Washington becomes ground zero for bioterrorists!
A moving shadow was all the warning the Executioner had
Bolan did a full running roll to get out of the way as a machete glinted in the moonlight.
“Got to kill you,” the heavily accented voice said. “For the Obeah Man.”
Bolan kept moving and came up with the Desert Eagle in his hand. He needed someone left alive who could talk, so he fired low, blowing out the man’s kneecap.
The posse member screamed and went down, and Bolan immediately turned back to the driveway, hoping to catch up to his target. But the car kicked up gravel as it peeled away, and he got only a glimpse inside—enough to see that the Obeah Man was getting away.
Bolan walked back to the man screaming on the ground and kicked the machete out of reach. “We need to have a talk.”
“Screw you!” the man muttered.
“It’s a start,” the Executioner said. “But I’m looking for something a little more informative.”
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