2025-10-03 22:37:44
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Chapter 26: Muscles
You won’t be smirking when we’re done, pretty boy.” One of the thugs said as he cracked his knuckles loud enough to echo He was an absolute mountain of flesh with a shaved head and a chest that looked like two oil drums welded together. Johnny rolled his neck slowly, sighing as if the whole thing were a mild inconvenience. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got somewhere to be.”The first two rushed him together, a reckless charge of raw muscle. Johnny slid between them, low and quick, sticking out his foot just enough. They collided with each other, skulls smacking like coconuts before tumbling to the floor.“Down goes dumb and dumber,” Johnny quipped.Another lunged with a haymaker the size of a sledgehammer. Johnny ducked, the punch smashing through a wooden chair instead, splintering it into pieces. Johnny popped back up, flicked the man’s ear with two fingers, and then drove his palm into his nose. The crack was sharp, followed by a howl. Blood poured instantly.“Don’t worry, croo
Chapter 25: The Red Room
Johnny gathered what he needed from the apartment: the boss’s gun, a flash drive from a desk drawer that could prove useful in future, and a crumpled receipt that smelled faintly of cheap perfume—a breadcrumb to the Red Room. He stuffed them into his pocket. checked his watch, and felt the system’s timer throb at the edge of his awareness like a heartbeat.“Vixen, what’s the time left?” Johnny asked as he dashed into his car.[14:01:01]“Good enough.”He didn’t linger. He drove straight to the address stamped on the receipt.The Red RoomJohnny had never been inside a brothel before, but the Red Room erased any romanticized image he might’ve had. The building stood tall, wrapped in red neon that glowed like blood under the night. The entrance was velvet-lined with dark curtains, and the air smelled faintly of roses, smoke, and something sweeter—perfume masking sweat.Inside, the lobby pulsed with a strange life. Music throbbed from speakers hidden in the walls, low beats that seemed
Chapter 24: The pool
“Hope you don’t mind.” Johnny said it like a casual remark, tearing off another piece of toast and shoving it into his mouth as if he belonged in the kitchen. He’d never liked the idea of stealing other people’s food, but etiquette had long ago been replaced by necessity.The man who’d owned the kitchen sat tied to a chair, mouth taped, hands bound behind the back. Behind him the pool filled the far side of the room, water dark and still—an ugly promise in the dim light. The chair was wedged on one leg, suspended by rope that ran up and across to a pulley on the opposite wall. If the rope was slackened or the chair tipped, the chair would slide—tilt—and then he’d be submerged with his hands trapped to the wood.Johnny finished the toast, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and peeled the tape from the man’s mouth. He pushed the chair until it teetered.“You go in the water,” he said simply.The man’s jaw worked. He was a boss in the way men become bosses—confidence earned by ma
Chapter 23: Why’d they shoot at each other?
Johnny paced across the room, boots tapping against the blood-slick floor. Three dead men lay sprawled at odd angles, their limbs bent in ways that didn’t look human anymore. He’d been staring at them for hours, running scenarios through his head, but each one ended the same—he was out of leads. [12: 05:36]Out of time.He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Think, Johnny. Think.”Then it hit him.Why waste energy hunting for a needle in a haystack… when he could wait for the needle to walk right into his hands?A grin spread across his face. Simple. Risky, but simple.He pocketed a wads of bills from the scattered stacks of cash, slipped them into his car parked a discreet distance away, and reset himself inside the apartment. Now all he had to do was wait.The hours crawled. Then—headlights cut through the thin curtains. A sleek, black luxury car rolled up the street, its engine purring low like a predator.Johnny’s body stiffened. Showtime.Two men stepped out of the front seats, s
Chapter 22: Didn’t know you were expecting company
The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the room. Acrid, sharp, the kind of scent that lingered in the lungs and coated the tongue like ash.But when the haze cleared—Mitch was still breathing.The bullet had torn into the leg of the table, splintering the wood into jagged shards that rained down across his lap. The round had missed his thigh by less than an inch. He sat frozen, pale now, trembling. That cocky smirk he’d worn earlier was gone, replaced by wide eyes and the shallow, panicked breaths of a man realizing how thin the line between life and death truly was.Johnny leaned closer, pressing the muzzle of his pistol against Mitch’s temple. His voice was low, almost a whisper—colder than the steel he carried.“That was your warning shot. Next one doesn’t miss.”Mitch tried to swallow, but his throat clicked like it was closing in on itself.Johnny didn’t wait. He squeezed the trigger again, and the bullet grazed Mitch’s ear by a hair. Flesh tore; blood trickled hot and sticky down
Chapter 21: The Bar tender
Johnny drove straight across town, the streetlights flashing over the hood of his car like impatient blinks. The address Vivienne gave him led to The Rusty Anchor Bar—a joint with a reputation for cheap liquor, bad lighting, and no questions asked.From the outside, it didn’t look like much: a cracked neon sign buzzed against the brick wall, the word Anchor missing its “n,” making it Archor. A group of guys smoked weed out front, their laughter hoarse and mean. The place reeked of spilt beer and sweat, even from the sidewalk. This wasn’t the kind of bar where you brought a date; this was where you came to disappear.Inside was worse. The ceiling fan spun unevenly, screeching on every turn. The booths were patched with duct tape, the tabletops sticky with years of dried liquor. A jukebox in the corner played a muffled rock song no one was listening to. The air was heavy, like someone had trapped cigarette smoke in a jar and kept shaking it.Johnny slid into a booth in the corner, angle
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