White arrived first.
He pulled into the garbage-ridden parking lot. Carefully dodging the larger pieces of litter, determined not to damage his expensive, cream-colored Sentinel. He parked close to the front door of Tony's, knowing that no common thug would dare to touch his ride. He stepped out of his car, slowly and deliberately, acting as if some unseen movie camera was always watching him.
White was of medium build, he worked out some, but not to the extreme. His brown hair and tan blended well with his beautiful cream colored suit. His chiseled face was his bargaining chip, providing the kind of first shot that was usually enough for most ladies. Of course, if the face didn't get them, the voice always did. His deep, projecting voice was the envoy for his greatest weapon of all. White was funny, witty, insightful, he was an orator. He dealt with words, he liked guns too, but the ability to remove threats without killing them was, in his mind, invaluable.
He slowly pushed open the door to Tony's Deli, making an entrance. He knew that the others had yet to arrive, but first impressions only come once.
He stifled a frown as he surveyed the deli. A dump, thought White. He managed to turn his frown around to a cocky smile as his eyes met with a pretty waitress. She was blond and blue eyed, the quintessential southern girl. She was young too, probably dropped out of high school. She was lucky to be waitressing, there were a lot of other jobs for pretty young dropouts. Of course, the way most restaurant owners acted, maybe she wasn't so lucky…
White was here for business, he knew that, but he was having a tough time focusing on the job as he headed for the back corner table, the designated meeting table. Apparently the waitress was having some problems too, she tracked him intently with her eyes, following each of his strides intently. Game, set, match, thought White. She was young though…. Well, what the hell, thought White, if there's grass on the field, play ball, right? And if there wasn't? Well then go around back and play in the mud…
At that thought, White had to struggle to keep in a chuckle. The waitress approached him, slowly, trying to make a show of her own.
"Can I get you something… sir?" She asked
"I'd imagine you could sweetie," White responded.
"Now, what might that be…?"
"How's the peach pie here?" White asked, "It looked tasty."
The waitress licked her lips. "That's what I hear…"
"Yummy"
"It's real hot though… I have one in the back, maybe you could come back and help me get it…" The waitress said suggestively.
"I'm not one to turn down a lady…" White responded, masking his eagerness.
The door to Tony's Deli swung wide open, preemptively interrupting the two. A man in a red suit swiftly walked in. As the door swung closed, White observed a big red Bobcat parked dangerously close to his own Sentinel.
The man was a giant of sorts, about 6'7'', easily eclipsing White. Red was muscular also, his tremendous biceps bulging as his arms swung in full stride. His face carried a substantial scar, still in its healing phases, running straight down from his left ear, stopping just before the neck. His eyes were bloodshot, although it appeared as if the man was perfectly comfortable, implying his eyes were usually in that state. His large, square-shaped head was adorned with a thin layer of brown hair, formed into a crew cut. He looked pissed as hell.
"That's a big motherfucker," White whispered to himself.
Apparently the waitress heard, letting out a slight giggle.
"What in my holy fuck are you laughing at bitch?" Red's voice overflowed with anger.
"I'm-"
"It's cool, take it down a notch there cap'n," White interceded.
"No names, right?" Asked Red.
"Yeah"
"Then I'm Red."
"White."
"Where the fuck are the others?" Red demanded.
This guy was off his rocker, White decided. The question remained whether or not that could jeopardize the mission. Probably would. "I don't know, there probably on their way, okay? Sit down."
Red consented, nearly tearing the backrest off his chair as he pulled it from under the table.
"I guess the pie's gonna have to wait," said the waitress with a hint of sorrow.
"Sorry, I think you might want to be heading out too baby," responded White, also a little let down. The waitress made her way to the kitchen, realizing that it was best she not be an accessory to whatever the men were planning.
"Fuckin no, I want some pie!" Red exclaimed, seeming a little childish in White's mind.
"Look, forget the damn pie," White commanded, "did you bring you piece of the plan?"
Each member of the squad was issued a part of the plan by their employer. This way, none of them would know enough to sell the others out before the job went down. None of them had met their employer face to face. The plans came in the mail, to secure boxes. Couldn't be too careful these days. They all knew that was for the best. They wanted to do it professionally.
White's part detailed the security system of wherever they were going to hit. It should be easy enough, White thought, based on the security. It was nothing more than a couple of old rent-a-cops, probably carrying nothing more than some old service revolvers. Easy easy.
"Yeah, I got it," Red said as he reached into his breast pocket. He quickly removed a medium-sized manila envelope, nearly tearing it in the process. Red opened the envelope with a little more care, reaching into it and extracting a map and a short letter.
"Safehouse," Red said, surprisingly businesslike. An old, run-down schoolhouse would act as the men's safe haven. Giving them shelter from The Man.
As the two men looked over the map and inspected the letter, memorizing the address, the door swung open again. Before the door could swing closed, it was forced open again.
Two men walked in slowly, not together, but only yards apart, their feet in opposite step. In front was a man wearing a very cheap looking green suit. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale. His deep black hair seemed to grow in patches, shooting out at impossible angles. His teeth, endlessly bared behind his seemingly unretractable upper lip, were a shade of yellow, somewhere near piss. Green, White presumed.
Behind him followed a man wearing an Italian black suit. His eyes were nearly all black, whether that was drug-induced or not, White did not know. The man's skin was white as a cloud, nearing albino. The man's face betrayed nothing, he was marble. His deep black hair gave him a penguinish look, but his demeanor clearly showed that Black was not a man to be fucked with. The two men swiftly approached the corner table.
"Howdy," greeted White, "you two come together?
"What, me, with him? No way man, no way. --name's Green by the way-- I came by myself. See that sweet baby, that's me," Green replied with a mousy voice as he pointed out the window to a beat up Green Rumpo. Parked next to the Rumpo was a beautiful black on black Stinger, presumably Black's.
"Good, thought you two fuckers were fags for a second there," Red interjected.
"No. Black." Black replied flatly.
"Well good for you," said White. He couldn't figure out Black. For all he knew, Black was the devil himself. "Well gentlemen, shall we get down to business then?" Said White.
"Hey baby, despite my name I ain't green baby, I'm ex-per-ia-nced! I'll rock your world baby!" Green shouted to the waitress across the room.
"Focus." Said White, "look, I'm sure we all won't like each other, I don't know about you guys, but I like to get paid. So if we could all get out our piece of the plan, it might help stuff get started."
"Agreed," Black said, settling the matter.
He pulled into the garbage-ridden parking lot. Carefully dodging the larger pieces of litter, determined not to damage his expensive, cream-colored Sentinel. He parked close to the front door of Tony's, knowing that no common thug would dare to touch his ride. He stepped out of his car, slowly and deliberately, acting as if some unseen movie camera was always watching him.
White was of medium build, he worked out some, but not to the extreme. His brown hair and tan blended well with his beautiful cream colored suit. His chiseled face was his bargaining chip, providing the kind of first shot that was usually enough for most ladies. Of course, if the face didn't get them, the voice always did. His deep, projecting voice was the envoy for his greatest weapon of all. White was funny, witty, insightful, he was an orator. He dealt with words, he liked guns too, but the ability to remove threats without killing them was, in his mind, invaluable.
He slowly pushed open the door to Tony's Deli, making an entrance. He knew that the others had yet to arrive, but first impressions only come once.
He stifled a frown as he surveyed the deli. A dump, thought White. He managed to turn his frown around to a cocky smile as his eyes met with a pretty waitress. She was blond and blue eyed, the quintessential southern girl. She was young too, probably dropped out of high school. She was lucky to be waitressing, there were a lot of other jobs for pretty young dropouts. Of course, the way most restaurant owners acted, maybe she wasn't so lucky…
White was here for business, he knew that, but he was having a tough time focusing on the job as he headed for the back corner table, the designated meeting table. Apparently the waitress was having some problems too, she tracked him intently with her eyes, following each of his strides intently. Game, set, match, thought White. She was young though…. Well, what the hell, thought White, if there's grass on the field, play ball, right? And if there wasn't? Well then go around back and play in the mud…
At that thought, White had to struggle to keep in a chuckle. The waitress approached him, slowly, trying to make a show of her own.
"Can I get you something… sir?" She asked
"I'd imagine you could sweetie," White responded.
"Now, what might that be…?"
"How's the peach pie here?" White asked, "It looked tasty."
The waitress licked her lips. "That's what I hear…"
"Yummy"
"It's real hot though… I have one in the back, maybe you could come back and help me get it…" The waitress said suggestively.
"I'm not one to turn down a lady…" White responded, masking his eagerness.
The door to Tony's Deli swung wide open, preemptively interrupting the two. A man in a red suit swiftly walked in. As the door swung closed, White observed a big red Bobcat parked dangerously close to his own Sentinel.
The man was a giant of sorts, about 6'7'', easily eclipsing White. Red was muscular also, his tremendous biceps bulging as his arms swung in full stride. His face carried a substantial scar, still in its healing phases, running straight down from his left ear, stopping just before the neck. His eyes were bloodshot, although it appeared as if the man was perfectly comfortable, implying his eyes were usually in that state. His large, square-shaped head was adorned with a thin layer of brown hair, formed into a crew cut. He looked pissed as hell.
"That's a big motherfucker," White whispered to himself.
Apparently the waitress heard, letting out a slight giggle.
"What in my holy fuck are you laughing at bitch?" Red's voice overflowed with anger.
"I'm-"
"It's cool, take it down a notch there cap'n," White interceded.
"No names, right?" Asked Red.
"Yeah"
"Then I'm Red."
"White."
"Where the fuck are the others?" Red demanded.
This guy was off his rocker, White decided. The question remained whether or not that could jeopardize the mission. Probably would. "I don't know, there probably on their way, okay? Sit down."
Red consented, nearly tearing the backrest off his chair as he pulled it from under the table.
"I guess the pie's gonna have to wait," said the waitress with a hint of sorrow.
"Sorry, I think you might want to be heading out too baby," responded White, also a little let down. The waitress made her way to the kitchen, realizing that it was best she not be an accessory to whatever the men were planning.
"Fuckin no, I want some pie!" Red exclaimed, seeming a little childish in White's mind.
"Look, forget the damn pie," White commanded, "did you bring you piece of the plan?"
Each member of the squad was issued a part of the plan by their employer. This way, none of them would know enough to sell the others out before the job went down. None of them had met their employer face to face. The plans came in the mail, to secure boxes. Couldn't be too careful these days. They all knew that was for the best. They wanted to do it professionally.
White's part detailed the security system of wherever they were going to hit. It should be easy enough, White thought, based on the security. It was nothing more than a couple of old rent-a-cops, probably carrying nothing more than some old service revolvers. Easy easy.
"Yeah, I got it," Red said as he reached into his breast pocket. He quickly removed a medium-sized manila envelope, nearly tearing it in the process. Red opened the envelope with a little more care, reaching into it and extracting a map and a short letter.
"Safehouse," Red said, surprisingly businesslike. An old, run-down schoolhouse would act as the men's safe haven. Giving them shelter from The Man.
As the two men looked over the map and inspected the letter, memorizing the address, the door swung open again. Before the door could swing closed, it was forced open again.
Two men walked in slowly, not together, but only yards apart, their feet in opposite step. In front was a man wearing a very cheap looking green suit. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale. His deep black hair seemed to grow in patches, shooting out at impossible angles. His teeth, endlessly bared behind his seemingly unretractable upper lip, were a shade of yellow, somewhere near piss. Green, White presumed.
Behind him followed a man wearing an Italian black suit. His eyes were nearly all black, whether that was drug-induced or not, White did not know. The man's skin was white as a cloud, nearing albino. The man's face betrayed nothing, he was marble. His deep black hair gave him a penguinish look, but his demeanor clearly showed that Black was not a man to be fucked with. The two men swiftly approached the corner table.
"Howdy," greeted White, "you two come together?
"What, me, with him? No way man, no way. --name's Green by the way-- I came by myself. See that sweet baby, that's me," Green replied with a mousy voice as he pointed out the window to a beat up Green Rumpo. Parked next to the Rumpo was a beautiful black on black Stinger, presumably Black's.
"Good, thought you two fuckers were fags for a second there," Red interjected.
"No. Black." Black replied flatly.
"Well good for you," said White. He couldn't figure out Black. For all he knew, Black was the devil himself. "Well gentlemen, shall we get down to business then?" Said White.
"Hey baby, despite my name I ain't green baby, I'm ex-per-ia-nced! I'll rock your world baby!" Green shouted to the waitress across the room.
"Focus." Said White, "look, I'm sure we all won't like each other, I don't know about you guys, but I like to get paid. So if we could all get out our piece of the plan, it might help stuff get started."
"Agreed," Black said, settling the matter.