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Mercedes Abigail Masters is my full name but I go by Mercy to those who know me. I grew up in a relatively happy home, my father was a sheriff and my mother stayed home to care for me and the ranch when dad had to work, otherwise he was out running fence with mom. Sometimes I think they got up to more biological activities but I think I won the parent lottery and their happiness was enough for me.
Sorry, back story is a little required, so you can understand that I grew up somewhere stable. I'm not super messed up in the head, and I like to think I'm more upbeat than I have any right to be. Especially when I explain to you my current situation.
Anyways, dad had a… hobby of sorts. You could call him a vigilante. You could say he broke the law. But you couldn't say he didn't make a difference. You see, dad was really good at getting rid of the extremely bad guys. He kept our little town safe. To him, that was his job. No one else knew, and I only found out when I found him in the back 40 acres with the dead corpse of Juan Gutierrez, one of the members of the drug ring that was attempting to find a foothold in La Vernia. Yeah I grew up in Texas. So, dad taught me, showed me and helped me learn how to do the job. I was already a dead shot with the Winchester, and had a more extensive training regiment than normal girls my age. It came with the territory of being the offspring of the sheriff. So I got an up close and personal course in taking out the "bad guys".
I attempted college but found that I had a particular skill set that was better for the removal of scum. I became a contractor for several agencies. I was the one called when they needed something done, no matter the cost.
So one thing led to another, a year turned into 5 and I was trained and outfitted and found myself on a sandy hill with a powerful pair of binoculars overlooking a crappy ass shack somewhere in the backcountry of South America, with a picture and a file in my pack and my lapua set up and sighted in on my target. Anyways, the situation went south quickly. Someone tipped off the target and next thing I knew, I was in a pair of craptastic cuffs and sitting in a dirty ass room with Scotty McSparky pants and his fucked up grin, holding two ends of the car jumper cables that were who knew how old. Oh man, 2013 was gonna be MY year. Or something to that effect. I'm sure his name wasn't Scotty, probably Jorge or something. Fuck if I knew, but to me, he's Scotty McDipshit.
Scotty touched the negative and positive cables together for a second, making the electricity running through them arc with a flash of light and a bit of ozone smell.
"Who send you?" He said in broken, poor English.
"Tu madre." I spat in his face, smiling wickedly. I only knew a few phrases in Spanish but hey, gotta learn as ya go ya know? I blew some of the orange hair from my face, it was gross and I think it had been a week since I had a shower. Scotty McBitchTaint cursed something unintelligible and touched the two ends of the cables to my temples. I screamed as the pain arced into my skull. My eyes went blind as the nerves turned into sharp glass and grated into my brain. 30 seconds felt like an eternity and I sucked in a hoarse breath as the pain receded.
I panted heavily, looking up at Scotty. His grin was filled with yellow, broken and brown teeth. He leaned in, his eyes bloodshot and angry. He thought he could break me but he never met me. I am stubborn to a fault. I'm sure it's likely I'll die out here. Without anyone to know or mourn me. I stifled the fear and zoned back into the situation. I nodded, eyes casting down.
"It's true… she asked me to fuck her in the ass with my side arm because the shifts at the donkey show were getting slow." I giggled at the end of that and Scotty screamed in rage and frustration.
"PUTA!" He yelled.
"That's her name right?!" I responded quickly before I could feel the cables touch again. I clenched my teeth together, grinding hard as the pain lanced through, feeling like white hot fire and every paper cut I had ever got concentrated on each pain receptor. I think he timed it longer this time, because by the time he pulled the cables away I was dizzy and my vision had begun to go black and hazy from oxygen depletion.
I felt icy water shoot at me from somewhere and the cold shock snapped my vision back into focus with painful acuity. I shivered for a moment as the adrenaline dumped into my blood and left me feeling weak and lightheaded. He dropped what appeared to be a garden hose that had seen better days.
"Fuck!" I growled, fingers flexing. "Listen I get the feeling there is some underlying childhood problems surrounding your mother and I would be happy to continue our sessions but honestly…..you can't afford me."
Scotty backhanded me. The sting and burn helped some. I smiled.
"Seriously, I doubt you'd agree to my payment scheduling… I mean, I got paid millions just to come down here to look at your boss' ugly ass face."
Scotty pulled a rather rusty looking knife. He drew it gently across my collarbone. A threat. I giggled. Good thing I was up to date on my Tetanus shot.
"C'mon, ya really need to up your game…Scotty." I could feel the pressure of the blade, and the stinging sensation as the edge cut into the skin. Superficial, it hurt but I'd live.
"Who se-" Scotty stopped, interrupted by a door slamming open behind him. I sat up a little straighter, tilting my head to look around him. Ah. Here we go. My target. I grinned, well things got simple. José Santiago, head honcho for the local cocaine runners, and a small fish in a big drug pond. José held a flashy silver plated Baretta in his off hand, a phone in his other was tucked away into a pocket of a pair of decent and clean slacks, his shirt was white, very Cuban looking. I wonder if he got the memo that this was south America and not the island. It didn't matter. He got into my face mere inches away from my nose. I tucked my chin slightly, staring at him, my eyes locked in on him. His black hair was swept back from his face, and while he had the look of someone who was likely a ladies man, he seemed greasy regardless. His brown eyes peered into me and all I could do with grin wider. I was the cat about to get the canary and he had no inkling of who or what he was dealing with.
"Who sent you gringa? So I can send you back in pieces, starting with your head." He pressed the barrel of the weapon into my thigh and I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Depends who you ask. I am definitely not the person to ask José. But let me tell you what. Let me go, and I'll let you and your boy here live. Limited time offer." José seemed to think about that for a minute, pulling his head back slightly. I felt the next part before the sound registered. The weapon discharged, the bullet ripping through my thigh. I yelled out, the pain only added fuel. I had to be careful now though. If he hit the artery I would bleed out.
"Cock sucker!" I ground out between my teeth as the pain ebbed. José got into my face again, licking his lips.
"We could arrange something. How a woman like you ended up doing this kind of work…" I shook my head at his suggestion.
"Fuck all y'all and the lame ass nag y'all ride in on, I'll fucking kill you both and burn this shit hole down to the ground." José laughed, and Scotty McPicklepuffer joined in with him.
With a quick surge of what strength I had, I head-butted José, and stood up with the chair, before I slammed down on top of him. The chair broke to pieces, and I jumped up as quickly as I could. Scotty's eyes grew wide and he ran for the door. I jumped over the cuffs and my hands, bringing both to the front, grabbed the Baretta and quickly fired two shots into his back just as he had opened the door. He gurgled as he sank to the floor.
José gasped for breath, wheezing slightly with each exhalation. I crouched over him, straddling each side of his chest, knees pinning his upper arm to the dirty floor.
"I told you. Now go tell the devil I'm coming." I brought the muzzle of the weapon to his forehead and squeezed the trigger. His cranium exploded out of the back, brain matter and blood erupting violently. I got up and walked over to the dirty tool table and got to work with the cuff keys. I dropped them and grabbed my gerber from the table before pulling Scotty's dead body from the doorway. Crouched low I closed the door behind me before I snuck down the hallway. At the end were two guards, posted there by their boss no doubt. With quick efficiency I came behind the first, one hand holding the Gerber while the other snaked over his shoulder and shoved his chin up, and quickly brought the knife into the occipital window, dispatching the guard with no fuss. The other guard was another story.
I didn't bother holding onto the dead guy, he fell and as he did I charged the other guard as he turned to try to aim his Ak-47. I shoved the tip of the weapon up while I closed the distance, and brought the Gerber up and into his neck where the jugular snaked up to the ear. He gurgled loudly on my knife and sank, eyes wide. I withdrew the blade and wiped the blood off on his shirt before I took his ear piece and placed it in. The low murmur of guards talking was almost overcome by the dull static sound. I listened for a moment. They were checking in. I had less than a minute before the compound went on high alert. Quickly I ran low down the next hallway, and stopped when a pair of guards walked by. When they continued I began fast walking again, looking for an exit. Another turn brought me to a dead end of double doors into what appeared to be a garage. I quickly slipped in, closing the door quietly behind me. Gas tanks, jugs, oils. And one dune buggy.
My thigh burned as I walked, the adrenaline was beginning to wear thin. And I needed to get to medical sooner rather than later. I walked to the dune buggy and looked for keys. I flipped the visor down and a pair of keys fell onto the driver's seat.
"Fuckin...yes." I growled appreciatively and started the buggy up. I jumped out and began pouring the gasoline out onto the spare parts I could find and onto the wall some. I jumped into the office adjacent to the double doors and rifled through the dusty desk. Low and behold a lighter and a pack of cigarettes! Lucky!
I ran back to the buggy and opened the garage door before hopping in. I lit a cigarette and took a long drag before I tossed the lighter behind me into the pile of spare parts and floored it. The buggy took off quickly and within another moment I was being fired at as I came upon the gate at the compound entrance. I didn't let up. I shifted the bitch and we crashed through just as the sounds of panic and the roar of fire exploded behind me. I grinned, taking another draw from the cigarette. The buggy tore off down the dirt road. I watched as I passed my hiding spot from earlier. I stopped long enough to grab my pack and Lapua and jumped back into the buggy and continued down to my extraction point.
I came upon the carrier with a trail of dust behind me, and I flicked the butt of the cigarette onto the ground as I got out. My knee gave out from under me but I bit my lip hard and forced myself back up. The buggy's driver seat was nearly soaked through with blood. I grabbed my pack and Lapua and began a hot trot to the back of the plane. On the loading deck Sasha stood with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. Sasha was...well damn… he was a hot piece of work. If you could take all the best parts of a Greek god and put into a man, that was Sasha. He was Russian, and was haloed by a mass of black curls. He was clean shaven today but he had a habit of letting it grow out some. He smiled.
"Mercy, my friend, you look like shit. But you are here, so the job is done?" He said with the rough accent of his native tongue.
I nodded and walked up the ramp of the deck before I felt it. Suddenly the world went sideways and I hit something. The floor? Sasha began shouting and I remember him holding me but that was it.
When I opened my eyes next, I was staring at the ceiling of our carrier with the twin engines droning loudly in the compartment. Sasha was talking over the radio. He looked at me and smiled.
"You always had a flair for the dramatic, Mercy. You'll be okay. Nice new hole in your leg made you pass out. I sutured what I could, but it appears you'll be on some downtime for a few weeks while it heals."
I sat up slightly with a groan, my tactical pants had been cut off just below my pockets, turning them into shorts. I frowned.
"You cut my pants? Sasha! YOU CUT MY PANTS!" I yelled louder, gesturing to the obvious bandaging in place.
"You were bleeding out, what else did you want me to do?" He chuckled with a shrug. "Bleed out? Yes? Next time I will let you bleed out then."
I grumbled as I rubbed a sore spot on my head.
"How long was I out?" I asked, looking around.I had an empty and one full unit of blood hanging above me, connected to my arm via I.V.. Sasha checked the bandages and then checked the units of blood.
"Several hours, it took the full time for the first unit to get into your system and after you became stable you just slept. So all in all maybe 8 hours? Not long, we are still over the Gulf now. We should be landing soon. Then if you need, I can drop you off wherever you want."
The idea of being back in the states was welcome. It would be nice not to get shot at for a few weeks. Though what I would do in my trailer by myself was a good question. I had enough money now to prepay my rent up to the next year, prepay my phone, and insurance too. Then… I was free to do whatever. I literally had nothing but time. My leg needed to heal, of course, but other than that it was just a matter of finding a hobby or odd job to fill my time.
Sasha patted my head, an irritating habit he had.
"It will be okay, Sasha has you." He smirked, the edges of his lips tucking into a surly smile. I groaned.
"I knew I'd die but like this?!?" I feigned concern. Sasha glowered playfully at me, and all I could do was chuckle.
"Mercy, how can you still joke in the worst circumstances?" He asked, face going semi-serious.
"I can't help it. I was born a jackass." I smiled up at him like a fool. Sasha sighed, shaking his head before disappearing and coming back into view. He buckled into the wall beside my feet.
"We are landing."
Sorry, back story is a little required, so you can understand that I grew up somewhere stable. I'm not super messed up in the head, and I like to think I'm more upbeat than I have any right to be. Especially when I explain to you my current situation.
Anyways, dad had a… hobby of sorts. You could call him a vigilante. You could say he broke the law. But you couldn't say he didn't make a difference. You see, dad was really good at getting rid of the extremely bad guys. He kept our little town safe. To him, that was his job. No one else knew, and I only found out when I found him in the back 40 acres with the dead corpse of Juan Gutierrez, one of the members of the drug ring that was attempting to find a foothold in La Vernia. Yeah I grew up in Texas. So, dad taught me, showed me and helped me learn how to do the job. I was already a dead shot with the Winchester, and had a more extensive training regiment than normal girls my age. It came with the territory of being the offspring of the sheriff. So I got an up close and personal course in taking out the "bad guys".
I attempted college but found that I had a particular skill set that was better for the removal of scum. I became a contractor for several agencies. I was the one called when they needed something done, no matter the cost.
So one thing led to another, a year turned into 5 and I was trained and outfitted and found myself on a sandy hill with a powerful pair of binoculars overlooking a crappy ass shack somewhere in the backcountry of South America, with a picture and a file in my pack and my lapua set up and sighted in on my target. Anyways, the situation went south quickly. Someone tipped off the target and next thing I knew, I was in a pair of craptastic cuffs and sitting in a dirty ass room with Scotty McSparky pants and his fucked up grin, holding two ends of the car jumper cables that were who knew how old. Oh man, 2013 was gonna be MY year. Or something to that effect. I'm sure his name wasn't Scotty, probably Jorge or something. Fuck if I knew, but to me, he's Scotty McDipshit.
Scotty touched the negative and positive cables together for a second, making the electricity running through them arc with a flash of light and a bit of ozone smell.
"Who send you?" He said in broken, poor English.
"Tu madre." I spat in his face, smiling wickedly. I only knew a few phrases in Spanish but hey, gotta learn as ya go ya know? I blew some of the orange hair from my face, it was gross and I think it had been a week since I had a shower. Scotty McBitchTaint cursed something unintelligible and touched the two ends of the cables to my temples. I screamed as the pain arced into my skull. My eyes went blind as the nerves turned into sharp glass and grated into my brain. 30 seconds felt like an eternity and I sucked in a hoarse breath as the pain receded.
I panted heavily, looking up at Scotty. His grin was filled with yellow, broken and brown teeth. He leaned in, his eyes bloodshot and angry. He thought he could break me but he never met me. I am stubborn to a fault. I'm sure it's likely I'll die out here. Without anyone to know or mourn me. I stifled the fear and zoned back into the situation. I nodded, eyes casting down.
"It's true… she asked me to fuck her in the ass with my side arm because the shifts at the donkey show were getting slow." I giggled at the end of that and Scotty screamed in rage and frustration.
"PUTA!" He yelled.
"That's her name right?!" I responded quickly before I could feel the cables touch again. I clenched my teeth together, grinding hard as the pain lanced through, feeling like white hot fire and every paper cut I had ever got concentrated on each pain receptor. I think he timed it longer this time, because by the time he pulled the cables away I was dizzy and my vision had begun to go black and hazy from oxygen depletion.
I felt icy water shoot at me from somewhere and the cold shock snapped my vision back into focus with painful acuity. I shivered for a moment as the adrenaline dumped into my blood and left me feeling weak and lightheaded. He dropped what appeared to be a garden hose that had seen better days.
"Fuck!" I growled, fingers flexing. "Listen I get the feeling there is some underlying childhood problems surrounding your mother and I would be happy to continue our sessions but honestly…..you can't afford me."
Scotty backhanded me. The sting and burn helped some. I smiled.
"Seriously, I doubt you'd agree to my payment scheduling… I mean, I got paid millions just to come down here to look at your boss' ugly ass face."
Scotty pulled a rather rusty looking knife. He drew it gently across my collarbone. A threat. I giggled. Good thing I was up to date on my Tetanus shot.
"C'mon, ya really need to up your game…Scotty." I could feel the pressure of the blade, and the stinging sensation as the edge cut into the skin. Superficial, it hurt but I'd live.
"Who se-" Scotty stopped, interrupted by a door slamming open behind him. I sat up a little straighter, tilting my head to look around him. Ah. Here we go. My target. I grinned, well things got simple. José Santiago, head honcho for the local cocaine runners, and a small fish in a big drug pond. José held a flashy silver plated Baretta in his off hand, a phone in his other was tucked away into a pocket of a pair of decent and clean slacks, his shirt was white, very Cuban looking. I wonder if he got the memo that this was south America and not the island. It didn't matter. He got into my face mere inches away from my nose. I tucked my chin slightly, staring at him, my eyes locked in on him. His black hair was swept back from his face, and while he had the look of someone who was likely a ladies man, he seemed greasy regardless. His brown eyes peered into me and all I could do with grin wider. I was the cat about to get the canary and he had no inkling of who or what he was dealing with.
"Who sent you gringa? So I can send you back in pieces, starting with your head." He pressed the barrel of the weapon into my thigh and I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Depends who you ask. I am definitely not the person to ask José. But let me tell you what. Let me go, and I'll let you and your boy here live. Limited time offer." José seemed to think about that for a minute, pulling his head back slightly. I felt the next part before the sound registered. The weapon discharged, the bullet ripping through my thigh. I yelled out, the pain only added fuel. I had to be careful now though. If he hit the artery I would bleed out.
"Cock sucker!" I ground out between my teeth as the pain ebbed. José got into my face again, licking his lips.
"We could arrange something. How a woman like you ended up doing this kind of work…" I shook my head at his suggestion.
"Fuck all y'all and the lame ass nag y'all ride in on, I'll fucking kill you both and burn this shit hole down to the ground." José laughed, and Scotty McPicklepuffer joined in with him.
With a quick surge of what strength I had, I head-butted José, and stood up with the chair, before I slammed down on top of him. The chair broke to pieces, and I jumped up as quickly as I could. Scotty's eyes grew wide and he ran for the door. I jumped over the cuffs and my hands, bringing both to the front, grabbed the Baretta and quickly fired two shots into his back just as he had opened the door. He gurgled as he sank to the floor.
José gasped for breath, wheezing slightly with each exhalation. I crouched over him, straddling each side of his chest, knees pinning his upper arm to the dirty floor.
"I told you. Now go tell the devil I'm coming." I brought the muzzle of the weapon to his forehead and squeezed the trigger. His cranium exploded out of the back, brain matter and blood erupting violently. I got up and walked over to the dirty tool table and got to work with the cuff keys. I dropped them and grabbed my gerber from the table before pulling Scotty's dead body from the doorway. Crouched low I closed the door behind me before I snuck down the hallway. At the end were two guards, posted there by their boss no doubt. With quick efficiency I came behind the first, one hand holding the Gerber while the other snaked over his shoulder and shoved his chin up, and quickly brought the knife into the occipital window, dispatching the guard with no fuss. The other guard was another story.
I didn't bother holding onto the dead guy, he fell and as he did I charged the other guard as he turned to try to aim his Ak-47. I shoved the tip of the weapon up while I closed the distance, and brought the Gerber up and into his neck where the jugular snaked up to the ear. He gurgled loudly on my knife and sank, eyes wide. I withdrew the blade and wiped the blood off on his shirt before I took his ear piece and placed it in. The low murmur of guards talking was almost overcome by the dull static sound. I listened for a moment. They were checking in. I had less than a minute before the compound went on high alert. Quickly I ran low down the next hallway, and stopped when a pair of guards walked by. When they continued I began fast walking again, looking for an exit. Another turn brought me to a dead end of double doors into what appeared to be a garage. I quickly slipped in, closing the door quietly behind me. Gas tanks, jugs, oils. And one dune buggy.
My thigh burned as I walked, the adrenaline was beginning to wear thin. And I needed to get to medical sooner rather than later. I walked to the dune buggy and looked for keys. I flipped the visor down and a pair of keys fell onto the driver's seat.
"Fuckin...yes." I growled appreciatively and started the buggy up. I jumped out and began pouring the gasoline out onto the spare parts I could find and onto the wall some. I jumped into the office adjacent to the double doors and rifled through the dusty desk. Low and behold a lighter and a pack of cigarettes! Lucky!
I ran back to the buggy and opened the garage door before hopping in. I lit a cigarette and took a long drag before I tossed the lighter behind me into the pile of spare parts and floored it. The buggy took off quickly and within another moment I was being fired at as I came upon the gate at the compound entrance. I didn't let up. I shifted the bitch and we crashed through just as the sounds of panic and the roar of fire exploded behind me. I grinned, taking another draw from the cigarette. The buggy tore off down the dirt road. I watched as I passed my hiding spot from earlier. I stopped long enough to grab my pack and Lapua and jumped back into the buggy and continued down to my extraction point.
I came upon the carrier with a trail of dust behind me, and I flicked the butt of the cigarette onto the ground as I got out. My knee gave out from under me but I bit my lip hard and forced myself back up. The buggy's driver seat was nearly soaked through with blood. I grabbed my pack and Lapua and began a hot trot to the back of the plane. On the loading deck Sasha stood with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. Sasha was...well damn… he was a hot piece of work. If you could take all the best parts of a Greek god and put into a man, that was Sasha. He was Russian, and was haloed by a mass of black curls. He was clean shaven today but he had a habit of letting it grow out some. He smiled.
"Mercy, my friend, you look like shit. But you are here, so the job is done?" He said with the rough accent of his native tongue.
I nodded and walked up the ramp of the deck before I felt it. Suddenly the world went sideways and I hit something. The floor? Sasha began shouting and I remember him holding me but that was it.
When I opened my eyes next, I was staring at the ceiling of our carrier with the twin engines droning loudly in the compartment. Sasha was talking over the radio. He looked at me and smiled.
"You always had a flair for the dramatic, Mercy. You'll be okay. Nice new hole in your leg made you pass out. I sutured what I could, but it appears you'll be on some downtime for a few weeks while it heals."
I sat up slightly with a groan, my tactical pants had been cut off just below my pockets, turning them into shorts. I frowned.
"You cut my pants? Sasha! YOU CUT MY PANTS!" I yelled louder, gesturing to the obvious bandaging in place.
"You were bleeding out, what else did you want me to do?" He chuckled with a shrug. "Bleed out? Yes? Next time I will let you bleed out then."
I grumbled as I rubbed a sore spot on my head.
"How long was I out?" I asked, looking around.I had an empty and one full unit of blood hanging above me, connected to my arm via I.V.. Sasha checked the bandages and then checked the units of blood.
"Several hours, it took the full time for the first unit to get into your system and after you became stable you just slept. So all in all maybe 8 hours? Not long, we are still over the Gulf now. We should be landing soon. Then if you need, I can drop you off wherever you want."
The idea of being back in the states was welcome. It would be nice not to get shot at for a few weeks. Though what I would do in my trailer by myself was a good question. I had enough money now to prepay my rent up to the next year, prepay my phone, and insurance too. Then… I was free to do whatever. I literally had nothing but time. My leg needed to heal, of course, but other than that it was just a matter of finding a hobby or odd job to fill my time.
Sasha patted my head, an irritating habit he had.
"It will be okay, Sasha has you." He smirked, the edges of his lips tucking into a surly smile. I groaned.
"I knew I'd die but like this?!?" I feigned concern. Sasha glowered playfully at me, and all I could do was chuckle.
"Mercy, how can you still joke in the worst circumstances?" He asked, face going semi-serious.
"I can't help it. I was born a jackass." I smiled up at him like a fool. Sasha sighed, shaking his head before disappearing and coming back into view. He buckled into the wall beside my feet.
"We are landing."