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Outsourcing Started by: Billy_Russo on Jun 24, '20 21:15

Things had been hectic of late, bouncing around from city to city across the country didn’t always leave time to take care of everything that needed to be taken care of. There were always going to be somethings that took priority over others.

I had just loaded up the tools into the trunk of the car, a pair of well used workman’s gloves, a shovel and a pick axe. I had just received word that there was a fresh grave belonging to Dana in The Strip in Vegas that needed to be turned over.

I shut the trunk tightly before realizing that I had forgotten the flashlight inside. I was greeted by a ringing phone as I stepped back inside which, naturally, I answered.

Yea, it’s me. What’s going on?...Sure thing boss....I can be on the next flight out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I let out a small sigh as soon as I placed the receiver back down. There wasn’t going to be enough time to head over to the graveyard and still catch my flight. I left the flashlight where it was before grabbing the to go bag that I had stuffed underneath the bed. Maybe someone else would have a little more luck displacing the hallowed ground there. 

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JackHenryAbbot heard Billy_Russo start to speak on the Streets.  He thought of the previous stories he'd told...  How they were vaguely disguised fantasies about killing him, killing his friends.  JackHenryAbbot's face got redder, and redder, and redder.  It was like his body was engorged.  Suddenly, he became taut, erect, defiant, even arrogant.  He strutted over to where Billy_Russo stood and began to shout...

"What's next, Billy?  What's next?  Are you going to say that, at the graveyard, there's a man named JACKHENRYADDOT and he needs killed?  Is that what you're going to say?  Or that JACQUES_HENRI_ABBÉ is to be transformé en un héros mort?

What is your DIABOLICAL mind going to conjure up this time, Billy_Russo?

I have FEELINGS, you cruel monster.

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It was nearly midnight in Ballard, Seattle when I opened the hotel room door to a ringing phone. After the second ring, I tossed my bag onto the bed and answered it.

Hello?...Yea, it’s Billy...I’m a little tied up at the moment Mr. Coughlan but I appreciate the tip...fresh grave belonging to Dave_Lewis?...Yea, I will get the word out. I’m sure someone will pick it up...Thanks...There will be a little extra in your tips next time around.”

I didn’t mind the dirty work that was grave robbing but at the moment, I had more pressing matters to attend to. There was someone out there that could use this information without having to drop twenty thousand on it, that much I was sure about.

Grabbing a quick glass of water from the sink, I finished it in a few gulps before slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading out into the quiet Seattle night to take care of what I was sent here for.

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The to do list was growing by the minute and there just weren’t enough hours in the day to take care of everything. Especially something as tedious and time consuming as grave robbing. Still, the tips were rolling in and it only felt right to pass along the information to whomever might find it useful. 

I grab the pad of paper that sat next to the telephone, “Seems like things didn’t turn out how they were supposed to for you StephenAmick. Hope you have better luck in the next life.”

I wondered to myself if someone would actually take the time in Waterfront, Seattle to see if they could come up with a quick score. At least they didn’t have to come up with the twenty thousand to be privy to such information. 

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There was still so much to do and such little time to do it that there was no way everything could be done, not without a little outsourcing at least. I had to catch a flight out of The Strip in Vegas and there certainly wasn’t anytime to grab the shovel and dig up the fresh grave that belonged to Markworth.

I was hoping that this little piece of information would be beneficial to someone starting fresh on these shores. It would certainly save them a pretty penny rather than having to hand over a full envelope to the Undertaker Fred Davis.

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Footsteps echoed off the damp pavement as a man approached through the night.  A dim glow like a burning cigarette hung in the dark space where his face would be.

"Grim stuff, Mr. Russo," Dominic Grey said cheerfully as he stepped into the light of a nearby gas lamp, "I'd take the job myself but I haven't got time for things like that these days.  Everybody oughta to do a little surprise recycling down at the cemetery though.  At least once just to weed out the superstitious fellas."

Dominic whisked a flask of spirits out from his slightly scorched suit jacket and took a sip.

"Can you imagine that?  A tough guy in our line of work afraid of ghosts?"

Dominic laughed. 

"You need a ride to the airport, Bill?  My driver should be here soon."

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“Believe me DominicGrey, I’ve seen much stranger things in this part of town.” I said with a tired smile. The nights had been long lately, there certainly weren’t enough hours in the day to take care of Markworth’s grave as well as Clarence_nic’s here in Summerlin, Las Vegas. 

And truth be told, at this point I had no real interest in driving myself to the airport, “I’d appreciate that Dom, no interest in driving tonight, especially after you pass that flask on over for a swig.” I chuckled, mostly to myself, “How ya been, Dom? Things treating you well in the rain there in Seattle?”

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Could you maybe sing this story, Billy?
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I grabbed the notepad off of the end table in the small motel room in The Strip. There was a single name etched upon it, TestHQ2etched across it. I gave a glance down at my watch, I still needed to finish things up in the center of town which was the complete opposite direction from the cemetery and I wasn’t going to have the time to dig for valuables.

I’m sure there was someone who could use a quick, if not the easiest, score. Hell, maybe they’ll even get a bit lucky and it’ll be a hefty payday, at least that way it’d make all that shovel work worth it.

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I landed back in Paradise, Las Vegas, tiredly making my way through the airport towards the bank of pay phones. I had been out of town for a few days and that always meant there was a message or two. 

Placing my bag at my feet, I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder and dialed the messaging service number, “Hey Judy, it’s Billy. Anything come up in the last few days?...Alright.” I looked down at my watch with a slight grumble, “I doubt I’ll be taking that one but ya know what? Give me the name anyways Just, I’ll pass it down the line, I’m sure someone could use it...aaronpalmiero. Got it. Thank ya very much, talk to ya soon.”

I hung up the phone before slinging my bag back over my shoulder, letting out a yawn as I did. There wasn’t a chance I was digging up a grave tonight, the only thing I was looking for at this point was sleep.

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I had been traveling so much lately that I hadn’t had the time to pay attention to much else. Between the constant trips to funerals and keeping an eye behind me, I felt drained more often then not lately. What I really needed and wanted was sleep. That twelve hours of just completely being dead to the world. I was probably far to on edge for that though. 

Sitting down at my desk in Pioneer Square, Seattle, I flipped open my messages book. There had been a few left by the undertaker here, Samuel Coughlan. With the past few days recent events, there seemed to be more graves to disturb then ever before. I let out a deep yawn as I read the last name that had been scribbled down, Willie_Allton.

Honestly, there wasn’t anyway that I could picture dragging myself down to the cemetery and start digging but I hoped that maybe there was someone out there who was in need of some information, maybe a break to catch their way one way or another.

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I tried my best to get some type of sleep but it seemed to be alluding me at the moment. It seemed to be, the harder I tried to fall asleep, the longer I stayed up. I hit the bed with a balled up fist as I stared up at the ceiling fan that was slowly spinning around, letting out a deep sigh as I did. 

Shuffling out front under the bed sheets, I awkwardly placed my feet on the floor before pulling the chair up to the desk. I flipped the notepad open as I ran a tired hand through my hair. The last entry was for a grave in Ballard, Seattle, one that belonged to LaurenceWaughI thought about heading down to the cemetery myself but deep down I knew I didn’t have the energy to make it through that tonight. I doubt I even would have made it a foot or two before my muscles gave out. I certainly wasn’t going to make it to six feet. 

I was sure there was someone out there who would put the information to good use. I made a quick phone call, spreading the word as best as I could before collapsing back on the bed.

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Christ did my head hurt. The hard pounding in the inside like your head could explode at any moment. I suppose diving into a bottle for the past few days?

Weeks?

God, I hope it hasn’t been months.

At some point in time I lost track of time. Bottle after bottle after bottle will do that, unfortunately. 

There was also work to be done. Work that was taken care of, as always, but there was also a laundry list of other things to be done that I was in no condition to take care of at the moment.

I managed to drag myself to the desk, leaning back in the chair and stretching before leaning forward on my elbows, grabbing the stack of papers that sat cluttered to my left. I was behind, as per usual, so I reached for the top file, figure I might as well work my way down. 

There was a picture of a rather squirrelly looking fellow, with eyes that were kind of bulging out of his head and tiny wisps of receding hair across his forehead. A small note had been paper clipped to the upper left corner of the photo, WileyCarrus running mouth all over town. Shut it for us.

I ran a hand through my hair as I thought about it. The payday would be nice but I wasn’t even in the shape to get there, let alone do something if I did. The safest bet was to pass it down the line. 

Picking up the phone, I spun the numbers numbly on the rotary phone, “YeaIve got one for you. WileyCarrus in Pioneer Square. Needs to be permanent.”

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Alright, one down, onto the next one I thought to myself.

Lifting up the top of the file, this one was a little more difficult to look at. PaulWood was a contract killer. A damn good one at that. A nasty, ruthless, cunning sociopath. And unfortunately for him, crossed the wrong people and needed to be taken off of the board. 

I couldn’t pass this one along to just anyone. PaulWood is a stone cold killer. There’s no way around it, he’d eat a goomba alive. This needed someone with a delicate hand and a skill that few shared. Luckily, I had just the person in mind. 

Lifting up the phone again, I quickly spun the numbers by memory, “Hey, it’s Billy...I’m doing well, well as well as could be. Thanks for asking. Listen, I’ve got job that needs taking care of with a sturdy hand. You’re the best at this, we both know it...Come on, it pays well. And you owe me for that thing that time...Yes, I’m going to bring that up now. You really are the best person for the job. It’s in Bricktown, right around the corner, PaulWood...Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’ll get the cash to you when it’s done.”

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This pile was moving faster that I thought it would actually. I was soon pushing aside six or seven folders before I grabbed an all black folder. I had a feeling what that one meant. Opening it up, the first picture was of a body laying in the morgue, body. 

I had recognized the name from the paper, I rummaged through a couple of drawers hastily before pulling out the paper in an ah-ha moment. I went straight to the obituaries, quickly finding a smiling face belonging to NathanAdney that matched the cold, lifeless one on the metal table. I traced my finger down until the bottom, burial, July thirteenth, Bricktown cemetery. 

I glanced at the clock up on the wall behind me, by now everyone was gone and it was clear. Perfect night to go for a stroll and a dig. I dialed a number, leaving back in my chair as I did, “Hey, yea...burial was a few hours ago, plenty of time has passed...better get down there before the ground hardens...yea, NathanAdney is the name...Good luck.”

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A few hours had passed and I was growing tired of making phone calls but, the pile of file folders was diminishing a bit. Still, I could feel the need for sleep creeping up on me. With a big yawn I decided the next folder would be the last for the night. 

It was another black folder. The same cold, lifeless morgue picture from before was there except there was a small caliber bullet hole in the man’s forehead. This time the photo was accompanied with a second sheet of paper that read 12th Street cemetery. 

I picked up the phone for what was going to be the last time of the night, “Hey, yea it’s Billy... CruzKelly in 12th street...Happy digging.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I stretched my hands above my head, making them crack loudly. I was glad to be done for the time being but it was only a matter of time before the stack was piled high again.

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I was halfway through my coffee and waking up when the phone rang. I answered quickly, trying to fend off the grogginess, “Yea, it’s Billy...Bit early for that isn’t it?...Yea, yea, no rest for the wicked. I’ll pass the name along. What was it again?... marlys_sinclair, got it...alright, thanks for calling. We’ll catch up when I’m back in town.”

Jotting the name down on a piece of paper before I had a chance to forget it, I took a long slow sip from my mug. As much as I wanted to take care of this one myself, I already had meetings that I couldn’t miss, things higher up in the too do list that needed my attention.

Pioneer Square in Seattle had been bustling as of late, I was sure that I could find someone out there looking for work. The contract paid well, one hundred thousand. If I spread that word, they’d be lining up around the block to take on the contract.

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It had been sometime since I was last in Detroit. Work had been taking me back and forth across the country and I was starting to feel like I was never going to catch a chance for rest. I managed to get a little bit of rest on the train ride into town but it certainly wasn’t as much as I needed.

The station wasn’t full but it wasn’t empty either. Small groups were scattered here and there waiting for their train to come in while the passengers that just arrived in town made their ways towards the exits. 

I thought about just heading back to the apartment but I stopped myself when I saw the bank of pay phones. It wouldn’t hurt to check my messages while I was in town. Holding the receiver between my ear and shoulder, I dialed the number from memory after dropping my coin into the slot. 

It was the usual stuff, tips and the like but one of the messages caught my ear. There was an open contract in Bricktown for Howe that needed to be taken care of sooner rather than later. I glanced down at my watch for a moment.

I should have taken it on myself but I really wasn’t in the mood for it now. If I took it on in this state I was liable to make mistakes that I wouldn’t be able to come back from.

The best course of action was to pass it along. The only problem with that was that I needed someone I trusted to take care of it. After a moment of thinking it over, I dropped another coin in the slot and dialed another number, “Hello, it’s Billy. I’ve got something for you if you’re up for it...Yea, in Bricktown, name is Howe...Quicker would be best...Nah, doesn’t matter how it’s done as long as it gets done...thank you, I appreciate it...let me know when it’s done, I’ll send the contract payment over as soon as I can.”

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A car was driving through one of the many alley ways of Bricktown. A woman was sitting in the backseat, looking rather grim, her eyes lost in thoughts, while her trusted driver chauffeured her through the maze. There was no talking and both the occupants sat in pure silence while Beetle gazed at the drifting familiar cityscape. Same old... same old...... Before she could realize, her eyes closed and her head tilted. She fell asleep.

The car bumped and she was shaken awake resulting her to curse under her breath.

"Goddammit Todd!" She cried "How much longer!"  were the words that immediately came out.

She already knew that it would take time to reach the place. Sleeping in the car was not desirable at all. Yet there she was. She felt kinda guilty and bit her lips. She had received a call from Billy about a job that needed to be done. Having made a few phone calls of her own, she didn't waste time to set out for Bricktown. 

Much of the information was already provided by good ol' Billy. She chuckled as she reminisced about the phone call.

The car halted in front of an abandoned warehouse. The air smelled foul, kinda fishy. She pinched her nose and decided to get it over with.

Upon entering she found the place was similarly dirty and wished they would have chosen a different place. However discreet and secluded places were too hard to come by these days ever since there was a re-organisation of among the law enforcement department.

She was greeted by the sound of a man groaning in pain. He was tied to a chair in the middle of the empty premise, heavily beaten and blood dripped from everywhere. Two bulky figures of intimidating looking men stood on either side.

Perhaps it was the sound of her heels and the sudden pause of the torture regimen which made the man look up as she saw the figure of a woman approaching him.

One of his eyes was swollen shut and he squinted through the other.

"Kill me" he begged.

"Why not" 

Bang!

The shot of gunfire rang though the air and the floor was splattered with a fresh coat of blood gushing out from his head. A little smoke came out of the muzzle and as it settled, Beetle put the weapon back in it's place and examined the body.

"We are done now" She announced cheerfully. "Good job everyone!"

"Until next time" One of them spoke out.

As the two men were dismissed, they disappeared through another door towards the rear of the building which would explain why Beetle hadn't spotted their car. They showed no pain or remorse. They were completely unperturbed even after hearing the loud bang in such close proximity, pretty much like Beetle herself which is why she liked to hire people with similar personality. Beetle stood there for a few more moments as she watched the lifeless body of the man who was once known as Howe. Had it not been for the incredible amount of blood, Howe could be easily mistaken as being asleep. Well, he was still tied to the chair, that too. 

She gave out a sigh as she realized she had been standing there for too long. She headed towards her own and couldn't wait to inform Billy about how Howe had been eternally put to sleep.

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By the time I made it back to the apartment the sun had already set casting a warm night glow through the open blinds. It had been some time since I was last here but everything was exactly how I left it. The empty glass sitting on the counter top next to the half full bottle of whiskey was still there so I did the only logical thing. I unscrewed the cap and filled the cup up a bit over half.

Things had been hectic lately but that was just the way of the world. If there wasn’t any chaos, I doubt the earth would spin as it did. Lifting the glass, I took a small sip before grabbing the mail that was sitting on the floor by the front door. I thumbed through the envelopes as I sat down in my comfortable recliner, the moonlight through the window just enough to illuminate the letters.

It was the same ole same ole for the most part until I came to one that simply had my name scrawled across it with no return address. I ripped the paper open, scanning over the piece of paper that was inside. In neat cursive writing it simply read, Bricktown cemetery, Detroit, manuelgrant-. Signed at the bottom with the same neat writing was Toby Greene’s name. 

I wasn’t really sure how long the letter had been sitting there unopened but I wasn’t about to head back out into the night with a shovel, especially after settling down with a stiff glass of whiskey. This one was going to have to be taken by someone else.

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