Chapter Five: New leads, same old stinkin' death

Manns and Regis make their escape from the Belvedere projects.

It was going to be quite the feat, leaving those projects alive. Whoever had goons waiting for him, was probably there,just watching the future slaughter of Manns. This low life had to be Rojas. He would need to have some face time with him, sooner or later, and now was not the time. And he couldn't leave Regis here on his own, he might have some more useful information on his mother in law, and he didn't want the life of another unnecessary casualty on his conciounse. The pouring rain beat the concrete with a fury, and visibility wasn't easy to come by. But they needed to get down from the fire escape towards the alleyway, and make a clean escape. ´Regis, you got any vehicles around this place, preferably not near the front street?´´Yeah, my mustang is on Carey road, right behind this place.´ That's where they would head, thought Manns, or they would die trying. Manns picked up a dirty T shirt from the floor of the room, and got behind the wall, beside the window.

 ´Get beside me Regis, and get ready to move when I say so´. The blood began pumping faster within Manns system. With the impending stench of death, and the ever looming presence of the grim Reaper, Manns felt like he did the night his brother had the accident. The ambient felt similar, the unforgiving situations, the guilt. The grand b***h that was New Harmony had sent her watchdogs to finish the job they had failed to complete several times over the years. But Manns had lived through this type of ordeal time and time again, and the cynical courage he summoned had always pulled him through the rough patches of goons with guns. Manns raised his arm, revealing the piece of clothing through the window. The thunderous gunbullets pierced the fabric quickly, like a stampede of wild bulls.

 The bullets came from all directions, and Manns dropped the clothing the minute he realized they had noticed his position. ´Alright Cal, this is what we're going to do. You know how to use a weapon?´. Manns handed him his gun. ´My dad used to take me to the shooting range when I was a kid, just so he could hit on my shooting instructor.´ ´Well looks like dead beat dad did something good for you, even if he didn't mean to. Here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna head down this fire escape as fast as I can, and your just going to fire. It doesn´t matter if you miss or not, we just to let them know that someone's covering me. Might be able to bluff enough for them to believe that I brought some back up. Then I'm gonna cover you, and we´re gonna head over to that nice little car of yours on the other street. You understand?´. Cal reloaded the weapon and nodded nervously. Manns didn't give anyone time to think, not even himself. He went out onto the fire escape, and leaped all the way down, to the cold wet concrete. It was only two floors. But it hurt like a b***h. At forty one, his joints ached and his bruises would swell, and the intensity of the crash as he collided with the concrete of the rotting alley made for a painful explosion. 

He screamed, but he knew he had to get up. Cal needed cover. He hid behind a large trash dumpster, and he heard the gangsters ordering others to inspect the alleyway. Manns saw two figures wearing trenchcoats run quicky towards him, the large silhouettes menacing as they held automatic weapons in their hands. But it wasn't time to faulter. He would have to take the goons down. Careful  not to reveal his position, Manns got on his stomach, and pointed his gun through the small space beneath the dumpster. It was a modern plastic garbage recepticle, with wheels, and Manns thanked the mayor's half assed attempt at popularity for giving him a clear shot. He aimed for the feet legs of the tugs. Manns closed one eye took a deep breath, aimed, and squeezed. Two gunshots echoed in the gutter alley of the Belvedere projects, and two men fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Manns stood, with a burden of pain of his own,and finished off the two mourning hitmen.

 Cal Regis had been watching from above. He saw this as the golden opportunity. He threw the keys down. ´You'll move quicker than me! give me cover, when I get down you start the car and I'll keep the heat off us man!´.Cal began to run down the fire escape, multiple bullets trying to take him down. They came from nowhere. Manns spotted some men, shooting from afar. He took aim and began shooting them. Two fell, and miraculously, Regis, was still alive. He was half way down, running quickly down the stairs. Manns then looked up. Looking down towards the pathetic Cal Regis, was a latino looking man in an ivory suit. He looked El Salvadorian, and behind him stood two other lackies. He saw Manns in the alleyway, and pulled out a gun. He took aim. The loud bullet left the desert eagle as soon as the man squeezed the trigger. He had aimed slowly and surely. The sound of a corpse falling down a flight of stairs rattled throughout,and the rain that had created a puddle at the foot of the fire escape now became a small crimson lake.

 Cal Regis' blank, lifeless stare was something Manns wouldn't soon forget. Manns made a run for it. With the keys of the mustang in his hands, and the information the late Cal Regis had given him, he now had two names on his list, alongside Garone himself. The mysterious widow at Honey Doll's, Franky Garone, and of course, the now identified Rojas. There was no doubt in Manns' mind that the ivory clad killer was Rojas, the goon who was trying to kill him. Manns ran, hearing a storm of gunshots aiming for him hitting the rest of the otherwise innocent concrete around him. He finally reached carey road, and immediatley began looking for his getaway vehicle, the mustang. The car was there, painted in a steel blue glory. Life had wheels, survival had horsepower. He looked at the keys he held in his grip. Thanks kid. I´ll get that b*****d, and find out what that dame has to do with this. Rest in peace.