I left the two idiots back in the concourse. They had just about got the bleeding to stop. Just as they described, there were two more goons in the executive suite. One was sitting right next to the governor, talking animatedly. The other was standing at the front of the suite where floor to ceiling windows looked over the arena, but he was looking back at the door, where I had just stepped in. The gun in one hand was poking out from under his crossed arms. His eyes narrowed in confusion for just a moment, but he didn’t react otherwise. He just stared. The one sitting down glanced over his shoulder but kept talking to the governor, who sat stiffly in his chair. A soft whimper to my right drew my attention. A woman and a young boy cowered in the corner. They both sniffled quietly. I took a step into the room; gun gripped in both hands but held low at my hips.

“This is over…” I started.

“We’re still talking!” the seated assailant said sharply. The mother and child sputtered in response.

The other perp standing century glared at his leader dubiously. His eyes moved from the governor to the mother to me and back to the governor. I watched his finger creep toward the trigger guard on his gun. I made eye contact with him and slowly shook my head ‘no’. Before he could react, the lead jerk suddenly stood and turned to face me.

“We’ll be out of here before you know it,” he said brightly. His piercing blue eyes held an off-putting confidence – no – a certainty.

“Not on my watch,” I replied flatly.

“Ah ah ah,” he said. “The good governor here has agreed to make a phone call on my behalf and then secure our exit. It’s no more complicated than that.”

The governor sat in the chair with his head in his hands. His wife and son still remained huddled in the corner.

“I thought maybe it was a ransom,” I replied. “But its blackmail then?”

“Hey, look,” the blue-eyed perp replied, “it’s not my fault the guy fell for my catfish. I’m just agreeing to keep it a secret.”

“And in return?” I asked. “What’s the phone call?”

“A pardon for my big brother,” the perp replied. “And a clean escape for me and my boys.”

“You couldn’t have done this somewhere else?” I laughed. “Hot day like today. All these slashed tires. Seems awful complicated.”

The governor dropped his hands and looked over his shoulder at me, mouth agape.

“I’m just saying,” I replied. “If the kid has you red handed in his DM’s, why go through all this trouble?”

“It’s about the stakes!” the perp snapped. “The pressure. I need my brother pardoned now!”

I looked at the guy’s blue eyes. They looked so familiar. His blonde hair. The shape of his face.

“Oh dang,” I said. “It’s Olsson, isn’t it. Yeah – your brother is Damien Olsson. He killed that girl.”

“It was an accident!” the Olsson kid yelled. “He only got the death penalty because Governor Blythe here is friends with the girl’s dad – and the judge. Not very impartial, is it!”

“Yeah well, your brother put himself in a pretty stupid situation,” I said. “And then made it worse by trying to cover it up.”

“Shut your mouth!” the perp spat, pulling his own plastic pistol. He pointed it at the Governor’s head.

The tension in the room went from testy to buzzing.

“What kind of cop comes in here and gets everyone spun up?” the kid snapped. “What’s a matter with you?”

Behind him, his friend’s finger moved back to the trigger group, and he slowly started uncrossing his arms.

“What kind of mastermind goes through all of this trouble just to come to this?” I shot back. “You executed the most well-choreographed attacks this city’s ever seen. It’s just a fluke that I even ended up here. A whole team. Mass chaos. 3D printed guns. And it devolves into ‘You pardon my brother or I’ll shoot?’ What makes you think they won’t just wait and put him back?”

“Shut up!” he screamed, pressing the barrel against the governor’s head.

“You shoot him and your brother’s toast,” I said. “That’s not how you get what you want.”

“Good point,” the Olsson kid sneered with a wicked smile, and he raised the gun to point at the wife and son.

In a flash, I brought my gun up to center mass and squeezed one off. The other perp had just enough time to jump to the side. The center window overlooking the arena shattered. At the same time, the governor exploded from his seat, knocking the gun up toward the ceiling. He drove his feet as he tackled the Olsson kid right through the opening where the window had been. The two of them disappeared over the edge.

***

It had taken over a month to get the volleyball tournament rescheduled. Mrs. Blythe had insisted that me and girls enjoy some comped tickets. She was in attendance, but her husband was still recovering. A few broken ribs and a busted shoulder would do that. They’re pretty sure the Olsson kid will walk again eventually, but he was at least able to see his brother after all. Johnna had been so scared for me and Jadey that she actually agreed to join us. They’d been really close the last couple weeks. I wish it hadn’t taken the slash incident to do it.

I had just returned to our seats, my arms laden with snacks. The girls took turns unpiling the popcorn, pretzel bites, and sour candies until I was left with my foil-wrapped hotdog. I let out a content sigh and settled in between them. Our local university was smoking their rival, and the arena was absolutely crawling with security.

Matt Hebert is an engineer and self-published author. His dopamine-fueled creative pursuits have spanned from chicken keeping, sand sculpture, acting, and public speaking, but writing is nearest and dearest to his heart. He lives in Bellevue with his wife and two daughters. You can find him on Instagram at @jerkofalltradeshebert or email him at matt.hebert.books@gmail.com

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