Finding Ella: Part One

It was Johnny. He burst through the door, splintering the frame, leaving it hang from its hinges. He launched over the bed, careening into Erickson’s sternum, driving his shoulder home. The assault was swift. Erickson had no chance to bring his gun level. Johnny could hear the crackling of ribs giving way and breaking under his weight. Drywall burst outwards as the man was smashed into the wall. Erickson’s gun dropped to the floor and Johnny kicked it out of his assailant’s reach.

Johnny felt the man shake off the stars circling his head. The man raised his arms over Johnny’s back and brought his balled fists down. Johnny took the hit and whipped his head up into Erickson’s chin, crushing the back of his head into the wall. A thick mixture of blood and saliva streamed out of his mouth pooling on the ground, two teeth swimming through the thick mixture.

Johnny took a step back, allowing the man to crumple to the floor and assessed the damage to his sparring partner. I wonder How much tenderizing he’ll need before talking

Erickson erupted with life. Fucking Energizer Bunny. He gave Johnny a push and scrambled for the bedside dresser that housed his backup piece. Johnny kicked the drawer just as Erickson snaked his hand halfway in and to its goal. He screamed as the drawer smashed shut. The snap of two metacarpal bones rang through the room as he was trapped, writhing in pain.

Johnny could see the pain build in Erickson’s reddening face. A wicked smirk crawled up one corner of his mouth teasing his prey. He would not let playtime take over. There were more pressing matters to attend to. He shoved Erickson sideways, freeing him from the drawer. The man huddled in the corner, swearing and holding his throbbing hand. Johnny could see the desire to make him pay in the man’s eyes. He held him down with his gaze and spat out the words “Stay down.” Erickson froze, a prisoner, broken, sweating, and panicked.

All Johnny needed was an address. A location where these sadists were keeping her. Johnny did not take the kidnapping of a 15-year-old girl lightly no matter her presumed profession. His fists itched with the chance to dole out justice. The remedy would be to scratch his itch with the stubble of someones fractured jaw.

Crossing over to Erickson, he forced him to sit up. Johnny’s eyes darkened making the grey encircling his pupils turn to steel. Erickson’s jaw tightened.

Johnny calmed his breathing. A cold wind blew past his lips, chilling the man’s spine. “Where’s the girl?”

Erickson played dumb. “What girl?”

A crack echoed against the walls. The back of his hand stung Erickson’s face, his memory visibly jolted.

“You know who. You and your slugs grabbed her last Friday. I am not going to ask what you have been doing, just where she is now?!” He began to pull the collar of Erickson’s shirt tight. It drew around his neck making it hard for him to take in air. The blood constricted in his face as his jugular was compressed with the added pressure.

Introducing Johnny Scotch

A jazz playing, scotch drinking noir hero in a city filled with dark redemption.

Johnny Scotch is the quick fisted, liquor infused trumpeter fated to clean up the streets of Bridge City. Indulging in pricy scotch and even pricier choices Johnny’s speakeasy morals resonate in his scorched past and his distaste for the corrupt. His steely eyes at the end of the bar are a beacon for the weak and a warning for the cruel and ruthless.

Johnny Scotch is…Justice Served Neat.