Treatment 280_Badass in Disguise

“Night! I have no quarrel with you! Just hand over that bitch, and we can all walk away!”

 Night’s expression darkened. He fired again, the bullet grazing Hunter’s car inches from his head. Hunter ducked, nearly falling in his panic. 

 “Night, stop!” Hunter yelled. “Be reasonable! Give me the woman, and I promise you and your friend can leave without a scratch. Otherwise, my men won’t hold back!”

 Night switched to Russian, unleashing a stream of profanities that would make a sailor blush. He fired again, deliberately missing Hunter but making him cower.

 “Are you insane?” Hunter screamed. “You’d kill me over some woman? Do you know who my father is? I’m a senator’s son, for Christ’s sake!”

 I slid out from the passenger side, the weight of my Benelli M4 shotgunfortable in my hands. While Night kept Hunter distracted, I moved silently between vehicles, positioning myself for a clear shot at Hunter’s SUV.

 One of his guards spotted me and raised his weapon. I fired first, the shotgun’s st echoing through the night. The guard crumpled. I pumped the shotgun and continued my approach.

 I took aim at the fuel tank of Hunter’s vehicle and pulled the trigger. The explosion was immediate and spectacr. Orange mes burst upward as the SUV’s gas tank ignited, sending a shockwave that knocked Hunter off his feet despite his bodyguard’s warning shout.

 Night used the confusion to advance, picking off the guards who were trying to help Hunter escape. His shots weren’t lethal–he was toying with them, bullets kicking up pavement around their feet like he was making them dance. <fn062b> Get full chapters from f?ndnovel</fn062b>

 Hunter scrambled away on all fours, his injured leg dragging behind him. His face was a mask of terror as he realized how badly he had miscalcted.

 “You–you can’t do this,” he stammered as Night approached, gun aimed casually at his kneecap. “My father will-”

 The bullet tore through Hunter’s knee, cutting off his sentence and recing it with a scream of agony. He copsed, clutching his shattered joint.

 “Your father will what?” Night asked, crouching beside the whimpering man.

 Hunter crawled backward, leaving a smear of blood on the asphalt. “You can’t kill me,” he gasped. “My father won’t let you get away with

 this.”

 Night didn’t respond. Instead, he stood and fired at another nearby SUV. The bullet punctured its fuel tank, and secondster, another explosion lit up the night sky.

 Chris joined us, his own pistol in hand. “My turn,” he said, aiming at a different vehicle and firing. Another explosion rocked the street.

 I selected my own target, sending a shotgun shell into a fourth SUV. The st was satisfying, the vehicle erupting into mes.

 One by one, we methodically triggered explosions, turning Hunter’s fleet into a ring of fire. Each shot, each explosion, made Hunter flinch and cower lower to the ground. By the time we finished, he’d soiled himself, the dark stain visible on his pants as hey surrounded by burning wreckage.

 Distant sirens walled, growing louder by the second.

 “Time to go, Night said, holstering his weapon. We returned to our SUV, leaving Hunter sobbing in the middle of his destroyed convoy.

 As we sped away, AC/DC sted through the speakers. Night drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his earlier angerpletely gone. 

 I’m thinking sushi, Chris suggested from the backseat, as casual as if we were leaving a movie theater rather than a battlefield.

 “I could go for some vodka,” Night countered.

 I leaned back in my seat, watching Moscow’s skyline recede in the side mirror. “Both sound good to me.”

 Behind us, the mes climbed higher, a beacon that would keep the police busy long after we’d disappeared into the night.

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Treatment 280