I screamed. Looking back on it, it was a dumb decision. Wasted energy and took away some of the fear that a faceless man inspired. I guess one could argue that the scream actually struck some more fear into their hearts. I don't know. I feel stupid about it now. Just a guy with no face. Yelling.
The scream echoed through the open floor of the parking garage as I brought the man down hard. His head cracked open against the pillar, his legs trailing over my shoulder, and he came to a brutal and abrupt stop atop a railing, the snap of his spine sounding like a gunshot. His friend's gunshot sounded like a gunshot and I rolled, clambering behind the pillar for cover. The crippled man sank down, sliding, unconscious, off the railing.
Bullets chipped away at my concrete haven, punctuated by nearing footsteps, and I loosened my tie. When the gun barrel came into view, I wrapped the end of my necktie around it, twisting the gunman's wrist, before yanking down the neck hole of my tie around his hand.
I found his face with one foot and pushed off, hard, holding my necktie in place. His hand came in my direction and the rest of him went in the other, so the ensuing crack came as no surprise. To me, at least.
I let the limp and useless fingers slide out from my tie (the gun rattled over the side of the garage) and I tightened it again. No blood to wash out. Good. I held the man by his collar. His pupils were dilated, blood pumping, heart shaking to try and hide him from the pain I'd just put into him. I didn't like that.
"Three seconds to give me straight answers or I'll make you a vegetable. How many of your cronies are coming, and what do you know about a ninja woman in a trench coat? Just the facts. Jaldi jaldi."
He sniffled. I gave him something to sniffle about. He choked on his blood and got the message.
"She shows up at the meets once a month. Doesn't talk."
"What meets?"
"You know..."
"I obviously don't, dumb fuck. Come on. You don't wanna be a legume."
He sniffled again.
"Salad days, come on."
"Nightly meetings to provide updates on the progress, negotiate protection and percentages. L-like a business meeting."
"Who does she listen to?"
"Wh-what?"
"You said she doesn't talk. So she listens. And obviously she's not listening to you, you ditzy fucking dame."
"He'll kill me if I tell you!"
I stared at him very slowly. Then, like if the Cheshire Cat had gotten a face transplant from a freshly-waxed chest, muscles, outlines of lips, rippled across my face into a vacant grin - toothless, surreal. He got the message.
"He goes by the Colonel!"
"Where does he host his tea parties?"
"Hell's Corner! The Cowan building."
"If you're lying, I'll slap you in the fucking teeth. With a rock. I'm going to hit you in the teeth with a rock."
"I'm not! Christ almighty, I'm not!"
He wanted to say more, but he was too scared to. I wonder why.
"And...?"
He had to choose between me and this mysterious Colonel. He made his decision.
"There's a dozen guys on their way here right now. You're FUCKED, you psycho!"
"Would a psycho do this?"
