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My dick hard, my blood pumping, I feel like Popeye and that kiss was a can of fucking spinach. I grab a pair of katana swords off the ground and charge full speed through a sea of Koreans and ninjas, plowing a straight line for the house. Donnie is back on his feet and manning the machine gun, firing long chains of bullets into the crowd indiscriminately, not caring for the safety of his Japanese allies. Typical.
I throw one sword like a javelin at Donnie, grazing his right ear and cheek. He sees me, and his face contorts into an ugly mix of rage and confusion. He swings the gun on its mount and begins firing at me, but by now I’m too close to him. I grab a ninja and throw the guy at the gun, knocking Donnie over and stopping the gunfire. For the brief moment I have, I leap up onto the railing and climb over, onto the deck. As my feet hit the wooden boards below them, Donnie is already back up with his Magnum ready. The remaining Yakuza suits are already making their getaway out the back of the house. I don’t care about them. Let Kim’s guys deal with them if he wants.
“Donnie,” I say, “just come back to Vegas with me. I’ll make sure the Family treats you well.”
“Oh, so I can spend the rest of my short life being the known fuck up? So I can do the boss’s laundry? Fuck you.”
He then fires a shot into Alison’s leg. She screams in pain.
“Jesus cocksucking Christ, Donnie!” I yell.
I rush him and my shoulder collides with his chest, and the two of us fly through the wooden railing of the deck and on to the grassy ground below. I tumble head over heels and land on my back. I hear Donnie spring up and suddenly he’s standing over me. Just as I open my eyes, I feel cold steel hit me across the cheek. Then I feel the same cold steel strike my temple from the other side.
“Get up, bitch!” he yells. His eyes are practically exploding out of their sockets, red and distorted. Veins bulge along his neck. “I’m not finished with you!”
He flips the gun over and holds it by the barrel and lands a rough kiss on my jawbone with it.
“Tonight, I’m gonna beat you, I’m gonna show you I have what it takes!”
He lands another shot across my nose, and I feel gooey warmth slowly trickle into the haphazard mustache that’s been developing on my upper lip. I reach up and grab him by the throat, and I squeeze. He hits me again and again, but I don’t let go. I feel around on the ground next to me where there’s tons of random shit. I find a piece of wooden railing and bring it upside his head. It splinters into uselessness and, I drop it. I begin to get up, his throat still firmly gripped in my big paw. I’m finally up on my feet now, and he’s losing strength. I pull my free hand back, balling up a fist, and I deliver it straight to his nose, letting go of his throat in the process. He falls back and hits the ground with a thud.
I look back at Alison, still lying on the deck where Donnie left her, breathing heavily, in shock from the shot to her leg. I climb onto the deck and scoop her up in my arms and, taking big strides, I run down the deck, down the steps, and back into the mess of human massacre on the lawn. I find Sashimi, who has now run out of bullets in her gun and has taken to carving Korean letters into her ninja enemies with their own katana. I only just now notice she’s wearing her usual bikini getup from Pineapple Pappy’s, and I gotta be honest, it’s pretty goddamn hot.
“Get that haole bitch back to the boats, handsome!” she yells at me with a blade three inches deep in a poor ninja.
I say nothing and continue down the trail. Kim is there to meet me. He’s still in his white suit, which is pristine, and he’s coolly smoking a cigarette. He’s the boss, I guess; no need to dirty his hands.
“Mistah Hoskins!” he yells out when he sees me.
I approach him, Alison in my arms still, and say, “Get her to a boat and get her out of here.”
He takes her from me and nods in acknowledgment, taking her down to the beach, towards a half-dozen motor boats sitting in the sand.
I hear more gunfire coming from the house, but I figure I need a breather before going back for Donnie. I see Kim place Alison on a boat manned by a big, mean-looking guy who’s shirtless and covered in tattoos. Kim walks back to me, still smoking his cigarette. He pulls something shiny out of his coat pocket and places it in my hands.
My cleaver.
“Something tells me this belongs to you.”
I tuck it into my back pocket.
“Thanks for the backup,” I say, examining the cuts and various other flesh wounds on my arms. There isn’t much left of my black sweater but some tattered rags.
“I like to think of it as insurance,” Kim says after a long exhale of smoke. “Word on the street told me that the Yakuza were sticking their noses in my new business.”
“Well, you’ve got better informants than I do,” I say. “But then, you’re more of a local than I–”
I’m cut off by a stream of shots. The sound can only be that big machine gun again. Kim and I turn around to face the direction they came from, and we both see Donnie at the top of the beach, his arms somehow cradling the massive gun.
“I think, Mr. Kim, that I have something to tend to right now,” I say. Kim nods.
“Yes, I think I will check on my people up at the house,” he says while stamping out his cigarette in the sand. He takes a few steps and then turns back to me to say, “Good luck.”
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