Axel

I

I

The Remainder

A X E L

           There are a few simple things that a man should learn from his father. Respect, courage, strength. In my case, how to fight a man bloodily and shoot him dead with his own gun was one of them. Simple. A life lesson if you ask me, but my opinions might be a little bit biased considering the limp corpse below me and my harsh, ragged breaths.

Father dearest spent night and day training me to be whatever he needed. Killer, drug trafficker, smuggler; you name it and he taught it. He prepared me for the business he built and wanted it to be run for generations to come. I was his best student, which is why he should know that his pack of trained monkeys will only end up dead.

Spitting the blood out of my mouth, barely missing the asshole's head, I looked around the rundown lobby of the motel Trinity and I stumbled upon a few days ago. Six men laid face down as their blood remodelled the cracked floors, all dead after their feeble attempts at taking my life. I tsked at the thought. Kill me? Please.

My breathing was even now, the adrenaline slowly leaving my bloodstream as my mind processed the fact that the fight was over. I looked down at the gun in my hand, a simple Glock, before pulling out the clip to check how many rounds I had left. Six rounds, six targets. As the thought crossed my mind, movement came from my far right which made me snap the clip right back into the gun and aim.

My eyes latched on to a man slightly crouched with his hands in the air. I recognized him from his laid-back black hair and thick beard if not the ridiculous uniform he was wearing. Clearly, he had witnessed what happened here and was trying to make a swift getaway.

"Po-Por favor, no me hagan daño," the man pleaded for his life as tears ran down his pathetic face. I was in no mood to deal with a crybaby. Rolling my eyes, I beckoned him forward with the gun gesturing him to walk out the door before I changed my mind. As he shuffled past me, whispering his many thanks, I shoved my free hand in my pocket fishing out a burner phone I bought and dialled the only number I had stored. Propping my foot upon the chest of the closet body I could find, I waited for her to pick up.

"It takes more than a few minutes to get groceries, dickhead," was the first thing she said when she picked up.

"Get your ass back here right now," I said, ignoring her snarky remark.

"We are not having sex, Axel,"

"We will eventually, but that's beside the point,"

"It really isn't -" she continued but my ears perked up at the sound of a loud scream followed by a lethal dose of gunfire. I cursed when I peered through the half-closed front doors from where I stood and saw the man I'd let go being shot down. I didn't have much time left here. I needed to get to my stash and get the fuck out of here.

"What the fuck was that?"

"As I said," I started as a dashed up the flights of stairs, "get your ass back here now." Not bothering to wait for a response, I hung up the phone and slipped it into my pocket. The men barged into the building as if they owned the place. Gun blazing and talking shit as if they didn't know who they were dealing with. I was bent down behind the railing of the second floor. The thick half-columns of the rails gave me the perfect hiding spot, but I made sure to be behind the elevator for extra protection. You could never have too much protection, father dearest always said.

From their vantage point, the men sure as hell wouldn't be able to spot me, but it gave me the perfect opportunity to scope out the number of men I'd be adding to my kill list for the day. Four men. All armed. One man led them through, but I could already tell from his appearance that he would be the first to die.