Chapter 3
Fires Of Revenge
Jose Philipe Mendola
The job was simple enough in Tony's eyes. Send the errand boy into Wong's Launderette, torch the place, and walk out. No problems.
The only catch was the possible amounts of Triads in the building, and the danger of them finding out what hew as doing and killing him. Tony needed another plan.
Luigi had the more well thought out plan.
Go into the business, tell the clerk that he was here for a pickup, and at the right opportunity, toss a firebomb into a closet or something, then walk out.
'We're doing this to scare them out of our territory.' Tony said 'not to make them think they have a problem with their electrical outlets.'
'Don't worry about it.' Luigi said 'They'll get the message all right.'
Their hired gun understood the job perfectly. Go in and leave (Eventually) with the place burning to the ground.
Nodding at the instructions, he headed out the door to his stolen Banshee.
Once in his car, he had to come up with a plausible plan to get into the Laundromat without a hitch.
Putting the keys into the ignition, he started the car and headed up the street to Ammu Nation. There, he could get knockdown rates on high-power weapons and explosives.
After running a few lights and nearly hitting someone crossing the street, he skidded to a halt in front of the weapons dealer's shop.
Once he had parked the car, he headed for the entrance.
Once inside, any homicidal maniac's prayers would have been answered. Along every wall and table in the store were racks upon racks of various weapons. Along with them was body armor, Camouflage everything ranging from boxers to gloves, ammo tins, magazines for different automatic weapons, and the ever-present books.
Walking over to the weapon case, he looked in and saw a few different models of a street Uzi. Some were smaller than others; others bigger. some even had a shoulder stock.
The clerk walked up behind the counter the hired gun was looking in, and with a slight British accent said
'Ello'. Can I help you find sumptin'?'
He nodded and pointed to a certain Uzi.
'Ah yes.' the clerk said 'Dis one ere', she just came in last night. All da way from Russia. Probably made illegally, probably is illegal on the streets ere'.
The man in the black leather jacket nodded as if pleased. He tapped the glass above that and went over to the small bookrack.
The clerk took the Uzi out of the case and put it near the register and watched as his patron shopped around some more.
While flipping through the bookcase, he found one book in particular that might be needed. Picking it up and putting it under his arm, he walked over to a stand of clothed labeled 'Surplus'.
Sliding through the random assortment of clothes, he finally found one that looked lie it could hide a few bottles of anything under it. There were even pockets that would fit them. this would work well. He would defiantly be back here to shop eventually.
Returning to the cash register, he put the rest of the items on the counter. The clerk looked them over and listed out loud
'One 9mm Uzi,' he hit a few button on the cash register 'One 'Homemade Bombs ' book.' more buttons being hit 'And one khaki trench coat.' He looked up to the man waiting to pay and said 'Can I interest you in some Armor Piercing Bullets? 15% off today.'
He smiled and shook his head and pointed to the register.
Taking the hint, the clerk said while handing him the items he had just purchased
'550 total. I don't need to see any I.D. you look like an honest face.. But, I gotta' ask.. Do you work for the post office? Store policy you see.'
He smiled and took out his wallet, handing him a 500 and a 100.
Before the clerk could give him his change, he was already heading for the door.
'Want your change?' The clerk asked the retreating man
He shook his head and walked out the door.
'Thanks.' The clerk said, pocketing the tip.
The book was easy enough to understand. All one really needed for an effective Molotov cocktail was a glass bottle, gasoline and a rag. And having all of those components in ones owns car was a godsend.
He completed the job of making the three in a total of 20 minutes. He would have been faster, but he had to rob a bum of his booze bottles before he got any. Oh well. Personal sacrifices made people dead. And stores burnt.
Mixing up about three of the firebombs, he put the bottles into his jacket pockets and headed out for Wong Brothers Laundry. This was going to be a good job.
After driving a few blocks from Ammu Nation, he was parked in front of the Wong Brothers place. Taking a deep breath before he dot out of 'his' car, he cocked his Uzi, stashed it in his jacket and walked out of the car.
Shutting the door to the blue sports car, he walked to the front door of the Laundromat.
On the door was the company name. 'Wong Brothers Laundry'. Underneath it was the company slogan 'Two Wong's Make A White.' He smiled despite what was about to happen, and walked to the front counter.
'Heddo.' One of the brothers said to him 'Are you fo' pickup or deliverdy?'
Pulling a false dry-cleaning document out of his pocket, he gave it to the oriental man.
He noticed a door to the back was open and noticed about three men in blue jumpsuits sitting around a table. One of the three had his back to him and he noticed embroidery of a fish skeleton on the back.
The clerk, beginning to sweat a tad, jumped back and closed the door.
'Veddy sorry.' he said 'private room.'
He nodded and looked at the racks of clothes impatiently.
'Ah yes. your clothes.'
He headed for the rack of clothes and began matching the random numbers on the fake slip with those on the rack.
Damn. he was still too close for him to start with the mayhem.
Still looking through the racks of clothes, he came back a few minutes later and said to the man with the gun and firebombs under his jacket
'I'm sorry suh. but I don't see your suit. pahaps it's out back. I go look.'
Perfect.
The clerk went behind a closed door and the hired gun went to work.
Pulling out a lighter and one of the bombs from his jacket, he set it on a table. With one hand now free, he pulled the Uzi out of his jacket holster.
The door was a good three feet form the door that the clerk had closed, so the idea was simple. Setting the Molotov across from the door, he pulled back the top of his trusty Zippo and lit the rag.
Since it had soaked up a good amount, the gar was ablaze in no time.
Hurrying behind the counter, he knocked on the door and stepped back 10 feet to the blind side of the door.
Hearing the door unlock, he took aim on the flaming bottle.
Whoever it was behind the door questioned something in Chinese then was engulfed in flame by the shattering Molotov.
The Triad burst into flames and the sound of two more chairs falling over was heard. Whoever was in the room with him was evidently surprised to hear a gunshot and see their companion get lit ablaze.
With the fire now on the wall and most of the floor, he pulled another out of it's resting place and chucked it at the opposite end of the room.
The instant it hit the wall, that end of the room was on fire.
Rushing out through the now open door, a Triad emerged with a pistol and gave a quick look around the room.
Not quick enough.
Opening fire on the man in blue with his Uzi, the Triad never saw the hired killer in time to shoot at him.
Falling face-first into the now raging inferno, he was already dead and his blood began to boil away.
Running for the door he had come in, he was stopped short by a bullet that cracked the window next to him. Spinning around with his automatic at the ready, he ducked in time to avoid the next few bullets that were thrown at him.
He ducked, but before he did, he could see clearly the remaining man in the back. There was only one of them, but that one was preventing him from leaving. There was only one option.
Reaching into his jacket for the last Molotov, he pulled it out and flung it in the direction of the door.
'I see pain in your future!' He head just before the agonizing scream of another man burning alive.
Content with the destruction he had caused, he leapt out the door and rolled on the sidewalk.
Regaining his feet, he calmly dusted himself off and walked toward a nearby alley.
People were now lining the street looking at the fire, and before he could disappear, a dark man in a khaki jumpsuit and black boots stopped him. The words PanLantic Shipping was stitched just above the pocket.
'What's happened here?' He asked the man in green pants and black overcoat.
The mysterious man just shrugged with nary a look of concern on his face and continued down the alley.
6 blocks down the road, Tony saw the black cloud of a fire and smiled to himself. The kid done good.
Fires Of Revenge
Jose Philipe Mendola
The job was simple enough in Tony's eyes. Send the errand boy into Wong's Launderette, torch the place, and walk out. No problems.
The only catch was the possible amounts of Triads in the building, and the danger of them finding out what hew as doing and killing him. Tony needed another plan.
Luigi had the more well thought out plan.
Go into the business, tell the clerk that he was here for a pickup, and at the right opportunity, toss a firebomb into a closet or something, then walk out.
'We're doing this to scare them out of our territory.' Tony said 'not to make them think they have a problem with their electrical outlets.'
'Don't worry about it.' Luigi said 'They'll get the message all right.'
Their hired gun understood the job perfectly. Go in and leave (Eventually) with the place burning to the ground.
Nodding at the instructions, he headed out the door to his stolen Banshee.
Once in his car, he had to come up with a plausible plan to get into the Laundromat without a hitch.
Putting the keys into the ignition, he started the car and headed up the street to Ammu Nation. There, he could get knockdown rates on high-power weapons and explosives.
After running a few lights and nearly hitting someone crossing the street, he skidded to a halt in front of the weapons dealer's shop.
Once he had parked the car, he headed for the entrance.
Once inside, any homicidal maniac's prayers would have been answered. Along every wall and table in the store were racks upon racks of various weapons. Along with them was body armor, Camouflage everything ranging from boxers to gloves, ammo tins, magazines for different automatic weapons, and the ever-present books.
Walking over to the weapon case, he looked in and saw a few different models of a street Uzi. Some were smaller than others; others bigger. some even had a shoulder stock.
The clerk walked up behind the counter the hired gun was looking in, and with a slight British accent said
'Ello'. Can I help you find sumptin'?'
He nodded and pointed to a certain Uzi.
'Ah yes.' the clerk said 'Dis one ere', she just came in last night. All da way from Russia. Probably made illegally, probably is illegal on the streets ere'.
The man in the black leather jacket nodded as if pleased. He tapped the glass above that and went over to the small bookrack.
The clerk took the Uzi out of the case and put it near the register and watched as his patron shopped around some more.
While flipping through the bookcase, he found one book in particular that might be needed. Picking it up and putting it under his arm, he walked over to a stand of clothed labeled 'Surplus'.
Sliding through the random assortment of clothes, he finally found one that looked lie it could hide a few bottles of anything under it. There were even pockets that would fit them. this would work well. He would defiantly be back here to shop eventually.
Returning to the cash register, he put the rest of the items on the counter. The clerk looked them over and listed out loud
'One 9mm Uzi,' he hit a few button on the cash register 'One 'Homemade Bombs ' book.' more buttons being hit 'And one khaki trench coat.' He looked up to the man waiting to pay and said 'Can I interest you in some Armor Piercing Bullets? 15% off today.'
He smiled and shook his head and pointed to the register.
Taking the hint, the clerk said while handing him the items he had just purchased
'550 total. I don't need to see any I.D. you look like an honest face.. But, I gotta' ask.. Do you work for the post office? Store policy you see.'
He smiled and took out his wallet, handing him a 500 and a 100.
Before the clerk could give him his change, he was already heading for the door.
'Want your change?' The clerk asked the retreating man
He shook his head and walked out the door.
'Thanks.' The clerk said, pocketing the tip.
The book was easy enough to understand. All one really needed for an effective Molotov cocktail was a glass bottle, gasoline and a rag. And having all of those components in ones owns car was a godsend.
He completed the job of making the three in a total of 20 minutes. He would have been faster, but he had to rob a bum of his booze bottles before he got any. Oh well. Personal sacrifices made people dead. And stores burnt.
Mixing up about three of the firebombs, he put the bottles into his jacket pockets and headed out for Wong Brothers Laundry. This was going to be a good job.
After driving a few blocks from Ammu Nation, he was parked in front of the Wong Brothers place. Taking a deep breath before he dot out of 'his' car, he cocked his Uzi, stashed it in his jacket and walked out of the car.
Shutting the door to the blue sports car, he walked to the front door of the Laundromat.
On the door was the company name. 'Wong Brothers Laundry'. Underneath it was the company slogan 'Two Wong's Make A White.' He smiled despite what was about to happen, and walked to the front counter.
'Heddo.' One of the brothers said to him 'Are you fo' pickup or deliverdy?'
Pulling a false dry-cleaning document out of his pocket, he gave it to the oriental man.
He noticed a door to the back was open and noticed about three men in blue jumpsuits sitting around a table. One of the three had his back to him and he noticed embroidery of a fish skeleton on the back.
The clerk, beginning to sweat a tad, jumped back and closed the door.
'Veddy sorry.' he said 'private room.'
He nodded and looked at the racks of clothes impatiently.
'Ah yes. your clothes.'
He headed for the rack of clothes and began matching the random numbers on the fake slip with those on the rack.
Damn. he was still too close for him to start with the mayhem.
Still looking through the racks of clothes, he came back a few minutes later and said to the man with the gun and firebombs under his jacket
'I'm sorry suh. but I don't see your suit. pahaps it's out back. I go look.'
Perfect.
The clerk went behind a closed door and the hired gun went to work.
Pulling out a lighter and one of the bombs from his jacket, he set it on a table. With one hand now free, he pulled the Uzi out of his jacket holster.
The door was a good three feet form the door that the clerk had closed, so the idea was simple. Setting the Molotov across from the door, he pulled back the top of his trusty Zippo and lit the rag.
Since it had soaked up a good amount, the gar was ablaze in no time.
Hurrying behind the counter, he knocked on the door and stepped back 10 feet to the blind side of the door.
Hearing the door unlock, he took aim on the flaming bottle.
Whoever it was behind the door questioned something in Chinese then was engulfed in flame by the shattering Molotov.
The Triad burst into flames and the sound of two more chairs falling over was heard. Whoever was in the room with him was evidently surprised to hear a gunshot and see their companion get lit ablaze.
With the fire now on the wall and most of the floor, he pulled another out of it's resting place and chucked it at the opposite end of the room.
The instant it hit the wall, that end of the room was on fire.
Rushing out through the now open door, a Triad emerged with a pistol and gave a quick look around the room.
Not quick enough.
Opening fire on the man in blue with his Uzi, the Triad never saw the hired killer in time to shoot at him.
Falling face-first into the now raging inferno, he was already dead and his blood began to boil away.
Running for the door he had come in, he was stopped short by a bullet that cracked the window next to him. Spinning around with his automatic at the ready, he ducked in time to avoid the next few bullets that were thrown at him.
He ducked, but before he did, he could see clearly the remaining man in the back. There was only one of them, but that one was preventing him from leaving. There was only one option.
Reaching into his jacket for the last Molotov, he pulled it out and flung it in the direction of the door.
'I see pain in your future!' He head just before the agonizing scream of another man burning alive.
Content with the destruction he had caused, he leapt out the door and rolled on the sidewalk.
Regaining his feet, he calmly dusted himself off and walked toward a nearby alley.
People were now lining the street looking at the fire, and before he could disappear, a dark man in a khaki jumpsuit and black boots stopped him. The words PanLantic Shipping was stitched just above the pocket.
'What's happened here?' He asked the man in green pants and black overcoat.
The mysterious man just shrugged with nary a look of concern on his face and continued down the alley.
6 blocks down the road, Tony saw the black cloud of a fire and smiled to himself. The kid done good.