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Mon Feb 28, 2011 12:54 pm

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Part 1

She watched her father closely as he sat numbly on the couch. He stared off into space, not registering the slight movements of his daughter, or even acknowledging her presence.

“Joey?” her cautious voice spoke through tight, faded pink lips.

Yep, she thought to herself, he’s completely stoned out of his mind.

She sighed, but knew that he wouldn’t hear her. When he was out like this, he wouldn’t notice if a purple flying monkey flew into the room, smacked him across the face and then disappeared in a puff of smoke, let alone his own daughter.

He sat motionless on the stained grey couch, staring at the dirty walls of the trailer.

Mina and her father, Joseph (but if you called him that, you’d get a punch to the gut) lived in a trailer attached to their peeling red pick-up truck. At the moment they were camped out in a parking lot across from a Denny’s. Mina had tried to apply for a job there, but like all the other places, they turned her down because of her age. People just weren’t hiring 17 year olds – especially ones like Mina.

Mina ran a hand through her stringy black hair, and sighed once more.

She stalked over to her father and grabbed the smoking joint out of his hand. She thought for a moment, and then threw it out the window.

She was tired of this.

Once upon a time, her life had been relatively normal. She went to school, had a few friends, her father only did pot on the weekends and her mother was content with being a scam-artist – but then three years ago, her mother up and left without a word. The credit card company called a few days after her disappearance to verify a one-way ticket to Jamaica. This was the event that caused a chain-reaction of chaos, and the remains of that train wreck was now Mina’s life.

Now Mina was the sole provider for the two of them, and what money she did manage to make, was usually wasted on drugs, if she hadn’t hidden it away carefully. They were living on food stamps, and her father’s “disability” check that came once a month (her father had learned a few things in the way of scamming, before completely giving up his life to smack).

A loud bang on the door brought Mina out of her past.
Her eyes widened and her heart started racing. Someone was at the door – for Mina and Joey, that was never a good sign.

Her first guess was the police.

Her second guess was dealers.

The loud banging on the door sounded again, this time more impatient.

“Coming,” Mina called. She reached to open the door then realized that she was still in her PJs – which were nothing more than a sports bra and a pair of shorty-shorts.

She threw on a T-shirt of her fathers, which was lying on the floor, and rushed to open the door.

Part 2

A scrawny, snake of a man slinked through the crowded bar with a silent grace. Beads of sweat formed around the crown of his head, but despite the crowds of hot and sweaty dancers in the bar, this man was sweating out of nervousness. He wove between people effortlessly and made his way to the back room of Piper’s Pit.

This was Tony’s bar.

The snakelike man shuttered. He didn’t like Tony.

He’d been working for Tony for a few years now, but that didn’t mean that he liked the man. Tony was creepy in a smooth and collected kind of way. He would appear to be in a good mood and then, BAM, he’d slap you across the face…or shoot you…it all depended on how bad you screwed up, or how much trouble you’d caused.

The man came to the back of the grungy, stale-smelling bar and hesitated before opening a wooden door, donned with a golden plated plaque that read “Private” in thin and foreboding black letters. The snakelike man stepped through and closed the door quickly behind him. When the door closed, the sound of it echoed through the hall, making the snake flinch.

To him it sounded like a gunshot.

He took a deep breath and quickened his walk to a slight jog, as he headed down a long hallway. The hallway was lit with fluorescent lights, making his skin seem a sickly yellow color. He wanted to get out of here as fast as he could, but where he was headed was probably worse.

Much worse.

The hall abruptly turned to the right, now leading to another old, wooden door. This one had no plaque to describe it, but the snake knew exactly where it led to.

He stepped quietly as he approached the door, not wanting to be yelled at for disturbing Tony. The lights were dimmed, and the snake had a hard time seeing for a few moments until his eyes adjusted.
When his eyes finally came around, he saw Tony and his distinctly large and misshapen nose looking down at something on his desk, apparently ignoring the newcomer. The snake noticed two heavyset goons standing in the corners of the room behind Tony’s desk, and figured that there were at least two more coming up behind him.

He spun around, accustomed to this drill, and saw two more goon-ish men standing to either side of the door he had just come through – though at least they were familiar.

The snake recognized them as Leo Carpacia and Freddie

Two of Tony’s top men – usually the enforcers or man-handlers, both of which had outstandingly horrifying reputations – took two steps towards the snake.

Leo spoke, a low and terrifying voice, “Snake – how was the trip. I’m sure Nicaragua’s nice this time of year.”

Snake took a hard breath, as Leo’s meaty hands patted him down, and pulled out his gun from his hidden jacket pocket.

Leo handed the gun to Freddie, butt first, while Snake lifted his hands above his head. He’d done this a thousand times before, but Leo’s thick hands still sent shivers down his spine – call it homophobic if you want to, but Snake hated it just the same.

“Sure, it was just freakin’ fantastic,” Snake pulled away from Leo when his search came up empty and slowly approached the desk.

Tony finally looked up from his papers, and folded his hands neatly on his desk. Tony’s cold eyes seemed to read Snake’s mind – either that, or someone else had told him how badly everything went down.

“Snake…you were due back three days ago. I get the feeling that somewhere along the line, someone made a mistake,” his voice was gentle at the moment, but Snake new that in an instant, it could be changed to a voice of wrath and fury. Snake imagined that the devil himself would have a voice quite like Tony’s.

Snake knew not to speak until Tony signaled him. Tony hated disrespect, and Snake couldn’t risk making any more mistakes after that fiasco in Nicaragua.

“So tell me Snake – what exactly happened?” Tony unfolded his hands and gestured for Snake to speak.
Snake tried to take a calming breath, but couldn’t get his nerves to quiet. He started to sweat even more, but spoke as best as he could.

“There was a problem with the Cartel. They said we’d only paid for 50 kilos, but I knew we’d paid for the full 100. So I told him, if we didn’t get our shipment, it’d be on their heads – they said that they wouldn’t give us anything if we didn’t accept the 50. I said we wouldn’t take less than 100 and they started shooting. Both the other guys you sent got shot – I was able to drop to the ground faster, but I still got hit,” Snake pulled up his shirt and jacket to reveal a white bandage wrapped around his gut, a small bloodstain visible, soaking into the bandage on his left side, “I was able to get away but I couldn’t get very far with a bullet in my side.

“Eventually I got to the correspondent’s place and was able to patch myself up there – he said he’d had no idea that the Cartel would try to cheat us,” Snake thought for a moment then continued, “But I’m pretty sure he was in on it. He seemed a little too surprised that I’d showed up.”

“It took an extra day, but after I was bandaged, I got to the jet and came straight home.” Snake stopped his story there, and waited for Tony’s judgment. Though it wasn’t actually Snake’s fault that things went down wrong, Tony would probably still blame him.

“Did you kill the rat correspondent?” Tony spoke chillingly.

“No, Sir. I just wanted to get out of there.”

Tony seemed to think for a moment, then nodded.
At first, Snake thought it was a good sign, but once he heard the rustling behind him, he knew that the nod was a signal to the goons standing behind him.

Two sets of thick hands came down on his scrawny body and held him pinned against Tony’s desk.

Snake struggled, trying to free his arms from Freddie and Leo’s clutches, but they wouldn’t give.

Tony watched Snake try to fight, and then eventually hang limp in the hands of his relentless “bodyguards” as Tony liked to refer to them.

Sobbish words fell from Snake’s panicking mouth, “It wasn’t my fault – please not this!” He broke down with more sobs, then lifted his head up to face Tony.

Tony’s green eyes – not a mossy green, but green like a dirty jungle river – looked over Snake with a half-disgusted, half-amused smile in his eyes, though the corners of his mouth never even twitched.

“You’ve screwed up, Alvin,” Tony started, with a cold and harsh voice.

Snake flinched at the use of his real name, but kept up his pleading look.

“A lot of deals were riding on your success – that shipment was crucial, but you couldn’t handle it.”
Snake pleaded, “It wasn’t my –“

Tony’s hand slapped across his face with a hard smack, “Don’t be disrespectful – you’ve already proved that you’re worthless, don’t piss me off as well.” Tony took a calming breath and continued, “You couldn’t handle it, but, because I am a gracious man, I will not kill you.”

Snake’s mouth fell open in a surprised O, and his eyes shone with a glimmer of hope as well as tears.

At least until he saw Tony pull out the knife.

Leo and Freddie fanned out Snakes fingers on the desk in front of Tony.

“Yes – I will spare you’re life, but how will you learn from your mistakes if you are not punished?”

Snake began to mutter, horrified once again, “No! Please, No!”

Tony shook his head, “Sorry, Alvin, but it’s for your own good.”

Deafening, bone-chilling screams rang throughout the room and echoed into the halls, but were lost on the loud music and shouts from the bar.

Part 3

“Long time no see, Mina – your father home?…if that’s what you call this shit-hole you’re living in,” an annoyingly familiar face, accompanied by a hulking body shoved its way into Mina’s trailer.

Well, Mina thought, at least it wasn’t the cops or a creepy dealer. It was Angel – though his looks supported his name, he was far from angelic. He stood at least a foot taller than Mina, but that wasn’t suprising considering he was twenty-one and a addicted to working out – Mina could see muscles bulging dramatically from under his tight T-shirt. He had a mess of black hair that would fall into his eyes every so often, and a smooth, rounded face. But behind those good looks and that seductive smile was a horrible temper, and no self control.

“What do you want Angel? ... and how the hell did you find us?” Mina asked a little startled at his presence.

“What? I can’t just drop in on my old childhood buddy and her smacked out father?” Angel smirked seductively and leaned in closer to her, “Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.”

She gave him a hard shove to the chest, “Go fuck yourself. I hated you then and I hate you now, so say what you came here to say and get gone.” Mina opened the door and held it open with her foot.

Angel gave a short mocking laugh and leaned against the cluttered dining table that doubled as an extra bed if you pushed the table down and laid seat cushions on-top of it, “That hurts – and all this time I thought we were friends – but you want to get to the point. Alright then, your dad owes some pretty big bucks to some pretty bad people. Tony is offering to help him.” Angel crossed his muscled arms across his chest, a haunting smile still hanging on his thin lips.

Mina glanced at her almost comatose father and frowned in confusion, “What does Tony want in return? I hardly doubt that he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart.”

Angel shrugged, “All I know is that he wants your father to be at the Pipers Pit tonight at midnight. If he doesn’t show, well, let’s just say Tony might let slip to a few crucial people the whereabouts of this particular trailer.” With that said, Angel smirked again, and walked closer to her and the open door. She could feel his murky green eyes straining to see through her white T-shirt, and as he passed by her to step out the door, Angel quickly spun around and grabbed her just beneath the chin and pulled her face upwards.

At first, she thought he was going to choke her, but when she didn’t feel his hand constricting her airways she realized that he was looking her over very closely, letting his other hand wander closer to her chest.

She could feel his breath by her ear, “Since when did you grow up?”

“Fuck off,” She said through clenched teeth.

His hand left her chest and came to her mouth. He outlined her lips with his forefinger and leaned in as if to kiss her, but instead said, “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got – it’s gonna get you in trouble someday.”

He held her for a moment longer, and then shoved her backwards.

She would have gone sprawling had it not been for the closeness of the couch. She was able to grab onto the arm of the couch, thus keeping her from falling to the floor. She heard Angel’s callous laugh echoing through the empty parking lot. She waited until his voice was completely faded to let her tears fall.

Part 4

Sheriff Jonathan Tower sat behind his desk sipping on lukewarm coffee, looking over a recent case he’d been called to. It was a torturous murder of a 38 year old father of three.

He didn’t come home from work one night, and two days later, a couple on a morning bike ride found his hand sticking up from the ground. He’d been buried in a shallow grave, deep in the center of Decker’s Park.
When his body was uncovered, there were twenty precise cuts all over his body, but the actual COD was a bullet to the back of the head – Executioners Style.

The twenty cuts had just managed to miss his major arteries, ensuring that he didn’t bleed to death. Whoever did this, had tortured the man, but what was really killing Sheriff Tower was why? Why this man? As far as Tower could tell, he wasn’t anything special. He worked as an accountant at an insurance company, lived a straight life, had a wonderful marriage – hell, the guy even had straight A’s all throughout high school and college. He was a model citizen and the only drug he seemed to take was an off brand sleeping pill that his wife assured, he didn’t take too often because it tasted horrible.

The guy seemed to be almost perfect – not the normal victim for this type of gruesome killing.

That left two options in Jon’s eyes: 1) it was just a random killing by some psyco or 2) the victim was hiding something, and from the violence of the murder, it was something big and bad.

Normally, they would have written it off on gang violence, but this was just too organized to be gangs. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for gangs to torture members of a rival gang, but they usually left the body in the open as an example – not to mention leaving lots of trace evidence behind – but this body had been buried, with almost nothing to analyze but a wallet and a book of matches.

Jon rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He needed a break – not just from this case, but from the job.

He’d worked for the force for almost fifteen years know, and all he had to show for it was a few scars and a lot of medication. He didn’t think he could take it much longer.

A fast, almost bullet-like knock on the door signaled Joyce’s presence. She didn’t wait for him to answer before barging in.

“Lab reports came back, Sir – nothing but the vic’s DNA on the wallet and none of the credit cards are missing and the only clue we have as to where he was before being buried in the park was the match book. The label was faded, but the analysts say they’re going to run as many tests as they can come up with to get a clear lettering,” Joyce’s analytic voice reminded Jon of the computer from War Games, only with a female accent to it.

Jon let his head fall into his folded arms on his desk. He could feel Joyce’s small and slanted brown eyes looking at him with worry. “Shit,” Jon shook his head, then lifted it, “We just can’t catch a break, can we? Well, I guess we’re working overtime this week.”

Joyce looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed, her torso cocked to the side and her hands sitting stiff on her hips, “You, my friend, need to go home. You may be my boss, but you’re not superman. You’ve been here for over 24, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you run yourself into the ground.”

Jon sighed, “I can’t – the case…”

“Is just an excuse,” Joyce finished for him, “I’ve already clocked you out, so get out of here.”
Jon looked around the office, trying to find a reason not to leave, but realized the truth in Joyce’s words.

“Fine – I guess Joyce knows best. My only condition is that you call if something interesting happens,” Jon stood up and threw his coat over his uniform.

“Deal, now get home and take a nice long nap,” She pushed him out the door and towards the elevator.

Jon rolled his eyes, but was secretly grateful. Joyce could sometimes seem like a computer, but she knew him enough to see through his shit. He waved to her as the elevator doors closed, and whisked him down towards the first floor.

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Sun Mar 06, 2011 5:31 pm

Joined: Sun Mar 06, 2011 1:52 pm
Posts: 7
Age: 27

HmMmMmM Nic3 ji...........

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Mon Mar 07, 2011 11:27 am

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Joined: Sat Apr 17, 2010 9:17 pm
Posts: 1231

nice story ... thanks for sharing ..

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