*If you outlive your friends it hurts, but if they outlive you it could hurt more*
(Note: Combat is a bit over to top -- just warning you)
Prelude:
We were considered brothers because of the neighborhood we grew up in since the seventh grade led us to always hanging out together. It was our thing. Dallas Aaronson was the closest we had to a jock, plus he was also pretty smart and his folks were kind of rich. He went on to a nice college but came back a chemistry teacher at our old school, a constant case of amusement to the rest of us.
Kris Thompson was always the Rich Kid. His grandfather ran the largest chemical plant in this part of the state. He'd gone of the college, gotten his degree and gone to work at the family business. He also been married and divorced all in a matter of three years. We always liked him the most and not because he came across the highway to be with us poorer kids. He was our charismatic front man.
Cowan Wilson was a poor kid like me. Right after graduation he was busted for theft and spent three years in prison upstate. To him it was a different kind of college and by the time I came home he had developed a frightful erratic reputation in the local underground. He never found a girl that worked, but always had tales to tell about his wild nights.
Alton Kitchener had been the greatest force behind us all graduating and graduating as high as we did. He'd gone on to a full scholarship, graduating in three years and a Masters in two before setting up his own business back in town. He was a total geek, but unlike most geeks he had gone through the high school experience without being picked on, or picked on without their bringing repercussions. He was our brother and we bled for him.
Our only non-brother brother was Jewel Lewis. Jewel had been our friend for so long we hardly thought of her as a girl. Like Alton, she was a brain and a geek. We weren't really beating guys off of her growing up, but she was a really nice friend. She kept in touch with me all the while I was away, even letting me participate in her graduation from law school by video.
Lastly that left me, Christian Talle as kind of the odd man out. I was smart, but not smart enough for a good college so I entered the Service. The thing was, I wasn't a rough-house fighter, or even a terribly aggressive guy. I had an even temper yet somehow I ended up going to foreign lands and killing people for my country. More than one of my instructors said I had a natural aptitude for it.
We all got together for a cookout when I got out of the service after nine years. I had some job offers from my buddies but it was clear to me that all they thought my experience in the military qualified me for was private security work though Cowan offered me a job as an enforcer. In the end I opted for a job as a personal trainer at a gym because I was sick and tired of violence.
(Tuesday)
Anyway, I have only been in town for three months when I get a frantic call from Jewel Lewis. She tells me to hurry up and meet at her place. It is three in the morning so I throw on whatever is handy and hurriedly over. I find Cowan standing around when I arrive. Inside Kris Thompson is sitting with his older brother, Jack. Jewel is running the meeting.
"Cowan, Christian; Jack's only child; a son named Brandon has been kidnapped. They say if we don't hand over three million dollars by mid-day tomorrow the boy will be killed." I don't like the way this is going. "If the police or FBI is contacted the boy will be killed as well."
"What do you want us to do?" Cowan says carefully. There is a pregnant pause.
"Get my son back," Jack pleads. This isn't what we were looking for. We didn't have to wait long.
"Cowan, Christian, get that boy back no matter what," Jewel clarifies.
"Well Christian," Cowan turns to me and grins. "Let's go get some tools and pay some visits." I nod and find my heart increasing a pace. These were my closest friends asking me for help and for once I can do something about it. My criminal friend and I turn and leave.
What follows is only a matter of Cowan hunting down who would be desperate enough to attempt this. If they are professionals we are pretty screwed. As it was, we have a list of possible suspects inside the knowledge of Brandon. We run some numbers and sure enough, someone has a serious gambling problem on the verge of being fixed.
I take over. He wants his lawyer and I explain that we aren't the police. He wants to see the police so I shatter a finger with a hammer. In general torture isn't very useful unless you know exactly what you are asking for. I want a contact number and one finger later we have it. We shove the bastard in the trunk of the car still crying for a doctor. Lawyer-police-doctor; this guy can't make up his mind.
The number turns out to be a pre-paid cell, normally untraceable but we go to our buddy Alton at seven in the morning. He has us an address by nine. We gather up every gun that Cowan has on hand and go over to check the place out. It is a foreclosed home with an IR signature showing one person in the back of the house, three people up in the main room, and a big and small person in the basement.
Our plan is simple. We will sneak in the back, Cowan will go down and rescue the boy and when he tells me we have the right kid, I will deal with the rest of the people in the house. We never actually talk about killing anyone; it is a given.
The first round is standard operating procedure; I tap lightly on the back door. When the kidnapper comes to the door I put two silenced rounds to his head through the wood. Cowan has the door sprung before the first person in the main room has finished asking if something is wrong. Cowan races for the downstairs while I put the pistol away and pull out the shotgun and walk into the main room.
Clearly this is where they've been camped out all night drinking, playing games, and watching Blue Ray. The four of us stare at one another for several seconds. They are waking up and shaking off the fatigue of a long wasted night and I am waiting on my cue.
"Yo Man, we can talk about his," the leader, a black man in his early twenties smiles at me.
In fact, all the hostiles here seemed to be black. I file that away for later. I can see them fidgeting because they haven't a clue until shots ring out from downstairs. The leader dives to the floor. The bigger of the other two men goes for the assault rifle next to him and I put one blast right beneath his heart. I turn and shoot the other man in the same location a second later. His pistol flies from his nerveless hand.
"Oh fuck," the leader exclaims. "Listen man, this has all been a terrible mistake. I kept my gun pointed at him while I hear Cowan pounding up the stairs.
"Got him, Brandon's okay," Cowan breaths. As he rounds the corner he groans.
"Fuck, that's Jesse Foster. His old man is a big fucking wheel is town," Cowan explains.
"That's right, my old man is powerful. You boys best be backing up now," the last survivor threatens. I shrug.
"Too bad he's seen our faces. Take the kids outside," When I hear them exit I blow the last guy's head off; fucking kidnappers.
"Oh Fuck that's hardcore," Cowan chuckles as I join him and Brandon in the kitchen.
We quickly exit the property and made our way back to Jewel's with almost an hour to spare.
