Scroll 2.0

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Rosie looked the guy over and nodded. Not wanting to spend more time than necessary with the sleazy mark, she tapped a heel of her stiletto boots against her stool to get Thor ready for action.

“As long as you aren’t married or a frat boy looking for an easy lay, you can buy me a drink. If you’re one or the other, you can fuck off.”

“I assure you, I’m neither married nor a frat boy.”

“Then I’d love another rum and coke.” The man called over the bartender and gave his order for two Cuba Libres. Thor was listening to every word of their conversation through his earpiece.

The drinks arrived and the man pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet, making sure Rosie saw that there were more where that bill came from. As the man started to hand the bill to the bartender, Rosie grabbed his arm. Pulling the hundred from his fingers, Rosie looked him in the eye and said, “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

The mark blinked and a smile spread over his face. Rosie pulled her knife and laid it on the bar. “Honey, it ain’t that kind of trip.”

The mark’s eyes widened in surprise and he turned to run, but fell over a bar stool and went down. He scrambled up from the ground and sprinted for the back door of the hotel.

Thor was around the bar in seconds, all pretense of drunkenness gone. He saw Eros and Smooth coming at the mark from both sides. Right behind them were four security guards, drawn by the sudden movements.

“Smooth, Eros, I need you to do something about those guards. Cause a little commotion. I’ve got the mark,” Thor said.

He saw them both turn and run at the two pairs of guards. The guards had no idea what was coming for them. Thor kind of felt sorry for them.

Twenty yards from the hotel doors, Thor caught up with the mark. He threw himself at the guy and tackled him to the ground. They rolled around on the ground, each trying to get a grip on the other. Thor was stronger, but the mark was fueled by pure desperation. The mark threw Thor off of him and Thor found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol.

“Who the fuck sent you?” demanded the mark. Thor raised his hands.

“We sent ourselves.”

“Do not lie to me. I will blow your goddamn head off if you don’t tell me who sent you.” Thor’s eyes flicked over the mark’s left shoulder for a split second before again staring the mark down. An arm holding a knife wrapped around the mark’s neck from behind, the point digging into his neck enough to draw a bead of blood.

“Drop the gun or I’ll cut your throat and pull your tongue through the hole. Give you a nice little necktie.” The mark sagged and let the gun dangle from his index finger. Rosie reached around and grabbed the pistol.

“Thanks, Rosie. Let’s get this guy inside.” Rosie stood by the door for sentry duty. Thor grabbed the mark and pushed him through the door, making sure the mark knew he had a gun in his hand. “Guys, bring it in. Meet me around front. We’re going home.”

Thor marched the mark through the hotel, into the entrance hall, and out the front doors. No one blinked at Thor holding a pistol to the guy’s back. The valet was waiting outside by the black Suburban.

“The desk clerk told me to bring your car around and leave it running.” He looked at the pistol pointed at the mark. “Will you be requiring any more assistance?” Thor shook his head and took the mark’s wallet out of his pocket. He threw the valet a hundred dollar bill and opened the back door to the truck. God was already in the seat, waiting patiently. Thor threw the mark onto the seat and handed God the pistol.

Eros and Smooth burst out of the hotel doors. Smooth jumped into the truck on the other side of the mark, pulling his own pistol. Eros got behind the wheel and cranked up the Diana Ross song on the radio. Thor got into the passenger seat and looked around behind him.

“Guys, where’s Rosie?

“What’re you talking about?” said Eros. “She ran into the hotel right behind you.”

“Something’s wrong,” said Thor.

Smooth reached over Thor’s left shoulder and pointed out the windscreen. “You’re damn right something’s wrong.”

Rosie stood in front of the truck, next to a leggy blonde aiming a Stinger missile at Thor. The feral look on her face terrified (and excited) each of the men. Rosie slowly sauntered over to Thor’s side of the truck and rapped on the window with a knuckle. Thor lowered the window and stuck his head out. “Sorry, I’m fresh out of Grey Poupon,” he said.

Before he could react, Rosie smacked him behind the ear with a blackjack. Thor slumped, his head still hanging out of the truck. Eros slowly moved his hand to the edge of the seat. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the .45 concealed there. Rosie stuck a submachine gun through the window, resting it on Thor’s head.

“Now, Eros, that wouldn’t be very nice. This little thing here is an MP-9 with a top-loading magazine of depleted-uranium hollow-points. If you didn’t insist on that silly little Colt, you’d know that my gun could cut you in half in under a second. So why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Rosie kept the MP-9 pointed at Eros while she reached for the handle on Smooth’s door. She opened it and, using it as cover, moved the gun to target Smooth. “I’ll be taking our new friend here.” Smooth didn’t budge. “Now. Or I’ll have our associate blow us all to hell.” Smooth grabbed the mark’s arm and nearly threw him out the door. Rosie caught him as he stumbled.

“Sit here like nice boys until I’m back inside. Try anything and I’ll kill you all.” Rosie frog-marched the mark back inside the hotel.

“What are you going to do to me?” whimpered the mark.

“We, my good man, are going to make lots of money together.”

“Hey, God,” Smooth said into his collar-mic. “You wanna play a game?”

“What kind of game?” The voice was interested, but wary.

“It’s a drinking game. I pick something and you shoot it. If you miss, you drink. If you hit it, but someone sees you, you drink. But, if you hit it and no one sees it, then I drink. You in?”

“I don’t think Thor would be too happy with that. What the hell am I saying? Let’s do it.”

God ejected the magazine of .50 caliber rounds from his rifle and inserted .22’s. He wasn’t trying to stop a truck, after all.

The sound of a rifle being cocked came over the com-net. “What am I going for?” Smooth looked around the room.

“At the bar. The mango on the top of the fruit pile in that hideous silver bowl.” Smooth waited for a response, but nothing came over the mic. “Well? Are you going for it?”

“Look at the fruit again.” Smooth sauntered over to the fruit basket and looked at the mango. Well, where the mango used to be anyway. All that was remaining was a piece of the rind the size of a quarter.

“Damn you’re good. Maybe we should start calling you Smooth instead of me.” Another mango exploded. “Or maybe we’ll just stick with God.” A low chuckle came over the com-net.

“Take your drink. What’s next?” Smooth turned to the bartender and ordered a shot of Knob Creek. He tossed it down, wincing only a little bit, and slammed the shot glass on the bar. “That shit sucks. All right, next target. The guy in the khaki shorts and red polo shirt with the collar popped. He’s right on the edge of the dance floor. Smoking is bad for his health, so put it out for him.” Again, no response from God.

Smooth looked at the guy. The end of the cigarette disappeared in a haze of tobacco and sparks. “You’re scarily good at this, you know. But, unfortunately for you, his girlfriend saw the cigarette explode and cigarettes don’t often explode for no reason, now do they?”

“I already took my drink, so shut the hell up.”

“No can do, good buddy. Girlfriend’s throwing a fit over there.” The bleach-blonde woman was indeed throwing a fit. She was screaming for help, clawing at everyone around her. One woman, apparently mistaking the girlfriend’s panicked actions as an attempt to steal her man, punched the poor girl in the eye, threw her to the ground, then kicked her in the face.

“Move out of the way, I’m a doctor,” said Smooth, trying to push through the crowd that had gathered in anticipation of the cat-fight. “Give us some room.” Smooth pushed the attacking girl out of the way and knelt at the hysterical girl’s side. “She’s clearly been rolling on X. Someone call an ambulance.”

Three security guards and one hotel employee pushed through the departing crowd and walked up to the boyfriend. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know, we were talking and then she just started screaming. The doctor said she was on ecstasy, but I didn’t even know she did drugs.”

“Whoa, son, calm down. Where’s the doctor?”

“He’s right over there.” The security guard turned and looked, but Smooth had slipped off into the crowd.

Eros was the only one paying attention. He had wandered around the resort, trying to blend in. Not easy when you’re a six-foot tall albino with butterfingers. A trail of broken glass and cigarette butts littered the path he had taken. Eros stopped at one of the smaller side bars to get a drink to replace the one he had just dropped.

Fresh drink in hand, Eros wandered off again. He leaned against a lamppost, one ankle crossed over the other, scanning the resort over a newspaper he borrowed from the bartender. Inconspicuous. Through a gap in the crowd on the dance floor, Eros’s attention was caught by a bright red Hawaiian shirt and turquoise flight pants about twenty yards away.

“Guys, the mark is at the bar,” said Eros into his mic. “Looks like he’s been drinking for a while. Drink of choice is rum and coke. Too bad there’s only about two hundred guys trying to get a piece between him and Rosie.”

“Anyone with him?” asked Thor over the com-net.

“None that I see. Looks like Mr. Man is Han Solo tonight. Looking for some action, too, judging by the fact that he’s been hitting on anything that stops long enough. All we have to do is get him alone with Rosie. She can take it from there. That is, if she doesn’t knife him.”

Thor looked over at the bar. “We need a hole.”

Rosie had spent the evening sitting at the bar, looking bored. However, she was anything but bored. Hyper-vigilant would be a better way to describe her mood. Not out of nervousness or because of the mission, but in case someone tried to drug her drink. She had already caught two guys and nearly broke their fingers for it. One of them seemed to like the threat enough to try it again. She got his attention that time with a blade pressing his crotch and his fingers bent against the back of his hand.

“Don’t break anyone unless necessary. What kind of girl does Thor think I am?” she asked herself.

Rosie spent the time between each violation of her person sitting, demurely sipping her drink, and chatting with the bartender. She heard Eros say the mark was at the bar, but she couldn’t see him through all of her worshippers. “Need a hole?” she thought. A wicked glint came into her eyes. Rosie stood up and stretched over the bar to wave down the bartender. An oblivious guy slapped her ass and lingered for a pinch. The guy turned for his congratulations from his friends. Rosie turned around.

She tapped the offender on the shoulder. He turned around. “You want another one, sweetcheeks?”

“I want an apology, but since I can see I won’t be getting that, this’ll have to do.” She grabbed the guy by the shoulders and brought her knee sharply up into his groin. The guy screamed like a dying rabbit and fell over, bent in half. Rosie looked around at the other guys, her eyes daring them to do something. They ran.

“You wanted a hole, Thor. Well, a hole you got.”

“Shit, that makes me hurt.”

“What are you talking about, God” asked Thor.

“Rosie just took some guy out. Not many guys left between her and the mark.”

“Okay, I want everyone focused on the bar and ready to go in if Rosie needs help. I’m going over there.” Thor took off his shirt. With his looks and his pure-sex moves, Thor had no shortage of dance partners to flit through as he danced his way to the bar. Rosie didn’t have a corner on the hotness market after all.

Moving from shirtless, sweating stud to barely-dressed slut, Thor edged closer to the main bar. He stepped off the dance floor and assumed a stumbling, wavering walk to the bar.

“Another of these pink, umbrella-ey drinks,” he told the bartender, slurring a little. “And no coconut in this one.” He shot Rosie a look that said, “Are you all right? What the hell is going on?”

She looked back at him. Her eyes said, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Satisfied that she was all right for the moment, Thor took a seat at the end of the bar to wait.