Posted in Original Novel

Chapter 3 – First Strike by Red Wolf

Happy Tuesday. We hope that everyone have been enjoying this short novel. Enjoy the read today. Have a great day ahead. 


Chapter 3:

McCain woke up at the sound of a muffled, petite doorbell. Was he expecting anybody? Perhaps it was the wrong address, or one of those solicitors he despised. 

It was neither.

Two men in grey overalls, black sneakers and blue caps stood in front of McCain’s door. One of the workers had a ginger beard, while the other had red hair, eye shadowing and a piercing on the right side of his nose.

“Good afternoon.” the punk-like worker greeted in a posh, almost too polite manner.

“We’re here from Danny’s Waterworks.” the ginger-bearded worker reported in an Irish accent.

“You appointed a routine check at three o’clock.”

Was it afternoon already? McCain was visibly confused, possibly due to the fact that he was just rudely woken up from a four-hour nap.

“That’s right.” McCain had to act like he had remembered. “Come in. I’ll take you upstairs.” 

The two workers followed McCain closely, leaving a bright red toolbox on the coffee table. McCain, noticing this, immediately became suspicious; most contractors took their equipment everywhere. Nonetheless, he escorted the workers to his bathroom for them to start their checkup. 

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” McCain notified the pair, and closed the door behind him.

He quickly went downstairs, careful not to alert the men upstairs to his presence, and rushed to the toolbox. 

After opening the white lids, he stepped back in shock.

There wasn’t any water working equipment at all. 

Instead, McCain found a silenced Maxim 9 pistol, two rounds of ammunition, a syringe with some transparent liquid and a Swiss army knife. McCain quickly took out his cellphone and caught the hidden weapons on camera, eager to send this evidence to the police. Perhaps they were mercenaries trying to use his death as a message. One of the agents was Irish; maybe this had something to do with the IRA. 

He couldn’t even turn his phone on. It was like some strange signal was interfering with his phone, rendering it useless. McCain was about to step out of the door when he heard the men returning downstairs. He instinctively rushed to the other side of the carpet he was standing on, discreetly placing a foot on the rug as he leaned against the doorframe. 

The Irishman was holding a handgun of his own. 

A Glock 17 Gen4.

NATO standard, 9mm by 19mm. 

“Don’t you fucking move.” he scowled as his red-haired associate slowly approached.

“On the floor, hands where we can see them.” the latter commanded, moving to the toolbox and grabbing the syringe.

McCain reluctantly complied, slowly getting onto his knees with his hands raised. 

“Flat on the ground.” the Irishman demanded further, gun following McCain. “And don’t you try to pull anything out of the fucking carpet.”

He was seeing the numbers again. Floating around, as if telling him what to do through code. The whispers were clearer now, and louder too. McCain bided his time, sliding his fingers under the carpet slowly and carefully as the assassin approached.

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

Then, he pulled hard on the rug. 

It was almost like his mind was no longer in control. A possible adrenaline surge, or something else, was controlling his body. He pulled the carpet, sending the red-haired agent flat on the floor, then curled up the rug and hurled it at the Irishman, momentarily blinding him.

“Son of a-” the Irishman howled, closing his eyes in irritation. McCain deftly lifted his opponent’s right arm up and sent his own right fist straight at the gunman’s abdomen. This was followed by a collar-grabbing kata bunkai that left both men piled on top of each other, with the gunman unconscious over his colleague. 

McCain ran upstairs and grabbed anything he needed; his money, his passport, anything of value. Then, as he was about to leave, McCain grabbed the syringe and injected the liquid into both men’s necks. He could somehow smell the chemical. 


Used for surgeries. 

A very mild, yet powerful drug. 

McCain locked the door on his way out.

Time, eight minutes past three in the afternoon. 

Original Novel by Red Wolf



I love travelling and exploring the world, see things from the lense of my camera.... this is my space in sharing the many exciting places that I have visited as well as some of the wonderful gastronomy experience. I also loved baking while exploring new recipes. From time to time, I will also be sharing unique dishes that I cook for my family as well as sharing some of my baking experience / recipes.

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