'That's an unexpected bonus!' The Governor thought to himself, noticing the old Cadillac pull up to what was left of the estate.
He decided to preside over the final operation himself, and didn't regret it. Despite the traffic, it took less than an hour to get to the Santa Monica Mountains. The picturesque drive was already worth it.
The five-acre vineyard, located on a mountain slope directly on the Malibu coast, surely was a premium piece of land, allowing the owner to watch the tiny cars below on the Pacific Coast Highway with an overblown sense of superiority. Or maybe the guy thought he was something special just because he could witness the sun set in the ocean while sipping his own wine.
'Time for a wake-up call, buddy!' The Governor snickered to himself.
Malibu – heck, the whole of California – was full of clowns like the one crawling out of his old Caddy, people who inherited a bunch of family money. And in time, all of them were forced to learn their place.
The only exceptions were the nouveau riche from the unpredictable tech generation: random owners of some start-up apps becoming multi-millionaires overnight.
But the unkempt young man in worn sandals, khaki trousers, and a white shirt wasn't one of them. The Governor checked. The lack of information was unsettling at first, but when the employees tried to resist arrest, the fate of the employer was sealed.
At first, the Governor intended to only lock up the owner and the guy the whole operation was meant for. The achievement and the publicity that came with it were the goal of the whole thing.
To avoid unnecessary noise, he planned to revoke visas and deport the others, but the crazy Kung Fu bitch made it impossible. If she was only resisting arrest, it would've been fine, but after putting over two dozen officers in the hospital, likely in ICU, she had to do time.
In fact, she should've been shot dead, but the guys from S.W.A.T. refused to use deadly force to subdue a child. But despite her loli looks, the Governor knew she was twenty-five.
'Fucking Asians!' He snorted, glancing at her, sobbing on the shoulder of a Mexican man in the back seat of a patrol car.
'… and fucking Mexicans!' The Governor almost laughed to himself.
It was not that he was racist – he was born and grew up in LA, after all. He just didn't like this particular one.
The sixty-year-old housekeeper didn't have the slightest change in his expression since the start of the operation. Not when the vineyard burned down, not when the Asian chick went nuts and created a performance worthy of a Hong Kong movie. His eyes didn't even light up when his employer arrived just now!
'Maybe he's a retard …' The Governor decided, when his eyes landed on the dog.
The Governor might not have liked the Mexican, but he hated the dog. Actually, this was the first time in his life he truly hated someone. He had disliked people before, obviously, but never hated anyone … until today.
The first time he noticed the dog was while watching the events on the big screen in his office. His heart even skipped a beat, thinking that the innocent animal would be harmed by the fire they set to burn down the place. But Santoros's men were experts. A wildfire didn't break out, and the vineyard was turned into ashes along with the villa.
Meanwhile, the dog found a shadowy spot under the still-smoldering debris and lay down to take a nap. He didn't move since then, just opened his eyelids when the ruckus with the Asian chick happened, as if evaluating her performance.
When the Governor and the Police Chief arrived, the dog met them with the most ridiculing glare. It was as if the animal was laughing his ass off at the most influential people of the state.
Somehow the dog's coal-black eyes were filled with scorn, and even revulsion, making the undisguised contempt obvious. The Governor would've thought he was seeing things, but the Chief's snort – what's his problem? – proved he wasn't wrong. The dog clearly thought he was some kind of ruler, and the uninvited guests were random buffoons that would be punished the moment its owner returned.
The animal only moved when the young man in the white shirt stepped out of his car. The dog lazily climbed out from his spot, its black fur pristinely clean for some reason. It slowly went to greet its owner, but the young man didn't pet the animal or stroke its head. They only looked at each other, barely visibly nodded, and the dog headed back to its earlier spot.
Then, under the vigilant eyes of over thirty armed law enforcement officers, the young man leisurely went to the patrol car where his two arrested employees sat. It was as if he was oblivious to the fact that he was about to be arrested, along with the cripple that followed him.
'The Hollywood Butcher!' Was the thought that passed through the minds of all the present policemen.
It was hard to believe that the one-legged, one-armed figure, slowly staggering on a poorly fitting prosthetic leg as he followed his protector, had caused the loss of several hundreds of lives in a span of a few months.
Despite the horrible condition of the cripple, none of the present had any pity for the young man. Everyone knew that the twenty-year-old received all his injuries while escaping from the authorities.
But the running was finally over – for both – the sociopath mass murderer and his patron.
"Shoot if they try anything funny!" The Police Chief commanded, and this time no one intended to repeat the mistake they earlier made with Qing Yue, the Asian girl.
After the officers learned she was actually a full-grown woman, everyone regretted not shooting her directly in the pretty face while she was hospitalizing their comrades. No one was about to repeat the mistake.
In fact, from the moment the old Caddy arrived, most were itching to execute the owner of the burnt-down estate along with his employees on the spot. LA might be a city of millions, but the Hollywood Butcher somehow managed to leave a deep scar in the hearts of every single Angelino – no matter whether it be a famous actor, doctor, or even a lawyer that he killed. Each of his victims were famous people, generally liked by the public.
The young man was seemingly oblivious to the oppressive mood. He didn't even notice the smell of burnt wood in the air, nor the ruins of his formerly prestigious home. After going straight to one of the police cars, he opened its door and Qing Yue instantly sprang out of it, shouting Master! out loud. She fell on his chest, sobbing, and through tears loudly complained in Mandarin.
For a split moment, her hands were still cuffed behind her back when, under the dumbfounded stares of the officers, the young man reached out and, with a flick of his fingers, snapped the cuffs apart.
Only the subtle clink indicated there was no magic involved and the chains were directly torn rather than unlocked. Even the bracers remained on the girl's wrists.
"Fuck!" The Governor heard policemen around him curse.
They lifted their guns, intending to shoot at the couple if they tried anything, but no crazy Kung Fu shit followed. Qing Yue only hugged the young man and buried her face deeper in his chest.
"Javier, you're good?" The young man's voice was strangely calm, and while he spoke softly, every person around the burnt-down vineyard heard him.
The Mexican climbed out after the Asian girl, nodded, and said, "Sorry, Master! It was like this when we returned …"
"Those bastards!" Qing Yue interrupted Javier with a loud shout, "They broke Lingwu Yin! They broke my guqin!"
An angry girl complaining to her employer was nothing new. And so was seeing another sociopath. But for some reason, the present suddenly found it impossible to breathe. Even the weight of their weapons somehow multiplied, and officers had a hard time holding them up.
The expression of the young man in the white shirt didn't change, though. He gently stroked Qing Yue's hair, and asked, "Little Moon, who did it?"
To the Governor, the whole situation seemed ridiculous. He vividly remembered how the Asian chick smashed her musical instrument on the head of a S.W.A.T. member, somehow crushing his helmet in the process and knocking the guy out, if not killing him. But now she dared to complain?
But the ridiculousness only began.
"It's all his fault!" With an angry glare, she suddenly pointed at the Governor, "He's behind all of it!"
Indeed, the plan was the Governor's idea, but there was no way the girl could've known that. More importantly, he was here only as an observer.
"Khem, Sir!" Despite his young age, the Governor was experienced enough and quickly recovered from shock.
"Your employee broke her musical instrument herself – there are plenty of witnesses, in addition to recordings of tens of body cams." He said, "But that's secondary. Their working permits are revoked and they'll be deported. Javier Alvares, that is. Miss Qing Yue will have to go to jail for some time, and so will you. Of course, there's no way Zack Allford will be able to avoid the death penalty, so …"
"I'll get you a new one." The owner of the estate softly said, completely ignoring the Governor and the rest, his attention fully focused on gently stroking the sobbing girl's hair.
"Sir, it seems you don't realize the gravity of …" The Police Chief tried to break in, but was cut off by another interruption.
"I don't want a new one!" Qing Yue shouted while stomping her foot as if she was a thirteen-year-old.
It was hard to think her so-called master could fall for it, but he certainly behaved like he did.
"Alright, what is it that you want?" He asked with a kind smile, as if pampering his favorite daughter.
"I WANT HIM DEAD!" Qing Yue shouted, pointing at the Governor.
If the shout shocked the surrounding people, what followed left everyone speechless. The Governor, though, blood draining from his face, felt his knees give in.
"Of course." The young man softly said, "It's a given. Anything else?"
The Governor had no explanation for why he was horrified. The situation was ridiculous! No matter how proficient in martial arts the guy might've been, they were surrounded by tens of officers with guns! No one was faster than a bullet.
But there was something that gave the Governor a deep feeling of unease. The stare from under the rubble. The hateful dog.
Its barely opened eyes were still full of contempt. No. The Governor felt like the dog was staring at a dead man.