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Pulling my mask down, I take off running and catapult myself out through the window and quickly grab the rope. Turning my body toward the building, I count the time of my free fall to DuPont’s floor. I tighten my grip on the rope as my body is hurled toward the massive building. With my free hand, I pull my gun from my chest and shoot at the corners of the window, causing it to shatter and fall, creating the opening I need to swing into the bare window.
My body falls through the gap and I let go of the rope, allowing myself to tumble inside. The rope falls through the hooks and I am freed from my ties.
Standing, I face a security guard drawing his weapon. Quickly, I pull my other gun and fire two rounds. One to his knee, causing him to drop to the ground and the other to his hip. He screams in pain, dropping his weapon. Rubber bullets are a bitch at this close range, especially when they hit parts of the body that are not covered with armor. I walk over and hit him in the face, knocking him out cold. Grabbing the big boy’s ankles, I drag him to the service elevator and shove him in. He’s not a bad guy, so he doesn’t deserve to die. This will be the safest place if everything implodes.
I secure the door and hit the button that will send the elevator to ground level. Now it’s time to find my target and end his reign. Busting the window out caused the alarms on this floor to go off. I am sure a lockdown or evacuation plan has been initiated for the building. I walk down the dim hallway. The emergency lights flickering above are the only source of illumination. His framed door is slightly ajar and I push it open. There he is, crouched behind his desk like the coward he is.
“Mark?” he calls out. “Mark, what the hell is it? What happened?”
I stay quiet standing in the darkened doorframe, seeing the fear in his eyes as he attempts to stand to his full height. He is trying to press the panic button located under his desk.
“Now look here, you!” He points with his free hand. “Do you know who I am?!”
I let out a sinister laugh behind my mask. “Panic is not a good look on you, Mitchell.” I take my mask off so he can see my face. It takes a moment for him to recognize me.
“Who are you?” His head cocks to the side and he narrows his eyes. “Who are you really?”
“Your worst nightmare.” I point my gun and shoot him in the leg. He doubles over in pain, screaming. Yes, DuPont, bullets burn. I walk over and land a couple of punches to his face and abdomen. I feel the rush of adrenaline with each punch. “For Daya!” One punch lands on his cheek. “For Khalil!” Another to his stomach. He coughs, trying to catch his breath. Kidney shots are nothing to play with. “For my platoon that you took out.” I kick him in his leg, which has a bullet lodged in it. “How does it feel?” I scream in his face.
He is gasping. I close my eyes, loving the sound of the gasps coming from his cracked lips. I stand and wait. Death is a pleasure that he doesn’t deserve. He is rolling around on the ground while I pull a small kit from my bag. Screwdriver, pliers, and a small torch that a chef can use for crème brûlée. Grabbing him, I pick him up and throw him in his plush chair. He teeters back and forth before he finally comes to a stop and looks up at me with a swollen face.
He weakly smiles at me. “You think you are important?”
“Oh, DuPont, for your survival… I am.” I smile as I pick up the torch. “I have waited a long time for you.”
CHAPTER 23
EXECUTION
Adam
Though he laughs, the fear that is buried inside is quickly coming to the surface.
It feels like time is drifting, but I am on hyperdrive. Time is now cut in half. It won’t be long before the shattered glass that fell to the ground below is reported. I secured him to his chair and begin my retribution, staying quiet as his pleas fill the room.
Please and stop… matched with I’m sorry.
He doesn’t mean it. He’s all about himself. One of those people who likes to tell you what you want to hear to get a pass at life. You can’t change to face heaven’s gates because you realize your fate is best left to the reaper himself.
His skin bubbles as the fire burns over different parts of his body. Arm, neck, hand… bullet hole. That was fun. The open wound filled with muscle and nerves burned deeper. DuPont is sweating like the sinner he is. The devil in the flesh. I take pliers to his fingernails while he begs me to stop. His blood is a robust shade of dark red.
“I didn’t introduce myself, did I? Wow… how incredibly rude of me,” I say. Turning off the torch, I place it on the desk next to me. “George Smith, your wife’s new patient. The one she has been stumbling around trying to find. I am better known, though, as Second Lieutenant Adam Verlice.”
His eyes widen at the last name. I was first on his list to die that day. Take out the head and the body will fall. Half of his face forms a smirk. He is trying to be brave or cocky. He just looks stupid.
“Verlice, did you do something different with your hair?” he tries to joke.
“Greg Johnson played with it… now he is dead. Chase Masters tasted my skin… now he is dead. Senator Frank Townes covered for you… now his word is dead. Jack Bradley hired my ex, Jessica, to take out Kevin Grafton since we both know Kevin is a flake. I reported Jack Bradley to SEC, which leads to you and makes all of your files public.” He shifts in his chair as I untie his hands and legs. I abruptly stand proud. He is weak and can barely move. “Oh! I almost forgot—they charged your wife with the murder of the mistress. You know, the one you and she were both fucking. Turns out she was also working with the CIA to bring you down.”
I lean on his desk, looking at my work. He is broken, bloodied, bruised, swollen, breathing heavily… it’s a masterpiece.
“When did money become more important than the human?” I ask. Curious for a truthful answer. We are beyond any form of lies.
“When my father explained to me that anyone can be bought for the right price. Just depends on the currency. Some want cash, some want materials or a well-to-do title… then you have that freak Kevin who just wanted to do the right thing.”
Finding someone’s price is always a deal changer.
“What’s your price?” he asks.
