01-01-2021, 10:43 PM
Delia and the three men pick themselves up from the ground and make their move inside. They cautiously pass
their prisoner’s scattered body parts, which were strewn across the front property. Driver leads with his detector
in hand. So far so good.
“What kind of sick fuck mines his own driveway?” Delia asks.
“This guy.” man four replies.
Slowly they advance towards the house. All guns up and ready.
Sanchez walks over to Alex and Ernie, untying them. He summons one of his men, grabs his machine gun and
instructs him to take the two further back on the grounds.
“Fiesta del te.” he says before running towards the sprawling hacienda.
His small army of twenty men spread out around the sides of the magnificent home. Sanchez darts into the house
through the back doors.
Delia and her team are met with shots ripping past. They return fire, finding as much cover as they can behind the
few trees present. Sanchez’s men have them pinned down.
In the breaks of the action mariachi band music can be heard bleeding from the back property. Driver and Delia look
at each other.
“I guess we did crash a party!” he says.
She tries to crack a smile but only manages a look of concern.
The shooters lay down more fire. Delia and driver signal the other two men to cover them and they bolt. Two and
four open up on both sides of the house taking out four of Sanchez’s men. They make it safely to the front of the
house, flanking the stairway.
The battle continues until eight more of Sanchez’s men lay dead. Delia’s team now enter the home. Driver is in first,
Delia behind him. They scan the wide hallway and carefully move forward. The other two men guard the entrance.
Two shooters appear in the hall and are quickly put down by driver. They keep moving until reaching a living area.
The sound of whistling nears. Sanchez emerges from a doorway into view. He’s got a maid at gunpoint. She’s crying
and begging him to let her go. He’s wearing that disgusting smile.
“Chiquita! We meet again!” he gushes while pressing his gun into the side of the lady’s head.
“If you think I won’t kill that bitch myself, you’re sadly mistaken!” she barks at him.
Standing there holding that poor woman by the throat, face awash in blood, Sanchez looks every bit the madman
his reputation speaks of. His eyes had that crazy look. The feeling of imminent chaos flooded the room. He broke
the tension with one word.
“Ninos!”
Two small, frightened children appeared behind him. One boy, one girl. They belong to his maid.
“Esta bien, adelante!”
The brother and sister walk out and stand in front of their mother.
“This changes things, no?” he says grinning widely.
Delia and driver hold their position. Sanchez, still clutching the woman, backs away towards a door across the room.
Delia had a clear shot but he was right, this did change things. She wouldn’t risk that kind of collateral damage.
“Always a pleasure, Delia.” Sanchez said smirking as he reached the door.
“Get them out of here.” she told driver. He rushed the children down the hall.
A black van pulls up outside, Sanchez checks to make sure it’s his men.
“This was wonderful. Please tell your father I’d love to do this again. Meeting him was a real blast!” he said before
pushing the maid aside and tearing out the door.
Delia ran up the hall screaming for her men to go after him. She stops outside the room where driver had the children.
“You stay here, I’m going to find them!”
She blazed through the hallway to the back door. Two men were coming inside; she tapped them both out. Warily she
exited into the back area. There were bodies and blood, but none were Alex or Ernie. The sight was enough to make
one sick. How a human could do something like this was beyond her. Another shooter pops out; she puts him down.
More carefully now, she moves quickly to the back of the property where she finds patio furniture set up in a strange
place. Too far to make it all out but she was sure there were two people seated at that table. Slowly, closer and closer.
Delia was now near enough to see it was Alex and her father. They sat motionless in those chairs. She called out to
them. Nothing. She kept inching her way forward. Now it was apparent; they were gagged and tied to the chairs.
That damned mariachi music was still blaring. Finally, she could hear them. They were both screaming through their gags.
Then the music stopped.
“Run!” her father bellowed in muffled wording. She turned and sprinted but was too late. Still close enough to be knocked
down by its sheer force, the explosives that Sanchez strapped to Alex and her father detonated. It was overkill. Delia was
thrown several feet. She felt it in her entire body.
She laid there tingling from head to toe. Deafened except for the piercing howl of a high pitched screech. She turned
and looked; there was nothing left. She crawled on all-fours a few feet but collapsed. Everything hurt. She began crying.
Her walkie-talkie was spitting static. She raised it to her head, ears still buzzing, unable to hear men two and four:
“We got him!”
[Typed up in Text Edit]
their prisoner’s scattered body parts, which were strewn across the front property. Driver leads with his detector
in hand. So far so good.
“What kind of sick fuck mines his own driveway?” Delia asks.
“This guy.” man four replies.
Slowly they advance towards the house. All guns up and ready.
Sanchez walks over to Alex and Ernie, untying them. He summons one of his men, grabs his machine gun and
instructs him to take the two further back on the grounds.
“Fiesta del te.” he says before running towards the sprawling hacienda.
His small army of twenty men spread out around the sides of the magnificent home. Sanchez darts into the house
through the back doors.
Delia and her team are met with shots ripping past. They return fire, finding as much cover as they can behind the
few trees present. Sanchez’s men have them pinned down.
In the breaks of the action mariachi band music can be heard bleeding from the back property. Driver and Delia look
at each other.
“I guess we did crash a party!” he says.
She tries to crack a smile but only manages a look of concern.
The shooters lay down more fire. Delia and driver signal the other two men to cover them and they bolt. Two and
four open up on both sides of the house taking out four of Sanchez’s men. They make it safely to the front of the
house, flanking the stairway.
The battle continues until eight more of Sanchez’s men lay dead. Delia’s team now enter the home. Driver is in first,
Delia behind him. They scan the wide hallway and carefully move forward. The other two men guard the entrance.
Two shooters appear in the hall and are quickly put down by driver. They keep moving until reaching a living area.
The sound of whistling nears. Sanchez emerges from a doorway into view. He’s got a maid at gunpoint. She’s crying
and begging him to let her go. He’s wearing that disgusting smile.
“Chiquita! We meet again!” he gushes while pressing his gun into the side of the lady’s head.
“If you think I won’t kill that bitch myself, you’re sadly mistaken!” she barks at him.
Standing there holding that poor woman by the throat, face awash in blood, Sanchez looks every bit the madman
his reputation speaks of. His eyes had that crazy look. The feeling of imminent chaos flooded the room. He broke
the tension with one word.
“Ninos!”
Two small, frightened children appeared behind him. One boy, one girl. They belong to his maid.
“Esta bien, adelante!”
The brother and sister walk out and stand in front of their mother.
“This changes things, no?” he says grinning widely.
Delia and driver hold their position. Sanchez, still clutching the woman, backs away towards a door across the room.
Delia had a clear shot but he was right, this did change things. She wouldn’t risk that kind of collateral damage.
“Always a pleasure, Delia.” Sanchez said smirking as he reached the door.
“Get them out of here.” she told driver. He rushed the children down the hall.
A black van pulls up outside, Sanchez checks to make sure it’s his men.
“This was wonderful. Please tell your father I’d love to do this again. Meeting him was a real blast!” he said before
pushing the maid aside and tearing out the door.
Delia ran up the hall screaming for her men to go after him. She stops outside the room where driver had the children.
“You stay here, I’m going to find them!”
She blazed through the hallway to the back door. Two men were coming inside; she tapped them both out. Warily she
exited into the back area. There were bodies and blood, but none were Alex or Ernie. The sight was enough to make
one sick. How a human could do something like this was beyond her. Another shooter pops out; she puts him down.
More carefully now, she moves quickly to the back of the property where she finds patio furniture set up in a strange
place. Too far to make it all out but she was sure there were two people seated at that table. Slowly, closer and closer.
Delia was now near enough to see it was Alex and her father. They sat motionless in those chairs. She called out to
them. Nothing. She kept inching her way forward. Now it was apparent; they were gagged and tied to the chairs.
That damned mariachi music was still blaring. Finally, she could hear them. They were both screaming through their gags.
Then the music stopped.
“Run!” her father bellowed in muffled wording. She turned and sprinted but was too late. Still close enough to be knocked
down by its sheer force, the explosives that Sanchez strapped to Alex and her father detonated. It was overkill. Delia was
thrown several feet. She felt it in her entire body.
She laid there tingling from head to toe. Deafened except for the piercing howl of a high pitched screech. She turned
and looked; there was nothing left. She crawled on all-fours a few feet but collapsed. Everything hurt. She began crying.
Her walkie-talkie was spitting static. She raised it to her head, ears still buzzing, unable to hear men two and four:
“We got him!”
[Typed up in Text Edit]
