KILL THEM ALL!” the Rogue agent shouted.
It seemed to Cindy that a hundred guns opened fired all at the same time. Maybe it was that many. She felt something slam into her shoulder, and saw the Texans surround her and Dan.
Dan was hard hit in the chest as was another agent, the Texans, shouted their fury as they overwhelmed the members of Rogue group. She saw where several members of Borga’s group had also joined in the fight.
For several minutes it was hand to hand, men and women pulling knives and pulling machetes, screaming as they began cutting and chopping the Rogue group to bloody bits.
She felt a pair of hands grab for her, just as she was losing consciousness. “I got ya.” the voice just barely heard above the roar of gunfire. She looked deeply into the blue eyes of a gunman.
He was handsome but not in a pretty boy sort of way, he was also solid as a rock. His hands were big and his arms thick from years of hard work. She felt herself being lifted into his arms, and she felt herself slide into peaceful unconsciousness.
He had never thought of his acts as being heroic, they were just things that needed doing at the time. He gently carried the woman to safety, he had seen Boris take a round to his shoulder but the large man looked more amused that someone thought he could be stopped by a single bullet.
How much more fucking pathetic can these morons get?
Bo carried the woman to the group of Texans that appeared to be medics and gave the woman to the people. “Make sure she makes it, or I’ll come a collecting.”
Bo was huge and his attitude at that time told the medics that it would be wise to adhere to his orders. They were in no way cowards and they had also been in countless firefights, but there was something about this man that was frightening.
The battles were winding down and the Germans were running for their lives and it was close to being all over except for the arrests as well as the burials. The overall death toll was going to be into the thousands. Good and decent people killed as well as sick and twisted assholes would be found slaughtered.
The real revolution has just begun.
Gerald had always been somewhat amused at the large sign in front of the police station. The large figure of a man in uniform with his service revolver pulled.
Over the years the weather had worn away at the pistol and now it was just a large rusted spike sticking out of the cop’s hand.
Many people had tried to get the city to remove the figure saying that it wasn’t safe. But contractors had inspected the figure and pointed out it would take hurricane winds to topple the three thousand pound figure.
Nothing like that has ever happened here, and never will.
“What if somebody were to get impaled on that spike?”
“Yeah-right! How the hell are they going to be fifteen feet in the air? Reality check you twit: People can’t fly!”
Gerald was in an irate state of mind, as he tried to force his way into the police station. “Do you idiots even know who I am? Jesus H Christ! I need to talk to somebody with a fucking brain, and I need to do it now!”
“What seems to be your problem Mr. Smyth?”
“So you know who I am.” Gerald replied sensing a flood of relief.
“Put your ego on hold Sir. What do you want?”
“There is going to be. . .” The squealing tires turned the heads of the police and Gerald had time to mutter a low curse before the car hit him.
The force knocking him five feet back, and ten feet in the air impaling him on the large metal spike of the sign. The officers had instinctively dove for cover, and when they came up they saw Gerald’s body shiver once and then go lax.
A course whisper dying on his lips.
The driver had tried for a quick escape, but one quick thinking officer had shot out his back tires, and another already had the man on the ground and cuffed.
Several of the younger officers, were doubled over being sick, and the older officers were quickly taking control of the matter.
“Anybody hear anything he might have said?” an older sergeant shouted. “Jesus Christ! Will somebody call a fucking ambulance!”
“I’m not sure Sarge.”
“What aren’t you sure of?”
“The words I thought I heard. . . actually the only word I thought I heard.” the young officer swallowed hard, as Gerald’s bowels and bladder relaxed.
“It sounded like he might have said. . . Assassination.”
The older officer stood looking at the young officer. The squealing brakes, screams and confusing and this young officer thinks he might have heard the word assassination. But whose assassination? “Son are you sure?”
“No sir. But I can’t think of any other word, that even sounds close to that word. That’s what frightens me right now, I doubt that it’s the Mayor, he’s not worth a bullet or the energy it would take to kill him.”
The older officer grimaced at the fact, that the young officer spoke so candidly in front of the public. Right or wrong, he should mind his tongue.
“But in a few days the Governor, will be right here in this town.”
“Surely they wouldn’t.” the older officer replied, his eyes wide with shock. He quickly pulled the young man out of hearing distance of the crowd.
The young officer shook his head, and looked up at Gerald’s body.
“Jesus.” the older cop breathed. “We have to do something, but we can’t cause a panic. We don’t want him to think that we can’t handle some two bit hoods that are going to try to kill him.”
The young officer frowned as the older cop walked away. Something just wasn’t setting right, this was just too neatly wrapped up. He had a feeling that this wasn’t over by a long shot.
The older cop came back and smiling, like he’d just solved the problem of world hunger. “Talked with a few of the older boys, we’re going to beef up security when the Governor arrives. Our people will not let anyplace be unaccounted for. If we haven’t personally checked it then it’s to be considered unsecured.”
“Ah! Good plan.” the young officer replied sarcastically. “Do you honestly think, that they’re going to let any of us within ten feet of the man? Let alone trust us? That’s why they have people that are paid to watch out for him. They see any of us poking around an area, and trust me they will see us. They’ll believe the part about an assassination attempt. But it’ll be us that gets burned.”
The sergeant hated to made to feel like an idiot, and he had a hunch that the young officer had enjoyed doing so. “What do you suggest then smart guy?”
“I have no fucking idea! But I know your plan has got to be a very lame. Somebody smarter than us had better be told, so that a plan of action can be made. Somebody very important is going to be killed within a few days unless we can figure this out.”
“We already have figured it out, they’re going after the Governor. The only other person of any importance would be the President, and the security around him is the very best. Totally impenetrable, and nobody, would ever risk that. It would be a suicide mission.”
The young officer felt a cold shiver run down his spine. What if that was it? The war in Texas had brought out a lot of kooks and nut-balls. Then there was that German. He’d never been caught, and what if that was. . . too damn many, What If’s. Damn!