Page 9 of Samson

He moved slowly, hiding from view when he could while he scoped out the entire space and made note of the position of every man in the room.

A line of four more men stood along another table where they were cutting the drugs. Their movements were smooth and practiced, but these men were just as good with firearms.

He rounded the edge of a massive container to get another view. There were fewer men here than he’d expected. A touch disappointing.

“Hurry up!” someone shouted who’d entered from the loading bay on the other side of the room. It was Cramer. He was the one Samson really needed. Unfortunately, Agent Trevors had requested Samson take him alive. He’d do his best, like he always did, but he never made promises he wasn’t confident he could keep.

A loud grinding sound bounced off the walls, and he turned in time to see a large man swinging a piece of steel at his head.

Samson dodged but couldn’t avoid the hit and had to use his arm to block it. The impact sent his gun skittering under a large box.

He shook out his hand and faced off with his opponent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the others had been alerted and were moving in. More came through another door.

Samson blew out a quick breath. “This is more like it.”

“I’ll call security,” one man said, turning back for the door now that Samson was surrounded.

“I don’t think you should,” Samson called out to him as he counted the fourteen men.

“Me either,” said the man who’d knocked the gun from his hand. “I’d rather deal with you myself.”

“You don’t like sharing?”

The man smiled, then dove for Samson but missed as Samson ducked under a conveyor belt, ran across the room, thenslid over a counter before sprinting past a line of bones. He snatched one up to use as a weapon.

Two men appeared at the end of a long bench. Easy pickings.

Samson kept running, and the men bent their legs at the knees, expecting to take the brunt of Samson’s force. Instead, they got the teeth end of the jawbone he’d grabbed.

A round went off and sounded like it had bounced off the walls.

Samson finished off the second guy, leaving the two men unconscious on the floor, then skidded around a corner.

“Don’t shoot in here, you idiot!” It sounded like Cramer yelling. “It’s only one man. The doors are blocked. Go get him and bring him to me.”

Samson ducked under a table and waited for someone to walk past. When one did, he jumped out, tackling him to the ground before knocking him out with the jawbone.

He continued around the room, picking them one by one, or sometimes by twos, if necessary, as more men joined the fight. Just more bodies to pile up.

He caught sight of Cramer and tried to move in on him, but three more men found him.

“We got him!” one shouted.

“No, you don’t.” He flew into action, using the attack of one against the others as their momentum became their own worst enemy.

As the fight went on, his buzz grew. He knew Agent Trevors and his team would be here soon, but they were only required for the cleanup. This was what Samson was made for. It was what he did best. His body moved exactly how and when it needed to for maximum impact.

He was unstoppable, and he knew it. Swing after swing, even as his arms tired, he kept going around the room, stepping overbodies and knocking out others that thought they wanted to have another try.

Finally, it was him and Cramer left.

Cramer pulled a gun.

“I didn’t think you could use guns in here,” Samson said.

“It’s not a problem if I don’t miss.”

“Is it because you’re afraid? You don’t want to face me like a man?”

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