The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 31

Chapter 31 - Back to Hell

It's only been a day since I left the swamp on my mission, and I'm fucking glad I'm away from that hellhole. I didn't want to leave so early since Amber finally awoken from her coma, but after my meeting with The Senator, I'm not ashamed for leaving so soon. He pretty much made it clear that it was my fucking fault she was shot, and doesn't want a fucking loser around his perfect daughter. So, that night, I agreed to Damian's mission, and left around midnight to embark on my assignment. I don't even have a single regret for not saying goodbye to Amber.

I dismiss all thoughts as I continue driving down the deserted country road. I almost stop when I see the sign I thought I would never look at again: "Welcome to Curva". Damian did warn this might be my last mission ever, but I have nothing else to lose at this point. I look out, and see the downtown area of Curva appear in the distance, a glimmering steel and concrete jungle rising out of the mangrove swamps surrounding the massive main island. As I cross the bridge from the mainland onto the island, all I can think about is how I'm about to reenter the lair of the fucking snake. I hope I have the chance to rip out her fucking throat this time around.

I pull into the seafood restaurant right off the bridge where Damian said my contact will be. As I step out of the car, I almost chuckle at the name of this place and their slogan: "Bubba's Crab Shack. Bubba catches them so you can enjoy them". If I'm going to die, I make a mental note to haunt Damian for making the meeting happen at the only restaurant in Curva named by a teenager boy. Also, as I look at the building, I will haunt him because I remember why I never ate here when I was in Curva. This place is designed to look like if a pirate ship and a unicorn had a baby. It looks like a ship with the round windows, and the mast sticking out of the room, but the bright blue exterior and glitterly purple doors looks like once it was built, a unicorn shitted over it. In other words, meant for family, not my final meal.

I chuckle at the slogan before I pull open the door. As I step inside, I'm relieved the interior is not smeared by sparkly shit. The walls are white, and the floors are oak colored. The tables are covered in white tablecloths with wood chairs tucked in underneath. I sit on a bar stool on the left corner of the bar. I sit there glancing between my phone and the door wondering when my contact will show up as I slowly sip on some iced tea. I also worry if someone from the cartel will recognize me under the wig and fake beard. Again, if I'm going to be executed, rather be in some back alley than this building.

A minute later, I see a very petite woman walk in. She's wearing a red flannel shirt, black jeans, and some brown sandals. I estimate she's barely over five feet, and her purple dyed hair is pulled into a pony tail. She glances at me with her blue eyes, and walks in my direction. I slip my right hand under the bar, and grip my pistol that's holstered on my left thigh as she keeps approaching.

She stops next to me and asks, "Think they serve whole fried chickens here?"

I reply the predetermined response, "Nope, and no plain white toast either."

"Well, they won't get my business, “she says as she lays a napkin on the bar, and leaves the restaurant.

I slip the napkin into my pocket, and finish my beer. I pay my tab and wait the fifteen minutes as instructed. Once they're up, I go back to my car, and pull out of the restaurant. As I drive to the address on the napkin, I feel a shiver run down my spine as the rendezvous point is two blocks away from Hamnet Butchers. I have too many bad memories about the butcher warehouse, and the first time I step foot back into this hellish city, I'll be within walking distance of that fucking hellhole. I realize it makes sense since they can easily monitor that place, but I don't find it very comfortable on my end. 

As I make it to the location, I'm motioned to drive inside the warehouse by the woman from the restaurant. As the bay doors are closed behind me, I get out of the car to see Damian sitting in a chair in front of a makeshift table made out of a sheet of plywood and two saw horses covered in huge sheets of paper. I also notice a large vehicle covered under a blue tarp by the rear bay doors. As I approach him, he mumbles, "This plan might work."

"I thought you were staying behind?" I ask I approach the table, and notice the paper is building blueprints.

"To sum it up, Amber told me it was either here or the grave," he replies.

"Sounds like I'm in deep shit as well," I sigh.

"Oh yeah, but let's not dwell on that."

"You two pissed off Director Townsend? Yeah, you're both dead men," says the woman.

"Hush, Maddy. Not the time," retorts Damian. "Also, before I forget, this is Agent Madeline Kenyon, Ronnie Sharpton."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Kenyon" I reply while extending my hand.

Maddy shakes my hand briefly while asking Damian, "So, what's the game plan?"

"Do you ever relax, Maddy?" Damian chuckles. "I'm still figuring everything out, but right now, chill for a bit. We're not doing anything until the others arrive anyway."

"Are we taking out the butcher shop?" I ask.

"Not yet. We're not ready to take on that hornets’ nest just yet. I'll explain everything once everyone is here, but the plan involves taking out more of Madam's finances," Damian explains.

"Did you at least bring my toys?" Maddy asks.

"Yes. They're in the trunk of my car," replies Damian as he hands Maddy his keys.

"Toy? That's one way to chill for a bit," I chuckle as Maddy walks over to the trunk, and pops it open. I almost make another joke when she pulls out two large, plastic cases. 

"Not that kind of toy, Ronnie. More like the kind of toy that drops you at 500 yards," Damian replies.

"He's just jealous I have a bigger weapon, Damian," she replies as she sets the cases next to the table.

I'm about to make another joke when we hear screeching tires outside the bay door.

Damian points towards the blue tarp and shouts, "Run!"

I grab Maddy's cases as we make a sprint for the tarp. Damian rips off the tarp, and I notice it was covering what looks like an armored SUV. He unlocks the doors, and my suspicion is confirmed when I notice how thick and heavy the doors are when it takes all my strength to slam it shut. We pile in as the front bay doors explodes. Damian puts the SUV into reverse, and plows through the rear bay door as a swarm of armed men run into the warehouse. We manage to drive away before they can fire at us.

"Shit! She knows we're here!" Damian shouts as he drives like a madman through Curva traffic, almost hitting a minivan as he rushes out of the city.

"I thought all the fucking leaks were plugged by now?" I ask as I keep locking back to make sure we're not being followed.

"Guess not. We'll have to regroup on the mainland," he replies.

"Fuck! We're blocked!" shouts Maddy as there's four cop cars blocking the entrance to the bridge we're trying to cross. Damian tries to put it into reverse, but four semis block all lanes of traffic behind us. We’re fucking trapped, and the armor of this SUV won't survive a full-on assault. We're fucking fish in a barrel right now, and only a miracle will get us out of this situation.

Damian is about to say something when he gets a text. "Shit's about to get real," he says before I see someone fire an RPG at us. The rocket hits the engine, causing the car to flip onto its roof, the shock of the landing causes my head to hit the roof hard. The last thing I remember seeing as I hang there upside down with blood trickling down my face is a crowd of people jumping out of the semis with AK-47's in their hands running towards us.