Run, Fatty

Warren Collit made a bad decision when he was younger and now the result of that bad decision has come back to get him, and it's pissed as hell.

He slowly sipped his lemon tea as he admired his body guards from afar. Warren Collit was an aging 42 year old businessman. Short, chubby and having recently acquired a receding hairline, he wasn’t exactly attractive. Although he had considered having a family, he’d never gotten around to it. 

A few years ago, he’d requested that only the best protect him and had got what he’d wanted, for a small price of course. A small squad of 5 lethally trained operatives, each profusely adept in their own areas of expertise. Good, strong men they were and he prided himself on their appearance. 

Heavily built and armed to the teeth with various kinds of weaponry and handy tools, they were the perfect team and it was often that he found himself getting a little jealous, comparing himself to them. 

His first lieutenant, if Collit remembered correctly, was twenty-six year old Brendan Archer. How he managed to get to the rank of lieutenant before the age of thirty surpassed Collit. The others were Julian Blak, Christopher Keep, Zachariah Troy and Dean Locke. As he tried to remember where they came from, Archer approached him and spoke into his ear.
“Mr Stent has arrived, Sir.”
“Bring ‘im in then,” Collit said with an impatient wave of his hand. Moments later, a handsome man in an expensive Armani suit entered the room. He didn’t make eye contact until he had sat down across from Collit, his ice blue eyes cold and calculating.
“It seems you have something you wish to discuss with me,” Collit said.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Surely you remember the deal we made,” Collit nodded. He remembered quite clearly, looking down at the severed stumps of his fingers.

Around ten years ago, Collit was young and inexperienced. He thought he could cheat a couple of dealers for some quick cash. Little did he know, the dealers worked under a very wealthy man. Devereux Stent was known by his fellow colleagues as a cruel and ruthless man when it came to his business. One moment a man was there, the next he was gone, his family disappearing soon after. Unfortunately, Collit had yet to hear of this. And two days after his successful deal, Stent’s men came knocking. Perhaps knocking wasn’t the right word. In the wee hours of the morning, they had smashed down his door and stormed his apartment. He’d barely had time to get out of bed before they tackled him, shoved a sack over his head and dragged him outside to their unmarked black van. The sack smelled like a mixture of blood, sweat and vomit. It had made him retch more than a couple of times. 

The first thing he saw when the sack was wrenched off his head was a big meaty paw coming straight for his face. His head snapped backwards and continued to do so for a couple of hours. The end result was a broken nose, a dislocated jaw, two black eyes and a lot of blood. That’s when Stent had entered the room. Calm and collected, he stood in front of Collit and with a small nod of his head, signaled one of his many henchmen who strode forwards with a rusty pair of hedge cutters.

“You cheated me, Mr Collit. I cannot allow cheaters to live,” Stent said with a that’s-just-how-it-is look. His mouth was clogged with blood and with bits of what he hoped weren’t his teeth but he replied nonetheless.
“Please, gimme a chance. Can we make a deal? Anything, please.” he had begged. Stent had seemed to contemplate this for a few minutes, his face thoughtful.
“Okay, Mr Collit, although I find this highly unsuitable, I propose that you tell me the names of all your current and previous clients and their account details. In exchange, I will let you live.”
Collit’s head was nodding before Stent had even finished talking and one by one, he recited each of his clients names and account details to a small bespectacled man with a laptop. He let out a sigh of relief and let his body relax until he felt cold metal against his left pinkie. He looked down. And there, crouched beside him, hands grasping the rusty hedge cutters, was a henchman. He was smiling.
“Sorry, Mr Collit, it seems I just can’t resist,” Stent claimed with a smirk. Collit’s heart started to pound and he began to sweat.
“W-Wait, I thought we had a dea-” He was cut short as the henchman clamped down savagely on the cutters and the little pink digit fell to the floor. Instantly blood began squirting out of the open wound and Collit screamed. He continued to scream in agony as two other fingers were painfully removed in the same fashion. He couldn't remember much after that, a few more punches and then he was thrown out of a moving car in the middle of nowhere. When he regained consciousness, he was propped up in a hospital bed.

Although he loathed Stent for the loss of his fingers, he had to admit that he hadn’t much use for his left hand anyway, being right handed. Besides, the mangled claw was a good way to instill fear into anyone who would think of betraying him. But this time, instill fear it did not.
Devereux Stent looked at him, his face devoid of emotion.
“After we disposed of your former clients and relieved them of their belongings, we found out that there were specific goods that were faulty and personally, it’s a little worrying.”
Collit tried to make his face as blank as possible, trying to make it look like he wasn’t worried.
“Oh, what a shame. Is there anything that I can possibly do to help?” He inquired, feigning innocence. Stent’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Collit replied with a “Well?” look. Suddenly Stent’s eyes flashed with venom and he slammed both of his hands on the table, leaning forward, his face mere inches from Collit’s.
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” he snarled. Collit’s gulp was clearly audible in the awkward silence.
“I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about Devereux,” his voice wavering, his gaze unsteady as he slowly reached under his desk and continuously stabbed the emergency button. The result was immediate, the building’s alarms coming to life within seconds.
“Sir!” Stent’s head whipped around to the voice of his first lieutenant, Wolfe, “Armed forces have been informed and are en route, ETA 8 minutes.”
Stent spun to face Collit, who had managed to disappear in that small space of time.
“S**T!” He smashed his fists into the desk, “Wolfe, secure this building and find that sneaky b*****d. I want him and I want him now.”
Immediately Wolfe spoke into his wrist mike, informed the rest of his squadron and headed for the door. Stent tapped his foot impatiently to a silent rhythm for a few minutes before a group of black-clad men burst into the room. The leading man walked up to Stent, “Sargent Jenson, Sir. We’re here to escort you out of the building.” Stent simply nodded as they quickly ushered him through the back door.

Collit ran hard, his breaths coming in laboured gasps. He was getting old and wasn’t exactly in his prime, he thought as he watched the rippling muscles on the soldier in front of him. He began to wheeze as he saw the sign indicating that they had just passed the fifth floor when he heard the heavy thud of steel-capped boots. As one, his team skidded to a halt and peered over the railing.
Below, Devereux’s men flooded into the stairwell via the third floor, racing upwards towards them. Archer cussed loudly and leaped down the stairs and the others immediately followed, Collit bringing up the rear.
“Lieutenant, where the hell are we going?!” he gasped.
“We have to beat them to the fourth floor or it’s all over, Sir” Archer replied, seemingly unaffected by their trip down 11 flights of stairs. Collit saw the door ahead and rejoiced, they had made i-- Bullets whizzed past, barely missing his face. From below, Devereux’s men fired up as they ran, gaining.
“Stay low and fast! Don’t give them any chances!” Archer cried, “We’re almost there!” Bullets clanged and rebounded around them. “Troy, Blak, on the stairs, now!”
The two men broke off from their group and took up position by the stairs, letting loose short bursts which forced the enemy to stop and find cover. Archer reached the door and yanked it open and yelled for the others. As Troy and Blak filed through the door, Archer slammed it shut and shoved a broom through the handles. The sound on the opposite side was instantaneous. The thundering of boots, shouting, gunshots. Then the door began to shake. With each shuddering jolt, the others could see the door weakening under the continuous rain of blows.
Collit stood and stared, he was dead meat, he thought, he was never going to make it out of this. He was shocked out of his reverie by one of the men violently shoving him towards another exit. Archer pulled open the door only to be confronted by a muzzle pointed directly at this face. Immediately he tackled the shooter into the hallway, sending the enemy’s gun skidding across the floor.
As they began to struggle, Archer’s grunted a command. ‘Quick... Get out... There’s an ex-”, he dodged a wild punch and put the man into a headlock. “There’s an emergency elevator a few doors down. GO!” The rest of the team obeyed at once, jumping over the wrestling pair and running down an adjoining corridor. By the time they reached the elevator, Collit was absolutely knackered, doubling over and clutching his side. Blak took no pity and hauled him upright and into the elevator.
As the doors were about to shut, they heard a loud gunshot, it’s echo reverberating throughout the walls. Then Archer came speeding around the corner, full throttle, arms pumping furiously. Before the doors could close completely, Locke struck out his arm and held them open just enough for Archer to come hurtling through before he withdrew it, the doors sealing with a hiss.

As the elevator slowly began to descend, the team allowed themselves a quick rest before they started reloading their guns. Collit sat crumpled, his head resting against the wall behind him. He allowed his eyes to close for a few minutes before he was forced to open them once more.
“Sir, there are probably s**t loads of them waiting on the ground floor-”
“Basement?”
“No, Sir. We’re going to have to split up. Troy, Blak, Keep and yourself will get off on the first floor and make your way down to the ground floor via the stairwell.” Collit spluttered.
“S-Split up? Why would you even think about doing that?”
Archer’s face instantly produced a look of annoyance as if he were talking to a small child.
“Sir, we get payed to keep you alive, not to keep you happy,” He said while he refilled the barrel of his shiny black desert eagle. “If it means you have to get shot at a bit, then so be it.” Soon the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, Blak and Troy took the lead with their guns raised. Clear. Troy turned around and nodded towards Collit and Keep. As soon as they were out in the hallway, the doors slid shut yet again, carrying the remaining team members, in this case Archer and Locke, towards the enemy waiting for them below.

Collit's small group ran fast towards the stairwell. So far they had yet to encounter any enemies on this floor, but they didn’t relax just yet. They even went through the trouble of handing Collit a gun, much to the dread of Keep who came very close to getting his foot blown off.
As they neared the stairway door, they stopped to listen for any noises that might betray the enemy on the other side. Nothing.
Blak carefully began to turn the handle and Troy and Keep trained their guns on the door, their fingers itching to pull the trigger. Blak tugged the door open, Troy and Keep tensed. Nothing. Blak acted as sentry and looked down the grey winding stairwell before confirming the all clear.

I don’t get payed enough for this, thought Archer as he watched Locke plant a smooch on the gold cross hanging around his neck before tucking it safely under his protective vest. It was all too soon that the elevator pinged once more as it halted at the ground floor. At once the elevator was assaulted by wave after wave of bullets. All of them piercing the doors, leaving gaping ragged holes.
The men outside continued to fire until their captain raised his hand. The silence was deafening. The captain then glanced at two of his men and jerked his head towards the battered elevator. The chosen men responded straight away, creeping towards the doors when the elevator pinged. All the men in the immediate vicinity froze and pointed their guns towards the doors as they struggled to open. When the doors managed to open as far as they could go, they revealed nothing. The elevator was empty. The captain began to seethe.
“Where the f**k are they?!” he roared.
That’s when, hanging upside down and suspended from the escape shaft by their feet, Archer and Locke exposed themselves. The surprised army paused just for a second in confused facination, one even tilting his head to the side. Archer and Locke took the opportunity and threw in 8 blackish-green grenades before Locke reached over and jabbed the close button. Just as the doors began to close, the first explosion went off, knocking the men from their hanging position.
The other grenades detonated soon after, the explosions blowing any man who had been unlucky enough to be standing close into little lumpy pieces of flesh and bone. Then there was silence. Archer peered through one of the many bullet holes at the dusty carnage outside. Bodies lay in heaps, some in corners. Others in pieces.
He flinched as a bullet grazed his left ear, taking a small chunk.
“S**t!” he grunted as he withdrew his head back into the elevator, clutching his bleeding ear. “There’s still some of them left,” he told Locke as he checked his equipment. “Some of the buggers must have managed to avoid the blast.”
Locke took short glances through the holes, checking for the enemy’s position.
“I suppose that’s to be expected,” Locke muttered as he clicked in a magazine. “Are you sure we can take the rest of them?”
Archer smirked and jabbed the open button, gun at the ready.
“F**k yeah.”

As one, the small team burst out of the stairwell into the foyer. They ran fast, keeping low to the ground. Their guns making a constant sweep of the floor.
“Blak, I don’t like this at all,” Keep spoke quietly, “There should be millions of them down here waiting to snap us up. I just don’t get it.”
Blak stopped and glanced around. It was true, he thought, the floor should be crawling with the enemy considering this was the only exit from the building. Then he heard the explosions and the ground shook, the chandeliers swinging dangerously over their heads. Small pieces of rock and dust dislodged by the ruckus littered the ground like confetti.
“Christ, I sure hope that’s Archer and Locke making all that noise.” said Blak as he looked upwards. “Come on, we need to get Collit out of this s**t ho-”
He was interrupted by the sound of heavy feet thundering down the stairs. The team had no time to rush for cover and stood stock still in the middle of the foyer, completely exposed and at the mercy of whoever came out that door.
“Stupid crazy b******s coulda’ taken down the whole f*****g buildi-,” the man who was speaking, most probably their leader, stopped dead in his tracks, causing those following to bump into him. The second man following close behind swore.
“Hey Jack, what’s the frickin’ deal? Do ya’ have to stop in the middle of the d-,” then he too saw the small group standing in the centre of the floor. It then became a showdown, both teams had their guns pointed at the ground, their trigger fingers giddy.

Stent’s men made the first move, the leader raising his gun and taking a quick shot at the huddled team. It went wide and instantly everyone went into action. They ran for any cover they could find: desk, pillar or couch. The firefight ensued soon after, each side wearily trading shots, trying to avoid getting their heads blown off.
This went on for several minutes before one of the enemies finally decided to be adventurous, waiting till Collit’s men had to reload before running to hide behind another pillar.
Troy saw him disappear and began to panic. All three of them had yet to reload and the little bugger was getting closer by the second.
“Lieutenant! There’s some fuckwit who thinks he can breach our defense and he’s taking cover behin-” Troy looked up and over their makeshift barricade and froze. “S**t.”
Standing there, covered in black kevlar defence plates, wielding two fully loaded machine guns and smiling like a mad man, was an enemy soldier. His smile seemed to grow wider as he raised his guns towards their faces.
“Say goodnight, motherfu-,” his sentence was cut short as his head exploded.
At first his face just went blank, then his eyes bulged and his brain simply exploded through his face. As a surprised Troy wiped the gore off his face he watched as the other enemy soldiers continued to fall, all killed by a clean shot to the head. The group was annihilated. Then out of the doorway popped Archer and Locke, Archer brandishing a sniper and a broad grin.
“Suck it, b*****s,” he whooped as he stepped over one of the dead bodies.
Blak snorted, “I could hear you guys from all the way down here.” Archer merely shrugged and glanced around.
“Sir?”
“Uh, yes. Over here,” came the muffled reply.

During the whole shootout, Collit had taken refuge behind a couch at the far side of the foyer, well out of the way of speeding bullets. Now he crawled out on all fours under the scrutinising glare of his body guards.
“Wow, Sir. It seems you’ve made it through without a scratch,” noted Locke, who had sustained a shoulder injury in the previous battle.
Collit brushed himself off, and glanced at the cuts and bruises that the other men had acquired.
“Yes, it seems I have more than enough luck.”
At this Keep snickered, earning a firm punch on the arm from Archer.
“F**k. Ah, yes. Let’s ditch this place, Sir. The spare car should be in the parking lot at the end of the street,” Keep said as he rubbed the throbbing limb. With that they headed towards the entrance, Archer and Troy scouting ahead.
It wasn’t long before they were on the main road, doubling back towards the highway when they passed the office building. Just as Devereux Stent stormed out of the building looked pissed as hell. Collit yelped and shoved his head below the window, but he was too late.
As he raised his head and looked back towards the building, he found himself looking straight into the cold, unforgiving eyes of Stent. They didn’t break the stare until Locke took a sharp right, their car disappearing into the massive throng of tired city-goers heading home.

Devereux Stent watched Collit’s car vanish behind a massive delivery truck as it turned onto the highway. His fists clenched and his face tightened. Calm Devereux, be calm, he told himself while massaging the bridge of his nose. You will definitely catch the little prick, and when you do, you’re going to saw off all his fingers and shove them down his throat. Stent then rubbed his face and called for Wolfe.
“Wolfe.”
“Yes, Sir.” In a second he was by his side.
“You failed.”
“Sir, I can assure you-,” Wolfe’s speech was garbled as Stent’s hand closed around his neck.
“You failed. If you fail me again,” he breathed out slowly, trying to maintain his composure. Wolfe’s face was turning purple, his hands scrabbling at Stents. “If you fail me again, I will personally make sure you suffer. You’ll be screaming for mummy the whole time.” Wolfe’s eyes began to roll back in his head. “Is that clear, Wolfe?”
Wolfe hands were frantic.
“Yes,” he barely managed to whisper. Stent looked at him a while longer before releasing him. Wolfe fell to the ground gasping, trying to inhale as much air as possible.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you,” Stent said as he watched Wolfe’s face slowly return to it’s natural colour.
“Yes, Sir,”
“Good man, now find Collit and bring that fat s**t to me on a silver f*****g platter.” When Wolfe continued to cough away on the ground, he grew impatient. “NOW, WOLFE.”
Wolfe managed to get to his feet and slowly walked towards a Humvee, signalling for his team to follow.
As the team filed into the car, Devereux lit up a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he watched the vehicle’s rear merge with the other occupants of the busy highway.
After another long drag, he exhaled sharply and dropped the cigarette to the already severely littered ground, crushing it beneath one expensive leather shoe.
“I’m coming after you, you little f****r.”

Author's Note

I know I've failed to describe a lot, if anything at all. But my main focus was to just finish the damn thing.
I've also been told that it's a little confusing with the sudden change between groups/characters so feedback and comments are welcome (and perhaps needed).

I also had a mind fart whilst trying to think of a title so suggestions for that would also be welcome.

(YES, I KNOW. I NEED PARAGRAPHS.)

Reviews

[Diomaz]

OMG, THIS IS LIKE A JAPANESE ANIME, NOT ONE OF THOSE NON0JAPANESE ONES THAT DON'T EXIST, BUT THE JAPANESE ONES 8D

ALSO, I CAN'T REMEBER ANY OF THE STORY BUT I RED IT AND I KNOW LIKE, 2 NAMES.

UPDATE THE STORY.

REVIEW MY STORIES PLEAAAZZZEEE

(Wow, being a troll is fun 8D)

[Dexter]

I loved it, and i enjoyed reading it--i felt like i was reading japanese anime. I like how you...umm..i don't know how to say this exactly but how your characters used language that you'd prob hear from such as badass like Archer...and language that you'd prob hear in japanese anime.

I did get confused with the names; however, i believe you told us all their names at the beginning of the story...and i prob should blame my memory for not remembering them all.

Overall, i loved the story, and i think you should write a sequel to it. --i'd read it--