Author
Author's Note: Um. More action here!... and
stuff... But... I think it's going to be really really short... -frowns,
complete with cracking noises-
Maybe I'm Twisted, 2
by "Twisted" Rey
Chapter 3 - Dream Gone Wrong
"This was my dream job, until..."
What is
he doing?
What do
you think?
I think
he is beginning to like this world. Too much, perhaps.
I believe
the same. However, I also believe that when the time comes, he will make the
right choice.
When will
the time come?
Be
patient. He must see and learn, he will gain knowledge, and he must suffer
loss...
Robin
and I sat together in the back seat of the car, the man called Pete up in
front driving. Pete was a big, bald-headed black guy,
wearing a huge puffa jacket with the front open to display the copious amount of
gold jewellery adorning the front of his wife-beater. The window next to him was
down, his arm hanging out, deep reverberating bass notes from some hardcore rap
track thumping out the system. Robin was draped over me sleazily, I myself with a cap tilted rakishly over
my head and Ray Bans.
Pete
spoke normally back towards them. His prim and proper voice reminded me greatly of an English schoolteacher. "We've been on
these guys for two months now, and half of that time was spent getting close to
the boss guys. I think Robbie's already told you Jon's the money man; me and
him'll be hanging on the corner of third and fifth. You just hang out with your
man - Phil - and check out the drugs. Lead him on a little, waste some time. If
the deal goes alright, Butch, you take off your jacket and put it on yer girl;
and the arrest team'll be up and over once you're clear. If not, turn the bill
of your cap to face the back and the team'll be there anyway. A'ight?"
"Mmm," said Robin, sensuously leering towards Pete in the front with a
wink. I grabbed her playfully and yanked her backwards.
"You're my girl for now," I growled. Robin glared up at me but
resumed her prostitute-like position in my lap. We resumed down the rest of
the street in silence, making a few turns before finally arriving in an
abandoned parking lot.
I opened the door and allowed Robin to slide out of the car,
before climbing out myself. Pete got out of the front seat, allowing me to take his place, Robin
taking the passenger's seat. With a final glance towards them and a "good
luck," he moved to a huge Mercedes a few lots away, and moved off. Presumably
with Jon in front, I thought, as I allowed his arm to slide out the
window as well, beating the side of the door on each downbeat from the sound
system.
We sat waiting for a while, and a few minutes later, a van slowly drove into
the lot next to theirs. A shady figure got out, a scarf tied around his neck. He
was thin, but moved in a way that showed a wiry strength behind that leather
jacket. A wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble that waved at us now. Both
Robin and I exited the Merc, striding over to the man.
"You
Phil?" I asked gruffly, rogughly dragging Robin to my side. The man
nodded slowly, ignoring Robin as her eyes flicked over him appraisingly.
"Well, show
us what you've got," I said. The man obliged,
opening the side door to the van to allow us to glance inside.
On the
first glance I almost had to rub my eyes at the assortment of drugs piled
up in there. Cannabis resin, big blocks of it, wrapped-up rocks of crack, amphetamines,
I could recognize these packed up
from the wall to the ceiling, a haul worth at least £200,000.
In the same instant, I felt Robin beside me tense ever so slightly.
I knew from
recalled experience that my line of work was never easy, but every now and then
my partner and I were called up for a job that had been arranged in advance,
where everything had been done already and all they needed now was to lure the
crooks with a big deal and put them behind bars.
As the figure
moved to close the door again, Robin raised a hand quickly. "Hold it,
maaaaan," she drawled, as if she was a Texan who'd been taking drugs.
"My pal here gotta check out what you got, you know. Could be any old sh-t
in there."
The man, Phil,
growled darkly, and for a split second I wondered if Robin had done the
wrong thing. I remembered, though, that the request was quite a routine one.
Phil took a knife from the pocket of his coat and slowly sliced a flake of
cannabis off the nearest block.
Robin took it
from him, and had a sniff, before handing it over to me. I studied it
carefully. We repeated the process a few times with the crack as well, but when it was obvious Phil
was beginning to get impatient, I decided to call an end to the examination.
"Alright,
it's good stuff. We'll take it." Phil
gave another growl as a reply, and I closed the van door for him. "You
sit in the van, and we'll go tell Pete it's okay to hand the cash over."
Robin pulled out
her cell phone and dialed Pete's number, as Phil moved towards the front seat of
his van. I took my coat off, carefully draping it over Robin's shoulders as we stepped
away from the van. The arrest team quickly sprinted out of nowhere, and from all
four directions, towards Phil.
I was about
to congratulate Robin on a job well done at the first shouts of "Armed
police, you're under arrest!", but then...
The first shot
was fired. I felt Robin, beside me, jerk suddenly, and fall. I gazed down,
uncomprehending, until I saw the blood trickling slowly from her side, a small,
bullet-sized hole the cause.
A wave of rage
rippled through me, and, summoning what powers I had left, I rose up and sped
towards Phil, who was desperately trying to reload his gun, outstripping the
police. We went down together, and the gun clattered to one side, with me holding his victim by the collar, a fist raised up threateningly. Just as
I was
about to allow his fist to drop down and pummel the man in his rage, the hat
Phil had been wearing slid off, revealing dark hair, like mine.
And wide, green
eyes.
I gaped,
letting go and moving backwards swiftly, the arrest team arriving just then, tiny
red pinpricks of light from their guns dancing on Phil's forehead. But it wasn't
a Phil. It wasn't even a man.
It was
Buttercup.
Rey: Again, short. Well...
well, review. Yeah. I might be compelled to write the fourth chapter if you
do... ... Go on, review! ...