Britz-Cheers for the reviews y'all, and keep them coming, I'm hoping to pick up all you Elcolo and Quill fans as I pick up speed.
Chapter Five
With Roach at the wheel the stolen bread truck zoomed down the dark highway, leaving its original driver twisted and broken in a ditch not far from the graveyard.
"Need a phonebook to sit on honey?" Siggs inquired sweetly, Roach hissed his rough scraping laughter. Dave also sat up front, the others were in the back with their tasty but useless stolen cargo.
"So where are we headed Dave?" Roach asked.
"Down near the space cruiser docks." He replied, "Dorian Blanzer's gun shop."
Siggs and Roach grinning, they knew Dorian, he owed the posse a favour, they'd taken out four members of a gang known as 'The Rampage' for him when their boss, Rico Muete - a local mafia big shot, had started leaning on him a little to heavily.
It had been a hell of a showdown that was for sure Roach remembered, a day that was book marked in Utopia's gang history, two Moon Beam Posse members were gunned down, (Flipper an 'inner posse' member and a tough-as-nails bastard who Roach had only known as Blaze.)
Also three cops who had been in the wrong place in the wrong time were sent to the big Krispy Kreme in the sky before the bad mothers know as 'The Four Horsemen' were taken down, mercenaries known as Blades, Crips, Coil and Hounder if he remembered right.
Dorian was apparently left alone after that, why he was when Rico didn't know he was responsible (if he'd been discovered he probably would have found himself in an airlock about to shoot him into the vast reaches of space.) Moonbeam didn't know, didn't care for that matter all he knew was that Dorian owed him a favour and wether he was dead or not wasn't going to stop him from cashing it in.
You see Dorian was a very useful person to have owing you a favour, he ran a gun store, a fairly sparse one, nothing special really in the bad part of town not far from the space cruiser port.
However that was a front, strangely enough for other guns, not the shotguns, occasional rifle or handgun that you could buy at his counter, semi-automatics, assault rifles, and lots of them, some he sold to the gangs of Utopia others were shipped further into the solar system, to Mars and planets beyond.
Dorian Blantzer, a quiet looking, slightly overweight Italian bloke with grey thinning hair was in fact the biggest and best gunrunner on the moon with a incredible talent for surviving and continuing to deal even under constant police scrutiny, cops that knew, knew without a shadow of doubt that Dorian was the guy they were after but could never grab anything tangible on him.
He was reading a newspaper when the dented old bell above his door rang as the posse came in, The Utopia Times, it's headline story blazed about aliens have a date planned for first contact or something, weird thought Moonbeam in a respectable news paper, more like something from one of those trashy supermarket tabloids.
"Evenin'" grunted Dorian without looking up at the newly resurrected posse, he still talked through a cigar in the side of his mouth, he was known for it, when he died they'd probably have to pry a foul smelling stub of one out of his mouth.
"Still smoking those cheap cigars Dorian?" Moonbeam grinned.
Dorian looked up, the newspaper hit the counter, seconds later so did the cigar as his mouth gaped open. "Moonbeam? Dave Moonbeam? What da... You're, you're fuckin' dead."
"You'd think so wouldn't you?" Dave replied.
Dorian took them all in with a scared and shocked expression, "You're dead, the whole lot of youse are dead!"
"Ya just can't keep a good corpse down Dorian." Roach rasped.
Dave went up to the counter and picked up the cigar-stub, like he was feeding a baby he gently jammed it into Dorian's mouth who instinctively clamped on it and puffed. "Now if my memory serves me right before we were unfortunately interrupted you owed us a favour, we've come to cash it in."
Eyes still filled with shock Dorian breathed smoke and blew it out his nostrils, looking like a bull on heat, "Right this way ladies and gentlemen."
Chapter Six
Dorian Blanzer led the Posse into the shops grungy basement, it looked mostly unused, a few crates with unsold copies of 'Guns and Ammo' in them, dust and rat shit barely lit by the swinging light of a single naked bulb.
"Love what you've done with the place." Rachel remarked.
Dorian ignored her, either he didn't care or didn't want to smart mouth a dead woman, he took a small device out of his pocket, looked like a calculator, in fact as far as Dave could see it was a calculator, Dorian pressed it against the wall and pressed a sequence on it and soundlessly the wall slid away.
Dorian had shown this little feature to very few as there was few he trusted, certainly none of those street punk gangs he had sold to had, types that if they got caught with the right connections might let the storeroom slip for a few months off of their sentence and cook his proverbial goose well done.
Moonbeam and his posse had never seen the storeroom, though he knew they'd all probably die before they told the cops so much as how long it would take to boil a two-minute egg. No, he hadn't trusted Moonbeam for completely different reasons, but then when a lunatic gang leader turns up fresh from the grave with someone else's blood on his shirt, logical reasons kind of go out the window.
The cops didn't even suspect his cache of guns was in the building, their flimsy warrant didn't find anything out of order in the shop and their scanners couldn't get through to the cache, it was a front maybe to them, not a storing facility, the better the technology of the cops got to get criminals the better the technology of the criminals got.
The posse's eyes all lit up at once like a kid on Christmas morning who looks under the tree to find a new bike, a puppy, and a subscription to Penthouse.
Behind the wall was a large army bunker looking room filled with crates, gun crates, filled with enough guns to fight a modest-sized war and enough ammo to put a hell of a lot of holes in a hell of a lot of people.
Rachel and Siggs slightly leaned against one another, looking smug and satisfied, put a cigarette in each of their hands and you'd think they were sleeping together and loving the alternative lifestyle, Roach's hard calloused face was solid and emotionless but his eyes danced with excitement. Taz who usually looked like a statue had his mouth agape and his eyes were grinning, Richie just looked worried, worried and scared.
Moonbeam was grinning his infamous and terrifying 'Heere's Johnny!' grin, "Wrap it up Dorian baby, we'll take it."
A half hour later the bread from the truck had been dumped in a filthy corner of a warehouse by the spaceports and the posse was loading crates into the back of their stolen truck while Dorian protested, dead and crazy they might have been but he was still a business man.
"Youse can't do this to me!" He yelled, "When I said a favour I mean, yeah, a coupla crates when ya needed 'em but fuck you've takin' all my shit! You're puttin' me outta business!"
Moonbeam either was ignoring him or was lost in his own little world as he slammed a 32 clip home into his brand new MiniUzi.
Roach put the barrel of his new Mossberg 590 shotgun under Dorian's chin, it wasn't from a crate, they'd started taking from the shop as well, "So now we owe you one, sound fair?" He rasped.
Dorian made no sudden moves but didn't relent, "No it don't, you can't afford the kind of favour for taking my whole fuckin' stockpile, you're stealing millions of dollars worth!"
"Maybe you should call the cops on us" Rachel said sweetly, "Tell them a bunch of the living dead came by and stole allllll your illegal weaponry."
Dorian would have loved to strangle the little bitch right there but with that shotgun barrel jammed in his windpipe it would probably be a bit foolish to try, "Fuck the lot of youse." He said.
"That's the spirit." Roach said, Taz came up from behind Dorian and pistol-whipped the back of his head, Dorian crumbled.
The posse continued loading after Dorian was duct taped to a chair behind his counter, he came to once more before they left and started cursing at them in a sleep-slurred voice before Roach took him out again.
They took a rather extravagant amount from Dorian's storeroom, near all the ammo, a very good selection of weapons and anything in particular from the shop that caught their eye.
Very considerate they closed the door, with few crates left inside and drove away in the bread truck.
When Dorian woke up with his head filled with scrambled brains a'la Taz and Roach tag team light was beginning to filter into Utopia's artificial sky, his blurry eyes adjusted, he was slumped over the counter, long cold cigar even now clenched between his lips.
One of them had slightly turned the cash register so he was facing a yellow bumper sticker, least offensive of the several not 'politically correct' ones Dorian had plastered there.
'Guns Don't Kill People, I Kill People.'
"Sonsabitches" Dorian growled.
Chapter Seven
Moonbeam drove the bread truck deep into the warehouse, it was filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes but all of them looked so old he was betting the place was abandoned, it's boxes forgotten.
The Posse had started in an abandoned warehouse till they'd found nicer digs in a club's basement, Moonbeam smiled, wasn't so bad, kind of like getting back to his roots.
When parked he picked up the newspaper Dorian had, he was about to leave when Puck's voice had run through his mind "means will be, provided if you are smart enough to take them," Roach and Siggs jumped out of the truck, Roach muttered something and Siggs threw back her head in throaty laughter.
He'd read the date at the top "January 13, 1982" it had been over three months since they'd died and apparently aliens had made their first 'official' contact.
And now they were coming here, a diplomat ship was landing, in just over a week on the 21st, first stop was the middle of Utopia's town square.
A plan started to form in Moonbeam's head, it was a very basic plan, simple, his plans usually were of the genre 'shoot 'em all and let God sort them out.' But he thought maybe luck (and an otherworldly influence) might just be on his side for this one.
Watch out universe, violence just got a little more random.
***To Be Continued***
Britz-Well peeps, give us a review and I'll have the next bit up real soon, just needs a bit of a polish and it'll be ready for you viewing public, adios.
Chapter Five
With Roach at the wheel the stolen bread truck zoomed down the dark highway, leaving its original driver twisted and broken in a ditch not far from the graveyard.
"Need a phonebook to sit on honey?" Siggs inquired sweetly, Roach hissed his rough scraping laughter. Dave also sat up front, the others were in the back with their tasty but useless stolen cargo.
"So where are we headed Dave?" Roach asked.
"Down near the space cruiser docks." He replied, "Dorian Blanzer's gun shop."
Siggs and Roach grinning, they knew Dorian, he owed the posse a favour, they'd taken out four members of a gang known as 'The Rampage' for him when their boss, Rico Muete - a local mafia big shot, had started leaning on him a little to heavily.
It had been a hell of a showdown that was for sure Roach remembered, a day that was book marked in Utopia's gang history, two Moon Beam Posse members were gunned down, (Flipper an 'inner posse' member and a tough-as-nails bastard who Roach had only known as Blaze.)
Also three cops who had been in the wrong place in the wrong time were sent to the big Krispy Kreme in the sky before the bad mothers know as 'The Four Horsemen' were taken down, mercenaries known as Blades, Crips, Coil and Hounder if he remembered right.
Dorian was apparently left alone after that, why he was when Rico didn't know he was responsible (if he'd been discovered he probably would have found himself in an airlock about to shoot him into the vast reaches of space.) Moonbeam didn't know, didn't care for that matter all he knew was that Dorian owed him a favour and wether he was dead or not wasn't going to stop him from cashing it in.
You see Dorian was a very useful person to have owing you a favour, he ran a gun store, a fairly sparse one, nothing special really in the bad part of town not far from the space cruiser port.
However that was a front, strangely enough for other guns, not the shotguns, occasional rifle or handgun that you could buy at his counter, semi-automatics, assault rifles, and lots of them, some he sold to the gangs of Utopia others were shipped further into the solar system, to Mars and planets beyond.
Dorian Blantzer, a quiet looking, slightly overweight Italian bloke with grey thinning hair was in fact the biggest and best gunrunner on the moon with a incredible talent for surviving and continuing to deal even under constant police scrutiny, cops that knew, knew without a shadow of doubt that Dorian was the guy they were after but could never grab anything tangible on him.
He was reading a newspaper when the dented old bell above his door rang as the posse came in, The Utopia Times, it's headline story blazed about aliens have a date planned for first contact or something, weird thought Moonbeam in a respectable news paper, more like something from one of those trashy supermarket tabloids.
"Evenin'" grunted Dorian without looking up at the newly resurrected posse, he still talked through a cigar in the side of his mouth, he was known for it, when he died they'd probably have to pry a foul smelling stub of one out of his mouth.
"Still smoking those cheap cigars Dorian?" Moonbeam grinned.
Dorian looked up, the newspaper hit the counter, seconds later so did the cigar as his mouth gaped open. "Moonbeam? Dave Moonbeam? What da... You're, you're fuckin' dead."
"You'd think so wouldn't you?" Dave replied.
Dorian took them all in with a scared and shocked expression, "You're dead, the whole lot of youse are dead!"
"Ya just can't keep a good corpse down Dorian." Roach rasped.
Dave went up to the counter and picked up the cigar-stub, like he was feeding a baby he gently jammed it into Dorian's mouth who instinctively clamped on it and puffed. "Now if my memory serves me right before we were unfortunately interrupted you owed us a favour, we've come to cash it in."
Eyes still filled with shock Dorian breathed smoke and blew it out his nostrils, looking like a bull on heat, "Right this way ladies and gentlemen."
Chapter Six
Dorian Blanzer led the Posse into the shops grungy basement, it looked mostly unused, a few crates with unsold copies of 'Guns and Ammo' in them, dust and rat shit barely lit by the swinging light of a single naked bulb.
"Love what you've done with the place." Rachel remarked.
Dorian ignored her, either he didn't care or didn't want to smart mouth a dead woman, he took a small device out of his pocket, looked like a calculator, in fact as far as Dave could see it was a calculator, Dorian pressed it against the wall and pressed a sequence on it and soundlessly the wall slid away.
Dorian had shown this little feature to very few as there was few he trusted, certainly none of those street punk gangs he had sold to had, types that if they got caught with the right connections might let the storeroom slip for a few months off of their sentence and cook his proverbial goose well done.
Moonbeam and his posse had never seen the storeroom, though he knew they'd all probably die before they told the cops so much as how long it would take to boil a two-minute egg. No, he hadn't trusted Moonbeam for completely different reasons, but then when a lunatic gang leader turns up fresh from the grave with someone else's blood on his shirt, logical reasons kind of go out the window.
The cops didn't even suspect his cache of guns was in the building, their flimsy warrant didn't find anything out of order in the shop and their scanners couldn't get through to the cache, it was a front maybe to them, not a storing facility, the better the technology of the cops got to get criminals the better the technology of the criminals got.
The posse's eyes all lit up at once like a kid on Christmas morning who looks under the tree to find a new bike, a puppy, and a subscription to Penthouse.
Behind the wall was a large army bunker looking room filled with crates, gun crates, filled with enough guns to fight a modest-sized war and enough ammo to put a hell of a lot of holes in a hell of a lot of people.
Rachel and Siggs slightly leaned against one another, looking smug and satisfied, put a cigarette in each of their hands and you'd think they were sleeping together and loving the alternative lifestyle, Roach's hard calloused face was solid and emotionless but his eyes danced with excitement. Taz who usually looked like a statue had his mouth agape and his eyes were grinning, Richie just looked worried, worried and scared.
Moonbeam was grinning his infamous and terrifying 'Heere's Johnny!' grin, "Wrap it up Dorian baby, we'll take it."
A half hour later the bread from the truck had been dumped in a filthy corner of a warehouse by the spaceports and the posse was loading crates into the back of their stolen truck while Dorian protested, dead and crazy they might have been but he was still a business man.
"Youse can't do this to me!" He yelled, "When I said a favour I mean, yeah, a coupla crates when ya needed 'em but fuck you've takin' all my shit! You're puttin' me outta business!"
Moonbeam either was ignoring him or was lost in his own little world as he slammed a 32 clip home into his brand new MiniUzi.
Roach put the barrel of his new Mossberg 590 shotgun under Dorian's chin, it wasn't from a crate, they'd started taking from the shop as well, "So now we owe you one, sound fair?" He rasped.
Dorian made no sudden moves but didn't relent, "No it don't, you can't afford the kind of favour for taking my whole fuckin' stockpile, you're stealing millions of dollars worth!"
"Maybe you should call the cops on us" Rachel said sweetly, "Tell them a bunch of the living dead came by and stole allllll your illegal weaponry."
Dorian would have loved to strangle the little bitch right there but with that shotgun barrel jammed in his windpipe it would probably be a bit foolish to try, "Fuck the lot of youse." He said.
"That's the spirit." Roach said, Taz came up from behind Dorian and pistol-whipped the back of his head, Dorian crumbled.
The posse continued loading after Dorian was duct taped to a chair behind his counter, he came to once more before they left and started cursing at them in a sleep-slurred voice before Roach took him out again.
They took a rather extravagant amount from Dorian's storeroom, near all the ammo, a very good selection of weapons and anything in particular from the shop that caught their eye.
Very considerate they closed the door, with few crates left inside and drove away in the bread truck.
When Dorian woke up with his head filled with scrambled brains a'la Taz and Roach tag team light was beginning to filter into Utopia's artificial sky, his blurry eyes adjusted, he was slumped over the counter, long cold cigar even now clenched between his lips.
One of them had slightly turned the cash register so he was facing a yellow bumper sticker, least offensive of the several not 'politically correct' ones Dorian had plastered there.
'Guns Don't Kill People, I Kill People.'
"Sonsabitches" Dorian growled.
Chapter Seven
Moonbeam drove the bread truck deep into the warehouse, it was filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes but all of them looked so old he was betting the place was abandoned, it's boxes forgotten.
The Posse had started in an abandoned warehouse till they'd found nicer digs in a club's basement, Moonbeam smiled, wasn't so bad, kind of like getting back to his roots.
When parked he picked up the newspaper Dorian had, he was about to leave when Puck's voice had run through his mind "means will be, provided if you are smart enough to take them," Roach and Siggs jumped out of the truck, Roach muttered something and Siggs threw back her head in throaty laughter.
He'd read the date at the top "January 13, 1982" it had been over three months since they'd died and apparently aliens had made their first 'official' contact.
And now they were coming here, a diplomat ship was landing, in just over a week on the 21st, first stop was the middle of Utopia's town square.
A plan started to form in Moonbeam's head, it was a very basic plan, simple, his plans usually were of the genre 'shoot 'em all and let God sort them out.' But he thought maybe luck (and an otherworldly influence) might just be on his side for this one.
Watch out universe, violence just got a little more random.
***To Be Continued***
Britz-Well peeps, give us a review and I'll have the next bit up real soon, just needs a bit of a polish and it'll be ready for you viewing public, adios.