McCracken tensed, realizing that he was back in his living room instead of engaged with his next target. He focused his senses, taking stock. No immediate signs, smells, or sounds of interlopers. Briefcase in one hand, heft signifying a full stock. Admin tablet in the other hand, subtly humming with power. McCracken looked at the tablet. There was an irritating alert in one corner of the display, but nothing else out of the ordinary. McCracken checked his giant silver watch, then checked the other one immediately.

  The wall behind him suddenly began disintegrating. Bits of drywall and insulation permeated the air as McCracken unceremoniously flung himself behind an oversized couch. Where once was a single exterior wall were a series of rapidly expanding holes, formed by whatever silent ammunition was pouring into McCracken’s house. Silent? No, not quite. McCracken watched the other walls, the floors and the furniture fill up with long sharp pins. He could hear the whistling of the pins as another salvo sprayed through, at about waist high if he’d been standing. McCracken smiled, despite himself. He’d been on the other side of this situation a few times. This strike was designed to catch him unawares, but at the cost of firing blindly. There would be a more deliberate sweep afterwards, to catch out any survivors, and McCracken would be able to set an ambush. He turned the the tablet, confident that the faint glow wouldn’t give away his position as the incoming needles rattled away.

  There were more notifications now, in the corner. McCracken reached to clear them, and found that his finger refused to connect to the screen. He frowned, and stretched again. At about a quarter inch away, it was like pushing his finger through a sluggish ice cube. More alarms popped up, and a few of them went away once he stopped trying to push through.

  They came back as soon as he tried again, with as much success as before. Outside interference, McCracken supposed, just enough to make it a fair fight. Or, as fair as an ambush could possibly be, since the whole point of an ambush was to favor the ambusher.

  McCracken’s nose twitched at a new smell clashing with his cologne. Smoke - he was well familiar with the combination. So phase two was to be fire, very clever. It would force his hand. McCracken exchanged a few keys items inside his briefcase with the currently useless tablet, and then strained to listen for his attackers. Sure enough, there was a step-step-step-step pattern, with the clack of dull nails after each step. McCracken had heard big dogs before, but this might be the biggest one yet. Dogs and fire were a hard combination to avoid, but also hard to use without ruining the dogs life or nose in the fire. Speaking of ruining noses, McCracken slipped a hand back into his briefcase for a refill of pungent cologne. Step-step-step-step. Step-step-step-step. Clack. Step. Step. Slish.

  McCracken froze. The dog was inside, or at least past the wall. The first gunman was also in, along with something thoroughly unfamiliar. Something wet thudded into the couch and water splashed onto the ground a moment later. More thuds and splashes as each possible cover or concealment was marked by the attacker. McCracken allowed three attacks to settle the enemy into a rhythm and then launched his counterattack.

  First, the cologne went straight for the ugliest, most demonic looking dog, McCracken had ever seen. Second, a razor sharp pencil went straight for the tall thin man in a long heavy coat and cloth cap. Third, McCracken had to pull up his briefcase as the blue monster behind the man threw its own weapons in retaliation. Two blades thudded into the briefcase and immediately dissolved into water. McCracken lowered his case to see a protective field drop from the man and the dog, the cologne and pencil fallen far short of their targets. The blue monster frog moved as fast as McCracken did, both throwing razor sharp weapons while avoiding the others’ aim.

  “Thief,” the man commanded, and the dog glowed with a black energy. It sprang at McCracken, faster than even the blue monster and McCracken felt the energy withdraw the briefcase from his hand. He stabbed the dog in the armored neck with a free pencil. The dog whimpered like a growl but returned to its master, still holding the briefcase. McCracken feinted another throw, then used his shock watch, catching out the blue frog monster. It yelled something like “No!” and McCracken was mildly disturbed to realize that it had had a very long tongue wrapped around its neck like a scarf. No matter, the monster convulsed under the shock and collapsed.

  The man didn’t react. He took the briefcase and hefted it. McCracken crouched. “I hope you weren’t planning to kill me with my own weapons. I’m not such a fan of poetry.”

  The man shook his head. “I wasn’t planning to kill you at all, this morning. I haven’t the faintest idea who you are, why I’m here, or where here is.”

  McCracken pretended to relax slightly. “How reassuring. Since you have no contract for me, allow me to extend you an offer. My employer is one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world. I’ll arrange the meeting…”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “No, hold on,” the man interrupted, “I said I wasn’t planning on killing you ‘this morning.’” He scritched his demon dog’s ears as McCracken’s face hardened. “Then I remembered my narrative purpose is usually to take out someone who needs to go away. Or kill someone awful enough that most people won’t miss them. That sound like you?”

  McCracken had a brief recollection of force feeding someone a variety of foods that the victim had been deathly allergic to. What had the boy’s name been again? “That doesn’t sound like me at all. My credentials are excellent.”

  “I’ll see your credentials, and raise you my intuition and observations,” the man replied. “Again, I get sent after people who deserve me, you fight with weapons designed for concealment, made no effort to escape or call for help, opened a dialogue with reverse psychology, and offered money and power when violence failed you.”

  “That seems a bit unfair, ducky,” McCracken protested, “my business is my own, and you had no right to open fire on my house without…” he aimed his laser pointer and fired.

  The dog’s eyes glowed red, and another protective barrier sprang up before the laser could activate. McCracken cursed and turned to run, reaching for his handkerchief in the process.

  “Houndoom, Flame Wheel!” The man barked, and the dog answered. A burst of fire spread from the dog’s mouth to cover its whole body, and it somersaulted rapidly until it resembled the command it had been given. The heavy flaming weight of Houndoom crashed into McCracken and rolled beyond where he fell. The dog quickly recovered but McCracken was still suffering the heat and double impacts of Houndoom and floor. Without giving him a moment to recover, the man leaped across the room and stabbed McCracken through the third and fourth ribs just to the left of the spine.

  Blood started soaking the finery surrounding the long, heavy blade, until it suddenly wasn’t. The man pulled his knife free and hesitated, unsure of what he was seeing. The blood started spreading again, then again stopped. Then again, then again again. The man stepped back and studied McCracken’s body. Finally, the blood stopped coming back after disappearing. Then McCracken stirred.

  The man immediately yelped “Flamethrower!” Houndoom obediently released a column of flame into McCracken, who rolled away as fast as he could. The flames attempted to take hold, but vanished in an instant as McCracken’s suit became as crisp and clean as ever. McCracken lunged for the man, who presented his knife blade first. McCracken stopped short and swung violently for the man’s wrist. The man dropped back to let the swing go wild and McCracken fired his other shock watch. The heavy coat took the shock without an issue, and the man pulled a collapsible baton from one of the big pockets. McCracken bulled forward again, his face contorted in expectation and fury. The baton struck him across the face without turning him and the knife sank once again into his heart. The automatic revival from the admin tablet kicked in once again and McCracken closed in. The man shrugged out of his heavy coat and McCracken was left throttling thick canvas and wool. “Houndoom, Fire Spin!” A tornado of fire came cycloning out of the dog and centered itself on McCracken, restraining him. “Now back away; get Greninja out of here!” The dog scampered towards the frog with the tongue. “Cacturne, Hyper Beam!”

  From outside McCracken’s no longer existent wall, a golden light lit up the night. The beam streaked out and exploded the rest of McCracken’s living room furnishings, a quarter of McCracken’s house, and McCracken himself, into an orb of unidentified energy. From amidst the debris, a large bird dropped its protective barrier and flew away with the man in tow. They circled around, using Houndoom’s fires as a light source to see the results. The Fire Spin continued to hold McCracken, who looked even more sizzled than before but had apparently been shockwaved into complacency. His injuries weren’t healing or worsening, and his suit was refreshing itself as ever. Slowly, the bird circled as the man pondered his next move.

  McCracken coughed. “Seems like we’re at a bit of a standstill, ducky,” he called weakly.

  “You’re standing, I’m flying,” the man retorted.

  “You said you didn’t know, where you are, or why you’re here,” McCracken continued. “I can get you those answers. In my briefcase there’s a tablet. It’s allowed me to go places, learn about people, and kill them. Does that sound like you?”

  “I don’t need that kind of power,” the man replied. “I have plenty with these guys.”

  “Enough to kill someone who weaponizes heat and lives inside a volcano?” inquired McCracken with as much sarcasm as he could stand to muster. “That name is coming up on the list, and I’m still not quite sure how to go about that.” The fire restraint was starting to weaken, he noticed. “If you’re taking over from me, you should at least have some idea of what you’re getting into.”

  “I don’t negotiate with psychos. Fearow, use Hyper Beam! Target the briefcase.”

  The golden light lanced down from the bird and detonated, enveloping the briefcase and leaving charred cinders behind.

  The fire around McCracken died down, and he felt the tablet reappear in his hand. Apparently, someone wasn’t finished with him yet. He looked up at the bird and the man, but they were both gone. The dog too, had vanished, and the frog, and whatever else had been there. The errors flashed annoyingly from the display and he silenced them, his finger no longer held back. A fair fight then, McCracken thought, and gazed ruefully at what was left of his house. Still, no witnesses, so his reputation remained flawless. His fingers flew across the admin tablet, healing himself, restoring his house, his tools, his organs. He took a step towards his bedroom and heard the crunch of needles underfoot.

  McCracken groaned. The needles weren’t affected by the admin tablet. He could repair the damage, but the thousands of needles remained as they had been left. Volcanoes couldn’t come soon enough.