BLOODWORTH IV: Peter Strikes Back by Tai Goodman (novel books to read .TXT) 📕

"DON'T HURT-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not even supposed to be here, but because of the Kommandant I am. Merry Christmas! Now tell me where the broadcast is coming from." 

"Alright- Alright, I'll tell you! Jeez!" 

The clerk pulled a revolver out from under the counter and pointed it at Peter. "I'LL TELL YOU IN HELL!"

Natasha knocked him out with the grip of her pistol. "That was sad. Got beat up by a girl." Peter held up his hand for a high-five. Natasha smacked it without hesitation.

"BRO MOMENT RIGHT THERE."

Peter dragged the manager by his collar upstairs. "This guy weighs a goddamn TON!" he complained. There was some noise come from a nearby room. Natasha took cover behind the side of the door. "Get ready!"

Peter nodded and kicked open the door. And inside was Tai Goodman inside of the room, typing up something on an electronic typewriter. He turned around in a leather chair and said, "What the heck are you doing? I'm trying to write my dang book over here! Jesus it's EVERY SINGLE TIME! THIS IS THE FOURTH BOOK, and someone's ALWAYS PEEKING IN on my PRIVACY!"

"Oh- Uh... My bad, and you NEVER saw us, got it?"

Peter shut the door. "Alright, keep going..."

The two eventually dragged him into the connections room, strapped him to a chair, and placed him in front of the radio panel. Peter slapped the clerk across his face. THWAP! The slap was enough to awaken the clerk. "WHA- WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"THE BROADCAST SOURCE, WHERE IS IT!?" Peter screamed in his face. He inched the bat closer to the man's skull. "I want an answer. And so does my little friend. Keep your mouth shut, and I'll beat the shit outta you until your dead, CAPISCHE? SO WHERE IS IT?"

The clerk answered, "OKAY! Calm down! I know where it is and I can track it. It's in Neu Orleans. Glattes Neu Orleans Radio." Peter pryed the panel open and then used the touchscreen to search for the location. Tap tap tap... And after a while, the location was revealed. A radio shack. One story building that wasn't too small, nor too large. Peter leaned forwards near the clerk. "Thanks a lot, friend-o. You have yourself a good time up here."

Natasha held the door open for Peter to exit. "HEY, ASSHOLE! UNTIE ME! HEYYY!" 

The door slammed in the clerk's face. "Seemed like a nice guy."

Peter turned up the radio. “Alright everybody, we are back with the one and only Kommandant of Neu Orleans… Kommandant Enrich Meindabann!”

“Danke schon, danke schon Jeff.”

“So, Kommandant, how are you today?”

“I am doing fine.”

“So I have a few questions for you on our little show, if you don’t mind?”

“Alright.”

“Now, recently, you went onto our announcement systems about a murderer with a leather jacket and other cosmetics. How dangerous is this guy, per chance?”

“Vell… He has apparently murdered two of the members of zhe Third Reich in a gas station."

“Man, that’s heavy stuff.”

“Ja, it is. Ve have notified their loved ones and their funerals were a day ago.”

“The next question is, is this new killer tough or strong to you?”

“Vell… He has a bat. A bat is a two handed weapon, zherefore, he can easily take a bullet and die. So to me, he is a VEAK scourge.”

“Well, there was also an apartment building full of the Nazi regime who were… Uhh.. Doing ‘unorthodox’ activities. There was a massacre inside that left about 12 dead.”

“Oh, ja… That place.”

“Do you think this new criminal is powerful now that I have reminded you?”

“Nein. He still has zhe two handed veapon.”

Peter switched the radio off. “Alright, so he’s there alright. Time to go mess him up for the rest of his LIFE.” He continued his journey to the radio station. Natasha reclined the seat a little bit backwards, and told Peter, “You know, my father used to take me on rides like this. We would enjoy the surroundings. Ever since he passed away, I kind of miss those moments.”

Peter sucked his teeth and went, “Ooh… My condolences. What did he pass away of?”

“Tuberculosis.”

“That stuff’s freaking nasty. Sorry."

Peter eventually drove near a pawn shop. "Peter, what the hell are you doing?"

"We need some better armory than what we have now. I bet the radio station is full of a bunch of Nazi security." 

The two stepped out of the car and walked inside. "HEY! PETERRRR! How you doing, man?" asked the cashier. The name-tag was labeled, "Red." Peter walked over to the counter.

"Doing good, doing good... How are you doing?"

"Well I'm working right now, my feet are killing me." 

Peter looked around the store. Then he pulled out his wallet. Fifty dollars and thirty-two cents. "This is bullshit." Peter looked around and found a chainsaw on a shelf. "Whoa-hoa-hoa... You would be satisfying to stick inside of a Nazi's stomach." Peter held the chainsaw with both hands and pretended to carve into an imaginary Nazi. "Nah. I'll need fuel." 

He placed it back on the shelf. Natasha wielded a trench knife, and rotated it a few times. The top sharp spike shined in her eye. Then she placed it back in its original spot. Peter then found a small-tablet on a shelf. It looked new, unused. "Yo! Red! What's this thing right here?"

Red slipped on his eyeglasses, and their electronic magnifying ability zoomed in on the tablet. "Oh- That's... I think it's for an electric panel, you know, the things outside buildings that reconfigure the electronic settings," answered Red, squinting at the device. Peter thought of a plan for a minute.

"Alright, so me and sexy here can disable the lights, then waltz right into the building and kill every guard in the dark. Then we get to the broadcast room, and fuck up Enrich. Yeah. That's a good plan. Shit- Wait... How are we gonna see in the dark?"

Peter gained an idea from Red's special specs. "Hey, Red, you got anything with nightvision or something?" he ordered from his position. Red searched underneath his counter. Then he placed four sets of nightvision goggles on the glass of the counter.

"These what you looking for?"

Peter grinned at Natasha. "Definitely. How much for two of 'em and the tablet?"

"$72.54." 

"FUCK."

"Oh, whoops, forgot tax. That's $74.32."

"SHIT."

"Oh wait there's two, uhh... Alright, so it's $94.32."

"SHIT-FUCK." 

Peter looked around and spotted a security camera. "Piss off you stalker." He leaned over the counter. "Alright, listen up, Red. I'm gonna hand you the money, and you will use your own employee discount thingy to decrease the price. I don't have that stuff on me."

Red pressed the "Employee Discount" switch and the price went down to $63.87. "SON OF A BITCH."

"Alright, can you pay off that extra? I'll pay you back, I promise!"

Red thought for a second. "Alright, Pete, you got a deal. But just this once, alright?"

"Thanks a lot."

MEANWHILE, AT G.N.O.R.S

Another specialized Nazi walked into the broadcasting room, hanging out in the doorway. The host noticed him standing there. "Oh, would you look at the time... Umm... Sorry folks, this is all the time we have with Kommandant Meindabann, we thank you Meindabann-" 

Enrich examined the Nazi in the doorway. "VAIT! Who is zhat? I've never seen him before... And vhy does he look like he vas beaten or mugged? Where's your uniform?!"

The specialized Nazi had red spiked-up hair that formed a Mo-Hawk, a tanktop on with a Nazi sash, a decapitated head with technology inside of it, and brown jeans with dirty combat boots. "I'm here for my time, Kommandant. You're done," the figure informed him. Enrich threw his hands up and looked at both the host and the wild-card. "I VAS NEVER TOLD ABOUT ZHIS! MEIN TIME TO LEAVE IST AT 3:25! It's 3:20- NOW it's 3:21!"

"Look, Mr. Kommandant, we had to cut out time for our special guest... Mr. Kraut." 

The Kommandant stood up and offered a hand-shake to Kraut. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kraut," Enrich greeted him sarcastically. Kraut's eyes gave a cursory glance at Enrich's hand. Then they both traveled back up to stare at Enrich. "Zhat's a good joke. Move aside."

The Kommandant pulled out his pistol at pointed it at Kraut's head. "You must have enough courage to informally talk to Neu Orleans' assigned Kommandant, attrappe," he threatened him. 

 "I assure you, Kommandant, you are talking to someone of the same rank," Kraut answered, pulling out a badge. It had the Bundeswehr symbol on it, golden and sparkling. "Kommandant of Detroit, Michigan."

"This must be un joke... YOU? YOU ARE A KOMMANDANT? OUT OF ALL OF ZHE PEOPLE ZHEY COULD FIND, YOU are the Kommandant... I guess zhat's where your outfit came from. And judging from your behavior, I'm guessing you were given to detroit because you are a DUMMKOPF and zhe lowest tier offzier ZHEY HAD!"

The host's assistant stepped inside. "Kommandant Kraut, you're on!"

Kraut grinned and whispered, "Heil Fegelein... Dummes idiot." 

 GLATTES NEU ORLEANS RADIO STATION

Peter parked in a parking space and him and Natasha stepped out. "Hide your shit, and follow me," Peter told her. Natasha sheathed her knife and followed along Peter's trail into an alley. He walked by the control panel and busted the knob open. Peter opened up the tablet by its sides. A hologram-like screen appeared. "Welcome user: David Werman." 

"Not my name, dumbfuck." Peter tapped the option that said, "Connect to nearby power-control area." The device scanned for a connectable port, and after a second, it discovered it. "Fuck yeah!" Peter cheered. He reviewed the drop-down list of electronic appliances within the station: Broadcasting devices, sound editing devices, music connecting devices, lights, amplifiers, microphone equipment, computers, other... 

"So many to choose from... Screw it, I can't decide." Peter disabled EVERY SINGLE DEVICE in the studio. He then shot a look at Natasha. "Let's go, MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Natasha took the nightvision goggles out of her shirt and strapped them to her face. She whipped out her butterfly knife, and entered the building with haste, walking through disabled metal-detectors. "Attention, all- Dammit... HELLO? WHO KNOWS WHERE THE RESERVE POWER IS?" spoke a receptionist behind a dark counter. Natasha crept into the studio as Peter jumped over the counter. The receptionist felt two pant-legs land in front of him. "AAHH!"

"Shut up, SHUT THE HELL UP! Listen to me, I'm not here to hurt you, gimme your damn hands!"

Peter took the woman's necklace off and then tied it around both of her hands. "And you better be here when I get back," Peter ordered her to do, walking off with goggles on. Natasha saw a guard standing there aiming around. "Hallo? Hat jemand etwas gesehen?" 

Natasha reached for the safety on the man's weapon, and CLICK! The gun was disabled. The