Author's Note: In the original "Capitol City" this chapter was known as "Cheap Wheels."
Chapter 4: Bothersome Borker
Artie groaned loudly while shifting beneath the covers, feeling the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds and washing over him, so overpowering he was forced awake and out of a wet dream he was having.
"Goddamn it…" he muttered aloud, "I was in the middle of having another dream about Ms. Scoville," he thought, remembering his attractive 10th grade World History teacher, "too bad she was already fucking that 'roid freak of a gym teacher Mr. Busick."
Pushing himself up he yawned loudly while stretching his arms out before looking down to the fold up bed, surprised he had been able to fall asleep upon such a clunky old mattress. Then again, he looked around the rest of the small apartment and was surprised he had been able to fall asleep in such a location.
"My place back in Liberty wasn't much bigger, but it was still Caligula's Palace compared to this place," Artie thought surveying the living room he occupied, obvious signs everywhere that Gino never had many visitors, especially as he placed his feet down upon a sticky, heavily-stained carpet covered in dried flecks of marinara sauce, long-dried wine and plenty of unwashed articles of clothing.
Artie walked over to a nearby chair to grab an extra bathrobe provided by Gino, backing into a coffee table and sending several objects clattering to the floor.
"Shit!" he blurted out before turning and realizing nothing had been broken.
Reaching down he scooped up a handful of Candy Suxxx DVDs, including the legendary 'Bite' directed by Steve Scott and her greatest hits compilation, aptly titled 'Greatest Tits.' Also present in the stack was a horror movie called 'Prison Bitch Massacre 3' and some self-help book written by some New Age loser named Reed Tucker.
"Poor bastard," he muttered placing them exactly as he found them on the coffee table and then found a smaller framed copy of the family portrait that hung in Gino's office downstairs.
Artie looked hard at the photo and wondered to himself what Uncle Leo and Aunt Sophie would think if they could see what their sons had become.
"Gino's a piss poor pathological liar with delusions of grandeur, who aspires for more than what he can afford, and Donnie, he's an oversexed, homophobic, alcoholic God knows what. Not exactly something you'd brag to the other angels about," he thought setting the photo back onto the table and made his way over to the kitchen area.
Opening the fridge he found it mostly empty aside from a carton of milk, some old Tupperware containers with their contents crusted to the inside walls, some half-consumed bottles of wine and a half-eaten 'Big Willy' submarine sandwich from Byway.
"Should've expected this too,"Artie grumbled pulling out the milk carton and examined it, finding it more than a month past its expiration date. Nearly gagging in disgust he tossed it into the nearby trashcan.
"Looks like I'll be eating elsewhere," he said to himself looking over to a wall-mounted clock to see it was already after noon. "At least I got some sleep I really needed," he told himself making his way over to the closet-sized bathroom.
After an ice cold shower, Artie put on a pair of black jeans, a gray t-shirt, an olive drab combat jacket, and pair of Hi-Tops, all clothing which Zeke had been nice enough to provide.
He made his way outside and looked down to a cardboard box, finding Old Freda sticking halfway out and surrounded by empty liquor bottles. Once again he shuddered in disgust when laying eyes upon the homeless whore, but she snored loudly enough to wake the dead and taking advantage of that he snuck down the flight of metal stairs and made his way around to the front of the building.
"Who the fuck does that stupid asshole think he is always coming in here and ripping shit up the way he does?" Gino growled, resisting the urge to smash his empty mug against whatever he could.
"Well he must be pretty damn important if you're constantly allowing him to come in here so he can cause trouble," Zeke replied shaking his head dismissively and throwing his hands into the air in defeat.
"Hey, just remember that I sign your paycheck before you start lipping off!" Gino said jabbing a finger in the bartender's direction.
"What paycheck?" Zeke sarcastically retorted, "Anything I could've been paid went into helping fix this place up after what Sneed and his boys did yesterday!"
Before Gino could retaliate Artie decided it was time to step in.
"Hey guys, how's it going?" he asked stepping up to the bar and taking a seat.
"Bad," Gino replied, calming down long enough to take a seat next to him.
"What's wrong now?" Artie continued, looking over to Zeke.
"Some drunken ass was just in here and scared away a few customers we managed to round up," Zeke answered for his boss.
"Always comes in here and drinks 'til he's shit-faced beyond recognition and starts his tirades," Gino added, resting his forehead in his open palms. "I always wonder why I keep letting that prick back in here after what he's done."
"Because he's one of our only regular customers aside from Pukin' Pete," Zeke said motioning towards the men's room. On cue a man's loud heaving filled the air, followed by a sickly splatter upon the tile floor.
"Goddamn it, he did it again!" Gino grunted in disgust.
"He always does that," Zeke shot back rolling his eyes.
A renewed sense of vigor came over Gino and he rose to his feet slapping his hands down on the counter, "That's it! If I'm going to make this place into a moneymaker and pay off my debts I'm gonna have to weed out the crap and I'm gonna start by getting rid of that chump!"
"Now you're finally getting on top of things after so long," Zeke added while leaning towards Artie, "Knowing him, he was probably waiting for somebody to come along and do the dirty work for him, somebody he figures he wouldn't have to pay much for."
"I wouldn't doubt that at all," Artie replied, "cheap labor at its finest."
"Artie, you're a big tough guy!" Gino called out with a snap of his fingers, "Maybe you can teach that bastard a lesson or two!"
"See, I told you so," Zeke whispered while reclining against the bar.
Gino scampered behind the bar and shoved his employee out of the way, reaching underneath the counter and placing an aluminum baseball bat before his cousin.
"I want you to track down that son of a bitch and introduce this bat to his skull," the elder Cappelli ordered.
"It's your bar, why don't you do it yourself?" Artie asked, knowing his cousin would likely blow up, yet wanting to see his reaction anyway.
True to his thoughts, Gino's face turned a bright shade of red and the veins began sticking out of his forehead.
"Because I have a business to run and I can't afford to be seen by the cops or else I'm really ruined! Do you honestly think I'd rather be getting gang raped in the shower block than having the more merciful option of taking a bullet to the skull? I'll take the latter thank you very much!"
"And you think it would be any different for me?" Artie asked, really wanting to tug on his cousin's chain while Zeke snickered quietly in the background.
"Besides, you don't have anything better to do anyway," Gino said ignoring the sarcastic question and pushing the bat into his cousin's hands.
"Okay, you win…" Artie sighed in mock defeat, "…just how much would I be getting paid for this job?"
Gino's face suddenly sunk, "What?"
"Yeah, you heard me Cuz. If I'm going to be your new 'errand boy' then you'd better be prepared to pay up for a job well done," Artie said taking the bat and resting it against his shoulder, "Us 'hitmen' don't get by on respect alone y'know."
The elder Cappelli cousin was backed into a corner and his eyes darted back and forth between Artie and Zeke. Knowing his employee wouldn't have his back in this; he dug into his pockets and pulled out both a one-hundred dollar bill and a green and black coupon.
"Alright, I'll pay you one-hundred dollars for this hit, that's all I can do at the moment!" Gino said presenting the dollar to his cousin and showing him the coupon, "This is a coupon for the Pay n' Spray three blocks down from here."
"And just what exactly am I supposed to do with this?" Artie asked examining the coupon, "In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a car!"
Grunting in frustration Gino again slapped his hands against the counter, "Look, I know I can't offer you much money for this job, but I can tell you this, I've seen this guy driving around in a really sweet looking silver 2010 Sentinel. How he's able to afford such a ride with all the money he blows around here I honestly have no idea, but it's a sweet fucking ride and I'm sure you'd enjoy it for yourself.
"Think of it as 'compensation' of sorts and this coupon can help you customize it for your own needs, especially if you get the fuzz on your tail. Its' all I can give you at the moment, I swear!"
"Those are some pretty sweet rides man, not such a bad form of compensation if it gets you some ass in the end," Zeke added.
"Fine," Artie said cramming the coupon into his pocket, "Now just whom will I be going after?"
Zeke stepped up and pulled out his cell phone, "The guy's name is Glenn Borker and this is what he looks like," he said showing a picture he had taken with his camera phone, one of a reddish-blond haired man in his mid-forties passed out on the floor who had been stripped of his clothes and placed in an oversized diaper."
"Should be a piece of cake," Artie said carefully studying the image, struggling to hold back his laughter in the process, "So where do I find this asshole?"
"We don't know exactly where he lives, but from what I've heard around, he often hangs around the docks between 3 and 6 p.m. He's a regular customer with all the dealers and hookers down there. I'm sure they'd be able to help you out," Zeke explained, causing Gino to stare at him awkwardly.
"Just how do you know all of that stuff kid?" the elder Cappelli asked.
"Simple, through interacting with people outside of the bar," Zeke said making quotation gestures with his fingers when uttering the word 'outside.'
"Whatever, just get down there and deal with that rat bastard once and for all," Gino said brushing Zeke off when another loud heave resounded from the men's room.
"Goddamn it," the bar owner grumbled when the front door opened.
"Hi there…is this the drug store?" a hunched over blind man asked, stumbling in as he used his cane for a guide.
"Alright, we've got a potential customer," Gino squealed quietly, "Zeke, help him out. I'll go clean up after Pukin' Pete," he ordered reaching for a nearby mop and bucket.
Artie made his way outside and it suddenly hit him.
"What the hell am I doing? I promised myself I wouldn't get drawn into this errand running bullshit again, especially after what happened back in Liberty. Once I was out of there it was supposed to be a fresh start. No more crime, no more violence, just a simple start with a clean slate. Goddamn it, I should've never come to visit. I should've gone straight to San Andreas or somewhere overseas. Fuck, I should've said to hell with it, faked my death and then joined a monastery somewhere in the European backwoods. Then again, I wouldn't have had much of a sex life."
Looking down to his watch he saw it was a little after one o'clock.
"Probably got time for a quick bite to eat," he thought to himself surveying the area for any available cars.
Parked in front of the Nicely Naughty adult novelty shop was a beaten up Esperanto, not exactly his ideal form of transportation as it sucked with handling, but it would blend in down at the rough and tumble docks.
"Besides, not like I'm going into battle with an entire army anyway," Artie thought bolting over to the car and using his bat to smash the driver's side window open. Fortunately there was no car alarm and he pulled the door open, sliding in and reaching for the wires to hotwire the car. When the engine roared with life he wasted no time slamming down the gas pedal.
Speeding up until he was sure neither the owner nor any cops had him in sight, he slowed down and switched the radio from its current Yakbox 96.7 talk radio station to some drum and bass music that really woke him up and had him drumming on the steering wheel.
"Now to find a place to eat," Artie said aloud traveling further down the street, having to stop to make a double take on an attractive Latin woman in a skirt that was a little too short, but not short enough to make her look like an actual hooker. His focus on the woman was shattered when he heard shouting coming from his left and turned to see two pedestrians getting into a fistfight at a bus stop kiosk while several others in attendance attempted to separate the two brawling men.
He continued further until he found himself at the edge of the Camden Heights district and among the dive bars and shops he spotted a small greasy spoon on a corner intersection whose metallic silver exterior made it impossible to ignore as the blinding sunlight reflected off of it. Aunt Gracie's Corner Diner it was simply called and the parking lot was mostly full, suggesting it must have been a popular joint.
"Might as well find out for myself," Artie said to himself pulling into a stall and walking inside.
The small building was fairly crowded for this time of day with a few grungy truckers seated at the front counter, two old couples on a midday double date chatting about their younger days, four officers sitting at a table together going on about some major bust that occurred recently, and several other patrons going back and forth. The waitresses were stretched to the max by this point and left him wondering if they would have enough time for him, yet in the end the sweet aroma of cheeseburgers and French fries had placed an unbreakable stranglehold on his stomach. He took a seat in a booth behind a long-haired college student who bopped his head to the beat of some tune blasting through his My-Pod, in between typing away on his laptop and taking sips from a fresh cappuccino.
Much faster than he expected, a blonde pink-clad waitress made her way over to his table with her notepad ready.
"So what can I get for you today, sir?" she asked in a ditzy tone, cracking her bubblegum loudly after she finished.
Artie took some time to review the menu before making his decision, "I'll take a cheeseburger with a side of fries and a Funkin' Screw," he said handing the menu back to her.
The waitress said nothing and disappeared into the kitchen. In need of something to help pass the time, Artie looked over and found a copy of the city's paper 'The Daily Blowhard' resting on the counter as one of the truckers left and wanting first dibs he stepped over and swiped it before the trucker next to it could look up from his steak.
"Horror in Steel Junction: Another Body Found,' was today's headline, accompanied by a picture of a police diving team fishing a bloodstained duffel bag out of the water.
The following article went on to detail how this had been the fourteenth body found around the Lincoln Island area and how there were others found in the woods of Roosevelt Hills, wondering if they were connected. There was apparently no preferred type of victim for the killer as men, women and even children had been victims, as well as no preferred social class as one of the victims was a marketing executive and another was a homeless SPANK addict. At this point the press was torn on whether they should call this serial killer 'The Steel Junction Ripper,' 'The Lincoln Island Ripper,' or take it even further and have him represent the entire city as 'The Rushmore Ripper.'
Artie was just finishing the section on current events from around the world and was about to go to the opinion pieces from the locals when the waitress reappeared with his order.
"Okay, there you go sir. Just wanted to remind you that Aunt Gracie's Corner Diner is not responsible for any health issues you may incur after consumption of our food as you are eating under your own risk. Until then, enjoy putting on that extra three hundred pounds!" the woman reported before disappearing from sight.
"Heh, whatever," Artie scoffed quickly checking over his meal to see if this would be anything like the piss poor food he was served yesterday at Well Stacked Pizza.
Taking a deep bite of his cheeseburger he smiled.
"Damn this is actually good…it tastes…like food," he told himself chowing down on his burger and fries before washing it all down with his Funkin' Screw that was actually ice cold and tasted like regular soda. "I'll have to come here again sometime."
Looking down to his watch it was now a little after 2 p.m. and with nothing else to do Artie decided he would still drive down to the waterfront.
Reaching for his radio's knob he switched the station over to the Rock of Rushmore 89.5, which was playing the opening chords of one of his all-time favorite songs, 'Holy Diver' by Dio.
Rolling down the window he let the sounds of heavy metal filter through the mid-afternoon air and chuckled heartily as he purposely ran a red light, causing another pile up. Speeding through the intersection his car was also clipped by a Stratum station wagon that was just pulling out, taking out its passenger side rearview mirror, a rear taillight and most of the paint on the side.
"Why the hell should I care? Not like this piece of shit belongs to me anyway," he thought, thinking of the car he would possibly be getting at the end of the day, provided Gino wasn't lying through his teeth again. "He'd better not be. Cousin or not, I'll cut his tongue out."
It took him a while before he reached Lincoln Island's harbor district and found it to be the usual assortment of import and export warehouses, slaughterhouses, factories and junkyards. Workers milled about, along with the usual assortment of other unsavory characters, and this time around, a few tough-looking guys in tan jackets.
Slowing down a bit Artie had managed to catch the insignia on the back, a flaming tiger-like head.
"So they must be the Hellcats," he said aloud, noticing one of them walking over to collect a fresh roll of dollar bills from an Oriental man in a bloodied smock, while two others were across the street kicking the living crap out of a downed factory worker.
"But goddamn, what am I going to do to kill some time around here?" he asked himself staring down to his watch when he pulled up to another stop sign.
"Hey sugar, you lookin' for a good time?" a Southern-accented voice suddenly called out and nearly made him jump in his seat.
Looking over to his right, a blonde-haired woman with bright blue eyes stared towards him, licking her lips seductively and moving her arms so that her ample cleavage was fully displayed for the errand boy.
"Well I need to kill some time after all," he thought smiling back to the woman, "Besides, she's much better looking than that 'thing' I encountered behind Gino's place."
"As long as you're not an undercover cop I'm listening," Artie said noticing the cheerful looking tattoo on her left shoulder of a sun with a smiling face on it, something that looked too childish and innocent for the line of work she performed, and quite frankly almost had him feeling like a pedophile.
"How much you got handsome?" the prostitute purred, looking like she was ready to leap into the car and go at it with him right then and there.
"One hundred dollars," Artie replied, wondering if she would laugh at such a paltry sum, "Then again it's been a while since I've gotten some, might as well go all out."
"That's good enough for me tiger," the woman said opening the door and inviting herself in. "Don't worry honey, I'm all stocked up, so there'll be no need for stopping by the nearest drug store."
"Glad to hear it," the errand boy replied letting off the brake and driving around looking for some place they would be able to enjoy some privacy.
"You don't look familiar, are you new to the area dollface?" the woman asked purposely pulling her miniskirt back to expose her well-toned legs, "I'm Sunny by the way."
"I'm Artie and I was just passing through, but then those dumbasses had to bomb the airport, so I guess I'll be stuck here a little while longer," he replied pulling into an open lot between two factories and driving around the buildings looking for a quiet spot.
Then it suddenly hit him.
"Um, hey wait a minute Sunny, I was just wondering if you knew about someone who is a regular around here," Artie was asking until he was cut off by the woman raising her hand.
"It'll have to wait sugar," Sunny said pulling a condom out of her purse, "You're definitely one of my better looking customers, and seem much classier compared to half the fat slobs blowing their unemployment checks around these parts. Sunny wants to brighten your day before we start talking about anything else."
"Sure thing," Artie said pulling the car to a halt in a narrow alley and switching it off.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
About an hour and a half later, Artie breathed heavily with his pants around his ankles as he relaxed in the driver's seat.
"Wow, that sure was fun," Sunny said pulling her bra back on, "at least you know how to keep it up compared to those other limp dicked bastards with their 'male enhancement products.' If I wasn't on the clock I'd certainly love to go another round…or two…or three with you," she giggled with a wink.
"So now that we've done our 'little thing,'" Artie said zipping his pants up, "I wanted to know if you know anything about a guy whom I've heard is a regular customer around here."
Sunny looked at him perplexed, "Please tell me you're not really a gay man in denial."
"No, no, no it's not about that!" Artie replied raising his hands defensively, "I'm just wondering because let's just say I'm looking for somebody who's been pissing off one of my relatives and needs to be taught a lesson."
Sunny sighed in relief before pulling her panties up, "Go on then sugar."
"Are you by any chance familiar with some schmuck named Glenn Borker?"
The Southern hooker let out a loud laugh at the mention of the name.
"Everybody around here is familiar with that asshole. Ask any dealer and they'll tell you they have that hopeless loser's number on their speed dial. He asked me once for a 'girlfriend experience' and tried to pay me with food stamps! Needless to say, he didn't get what he wanted. How he gets anything from anybody around here I honestly can't tell you," Sunny explained pulling her halter top back on and then straightening out her leopard-print coat.
"Well can you please tell me where he typically hangs out?" Artie politely asked looking around to see numerous hookers, pimps and dealers standing around. "All I know for sure is that he's typically around here between 3 and 6."
Sunny placed a hand to her chin sitting in deep thought until she snapped her fingers.
"Now I remember, he likes to visit Concepcion. She typically hangs over by the Well Hung meat packing plant not far from here. I'm sure you'll catch the sorry loser over there."
"Alright thanks!" Artie said as she exited the car, but not before handing him a slip with her phone number on it.
"Anytime sweetie, call me when you get the chance!" and with those words Sunny vanished from sight.
Seeing it was getting close to 4, Artie started up the car and got back onto the street so he would look like he belonged. He kept driving until he found a large red and white building with a logo of a muscular cartoon bull on the side. Finding a nearby parking lot, he pulled the Esperanto to a halt and looked around for the aforementioned silver Sentinel, but found no cars matching the description.
A set of fresh tire prints that looked much smaller than those of an ordinary delivery truck ran alongside the building, rousing the errand boy's interest. Creeping along the structure, he moved forth until reaching the back loading docks and taking position behind one of the trailers. Peeking his head out he spotted the Sentinel.
"Man I'm so gonna have to give that Sunny lady some repeat service for this," he thought to himself as he spotted an overweight Latin woman who looked ready to pop out of her garments at any second, standing next to the car and sifting through a stack of dollar bills. He assumed that had to be Concepcion when he saw whom she was talking to.
Before her stood Glenn Borker himself and instead of him being dressed like some typical blue collar worker as Artie expected, the man was dressed in a fancy white dress shirt and slack with a loosened blue tie hanging around his neck. He jittered anxiously in front of the woman and pulled out a bottle of Vodka, gulping it down in one fell swoop.
Artie knew he had to remain unseen and carefully crept along the trailer before darting behind a stack of empty wooden crates. This Borker fellow looked like a runner and he wasn't taking his chances, especially when the man was just inches away from his getaway car.
"Alright baby, I gave you your money, now can we please get down to business already?" the anxious man called out, "I'm gonna whip it out and start choking the chicken if you don't do something!"
"Jesus hold your friggin' horses will ya'? Ya' know I gots to be in my 'happy place' like the anger management people taught me!" Concepcion yelled, "Last time I didn' do that I was gettin' busted by the Five-O for tryin' to chop a guy's dick off!"
"But we gotta make it quick before my wife finds out!" Borker protested, "One more strike and she's taking me to divorce court!"
"Should've thought about that sooner jackass," Artie thought as he crept alongside Borker's car, both of them oblivious to his presence. He clenched the bat with white knuckles as he got closer to the end and leapt out with the bat raised before the hooker could alert her customer.
With no time to turn around Borker was knocked to the ground as the aluminum baseball bat struck him just beneath the base of his neck, sending the hooker running away screaming. The man convulsed as he hit the ground and Artie again raised the bat high above his head, striking him again and again until he was rewarded by the audible cracking of the man's skull, and the bloody chunks of brain matter that would soon follow.
"Stupid drunk," Artie spat looking down to the man's bludgeoned form and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Gino's number.
"Hey Gino, it's Artie. I found that Borker chump and let's just say he won't be causing you any troubles ever again."
"Hell yeah, that's the spirit Cuz!" an enthusiastic Gino shouted from the other end, "You show those bastards why nobody fucks with the Cappelli family! You've earned yourself any free drink of your choice once you get back here!"
"Uh yeah, thanks," Artie said before hanging up.
Looking down to the corpse of Glenn Borker he rifled through the man's pockets and found a wallet carrying fifty dollars in cash.
"Better than nothing," he told himself as he looked over to see Concepcion had dropped her purse and he would search through that too, finding an additional three hundred dollars in cold hard cash.
"Looks like this wasn't a total bust after all," he said aloud turning to look at the Sentinel that was now his.
Indeed the car looked sleek and he opened the door to find fresh leather interior, surprisingly clean for the kind of drunkard this Borker fellow allegedly was. Taking a seat in his newly-acquired ride, he found a notebook and opened it to find hateful notes directed at Democratic mayoral candidate Robert Kretchell and liberal politicians in general. In the backseat he found a copy of 'Rebelling Rascal' by Terra Nailin, a failed politician turned right-wing demagogue from Alaska.
"Fucking blowhards," Artie said tossing the notebook aside, knowing he would eventually burn it later on.
Before he could turn the ignition his phone rang again.
"What now?" he asked aloud, looking down to the caller ID screen and seeing a number he didn't recognize, "Yes?"
"Artie, its Zeke!"
"Oh hey, what's up?" he asked relaxing.
"Listen, when you get some free time I'm gonna need to talk to you."
"About what?"
"For far too long I've sat back and let those Redcoats and those loan shark pricks push us around and I've decided that enough is enough," the bartender reported.
"And just what do you plan to do? From what Gino says you'd need an entire freaking army to take down those bastards."
"Well I've gotta start somewhere and I've got some friends who might be able to help us out. Gino has no idea of what I've been planning and for now I want it kept that way. He might be a lying, two-faced prick, but he's still my employer and nobody deserves the shit he's been going through, especially when I know I'm bound to go down with him the day anybody tries anything. I've gotta keep myself alive too."
"Well I applaud your efforts and your incentive, but a gang war isn't something I'm looking to get involved with," Artie sighed.
"We have no choice. We'll need some kind of protection or else we're all going to be dead, and you too now that Sneed knows of your existence. People like him don't give a shit if you've crossed him or not, they'll fucking kill anybody whom they deem guilty by association! Believe me; I've seen that fucker do that to other people."
Artie clenched his eyes shut and began breathing deeply. He had already seen enough of this kind of violence back in Liberty and now it was following him here.
"Goddamn it, this trip is turning out to be one of the biggest fucking mistakes I've ever made. Way to go Artie Cappelli, way to fucking go!" his mind scolded him before he replied. "I still don't know man. I didn't come here to be an errand boy all over again."
"Dude, you're gonna get yourself fucking killed if you don't help out. You have to trust me man, these guys I have lined up are some good guys who know what the hell they're doing. You won't' regret it."
"You son of a bitch…" Artie grumbled into the phone, "…fine, I'll see what I can do."
"Alright, I'm sorry to twist your arm like this Artie, but within due time you'll see what I'm talking about. I'll talk to you when you get back to the bar," Zeke said before hanging up.
Artie breathed deeply and leaned back in his seat clamping the sides of his head and asking himself if this was all really happening.
"Damn, I sure must've pissed off somebody pretty bad in a previous life if I'm getting all this shit happening to me right now," Artie thought as he started the car up and switched the radio over to the Radio GX alternative rock station, which was playing "Almost Easy" by Avenged Sevenfold.
That gang battle he found himself caught in the middle of yesterday, was that really part of a bigger picture he had yet to fully discover? And if so, what would be the end result? Could he truly afford to distance himself from Zeke's proposal? Would it truly lead to his demise if he refused?
"I guess only time will tell," he told himself as he made his way down the street and past another export warehouse that had been cordoned off by the police, with several Cuban thugs standing spread eagle against a wall being frisked by the cops and some detectives digging through the trunk of a black Hermes that had flame designs on it.
"Only time will tell."
Author's Note: Well I've been cranking out chapters on an almost nightly basis for this rewrite! Whew!
The remark where Artie states how "us 'hitmen' don't get by on respect alone y'know" is meant to be a playful poke at "San Andreas," where in some missions you are rewarded with respect rather than actual money. I loved the game, don't get me wrong, but I'm sure a lot of gamers would have rather seen actual dollar signs instead of respect, so I'm sure some of you could relate to that joke.
In addition, "Prison Bitch Massacre 3" is a spoof of the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" series. Byway is a spoof of Subway and the "Big Willy" would be their star attraction, of course in following Rockstar's tradition of innuendos! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
For some of you who might have picked it out right away, yes Glenn Borker is a spoof of Glenn Beck and what Artie did to him is something I would laugh my fucking ass off to if somebody actually did it in real life. Terra Nailin is a spoof of Sarah Palin and I get her last name from a spoof that Hustler did called "Who's Nailin' Paylin" starring the super sexy cougar Lisa Ann as the dimwit from Alaska whom every rational-minded person loves to hate, myself being one of them.
"The Rushmore Ripper" is intended to be a spoof of Jack the Ripper. I have always been fascinated by Jack the Ripper so in some senses I'm probably a "Ripperologist" and have always wanted to take the famous "Ripper Walk" over in London.
I chose to have the body found in Steel Junction because I intend for that place to be my take on a modern day version of the Whitechapel district where the Ripper carried out his murders.
The way they're so torn on what to call the killer is also my spoof of Eddie Low from GTA4 and them not knowing what to call him.
Well that's it for now so as always read and review!
This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/