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Stringer Bell heard the music playing in the street as he worked tirelessly, but as tempting as it was to go indulge in the city-wide shenanigans, he has one more job to finish. Just a day before, one of the business Bell and his men "protected", a hardware store, had decided to grow a pair and refuse to tribute. And before bringing it up to his CL JackMacleod, Bell knew one last tactic he could try. "If this doesn't work" he thought to himself, "I'm up shit's creek without a paddle".
Stationed in the apartment building that shared a wall with the business, Bell had already mapped out a series of air-ducts the two building shared: the legacy of a poorly paid, lazy carpentry service when the buildings were renewed last decade. Slowly Bell shimmied his way into the air ducts and began his entrance. The passage, though tight, allowed him some mobility to reach for a flashlight and to make sure his signature .38 Magnum was at his hip.
"What's his status? He left yet?" Bell whispered into an almost invisible earpiece as he crawled slowly along.
Outside on the street, draped in beads and nursing a pina colada, Jakob Costigan kept a close watch on the entrance to the hardware store.
"Not yet. If he tries, he's gonna regret it." Jakob assured him as he tapped his trusty baseball bat on the concrete.
Bell could feel the duct creaking underneath him as he shimmied. Walking through the front door was his usual tactic, but this guy wasn't alone. He was working in his office surrounded by hired goons. Freelancers he'd paid to keep him safe until Bell got bored. Unluckily for him, Bell is as patient as they come. As he crept forward, he started to hear the sounds of the hardware's upper floor. Televisions playing the news, covering the Fat Tuesday celebrations, a microwave running and a young girls voice. Bell approached a vent and looked through, expecting to see storage. He was shocked to see a young girl in a kitchen, not more than 20 years old, chatting away on a land-line.
"Jakob, I think he lives above the shop." String said, excitement in his voice.
"No shit? Well we always said to him them where it hurts. This guy has a livelihood to protect. All the more reason for a little....coercion, String."
"Jake, he's got a family. Or a daughter, at least. I've got an idea. We go ahead as planned, just keep a watch out there. And keep the line silent."
Bell pulled out his screwdriver and began to silently unhinge the vent. The girl, eyes on the television and ear to the phone, was none the wiser. Bell dropped to the ground with a thud and pulled out his gun.
Downstairs, the thud aroused some suspicion. The Owner, stirred from his focus on some paperwork, stared at the ceiling for just a few moments. Chelsea was up there, alone but safe. He couldn't let her go out on the town after he'd just told off the local enforcement, no matter how much she complained. It just wasn't safe for her out there. He pointed to two of his hired help. "You two, go check that out. Make sure my daughter is safe. And don't let her leave."
Bell had his gun pointed at the young girl, and she stared back at him with a look of utter shock. "Hang up the phone and don't scream. I'm here for your father, not for you."
"I have to go..." She said shakily as she moved the phone away from her mouth, "tonight just got interesting."
Bell had to give her some credit, there weren't many that stared down the barrel of his gun that didn't scream or soil themselves or both. He motioned with the gun for her to hang up the receiver, which she did, and then for her to sit down.
"What did he do this time?" She asked, as Bell put his ear to the door to listen for footsteps.
"He didn't pay what he was supposed to. I'm gonna remind him why he agreed to protection in the first place."
"Stupid fat idiot. First he tells me I can't go out- ON THE BIGGEST DAY OF THE YEAR!- and now he locks me up in this hellhole where an armed lunatic drops out of the ceiling. I need to be somewhere!"
"He's got you locked in here like a prisoner? That's messed up. And I'm not a lunatic. I'm just after what's mine" Bell whispered defensively, "Now keep your voice down or I'll put one between your eyes. I think I hear someone at the stairs."
Bell was right to be cautious, the two guards had made their way to the stairs and were starting their approach. He could hear the heavy feet of the hired guns, not at all as smooth and cautious as REAL mafioso's were taught. They must be freelance newbies he thought, as he crouched behind the kitchen counter.
"Get down over there, Girl, or you'll catch a few in the crossfire."
Knock. Knock. Knock. "We're coming in." was all they said as Bell took a deep breath and prepared for the part of this he hated most.
"DON'T YOU DARE!" screamed the girl. "I'M NOT WEARING ANYTHING AND I'LL TELL MY FATHER YOU BARGED IN ON ME!"
"Ma'am, are you all-right in there?" they asked, "we heard a noise."
"I dropped the remote, if you must know. And you can tell that oversensitive bastard he wouldn't have to worry about me if he'd let me out!" she said as the reached behind the armoire and pulled out a baseball bat.
"What is she doing? Bell thought to himself, as the girl stepped towards the door cautiously.
"Ma'am, are you alone in there? We need you to put a blanket on or something, we're coming in."
"NOT YET." she screamed as she motioned for Bell to take point on the other side of the door.
"Okay you can come in."
Neither of the guards know what hit them when they opened the door, one getting the crack of a bat to the head and the other the sweet lullaby of String's .38 to his skull.
"I still don't understand why you're helping me" Bell said with exasperated confusion, "you're...you're supposed to be the hostage!"
"Whatever I can do to get me out of this place and to the party is where my loyalty lies. Besides, you're kind of cute. Now go give that bastard what for, scare him up a little. And who knows, maybe you can find me a little later at the Godmother's party?" She winked as she walked down the steps, light as a feather, and out the front door. Stringer was tempted to follow, but there was still work to be done.
"There's a girl leaving! Is this the hostage? STRING WHAT DO I DO?!" Jakob yelled over the radio as he stood up and grabbed his weapon.
"Let her go, she's not what we're here for" Bell replied.
"She's got a nice bat, too. Shame to let her go." Jakob said as he settled back on the stoop.
Bell crept downstairs and peered into the office up the hall. He saw one guard, and the Owner at his desk. "Two down, two to go." he thought to himself as he raised his gun straight with his shoulders. He took a deep breath, to steady his aim. Everything slowed down a little around him as he crept towards the open door. He could hear the Owner's pen scratching away at papers, while the guard busied himself with a magazine in the chair facing the desk, neither one prepared for what was about to happen. Bell stood in the doorway for a moment, relishing the fact that neither seemed to be paying a lick of attention. He shot the guard in the back. There's no honor among thieves. The gunshot was overshadowed by the commotion outside.
"Don't you move, motherfucker. Stand up and get away from the desk" He screamed at the Owner, who did as he was told. "See what you get for hiring cheap? You should have paid up. If you had up, your daughter might still be here."
"What the hell have you done to her!? Where's Chelsea!" The Owner screamed as he ran at Bell, who body checked him into the wall.
"Let's just say we, the real New Orleans, have hold of her. And if you do as you're told she'll be back by morning, unharmed."
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry! I'll do as I'm told, just promise me she's okay!"
"Where's the money?!" Bell said, as the owner crawled to his feet.
"In the safe, the combination is 23-19-04. Please, just take it and forget all of this. Please don't hurt my daughter."
"You shouldn't be so worried about her. You're the one with a gun pointed at your temple." Bell opened the safe, and took a look at this weeks payday. It was more than enough to appease Jack Macleod, with some left over for the party tonight. "Now run along, and don't bother us with this shit again. And if I EVER see someone in your home with a gun other than me, your Chelsea had better hope you have life insurance."
"That's it? I'm... I can go?" The Owner trembled to his feet and backed slowly towards the door.
Bell placed the stacks of 20's in his duffel bag as the man started running. "I don't repeat myself."
Jakob heard the entire exchange on his radio, and waited outside with his bat, almost salivating at what he knew came next. "He's coming out." Bell said to Jakob, "remind him why nobody makes us ask twice." Grinning, Jakob moved into position, and with a batters swing, was timed perfectly for The Owner to come flying out of the front door. Home Run.
Bell and Jakob wiped their hands as they came in the entrance of Godmother Kates' party, having left the owner unrecognizable to the rest of the world, but alive to pay another day. As they strolled towards the nearest bar, they met a few friends. Sex-E-Ness motioned for them to join his table, where around him were seated 6 of the most beautiful women this side of the magazines. Bell thought he recognized one of them, who winked at him as he sat down.
"Boys, what did I miss? I hope you haven't worked too hard on this day of celebration! Listen, I've got some girls here for you to meet. Stringer, one of them, she says she knows you..." Bell and Jakob shared a knowing glance and clinked their glasses. They could hear the fireworks popping in the air. Or at least, they thought it was fireworks. Who really knows in New Orleans? |
