Crackdown On The Seine
Well, I'm ever upper class high society,
God's gift to ballroom notoriety,
And I always fill my ballroom, the event is never small,
The social pages say I got the biggest balls of all,
I got big balls, I got big balls,
And they're such big balls, they're dirty big balls,
And he's got big balls, and she's got big balls,
But we've got the biggest balls of them all,
My balls are always bouncing, and my ballroom's always full,
And everyone comes, and comes again,
If your name is on the guest list, no one can take you higher,
Everybody says I've got great balls of fire,
I got big balls, oh, I got big balls,
And they're such big balls, dirty big balls,
He's got big balls, she's got big balls,
But we've got the biggest balls of them all,
Some balls are held for charity, and some for fancy dress,
But when they're held for pleasure, they're the balls that I like best,
My balls are always bouncing, to the left, and to the right,
It's my belief that my big balls should be held every night, OI!
We got big balls, we got big balls,
We got big balls, dirty big balls,
He's got big balls, she's got big balls,
But we've got the biggest balls of them all.
Ron woke up hanging from a set of handcuffs on a steam pipe in what could only be described as a boiler room of some kind.
'Where the hell am I?' he thought to himself, when a man with slicked back long black hair walked up to him, with the Id card he used to get into the townhouse in his hand.
"So, who are you?" the man asked. "We can rule this guy out." he peeled off the outer lamination of the card, and pulled Ron's picture off the ID, smiling.
"Does it matter?" Ron asked, looking at the man carefully.
"Okay, Mr. 'Does it matter,' if it doesn't matter to you, why should it matter to me? But, one question I would like answered, why are you here?" the man asked.
"The woman, the last one downstairs," Ron began, "that's my fiancee, and I want her back."
"Sorry," the man replied, "this is a very elite business I run, with a very elite clientele. No refunds, no returns, all sales are final."
"Then you'd better kill me, because I will come back, and keep coming back, until I get answers." Ron replied through gritted teeth.
"Not a problem." the man replied, then, turning to one of his bodyguards, he stated, quite clearly, "Kill him quietly, I have guests upstairs."
The man, who Ron guessed to be his elusive Patrick McCloud turned, and left, at the same time, Ron felt something be slipped around his neck, and tightened.
It was now, or never for Ron, he had to act to keep from ending up dead, like God knows how many others that have tried to put a stop to this man, he allowed the man to tighten the rope around his neck, before he began placing all of his weight on the pipe he was handcuffed to, the pipe creaked, and groaned, before coming apart at the joint with a loud torquing of metal, the pipe hit the man in front of him on top of the head, knocking him back, dazed, and confused, allowing Ron to turn his attention to the man that was choking him, he slipped around, rendering the rope around his neck useless.
"Open up, and say 'ahh,' motherfucker." Ron said in a dry manner, before kicking the man in the mouth, sending teeth flying.
The man was quick to regain his feet, and pull a gun, Ron reacted instinctively, grabbing the man by the wrist, and pushing the gun away from him, and down onto a steel rail hard enough for the man to let go.
Ron picked up the gun, and fired three shots into the man charging him, the man fell backwards, dead from a direct shot to the heart. Ron then turned his attention to the man he had knocked silly with the pipe, he turned, and fired once, the bullet found its mark in the forehead, killing the man instantly.
Ron reached into the man's pocket, and pulled out the keys to the handcuffs around his wrists, unshackling himself, he then picked up the other gun, as he had ran out of ammunition in the first gun, he looked closely at this one, and saw eight shots remaining.
'What do these guys do with these guns, besides hit people over the head with them?' Ron thought, as he took the gun in his hand, and headed toward the only door in the area.
On the same floor, near an elevator:
Patrick McCloud looked toward the door, where only a couple seconds ago, he had heard gunshots.
"Go back there, and ask those dumb asses what part of 'quietly' they didn't understand?" he asked, watching his head guard walk toward the door, his head snapped back violently, as a shot rang out, and Ron suddenly burst out the door, walking at a very fast pace toward the now scared McCloud.
"Please, please understand, it was just business." McCloud said, Ron, however, didn't reply, instead, he pulled the trigger of the .40 caliber pistol in his hand, sending a bullet into the right shoulder of his prey.
"Please, I have a wife too, please . . ." McCloud shouted, instead, Ron fired again, this time, hitting his prey in the left knee, still with a murderous look on his face.
"There's a boat on the jetty . . . if you move quickly, you might catch it." McCloud finally said, to which, Ron nodded.
"Please, you must understand, it was just business, that's all . . . it was nothing personal." McCloud repeated.
"It's personal to me, you made it personal." Ron replied, before unloading the gun on his prey, and wiping it clean of all prints, before disposing it beside the body.
Ron took the stairs up to the ground floor, rather than take the elevator, and risk being withheld by the police, he then slipped out of the back door, just as the elevator opened on the ground floor, apparently, someone was looking in that direction, because Ron heard the chilling blood curdling scream of terror from a woman, before the door closed behind him.
On a yacht tied to a jetty on the Seine River:
A tall, Middle Eastern looking man pulled Kim, along with three other women onto the 40 foot yacht in front of him, and led them toward a stateroom somewhere, Kim was unsure of where, because her mind was still in that hazy fog that is associated with coming down from a forced drug injection, but she could hear fast talking in Arabic.
"Take them to the Sheik, quickly." the man said, pushing Kim off onto the man closest to him.
On a bridge overlooking the Seine River:
Ron looked down into the river, trying to time his jump onto the yacht that had just pulled off the jetty near the townhouse, there was going to be no stopping him from getting Kim, he was determined to see that no one on board, except Kim, and the other girls that were forced from their homes were walking off.
As the bridge of the yacht passed under the bridge, Ron prepared to jump, when the after deck showed itself, Ron jumped, and landed hard on some kind of hatch, his leg rolled underneath him, causing him to violently twist his ankle, he shook off the pain, and grabbed the man in front of him walking the deck, he laced his arm around the man's neck, and began to pull up on his head, strangling the man who was now dangling off the deck, making gurgling noises in his throat, Ron quickly, and violently jerked his arm in an upward direction, and, with a loud snapping of vertebrae, the man went limp in Ron's arm, dead from a broken neck.
Ron moved with the quiet stealth of a ninja, as he moved toward a ladder well that led down to the lower decks, he looked down it, and saw a man with an MP5 in his hand, Ron grabbed onto a channel iron in the ceiling, and kicked the man hard in the chest with both legs as he turned to look at what was making the soft noises to his right, Ron then punched the man twice, before tossing him overboard, and into the frigid waters of the river, Ron picked up the machine pistol he had dropped when Ron kicked him, pulled back the slide, and let it set with a round in the chamber, before walking into a passageway that was much smaller than any other hallway he had walked through before, it was barely enough for one person to walk through at one time.
Ron could hear commotion further up the corridor, and got below a small porthole in the door in front of him, and pulled the .40 caliber he had lifted from the first guard, looking into the chamber to make sure it was loaded, he knelt down, until he saw the door starting to open slowly, he snapped up to his feet quickly, and fired off a shot, it went through the glass porthole in the door, and lodged into the skull of the man trying to walk through the door, looking for Ron, who leaned down, and pulled out the full magazine from the MP5 he had in his arms, before tossing aside the .40 caliber in his hand, and taking the handgun the man had wedged in the waistband of his pants, Ron stuck the handgun in the waistband of his pants, and continued down the hallway, and into what appeared to be a large office, painted a brilliant, almost blinding white.
The sounds of an MP5 being discharged quickly filled his ears, he just barely missed being hit in the head with a bullet, and was grazed in the arm.
"Oh, you just signed your own death warrant." Ron replied, now placing the MP5 on the sofa in front of him, and pulling from the table beside him, a large butchers knife, he smiled somewhat sadistically, while beckoning the man to come closer with his free hand.
The man laid down the MP5, and pulled from a scabbard on his belt, a large Bowie knife.
"Let's play." Ron replied, and within seconds, there was a huge knife battle in the confining space of the room they were in, with neither getting the upper hand, until Ron finally struck, slicing the man across the chest with the knife, and causing him to stagger back, Ron took full advantage, taking a step forward, and lodging the butchers knife up to the hilt into the mans chest, ending his life where he stood.
"Say goodnight, Peter Pan." Ron said, taking the Bowie Knife from the man, and placing it in a pocket of his ever present black leather trenchcoat. Ron then looked, and saw the silhouette of a man, in between two panes of frosted glass.
'This is too good to pass up . . . get ready to eat your heart out, John Wayne.' he thought, as he ran up to the sofa in front of the large pane of glass, and busted through it like a large, heavy stone.
Ron reached out, grabbing the man by the neck, and the abdomen, dragging him to the ground, as his body suddenly became dead weight. Pulling both to the ground hard.
Ron stood up, shaking his head clear as he did so, the man had in his hand, a knife with a radically curved blade, Ron reached to a cabinet, rather than pull out the Bowie knife, and grabbed a two magnum champagne bottle, breaking it on a solid steel table as he moved close.
The man charged, and cut Ron across the abdomen smiling, and chuckling sadistically as he attempted to charge again.
Ron grabbed the arm holding the knife only a fraction of an inch from his nose, as he kicked the man in the groin, sending the man to the deck with a howl of pain.
"Won't be using that anymore." Ron said, as he drove his foot into the man's chest, breaking several ribs in the process, he then pulled the man up, and buried the broken glass bottle into the man's shoulder, before pulling the knife from his hand, and burying it into the man's neck, sending him to the deck, gurgling, and choking on his own blood.
Ron then reached down, and picked up the gun that had become dislodged from his pants when he tackled the man to the deck, he cocked the hammer back, and opened the huge white double doors in front of him, and came face-to-face with an older man, holding a knife to Kim's throat, Ron leveled off the handgun to the man's forehead, with nothing but pure hatred in his eyes.
In the room at the same time:
Kim saw the face of Ron in front of her, the look on her face made her blood run cold.
'My God, he is pissed.' she thought, as she stared into the cold, unfeeling eyes of the man she was going to marry.
Ron was staring the man down hard, refusing to give an inch, finally, the Sheik gave Ron the opening he was looking for, when he spoke.
"We can nego . . . " he began, but that was all he got out, as Ron fired the gun in his hand, sending the Sheik backward, as Kim dropped and flung herself the other direction, away from the blade that was once at her neck.
"Negotiations failed." Ron said, completely devoid of any feeling, or remorse, as he stared at the man on the floor, his eyes quickly found Kim, who was now on her feet.
"Ron?" She asked, her voice weak from days of misuse.
"It's me, KP . . . I told you I'd come for you." Ron replied, now holding onto his abdomen, which was bleeding anew.
"You came for me." Kim said, now running to Ron, who took her in his arms, and held her as if he was never going to hold her again.
"I promised you that I would, KP . . . did you ever doubt me?" Ron asked.
"What about Pam?" Kim asked.
"She didn't make it, Kim." Ron replied, feeling that lead weight tearing at his stomach, like someone had ripped out his guts, and replaced them with a ton of lead, his mouth became very dry, and he wanted to scream out, anything to get rid of the bad feeling he had coursing through his veins at this moment, about all of the people he had killed to get this far, the friends he alienated, the people he had hurt that had no part in what he was after, how many times had Ron told himself in the past that these were collateral damages, people that were expendable. But now, they seemed a lot more. Perhaps, in retrospect, Ron had figured that it was due to his retirement that he had begun to feel like he did, perhaps it was age, and wisdom finally setting in, as his dad had told him, all those years ago, when his innocence was still in tact, when Kim still had her innocence, and naivete. Oh, how Ron longed for those days again, when everything was as it had always been, he was the sidekick, content to remain in the shadows, and Kim took all the glory, when he did all of his work, behind the scenes, and no one ever knew what he did, or said during this time, to be as it was three days ago, before Kim left for Paris.
But Ron knew he couldn't change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. He could, however, continue to make his world a better place, both for himself, and the woman he loved more than his own life. The woman he held in his arms right now.
And that just about does it, still got the Epilogue to go, and this one will be done, all that's left is Ron coming home, and what happened to Jean-Pierre, and Ron's wedding to Kim, trust me, it'll all appear in the Epilogue, so, keep on reading.
As always, keep the reviews coming,