The Cleaners
Matthew Ryan Fischer
66 sat on a bench in the back of the van, Von’s soldiers on either
side. Von’s top killers was more accurate. The men willing to get junked up on
Von’s drugs. They were a powder keg of rage, jacked, probably not even seeing
straight. 66 took a deep breath and tried to relax. He hadn’t been part of a crew
in years. He hadn’t had to worry about getting killed by one of his own men ever,
but with these roided out monsters he wasn’t sure what would happen. 47 assured
him everything would be alright, but that was just one of those things people
say. Both men knew they were going into a war with men they couldn’t trust or
rely on.
“It’s time.”
66 looked at 47 and nodded.
47 handed out capsules to the men. Each of the Cleaners snapped
them open and a dust swirled out into the air. The men breathed deep, eyes went
wide, muscles flexed. They called it ORE and said it gave them strength. 66
called it madness. He held his breath and hoped he didn’t catch any.
The men chanted and screamed. They pounded fists and hit each
other on the chest, making guttural bestial noises.
47 handed 66 a capsule, but he waved it away.
The van doors burst open and the men emerged.
They were out back behind a warehouse full of a rival gang. Whomever
Von had met with downtown had given him new orders – the neighborhood was to be
cleansed and a new order imposed. Von was agreeable, but Von wasn’t the won
doing the fighting. The Cleaners spread out and headed for the back entrance
where several guards were caught unaware. They didn’t stand a chance against ORE
and wouldn’t see another sunrise.
The Cleaners moved inside. The man they called Dante was here
somewhere and it was their job to kill him tonight.
The shadows crept along poorly lit halls. The Cleaners’ movements
were exaggerated and choppy. They moved like monsters. 66 kept towards the back
of the group. If they were so eager to charge into possible death, 66 was happy
to let them be the first through the door.
The twisting hallway came to a fork and the group split up. 66
watched as 47 headed off with his troop. Good luck, thought 66, hoping
he would see his friend again.
66 and his group came around a corner and found a group of the men
they were here to kill. The groups charged each other. Knees were bent the
wrong way. Elbows shattered. Groins pummeled. 66 moved in short bursts designed
to incapacitate his opponent. The rest of the cleaners were there to destroy
lives and satisfy their ORE infused blood lust.
66 fought his way through the group. He couldn’t let Dante escape.
Some of the Cleaners followed 66.
66 spotted Dante. He held a gun to 47’s head. 66 slowed down,
pulled his gun, but couldn’t get a clear shot. He caught eyes with 47, expecting
him to make a move to free himself. But before either could do anything, one of
The Cleaners ran past 66 and charged Dante.
Dante shot, ending the man’s life, but it gave 47 a moment to
move.
66 returned fire, but failed to land a fatal shot.
Dante stumbled off, while 66 made his way across the room to check
on 47. He looked at the dead Cleaner then 47.
“Go get him. I’m okay.”
66 ran off in the direction Dante went.
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