21C Man, part 15: Why do we always have to do it the hard way?

[Doktor Howl]

We pulled up at a shithole trailer park.  The GPS seemed to indicate the NW corner trailer had our guy, but even a good GPS is prone to small errors.  Not so bad when you're looking for a hotel, but not so good when you're trying to pick one trailer out of 30 or so.  Still, it was all we had.

"So, how do you guys play this?"  Mark asked, looking at us.

"It's simple", I said, "You wait out back, and catch the little turd when he flies out the back door.  Then we stick him in the car and we go."

"What if it isn't him that comes out?"

"Use your judgment.  I'd suggest clotheslining the bastard, but you may be more prone to punch.  And then secure the person, we may have questions for him or her."

We all put vests on, and got out of the car.  Now, you may assume that we would not precisely fit in, in a trailer park.  Blue jeans, okay.  Engineer boots, mm, okay.  Black tee shirts, okay.  Black ballistic vests?  Maybe not so much.  As I walked toward the trailer, some lady stared at me from across the lane.

"What are you looking at?"  I asked, "Shouldn't you be moving in the general direction of 'away'?"

The lady vanished, and I walked up to the door, and stood to one side.  Tim stood on the other side.  I knocked, and hollered the kid's name.  No response.  I tried it one more time, then said fuck it.  Tim booted the door, which came off of its hinges like it was made out of Lego.    Inside, it was a worse shit hole than you'd expect.  A couch that probably dated from the 50s, an old-school CRT television, and bags of raw garbage all over the place.  A table with two chairs sat in the kitchen. 

The bedroom door opened next to us, and a skinny muppet with dreadlocks stuck his face out.  I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him toward Tim, who punched him in the gut.  It's funny, but you can always tell when a man gets hit square in the diaphragm.  All of his air comes out, and the look on his face says that he has just noticed parts of the universe he never really suspected existed.  Startled, like.  He collapsed, and Tim put a precautionary boot on his neck while White-boy Marley retched and tried to remember how to breathe.  I reached down and grabbed a pistol out of his waistband.

"Naughty", I said, "And cheap.  Where on EARTH did you get a piece of shit, broke-pimp gun like this?"

"Argle, wheeze..."

Tim checked the rest of the trailer, which was empty, except for some rather illegal and questionable-looking drugs on the table.  We grabbed the guy and slammed him onto the couch.  I sat next to him, and Tim stood in front of him.

"You feeling better yet?"  I gave him my friendliest grin.  He shook his head, and looked at my grin like it came out of an aquarium.

"That's okay, we'll wait.  You just nod your head when you feel like you can be useful to us.  And you DO want to be useful."

Mark stuck his head in the back door.  "Everything cool?"

"Yeah, just keep watch out there."

"Cool."  Mark closed the door.

Dreadlocks was looking a little more oxygenated, so I turned to him.

"The good news is, we aren't the police or some kind of federal agency.  The bad news is, we aren't the police or some kind of federal agency.  Do you understand me?"

Dreadlocks stared at me.  "Then who are you?", he wheezed.

"We are just working stiffs.  We're looking for a 15 year old kid who has gone missing.  He is the son of a very important man."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Lying.  Associate, would you please explain why I know he's lying?"

Tim slapped him across the face.  It sounded like a shotgun going off.  "We know you are lying, because his smartphone is here.  In this trailer."

"That love tap my associate gave you was a wake-up call.  Associate is an ill-tempered person,"  I said, putting my arm around dreadlocks' shoulder, "Unlike myself.  I am sweet and kind, and only want to know where the kid has gone.  If I find that out, you will never see me again.  Unless you lie, in which case you will grow sick of my face.  Now, why don't you tell me why his smartphone is here."

"He sold it to me.  He said he needed the money."

"Did he say why?"

"No, but there was some girl named Shannon with him."

"Tell me of this Shannon person."

"She was like him.  Loaded, right?  Doesn't belong around here."  His eyes darted around.  "I paid them $75 for the phone and they left."

"Lying."

Tim did some stuff.  Nothing permanent.  I nodded in approval.  Tim learned some control since our last meeting.

"Now, my little muppet, you will tell me all.  Think of me as a kindly uncle."

"You guys mob?"

"Shhh.  Just tell me exactly what happened here.  I will find out one way or the other, and the very last thing you want in this life is for me and associate to come back here.  I don't LIKE this place, and I don't want to come back.  That might in fact cost me my pleasant disposition and the majority of my happy thoughts.  Do you know which happy thought I'd have left?"

Dreadlocks stared at me and shook his head.

"You.  You would be the only happy thought I had left with which to console myself.  I don't want that.  Do you want that?"

Dreadlocks shook his head some more.  Tim leaned in with a very Teutonic deadpan.  "Talk."

"Look, the kid and the chick show up, I figured they were here to buy some weed.  He tells me his dad is a prick, like I care or something.  He tells me he's broken it off with his dad, never going home.  He was a regular, you know?  Only now, he ain't so regular.  He's looking to sell stuff for cheap, not buy product.  So I make a call, and the guys say party it up with him, get him loaded, they'd be by soon.  So I make like we're buddies, he and the girl smoke some weed, drink some beer.  I do a little rock, drink some beer.  After a while, the guys show up, and they take the kid and the girl, and they give me $500.  Never saw them again."

"They're going to whore them out," Tim said, "And I told you a girl would be involved in this."

I nodded, then looked at dreadlocks.  "Who are the guys?" 

He clammed up.

"I don't know if we've made ourselves clear."

"They'll kill me."

"Perhaps.  But that is another time, when you are another person.  Specifically, a person not looking at my associate.  See how mad he looks?  You ever see a guy look that mad with a straight face?"

"I ain't saying shit."

I sighed and looked at Tim.  "Why do they always make us do it the hard way?"

A half hour later, Tim, Mark, and I were in the car, headed to a shitty loser bar a half mile away.  I suspected that they would want to do things the hard way, too.

To be continued

[Eater of Clowns]

Mmm, corporate sponsored goons has such a pulpy yumminess to it.

[Doktor Howl]

Mmm, corporate sponsored goons has such a pulpy yumminess to it.

I've done far worse in prior jobs.   

But it does occur to me that I've become a bad person over the last 10 years.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

They always say that two wrongs don't make a right, but I kind of think that doing bad things to bad people may, in fact, cancel itself out.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I wouldn't want to apply that theory on any kind of larger scale,  mind you.

[Doktor Howl]

I wouldn't want to apply that theory on any kind of larger scale,  mind you.

Obviously.  There's some pretty awful history about that sort of thing, after all.

In this case, it went from "find angsty teen as part of the job" to "He SOLD the kids?"

At that point, pretty much all the fucks fell out.

[LMNO]

Your writing here is on point.

[Doktor Howl]

Your writing here is on point.

Thanks.

[Eater of Clowns]

Mmm, corporate sponsored goons has such a pulpy yumminess to it.

I've done far worse in prior jobs.   

But it does occur to me that I've become a bad person over the last 10 years.

I don't think so, but if I were you I would be on the lookout for those goddamn Hardy boys before they come for you.

[Doktor Howl]

Mmm, corporate sponsored goons has such a pulpy yumminess to it.

I've done far worse in prior jobs.   

But it does occur to me that I've become a bad person over the last 10 years.

I don't think so, but if I were you I would be on the lookout for those goddamn Hardy boys before they come for you.

Yeah, two 14 year olds in sweater vests would scare the poop right outta me.

But that's why I have a Tim.  Tim only fears being assigned back to Russia.

[Doktor Howl]

It occurs to me that I should develop a James Cagney accent.

[Junkenstein]

I read it with the voice of Richard E. Grant.

Works very well.

[Doktor Howl]

I read it with the voice of Richard E. Grant.

Works very well.

Who's he?

[Cain]

I read it with the voice of Richard E. Grant.

Works very well.

Who's he?

This guy.

[Doktor Howl]

I read it with the voice of Richard E. Grant.

Works very well.

Who's he?

Oh, right, thanks.

This guy.