MR. MANIAC

CHAPTER 6

Dean pulled up into the garage of the apartment complex. He had seen this place as he was driving by a couple times, he liked the location perfect for a kill, or two. He got out and popped the trunk, getting his duffle bag ready. He thought twice about it however. It seems like the smartest thing to do. It might slow him down in this congested environment. He would need mobility, convenience, and a quick getaway. He decided to carry his sledgehammer, and make due with whatever he could find in the victim's apartment. Whoever the victim he would choose that is.

Across from the garage a stranger was getting out of his car, looking over at Dean as he prepared himself. The stranger was nervous about these kinds of things, unknowns showing up, but he ignored it. Lots of young people in the building anyway, probably a date. He locked up his car when he just so happened to catch the sledgehammer in Dean's hand as he was walking inside. The stranger panicked now, dialing 911 with the quickness of a roadrunner.

"9-1-1 what's your emergency?"

"Yeah, I'd like to report a suspicious guy at my apartment complex. I've never seen him before and he's carrying a sledgehammer I think."

"What's your address, sir?" said the operator disbelievingly

"83rd and Ninth Street. Please hurry, I think he's gonna do something."

The operator hung up. Going straight to her supervisor in a hurry.

"Sir, I just received a call. One of the flag words was described in the emergency." She said urgently

"Are you sure?" said her supervisor sternly "Positive."

"Alright, get the FBI on the line right now, patch them through to the address, and send in some backup just in case."

∞

Dean walked up the stairs now, looking at the doors like gift packages. A boy deciding on his presents. He heard a multitude of voices. He stopped. A family? Perfect. He thought to himself, a devilish grin on his face. He's just found his victims. He took about five steps back into the hall away from the door. Wanting to get a running start at it. He counted in his twisted head.

∞

Montgomery rushed into the conference room where the other three agents were waiting around for a call or a report. He was slightly sweating, a consequence of field absence.

"We got a call transfer from the local P.D. they think it's our guy!" he said, breathing heavily

"That's good enough for me. Come on, let's move out. What's the address?" Tug said, not wanting to waste any time

"83rd and Ninth." Montgomery replied, following behind them all.

The agents raced out to the garage, into a government issued car. 83rd wasn't far from them, it'd take ten minutes at the least.

∞

Dean kicked in the door, subsequently kicking it shut behind him as he charged in the apartment. A teenage boy was the first to get up. Dean kneed him in the gut, punching him with the end of the sledgehammer, thus knocking him door. The dad followed suit, Dean swung behind him quickly, anticipating him. The hammer's bulky, metal head crashed in the father's stomach. Dean moved to the wife, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her face into the wall. Smiling, he went into the kitchen to grab some extra toys he could find. All of them were laid out, like a quarterback after a really good sack. The dad aired out. The son, stunned. The wife, in pain & traumatized already. But Dean wasn't done traumatizing just yet. He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets of the family's kitchen, he found nails and duct tape. He quickly set up shop, eagerly wanting to get to the fun. He ducked and taped the wife's hair to the floor, about three layers worth of tape deep.