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|Writing Prompt #3 - Ends June 19th, 23:59||Started by: Squishy on Jun 12, '18 18:46|
A writing prompt is simply a ultra short idea that kicks off a short story using what I have provided to create your own version of my event, before, during, and after. I will be giving away prizes for these based upon effort, entertainment value, and creativity.
Please keep it original, rated R is OK, rated X is not. Be sure finish your short story with your name and full crew name, in bold, right justified and at the bottom. You do not need to use the writing prompt word for word.
Anyway, onto the sauce:
The sun is starting to set, what is taking so damn long? A few more minutes and we are onto plan B. Well, there really wasn't a plan B, more of a 'Fuck it, just make it happen'. You start doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong. You start nervously shifting from left to right, feeling very vulnerable standing in the middle of the sidewalk within spitting distance from the coppers local watering hole. RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. You quickly turn to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, you stop counting and start towards what appears to be the motherload of .... whatever this is. As you toss the last sack into the back of the truck, Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck. He laughs and says PUNCH IT! The truck roars to life and takes off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, you realize you are not being followed. Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of:
Squishy - MafiaReturns Administration
"Paperwork?!?" Isabella put her foot on the break and put the truck into park and turned to Doc. "What do you mean paperwork?"
Doc took off his cap and wiped his brow. "The bags are full of papers, its not like I had time to read them."
"Newspapers?" She said incredulously.
"Nah. The sort people keep in an office."
"Contracts? Titles?" Isabella asked.
"Do I look like a damn secretary? I ain't no dame."
Isabella glared at the henchman.
"No offense intended, Miss."
"You swore this was a sure thing! Where is the mountain of diamonds your friend heard them talking about - where's my untold wealth that we just risked our asses for? I swear to God, Doc!"
"He ain't never steered me wrong before. I don't know what to tell ya, Bella, but it didn't make no sense leaving behind anything that was behind that many locks and protections. It's gotta be worth something to someone."
"You better pray it is." She sighed. "I'm trying to prove myself to my father, not make myself look like a damn fool."
Isabella turned around, putting the truck into gear again and continued down the road towards the old abandoned barn on the edge of Gary, Indiana; a mere 30 minutes away. It was here she meant to be rolling around in piles of diamonds tonight - instead, she'd be exactly what Doc had associated her gender with, a damn secretary.
Silently she considered the number of ways she might get back at this Little Joe, the janitor friend of Doc's who'd hooked them up with this tip. At the moment, she was utterly convinced that he'd given them bad information just to make her look bad in front of her Don and Godmother. Well, that would be the last mistake that asshole was ever going to make or her last name wasn't Luciano.
3AM - Abandoned Barn, Gary Indiana
Sweat matted Isabella's hair to her head, her white button down blouse clung to her unforgiving in the summer heat - even at this late hour. Silently she read through the mountains of paperwork by the light of oil laps laid around the room. Her only relief, small as it was, a flask of sub-par moonshine made up in Wisconsin by some nobody in his bathtub.
The paperwork was dull. Nothing as exciting as deeds to property on the loop or merger contracts between large companies. No, the paperwork was student registration forms. Countless forms for children registering for the 1932 school year in the Chicago Public School District. At first she'd thought to burn the whole damn pile, but something caught her eye about them. It wasn't a big detail, maybe it was nothing, but it was enough to make her start check one after another to see if that one detail was the same on all or most of the children's forms.
Their small pox vaccinations... it seemed every child in the pile had gotten their vaccination shot for the disease on the same day. It was possible, she supposed. In New York they'd done that when she was a child. Every kid was taken into a clinic or even at school to get the shot - but that had been in the beginning, when it first started being required of children. Now, most children got them at doctor's offices during regular visits.
So, assuming the contents of these documents were lies - where was the money? School children were hardly big money, or so she'd have guessed. How did a bunch of fake student records somehow equal a mountain of diamonds?
Isabella took another swig of the gross moonshine and looked over to Doc, asleep in the corner. She wished she could just write of tonight as easily as he did. Her father had let slip his opinion of her skills with his Freudian slip of 'two bit hustles' in their discussions with Godmother Marie_Lucania. Soon her father would have another child, one born of his true wedded wife - a Godmother. Power, blood, and perhaps even sex (if the child was male) would all put that bond before her in @Salvatore_Lucanio 's eyes. She wished she didn't care... but he was all she had now and she wouldn't be a failure in his eyes come hell or high water.
She took another hit of the moonshine.
Maybe this stuff isn't so bad after all.
She looked at the flask and considered where her life was going and if she really was as proud as she let her Father believe. Suddenly, sitting up at that ungodly hour in that dusty old barn, surrounded by piles of nothing; Isabella felt very, VERY, alone.
I miss you so much, Mom.
10AM - Office of Salvatore Luciano
"Tiny, please. Just one look." She batted her eyelashes at the man her father appointed to be her bodyguard.
"He'd kill me. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not, but..."
"Then don't ask me this." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the file cabinet that Isabella was SURE had to hold the records she wanted to take a peak at.
"You could just step out and take a smoke break while I..." Isabella insisted.
"Why not tell him what you're up to? He'd probably help you."
"I DON'T WANT HIS HELP!" She shouted and stamped her foot uncharacteristically.
Tiny stood up and arched an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry..." She knew he'd never seen her lose her cool, not once, so it was understandable he was shocked to see her so frazzled. "It's just... I need him to know I can do this on my own."
Tiny put a hand on Isabella's shoulder. "And how is looking at his notes on people really going to look? Kid, I'm doing you a favor here. I'm not just saving my own hide. If you want your father to see... whatever you're doing as something you did on your own, you CAN'T look into his files. If you do, it's not you. It's his work, at least in part."
Isabella winced and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She hated that he was right, and of course he was.
"This is why we work in families, there isn't shame in going to him with a lead on a big score. He'll still see it as something you brought into the family. He'll be proud of that."
"I want this to be mine."
"So, it's about the money?"
She shrugged. "Why shouldn't it be? I don't want to give my father my score... I'll give him tribute, his fair share, but damn it if I'm going to do all the work, why shouldn't I want my piece of the pie?"
Tiny chuckled. "You really are like him more than you know. Look Kid, I can't let you dig through your dad's records, but maybe I can help point you in the right direction. What were you going to dig in that cabinet for?"
Isabella considered the ramifications of telling Tiny and if he'd rat her out to her Dad. She supposed it didn't matter if he did, eventually her old man was going to know about her failed 'diamond heist' and that she desperately was trying to turn paper into real sawbucks. The question was, would he learn of it before she'd managed to do that... or after.
"Chicago Public Schools."
"What about them?" Tiny asked.
"I need to know if he does business with them or anyone in charge of them."
Tiny laughed. "Why the hell would a mob boss like Lucky have his fingers in some grammar schools?"
This, she decided, was why he was a bodyguard and not even worthy of the title of gangster yet. Still, he meant well. She wouldn't point out his lack of vision. "The why doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm not stepping on my father's toes or dipping into someone else's money. He won't thank me for taking a cut out of Godmother Marie's pockets if she's got interests there. I'll make our family look bad."
Tiny considered this and nodded. "I see what you're saying... so this is about making sure you're not crossing anyone?"
She shrugged, "And if I happened to find anyone's dirty secrets along the way... that would be useful too, possibly; but mostly I don't want a Godmother sending her thugs out to beat me down on my way to her wedding party."
Tiny chuckled. "Can't see Marie doing that... at least not to you; but I get ya."
"Just the same, if I ask my father about it he'll want to know why I need to know. It'll reveal some... details I'm not ready to share yet. I just gotta make sure I'm not fucking him over. That's reasonable enough, isn't it? I mean, if I walk out of here and keep going after this score of mine and it turns out I did screw my dad over... do you think he's going to thank you for not letting me check?"
Tiny seemed to be thinking about this for much longer than her previous statements. She struggled not to smile. I got you this time!
"The boss wouldn't like it if you screwed him over and I stopped you from making sure you weren't."
"Damn straight. Now... let me look in that file cabinet."
Tiny, the loyal (but not so bright) servant of the Luciano family, stepped out of Isabella's way.
5PM- Lake Michigan Docks
The distant sound of waves crashing on rocks, bells and horns of ships across the lake which American Indians once called Michi gami, or great water helped to cover the sound of a lone bookie's anguished cries.
"I am seriously disappointed in you Joey." She could see why he was called 'The Nose' ... that beak could put any bird to shame!
"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry Miss Luciano."
"Of that there is absolutely no doubt now, Joey." She rubbed the spot on her arm where the bookie had grabbed her so violently a moment ago. There would likely be a nice bruise that would be impossible to hide. "As you can tell by the look on my friend Tiny's face, we Sicilians frown on putting your hands on a woman. You really should know better."
"I do... I do... It'll never happen again. Just please, please don't tell Lucky!"
Isabella startled and looked back at the man with confusion. "Don't tell..." She looks to her bodyguard and then back to the man in his grip. "You sexist son of a bitch!" She snarled coming close to him and getting into his face. "Even now, with my guy holding your goddamned balls with one hand, and your throat with his other, you're more fucking worried about my FATHER than me?"
All she could see was red. Isabella turned from the man and began scanning the docks for something, anything, to make her point with. Her eyes came to rest upon just the thing. Walking briskly over to a near by row boat she could hear the man screaming behind her for mercy - but it was no more a disturbance than the sound of the bells and boat horns.
Raising the oar above her head she brought it down repeatedly across Joey's body. Tiny eventually released the bookie from his grip so not to be assaulted by the Don's daughter. Isabella seemed to go into a manic state, ranting incoherently as she beat Joey to a bloody pulp stopping only once she was out of breath and weary from swinging the bloody and splintering remnants of the wooden oar.
She cast aside the oar. "Now, you cazzo di pezzo di spazzatura... pick up your teeth and stop crying because I ain't got all day." Joey pulled himself up onto his elbows and sputtered, blood coming from his nose and mouth quite freely. Isabella dusted off her hands and examined her new dress for blood splatter, lamenting the powder blue sundress was a total loss.
"Scratch out Richard Mathew's debt and before you begin to cry about my Daddy again I urge you to consider that there is plenty of oar left for me to shove right up your ass."
The man nodded eagerly, "Mathew's don't owe me nothin."
"Good. Very good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding. Maybe next time I won't have to reassure you where I stand in relationship to you in this organization. Now... tell me where I can find him... outside of school hours I mean; because me and the Principal got a few million things to discuss."
9PM- Alleyway Just Blocks From Michigan Avenue
"A girl can learn a lot spending a nickel on a paper." She threw the paper down at the man sitting on the dirty cold cement in front of her. The Principal picked up the paper and looked at the headline it was opened to. He swallowed and looked up at her, not saying a word.
"I'm sure you know by now that last night your student records were lifted. And... by students I mean, forged papers. Did those need to go to the Federal Government?"
The principal shook his head no.
Isabella nodded. "Well, that's good, just the same... we'll get 'em back to you. In fact, I'm going to do you a solid and find you some boys and girls to fill those seats in your classrooms for real. A few pennies a week and a meal during school hours isn't too much to pay in order to make sure we have legitimate numbers... all things considered."
She watched him pale.
"Quite the racket you got going there Mr. Mathews. I'm honestly shocked no one took wise to you sooner... what with your very prolific and cursed gambling habit. Shit, I've never seen such bad luck before... but this... meeting me; this is your best turn of luck ever."
She could see the confusion in his eyes as Tiny helped him up to his feet.
"From here on out, you can play all you want with my bookie Joey the Nose. Bet until the cows come home. If you win, keep it. It's yours. If you lose... I'm sure the debt can be made to disappear as easily as the 3K I just settled for you today."
"You ... you settled my debt?"
Isabella nodded and walked over to the man. She smoothed out his suit jacket. "Well, I couldn't have someone as important to the community as you are in that kind of trouble. You're a pillar of our social structure... the builder of young minds. If you're distracted by debts you can't pay back, you're not able to focus on your most important job."
Of course, she didn't mean education.
"Now... what's the take each year?"
"$5,000 for each district." He lied.
Isabella shook her head. "I can do basic math and even with what the papers say, I know it's much more than that. Now, try again Mr. Mathews and please remember... my mother enrolled me in private school - not public. When I ask questions, more often than not I already know the answer and I'm simply testing to see whether I can trust you to work with me... or if I need to think of a place to hide your body while I find a suitable replacement I can trust."
The man's eyes were as big as tea saucers.
"Yearly take from the Federal Government is...?"
"We... we have 400,000 students across the district." The man said, seeming to be doing calculations of his own aloud. Then he became distracted, perhaps by a desire to convince her that she had nothing to gain from scamming a school system. "We've had to borrow a lot since the crash of the stock market, just to keep the doors open we've laid off a lot of teachers... the unions are mad as hell."
"We'll get to the unions soon enough, but let's just say the Teacher's Union won't be a concern for much longer."
"There's just isn't any..."
"Roosevelt is stepping in, paper says so. That's why you were making sure to pad your numbers with those fake kids. Now I'm only going to give you one more chance to work with me... and please trust me, you WANT to work with me. I can make your life so much simpler than it is now."
He swallowed and blinked back tears. God she hated seeing grown men cry. How could a strong woman ever feel like a dainty flower when all the men around her were constantly falling apart?!?
"How... much?" She repeated herself.
"$1,000 per student, per year."
Tiny coughed. Isabella's mouth went slack, she couldn't help it. She'd expected to make good once she started thinking about the unions and the ways she might skim off the top but she had NO IDEA that the school was handling Rockafeller-style-cash! All those crappy books, terrible food, shoddy writing instruments, teachers with their foul attitudes and horribly underpaid wages...
And there it was. This was bigger than Matthews. He wasn't pissing himself over greed or fear of her or even his habits... it was whoever else was taking cash with him. The only way a school district stayed in the condition that Chicago was in (debts, disrepair, underpaid staff) with a budget of $400,000,000 a year; was if a SHIT TON of people were dipping into the pot.
"The school board." She said decidedly. Of course it would be the people that the community elected to protect the children and facilitate the school district. Politicians were the WORST sort of criminals... fucking vampires, bleeding the whole thing dry and leaving nothing behind. Like the farmer who killed all his cattle to eat well one winter but left none to breed in the spring.
Matthews nodded. "For years now, long before me. It was this way since I came here, I just... I mean, who's going to say no to that?"
Isabella nodded. "Who indeed. What's your cut?"
"Not anymore. You're on my payroll, starting tonight. Your cut comes to my pocket and I'll let you know how much you get to keep and you're going to help me to get to know every person on the school board. If you do, I'll set you up to not only be a very wealthy man... but one who is seen as having saved the Chicago Schools."
"I'll help. I'm really looking forward to it Miss Luc.." He was pouring it on too thick, she decided.
"BUT... if you cross me, if you fuck with me, I want you to know that you're even more easily replaced than the Board you've been working with so closely. Unlike you, they're elected officials. You can be let go from you position with a word... and then, who knows what might happen to you."
"I would never endanger you Miss Luciano."
Isabella smiled. "Of course not, Mr. Matthews, because together we're going to give Chicago's youth a whole new lease on life. A brighter future through education... and you're going to be the man who's remembered in the history books as the person who saved Chicago Schools during the Great Depression."
Isabella put her arm around the principal. "It's all Diamonds, Mr. Matthews. As bright and beautiful as any diamond you ever saw. Trust me."
|Reply by: Isabella_Luciano at Jun 13, '18 04:24|
|Report Post||Tips: 2 / Total: $70,000 Tip|
The sun is starting to set, clearly can be seen from the sea shore next to the Port of Boston, what is taking so damn long?
"Listen, we cannot tell anyone about this, there is intel says that the military start to operates searching for this material. It is a use of larger war, especially between country. Now, lets go to the safehouse. I have to meet with other contact and receive our commission." Says Doc.
Samurai - The Blue Trane
|Reply by: Samurai at Jun 13, '18 17:15|
|Report Post||Tips: 1 / Total: $20,000 Tip|
She tosses the matchbook you gave her earlier onto the table between you. “You know what that is?“ She paused giving you a chance to answer the question that you had no answer to. She tapped the matchbox. “ This is where we are going to recover that monetary value lost on that botched job. So, I will offer you double the pay of the last job if you would do this for me.” Her words finished as she grabbed the decanter and proceeded to refill your glasses. The smile grows on your face with the thoughts of the money you will be adding to your off-shore accounts after this. Fred was right these people did have the work and the money in town, you make a mental note to thank him later for this lead.
You look her in the eyes as you start to answer your words seem to come out rambling, not wanting to appear nervous you cough shallowly to clear your throat as if something were caught in. “Double? Well now how could I refuse such an offer. What is it that needs to be done?”, She nods her head in acknowledgement of your decision “Well then let’s get down to business shall we. You need to find Doc first, try this nightclub.” She flips the matchbox towards you. “That seems to be his second home. If he doesn’t want to talk to you and most likely he won’t. Tell him Mother said he better behave. He will talk with you then and let you know what is needed of you on this job.” She downed the last of her whiskey in a single swallow, stood slowly and walked briskly towards the door she had entered from. “Don’t disappoint me, make it happen.” Her words clung to your mind like the bait in a mousetrap enticing the mouse. With the meeting over you finish last of your drink and leave a sense of relief covers you as you exit the house and walk back to your car.
The sun just sitting on the horizon as twilight falls, you can’t help but sit there in the car with your gaze fixated on the entrance to the nightclub wondering if this whole thing is some how a set-up. No such thing as a coincidence your grandfather use to say, you never really understood that till now. It was not a coincidence you had to dispatch that goon in the alley. Nor that he had that matchbook on him, that just happened to match Doc’s favorite bar. You finally crawl out of the car and work your way up to the club door greeting the doorman with a nonchalant attitude. You hand him a few bucks and walk inside.
Sitting at the bar you scan the room for a man that fits the description of Doc, a white bearded man no taller than 4 feet 5inches and broad as a barn house door. A deep voice asks, “What you be drinking tonight?” As you turn to get a visual of the person you find yourself coming eye to eye with Doc. You order your drink as he sets the glass in front of you, you attempt to start conversation. He simply grunts in response to your every word. You smile and finish your drink and order another one. You lean forward getting near the little mans ear and whisper to him,” Mother said to behave.” As soon as this phrase is heard his face softens and he becomes friendly with you telling you that the VIP room was indeed ready and waiting for your private party. “If you will follow me, I will personally set you up in the room.” Doc waddled from behind the bar with a wave of his stubby arm he indicates that you are to follow him.
Once you two are in the room he explains to you that you are going to be the getaway driver tonight. That you must be ready to go as soon as the car is loaded as the job will be done just a few buildings away from where they are holding the annual Policeman’s ball this year, at their favorite bar The Bacon Blanket. Your jaw drops as you hear the location of the job, this was a set up. Damn what kind of outfit pulls a job off near the annual police mans ball. What a shit job this turned out to be, you are sure to get caught. You did not share these thoughts, not entirely sure what kind of people you are dealing with you did not want to seem like you had no backbone, especially not this far into things.
RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. You quickly turn to look just in time to see a red-faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. As the sacks thump into the bed of the truck, you hurry up and help make sure they are all accounted for. A truck you roll your eyes, you have driven many getaway cars but never a getaway truck. You hurry and jump into the driver seat as Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck the sacks softening his landing. He laughs and yells, “PUNCH IT!” The small dwarf like man was having too much fun with this job. “Them bags are heavy. What are they full of…Diamonds?” You ask half joking, but Doc only yells “DRIVE, DAMNIT, DRIVE.!” You turn the key and the truck roars to life you punch the gas which makes the truck lurch. Stifling a laugh from the way the small man in the back was thrown onto the sacks of loot you take off down the street.
Your heart racing and blood pumping you drive awhile making turns down various streets, trying to shake any who may be following. After a few moments of heart racing energy, you realize that no one is following you. At this moment so does Doc, as he leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of bat guano, the finest fertilizer this side of the Mississippi River.”
You hit the brakes causing Doc’s face to hit the back window. Laughing and trying to speak you turn towards the disgruntled Doc your laughing becomes harder as you see him rubbing his offended nose. He starts yelling about how you better keep driving or… but he stops short of finishing as he realizes you are sitting in the driver seat laughing hysterically incoherently saying something about a shit job.
Nitesprite - Phoenixes of Mayhem
|Reply by: Nitesprite at Jun 14, '18 16:55|
The sun is starting to set, what is taking so damn long? A few more minutes and we are onto plan B. Well, there really wasn't a plan B, more of a 'Fuck it, just make it happen'. Tom starts doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong. He starts nervously shifting from left to right, feeling very vulnerable standing in the middle of the sidewalk within spitting distance from the coppers local watering hole. RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. Tom quickly turns to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, he stops counting and starts towards what appears to be the motherload of .... whatever this is. As they toss the last sack into the back of the truck, Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck. He laughs and says PUNCH IT! The truck roars to life and takes off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, you realize you are not being followed. Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of C4!
The truck comes to a sudden halt, the tyres screeching from the pressure applied. Tom takes one look at Doc and shakes his head.
"How the fuck can we send you into a jewellery store and you come out with explosives?! Who the fuck is going to fence this for us? We've got a guy lined up ready to take some hot diamonds or rubys or something of that ilk, but you bring out explosives?!"
Doc looks around at others, hoping someone can answer for him.. after a moment of silence he realises its all on him...
"I'm sorry, Tom. I tried to get into the store. The codes you had didnt work! We tried everything but there was no way in, with the cops across the road I didnt want to set off the alarm, then I spotted another store beside it had left their door open... all these bags were just sitting there! So I figured its better than leaving empty handed, right?"
"No, Doc. This isn't better. Better would have been you simply not coming back at all! And if you didnt go into the store, how the fuck did the alarm go off?"
Docs face went bright red at that point
"Well... I was finding the bags a bit heavy after I got out, so I rested a couple on the door handle to the Jewellery store so as I could fix them, see. The weight somehow seemed to trigger it and the door just opened! Anyway as soon as the alarm went I knew I had to be quick, so I just grabbed all the bags and ran for it."
Tom couldnt quite believe the excuse, he didnt know whether Doc was too stupid to realise that he'd unlocked the door earlier, or was just ignoring the fact it had suddenly become unlocked. Either way it made no difference, he now had 800 useless pounds of C4 that he neither needed nor wanted. Not only will the cops be looking for this, but the feds will most likely be called in too. It'll be impossible to get anything done around the city for a while now until the heat goes away. There wasn't time to devise a plan now.. he would have to think about it some more. Tom dropped off everyone else at the safe house before heading his lock-up to hide the truck and the C4.
After leaving the lock-up Tom decided to walk back to the safe house, in the hope that the fresh air and peace will give him time to decide what to do next. With less than a mile to go, he could see a billow of smoke coming from the direction of the safe house, he hurried the rest of the distance and found the building on flames when he arrived, the guards outside lay there dead with a bullet hole each in their heads, clearly a professional job.. he noticed a note had been pinned to the door with a knife.
This had to be whomever owned the C4. Tom wanted to kick himself, he should have realised sooner the cops were the least of his worries. Whoever had that much explosives was obviously going to be pissed at losing it. He made his way back to the lock-up to collect the truck and the bags, then headed straight for the docs. He didnt want the stuff, so no sense in allowing it to get him killed. On the way there he picked up Alejandrito, he wasn't ready to enter the docks alone not knowing what was coming.
They approached Dock 14 with the lights off, rolling the truck in slowly in the vain hope no-one would notice they arrived. As the truck came to a stop, armed men approached from all sides. One man in particular stood in front of the truck, finishing off his cigarette before tossing the butt away.
"I see ye got the message then" The accent was impossible to mistake, thick Northern Irish. Being of Irish descent himself Tom was well accustomed the distinctive twang. It made more sense now, there had been rumours that the IRA were moving guns from the states back to the homeland, it shouldn't be a surprise they were buying up explosives too. Blowing things up was their MO afterall.
Alejandrito began to speak, before a word could exit his mouth the soldier nearest shot him in the shoulder.
"Yer not here to negotiate, I've had to go to a lot of trouble to track you buys down and time isn't on my side now, I need to get this ship out of the dock tonight or it'll be my balls in the grinder when I get home. Get the fuck out of the truck, leave now and don't look back and I'll let you live."
Tom nodded to Alejandrito, the pair climbed out from the truck and watched as the shooter climbed inside and reversed the truck alongside the ship in the dock, a crane then came down and picked it up like it was nothing, moving the truck safely from the dock and onto what appeared to be a cargo ship. Once they were far enough from ear shot, Alejandrito figured it was safe to talk again..
"They could at least have left the fucking truck! Now we need to walk home! Dammit Tom, why do you always get me into stupid shit like this?!"
Tom laughed, it was true he was always pulling people into stupid schemes, though on this occassion he would like to think Doc was at fault for such a monumental fuck up.
"You have my apologies Alejandrito, but at least they gave us our lives. Fuck the truck. Now, lets get you to our Doctor, that wound needs treated. After that we can talk about how we'll get the bastards back for this...."
Tom smiled to himself and gave a little chuckle. He started the day doing a simple jewellery heist and ended it dropping off C4 to a possible IRA soldier. He knew he'd never get his own back on them - but it felt good to pretend for now that he could.
TomKirkman - The Possimpables
|Reply by: TomKirkman at Jun 14, '18 21:04|
The sun is starting to set, what is taking so damn long? A few more minutes and we are onto plan B. Well, there really wasn't a plan B, more of a 'Fuck it, just make it happen'. You start doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong. You start nervously shifting from left to right, feeling very vulnerable standing in the middle of the sidewalk within spitting distance from the coppers local watering hole. RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. You quickly turn to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, you stop counting and start towards what appears to be the motherload of .... whatever this is. As you toss the last sack into the back of the truck, Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck. He laughs and says PUNCH IT! The truck roars to life and takes off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, you realize you are not being followed. Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of: Heroin.
"Geez man, I thought we got out of the drugs!" You exclaim as the truck swerves through the traffic.
"We were but there were no diamonds. Whoever said there was, was lying. But I'll be damned if I go back empty handed without some cash. So we best get to selling our shit. Set up a meeting with Marco in New Orleans."
You take your time getting out of the truck at the nearest phone. Placing the call to Marco you have a meeting set up for the next morning.
"Come on Doc, we'll be driving all fucking night now."
You get back into the truck and take the first shift driving. The scenery streams past the window until darkness falls. Then all you can see is whatever lights the path. Around midnight you pull over and trade spots with Doc. Chipper as always he takes the wheel and you catch a couple of hours of sleep.
As you reach Marco's warehouse you notice something is off. There doesn't seem to be his usual security out front but you travel through the gate anyways. Soon as you are through the gate closes and five men surround the truck. Noticing the trap that you had just walked into you, you comply with the men's orders in hopes of getting out alive. Surely your boss will understand and you can find some way to make the cash back up.
As they order you out of the truck you leave behind your guns. Letting them pat you down as they begin to unload the heroin. It took them one trip each as they rotated watching you and Doc. A gun aimed at your head they put you back into the truck and you are ordered to never come back.
"Bet Marco said hi and everything." Doc muttered as he started the truck.
"Least we still got our heads mate." You angrily mention.
The sting of being stabbed by one of the best dealers was one that weighed heavily. How were you to tell your boss that you lost millions because you had been a fool trusting a drug dealer? Best to get it done head on.
So you head back home to tell the boss.
BlueBelle - The Bartenders Collective
|Reply by: BlueBelle at Jun 15, '18 20:57|
This was gonna be a pretty big deal, riding around with another doctor though the difference between Doom and this doctor is that one is sane and the other introduces himself as insane, not enough to put him in danger though just a little leaning to the side of crazy because when he brought up the request to have him assist him on this job to raid almost a kilo of something. He didn't say what it was but he told him he'd know once he had seen it. The plan was to have Doom just sit out in a getaway in an alley where the building was gonna be, apparently he had planned this beforehand and knew where to sneak in before anyone could know it was gone.
But, like any other job, this was gonna be big but there nothing in life is free. Unless you steal it. DoctorDoom had to meet this other doctor out at his rundown apartment in Corktown. Doom hopped into a truck and began to make his drive out towards to where the doctor's apartment was located, homeless people came out of the alleyway once they spotted Doom and asked for change and it was because he was wearing a suit and looked rich, which he was with his production business in order but he faked it and put his hands up and said "no money, guys." and they retreated back into the alleyway after giving him a dirty look.
Doom continued his walk over to the apartment and knocked on the door. The crazed doc opened the door and practically dragged him inside and shut the door after him, the apartment wasn't very clean and there was an odd odor that he couldn't pinpoint and not like he had the time to since the two of them were gonna leave right after the sit down anyways. Doom slid into a chair with the man sitting across from him, he rolled out a book he had been making notes in with a makeshift drawing of the building they were gonna raid for this something. Doom sat down in boredom as the man switched his finger from across spot of the book to another discussing and marked where Doom was sit in the truck, he shut the book and stood up.
"Did you get all that?" The doc asked.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Can we just go get this thing you've been talking to me about? I got other things to do, believe it or not I'm a very important guy." DoctorDoom replied.
"Okay, okay! Let's go on an adventure!" The doc shouted.
The doctor shouted as he made his way out of the apartment. Doom followed right behind with disgust on his face, how could someone live like that? Maybe this job was gonna be his jackpot and if it got him out of here and with a different living area and a shower, he was gonna be all for it since this job didn't seem like it was gonna take long but they could be unpredictable. Expect the unexpected as they should call it, they drove out to the compound that was holding this "product" that he's been wanting.
It looked defended, lightly defended and Doom didn't have the energy to get into a gunfight but if he had to, he would have. The doctor slid right out and sounded like a rabid animal on cocaine looking up to the building, jogging over to the side door that lead to the first floor and he was gonna be met with company. Doom reversed the truck into the alleyway like they planned and once the door closed, he could only hope that he didn't get shot on entry. He left the truck and started to take position on the sidewalk, just leaning on the brick wall and watching for anything suspicious.
The sun is starting to set, what is taking so damn long? A few more minutes and we are onto plan B. Well, there really wasn't a plan B, more of a 'Fuck it, just make it happen'. You start doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong. You start nervously shifting from left to right, feeling very vulnerable standing in the middle of the sidewalk within spitting distance from the coppers local watering hole. RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. You quickly turn to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, you stop counting and start towards what appears to be the motherload of .... whatever this is. As you toss the last sack into the back of the truck, Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck. He laughs and says PUNCH IT! The truck roars to life and takes off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, you realize you are not being followed. Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of: pure heroin!
Doom started up the truck and began to swerve out into traffic, ramming into another vehicle as he leaned out the window and said "Fuck you!" while the doctor was shouting out the window and making weird noises.
"This was your big plan?! Heroin?! You got someone to sell this off to right?!" DoctorDoom shouted as he had to honk through traffic like a road demon.
"Of course I do! You think I would do this job and not have someone to sell it off to?! Yippee!!"
Doom turned the big truck on another busy street and made to a warehouse that was reserved for this job. It was in a dockyard and was labeled Dock 8 where they had reversed the truck to the off load point. There were guys already offloading the heroin from the back of the truck when Doom finally put in park, shutting off the engine and exiting the truck and walking around to the back where he met the crazed doctor.
"You've never seen heroin so pure! Oh, uh, Jimmy! Get the damn bag of money off the table and toss it to my friend here!" He shouted.
The man almost falling asleep sitting at the table almost fell back in the chair. He stood up, grabbed the bag of money and did a long toss to DoctorDoom where he caught the bag.
"Have a good one now!" The doctor said as he walked away to consult with the group of people who offloaded the heroin.
DoctorDoom walked away and shook his head.
"That guy is fucking crazy."
DoctorDoom - The Saiyan Army
|Reply by: DoctorDoom at Jun 16, '18 17:38|
"Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of Oysters."
Jacquotte slammed on the brakes which sent Doc flying into the front seat.
"Oysters? What the fuck do you mean Oysters?"
The look of puzzlement on her face was priceless, she was told this gem heist would set her straight for a good while now but what good were oysters? They were good to eat, maybe he wanted to sell them to a local restaurant but that profit surely wouldn't be anything worth while? She just didn't understand it. Just as she was about to question his logic the sound of sirens could be heard in the very near distance.
"We have to get out of here Jacquotte, step on it!"
With a sigh she put the truck into drive and stepped on the gas pedal. The truck wasn't the fastest so it took a little bit to get back up to speed, which was enough time for the cops to catch up to them. Looking in the side mirror she could see the red lights from the top of cop car just on top of the hill.
"Shit, they've caught up to us. Where do I go?"
Doc, hesitated for a moment then stuttered before finally getting out an answer.
"Head for the headquarter!"
Jacquotte immediately knew this was a bad idea, you never lead the cops to your hideout. In fact you always lead them as far away as possible, everyone knew this. Well everyone besides Doc, who come to find out isn't as smart as you would think a doc should be.
"Don't be stupid, we can't go there just yet. I have an idea, we can lose them around the docks. I know that place like the back of my hands, there's a lot of little places to hide down there. Hold on tight, this won't be the smoothest ride."
She quick turned the wheel to the left, making it feel as if the truck was riding on two wheels. Drove a couple blocks, weaving in and out of traffic before hooking a quick right. The water could be seen in front of them as the faint sound of the sirens still could be heard. After another block she turned the truck into a trucking yard and parked the truck in between two others. The workers paid them no mind, in fact they continued to conduct work as normal. This was all part of her plan, she had paid these guys off in advance just in case something went wrong.
After a couple minutes of silence Jacquotte felt confident they were in the clear.
"I think we are good but just to be safe we will sit here for a couple hours."
She caught a whiff of the oysters coming from the backseat, which reminded her she needed to figure out the value of these things.
"So, 800lbs of oysters? What the fuck are we going to do with 800lbs of oysters?"
A smile went across Doc's face as he leaned over the backseat grabbing one of the now soaked bags. Opening it open he took two out tossed Jacquotte one and kept one for himself.
"Well you see, these are just your normal oysters. In fact they are all pearl oysters, every single one of them contains a pearl."
He took a knife out from his pocket and slide it across the opening of the oyster, prying it open. With a smile he turned it around and sure enough sitting on top of the actual oyster can a pearl the size of a marble. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she reached for the pearl. Putting it in her hand and examining it.
"You're telling me each one of those oysters in those bags contains a pearl of some sort?"
Doc just sat there and nodded. A bit iffy about this Jacquotte took her knife off her side and opened the oyster he had given her. To her surprise her oyster contained a pearl just a bit smaller then the other one.
"Wow, just wow! Here I thought I was going to have to kick your ass when I heard you stole oysters but we will make a fortune out of these."
She reached in the backseat and grabbed two bags, handing one to Doc and keeping the other for herself.
"Might as well extract them now while we are waiting for the heat to clear."
JacquotteDelahaye - The Bartenders Collective
|Reply by: JacquotteDelahaye at Jun 16, '18 19:55|
“Did he say Crocodile Scales?” Asked Bingato_Alfonso quite calmly.
There was a noticeable awkward pause in the conversation as everyone looked at each other, and then cast their eyes upon The Doc, who simply smiled, then frowned and pointed towards TheManFromTheGasDept before saying;
“It was HIS idea! It’s all HIS fault, as usual!”
The vehicle screeched to a halt and the group lunged forward against the windscreen before stepping onto the sidewalk, peering into the sacks in the back.
The Doc loosened his hernia support and as he let out a sigh of relief yelled;
“Five Hundred dollars a pound he said we’d get!” Continually pointing towards TheManFromTheGasDept.
The Doc was a useful aid to the family. Having delivered several notable illegitimate offspring, and eventually curing Jamal_Thompson of sudden hair loss syndrome, his ability to remain calm in situations involving anything wet and covered in open sores was well documented. His feelings towards TheManFromTheGasDept however was as empty as Luna’s pockets at the church collection plate……… and everyone knew it.
Said Criseria as she adjusted her hand knitted Mae West. She always wore a buoyancy aid whilst on the job after reading about the Titanic. Even when the job was 1500 miles from the nearest drop of water.
“Let’s get this hoard logged, tagged and moved on up the gravy chain possums!”
No one had a clue what she meant by the remark and all quite politely nodded and went about their relevant business.
Luna remained at the wheel of the vehicle, watching the figure of Bambang Zing, a local Chinese herbalist mincing his way over to the truck. Complete with his trademark cane and highly polished spats, Zing approached the team asking;
“Haf yoooo plentee Cockodile Skao?”
Bingato_Alfonso rolled his eyes as Luna asked,
“What the hell do you want with this shit anyway Zing? I mean, what’s it for? Some new soup you’re introducing us to or wha?”
“Ahhhh, it for Poshons, Remedeees and vewy big hard on”…..replied Zing.
“In that case………the price has gone up fella……….it’s now $1000 a pound.” Said Criseria as she adjusted her personal buoyancy aid.
Zing grudgingly handed over the cash. He knew this was still a good deal and his margin was secure.
A small army of cyclists suddenly descended upon the meeting at that point. Each taking a few pounds of the stuff and pedaling off into the sunset.
The heist had gone well and none was more surprised than The Doc who at this point could do no other than congratulate TheManFromTheGasDept in the skillful execution of his business skill and guile. He then deliberately pokes him in the eye with his forefinger, before hobbling off into the evening sun with hernia in tow.
TheManFromTheGasDept - The Dauntless Assassins
|Reply by: TheManFromTheGasDept at Jun 17, '18 10:06|
The door bell rings and as he look up, greybeard saw his childhood friend Doc, entering the cafe. He called him the previous day to meet up for breakfast as he had a plan that would change everything. "Doc and his plans" Greybeard were thinking but he knew the guy for too many years to just reject him wihtout hearing him first.
Doc approached his table and sits across greybeard.
"Finally you came. I ordered you some coffee" Greybeard said pointing to the mugh that was sitting on his side of the table.
"So, Doc, what is this about."
Doc took a sip of the coffee and with his face turning as serious as it could get, he started explaining the plan. Doc worked as a worker in a warehouse that belonged to a rich Greek guy. They used to import all kinds of stuff from Europe and his shops were a hit in town. Doc explained how he saw activity happening in what appeared to be a huge vault and that the Greek used to have someone guarding the place all day long. It seemed almost impossible to do something quitely but that's where Doc's plan came handy. Right next to the vault, there is a house where an old couple lives but they would be gone for the weekend, visiting their daughter out of town. For once, Doc's plan didn't sound bad at all. There could be money to be made here. The conversation kept and after a plan was formed, Greybeard and Doc went their seperate ways until the time comes.
A couple of days later Greybeard was waiting for Doc outside of his house. he was supposed to come, pick him up with the truch they would use for the job. Right on time, he heard the noise of the horn and Doc appeared with the truck around the corner. Greybeard jumped in and they drove to the place. Everything seemed quite as they expected them to be. After doing a drive around the block just to make sure that nothig was out of the ordinary, Doc parked in front of the house, they were going to break in. As quitly as possible, Greybeard picked the lock of the door and they went in. With slow silent moves they made sure that the old couple was indded not there and they got into work after doing so. They were going to break the wall between the house nad the vault. According to Doc that wouldn't trigger any alarms and they would only found out that money were missing after a couple of days have passed.
The wall came down pretty easily and it seemed that the vault was also some kind of a refrigerator. A common practice for people to hide money into places that would appear to be other things. Doc went in and Greybeard would wait outside to keep the truck ready and also an eye in case someone tried to mess with their plan.
Time passed and the sun was starting to set, what is taking him so damn long? A few more minutes and we are onto plan B. Well, there really wasn't a plan B, more of a 'Fuck it, just make it happen'. Greybeard started doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong. He begun nervously shifting from left to right, feeling very vulnerable standing in the middle of the sidewalk within spitting distance from the coppers local watering hole. RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell starts to scream. He quickly turned to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, he stopped counting and started towards what appears to be the motherload of .... whatever this is. As he tossed the last sack into the back of the truck, Doc leaps from the window landing safely into the back of the truck. He laughs and says "PUNCH IT!" The truck roars to life and takes off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, Greybeard realized they were not being followed. Doc leans towards the window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of FETA!" with clead excitement in his voice.
The word ringed in your mind like an alarm. He told you about priceless things, he mentioned riches that were lifechanging. Before he let anger overtake him, Greybeard thought that this had to be a lingo for something else. Yeah, that had to be it. Even Doc couldn't be that stupid. However the feeling of worry could not pass that easily and after a few miles of driving, Greybeard stopped the truck and went to the back just to make sure. He opened one of the sacks and saw a metalic cubical container. His worries became more. he took his knife out and popped up the lid. It was feta. His mind went off as everything seemed to become blurry and he heard Doc saying "Here taste it" before shoving a piece of the cheese in his mouth. With just a taste, his mind found peace again. The saltiness, the creamy texture that was left in his mouth, it was all overwhelming. He knew right at that moment that he fell in love. He only wished to have some fresh bread and some tomatoes with him.
Greybeard moved away from the truck. This was not about money any more. He had to find out a way to keep all this to himself. He was ready to do whatever it takes. Without saying a word, Greybeard went back in the driver's sit and started the truck. He only had a few miles ahead of him till they reach their destination and he had to think fast.
Greybeard - The Bartenders Collective
|Reply by: Greybeard at Jun 17, '18 11:39|
The truck was at a halt and you had one of the sacks splayed open wide at your feet. Hunched over it, you lift the golden and silver medallions through your fingers, an increasingly confused look creeping across your face. Either there was a sub-par reason for this heist or Doc had well and truly lost his mind. That was always the way with Doc. He and your father go way back though, so he would always be around. As you look into his maniacal face, you feel the waning flame of hope that this was all worth something flicker in your empty, doubting mind. With a raised brow, you hold up one of the coins and pose the question.
"Doc, is... w,... why?"
Your response is a barreling laugh, so far as to be a knee slapping laugh. He points at it and barks in that sharp, coarse voice.
"It's all for you, son!" He laughed again.
"Where do we even spend this?"
An open mouthed grin, wide eyed with excitement followed.
"You'll see, boy, you'll see!"
Father had taken the sacks of foreign cash like it had some purpose and wasn't just the useless spoils of an erratic lunatic. Either that or he was saving face, for Doc's sake. Maybe one day Doc would just disappear, in recent days he brought more and more heat down on the business. Last week we were intimidating airline executives, for no obvious reason. Father had a way of making people disappear though. Maybe one day Doc would, too.
You soon found yourself at the local club that the operation fronted. It was an open plan type place which had a bar stacked up in the corner. It was currently empty, waiting for the collection of associates from across the business to gather. Later that night, the traditional family meeting was held. Words were exchanged on how well things were going and comments towards your own personal commitment and efforts. Your upcoming marriage was also brought up towards the end of the meeting. This triggered a great deal of pomp and smack talk.
Doc was exceptionally loud, almost bubbling over with excessive excitement. You attempt to hide your frustrations, as father must be doing, too.
Another roar of laughter on mention of your honeymoon. Not yet planned, however Doc found this equally as hilarious. Among the laughs he stood and strode over. He was soon in your personal space and the smell of cigar smoke and coffee made you physically recoil. Enough.
"Doc, just back the fuck up!" The outburst came without the slightest hint of jest. It was firm, angry, and intentional.
"The fuck are you doing? Today we could have been pinched, do we ever talk about that? Do we ever talk about the shit you pull and how it impacts us? Waste of fucking space, man."
Everything from that moment slowed down. You're not sure what triggered it. Maybe it was your realization of the hurt which had been caused as the older man's face fell. Or possibly the sudden commotion in the corner of the room as an assassin lunged across the table, pistol drawn, aimed directly at you. Whatever it was, everything soon snapped back into focus when the muzzle flash claimed the room. The report of the weapon fire, three, four times. The sudden pressure to your chest.
The rest of the bodyguards present soon overwhelmed the assailant, he had seen his chance as the room was distracted and taken it. As you open your eyes, your father was the first person you saw. He sat at your side, soon satisfied you were unharmed, before looking away to your right.
Associates fumbled around the lifeless body of your fathers close friend. His once playful face stricken and pained. Crimson pooled where he met the lush carpeted floor, creeping toward your feet. Your fathers commanding thunder-like voice was just a whisper.
"He arranged your honeymoon."
You find yourself lost in his glazed eyes, guilt ridden and ashamed.
- Jack Mezzo, The Pharmacy
|Reply by: JackMezzo at Jun 17, '18 20:37|
(Forgot formatting- please feel free to delete my other entry!)
The sun was starting to set behind the California hills, but the beauty of the evening was unnoticed by the young man pacing on the sidewalk. A few more minutes, he thought, and it's onto Plan B.
Well, there really wasn't a Plan B- more of a "Fuck it, just make it happen".
He started doing a mental checklist of things that could have gone wrong as he nervously shifted from left to right. His eyes kept glancing up at the coppers local watering hole, and he leaned back on his car, resting a hand on it as if to reassure him of its presence. To distract himself, he studied his reflection in the store window across from him. White shoes, jeans with a matching denim jacket, and a red vest- the only clothes he had with him.
RINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING, the alarm bell started to scream.
He quickly turned to look just in time to see a red faced Doc hurling large burlap sacks of... something? out of the window. Three, Four, Five, he stopped counting and started towards what appeared to be the motherload of... whatever this was. Doc leaped down from the window, tossing the last sack into the car and climbing in, pulling the door down behind him.
He laughed and said "PUNCH IT!" The car roared to life and took off with purpose. After a few minutes of turns and general misdirection, he realized that he was not being followed. Doc leaned toward him in the car and yelled "Diamonds, Marty?! Ha! Not even close. We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of hesperium, straight from a laboratory studying the work of Enrico Fermi! He bombarded uranium with neutrons and-"
"Doc, I don't have time for a science lesson right now! Is this stuff going to get us home or not?!"
Doctor Emmett Brown stared out the window of the DeLorean, trying to think of the best way to answer his young friend's question. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by what he saw before him. A woman, dressed to the nines, was walking down the sidewalk surrounded by 200 men. These men were all walking in lockstep as they accompanied her, and their identical features made it seem like they'd rolled off the same assembly line.
As Doc watched, bewildered, he saw a man start to approach this obviously powerful woman from the other end of the street, surrounded by 200 identical bodyguard of his own. Soon, the entire small street was filled with bodyguards. Cars came to a halt, and pedestrians ran inside looking for space to breath. The bodyguards themselves stared forward, unblinking, marching until they came into contact with each other. Eventually, the woman pulled out a gun and shot it at the man with the bodyguards; the bullet twisted, climbed, and dived through the 200 men in front of him, striking the target in between the eyes.
"Doc! Holy shit! What is going on here?!"
The man fell, dead, to the sidewalk, where a young man bearing a striking resemblance to him instantly materialized and started yelling in the streets.
Doc turned and grabbed Marty's vest, staring at him with a look of near-psychotic confusion.
"Great scott! The enriched uranium must have somehow shifted us to an alternate version of Prohibition or Post-Prohibition United States! We need to get out of here before-"
Two gunshots rang out and Doc and Marty slumped forward, dead. Two figures emerged from the shadows. One spoke to the other.
"Thanks for the tip. Normally, I would have just shot them both myself. But who could ever pull the trigger more than once an hour, amirite?"
The two figures chuckled, heading over to the jail to break someone out for the 100th time. That hour.
GavinAndTaraByrne - The Pharmacy
|Reply by: GavinAndTaraByrne at Jun 18, '18 00:18|
"Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of rum! Looks like I’m getting buzzed tonight!
"Wait, what? You said we were getting something really valuable!" I roared, since the car was making a weird sound, but it was probably nothing.
"What are you talking about? Would you rather get boozed up for a year or have a couple of lil’ diamonds? Easy choice, kid!", said the Doc, in a raspy voice.
"So you’re saying you could’ve stolen some diamonds?", I yelled.
"Of course, I can steal anything!", responded the Doc.
Suddenly, a deathening sound was heard. It was clearly a siren of some sort, but no one knew what it was for. For safety measures, Pretzel went into gear six, and he pressed the hardest he could on the gas. The truck wasn’t meant to go fast, it was a grey 1972 jeep commando. The siren sound became louder and louder, and you could feel the temsion in the jeep. Pretzel made a sharp turn, and they crossed way with an ambulance going really fast. The duo was relieved, that was the siren. Pretzel’s attention went away for a couple of seconds, and that’s how long it takes for a disaster to happen. The piece of junk crashed into a bigger truck, and the jeep went flying. In Pretzel’s eyes, everything looked like in slow-motion. The rum went flying, and the bottles started breaking. The Doc was devastated. A couple of minutes later, the cops arrived. The first thing they noticed was the rum, all on the floor. The police knew two people had stolen, but they didn’t know who. Well, now they knew. The cops said to Pretzel and the Doc that it was over, but they wouldn’t go down so easily. They both had guns, and they weren’t scared to use it. They knew the cops wouldn’t use them, so the Doc and Pretzel had the advantage. They were hidden behind the crashed truck, making a plan. They came out at the same time, and starting shooting wich looked like the best cop. They only had a few seconds before the cops would hide. Doc headshoted the cop, and evryone in the public started screaming. They weren’t used to people getting shot accross the head. The war began, the police started shooting, and the duo was fighting off. They were gaining on the cops, but they knew they didn’t have to kill everyone. Pretzel was close to a police car, and he took the opportunity to leave this place. He told the Doc to fillow him, and they both entered the car. The police started chasing them, but Pretzel had a lot of skills on the road, he lost them pretty easily.
They stopped at the Doc’s house, they were both tired of the day. Doc decided to get drunk anyways, he didn’t want to think about what happened. Pretzel felt kinda bad, he knew it was kinda his fault. When Doc fell asleep, it was Pretzel’s queue to leave. His walk home was long, he thought about the day.
~Pretzel, The Blue Trane
|Reply by: Pretzel at Jun 18, '18 11:10|
It was a silent ride home after the escape had become successful, there was very little for you to say and your fists were clenched so tight that you were beginning to feel numbness in your hands. You couldn't believe the news and with every passing moment it hit you with waves of sadness and anger; you had put so much of your time and effort into this job, your last five grand went into the planning and you were promised it would be the heist of a lifetime.
"Are you okay, friend?", he nearly whispered the words and his voice cracks just enough that you can tell he understands the gravity of the situation, there was very little left to be said as you took a look back towards the eight hundred pounds of--
Hitting another pothole snapped your mind back into action. You knew what had to be done, but you weren't sure if you could actually go through with it. Your life was over or so it seemed, it'd be a miracle to sell this shit for even half of what you put into this job. There was only one solution for the entire thing and both you and Doc knew it. Finally you both arrived to the drop location which was just a tiny shop that the mob had been using the back of to do business, pulling up to the doors you stpped out of the car and Doc followed a bit slowly behind.
"So eight hundred pounds of--"
There was a commotion that neither of you could quite make out from the back, but it involved a lot of shouting. Your hand placed firmy on your gun, you made your way up toward the front of the store and peeked inside, there was a man waving his arms while yelling in the face of another, yet you still couldn't quite make out what was going on and so you decided to just open the doors and make your way inside. That's when your eyes lit up and you realized that you no longer had to do what you thought was needed.
Three Days Later
"I'm so glad we were able to secure all eight hundred pounds of *Bbbbzzzrrrr* for our business in *Bbbbbzzzrr* this will really help out the *Bbbbzzzrrrrrrrrrrr*. Maybe we should move away from the construction to finalize the deal?"
Shaking hands. You parted ways, you had made a fortune just as was promised. Who could see have seen this coming? Grinning you make your way back to Doc to share the great news, just as he tells you about another job that's sure to make a lot of cash.
KingRevan - Absolution
|Reply by: KingRevan at Jun 18, '18 16:16|
Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells
Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of forged $12 bills!
We risked our lives for 12 dollar bills..? Alejandrito asked
I'd rather have diamonds, Jack_Diamond mumbled..
Doc... If you don't mind me asking, what college did you go to.. And how did you earn your Doctor's title? And Doc.. Why the bloody hell did they forge these notes?
Alejandrito had about a million questions for Doc, and he wanted to batter his face to a pulp more eagerly every single second..
Here.. They look good!
Doc handed both Alejandrito and Jack_Diamond a note, and as Alex inspected it he noticed that they were pretty good quality. They looked pretty original and there would probably noone that would really see they were forged.
This might work, Jack, he said, as he looked at the bill, before looking up and seeing Jack_Diamond's fist heading for his nose..
|Reply by: Alejandrito at Jun 19, '18 10:41|
Doc leans towards your window from the back and yells "Diamonds? Ha! Not even close! We are now the proud owners of 800 pounds of:
"What the fuck is 'new doses'?", Raymond asked Jack.
"Nudossi was a really tasty hazelnut bread spread! It originates from Norway! The company was hoping to expand in the states! I learnt about it and acted on it", Jack said with a huge grin on his face.
"You freakin' chocolate addict. We risked our lives so you can get some.. wait.. A HUGE AMOUNT of hazelnut spread called 'nude oh sis'??", Alejandrito said while driving the truck.
"Well yeah.. I always wanted to step down from this type of life and Nu-do-ssi..", Jack said while spelling the product's name as he was getting tired of Raymond and Alex making fun of it before continuing:
Alex slammed the breaks and one of the Nudossi packs flew and fell on Raymond's head.
Jack's face suddenly turned into a really serious one.
Raymond had just shot Jack in between the eyes.
"Sorry bud, but I can't have witnesses", he says while wiping the blood of Alejandrito's off his face.
He then turns to his former boss' soulless body and says:
"Sorry boss, but this was my dream as well, but with waffles."
After laughing all by himself for a solid 3 minutes like the psycho he was, he tosses the bodies in a forest and stores the truck on a warehouse of his own. A few weeks later, he would have a whole new Waffle-Cafe. He had just hanged the new sign.
After glaring at it for a few minutes, Raymond started sobbing up.
"What have I done?", he asked himself.
He unholstered his gun and pointed it to his skull.
and dropped dead.
People heard the gunshot and came closer. Among them was Lordian .
"Heh.. Free Nudossi!", he said and went inside the store.
Jack_Diamond - The Possimpables
|Reply by: Jack_Diamond at Jun 19, '18 12:23|
Luck Be An AlleyCat
"What's this, Doc? It better not be what I think it is."
"Exactly what we need. Billy won't accept anything else, and if you have a decent head on your shoulders you'd be smart to not question it."
"Broads don't seem to complain about what's on these shoulders. Still, this ain't right, Doc. I know we need something to trade up with. But this? Come on. You know how I feel about this."
"Right? What's right in this world? And what's wrong even? Look around you. Open your eyes Vic. We decide what is right and what isn't. We make the rules."
Vic took a look around. He didn't see these so called rules. Just a pier before them. It was dark though so even if there was more to this spot, his eyes wouldn't meet it. He did get a sense it wasn't exactly where you took someone on a first date. Quite the opposite. Bad intentions rumbled in the pit of his stomach.
"And remember where you stand in all this, Vic. You don't exactly have a say, now do you. So shut the fuck up and do what you're told."
She moved through the world like a whisper. Softly spoken. Innocent in as much as it meant not harming another. The kindest soul. Never able to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds. More out of respect than anything else.
Because if she did it burned a hole right through you. She saw through the bullshit to the real you. It was unnerving. Being seen. Truly seen. But that was her. Or maybe just his experience of her. Vic's AlleyCat.
They did most things together. After he found her she clinged to him like a magnet. First time anybody did anything good for her. She saw in Vic what he failed to. And because of it, she had his heart. What was left of it. What wasn't already shot to shit.
His passion was a quart of whatever burned most going down. His purpose, in a holster he put on whenever he left the house. Sometimes, he'd just sleep in it. You just never knew. Passion. Purpose. It's what started it all. And what fucked it all up.
Her mother was a hot mess. Heroine her escape of choice. She just happened to be too fucked up to realize she was pregnant. And then it was too late. For both of them.
Who'd pay to have sex with a pregnant women? And who'd want to keep such a burden? An orphan by default. Unloved. Abandoned. Left on the doorstep of a church. Who else was she to become?
Vic met her in a bar one night. She was working. And so was he. Three shots in and he noticed the guy she was with talking her down. Telling her how much he actually hated himself. A real piece of shit. But she had to do what she was born to do. She knew no other way.
After sinking in two more dirty shots he couldn't take it anymore. The cussing didn't matter so much. It was when he raised his hand at her. Her lips and right cheek taking the brunt of his knuckles. Vic's head was buried deep in the shot glass, but he didn't need to look towards the end of the bar off to his right.
The smacking sound was enough to know what was what. He'd lived through it himself. Seemed everyone he met here was an offshoot of some family sob story. The kind you didn't care for because you either knew it all too well or all you heard was a mini violinist strumming on heart chords you didn't have the organ to hear with.
"One more for the road."
Vic looked up at the barkeep who was about to place the lid back on the bottle. The eye contact alone had the drink specialist's attention. A massive lack of anything resembling it to that point, and the intensity of his gaze basically grabbed him by his shirt collar and drew him near.
"And one for the gentleman at the end of the bar."
The place wasn't too busy. A few kindred lost souls, deep in their own forms of self loathing and some women working the less than respectable establishment. When you pushed through the doors, you knew what you were getting. A dark, quiet, rotting space to sink further into the guilt and despair you usually kept hidden. From yourself. From others. Maybe both.
So the 'gentleman' Vic was buying a shot for was strikingly obvious. His smirk told of the sarcasm. The emphasis on the word pointing at what.
"I didn't order this. You must be mistaken."
Vic's smirk widened, then down went a shot of cheap bathtub gin. The kind that put a hole in your stomach. Literally. The ghosts of some former long term patrons would confirm it, before hungrily trying to order another.
"No mistake, friend." Vic slapped the correct tab down on the bar as he spoke loud enough to catch the man's ear. It carried more though, peaking the interest of most present.
"A gift from me. To you." Vic turned his attention toward where his offering was sitting, in front of the gluttonous looking man. His gut protruding further than his manners ever could. A shit stained frown engraved into and stinking up his face.
"We aren't friends, pal. So take your gift and shove it."
As the barkeep leaned forward to grab the glass upon the ever so polite decline, Vic raised his hand, signaling him to stop.
"You'd do well to accept it, chum. It may be the best thing you get all night."
By this point, it was evident to the man who poured the questionable offer of friendship, that he best make himself scarce. As was it obvious to the other mugs keeping a keen set of eyes and ears. He began to slowly step back.
"Where you going? Take this shit away!" Blurted out the large frame, not budging in his negation. He then grabbed at the sleeve of the bartender, stopping him from moving any further.
A single gunshot could be heard throughout the neighbourhood. It could've been mistaken for an accidental discharge, or a car backfiring. In the shitty dive bar, not so. The bullet hole in the forearm of the man denying the friend request was already showing through his jacket.
After the bullet hit, the immediate release of the barman's sleeve had him stumble backwards into glass shelving which displayed various bottles of home styled liquor. The crashing sound of glass and the gunshot victim's cries added to the loud bang from Vic's revolver. Tonight, live action for your entertainment. Only at Moe's.
The handful of other good-for-nothing alcohol enthusiasts quickly scattered, some bolting for the door, others just making sure they weren't too close to the unfolding action. Some just wanted to see what would come of this. Nothing like free entertainment and the potential of a stone cold body to get you in the drinking mood.
"I warned you. And then you went and made me do this." Vic spoke as casually as he had whilst ordering his poison of choice. When he did speak. Other times it was a simple wave of the hand. Who needed words when the obvious was, obvious.
"You offered rudeness in response to a sincere gesture of gratitude." Vic lit a smoke as he slowly edged closer to his foe. Whether the man was listening or not was another thing. He clutched at where the blood was escaping. No longer concerned with the drink. Or the bartender. Or the women who had now placed some distance between herself and her client.
In the commotion, even she had forgotten that she was bleeding. Her puffed up and bloodied bottom lip no longer a focus. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The rock being the potential profit she could've had, and the hard place, the guy dangling the smoke wagon as he edged closer.
She stood a few feet back from where Vic was still moving down the bar, his hand brushing the chipped and half assed cleaning effort, her gaze wide, capturing as much as she could take in.
"The fuck is wrong with you?! You crazy prick! I'll have your fucking head! Do you know who I am?!"
He knew. On some level they were all the same. Money hungry. Power hungry. Self obsessed. Self satisfied. Not an once of compassion. But mostly, a miserable cunt. He knew them well, as he was practically one and the same.
Vic smirked. If he had the life force to, he'd be in stitches. Rolling on the floor, laughing his ass off. With the amount of death he'd seen, he did well to even muster that much humour.
"Yeah, I know who you are." He knew, because he was also here to work.
Another gunshot. Now it was hard to confuse it for anything other than what it was. The police would be around soon enough. Time to make tracks, and hopefully lady luck would appear at some point.
For now, he turned his attention to another broad. One that didn't seem that she would be as flakey. Her eyes even wider than before. Mouth gaped open. What just happened? Was this her fault? He read it on her face.
"Don't blame yourself, doll. He had it coming in spades. I guarantee it."
Vic's shoulder brushed hers as he walked by. His hand slammed down hard on the bar once more. This time the tab was higher. He'd have to pay for the mess. And for tight lips. Luckily, money talked in these parts.
A blind eye on account of a shiny pocket watch. Something he won in a game of poker with a pair of 3's. At a table they called 'Luck be a lady'. She did show herself from time to time. Yet the silver lining was getting thinner and thinner.
No words exchanged. Just a look, and a reluctant letting go of what Vic called his lucky charm. On account of the way he won her. And a slight dint on the front. The evidence of a bullet that would've otherwise had his name deeply etched into it.
The barman nodded, which was returned with a wink. Vic removed his hand and turned towards the door. A few heavy steps. The barkeep immediately looked over what he had hopefully agreed was the appropriate price for silence. And blood stains on his floorboards. His eyes showed his pleasure. The smashed shelf and its contents could be replaced and more.
"Come on then. I'll buy you a drink someplace else. Feds ain't exactly good for our types of business."
He didn't wait. The door slung open. A trail of smoke followed him as he stepped into the lightly lit street. He let his eyes adjust, all the while scanning for anything that would turn things sour real quick. Just as he got a decent grip on his surroundings, that taste took on a sweetness he didn't expect.
It was like a whisper. Soft from the lips, and on the ear. Soothing. Almost. Yet it had a note that hinted at more. A darker finish that lingered on the tongue. A story you'd likely never hear. A soul you'd likely never get to fully enjoy. Hidden behind layers that had their own layers. Even so, her energy was a light breeze amongst a still crashing storm.
He turned to finally place his eyes on her. All he'd known till now was an outline, a sense of her. His gaze broke first, downwards to her swallon lip.
"Come on then. That drink wont enjoy itself."
They left. Alive. To some degree. Not everyone that walked and talked you would say were any better off, or any more lively than those who had already exited stage.. dead. The curtains dropped sooner or later, and for some it was well before their final breath.
For Vic, his time with AlleyCat would bring him to this realization. Amongst other insights she inadvertently bestowed upon him, he saw that her feet were pointed towards the exit from the get go. Heroine would be her final hoorah. Her swan song. An overdose would bring things full circle. Born of it, she would also die of it. What else was she to become?
"That's the thing, Doc. I never was too good at following orders."
Blood splattered across the windscreen. A second later the truck horn started its tune. It was a somber note. The dead man using his head as an Instrument might be to blame. It didn't last long, as Vic quickly got to work.
With an adjustment to the gears and a slight moving of Doc's corpse, the truck was rolling. Vic made sure the bodies weight kept the wheel straight enough till it was moving quick enough and he was no longer hanging off the door. Then, well, if you want to confirm it for yourself you might want to pack some bathers and a snorkle.
Vic lit up a cigarette and leaned against some railing. His face had been mostly wiped clean. He'd get the last blood blots off at home in front of the mirror. It had become a routine, of sorts. As was leaving parts of his story up to the infalible broad that popped in from time to time.
He'd never see Cat again. He knew that the moment he found her body in the kitchenette of his apartment. Needle sticking out of her arm. At least she looked peaceful. Maybe she had found some comfort, somewhere, the kind she had brought him.
Her memory lingered with him. He exhaled a satisfied breath filled with cigarette smoke. She was gone, but not forgotten. Vic couldn't forget her. Not when even after she was gone, he was still putting people out to pasture because of her. For her. It's just what she meant to him. That, and he kind of enjoyed pulling the trigger. What else was he to become?
Vic smiled, then flicked the lucky strikes cigarette off to the side before making tracks. Maybe a drink. At a shitty watering hole. With a barman named Moe. And some gut-rot gin. For old times sake. And maybe some poker. 3's? All in. He was always, in one way or another, all in.
MrBlonde - The Seraphim Empire
|Reply by: MrBlonde at Jun 19, '18 13:08|
One of the biggest licks you could think of hitting. Fifteen hundred pounds of the most potent of herbal strains you could find. Flexx had been networking this deal for the longest, so of course kinks were expected, and the kink is where he would make his come up. Now the FBN was sideways, just like law enforcement would run itself. Deep in the ranks there was a corrupt agent by the name of MatthewGronewald. He had a tip from the streets. With the inside touch on a bust. Like i said this plan was in the making from the first sack delt. The hood had many eyes, and many ears. There was a top dog running packs in the city. Making his way to the top and he was on with his movement of the product. Flexx was on a mission to come up as well. His family needed to eat too. I guess sometime it depends on who is more hungry. He noticed this dealer had big business, and Flexx had a plan to turn that around into his pockets. He always had an ear on the streets and the song singing at this moment was special. A big shipment coming in, Flexx had to set it up to touch some of that. He works with his fbn buddy to devise a plan for the biggest bust on their side, and a pat on the back for the boys in the streets(and some). The information passed is good, all that is left is for the execution of the bust, which definitely was most likely to be good, especially with the good information. Flexx sends his birds out to do one last check to make sure the info has not changed. His fbn was buddy was waiting on the word to give his boys the go. There was a paus in the moment as they anticipated the go. Flexx’s runner hurries back and gives him the thumbs up. The go travels through to the rest of the agents and they execute the plan.
Now to the second part which will twist just a bit. The fbn agent and his crew are good to go. Big score and a nice bust, it was a success. They move the product back to the station. The next step involves the Doc. He is called the doc caus not many take it to his level of getting shit done. The doc and Flexx will need to pick up the product. Doc had the skills, Flexx had the eyes and the muscle. Not sure what the doc had in mind, but he had his end covered. It was Flexx, Taga, and the Doc. They drive a nice size truck over to the station and park about a half a mile away. The Doc, hops out and makes his way over to the station.
“Be right back, look for my signal.”
The doc says as he disappears into the sewers. Flexx and Taga wait for the signal while the doc did his thing. Who knew what that was. Flexx stood waiting as he smoked his blunt, taking a long drag before he passes it to Taga. The station was right there. All it would take was for one of us to sneeze wrong. Taga takes a few drags of the blunt.
“We got this, he should be wrapping it up, here hit this.”
He passes the blunt back to Flexx, he takes a long drag and pauses for just a moment. Thinking he would only give it a few more minutes before he would have to switch gears and make one of them on the spot moves. He takes another drag of the blunt as he stares in the direction of the station hoping for any activity for the positive. Suddenly. CRAAAAAASH!! RNGRNGRNGRNGRNG.
You hear a crash and then the alarm starts to ring. Flexx and Taga hop in the truck and wheel it over to the spot and you could see the Doc tossing sacks full of brick packs out of the window, his face red and the hustle, and determination was in his eyes. Flexx backs up and with the vehicle still running him and Taga hop out, gather the product on the ground and toss it into the back of the truck, as the doc finished grabbing the last of it, he hops in the back while Flexx and Taga hop in the front.
“BEND THAT CORNER BOIIIIIIIIIIII!”
The Doc screams as Flexx mashes on the gas and they fishtail it out of there. They caught them off guard so the escape was successful. Now they would need to lay low and shake the heat if any. They head downtown to a garage where they can get rid of the truck and re-pack the product.
“Seven hundred and sixty pounds, it’s gonna be a good year.”
Flexx says as he looks over to Taga holding a brick of the good herb they had commandeered from the station.
Flexx-Mitchell - The Knights of Anheuser
|Reply by: Flexx-Mitchell at Jun 19, '18 13:13|
“Saxophone pieces? That’s very thoughtful of you, but all I want is the Mark VI...” he said to the Doc, giving him his best pitty smile. Doc shook his head in disappointment, realizing Colt still hadn’t understood what the plan was. Suddenly it clicked in the black mans head. He knew what the plan was.
“You want to build a sax that looks just like it, and replace it?” he asked, watching Doc grin with satisfaction. That man wasn’t as dumb as he looked like. The truck suddenly came to a stop and both man stepped out and brought the bags inside. Colt spent two whole days, 48 hours, to build the fake Mark VI. It looked exactly like the original, no one could’ve made the difference. The only thing that altered was the sound. Nothing could match the sound of a perfect saxophone like the original.
He looked at it for a while, like a proud father, and then proceeded to lock it up in a case and walking towards the Twin anchors bar. Tonight was Dexter’s last night playing, so it was a make it or break deal. He pulled his cap down on his face, so he wouldn’t be recognized, and walked in. As he expected, the band was at the bar, drinking and laughing, like jazz musicians do. Dex was facing the other way completely, unaware of what was happening near the stage. Colt took a deep breath, opened his case, switched his sax with the one laying on the stage, and locked up the Mark VI in his case. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest, but it was too late to go back now. He started to walk towards the exit, was this his time? Was he going to steal it, finally?
To be continued...
Coltrane - The Blue Trane
|Reply by: Coltrane at Jun 19, '18 13:59|
Star checked her pocket watch, a relic from her father before his passing, and glared. What the hell was taking her boys so damn long? The sun was going down and they should have been there already. By now she had passed through plan A and B and was well into plan F which stood approximately for "fuck it all let's just do the thing."
Each minute that ticked by brought a new worry and wonder as to what the hell was going on and what was already going wrong. For one...every damn thing was wrong. She shifted, her feet beginning to ache and burn from standing on the hot pavement just a stone's throw away from the local bar that proudly served Philly's finest. God dammit! Just as she checked her watch again, an alarm bell blared, causing her to jump and fumble the watch. Thankfully it snapped shut before landing on the ground which saved the glass face from shattering. Bending to pick it up, she caught the motion of Doc as he leaned out the window, dropping a huge burlap sack which slammed into the back of the delivery truck, sending up a cloud of dust.
What the fuck was he doing? That wasn't what they were after! Burlap sacks? Sawdust? Star's expression grew more incredulous as he continued to heft sacks out the window, losing count after the fifth sack. She started forward, making her way towards the truck just as Doc threw the last one out, following it by leaping out the window himself and landing with a winded "OOF" into the pile of sacks. As Star pulled herself into the driver's seat, Doc chortled heartily, pointing forward as he instructed her to hit the gas. The truck lurched and they skittered forward, flying through the streets for several minutes before realizing that anyone giving the chase would have given up. With the assurance that they weren't being followed, Star yelled out the window towards Doc who was hanging on for dear life in the back of the truck.
"Hey, doc? What happened to the diamonds? You said we were getting diamonds."
Doc laughed again and fanned his hand towards the burlap sacks, his hearty voice booming.
"Diamonds? Oh no honey, this is far better! See what we have here is 800 pounds plus of the finest cocaine and opium. You couldn't ask for anything purer and, they're harder to track than diamonds."
Star rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by the misdirection as they rambled on towards the warehouse near the docks. In a few minutes, she could offload the drugs and Doc and head back home. Her annoyance with Doc would only be replaced once they got paid for the drugs which were ensconced in the heavy burlap bags filled with sawdust. The truck groaned through each turn, weighed down by the load and Star could only agree as they pulled through the heavily fortified gates and rambled up to the warehouse. It would be easy and quick to offload so many drugs and she could see, even in the deepening dusk, that several buyers were already lined up and ready to pay. Ugh...they were going to be there all night.
Several hours later, the drugs were dispersed and Doc sat on the edge of the tailgate of the truck, using the edge of the truck bed to pop a cap off a glass bottle, handing the cola to Star.
"You Deserve this for all your hard work and savvy driving. You also get to take your cut home tonight. Should I call you Queen Star?"
He chortled again and Star joined, taking a sip of her drink as Doc reached around and handed her a bag that was brimming with stacks of cash.
"Just don't spend it all in one place. Oh yeah and I need a ride home."
|Reply by: Star at Jun 19, '18 14:13|
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