Hotline Miami Fiction 2 (In His Mind)

I pull alongside in my car. Right out front where the voice mail told me to go. Sitting beside me is a claw hammer, a staple of any toolbox. I find that the small, flat end makes a nice punch into a body, and renders a man in shock from the impact as he recoils in horror for the next swing. Pulling down the mask, the smell of rubber fills my nose as Richard takes form. I am no longer the man who drove up, I am a bystander as Richard begins to work. I push open the door with the hammer in tow, the handle slipped up into my sleeve, and enter. No one is at the entrance surprisingly as I roll my head around to view the expanse of the structure. Looks like any metro apartment, with a waiting couch at one end of the room, long desk on my left, and an elevator bank on the right with a flight of stairs. The best way to do this would be from the second story up, so if I'm overwhelmed I can go back down, because no one will be coming after me. I silently ride in the lift as I listen to it's motor propel me upward. The doors open and release me, I just step on out and look to the door, voices murmuring on the other side. Time to move fast. I rush into the door, unlocked foolishly and a man is alarmed at my sight and entry as he looks from his friend who's conversation I've interrupted. I slide the hammer down my sleeve into my hand and give the alarmed one a knock into his forehead as he rolls out of his chair but now the other is standing up and screaming, shuffling is heard. I jump onto him and quickly hit him into the side of his head as I hold him back with my arm and turn to finish his partner. No time, keep moving; as I ascend to my feet the door opens and another person brandishing a shotgun attempts to come in. But I deny his entry as I slam back into the door, capturing half of him as he does his best to get back from the door jam. I clutch his protruding arm which holds the pump of his gun and pull him through as he is sent toward me and into the room. He wheels around to face me but now I am pushing into him, watching through the rubber slits in the mask. And the room now smells of rubber and copper as his comrades lay dead. I go for an overhead swing with the hammer, still holding onto him and remaining close enough that the barrel of his gun does not catch me in its sights. Repeatedly and viciously I hammer away, punching into his skull as he goes limp in my hand and his legs no longer support his dead weight. Through the other room it seems he was the only one. I do a quick check to insure I'm not caught off guard as the rooms appear empty. Surveying the domicile, I walk back out to take my leave and stow the hammer, lifting the shotgun from the dead man's grasp. In the hallway the adjacent room opens and a well dressed resident with cocaine on his nose exclaims "for fucks sake, it is the middle of the night, quick fucking yelling over there." As he looks past the door he is sent back, a wall of pellets have pinned him as their force jars his body. More now come to investigate as I await in the door, and open fire upon them all. One covers behind a table and fires out to block me but pauses in a shot with doubt as I make my move in seconds that count so dearly and kill this man. Whatever was exposed no long is a part of him as I'm running in through the room with the empty shotgun, swinging the barrel into a scrawny Russian man, getting in close to him to give him no room to make any move he intended. We both have our hands on the gun now, fighting back and forth to wrestle it away as I topple him down and push upon it. A match of strengths with our struggle to have the gun. I push with my dominant hand to force it sideways, and strike him in the head. I release my grasp and pull the hammer as he tries to sit up, and begin to pummel him into silence. I have to run now, no sense in quiet, my entrance has been made. I return to my feet and advance to the open door. he is holding a large hunting knife for cleaning and dressing deer, so he moves, bright green bathroom tile and long bulbs reflect, but are dulled by the cowling of my mask slits as I hit his hand aside, opening a round cut, possibly breaking his hand? He receives hits into his collar as we fight back, I, Never ceasing my advance upon him. And I swing into him over and over as his bones crack like a nacho under the density of the metal end of my hammer. With a brief lobotomy, he is made docile. I run out now as the elevator signals that it has reached my floor, I turn over to see the doors slide away and rush into it with all my speed behind my swing, killing one while a shot rings out, and push into another one to uppercut him, breaking his teeth and chin, he shoots more, harming the walls of the elevator as someone calls it up. The doors close on us while we fight inside. Getting to the side of him, I use this to my advantage as I slam him into the wall on our ride up, and stamp upon his foot in the process to break his ankle. He is shouting briefly with pain as he dies with a final hit. I retrieve his gun moments after the door opens and someone makes their way in, getting them a point blank shot into the chest. Blood is everywhere in the elevator. With five liters of blood in the human body, and three dead inside, it is running everywhere and I cannot avoid getting it on my sneakers. Running now, I leave bloody footprints behind me on my flat soles as I spin over along the wall to flatten myself as another shotgun screams out and I return the message with my own handgun. I step over him as the biggest, blackest man arises. "Gotta do everything myself, huh?" He asks with a mocking tone at me, I fire fast into his vest but it does nothing other than simply send him down. I throw the gun finally at him and run as it flies in his direction. With our struggle, he is holding onto my hand I try to choke him with, and quickly with my free one, I jam a thumb into his eye socket, crushing the soft appendage. He wails in pain as I squeeze out the other one, blood running out of his eyes and down his face as he finally manages me off of him and a stand upon his throat, crushing the pathway to his breathing. I decide against taking the elevator down and go down the stairway, leaving my hammer behind. At the curb, I peel off the mask and look at it with splashes of blood on it darkening as it dries. I throw that into the trunk, Richard is done, and climb in. I don't think about what took place, I don't feel anything about it. I didn't know the men I killed, they were just chosen by Richard. I am just a bystander who watches. But, what he does, it affects me none. Quietly, I look through my windshield, thinking of nothing for a moment, then off I go, I have to clean my shoes now and my pedals on the car...