Time to address the audience.

As you all know, by now our…Ahem, janitor, has gotten himself into quite the predicament. He has also dragged two of his friends into his mess. I’m sure you may have a few questions about what’s going on by now.

Pearl is just a young girl in over her head. Sure, she knows what she is doing now, but does she know the consequences of this line of work? Is she going to find out? Is Pearl going to die?

Who the hell is this Rothmeyer guy? Is he really a friend? How did he get into the basement, and put the rug over the latch without it looking disturbed?

How in the FUCK, can a man survive a shot to the head?

How far will John go to survive? How many people is he willing to kill? Is he willing to die for survival?

Who are those two kids John saved?

How will Alfonso and Abramo make John pay?

Keep reading if you want to find out.

Warning: Things are about to get very violent and graphic.

The Janitor and His Mess
Part IV
By Genaro Duran

“This man is bleeding out!” Seth cried out. He screamed at his partner, Reyna, to drive faster.

Reyna chanced a look back, “if you shut up, I can drive. Besides, would it be so wrong if this piece of shit died?”

“Yes, you heard what Officer Jason said. Chief Nick wants this guy.” Officer Sven was sitting with one hand on his handgun and the other holding on to the gurney. He had Tiny handcuffed with both arms to the rails.

“I wasn’t talking to you, faggot.” The female paramedic flipped the officer off.

“And no one’s talking to you, bit-“ Sven bit his tongue as the ambulance ran over a pothole. “Fughhhh!”

“Sorry.” Reyna smiled.

Tiny opened his eyes slowly. The light was shining too brightly, so he had to squint. He seemed to be in a white room. He could see what seemed like shadowy figures. There was something wrong with his eyes. Everything looked like when he would drink so much he would fall down drunk and the bottle somehow managed to perfectly line up with his eyesight. But, he could hear someone talking. So he tried to pay attention.

“How did he survive this? He was shot point blank.” The voice was deep, the sort of someone with a quiet, unspoken authority.

“If you can see here, there is no entry. The bullet may have hit at the perfect angle that it, simply put, bounced off his thick skull. As you can also see here, there is a three-inch-long cut above his ear where the bullet bounced off.”

Tiny felt a sharp pain above his right ear when the doctor touched there. He groaned reflexively.

“Looks like he’s coming to.” Again that voice. It was so familiar that it made Tiny cringe with angst.

“He may be out of sorts. With the amount of trauma his head has received, we have reason to believe he has a severe concussion. There may also be permanent brain damage. We will conclude that when we are able to do tests.”

Tiny began feeling even more anxious. Permanent damage? What the fuck? Am I fucking retarded now?

He couldn’t see anything clearly.

“Chief.” A third voice entered the room. Chief? Fuck, Chief Nick?

“Sergeant Dan, about damn time.” Fuck me.

Chief Nick and Sergeant Dan weren’t always Chief Nick and Sergeant Dan. They had earned their stripes and had been on the force longer than some cadets had even been alive. They had created a task force to eliminate the criminal scum from the streets of New York over a decade ago. They had started with a priority list a hundred names long. As of that morning, that priority list was as follows:

Ten names left from the original hundred. Three of those were dead, one was in ICU, four were ghosts, and two were so far out of town, Nick and Dan would have to step on many toes to get to.

“You think this fucker will lead is to the brothers?”

“If he wants to ever see his family again on the same side of a glass screen, yes. If not, then we know where to put him.”

Tiny was sweating now, he had to think of something and do it quickly.
There was a knock at the door.

“Chief! Serge! We need you downstairs, the Mayor is requesting spokesmen.” Two sets of feet rushed out of the room.

“Doc, there was a nurse outside looking for you.”

“Thank you Officer. Officer Mare?”

“Aww. Really wish you hadn’t looked at the patch.” There was muffled screaming and the sound of someone struggling.

Then there was the sound of bones breaking and a body hitting the ground. At least, that’s what Tiny thought.

“Damnit. See what you fuckers force me to do when you get yourself caught? Now I’m going to have to take a fucking bullet.”

Tiny’s heart was thundering in his chest.

“Open your eyes.” Office Mare began removing the hand cuffs.

Tiny rubbed his eyes and the blurriness inside the room went away slightly. He couldn’t see properly, but nothing too terribly irreversible with time. His head hurt like a mother fucker but he had been through worse. He had been stabbed, shot, and broken countless bones.

“Here, take my gun. Shoot my shoulder, but just clip it, don’t fucking kill me or do some shit permanent. Then shoot the doc in the head. There’s an eighteen wheeler right under the window. There’s a bunch of cops, but, the gunshots should take care of that problem when they run up.”

Tiny couldn’t believe his luck. His mother always said his thick skull would get him killed, turns out it saved him. She always said the cops would fuck him over every time, now he owed his freedom to one.

He looked out the window and he could see about fifteen patrol cars and twenty officers. Plus, it was still about twelve feet or so to the top of the trailer. In his condition, it was impossibly high.

“Fuck me.”

He turned around and shot Officer Mare in the shoulder. He turned the pistol to the dead doctor and splattered his brains on the floor.

He counted down from ten as the officer laid writhing in pain, “you fucking asshole! You hit my fucking bone! Son of a bitch!”


He could hear a commotion in the floor below and people screaming.

“You stupid fuck!”


Sirens going off.


Footsteps thundering.




Gunshot immediately followed by glass shattering.


The sound of air rushing in Tiny’s ears.


Tiny crashing on the trailer of the eighteen wheeler.

He was looking up at the sky, without a single breath in his lungs and with a deafening screech in his ears. He had experienced this before. It felt like you were drowning, unable to draw in a breath because your body was in shock and your lungs had momentarily shut down. The pressure inside your head was so intense that the interpretation was noise. Just a single, unending screech.

He calmly stared at the night sky. The stars were pretty and the clouds were barely existent. He began counting stars. As he felt the eighteen wheeler roar to life and begin chugging along. Felt, because he could only feel the vibrations of the engine.

The first thing he was able to hear was an audible pop, followed by more. Then his lungs spasmed back to life. At first he was gulping for air. Then, slowly, it began to flow in and out. The pops became louder and louder as his senses readjusted. He realized he was being shot at from the windows. He lifted his gun as if it were the heaviest burden he had ever carried. He couldn’t help but think about the modified AR he had asked Bass to bring and how useless it would be in his hands right now.

He began to shoot indiscriminately at the second floor of the hospital. He couldn’t so much as lift his head, so he simply looked as far back as he could. Everything was upside down, so his aim was off. The eighteen wheeler soon pulled out of sight and entered an alley after a few streets had been passed.

Tiny could hear someone climbing out and calling for him. The little ladder between the cab and the trailer began to ring and a head popped out.

“You look like shit.” The man began to pull at Tiny’s feet, dragging him, “if you don’t start moving, I’m going to roll you off the trailer.”

Tiny just rolled his eyes, closed them, and went to sleep.

“Where are we going?” “How much longer?” “Do you think someone is following us?” “I need to shit.” “I need to piss.”

Pearl was getting tired of the fat, penny pincher. She imagined herself using her handgun on Rothmeyer. Then she imagined John scolding her and she would forget about doing it. They had been driving North for an hour. And still hadn’t arrived. Granted, an hour in New York by car, was like ten minutes in a regular city.

“Shut the fuck up.” Was all John and Pearl would reply. Pearl didn’t know where they were going either, but, she trusted John. So, she kept her mouth shut.

“Where are we going, John.” Rothmeyer said, getting impatient.

“For the last time, barcode. Shut, the fuck, up.” Pearl said, annoyed.

“Was your mother some poor black whore that wanted Italian money inside her and some poor schmuck fucked her and they made you?”


“Or. Was your mother some Italian mobsters wife, wasn’t fulfilled by her spaghetti boy, so she ordered some black ham man to stuff herself with? Then you, the little Italian herbs and cheese black forest ham baby showed up and your step daddy turned mommy into a whore?”

Pearl’s teeth grinded loudly.

“There it is. I think I hit Oreo’s nerve, John. Damn, I am good.”

Pearl was going to turn around from the passenger’s seat and break Rothmeyer’s nose.

She was going to unbuckle her seat belt and fuck him up.

She never got the chance to.

As they crossed an intersection, a car screamed towards them, running the red light going forty an hour. It rammed into her side of the car, flipping them over.

The first thing she remembered was that she was going to kill Rothmeyer. The second thing was that she needed a gun for that. As she hung from her seat, she could see John climbing out of the window. She could also see the engine had caught fire after it had hit a lamppost.

She could hear shooting at the edges of her pounding head.

“Get me out of here!” The curly weasel was still alive.

She put her hand to the roof of the car, which was now the floor, and held herself steady as she unbuckled.

“Pearl, please.”

“No more Oreo? Now it’s Pearl? Fuck you, save yourself.” Pearl began to crawl towards John’s window.

John was pissed. It was the third time that day someone had tried to kill him. Now he was going to show them why that was a bad idea. There were four enforcers that jumped out of the big Cadillac that had flipped their little Honda over. One behind a door, one behind the Caddy itself, and two trying to find cover behind a scared woman’s car. He hunched down and removed the clip from his gun. He counted twelve bullets for four men. He only needed two.

He ran to the left side of the Honda where the engine had caught fire and raced toward the Cadillac.

The enforcer squirmed with surprise and fear at John’s audacity. He brought up his hand to block John’s punch, but was caught by a knee to the groin and a punch to the bridge of his nose as he doubled over. He swung at John and thought he caught him. Then he felt the impact on the follow through and realized he hit the door he was cowering behind.

With the enforcer’s arm extended, John grabbed the man’s wrist with his free hand and punched the elbow with the handle of his gun. The enforcer screamed as his elbow bent inward.

John put the barrel between his eyes. From the corner of John’s eye, he saw the man behind the Caddy come out. John spun the enforcer from the broken arm and the man screamed imperceptible words. The man behind the Caddy shot as John positioned himself behind the first enforcer. He could feel the impacts on the meat shield as he ran and pushed it forward.

When John thought he was close enough, he shoved the body toward the second enforcer. The man began to fall backwards when the body crashed into him. John jumped with the momentum, his knees positioned over the enforcer’s face and chest.

As they crashed to the tar, John felt the man’s head pop with the combined force of his body and the ground. The chest concaving into itself.

John rolled with the landing and sprinted toward the cowering men behind the little white Prius of the now hysterical woman. He could see one, but not the other. So he rolled.

It was perfect timing as a flurry of single shots flew over his head from in front of him and to his left. That man on his right had a nice trigger finger. John was going to enjoy killing him last.

The one behind the Prius abandoned his now empty gun and reached behind himself. He pulled a knife as John holstered his gun. The enforcer began stabbing at him expertly. He was excellent with a knife, it seemed.

John was still better.

The man feinted toward John’s stomach and brought it up at the last second. John just barely ducked under as the knife managed to cut into his left ear. John punched the man in the wrist, paralyzing his nerves. The knife fell from the limp hand, into John’s as he rolled under the enforcer’s legs. John could hear someone running toward them.

He landed behind the enforcer and cut into the ankles, severing tendons. The man screamed like a stuck pig. The enforcer landed on his back as John swerved out of the way. He looked at the man with something akin to pity.

“Please. My family,” the man said weakly as he began going into shock. John drove the knife into the right eye and left it there.

The final enforcer had taken the hysterical woman out of the car and held a gun to her head. John could hear the police sirens in the distance. They would be here within a few minutes.

He aimed his gun at the man.

“You don’t want this innocent woman to die, do you, John?” the last enforcer said.

He knew John’s name.

“That’s how you got into this mess, isn’t it? You’re a fucking bleeding heart.” The man laughed with his words. “I am going to kill you, then I am going to find those kids and fucking gut them.”

John stared at him with hard eyes.

“Then I am going to find Maria and fuck her. I am going to make your kids watch. Then it will be your little girl’s turn. What’s her name? Laura? We are going to have fun with her. And what’s your boys name? I’m pretty sure we could treat him like a lady, too. A faggot like his father. After we finish we are going to gut them like pigs, except Laura. I think I’ll keep her.” The man laughed.

Something in John broke. The veins in his head and his eyes began to throb. He could feel his old rage taking him. The world began to slow down. He could hear the screams of his family. He could imagine what they would do to them. If this fucker knew about them, that means every single person working for Alfonso and Abramo knew, too.

John roared like an animal and fired two shots. One hit the enforcer’s hand and the other the exposed shoulder. The woman fell to the ground in shock. The enforcer clutched his arm in pain as the gun fell to the ground.

Amid screams, the man managed to infuriate John more, “looks like you’re aim isn’t as good as it used to be!”

John began to steadily walk to him. The man fumbled with his weaker hand for the gun. He picked it up when John was only about fifteen yards away. The enforcer fired at John frantically with his left hand. John didn’t flinch as the bullets missed him completely. He just kept walking forward even as he heard a couple of scream behind him.

The chamber became exposed as the last bullet left the gun, but the enforcer kept squeezing the trigger as John reached him.

John head-butted the man and blood exploded from his nose. The man fell back and began trying to crawl away. John viciously kicked the man in the side, flipping him over.

All John could see, hear, feel, taste, and smell was rage. Rage and blood.

The enforcer dragged himself on his back. John stood over him and stepped on the enforcer’s fingers. John watched as the man screamed and whimpered.

“Please! It was a joke!”

John leaned down and whispered into the man’s ear, “I didn’t think it was fucking funny.”

He began raining fists onto the man’s face. After the twentieth punch, blood spurted from somewhere and hit John on his forehead, but he kept going. He pounded and pounded until his fists began to hit the tar beneath.

“John.” Pearl said, as calmly as she could manage. John was hyperventilating.

“JOHN.” She said a little louder this time. John stopped. He looked up at Pearl, Rothmeyer standing behind her with a sickly green look on his face and spittle hanging from his lip, as if he’d just vomited. “Let’s go.”

John looked down at the headless body. He wiped his hand on the dead man’s shirt and got up. He went to the car and pulled out four duffle bags. He tossed one each to Pearl and Rothmeyer. They all got into the Cadillac and drove away. They heard an explosion as they turned a corner.

“Alfonso, Abramo. John killed Skinny and Bass. Tiny was under arrest at the hospital, but Juliano and Mare got him out. Johnny, Loni, David, and Scott are all dead. Their Cadillac is gone.” A man came into the room, bearing the news.

Alfonso slammed his drink onto his desk and Abramo stared absently at a picture of Joey.

The glass shattered on impact. Little cuts began to appear on Alfonso’s palm and he wiped them with his handkerchief. “Find the bastard. Send everyone after him. Everyone. We are going to fuck this man.”

“Alfonso, there’s more. The Jew and the half breed are with him. It seems they are helping him.”

Abramo looked up at this. He clutched the photo in his hands so tight that it crumpled.

“Get the Counselor on the phone. Tell him to get our insurance. It’s time this fucking Irish trash learned what it feels like to lose the most important thing to him.”