Chapter 20

The entire place is quiet, even the agents are resting and behaving themselves. Mills is roaming endlessly, his entire crew was wiped out and he had been overrun by one lone man. One lone potential agent that obviously felt like he didn't have to participate with us.

The Boss was the only person that seemed to be not affected by the events that had occurred. Black suit, white shirt, black tie and slacks. The only noise that eventually rang out was the Boss's telephone, the red one, the one that doesn't dial out.

I watched curiously through his blinds and did my best to read his lips. All I could get was "Yes, Sir" about eight times. This could be a chance to show my skills, a mission possibly. I'll have to wait but in the mean time I go check on Holly.

She is sitting at her desk with her face hidden from view, "You alright sweetie?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. I've never had to flush a room before and it's really upsetting. Those three men, Mills' men, just vanish down a little drain in the floor, never to be seen again. It's like they didn't exist." Tears begin to flow.

I asked quickly, "Listen, when that red phone rings in The Boss's office, who could it be?"

"The President or his Chief of Staff, Stanley Ericson. Why?"

I reply, "Well, the Boss has been on the phone for a few minutes and he is constantly saying "Yes, Sir" and I am curious if we may be receiving a mission of some sort."

"We'll find out shortly, missions aren't hidden, they are usually rushed and disorganized. Have fun." She's still emotional and not trying to control it.

"Holly, those men gave their lives so The Boss, Mills and the rest of us could push on with this "unit" down here. Their lives were not taken without a purpose." I hug her tightly, kiss her forehead and grab her face, forcing her to look me in the eyes, "ok?"

An attempt to stop sobbing is made, "Ok Gregg.��

The Boss is still on the red phone as I leave Holly and approach Mills. Mills is slouched at his desk, staring at the team photograph from a recent tactical paintball exercise. I walk up to him as he discreetly wipes his eyes, my hand on his shoulder, my mind only on him and his lost team.

"Mills, I know this sucks but Dahmer helped me tremendously and we owe his, I owe his and you owe him. He's the only reason we survived this. Tonight, we need to go shopping for him, a young Pilipino boy with dark hair." I gave my sincerest of condolences, but we need to keep Dahmer happy.

Tears boiling up in his red eyes, "Fuck that guy, he's not a part of the solution; he's a part of the problem. I'll go out with you and help you but not for that fuck. Not for him. Not for any of those monsters."

I express my condolences again and say, "Thanks Mills. Maybe we can find an old lady too so I can get to know B.T.K. too."

Mills looks up at me, "For someone that was so against this shit just days ago, you sure are getting very comfortable with what we have to do around here. What's going on?"

"Mills, we both know if I don't get with the program I'll have to be killed, I can't leave here. I am doing my best to accept this situation and I'm really trying to do my job to the best of my abilities, no matter how horrible it is."

"Good man, Gregg, you're a good man. You were put in a tough situation and you're trying to do what you have to do for the team, not for you. I'm sorry about earlier when you got us out of that room."

I shake Mills hand, "its ok, emotions run high down here from what I can tell. Let's leave at 9pm and go out. We have two primary targets tonight."

I walk over to the agents' rooms. Dahmer and Rader are resting on their beds. Dahmer is in the fetal position, no glasses on his face. He appears to be still greatly shaken up by what took place. Rader is lying on his back; both hands under his head and his legs are crossed. This guy scares me the most out of all three of the agents.

Gacy, who was covered in Dumbass's blood and sucking the castrated, erect penis that he previously had up his ass. I just hoped he cleaned it off before making the ass to mouth transition.

After making very brief observations and visits to the agents, I head towards The Boss's door. He is off of the red phone now but vigorously spreading ink in the form of words all over a yellow legal pad. We may have our first mission with me at the helm. Nerve racking but exciting.

After everything that went down today, why is Holly the only thing I can think about? Why is she encompassing my every thought, my every movement, my every breathe? I stroll down the hallway to her desk. She is resting her head on the keyboard and lightly tapping her right index finger on the desk with rhythm.

"Court, can you open the weapons cache for me again? I just want to know what we have in case we have an issue again."

She flips all the flips the switch and the wall spins around exposing the entire arsenal. It's packed full of any and everything we may ever need. Rocket propelled grenades, flame throwers, sticky grenades and claymores. We are ready for war down here.

"Are you ok sweetie? Do you need to talk?" I was genuinely concerned, this must be the first time any of the personnel down here had been lost.

"Yeah Gregg, I'll be fine. You need to go lay down, I don't know how you did all that after you had taken those two Percocet. That would have knocked me out." Holly is so solemn and emotionally distraught.

I gently grab her arm and say, "Come with me, come lay down with me. I think we all need a break."

We exit the desk area and enter the bedroom. As soon as we hit the sheets, we both feel asleep. Gun still attached to my chest and all.

I set my alarm for 8:30pm, that'll give us a few hours rest and allow me to push this headache out from the inner depths of hell that it came from.

During my slumber, I experience yet another flash back to my days that led me to want to become an officer of the law:

I was out in the city, performing odd jobs trying to make my way in society, contrary to my horrible upbringing.

I had a bicycle and a motel, that was all I needed right now. I worked sixteen hours a day, saving as much money as I could. I wanted to earn enough money so I could get some decent clothes and attend a valid job interview at a suitable work area.

I came home, I remember this very clearly, and took my most recent cash from my jobs and divided it, bills, necessities and savings. Once I finished with the simple math, I pulled all my savings out from behind and underneath the television set.

My savings was finally about $125 dollars. I could get a suit for that probably. The next day I rode my bicycle to the suit shop across the street. I entered the store with my head low and body slouching, I was so fearful of judgment.

I browsed through the suits, as all the employees watched me. The look of the suit didn't matter much; the cost was my only concern. I found a suit, shirt, shoe combo for $115 dollars. I quickly snatched it up and headed to the back of the store.

I entered the dressing room and began to disrobe. Once I was down to my underwear, I took a look at my body in the mirror. I had a nice flat stomach and a lean slender build, riddled with scars from the numerous beatings I had suffered during my youth.

I put the shirt on, then the slacks, carefully tucking the shirt into the slacks. Then I put on the jacket and a clip on tie. No one had ever taught me how to tie a real tie, nor have I ever touch a real tie.

I hear the door chime as another customer enters the front of the store. That's what I assumed at the time anyways. The commotion made it apparent this was no customer, nor was it a voluntary transaction. I slipped my sneakers back on and pull my knife from my jeans pocket sitting on the bench in the waiting room.

I did my best to creep out of the room and into the showroom. I slowly made my way towards the front of the store, using the suit racks as cover.

Two men with guns and masks were attempting to force the cashier to open the register and then proceed to the safe in the back. The two female clerks were dressed in skirts and obviously if you're a robber there's a good chance you might be a rapist or molester. We all know how I feel about molesters.

I was now only a matter of feet away from these two suit store terrorists. As one of the two gun wielding maniacs approached the nearest female clerk I gently sprung out and stabbed him in the right side of his throat with my rusty two and a half inch folding knife.

The female clerk sprung on him instantly and began to stab him viciously with that little knife.

The lone standing robber was surprised to say the least. He spun around and took aim on the attacking female. His partner was his brother; his brother was getting thrashed by a pocket knife right in front of him.

Boom! A shot rings out from the semi-automatic pistol. The female clerk was shot in the head and obviously not moving anymore. If you remember from earlier in the book, a shot to the head leads to a tense and/or convulsive state from the victim's body. Such was the case here.

I lunged at the robber and placed both of my hands on his gun hand. This was obviously a spur of the moment plan of mine, hoping that the male clerk would assist me. The robber's free hand was used to punch me repeatedly in the face as I would not release his gun had, no matter what.

Between punches to the face, I scan the counter to anything that I could swipe up to harm this man. I notice a writing pen, an all metal case gold writing pen. I waited for the next punch to my face and then I made my move.

The pen was heavier than I thought but I clutched it as if it were a million dollar bill. I'm punched again and retaliate with a jabbing of the robber's left eye. The pen went in so deep; I almost lost my hold on it.

I was thrown to the ground as the robber instinctively put his hand to his eye, which was now slightly hanging out of its socket. The gun hits the floor as the robber's realizes his eyeball was basically hanging from his face.

I grab the gun, aimed and fired on his left knee, striking it with the first shot. I grab the other robber's gun and the last female and male clerk follow me to the back of the store as they wait for the police to arrive.

Susie, I was told that was the dead clerk's name, lay on top of the first attacker. Her brain somehow still contained by her skull, her body limp as a wet noodle. Her braveness and willingness to fight for her safety and that of her co-workers cost her the life she had built for herself.

The police entered and quickly got all of us out of the building. I was taken to the police station and interrogated for four hours, even though the surviving clerks maintained my innocence. It wasn't a bother to me, I was in a nice place with air conditioning and they weren't beating me. Shit, they even fed me.

The detective finally realized I had nothing to do with this incident; I was actually some sort of hero. My actions lead to an event that would make national news. The suit store's corporate representatives gave me five suits for free and offered me a job.

I turned that job down. I still had my $125 and had my suits. I knew what I wanted to be now. This realization was not made in haste; I wanted to be a police officer. I needed to be a police officer. I believed in what was right and I didn't mind risking my life for my fellow citizens.

I applied the next day and was instantly hired into the Newport News Police Department. I excelled at the driving tests and the close combat tests. My proudest achievement.