Jump to content

Otaku Sin City (Mature Content Warning)


Recommended Posts


I sit around the house, waiting for Carrie to come home. I can't really say why of all times I decide to give a damn, but she's all I got left. All I have that keeps me sane. Keeps me from doing all those horrible things I did all over again.

11:15. She's late. Is she ok? She's got my spare, she should be fine. What if some scumbag snuck up behind her? No. Calm down old man. She's 17, she's gonna be late. Women are always late.

11:30. Still not home. I pace around the house, praying that I'll hear her come in the door. But nothing. Get a grip, Korey. She's probably running around with her little girlfriends. She's fine.

Try her phone? No. That's too overbearing. Why not? Just hearing her voice will be fine enough for me.

I dial the number, no answer. Voicemail. Damn. This isn't helping.

11:45, house phone rings. My heart jumps up. I'm hoping it's Carrie. But it's not. It's the dispatcher.

"Korey, there's a scene down near Old Town. Captain says you need to check it out."

My heart drops. No. It's not Carrie. Can't be. She knows better than to go to Old Town.

I race my old clunker down to the scene. Cops don't normally go anywhere near Old Town. The women are the law there. Unless you've got deep pockets, your badge doesn't get you anything but a sadistic grin. They've got more handcuffs than you do. Their backup will get there before yours does.

I have no idea what I was doing down there, but the ladies were all crowded around a mangled body.

"Eesh." one of them says, looking at the disfigured face.

It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her. Her clothes, if you could call them that, were all ripped to pieces. She had marks all over her body. She had put up a fight.

"Lawman, you really don't have to get invovled in this. We can handle any asshole that comes our way." One of them said.

"Well, you forgot to handle one asshole. Now you've got a dead hooker. Someone's sending you a message."

"Hey! Don't you talk about Carrie like she was just some other broad. She was nice, and all the fellas liked her."

"What did you just say?"

My heart dropped. Not her. Not my Carrie. She's too young, too pure to be one of the girls in Old Town. Now's she's dead. The only thing I had left. The only thing that was keeping me sane. Keeping from doing all the horrible things that I've done again.

Someone had cornered you Carrie, and then took you down. It wasn't a single guy either. No, you're too tough to be killed by one measly prick trying to get lucky. Someone knew who you were and where you worked. They cornered you and beat you down. Probably raped you, too. Then they beat your face in and dropped you on Old Town's doorstep.

Someone was trying to send a message. It was loud and clear. War was on the way. Blood was going to be shed. Women's blood. It was going to run like it did all those days ago when the Mob ran Old Town. They were on the move again.

I'm gonna get them back for you Carrie. I'm gonna send every last one of them to hell.

I love you Carrie.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Madame X had summoned me to her chambers an hour ago, but that summons arrived right before one of my richest clients had. Mr. Elais did not like to be kept waiting, so I always gave him top priority, and as much as Madame X liked me jumping when she said frog, this was a bit more lucrative in the short term.

And the best part? He always brought me some new outfit, pair of pretty lacy stockings, vintage lingerie, or new hairbow. Every time. I suppose the benefit of being a rich man's main squeeze outweighed some of the things he liked a little more than me. It wasn't that I couldn't handle the rough sex, it was just that some nights he grabbed me to him so hard, I was a little worried he'd leave bruises. But on the other hand, there were about half a dozen girls in the rooms around me that would come running in guns blazing if I screamed loud enough or knocked my tea set to the ground.

This evening I was crouching on my knees, holding up my skirt for Mr. Elais while he simply admired the view after the facts. Depo Provera wasn't my favorite method of birth control, but it was one of the most convenient. I rose to my feet and helped him slip his shoes on again at my door.[/i]

"Bye bye Mr. Elais! I hope I see you again real soon!"

"Oh you will sweetcheeks. You will."

[i]He slipped a roll of bills into the strap of my garter belt and I gave him one of my cutest smiles. Eventually, after a little pinch on my cheek (on my face) he was gone. I immediately dragged the sheets off my bed and dumped them in the hallway for the maid to pick up, shed most of my clothes, and summoned another maid for a sponge bath. Madame X didn't like her girls to come to her for a meeting smelling like another man's cologne, and while I couldn't blame her, I rather liked the smell of the Bvlgari he had been wearing. Redressing in a small white dimity, I tied a light pink sash in a square knot bow and reset my hair in crisping pins for tomorrow night's client.

Stepping out into the hallway, I navigated around clothing and made my way up the stairs to Madame X's very nicely appointed suite of rooms. Wearing just frilly white ankle socks meant that I could feel the cold stone floor under the carpet, but it also meant that she wouldn't necessarily hear me coming. She always did anyway.[/i]

"Come in Raiha."

"Yes Mistress."

[i]I slid open her door and knelt on the cushion she'd placed for me in front of her long low business desk. She put aside a stack of paperwork and snapped up the bills that I placed on her desk. Madame X counted them with a flick of her thumb, hardly needing to look, and handed two hundred back to me.[/i]

"I need you to go out with Cis and find an agent whose wandering Old Town looking for us. Apparently he lost the address. My sources tell me that he'll respond favorably to little girls. So you and Cis it is."

"Do we really want to be working with someone so forgetful?"

"When I said agent I meant mule. Just get out there before someone relieves him of the cocaine he's smuggling in his ass."

"I thought you said he likes little girls."

"To cuddle with, not to buttfuck. Pay attention Raiha."

"I'm sorry Mistress."

[i]She slid a photo across the desk to me and I picked it up and examined the image. He looked very pretty. In Old Town that meant most of the girls wouldn't try to get a piece of him, but guys coming in looking for a little fun might go both ways and try to get him. I sighed and placed the picture in a fold of my skirt. Then I waited while one of Madame X's maids removed the pins in my hair for me. Then I stood up and bowed. She waved me off with one hand.

I made my way downstairs and quietly slid open Cis's door. As usual she was with a very handsome man and he was parting the cheeks of her delicate, heart-shaped ass. And from the sound of things, he looked almost done. I gave Cis a meaningful look, which the man didn't notice, and walked back to my room to change my outfit into something a little less likely to get ruined outside.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[I][FONT=Franklin Gothic Medium][SIZE=2]Six weeks ago I decided to kill myself.[/SIZE][/FONT][/I]

[I][FONT=Franklin Gothic Medium]But suicide was too easy for me. I had to make it fuckin' complicated for myself[/FONT][/I] - [I][FONT=Franklin Gothic Medium]no sleeping pills, no noose hanging from the rafters, no razor blades slicing through the soft skin and arteries of my wrist, lying in a bathtub half-full of lukewarm water and my own blood seeping through...

Sorry. Mind tends to wander.

I chose to end it all by butchering seven of the Mob's best men. That kind of thing definitely buys you a one-way ticket to the grave in Otakusin City. There's more to the story than that, but right now I had other things on my mind.

Like the blood that was splattered across my tattered, off-white Converse All-Star sneaker. Or the bleeding man lying underneath said sneaker, his nose smashed back into his face, the cartilage shattered and the skin broken.

Like I say: mind tends to wander.

I met this guy coming out of his apartment. All I wanted was a little chat, but he took a swing at me, and that forced me to retaliate. He was quick, but with the amphetamines coursing through my bloodstream, I was quicker.

He groans and struggles a little as I grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw him back through the door of his apartment, hearing a crunch as he lands on the faded hardwood floors.

[B]"Riddle me this," [/B]I say, crouching down over him, twisting his head round, forcing him to look directly into my eyes, [B]"What kind of sick fucker does it take to kidnap girls off the street?"

"What are you talking about?" [/B]he replies, his voice muffled and gurgling through a mouthful of his own blood.

[B]"Fair enough. You want to play games? We can play games, you little jerk-off." [/B]I clamp one hand down on his chin, making sure his face doesn't move, and with the other I pull my H&K USP Elite out of my jacket, and force the muzzle into the bloody mess of his nose. This elicits a scream comparable to the sound of Godzilla raping a tugboat.

[B]"Let me ask you again: what kind of sick fucker does it take to kidnap underage girls off the street?"[/B] I find myself shouting this time, flecks of saliva flying from my lips, [B]"And I warn you - if the answer is anything less than "The kind that looks like me" I'm gonna take something a little more precious to you than your fuckin' nose." [/B]I take the gun and press it into his crotch, just to add emphasis.

[B]"Fine! Fine, the kind that looks like me!" [/B]he cries, thick tears streaming down the sides of his face.

[B]"Good. Now we're playing the game. Now answer this one: who put you up to it? Because I'm sure a whiny little bitch like you couldn't have set the whole operation up, could you?"

"N...no," [/B]he whines like the bitch he is, [B]"But I can't tell you. If I do then they'll kill me..."

"If you don't, I'll kill you. And rest assured, I can make it last a lot longer than they can." [/B]This seems to be persuasion enough to spill the beans. He breaks down and tells me everything he knows, and when the information dries up, he pleads to me.

[B]"Don't kill me, please..." [/B]he whimpers.

[B]"Did you give those girls a chance to plead for their lives?" [/B]I whisper into his ear, [B]"Did you let them ask you to spare them before you whored them off to whatever greasy fucker wanted them? Hmm? No, I didn't think so."

[/B]I pick him up again, grabbing tightly onto his collar, and haul him over to the window. It's a shitty apartment, so the window's sealed shut. I use his head to smash the pane, then throw him out onto the fire escape.

He tries to crawl away as I swing through the window myself, slamming my blood-soaked sneaker into his stomach as I do. I pick him up and wrap the washing line around his neck as he begins to struggle again, pleading and squirming, his voice hoarse now. I block out all sounds, and reel the washing line out across the alley. He's hanging now, his legs flailing wildly in a Gallows Jig. I watch, the rain splashing down over my hair, face and clothes, until he stops moving, his face now purple and blotchy.

I pull the small metal case out of my jacket pocket and flip it open. Empty.

I need to go visit my dealer.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[size=1][color=indigo][b]"So, sweetness, what say you to a bit o' mumbo in tha jumbo, ey??"[/b]

This puke-infested Guido has been following me for the last three blocks. Jeering and jarring not more than two paces behind and to the right of me. He was alone, which is odd to me; they normally travel in herds. I say "herds" because of their usually large size, and for this they remind me of cattle. Which goes into saying, they always need to be lead the way by their "Don" or "Boss". Never think for themselves, except when their cocks decide to perk up at anything female on two legs...or maybe even multiple legs, if they're desperate. Some of these cows even mistake a young male. But they don't like it when someone else finds out.

Just one more block. One more left. One more buzzing crosswalk. Then, we were in the district. My district. Actually, I guess I should say, the 12th Precinct's district. I was baiting my trap, and in a right hurry because my head hurt. My heels clicked and clacked, splished and splashed as I tried to trot across the street without being run down by an asshole in their jalopy of a car. My prey, followed loyally behind. His pudgy belly rolled over his way-too-small jeans. I heard the jingle of his tacky gold necklaces and bracelets and smiled.

[b]"Hey, little bitch with a tight ass,"[/b] he called, [b]"Maybe you need it loosened up. I can do that!"[/b] He gestured to his package, jerking as he said so.

I've finally had enough, and spun on my black heel, reached into my purse for the mace. He gave me a crooked, gaped-tooth smile. It took every ounce of self-control I have to keep from vomiting in my own mouth at the very sight of him. Sleazy, greasy, black curly hair. Uni-brow. A face that can't even be on radio, as it is covered with puss-filled zits or warts, or herpes. I took notice that most of these have made relatively large wounds--open wounds.

[b]"Listen, you fucking piss pot, I've got no patience for Guido's; especially for hideous mother fuckin' ones such as yourself,"[/b] I belted, debating whether I wanted to kick him in the groin and ruin my Prada pumps, or gun him down.

[b]"Hey! Do you have any idea who you're talkin' to?"[/b] he tried to quip a smile while thumbing his sweaty, hairy chest.

I decided to gun him down, but I really didn't want to put up with the repercussions. My night was already filled to the brim with "excitement". So I whipped out the mace and unloaded the vile substance into this scum's face. I imagine that the extreme stinging of the pepper burned more than normal on open, infected wounds. The man stumbled back abruptly, hollering and cursing me. The mace burned into his eyeballs and he soon became blind; not to mention each breath he inhaled, he took more of the mace into his fat lungs. Man, that pepper loves to absorb into mucus membranes and irritate the living shit out of it.

[b]"YOU FUCKING CUNT!! I'LL MAKE YOU FOR THIS!!! YOU'LL BE DEAD IN THE MORNING!!"[/b] he cried like a little fucking girl. I didn't even cry like that when I was little. [b]"You'll wish you'd been raped to death when we're done with you, bitch! You'll be pleading for us to fuck you with razor blades!"[/b]

Like this was supposed to make me shake in my shoes. I wasn't going to listen to this anymore. As quickly as he could sniffle up snot, I pulled a handy little butterfly knife out of my breast pocket, flipped it open and threw the five inch blade into his inner thigh. He wailed and attempted to grab at his leg. I love the femoral artery.

[b]"Newsflash for you, dickhead,"[/b] I tightened my leather jacket around my neck, [b]"You'll be dead in two minutes, if you're lucky. You see, you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. You're in my fucking part of the jungle! And you are going to die. So will the rest of your cockroach buddies."[/b]

He didn't even last 45 seconds. His heart was racing too fast, forcing all of his blood to drain onto the crackled pavement.

[b]"Just another day in the office,"[/b] I breathed, yanking the knife from the pile of flesh.

No one dared making eye contact. No one really bothered to look anymore. I continued my way, smoothly and with ease. Folding the blade with a flick of my wrist, I smiled at the "in the movies" effect of the blood whisking through the air.[/color][/size]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Bobby sat there crying the same tears I picture she's crying right now.

[B]"There a problem boss?"[/B] From out of nowhere that son of a bitch Botar appears behind Bobby. Botar was a merc, a low-life hitman. We'd met once before when he tried to cap my last partner, well I should say when he capped my partner.

He'd been pissed ever since I told Bobby that I set Craig up. I led him down the alleyway that Botar was waiting in, imagine your "good name" after people hearing you needed help on the hit. Of course he probably could've done it himself, but that wouldn't help keep Bobby from trying the same with me one day.

[B]"No problem here Bot man,"[/B] God how he hated that, [B]"why don't you get your ass out of here before more then me and Bobby know about Craig eh?"[/B]

He was fuming when he walked away. Though I had to give him credit, most muscle would wait until the boss said go before he did. But Botar wasn't only "muscle" like I said he's a merc.


The call came through from the dispatcher. Apparently one of Old towns girls had been killed; To make matters worse is was Korey's girl. Everybody in the precinct knew Korey's daughter worked old town, everybody had tried convincing her to stop. But once you're part of Old Town, you don't leave...ever.

I kick around the idea of going out there, Korey's a vetern afterall; and I haven't visited Old Town in quite awhile. Might be a lead on Sarah, the missing little girl I've been searching for. [I]"Don't worry Sarah, I'll find you. Whether I gotta bust every boss in Otakusin to do it in."[/I]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[i][b]"Haha, you're fucked now, Rurouni!"[/b]

The ugly black piece of metal in my hand came up and cracked the man across the face. As he toppled to the ground my handgun pointed directly at his face. The room was dark, not pitch black, but dark. light bounced off the sweat on my face and both blood and sweat on his. My breathing was some what erratic, a side affect of the adrenaline pumping through my blood.

[b]"Listen, and listen real good."[/b] I paused for a moment, collecting myself.[b]"You're going to tell your little "family" to quit following me and trying to take me out, alright?"[/b]

The man, who was laying on the floor with his limbs tied to a char reluctantly looked back up at me, his vicious smirk ever so visible even beneath the steady flow of blood from his nose and lip.

[b]"Little family?"[/b] He laughed. [b]"You're calling the mob little?! You yourself should know by now we're everywhere in this city, especially after all of out men you took out for those jerk-off cops."[/b]

I motioned forward one more time, my gun still pointing at him threateningly.

[b]"You're going to tell them if they don't stop gunning after me, I will cripple you. Do you under stand me?" [/b] He chuckled.[b]"I said do you understand me?!"

"What're you gonna do to us?"[/b] He laughed again.[b]"Now you don't have the protection of the government. You see, the only reason we couldn't kill you before is because you were with the Police, now you're free game."[/b]

I looked at him one last time. This was it! It was deliver the message now, and then leave. [b]"You didn't touch me back then, because you couldn't. The reason stands. Now, you're going to relay my message."[/b]

I walked over to him, helping his chair back onto its four legs. I reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellular device. I went to his 'Recent Calls', 'Received Calls' and called the first number. The person who answered was easily distinguishable as a mobster.

[b]"I'm at 244 Washington Avenue."[/b]

With a final press of a button, I put the call on speaker phone and set the man's phone on his lap. I then lowered my weapon and took my final steps from the building out into the streets of this cursed city.[/i]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[center][b]I: Wake-Up Without Whisky[/b][/center]

The moment you have a pistol floating in front of your face is an important moment of your life. Unlike what some people might tell you, life doesn’t flash you by. You don’t think of whether you turned off the gas or not. You couldn’t give a shit about the girlfriend you had in eleventh grade. All that is other crap. That’s the stuff that happens when the trigger is being pulled. When the gun’s right there in your face, it’s much more majestic. It’s the last moment when things can still turn for the good. Your stress level rises to a maximum, the adrenaline rushing through your veins like the wild water attraction you loved as a child. There is you, and the situation. Everything else is inanimate. Dead.

You could argue that there is only so much you can do, tied to a chair with a bastard who’s preparing to put some lead in your eye. Heck, you could argue a shitload, but all the while you’d still be stuck to the fucking chair, sure to die.

Unless the situation isn’t quite so new for you as the guys around you expect it to be.

[center]‘‘This is gonna hurt me a lot less than it's gonna hurt you, journalist fag.’’

‘‘I doubt that.’’


The smoke of the pistol didn’t take long before it rose up to the height of bullet hole. Right between his shocked eyes. The genuine “but this wasn’t part of the game”-look that almost makes you feel bad for cheating.

His buddies barely had their weapons drawn when the executioners weapon landed another couple of bullets that had my name on them, into bodies that were certainly not mine. I dropped the pistol and picked up one of the others guys' revolvers, seeing as they wouldn't be needing them so badly any more.

I could hear that the fourth fellow, who had been guarding outside of this warehouse thing, had come in to come look for his friends. He took so long, he was probably hoping I'd be gone already, so I'd prove him a favour and use the back door. Gives him something to tell at home.

My revolver was still lying where I left it, shiny and polished. Waiting for the day I start taking care of my life.

Maybe tomorrow. First, let's develop some photos.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I’m used to her being late; late in a variety of ways, and never in one that I’m fond of.

It’s just with the times as of late, with all of the blood on the streets, it’d make sense for her to be the next addition to the crimson mural. [B][URL="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/Reizou/1237257957656.jpg"][COLOR="White"][She’s][/COLOR][/URL][/B] a pretty girl, and one of the few girls in the city you couldn’t buy. Not only that, but people in her profession, “the nosy pricks” as most of Otaku Sin City called them, were always at risk of turning up in a trash bin. It pays well to be a journalist in Otaku Sin City, but sometimes the price to stay one is a little high.

I look down at my watch again- 1:25. She went down to Old Town a while ago to examine the recent expiration of a local girl... I heard the name Carrie thrown around once or twice. I didn’t know much about her, but judging by the word on the street and the commotion in Old Town, this girl was important to somebody. And more than likely that somebody would be out for revenge.

[B]“Exactly what this city needs,”[/B] I scoff. [B]“Another vengeance seeking figure like my brother. Hopefully this guy’s a bit more composed than Afro.“[/B]

Finally I see her car pulling up to the building. I can’t help but smile at the sight; my hand can loosen its grip around my Berretta now. The window curtain drops as I spin on my heel and head to open the door for her. I patiently perch behind the peep hole and wait for her to scurry up.

You might be wondering why I’m so eager to see her. Granted, I love Kelsey about as much as I love my brother, and if I could help it, I’d spend every waking moment with her. But tonight I’m desperate for her touch for another reason. Afro’s more than determined to find his wife and pummel… I mean interrogate her and her new husband.

There’s a good chance she knows something about Jasmine’s death, and that means Afro and I are going to have to pay her a visit. Only problem is, we don’t know where she’s made off to. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out for men with our connections, but it still might take days, weeks if we’re unlucky. I could leave all that in a message for Kels, but I think she’d prefer to hear it face to face.

[I]Knock. Knock.[/I]

I swing open the door, and the next minute her arms are wrapped around my neck and I’ve got my back against the floor. I kick the door closed and pull her in tightly; her cold lips feel great against mine. I roll over on top of her and kiss her again, intent on taking advantage of my limited time here. My lips brush her neck softly; I’m starting to forget why I came here. I hear her voice flitter down to me.

[B]“Someone missed me today.”[/B] We both chuckle at that, and I kiss her collarbone. I’m about ready to undo her shirt when my phone vibrates in my pocket. [I]Tch[/I]. Afro undoubtedly. I sigh and grab the phone. The message is short and to the point.

[I]Hurry up.[/I]

[B]“Is everything alright?” [/B]I look back at her and absentmindedly shove my phone back into my pocket. She looks great tonight, and I could stare into her pale eyes for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, my phone was burning against my leg; Afro had a way of keeping me on task. I kiss her forehead and answer her as I help her up.

[B]“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just Afro.”[/B] She smiles and takes off her jacket, then finishes removing her shirt for me. I glance down at my watch—1:45—then look back up at her.

Bra. Skirt. Heels. Fuck. She saunters over to me and presses herself against me. As if her demeanor didn’t reveal her intentions, her eyes said it all.

I’m shooting Afro when I get downstairs.

[B]“I’m sorry Kels…”[/b] The words are hard to get out through the haze in my head, [b]“but I can’t stay. Afro’s… A new lead on Jasmine… Going to be gone for a couple of days… Wanted to tell you in person.”[/B]

The look in her eyes changes to disappointment, but the look is there for only a second. She passionately presses her lips to mine and interlocks our hands. She’s afraid, like she always is, that I won’t make it back. That this’ll be the last time she sees me outside of a casket. She rests her head against my chest and speaks softly.

[B]“You’ll be careful, right?”[/B] I hold her firmly and gaze out the window, watching the rain strike against the glass. Of course I’ll be careful. But whoever wanted Jasmine dead wanted to hit Afro where it hurt. Jasmine meant the world to Afro… The only other thing Afro has now is me. You tell me; what are my odds of staying safe?

[B]“Of course, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.”[/B]

[I]I slam the door to the car and lock my seat belt in place, annoyed. Afro brings the car to life and drives off, not bothering to look at me once. We continue on for a couple of minutes in silence, until finally he decides to speak.

[B]“Sorry.”[/B] Short and to the point. That’s Afro for you.

[b]“No worries. You arrange the meeting?”[/B] Afro nods and tosses me a pad of paper. I look it over and nod back, then begin fiddling with my gun. We were after another information trafficker now, and chances are he’d be more prepared than old Nathan was. Doesn’t matter much. No one’s ever quite prepared for Afro’s brand of questioning.[/I]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

So I wake up in my crappy apartment on the out skirts of old town. I got a headache and an ich from last night. You got to watch out for those old town girls, they got crabs that could jump a mile.

I go and get some info from my guys about that dirty, stinkin', pig-of-a-fucking-cop Drizzt. Fucking going around town, bitchin about some lost girl or something, using my name as an insult! I'm going to give it to him, and i'm going to give it to him good.

So I go down to the gun shack, up town and get me some more info on Drizzt. The dirty mexican tells me he's always down at the strip getting protection money. I knew it, that fucking pig.

I finally hit a dead end in information about were Drizzt is, he's a sneaky bastard. So i'll just check the strip, my least favorite place, a scum bucket full of Hepatitus C and dirty old men.

I go in, and there he his, talking to the pig who runs the place. but i'm not about to make a sceen here, thats asking to be killed. so I take a seat and listen to what there saying. Drizzt want's more money, the head pig doesn't want to pay it, Drizzt stands up and says "Fine! I hope you get shot, or you're women raiped!" So the other pig says "Fine, i'll pay it." Then I walk out, completely disgusted in how he runs his business. I decide i'm going to watch him for awile.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Wearing all white, corset, boots, skin tight pants, and hair ribbons, Cis was a mirror for me, in all black skirt with flounces and tight petticoats. This might be the reason Madame X preferred to partner me with her, but at 24, she was slightly more savvy than me, and always capable of handling herself whereas I still had a tendency to be just slightly gunshy. Even so, everyone told me I was learning fast. I liked to believe them almost as much as I liked knowing that I had six dimebags of pure cocaine and two more of heroin stuffed in the side of my garter. Cis pushed her hair out of her face and examined the street signpost as we passed by.[/i]

"So what's this fucker's name again Rai?"

"Erum..." [i]I tilted the back of the picture to catch the flickering light from the street lamp.[/i] "Looks like a Jason Lee."

"Super. That's him."

[i]She pointed across the street in an alley, where the beautiful boy in question was getting on his knees for a tranny we both knew as Alex. I sighed and crossed the street with Cis on my arm, readying myself for what might be a confrontation of sorts. I saw that Cis had rested her right hand on her hip, a sure sign that at a moment's notice, she'd be reaching into her spine sheath to whip out one of her innumerable blades.

Instead Alex looked up just as Jason was getting down to business and pulled back immediately. He smiled nervously.[/i]

"Guys. Hey. Does Madame X have something for me?"

"Not you fucker. Our business is with that thing right there you were just putting your cock in. Now shoo."

[i]Cis frowned at Alex, who tossed poorly penciled eyebrows in an attempt to salvage dignity and hurried off, adjusting his miniskirt as he went. Jason looked up at us and I held out a hand to him, making a note to wash it as soon as we were within range of a clean bathroom.[/i]

"Jason, Madame X wants us to escort you back to the teahouse so we can retrieve our goods from you."

"Then I get some?"

"You'll get plenty. And possibly a shower and a manicure."

[i]Cis looked over Jason's bedraggled form and she sighed. Giving him a tug to keep him moving, Cis walked behind me and Jason, scanning the area around us at all times while I kept up a bright chatter of meaningless conversation as we wound our way back to the safety of Madame X's establishment.

One shower, one mani/pedi, and one thorough dressing down later, Jason was bent over at the waist, holding his ankles with both hands while Cis snapped on a latex glove and went to business. I patiently rolled a joint while Jason whimpered softly to himself and licked the side and folded it down. Good acquired, Cis immediately emptied out the packets, dumped them into a holding box, and swept the condom into the trash can along with the glove. She turned to Jason, who was having some difficulty with the buttonfly of his jeans.[/i]

"Now, go present yourself with this box to the mistress. If you sneak before she gives you some, I will tie you up and beat you in a thoroughly un-sensual way."

[i]He nodded obediently and shuffled off. Cis immediately went to the bathroom to wash her hands despite the fact that she had used gloves, and sat down next to me when she was done, smelling faintly of Clorox.[/i]

"Pass that over sweets, I'm bushed from dealing with this moon."

"Sure. Anything else for tonight?"

"We're expecting some people to come in. It's amazing how they know when we have fresh goods on hand."[/FONT][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

All I wanted to do was run. Run, keep running, and never turn back.

But now, more than ever, I needed what little protection he afforded me. Carrie had been murdered. Fucking murdered. She had been so sassy, but underneath I'd known she was sweet. Beautiful, hell yes. And good at what she did, to boot. I saw no shame in her eyes, only bitter resolve as she strove to make her mark on Old Town. Damned if she didn't do what she'd set out to accomplish. The only problem was, her mark was blood.

I watched in horror as it lay there on the concrete, eyes wide with terror. Her gorgeous, flame-red hair was matted and burnished dark red with blood. It seemed almost ethereal, that sight. I held my stomach down through pure force of will.

Then he looked up. Grey eyes, grey hair, but a look I could never forget - the look of a father in mourning. Mine had held the same look when I left with Andrew, and had never gone back. My heart poured out for him, but I knew that was a mistake. He was a cop. Andrew would never allow me to be taken away, and he would kill me soon as lose me to a cop.

I clutched at my bare arms, goosebumps rising on my bare flesh as a chill swept across me not bourn of the wind. I didn't want anything to do with this. I was in enough shit already. But he had seen me. He had seen the look I had given Carrie. He knew he would have to talk to me.

I turned and ran. Instead of away, I ran towards the last thing I'd ever wanted and hoped it didn't get me killed.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR="SlateGray"][SIZE="1"]Sometimes just walking down the streets and alleyways of this city tell you a lot about the inhabitants who live here. To the untrained eye, one would only see hookers, and killers. Thieves, and corrupt police officers. When, in fact, there are good, wholesome, innocent people living in this city.

These people don't like to leave their houses at night, and their kids never play out in the front yard. They lock their cars tightly in garages and the deadbolts on their doors can't be kicked in.

That's okay, though, because I'm more of a window guy anyway.

I silently crept up on a house. All black. No lights were on. In this city, that's almost asking for something bad to happen. I went to a window on the side of the house. A large pane window. I looked the sill up and down, and peeked in the sides of the curtains for a latch. I saw one. I began taping up the window where I would strike it with my elbow.

After I dealt with the window, I was in. I walked calmly through the house, trying my best to avoid the creaks in the wood flooring by stepping on carpeted areas. I checked all rooms on the first floor. No one. I went upstairs.

As I rounded the corner a light flicked on, and a door closed behind the occupant. It was a bathroom, so I continued on. The door at the end of the hall gave away it's importance. Master bedroom. I slowly gripped the handle, turning it slowly. The door opened, and I entered while closing the door behind me.

I moved slowly, tracing the contours of the furniture with my fingers. The room was warm, and there was an obvious musk of sex in the air. Naughty parents, the kids are next door.

I came upon the bed, my eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness and I fished the knife from my pocket. Without hesitation and, obviously, without mercy I ran my knife along the wife's throat. She began to choke on her own blood and the husband woke up to see what was wrong. I thrust my arm out and my knife entered his eye socket, and brain. He died instantly.

I spun on my heels as the door to the bedroom opened, and light spilled into the room.

'Mommy..?', a little boy said.

I started for the boy at a slow pace. He turned and ran, crying but I kept walking and let myself out the front door.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

I roll the cigarette in a half-hearted manner, barely melding the paper and leaf before lighting it and taking a deliberately slow drag. My pulse slows, the adrenaline settles in my veins, the fight or flight instinct satiated for the moment.

[b]“Puh…Please…Please stop”[/b]

He moans pitifully through a broken jaw and a couple of missing teeth. My hand is caked in dried blood, some of it his, some of it his friend who’s long since given in to the temptation of unconsciousness. A dull pain lances through the knuckles of my right hand, I nurse them thoughtfully granting a few minutes of reprieve that will hopefully give him the good sense to tell me exactly what I want to know so I don’t have to escalate the interrogation into something unpleasant. I don’t enjoy beating on low-level punks, too often they’re just punk kids looking for something to give their lives structure or meaning, bonds of familiarity they never had at home. If I could take every kid in this rotten city with a dead-beat parent who didn’t give a shit about them, toss them a badge and take them under my wing we wouldn’t have to deal with a quarter of the shit we do. But I can’t, so I have to inflict enough pain to break those bonds this kid’s made, and leave him right back in square one again. Lord I hate myself for doing it, but I love my own kids more.

[B]“Give me the name and it all stops kid, but if you hold out I’ll get the information anyway and everything I’ve done up to now will seem like nothing. Your call.”[/B]

Two steps. It takes only two steps in his direction before he breaks completely. Seventeen year old tears mix with the bloody spattered on his cheeks to form fresh droplets on his previously white shirt and the concrete basement floor beneath him. It’s analogous to Noah’s biblical flood, the tears come and just don’t stop; he blubbers and weeps telling me he’s sorry and that he never wanted into this kind of thing but it was the only way he could make money to take care of his alco mother who spends her days in a spirit-induced near-coma. I clench my jaw hard, keeping my self-loathing locked firmly down so I don’t soften until he’s given me what I want to know. I’ll drink to your pain tonight kid, I promise you I will.

[b]“The name kiddo.”[/b]

[b]“Lacetti…It…it was Ji…Jimmy Lacetti.”[/b]

Lacetti. That fucking prick. A little jumped-up nothing trying to make his name among the higher-ups by putting two of my kids into the ground, a rite of fucking passage as far as they're concerned. Off enough cops and you’ll eventually find yourself under the watchful eye of some Capo or wiseguy who thinks he has use for you. Not fucking today. You’re going into a grave Lacetti, you and every little prick and jerk-off I find around you are getting a one-way ticket to hell. As badly as I’ve beaten this little errand boy of yours I won’t lay a finger on you, no I’ll start with heavier punishment; blades, maybe a torch. You’ll scream for me you fuck, I’ll show you pictures of the men you killed and make you beg forgiveness from them, then I’ll slit your fucking throat and watch your eyes dull in front of me.

I walk over to the kid, he flinches, a fresh line of blood running out of the open round at his cheek. Old hands unlock the cuffs hold his wrists together. I snap my fingers for a towel and some water and dab the wounds I’ve inflicted on his face with a paternal gentleness and frown.

[b]“O’Malley, get this kid over to Doc Church to get him fixed up. I’ll pick up the bill later.”[/b]

The kid locks eyes with me, a strange expression, mixed fury, hate, shame, respect, awe, anger. He tries to stand up but can’t so I hoist him up on my shoulder. He doesn’t fight it, he’s not my enemy anymore and he knows it. O’Malley is already on the squawk-box to tell that fat bastard Church to get ready. Before he leaves I slip a blank badge into the kid’s pocket and tell him that when he’s ready he’s got a home here with a father who’ll beat the tar out of anyone who ever lays a finger on him again. I see him squeeze it as the door closes, I’ve got two men to bury but hopefully I’ve got a kid who can pick up some of the slack in the future.

Again I take a long, slow drag. Another shitty day in this shitty burg.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

"So Raiha, can I get some of that great weed off of you?" Said Botar wile down at Madom X's Teahouse. He was a regular there and had known Madam X for quite the time.
"Sure Botar, hows the search going?"

"Not so good, all though I do know one of his little potecties place."

"Well thats good, here you go." Raiha handed a joint to Botar.

"...Ahh. Thanks, thats exactley what I need right now, here's the 20 bucks. Hey, do you know anything about Drizzt?"

"Yeah, he comes down here once in a wile and asks about a girl or something, it's always about that damn girl."

"Alright, I'll be heading out now, take it easy."

"You too."

Botar headed back to his pad, and finished off the weed. He had been following Drizzt for now 2 weeks. "I can't stick my head in the police station, I can't go down to the strip for info, but I can go talk to Omega."

Botar has also known Omega for awile, but only as a regular at the gun shop. Botar heads down to the gun shop.
"Hey Omega! Hows it been?"

"You know, rough. It's Otaku Sin for christ sakes."

"You know anything about a cop name Drizzt?"

"Yeah, he hangs at the bar on Tuesdays, he's always down there on Tuesdays. It dosen't matter what the weathers like, he's always down there."

"Hmm, I guess thats were i'll be checking down there soon, it's the Crazy Larry's Bar right?"

"Yeah man, but be carefull, there's some guys down there that don't quite like the name Botar if you know what I mean."

"Thanks Omega, catch ya laiter."

"You too Bot man."

With the new information, Botar is one step closer to killing that fucker Drizzt. He heads back to his pad, gathers his guns and puts them in his suit, he's ready to find him, and kill him. The insults and slandering comments will stop. Everything is looking good for the hitman, Botar.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Not even after the meat wagon scrapes Carrie's body off the ground and carries her off do I start looking for leads. I question the girls, see if they saw anything. But apparently Carrie had the night off. They weren't sure though.

Dumb broads, can't even keep track of their own. Leave it to a bunch of women not to do a headcount.

My cell rings. It's Drizzt Do'Urden, a cop with the Twelfth. Dead Men Walking, they were called. Made sense, given how close they were to Old Town. The ones that weren't dead were just lucky. If you were in the Twelfth you had a bullet with your name on it. Just up to you when that bullet was fired.

Do'Urden gives me the sympathetic ear approach and lets me know if there's anything that he can help me with, to let him know. They may be dead men walking, but the Twelfth was always good for getting info from the criminal underbelly. Only because they were on the payroll.

I walk outside and lite up a drag. I'd been sober for three years. Carrie didn't like it when I smoked. Said it made the house stink.

No reason to care about that, I needed it to calm down, keep my head from pounding as hard.

Then I catch her glimpse from the corner of my eye. She looks straight at me, stares at me. Then it hits me. She was there at the crime scene. She seems outta place in Old Town. She is dressed like all the other whores, but her eyes give her away. She wants to get out.

Ain't no leavin Old Town. Unless it's in a meat wagon.

The girls keep watch over me like hawks. Ready to fill me with lead if I showed the slightest bit of defiance. I had overstayed my welcome. If I kept snooping, I was sure to find something.

But not what I was looking for.

So I make my way back to my old heap and decide to give the Dead Men a little visit.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I hang my cell up, Korey was taking it as rough as could be expected. I'd thought about telling him to be safe, and to get out of old town before the girls decided he was in their way.

Afterall, the girls in old town were the law. They solved their own problems, and did it hard. They had more guns then most mafia familes, and weren't afraid to die. But Korey knew all that, anybody who survived the force for any amount of time knew that.

I decide to go pay a visit to Lanny, my local snitch. 5 years prior I put him on my payroll...rather I keep his sorry ass in business and let him peddle his shit to the high rollers who enter Old Town. I'm still not sure how he hasn't been put down yet, Madam X and the other big name mamasans charge out the ying yang for weed and other...pick me ups.

Had to be hard to resist, sometimes the girls would tell johns straight up that if they didn't by the shit they were peddling they'd get no play, even after they'd already payed for it.

That's why I'm surprised Lanny's still alive. He peddles the same quality shit for half the price, that way John's get lit up before they go, or take it themselves.


I pull up at Lanny's, the lights were all on as usual. The kid had security that would make you think Fort Knox had reached it's max and they were using this as a secondary holding facility.

I walk up to the button and ring, knowing its me from his camera's Lanny answers almost instantly. "What do you want Do'urden? You know I don't like you coming here. Call me on my secondary line and we'll figure out a place."

I'm not sure why he bothers to play this game, he knows I'm getting in there, and getting in there now. "Oh...well I guess this dead girl in Old town doesn't worry you then huh? The girls paying people to snoop around, it'd be just horrible if info floated down about your little operation here. How much would you lose if even one of the madams decided you collect on what you're taking from them? Hmm doesn't matter to you though does it? Guess you don't want my help."

I turn as if I'm going to leave, but as quick as I turned around, the buzzer sounded and the door unlocked.

The walk up the 3 flights wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the smell. Vomit, a hundred different kinds of smoke, blood, all these smells invaded your senses as you went in. Lanny wasn't much of a housekeeper, and it was hard to tell how many people OD'd on their shit even before they got out of Lanny's. The stupid fuck just called a "cleaner" to get rid of the body, he didn't give a shit about anything else.

Lanny was a big man, and I don't mean muscle. He never left the building, and it showed. He weighed at least 400 lbs, and rarely even sat up except to eat.

"So what do you want Do'urden? Or should I say Dead'orden?" The joke didn't have the...amusement factor he'd wanted. "Word is, somebodie's been poking around, asking questions about you. Somebody who wants you dead. That info comes free, if you want to know anything else it'll cost you."

I slide a chair across from him, sit down and stare into his big eyes. "Not interested, what I am interested in is info on a girl."

Lanny sigh's just enough to piss me off. I pull my hammer out of my shoulder holster, a custom .45 mag revolver named her Jemma after my ex-wife, another fire-breathing bitch of death.

"I told you before, I don't know nothing about no little girl named Sarah. All I now is what you've told me. She went missing from High Town, and that's all I know." I whip him in the face with my pistol, not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough for him to know I'm not fucking around.

"I'm talking about the whore killed down in old town you stupid fuck. A cop's daughter, and I'm serious as fuck. If you don't tell me what you know I'm going to call him to come down here. He's a straight shooter too, well I'm sure he'll make an exception for your pudgy ass, probably put a bullet in your head. Trust me, I'll have seen your fat ass put up a struggle too." He closes his eyes and sighs again, apparently there is more to this then just a dead hooker...
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The outside greeted me coldly and harshly as I departed from the building. I reached into the pocket of my coat, pulling my black leather gloves out. It was freezing out! I pulled the collar of my coat over the bottom of my face, its false fur bringing what little warmth I had a little closer.

I readjusted my items, pulling my handgun back into my left hand. I knew it'd come in handy soon, things were going to get messy. With my hands towards my sides I took off at a speedy walk. My footsteps were the only audible sound in the night. The rhythm going back and forth. That peace was broken by the sound of screeching tired which were about a block away. Myself, I was a block from my original point.

I turned myself backwards, seeing the black sedan pull up. I broke into a run, but it was too late. Two of the four men were already heading after me, their suit clothed arms reaching into their jackets, pulling their Berettas and what not from their holsters; ready to shoot me down. After all, its their orders.

The chase was on.

Two muzzle flashes flared, each depositing a lead bullet into the atmosphere that traveled at thousands of miles per hour. My arm muscles roared as I launched myself over a fence and directly through a nearby house's window.Shards of glass sprinkled around my figure to the wooden floor. I headed for the stairs immediately; Jesus these guys were fast.

My senses perked up, and I dove to the ground. It was just in time for the house owner to appear in the doorway to his bedroom with a double-barrel. It's force rippled the air, and sent the two mafioso sprawling to the lower floor. I cursed, getting back to my feet and running the corner in time for the shotgun pellets to rip apart the wall. It was times like these, adrenaline in my blood, anxiety running freely in my mind, the feeling of possibility of death, it brought me back to the days with the government.

My mind snapped back to reality to find myself shooting through another window in the house. My right foot kicked up on the sill and launched me through the hole in the house's frame.

I pounded to the grass with a grunt, my legs buckled underneath my weight and I rolled, sprawled onto the lawn. Only for a moment, my reflexes worked at their best getting me back to my feet as I ran off, hopping my way through a couple of lawns before I made my way to a parallel street. And still, only one question raced through my mind.

[i]'How did he know I was with the Police?'[/i]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[size=1][color=indigo]From where I left the bleeding lard on the corner, I made my usual round of walking straight for three blocks; then I cross right, across Broadway Blvd and make my way home.

As if the filth of this city didn't ooze onto your skin, it had to start raining. Wonderful; I guess I could be happy that my shoes were closed-toe. Each corner I turned, each street I walked seemed to swallow the pedestrians that bravely trudged. Soon, I was the only soul left on the strip we named "Death Row".

You would immediately assume that the name was given due to some odd amounts of murders, or that if you were caught on this street at night you would be snatched and killed; or what have you. In actuality, we named it Death Row because this was the main drag that lead straight to the front steps of the 12th Precinct. My home. And probably, sooner or later, it would become my funeral home. Much like the rest of the crooked bastards that had become enslav--I mean, employed here. Granted, there were "good" guys at the 12th. Unfortunately, one fluffy bunny isn't enough to win over years of corruption and torment that the rest of the wolves have wreaked.

In any case, I never felt safer in the city than I do in that building. Scary, huh? Enough thinking, I tell myself. My attention had been plucked, to my left. I stared down the quiet side street. Well, it seemed quiet except for a very faint cry of a child. I look down at my watch.

[b]"3:27 in the morning,"[/b] I softly groaned. I knew better to mind my own business, and started walking once again. I pulled out a small bag of pretzels from my jacket pocket and stuffed one of the mini snacks into my mouth. I should've ate before leaving the club.

The cry sounded again, more hysterical and shrill.

[b]"Damn it all!"[/b] I scoffed, tossing the pretzels into the nearest garbage bin, and trotted lightly toward the cry. The street was still. No cats, no stray dogs, not even trash fluttering in the slight breeze. Pretty eerie, I shudder. Slowing to a quick step, I reached into my jacket to pull out my knife once more. I should grab my 9 mm from the thigh holster under my skirt, but I didn't want to wake the neighborhood....not yet, anyway.

I saw the house. The only one on the street with a light on. The front door swung open to spit out a figure I could not make out. It was male, and his body language suggested he was satisfied with himself. He took a few steps that, to my relief, took him further away. His back was turned. I slithered back to find myself against a tree. I held my breath and looked back the way I came to map out my escape. Now, I would like to say I went on my merry way without being spotted--and normally, I would. But at my feet was a fucking chihuahua mutt. Of all fucking nights, the worst animal in the world had to take a piss and spotted me against [i]his[/i] tree.

I tried to hold still, but the little shit started growling and yapping. My heart froze and I quickly turned to see the man pause and spin about. Now my heart was running for cover in my stomach and I decided to break for it....before punting the ankle-biting dog. My heels splashed and clicked on the concrete and puddles. I briefly allowed myself to look over my shoulder to see my pursuer quickly gaining ground.

What seemed to take hours, I rounded the corner and got a hold of some speed on the smoother sidewalk. I was just two blocks from the Precinct, but I couldn't allow myself a hope with heavy footsteps beating the pavement just three feet behind me. I wasn't going to make it, so I stopped abruptly and spun around. I pulled my arms to block his fists and fall on my back. Instinctively, I rolled into the street to avoid a heel to the face or stomach. I jumped to my feet with my blade shining in the light.

[b]"Listen, pal, I don't have anything on you,"[/b] I breathed, still unable to make out his face. He paced tangoing with me, long lanky arms swinging playfully at his sides. His shirt dirty, I think splattered with blood.

[b]"It's not my fault you have bad timing, and a terrible way with animals,"[/b] he almost laughed at his lame wit.

[b]"Yeah well, none the less, I don't know you. You don't know me. What happened in that house is your business, and I'm not a nosy bitch"[/b] I didn't have a way with animals, but I could lie a great deal.

[b]"What's a shiny thing like you doing out at a time like this,"[/b] his arms outstretched, I saw the blood glistening under the dim street lights. And I caught a glimpse of his--oddly familiar--face before he rushed me and slammed an elbow against the right side of my face.

Stunned, I shook my head slightly to make sure I was still conscious. The tops of the buildings were above me, so I must be on the ground. Rain tickled my face and suddenly stopped as he crouched over me; one leg on either side, his groin close to my stomach. He twitched his head this way and that, eying my face. He leaned in close to my face, his arms propped on his knees. I felt his fingertips grazing my rising breasts.

[b]"What are you waiting for, hm?"[/b] I smiled, I didn't even recognize my deep voice.

He said nothing. With a swift jerk, he leaped from my body and disappeared into the shadows. I lay on my side in the street, letting the blood drain from my mouth into the trash and dirty water trying to find a path around me and into the storm gutter. [/color][/size]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR="SlateGray"][SIZE="1"]The buildings on either side of the streets seemed to pass by me at an unusually quick pace, so it would seem that I was walking faster than usual. My heart was beating a bit but I couldn't figure out why. Tonight was like any other night, complete with a little murder and some decapitations for good measure. The girl. Must have been the girl who tried to ghost me. Why didn't I kill her? I've killed for less.

With one hand lazily in my pocket, I brought my other hand to bear on my chin. I started thinking hard. Which, let's be honest, isn't something I normally do.

'Who was that..?', I asked myself. She seemed familiar, yet so much like the other filth that inhabits these decaying streets at 3 some in the morning.

I passed under a street lamp and for a split second I felt as thought I knew who she was, while I was the black silhouette on the white canvas that the street light created but the thought faded as I quickly started to cross of the list of 'whos' in my mind.

'I've never had a girlfriend, or a wife so it's not that. I don't fuck hookers, so it's not some bitch I've stiffed out of a sweaty 100 dollar bill..', I kept thinking aloud, like it would help me to remember. There is definitely a significance to her if I didn't immediately run my blade from her belly to between her tits.

I apparently had bumped into some cholo drug dealer on my way home. He didn't like that, it seemed. He yanked me around forcefully, I might add, which knocked me out of my daze and pushed me back into the real world. I wasn't happy. Before I realize it, however, I'd been surrounded. Never a good position to be in.

'You know, holmes.. It's a little late for your pasty ass to be out. Especially on my corner, and especially without saying sorry for bumping into me.', he cracked his knuckles and affixed what appeared to be knuckledusters.

'Fuck you.', I spat, spinning on my heels to launch a vicious punch at the thug behind me to my right. Immediately I turn around and catch the cholo's fist in my arms, and with a quick spinning jerk I snap his forearm like a goddamn twig. His buddy begins to get up and his other pal leaps foward. I swing the guy around as the second friend of his launches a wild haymaker but instead of finding purchase on the side of my head, the cholo gets it in the back of his. I draw my knife.

'Waste this motherfucker!', the leader yells while grabbing his arm.

I turn and there is a pistol in my face. Semi-automatic. .45 caliber. More than enough to blow my head clean fucking off. I watch the expressions on the shooters face. He was clenching his jaw, and his other hand was trying to keep his broken nose from moving around too much. He brought his finger down from the side of the slide, to the trigger slowly.

'Any last words, you son of bitch?', he was acting cool now.

'Say goodnight.', I was sounding cool now.

I ducked forward as the gun fired and launched myself at the shooter. We were on the ground, but my knife was in his heart before his heels even left the pavement. I reached down for the gun and brought it around to two fleeing figures. Two shots, they both dropped. I stood up and eyed the gun for a second before throwing it away. I knew I was good at killing but this takes the cake. That goddamn girl. It's like she's bringing back a part of me I didn't know was there. Goddamn her.

I continued on my way home.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[b]II: Scratch of the needle[/b][/center]

The needle lifted from the vinyl just in time to reveal the sound of feet shuffling at the other side of my door. One pair of feet, dancing to the rhythm of anxiety, exchanging the previous music with a silent symphony of insecurity and fear. If it were any other record I was just about to play, I would probably leave it and find out who was in the hallway first, but a man won’t put a Sinatra record back in its sleeve without having at least one song played. A real man, that is.

While the needle figures its way to the first notes, I make my way for the door. The revolver stayed at the table, as always. The tread outside was of young feet and after the other day’s little adventure, I would be way too rusty and tired to outdraw any determined youngster anyway. And like Frank was singing across the room: “That’s life.” What a life it is.

I moved my hand towards the doorknob and from that moment on time seemed to either go extremely fast or freeze completely.

Somewhere between the first and the last notes of the record, I found myself caught in a dream, embracing an angel, holding her warm body to mine and stroking her light brown hair, while whispering promise after promise.

Somewhere between the last notes and the sound of the needle releasing itself, life kicked back in.

Dreams have a way of breaking into pieces, like the promises you make yourself and everyone you care for believe in. And it hurts like Hell. It’s like life laughing in your face for being such a fucking idiot to believe in any of it. To believe in anything at all.

The impact did not come as a surprise. It came as the ‘fuck you’ that I had been waiting for, for all this time. The bullet, that was meant to kill me instantly, had gone through the girl’s shoulder and ricocheted off my chest. It was the same bullet that had made the rifle jam long enough for me to pull the girl out of the line of fire and reach for my own peashooter. Either the assassin had been having bad luck or I had been having tons of good luck, but this time I did not want to test it. It still wasn't my time, even if I wanted it to.

I shot a few shots to get him out of sight and made it for the lass who was still lying on the floor, some feet away from the table, to help her up. Remembering the pistol in my pocket, I quickly put it in her own pocket while firing a random shot towards the door.

Then I tossed ourselves out of the window.

It’s like life laughing in your face for being such a fucking idiot to believe in any of it. To believe in anything at all.

I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe so badly that my dreams came true and I was holding her in my arms - even though she was smaller, and hadn't aged a day - that I would’ve willingly taken the bullet to the heart. But that would have been too easy. Once again, she took the bullet instead of me.

Dreams have a way of breaking into pieces, like the promises you make yourself and everyone you care for believe in, and just like glass windows. And it hurts like Hell.

But this time I'll bite through the pain.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE="1"]You would think this city is all consuming, by the way it just seems to envelope all of the people who live in this place. But, its actually the other ways. The people have taken over this city, and have devoured its very soul. Well, that's what I like to think about what I did to this place. I know I didn't make thins better for anyone by being the one to deal weapons to some of the major crime lords of this place. I don't regret it one bit, business is business and I learned a long time ago that you never mix business with your personal life. When that happens, things get overly messy and too much attention gets drawn your way. You can't even bribe enough cops to turn their heads on that one. That's where my mistake began.
"Afro, why are you driving so fast?"[/B] All I can do is focus on the road, my vision so concentrated that everything around me starts to fade away from existence. We had another informant to meet today, but we also had a business dealing as well. I was tearing myself up over the choice, but, to honor my daughter and her innocent soul. I decided to go do business, I know she hadn't recovered from the last person I killed and I needed to give her spirit time to heal. Several blocks before I should of, I turned. I saw out of the corner of my eye as Omega grabbed on to the oh shit handle. His face showed the surprise.
"Afro where are you going?"[/B] He screamed at me, fear wasn't what came out with those words. It was pure anger. He didn't understand what Afro was doing or why he was making this sudden turn.
"I'm attending to some business."

"What the fuck are you talking about? We have to go talk to this 'informant' or we will have to keep looking for Jasmines killer."[/B] I took my eyes off the road to look at his face, he saw my usual cold expression, but in my eyes he saw the pain was experiencing by making that single left turn.
"We need to do this deal. You remember the rules father taught us?"[/B] Omega nodded his head.
"Never mix Family and Business. Things get messy and trouble always follows."[/B]
"Exactly, and someone has brought her into our world to break that rule. We need to handle this deal or else we'll be killed pretty quickly my brother. We can't afford to just drop all of our business and just chase after the being that did this."[/B] Omega couldn't really say anything, for one he wasn't driving and two this whole revenge business was Afro's idea and his goal. I never really asked him what he thought, but that really didn't matter. We were gonna do this the way I wanted to do it. We pulled up to the warehouse and hide our vehicle, we were about five minutes early, it gave us time to check the merchandise and make sure everything was working in proper order. They arrived a few minutes after we had just finished our inspection and out illegal workers started to load them.

They were men in business suits, ones that didn't understand the word honor. But that wasn't really my problem; it was all about keeping the business strong and never letting anyone get close to my family again. They had showed up in their fancy limos and armed guards that was bad manners to me to bring armed guards. I hated armed guards more for the fact they provided more of a problem if the deal went sour, and when they had guards they always assumed they could set my prices. That?s what really strikes a nerve for me, when my clients think they can set my prices. I?ve killed every single man who has ever tried to do that to me, I always let some of his men go so that they could warn others of this. I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my hand rolled cigarettes. I?ve always been a little paranoid about people poisoning my tobacco, so I grew it myself and have it processed at my own company. I roll them myself to make sure there is that much less tampering. Lighting it up was always the worst part, that acrid smell of the tobacco burning and the paper catching. After that first drag though, it was pleasant and rather relaxing.

I stood beside Omega while I waited for these clients were getting ready to negotiate with me. I made sure to rest one arm on my sword. Ah, yes. My sword, the only arms dealer in the world who carries one probably. Ever other dealer probably has an arsenal of weaponry under his shady trench coat. I wore my clothes for a reason; it put some people at ease, and made others completely confident I wasn?t hiding anything. It?s almost gotten me killed a few times, but, they never suspect I have a desert eagle tucked away right behind my shirt. It?s easy to grab it, and I always feel like a generic punk gangster when I have it there, but it?s more for convenience sake rather than looks. When I noticed they were finally ready and coming into reach of not only my Eagle, but of my blade as well, I knew these guys were new to my style of business dealing
?Anything in particular that?s got you boys interested??[/B] I said as small wisps of smoke leaked from my lips. I blew it out upward, it was rather rude to blow it in the faces of clients that hadn?t lost your respect yet. All they did was nod at me really, with a sort of excited look on their face and bright eyes. They walked over to one of the many crates we had and one of my workers popped the top off. Revealing M60 machine guns that were all neatly lined up and nestled into their little home.
? 2 grand per unit. Non negotiable.?[/B] Their faces got kind of a sad when I told them the ?non negotiable? part, it was the way I ran business and everyone I the city understood this. Supply and demand worked well, as long as no one else was screwing it up. There were plenty of dead and jailed Arms dealers I either killed or had put away myself. When you tamper with the politics of the business, bad things happened to you. The odd business men had huddled up into a weird circle, discussing the prices. All I really could do was look at Omega and give him the signal. He was suddenly ready to do pull out one of his many weapons and probably kill all the guards before they managed to even get a shot off. It would put this whole deal into perspective for these men. They finally came out of their gay circle and one of them stood before the group. He had a stern face and dark hair with a shot of gray going down the right side of his head. He wore a pretty typical suit and held his nose in the face; as if he was better than me. We would see how he was when prices suddenly go up cause of his smug attitude.
?We?ll pay 1 grand per unit and per ammo box.?[/B] Omega let out a chuckle at what the man said, my face had grown harder from what he said, I adjusted the rolled cigarette with my lips and tongue. I shifted very so slightly so my stance was better if I need to draw either my sword or my gun.
?You must be hard of hearing. I said 2 grand per unit, Non negotiable. Ammo boxes are 800 per box.?[/B] The guy put his hands on his lapel and tried to intimidate me with his stare and hard face, I simply returned the favor as I had to look down at him.
?No, let me re phrase the statement. You?re going to give us these weapons for 1 grand per unit and per ammo box.?[/B] Omega saw it in my face and my sudden posture change. During deals I usually slouched a bit because I didn?t care for my customers. He saw me stand up straight and look down at the snotty business man.
?You obviously don?t know how business works here in Otakusin City. It?s about time you learn. Omega, go.?[/B] All that anyone knew had happened yet was several loud bangs went off and bright flashes appeared. And as quickly as the noise and flashing started, it ceased and it was dead silent. The suits had all ducked for cover; I just kept my eyes on the man who was telling me how to run my dealings. The one that had the snotty attitude stood up and brushed his lapel off.
?You missed.?[/B] I simply gestured with my head for him to look behind him and then to his sides. He looked and the expression on his face revealed the utter shock and horror. I simply grinned at him as all his guards lay dead on the ground. All of them had a head shot, but some were filled with bullet holes as well. He looked at me, his eyes wide and full of fear. That?s what I had been looking for, that fear of what we were capable of.
?My weapons, my prices, my rules.?[/B] Like I said earlier, I killed every single man who tried to adjust my prices. Before he even had a moment to think of his retort, my blade was unsheathed and already coming out of the other side of his neck. He stood there for a few seconds, his eyes still blinking, his mouth moving but nothing coming out. He reached up for a second and then his whole body went limp and he fell to his knees. The shock from his knees hitting the ground caused his head to slide forward and roll away from his body. I sheathed my blade and looked to the other suits.
?Oh many units are you looking for??[/B] Business was business. And the moment that deal was done, I had my boys clean up the mess and then we were off. I drove far faster then I should have, we were only about twenty blocks away from where we had just killed about six or seven people. Keeping count wasn?t all that important to me. We pulled up to the shady apartment building and parked the car. All I could really do was staring at the building, all I could do was hope this would lead me somewhere. Somewhere that brought me closer to the person who called on the hit for my daughter. I just didn?t want to move, it was a hope I didn?t want to shatter again. But, I would, since it was for my baby. The only one I had before she was taken from me. I opened the car door and we walked to the Apartment building. My next clue was in that building, and I was going to find it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]OOC: I hope this is up to your standards Korey[/SIZE]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

  • Create New...