Kill Fest

"Yeah but a shit hole Stryker, couldn't we go to a 5 star hotel for God's sake. I mean shit man, you can drive a brand new Stingray, I think you can spring for a place with room service. The only thing we can order out here is drugs and hookers in a shit hole like this."

"Fat Daddy may think of that and send The Reaper looking for us in the better hotels or back at my place. We need a less stand out location to lay low in," Stryker said turning to face his companion.

"Low is right…..this is as low as you get," she said looking about the less than attractive room.

"Think about it for a moment, Fat Daddy's web site knew things about us, about us all. We all were personally invited to play part in this sick ass game of his."

"True, we all are…..well let's just face it…..very fucked up individuals were called into this by name. One ex KGB agent, two disgraced cops, Jimmy Vegas is just a plain dumb ass and me…. well I'm just all fucked up. But you….you Stryker you're the wide card in all this."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the only truly working member of this so called game. Everyone else other than Jimmy is disgraced law enforcement to some degree."

"You're not a disgraced agent Aurora, you left the CIA on your own accord."

"Yeah maybe so, but I'm not an active agent any more. But you…..you don't have to be here do you," she said with a bewildering look on her face. Then something awful sprang to mind and she reached for the gun on her hip. "Mother Fucker… you're working with Fat Daddy aren't you?" she cried pointing the muzzle into his face.

"Aurora please!"

"Tell me the truth Stryker, are you part of all this?"

"How can you even think that, now put your weapon away."

"Tell me the truth now."

"Aurora stand down, that's an order."

"You're not my commanding officer anymore, not for two years now. You have no authority over me. Now tell me why are you're here?"

"Or what, you'll shoot me?"

"If I have too….. I will."

"Bull shit girl, you can't shoot me anymore then shooting your own sister."

"Tell me the fucking truth Stryker now," she said cocking the guns hammer back. "I'm not playing here, what is going on?"

"Alright…..put the gun away."

"Talk first, if I like what you say I may not blow your fucking head off."

"Yes you're right, you all were hand pick for this game of death by Fat Daddy."