The Nightfly

[BrianEtrius]

Note from the author: Now, this is my big one. If you've read some of my other stories, I frequently allude to certain character which I've created over the years, Ryan Lucifer. Well, this is his long and tragic story. This is no where near finished; as I'm only done 2 official chapters. There are several unfinished chapters that will be posted, but they need to be polished. Have fun reading!

Prologue: That Damn Business Card

A short, balding well dressed man walks into a parking structure at night. He goes up the stairs, carrying a briefcase. He heads to the 6th floor, where he looks around. Seeing the place is empty, he walks over to a window and opens up his case. Inside there are several large pieces of metal, which are to be assembled. The man screws the pieces together. He puts the finished product, a PSG1, complete with a silencer, on a bi pod, which he places on the window sill. Peering down the scope, he looks for his target.

Across the street from the parking complex there is a hotel. 3 men are in the hotel's elevator, waiting for their floor. One is fat and dressed like a tourist, one is who is thin, tall, and dressed like a regular guy with glasses, holding a backpack, and another thin man, dressed in a dark suit with sunglasses and is carrying a briefcase as well. The fat man gets off one the 3rd floor, obviously drunk because he stumbles to his room, where he drops his keys. He finally does get the door open, and walks in and turns on the lights.

The regular guy gets off on the 10th floor. He goes to a room and opens the door. Inside he too goes to a window and opens it. Inside his backpack he takes out a Remington 700 rifle. He looks in his scope to see the other sniper. He turns on his laser scope.

The short sniper looks into the drunken tourist's room. Inside the man is raiding the mini fridge for more alcohol. The assassin loads his gun, and promptly, takes the shot. The drunken man lumbers over in his room, dead.

The short sniper dismantles his gun. His phone rings. He picks up to hear the voice on the other end. "Did you get him?"

"Yeah." says the sniper. "Got him good."

"Nice job BB. Now get your ass down here before the fuzz gets you."

BB hangs up. He walks over to the stairs, where he notices a green spot on the ground. "What the hell...?" Suddenly is body tenses up. He realizes what the green spot is. "Oh, shit........"

That's all that's heard. The man from the 10th floor takes several shots. The bullets graze by BB's head, freezing him. BB hits the ground, only to hear the sound of many footsteps. Shit, BB thinks. The sniper's a probably a cop because of the rifle type, and that means the footsteps are...........oh, shit, S.W.A.T. Who could have known about this? I kept it an airtight secret. Only me and the Big S know about it......unless the Ds, being the assholes they are, let it out. Yeah that's probably what happened. One of the probably got drunk, and told someone they shouldn't have. Dumbasses.

BB's thoughts run through his head. He opens up his briefcase to take out a Beretta 92FS handgun. He fires randomly into the garage, and reassembles his rifle. The laser sight of the Remington gives the other sniper away. Finding his target, BB takes another shot, this time killing his would-be assassin.

S.W.A.T. busts in, throwing a smoke grenade as the first strike. BB realizes the only way out is to take out S.W.A.T., which is suicidal. He still tries anyway, by firing with his rifle. After his ammo runs out, BB takes back out his Beretta. S.W.A.T., having the advantage in numbers and with their M16 rifles, returns fire.

Meanwhile, the third man in the elevator is walking up to the roof of the hotel. In his briefcase lie the pieces for a Walther WA 2000. He assembles them and looks to the firefight down below. He looks at the S.W.A.T. team firing at one man. He starts to shoot at S.W.A.T., taking out the majority of them.

One injured S.W.A.T. reaches for his radio, where he says "Backup, send backup, the suspect has a sniper on his side, he's taking us out........." The final words come out of the injured man's mouth as another bullet goes through is head.

Several cop cars race to the structure, only for the men to be picked off by the seemingly unstoppable sniper with an unlimited amount of ammo. Finally the sniper stops, and for the brief second BB, who had been firing back as well but without much luck, is able to move. BB runs to his GT, parked inside the building. BB races out, only to find more police outside. The sniper pulls out a clicker, and presses the button. The cars below all blow up in a huge explosion, giving BB, unharmed in his car, enough time to escape. As BB drives away, his phone rings again. "You're welcome" says the voice.

"Who the hell are you, you fucking asshole? You almost got me killed!"

"Almost. See, without me, the fuzz would have killed you, or worse, found out your sources."

"You didn't answer my question. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm........a friend. I know the Big S. And, my card is in your case." The phone hangs up.

BB looks into his briefcase to see a small white index card. On one side the print says The Nightfly. The other says The Ryan Lucifer.

[BrianEtrius]

Chapter 1: Falling Into Darkness

The rain pours in the city. Everyday people walk in this rain, this drenching rain. They go about in their lives, waiting for something amazing to happen. Unfortunately, that amazing thing never happens, except for a select few. I'm pretty sure I'm one of those people, but I don't know. It's just a gut feeling, you now?
Name's Ryan, Ryan Louis Cipher if it's good to you. Louis because my ancestor apparently was named that, don't know why and don't care. Born on June 6, 1976. Bloody lucky day to be born on, I can tell you. Former private, 1st class of the 54th regiment of the 5th battalion in the Marines. Only fucking survivor of the battalion too. Son of bitches all died in combat, I think. Don't know for sure. But I don't want to talk about that. It's in the past, and the past can't be changed for shit.
What matters now is what's ahead. I got a job set up for tonight. Quick and easy, they tell me. Just one guy, usually drunk. Basically lives in a bar. He's always on the same seat and the same place, ordering the same drink. What I wonder is how he gets the money, but the job tells me so. The drunken bastard borrows money he can't pay back, and then he changes his name. My gut tells me he has a friend up in city hall. This job's probably needed to be done for the collector, who wants his money back. But then again, I don't give a crap the past, what matters is what's ahead.
My GT rolls up to a parking space across the bar. I look around, and as I hope, there's no one there. Makes sense, it's 11:30 pm. Still raining though. Perfect time for me, though, while the city sleeps. Water might make it complicated though. The Nightfly looks for his target and readies himself for the attack.
I open up my glove apartment and take out a SIG-Sauser P226 and attach a silencer to it. This is a pretty fucking easy job, just a gun and run. Maybe they were right. Quick and easy. I put the gun in my hip holster; my blazer will cover it up.
The bar's pretty empty, that's better for me; it's an easier job because there are fewer witnesses to bribe or "take out the trash". There's the target, sitting at the end of the bar, in the same chair he's sat in for 20 years, ordering the same drink he's ordered for 20 years, scotch on the rocks. Aged 12 years, the glass he prefers has a good weight to it.
I take a seat next to him. I take off my sunglasses and put them in my coat pocket. In the same process I unbutton my hip holster. "Why the hell are you wearing sunglasses at night?" asks the drunk.
"For the same reason you're in a bar at 11:30 at night." I reply back.
"Heh, I'm just fuckin' with ya. I like you kid, ya got spunk. You're like my army buddies I used to have, I remember when I was............" the man mumbles off, lost in the sea of alcohol and memories. "Anyway, take I seat. I'll buy for you cause I like you. What's your poison?"
" Bourbon, if you please." I direct this at the bartender. He nods and goes to get my drink.
The two of us sit in silence; him lost in his life, myself waiting for the right time to strike. The Nightfly has infiltrated the enemies' fortress and waits for the correct time to attack. The bartender comes back with my drink and sits it on the counter. "Bourbon aged 10 years. Enjoy." He leaves us in peace. Good man. What happens in the next ten minutes will not be of your concern. Leave now before you get dragged in.
I take a sip from the glass. The first sip burns my throat. Slowly it rolls down in my body, warming it. The world stops for a moment. I enjoy that rich taste of amber. I make sure the feeling continues as I finish my drink. " Thanks." I say to the man.
"No problem........." he mutters.
I pick up the glass and wipe off my fingerprints. "Let's go outside. We need to talk."
"Hey man, what gives? I just...........bought you..........a.........drink" he says groggy.
"No, we need to talk about army things. I'm a Marine, but I don't want people to overhear our conversation. Rule 8.3 Section A, remember?" I'm starting to lose it. Hold on to it, Nightfly. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Don't waste rage. Rage is a powerful weapon. Use it only one you need to.
"Fuck off, I remember the rules. But I don't want to."
Now this guy is seriously pissing me off. I want to get this job over with. I got other things I got to do. I just stand there.
"I thought I told you to fuck off. So down so NOW!" I remain there. 'Fine, I'll take you out myself." The man stands up. He's bigger than expected. Oh well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
The man charges at me. My hand drops to my holster and in one quick motion I lift my gun up and pull the trigger twice. Two spits hit's the man chest, stopping him in his tracks. I fire another shot and he falls backwards. Bout time, he was seriously asking for it.
Two men in the back get up. I recognize them as bodyguards for the guy who hired me. Funny, I don't remember the guy tell me that his guys would be here. "Good." the one on the right says. "The job's done."
"Why the hell are you here? Do you guys not fucking trust me? Come on, the job's fucking done."
"No, we trust you. We just needed to be here, to clean up the mess."
"What mess? I can clean it up myself."
"No, not your mess, our mess."
"Our mess?...............Oh fuck no. You're not pulling this on me."
"That's right. Late this one evening, a certain Ryan Cipher, age 32, walked into this bar, feeling depressed because of an overdose of cough syrup, Advil, and cigarettes. Ryan, also known as Lou, decided to kill the first guy that pissed him off that evening. Walking into this bar, he tried chatting it up with a Marcus Renalls. Renalls, in a state of intoxication, angered Ryan to the point that Ryan shot him 3 times with his service pistol, one that he stole after leaving the Marines. Realizing what he had done, Mr. Cipher ultimately turned the gun to himself, firing a bullet through his throat, killing himself. That, my friend, is the perfect cover up. Everyone here is on my bankroll. They can say what I want they to say. There's no way out. You're in my scenario now. First, why don't you hand over your gun?"
"That's what you think." My hand still has the gun in it. "You bastards won't take me. You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what hell I had to go through. This is nothing. NOTHING!"
"Calm the fuck down, Lou. We don't want any extra ears." He's right. Save the rage for later. But now, take care of these bastards. The Nightfly, in a tight spot, knows he can get out of it. He's done it before, several times. This is just practice. Walk in the park.
In a quick motion I raise my gun and pull the trigger. A spit comes out. A single casing drops to the floor. Pure silence. The way the Nightfly likes it. The bodyguard hits the floor. The smoke from my gun briefly lingers in the air, only to disappear seconds later.
"FUCKER! WHY THE HELL DID YOU KILL HIM?" yells the other guard. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" He takes out his pistol, only to drop it a moment later as another bullet rips through his skull, dimming the light that once shined brightly. The kick jolts my arm; I hardly blink at the flash.
Several of the bar's patrons get up. More than I expected. Only got 7 rounds left though. I can take them. Only.... let's see, two, four.... eight of them. Jesus, there was more people here than I thought. Easy enough though, just need to get in the right position.

[BrianEtrius]

Chapter 1: Falling Into Darkness (Pt. 2)

I shuffle to the right, where a bulging man stands. "Where do you think you're going, bub?" I remain quiet. "You ain't goin' nowhere, that's for sure."
In a flash he pulls out his gun. My elbow instinctively moves back, crushing the man's ribs. In the process of reacting he drops his gun, and I whip his arm around, bringing his body in front of mine. The suppressor points at the man's neck. "NOBODY MOVE! SOMEONE SHOOTS, HE DIES! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" The rest of the patrons, already up and weapons drawn towards the human shield and me slowly bring down their guns.
"Heh." The limp man grins. His arm comes back, hitting me straight in the gut. Pain surges into my brain, but I know now is not the time to worry about it. The Nightfly knows better. He can fly away from any situation. I see the bar and dive over and land underneath it.
Guns go off. My once human shield takes several bullets before finally falling. Poor guy. Most of those bullets were from his collogues, not myself. Unlucky SOB choose the wrong day to come to work.
I empty my clip, taking out 3 of the drinkers. Reloading, I sense another person's presence and immediately move my head to the right.
A bottle shatters above my head. The glass goes flying, drawing blood from my head. The familiar sound of 'kachooo" happens. I turn and fire my gun at the bartender, who has started to move his pump action shotgun towards my head. Fucker! Didn't know he was on their side. Wasted bullets too. Dammit! Least the guy falls back.
9 rounds left, while 4 guys continue to attempt to kill me. More than enough. I suddenly hear more footsteps over the gunfire. Oh, fuck no. The r-word. The thing all soldiers hate to hear, unless it's on their side. Shit.
The reinforcements burst in through the front door. Thinking quickly, I grab the fire extinguisher from behind the counter and toss it toward the new group of assassins. First shooting at the old group, killing 3 of them, I fire at the flying extinguisher, causing a miniature explosion.
The lead men fly back by the combustion. Two other men rush in, firing in 3 round bursts of their Berettas. The bullets spray by my head, breaking bottles behind me. Returning fire, several more men come in, continuing the firefight, making the battle go on even longer than planned. Shit. This was supposed to be an easy job. But these fuckers mad it hard. Goddammit.
I decide to make a break for my car. My GT can outrun whatever they have; I had the engine replaced for this to happen. Looking quickly to my right, I see the familiar green exit sign. The bar's done its job. Besides, I don't know how many bullets it can take. And judging by the type of these guys, I wouldn't be surprised if they came in with some heavier guns.
My gut instinct turns out to be right. Some guys are carrying Galils come in as well. Time to run. I empty the remaining shells in the cartridge, and jam the gun back in the holster. Now it's time for Karen and Isabel to come out. My favorite two, but I try not to use them. If I do, that means shit's going down.
Two beautiful chrome plated automatics, Glock 18s, chambered in 9x19mm, come out from my shoulder holsters. CLICK, and the safeties go from on to full automatic. You got to love these babies, fully automatic, enough power to take down most people not wearing armor, and 33 rounds per clip. Damn straight these beauties are going to cause some damage.
I take a running start and slide across the wooden floor, guns a blazing. The rounds dump on the floor, and within seconds the magazine is empty. But the sudden rush of bullets has stopped the enemy. The Nightfly, once again, despite being in a tight spot, can get out of it.
I have maybe 3 seconds to get up, ram the door, and find my way to my car. The guys have the front door, so I need to find another way. Luckily, I parked my car far from the front, so I don't have a hard time finding the damn thing.
"THERE HE IS! THE FUCKER!" someone yells. Dammit. Someone found me. That was quick. I turn to fire my guns, but I realize that I hadn't reloaded them. There's just empty, nothing else. I duck beneath a car, gunfire straying around me. I need to get out of here fast, there's only my backup, and that only has 6 rounds to it. There no other way. I have to make a run for it.
It's a good 50 yards to my GT. Wait for the right time. NOW!
Shells fall to the ground. I don't even bother to look back.
Desert.
One hits me square in the chest. Shit.
Desert. In the desert, no one can hear you die.
Another hits my arm.
Just the desert.
I collapse. Nothing else to do.
Darkness. Silence. The desert. That's all that's there.
Darkness.

[TrevorW]

"Backup, send backup, the suspect has a sniper on his side, he's taking us out........."

Cheesy.

The rain pours in the city

Take the first "the" out.

"Anyway, take I seat...."

take (A) seat?

I really enjoyed this. This has the distinct black and white detective feel. Very nice and I will be watching this.