Sinclair insert sample ...
Sinclair sat outside the clubhouse, a steady trickle of people entered it, each seemed to be discreet in the way they passed the doorman. He knew that inside was everything he hated, the complete polar opposite to his very nature, he had come across this place in rumour only at first and had to squeeze some balls to find an exact location and opening hours, it was now that he would shut it down. He had heard from some youth's on the streets that these clubbies had been taking children as young as six and using them as sex slaves. Sadly this was noting new to the
world, but to be so open and aggressive with this new line of business was frightening. To have it run with like a speak easy during prohibition simply showed the disgusting decadence of people and just how far society had slid down into the pits of communal sewers.
Sinclair rested his Browning Hi-Power on his lap as he watched two well groomed men in their mid thirties enter through the main door, a dark skinned man that towered over the pair ran a metal detector over them before he allowed them to enter. Stepping out of his car, Sinclair held his hand gun behind his back, his jean pocket was full of magazines and his body nearly trembling with a rage that came close to boiling his blood, he took some deep breathes to steady his voice as he felt the familiar tinge of adrenaline rush through his system. Walking towards the large door man Sinclair gave him no time to react as he closed the distance quickly, his Browing raised and pointed at the man's centre of mass. The big door man dropped his metal dector and backed up, he was frozen in place, unsure as to whether it was having a gun pointed at him, or the gaze in Sinclair's cold eyes.
"Open the door" Sinclair demanded.
"You don't want to do this, we have paid the police for the month, it's all sweet mate" the doorman answered trying to appease the aggressive stranger.
"Is it unlocked?" Sinclair asked.
"Yes"
"Good" Sinclair fired a single 9mm round into the big man's skull. His body thumped against the wall and gyrated into the corner until it rested in an awkward position. Before his last breath had escaped his lungs, Sinclair had entered the clubhouse.
Heavy dance music drowned out the most noise. Men of all walks of life were mingling with barely dressed girls, some looked to be like top quality strippers in their late twenties, others looked like they were barely in their teens. All of them were merely flesh to this den of wolves.
Sinclair searched the room, his hand gun behind his back. His eyes looked for the security, they all
seemed to be wearing some what generic black shirts and ear pieces. Sinclair flicked the safety onto his Browning and slid it into his jeans pocket. He reached behind and un-sheated his black K-bar knife, walking towards the nearest security man he slid the blade swiftly against the man's throat. Panic struck the bald security man instantly, his lungs filling with blood as his desperation washed over him, he fell back as his blood pooled over his mass and the carpet around him. Sinclair was quick to make his way to another security man, who had his back to him. He was talking to a stripper her large tassel covered breasts proving an adequate distraction, Sinclair pounced onto his prey, his hand muffling the man's mouth as his blade inserted deeply into the base of the security man's spine. The man died instantly, the strippers large breasts the last thing he would see of this world.
As the security man fell to the carpet some of the working girls and the club's patron's began to panic, swarming around desperate to escape and save themselves. Sinclair still holding his blade in his left hand, drew his Browning. He picked off every male target. he was not being sexist, he was simply executing the predators. Another security guard rushed into the main room, he took cover near a long red lounge, a shot gun in his hands. Sinclair fired a quick double tap into his centre of mass, the big man spiralled to the lounge dropping the scatter gun as he fell.
Two elderly men passed Sinclair one had been fondling a girl who barely had breasts moments before, she was still seated in a booth her eyes glazed over in some lucid state. Sinclair's blade slashed at both men's throats killing each swiftly, each spiralled desperately to the thick carpet, blood washing their bodies as it left their throats.
Firing more rounds into random men who were fleeing for the door, each in various states of undress as Sinclair made his way down a hall way. He opened the nearest door, what he saw shocked him, disgusted him.
A small boy was tied to a bed, his face bloodied and eyes red raw from tears, his young broken body naked and limp. A big man, perhaps in his 40s stood in the corner, his flaccid member slick and his body sweat soaked.
"Please..." The man begged. Sinclair walked towards him, slashing him twice with the knife each strike sent the man down lower to the floor. As the man looked up in pain Sinclair fired a round into the man's head. Sending the animal into an eternal blackness, a place clearly to good for him.
Untying the small boy, Sinclair ran his hand through the child's hair. He wished he could take every painful memory from this child. The child's puffy red eyes were closed as Sinclair rubbed his forehead gently.
"I am sorry" He whispered.
Meticulously he cleared the other rooms, six in total. In each one small boys and their rapists. Sinclair made sure each of the rapists suffered accordingly before they met their fate.
Sinclair called the ambulances, requesting several in total their were fourteen children under the age of twelve and another eight in their teen's. The police were there minutes after Sinclair disappeared back into the shadows of the cold night. A soft rain spilled down as Sinclair sped back to his apartment. His body soaked in blood, his eyes stained by what he had seen. He did his best to will the images of those children's suffering away, but he could not. The act's that they had suffered would only further fuel his war.
The news would report that sixteen men had been killed, by a 'gang of vigilantes'. The dead men were from all walks of life, some were convicted paedophiles, others respected men of the community.
One of the men that was in a room with a small boy was a member of parliament. He was a front bencher for the States socialist party, an ever opinionated moral compass of parliament and in state politics, and here he was stabbing a small child savagely stealing its innocence with every vile thrust. Sinclair cried no tears for these men. He felt disgusted in himself, angry that he could not be there earlier to save at least one of these boys.
Sinclair spent a long time in the shower, the blood swirled down the drain eventually thinning until it was no longer there. Sinclair closed his eyes, resting his head against the tiles. He hated this world and everything about it, it had taken away from him so much, and tonight only further proved his hatred. Turning the shower off reluctantly, the big man dried himself of as though in a trance he went about dressing himself. He had one text message in his inbox.
It was from Cori.
"I had a bad day, can I cum ova ? luv Cor"
He thumbed the phones pad and replied.
"Sure. I'm home"
Sinclair sat back on his long leather couch that his uncle had given him as a present when he got back from the Army. It was surprisingly comfortable and had served as a bed most nights for Jack. . He barely slept in his bed, for some reason it did not seem right to sleep in their on his own ever since the murder of his fiance.
Sinclair stared at the wall for a while, he contemplated playing the piano as he looked over towards it. A knocking at the door snapped him from his stranded stare and his distant chasm of thought.
He slowly opened the door, Cori was there she smiled broadly, she looked beautiful as always. She stepped in after kissing him softly on the cheek, her sweet perfume was delicious as he breathed it in.
"My day has been so terrible, I bought you some chocolate and some wine for me, so I hope you have no plans for tonight" She said her smile was infectious enough that it cracked his stone face, allowing him to smile for her.
"That's fine I am all yours tonight"
"Good, so put a DVD on and Ill tell you about this bitch that I had fire and what she did and how much it cost me!" Cori said leaping onto his couch making herself at home as she had often done.
As Cori told Jack her days toils, his mind wondered he was never that distant that he could not nod, shake his head or agree with her. But he was far from being engaged by her tale of incompetent staff and the dilemmas of the fashion industry. By the time she had finished her venting, she stopped talking and stared at him. She looked at him with her big brown eyes that she could often see through him with.
"You OK ?" she asked sliding towards him, her arm hooking beneath his.
"Yeah, Ill be fine" he said feigning a smile. "Did some one say something about chocolate?" he asked.
The spent the rest of the night watching DVDs and talking, Jack fell asleep first his big body drifting into a gentle slumber as Cori ran her hands across his brow. She soon drifted off into a sleep on his couch next to him, her ten thousand dollar bed and custom silk sheets at home were never as comfortable as this spot on Jack's couch.
