Family Feud - Part 13

Family Feud - Part 13

Two Mob style families seek revenge on each other as the bodies stack up. Told from the point of view of one of the hired gun "soldiers" involved in the carnage.

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The long wait is over.

A new bloodbath!
Enjoy! 
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Onslaught 2

I stood looking at the inferno still  billowing high above the Lower Westside Neighborhood. Embers shot high into the night sky twisting and spinning in the super heated air, each ember glowing for a time and going dark, never to be seen again.

"Sort of like the lives that were snuffed out in and around that place tonight." I thought, a little sardonically. Knowing that this was no where near the end, I began to prepare myself for the battles ahead. 

"Where you been?" I asked my self-appointed bodyguard. I know the irritation and suspicion was evident in my tone.

"Doing some spying. some lying and a little killing." Jerry smiled at the pause. "I am working on a plan to take out Vito to put an end to this war forever."

"What's the plan?" I asked. "Vito has an army of thugs, paid killers and psychopaths all paid to protect his ass and kill every man in Tony's family and business. - Especially me and anybody attached to me."

"And there's our doorway." Jerry smiled. "Vito is offering 2 million dollars to the man that brings you to him alive so he can kill you himself."

"And I suppose that you are the one that is going to do that for him?" I said. "What's to keep you from double crossing me and letting him kill me and getting the bounty for yourself.?"

"You saved my life for whatever reason when all you had to do was slit my throat or put a bullet in my brain.  I have saved your ass several times over  and you still don't trust me?" he looked at the floor. "I don't know what to tell you except that you can end this if you trust me."

"Everybody tells me that Vito has a plan that will make me willingly walk into his hands.  This sounds like what they are talking about." I pulled my gun out of the holster and made it clear that I was ready for a challenge.

"Put that away.  You know you can trust me.  I know I can trust you."  "I need to make Vito believe that I am betraying you and I need you to play your part convincingly enough to convince him that that is exactly what has happened."

---

Jerry has been there for me many times over but how many men would he be willing to kill to collect a couple of million dollars?

If his past was not wiped clean by someone I might be less worried.  This guy never existed before I first spared his life.  Now he wants me to trust my life to him.

Once again my phone interrupted.

"Carver, where are you?" the voice demanded. It was Hancock.

"We were going over to Grove Street." I answered. "What's up?"

"I'm in the alley one block over from the gym.  I had a man here keeping watch of the people going in and out.  We lost contact with him about an hour ago.  I drove over here and found his body.  Knife in the chest. Split his heart wide open, then just left him there for anybody to find."

"I have his camera.  Maybe he has some stuff we can use on it." Hancock said. "I think we need to clean out this place like we did Vinny's."

"Sounds fine to me." I answered. Hold on, we'll be right over.

We arrived just in time to see our guys load Hancock's man into the van - the knife still embedded in his chest.

"Let me have that knife." I ordered. "I plan on giving it back to it's owner."

Hancock pulled the weapon from the guy's chest, wiped it off a bit and handed it to me.

"We will have a team here in just a few minutes." he said, "Should be enough firepower to clean out the scum in there."

"Hope so." I said as I pulled my bow from the trunk.  "I need this to end." 

I could hear the distinct sound of a motorcycle coming toward us so I signaled everyone back out of sight.  The Yamaha slowed as it pulled up the street, passed us and rounded the turn into the alley behind the gym.

I moved around the buildings between us until I spotted the rider moving toward the loading dock.

I raised my bow and fired.

The arrow struck him in the throat, tearing through his larynx and erupting from his neck just under his helmet.  He jerked and made a short, raspy choking sound as the reflex from severing his spinal chord shot through his body. He wilted into a sitting position against the wall. Probably had no idea what killed him.

Another noise from the back caught my attention. Someone else was back by the motorcycles and heard the noises the other motorcycle rider made as he died.

Again, I raised my bow and fired.

He reached for his chest where the arrow had struck, grabbed the shaft of the arrow and pulled. Grunting with pain, the leather clad victim shuddered and stiffened as he toppled over backwards and lay unmoving on the ground.

I felt a strong hand on the back of my head, pushing me down toward the ground.

"Look out." Jerry yelped fairly loudly. 

I dropped to the ground, trying to see what Jerry was talking about.  He was pointing his gun toward my left. *Peyupp* "Ungh!"

Turning just in time to see a misty red cloud spray from the gunman's temple, I watched as he spun around and landed with a solid thud on the concrete.  The adrenaline rush ripped through my body as I looked for any more targets nearby. I didn't have to look very far as a loud crack from a 9mm echoed off the buildings and sailed past my ear.

*Peuypp* "Ungh!" Thump.

The shooter fell on his back and immediately his partner dove to the concrete using his fallen comrade as a shield.

Jerry fired twice more.  First shot clipped the shooter's left shoulder.  He flattened himself behind his dead partner as Jerry took deadly aim and fired...  The left lens of his sunglasses shattered and his head jerked back. The attacker weakened and fell face down in his partner's armpit with a large hole where his left eye had been.

"Shit, Jerry!" Hancock whispered, "You're damn good."

No time for a victory party - at least not yet.

I listened at the back door.  Nothing. Jerry tapped me on the shoulder and nodded followed by a quick move through the door.

"Yeahh!" the loud yell was followed by a grunt and Jerry bounced back against me as I got in the doorway.

I barely dodged a fist that was aimed at my face but my hand was not empty as I fought back with a strong upward thrust. My blade hit something hard as the expression on the man's face turned from fierce rage to pained horror. He fell backwards to the floor and grasped at the handle of the knife in his chest.

Looking up at my face and back at the knife in his chest, he shuddered with pain with each attempt at breath. Stepping over his heaving body, I reached down and grasped the handle of the knife, sending a shock wave of pain through his body.  A look of horror washed over his face as he began to shake his head pleading for me to leave the knife alone.

He was a good looking hunk, nice full package really hot looking face and as I twisted the blade and yanked it free of his chest, a quick gush of blood erupted from the gash in his chest and he fell limp on the wooden floor, mouth open, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

I looked toward the door to the back hallway as some of Hancock's men pushed the door open and hurried through.  I hears a couple of muffled grunts and the sounds of a scuffle breaking through the half open door as I picked my way toward the inside.

I stepped into the narrow hallway and started toward the locker room.  History has taught me that there is usually someone in there...

Sure enough, on the floor near the showers lay a nude body with a knife driven deep between his shoulders. No sign of his killer but since he was showering here, I had to assume that he was from out of town and met his end at the hand of one of Tony's men.

A slowly spreading pool of blood decorated the floor under his chest with a deep stain of warm, fresh blood that will likely remain long after the body has been removed.

I started toward the locker room but another two-man battle burst in through the door and played itself out in front of me. Dale Clark, one of our "clean up" men was being pushed backward as a dark haired opponent pressed in for the kill.  Dale backed into the wall, which abruptly stopped his backward movement even though his attacker kept pressing in.

Suddenly a flash of steel glinted from his back as the pointy end of Clark's weapon emerged from the about-to-be-dead attacker's back.  They stood together motionless at first as the wound gushed and spilled down the unlucky henchman's back. Soon, however, the impaled victim began to sink to the floor and slid off the sharp blade.

Jerry gently pushed me aside as I stood mesmerized by the death scene before me, the shiny steel, the sticky red blood and the periodic twitches of a freshly killed body adjusting to death. 

Not waiting for me - or anybody else, Jerry hurried upstairs, grabbed the first door and pushed it into the room.

Lying on the bed was a nearly naked body.  He immediately jumped to his feet and fired, barely missing Jerry and me both.

 *Peyupp* "Ungh!" Jerry fired, hitting the guy in his tattooed torso, sending him stumbling backward to land sitting on his bed. 

Quickly raising his weapon again he prepared to shoot back.

*Peyupp* "Ah!"

The shooter went limp and toppled back across the bed, bouced briefly and lay still.  He now had a bloody hole where his right eye had been, a shocked, wide eyed expression from his other eye and a sticky, bloody mess of hair, brains and blood leaking from the back of his skull.

"In here, quick!" I heard Clark call as he entered the next room.

 

Tied in a chair with his throat slit almost to his backbone was what was left of David Greer, One of Hancock's  newer men.

"He was gagged when they killed him," I said. "This was an execution.  Either they got what they wanted or just got sick of trying."

"The blood is drying." Jerry observed."  "He's been dead for quite a while."

"Was it Hoyle?" Jerry asked.

"I doubt it." I answered. "Hoyle likes to stab in through the side of the neck, severing the jugular and usually leaves the knife behind as his little gift.  This looks like the work of Mason Polk.

Moving past the blood covered corpse, I readied myself at the next door. Before I could open it, I heard the latch on the door directly across the hall click and an unsuspecting victim moved into striking distance. 

Just as the barefoot wanderer started up the hallway I met him with a sharp blade thrust in under the ribs tearing through his stomach and spleen.

A nice twist of the knife and the stricken man fell against the radiator and slid awkwardly to the floor, blood streaming from his side.  Maybe it was a bit of vengeful anger or maybe just my sadistic lust for blood but I did not finish him off, choosing rather to let him bleed out on the floor.  I'll check back in a while to see how he is doing.

Turning my attention back to the door next to me, I turned the handle and carefully peered inside...
Inside I found a solitary figure sprawled across his bed, apparently sleeping.  I started pulling my knife out of the sheath and the snap around the handle opened with a soft >pop<... Just loud enough to rouse the sleeping beauty on the bed.
He started to sit up from the bed and go for his gun on the nightstand.  The full force of my knife slamming into his chest forced him back down hard on the bed into a death seizure, tightening every muscle, locking him in place until one by one the muscles relaxed in the peace of death.

I stood over him watching the light in his eyes fade until the death mask froze in that bewildered look of one killed before he had time to react.
Checking through his belongings, I determined that he too was from Chicago. "I'll bill the state of Illinois for services rendered when this is all over."  I quipped.
"I might send them a bill of my own." Jerry added. "Seems that t hey sent their sewer rats here to infest our garbage heaps."
"That's Ok." I replied. "I needed the practice."

Another commotion caught our attention in the next room.
"Aaaaahhh!"
Hurrying to the open door I looked inside just in time to see Jamie holding onto a skin-

headed tattooed guy in a black tee with a long, bloody blade poking out through his back as he slid down, clutching at Jamie as if it was the last thing he would ever do.

A grunt in the adjacent room and the sound of a scuffle again dragged me to the door to see if my to see if my help was needed.

It wasn't.

There was what looked like a guy dressed for business that must have arrived late last night, or early this morning lay on top of the bed, still fully dressed.

Stabbed just below the right collar bone, he might have lived had it not been for Sammy's  swift removal of the knife followed by a careful aim over the heart and the swift jam thrusting the blade through the center of his heart.

Air hissed through Sammy fingers along with a throaty groan as the gasped and tried to scream when the knife plunged through his heart. A gurgling last breath bubbled deep in his throat and quickly went silent.

Running up the steps to the third floor, Jerry on my heels, I opened the door on the left and found a freshly made bed and clean towels.  Nobody here yet.

"I got you, you son of a bitch!" Somebody shouted from the dark. Drew ran into the dark room firing into the blackness.  I found the light switch and flipped it on.

The two gunmen suddenly found themselves face to face in the blinding light. Raising their weapons they took quick aim and fired.

Ba-Bang!!

The florescent light flashed to life just as the two recoiled from the double bullets to the heads and toppled over backwards to sprawl out across the floor, dead. Vito's man lay flat, shirtless on the floor, eyes staring at the ceiling, blood seeping from the hole in his forehead and a massive boner in his pants.  Unfortunately our man lay just as flat and just as dead, without the hard-on.
"Look here!"  Hancock called out.

The body in the next room, gagged, seated on a hassock, two bullets in his abdomen, one in his chest and one last one at the hairline. Another killed while gagged.  Were they just getting rid of guys when they are done with or are they doing something else? I wondered about the actual size of that organ in  his pants.  He was obviously well endowed.

Looking in the next room revealed another body.

This one looked like he was killed while his killer was getting him ready for sex. Clothing tossed on the floor, shoes in the corner, nothing left but his briefs and socks. The body was still warm.

Another noise caught my attention.

Jerry and I got to the door just as Mason Polk came out and started to run for his life.  We were both faster than he was.

Soon we had him tied to a bed and started trying to find out what they already knew.

"You murderous little bastard!" I snarled.

"Yes, I suppose I am." Mason snarled.  "You, of all people should know, Carver!"

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked, grabbing him by the shirt. "How many of our men have you killed?"

His face reddened as the shirt collar tightened around his throat.  Breath wheezed in his throat as I held the grip as tight as I could.

Finally I slammed him back down, letting the little asshole have a little more air. I took my knife and held it against his throat.

"What do you know?" I demanded." What did they tell you before you killed them?"

"Go to hell you asshole!" he snarled. "Kill me!  I'm not going to tell you anything. Kill me now and get it over with."

"Not a bad idea." I admitted, softening my tone with him. I pushed the cold steel of the blade up against the throbbing artery near the back of his jaw. "I'll bet this will open things up quite well..." 

Taking my blade, I turned it over and drew it down from his throat, across his chest to his belt.  Mason cringed as the blade tore it's way down his unprotected body but the pain did not come.  I carefully cut the cloth from the chest out the sleeves and he soon found himself shirtless on the bed. Hancock started to pull the cloth out from under his torso while I made a menacing gesture with the blade toward his gut but turned the blade and slipped it under his belt and gave it a quick yank.

The severed belt made it easy to zip the blade down both legs until there was nothing left on him but his black briefs.

I could see that getting stripped like this was really getting him excited.  The underwear was brief alright -  too brief as the head of his dick poked out the bottom and across his thigh.

Hancock climbed up on the bed and knelt at his side.

"Peace offering?" he asked, pulling Mason's dick out and folding the underwear out of the way. The veins were sticking out all around his cock, his balls were dangling and now flopped lazily as Hancock started playing with our captive's dick.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snarled, trying to squirm out of Hancock's grip.

"I'm thinking of cutting this thing off, cooking it and making you eat it.

Mason did not respond.

"Or we could shove it up your ass."

"Or down your throat." I chimed in.

Our taunting did nothing to soften his hard-on and Hancock had already started to stroke him.  I signaled for Michael to speed up his strokes.

"You faggots like that?" he snarled. "Figures. So, you don't like it Carver?"

He laughed at his own joke. I couldn't get the pictures of his victims out of my mind.

"You'll never get any answers from me!" He taunted.

"No," I answered, raising my knife. "I won't!"

"Aieeaah!!" he yelped as I drove the knife deep through his belly button.

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