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| Zero Hour Plus Seven | Started by: Rudiger on Jan 22, '09 23:26 |
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The dry winter air bit at the flesh of Rudiger's face as the wind funneled trough the alley, jarring him as it whipped past. The veins in his neck bulged as he gritted his teeth in response to the brutal cold which seemed to cast the city streets in a crisp bluish tint, but made prowling through town at all hours of the night up to no good a nearly unbearable practice. Especially miserable was the golden hour, when there was just enough light to see the warmth being puffed out of you with each breath, but not enough light to give the delusional perception of any sort of heat from the sun. It was Thursday. Nothing special, just another night for Rudiger, who was still running the streets, running this hustle or that. This was the peak time of his day, since the night crowd was usually more jovial and less inhibited. The man who might spot a huckster or a scam from a mile away during business hours may be inclined to open his wallet after meeting with Rob Roy and his brother, Rob Roy. Rudiger rethought his nonexistent habit for wearing hats as the chilled wind ruffled through his hair, and thanked any god he could think of at the moment for a habit that did exist as he took another mouthful of bourbon from his flask. He stepped from the alley and peered down the street in both directions looking for marks, but none were about. Too cold, he figured, but the night was young, so he'd grab a paper from the newsstand and find a warm place to relax for an hour or so before trying again once the nightlife kicks up a notch or so. He crossed the street to the shining beacon of a newsstand that stood against the gray buildings and the gray night like an oasis of sensationalist tabloids and shoddy journalism. "Say mac, don't you think you oughta be gettin' inside somewheres?" The newsstand proprietor asked Rudiger, not looking up from the task keeping him busy-- taking magazines off the rack, preparing to close up. Yeah, it's pretty cold, huh? And don't you think it's a bit early to be shutting down? Rudiger slapped a few coins on the counter and took a paper from the stack. The newsie chuckled a bit derisively. "Not tonight, pal. You read that story there on the front page and tell me I'm nuts." You are nuts. Bananas, too. And you're a bit doughy. You're banana nut bread. The huckster unfolded the paper and skimmed the front page story, mumbling along as he read. Mm-hmm. Accident at the CDC... unknown biochemical danger... possible evacuation. Bah, fear mongers. They just want to get you scared, buddy. Once they have you cowering in fear, they've got you forever. They can sell you anything. You can't believe everything you read. The newsie, growing more frantic after having heard the key words of the story read back to him tried to defend his position without sputtering, but after his third failure, Rudiger lost interest and simply strolled away from the stand, glancing through the next hour's distraction. As he rounded the end of the block, a figure shuffled clumsily out of an alley. Hey, bit too much to drink, pal? And this early, I commend you. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnn..." Came the man's reply, as Rudiger folded the newspaper under his arm and drank once more from his flask. As the man came closer, the huckster noticed his unusual pallor. Or maybe not enough to drink, eh? The man shuffled ever closer and closer until ultimately running into Rudiger, shoulder-to-shoulder. Instead of excusing himself and passing by, he pawed listlessly at the huckster's coat. Watch where you... look, I don't know what the big idea here is, but uh, I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon. Even in Massachusetts. He shoved the man aside and hurried down the block, ducking into the first bar he came across. Sinclair's, brazenly reopened days after prohibition was repealed. The first in the city, and an obvious regular hangout for the neighborhood rats like Rudiger. All the usual drunks were there, now that the huckster had made his entrance. He sat himself at the bar and dropped his flask in front of him. Fill 'er up, Jerry. And can I get a gin here? He tapped the bar, then turned to address everyone in the place, but no one in particular. Is there supposed to be a full moon or something tonight? You should see the guys out there, fellas. Buncha creeps. |
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The red lipstick spun out of the shell the industries placed it in. The tip of the stick pointed, as each side curved down into a tear drop sort of form. SneakerPimp placed the tip ever so gently on the bottom left corner of her pink lips and it moved it smoothly to the other corner. She then pushed her lips together, smoothing the make-up so it evenly covered both bottom and top. She then dabbed the stick on each of her flushed cheeks using her fingers the blend it in to her porcelain skin. Damn it's cold outside. She says to her own reflection in the mirror, but quickly her face warms up as her body de-freezes. She had snuck in through the back door of Sinclair's. Not that the back door wasn't available for customers, just the fact that no one noticed her enter. SneakerPimp would have some time to herself for once. She felt like she was always on the go go go. From one job to the next, but that was the way of life. All she could do was shrug and smile at herself. She played with a few different facial features in the mirror, fixed her mascara quick then leaned into the mirror giving herself a kiss of the water drop stained mirror. Sneaker gave herself a wink and admired herself a little longer. Awww the years had passed so quickly. It felt like yesterday she had been VictoriaValium terrorizing the streets with Huckster and now, the women that stood in front of her looked nothing like that shaggy child that sold drugs out of her teddy bear. SneakerPimp pulled her mind back to the present and walked out of the ladies room. She didn't head for the bar area right away, instead she stepped outside again. Her nerves tickled her ears a bit. Her and Huckster use to be.....something. Then nothing and now the way he looked at her. They had met for drinks earlier that week, but never really got around to discussing what was going on or what had happened. She knew he'd be here tonight or maybe that's why she came down to Sinclair's. Maybe not. A bum sloushed on the side of the wall, a pack of cigarettes hung out of his coat pockets. SneakerPimp thought about grabbing one and leaving him a few cents, but then decided against it. She had always heard rumors of them stunting woman's growth. Instead she pulled the newspaper that was folded up under the bum's left arm. The front page headline had caught her eye. Biochemical danger... Sneaker rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. This was either really going to kill business or boost it. Huckster would know more about it. She walked back into the bar and took a seat right next to him. She put the paper in front of him, budging in front of his gin. What's this about? She asked without even a hello. |
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| Reply by: SneakerPimp at Jan 23, '09 00:14 | |
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The flame from his lighter swayed an inch or so away from the end of the cigar clenched in the huckster's teeth. That's as close as it had gotten before he was distracted by the sudden rain of newspapers and demands for information. He gently closed the Zippo's lid with his thumb and dejectedly took the cigar from his mouth. Staring at the front page of the paper thrust before him, he reached around it and grabbed a free pretzel from the bowl on the bar. Well... He bit the pretzel in half. It crunched as he chewed between words. What you've got there is the product of a free press. See, stuff happens, then they write about it. True stuff, supposedly. Facts. Propaganda for the unimaginative. He swallowed the chewed pretzel and bit into the other half. If you mean that story, I dunno, I haven't read it. But I know a newsstand guy that'll jitter at you about it all night. He swallowed again and wiped a renegade grain of salt from the corner of his mouth before attempting to light his cigar again. As his thumb turned the wheel of the lighter, he glanced over toward his new barstool neighbor for the first time she arrived. He struggled to keep from going wall-eyed when he recognized her. The flame danced again, just out of the cigar's reach. What're you doin' here? |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 23, '09 00:50 | |
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I...uh...wanted a drink. She said strongly, but it was a lie. She wanted to see him. No, no that was a lie. She wanted a drink. The dilemma continued to play out in her head until SneakerPimp decided to give up. Free press you say. Nothings free these days. Like those pretzels you have all over your face. They wouldn't just let you sit in this bar and eat them, you've got to get a drink and then you are allowed to eat the "free" pretzels. She made quote signs when she said free and continued to look at Huckster. He looked better tonight, maybe because it was dark. He seemed to always look better in the dark. So you think this is true? Think they would actually evacuate the city? She swallowed, worried. Actually don't answer that, I'd rather not worry about it. Sneaker turned away and ordered herself a drink. That is what she came for. So what are you doing here? |
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| Reply by: SneakerPimp at Jan 23, '09 00:59 | |
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Fire and tobacco met at last, and he drew a few stoking puffs from the cigar before closing his lighter again and filing it away in his pocket. He pried his eyes away from SneakerPimp at last and managed a casual shrug as he reached across the bar for his gin. I'm a drunk. I'm a criminal. This is where I belong. He raised a good-spirited eyebrow at her and smiled his sly smile as he took a drink from his glass. Hell, I don't know. Depends on what happened, if anything at all. Those journalists are the same guy I am. They trade in ideals and expectations. What they talk up as a major biological threat to all of humanity could be a guy with the flu sneezing on a roll of three cent postage stamps. He paused for a moment of thought before continuing. From what I read, they don;t even have a clue as to whatever it was that supposedly got out of whatever they had it in wherever does to the normal upstanding gentleman. I'm sure if they decide, sometime, that there's any danger in that regard, sure, they may want to get normal upstanding gentlemen out of the city. But that'd still leave me here on this stool with these jerks, wouldn't it? He winked almost subliminally as he raised his glass to his lips again. |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 23, '09 01:27 | |
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Sneaker sighed. They'd probably take her away, but half of her, or more then half wanted to stay with Huckster. She just wasn't really wanting to admit that much to herself just yet. I told you not to tell me. Spinning the stool around she turned away from him, also taking a drink from her glass and staring off into the collection of bottles across from her. If you ever bump into one of those upstanding gentlemen will you give them my number please? I'd like to find a guy I can settle down with. She said this without looking at him, still keeping her eyes on the bottles. Her thoughts slipping back to the past. She went from smuggling bottles in her bag and giving them to Huckster every night to growing up and realizing her feelings for him and loosing him over the bottles. Has he even changed? She didn't know. |
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| Reply by: SneakerPimp at Jan 23, '09 01:43 | |
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Ehh, sorry. He chewed on another two dollar pretzel as he thought about what she was saying. I can point him your way, but he's just on the next bus out to the cornfields, babe. If you want to settle... He caught himself mid-sentence. He edited the rest quickly in his mind, hoping to deflect it enough to not have to answer for his feelings. Not right now, at least. He rested his chin on his knuckles and sighed. ... settle for someone worth settling for. He wanted to spin her back to face him and stare into her eyes to see what was there, but he settled for a glance out of the corner of his eye to see if she budged at all. He was saved from a moment of painful silence by the front door flinging open, making way for a young man to stumble in, followed by an invisible wall of frozen wind. The man was shaking and pale. His dress shirt ripped and hanging loosely by the collar with spots of dull red blotting the right sleeve. He slammed the door shut behind him and huffed desperately at the warm air in the bar. "That'll teach you, going around without a coat!" One of the drunks shouted. "You been digging for change in the drainpipes again, boy?" Added another. The huckster nudged SneakerPimp. Hey, that guy's standing up. |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 23, '09 02:15 | |
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Oh She said without thinking. As Hucksters took the path deeper in her head SneakerPimp became quickly confused. She narrowed her eyes and looked at him once again. Wait, what? So what if he's standing up. Her words were short, like she didn't have any patience left for him and his crazy drunken sputter. I'm sure lots of people stand up. I bet they also sit down. Amazing and shocking I know, but it happens. Mocking him Sneaker took another drink. |
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| Reply by: SneakerPimp at Jan 23, '09 20:53 | |
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The young man at the door was frantically trying to block the entrance with anything he could get his hands on, muttering to himself all the while. "... bit me, that fucking thing..." The huckster watched him semi-interestedly from his barstool, not bothering to interrupt the conversation. Maybe you should give him your number. He looks like a fine gentleman. Half-dressed and bleeding, but that's how they come these days. He didn't mean to be so flippant and condescending, that was just a habit of his, honed over years of experience. This had become the extent of his human interaction. When the young lady had walked away from him however long ago, he didn't have anyone to be nice to anymore. He didn't know anyone he cared about, so in his mind he didn't have to care about anyone. Though, now that she was back, he found himself slipping back into humanity every now and then. But I can be an upstanding guy too, you know. He said this without turning so much as an eye toward her. He simply stood up, crossed the room while pulling his coat from his arms and draped it over the young man's shoulders, then turned him back to the bar. Come on, have a seat fella. He led the man to the next barstool in line from SneakerPimp's and his own. Once the man was seated, Rudiger rounded off the good Samaritan act by signaling to the bartender that whatever the young man wanted to drink should be placed on his own tab. Reclaiming his seat, the huckster reached his clenched fist in front of SneakerPimp, opened it and pressed his palm to the bar, then pulled it away, leaving a gold wristwatch. He leaned in gently to whisper in the woman's ear. Sometimes. |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 23, '09 21:29 | |
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SneakerPimp smiled and shook her head at Huckster. He always seemed to charm her right off her feet. When he pulled away after whispering to her she could smell him, missed that smell. Something she had been searcher for ever sense she had left him and the city behind. It was back, right in front of her, but did she want to take that step to it? She decided not to worry about it right now and took a look at the guy that sat on the other side of Huckster. He sipped the drink he had ordered slowy looking a bit paranoid. That was probably a good thing, the guy didn't look that good. His clothes under Huckster's coat were a bit torn up. Almost looked like he was attacked by a rabid dog. Huckster She said, slowly leaning into him and realizing something was really wrong with that guy. Your friend is bleeding, like really bleeding. |
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| Reply by: SneakerPimp at Jan 25, '09 16:59 | |
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Rudiger looked at the man sat beside him and cocked his head a bit. You're right, he shouldn't be drinking. The huckster pried the glass from the man's hands and brought it to his own mouth, not wanting to let the libation go to waste, but he hesitated, glancing toward SneakerPimp. His eyes swung casually to his front, then back to her, and down to the bar in front of him where he sat the glass, every drop of liquor accounted for. He breathed in thoughtfully and turned his attention back to the injured man. Say there... rough day at the office, pal? The man wrung his hands and shook his head wildly as he began to recount his evening. The interesting part sounded vaguely familiar to Rudiger. "...this guy, just staring off into nothing... he was just wandering around, he looked lost." The man said. "I... I asked if he needed help, but he just... sort of... groaned at me." I think I met that guy. Probably the mayor's nephew or something, the way he acts. The injured man stood from the bar and paced in irregular circles of panic. "They were behind me, they're... coming..." He rushed back to the front door and again began trying to barricade it with cheap wooden chairs and wobbly tables. The huckster swiveled in his seat and just watched the man in quiet amusement for a long moment, then turned back to SneakerPimp. And you wanted to date this fella? |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 25, '09 20:42 | |
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Eepsizzle laughed. Oh Huckster, that's a good one. If I were to ever get involved with another crazy man again, it'd be you. She smiled and also watched the man that had just been sitting next to them attempt to block the door with chairs. Soon the bartender would pull him away and throw him out. Well hopefully, anyway. So the mayor's nephew... Eepsizzle cocked her left eyebrow at Huckster. What have you been up to while I was gone? |
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| Reply by: Eepsizzle at Jan 25, '09 22:09 | |
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Her laugh was disarming. Suddenly he felt warmer as the adversarial tone, no matter how playful it was, cracked. Right then, his constant display of cool ease was no act. The bar felt like a lively and warm place for the first time. Even the girl by his side looked different, she was brighter. Her next sentence only drilled deeper into him. What had she meant by that? Was it a genuine thought, or just a thrown away nicety? He silently berated himself for thinking so much about it. This sort of over-analyzing is probably why he hadn't had more real relationships in his life. True feelings like this were so foreign to him, so far from the "wham, bam, where-the-hell-is-my-bracelet" affairs to which he had grown accustomed. What have I been up to? A quiet chuckle forced it's way through his nose. You're lookin' at it, babe. Just been doing what I do. He paused for a moment, as the question had brought with it memories of years gone by, when they used to make their way together, running cons all through the city, none better. Well... you know. It's not the same, but business as usual. He tried to distract himself by watching their paranoid friend traipse around in the midst of a fit. He had collected every free piece of furniture in the place, and was trying to talk patrons out of their seats. The bartender was trying to calm him, but not using too forceful a hand, seeing as he wasn't trained to handle psychotics, and he didn't want the scene to get any uglier than it already had. What about you? Who have you become? He looked back to the girl, only partially trying to make it sound as if he had asked simply to return the gesture. |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 25, '09 22:56 | |
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She smiled wickedly at his question. She almost couldn't help it, but she loved the feeling it gave her. Wouldn't you like to know. It wasn't really a question, as obviously he did want to know. Eepsizzle could see behind his mask of coolness he was aching to know her secrets. She wasn't one to tell them tough. Maybe we should help your friend. Motioning towards the door with her head and then hopping off her stool, walking to the door. She hoped Huckster would follow, that guy was a little crazy it seemed. |
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| Reply by: Eepsizzle at Jan 25, '09 23:02 | |
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He was somewhat disappointed with himself for having walked headfirst into a rhetorical question, but thankfully he didn't have time to sit with it, as he found himself following Eepsizzle toward their disturbed fellow bar goer. I've heard of free nuts in a bar before, but this is ridiculous. He paused, surprised at the caliber of the joke he had just made. Obviously the discussion he had been having with the girl had affected his thoughts. ... and I'm Jack fucking Benny all the sudden. He approached the man once again, prying a chair from his grasp and setting it aside. He immediately protested, sputtering again about "them", and shaking uncontrollably. The amusing weirdo had finally, in Rudiger's mind, made the transition to persistent annoyance. Look pal, just sit down somewhere. As the huckster turned to unstack the shoddy barricade, several figures stumbled up to the door on the sidewalk outside, their silhouettes darkening the frosted glass window of the door. The small crowd of shuffling shadows bumped and swayed against each other as they pressed themselves against the door, scratching at it's wood and groaning ever so faintly, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnn...." Rudiger carefully replaced the table he had just removed from the pile blocking the door and stepped back. Err... we're closed! |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 26, '09 00:05 | |
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Eepsizzle was on the other side of the makeshift barricade with the bartender as the figures outside approached the bar. She held a chair in both of her hands and a confused look on her face. 'What the hell was going on!' She said to herself. The figures, people, bumped up against the door, but it seemed they were unable to open it. Well a normal person would anyway, by twisting the doorknob and pushing, these folks seemed to just resort to pushing. She checked the date over in her head. January 26th, it was months away from Mardi Gras. Eepsizzle couldn't think of anything super special about this day to have lots of people in the streets to be drinking and acting crazy. Quickly, she skimmed over the morning paper she had read yesterday, nothing major was going on in the political side of life, this wasn't a riot. What is going on?! Finally she asked out loud. Her hands free as she had put the chair back up against the door moments earlier. While her shoulders were shrugged and her eyes narrowed in confusion. Eepsizzle looked over at Huckster who had stated that the place was closed, it didn't seem to stop the strange noises and attempt at crashing the door down or the windows in. Huckster will you please help me with something in the back. She said tilted her head slightly towards the back and taking his hand. |
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| Reply by: Eepsizzle at Jan 26, '09 20:08 | |
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They didn't reinstate prohibition, did they? I know that G-Man stumble. The huckster wasn't sure if he was joking or not anymore. Between the weird guy inside the bar, and the weird guys outside, his night just got very weird. And for once it wasn't his own fault. He watched the crowd of figures outside multiply itself and shift in the eerie way that only shadows can. Or are these guys just waiting for the bus to the cornfield? He evicted a few of the other bar patrons out of their seats and added them to the pile in front of the door, and was trying to think his way through the situation enough to make some sort of rational sense of it. Any of it. Then Eepsizzle grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the door. He offered no resistance, but his eyes stayed fixed on the front door for the first several steps, before he finally looked at her with a look that can only be described as cool concern. He followed her dutifully. |
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| Reply by: Rudiger at Jan 26, '09 23:59 | |
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