Just before she slammed the passenger door of Serena’s car shut, she extended a simple but powerful invitation to the distraught young man, telling him, “Call me!” And as Serena’s self-driven car peeled out of the parking lot Travis was left alone to ponder the chaos that had been left in his wake.
A WORLD AWAY, IN THE BLISTERING HEAT OF THE AMAZON. After Mason Walker and his team strategically set off explosions around a cartel safe house in the middle of the jungle, five bewildered men came running through the chaos. They didn’t get far. To their astonishment as soon as they reached the tree line, they spotted Mason and his crew with guns drawn in their direction.
Some of them attempted to reach for their weapons, but they pretty quickly knew that it was absolutely futile as Mason screamed, “Freeze! Make one more move and your dead!”
In an almost comical fashion, the dejected group of men with no fight left in them, really did freeze, some in mid stride— lest Mason’s finger was to twitch on the trigger and send them to their death. Seeing them in freeze frame, Mason then shouted at them, “Alright, now get on the ground!”
As the men obediently face planted into the dirt, Mason looked over to Mathew Benton and laughed, “I couldn’t have trained my Lab mix back home any better than that!”
Benton laughed as he dug into his backpack and grabbed several handcuffs and ankle ties, before systematically cuffing hands and securing the ankles of the men together, so that they would only be able to walk but not run. Mason would lead this group of prisoners in front while Benton kept a careful watch from behind.
But first he wanted to get some of his questions answered. Mason boldly strode in front of the captives and asked them, “Who’s the leader here?”
When he did not receive an immediate reply, he tried to communicate with them in a language he knew these toughs would understand. He fired his gun right over their heads.
Upon doing so a man in the center of the group spoke up, “Hey bandito! Don’t waste your bullets!”
Mason glared at the man, “Then give us some freaking answers.”
The man then surprised Mason with his honesty, “I’m the leader of this crew, but it doesn’t mean much. In the grand scheme of things, I’m still just a foot soldier.”
Benton stepping next to Mason decided he wanted in on the interrogation, and asked the man, “Okay leader—what’s your name?”
The man shrugged, “I have no name. What’s it matter?”
Mason then snapped, “Hey! Just like my buddy said—give us your freaking name!”
The man shrugged, “Okay—my name is Doggie.”
Mason stared at the man incredulously, “Doggie?”
The man nodded, “Yes...” while all of his comrades seemed to smirk in the knowledge of some kind of inside joke that was transpiring.
Benton then asked the man, “Okay Doggie—what’s your last name?”
The man barely able to keep from laughing answered, “Oh uh—my last name. Let’s see…. Sure… my last name is Style.”
Benton not quite getting it at first, repeated back, “Uh—your name is Doggie Style?
The whole group then erupted in laughter as the man who called himself Doggie, began to imitate what doggies of a certain age do, suggestively gyrating his hips as he exclaimed, “Because we like to do it doggie style holmes!”
As the men burst into another round of raucous laughter Mason wasn’t going to have it as he shot right at Mr. Doggie’s foot, missing it by just a centimeter. As he jumped back, the man immediately stopped laughing, as he shouted, “Hey! You want to kill me?” Mason shouted back, “Sure! That can be arranged!”
Just then Mason heard Marshal Oliver patch into the comm link however as he ordered Mason, “Walker! Stop! What the hell do you think are you doing? No one told you to interrogate the suspects, leave that to the police! All you are supposed to do is turn them over to the authorities.”
Although the shackled men before them could not hear the other end of the conversation that took place in Mason’s earpiece, they could pretty much infer by Mason’s sudden change of demeanor that he was be given orders from higher up to stand down. After hearing Mason, dejectedly respond into his comm link, “Alright fine. I heard you.”
Mr. Doggie laughed, “What’s the matter buddy? You get in trouble or something?”
‘Thanks a lot Oliver’ Mason thought to himself. Because of Marshal’s interference he was on the verge of losing complete control of the situation.
As he stared at his insolent captive, the idea then popped into his head, ‘So Marshal doesn’t want me to be a tough guy anymore… How about I get myself a tough girl instead?’
Marshal called over to Raina, “Hey Raina, could you help me with something a minute?” Raina not sure what Mason was up to came right over, immediately eliciting a few cat calls from the increasingly defiant prisoners as they ogled Raina dressed in her tank top, tight fitting jeans, and snug pair of combat boots. Raina ignoring the miscreants asked, “You need help with something Mason?”
Mason then yelled at the ringleader, and motioning toward Raina told him, “Hey Doggie! Come here a minute—there’s someone I’d like for you to meet!”
Doggie already had his eyes on Raina and didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation as he waddled over as fast as his shackled ankles and wrists would allow him to. Grinning at Raina he greeted her, “Well—hello.”
Raina completely ignoring the man asked Mason, “Okay—what do you want to do with him?”
Mason grunted, “This guy apparently needs to learn some manners.”
He then told her in a subtle tone whose intention she understood perfectly clear, “Why don’t you teach him a lesson?”
The man hearing them, sneered, “A lesson? Come on baby! I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!” before he lewdly
