NYPD - Vendetta (Rated R)
ok, this story involves diferent caracters talking from their point of view, for example we have Diana, she is a cop and the first chapter is her introduction to her story, chapter 2 is about Scott Trevor a hired gun, the third is Kirstin a prostitute, and other character will be involved in the story, any ideas are very much appreciated and bear with me please I'm trying to get better at this writing thing.
N.Y.P.D Vendetta - Revenge on the streets
Chapter 1 Ė A promise of Revenge (Diana)
My name is Diana Stall, Iím a detective for the NYPD, I have been a cop for three years now. On my first year I lived through something most cops never go through, I lost my husband... I was assigned to an undercover operation posing as a hooker in a low life bar. There I busted Sasha Kovsky, the Russian mobster, head of the Petrovich crime syndicate, I was called in to testify against him and as retaliation for his imprisonment he sent his thugs to my house one weekend, they broke in through the back door, they all carried 9mm automatics, they went to my room where I was sleeping with my husband James, they grabbed us... they tortured him while they made me watch how they beat him with a wrench right in his jaw... then they raped me, they kept James alive just enough to make him watch as they did it to me over and over, finally they shot him in the head when he tried to jump on one of them, I did my best to protect him but I was in shock, after that I felt nothing, my mind escaped, my soul went with him, I left my body and I could see myself on the floor naked with all five of them laughing and raping me until they had enough. My eyes darkened, it was then that I heard three gun shots in the distance...they shot me, left me there to die, when I came back to myself I was lying in a hospital bed with tubes all around my bed, the chief came in with a doctor, they told me James couldnít be saved but I already knew that.
I lost everything in my life, I had no husband, no home to get back to and no family to comfort me, only a friend from an orphanage who came to see me, Jackie Lang, she was the new director of the orphanage.
We grew up together within the same walls that she now protects, she was always the favorite of Miss Callahan, an old lady and former director of the Saint Helenís Orphanage, she took care of me after my parents died.
Jackie constantly visited me, she helped me get through my recovery, I found it too hard to get back to work, I felt a terrible pain inside of me that only a couple of pills could take away. Iíve been in and out of therapy, Iíve seen every single psychiatrist in the city but talking about it just makes it worse, I canít sleep and I cry every night, I can remember the faces of all the five men that were in my house that day, Iím scared of going to sleep, everytime I close my eyes the images of that horrible night come back. I can feel them and it disgusts me, I wish I had died too...why did they resurrect me? Why did they keep me alive? Is this some kind of sick joke to everyone? Dear god...why did I survive?
Now Iím back in the precinct, Itís been 2 years and five months since that night everyone stare at me, as if they feel sorry for me, but I donít need that I have enough to carry on my back to have them all pitying me and all. Now more than ever I want to catch those five bastards who did this to me.
The other day unit 5211 called for back up, an abandoned warehouse was being used as a hideout for some thugs claiming to own a legit clothing factory, but they had Mexican immigrants there, we checked them out and they were all illegal, we busted them, except their boss, who was none other than Kolya Rashidovich one of the five. I persuaded one of the thugs to lead me to him.
I found Kolya in a mansion in Manhattan, when I drove up to the gate I found the guard knocked out cold on the ground and I took no chance and cuffed him to a lead pipe on the garden, when I came in to Kolyaís room holding my gun, just in case, I found something, a note had been torn from his notebooks, an address by the looks of it, but then I checked the bathroom, and there he was, he had been killed, his throat was cut and his stomach was opened revealing his guts and left there to die soaking in water and blood, part of me felt satisfaction at the sight of the murder, but part of it was rage and disappointment, because it wasnít me who left him like this, I looked around and tried to make a mental picture of what went on there, there were drops of blood on the floor which meant that he hadnít been attacked in the bathroom, he was surely deguted there, but his throat was cut somewhere else. I walked to the nearby room, the study, I found tiny drops of blood on a book, they were dry, which meant he was killed hours before I got there, I started picturing a whole scenario in my mind, but the killer had a familiar form, I saw someone I know killing him, it was me, my subconscious was playing tricks on me, or maybe it was my own heart who wanted me to be the killer.
I drove back to the station after reporting the murder, I sat there facing my computer as I wrote the report, but this time the imagined film in my head making me the murderer of Kolya was satisfying my need for revenge, I have to get revenge, all of my life is now centered in that, if I cannot have it there is no reason for me to go on...
Chapter 2 Ė Payback for a Betrayal (Scott)
My mother used to say, ďMake friends with the devil and youíll get hell...Ē, well... inspite of her best efforts I still managed to to befriend a devil, a devil by the name of Sasha Kovsky, last time I heard hee was in jail, sent to prison by a cop girl posing as a hooker in a bar called ďThe Red GraveĒ, a Russian bar... damn I hate it there, the drinks taste like piss, I donít know whatís so appealing about the place to the anyone thatís not russian.
I came back here to this city after three years, my name is Scott Trevor, in the Underworld of New York Iím ďThe BulletĒ, itís an alias I got after I came back with my shaven head revealing the spot where a bullet came through my head and went out, but for some kind of miracle I lived and the bullet didnít damage my brain, it just scratched it.
I carry that bullet around my neck as a reminder of the one who did this to me, and when I find him Iím gonna kill him with it.
It all started three years ago when I was hired by Kovsky to collect a big load of cash from one of his shipments, but someone ratted out to the police, SWAT came in from every direction and surrounded us, we shot our way out of the joint, but Kolya, one of Kovskyís thugs ran away like a coward with the money, leaving me and two other guys on the scene, then I heard one of them saying something to the other, they looked scared, but I couldnít make out what they said because of all the gunfire blazing around, I turned for a second to face the window, but when I turned back to the other two I saw them lying on the ground...shot, dead... then there was the sound of a gun, I saw a cop gun, I was shot in the head... In my last moments of consciousness I could tell the guy that shot me didnít look like a cop at all, he had a white suit and white hat, I tried to focus on his face but it was no good, my eyes had gone to a blur, for the first time in my life I did something I had never done...pray...****, I was praying for my life, I wanted to live... to get the chance to find that ****er and blow him away, and I survived, I got transferred to a clinic in Jersey, after that I went to New Mexico and hid there waiting for my body to react as it used to.
More bad news, the doctor told me I reacted a millisecond slower than everyone else...****, thatís a lot... at least for a marksman it is, I have to be quicker when I face the ****er, I have to make sure I make first shot, so I used the doctor for target practice, served good as rehab.
So I moved back to the NY, I had to find out who that ****er was and my best chance is Kolya, I went to the old hideout, the mansion in Manhattan, I got in after I knocked out the guard, then I walked up the stairs and found Kolya in his study, I came up behind him, took an antique knife and placed it on his neck close to his throat.
- ďTrevor! What do you want?!Ē- Kolya said as I tightened my grip around his neck, I so much wanted to slice and dice him, I told him I needed to know who the guy in white was.
- ďI donít know who he is, but he works for Vinny Pasconi, thatís all I know I swearĒ Ė Kolya answered, but it couldnít be Pasconi, he was one of the last members of the Sicilian families that disappeared and went legit, besides what was he doing dealing with Russians, it just didnít make any sense, but Kolya kept swearing it was true. So I believed him, I believed him so much I sliced his neck, took him to the bathroom in his bedroom, put him inside the tub, I started to fill it up and when it was half full I took the knife and stabbed him in the stomach, and I sliced all the way down to his belt and watched as his intestines and blood changed the color of the water to a dark red, just the red I wanted to see.
Kolya started to shake, his eyes rolled up and looked white, his face was showing fear and pain... it took five minutes of agony for him to die, quite unusual to take that long... when I came out of the bathroom I saw his notebooks and I found an address, Henry Stanton, he was Kovskyís accountant, I ripped the page, I knew that if someone kept track of all of Kovskyís dealings it would be him, after all he handled the money.
I stepped out of the mansion and hotwired one of Kolyaís motorcycles and left the scene, my hands were soaked in blood. I didnít wash them, I wanted to feel that ****erís blood in my hands, it was satisfying, it marked the beginning of my payback...
Coming Soon: Chapter 3 Ė The Law of the Streets (Kirstin)
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