The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  You’ve done a good job of keeping it to yourself, Tyler. Don’t worry. You won’t have to keep the secret about my plans much longer.

  Her glare shifted into a smile. “I’m only not merry because I’m not drunk enough yet.” She winked at Tyler. “Barkeep, I need more of your best ale!”

  Tyler stood and shook his head. “Drunk cops are the worst. Even when they are hot.”

  14

  He Who Hunts floated through LA hundreds of feet in the air, considering his options. Between the government raids and Brownstone’s tunnel raid, his main forces had been depleted. He’d gathered the raw materials to create more servants, but the energy required was becoming increasingly taxing.

  The cars and people flowed beneath him, all wasting their short, pointless lives. One good massive explosion would have done much to make the humans of LA understand the true nature of existence, but his long-term plans would have to come before short-term satisfaction.

  Giving up on Brownstone wasn’t an option, but He Who Hunts also needed to generate a scenario that would ensure the man felt the rage and anguish necessary to draw upon his true power. Without that, the red crystal would be useless, and all the resources and energy He Who Hunts had expended would be wasted in a scheme as pointless as his Council brethren’s.

  It was clear now that he would have to face Brownstone directly, but if the bounty hunter came with another army, the fight might be over before the crystal could corrupt the man, or even before the opportunity arose to engage its magic.

  The window of opportunity had narrowed and the time for caution had passed. His next strike would need to be bold and force Brownstone into a situation where he couldn’t win with his normal tactics. Perhaps a situation where frustration would drive him to the extremes of his mind and soul.

  He Who Hunts stared down at the city as he continued floating along. A line of cars led to a massive parking lot. Colorful buildings, roller coasters, and thick crowds littered the ground beneath him: Happy Magic Land Amusement Park, according to the sign out front.

  It was the perfect stage for corruption.

  It was time to gather his remaining forces.

  We’re ready to show you what’s up, big man, Trey thought to himself as he killed his F-350’s engine. He didn’t give a shit if it was a tight fit with so many men. He loved that truck.

  “Let’s do this shit.” He threw open his door.

  Trey, Deshawn, Max, Carl, Lachlan, and Daryl burst out of the F-350. A row of houses lined the street, yards between each. Their target location was about fifty feet away, an unassuming light blue home.

  Lachlan frowned and looked down at his stun rifle. “I can’t believe this shit. We’re going against a level four without the big man for the first time, and we’ve got to use non-lethals? That’s some bullshit right there, you know what I’m saying?”

  Trey shrugged. “The bounty notice was clear. They want this guy alive, probably to testify against some of the crime families he used to work for. We ain’t even gonna score half the money if we waste his ass, so we bring him alive, or this is just gonna be a waste of our fucking time.”

  Lachlan snickered. “Yeah, this ain’t gonna be fun.”

  The men grumbled and checked the power cells on their stun rifles. They all had regular pistols if they needed them. Even if they were trying to take the man alive, no one was prepared to sacrifice a team member for money.

  Despite the danger of their foe, they were back in their signature suits, although the anti-magic deflectors clashed with the style and the bulletproof vests gave them a bulkier silhouette.

  I should ask Zoe if there’s a slicker-looking deflector out there.

  The target, Alphonse “Quickstep” Cametti, had been just another hitman out East until on one lucky job he stumbled onto an artifact that gave him a useful power for any man, let alone a hitman: teleportation.

  Fortunately for Trey and the boys, Quickstep needed line of sight for his power to work, and it was short-ranged. It wouldn’t be a matter of the man just blinking away the minute he felt threatened.

  As they closed on the door, Trey’s heart rate kicked up, and a grin slipped onto his face. A year ago, he’d just been some punk running on the streets. Now he was taking on teleporting hitmen.

  He cleared his throat. “We’ve been doing this shit for a while now, and we’ve been training hard at Fort Shorty to deal with magic shit. We took on the Council several times, and their weird-ass monsters and motherfucking wizards had a lot more powers than Quickstep. We’ll stun his ass and bring him in. This shit’s gonna be easier than our last job, I bet you.”

  Lachlan furrowed his brow. “How we gonna keep him from teleporting away once we stun him? It’ll wear off, and he’ll just run like a little bitch, won’t he?”

  Trey pulled out his phone and tapped at it until an image of a silver pendant formed by seven interconnecting rings was on the screen. “He ain’t no Oriceran. We take this necklace off, and he can’t do shit. He’s just another bitch-ass hitman, then. With cuffs on, he ain’t doing shit.”

  Manuel rubbed his hands together. “What about that necklace? We get to keep it?”

  “Hell, no. We have to turn that shit over to the 5-0 along with Quickstep.” Trey shrugged. “Don’t get greedy, motherfuckers. Now, let’s do this like we planned. Lachlan and Daryl, you with me in the front. Everyone else, wait in the back. Spread out in case that bitch teleports. Remember, though, we need his bitch ass alive.”

  He looked up at the house. Thick curtains covered all the windows.

  Trey jogged toward the front door. “Let’s prove to the big man we’ve got what it takes to bring in the big bounties.”

  Lachlan and Daryl rushed after Trey as the other bounty hunters rounded the corner and headed toward the back.

  Trey knocked on the door.

  Lachlan blinked. “What the fuck? You’re knocking?”

  Trey shrugged. “Hey, you never know. We’ve got a badass rep, especially lately with that subway shit and the Council base. Maybe he’ll do the smart thing and give the fuck up. Besides, it ain’t like he’s always wearing that necklace, just when he’s on jobs. Why do you think I decided to go after him as our first solo level four?”

  They all raised their stun rifles as the door rattled.

  The door opened to reveal a muscular man with a shaved head in jeans and a wifebeater. The teleportation necklace hung around his neck. A disinterested expression rested on Quickstep’s face despite three men aiming stun rifles at him from less than a yard away.

  Aww, damn. Motherfucker.

  Quickstep smirked. “You ain’t no cops. Who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m Trey Garfield with the Brownstone Agency. We’re here to take you in, Quickstep, for your level-four bounty. I’m not gonna sit here and list all the people you’ve killed. We’d fucking be here all day.” Trey snorted.

  The criminal chuckled. “You are some dumb shits. You think just because you have his name that you’re as tough as him? Please, fuckers.”

  Trey glared at him. “Nah, bitch. I think we’re plenty tough enough by ourselves. Now, you gonna be a good boy, or are you gonna make this shit hard on yourself?”

  Quickstep vanished, and a loud pop from behind sent Trey and the others spinning that way.

  The bounty disappeared again as soon as they faced him. Another pop had them turning back toward the front door, but this time the man was already sprinting up the stairs past the living room.

  Trey fired at the man, but the criminal winked out of existence and the stun bolt slammed into the wall, discharging harmlessly.

  Lachlan scoffed. “Told you this shit wasn’t gonna be fun. ‘It’s all gonna be easy and shit.’ Give me a fucking break.”

  Trey pointed toward the street. “You two go over there and spread out. Don’t want him teleporting out of the fucking house. I’ll corner his ass inside.” He rushed inside and up the stairs.

  He crested the s
tairs and fired a few stun bolts down the hallway, hoping for a lucky hit. All he did was waste more energy as he nailed another wall.

  “Where you at, Quickstep?” Trey shouted. “You ain’t getting away. We’ve got the place covered from all angles, and we heard about how you’re set up nice here. Maybe if you come in, you can give up those fuckers you used to work for. They’ll send you to Witness Protection down in Scottsdale, Arizona or some shit. It ain’t so bad.”

  He held his breath, listening for any sound that might reveal the bounty.

  Trey crept down the hallway toward an open bedroom door. The whole house was dark, despite it being the middle of the day, which meant Quickstep hadn’t opened any of his blinds or curtains.

  What? Worried some other motherfucker’s gonna teleport in and surprise you, bitch?

  The floorboards squeaked as Trey continued toward the bedroom. With Quickstep’s line-of-sight limitation, the criminal would have to open a door to get the drop on the bounty hunter. That fueled Trey’s confidence as he moved toward the bedroom. This job would be over soon.

  His heart sped up as he noticed a mirror at the other end of the bedroom, his reflection visible in it, and more importantly, the hallway behind him reflected in it.

  “Motherfucker.”

  Trey pivoted a half-second before he heard the loud pop. Quickstep appeared, gun in hand and a vicious grin on his face. The criminal pulled the trigger, and Trey hissed as he fell backward, a wave of pain shooting through his chest and ribs. A bulletproof vest might save his life, but that didn’t mean he’d escape without pain or injury.

  The bounty hunter pulled the trigger as he was falling, but Quickstep teleported away, the bolt passing through empty space and arcing against the wall as the criminal popped into existence beside Trey.

  Quickstep kicked the stun rifle out of his hand and aimed his gun. Trey rolled to the side to avoid a bullet to the head and yanked the man’s legs out from under him. The criminal’s gun fell out of his hand and slid into the hallway.

  With a pop, the criminal teleported a few feet in the air, facing the ground. Trey threw a punch, but the man teleported again.

  Trey yanked a sonic grenade out of his pocket and threw it toward the doorway. No groans followed the whine of discharge. Instead, he heard a distant pop from the front.

  Motherfucker got out. Fuck, I hope the boys are lighting him up.

  Trey forced himself to his feet. His ribs hurt like hell, but he wasn’t bleeding, and he didn’t want to waste a healing potion on bad bruising. He snatched his stun rifle and jogged down the stairs, each footfall jolting his aching ribs.

  You ain’t getting away, motherfucker. Not today. You ain’t so tough, or you wouldn’t be running, motherfucker.

  Trey hit the bottom of the stairs and rushed out the front, the bright sunlight forcing his eyes to adjust after the time in the darkened townhouse. He snapped up his stun rifle, ready to nail the bastard even if the damned weapon was shit for long-range shots.

  He skidded to a stop and blinked, surprised at the sight in front of him. Quickstep lay on the ground, groaning, already handcuffed. Lachlan and Daryl stood over him, big grins on their faces and their stun rifles over their shoulders. Lachlan kept tossing the teleportation necklace up and snatching it out of the air.

  Trey shouldered his rifle. “Damn, boys. Good work. I thought that motherfucker was gonna get away. Underestimated the fucker.”

  Lachlan and Daryl exchanged glances.

  “What are you talking about?” Lachlan asked. “You were the one who took his ass out.”

  Trey winced and clutched his chest. “Bruised a few ribs. Motherfucker shot me.” He frowned down at the groaning criminal. “But what you mean I took his ass out? He teleported.”

  Lachlan chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, when he popped out here, he fell to the ground, all groaning and holding his ears.”

  Trey grinned. “So I did get him with the sonic grenade.” He sneered at Quickstep. “That’s right, motherfucker. You ain’t so tough, and it ain’t just James Brownstone you got to be afraid of anymore in LA.”

  Daryl winced and grabbed his stomach.

  Trey frowned. “He nail you, too, man?”

  The other man shook his head. “I think something was wrong with my lunch. Fuck, man. I can’t wait all the way to the station.”

  Trey nodded toward the house. “Use his fucking bathroom. Not like he can complain.”

  Quickstep let out a loud groan, drool coming out of the side of his mouth.

  Lachlan snickered. “You better hurry, Daryl, otherwise you’ll end up with a new nickname.”

  Daryl frowned but edged toward the front door. “What new nickname?”

  “Fire-ass.”

  The other man grunted and broke into a sprint.

  Trey laughed and shook his head. “Not bad for our first level four, even if Daryl’s gonna need new drawers after this.” He looked toward the door as Daryl headed inside with a smile on his face.

  We’re still living the life, Shorty. Wish you could be here, brother, but we’re gonna live twice as hard for you.

  15

  Maria stood before the thick glass door at the front of the Brownstone Agency, her stomach twisted in knots.

  What if he says no? It’s not like I can go back to the LAPD after retiring and having a big party. What am I supposed to do, take up macramé?

  Maria snorted. If she could face down witches and Drow, she could face a little talk with Brownstone. She opened the door, striding with confidence toward the front desk.

  Charlyce looked up and offered her a smile. “Lieutenant Hall, nice to see you. Mr. Brownstone is waiting for you in the first conference room to the left down the hall.”

  Maria shook her head. “Just Maria now.”

  The other woman blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m retired. I’m not a cop anymore. I’m not Lieutenant Hall.”

  Charlyce smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Yes, you’re right.”

  Maria waved. “No problem.” She headed down the hall.

  She’d called Brownstone earlier to say she needed to talk to him and that she would like it if Trey and Royce were there, but she hadn’t explained why she needed them. To her surprise, Brownstone agreed right away without even asking for more details.

  Does he really trust me that much? I wouldn’t trust me so much after the way I treated him, even if I have been helping him out since then.

  Maria arrived at the conference room. The door was already open, and the three men were sitting at the table, all on one side. She headed in and sat opposite them.

  Brownstone nodded to her. “Hey, Hall. What’s this about?”

  Trey frowned. “Ain’t more Council bitches coming, are there? If there are, we’re ready to fuck them up.”

  Royce didn’t say anything, just watched her, his gaze full of calculation.

  Maria cleared her throat. “No, no Council.” She sighed and shrugged. “I’ll just get to the point. You know I’m retired now and I need a new job, so I wanted to sign on with the Brownstone Agency.”

  Trey laughed. “Motherfucker. I never saw that shit coming.”

  Brownstone grunted. Royce nodded and rubbed his chin, a vague look of approval on his face.

  Maria looked at Trey. “I will bring a lot of experience to your team. You all know that. I’ve worked with you before.”

  Trey waved his hands in front of him. “Hey, I ain’t bitching. You’re a certified badass as far as I’m concerned. It’ll be weird, you being an ex-cop and us all being ex-gang members and all. No man in this agency can deny that, but it ain’t my call.” He nodded at James. “It’s the big man’s. His name’s on the building and shit.”

  Brownstone didn’t say anything. He looked at Royce, a question on his face.

  Royce nodded at him. “We’ve been talking about needing to recruit more people anyway, and we also need to do something about leadership. With someone like her, it’ll be easier a
nd more efficient to grow past the gang structure. We can actually start talking about dedicated squads.” He shrugged. “Let’s be realistic. Trey’s the only real leader we have left since we lost Shorty. Max is decent, but he’s just missing something.”

  Maria remained silent, her neck and shoulders tense as she listened to the men discuss her. She didn’t give a shit that they were talking about her like she wasn’t there, especially since Royce was giving a lot of good reasons why she should be hired.

  Shit. I haven’t really had to apply for a job in twenty years, and joining the different divisions was almost a shoo-in with the record and recommendations I had.

  Brownstone leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “The Brownstone Agency is a bounty hunting organization. We’re not cops.”

  Maria nodded. “I get that.”

  “Do you? That means we’ll do shit you might not always like. We go after bounties, but we’re not running around town trying to lock up every criminal we see. It also means that I, and by extension, my guys, don’t always play by the rules.” Brownstone shrugged. “You don’t have a problem with me now, but it used to be you were prepared to lock me up because you thought I was a dangerous menace.”

  Maria snorted. “Yeah, and since then I’ve been doing shit like buying anti-magic deflectors from shady underground elf black marketeers.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “If I wanted to still be a cop and always play by the rules, I wouldn’t have retired. I’m in my forties, still fit and ready to take down bad guys. I get that you do bounties and not all criminals, but every bounty you go after is dangerous scum. I figured this was a good way to still take down bad guys without so much red tape and without worrying about political crap.” She sighed. “Besides…”

  Trey and Royce watched in silence.

  Brownstone frowned. “Besides what?”

  “I need to be with a team I trust. If I tried to build a team of my own, that could take years. I ran with you all against the Council. I know that was mostly me working with Shay, but I saw how everyone worked.” Maria looked between Trey, Royce, and Brownstone. “I trust the Brownstone team.” She shrugged. “And I figure we both can benefit from this.”