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The team move cautiously in the truck's direction. That blast would've alerted anyone in a half-mile
radius. Sure-footing; guns up. A dull sense of wrong hangs in the air as they get closer. Their friend
nowhere to be seen. They stop a short distance away.
"Alex!" driver calls out.
No answer. They all look at one another. Delia's turn.
"Alex!!"
Men two and four assess the brick building. They wave an all-clear.
"Take him." driver said as he shoved their prisoner in Delia's direction.
He creeps slowly up on the left side of Alex's vehicle. It seems plans have changed.
"We got a problem!" he yells.
Delia and the others rush in, now seeing the full scope of their predicament.
"Shit!" she says in frustration.
Driver pulls the hunting knife from the middle of the steering wheel, freeing the blood-lashed
paper that was affixed there. GPS co-ordinates. To God only knows where. This wasn't good.
"Now he's got both of them." he says.
Delia looks at him and then stares off into the distance.
"I guess we have a party to crash." she says looking back at him.
"Bind him up, stick him in the back!"
Delia pushes the captive towards the rear of the truck where she secures him at wrist and ankle.
They all slip off their duffle bags, load them into the backseat floorboard and hop in. This had the
potential to go very bad.
Only 7am and it was already getting warm.
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That shiny black Escalade was hurtling through the soon to be sweltering landscape.
Sanchez locks his eyes on the rearview, staring at his prisoner. Alex, bound and gagged, sits
looking out the window; paying him no mind.
Delia glances across the rearview mirror, catching man four's eyes. He's staring, she looks away.
Man two takes a drink from his water bottle and driver gazes ahead blankly. Tensions were stretched
thin; they were all feeling it. The large black SUV left a plume of brown dust in its wake.
Sanchez steps from his vehicle and his men pull Alex from the backseat. They escort him to the
elaborate back grounds. Delia's father is brought out and he and Alex are both tied to wooden
poles. The show was about to start.
His men march out eight members of a rival cartel. Their hands bound behind them with black hoods
over their heads. Each are pushed down onto their knees, hoods removed. They'd all been beaten.
Alex and Ernie looking on; distressed. They know this ends badly.
Delia's eyes burn a hole through that windshield while the two men in the back check their bags for
weapon inventory. They continue to bear down on that long, empty highway.
A firing squad assembles and they taunt the gang members before issuing them all gut-shots. Anyone
fortunate enough to survive it won the prize of dismemberment; which Sanchez would record. Their various
body parts would be delivered to family members as well as their boss - along with complimentary DVD's
of the whole event. Sanchez fancied himself a generous man.
Alex and Ernie winced, turning away as the first man was set upon the chopping block. Sanchez, in all his
disgusting warpedness, would always have festive mariachi music blasting over loud speakers while arms
and legs were removed from torsos. His depravity was truly sickening.
Driver pulls slowly off the road as the GPS dings. They had arrived.
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And of course the above scenes have a soundtrack. ; ) [Post #242]
https://soundcloud.com/something-else-is...to-the-end
Recorded on Dec. 26th & 27th.
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That ringing gave way to burning. He could feel them now…
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"The fuck is this? Middle of nowhere." driver says examining the scene.
"Must be further down." Delia replies looking at the narrow dirt road to their right.
Driver pushes down on the gas and they make dust. After several minutes they come to a set of electronic
gates belonging to an impressive eight foot stone wall. Driver stops roughly twenty yards away.
"I think we're here." he says.
They sit staring for a moment when those gates begin to open. Delia looks over to driver.
"You think that's for us?" she asks with a devilish grin.
Everyone gets out and goes around back. Driver opens the doors and their captive rolls forward, leans
out and pukes. They all take a step back.
"It was a bumpy ride." Delia says smiling at driver.
"Arriba y afuera!" Driver barks, lifting the man by his right arm.
He gets him stable on his feet and removes his bindings.
"Si corre disparale en el culo!" Driver says to Delia.
She looks at him confused. He smiles.
"That was for him."
Delia pulls her gun and watches the prisoner while the others gather their weapons. Driver walks back
with a mine detector in his hand. Delia's eyes are on it.
"What's that?" she asks.
"Hopefully unnecessary." he returns.
He grabs the man by his collar and walks him towards the open gates. The others follow and they all stand
a safe distance from the entrance.
"Recto por el medio." Driver said standing beside him.
The man looked up with panic, shaking his head no.
"Arrastra los pies, deja un rastro." he continued.
"Vete a la mierda!" the man replied.
Driver pulled his gun and buried it into the man's temple.
"Tal vez vayamos a buscar a tu familia?" he said, losing patience.
The man stood saying nothing. Delia batted a glance between them.
"The Hell are you doing?" she questioned.
"Fire with fire." he shot back.
Shoving the man forward, he reluctantly walks through the gates. As demanded, he drags his feet.
Driver takes a few steps back and motions for the others to do the same. No more than a dozen or so
paces in, the captive steps down and hears a click. Activated. Driver's landmine assumption paid off.
Sanchez loomed over the dying man; just a boy no more than twenty. Reaching down, he soaks his hands
in the pool of blood and smears his face like a warrior applying paint for battle. He stands looking down at
the armless boy with an almost lustful desire.
"Tequila para todos!" he turned and shouted. His madness unmatched.
The sound of explosions alert the unhinged host.
"Our guests of honor." he says quietly to himself.
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Written in blood. Sealed in Death…
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A shrill silence. The cry of a thousand dead. It was here…
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Delia and the three men pick themselves up from the ground and make their move inside. They cautiously pass
their prisoner’s scattered body parts, which were strewn across the front property. Driver leads with his detector
in hand. So far so good.
“What kind of sick fuck mines his own driveway?” Delia asks.
“This guy.” man four replies.
Slowly they advance towards the house. All guns up and ready.
Sanchez walks over to Alex and Ernie, untying them. He summons one of his men, grabs his machine gun and
instructs him to take the two further back on the grounds.
“Fiesta del te.” he says before running towards the sprawling hacienda.
His small army of twenty men spread out around the sides of the magnificent home. Sanchez darts into the house
through the back doors.
Delia and her team are met with shots ripping past. They return fire, finding as much cover as they can behind the
few trees present. Sanchez’s men have them pinned down.
In the breaks of the action mariachi band music can be heard bleeding from the back property. Driver and Delia look
at each other.
“I guess we did crash a party!” he says.
She tries to crack a smile but only manages a look of concern.
The shooters lay down more fire. Delia and driver signal the other two men to cover them and they bolt. Two and
four open up on both sides of the house taking out four of Sanchez’s men. They make it safely to the front of the
house, flanking the stairway.
The battle continues until eight more of Sanchez’s men lay dead. Delia’s team now enter the home. Driver is in first,
Delia behind him. They scan the wide hallway and carefully move forward. The other two men guard the entrance.
Two shooters appear in the hall and are quickly put down by driver. They keep moving until reaching a living area.
The sound of whistling nears. Sanchez emerges from a doorway into view. He’s got a maid at gunpoint. She’s crying
and begging him to let her go. He’s wearing that disgusting smile.
“Chiquita! We meet again!” he gushes while pressing his gun into the side of the lady’s head.
“If you think I won’t kill that bitch myself, you’re sadly mistaken!” she barks at him.
Standing there holding that poor woman by the throat, face awash in blood, Sanchez looks every bit the madman
his reputation speaks of. His eyes had that crazy look. The feeling of imminent chaos flooded the room. He broke
the tension with one word.
“Ninos!”
Two small, frightened children appeared behind him. One boy, one girl. They belong to his maid.
“Esta bien, adelante!”
The brother and sister walk out and stand in front of their mother.
“This changes things, no?” he says grinning widely.
Delia and driver hold their position. Sanchez, still clutching the woman, backs away towards a door across the room.
Delia had a clear shot but he was right, this did change things. She wouldn’t risk that kind of collateral damage.
“Always a pleasure, Delia.” Sanchez said smirking as he reached the door.
“Get them out of here.” she told driver. He rushed the children down the hall.
A black van pulls up outside, Sanchez checks to make sure it’s his men.
“This was wonderful. Please tell your father I’d love to do this again. Meeting him was a real blast!” he said before
pushing the maid aside and tearing out the door.
Delia ran up the hall screaming for her men to go after him. She stops outside the room where driver had the children.
“You stay here, I’m going to find them!”
She blazed through the hallway to the back door. Two men were coming inside; she tapped them both out. Warily she
exited into the back area. There were bodies and blood, but none were Alex or Ernie. The sight was enough to make
one sick. How a human could do something like this was beyond her. Another shooter pops out; she puts him down.
More carefully now, she moves quickly to the back of the property where she finds patio furniture set up in a strange
place. Too far to make it all out but she was sure there were two people seated at that table. Slowly, closer and closer.
Delia was now near enough to see it was Alex and her father. They sat motionless in those chairs. She called out to
them. Nothing. She kept inching her way forward. Now it was apparent; they were gagged and tied to the chairs.
That damned mariachi music was still blaring. Finally, she could hear them. They were both screaming through their gags.
Then the music stopped.
“Run!” her father bellowed in muffled wording. She turned and sprinted but was too late. Still close enough to be knocked
down by its sheer force, the explosives that Sanchez strapped to Alex and her father detonated. It was overkill. Delia was
thrown several feet. She felt it in her entire body.
She laid there tingling from head to toe. Deafened except for the piercing howl of a high pitched screech. She turned
and looked; there was nothing left. She crawled on all-fours a few feet but collapsed. Everything hurt. She began crying.
Her walkie-talkie was spitting static. She raised it to her head, ears still buzzing, unable to hear men two and four:
“We got him!”
[Typed up in Text Edit]
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Delia hobbles her way up to the house. Weapon drawn, she moves carefully through the hall until reaching where
driver stands watch over the maid and her children. He looks up to see her and exits the room.
No words were needed. Her expression told him everything. She slowly shook her head as tears ran down.
They both walk up the hallway and out the front door.
The others have Sanchez and two of his men. All three are down on their knees. His driver was killed in the
apprehension. Delia is now storming towards them. You could feel the fury in her every step. Without saying
a word, she shoots both of his men point blank in the face and then slams the butt of her gun across Sanchez’s
mouth. He wasn’t smiling now, losing blood and a tooth.
“On your feet.” she demands.
He obeys. Only to be met with another shot. More blood but he kept his teeth this time. She glares
at him with every ounce of hatred boiling in her veins. Oh how she wanted to make him pay. His body
wouldn’t hold up to the kind of torture she had in mind.
“Wipe his face, tie him up.” she said as her eyes cut through him.
They were going for a ride.
[Typed up in Text Edit]
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A crow flew over head. Those flames burned with righteousness…
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(01-01-2021, 10:43 PM)somethingelseishere Wrote: She blazed through the hallway to the back door. Two men were coming inside; she tapped them both out. Warily she
exited into the back area. There were bodies and blood, but none were Alex or Ernie. The sight was enough to make
one sick. How a human could do something like this was beyond her. Another shooter pops out; she puts him down.
More carefully now, she moves quickly to the back of the property where she finds patio furniture set up in a strange
place. Too far to make it all out but she was sure there were two people seated at that table. Slowly, closer and closer.
Delia was now near enough to see it was Alex and her father. They sat motionless in those chairs. She called out to
them. Nothing. She kept inching her way forward. Now it was apparent; they were gagged and tied to the chairs.
That damned mariachi music was still blaring. Finally, she could hear them. They were both screaming through their gags.
Then the music stopped.
“Run!” her father bellowed in muffled wording.
Soooo, I went and did it again. lol
https://soundcloud.com/something-else-is...e-too-late
Imagine the scene with a lot of jump-cuts and slow-motion; the music ending
abruptly at the explosion. Which is right after the last line in the quoted text.
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They sat in the truck waiting for the maid to leave. Sanchez in the very back on the floor.
"She's far enough." Driver said watching the servant's car nearly disappear.
He looks over to Delia. In her hand - a detonator, thumb at the ready.
"Hey fuckstick, say goodbye." she calls out to Sanchez, pressing the button.
In that one glorious moment, every last inch of Sanchez's home was lit up like the sun. Obliterated.
Never the wasteful type, Delia saw to it that all the C4 she had left got put to good use. The most
fitting send-off for such a ridiculous shrine to violence and murder. Good riddance.
Driver hits the gas and they leave that horrible place behind.
"You know where we're going?" he asked her.
"I logged it in." Delia said nodding at the GPS.
It was almost over...
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"Go past, twenty yards." Delia said to driver.
He continues onward, then pulls to the side of the dirt road and stops. Delia jumps out. Before closing
her door she reaches into the glove box, pulls out a white envelope and sticks it in her back pocket.
"Leave it at the bottom, just inside." she tells him, shifting her eyes towards the canyon below.
Driver nods the affirmative. Delia walks back to free Sanchez from the prisoner-hold. She throws the
doors open, grabs his collar and slings him to the ground. He hits face first. She trots up to the left
side window.
"Wait for me at the top of the road."
Driver pulls away.
Sanchez rolls around trying to find a sitting position. Delia approaches, cutting his ankle bindings but
leaving his hands tied behind his back. She helps the psychopath to his feet.
They both stand looking at the lone shack perched on the small hill.
"If this is your idea of a lover's getaway, I'm extremely disappointed." he says in his usual sickly tone.
Delia kicks him in the calf. "Move!" she demands.
They work their way toward the tiny outpost and a man walks out onto the porch. He stands looking in
their direction. As they get closer he walks out to meet them at the road.
"Dos minutos." he says to Delia, looking at Sanchez in utter disgust.
"Gracias." she replies, gently smiling.
They climb the old wooden porch and Delia opens the door for Sanchez. It was the first and last act of
kindness she'd ever perform for him. Once inside, they witness heartbreak.
"Hola, como estas?" Delia says quietly, as though speaking to a timid child.
The lady sitting up in the flimsy bed didn't even acknowledge them. She was rocking back and forth,
holding her knees against her chest, humming the tune of an old Mexican nursery rhyme. Her appearance
spoke of torture. The end tip of her nose had been cut off. Both sides of her face had been slashed. One eye
was badly damaged and her forearms carried the mark of dozens of cigarette burns. All the scars many years
old but their impact played out in present time. She was very badly broken.
"What the Hell is this?" Sanchez whispered to Delia.
Her stare was icy. "Don't recognize the fruits of your labor?"
Delia takes a step closer to the poor woman.
"Tienes un dia maravilloso." she says before backing away and pushing Sanchez towards the door.
The lady continues existing in her own world. Not once looking up at her visitors.
Delia walks her prisoner out and they meet the lady's husband at the edge of the yard. She shoves
Sanchez as a sign to keep moving and stops to hand the man a few folded up bills.
"Muchas gracias senor."
"De nada." he replies.
The man goes back inside and Delia marches Sanchez down into that canyon.
It was a very hot and dusty day...
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This won’t hurt for long… Are you ready?
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The light breeze didn't do much to quell that blistering heat.
They were both soaked in sweat. It was a far more fitting look on Sanchez. Delia took everything in
stride though. She knew it was almost finished.
"Not a good place to be without water, Chiquita." he says, dragging every other footstep in the sporadic
loose gravel.
"Stop talking." she said in a biting tone.
They keep moving until entering the gully. Delia shoving him every few steps as a reminder.
"I love how you can't keep your hands off me!" he flings at her, turning to smile.
She bounces the butt-end of her gun off the back of his head. Another reminder.
Just ahead, there are some objects lying on the ground. Sanchez begins laughing to himself.
"Chiquita, you are too predictable!" he yells jovially.
They come to a halt next to the objects Delia had driver place there. A gun and a red plastic gas can.
Delia stands facing him a few feet away. That almost permanent smile of his back again.
"Before I do what should've been done long ago, you got anything to say?" she asks.
He takes a moment to think. Last words seemed like an important affair.
"Not to you." he says as the smile disappears.
Delia knows it's time.
"You got any family?" she asks.
"Do I what?"
"Familia? Surely even you have one of those." she lobs sarcastically.
He stares coldly at her, not saying a word.
"Your parents still around?" she questions.
"Puta de mierda!" he shouts, spitting in her direction.
"Siblings?" she continues.
"Te cortare las tetas y se las dare a los buitres!" he yells, lunging at her.
Delia puts her gun in his face. He stands pressing his forehead into the black barrel.
"You had a sister, didn't you?"
His face goes blank. Then, a shocked sadness takes over as tears well up.
"Whatever happened to her?" she asked.
Sanchez backs away, tears run down his cheeks.
"I will kill you." he says only loud enough for her to hear.
"She died, didn't she?" Delia presses.
"Cierra la maldita boca!" Sanchez screams running towards her.
Delia puts one in his left foot. He goes down. She now stands over him.
"On your stomach." she orders
"Eres una puta de mierda!"
"Is this how you want to go out? A woman blowing your head off as you lay on your back, crying?"
He gives her the foulest look before turning onto his stomach. She frees his hands. He carefully rolls over
into a sitting position. Delia takes the envelope from her back pocket and throws it down at him.
"What the fuck is this?" he asks.
"Open it." she says.
Sanchez tears into it, removing the papers inside. His eyes scanning slowly.
"I don't think your parents ever knew."
He looks up at her briefly, then back to the papers.
Delia watches it all come together for him as he reads the DNA test results.
"This is bullshit! Made-up fucking bullshit!" he says wadding the papers up and throwing them at her.
"Armando Fuente." she says looking down at him.
"What about him?" he asks.
"Your old boss. The man you took over for." she continued.
He stares as she paces in front of him.
"Your sister didn't die. She was kidnapped, and sold."
Sanchez jumps to his feet. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
"Long before you went to work for him."
He turns and sees the gun next to the gas can. Reaching down and grabbing it, he raises the barrel
and pulls the trigger several times in Delia's direction. Every one a dead click. No bullets.
"How does it feel to carry on that legacy, Enrique?"
He throws the gun away. Standing there, drenched in sweat and sorrow, emotions pushing on him.
"Why should I believe you?" he asks.
"Because it's true."
His mind was racing. All those years he thought his beloved sister was dead. A runaway that fell through
the cracks. The lies were never questioned. He needed to know.
"Where is she?" Sanchez asked while wiping tears from his face.
Delia stared without saying a word.
"If this is true, she's alive, then take me to her!" he demanded.
Tears were now streaking her face. Those moments when Life steps in...
"I just did."
Sanchez lost all color. Falling to his knees, he cried out in mournful pain. Everything hit at once.
Delia didn't weep for him, she shed tears for the victims. All those innocent lives ruined and cut short
by the monstrous acts of truly evil people. This was what she fought to end.
Sanchez was screaming as he rolled in the sun-baked dirt. Delia watched and waited. Would he do
the right thing?
Seconds later, Sanchez got to his knees and reached for the gas can. It was time. There was only one
way to settle this. Knowing what he did now, it couldn't be any other way. He soaked himself with the
contents of that plastic can; shrieking in tearful madness.
"Go on! Do it! Do it!" he screamed.
She walked over to him, looking down on Abomination itself. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out that
book of matches he threw at her feet not that long ago. This would be Justice.
"Looks like it's your day, Enrique." she said, dropping those matches in front of him.
Delia left him to make things right. She could hear the flames engulf him.
No need to turn and look, his screams were enough.
THE END ... ??
#delicatojustice #hellhathnofury #makethemfeel
[This story starts on page 11 - post #209]
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In the interest of shoring up "weird" details or plot holes:
The DNA evidence of Enrique's long-lost sister.
She was part of a major rescue mission north of the border; Texas, Arizona, California, whatever.
As with all foreign nationals, upon being found on US soil [without valid reason or ID] they get "bag'd & tag'd"
before being deported.
That's how her prints/DNA came to be in the system. Before going down to deal with Sanchez, Alex Morra
[with his black-ops connections] did his due diligence by finding ANY leverage possible to use against the
trafficker. [He put the paperwork in the glove compartment and only Delia knew it was there.] Only one real
blip showed on the radar: Isabella. She didn't get a name in the story itself because... reasons? lol
I had it, I just didn't put it in there. [Bad judgement call? Up too late? FML?] lol
But yeah, that's the idea-flow behind that particular part of the story. In case anyone thought "WTF?" ; )
I like to leave as much to the reader's imagination as I can but I don't like to leave empty pockets
of confusion or loose ends. A story's conflict should only ever reside within its characters, not in the
telling of the story itself. Says the constantly-painting-himself-into-a-corner guy. Hahaha.
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It was the End he deserved…
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(01-03-2021, 02:51 AM)somethingelseishere Wrote: Sanchez lost all color. Falling to his knees, he cried out in mournful pain. Everything hit at once.
Delia didn't weep for him, she shed tears for the victims. All those innocent lives ruined and cut short
by the monstrous acts of truly evil people. This was what she fought to end.
Sanchez was screaming as he rolled in the sun-baked dirt. Delia watched and waited. Would he do
the right thing?
Seconds later, Sanchez got to his knees and reached for the gas can. It was time. There was only one
way to settle this. Knowing what he did now, it couldn't be any other way. He soaked himself with the
contents of that plastic can; shrieking in tearful madness.
"Go on! Do it! Do it!" he screamed.
She walked over to him, looking down on Abomination itself. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out that
book of matches he threw at her feet not that long ago. This would be Justice.
"Looks like it's your day, Enrique." she said, dropping those matches in front of him.
Delia left him to make things right. She could hear the flames engulf him.
No need to turn and look, his screams were enough.
I knew days before I ever wrote the above that I was gonna put sounds to it.
https://soundcloud.com/something-else-is...e-way-home
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Delia visits Charlie’s grave. It was the first time in three years.
His epitaph: Two Hearts - One Soul - Forever
She stands there with a dozen moth orchids. They were his favorite. He always said they reminded him of her:
Unusual yet beautiful. Drawing you in and holding you there. Owning you.
Her tears were heavy and warm, running gently down the sadness that wore her face. She knelt, laying the
flowers across the base of his grave stone.
“I’ve never been good at this” she whispers, wiping her face.
She sits on the soft grass and stares at the shiny granite, focusing on one spot that sparkled.
The chilled air breezed past leaving a slight shiver behind. It was perfect in this most uncomfortable moment.
She still couldn’t get right with losing him. It was a pain that lived carelessly at her core. She knew acceptance
would never be hers.
“I talk to you when I’m alone” she says as her face wrinkles in heartbreak.
Delia raises her knees towards her chest and leans forward, crying into her folded arms. It had been a long
time since the anguish broke her in half. Today reacquainted her with that old friend. Her body shook as emotion
took over. She hadn’t planned on this much difficulty.
But he was worth it.
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