Sunday-
An alarm went off. White rolled over and clapped his hand down on the
"snooze" button. He lay there for a few minuets, cursing lightly before he
looked at his clock. Just after one in the morning. Still cursing, he got
up and sat on the edge of his bed, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of
his hands. Slowly he got to his feet and stumbled to the shower. Seven
hours earlier he had called the casino and explained his problem. The clerk
on duty had informed him that they would send a boat to him, and that he
should be ready to leave at two a.m. He was to meet them at the base of the
big dam. Emerging from the shower, he found a fresh pair of clothes, and
quickly dressed. Cramming the remainder of his things in his duffel bag, he
grabbed his keys and was out the door.
Barnes opened the door to his apartment and threw the suitcase on his bed. He moved to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge. Today had been a horrible day. He wasn't able to connect with any of his targets, and worse more, he had almost been caught. He sighed, he hadn't wanted to kill the clerk, but he had seen too much. Not enough to put two and two together, but any was two much in his book. Better safe than sorry. He finished the drink and made up his mind. Tomorrow he would hit the big man himself, Salvatore Leone. He just had to figure out how the hell he was gonna do it.
The red infernus pulled to a stop, and the driver cut the engine. The Yakuza member watched as a young man steeped out and started toward him. He frowned. The man approaching him was about six-foot, wiry, and had short, black, curly hair cut into a flattop haircut. He was about as Asian as John Wayne. James approached and saw the two Yakuza members patrolling around the white reefer boat. Their flashy suites were a dead giveaway. He presented his white card to the man, who looked at him, unimpressed. Frowning, he crammed that into his pocket, and pulled the letter out. The man read it, then eyed White. After a long moment, he nodded with his head. James retrieved his letter, grabbed his bag, and boarded the boat. With a cough, the reefer stalled, but then caught and began chugging slowly forward. The last part of Shoreside Vale that he saw was the red infernus, its glossy paintjob catching the light from the departing reefer.
Barnes took the street, feeling slightly better. He had spent the night formulating a plan, and it was time to put it into action. First, he needed a car. And not just any car, he needed one of the black Sentinels that the Portland Mafia were famous for driving around in. With a quick sweep of the area, he froze. Barnes wasn't a big believer in luck, but sometimes it got hard to deny its existence. Down the road from where he stood, next to a section of road that had been blocked off due to construction and huge holes in the road, was a black Sentinel, that was pulled up on the curve, a cop leaning on its bumper, writing a ticket. All around, traffic was clear, and there was a minimum of pedestrians for the first time since he had come here. He didn't need another sign. He set off at a jog. The officer was just about to tear the speeding ticket off when he felt something against the back of his head. "Turn you fucking head and Im gonna splatter you all over this mans car." Barnes stood behind him, his personal sidearm, a bulky .50 Dessert Eagle, pressed against the officer's head. With his free hand, he pulled the officer's .45 and pointed it at the startled Mafia driver. "Get out, and get spread eagle on the ground, and don't make a fucking move." The man got out, and complied. The Mafia man was one thing, but he didn't want to have to kill the cop. He was just another man doing his job. Besides that, it would look bad on his record. Still keeping the .45 on the mobster, he quickly pulled the officers cuffs out. This was the tricky part. Moving quickly, he stuffed the .45 in his belt, opened the cuffs, and slid the cop's hand in, making sure he locked them tight. All this took under ten seconds, but that was all the time mobster needed. He rolled to the side, and went for his sidearm. Barnes reacted quickly, pushing the cop face down and swiveling the .50 to fire. Both pistols went off at the same time. Both men yelled, grabbing at their wounds. Barnes, being the experienced of the two, recovered first. He pounced on the man, and rolled him over. He crammed the Mafia mans head between the pavement and the tire, hearing the sickening crunch of the mobsters skull on the ground. In his fit of rage, he forgot what he was shooting with. Placing the heavy pistol against the mans head, he pulled the trigger, and immediately regretted it. The high powered pistol punched a round straight through the mobsters head, and into the tire. "FUCK" he bellowed, and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, letting his head go limp, draining fluid all over the pavement. He threw the man off to the side, and turned to the cop, who was attempting to caterpillar crawl away. His broken nose was adding to the sickening fluid that was pooling at the base of the curb. He grabbed the man, who had still not seen his face, and opened to rear door of the squad car. He threw him in, making sure his head went in the foot space between the front and rear seats. He then grabbed the Mafia man and pilled him on top. Making sure the doors were locked, he picked up the dropped .45, and sat down in the Sentinel. For the first time he felt the stab of pain from the bullet that had gone cleanly through his thigh. But there wasn't time to hurt, He had to get to the "pay 'n spray." The fight had thrown him off schedule, and needed to get back on.
Authors Note- Yeah I threw in a quick fight part. They will get better, I promise, Im still setting up the action. I appreciate the reviews, and hey, the more the merrier.
Barnes opened the door to his apartment and threw the suitcase on his bed. He moved to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge. Today had been a horrible day. He wasn't able to connect with any of his targets, and worse more, he had almost been caught. He sighed, he hadn't wanted to kill the clerk, but he had seen too much. Not enough to put two and two together, but any was two much in his book. Better safe than sorry. He finished the drink and made up his mind. Tomorrow he would hit the big man himself, Salvatore Leone. He just had to figure out how the hell he was gonna do it.
The red infernus pulled to a stop, and the driver cut the engine. The Yakuza member watched as a young man steeped out and started toward him. He frowned. The man approaching him was about six-foot, wiry, and had short, black, curly hair cut into a flattop haircut. He was about as Asian as John Wayne. James approached and saw the two Yakuza members patrolling around the white reefer boat. Their flashy suites were a dead giveaway. He presented his white card to the man, who looked at him, unimpressed. Frowning, he crammed that into his pocket, and pulled the letter out. The man read it, then eyed White. After a long moment, he nodded with his head. James retrieved his letter, grabbed his bag, and boarded the boat. With a cough, the reefer stalled, but then caught and began chugging slowly forward. The last part of Shoreside Vale that he saw was the red infernus, its glossy paintjob catching the light from the departing reefer.
Barnes took the street, feeling slightly better. He had spent the night formulating a plan, and it was time to put it into action. First, he needed a car. And not just any car, he needed one of the black Sentinels that the Portland Mafia were famous for driving around in. With a quick sweep of the area, he froze. Barnes wasn't a big believer in luck, but sometimes it got hard to deny its existence. Down the road from where he stood, next to a section of road that had been blocked off due to construction and huge holes in the road, was a black Sentinel, that was pulled up on the curve, a cop leaning on its bumper, writing a ticket. All around, traffic was clear, and there was a minimum of pedestrians for the first time since he had come here. He didn't need another sign. He set off at a jog. The officer was just about to tear the speeding ticket off when he felt something against the back of his head. "Turn you fucking head and Im gonna splatter you all over this mans car." Barnes stood behind him, his personal sidearm, a bulky .50 Dessert Eagle, pressed against the officer's head. With his free hand, he pulled the officer's .45 and pointed it at the startled Mafia driver. "Get out, and get spread eagle on the ground, and don't make a fucking move." The man got out, and complied. The Mafia man was one thing, but he didn't want to have to kill the cop. He was just another man doing his job. Besides that, it would look bad on his record. Still keeping the .45 on the mobster, he quickly pulled the officers cuffs out. This was the tricky part. Moving quickly, he stuffed the .45 in his belt, opened the cuffs, and slid the cop's hand in, making sure he locked them tight. All this took under ten seconds, but that was all the time mobster needed. He rolled to the side, and went for his sidearm. Barnes reacted quickly, pushing the cop face down and swiveling the .50 to fire. Both pistols went off at the same time. Both men yelled, grabbing at their wounds. Barnes, being the experienced of the two, recovered first. He pounced on the man, and rolled him over. He crammed the Mafia mans head between the pavement and the tire, hearing the sickening crunch of the mobsters skull on the ground. In his fit of rage, he forgot what he was shooting with. Placing the heavy pistol against the mans head, he pulled the trigger, and immediately regretted it. The high powered pistol punched a round straight through the mobsters head, and into the tire. "FUCK" he bellowed, and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, letting his head go limp, draining fluid all over the pavement. He threw the man off to the side, and turned to the cop, who was attempting to caterpillar crawl away. His broken nose was adding to the sickening fluid that was pooling at the base of the curb. He grabbed the man, who had still not seen his face, and opened to rear door of the squad car. He threw him in, making sure his head went in the foot space between the front and rear seats. He then grabbed the Mafia man and pilled him on top. Making sure the doors were locked, he picked up the dropped .45, and sat down in the Sentinel. For the first time he felt the stab of pain from the bullet that had gone cleanly through his thigh. But there wasn't time to hurt, He had to get to the "pay 'n spray." The fight had thrown him off schedule, and needed to get back on.
Authors Note- Yeah I threw in a quick fight part. They will get better, I promise, Im still setting up the action. I appreciate the reviews, and hey, the more the merrier.