Searching for After

Penny and Dime

A/N: Lots of graphic violence in this one, unsurprisingly. Be warned. This is a long one, but with lots of section breaks. I felt like splitting the chapter up wouldn't do well for the pacing since there's passage of time in between each break. Feel free to put the chapter down and pick it back up if you can't digest it all in one sitting since it's a long one. Enjoy.

Shayne's hand clasped over the guard's mouth as the knife ripped his neck open ear to ear. A firm tug back to the shadows and an unceremonious thud concealed the body. The documents in Schoonover's home were enough for him to plan and mount his attack in a matter of hours. The isolated shipyard at the edge of town was silent at this dead hour in the middle of the night. Several of the Blacksmith's men stood guard, blissfully unaware of their impending doom as their numbers were cut down, one by one.

As the last body fell to Shayne's new KA-BAR, the next stage of his plan kicked into action. A single ship was docked in the yard – his next target now that the perimeter was secure. Shayne boarded the vessel and swept through it with a decisive and deadly efficiency. Heads were blasted open. Necks were slit. Chests were perforated with hails of bullets. By the time the ship had been emptied of life, the white skull on Shayne's vest was painted a gruesome red.

The heroin was loaded up here by the ton. According to his findings in Schoonover's home, this was their latest incoming shipment. Once the bodies of the fallen Marines arrived stateside, the Blacksmith's inside man would retrieve the drugs and send them over to this port.

The supply they had coursing through the streets of New York City was running dry, and this was their restock. The Blacksmith dealt through the three gangs – Dogs, Irish, Cartel – while he handled the supply. Apparently, he'd patched things up after he failed to show at the sting. His supply was too good for the gangs to pass up. This boat was their last bastion. With its destruction, the flow of the Blacksmith's drugs into the port would stop. The pipeline would be severed, and all that remained would be the cleanup operation.

The planning went on in his head as he prepared for the ambush. Schoonover's home was a goldmine. A safe with a few million in drug money was recovered and stashed in the black van Shayne was claiming as his own. It didn't take Shayne many attempts to guess the colonel's late wife's birthdate as the combination. At the moment, he wasn't sure what he'd do with the money, but he figured it would come in handy some time down the line.

Aside from the monetary loot, there were also explosives and weaponry he discovered and promptly stowed in his van. Schoonover's body was stowed in the back of his pickup, concealed with a heavy tarp. The truck was parked by the shipyard's entrance and rigged with explosives. A thorough analysis of Schoonover's multiple burner phones from his office revealed who his lieutenants were in the operation. Judging by the codenames they used, Shayne could guess that a few were from the unit that Gosnell served in. The rest were unknown to him, but that didn't matter. They were dead men too.

Multiple texts here and there signaled the remaining command structure to immediately make their way to the shipyard. Shayne Topp had just taken out Gosnell's team and he needed to be put down now. The idiots bought it and arrived together in under an hour. Shayne watched from the roof of a warehouse a short distance away. He observed them through his rifle's scope as they dismounted from their vans. The lieutenants brought muscle with them, which was a plus for what was about to happen.

They appeared to grow uneasy once they found the colonel's pickup with the kingpin nowhere in sight. Some boarded the ship to investigate while the rest stayed out in the open. It was almost on cue when they discovered the bodies on deck and Schoonover in his trunk.

The flip of a switch detonated the explosives all around. A massive fireball rocked the ship, engulfing it with flames and sending it to a watery grave. The pickup truck exploded with the inordinate amount of C4 Shayne had stuck to it. Anyone nearby was obliterated by the blast, and anyone farther off was put down by the wave of shrapnel. The suppressed rifle in his hands kicked back against his shoulder as he mopped up the survivors. They scrambled for cover but dropped like flies as their unseen assailant eliminated them with precision and prejudice.