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| The telephone. | Started by: Ursus on Jan 27, '08 12:37 |
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Though it was obvious Ursus was waiting, it was unclear what he was waiting for, and indeed how long he'd been waiting. He remained, however, perfectly still, save for an occasional flick of the wrist to dispel ash from the tip of the cigarette clamped between his fingers. The office in which Ursus sat was fairly reminiscent of a film noir set, overbearingly dark; the acrid tendrils of smoke rising from his cigarette adding to the already oppressive atmosphere. He seemed to be a man at ease with himself and his own thoughts; his motionless form suggesting a tranquillity and peace of mind, yet his furrowed brow and set jaw suggesting internal confliction. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, the silence in the office reached a deafening crescendo before the shrill note of a telephone cut through the smoky air. The big man moved with surprising litheness and agility, grinding out his cigarette in the tray and pouncing upon the receiver before the first ring had echoed throughout the room. "What have you got for me?" |
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| "French Quarter, Corner of Cleveland and Clark, in twenty minutes." Click. | |
| Reply by: Michael_Toreno at Jan 27, '08 12:41 | |
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Ursus replaced the receiver with a sigh, and poured himself a shot of grappa, sighing appreciatively as it went down; he always loved the bitter taste of good Italian liqueur. He fucking hated the French Quarter though, but he'd already agreed to the job and he wouldn't back out at this stage even if he could. He threw back the rest of the grappa and pulled on his overcoat, passing his secretary on his way out. "If I'm not back by tomorrow morning, give 'Bee that letter on my desk, it's very important. His secretary said nothing, they both knew the unspoken words that hung in the air. He made his way out into the cold and hailed a cab, he couldn't afford for his car to be seen today, especially not in a residential area. |
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| Reply by: Ursus at Jan 27, '08 12:48 | |
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Once again the phone rang. Ursus was already hasting through the empty streets. "Hello?" The secretary answered to Ursus' private line. That was something she did not have the habit of doing, but now he was obviously not there to answer. Few people knew about that number, and she could not even remember when someone last used it to reach him. "Hello...?" Someone was certainly on the line, she could here someone breathe. She knew not if she should hang up or not. Of course she couldn't hang up, but what if the caller didn't announce his message? "Who's there?" Seconds passed by, and she felt very uncomfortable with the situation. Hang up or not?*Click* The person on the other side took that decision from her. |
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| Reply by: Basisten at Jan 27, '08 13:28 | |
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Ursus arrived at the corner 3 minutes too early, so he gave the driver an extra $5 to do a round of the block. It was exactly twenty minutes after the first phone call when he stepped out of the cab onto the corner of Cleveland and Clark, at least according to the Tag Heuer strapped to his muscled wrist. His black brogues scraped against the concrete sidewalk as he briskly made his way to the payphone. He pulled upon the door on the second ring. "Go." |
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| Reply by: Ursus at Jan 27, '08 15:23 | |
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At an undisclosed location, Toreno sits with phone in hand, on hearing Ursus' voice he begins barks instructions. "Head down Clark, sixth door on the left. The place has blue shutters.... Oh, and one more thing. Don't fuck me." Across the room, a man with phone in hand, he covers the receiver and nods his head. Toreno smiles and lightens his tone with Ursus. "You should do fine kid." |
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| Reply by: Michael_Toreno at Jan 27, '08 15:48 | |
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Ursus hated everything about the situation. He hated being 30 years old and still being referred to as a "kid". He hated being 30 years old and still being hired muscle for some lousy drug pusher. Nonetheless, he nodded to himself and put down the phone He walked slowly down the street until he got to the right house. He pulled out a small icepick from an inside pocket of an overcoat, surrepticiously concealing in the crook of his arm. Taking a deep breath, he stood in front of the door, raised his foot and kicked out as hard as he could toward the lock. The flimsy wood splintered beneath his leather shoes, and the door swung open on its hinges revealing the grimy interior of the house. "Knock knock, you filthy bastard." He whispered to himself under his breath and smiled, for the first time in days. Walking through the doorframe, he saw a pallid looking man in a string vest sitting at a table chopping up piles of white powder with a small razor blade. Next to the powder was a gun. The man looked up and immediately began to reach for the pistol but Ursus leapt forward and vicously swung the icepick into the back of the man's hand, nailing it to the table. Bones crunched and the man shrieked like a banshee. Ursus sent his left fist into the man's jaw, rocking his head back. "You fuck, you think you can shoot me, eh?!" He was roaring at the top of his voice and he could feel the blood pounding in his head. He vaguely noticed the blood leaking out of the man's hand, slowly turning the white mounds a deep shade of red. Ursus glanced at the man and once again drew his hand back, when the phone started ringing. Ursus's hand fell to his side. The man fell silent. Both looked at the ringing phone. |
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| Reply by: Ursus at Jan 27, '08 16:23 | |
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Listens as the phone continues to ring. Inpatient, he hangs up. Many hours later over a police scanner he learns of Ursus demise. "A shame." Toreno mutters to himself. |
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| Reply by: Michael_Toreno at Jan 27, '08 21:02 | |
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