News:

Your innocence proves nothing.

Main Menu

Rewriting the City

Started by Cain, January 29, 2006, 11:36:15 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Cain

:thanks:

Thats what happens when you leave it for several months and insist on a convoluted plot.

I should do an episode recap, a la 24 or something....

LMNO

Fuck that.  Make us do the work.

Cain

Lin was a rather unpleasant, stick thin man with greased back black hair and a generally unhealthy demeanour.  He also has that feeling of being an unthinking, purely calculating person.  In stark contrast to Congdon, the man downstairs.  I'm not sure which I disliked more.  Either way, he only briefly glanced at my faked transfer papers before assigning me to a job.

My first mission for the Matarese was simple: collect a package from an agent uptown and return it to base without inspecting its contents.  I shrugged on hearing this, it sounded pretty simple.  Until I was warned that I would be going through enemy gang territory in some areas, and may be found.  Still, when all was said and done, it was only courier work.  And once that was done, I would have some free time...which most of my current ,Äúcompatriots,Äù would use to indulge in the pleasures the organization had to offer, but I would use to try and get into Congdon's or Lin's offices. 

Broken glass crunched under my feet as I made my way though the streets.  The violence of the last few days had hit here much harder.  Shops usually had boarded up windows in this area anyway, but I was pretty sure the barricades (half demolished), burnt down buildings and occasional corpse or pool of blood was not usual, even for this lawless place.  It looked like the end of the world, in the horrible yellow light, with the abnormal protrusions extending from the psychotecture that, even alone, weighed unnaturally on the mind, evoking strange emotions.  Curiously, they make me think of lloigor, for a moment, though I immediately regret it afterwards. 

The curious deadness of the night is broken, along with my rather unhelpful train of thought, by the sound of a revving motor.  No end of the world tonight, I thought.  The citizens of the City should be so lucky.  I made my way to the end of the side-street, seeing the motorbike exactly where Lin's instructions said it would be.  The rider had on a helmet, so I couldn't make their face out, and had a backpack on.

,ÄúYo there!,Äù I called.  ,ÄúUm, hang on a second, the code is...uh, damnit ,Äúspider run,Äù.  Yep, thats it.  Can I have the package now?,Äù

The guy on the bike just stared.  He then said, very clearly ,ÄúCain, what the fuck are you doing here?,Äù  As he did, a rumble I had only heard in the distance started to get much closer.  The mystery motorcyclist must have heard it, too, because he whipped his head around and said ,Äúshit!,Äù  He turned back to me and said ,Äúlets go, now!,Äù 

I started to get on behind him and he shouted ,Äúno, on foot you idiot!,Äù  He jumped off as I did, grabbing the bike and pulling it to the edge of an alleyway.  He then ran to the opposite side of the street, beckoning me to do the same.  I dived in just in time, as a car made it around the corner.  It pulled up across from us, on the other side of the street.  I watched as the doors flew open and the bike was filled with bullets, along with the rest of the alley.  The doors slammed shut and the car was gone, gunning it up the street.  The entire incident had taken maybe 10 seconds, from dumping the motorbike there.

,ÄúFuck, that was a brilliant machine.  Bastards, every single one of them,,Äù spat the now ex-rider, next to me.
An idea struck me.  It had to be really, after all he knew my name.  ,ÄúWas it a correct motorcycle,Äù I asked, with a grin on my face.
,ÄúYou bet it fucking was.,Äù Machine Grind Dream answered.
,ÄúWhat were you even doing here,Äù I asked a few moments later, as we looked through the wreckage of the once brilliant and most correct motorcycle.
,ÄúCRSF business of course,Äù he said, somewhat shadily.  The Crucify Rod Stewart Foundation, he must have meant.  Ostensibly a charity organization, it fronted for any number of Discordian affiliated groups who needed a halfway decent cover.  ,ÄúWe were going to trail a Matarese agent, in order to locate their local chapter.  Ran by an evil sonofabitch called Congdon, a real nasty piece of work.  How about you?,Äù
,ÄúUm, yeah, about that.  I have some good news, and some not so good news...,Äù

LMNO

Dammit, Cain.  You're doing this so I write more LMNO-PI, aren't you?


Still, good stuff.

Shadowdaemon

Just finished and I must say really good work. Nicely written and a pretty intriguing story. I'm looking forward to more.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 06, 2008, 11:37:00 PM
Prisons are for those who cannot exist without preying on others.

Murderers, rapists, thieves, and Halliburton execs. 

Potheads?  Meh.  All they do is sit on the couch, eating Cheetohs.

Quote from: Cain on August 28, 2008, 11:05:57 AM
The Bible sucks hairy goat balls.  Awful writing, boring plot, nothing of interest whatsoever.  "Elia who begat Noah who begat Adam who begat Joesph who begat NO-ONE GIVES A FUCKING SHIT, THATS WHO."

trippinprincezz13

Finally finished after a few days of reading in between work. Disappointed when I realized I reached the end, but definitely looking forward to more. Nice work.
There's no sun shine coming through her ass, if you are sure of your penis.

Paranoia is a disease unto itself, and may I add, the person standing next to you, may not be who they appear to be, so take precaution.

If there is no order in your sexual life it may be difficult to stay with a whole skin.

Cain

Lin didn't even look up as I stomped back into his office, throwing the papers he had asked me to retrieve on his desk.

"Ah, I had wondered what was taking you so long" he said, while finishing whatever he was writing.  He picked up the envelope without ever raising his eyes above desk level and slipped it into one of his many drawers.

I had been mulling over my approach while he took his time in showing me how little I mattered to him.  Sarcasm, or straight out hostility?  It was so often a tough choice.  "Yeah, well, dodging bullets takes up precious seconds, I'm afraid."  Sarcasm it was.

"Is that so?"  He looked up briefly, assessing me.  "Well, you don't seem to have been injured, so maybe you have a knack for violent situations.  Funnily enough, one of those has just come up."  He briefly flashed a smile before returning to his usual neutral, slightly disapproving scowl.  Damn, I knew I should have held my tongue.  The Matarese, like any army, had plenty enough dirty work for those who were too disposed to backchat.

"A local businessman is behind on his payments to secure his property.  You will go along and remind him of his obligations to the Matarese."  He put his hand in the desk drawer again briefly, then took out a roughly cut purple circle, about 3 inches across and made of clay.  Throwing it to me, he said "present this to the owner.  You may have to get past his bodyguards first, but I'm sure you can find a reason."

Lin detailed to me more about the business in question.  It was a bar, on the edge of the Slums, well known for the rather dubious crowd it attracted.  As soon as he said the name though, I didn't need to hear any more.  As it turned out, I knew the bar rather well.  For starters, it was the main haunt of Radder.  Which meant no matter what else happened, I was in for a fight tonight.  But if I survived, came out of top, well, I wouldn't need to do anything more than present the Matarese symbol to the owner to convince him to pay up.  Who knew, perhaps the obese psychopath would prove useful for once in his life?

Lin had told me once I was done, I would be finished for the night and could either take advantage of the pleasures the slums based organization made available, or do whatever I wanted, so long as I showed up the next evening.  Just as well, really, since it would give me a chance to sniff around and perhaps even find evidence of Congdon's treachery.

I stopped walking as I came close to the bar in question.  Moving aside into an alley, I checked my equipment, that which I had decided to bring.  The pistol was in my waistband, a knife by my ankle, another in my pocket and a lighter.  The final one wasn't very useful, but you never knew when someone needed a lighter.  Useful icebreaker, at times.  And occasionally good at setting things on fire, too.

I patted myself down, straightened my clothing and made sure there were no unseemly bulges caused by becoming a walking armoury.  Looking good, I made my way in.  Stepping through the door, I went down the steps, past a few wild-eyed and high looking kids, until I made it to the entrance proper.  A bouncer put his hand in front of me as I tried to move in, as if to question me, but I simply glared until he backed off.

Immediately inside, the bar was obvious.  A few chairs and tables were scattered around, pretty much at random.  Not many people were actually in the main bar, they preferred the cellar below, where they had DJ's and a dance floor.   Every now and again you could feel the bass as you walked across the floor.  And off to the right, there was another drinking area set aside, with multiple pool tables, card games and another bar.  I suspected that would be where I would find Radder.

I have to say, I was feeling nervous as hell.  This wasn't how I usually played things, not at all.  Looking for trouble, purposefully escalating to the physical level, especially where there was no option of doing something clever like grabbing a friend as hostage or preparing the field well before my arrival...no, I'd rather not get into a straight, one-on-one physical fight.  I liked survival, it had a nice ring to it.  And survival meant, if you weren't built like a tank, thinking outside the box and playing it smart.

No chance of that tonight.

Slipping through the sparse groups of people, I noticed a much larger than average man at the pool table, playing a game.  So, Radder obviously had friends here, or at least people he was willing to have a game with.  I'd have to isolate them first, so it would be me on him.  Get everyone watching.  Well, it was now or never...

With an almost strained expression on his face, Radder prepared to make his shot.  He wasn't winning, so making this one was kind of important.  He pulled the cue back, breathed and concentrated, before smacking the ball.  The shot was true, but the ball he had been aiming for was no longer there, because I had scooped it up and was grinning on the other end of the table.

"Hey Radder", I said conversationally, "I think we need to have a chat.  I wasn't very happy about what you did to my flat."
"Cain?"  His voice was slow and deep, betraying his surprise.  Then he smiled back, evilly.  "You should worry 'bout your own legs more, I reckon."
"Why, are you going to leave them looking like a student doss house as well?"  That got a couple of laughs.  That's right, its between me and him, you all stay watching.  "Though of course, I doubt you know what a student anything looks like, do you, moron?"

He picked up the cue and rushed me, moving with a speed and grace one would not expect to see in a man of his size.  I grabbed a second billiard ball from the table and ducked under it, just as the cue whistled above my head into the nearby wall.  Spinning out and jumping up, I had to retreat as another vicious slash went through the air, nearly taking my eye out.  Originally, I had hoped he would come in close, allowing me to use the balls to crack his skull.  Big guys like him held some advantages in very close fights, especially against more slightly built opponents. 

I danced away from a third blow, the gathering crowd parting to allow us the space we needed.  There was nothing for it, Radder was taking the advantage and I was too attached to my knees to let him win.  Throwing one ball with a vicious overarm spin at his head, I used the distraction to pull out my pistol and duck under his wild, off-target blow.  Grabbing the remaining billiard ball and the gun , I cracked his nose and jaw, before stamping his foot.  His right foot.  After that, all he needed was a push.

Spun off balance, his face filled with blood, his foot broken, he fell down, breaking the cue as he fell.  He screamed, as the broken wooden weapon pierced his right arm, being forced up through the flesh by his own body weight and awkward fall.  I dropped the second billiard ball, took the safety off the pistol, and kneeled by the crying, bleeding Radder.

"Now, either you can give up now and never fuck with me again, or I can kill you here and now.  No-one will care, you know.  You're expendable scum Radder, just like me and everyone else here.  No-one will say they saw anything.  And no-one will bother to investigate."  I put the gun up against his temple.  "So, I suggest you fuck off, and leave me alone.  Or next time, I'll make sure you die.  Got it?"

Shaking, I put the safety back on and put the gun back out of site.  I had one more thing to do tonight, before I could get on with my real job.  I walked up to the bar, and placed the Matarese symbol there, in front of the barmaid.  "Tell your boss what happened tonight.  And to pay his bills."

I then walked out the door, back into the Slums.

Shadowdaemon

Awesome chapter. As always looking forward to reading more Cain.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 06, 2008, 11:37:00 PM
Prisons are for those who cannot exist without preying on others.

Murderers, rapists, thieves, and Halliburton execs. 

Potheads?  Meh.  All they do is sit on the couch, eating Cheetohs.

Quote from: Cain on August 28, 2008, 11:05:57 AM
The Bible sucks hairy goat balls.  Awful writing, boring plot, nothing of interest whatsoever.  "Elia who begat Noah who begat Adam who begat Joesph who begat NO-ONE GIVES A FUCKING SHIT, THATS WHO."

Cain

Thanks.  Now hopefully that bastard LMNO will keep up.

LMNO