man with the golden eye v: 4 your eyes only

The warm breeze blew through the trees while the sun beamed down. Dead and mangled bodies littered the jungle floor.

I rested beneath a tree, waiting for the Angelikas.

A chopper rattled in the distance. The trees rustled as it hovered overhead. Four ropes dropped down to a clearing in front of me.

The four Angelikas lowered down.

“You’re coming with us,” they said.

“Not today sisters!”

I attempted to fire off a clip, but my rifle jammed. I threw the weapon down. If it came down to hand-to-hand combat, I was fucked.

Three of the Angelikas attempted to corner me. One stood back. I threw a grenade, but one caught it and threw it back. The explosion knocked me back a few feet.

The chopper continued to hover overhead.

As I laid there in a daze, I suddenly remembered: Izzy packed my burst action Beretta. The Angelikas were inching closer. I pulled out the sidearm and unleashed the three rounds into the chopper.

I could see the pilot’s brains splatter across the glass. His body leaned forward and the helicopter came careening down into the jungle. As it exploded, fire rained down onto the three Angelikas.

They might’ve been genetically enhanced. But as I’ve learned time and time again, no one is immune to the destructive force of a fireball.

I walked towards the last remaining Angelika. She instantly cowered down.

“Don’t kill me! I’m the original, I’m not genetically enhanced,” she screamed.

“Where’s Franco?!”

“He’s holed up at the abandoned airstrip a few klicks away.”

“You’re taking me to him.”

I held her at gunpoint as we journeyed towards the airstrip. Franco was in the hanger while his private jet rested on the runway.

“Here’s your communist mole,” I told him.

“Excellent work, Mr. James,” he replied. “Now that I can trust you, I’ll reveal to you my secret plan.”

Franco turned around and removed his eye patch. A brilliant flash of gold appeared from where left eye once was. He laid a steel briefcase on the table.

Inside was a ridiculous looking retinal scanner.

“When I run my golden eye through this retinal scan,” he said. “50 scud missiles armed with nuclear warheads will fire from beneath the Gulf of Mexico. Each aimed at a major city in the Western Hemisphere.”

“You’re a madman, Mr. Werner,” I replied. “You’re not even gonna attempt to blackmail world leaders? What kind of villain are you?”

“Once when the world’s major cities have been destroyed,” Franco continued. “They’ll blame the communists, and leaders of the world will have no choice but to use my services to defeat them.”

“Billions of people will die, just so you can make a profit,” I replied.

“Basically, yeah.”

I’ve seen these cases hundreds of times: madman wants to destroy the world just so he can make a few extra pennies. People will do anything for money these days.

“With that type of destruction,” I interjected. “Nuclear winter could last ages. Are you sure that you completely thought the consequences of your plan, Mr. Werner?”

Franco pondered for a second.

“Shit, I guess I didn’t,” he replied. “Oh well, it’s a risk worth taking. But tonight, we feast!”

Franco left the hanger. Angelika was locked up behind a gate.

“James,” she said. “Franco killed my friends, my family. All I’ve ever wanted was justice. Please don’t let him do this.”

Franco returned with his servants. They were bringing in cartons full of local cuisine out of the jet. He poured a glass of bourbon, then lifted it to make a toast.

“To the future,” he said.

I had to act quickly.

shoot me, deadly VI: goodbye cruel world

If Michaela and her army wanted to lay siege to this cabin, I was fully prepared.

After Isabella said her final goodbye, I began work on a defensive attack. Booby traps, trip wires, and explosives were scattered around the perimeter. Thanks to my father’s arsenal, I had RPGs, M16s, M4 Carbines, AKs, AR-15s, Uzis, and all the usual weapons you’d find in these stories.

I climbed up into a deer stand, and watched. Waited. I stared down the scope of my rifle. A caravan of black SUVs was rolling down the dirt road.

The first vehicle struck a trip wire, causing a massive explosion. It obliterated the SUV and the one behind it. Eight people were killed immediately.

Men in the vehicles behind began fanning out into the woods, but they kept triggering the C-4, causing more explosions and death. The unlucky ones got caught in bear traps where they became easy prey for the mountain lions.

I realized that I created a horrible, if not tragic, death trap.

I climbed down from the deer stand and ran back to the cabin. I knew that the men who survived the initial barrage would eventually breach the defensive perimeter. So I armed myself with multiple automatic weapons.

Meanwhile, explosions kept going off. I grabbed the RPG-7.

I knew Michaela was getting close. One of her men yelled “you fucking bitch! You told us that we’d only be facing three people! Not the threshold of hell!”

Her men started to retreat. So my defensive campaign suddenly became an offensive one. I fired an RPG right at her gaggle of men, killing or maiming all 20 of them.

The few survivors that weren’t screaming in agony began to fire back. So I let loose another RPG.

I looked out into the woods. Fires were emanating from the charred remains of hundreds of dead bodies. It was lighting up the night sky. Yet none of the bodies were Michaela.

I slowly paced through the woods. Then a bullet went right through my left kidney. I fell to the ground and Michaela popped out from behind a tree, doing all kinds of strange martial arts.

She round house kicked my face. She broke one of my arms, both legs and my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I was helplessly crawling on the ground.

“Where’s Isabella?!” Michaela kept asking while punching me in the face.

“If she was up your butt you’d know where she was,” I replied.

Out of frustration, Michaela stood up and pointed her Glock 19 at me. “Goodbye, private dick!”

Luckily, I had dozens of sidearms on me. So I managed to rip a clip into Michaela before she got off a shot.

With fire all around me, I managed to craw back into the cabin. I might’ve been a fuck up my entire life, but at least I’d go out the way I wanted.

I lit up a cigarette and looked over to a picture of mom and dad.

“I’ll be with you soon Ma and Pa!”

And I closed my eyes.

….

Unfortunately I woke up in the San Bernardino Community Hospital. Isabella and an FBI agent were in the room.

“I couldn’t leave you there mister,” Isabella said. “You were sitting in a pool of your own blood with all your limbs broken.”

“Despite the horrendous injuries and the state we found you in, you’re expected to make a full recovery!” the doctor said.

I didn’t have health insurance.

“You somehow managed to slaughter the entire west coast mafia. There will be a federal investigation into this,” the FBI agent said.

“Do I need to lawyer up?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, BIG TIME,” the agent replied.

“Aren’t you so happy to be alive?!” Isabella asked.

That night, I cried myself to sleep.

THE END

shoot me, deadly V: my lucky day

“What’s it gonna be Luigi?” Mr. Leather said with his tommy gun.

Luigi paused and slowly lowered me to the ground. Leather pointed his tommy at Michaela.

“You’re not gonna get away with this,” she said.

“Beat it bitch,” he replied.

Luigi quickly reached for his sidearm. Mr. Leather unleashed his machine gun, blasting holes and blood everywhere. Luigi smashed through the window, falling five stories to the ground.

If the bullets didn’t kill him, the fall certainly did.

Michaela pulled a single shot derringer out of the bosom of her dress, hitting Mr. Leather in the stomach. She ran out the room. I ran over to him.

“We gotta get you to the hospital,” I said.

“Can’t. They’ll take me to prison.”

“I was a medic in the Army, I can probably stop the bleeding,” I replied.

“I’d rather go to prison.”

I helped the blood soaked Mr. Leather to the car. As we sped out of there, he took out a cigarette.

“Where you taking me?” he asked.

“The only place we can go.”

We arrived at the Big Bear cabin early in the morning. Isabella helped carry the wounded man inside.

“Who is this guy?” she asked.

“You know,” I thought for a moment. “That’s a good question.”

As Mr. Leather began fading in and out of consciousness, he began speaking to Isabella.

“Am fost îngerul păzitor al tatălui tău. Și sunt și a ta. Dar timpul meu este aproape terminat. Ai încredere în acest om prost,” he said.

“Am știut întotdeauna,” she replied.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“It’s not important,” Isabella said. “He doesn’t have long.”

“Obviously!”

“Just let me die,” Mr. Leather said. “It’s time.”

“Are you ever going to tell me who you are?” I asked.

“Fuck off,” he replied.

I shrugged and did what I could to stop the bleeding. I stayed by his side all morning.

“What’s the deal with Isabella?” I asked him.

“Poor girl,” he said. “Vito had her mother killed when she was just a little girl. Vito never understood his daughter. She grew up lonely, neglected by her own family.”

“Why did Vito kill her mother?” I replied.

“I’ll never tell.”

“Did you kill her?”

There was no reply. The mysterious man was no more.

I buried him that evening.

Isabella joined me outside over his shallow grave. I took out another cigarette.

“I don’t know if this guy was a pervert or your guardian angel. But either way, I think he was your biggest fan,” I told her.

“Michaela will find us,” she replied. “We gotta move.”

I handed her the money out of Mr. Leather’s wallet, then I emptied out my own.

“Take this,” I said. “Go to New York. Go do Broadway. Go do stand up. Go do something with your life. That’s what our mystery man would have wanted.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“My father buried an entire arsenal from his time in Korea under this land. I outta put it to use.”

shoot me, deadly III: im begging to die

I woke up in Vito’s guest house. I was alone. Except for the large bald man standing over me.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked

“Luigi. Michaela wants to talk to you.”

“Can you give me a minute? I still got morning wood.”

“Now”

Luigi escorted me through the garden to the large chateau. There, standing in the kitchen, was Michaela holding a glass of brandy.

“Vito died”, she said.

Luigi punched me in the stomach and I fell to the ground. While on my knees, I tried to catch my breath.

“My condolences, Mrs. Stararo,” I said.

“Don’t give me that shit. What happened to Vito? Where were you?” She asked.

“I think you know where I was.”

Luigi then socked me in the face. I got up and wiped the blood from my nose.

“Does it look like foul play? The man was 90 years old and drunk as hell last night,” I said.

Michaela downed the brandy.

“No,” she replied. “I need to know if I can trust you.”

For good measure, Luigi kicked me in the dick.

“I don’t know who any of you are! I was just hired by some man with a leather briefcase to find Isabella!” I said.

She waved Luigi out of the room and handed me a towel.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” I asked.

“Sorry, a lot of people have wanted Vito dead for a long time. With him gone, I don’t know if they will come after me,” she said.

Michaela grabbed an ice pack and put it over my eye. “I’m going to need protection,” she said longingly.

“I just got my ass kicked. Are you sure you’re asking the right person?” I replied.

“Don’t go back to LA. Stay here with me.”

“I gotta find Isabella.”

“I don’t know where she is. But as long as she stays away from here, she’ll be safe.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

I grabbed my bowler hat and coat. “I’ll check on you soon. If things get tough, come to LA,” I said.

I took a shot of brandy and departed.

It was clear that Michaela was behind the death of Vito. I’ve seen these cases hundreds of times: wife gets jealous of husband, wife kills husband, wife takes husband’s place as head of a crime family. It’s a tale as old as time.

But one thing was clear: Isabella was certainly in trouble.

I arrived at the LA office. The secretary said that the strange man looking for Isabella was sitting in my office. I walked in and hung up my coat.

“Well well well Mr. Italian Leather, perhaps you have answers for me,” I said.

“That’s what we’re paying you for Jimmy,” he replied.

I sat down at the desk and put my feet up. “Who’s ‘we’? Vito’s dead,” I said.

“I know. I see that Luigi paid you a visit,” Mr. Leather said referring to my bruises. “She’s dangerous you know?”

“You don’t say?” I said sarcastically. “Do you really think this is my first rodeo?”

“I know that you’re a busy man, so I don’t want to take up too much of your time. But I want you to meet me on the campus of UC Irvine on Thursday,” Mr. Leather told me.

“You could have told me this by email,” I replied.

“I just wanted to make sure you got the message.”

Mr. Leather stood up and as he was walking towards the door, I said: “if you’re gonna make me drive all over SoCal, I’m gonna start charging by the mile.”

“Keep sending me the bill,” he said. Then he shut the door.

I told the secretary that I didn’t want any interruptions. I popped open a beer and a Vicodin and took a nap.

shoot me, deadly

I burned the apartment complex down while making nachos. After the court cases were settled and 20 people were made homeless, I needed the money.

A strange man walked into my office. He laid his briefcase on the desk and pulled out his revolver.

“I’m here to offer you a shot at redemption,” he told me.

“What’s the case?” I asked.

“You’re the worst private dick in town,” he said. “I need a moron, a dipshit, a loser, a complete piece of shit that would be willing to take the fall when things go south.”

I took out a cigarette and thought for a moment. Fuck it, I thought. I needed the paycheck.

“Give it to me,” I said.

“A mafiosos daughter has gone missing. She was last seen in San Diego. Here’s her picture.”

She looked like a woman that could eat your heart out and save room for dessert.

“What’s the dame’s name,” I ask.

“Isabella Maria,” he replied. “She was a spoiled brat. She dropped out of law school to pursue a career in phlebotomy but got caught up in the wrong crowd if you know what I mean.”

“Drugs?”

“No, improv comedy. She was terrible.”

“Well,” I said. “I’ll need a $5,000 deposit and a list of references.”

“Just send me the bill. Everything you need to know is in this briefcase.”

The briefcase was a Boccio. Italian leather. Not sure why he bothered. A Manila folder would have worked just fine.

“I didn’t get your name sir,” I said.

“My name’s not important. But what I represent is.”

Fuckin weirdo.

The man left and I told my secretary to not take any calls. I went back into the office and pulled out a handle of Everclear. After popping my Zeldox and Zoloft, I lifted the glass up to a picture of my dead mother.

“Welp, things are shit and they ain’t getting any better,” I said.

And down the hatch she went.

my opinions are just too dangerous man

“I’m gonna slap those chilli fries right out your mouth,” Jenny, my mother, said.

“Jenny, I’m just asking you if Nicky Wallz is my father,” I replied.

“I don’t know who da fuck dis Nicky is, but he can suck my lef nut,” she said. My mother never explained how she got a Brooklyn accent.

“Ma, did you ever take in a homeless kid 30 some years ago?”

“It was da 80s, everybody was doin wacky shit then,” Jenny replied as she took a drag off her cigarette through her stoma.

I couldn’t stand to be around her when she was like this. I started to walk away.

“Where are you goin?” she asked.

“I gotta take a shit Ma!”

Later I was browsing the porno mags in Safeway when a strange woman bumped her cart into me.

“Watch it lady!” I yelled.

It was Anthrax. I haven’t seen her since I escaped from that exploding warehouse.

“Hello James,” she said.

“Anthrax”

“I just thought I should tell you that I am three months sober. I am attending AA and I am currently seeking to make amends to those I have harmed. Therefore, I apologize for drugging and kidnapping you, and putting objects up your rectum.”

I was shocked.

“Well, you are forgiven. And I am sorry for squeezing your tit and pistol whipping you unconscious,” I replied.

“I forgive you as well,” she said.

We both stood there in awkward silence. Finally I spoke up.

“Say, can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes. I would like that,” Anthrax replied stoically.

We didn’t have much to say at the coffee shop. I was still hyped up on the MDMA I took earlier, so I just drank water.

“So what happened to Honda after that deadly explosion that nearly destroyed West Hollywood? Is she okay?” I asked.

“Her face was ripped off and her arms and legs were mangled beyond repair. She survived though, whisked off by the black shirt men to an undisclosed location,” Anthrax replied.

“Well that sucks. Weren’t you two close?”

“Yes. We were sisters in the crime syndicate known as TOILET: Terrorism Or the International League that Engages in Terrorism. Honda rescued me as a small child off the streets of Stockholm and trained me in the ways thievery, extortion, and deception. I owe her my life. I would do anything to find her.”

“But how did you survive that explosion?” I asked.

“I have my ways”

Anthrax continued to sip on her coffee. I took one last gulp of my water.

“Welp, care to have sex?” I asked.

“Yes. I’d like that.”