TLH-Verse: Another Job

[luvs_yogurt]

 It's just supposed to be another job, Michael had been working almost a week on putting together his cover and infiltrating a small time gun runner's inner circle all in an effort to get close to their leader - a man named Douglas Moore who was proving to be more elusive than Michael had initially hoped. Of course, the problem with trying to get in with gun runners when you happen to have a history with one runner in particular is that you have to sell it. Without Fiona on his side, he'd had to pull off almost half a dozen shady deals to even get to the people that are allowed to drop Moore's name without getting a rifle stock to the back of the head.

He had one last transaction to make, one more very shady deal and he'd been promised an audience with the man himself.

Michael wasn't expecting to come face to face with the blond he'd parted ways with on somewhat questionable terms in a cheap motel only a week prior. Damn it.

"You aren't the guy I'm supposed to meet!" Michael clenched his jaw, eyes quickly darting from one side to the other - trying to indicate to his lover that he wasn't alone and there were two other heavily armed men waiting for a good reason to put a bullet in him. "I'm not doing this deal with a guy I never met that aint the guy I'm supposed to be meetin'." He affects a deep southern drawl, rubbing his hands over a greasy undershirt, attempting to show he's undercover - not Michael Westen. Just another idiot fresh off the bus in Miami that thinks he can run guns with the 'big boys' in Moore's gang.

Comments

[luvs_yogurt]

Barely noticing the slug in his shoulder, Michael dragged the larger thug to the ground; slamming his head against the uneven concrete before shoving the gun in his face.

"A gunshot to the head at this range and this angle might kill you." He said in his normal voice, digging the barrel of the gun against the man's left temple. "At this angle, it will kill you - especially if I did something crazy like load it with fragmented rounds. Do you want to test my theory or answer questions?"

The thug pushed up against his injured shoulder until the blood spread across the front of his undershirt and down his chest; "Fuck you."

"Not an answer," Michael fingered the trigger and asked; "Tell me where Moore is and you live. Say anything else and you don't."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs hovered just within reach, unsure what to do. He had done what Michael had asked, stayed hidden, stayed under the radar... Look where it got them. He turned the pen knife over in his hand, frowning.

He just... What was he supposed to do?

"Moore's probably not here." He said after a moment, the German part of his accent thicker than normal.

[luvs_yogurt]

"No," Michael frowned, "he's too paranoid about guys like me."

He pulled back the hammer - the slightest tug would turn the thug's brains to a fine paste. He didn't want to go through with it, but as long as there was one of them alive, someone would talk. "Get his buddy, I want him to watch this."

[lighteningcount]

"Yes'sir." he said before going to get the other thug. He hauled him up like he was no problem (a testament to the thief's strength) and walked him over to Michael and the other thug.

He shoved him to his knees, distancing himself from the whole situation. Zechs understood this was Michael's job... But he didn't know how he knew, he just did.

"Watch." he commanded of the thug.

[luvs_yogurt]

Being a bully is only his job when things have gone wrong... And given the blood he's lost and the fact that he's sitting on top of a Cuban thug with a gun to his head means things have gone stupendously wrong.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. If I don't get an answer I like, I'll shoot you. If you give me an address we'll go for a nice drive in your BMW and if it's the wrong address... I'll shoot you. Understand? Good."

It took a second to get an answer, but sure enough the thug bent and gave him an address less than five miles away - a residential area so it was probably not an ambush. But anything was possible. "There's a roll of duct tape in the trunk of the BMW - take care of that one and then we'll get this guy ready."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs dragged the man off and then a few minutes later returned.

"You're bleeding. Let me help."

[luvs_yogurt]

"It's fine." He gritted his teeth and took the roll of tape, ripping off a strip and applying it to the bleeding wound. "I've got maybe twenty minutes before Moore knows I'm running the show and if I don't get to him before he gets to the guns a shallow shoulder puncture will be the least of my worries."

He hauled up the larger of the men - forcing him to the trunk of the car. "I need the keys from the little guy's pocket."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs held up the keys. "Got them." He answered, "Let's go."

[luvs_yogurt]

Wincing as he makes his way toward the driver's seat, Michael made a grab for the keys; "Unless you can get halfway across the city in fifteen minutes, you better let me drive."

He's determined, and with Michael Westen that's enough to shrug off a bullet until he collapses.

[lighteningcount]

He tossed Michael the keys and then got into the car. "I don't know Miami that well yet."

[luvs_yogurt]

For most people, it would be an impossible trip. For Michael it's a blur of hairpin turns, blown lights and cutting off little old ladies as he guns the BMW through narrow side streets toward the address the thugs in the trunk had given.

When he pulled up, it was nearly too late - a Ford Explorer sat in the driveway with the back open, midway through loading crates of illegal weapons.

In addition to the weapons that Moore and his three bodyguards pointed right at the car.

"Duck."

[lighteningcount]

The thief's eyes widened and he crammed himself down against the floor. "Do you have a gun I can use?" He asked the other man.

Zechs' father had taken him hunting many times. He was rusty, but he could shoot, defend them if necessary.

[luvs_yogurt]

He patted the seat beside him and then pushed over the 9mm in time for bullets to start flying.

With a grunt of effort, he grabbed the two side arms the thugs had been carrying and pops open the door - managing to slide out and onto the ground.

"We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Moore!" He called out. "I've got your guys in the trunk of the car." He popped open the fuel door and stripped off the gas cap before ripping a grimy but not bloodied part of his shirt and shoving it in the tank.

"I've also got a bomb in the form of gasoline fumes, a BMW and a zippo. I'm not afraid to die if I can take your operation with me."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs didn't hear the words Michael was saying as he took the gun and carefully eased out of the car. Moore probably thought that he was dead. All the better. He moved with the stealth and silence of a thief to circle around to come behind Moore and his three goons.

He had a choice now. Take out the goons and risk Moore getting away or take Moore out.

Decision made.

He aimed the gun and fired at Moore.

[luvs_yogurt]

There are enough shots that Michael doesn't even hear the car door open, let alone the fatal shot.

"You realize your guns are going to gangs that kill kids, right? All I want is for you to get the hell out of Miami and don't make me kill you."

The gunfire stopped and he heard a loud commotion, someone was shot... with a hard swallow Michael rose to his feet and allowed himself to glance at the surprisingly empty front seat - and then to the three guys rushing toward the house.

Chasing someone.

Damn it.

He barely had time to register Moore's body as he took off after the men chasing Zechs.

[lighteningcount]

Zechs was more agile than the men chasing him. He jumped and grabbed onto the overhang. He quickly pulled himself up and started running on the roof, the gun tucked down the back of his pants.

"Fuck."

He swung himself around and into an alcove. Well, that hadn't gone over very well.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael was really, really ready for the night to be over so he could go home and dig out the bullet trying to poison him and then get really, really drunk.

It's not a big house - thank goodness not a mansion - and he caught up to the trio as they made their way to the back where a ladder lead up to the flat, Monticello style roof.

"Hey, dumbasses!" He shouts loudly, firing a shot into the stucco wall with the 45. "You're not after him, he's nobody."

He stared them down as they turned to face him - weapons drawn. Three to one... not the worst odds he's faced but not looking so great either.

With a deep breath, he rushed the guy closest to him and snapped his arm around the thug's thick neck - turning him into a somewhat effective shield against the other two.

"Do I really have to kill all three of you?"

[lighteningcount]

Zechs slowly eased himself down off the roof and stayed in the shadows. But he made sure that the gun was in hand.

He wasn't about to let his lover get shot again. Not because of him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, raising the run to train it on one of the thugs.

Just wait, be patient...

He heard his father's words in his head.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael's pretty capable, even at the end of his rope and against not so great odds.

Screaming loudly at the pain that ripped through his shoulder, he forces the large man forward against one of the thugs - just enough to throw everyone off balance and make a run for the SUV.

If he was working alone, it'd be easy enough to get the hell out of there with the guns. He's not alone, and cursing himself for whatever the hell got him there, and instead tossed the lid off the top crate to find a high end shot gun. That'll do.

"Now you've just pissed me off." He shouted, heading back toward the house as the trio was nearly on him. "Gimme the keys and nobody dies."

He leveled it at one of the thugs, not hesitating to take out a leg with one loud shot. "Don't and not only does he die, but I give it about... oh, five minutes before this place is crawling with cops."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs decided that Michael was okay. He needed to get to the SUV and get it running. He hated hotwiring American made cars.

Tucking the gun away, he moved towards the car. He got in and then popped the dash off. Okay...

After some fiddling and manuverng, the car came to life.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael heard him get in the car, silently thankful he had the sense to know that's where he needed to be.

"How about we just kill you?" The largest bodyguard drawled, pulling back the hammer of a 44 magnum. "And the pretty boy."

He's about to take out his kneecaps when the Ford roars to life... bless the fucking thieves.

"Drive! Drive!" He shouted loudly, slamming his fist on the car as he took off running.

Two blocks down and two more up - easy enough that Zechs could follow him but fast enough the thugs wouldn't be able to catch up before the neighborhood was crawling with police after reports of multiple gunshots.

[lighteningcount]

All thiefs had to start somewhere. He had spent a year as a carboost in Berlin. He could out run cops and lose tails.

He stopped the car when they got to their destination. Thank god. He could use a good stiff drink.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael crawled into the backseat of the SUV and collapsed, letting out a low moan.

"Today really sucks." He shouted into the leather seat underneath him.

"Keep driving, we're in a stolen vehicle of a guy we killed carrying a couple million in illegal weapons and ammunition. Get out of this neighborhood and find something big... minivan, SUV... anything we can shift these crates into."

[lighteningcount]

Zechs was quiet as he drove. Slowing down to the speed limit and being cautious.

New car found, guns shifted over. He drove to where Michael told him. Zechs occasionally glanced in the rear view mirror at his lover, but didn't say anything. He kept his mind focused on the road.

Zechs was exhausted by the time they got to their final destination. A shower could probably wait, but the shot of alcohol certainly couldn't. Not after all of that hell they cheerfully went through.

[luvs_yogurt]

He knew it was a bad idea to bring Zechs to the loft - it only further connected them... but given that at least someone had already taken notice it was better to have the other man where he could see him.

Of course, those questions could wait - cleaning his wound had already waited long enough that he'd be needing antibiotics.

Grimacing, he made his way up the steps - leaving the door open behind them for Zechs as he peeled off what was left of the bloody shirt.

"I'll call my guy in the morning, with Moore dead the others will scatter but I got what I needed." He let out a loud cry as he ripped off the bloody strip of tape - exposing the nasty looking wound. "After my guy picks up the guns we'll return the new vehicle and lay low for a while."

Real fucking low.