Jump to content

Mad World


ArtKing1239

Recommended Posts

"Now this is an unusual offer," Ryan thought. Everything from the odd method of contact to the vague promises of payment to the idea of working with a partner screamed at him not to accept the man's offer. But then again.... $100,000 is a lot of money for an absolute minimum payment. It would go a long way towards getting out of this town and into a much safer business.... For a few moments, he hesitated as these thoughts ran through his mind. Then, with a bad feeling he was going to regret it, he finally spoke. "Alright, you've got a deal," he said as he opened the door. "But, I must warn you, if its heads you're looking to collect, you might be a bit disappointed. Rifle headshots don't leave much behind!" His laugh at this sounded a bit too much like that of a man trying to cover his own doubts. Then, in a more serious tone, he continued. "But first I'll need to stop by my apartment and pick up some better firepower." He climbed into the back of the van, then shut the door behind him. "Take the first right, then four blocks north. Apartment's on the right, can't miss it."
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Replies 49
  • Created
  • Last Reply
Gomer smiled at the mans remark. He changed gear and followed the mans directions. On the way there Gomer decided to strike up a converation. If this man was gooing to help him he better tell him what he is in for. "I normally operate alone. My last partner ratted me out to the ATF. His body is in my frezzer. I want to take down the local Russian Mob. I have being royally fu*%ed by them to many times. They will pay." Gomer had a very deviant look on his face. "If you havent been able to figure out who I am by my apperance; Im Gomer. Mention hick or hillbilly and your balls will be in my next beer. On a lighter note heres 2 grand. First payment." Gomer handed the man the 100 dollar bills that where in a bundle. "Any questions"
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Now this was almost enough to make him rethink his lack of belief in gods. "Could it possibly be any more unusual of a night?" he wondered as they drove. The words "here's two grand" brought his full attention instantly back to the man. "No, no questions at all.... at least beyond the name and location of the targets. Your motives are your own business, I'm only concerned with the job and my payment. And two thousand advance pay's enough to settle any doubts as to the profitability of this deal." A few minuites later they arrived at Ryan's apartment. "This'll just take a minuite," he said as he stepped out the door.

 

A few minuites later, he was back at the van, and proving that his comment about "more firepower" was far from a joke. An obvious sniper rifle case was in his right hand, balanced by the mp5 slung across his left shoulder. A silenced pistol on each hip completed his (obvious) weapons. He now wore a kevlar vest over his clothes, its pockets filled with enough spare clips to fight a small war. "I believe this should be enough for now," he said, a slight smile on his face. "Now who's the first target?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The cafe was quiet. An old guy at the table in the corner, seemingly fast asleep, his head cradled in his arms on the table, a cup and plate pushed to the side.

 

A guy in a navy blue boilersuit sitting on one of the barstool by the counter, demolishing a plate full of fried eggs while chatting to the waitress.

 

There was no sign of Zac. Well, perhaps he had needed to go to the bathroom too. Or maybe he thought she'd slipped out through the back to get away from him...

 

Charlotte shrugged. He would turn up, or not. For now, she needed that coffee - though without the vodka he'd promised it would most likely be nothing better than lukewarm muddy water.

 

She sat down in a booth by the window. The waitress came over.

 

"What will it be, honey?"

 

"Coffee. As strong as you can make it. I need it."

 

"Anything to eat to go with the coffee?"

 

Charlotte shook her head. "Too early for me, thanks. Just the coffee. Unless you have any fresh orange juice."

 

"Just out of a cartoon, honey."

 

"Just the coffee, then."

 

"Coming right up." The waitress peered at her. "You ok? That's a nasty bruise in you face. Somebody hit you?"

 

"I'm ok," Charlotte replied. "Really. I just need some coffee."

 

"Sure thing."

 

 

A couple of minutes later the waitress returned with a mug. It looked like coffee. It even smelled like coffee. And tasted almost like coffee.

 

Charlotte sipped it slowly, waiting.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Oh, there you are," Charlotte said, smiling briefly. "And yeah, thanks - I could use a vodka after a night like that."

 

Bright morning light was flooding through the window. Coupled with the harsh overhead fluorescent lighting the glare was almost painful. In this kind of light she always felt very self-conscious about her scars, wore gloves whenever she could. But her gloves were in her pocket, soiled and unusable. She resisted the impulse to hide her hands under the table.

 

Even at work she wore gloves, after she had caught people staring at her wrists, even though Tania, her boss, had frowned about it, muttering that it would look odd to the customers, until some snooty soccer mum had congratulated her on the high standards of hygiene in her shop. Now Tania insisted that all her staff wore gloves.

 

 

Charlotte grimaced, looked up.

 

"I don't think you ever got round to answering my question," she addressed Zac directly. "Why did you follow me to the hospital?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.

×
×
  • Create New...