Chapter: 9 Home Run!

Val brings most of his thugs and even brings Maxim to the fight, Val's gang moves to Frank Ragen's safe house they move at will quick speeds then they burst through the door of the safe house and began the shootout.

Val's eyes glinted with a cold, calculating fury as he fired his pistol, each shot hitting its target with deadly accuracy. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder and the sound of gunfire echoed through the halls of the safe house.

The men under Val's command moved with practised efficiency, taking cover and returning fire as they advanced towards their targets. The tension was palpable as the two gangs clashed, each determined to come out on top.

In the chaos of the battle, Val's true nature was revealed. His cold demeanour and ruthless tactics left no doubt in the minds of his men that he was a force to be reckoned with. His eyes were like chips of ice, calculating and unyielding as he took down his enemies one by one.

Despite the danger, Val seemed almost at home amid the violence. His movements were swift and precise, his aim deadly. It was as if he had been born to kill, a predator at the top of the food chain.

The battle raged on, each side taking heavy losses. The sound of gunfire was joined by the screams of the wounded and dying, creating a cacophony of terror that echoed through the halls.

The battle was never ending it seemed with losses gaining on both sides, Val had his pistol shooting shots peeking from cover like in his war days instantly packing a bullet into some thug's skull scaring his friend as his face was covered in his friend's blood.

Every shot felt like a heartbeat slowly gaining speed with the increase of shots,

Val's heart was racing as he dodged behind dumpsters and makeshift barriers, taking aim and firing his pistol at any thug who dared to cross his path.

His men were providing cover fire, but the enemy was closing in fast. Val could feel the sweat running down his face, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he fought for his life. This was a battle he couldn't afford to lose, not when his entire empire was at stake.

Every shot felt like a heartbeat, pounding in his ears as he ran towards the sound of a shotgun. He could hear Maxim's voice, shouting orders to his men, the steady rhythm of his Tommy gun firing into the fray.

Val's mind was racing, calculating his every move. He was a predator, a master of the game, and he refused to be defeated. His narcissistic personality had always served him well, giving him the confidence to take on any challenge, no matter how dangerous.

But now, as he dodged bullets and fought for his life, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. This was no easy battle, and the stakes were higher than ever. He knew that if he failed, he would lose everything he had worked so hard to build.

As he turned the corner, he saw the man with the shotgun, his finger on the trigger. Val didn't hesitate, taking aim and firing his pistol with deadly accuracy. But just as the man was about to pull the trigger, a sudden sound echoed through the alleyway.

It was Maxim, his Tommy gun roaring to life, saving Val's life in the nick of time. Val felt a wave of relief wash over him as he rushed towards the safety of the cover, the sound of gunfire still ringing in his ears.

A big man met him halfway and lashed out with his right. His punch was faster and it caught Val by surprise and took the punch in the mouth Val stumbled back, his head throbbing with pain.

He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, and he wiped his split lip with the back of his hand. The big man stood before him, breathing heavily, his eyes glinting with rage.

Val's mind raced as he tried to figure out his next move. He was no stranger to violence, but this man was too strong, too quick. He needed to think fast.

He circled the man, looking for an opening, but the man didn't give him one. He lunged forward, and Val dodged, but not fast enough. The man's fist grazed his cheek, and he stumbled again, nearly losing his balance.

Val gritted his teeth and charged forward, throwing a punch with all his might. It connected with the man's jaw, and the man staggered back. Val followed up with a left hook, then a right cross, his fists raining down on the man's face like a hailstorm.

But the man was tough. He absorbed the blows like a sponge, then lunged forward again, grabbing Val by the shoulders and slamming him against the wall. Val's head slammed against the concrete, and he saw stars.

He struggled to break free, but the man was too strong. He lifted Val, then slammed him down again, harder this time. Val felt the pain as cried out.

He needed to get out of there, fast. He kicked the man in the groin, and the man grunted in pain. Val took advantage of the distraction and broke free, stumbling down the hallway, clutching his back.

Val then whipped out his switchblade stabbed a left into his face, set himself and whipped up a right uppercut to the body, Val continued to smash the man in the body with another right, then another and another.

The man's jaw was hanging open now, his face battered and bleeding from a dozen cuts and abrasions. Val continued through the safe house with a smug grin on his face, admiring the destruction he had caused.

The smell of gunpowder and blood permeated the air, and the bodies of his enemies lay scattered around him like broken dolls,

Val's heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he faced off against the gangsters. He knew that he had to act fast if he wanted to survive. His mind was focused, his movements were calculated, and he was ready to take down anyone who stood in his way.

As the lead gangster went for Val's gun, Val quickly assessed the situation and delivered a swift elbow to the man's face, sending him reeling backwards. Val then took out his pistol and fired two quick shots, dropping two of the gangsters where they stood.

Val's movements were fluid and precise, and he moved with the grace and agility of a panther stalking its prey. He dodged a spray of bullets from a Tommy gun, and then charged forward, firing his gun and taking down two more gangsters in quick succession.

Val knew that he had to keep moving, and he darted behind a pillar to avoid getting hit. He ejected the clip from his gun, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. Val's mind was racing, and he knew that he had to come up with a plan if he wanted to survive this fight.

Val then runs and ducks behind a pillar, Val took a deep breath and felt his heart beating fast with adrenaline pumping through his veins. He glanced around the room and saw the chaos he had created. Blood stains marked the walls, and the bodies of his enemies lay motionless on the ground.

A gangster comes around the corner, but the gangster is swiftly disabled by a strike to the throat then Val shoots him in the head, Val stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of the lifeless body at his feet. Blood seeped into the pavement and onto Val's shoes, staining the leather.

The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, and he felt a rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. He tosses the corpse one way, the gangster sprays their bullets into the diversion slowly wasting their ammo.

Val then fights with the other two as appears near them, Val engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the remaining two gangsters. With a quick, fluid movement, he slipped his arm and grabbed one of them, tossing him over his back with a loud "bam". The other gangster charged at him, but Val was one step ahead, double-tapping him in quick succession.

The violence and bloodshed left Val feeling invigorated, his blood pumping with adrenaline and his mind buzzing with the thrill of the kill

Val comes down to an office room mostly like Frank's office when... Val is ambushed by Someone. Val's eyes locked onto the man, and he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. Frank Frank was a walking allegory for danger and destruction, with his blood-red suit and matching fedora that sat atop his head like a crown.

His face was scarred and rough, with deep lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes, like he had been living on the edge of the world for too long. Frank's features were marred by a nose that had been broken more than once and a jawline that could cut glass.

Val feels a surge of anger coursing through his veins as Frank's bullet hits him in the shoulder, the pain shoots through him like a bolt of lightning, but Val's rage is even stronger. He slams Frank's gun into the wall, his muscles bulging with effort. The sound of the impact reverberates through the room like thunder.

Frank is fast and desperate, he sprints through the double doors and tackles Val with brutal force, hitting his wounded shoulder with a vicious punch, Val howls in agony as Frank digs his finger into his wound, the excruciating pain makes his vision blur for a moment.

Val is not one to back down, he rolls and throws a strike with all his might, the sound of his fist connecting with Frank's face is like the crack of a whip. Frank counters with a powerful strike, displacing Val, and they both get up to continue the brutal brawl.

Val blocks Frank's punch with his forearm and slams his arm into the deck, throwing a punch with his right hand that displaces Frank even further. Val is uncertain for a moment, his rage and pain clouding his judgment, but his instincts kick in, and he sees a pen lying on the deck.

He grabs it with a sudden burst of energy and stabs it into Frank's hand, the ink spilling out like blood from a wound. Frank screams in agony, and Val feels a twisted satisfaction as he watches him writhe in pain.

Frank's hand was covered in blood, a testament to the savage beating Val had just inflicted upon him. As Frank looked down at his hand, Val taunted him, "What's wrong, Frank? Can't handle a little pen?" Frank's rage boiled over, and he headbutted Val with all his might, shouting, "A pen? You used a damn pen as a weapon?"

Val just smirked and replied, "Yeah, I guess I did. You know, John Wick once killed three men in a bar with a pencil. Maybe I should try that next time."

Frank scoffed, "John Wick? You ain't no John Wick, Val. You're just a two-bit thug with a pen."

Frank then asks "Can we continue", Val replied "Yeah" The room was now filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, grunts, and the occasional clattering of furniture. The fight had reached its climax, and Val was losing.

He could feel Frank's kicks landing on his body like thunderbolts, each one sending a jolt of pain through him. He tried to fight back, but his strength was waning, and his vision was getting blurry.

Val knew he had to do something, and he quickly scanned his surroundings for something to use as a weapon. That's when he saw the chair. Val grabbed the chair and swung it at Frank with all his might. The impact sent Frank crashing to the ground, and Val could hear the sound of wood splintering against bone.

Frank writhed in pain, trying to crawl away from Val, who was now standing over him. Val's eyes were ablaze with a fierce intensity, and his voice was low and menacing as he spoke, "This is what you get for messing with me, Frank. You should have known better than to mess with someone like me."

Frank could only groan in agony as Val loomed over him. He could feel the blood oozing out of his wounds, and he knew he was done for. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a raspy whisper, "Please... stop... it's over." Val looked at Frank, and a twisted smile crept over his face. "Yes, it's over," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But remember, Frank, you brought this upon yourself. You should have known better than to cross me."

Val stood there with a twisted smile on his face, relishing in the torture of his enemy. "Let's play baseball, Frank," he said, his tone laced with a dark and ominous edge.

Frank was tied up in a chair, helpless and vulnerable.

Val continued, his voice rising with excitement, "The field was fresh and nice for a great game of baseball. Remember! Remember! Everyone gets one swing, so let's see who will win." One of the gangsters snickered, "Yeah, Frank's going to be a real home run."

The others laughed, their cruel amusement filling the room. The first member of the Crimson Roses stepped forward, gripping his bat tightly as he took his position. With a menacing grin, he swung with all his might, the bat connecting with Frank's skull with a sickening crack.

Blood spattered across the floor as Frank's head jerked back, his eyes rolling back into his head. The next member stepped up, a glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

He swung hard, the bat connecting once again with Frank's head, leaving a deep gash in its wake. The sound echoed in the room, each strike becoming louder and more brutal than the last.

As the game continued, Frank's head was beaten and battered, his once strong and proud spirit broken. The members of the Crimson Roses continued to swing, each hit more violent and destructive than the last.

Val spoke like a commentator as when to Frank "Val steps up the patch and he prepares his bat and then swings It was a home run folks". Frank's skull was cracked wide open as swung making pieces fly onto the ground Val sat by Frank's lifeless body and looked at Frank making a final comment "Frank you were an open-minded person you are".