Beloved Weapon

by Jonathan A. Price

  “What the hell, man?!”

  “Did your gun protect you from that? Will it prevail the next time you are caught empty handed? On your feet!”

  Nia finally obeyed and got up. After sweeping Kim’s dusty footprint from her top, she immediately took her innate kickboxing fighting stance, with her fists forward, and her elbows and knees flexed.

  “No you did not just kick me! You’re going to get it!”

  Kim wrapped his toe within a pair of shorts of Nia’s that sat on the floor. He gripped them between his toes, pressing the fabric against the base of his sandal. He snapped his leg in the air and tossed the shorts toward Nia with his foot.

  Nia snatched the shorts out of the air.

  Kim pressed his foot back to the floor, turned and stepped out of the room. She dragged her shorts up around her hips and ran after him.

  They met in the center of the wide-open entryway of the warehouse. Kim dragged his desk out of the way to make space.

  “You must not let the softness of your heart grow contagious, dulling your fighting spirit.”

  “I don’t have a soft heart!”

  “You spent all night crying like a baby…crying over a man-child. Show me you are tougher than that. Show me you are still a warrior!”

  Nia grunted and charged toward Kim, lunging forth with her knee. Kim parried, shoving her aside and Nia stumbled.

  “For all of your so-called power, you are slow and predictable!” Kim went on. “You wish to overcome your enemies? How will you do it, with tears? What will happen when your guns run out of bullets? Will you run? Will you hide? Will you cry or will you fight, crybaby?”

  “I ain’t no crybaby!” Nia cried, throwing elbow punches, knee strikes and flailing kicks at her mentor, all of which he blocked.

  “Pathetic!” Kim griped. “Have I taught you nothing? Clear your mind! Focus on the objective!”

  Nia breathed hard and stared into Kim’s small eyes. She wasn’t getting anywhere being angry or feeling sorry for herself, she realized.

  For the first time in a long time, Nia started to listen to Kim. Heeding her mentor’s words, she stopped thinking about what had happened. She emptied her thoughts, found focus.

  Nia took a deep breath and charged Kim again. He readied his stance.

  Nia attacked, but anger no longer fueled her blows. She cleared her mind, focused on technique, not on blind fury. It felt as if every blow forced an ounce of sorrow out of her heart, siphoning in renewed fervor and determination.

  The two sparred together for what seemed like hours, the pounding of their fists and feet slapping flesh and bone echoing throughout the walls of the warehouse.

  Kim began to stagger under the might of Nia’s attacks. Despite his far more advanced knowledge of the martial art, Kim was no match for Nia’s youth or especially her superhuman strength. A final knee strike sent him stumbling to the ground, even though he had blocked it.

  Nia outstretched her hand to help him up. “So, how was that?”

  “Acceptable,” Kim said, taking her wrist and pulling himself to his feet. “You will need a bit more practice. But next time, hopefully you can be a bit more under control.”

  “Man, you’re just mad because I’m stronger than you,” Nia chuckled.

  “Strength is not the only deciding factor in a battle, Nia,” Kim sighed. “Have you not figured that out by now?”

  Nia smiled wide, breathing hard as she felt the euphoric joy of action flow through her—an adrenaline rush. She remembered what it was in her life that truly made her happy: action. Running and gunning, fighting, high speed chases, armed pursuers and money… Nia was looking forward to getting back into the swing of things.

  What was she thinking? A relationship? Not yet. She had more important things to do—loose ends to tie up.

  Nia and Kim sat on the floor, drinking bottled water.

  “Whew!” Nia cheered happily. “I feel so much better! Come on, let’s go again!”

  “Remarkable,” Kim said, blotting sweat from his forehead with a rag. “I suppose your emotional recovery is as swift as your physical recovery.”

  “Come on, stop the jibber-jabber! Get up and let’s spar some more,” Nia grinned. “I know you’re not worn out already…it’s too early for that!”

  Kim smiled. “You are just like your father. Just like him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was so excited about learning the arts. The close-quarters combat techniques he’d learned in military training were efficient, but he was quite impressed with the sheer power of the strikes in Muay Thai.”

  “You and my father worked together for a long time, right?”

  “I trained many young initiates,” Kim explained. “But your father was different. He was one of my greatest pupils. He didn’t just want to be combat-ready; he wanted to master the art. The last thing on his mind was pulling out a gun.”

  “Here you go,” Nia sighed. “The streets today ain’t like in karate movies. Nobody fights anymore; it’s all about who has the fastest draw and the smallest conscience. I could be the best martial artist in the world and it won’t mean a damn if somebody’s shooting at me from across the street. At least with my hammer I’d have a chance to bust him first.”

  “And as you throw bullets, so more will be thrown back at you,” Kim went on. “The cycle will never end, until the day they find their mark.”

  “That day ain’t ever going to come,” Nia hissed. “I can dodge bullets. Heck, I can probably take a couple. I mean, I took a damn hard beating from that Armstrong guy and I’m still here, bruises healed and everything.”

  “And how long do you think it will last? Look at me, Nia. I am more than twice your age. I have more years behind me than ahead of me.”

  “Look, stop it, all right?” Nia muttered. “I told you—”

  “Listen!” Kim snapped. “You may heal faster than many, you may possess sharper reflexes than most, and you may possess great strength, but all of us age. You will slow down. And someone will take advantage of you when you are vulnerable, someone so eager to take you down that they will wait months…years for their opportunity if necessary. You have been captured before; you have been at the mercy of your enemies, only days ago. You are lucky to be here, now…please consider that. You will always be a target as long as you are living as you are, using your gifts selfishly.”

  “So what are you saying, Kim?” Nia growled. “Run away? Go off to fight some hopeless revolutionary war like my dad did, because these so-called ‘gifts’ are meant for some greater purpose? Please.”

  “At least your father made a noble choice…”

  “Yeah, and he left his family to die for it!” Nia roared. “I will never be like him, you hear me? The one thing I learned from him is that it’s better to be free, even if it means being selfish. Fuck honor! Fuck noble! And fuck him!”

  Nia suddenly heard a muted beeping sound. She raced back to the cot she’d slept on and unearthed her pager from a pile of clothes, the beeping growing louder once it was exposed.

  She ran back into the main room and picked up Kim’s touch-tone phone, dialing the number on the face.

  “Hello? Is this Alvarez?”

  “Miss Black. You need to head downtown. Hudson has moved up his meeting. You have to strike now.”

  Twenty-One

  The sun glistened over the city, the reflected light from the office building windows glazing the skyline with pale beams of yellow light. Few cars occupied the streets so early in the morning. One, a black sedan, sped across the roadways skirting dangerously close to the speed limit, weaving around the scant traffic and slashing through intersections a split second before yellow lights turned red.

  The car came to a stop in front of a construction site in the center of a wide-open, grassy field along a parkway a fair distance from office buildings. The site was little more than a series of stone markers designating where a building was to be raised, with girders sitting in a pyra
mid pile off to the side. Vacant cranes and bulldozers sat waiting to be put to use.

  An executive climbed out of the back seat of the four-door sedan; extremely tall, with a goatee on his hard, chiseled face, wearing opaque sunglasses. A second man climbed out of the front door on the passenger side, with a thick beard and a portly build. A slender woman emerged from the driver’s seat.

  “Here we are, Mr. Hudson,” said the man who’d sat up front. “As you can see, the equipment is being prepared. We’ve already got a crew lined up. They should be here by the middle of the day to begin working.”

  “Good,” said the large executive.

  Hudson stood at a soaring height, his powerful muscles bulging under his custom-tailored suit to the point of appearing unnatural. His cold, stony face was like a statue that came to life, but only when there was something vital to impart. Hudson was a quiet man, a recluse, neither power-drunk nor boisterous, but the quintessential disciplinarian and commander-in-chief. When he spoke, people listened, even if they had the utmost contempt for him. Always wearing the finest wardrobe and accessories, working out of an office the size of a banquet hall, living in the penthouse of the city’s tallest building, Hudson was the kind of man who seemed to be able to move mountains with just a stroke of the pen.

  “I need this to go forward quickly, Mr. Worthington. You could have simply sent pictures of this to me through email.”

  “But there’s nothing like seeing your pet project face to face in its infancy, Hudson,” Worthington rambled. “Smell that fresh air; let that concrete dust flow into your nostrils… get a sense of what it’s going to be like when my guys are up here bringing your vision to life.”

  “I have no time for such trivialities. If it’s a matter of trust…”

  “This meeting just makes sure you and I are on the same page. You can see it with your own eyes,” Worthington nodded. “Now, I trust all the zoning issues have been cleared up?”

  “Of course they have,” Hudson retorted quickly. “This meeting would not be happening if there were a shred of doubt that this endeavor would go forward.”

  “I’d heard stories about the former Councilman, Washington, trying to put a stop to these plans…something about you having too much influence over local businesses and job opportunities or something.”

  “Yes, he was an annoyance for a while, but he chose the wrong time to cross me,” said Hudson. “He was primed for re-election, and he underestimated the power of my influence. I had some trumped up charges brought to light by the local media, and now, Washington is nothing. Let’s begin our final inspection…I have other pressing business to—”

  “Sir!” the woman called out to Hudson.

  “What is it, Rachel?”

  “Something’s coming our way…fast!”

  All three individuals turned their attention to the road, the deep grumble of an engine growing ever louder.

  Like a shooting star, a sparkling silver sport bike shimmering under the morning sun sped in their direction. As if accessorizing to match the vehicle, the woman riding the bike wore a shiny white cat suit, two belts resting across her hips in an X-pattern with a diamond-shaped buckle holding them together. Two individual handguns dangled aside her hips on each side. The two higher guns were small and sleek semi-automatics; the two lower ones were a pair of massive revolvers.

  “One of your mistresses, Max?” Worthington laughed. “I always try to avoid the ones who know how to handle a piece. Never know if they’ll snap if you cut ‘em off…”

  “Get back in the car,” Hudson said, taking his own advice. Ivan Worthington and Rachel Jones followed suit. “Rachel, drive.”

  The black sedan’s engine turned over and the car skidded back onto the road. But the sedan barely traveled a city block before the much-faster biker caught up. She drove alongside it, glaring at the car’s windows through her goggles.

  Hudson, sitting in the seat furthest to the back, turned and faced the biker.

  “Yeah!” Nia Black screamed. “Remember me?”

  Hudson nodded slowly.

  “Oh, you’re not worried at all, huh? Well maybe this’ll give you a little pick-me-up.”

  Nia snatched one of her Baby Eagles and aimed it at the window, still staring Hudson in the face. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at the gun—he barely reacted at all.

  Nia pulled the trigger to thunderous effect. But the telltale screech of her bullet as it glanced off the window—where it otherwise would have gone right through and found its mark between Hudson’s eyes—reminded her of how well protected Maxwell Hudson was.

  Damn…is every car they have bulletproof? Nia thought. Hmm…I bet those tires ain’t.

  As the sedan and the bike sped into a curve in the road, Nia looked around. She realized the sedan was circling the grassy field where Hudson’s meeting had taken place.

  The hell? What are they doing? What is he gonna do, make his driver spin them around the block until one of us runs out of—

  Then Nia’s heart hammered in her chest.

  She started hearing more engines.

  A lot of them.

  Jeeps dashed on the scene from every surrounding intersection, with turrets mounted on the rooftops, men in full tactical gear at the controls.

  Dammit! Nia thought. I took too long! All he had to do was make a phone call and his goons are on tap! I should have gotten here sooner!

  Nia shoved her small handgun back into its holster and reached for a larger one.

  Screw it…I’ll take them all down today. I’m not running away anymore. This is the last time…

  Nia aimed her revolver at the closest opposing vehicle and pulled the trigger. The shot smashed into the jeep, sending the vehicle somersaulting forward with a concussive blast, with such impact that flanking vehicles had to swerve out of the way as the flaming wreck tumbled upside-down on the street.

  The smaller guns Nia held were her Baby Eagle pistols, the guns she’d relied upon more than any other. But the second pair were a set of specially modified Taurus Raging Judge 28-gauge revolvers, chambered to fire explosive shells. She bought them from a gunrunner with the understanding that sometimes splash damage and explosive impact was more effective than simple bullets in a large-scale combat setting.

  She had them in her possession for quite a while but never planned to use them, since her modus operandi was to get away from her enemies, not fight them.

  Things were different today, just as they were different when Nia rushed out to rescue Bobby. She’d have brought the cannons along then if she had the time to go to Kim’s place to pick them up. She could never have risked leaving guns that lethal where Charlene could have stumbled upon them. Fortunately, Marc’s supply made a decent substitute at the time.

  This time, she was fully prepared.

  She whipped the bike around and fired again and again. Every time she pulled the trigger, a shot would send one of the attacking jeeps sailing into the air in a burst of flame and smoke.

  Two more jeeps darted toward Nia from both sides, picking up speed.

  Nia took both hands off of her handlebars and outstretched both arms, a hand cannon in each fist. She fired the Judges simultaneously, the explosive blasts jerking them away in burning heaps.

  Nia glanced ahead and saw another jeep speeding directly for her. She didn’t have time to put the guns away and take hold of the handlebars again.

  So she put a foot up on the seat of her bike and pushed herself skyward, her bike skidding into the jeep head-on. It smashed into the vehicle and exploded, but the armored vehicle was unscathed…

  Until Nia, in midair, aimed her cannons at the jeep under her and opened fire. The resulting explosion produced a shockwave that sent Nia sailing backward through the air. She somersaulted and landed gracefully in the grass.

  Nia spun around and took in the sight of the flaming piles that used to be her opponents’ vehicles. She counted and saw that the number of jeeps still on the road outnumbered the on
es that were down and out. They still circled her, still loaded with soldiers out for her blood….

  She took a deep breath. She wasn’t playing, but neither were they. They came out in force.

  Nia flipped open the exhausted cylinders on her Judges and reached in her pockets for speed loaders. She couldn’t find them. She looked several feet ahead and found her spare rounds on the grass. They must have fallen out when she jumped, she thought. She started to dash for them, then a jeep screeched to a halt right in front of Nia.

  More jeeps drove off the road and skidded to a halt around her, forming a wide circle of vehicles and flames. Nia was surrounded.

  Hudson’s sedan parked outside of the makeshift ring, and Maxwell Hudson himself emerged from the car. Rachel Jones and Ivan Worthington glared inquisitively from the safety of the sedan’s bulletproof frame.

  Nia Black tossed away the Raging Judges and snatched her Baby Eagle pistols from their holsters. She aimed her guns at Hudson.

  The air chattered with the endless sound of rifles being leveled and aimed at Nia. Hudson waved his hands, and the soldiers remained still, but held their aim.

  “Where is he?!” Nia screamed at Hudson, paying the soldiers no heed.

  “Who?”

  “You know damn well who I’m talking about! My father! Alexander Black! What did you do with him?!”

  “I would love to find your father as much as you would, Miss Black,” Hudson muttered. “He has cost me a great deal. But I am prepared to cut my losses. Given the turn of events, I’ve found a way to make up for it. Finally.”

  Nia grew furious and her fingers grazed the triggers. “You’re lying…I’ll—!”

  Suddenly her reflexes reacted. She sensed danger. She swerved to the side, sensing an attack from behind…

  Thump!

  Nia felt a piercing sensation in her butt. She looked at her backside and saw a dart piercing through her pants and her flesh.

  “The…the hell…?”

  She didn’t swerve far enough. Her attacker led her into the shot!

  Hudson smiled. “You’ll make a fine substitute for your father, Target Omega.”