The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  I wonder how bad this shit actually hurts.

  “Begin operation,” Royce shouted.

  A loud shriek followed.

  “Fuck,” Lachlan yelled. “I’m already dead. What the fuck?”

  Trey liked his odds, since Lachlan was on the blue team. The OPFOR were already one up.

  “The king is dead,” Shorty shouted from behind Trey. “Avenge him, motherfuckers, if you dare!”

  A few laughs followed, but they were soon swallowed by yells and loud simulated reports from the guns’ speakers.

  “Shit,” Trey muttered, his ears ringing. “Gonna need some ear protection if we’re gonna do this a lot.”

  Shorty and Manuel pulled behind Trey.

  “What’s the play, boss?” Shorty shouted. “We don’t have no flag or shit to go after.”

  “You watch my back, and we’re gonna go forward. Get into their territory.” Trey pointed his gun at a narrow hallway bookended by cover blocks. “On three…two…one.”

  Wonder what James would do? Fuck, he’d probably pick a guy up and throw him through the wall.

  They rushed forward, keeping low to the ground. His suit buzzed as a row of men on the second floor blasted away, their barrels peeking over the wall. Trey squeezed off a few return shots, and one of the men took a blast to the head.

  Manuel groaned and collapsed to the ground. “I’m hit, Trey. Tell my girl I love her.”

  Trey laughed. “Stay the fuck down,” he shouted back. “I’ll avenge you, brother.”

  Trey and Shorty made it to the hallway and flattened themselves against the wall. More screams and cries of pain sounded from the red team’s side. He frowned and looked around.

  Fuck. We bad guys are getting our asses handed to us.

  The OPFOR was being annihilated, thanks to the careful high-ground placement of the blue team firing line.

  “Need a fucking simulated grenade to clear those bitches out. Have to talk to Royce about that.”

  A red team member who’d been shot stood back up but collapsed screaming a moment later. “Motherfucker!”

  Royce laughed. “I told you to stay the fuck down if you’re hit. Dead people don’t walk.”

  “What about zombies, Staff Sergeant?” the man shouted back.

  “I don’t think you want me convincing James we need to simulate decapitation.”

  Trey chuckled. From what the big man had told him, decapitation didn’t even always work.

  Time to bring the pain.

  He nodded to Shorty, and they both rolled into the hallway on either side. Kevin sprinted around the corner, but fell with a screech as Shorty and Trey both shot him at the same time in the chest.

  The OPFOR pair halted at the exit, again flattening themselves on either side. Trey held up three fingers. He dropped one, then two, then three. Shorty and Trey turned the corner to find Max and two other men waiting in ambush.

  Shorty dropped to the ground with a grunt. Trey lit up the three men, who all collapsed a second later.

  Now I’m behind enemy lines. Time to light some bitches up and earn me a simulated Medal of Honor.

  He rushed down the hallway and up a ramp. He’d flanked the high-ground firing team. Six quick shots sent all men to the floor with hisses, grunts, and moans of pain.

  Suck it, bitches. Trey ain’t playing.

  Royce, his arms crossed, nodded approvingly.

  Loud shots and buzzing in Trey’s suit alerted him to someone behind him. He spun and nailed poor Charles in the head.

  “You Brownstone jackoffs can’t take me down!” Trey shouted, his heart thundering. “You ain’t shit. I’ll kill every last one of you motherfucking bounty hunters, cut your heads off and send that shit to Brownstone postage due to tell him to never fuck with the Garfield Cartel.”

  Royce arched a brow. “Getting into it, are we?”

  Trey grinned. “What can I say? My team’s winning, and these guys need to know the kind of assholes they might be dealing with. It’s all part of the training.”

  “Oh? Your team is winning?”

  Trey nodded. “Yeah, I just took down six bitches. How could I not be winning?”

  “Congrats, but you know what they say about winning a battle but not winning the war.” Royce smiled. “There are five blue team left and only one red team member. You.”

  “Shiiit…”

  “Yeah, ‘shit’ is one way to put it.”

  Heavy footfalls sounded on every side.

  Trey shrugged, an abashed look on his face. “Guess I shouldn’t have shouted that shit to everyone and given up my exact position.”

  Royce laughed. “You think? Gloat when the battle’s over, not before.”

  “Guess I still have some shit to learn.” Trey sprinted for the center ramp as men came up on both sides, their shots narrowly missing. He leapt behind a cover block.

  Go for the three, or go for the two? Fuck. What would James do?

  Trey jumped up to fire at a man coming down a ramp. Jolts of pain zapped his chest, arms, and legs as the four other members of the blue team lit him up.

  “I’m taking you fuckers with me,” Trey screamed. “Fuck the Brownstone Agency!” He squeezed his trigger, but nothing happened.

  Oh, yeah. The shit stops working after you get hit.

  Another wave of shocks blasted through every part of his body, giving his mind nowhere to run. He fell face-first, his arms and legs twitching. Aches pulsed through him for the long moments following.

  Royce made his way down the ramp, his phone in hand. He tapped at the screen.

  “The suits have been disabled,” he called. “You can all get up.”

  Lachlan shuffled over toward Trey. “I may have got shot first, but I wasn’t dumb enough to keep standing, bitch.”

  Trey rubbed his neck. “Yeah, I hear that.” A deep breath later, he tried to push off the ground, but his shaky arms and legs collapsed beneath him. “Fuck, that shit hurt so bad, I thought it was going to turn me white.”

  Everyone laughed, including Royce.

  9

  Charlyce sat at her desk in the Brownstone Building. She was still getting used to holding down a job again, but working for Mr. Brownstone and her nephew had made the transition easier than she would have expected.

  Living on the streets had had more than its share of hardships, but needing to adhere to a strict schedule wasn’t one of them. It also helped that so far she didn’t have a huge amount to do; mostly helping keep track of some of the bounty and expense information. Occasionally she had to pass information to or from the outside HR firm. Once the rest of Trey’s boys started going after people, she assumed she’d be knee-deep in work.

  It’s like a dream, but it’s real.

  A job, and a clean and sober future. It wasn’t all that long ago that those things would have seemed distant and forever out of her reach, but her chance encounter with Dina and seeing her nephew on TV had changed everything. Some might claim that was mere coincidence, but she found it hard not to see the hand of a merciful God at the center of it. Now she had a second chance at life, and her family back.

  She’d make sure not to squander it.

  The desk phone rang, and Charlyce blinked. With the agency being so new and given the nature of the business, random phone calls just weren’t that common. They didn’t even have any formal procedures on how to handle such calls.

  Mr. Brownstone was righteous and generous, but it was also obvious that running a business was a new experience for the solitary man.

  We’re all given guides to our tasks by the Lord. All I can do is support the man.

  She glanced at the caller ID. The call originated from Las Vegas. She assumed that wasn’t a coincidence.

  Charlyce answered. “Brownstone Agency, how can I help?”

  “This is Detective West of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.”

  Charlyce gasped. “Detective, it’s good to hear from you again.”

  West’s voice h
eld a note of surprise. “Charlyce Garfield?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  He chuckled. “I guess they weren’t blowing smoke up your ass about the job offer.”

  “No, sir, they were not. Mr. Brownstone’s been mighty helpful to Dina and me. Is that what you were calling about?”

  “No,” Detective West replied, his tone apologetic. “I hate to admit it, but I guess we got spoiled by his help. The department is interested in hiring the Brownstone Agency to provide support on a few cases. We understand that Brownstone himself is a high-level bounty hunter, but this is more about lower-level matters. It was actually your nephew or some of the others I understand will be working for the agency that we were looking to hire.”

  Charlyce picked up her pen to take notes. “You have bounties for Trey and the others in Las Vegas?”

  “Not necessarily bounties. In some cases, yes, but for others, we want the manpower and reach in addition to the bounty hunting.”

  Charlyce sighed. “I’ll be honest, Detective. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m still pretty new around here. I’ll have to talk to Mr. Brownstone and Trey about it and get back to you.”

  “Understandable. I can be reached at this number, or you can call the main department and ask to be transferred to West in Homicide. This isn’t just about murders, though. I’m taking point on this because I’m one of the detectives who dealt with Brownstone before.”

  “I’ll let them know, and get back to you with their answer.”

  “Thanks. That’s all I ask.”

  The detective hung up.

  Charlyce immediately dialed Trey and explained the situation.

  His response was less than helpful. “Shit. I have no idea how we even handle that. I’ve been just grabbing bounties from the app or the website.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  “I’ve got nothing.” Trey laughed. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Charlyce dropped her pen. “Huh?”

  “You figure it out, and get back to me with your ideas.”

  Charlyce sighed. “Shouldn’t we ask Mr. Brownstone?”

  “The big man is good at many things, but figuring shit like this out ain’t one of them. You’re the administrative assistant, and you’re looking at our records all day. You’re the best one to do this, Aunt Charlyce. Okay? Once you have an idea, we can go from there.”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Talk to you later.” Trey ended the call.

  Charlyce sighed and rubbed her temples. “Lord, give me strength.”

  An hour later, Charlyce’s heart thumped as she placed a call. The phone rang once, twice, then three times. She half-hoped it’d go to voicemail.

  A cheerful woman answered. “New Bethany Church, how may I help you today?”

  “Hello, this is Charlyce Garfield. May I speak to Pastor Smith?”

  “What is this concerning?”

  Charlyce swallowed. “It’s kind of a combination of a few things. It’s hard to explain.”

  The woman’s cheerful tone faltered. “I don’t know that I understand, ma’am.”

  Charlyce cleared her throat. “I used to be homeless, and I stayed at the shelter Pastor Smith runs. I wanted to thank Pastor Smith for all he did. I’m off the streets now, and I’m working.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m sure he’ll want to hear this. One second, Ms. Garfield. Please wait.”

  An instrumental version of the hymn Abide with Me played. Twenty seconds passed before the line clicked over.

  “This is Pastor Smith.”

  Charlyce took a deep breath. “Hello. This is Charlyce Garfield. I don’t know if you remember me, but I stayed at your shelter for a few weeks last year.”

  “I do remember you, Charlyce, and it broke my heart that we had to send you away. I’ve often prayed on what happened, wondering if I did the right thing.”

  Charlyce was having none of that. “No, Pastor. You had your rules, and you made them clear. I was in a bad place at that time, and it wouldn’t of done no good for no one if you’d let me shoot up in a place paid for by church donations.” Her voice brightened considerably. “You don’t have to worry no more about me, Pastor. The Lord has shined his light on me, and I’ve beat the drugs and the alcohol.”

  “That’s a blessing, Charlyce. I’m so happy to hear that.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.” She made nervous doodles on her notepad as she spoke. “I did want you to know that I’ve cleaned up, but I also wanted some advice.”

  “Anything I can do to help you, Charlyce.”

  Charlyce took a deep breath. “I remember you had a program there…the Hand Up Program.”

  “I still have that program. I was hoping you’d be able to make use of it before…the incident.”

  Charlyce let out a wistful sigh. “The past is the past. Now I have a bright future ahead of me in Los Angeles.”

  Pastor Smith sounded confused. “I don’t understand. The Hand Up Program is in Las Vegas. I can’t help you out in LA. I can call around and find a similar program in that area.”

  Charlyce laughed. “No, no. I didn’t mean that I needed the program. I have a job, and that’s why I was calling. You see, I remember how the Hand Up Program took people in the shelter and helped place them in temporary jobs with local businesses.”

  “Yeah, that’s the basic version of how it works,” the pastor replied. “Why are you interested in that?”

  “I’m kind of trying to do something similar, except not with the homeless. It’s a swords-to-plowshares-type program for former gang members, and I’d just like a little advice on how to set that up. If you have the time, that is.”

  The pastor chuckled. “I feel like the Lord is slapping me in the face and saying, ‘Smith, get out there and shepherd wayward souls in a whole other city.’”

  They both laughed.

  Charlyce let out a sigh of relief. “Then you can help me? I don’t know a lot about organizing this sort of thing.”

  “Then we’d better get started. Do you have a pen?”

  “Damn, that sounds complicated.” Trey shifted the phone to his other ear as Charlyce finished explaining her plan.

  The key elements involved requesting flat fees for expected services, along with options for bonuses in addition to bounty values. The agency would guarantee the department a certain number of workers, as long as the police provided them the previously-agreed-upon fees.

  “It’s not really that complicated,” Charlyce told him. “We’ll just need to keep track of the money flow from our accounts and the fees being provided by the Las Vegas Police. I’ve already got several of the forms and contracts printed and filled out for California, Nevada, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. Either James or someone with authority will have to sign them, though.”

  “I can do that. James got annoyed with having to do a lot of this stuff. After he got back from Vegas, he went ahead and made it so I can handle some of the busywork on his behalf.”

  Charlyce laughed. “I don’t know if that’s a promotion or your boss just shoving work off on you.”

  “Hey, I shoved this on you, and you came up with all this. I’ve gotta say, I’m impressed.”

  “I took it as a chance to prove to you and myself that I can be useful.”

  “Hell, Aunt Charlyce, you don’t have to prove nothing to me. I’ll run this all by the big man, but it sounds like it’ll work out. I’m gonna text you some funds. Not petty cash. Personal to you. Consider it a bonus for handling all this for me.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Trey.”

  Trey chuckled. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. If there’s one thing I learned from Nana and James, it’s that you go farther in life rewarding people for doing well than harassing them for doing poorly. I’ve got to for now, but I’ll stop by later to pick up those documents. I’ll see you later.”

  “See you later.”

  Trey ended the call.

  Charlyce smiled at hersel
f. She hadn’t had that many issues since starting the job. Before today she hadn’t even been sure she could pull things off if she ran into a real challenge. The many years she’d spent on the streets might have made her sharp, but they’d sanded away the skills she needed to function in a business role.

  Or so she’d thought.

  “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “Trey and Mr. Brownstone have given me the opportunity, and I’m gonna keep proving to them that I’ll be nothing but helpful. Thank you, Lord, for granting me strength.”

  Charlyce let out an excited giggle like a little girl’s and leaned back in the comfortable leather of the luxury car as it sped toward the orphanage. She hated having to wait a week between her visits, but she had a commitment to Mr. Brownstone and Trey before volunteering at Father McCartney’s orphanage.

  She eyed a pile of small stuffed animals she’d purchased for the orphans, and a larger teddy bear she’d purchased for Dina. Trey probably hadn’t had that sort of thing in mind when he’d sent her the bonus.

  That’s for others, but I don’t know about spending all this money to rent this car. Just wanted to see what it was like.

  Charlyce leaned forward to look into the driver’s seat. A shimmering translucent form floated in front of the wheel. When she’d contacted Currus customer service on their website, the nice woman handling the booking ensured her that the magic they used to drive the vehicles was completely legal and did not involve any ghosts. From what she’d explained, there weren’t even spirits or anything like that. The car was enchanted to work better with existing auto-navigation systems, resulting in a true self-driving vehicle that could work in any conditions.

  Although purely technological self-driving cars hadn’t taken off, this kind of combination of magic and technology worked well in a few applications, even if it was expensive enough to keep it out of mainstream use. As a treat for a woman who’d lived on the streets for years, it was perfect. Luxury without substance abuse or gluttony.

  The car turned a corner and slowed until it stopped in front of the orphanage.