Blowback

by James P. Sumner

  I hear gunshots to my left, signaling Ruby is taking the same approach.

  She’ll be fine.

  There were seven guys on the right in total. Three are definitely dead now. One’s injured and out of action for the time being. I close in on the remaining three, stepping toward the middle guy first.

  Keeping stride, I swing a stiff right hook, half-expecting him to duck under it. It was thrown mostly as a distraction, as my intended next target is actually the guy on the left. Getting the middle one to duck temporarily takes him off the board in terms of physical threats. Not much he can do if he’s crouching. I’m too close for him to get a proper shot off, and if he goes for the uppercut, I’ll see it coming in plenty of time. Meanwhile, the guy on the left won’t assume I’m coming for him, because of the punch I threw, leaving him off-guard.

  The middle guy just threw a wrench in the works though. He didn’t duck. Instead, I connected solidly on his jaw and sent him crashing to the floor. It killed my momentum and left me side-on to the guy on the left, who, in turn, is now much more prepared for me. As Middle drops, Left raises his arm, reaching out, seemingly intent on grabbing my throat. I bring my left arm up to meet him. The difference is that’s the hand I’m holding my gun with.

  His eyes snap wide with horror as the barrel presses against his forehead. I pull the trigger before he can react. A thin spray of dark crimson mist bursts out behind him, covering a small group of people stood nearby.

  Whoops!

  The noise in here is such that I don’t think anyone had noticed the skirmish and gunfire up until now. But one of the young women in the group is now screaming, her face streaked with a dead man’s blood.

  This might be a problem…

  I quickly turn my body a hundred and eighty degrees, shooting the remaining guy first in the stomach, then in the head. He drops like a stone, redecorating the wall behind him on his way down. I watch him all the way to the floor before turning my attention to the guy I punched. He’s slowly climbing back to his feet. I shoot him at close range in the back of the head as he makes it to one knee. He slumps face-down on the floor, finished.

  I look back at the crowd. I need to assess and prepare. This is about to get very—

  Uh-oh.

  When we first stepped inside, I estimated around a hundred people were in the middle of the dance floor surrounding the podium for the singers. Based on that estimate, I would say around eighty of them are currently running around in a blind panic, desperate to remember the way out. The remaining twenty are standing still, expressionless and suddenly out of place, staring right at me.

  This is a goddamn Yakuza field trip!

  I look up at Ko. He’s still smiling. Still standing there like a king surveying his kingdom. Unwavering in the belief he’s untouchable.

  Oh, I’m going to choke that smile right off your face, you smug little bastard.

  I stand my ground, catching my breath. On the other side of the crowd, I see Ruby dispatching the last of her wall of security. Our eyes meet over the dance floor. Half the Yakuza there turn their backs on me, focusing on her.

  Shit just went sideways faster than a crab on cocaine.

  I may need the other Raptor.

  I draw my second weapon as I turn and run as fast as my body allows up the staircase. The music has finally stopped. I hear the hurried movements of people following me, mixed with the screams of the innocent civilians still scrambling to find a way out.

  I hope Ruby’s doing the same. I don’t want to deal with whatever’s waiting up here on my own if I can avoid it.

  The staircase turns twice, first to the right, then to the left as it opens up at the edge of the upper horseshoe. A dull pink hue covers the floor and the furniture. I cast a glance to my left and see Ko gesturing wildly in my direction. A frontal assault would be unwise, despite how appealing it is. No… I need cover.

  Ahead of me are two low, wide tables, covered with empty glasses and bottles, sitting haphazardly in front of seating that runs around the curved border of the upstairs seating area.

  They’ll do nicely.

  I run toward them and jump, twisting in mid-air and landing roughly in the seat, both guns raised and aiming without compromise at the stairwell. A heartbeat later, the first three men from the dance floor appear.

  I fire multiple, alternating shots in quick succession, instinctively targeting any movement. The three men drop quickly, flailing backward and disappearing out of sight down the stairs.

  That should make them think twice. It buys me some valuable—

  “Shit!”

  The cushioned seat beside me explodes in a concentrated plume of smoke and padding as a bullet punches its way through, mere inches to my right.

  I look over to where Ko is standing, but he’s obscured by a mob of Yakuza security. They clamber over one another to get to me, no doubt eager to impress.

  I empty both magazines into the crowd indiscriminately. I clip a couple of them but nothing fatal. They scatter and take cover behind chairs and alcoves. I look down at the Raptor in my right hand. I missed almost everything with this gun just then. My hand’s no use to me right now, meaning neither is the gun. I quickly holster it and reload the one in my left.

  I reach over one of the tables and grip the edge, pulling it toward me and tipping it over. I crouch behind it, completely hidden. It might not offer much protection from a coordinated onslaught, but these assholes seem reluctant to shoot, so I should be okay. I just hope Ruby’s coping on the other side.

  I take some deep breaths to keep my heart rate in check. Now isn’t the time for panic or doubt. Now is the time for violence without hesitation.

  I peek over the top of the upended table. The group of men who were protecting Ko are fanning out in front of me, over by the stairs, maybe twenty feet away. The remaining men from downstairs are coming up too, merging with them, adding to the wall forming before me. I count fourteen in total. All wearing suits. All holding handguns. All looked pissed at me. The line blocks access to the stairs and to Ko. No way through.

  I look down at my Raptor. I was so overwhelmed when I first opened the box, I never really paid attention to the gun itself, beyond the shape of it. The craftsmanship is stunning. These things probably retail at twenty grand a piece. Death has never looked so beautiful.

  From the other side of the room, I hear the faint sound of a man screaming, followed by a muted thud. My guess? Someone just tried to attack Ruby, and she threw him over the balcony.

  I look back at the Raptor and smile.

  I stand corrected.

  In my mind, I visualize the line in front of me. Study the position of each man, burned into my brain from the glimpse I took a moment ago. I pick my targets. Four of them. Let’s not be greedy. Four seems reasonable. I have a full mag—eighteen plus one in the chamber. Left-handed. That’s… what? A required success rate of almost twenty percent?

  Easy.

  I pop up, quickly resting my hand on the edge of the table to steady myself. Everyone is where I remembered them. With rapid, unrelenting squeezes of the trigger, I empty my gun and duck back behind the table as they begin to return fire. I hear the thick wood splinter around me, but so far, it’s keeping the bullets at bay.

  I reckon I got six then. Maybe. Definitely five. Not bad.

  As I reload, I hear shouting. I tilt my head, hoping the Pilot will pick up what’s being said.

  …

  …

  …

  “Throw a grenade! Kill the bastard!”

  Oh, shit!

  I leap to my feet again and quickly scan the platoon of enemies before me. I count eight. My gaze rests on the guy standing to my right, two from the end. He has a frag grenade in his hand. A crazed, angry look on his face.

  I take a breath and narrow my eyes, focusing on my target. It’s roughly the size of a pear. From this distance, to me, it’s as if I have the barrel resting against it.

  “Sayonara , dickwad.”
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  I snap my arm up and fire, aiming with my eyeline, relying on muscle memory and training to do the rest. I drop to my knees immediately as the explosion roars around the club. The force of the blast sends the table flying into me, carrying me backward and slamming me into the barrier of the upstairs horseshoe. I stop, hard, but the table keeps going, shattering as it crushes me. I grunt with pain as the air is punched from my lungs and already-cracked ribs receive a fresh dose of physical trauma.

  Fuck me!

  I cough up thick blood, spitting it to the floor in front of me. I gasp for breath—a painful and difficult process I’d gladly not have to do right now.

  The air around me is misty with smoke and debris. I push shards of broken table off me and shuffle to one knee, pausing only to expel more blood from my mouth. I look around.

  A chunk of the floor and barrier near the stairs has disappeared. What’s left is covered in blood and littered with body parts wrapped in torn clothing.

  Well… while I perhaps didn’t consider the consequences of shooting a grenade from distance, it seems to have evened the odds quite nicely.

  I stagger to my feet and wave my way through the cloud of dust. As the air clears, I see Ko crouched underneath a table, his hands and forearms covering his head. Standing in front of him in a low stance, waving their guns around aimlessly, are two security guards. They mustn’t be able to see clearly. I’m not exactly hiding, but they’re not trying to shoot me.

  I squint in the lingering haze. Try to aim at the nearest guy. My arm feels heavy, and raising it sends a stabbing sensation through the middle of my torso.

  Goddammit.

  I limp forward, my right hand held across my body, comforting my ribs. Both men turn to face me as I lock eyes with Ko. They raise their guns.

  Ah, shit. I’m too weak to fight them both. I can’t raise my gun. I just hope they don’t—

  BANG!

  BANG!

  I screw my eyes closed and twitch with shock, waiting for the bullet wounds to register.

  …

  …

  …

  I open one eye. Look around.

  Nope. Still alive.

  I open the other eye and stare blankly ahead as both men fall to the floor like felled trees. Ko is shaking underneath his table.

  Huh?

  I look to my left. Ruby’s standing there, breathing heavy. A thin film of sweat coats her brow, glistening in what’s left of the pink neon hue. Her arm is raised and straight. Smoke whispers from the barrel of her SMG.

  She must’ve set it to fire single shots. Nice. Efficient. A gunfight on a budget.

  She glares at me. “You shot a grenade, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah…”

  She lowers her gun and walks toward me. “What kind of idiot shoots a fucking grenade when they’re standing near it?”

  I raise my hand and smile weakly before grimacing.

  She shakes her head. “How have you survived this long? Seriously…”

  “What can I say? Maybe I’m lucky.” I nod toward her chest. Her top is stained with what I can only assume is blood. “You okay?”

  She looks down at herself and shrugs. “Oh, yeah… it’s not mine.”

  We turn to face Ko, standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “So much for your protection,” says Ruby. She aims her gun at him. “Now… if you wanna see the sun rise again, you’ll tell us exactly where your boss and his little bitch are.”

  His bottom lip is quivering. His eyes are wide and glazed with tears. He looks at Ruby, then turns to me, silently begging for my help.

  I shrug at him. “Hey, don’t look at me, asshole. The lady asked you a question.”

  “I don’t know!” he whimpers.

  Ruby sighs and turns to me. “You smell that?”

  I nod, pretending to sniff up. “Yeah, there’s a vaguely familiar odor in the air.”

  “Hmm, I thought so. Now, what is it?” She taps her lips with her finger, as if pondering a deep question. Then she points upward in a Eureka moment and looks back at Ko. “Oh, yeah—that’s it… bullshit!”

  Ko shuffles out from under the table and kneels in front of us. He holds up both hands, praying for mercy.

  “N-no, please! I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me! She’ll kill me!”

  I frown. “Well, they can’t both do it, so be thankful.”

  “You’ve just gone from not knowing to not being able to tell us,” observes Ruby. “So, I was right? Bullshit.”

  “Please! I’m sorry, I—”

  “Okay, enough,” I say as I crouch in front of him.

  I muster every ounce of strength I have left to raise my gun and look as intimidating as I can. This guy’s about to crack. He just needs one final push. I press the barrel of my Raptor to his forehead, dead center on the bridge of his nose, separating his eyebrows.

  Christ, this hurts! But it’ll be worth it.

  “Look, I get it, okay? You’re scared of what will happen to you if you talk to us. That makes sense. I’ve met Kazawa before. And Miley. I know they can hurt you in ways you likely can’t imagine. But if you tell us where they are, we will kill them both. Which means there won’t be anyone left to come looking for you. So, you’ll be in the clear.”

  He looks at me. I see the fear etched onto his face.

  “You promise you let me live?”

  “I promise you that Kazawa and Miley won’t come after you if you talk.” I glance at Ruby. “And neither will we.”

  Ko looks at us both in turn before getting awkwardly to his feet. He nods.

  “Come. I show you.”

  “No tricks,” says Ruby as she steps aside.

  Ko heads for the stairs on Ruby’s side of the upper level. She follows closely, her gun trained on him. I shuffle wearily behind them.

  We walk down the stairs and across the dance floor, toward the three glass cases and the steps leading to the vestibule outside. If he’s going to try anything funny, it’ll be when he’s near those swords…

  He climbs the steps without hesitation.

  Huh. Pussy.

  We follow him through the doors. The girl in the booth has gone. So has the guard with the earpiece. The main entrance is standing wide open and unprotected.

  Ko turns to us, beckoning us both outside.

  “Come. This way. I show you. I show you.”

  Ruby quick-steps in front of him and heads outside, turned so she can aim her SMG at him from a safe distance. I stay behind him.

  Once outside, he stops on the sidewalk and points along the street. We track his gaze.

  “There.”

  He’s pointing toward a large skyscraper, towering over the rest of the city, silhouetted in the night sky, visible only by the pinpricks of light from the thousands of windows. If I could guess, I would say it was at least a mile away. Maybe a mile and a half.

  “Kazawa’s in there?” asks Ruby.

  Ko nods urgently. “Whole building owned by Kazawa. Many companies we control based there. Top floor—all Kazawa’s. His… penthouse.”

  Even from this distance, I need to crane my neck to see the very top of the structure. A mast disappears into the low clouds, attached to the peak of the pointed roof. That must be fifteen hundred feet. Maybe more.

  Fuck that.

  Ruby looks at me. “Makes sense he would hide out in there if he needed to lay low. No one can see him. No one can get to him.”

  I sigh. “Agreed. I don’t like it, but it makes sense.” I shove Ko’s shoulder. “And Miley will definitely be with him?”

  Ko nods again. “Those two never apart. Where she goes, he follows.”

  “Excellent. I appreciate your help, Ko.”

  He turns to me, putting his back to Ruby. “And your promise?”

  I smile. “I gave you my word. We’ll see to it Kazawa and Miley don’t come looking for you. And neither will we.”

  He smiles back and rolls his eyes with relief. A moment later, he begins laughing.


  I take a small side-step to my left.

  Ruby whips her SMG up, bringing the barrel level with the back of his head.

  She pulls the trigger.

  His body lurches forward, hitting the concrete hard. Blood gushes from what’s left of his face, pooling on the ground around him.

  “Feel better?” I ask Ruby.

  She stares impassively at Ko’s body for a long moment before looking up at me with a satisfied grin on her face. “Much. Thank you.”

  I glance up and down the street. Anyone who fled the club has long since run away. There’s no one around, as if word quickly got out this place was toxic and people should stay away for their own safety.

  I hear the faint symphony of sirens.

  “We should go,” I say, gesturing toward the skyscraper in the far distance. “We’ve got work to do.”

  We holster our weapons. I remove my protective eyewear and pocket it. We lower our scarves. We cross the street calmly, putting quick and easy distance between us and the massacre inside the club.

  The sirens get nearer as we disappear into the night.

  22

  October 23, 2019 – 04:17 JST

  It’s freezing inside our apartment. I’m standing over by the window, leaning against it with my back to the city sprawling below. Ruby is sitting on the sofa, her legs crossed and tucked beneath her, huddled under a blanket she keeps draped over the arm. Facing her, stood in front of the TV, is Ichiro.

  Ruby called him shortly after we fled from the Octopus Bar, on my request. I understand why he wanted to lay low after the nightmare at The Golden Tiger and fully respect it, but with Ko out of the way now, we’re on the home stretch. With Kazawa and Miley Tevani dead ahead, we need all the help we can get.

  “And you believe him?” asks Ichiro, referring to the information Ko gave us in his final moments.

  “I do,” I reply, nodding. “He didn’t tell us anything under duress. He believed he was walking away from this on the condition he helped us. He knew who we are, and he knew we’d find out if he was bullshitting us, so he had no real reason or incentive to lie.”