Sunlight streaked through the openings on the side of the armored police truck he was being transported in. he wiped the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand and exhaled. Today was a hot day to die as he would soon face his killers. He had pleaded not guilty and the dog faced judge had sentenced him to die_ the shrewd bitch. He tried to imagine it, the hot lead tearing through his body like ice picks and leaving him cold in a matter of seconds if the shit soldiers could shoot like he could. He shuddered at the thought_ made a silent prayer and braced himself for the next few hours. Soon, he was going to see Lucifer or Jesus_ whichever threw a warmer bash. His only regret was a life of unfulfilled potentials. He knew he could have been much more than just a contract killer.
He sat back and looked around. He was not alone. He had noticed the old man on entrance but never spared him a glance till now. He wondered what his story might be but didn’t ask although somehow, he knew their fates were entwined. They were on this boat together sailing to realms of no return. A part of him sought retribution on each one on his death planning committee with a tiny voice silently echoing its will. The truck ran into a porthole and galloped. Immediately, he heard the truck accelerate. He heard shots fired and the screams of innocent bystanders.
Another shot, death cry nearby. He froze.
Their convoy was under attack. He roused and looked through the metal bars on the window and all he saw was mayhem_ a sharp pain jolted inside him and shot up his spine and he felt blood stream down his torso but didn’t care. He tasted freedom in this dessert of metals. He tried in vain to rid himself of the cuffs around his wrists and ankles but the keys were on the guard out front whom by now was probably dead meat. The truck buckled on impact and somersaulted several times_ metal met flesh and by the time the truck came to rest on its hood, he was losing consciousness. He heard desperate cries and pleas for mercy all around him then more purposeful shots and finally silence.
Moments later, he tasted his own blood and perceived smoke_ something was burning. The truck? He wondered. He must have hit his head because he could feel the moisture trickling down the side of his head and knew it was no sweat. Keys jingled and the cage opened. He tried to move but couldn’t. Someone sidestepped him and exited the truck. All around him was chaos and pandemonium. He heard voices and tried to discern what they were saying. They were arguing about him and their voices sounded like heavy bass metals in unison with the pounding in his head. He opened his eyes a crack and saw ninjas even as he felt his 6ft, 200 pound frame being dragged out of the truck and into the back of a waiting SUV with unnatural ease and precision.
‘Ninjas?’ He thought again. ‘Who were they and what did they want with him?’ He was losing consciousness again. A cell phone rang and someone picked up.
“Lord Arthur, we got the old man.”
“Hope no problem?” Inquired the caller
“None Sir_ just picked up a little package on the side. En route to base now.” He clicked off and relayed instructions to someone_ probably the driver and then it dawned on him_ the old man. In all the excitement of the events of the past few minutes, he hadn’t spared him a thought_ who he was and why these dark warriors would risk all in a bid to save him. Who was this Lord Arthur and what did he want with him? All these thoughts stayed with him as he gasped for air and made a last ditch spirited effort to stay alive.