He hiked up his pants and hurried after the women.
A few other men emerged and rushed the opposite way once they saw Shay’s guns. All of them looked like disgruntled or frightened customers.
Two suited goons wearing chains rounded the corner. Shay’s gun spat death, and both men went down. She kicked in each door to ensure they were empty. She could barely make out the blood splatter at the end of the hall in the low red emergency lighting.
Shay stopped where the hallway turned and listened. Her experience in England reminded her of the importance of relying on her other senses.
“The bitches said it’s some chick,” someone whispered.
“A chick? Fuck, you think it’s the mother of that one bitch? She said she’d come for us.”
“Nah, them bitches probably just got spooked. It’s probably those triad assholes or the Demon Generals. We’ll show them. We just wait here until they turn the corner, and we’ll fucking fill them with lead.”
Shay grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it.
“What the fuck? Grenade!”
The men managed to scream just before the grenade exploded. Shay turned the corner and frowned. One of them was still alive. She pulled a knife and slit his throat before continuing through the blasted and blood-splattered abattoir that had once been a hallway with three men in it.
Shay holstered her 9mm and reached under her jacket to pull out the submachine gun. She readied the weapon and continued down the hallway, her heart rate steady. No fear. No concern. Just cold-blooded delivery of death.
The hallway led to another hallway with office doors on each side.
Everyone innocent is long gone. This should make shit easy.
Another thug barreled out of one of the doors and squeezed off a round. The bullet zipped by Shay’s head. She put a burst into his chest, and he fell with a yell.
You almost had me there, asshole, but you have to hit me on the first try.
She readied another grenade and tossed it at an angle into the open room. Two men dashed out a second later, only to fall to the hail of bullets from her SMG.
At the next room, Shay didn’t even bother to open the door. She held the trigger down and sprayed bullets from her gun until it clicked empty. A quick mag ejection and reload later, she kicked open the door to find two dead gangsters.
You don’t win battles of attrition by hiding, assholes.
She snorted. They were a gang made up of survivors of defeated gangs. Maybe these were all the men who knew when to run and hide. If that were true, they should have run from LA and hidden as far away as possible.
The hallway ended in a wide lounge, complete with a full bar. The long shadows and red light gave the room a sinister atmosphere. Several tables had been overturned.
Shay didn’t enter. Instead, she stood a few feet back in the hallway and listened. There was heavy breathing and hurried murmurs inside.
She ducked and threw a grenade behind a patch of overturned tables. Men leapt and ran away, shouting. Others popped up from behind the bar, the muzzle flashes of their pistols and shotguns cutting through the crimson darkness.
Shay rushed to the side, spitting bullets out as her grenades exploded. Glass shards, drywall, and wood exploded around her. A bullet slammed into her leg, and she dropped with a hiss.
Gotta finish me, assholes.
She leapt for a table, continuing to hold the trigger down and nailing several of the gang members. Bullets perforated the top and middle of the table, and she took a moment to send her last grenade over it.
Should have brought a flash-bang or two. That’s the problem with not purposely killing people all the time. You get rusty.
Shay ripped a healing potion from her pouch and downed it. She had one more, but so far the Phoenix Gang had mostly proven they were good at dying. No wonder they’d placed a hit on James instead of going after him themselves.
A second later when the grenade exploded, she took advantage of the chaos and rolled behind another table. Her leg had already started to heal.
Shay repaid the shouts of a charging man with a shot between the eyes. She nailed another man through the table, then ducked behind the bar.
Several soft moans, but no more hurried whispering. Shay counted, then popped up, aiming down at the bar. The two surprised gangsters trying to hide there didn’t even get their guns up before she finished them.
The front doors exploded in a shower of glass as four men with assault rifles opened fire. Shay rushed to the side of the room in a zig-zag motion, returning fire. Blood blossomed from the chests of the men as they fell to the ground.
A Japanese man in a finely-tailored suit stepped around the corner, the glass of the shattered door crunching underneath his polished shoes. Unlike almost every other gangster she’d run into he sported no chains, and he wore a scabbard with a wakizashi. The man was obviously ex-Harriken.
The man pulled up a sleeve to reveal a glowing spider tattoo.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Shay asked.
“Do you know who I am?” The man rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. It almost made Shay wish she’d brought the tachi. There would have been some poetry in killing a former Harriken with the enchanted Japanese sword.
“Tsuchigumo, the leader of this pack of trash.” Shay ejected her mag and reloaded. He obviously wasn’t going to try to shoot her for whatever reason. “You’re obviously ex-Harriken.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re very powerful. I could use you.”
“You don’t care that I just slaughtered your men? Kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”
“The weak perish. The strong survive. Such is nature. Such is civilization. The Harriken were weak, and now they are gone.” Tsuchigumo shrugged. “I would ask why you’ve done what you’ve done, though.”
“Because you assholes can’t
