Chapter 88: Last Blood

"Uncle John, I need you to trust me. I need you to know that I'm gonna make good decisions."

Gabrielle flinched back as a tall, skinny man walked into the old, filthy hallway she and several other girls in different states of injury were in. Looks of fear and indifference marred their faces. In the man's hand was a rope, a rope tied around the neck of a sobbing teenage girl, no older than her probably. Several other men stood behind him as he looked at them all in annoyance.

Closing her eyes, Gabriele remembered the words she told her uncle. Trust me? I'm gonna make good decisions? What a joke! Why didn't she listen to her uncle and grandmother and stay away from Mexico? To look for her father? A father who didn't want her! 

"The truth is... I like dogs." The man dressed in a black and blue button-up shirt said in Spanish. His long black hair was tied into a short ponytail, and his mustache and beard moved as he spoke. "But if one of them runs away... it pisses me off."

The man walked down the hall and glared at all the girls standing next to the halls with contempt. As he walked, he dragged the sobbing girl by the rope.

"It needs to be punished!" The man spun the girl around and pushed her to the ground. The girl yelled in pain. Gabrielle held back a sob and looked away. "What can I say? It brings me down. If one of you bitches wants to run away. Go ahead... run!"

The man walked up to Gabrielle, causing her to look away. Afraid she would be the next object of his ire. But from the corner of her eye, she saw him point at the injured, silent girl beside her. "But I'll find you..." 

The man then walked over and stood in front of her. Gabrielle stoned her expression, and the man spoke again, sending waves of terror down her body.

"...and I'll kill you. I swear." The man kissed his fingers and walked away; his message was sent to them all.

Finally, Gabrielle allowed herself to whimper and looked down at the girl, Sandra, who tried to escape earlier today and crawled towards the wall. Low sobs racked her chest as she laid a shaking and bloody hand on the dirty wall.

Gabrielle felt the strength leave her legs and slid down the wall behind her. Once kneeling on the ground, she raised her hands and covered her mouth. It wouldn't do well to cry in front of them.

'Uncle John... somebody... help me.'

•••

"That house up there... the one with the lights."

Ex-Special Forces John Rambo looked up at the house his passenger pointed at. With a short nod, he turned to the bleeding man beside him and punched him with great strength. The man's head snapped back, and he entered the world of the unconscious.

Exiting his truck, John walked across the street and started walking up a series of stairs and turns that led up to the house. His mission was set in stone in his mind. Find the men responsible for taking his niece and squeeze out her location from their bleeding bodies. Nothing would stop him from bringing Gabriela home. 

Walking up a set of stairs, John had a clear view of the house and its inhabitants. Several men were standing around drinking and having a good time. Unaware of his gaze. Down below, two vehicles stopped, and several men stepped out. One of the men wore a black leather jacket and long black hair; he made his way upstairs with all the swagger of a man in charge.

WHISTLE

Looking away from the men below, John turned and heard a whistle echo through the complex layout of the area around him. Looking over to the right, John saw something that made him frown.

"A spotter." John whispered and backed away, out of sight.

John knew he was had as he walked away from the area. It seemed all his time living in peace had dulled his instincts. No matter where he turned, he saw several men walk out of corners and look at him cruelly. John continued walking and made his way higher and higher. Still, more men popped up and followed far behind him; some had guns or weapons.

When John finally reached the top of the long set of stairs he was walking on; he saw a wide-open parking lot. It was littered with dozens of men who eyed him with a predatory gaze. As John walked, all the men following him joined the rest of the small army. Sounds of guns being armed and loaded echoed through the area.

John stopped when the two men he saw earlier stood with the city behind their backs. One was the man who snorted cocaine inside the house. The other was the one dressed in a leather jacket. Unknown to John, they were Hugo and Victor Martinez, two of Mexico's leading cartel members and human traffickers.

'These have to be the guys in charge.' John thought; his expressionless face gave away no fear. The weight of his pistol and combat knife gave him no sense of ease. He was grossly outnumbered and outgunned. There was no way out. 'Damn.'

Two men walked up to him and patted him down. Once they found his weapons, they looked at him with amused expressions and took them alongside his wallet that he kept in his breast pocket. The man that took his knife backed away and pulled it from its shieth.

"Wow. Nice blade!" The man with the hair bun said in Spanish and played with the extremely sharp blade. Hugo looked down at his wallet and opened its contents. "What are you doing here?"

John said nothing but coldly stared at him. He understood what he said; Spanish was a language he had learned long ago.

"Are you lost, old man? No... nothing?" Victor said as he looked at John stupidly. He then waved the knife in the air in front of him. "What if I cut your mouth with this knife?"

"Victor." Hugo said as he looked down at his driver's license. Victor leaned over and inspected the plastic card.

"Arizona?" Victor said. "So, what? Did they run out of whores over there?"

Several men laughed at Victor's joke. Suddenly, something in his wallet caught his attention; it was a picture—a picture of Gabriella.

"I know this one! This whore's in our house." Victor said as he patted his brother's chest. 

Their eyes opened wide at what Victor said. John moved before he realized it. "HEY!" At the sound of several hammers being pulled, John stopped mid-step. 

Victor jumped and spun around. Several dozen guns ranging from glocks, berettas, and AK-47s were raised and leveled at John. But he continued looking right at the brothers with a simmering glare. Taking a step back, they all lowered their guns, and Victor stepped forward. Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind the large crowd.

"The weak gather together to appear strong."

All the men on the roof spun around and pointed their guns at the new arrival behind them. Hugo and Victor looked over with confusion on their faces. But John stood frozen to his spot; a lone drop of sweat traveled down his cheek. It was only thanks to his decade's worth of battle experience and time at war that he knew that whatever was back there was... dangerous.

"You with this old man?" Victor called out and pointed at him with his knife. John looked at his blade's reflective surface and saw a man dressed in a black and white leather outfit; a hood hung over his head, hiding his face.

"But an army of ants will always be nothing to a stomping elephant." The hooded man said and slashed the air in front of him. "Sever."

John turned around just in time to see something he would never forget. Hundreds of thin blades flew through the air at incomprehensible speeds, cutting off all the arms of the men holding guns. A chorus of screams and cries of agony filled the parking lot as blood squirted from the clean-cut wounds.

As in awe as John was, he was still an experienced, hardened veteran. So, with quick speed, he dashed towards Victor and palm struck his throat. Causing him to choke and fall back. John grabbed his falling knife mid-air and sliced it to his left, cutting a still-stunned Hugo across the neck. 

John then brought the knife down to Victor's knee, and a garbled scream escaped his throat. John then pulled the knife out and proceeded to stab and slice the men closest to the brothers in a flurry of violence. He ignored the sounds of fighting and cries of agony behind him and focused on those who stood before him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the cartel members snap out of his shock and raise a gun he had in his waistline and level it at Johns's head. Before the gun could go off, a chain cut through the air and wrapped around the man's neck. With a strong yank, the cartel member's neck snapped, and his body was thrown across the parking lot.

John spun around and saw the small army that had him outnumbered all lying on the ground. The vast majority of the men were dead, but the rest were unconscious or crying in agony. The man in the black and white suit held a cartel member in his hand, raised high above the ground.

"Such strength." John whispered and watched the cartel member be enveloped in fire.

One of the cartel members was nothing more than ashes in the wind; the hooded man turned and looked at him. John raised his knife and flipped it to a reverse grip. Whoever this person was, he was dangerous. John doubted he would win, but he'd be damned if he went out without a fight.

The hooded man stared at him but then started walking in his direction. But to Johns's surprise, he walked past him and kneeled to a choking Victor. 

"The girls... where are they?" Vengeance asked. Victor only continued to choke and shook his head.

Vengeance frowned and wrapped his hand around the man's neck. Slowly, a golden glow surrounded his hand, and the bruise around his neck disappeared. John lowered his knife in amazement.

"Now, answer." Vengeance asked and shoved his fingers into where John stabbed Victor's knee. 

"AAGHH! Gah, fuck you!" Victor cried in Spanish.

"You're looking for the kidnapped girls?" John asked as he walked beside them. "They have my niece."

John saw the hooded man nod and twist his fingers. Victor screamed in agony. "I am... We'll get your niece back. Now... answer."

A sicking crack echoed as Vengeance dug into Victor's muscle and grabbed his femur bone; with a twist, the strongest bone in the human body broke like a toothpick.

"Don't make me break all your bones." Vengeance asked, and Victor finally nodded with tears streaming down his eyes.

"Okay! Okay! Just stop!" Victor cried in English. "They're here. Just head to this location."

Victor handed Vengeance a card with a street address. Satisfied, Vengeance grabbed the top of Victor's head and made him look at him.

"Now, suffer for an eternity."

John watched with amazement as the hooded man's eyes glowed red with power. Victor then shook in agony as his eyes began to burn away. When it was done, the cartel boss fell limp, his eyes burned and steaming. The hooded man stood up, handed the card to John, and nodded.

"Let's save her. Save them all." The hooded man said.

John grabbed the card and nodded. Turning his head down, he saw Hugo looking up to him. Below him was a pool of blood, and his eyes were dark and vacant. The Martinez brothers were now dead.

•••

"Anyone else hurt?"

Several young girls sat outside an old apartment building. They were covered in blankets and leaning against the long wall behind them. Instead, now, instead of scared and lost expressions, they all had looks of hope as happy tears ran down their faces. These were the girls who were being held against their will and used as a way to make money for the Martinez brothers.

Slowly, golden energy disappeared as he finished healing the teenage girl before him. All her previous injuries were now gone, but her mental scars would never heal. Harvey frowned and patted her shoulder; she smiled weakly and walked off to the other young women.

Turning his head, Harevy saw the man he helped earlier tonight talk and comfort a sobbing girl. She hugged him tightly and kept apologizing. That caused a small smile to grow on his face.

"Little victories." Harvey said and brushed his hair with his hand. He took his hood down earlier to not scare the girls any further. He then looked up at the building and glared.

When he and John Rambo first arrived, the men waiting inside were unaware of the massacre of their fellow members and bosses. John was the one who took the point in taking out all the remaining men inside; Harvey himself finished off any of them that were still alive after John unleashed all his fury. When all the cartel members were taken out, he and John had all the girls follow them outside.

At first, they were adamant that they couldn't, but after Harvey reassured them that the ones that were holding them captive were dead and could never hurt them again. He even burned their corpses like he did everyone else in the parking lot. From there, he healed them with positive energy and kept them company while waiting for the Mexican police.

"There's more out there." Harvey looked out at the city and beyond. This wasn't the only case of human trafficking, not even close. This was only a drop in the bucket. "I'm coming for you all."

"Harvey." John said as he walked up to him with his niece behind him. "I'd like to thank you for all your help."

"No, you don't have to." Harvey said with a shake of his head. "I did what I had to, I'm just glad you could get your niece back."

John gave him a small smile; he then looked down at her and nodded. "Still, you have my thanks. Who knows how the night could have gone without your help."

"Um!" Harvey turned his head to John's niece. She had a nervous expression on her face. "T-Thank you... for your help. I'm Gabriella."

Harvey smiled and nodded. "I'm just glad you're safe. You two should get going, I'll look after the girls."

John seemed to want to disagree but then looked down at Gabriella. "All right."

Harvey watched them walk towards an old grey truck and hop inside. John looked over at him and nodded once again. Gabriella looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, but Harvey didn't see that. The truck then began to drive off.

"Okay." Harvey said in Spanish and walked over to the nervous girls; they looked at him with weak smiles. "Let's get you all home."

For the rest of the night, Harvey ensured that everyone returned to their families. He didn't trust the Mexican Police; the Martinez brothers could have had some of them on their payrolls. He wouldn't risk their lives in the belief they weren't crooked.

It was now early next day, and Harvey looked out at the small city and cracked his neck. His trusty Kawasaki motorcycle stood beside him.

"Let's crackdown on this country some more."