Nothing Special V (Nothing Special 5)

Mindful where he stepped with his bare feet, he went into his bedroom and called one of the very few people he knew he could depend on after the short amount of time he’d been in Atlanta.

“Hello,” the raspy voice answered.

“Ruxs, I’m gonna kill these motherfuckers, man.”

“We’re on our way.”

The line went dead and Steele sighed in relief. No other explanations, no pleading or begging for help was needed. The word partners obviously meant something to Ruxs and Green that they’d stop whatever they were doing, no matter what, and come to help with only a few frustrated words spoken. He’d only hoped he’d find partners like that again so many years after losing his squad.

Steele went about packing up his clothes and toiletries. He wasn’t coming back. His television was fucked, so that only left his small stereo and his answering machine. He was sitting in his recliner, smoking a cigar when he heard the roaring of Ruxs’ truck skid to an angry stop. Two doors slammed and heavy boots ascended his steps. Neither of them knocked, just busted through the door with looks of anger and concern on their faces. Once they saw he was safe and intact, the two of them looked around at the broken glass, shaking their heads in annoyance. Steele pulled on the cigar again, letting it calm his nerves. But his partners looked like they had other ideas.

Both of them went for his stuff, which was stacked by the door. “Let’s go,” Green mumbled.

While they loaded his few belongings into the back of the truck, his neighbor watched with satisfaction, bopping his head to his music. Steele was ready to climb in the backseat when Ruxs gripped his shoulder. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“I gotta get outta here before I do something stupid,” Steele snarled.

“Oh, brother.” Ruxs smirked. “You have to understand who you’re partnered with now. We don’t let bullshit like this slide. On my grave, it’ll say ‘always did something stupid… and it felt damn good’.”

Steele smiled when Green tossed Ruxs a big Louisville Slugger over the hood of the truck. “Ever heard that song ‘Rage Against the Machine’? Personally, it’s one of my favorites, and so fitting for this moment.”

Green pulled a shotgun from underneath the seat and Ruxs spun on his heels, walking right up to his neighbor’s yard with the bat cocked back like he was getting ready to knock a ball out the park, and sent the fat end of his bat into the face of the stereo. Silence followed as pieces and parts flew around him. His neighbor sprang out of the way when Ruxs raised the bat high over his head and came down on it again. The friends went to advance, but Green took a couple steps forward and cocked the shotgun, issuing a warning. There wasn’t a man alive that didn’t fear that sound. Green kept it aimed in the air while Ruxs went crazy on the man’s stereo until there was nothing left of it then started tearing up his chairs. When all six of the guys raised their hands and backed away, Green planted his feet wide like a bodyguard and let the barrel of the gun rest on his shoulder. Steele leaned against the grille of the truck, pulling long drags off his cigar while he watched his partners’ entertaining display of retribution. There’d be no useless reports filed. Eye for an eye. Destruction for destruction.

He wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard the bumping or not. He was in a deep sleep in Ruxs and Green’s spare bedroom. It’d been too late to consider going to his uncle’s in Buford, so he’d gritted his teeth and accepted their invitation instead of finding a hotel. Actually, it was more like Green telling him to shut up and driving him to their place despite his refusal.

Yeah, there it was again. Definitely a bump. Steele looked at his watch since it was still dark outside. September was his favorite month, the fall season his favorite time of year. Daylight savings was fast approaching, and after being deployed for so long, it was still a bitch to get used to. He groaned when he saw it was five thirty. At least he’d gotten a few hours of sleep. The place was nice – well, anything was better than where he’d been – but it was clean, and looked and felt like a home. Steele hadn’t expected the huge two-story loft above a distribution warehouse that took up half a block. Enough square footage to have nice man-sized recliners and a wraparound leather sectional in front of a big screen television that looked to have every game console there was wired to it. There was ample workout equipment positioned in a nook that got plenty of sun. And an area to the far right with a pool table, a couple of arcade machines, and a bar for entertaining. It was large enough to host a decent sized house party. The tall ceilings made it a little drafty but Steele preferred the cool these days, having spent years in Afghanistan, he’d grown to despise the heat.