Ep. 28: Pliability
The pain of discovery benefits one and destroys another.
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A familiar shape trudged through billowing steam in front of him. It wasn’t from Isaac’s vape. Recent rains over the New York City concrete exorcised steam from its pores and a flickering streetlight had changed the setting to a haunted house.
He’s the last one. — Isaac thought as Ulrich Hoffman’s thin, scarred face revealed itself in dim alley light.
“Hello Rick. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Isaac snarked, looking beyond the wiry man and expecting guards. There were none.
You stupid fucker.
“Don’t play this game with me, Byrne.” His thick, German accent shone brightest through anger. “You sent for me, what is it you want?”
“I need a friend.” The crackle of his vape filled expectant silence.
“A friend? You waste my time. When you told me to come alone I thought you had a head for me.” He strolled forward, pulled a cigarette from his suit pocket, stopped in front of his personal assassin, and lit it.
God that smells good. — Isaac thought.
“You want girl? Boy? Next time talk to my assistant.”
“Nono. I have a new head.” Isaac put his vape into his back pocket. “One I haven’t taken yet. Been waiting for just the right time.”
“Oh? Der Irish schwein?”
“Close!” Isaac’s hands remained behind his back. “He’s tall, skinny, built an empire by kidnapping people and selling them into slavery. Walks around with bodyguards. Hates gays and anomalies.”
Ulrich’s head tilted slightly before his eyes widened in realization.
Isaac drove a 4-inch KA-BAR into his diaphragm with such force that it nearly went through him and impaled the brick he shoved Ulrich against. Isaac smothered his mouth with a thick, leathered mitt of a hand.
“This hurts, doesn’t it? Oh shhhhhh, I know it does. But it can get worse. Let’s explore that shall we?”
Ulrich convulsed against Isaac’s substantial frame as if he had been electrocuted by a heavy current. Eyes rolled into the back of his head and all his phalanges curled as agony swept through him. The assassin was strong and large enough to hold Ulrich in place without much issue, outweighing him by more than 100 pounds. The German mobster was physically weak and it made Isaac enjoy this moment even more.
The convulsions ceased and Ulrich became somewhat lucid again. His hands groped with futility at Isaac’s torso and up to his face.
“I know it’s difficult to reason through the pain but maybe you’ve figured out by now that I’m an anomaly.” The captive’s eyes widened as Isaac worked through the defensive pushes like they were heavy rain. “One of the reasons I’m such an effective interrogator is that my ability involves the amplification of brainwaves. Pain in particular. I can manage other sensations but pain is the easiest. It’s the most…coarse. Doesn’t take much finesse. I can’t produce sensations, but I can magnify what already exists. Like this.”
Once again, Ulrich Hoffman’s eyes jolted into the back of his head as it pressed into the red brick of the alleyway. Isaac let go of his magnification for a moment.
“Man, that must really hurt. Sorry about that,” Isaac said before a tooth-sucking chuckle. “You know, it didn’t take me as long as I thought to gain your trust. Usually you never let anyone but your body guards and family get within 20 feet of you. But I kill two important men and protect your son once and you meet me alone in an alley at night. Big mistake, friend.”
At the sight of Ulrich’s inflamed eyes, Isaac remembered why he loved killing people so much. Bad people in particular. He would miss it. But Isaac got so lost in the blood lust that he nearly neglected his time limit. Ulrich’s goons would be out looking for him shortly. The job was becoming more dangerous by the second.
“As much as I’m enjoying this, asshole, our time is up. Enjoy hell.”
With a swift motion, Isaac ripped the knife from Ulrich’s diaphragm and slashed a valley into the front of his neck. Hands that were just trying to push Isaac away quickly shot up to the nape, and Ulrich fell to the ground coughing and sputtering.
Isaac sat for a brief moment in admiration of his own work and before he could leave the alley, the lone metal door shot open.
Shit.
Two men opened fire before Isaac could react. The first bullet clipped him in the shoulder but he hardly felt it. Swift feet carried Isaac beneath the mesh-metal platform as bullets ricocheted around them. The two men ran down the stairs and Isaac met the first at the bottom and grabbed his shooting wrist.
A shot rang next to Isaac’s head and deafened his left ear. The man’s partner held fire while Isaac slammed him into the brick. Once the gun was immobilized, Isaac drove the K-BAR between the man’s ribs and into a lung.
“Shoot him!”, the man sputtered with a single working lung, but Isaac had anticipated it and already moved to use him as a shield.
As Isaac peered over his captive’s shoulder, the would-be shooter’s eyes were hardened — the man was familiar with violence.
Respectable.
Isaac walked the half-dead man up the stairs toward shooter number two as the 9MM barrel prodded for an opening. There wasn’t one, and when Isaac got too close, the man shot his own partner twice in the back.
Isaac’s shield fell away and the second man shot him twice in the chest.
It hurt. A lot. But adrenaline carried Isaac the rest of the way toward the shooter. But his strength was waning already. Isaac’s knees started to give way as he took hold of both the man’s wrists. He’d pressed the second German body guard against the brick facade and dragged him down as he collapsed.
Isaac had been shot before — a long time ago. It hurt less than he remembered but his body was betraying him.
In the moment, Isaac could feel the pain emanating from his torso as if it was magma singeing his nerve endings and smothering as it went.
Except there was something there. Something he hadn’t expected and couldn’t describe.
A pliability.
The magma in him felt movable. He pressed on it. Agony grew but it moved. He shoved it back toward the wound with a heave. Then another.
He heard himself screaming with each push. The second gunman was squirming away. Hbelp was probably on the way.
Desperation.
With everything he had, Isaac pressed the pain toward his hands. He felt them grip harder than ever.
Another scream.
He pressed again. Squeezed until his knuckles were white. Isaac’s fingertips burned as the pain ran away.
Then it was gone.
Fog receded. Pain evaporated.
Screaming remained.
But it wasn’t his.
