I rubbed my temples and sighed. "So lemme get this straight," I said wearily. "Some guys who happened to slightly resemble us walked into your fine establishment and blew away some of Kylix's lowlifes." I gestured to the rapidly congealing lumps in the booth across the room from us. "Your dad's boys are out doing a horse, so you got no one to dump the bodies. And this concerns us how?"
ChiChi glared at me through a cloud of Sobrani smoke. "Because it was you, you jerk. I saw it with my own eyes. Just get rid of them, already."
Goku looked at me, his face troubled. "Now, when you say, "doing" a horse-"
"Fixing a race, Kakarrot."
"Ah." He turned his attention back to the pretty piece of tail sitting on his lap, playing with his hair. Dames always seemed to do that. I leaned back into the maroon imitation vinyl of the Immortal Palace Lounge, and squinted through the gloom. The broken glass and spent shells had been cleaned up damn quick, but the other clientele had taken the hint and left early. A solitary bored stripper went through her routine mechanically on the slick black stage, looking about as erotic as Martha Stewart in a g-string, gyrating to some third-rate butchering of "Liar, Liar". She seemed oblivious to the thugs who had so recently shuffled off this mortal coil in an unusually messy way. I helped myself to another bourbon and swilled it thoughtfully. "Alright," I said eventually, turning to the impatient broad across the table. "Say it was us that iced 'em, not that it was, mind you, but just say...what would be in it for us? For dumping 'em, I mean?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Well, how about I don't tell Kylix what you boys did to his cousin?"
Goku rolled his eyes. "For the last time, we didn't- wait, his cousin? Which one is that?"
"The one with his brain in his bourbon." She gestured.
"Oh, would you look at that? Damn. Ooh, that tickles." Ms Piece O' Tail nuzzled Goku's cheek as I stewed in my juices (well, Jim Bean's juices, anyway). This was unexpected, not to mention uncomfortable. Kylix was mostly unsentimental about family matters, but he'd no doubt take this sort of thing as a personal insult. And as I recalled, the last person to insult Kylix had had to learn to eat with his knees. Or what was left of them. I stood, grabbed Goku's arm and hauled him to his feet, knocking his companion onto her cute little ass. I oiled at ChiChi.
"'scuze me, Ma'am, but I need to have a word with my associate, and then we'll be quite happy to deal with this little problem for you." I dragged him across the rancid plush red carpet to the bar. He looked at me, head to one side. "What're you doin' boss? We didn't kill those guys."
"I know that, dumb-ass! But if we don't ditch the bodies, that damn ChiChi broad is gonna tell Kylix we had something to do with it. And if there's one thing our practice does not need, it's "Killer" Kylix with a grudge. And an ice pick. So, let's just dispose of them and go home before they start to stink the place up, yeah?"
Goku scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeeeeaaahh, alright. Not like we had anything planned." He yawned widely. "'cept maybe some sleep..."
I sludged back through the primordial ooze of carpet to ChiChi's booth, and flashed her a killer smile. She countered with a look that could press pants. "Well?" she snapped.
"Well, lady, you're in luck. Although my colleague and I had nothing, and I stress, nothing to do with this whatsoever, we've taken a liking to you. So, out of the kindness of our hearts, we are generously offering our manly-type services in disposing of the...ahem, gatecrashers."
Her frown didn't budge. "Well, I should think so," she said sharply. "Now hurry up. I swear, if anyone sees those stiffs in here-"
'Sweetie, if there are any stiffs whatsoever while you're around, I'll eat Kakarrot's cooking." I left her to ponder that bit of innuendo, and sauntered over to the Cadaver Corner.
It took us (and when I say "us", I mean Kakarott) a damn near half hour to lug the hefty bastards through the dank, winding corridors stained with what I prayed was cold cream, but we finally got all four stiffs out of the Show Room, through the loading entrance and into the back alley. With a little work, they fitted, nicely wrapped in tarpaulin, in the cavernous trunk of Goku's clapped-out Chevy. I perched on the hood, Marlboro in mouth, while he said an enthusiastic goodbye to his new friend. I swear to God, the day I understand what women see in a guy who can bench-press a Hummer but still thinks a little man lives in our fridge and turns the light on and off, is the day I die a happy man.
By the time we creaked slowly out into the streets, the Chevy bitching and groaning every inch of the way, the sun was nearly up. Goku was irritatingly cheerful for such an ungodly hour. "Damn, but that was a nice girl. Didn't you think she was nice?"
'Yup," I said sleepily, sliding down into my seat. "And if she's anything like the rest of the Immortal girls, she should be a lot of fun, too. I met this one girl there, she could do this thing with ice cubes..."
"What?" Goku looked puzzled. As usual. "Oh, you mean the one playin' with my hair? I was talkin' about the other broad..."
My brain felt like someone had poured about a quart of cement into each ear. Seeing as my cognitive processing doesn't generally kick in until after midday or a half-bottle of Wild Turkey, whichever comes first, it took me a few minutes to get Goku's point. "The other bro- whoa, whoa, whoa, you mean ChiChi?" Shocked, I tried to stare at him, missed, and ended up giving a passing jogger a look that will haunt him to the grave.
Goku squirmed. "Well, I liked her. She's all smart and stuff. And well, y'know what they say about strong women..."
I snorted. "Well, we can discuss your sexual perversions later. Where're we gonna dump these poor bastards, ya think?" I jerked my thumb in the direction of our Economy Passengers.
"River?" suggested Goku, easing to a stop at the red light, checking for non-existent cars. The streets were soaked in grey dawn, the only splash of colour the occasional drunk sprawled in a gutter. Here and there a ray of the rising sun played on a building, showing the filth that the fairy lights of the evening had glossed over, leaving the street looked as jaded as a hung-over debutante. I leaned my face against the freezing glass, and closed my eyes for just a second...
"Vegeta? Hey boss, wake up, willya?"
"Mmmphgmh..." I slid sandpaper lids over my eyes, and squinted up at Goku's grinning face. "You want we should dump 'em now, or are we gonna wait 'till the whole damn town sees us hauling corpses around?"
I sat upright, and instantly regretted it as a couple dozen of my vertebrae played musical chairs in my spine. "Mmmyeah, let's do it."
Goku scoped the riverside for any unwanted company. "Annnnd...we're clear." He went to the trunk, and, rusted hinges complaining every inch of the way, hauled it up and bent over the cargo. He stopped for a minute, and his eyes suddenly steeled. "Poor bastards," he said quietly. As I looked over his shoulder at the mangled remains, I had to agree with him. The dim lights of the Immortals had hidden the worst of the damage, but in the cold morning glow it was laid bare. "Poor bastards," said Goku again, shaking his head sadly.
I swallowed, hard. Shootings I could deal with. They were part of the game, and I'd been through enough myself not to get too sentimental when someone else was on the receiving end. But for it to end up like this meant something different entirely. To put a body through this, to keep shooting so long after it was dead, meant more than doing a job. It meant someone had enjoyed it. Someone who looked like us... I glanced at Goku, and felt a nasty thought slide in under my mind. Sure, he had incredible patience, even with people who were trying to kill him. I mean, up to a point, you could push and push and never get him beyond a state of mild, laughing scolding. Up to a point. Once, a long time ago, I'd seen him pass that point. Seen what he was capable of.
I shook my head clear. That damn ChiChi broad was seeing things. The view in the Immortals was never the clearest, seeing as overhead lighting was not kind to the majority of their girls. Besides, she said she saw the two of us do it, and filling a few thugs so full of lead they could walk through a security scan buck-naked and still set it off is the kind of thing that sticks in your mind. Either way, I needed a drink, a shower, a bed and a few friendly (and inventive) Immortal girls before I was even going to start pondering this one. I looked at Goku, who was still staring hard at the bloodied mess in his car. "Hey," I put a hand on his arm, "Not our problem anymore, remember?" He turned, his face serious for once, and opened his mouth to reply. A voice from behind us saved him the trouble.
"Actually, buddy, I'd say your problems are just beginning."
I spun around, and came face-to-muzzle with a mean-ass gleaming Colt. The face behind it didn't look any friendlier as it smiled coldly. "You're under arrest."
ChiChi glared at me through a cloud of Sobrani smoke. "Because it was you, you jerk. I saw it with my own eyes. Just get rid of them, already."
Goku looked at me, his face troubled. "Now, when you say, "doing" a horse-"
"Fixing a race, Kakarrot."
"Ah." He turned his attention back to the pretty piece of tail sitting on his lap, playing with his hair. Dames always seemed to do that. I leaned back into the maroon imitation vinyl of the Immortal Palace Lounge, and squinted through the gloom. The broken glass and spent shells had been cleaned up damn quick, but the other clientele had taken the hint and left early. A solitary bored stripper went through her routine mechanically on the slick black stage, looking about as erotic as Martha Stewart in a g-string, gyrating to some third-rate butchering of "Liar, Liar". She seemed oblivious to the thugs who had so recently shuffled off this mortal coil in an unusually messy way. I helped myself to another bourbon and swilled it thoughtfully. "Alright," I said eventually, turning to the impatient broad across the table. "Say it was us that iced 'em, not that it was, mind you, but just say...what would be in it for us? For dumping 'em, I mean?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Well, how about I don't tell Kylix what you boys did to his cousin?"
Goku rolled his eyes. "For the last time, we didn't- wait, his cousin? Which one is that?"
"The one with his brain in his bourbon." She gestured.
"Oh, would you look at that? Damn. Ooh, that tickles." Ms Piece O' Tail nuzzled Goku's cheek as I stewed in my juices (well, Jim Bean's juices, anyway). This was unexpected, not to mention uncomfortable. Kylix was mostly unsentimental about family matters, but he'd no doubt take this sort of thing as a personal insult. And as I recalled, the last person to insult Kylix had had to learn to eat with his knees. Or what was left of them. I stood, grabbed Goku's arm and hauled him to his feet, knocking his companion onto her cute little ass. I oiled at ChiChi.
"'scuze me, Ma'am, but I need to have a word with my associate, and then we'll be quite happy to deal with this little problem for you." I dragged him across the rancid plush red carpet to the bar. He looked at me, head to one side. "What're you doin' boss? We didn't kill those guys."
"I know that, dumb-ass! But if we don't ditch the bodies, that damn ChiChi broad is gonna tell Kylix we had something to do with it. And if there's one thing our practice does not need, it's "Killer" Kylix with a grudge. And an ice pick. So, let's just dispose of them and go home before they start to stink the place up, yeah?"
Goku scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeeeeaaahh, alright. Not like we had anything planned." He yawned widely. "'cept maybe some sleep..."
I sludged back through the primordial ooze of carpet to ChiChi's booth, and flashed her a killer smile. She countered with a look that could press pants. "Well?" she snapped.
"Well, lady, you're in luck. Although my colleague and I had nothing, and I stress, nothing to do with this whatsoever, we've taken a liking to you. So, out of the kindness of our hearts, we are generously offering our manly-type services in disposing of the...ahem, gatecrashers."
Her frown didn't budge. "Well, I should think so," she said sharply. "Now hurry up. I swear, if anyone sees those stiffs in here-"
'Sweetie, if there are any stiffs whatsoever while you're around, I'll eat Kakarrot's cooking." I left her to ponder that bit of innuendo, and sauntered over to the Cadaver Corner.
It took us (and when I say "us", I mean Kakarott) a damn near half hour to lug the hefty bastards through the dank, winding corridors stained with what I prayed was cold cream, but we finally got all four stiffs out of the Show Room, through the loading entrance and into the back alley. With a little work, they fitted, nicely wrapped in tarpaulin, in the cavernous trunk of Goku's clapped-out Chevy. I perched on the hood, Marlboro in mouth, while he said an enthusiastic goodbye to his new friend. I swear to God, the day I understand what women see in a guy who can bench-press a Hummer but still thinks a little man lives in our fridge and turns the light on and off, is the day I die a happy man.
By the time we creaked slowly out into the streets, the Chevy bitching and groaning every inch of the way, the sun was nearly up. Goku was irritatingly cheerful for such an ungodly hour. "Damn, but that was a nice girl. Didn't you think she was nice?"
'Yup," I said sleepily, sliding down into my seat. "And if she's anything like the rest of the Immortal girls, she should be a lot of fun, too. I met this one girl there, she could do this thing with ice cubes..."
"What?" Goku looked puzzled. As usual. "Oh, you mean the one playin' with my hair? I was talkin' about the other broad..."
My brain felt like someone had poured about a quart of cement into each ear. Seeing as my cognitive processing doesn't generally kick in until after midday or a half-bottle of Wild Turkey, whichever comes first, it took me a few minutes to get Goku's point. "The other bro- whoa, whoa, whoa, you mean ChiChi?" Shocked, I tried to stare at him, missed, and ended up giving a passing jogger a look that will haunt him to the grave.
Goku squirmed. "Well, I liked her. She's all smart and stuff. And well, y'know what they say about strong women..."
I snorted. "Well, we can discuss your sexual perversions later. Where're we gonna dump these poor bastards, ya think?" I jerked my thumb in the direction of our Economy Passengers.
"River?" suggested Goku, easing to a stop at the red light, checking for non-existent cars. The streets were soaked in grey dawn, the only splash of colour the occasional drunk sprawled in a gutter. Here and there a ray of the rising sun played on a building, showing the filth that the fairy lights of the evening had glossed over, leaving the street looked as jaded as a hung-over debutante. I leaned my face against the freezing glass, and closed my eyes for just a second...
"Vegeta? Hey boss, wake up, willya?"
"Mmmphgmh..." I slid sandpaper lids over my eyes, and squinted up at Goku's grinning face. "You want we should dump 'em now, or are we gonna wait 'till the whole damn town sees us hauling corpses around?"
I sat upright, and instantly regretted it as a couple dozen of my vertebrae played musical chairs in my spine. "Mmmyeah, let's do it."
Goku scoped the riverside for any unwanted company. "Annnnd...we're clear." He went to the trunk, and, rusted hinges complaining every inch of the way, hauled it up and bent over the cargo. He stopped for a minute, and his eyes suddenly steeled. "Poor bastards," he said quietly. As I looked over his shoulder at the mangled remains, I had to agree with him. The dim lights of the Immortals had hidden the worst of the damage, but in the cold morning glow it was laid bare. "Poor bastards," said Goku again, shaking his head sadly.
I swallowed, hard. Shootings I could deal with. They were part of the game, and I'd been through enough myself not to get too sentimental when someone else was on the receiving end. But for it to end up like this meant something different entirely. To put a body through this, to keep shooting so long after it was dead, meant more than doing a job. It meant someone had enjoyed it. Someone who looked like us... I glanced at Goku, and felt a nasty thought slide in under my mind. Sure, he had incredible patience, even with people who were trying to kill him. I mean, up to a point, you could push and push and never get him beyond a state of mild, laughing scolding. Up to a point. Once, a long time ago, I'd seen him pass that point. Seen what he was capable of.
I shook my head clear. That damn ChiChi broad was seeing things. The view in the Immortals was never the clearest, seeing as overhead lighting was not kind to the majority of their girls. Besides, she said she saw the two of us do it, and filling a few thugs so full of lead they could walk through a security scan buck-naked and still set it off is the kind of thing that sticks in your mind. Either way, I needed a drink, a shower, a bed and a few friendly (and inventive) Immortal girls before I was even going to start pondering this one. I looked at Goku, who was still staring hard at the bloodied mess in his car. "Hey," I put a hand on his arm, "Not our problem anymore, remember?" He turned, his face serious for once, and opened his mouth to reply. A voice from behind us saved him the trouble.
"Actually, buddy, I'd say your problems are just beginning."
I spun around, and came face-to-muzzle with a mean-ass gleaming Colt. The face behind it didn't look any friendlier as it smiled coldly. "You're under arrest."