Chapter 16

Brandt removed the Glock 19 from his holster for the second time today. If it were looters, then they should scare pretty easily. He cautiously walked out of the guest house, scanning his surroundings for anything in plain sight. Moving towards the front of the main house, he noticed immediately that the door had been forcefully opened. The wooden door frame where the handle usually rested had been broken and splintered. This was all he needed now, to deal with more low-life thieving punks that add no value to their existence.

Brandt slowly pushed the door open, his Glock 19 trained on everything in his sights. “This is Special Agent Brandt of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. You are trespassing upon an active investigation and crime scene. While I do not condone the act of thievery, I am not looking to get you in trouble if you come out and leave now.”

Brandt paused to listen for any reply or active noises. The house was dead silent.

“Okay, I gave you a chance. You will be prosecuted to the full extent under federal law.” Brandt also thought maybe a few concealable bruises would be in order for wasting his time over petty criminals.

Walking through the front door, Brandt found it still to be a very eerie sight. The lights were off, and nothing appeared to be disturbed. He proceeded to scan and move forward, looking for any sign of life through the common area. The kitchen and living room were clear; he even took the extra step of opening cabinets, just in case this were young children breaking into a home as a thrill. Moving towards the hallway, he glanced into the room immediately on the left. Andrew’s office. Brandt didn’t expect to be here again, especially so soon. The visual aesthetic did not affect him as much as before. His mind was far too numb to dwell on it. He closed the door to the office, thinking that he would save that room for last. Further down the hallway, he was met with one of the bathrooms on the right. The bathroom was well maintained, almost sparkling from the cleanliness. For the sake of thoroughness, he pulled the dark shower curtain to the side.

The enormous fist hit Brandt’s face like a truck, sending him flying backwards out of the bathroom. His Glock 19 tumbled down the hallway as his back slammed against the wall. The sudden brute force had broken his nose and sent him into a daze. Regaining the clarity of his vision, he could see the bulging man exit the shower and move towards him. The only thing he could think of at that moment was, great, another big bastard.

The attacker reached down and picked up Brandt effortlessly by the front of his shirt. Moving him toward the living room, he spoke. “My name’s Tremor, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Tremor then threw Brandt with all of his might onto the sofa. The soda toppled and crashed onto the floor, as did Brandt.

What the hell, why is he toying with me? Brandt asked himself, trying to regain the strength to get off of the floor. He didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

“I’m here to kill you, Agent Brandt, but since there’s no money in it for me, let’s make it sporting, shall we?” Tremor reached behind his back and pulled out a Desert Eagle .50 AE. A devastating weapon if you are capable of shooting it straight. He ejected the magazine and racked the slide, letting the round that was chambered drop to the floor and tossing the weapon into the kitchen. He proceeded toward Brandt. “Alright, the nap is over, get up! Unless you prefer that I pop your head like a cherry.”

Oh, for fucks sake, who did I piss off now? Brandt, using all of his energy to rise to his feet, finally got a good looked at the man. This guy is on some serious steroids.

“Good, good.” Tremor bolted towards Brandt like a charging rhino. Before Brandt could react, Tremor had used his shoulder and the full weight of his momentum to slam him into the wall. The force of the impact knocked the hanging decorations and artwork to the floor along with Brandt. “You see, this is not very sporting, is it? Come on wanker, let’s get on with it. Put some fire in your spirit.”

The pain would have been unbearable if the adrenaline hadn’t kicked in. The fight or flight mode had finally kicked in for Brandt. Pushing himself back to his feet, he was greeted again by Tremor, now in a boxing stance. “Alright, big boy. You want to play?” He readied himself as well.

“That’s what I’m talking about, mate.” Tremor came in with a fast straight punch. Brandt’s usage of Kenpo blocking techniques were minimally effective. The punch glanced his face as the sheer weight of Tremors arm almost ignored the strike.

Look for the weak point. Brandt knew that there was always a weak point with bodybuilders. Very few worked out the entire body equally; most just focused on their glamor muscles. Lats, biceps, abs, all were mostly for show. Legs were a common weakness among this type.

This time Tremor came forward with a wide right hook. Brandt had already formulated his plan. The man was large but not agile. Brandt ducked and sidestepped Tremor, completely avoiding the attack. Now to the side of Tremor, Brandt drove a forceful right knee directly into the peroneal nerve just above the back of his attacker’s knee. The disabling attack from the peroneal strike sent Tremor crashing to the ground. The irony would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so serious.

With his attacker now on the ground, and his back facing towards Brandt, he let loose with a volley of kidney strikes to try and subdue his opponent.

The advantage was short-lived. Tremor was now enraged and thrust himself upward, staggering Brandt back several feet.

Brandt could see the rage in Tremor’s eyes.

“Alright, play time is over,” Tremor said with seething anger, and rhino charged towards Brandt again, knocking him halfway down the hallway. A sharp pain shot straight up his back as he landed.

“Time to die.” Tremor was now standing over Brandt.

Brandt writhed in pain but was instantly relieved when he discovered what he had landed on. Tremor lifted his bulky leg, fully intending to slam his foot into Brandt’s face.

“You’re right.” Brandt reached back and clutched the Glock 19. He moved fast as he saw the foot of impending doom linger over him. He fired the handgun rapidly into Tremor, sending his attacker staggering and finally collapsing to the ground.

The encounter had left Brandt winded and physically exhausted. Being tossed around like a ragdoll had not been part of the day’s plan in his mind. He struggled but eventually gathered the energy to get to his feet. He needed to make sure that Tremor was indeed finished.

Brandt stood over his attacker. His Glock 19 aimed squarely at his forehead. The rising and falling of Tremors’ chest and the wheezing sound of bated breath demonstrated that there was still some life left in him. Tough bastard. He considered pulling the trigger and ending the beastly man’s misery, but not only did he want him to suffer a little longer, he also wanted answers.

Tremor lay on the ground, bloodied from several bullet wounds that had peppered his chest and torso. Blood streamed down the side of his lips as he struggled to speak. “You… might as well… kill me. I’m dead… anyway.”

“You get to die when I have answers.”

Tremor’s eyes slowly turned to focus on Brandt. The coughing broke apart every word he spoke while his life force drained from his body and into the carpet. “Go… on.”

Brandt thought that the approval had been a little too easy. He proceeded with skepticism in his questioning. “You mentioned that you were not paid to try to kill me. What are you, and who sent you?”

More blood started to erupt from Tremor’s mouth along with the coughing. “I… am from a…. world you only… read about. The silent… killer with the most… prestigious clientele.”

“Okay, yes, I get it. You’re an assassin. Who ordered the hit?”

“Nyyyx… Nyx wanted… you dead.”

“Nyx? Who the hell is that?”

The choking of blood started to become more dramatic as his eyelids looked like they were being pulled down with heavy weights. Still, he struggled to keep them open. “The killer… of your… friend.”

Brandt’s eyes widened at the revelation as he pushed the muzzle of his Glock 19 into Tremors’ skull. The willpower it took not to end him right there took much effort to conjure. He pulled himself back, staring at the dying man. He aimed at his left kneecap and pulled the trigger.

The shot tore through Tremor’s knee as his eyes widened in horror and pain. His scream was muffled by his coughing.

“I’ll make this last as long as I have to. Who is Nyx?”

“He… is… like me. We work… in the same… world. He is running… the crew.” The torture being brought upon Tremor’s entire body would not let his mind focus on one area.

The wheels in Brandt’s mind were starting to pick up momentum. Crew? The thought of more people coming after him for some unknown reason was a frightening thought during any normal time, but Brandt, in the deepest recess of his mind, somehow welcomed the idea. Bring them all, I’ll kill them one by one.

“I am one… of many. It doesn’t… stop… with me. Not until… his vision… is realized. We are all… dead… in the end.”

“What is Nyx’s vision? Tell me!”

“No… not his vision… HIS vision…” The coughing and choking intensified beyond control. The pool of blood now soaked into the carpet all the way to the bathroom where their encounter began.

Brandt grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to shake him back to consciousness. “Tell me, WHO?”

“Hire… us… Nyx… e-e-a-v…” The last flicker of light was extinguished in Tremor’s eyes as he lost all muscle control and relaxed in Brandt’s hands.

It was no use trying to extract any more information from Tremor. The once energetic beast of a man was now a lifeless shell. Brandt had neither the medical training nor the tools to attempt anything further to get his answers. “Fuck.”

Brandt let go of the lifeless body and began to pace around the living room, trying to determine his next move based on what little information he was able to gather. He had a name, Nyx, but not a location or a why. The notion of a crew being used to kill him sparked interest, but the information lacked details to further his actions. He couldn’t make out the last few words that were forced from Tremor. More questions for questions.

Brandt did the only thing he could think of right now. It was time to call it in. Maybe he will be able to get answers from a forensics team. He pulled out his phone to look at a now cracked screen. Damnit. Through the cracks he managed to locate Dan in his contacts and placed the call.

“Agent Brandt, I just dropped off Joyce at the house. Did you find anything?”

Brandt didn’t even know where to begin the conversation. “Well, sort of.”

“I know you are not calling me over a ‘sort of.’”

“I found the name of Andrew’s killer.”

“That’s great, finally some sort of lead.”

“Not exactly, sir. I think we have bigger problems beyond that.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I need a team to pick up Tremor at my location. See what forensics can do for him.”

“Tremor, what tremor? An earthquake killed someone there?”

“No, Tremor is the name of the assassin that just tried to kill me.”