OT: A Few Minutes After One

[Einsider]

This is a non-PR fic, so don't be surprised if you're reading it and power rangers don't appear!

There are a few rude words and adult themes running through it so it's a 16+

Enjoy!


A Few Minutes After One


Chapter One

Gabriel Denton:

Like a city in a dark, futuristic novel, New York loomed before me: a heaving mass of evil and foreboding. I arrived at Celina’s a few minutes after one. A few minutes late but a few minutes can be a whole eternity in the game I play and in that eternity people die. Leaving more empty cartridges, more blood and another dead-end lead. Rain has ravaged the city for the last few days. I can hear voices in the tapping of the rain on the ground around me. Voices of the dead. Maybe they’re crying and the rain are their tears? But they’re not crying for me. Dark houses stand tall around me, from a few windows light still shines, like giants staring into the night. Most people are asleep. And even those still awake won’t stir if they hear a noise. Nighttime in New York is a dead time. For many it doesn’t exist. They don’t hear noises outside their safe windows, no more than if it was a noise in their dreams. But for me it is only a nightmare and a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Street lamps line the road, some flickering from old age and some not lit at all. As I smoke what could be my final cigarette I bathe under the orange glow of the streetlamp outside the apartment I could find a dead body. Celina’s body. It wouldn’t be the first time that one of my leads has wound up at a dead body, and I’m not the squeamish type, but Celina meant more to me than just a lead and I didn’t want to know if she was dead or not. Sometimes not knowing is better. Time crept on and I extinguished my sodden cigarette. Heavy rain still thundered around me but the summer heat prevented any shiver. As I neared her door a cold chill ran down my spine anyway. I knocked on the door. Three bangs like gunshots echoed in the quiet night. In the distance a police siren returned my call. No reply. Three more bangs but the door stood firm, denying me access, laughing at me.

Shit.

I slipped another cigarette into my mouth and attempted to light it but the wind and the rain prevented it from catching. I heard the door click as its lock slowly opened and it creaked slightly as she opened it. Celina.
“Hello Gabe.” I stood in the rain, water already dripping off my cigarette. I must’ve looked like crap. Felt like it.

“Hello Celina.” We stood less than three metres apart. Neither knowing what to say nor wanting to break the silence. Then she ran to me and threw herself into my arms. We kissed in the rain.

“Gabe,” she stammered between kisses, “Gabe, I thought you were dead.” I kissed her back.

“Not yet.”

Taking her hand I walked into the ground floor apartment. I fell onto her couch glad for the dry. Glad for the rest. My brain felt burnt out, it ached with thought. “Every time I get close to finding out the truth all I find is another dead body and the end of a trail. Now the trail has lead me to you.” I looked up at her from the coach. In the dim light I couldn’t see her eyes but I could feel them training on me. “The trail has lead me to you… and you’re not dead.”

She smiled at me. Her teeth shining pearls against her black silhouette. “Not yet.”

I stood up. Standing about five inches taller than her I could now stare down at her. Give her the dark-eyes treatment whether she wanted it or not. “I know where it leads from you, Celina. Your brother was the one who called the hit. Thomas betrayed me, Celina. I need you to help me get to him.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m sorry Celina.” I was sincere. I was sorry. Sorry that I had gotten her involved; sorry that I was deceived by her backstabbing half-brother; sorry that so many people were now dead. There’s a lot I have be sorry for. But I have no time to ask for forgiveness now. That will come after I’m dead and I’ll explain myself to God when the time comes. If he even cares. Maybe I’ll ask for forgiveness but I probably don’t deserve it. Right now I needed to find Thomas and I needed him dead.

A police siren rang closer, maybe just in the next street. Celina froze up for a second. “You scared?”
“Gabe, I’m always scared nowadays.”
“Scared of me?” I waited for her reply. None came. The police car turned up the road towards Celina’s apartment. The siren died away and our conversation was once again only in company of the rain outside. As the car passed the house it did not stop but the headlights caught her window and the rain glistened like pointy needles of glass.

“I can’t help you. Thomas would kill me.”
“I’ll make sure he won’t.”

“I’m sorry Gabe.” I didn’t believe her.

“He betrayed me Celina, Andy’s dead and it’s just by luck that I’m still alive now to tell you.” I could feel the anger burning inside me now. I needed retribution and my only path to it was being refused to me.

“You should go now.”

“I’ll find him Celina, and I’ll kill him. I’m sorry he’s your brother.” The words hung in the air and quickly turned stale. She repeated her words and I walked to the door. I opened it and stepped off the threshold into the night. The rain had died away but a cold wind had taken its place and gave me a reason to shiver. The city looked darker than it ever had before. I passed her a slip of paper with a number on it.

“My cell. You change your mind… call me.”

She took the paper from me and shut the door. I could see goodbye in her eyes even if she didn’t say it. Turning away from her door I pulled a cigarette from its box. The lighter sparked but the flame still wouldn’t catch. I placed my back towards the wind, shielding the lighter. The flame caught and I lit the cigarette. I exhaled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air and watched it get quickly scattered by the wind. My trail had ended again but at least not at a body and luckily not Celina’s. I heard the door clicking again from behind me, and the creak as it swung open. Maybe she had changed her mind; maybe she wanted to help me.

Maybe I was deluded.

I was right.

I heard another click. It was a familiar sound. Spinning and ducking, a bullet missed my head by inches. Pulling my gun I fired at my would-be murderer. Three bullets caught Celina in the chest. She was dead before she hit the ground. Lightening flashed across the sky and rain shortly followed like a sheet of cold. As I stepped over her body, thunder roared and glass panes in the surrounding buildings rattled. I looked around; nobody had reacted to the gunshots. People could be phoning the police from their houses but I knew the city and I knew its people and I’m sure that many had not even stirred.

I couldn’t leave her out in the rain. I pocketed her gun and lifted her body over my shoulder. Placing her on the couch, I kissed her once more. My goodbye. More lightening, more thunder.

I lived here once. A long time ago. With Celina. This was a happy place then. Now it was only a place of misery, of darkness, of betrayal and of death. This wasn’t a place I wanted to be anymore. The air felt heavy. Maybe it was just the humidity.

Time to go now.

I hadn’t shut the door when I walked in and it was flapping in the wind. At the door I didn’t bother lighting another cigarette but as I closed it I took one final look back at her. Something in the house stirred.

My imagination.

Then I heard another familiar click. My reactions were slow, dulled by the murder I had just committed. I heard thunder and a bullet cracked through the door catching my ear. I fell to the ground and the second bullet missed me. I couldn’t find my gun. I had dropped it and it bounced four feet into the street. Wiping the blood out of my eye I scrambled for the gun.

Another bang and I felt a bullet hit between my shoulder blades. I fell to the floor again. In arms reach of my gun. Another two bangs sounded and I felt the warm metal in my back. I felt dead. I had no strength to lift my gun. A foot kicked the gun away anyway and I was turned onto my back.

Thomas was standing over me, gun in hand.

“You were never even close Gabe. I was always one step ahead.” He fired a bullet into my stomach. I screamed. Maybe someone would hear the gunshot or my screams. Maybe someone would phone the police. I knew they wouldn’t though.

“I didn’t think you’d kill Celina though, that surprised me. But shit happens.” He fired his gun into my stomach again. I saw headlights appear at the top of the road, coming towards me. It was a police car, maybe the same one that had passed the house earlier. “I’ve got to go now Gabe, I’ve got a lot to do.” I screamed for the police, shouted for help. Thomas fired another bullet into my stomach, “Don’t bother.” The police car pulled up beside us and Thomas climbed in. “Goodbye Gabe.”

The car drove away. The cloud filled sky rained on but the lightening only flashed in the distance. I couldn’t hear the thunder anymore. I lose the energy to scream and breathing is difficult. Slowly I feel myself falling unconscious. The world starts going darker. The bullets in my back feel like they’re on fire. Like they’re burning. But maybe that’s just me. The pain is unbearable but I assure myself that it will all go numb soon. I lose vision completely. I can’t hear anything anymore except the pattering of rain and the voices of the dead. I give up and wait to die.

Like every other lead, I’ve ended up at another body.

[[]V[]etal []_ion]

WTF?!! MOD close this down!
Lol joke!
Awesome man, love the narrative style. Really reminds me of a blend of Sin City and MAx Payne, with elements of Fight Club. Really keep this goin man.

[Einsider]

Chapter Two

Richard Smith

For months I have been searching for the one person who would give me my next clue. Searching for the one person who could help me makes sense of this whole damn case. And then they turn up at my door without me even asking. Shame it couldn’t have been on better circumstances.

Three of them are now dead. Killed in the gun battle that only two of the combatants survived. One of them was now handcuffed to pipe in the bathroom.

The other one was me.

Rain sprayed in through the smashed window and the wind howled loudly. The light above our heads flickered as I paced the room; gun in hand, thinking up my first question for my unfortunate visitor. He whimpered slightly as he nursed a broken arm. Luckily I had a supply of morphine injections in my cupboard so the bullet I put in one of his kneecaps wasn’t hurting him much anymore.

“Seeing that you came to my place I gather you must know who I am?”

“I don’t know anything, we were just told to kill you, the boss just wanted you dead.” I smacked the barrel of my gun across his face and fired a bullet into the ground between his legs. He pissed himself. “Fuck – come on, you know we’re not told anything, we’re just given orders and get paid for doing it. Jesus man! Come on!”

This could be the truth. “Have you seen me before?”

“NO… well, yes, sort of… I mean….”

“What do you mean?”

“The boss pointed you out before, in the club. Said you were too interested in what we were up to.”

“That’s why he wanted me killed?”

“No.”

The hit man was digging himself into a hole that he was yet to know would be his grave. I was just waiting to throw the dirt down on top of him.

“I thought you said you didn’t know?”

“Well, no, I don’t…”

“You’re lying to me.” I narrowed my eyes. Showed I was angry. I saw fear on his face.

“Are you a cop?” The question startled me for a second but I recovered before he could notice my surprise.

“Why do you think that?”
“That’s what the kill was about. We were told you were a cop snooping about the Boss' business.”

“Your boss is Miss Logan? Correct?” He nodded in reply. I held out my hand to shake his. He took it and returned my handshake. “Thanks,” I told him.

Then I shot him in the head.

I felt through his pockets and pulled out a wallet and found his ID card. Fake of course. But a small matchbook with the words “The Brewery” written on it in gold letters pointed me in the right direction.

Finally I found my next clue and the puzzle was beginning to make sense. I left the house, leaving the door swinging in the strong wind. The house was not safe for me anymore. The rain outside was heavy. I see the car that my killers arrived in, all four door were wide open and the rain and soaked the seats.

The bus pulled up at the station and I got on. The doors closed with a pneumatic whoosh and shut out the dark weather and the evil situation. The bus’ engines grumbled and I sat down. The place smelt like an ashtray but it was dry and empty. The buildings loomed higher as I got closer.

The rain still fell outside.

Thanking the driver I departed and took my first step into New York City. A police siren went off in the distance.

[[]V[]etal []_ion]

Great stuff man, love how we have it from different veiwpoints. Richard seems more of a hard case than Gabriel, who seems to me to be a sort of anti hero. Keep it up, i want more.

[Einsider]

Chapter 3

Gabriel Denton

Nine months of intensive care.

Nine months of hell and torment.

Not knowing if the next person who enters the room is a hit man coming to finish the job that Thomas started or just another nurse. Nine months but now I’m back on my feet.

Well, close enough. I can’t wait around anymore and the painkillers take the edge off my sufferings. I discharge myself from the hospital. Had to knock out a doctor and a security guard to do it but I didn’t kill them. Stole the doctor’s clothes. Stole a car as well. I’ll return it later. I cruise the dark streets of New York City. I look at the clock on the dashboard. It was a few minutes after one. I felt a distinct feeling of déjà vu, nearly as if no time at all had passed since that evening in the alley, when Thomas filled my body with six metal demons, and now.

I was still trapped in my never-waking dream and it was always dark.

Always just a few minutes after one.

My head hurts and I swallow another painkiller. I can do no more tonight. My escape from the hospital left me feeling drained so I find an alley to park the car and switch off the engine. I try to sleep but thoughts echo around in my brain. Endless questions that bounce around inside my head but when they come back to me I still have not found any answers.

Why didn’t I get killed in the hospital? Nine months completely helpless but I’m still alive. Why? What is Thomas’ plan?

Maybe he doesn’t know I’m still alive. Too many thoughts make my head hurt. Like a million demons chewing on my brain. I’ll be able to work it out in the morning. I better have a painkiller for luck.


Chapter 4

Lee Cottage

Endless pacing back and forth, back and forth.

What time is it? I can’t make out the digits on the clock.

My hands twitch, sometimes gently, mostly violently. I’ve not had a hit in a couple of hours and my dealer’s late. Still pacing. Still waiting. Back and forth, back and forth. A car door slams outside and I run to the window, excited like a kid at Christmas. There isn’t anything outside. Must have been my imagination.

It does that to me sometimes. Tricks me.

Doc says it’s ‘cause of the drugs. Maybe it is… but they make me feel so good. A buzzer goes off at my door and I press the button on the intercom.

“Lee, it’s me.” My dealer.

I press another button and the front door opens. The lifts are broken so he’ll have to walk up the seven flights of stairs to my apartment. Damn, more time, more waiting.

I return to my pacing. I start biting my nails.

Three thumps on wood tell me he’s at my door. I open it and he rushes in.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to do this anymore Lee, not here anyway.” Yeah, I tell him that’s fine; just give me the damn drugs. I’ll agree to anything until I get my hands on that sweet liquid.

He hands it over, enough spectra to last me three weeks. I hand him the money. “It’s not all their Gar’ but I’m working tonight, I’ll give you the rest tomorrow. That ok?”

He sighed, “Ok lee, but only ‘cause I know you and you always pay up. Don’t make it a habit though and you better have the money by tomorrow.

Sure, I tell him, tomorrow will be good.

“We can’t do this anymore Lee, not here,” he tells me again. “People are starting to get close, are starting to ask questions.”

“That’s what my job’s about tonight, don’t worry, it will all be sorted out by tomorrow. Just ask Tom, it will all be fine. Trust me.” He nodded and headed for the door.

“Good luck Lee.”

“Thanks Gary.”


A few hours later and I’m feeling better. I’ve had my hit and my hands have stopped shaking.

My head feels clear.

I’m in a car with three other guys. A gun is shoved down the front of my pants. I’m in the passenger seat and sitting in silence with the driver. Watching the rain hit the windscreen and the wipers furiously moving to clear them.

A battle for domination.

The two guys in the back talk and laugh together. They must be new. They talk like rookies and I’ve never seen them before. We pull up outside a house and turn off the engine. Only one light is on inside and we can see the flickering of the television through the net curtains. We leave the car doors open to avoid making a sound that might alert our target and sneak up to the front door. Bill counts down from five and I kick the door in.

We rush the living room, all shouting, all swearing. Like Hell’s fucking angels.

One of the rookies unloads an entire magazine into an empty room. We look at each other in confusion. I hear a noise and spin myself around. I hear a bang and then a crack.

My vision goes blurry. The room goes white.

A bullet had hit my kneecap.

The crack was it smashing into what felt like a thousand pieces. I fell to the ground. A second later the rookie with the empty gun fell down next to me. Blood poured from a bullet-shaped hole in his forehead. I couldn’t see our assailant; the pain in my knee had blinded me. I’ve lost my gun. I hear his breathing and I swing my hand out.

Attempting to punch my unseen foe, I feel hands grab me and I feel another crack. White-hot pain burns my arm. It was broken. I hear another scream, the other rookie. I hear the familiar thump of a dead man hitting the ground.

My vision clears but the pain remains. Billy was shouting my name. I try to shout back but I feel frozen. My hands start shaking again. A gun is fired. Billy stops shouting my name. I try to stand and my vision goes blurry again. Just before I pass out I see him walking towards me.


I wake up and the pain in my leg feels less than it did. I’m handcuffed to a pipe in the bathroom. The window is smashed and a cold wind howls through the house.

“Don’t worry, I gave you a shot of morphine to take the edge off that pain you must be feeling in your knee. It looks pretty bad.” I say nothing.

He questions me about why I was sent to kill him. He fires a bullet between my legs. I yelp as it hits the floor, missing my dick by inches. I piss myself. I need another hit. I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know why we were sent to kill him. I don’t ask questions. I do the jobs just for the money. Just so I can get my next load of Spectra. He isn’t happy with my reply.

Are you a cop?” I ask him.

I remember Miss Logan talking about a guy snooping around. I remember Gary telling me that somebody was getting close to us and our operation wasn’t far from being discovered. That’s what the kill must have been about. That’s exactly what I tell him.

“Your boss is Miss Logan? Correct?” He asks me. I nod in reply.

He holds his hand out to me. I respond and shake it.

“Thanks,” he tells me…

[Einsider]

Chapter 5

Ronny Upton

I nod to the guy at the tip as I load my vast collection of crime magazines and newspaper cuttings into the skip. He’s waiting to close up but I’ve got about 5 boxes of crap to empty from the back of my pick up.

Why am I dumping all this crap?

Ok, it’s not crap, I love this stuff.

Damn woman. After seven years of living together my wife decides she wants to split up. I’m ok about it I suppose. I know she’s been fucking that Chinese guy next door for a few weeks now.

climb back into my pick-up and wipe the water off my glasses. Resting my head against the wheel, I shiver slightly, the rain has soaked me through and the heater isn’t working right, it just gives out cold.

Damn weather. Damn woman.

I chuckle slightly to myself. Why am I getting so worked up about all this?

She wasn’t even really my wife – “Long-Term Partner,” that’s what she called it. Didn’t want to get married, was worried that she might fall out of love and be stuck. Guess she was right. Fuckin’ bitch.

I start the engine of my new home and drive against the rain. Would have to sleep here tonight and find a place to stay, permanent-like, in the morning.

Had to chuck a load of my stuff out so I could leave straight away.

Goddamn woman pulled a knife on me. Still got a load of my DVD’s at the apartment, but I’m sure as hell not going back there.

Not yet.

Had to dump my crime collection. Weighed a ton, needed to get rid of it, I couldn’t lug it around from place to place. I can start a new one. There’s always a new story, a new newspaper article.

True crime is great. I read this one story about this cop, he was going undercover but ended up dead outside the house of his, also undercover, partner. A friend of mine works down the morgue near there; he said that they never found his body again.

After it was moved from the scene it just disappeared. Nobody ever found it. Shit like that man. How fuckin’ awesome is that?!

Yea, Katie didn’t think so. Damn her and that Chinese son-of-a-bitch. Damn this weather.

Damn everything.

I pull up outside a diner. It’s just closing but that’s ok, I don’t want food. Just the parking space. The wind is still howling up a fuckin’ storm outside.

Should I have a fag before I sleep? Fuck it, I can’t be bothered. Can’t stand it when the car fills up with smoke, I can’t breathe and it’s too cold to open the window. Fuck it all. I’ll just sleep now and have breakfast in that diner in the morning.

Damn this weather. Fuckin’ freezing.

No bloody heater. Damn pick-up.


Chapter 6

Gabriel Denton

More rain.

It’s never ending. A constant beat that was keeping my life in time. I have no leads, no clues. While I was under, the world carried on without me. Left me behind. My body is marked with six angry scars as a reminder.

I turn the key in the ignition, I’ve got nowhere to go but it beats sitting around here. The car spluttered and groaned like it had a cold but didn’t start. The weather had turned harsher and the engine didn’t like it. It needed a jump and I needed food, so I leave the vehicle and head towards the nearest diner.

The bell above the door tinkles as I enter. There’s an old red pick-up sitting outside. The licence plate told me it was from Maine. A body was slumped behind the wheel. I shut out the rain and sweep the room before I sit down by the counter.

The pretty blonde waitress filled a cup of coffee and placed it down in front of me. I was yet to tell her that I didn’t have any money on me but I drank the cup anyway and ordered breakfast.

My seat was barely warm when the door’s bell sounded again and the seat next to me was occupied. He wore army style combats but they didn’t fit his scrawny aura. His glasses, thick rimmed, were far too big for his head.

It was the guy from the pick-up.

The pretty blonde filled a cup of coffee for him.

“You having a crap morning too?” Was he talking to me? “You look like you’re having a crap morning.”

“You talking to me?” I sipped my coffee. “...How do I look like then?” I asked him.

“Like you’ve slept in your car.”

“What if I have?”

“No problem, you just look like you have.”

“Still got up earlier than you.”

He pulled a cigarette packet from his pocket and offered me one. I hadn’t had a smoke since Thomas shot me. I accepted.

He said, “Yea you looked like you needed it.”

He turned in his chair slightly to face me better. Make it seem more like we were having a conversation than a secret liaison.

“I’m Ronny….” He stopped speaking. Although I didn’t expect him to say any more, it seemed like his sentence was missing an ending.

“What?”

“You’re… Denton!”

I grabbed the scruffy, khaki dressed man by his collar and pushed him to the floor. I’m sure there wasn’t a jukebox playing but the room now seemed unusually quiet.

A customer by the window dropped their fork.

I quickly searched my would-be assassin but I found no weapon on him. I dragged him back to his feet and pushed him back in his chair.

“Why didn’t Thomas kill me in the hospital?!” I yelled at Ronny.

“Who’s Thomas?!” He yelled back at me. “You’re crazy man!”

I grabbed Ronny by his throat, bared my teeth. “How did you know my name? How do you know me?” I growled...

[[]V[]etal []_ion]

Hehe good stuff man, posting them quicker than i can read 'em but i like the narrative styles and how they change. Ronny Upton's especially amuses me.

[Einsider]

Chapter 7

Gabriel Denton

The man in my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The anger lifted off me like a mist of red rain. I let him go.

“You don’t know Thomas do you? My mistake.”

Ronny’s neck glowed red hand marks. He shook his head, terror in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I told him. I sat back on my warm plastic diner seat. The diner resumed business as usual, those watching went back to their cold coffee and greasy bacon.

I asked Ronny the question again, “How do you know my name?”

“You’re Gabriel Denton… aren’t you? I collect true crime magazines… it’s kinda my… hobby.” He laughed nervously as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I read about you, you’re an undercover cop and…”

“They said what?!” I cut his sentence short; my voice quietened the diner again. “Look we better get out of here so we can talk properly.”

Eyes followed us to the door. “Hey, you better not be leaving! Not without paying!”

“Pay the woman Ronny.”

Two hours later and I’m sixty miles down the road in the passenger seat of Ronny’s pick-up, doing ninety and breathing in the late morning air.

“Shit man, that’s deep. That’s deep shit man, deep, deep shit!”

Finally having the smoke I’ve waited nine months for, all I do is exhale.

“I mean, shit, man, what the fuck?!”

The sky donned a mixture of blue and white; the sun shined angelic warmth after the early morning weather. But it was only lying to me. Telling me everything was ok when the rain was waiting to fall again. Sometimes its best never to have anything, because when you lose it, it seems so much worse.

But for now, I didn’t want the sun to go away. The road was virtually empty and it carried on into the distance, Ronny’s voice becomes faint as I listen to sound of the engine, the noise of the tires on the road.

If I hadn’t chosen that moment to drop my cigarette butt out the window, I might never have seen it. A pick-up truck parked by the side of the road. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except I was the one sitting in it.

The sight stung me, narrow shards of pain through my head.

“STOP!”

Ronny’s reactions were too slow, I pulled on the handbrake and screeched the 90 mph pick up into a spinning stop. The pick-up skidded to a halt 500 yards away from what appeared to be my double. Flinging the car door open, my feet hit the ground and tear off, back towards the offending pick-up and what must have been my imagination.

The sun was bright, maybe I had been confused. It couldn’t have been me in the pick-up, I’m me and I can’t be in two places at once. I arrive at the pick-up by the side of the road. Blue, like the sky, hand painted and old. A thin layer of dust had settled on every surface. Nobody had touched this piece of crap for weeks.

It was my imagination.

I pull open the door and can instantly smell the musty interior. The glove box was empty save for an empty pack of smokes.

My brand.

The licence plate was covered in dirt but I could make out the first 4 numbers: 9202.

Hopeless.

I must be going crazy. I slam the door with disappointment. Disappointment with myself for being such a fool.

I prepared for the long walk back to Ronny’s pick-up, assuming he hadn’t floored it as soon as I had gone when a colour catches my eye.

Where the blue paint had peeled I could see a colour underneath. The original colour of the pickup.

Red.

Curiosity is a dangerous friend but being short of friends at the moment I humour him anyway and wipe the dirt off the number plate.

Maine.






Shit.


Chapter 8

Richard Smith

The Brewery lived up to its name.

It was less of a bar and more just a gathering place for the lowest scum the city could offer, with nasty concoctions of homemade alcohol on tap. The glasses were smeared with dirt but still cleanest part of the whole building.

I should bring the whole place down to the station but I think this lot would take a lot of persuading and I just don’t have the time.

This place had a pool table once, but I see it discarded in the corner, broken in half.

Part of me is glad I wasn’t here for that fight. The other part wishes I had been the one to break it.

The lead I believed I’d had dies slowly before me. If I started asking questions in this place I’m sure it would only be a short cut to the grave.

The bar starts getting rowdy. A guy yells on the far side of the room as a pool cue is broken across his neck. No questions, no answers, no lead. This night blows.

I turn to leave.

Then a girl catches my eye.

She shouldn’t.

She’s the wrong type.

But she catches my eye and walks over.


I am so obvious.

Been in this place two minutes and haven’t left the doorway. Haven’t got a beer. Haven’t brooded at the bar. Too fucking obvious that I do not belong here.

And that’s exactly what she tells me.

“You don’t look like you belong here.”


See.


She’s blonde, not brilliant, but dirty, and her eyes are green. They glow in this place like precious jewels.

I think I’m in love.

Her lips glow slightly wet and her low cut top leaves little to the imagination, although it’s nice to see she’s wearing a bra.

Playing it cool, I walk to the bar and order whatever it is that’s passing off as a beer in this place. I’ve tasted better but a drink felt good after the night’s events so far. She had followed me to the bar. One swift movement and she was sitting up on the top next to me, her never ending legs a yellow-brick road to what lies between them.

Never knew I could be so poetic.


“I’m Rachel.” Of course you are. “Well?” she asks.

“Smith.”

“Of course you are.” Didn’t I just think that?

“Well…Smith, what brings you to this place?” she smiles. I swig my beer, try and ignore what ever I see moving at the bottom of my glass, and smile back at her. More of a smirk actually.

“Just trying to have a quiet beer.”

“A quiet beer? In a place which you’ve never been to before and we’ve already established you don’t belong in.”

“What makes you say I don’t belong here?”

“You did. When I told you before and you couldn’t think up a witty come back.” I force a laugh and take another swig of beer.

Should be able to finish it with one more swig. Thank God.

“So, what are you doing here? People don’t just come here for a quiet drink; they come here to do business. And not usually the most legal kind. So either you’re here to see Harry, or you’re a cop.”

Smart girl

“Yeah I know, pretty smart for a girl.”

Is this woman reading my mind or did I say that out loud? I try to work it out but I’m far to distracted by whatever that shiny thing is in her belly button.

“Either way I just saved your life.” She held up a hand, number one in the queue: “Harry’s in a bad mood tonight so if it was business he’d shoot you,” She held up her other hand: “and Harry don’t like cops – so he’d shoot you.” She folded her hands across her chest. “So which are you?”

“Who’s Harry?” is my only response.

“Ahhh,” she replies in a, what should be annoying but just comes off as cute, all knowing wise-man act, “So you’re a cop.”

My heart skips a beat but luckily the loud rock music keeps on throbbing so no one hears what she just says.

I think I just had a stroke.

“Not a cop, no. But I am interested in Harry, he the owner?”

“Course hun, who else would own a dump like this?!”

The bartender, if he deserves that title, pushes her off the bar and she lands with a hard thump on her ass.

“Hey bitch, this is the best bar in the whole of New York, if Harry caught you saying that he’d take your fucking skin!”

I started to stand to intervene but she was up before me and was grabbing at my arm.

“Marko! You piece of shit! What the fuck you do that for?!”

“Stop talking shit about the bosses place slut!”

“Hey fuck you! Come on, let’s go!”

She drags me towards the door, leaving my unfinished beer on the bar.

I don’t mind. I'm relieved actually. Some guys cheer and whistle as this mostly unknown vixen pulls me out of the door.


My ego smiles.

[Einsider]

Chapter 9

Rachel Parker

When Harry hired me as a waitress, cleaning the blood off his office floor was not part of my job description. Why does he always kill them in his office? Marko hands me a clean towel to wipe the brains off my top but it’s no use. Blood is so hard to get out. Especially out of white and this is my favourite top.

Fuck.

Two…Eight…Nine…One.

I type in the code and the door leading upstairs unlocks. My birth year backwards, easy to remember.

“Rachel… hold the door.” James runs to catch up with me before it shuts but his asthma coupled with his years of over-eating slow him down.

And I pretend not to hear him.

The door shuts when he’s two feet away. The keypad beeps but it doesn’t open. He never remembers the code so I open the door for him.

“Oh, sorry James, didn’t see you there,” I lie.

“You haven’t changed? You can’t go… fucking walking around with blood and… brains all over you. Fuck… What if Harry knew?!”

James thinks he’s my keeper. And according to Harry he is, but he’s the most obnoxious, dumb fuck I have ever met.

And he tried to rape me one time.

When Harry found out he cut both James’ little toes off.

“Don’t worry James, I’m changing now.” I roll my eyes.

I change my top, throwing the old one in the bin, and head back to the bar. Bit of red in the blond but I’ll shower later. This place is a dump, I wouldn’t step foot in here if Harry didn’t pay so well.

Behind the bar I clean a glass. Marko picks up a dirty one, spits in it and wipes his dishcloth on the inside.

“Marko, for fucks sake, that’s sick, we have a tap.”

“The boss says not to waste water. I wouldn’t waste water on the punks that come here.”

I shudder. A glass I’ve cleaned my self and a bottle of my own store bought alcohol. Still feels dirty in this place.

I have a shot and think about the guy Harry just killed. He had it coming but I was shaking the guy’s hand when Harry blew his head off with that fucking hand cannon of his. Covered in blood and bone and brain. Maybe I should just start buying red clothes, and then I would only need to scrape off the chunks.

And then I notice a guy standing by the door. When did he get here? I don’t remember him coming in but he looks like he’s been standing there a while.

Strange.

He doesn’t look like the usual guys in here. He looks calm. Collected. Hell, behind that scowling mask he kinda looks… sexy. Defiantly never has been in here before.

Looks lost.

What’s he looking for?

Why the rugged grimace?

Why the brooding eyes?

Why is he still standing there?

There was one pool cue left intact from the broken table and I hear Sid snap it across some other guy’s neck. Three seconds and they’ll notice him and that’s not good news. Move. Do something.

I plead with my eyes, screaming to him in silence.

Does he hear me? - He turns to leave but as he does he catches my eye and pauses. Why am I walking over to him?

My hand falls to my hip and then the words just come out of my mouth:
“You don’t look like you belong here.”

No reply, he looks like I just caught him with his pants down. Without saying a word, he just walks passed me and sits at the bar. Maybe he is like the usual guys in here.

Still, he has a way about him.

A silent goodness masked with brutality.

God, Rachel, stop looking at his ass and follow him to the damn bar. I swing myself up on to the bar as Marko serves him up a glass of what’s practically... hell, it is just piss.

He takes a manly gulp, trying to hard to impress me that I can’t bring myself to tell him what’s actually in it. He looks at my legs and follows them up to my mini-shorts, which he stares at for a little too long. I hope he was only checking out the stitching.

“I’m Rachel.” I tell him but he remains silent. “Well?” I coax.

“Smith.”

A fake name?

“Of course you are,” I tell him. Why is he giving me that strange look?

“Well…Smith, what brings you to this place?..”


Ten minutes later and I’m dragging Smith out the door shouting fuck you and fuck yourself to Marko loud enough to be heard over the music and wolf whistles.

Cold wind freezes my legs and I wish I hadn’t stormed out.

Two blocks away and I sit down to rest and rub the feeling back into my legs. Smith throws his drink up into the nearest trashcan.

“Fuck that shit’s nasty,” he tells me.

I’m standing behind him and he can’t see me smile, the situation’s very funny even though I feel sorry for him.

“Yeah I know, I don’t touch anything served in there.” He looks around, a little hurt in his eyes.

“And you didn’t think of fucking telling me?!”

This just makes me laugh harder.

“I didn’t know you, fuck it you could have been the worst of the lot in there, why would I tell you?”

He spits out a chunk of something and shudders.

“That’s… fuck, that’s nasty shit.”

“Come on, I don’t live far from here,” why am I telling him this. I don’t know him. He’s gotta be at least ten years older than me. “I’ve got a sink, you can clean up in.”

He stares at me for a while; a mental thought ticking through his black box.

“Please decide cus it’s frigging freezing out here!” I plead. Eventually he nods.

Thank God.

“Ok, I’ll come and get cleaned up. You got coffee?” he asks, “Good.”

I motion for him to follow me and he gets up from the pavement, wiping his hands on his coat.

“And once we’re all nice and settled in, you can tell me about Harry.”

“So… you are a cop? Right?”


Chapter 10

Ronny Upton

“STOP!”

What the fuck man?!

Denton pulls on the handbrake and the pick-up nearly three-sixties. Damn near broke my neck. Then the madman throws open the door and runs back, sliding down the small bank by the side of the road to something buried in the dust and age. The whole damn pick-up smells of burning now.

Fuck.

Just get rid of one crazy bitch and I bump straight into another crazy fucker.

I turn the key in the ignition, the pick-up roars back to life and I put it into drive. Gonna leave the crazy S.O.B.

But it is Gabriel Denton.

And nobody has seen him in nine months. Not since he was found lying, well, dead, outside that woman’s apartment. Should I stay? Maybe he needs help?

I could help him.

No.

Ronny, you should just leave. Get out of it whilst you still can. Yes I should leave. I lean over to shut the car door that Denton had left open, I hope he didn’t break it, just had it repaired, but as I do he returns and grabs my arm, yanking me to the tarmac.

Lucky I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt.

“Denton, what the fuck?!” I shout from the ground.

“What,” he shouts, “is your pick-up doing over there?!”

I got a better question, what the fuck is he talking about?!

“I don’t know man, what are you talking about?” I plead, “My pick-up is right here man. You were just sitting in it!”

Grabbing the back of my shirt and twisting my arm painfully he walks me back down the road. The pick-up’s door is still open and the key is in the ignition. Somebody’s gonna steal it I know it. Mom always said not to leave my car unlocked. Down the road I see a car buried in dust. Obviously been here for a while.

“What is your pick-up doing here?!” Denton demands again, pronouncing every word slowly as if I was a retard student.

“Denton, listen to yourself, fuck. This ain’t my pick-up. My pick-up’s red, man.” The guy’s gone crazy…er. He drags me to the back and drops me to the ground.

“Then what is your number plate doing on it?” Okay…. He’s flipped.

“Denton, that isn’t my number plate, it isn’t even from the same state.”

“Maine right? You’re number plate says Maine?”

“Well, yea, but this plate says California.” His eyes narrow and I hold up my hands, reading to defend myself from the punch I’m expecting. But it never comes.

I pull my hands from my face and Denton is slumped on the floor, a mixture of relief and worry on his face.

Confusion.

“You’re right, this can’t be your pick-up. Sorry Ronny.”

“It’s okay man.” Damn crazy asshole. “Lets just get back in the pick-up. Come on.”

Those six bullets must have done a number on him.

The pick-up was still there. I sigh an internal sigh of relief. I sit Denton in the passenger seat and run around to my side. Sliding behind the wheel I pull the handbrake off and we carry on down the road.

“It smells like burning in here Ronny, you haven’t left the handbrake on have you?”

I turn to give him a cold stare but lose the nerve at the last minute and just tell him, “Yea it’s ok, just an old pick-up.”

I have no balls.

“Well you better get that sorted, got another smoke?” Sure, I tell him and pull the packet out of my shirt pocket.

“It’s the last one,” he tells me. “You sure you don’t mind me having it?”

I nod it’s ok, “Just, roll down the window will you? Cheers,” I add sheepishly. I do not like the pick-up filling with smoke.

Inward shudder.

Denton slides the last cigarette out of the packet and lights it. I hear him inhale and instantly want a smoke as well.

Could I ask him to share?


No, defiantly not. Do not, I repeat, do not ask him that.


I switch the radio on and try to get a signal but that woman of mine, ex-woman, broke the antenna off two weeks ago and I haven’t been able to get a clear station since. Just static.

Damn pick-up.

“Where are we going Denton?”

“New York.”

For fucks sake. “New York?”

“New York,” he confirms.

Silence.

“Erm... You want me to turn the pick-up back around then?”

Denton screws up the cigarette packet and throws it in the glove box on top of my two porn mags. “Not yet.”

[Einsider]

Chapter 11

Lee Cottage

Death is a thing I don’t like to think about. It’s always something that happens to other people, not me. And I like to believe that it would stay that way. However in my line of work, death always seems to be looking over my shoulder, asking me when, where and who. I never say me. Not if I can help it.

I’m driving the Mercedes and keeping to the limit so not to alert any cops who might like to check on what I have in my trunk. He seems to be keeping quiet for the moment though. What Miss Logan demands, Miss Logan gets. And I’m her go-to guy, as in; I’m the guy she goes to when she wants something done. I don’t ask questions, I don’t have objections and I’m always available.

So that’s why I’m driving the Mercedes with a thug in the trunk and a chauffeur’s hat on. The weather is wet, windy and miserable. I don’t like it.
I pull up outside the warehouse and phone through to get them to open the gate. My feet are hot in my shoes after two hours driving.

“Hey George, I’ve got a package from Miss Logan, you get her message?”

“Yeah we got it Lee, just dump the car out back and phone her, use the office.”

Ten minutes later and I’m sitting in the dingy office with no shoes on and making fists with my toes. I saw it in a movie once.

It doesn’t help.

I pick up the phone and dial the seven digit number I have memorised for such an occasion. Miss Logan doesn’t like her number written down. It only rings twice before she picks up.

“Lee.” It wasn’t a question. Miss Logan’s on the ball; she knew it would be me.

“Yes, Miss Logan, I’ve arrived at the warehouse…obviously… and I…”

She interrupts me, “I need this done now. Ask for the keys to the police car, in the glove box is a map with a city block highlighted green. I need you to take this car and circle that block until you receive further orders.” She hangs the phone up, the monotonous beep the exclamation mark to the task just given to me.

I don’t know how much I’m getting paid, I don’t know when this job will be over, I don’t know what the job even is.

But I do it.

I’m the go-to guy.

The rain does not stop. It’s getting tiring.

My police uniform is itchy around my neck and the trousers feel like they are riding up into my groin. Circling the block only sixteen minutes before a voice comes over the radio.

A woman’s voice, “A man will be waiting in the street, pick him up.”

I circle the block one more time and see a man standing in the road. A body lying on the ground. The man fires a bullet and climbs into the car as I pull alongside him.

“Thanks for the lift, this is where you need to take me.” He hands me a piece of paper with directions on it.

“Where is this place?” I ask him

“Just follow the directions,” he tells me. “I believe it’s a left here.”

An hour later and I’m wanting my bed. My feet yelling something awful from the ache inside my shoes. I stop where I’m instructed and the man gets out.

“You sure you want dropping here?”

He hadn’t said a word the entire trip. He borrows my umbrella.

“What’s your name?” The man asks me.

“Lee, Lee Cottage.”

“You’re a good man Lee, a good driver. I’ll make sure to mention you to Miss Logan.”

“Oh, I’m just doing my job, no need to bother Miss Logan.”

“No, no, no. Don’t worry about it, I’d be happy to tell her how pleased I am with you.” I think he’s being sincere, but the smile still doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you sir.”

“I’m Thomas.” I shake the hand he reaches out to me. “Stay clean Lee.”

Thomas walks off into the dark. My phone goes off and I answer it. A man’s voice. My bed steps one place back and my night isn’t over yet. The price of leading a double life.

The rain doesn’t relent.

I set the siren going.


Chapter 12

Richard Smith

We stepped off the corridor and into her fifth floor apartment. Her house is nicely decorated and cleaner than I imagined it would be for a grimy flat in the back end of New York. She pulls my coat off me and throws it over a chair, then pulls my shirt off and throws it in the sink with a mixture of different cleaning chemicals.

It smells fruity. I don’t think I like it.

“So Mr ‘I’m-not-a-cop-but-who’s-Harry’ Smith, what do you want to know?”

There’s no point “hiding it, it’s just too obvious.”

Damn it woman, stay out of my head.

“Why would you want to help me anyway?” I ask. “And where’s that damn coffee?”

She turns and searches through cupboards whilst I check out her ass.

Spinning around she tells me, “It’s only decaf, that ok?”

“That’s not coffee.”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

I think about it.

“Ok, it’ll do. Thanks,” I add. The kettle boils and she reaches up onto the top shelf to get a couple of mugs down. Her legs are pimpled with goose bumps. “You look cold, you get changed. I can make the coffee.”

See, a regular gentleman.

She smiles. “Ok, but I’m locking my door.”

I smile, try to force a laugh but it doesn’t come.

“I’m a cop, what am I gonna do?”

“How do I know that for sure? Can I see a badge?”

I left my creds back at the house. Carrying around an NYPD shield only gets you killed. No authority, no respect. Just dead.

“I musta left it at home.”

“Then I’m locking my door.”

“Oh come on! You were the one half an hour ago telling me I was a cop, now you won’t believe it when I admit it?!”

“Sorry hun, and I take two sugars with mine. I’d tell you where the sugar is… but a clever detective like you should be able to find it!” she winks and leaves the room.

As promised I hear the lock slide over.

Women.

I pour the water and as I finish adding the second sugar to her mug she returns from the bedroom. Her skin-tight jeans show off the curves of her legs and the sweatshirt is rolled up by her elbows.

She looks casual but I can already smell the perfume she put on just for me.

She doesn’t need to impress me; I just need her for information. But I’m falling for her anyway and her ass still looks too damn fine.

I wish I had shaved this morning.

“Two sugars, right?” I hand her the cup.

She smiles.

I want to look after her.

“Who are you Rachel? That bar doesn’t seem the right place for you.” Am I trying to find out about her or the case? At this moment the two seem inseparable.

“My ex-boyfriend, well he was working for Harry, on and off, you know? So I ended up down there a lot and then Harry offered me a job.”

“And you took it? Rach, why would a girl like you want to work in a place like that?”

“Money, it’s the only reason, Harry pays well.”

“What does he pay you so well for?”

“The usual. The work, keeping quiet about his business… sex every now and then when he’s lonely or… horny… erm…” She looks embarrassed so I don’t press it.

I sip my coffee. Flavourless.

My stomach is still jumpy from the drink earlier so I put my mug down and slide it away from me.

“What does Harry do?”

“He doesn’t really run that bar,” she tells me.

“I guessed.”

“He deals drugs mostly. And extortion. About fifty or sixty blocks around the brewery, I know, pay him for protection, probably more.”

“What drugs?”

“Spectra mostly.”

“I need to speak to Harry. Alone.”

“It’s not possible, he never goes anywhere without his body guards.”

“Never met one I couldn’t kill.”

“Are you sure you’re a cop?”

“It’s what my badge says.”

“I’m still waiting to see it.” This time I do laugh. She laughs too. Her teeth gleaming perfect white, a lighthouse in the dark.

A direction home.

A silence. It wasn’t awkward. She doesn’t stop smiling.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask, breaking the quiet.

“I want to get out, have wanted to for months now. But Harry won’t let me. I know too much about him and his business. He’s worried that I might leave, work for Kathryn Logan, that’s why he pays me so much. That’s why he pays James to keep an eye on me.”

Kathryn Logan was a big name in the underground drugs network. It’s said she owns most of the gangs trafficking drugs on the whole of New York’s eastern side.

She also owns ProTech. The country’s number one healthy eating company. She keeps herself quiet though. Seven years working the case and I never met anyone who had even spoken to her.

No hard evidence.

Impossible to find.

Her messages always delivered through the grapevine. The fruit was always poisonous.

I try to stay calm.

“What do you know about Kathryn Logan?”

“Only a little of what Harry has told me. He met her once; keeps all his information on her in his safe at the Brewery.”

“Can you get me in?”

“No, Harry lets no one upstairs. No one except me.”

“Fuck.”

“But I know the safe combination.”

A heavenly light shone down on her, highlighting her halo.

My saviour.

This was the lead I had been looking for. A link to Kathryn Logan.

A link between Kathryn Logan and Spectra.

I stand up. “Let’s go now.” I march to the door not waiting for her to respond, leaving my second bad drink of the night unfinished.

I pull open the apartment door and then am very aware that I’m still topless.

“It will be a while before your shirt is dry. Wanna wear one of mine?”

[Einsider]

Chapter 13

Gabriel Denton

The cigarette smoke draws deep into my lungs and the tingling feeling it gives me doesn’t make me want to cough.

I’m going crazy but I don’t mind too much.

Think I probably went crazy a while back, I was just too psyched up to realise it.

Just gotta finish this before I completely lose my mind. To end this I’ve gotta go back to where this all began, the prequel to this sorry story.

“New York.”

“New York?” Ronny asked.

Yes, New York. I had just bought an apartment with Celina, not the best neighbourhood, but we had no money and were in love. And on the run.

“Gabe? I got a phone call today?”

“You did?”

“A man… he says he’s my brother.”

“I thought you were an only child?”

Thomas walked into our house four hours later.

I shook his hand.

The sun shined, hiding his horns.

“Nice to meet you, Gabe.”

“Likewise.”

* * *

“Want me to turn the pick-up around then?”

“Not yet.”

We can’t go back yet.

Thomas thinks I’m dead and until he knows otherwise that gives me an advantage. An advantage I don’t want to lose until I’m ready.

An advantage I don’t want to lose until my gun is jammed in his back and he looks into my eyes as the bullet leaves the chamber.

The ash falls from my cigarette and Ronny nearly swerves the pick-up off the road reaching across trying to catch it.

He drops his glasses and we have to stop until he picks them back up.

The sky was grey again, threatening to rain. Threats don’t scare me.

Thunder claps in the distance. My life is always a storm.

I look at the clock.

Nearly one.

The sign says gas and the station is open.

The tank is half full but I tell Ronny to pull in and fill her up.

I need more cigarettes. He gives me the money.

“I think you need to cut back man,” Ronny tells me the truth, “Don’t play to the addiction.”

My addictions by Gabriel Denton.

1. Cigarettes
2. Whiskey
3. Blood
4. Guns
5. New York
6. Waiting for the sun to shine
7. Celina

I’m going cold turkey on the last one. Not my choice.

The old man in the gas station has a beard down to his knees.

His life must have been quiet. He had a lot of time to grow it.

I envy him.


He sells me the cigarettes. Feeding my addiction.

“Ronny, we need to get to Boston.” I climb into the pick-up.

“What?!”

“I can’t hear you Ronny.” He opens the car door.

“Why Boston?”

“Part of my addiction.”

“Boston’s… Boston’s a long way Gabe…”

“Ronny, please. And I will pay you back.” He has the look of a rabbit caught in the headlights.

His indecision halts my progress. A rainbow shines in the distance.

“Ok Gabe. After Boston I’ll bring you back to New York but then I really have to go. Sorry.”

“That’s great Ronny, it’s all I need.”

More than I need. Anthony can hook me up with the rest.

New York City will never know what hit it. Thomas will never see it coming.

A dream come true.

But Boston isn’t my town and running to it just makes my nightmare seem ever more present.

Still grey. No lightning flashes.

Just a dull clamminess in the air. I taste it as I draw on the cigarette.

It mocks me.

It won’t soon.


A power stirs inside me. A strength from way back when, that my body had long forgotten. It hungers for revenge. It doesn’t forget. It is my addiction.

And it needs a gun.


Chapter 14

Ronny Upton

No No NO NO NO! The pick-up coughs and dies.

It slows down to twenty and I turn the key repeatedly.

Please work! Please! Please! Please! NO! NO! NO! It’s dead.

FUCK!

“Turn the key.”

“I tried that already,” I tell Denton.

I still turn the key. I was just proving my point.

“Want me to try again?” I ask, masking my sarcasm with a sigh.

“No it’s ok,” he tells me, “we’re only half a mile from the backbone.”

“The backbone?”

“Nasty area of Boston, where the scum like to hang out. Where the best guns are made.”

“Half a mile? So we’ll walk it then?”

“Kind of.”



Do you know how long it takes to push a pick-up a half-mile?

Took me one hour, twelve minutes and eighteen seconds.

I counted.

That’s less than half mile an hour! Fucking wind!

Blowing against the car making my job harder! On the bright side, all this pushing must be good for me.

Been pushing so long now that the pick-up feels lighter, I can push it so much easier.

So much faster.

I must be getting stronger.

WOAH!

The pick-up pulls away from me and I fall flat on my face. Glasses go flying.

The pick-up rolls down the hill.

It reaches the bottom and skids into another 360.

Dammit Denton! Stop pulling that damn handbrake on!

I run to the bottom of the hill and Denton’s standing next to the drivers seat. He’s smoking again.

“Hey Denton, good thinking with that handbrake, the whole pick up just got away from me.” I tell him, puffing for air.

I think I might be sick.

“Don’t worry about it. Anthony is only a block from here, he has a… garage.”

Denton climbs back behind the steering wheel. “Only a little further Ronny! A left here!”

Why am I doing this?


I push the pick-up the block Denton asked for then collapse in the back. It isn’t a garage, I’ve heard of these places.

It’s a chop shop. The type of place where they take two halves of different cars and stick ‘em together to make one whole car, illegal stuff like that.

Denton comes round the back of the pick-up and pulls me to my feet. Vomit rises in my throat but I man up and hold it in. He knocks on the door three times. I can see the splinter hazard from here.

“Listen,” Denton tells me quickly, “I was undercover with these guys so don’t mention anything about me being a co… Hey Mick, Anthony in?”

A heavyset black guy standing in the doorway smiles at Denton, he kinda looks friendly.

The word "PAIN" is tattooed across his forehead.

“Cool tat,” I tell him as he steps out the way to let us is.

Before I cross the open doorway and hand slams out and knocks me in the chest, throwing me to the floor. I land in brown water. Gross.

“Who’s the kid?” Mick asks Denton in a deep voice.

I’m twenty-seven.

“Oh, he’s with me, it’s his pick-up. Don’t suppose one of Tony’s boys can have a look at it could they? Something wrong with the engine, I had to push it the last half mile.”

YOU had to push it?! Say something! Nope, just be sick onto the floor. So manly.

Ok, spit and wipe your mouth with your sleeve, at least recover some dignity.

“Hey man,” Mick’s deep voice shouts at me, “use a fucking tissue man, did ya mother bring you up wrong?! Get in here now bitch.”

I’m totally in with Denton’s group.

“Sure man, cool tat by the way, did I say that already? Well it is cool…” I mutter myself into silence. “Which way’s the bathroom?”

I wash up and meet back with Mick. “Can you…erm… take me to Denton then please?”

“Of course,” he smiles. Creepy.

Four corridors, three rights and left and then we’re at a wooden door. Or was it three lefts and a right?

“He’s in there.”
“Th..thanks.”

I push the door with both hands, trying to avoid the splinters and manage to swing it open. A hard hand pushes me from behind into the room. I feel the whiplash and fall onto my knees. Denton is bleeding on the floor. Lots of blood pours out of his mouth. It’s disgusting.

Oh God I think I see teeth on the floor.

The man with the baseball bat laughs. I feel that vomit rising again in my throat.

“Run Ronny! Fuckin’ Run!” Denton screams to me from the floor.

The guy with the bat smacks Denton’s head and he falls back down. I try and scramble up but Mick kicks pain between my legs.

Shit this is bad! He kicks me again and I vomit on his shoes.

“You dumb motha fucka!” He kicks me in the stomach again and one more time. More pain and this time I vomit again. I strike upwards at the black man but he grabs my hand and I feel stuff break. This is so bad. A gun swinging from Mick’s shoulder holster! I dodge a punch and fumble for the gun in his holster.

It’s colder than I thought it would feel.

Denton stirs on the floor and now I have the upper hand. I hold the gun triumphantly at him and laugh at Mick's face. His fists are useless against his own gun!

“Ha! Outsmarted, you fucker! I’m the hero now!”

Then the guy with the bat knocks me out...

[[]V[]etal []_ion]

Wow been while mate, good stuff, i think i've read this part back at the flat but it's different and refreshing.