Bullets tore at Duncan’s hemd, shirt as he sprinted across the warehouse. But he was sure none of them pierced his flesh, since he would have known about it… Unless he was just numb to the pain. Duncan tended to block the pain out when he was concentrating really hard. He finally made it safely across the room, and he didn’t bother checking the doorknob. He knew it was locked.

So, instead, Duncan flipped the gun in his hand so that he was holding the barrel. He reared his arm back and smashed the butt of the gun through the non-bulletproof window. Glass sprayed everywhere, slicing into his cheeks and arms and ricocheting off the curtains. Duncan threw the curtains aside and placed a hand on the windowsill. The glass cut through his palm, but he still hoisted himself through the window and into Jared’s office.

Duncan spun the empty gun in his hand, aiming it right at Jared, who was backed into the corner. Jared held a gun up, too, and there were a tense couple of moments as they glared at each other. The sights of their pistols were pointed at each other’s foreheads.

“You better not shoot, Jared,” Duncan warned, “I have lighting-quick reflexes. Du pull the trigger, and I’ll pull my trigger. We’ll both be dead.” Little did Jared know, Duncan was out of ammo.

“Same for you,” Jared grumbles, “You pull your trigger, and I’ll pull mine. We’ll both be dead, and you’ll never see your precious girlfriend again.” Duncan’s eyes flickered over to Courtney, who was curled up in a chair with wide eyes.

“So… truce?” Duncan asks. “There’s really no other option, unless Du want to stand here all day.”

“Alright. Du put your gun down first.”

Duncan barked a harsh laugh. “What do Du think I am? Stupid?” he demands. But Jared’s jaw clenched and Duncan quickly shook his head. It was better to not make Jared angry. “You put your gun down first.”

“What do Du think I am? Stupid?” Jared replies, mocking Duncan. “Let’s just put both of your Pistolen down at the same time. On three, okay? One…”

Their arms shook.

“Two…,” Duncan continued.

Their fingers clenched their guns, waiting for the other’s reaction.

“Three,” Jared finishes.

Both their arms ever so slowly lower the pistols, but then Jared quickly lifts his gun up again. As if in slow motion, Duncan sees Jared’s finger whip towards the trigger and pull it back. Duncan drops to the floor and the air from the bullet ruffles his hair. He sticks his foot out and whips it under Jared’s legs, knocking him over.

Duncan leaps onto Jared and swipes the pistol away. It clatters across the floor. Jared and Duncan tussle on the ground, throwing punches at each other that rarely connect with it’s target. As Jared pins Duncan down, he goes limp. Suddenly, Duncan hops up and throws Jared against the wall. Duncan hops on oben, nach oben of Jared and pins his arms under his knees.

Duncan wields the gun in his hand and, since there was no ammo, he swings the butt of the pistol at Jared’s face. The first blow cuts his lip. The second, third, and fourth blow land various cuts and bruises over Jared’s face. The fifth swing, schaukel lands the gun on Jared’s nose, and a loud crack is heard. Blood begins gushing out of his nose, and Duncan swings the gun one last time at him. It smacks Jared’s right temple and he lets out a huge moan. Finally, Jared goes limp.

Duncan stands and tosses the gun on Jared’s chest. He carefully walks towards Courtney, who was still curled up in the wooden chair. She was shaking, and her eyes were still wide with fear. Duncan holds a hand out to her and whispers, “Don’t worry, Princess. Jared’s dead now. I won’t hurt you. C’mon, Du can trust me.”

Some girls became terrified once they’ve seen their crushes oder their boyfriends beat some other guy up, Duncan knew, but that wasn’t the case with Courtney.

She stood up from the chair, knees wobbling, and enveloped Duncan in a hug, with her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him for God knows how long. Eventually, Damien’s voice called out, “Duncan! Man, let’s get outta here!”

Duncan lifts Courtney up bridal-style and

They walked out into the warehouse, where Log kabine gangsters were standing around a heap of Racketeers, who were either dead oder tied up. “Is Jared dead, dude?” Damien asks.

“He’s either dead right now oder will bleed to death,” Duncan answers. “Now let’s go.”

Gangsters climb up the ropes, twenty feet in the air, and climb back out the window to the roof. The teenagers from Log kabine line up Von the dangling ropes and, one Von one, gewölbe, tresor themselves up the ropes. One remaining Racketeer launched himself out of his hiding spot, and he tackled Damien. Immediately Log kabine gangsters over-strengthened the Racketeer, and they got him pinned down to the ground. Damien liked his fist to schlagen, punsch his in the face, but Duncan commanded, “Freeze!”

Damien’s arm halted, halfway to the Racketeer’s face. Damien looked up at Duncan for further instruction. Duncan jerks his chin at the door leading out of the warehouse and suggests, “Why don’t Du take our little Racketeer friend for a ride?”

A slow smirk creeped along Damien’s face until dimples began their slow descent into his cheeks. At the same time, the Racketeers’ eyes bulged in fear and desperation. “Please!” the Racketeer pleaded, “No! Duncan, no! Anything but that!”

But Duncan just casually turned his gaze away from the Racketeer as his Log kabine cronies yanked the Racketeer to his feet. They shoved him out the door, while he was kicking and resisting the whole way. As the heavy metal door slowly swung shut, they could still hear his yells coming from outside.

“What will happen to him when Damien takes him ‘for a ride’?” Courtney asks sleepily. Some of her words were slurred together, since she was half-asleep, and her hot breath breezed into Duncan’s pierced ear.

“Nothing. Du wouldn’t want to know.”

Courtney shifted in his arms, and insisted, “Of course I want to know.”

At first Duncan just watched his Friends climb up the ropes to the roof. He was breathing out of his mouth, and refused to make eye contact with Courtney. “Damien… he’s going to take him to Lake Michigan,” Duncan explains, still watching the ceiling.

Courtney is silent, waiting for Duncan to elaborate. Which he does, a Sekunde later, “They’re going to… strap weights on his ankles… and drop him into the lake.” Courtney gasps and he finally looks down at her.

“I told Du Du wouldn’t want to know,” he tries to excuse himself.

“But… that’s terrible!”

“Yeah, well, it’s life okay?” Duncan snaps, “Life isn’t always rainbows and Schmetterlinge in your world of money and shopping and Wand Street.” Courtney just stares at him, and he sighs. “Listen… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “There’s been a lot on my mind.”

“I understand,” Courtney whispers.

Finally, all the gangsters from Log kabine were on the roof. Duncan hoists Courtney over his shoulder and he begins the long, yet easy, climb up the rope. She clings to his back and her eyes were squeezed shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the ground.

Duncan steps up onto the gravel oben, nach oben of the roof, and he sets Courtney down. She leans against him, and his arm steadies her around her waist. “Alright,” Duncan commands, “Down the feuer escape, into our get-away vehicles, and straight back home.” The gangsters steadily file down the stairs and into the cold, crisp night air.

Once again, after they were the last ones left behind, Duncan holds Courtney’s hand and helps her down the feuer escape. She was much Mehr steady on her feet, because most of her injuries had healed into bruises. Duncan leaps down the last jump of the feuer escape, and he catches Courtney in his arms as she gently falls back.

They walk to the last car left in the alley, the black and white Rolls Royce. Duncan climbs into the driver’s seat, and Courtney into the passenger seat. He Pistolen the engine, and quietly zooms off back home. The milky-white light from the full moon was glowing into the front seat, lighting up nearly everything. Small stars glittered against the navy velvet of the night sky. Cold air blew through the window, which had been broken open during their kidnapping, making tiny Gänsehaut pop up on Courtney’s arms. The salty air from Lake Michigan smelled tart, and the wind blew her silky hair against the headrest of the seat.

“Can Du write down your address for me?” Duncan asks, breaking the silence. He hands a pen and scrap of paper to Courtney out of the handschuh compartment. She takes the pen in her fist and places the paper on her thigh, even though she was confused.

“Why do Du need it?” she replies, even though she had already scrawled her Home address on the paper in her girly handwriting. Duncan takes the paper and tucks it into his back pocket. Courtney tosses the pen back into the handschuh compartment, but keeps her eyes on Duncan, whose lips had pressed into a tight, grim line.

Duncan quickly bites his lip, runs a strong hand through his black hair, and blurts, “After Du heal a bit more… I’m taking Du back home.”