3 / for shame
"Really?" Rodeo hisses, fury climbing. The fucker only had one bullet in his goddamn gun. Rodeo laughs again, because now he's having fun and this shithead is finally at his mercy. He throws the gun like it's a piece of garbage (it's a Glock, and an empty one at that, so it might as well be) and then delivers a few crushing punches to the patrolman's face with enough force to split his knuckles. McCarrick fights back, eventually managing to hook a few solid punches into Rodeo's gut. When McCarrick manages to throw a fist into Rodeo's face, Rodeo hears the pig's finger break when it connects with his cheekbone, but it's still a helluva punch. Rodeo releases his grip on McCarrick's throat, and the patrolman stumbles back as blood wells in the scrape left on Rodeo's cheek.
"Just you and me now," Rodeo points out. Time is running out, though. Backup could arrive at any second, and Rodeo might have been able to take down five pigs but he ain't gonna manage to save them from an army. He bends, keeping his eyes on McCarrick as he picks up the ka-bar off the ground. The blade scrapes lightly against the cement, and Rodeo sees McCarrick visibly wince. Rodeo smiles hungrily. On the ground beside Lita, the private has finally stopped trying to scream. McCarrick holds up his hands, starting to back up towards the door.
"Just you, man. I'm leavin'."
There's no chance of that. The fucker has seen Lita's face, but that ain't even the half of it. The private who had been man-handling Lita was doing so on this fucker's orders, and for that he'll die.
"Motherfucker, you been dead since you called my maharani a cunt," Rodeo informs McCarrick matter-of-factly. "You ain't goin' nowhere."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, man. I'm going, I won't say anything about her, I swear--"
"Shut up," Rodeo snaps, disgusted by the begging. He grits his teeth in distaste, shaking his head at the other man. "Fuckin' pathetic." He doesn't wait any longer. He doesn't bother with the guns, either. He charges for McCarrick, slamming him against the wall and driving the blade up under the patrolman's kevlar vest. He feels it scrape ribs as it sinks in, and Rodeo draws the blade out to drive it in two more times. He stares into McCarrick's eyes, and anyone watching would have no doubt that he enjoys this. It feels fuckin' good, watching this man die. Rodeo slides the knife out once more, his arm crossed over McCarrick's chest to pin him to the doorway.
"Bitch," he snarls in McCarrick's face before he spits in it. He steps back, wiping his knife across his jeans before jamming it back into the sheath on his belt. He turns, looking to Lita. He crosses to her, kneeling down in front of her and reaching to brush her hair back from her face, leaving a streak of blood across her cheek. "Hey. Baby. You okay?"