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The Secret Society of Hit Men - Part 3©
By The Hit Man


Mark Schenkenberg, super model from Switzerland, was just finishing his shower in the swank hotel room he had found himself in the previous day when he heard the phone ringing. Being one of the top hotels, there was an extension right there in the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around himself, he picked up the receiver as he sat down on the lid of the commode.

"Hello, Mr. Schenkenberg," a voice with a slight foreign accent said from the other end of the line. "We hope you enjoyed the accommodations we put you in and that you are well rested."

"Is this that funny society … what was it called?" Mark didn't even try to hide the tinge of anger that leapt from his soul through the phone. There was a horse-like laugh from the other end.

"Oh come now, Mr. Schenkenberg, surely you're not one to hold a grudge?" As Mark contemplated his answer, he looked down at the plethora of bruises and swellings that covered his torso. The voice on the other end continued.

"After all, you're now in a fairly exclusive club. There aren't many who can go through what you and the other members have and live to tell about it." This time there was a pause on the other end, one for effect.

"I suppose you're right," Mark replied, not sure that it was one he would have joined by choice.

"Trust me, I am. Now, let me get to the purpose for my call. Have you considered who you might like to invite to join the Secret Society of Hit Men?" This was the moment Mark had indeed been waiting for.

"Yes. Yes, I have," he replied. "His name is David Mannheim. Only problem is, he lives overseas." Another horse-like laugh.

"I assure you that's no problem for us. After all, we're an international organization. Aw, here he is, living in Germany. Is that correct?"

"Ah … Uh … Well … "The speed with which they had located his friend left Mark stumbling for words. Finally he was able to gather his wits about him. "Yes, that must be him. Say, will the same team be going for him? What was it you called them?"

"You are referring to the capture team?"

"Yes, that's it. Will the same capture team be sent to pick him up?"

"Most certainly and lead by myself, Mateo. Especially for such a fine specimen as you have chosen, Mr. Schenkenberg." Mark couldn't help but hear the pride with which the man spoke. He wouldn't be sounding so prideful if he knew what I had in store for them, Mark thought to himself. He almost snickered audibly.

"Once the capture has occurred, you will receive an invitation to the next event." With those last words, the phone line went dead, leaving Mark listening to silence as he was still holding the receiver to his ear.


It was later that day when the capture team gathered at the airport and departed for Germany. It was indeed the same team that had brought Mark in, just as promised. The team included a team of four veterans' of the capture teams maintained by the society. It included Jim, Chris, Alex, and of course, the team lead, Mateo. They reviewed the target and the plan as they enjoyed the first class accommodations provided by their employers. It wouldn't be that long before they would be on their way back to the United States, the target in hand.

Jim and Chris

Alex and Mateo

Once the plane landed, the team gathered at the rental car agency. As Mateo drove the non-descript vehicle through the lot, each other three joined him at varying spots throughout the parking lot, preventing anyone from seeing them all together. It was early evening in the city as they sped out onto the Audubon, heading toward the place they were most likely to encounter their target. It took less than an hour for them to arrive but it was full dark as Mateo pulled up to one side of the building they sought. Jim exited the car to case the place. He returned with the report that the target was, in fact, inside and most important, he was alone. The four men exited the vehicle intent on their mission.


David Mannheim was an accomplished model and was working hard at getting himself into the movies as an actor. He knew he had the looks and talent to go far; he just needed the right chance. It had been odd, the call from his old friend, Mark Schenkenberg, who he had first met on a modeling job several years before. He hadn't heard from him since the Mark had moved to America where he had quite the successful life. The thing that was odd about the call was Mark making sure that he still was into his martial arts and in as good a shape as ever. David had assured Mark nothing had changed in either of those areas. Mark had then rung off. It still had David somewhat puzzled as he saw four men enter the Waschsalon where he was just completing his final load of laundry. Hm, another odd coincidence, David thought to himself. They don't have any laundry with them.

David Mannheim


There was no question it was him as the capture team entered the facility. He was quite a human specimen, just the kind the society looked for when entertaining potential candidates. The four men were going to enjoy this capture. Without any communication between them, they spread out, two heading toward the prey's back, two toward his front. David picked up two of the laundry baskets, each containing a full load of clean clothes. As Jim and Chris closed on his back, he whirled, smashing a basket into each of their faces, knocking them back against the glass window. As he spun back around, Alex arrived, driving a fist into his abs. David couldn't resist smiling as the athletic youth took a couple of steps back trying to hide the fact that his hand hurt from the blow. It had done nothing to David's well developed musculature. Jim and Chris were back on their feet and closed in again, grabbing David from behind, each locking on to one of his powerful arms. They strained against his resistance. Alex moved in and with the speed of a trained fighter, unleashed a barrage of blows into David's midsection, his intent to see the man go down. His efforts only seemed to infuriate David. Using Jim and Chris as ballast, David lifted his legs in the air and planted his feet hard against Alex, hitting him just below the sternum. Alex flew backwards, crashing directly into Mateo, driving them both into the metal machines on the wall that held soap and such things for the customers. They landed with such force that as they fell to the floor, packages of goods were released from the machines above, pelting them below.

David tore his right arm loose from Jim. Bringing his right elbow up hard under Jim's chin, the blow sounded like a gunshot as Jim's teeth were hammered together. David followed it with a backward fist to Jim's nose bridge and Jim went down, blood spurting from his nose. David now turned his attention to Chris, the one he saw as the weakest of the four, the one he intended to have the most fun with. He yanked his arm from Chris' grasp. All alone, the young man raised his hands, still ready to continue the task at hand.

"Aussehen wie diese Art der Sache regt Sie zuviel auf," David said in German. Chris looked at him stupidly. David translated.

"Looks to me like this kind of thing excites you too much." At that he pointed toward Chris' groin where it was obvious he had a boner. David grabbed Chris' entire package with his left hand and squeezed, feeling the sensitive flesh squish under his pressure as he pulled upward. Chris rose to his tiptoes, his face a picture of agony. With his free right hand, David slammed his fist into Chris' less developed abs. Chris bent in obvious gut wrenching pain.

"Oh no," David said. "I'm not done yet." He pulled Chris upright by the hair, slamming his head hard against the wire-mesh protected glass door of one of the dryers. He then began raining punches against Chris' already defeated torso. The combination of the groin pain and the gut blows drove Chris quickly into an unconscious state. The boy's body limp in his arms, David pulled open the dryer and hoisted the inert body into the unit. As he closed the door, a body slammed into him, driving his own face hard against the mesh-protected glass. As he reeled back, powerful, muscular legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked on tight around his throat in a choke hold. It was Mateo.

Whoever was on his back wasted no time in cranking up the pressure? The tight combination of the two holds was causing David to find it difficult to breath. Even his own musculature was suffering from the legs that wrapped his mid-section. With the arms around his neck locked in tight, David couldn't lower his head any to gain leverage for a backward thrust of his skull. He tried to beat and pry at the muscles of the legs that held him but it was no use. He knew he only had seconds to come up with something or he was going down. He looked at the dryer, his reflection showing in the glass plus the monkey on his back. The man on his back was a study in concentration. In that instant, David knew what to do. With the last of his air, air he could feel quickly dissipating, he backed away from the machines. Running down the hall with all the speed he could gather, as he neared the large plate glass window, he jumped in the air and spun so his own back faced the window. As their two bodies's slammed against the glass, the glass gave and the two men fell through, landing hard on the outside pavement. Although the legs and arms still gripped him, the strength of their effort was missing. David raised his head and slammed his skull back into Mateo's face. He was satisfied to hear a loud crunch of bone combined with a low moan. Turning over, he drove his elbow into Mateo's gut a couple of times; mostly ensuring the man couldn't get a good breath. David pulled himself to his feet, and then yanked Mateo to his feet by the hair. Mateo offered no resistance. David slammed his forehead into the bleeding man's nose bridge area again. If Mateo had any strength left, he lost it at that point. David rammed his fist into the man's gut a couple more times with enough oomph to lift his feet clear off the ground. This one he didn't want any chance of recovering during this little fight. Lining Mateo's chin up, David smashed his forearm straight up underneath, directly into his windpipe. Mateo fell, the air causing gurgling sounds as it passed his bruised trachea.

Jim and Alex were trying to get to their feet as David stepped over the windowsill back into the building. David grabbed Jim by the neck and butt and rammed his head hard into the metal front of the drying unit. A second smash and Jim slithered to the ground in a heap. David headed toward Alex. This guy was going to be taught a lesson, one David was anxious to teach him. Alex threw a punch as David approached but the blow was wide and outside. A second throw was as easily avoided. David reached Alex and pinned him against the wall with one hand around his throat, his own considerable strength holding him just so his tip toes touched the floor. Alex clawed at the hand around his throat, even scratching at the arm but it did not good. Especially after David hit him the first time in the gut.

David leveled punch after punch into Alex's abs. It wasn't that the fellow had bad development. It was just that David was so strong and capable and knew just what he was doing. Soon, he changed from fists to powerful knee punches. These were even more capable of destruction and soon the only thing holding Alex up was David. David had no pity for this last attacker though. He drug him away from the wall and braced him against one of the washers, his arms draped over the coin receptacle. David moved back and with little preparation, hit Alex with a high kick to the jaw that threw the poor man completely over in a somersault. His body crashed to the floor amidst what had once been a clean load of clothes. David glanced around, pretty pleased with the results of this little fracas. As he bends over to pick up his scattered belongings, he misses a car that slows as it passes. As he rises up, it moves on out of sight. But as he leaves the facility, it follows him on down the street to the small market he enters.

"Hallo, mein Freund," he calls out to the short, stocky balding clerk who stands behind the counter by the door. The man only grunts and waves his stubby cigar in return. As David moves down the aisles, adding a few items to his clothes burden, four more men enter the market behind him, sight unseen. As the men walked in, the clerk glanced up. Not having seen them before, he asked if he could help.

" Kann ich Ihnen helfen?" Without a word, one of the men stepped up like he was going to whisper something. As the clerk leaned forward, the man cold cocked him with a single blow. He supported the man's body as it drifted to the floor. They didn't want to alert their prey. The society was always prepared. They just hadn't taken quite enough precautions with this capture. At least the other team was only unconscious and not seriously hurt. No need for a cleanup team, at least not yet. The new capture team moved into position.