Chapter Two: The old king is dead
Hello readers. I have noticed a steady incline in my views in less then 3 days. Who would have thought? Well, I have broken my thumb in a cotton candy machine so if there a specific spelling errors that I have not picked up on, it is because one of my fingers are no use to me. (I don't consider a thumb a finger, but my doctor said it is.) Well. Enjoy the story.
These chapters will be longer. But take notice that if they are longer, it will take longer to write and create into my mind. I have not created a plot and am going with whatever seems best. Review bad if necessary, but keep a good attitude. I am an amateur after all.
It's nine O'clock on a Saturday. The crowd of the bar quietly takes there seats. Smoke stays high on the ceiling from the anxious smokers below. A man with a whiskey hands the bar tender his tip, turning to face the stage. A woman with long brown hair, curved perfectly with hours of careful tending to, stands alone by the microphone. She looks at the state of the crowd of men, and sighs, knowing that this will be a long night.
Face looks up with a drowsy expression, drained from his energy. He stands dead on his feet, and makes his way unhurried to the counter. Taking a look at the man behind the counter he waves his hand shakily. He drones, "Beer," softly with an overwhelming whisk of alcohol coming from him. The man nods and hands the burned out man his bottle. "Sir do I need to take your keys?" Face laughs. "You don't be needing to do, I'm not driving," he slurs. The man just nods and continues cleaning the wine glasses.
Hannibal shakes his head. He puts a cigar in his mouth and lights it, lying on his back and watching the smoke of the cigar flow upward and make different shapes and designs. Reaching up, he holds a finger out, twirling the smoke in his hand. Day dreaming and coming up with new never attempted before ideas. Running spy missions and new adventures threw his mind. The adventures with Stockholm perhaps, the day Face was shot. He sits up abruptly, shaking the Lieutenant pained expression from his mind. Those memories were the ones he's tried to forget. 'So many images..' He touches his head and looks off to the side.
"Have any nines?" B.A looks up at Murdock for his answer. Murdock cringes his nose in thought looking down at his cards. Turning them upside down he shakes his head, "Nope." B.A grits his teeth, he grabs the cards from Murdock and flips them the right way, "You crazy fool! You had 3 nines sucker!" "What are you talking about B.A those are sixes." B.A jumps over the counter and grabs Murdock by his jacket collar. Hannibal walks out of his room as he notices the large man strangling the mentally impaired. He sighs rolling his eyes. With a quick look around he notices something, "Where's face?" B.A and Murdock stop there wrestling to look at Hannibal.
Face takes a step with beer dripping down his chin. The bar tender takes his keys and shows Face out of the bar. Face smiles as he leans his head back, drops of rain running past his forehead and down onto his cheeks. He throws his arms out to his sides and twirls, laughing happily. He falls to his knees in a drunken state. Head cocked to the side as he watches the water drip from his brow and tap into a puddle of sky tears.
Behind branches and leaves two men sit and watch the lieutenant. One aims his gun and the other grins as he takes in his victory. With a wave of his hand a shot is fired. Soon the drunken team member finds himself on his back and his world spinning around him.
This chapter is not finished. I just posted it so I wouldn't keep sitting starring at this part and unable to finish it. It will be done soon. I thought you guys needed something to look at.