[Ray's House]
Raymond entered his home and locked the door behind him. His living room was minimal, almost sterile, with nothing to indicate that the man who lived here had any hobbies other than working out and reading. He walked straight past it, down a narrow hall to a heavy steel door with a concealed keypad.
He entered a twelve-digit code, then pressed his thumb to the scanner. A soft mechanical click sounded, and the door slid open.
Inside was his secret lab. The lights flickered for a moment before glowing. Multiple screens lined the far wall. The hum of servers and the soft whir of cooling fans filled the air. Across the opposite wall were metal cabinets and storage racks, locked and labeled.
Raymond sat at the central desk and started the computer. After that, he typed a command. A grid of city maps, live feeds from traffic cameras, and a dedicated GPS interface appeared on the screens.
He opened the phone-tracking program first. A blinking red dot appeared on the map. Rosa's phone. Eastern docks. The location pulsed steadily, just at the edge of the industrial district where old shipping warehouses were half-abandoned.
He switched to the vehicle tracker next. Rosa's bike has a bug. He heard about the tracker weeks ago when Jake went on a long rant about the dangers of motorcycles and how "if Batman had LoJack for his Batpod, he would have slept better."
The bike's signal glowed in a different spot. It was parked exactly where Amy had said it might be: the 25th Avenue garage under the giant Mustang billboard. Rosa's bike and her phone were now separated by nearly four miles.
Raymond's jaw tightened. That was enough to confirm it. She had been taken.
He stood up and moved to the wall on his right. He pressed a discreet panel near the floor. Servos engaged, and the smooth wall split into two sections. The panels shifted to the sides, revealing the first cache. There were rows of firearms: pistols, submachine guns, suppressed rifles, and a single compact shotgun with its barrel polished to a mirror finish. Below them were drawers stocked with ammunition, grenades, and breaching charges.
He turned to the opposite wall and entered a second code. That wall opened as well, revealing tactical vests, body armor, helmets, utility belts, and an assortment of knives with blackened steel. There were more explosives on the top shelf, each in a labeled case. Smoke grenades, flashbangs, and a few items that had no official designation at all.
Raymond checked his equipment before putting it on.
He strapped on a tactical vest, clipped extra magazines to his belt, and a suppressed pistol to his thigh holster. He slung a compact rifle across his back and attached a utility knife to his shoulder strap. He took three flashbangs and two smoke grenades, locking them into the loops on his vest. Then he took two handguns and loaded them before putting them into the waist holsters.
Since Rosa was working on the bike gang case, there might be the entire gang, so enough bullets for everyone.
He returned to the computer and initiated a secondary scan. He pulled live feeds from the closest traffic and harbor cameras. Two black vans had passed through the eastern docks fifteen minutes ago, one of them pulling into a warehouse lot that had no business listed on the city registry. He logged the coordinates mentally.
Raymond shut the panel on the weapon racks. He pressed a final command on the keyboard that powered down the main servers and switched the system to silent monitoring mode. The lights in the lab dimmed to a soft red, and the hum of the fans lowered.
He took one last look at the blinking dot on the map. Rosa's phone had not moved.
"You better be okay, Rosa," he said quietly to himself before walking out.
...
[A little flashback] [25th Avenue Garage]
Rosa sat on an upturned crate, watching Ralf, the garage owner, tighten the chain on her bike. She liked this place. It was quiet, and Ralf usually minded his own business while he worked.
"You've been pushing this thing hard," Ralf said, not looking up from the chain. His voice was gravelly and slow.
"Work's been busy," Rosa replied. She took a sip of water from a bottle she had grabbed on the way in. "You know how it is. Chases, idiots on the road, and more idiots trying to run from us."
Ralf finally looked up, a strange smirk on his face. "Yeah. I know exactly how it is."
Rosa caught the edge in his tone and raised an eyebrow. "Something you wanna say?"
Instead of answering, Ralf suddenly rushed in, and his fist crashed against Rosa's jaw. She stumbled back into a rack of tools, sending wrenches and sockets clattering to the floor. For a moment, everything turned white as she tasted her blood in her mouth.
Her shock lasted only a second.
She jumped up and launched a kick into his ribs, sending him crashing into the crates behind him.
"Fucking bitch!" Ralf cursed as he got up.
But Rosa was already there. She punched his nose four times in a row. Blood sprayed, and he grunted, but he did not fall.
She went for another hit, but heard the sounds of footsteps. Six men emerged from behind stacks of tires and engine blocks. They had been hiding in the shadows. Leather jackets with faded skull patches marked them all as part of the same gang she busted earlier that day.
Rosa pivoted, fists up, trying to find an opening. The first man lunged, and she grabbed his shoulders and drove her knee into his gut. Another swung a wrench, and she ducked under it, shoving him into a metal shelf. But she could not stop all of them. They all rushed her together. Hands grabbed her arms, her waist, her legs. Someone hooked her foot and dragged her down hard.
"Gaahh! Damn you!"
She thrashed, kicking and elbowing, landing two more hits before someone looped a cable around her wrists and yanked it tight. Another zip tie bit into her ankles. The cold floor pressed against her cheek as rough hands rolled her onto her back.
Ralf stood over her, blood dripping from his nose, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was angry. "You cost me a lot today, Diaz. Those bikes you seized? Those were mine. You took my crew off the streets. You humiliated me in front of my men. Time to pay the price."
Rosa spat a drop of blood onto the floor. Her glare could have cut steel. "If this is your revenge plan, you're dumber than I thought."
Ralf crouched and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're bait. My ticket to getting some of my people out. I call the cops, make my demands, and they jump through hoops because one of their own is on the line. I'll trade you for freedom, and maybe some cash, if I feel generous."
One of the gang members laughed and lifted a phone. "Already got the precinct number ready. They're gonna hear from us real soon."
Rosa let out a laugh that caught them off guard.
"You idiots," she said, her voice low and full of amusement. "You just made the biggest mistake of your lives."
Ralf frowned. "Yeah? And why's that?"
"Because I was supposed to be home for dinner," Rosa said. "And if I miss that dinner, someone is going to come looking for me. When he finds you, every single one of you is going to wish you had walked into the nearest station and begged for mercy instead."
The men exchanged uncertain glances.
Rosa spat a mouthful of blood and said, "You just put a target on your backs, and you don't even know it. Congratulations. You're already dead. You just don't feel it yet."
Ralf's jaw tightened, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second, that first small seed of doubt creeping in.
"Yeah, right," He slammed her face on the floor twice.
Blood fizzled out of her nose. Her lips were busted. But she didn't show any sign of fear or weakness.
"Ship her to the warehouse and call the backup gang," Ralf ordered before he grabbed a fistful of Rosa's hair and looked into her eyes. "I hate that look in your eyes. Whoever it is that makes you so confident, let him come. We'll fuck him up right before your eyes."
"Cough! Cough!" Rosa coughed as she breathed hard. Her nose might be broken. The pain was too much at this point. Still, she managed to chuckle one last time and said, "Haha... You clueless bastards... I can't wait to see him fold you in half." She lost her consciousness.
...
[Present time]
Rosa's eyes fluttered open to a haze of pain. Every nerve in her face burned. Her nose throbbed and her lips felt swollen and split. Her head pounded from the impact of being slammed against the floor, and the taste of blood lingered on her tongue.
"Damn it!" She tried to move, but her arms were pulled tightly behind her, wrists bound to the chair. Her legs were bound to the wooden legs.
The room was small. A single weak bulb hung from the ceiling, buzzing faintly as it flickered. The walls were old concrete, stained with oil and dark streaks that could have been anything. There was a faint smell of gasoline and rust.
Rosa turned her head slightly, wincing as the motion sent a fresh jolt of pain through her jaw. There was only one door, and she was alone.
Then, from beyond the door, the first scream tore through the air.
"Get away from me, you lunatic," The goon yelled.
It was followed by the heavy crash of something or someone hitting the ground. Then came another scream, and another, overlapping in a dissonant chorus of fear.
Rosa tilted her head back against the chair and smiled. She could almost see the scene in her mind. The goons who had dragged her here were meeting the kind of nightmare that did not let anyone walk away unscarred.
Then came the sounds of gunshots.
Rosa heard someone shout in pain, the sound cut short by another shot.
"Fucker shot my balls!" Another one screamed.
"Get him."
"What the fuck are you all doing? SHOOT!"
"Argggg!!"
"Where the fuck did he... kuggg!"
"Grenade!"
An explosion shook the walls. Dust fell from the ceiling. The bulb swayed on its cord, throwing shadows across the floor. A second explosion followed, closer this time, making the chair vibrate beneath her. The air in the room trembled with the force of it.
She leaned her head forward and let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Told you idiots," she muttered to herself. "You were already dead. You just didn't know it."
Outside, chaos reigned for another several minutes. There were bursts of automatic fire, the low echo of a shotgun blast, the metallic clatter of weapons hitting concrete. Someone screamed in a long, high-pitched wail that ended with a sickening crunch. Then silence began to settle over the building. The last thing Rosa heard before the quiet fully returned was the faint echo of footsteps, steady and unhurried, approaching the door.
The silence stretched for a long moment.
Then the door burst inward with a deafening slam.
Raymond stood there, covered in blood. His rifle's barrel was still smoking faintly. His gloves were dark with grime and gunpowder residue. In one hand, he dragged Ralf by his hair like a hunter presenting a kill. Ralf's screams were gone now, replaced by weak groans. His arms and legs were twisted in the opposite direction. Yup! Ray broke his kneecaps and elbows.
Ralf's head lolled to the side, face bloodied and swollen beyond recognition.
Raymond stepped into the room, and his eyes met Rosa's. And for a brief moment, his hard, focused expression softened just enough to show that he had been worried. Then he looked down at Ralf and let the man's head hit the floor with a heavy thud. Ralf whimpered once, then went still.
Rosa raised an eyebrow, blood trickling from her lip as she watched Raymond approach. "Took you long enough," she rasped.
Raymond crouched in front of her as he cut the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. "Traffic was a nightmare," he said calmly.
As the ropes fell away, Rosa flexed her fingers and winced. "I heard the screams and imagined you shooting your way here to save me. It was hot."
He glanced over his shoulder at the hallway, where faint trails of smoke curled through the air. "They had fifteen minutes to realize what kind of mistake they made," he said. "That was generous."
Rosa rubbed her wrists and tried to stand, but her knees wobbled. Raymond caught her under the arm, his grip firm and steady. Up close, she could smell the gunpowder and metal clinging to him, and the faintest trace of the cologne he must have put on for their dinner.
"You alright?" he asked, eyes scanning her face.
"I've had worse," she said with a smirk, even though her jaw pulsed with pain. "Sorry for missing the dinner and dragging you here."
"Don't worry about that. I'm just glad you are okay. Time to get you to the hospital," Ray said as he took her up in his arms. Rosa didn't complain.
Outside, the cops were already there.
Ray called them before entering the area. Oh, he called a guy who knows another guy, and they'll wrap up the situation.
"I hate needles," Rosa grumbled.
"So you were acting tough that night?" Ray asked.
"I didn't want to show my weakness to you back then. I hate needles," Rosa mumbled.
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[26 advance chs] [No double billing.]
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