Author's Note: I checked out the reference Afro Spirit made to "The Big Bang Theory" and I think I seriously could picture that Sheldon guy as a physical model for Randy Spitz, and yeah I try to portray him as somebody you want to feel sympathy for, yet at the same time you can't help but laugh at him.
And yes I am familiar with "Drawn Together" and thought Captain Hero (although I did find it maybe a little too disturbing in the episode where his parents come to visit and he's dressed up like a prostitute) and Spanky the Pig were both funny as hell, and also Princess Clara's interactions with Foxxy Love.
Just wanted to get that out of the way before I start so now on with the story!
Chapter 9: Special Delivery
"Just another day," Artie thought to himself while pumping the unleaded fuel into the Sentinel's gas tank.
He had been out for a daily drive to escape from the cramped confines of the apartment and was just getting back from exploring Jefferson Vale when his tank was running low and he needed a refill. The closest gas station was the E-Z Mart in Bellport, across the street from the 24/7 convenience store.
"Don't know what else is going on, but hopefully something," he told himself while scoping out an attractive blonde in a cocktail dress at the pump across from him, having just finished filling up her bright red Feltzer and bending over to pick her credit card off the pavement, giving him a perfect shot of her scrumptious-looking ass.
Behind him was a bright red cab with the classic black and white checkered stripe along the sides and spikes protruding from the front bumper, which appeared to be covered in fresh blood. The driver was a dark-haired man in mirrored shades reclining casually against his car and the hitman was left to wonder if he really was a cabbie or some contestant in one of those vehicular combat shows similar to 'Warped Steel.'
The only other customer was a teenager clad entirely in black with spiked bracelets and several chains hanging from his belt, filling up a mostly black NRG-500 superbike with blood red decals along the side that resembled spikes.
A loud click brought the errand boy out of his lull and he reached down to place the hose back into the pump and screwed the gas cap back on before making his way inside, where he saw a nerdy-looking man at the counter wearing a Magic & Monsters t-shirt placing a box of Spartan Condoms on the front counter.
"That'll be five bucks," the Arabic cashier spoke waiting patiently for the customer to produce his money.
"Ah yeah, I'm gonna be having an actual flesh and blood girl over to my place tonight for a study session. I have to be prepared," the kid spoke with a thick lisp.
"Heh, good luck with that junior," Artie thought barely suppressing a small chuckle, "Probably just another virginal loser living in his parents' basement trying to look cool for the outside world. If I was in one of my 'asshole moods' I'd be telling him to stick to those mages and fairies from Planet of Pandemonium," he said to himself approaching the counter.
"Thirty bucks pump three," Artie said placing three ten dollar bills onto the counter.
"Thank you! Come again sir!" the cashier replied in his thick dialect, sounding rather cartoonish in nature.
Artie did no reply and made his way back to the Sentinel, switching his radio to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, now playing "I Want Out" by Helloween.
The drive back to Camden Heights wasn't a long trek and it was roughly within fifteen minutes he was arriving at his cousin's bar and parking out back, the alley thankfully free of any disease-ridden wannabe hookers, before making his way inside.
"Hey Artie," Zeke waved from behind the bar before he went to serve a shot to some tough-looking bearded man seated at the counter.
"Hey Zeke," he replied walking to the counter and taking a seat at the opposite end of the bar, in perfect view of a baseball game taking place between the Rushmore City Statesmen and the Carcer City Panhandlers, "Get me a Sprunk please while you're up and about."
"No problem!" the bartender replied reaching into a small refrigerator beneath the counter and pulling out a can for his new friend.
While he waited patiently for his drink Artie looked around at the clientele for today, noticing the place was a little fuller than usual. Aside from the bearded man, there were two guys playing pool at one of the tables, three more in one of the booths playing a pretty heated game of Hi-Lo, an already drunken woman in a cowboy hat hooting and hollering loudly as she swiveled her hips around with her drink spilling all over her, another young lady who was playing Lit's "My Own Worst Enemy" on the jukebox, two frat boys coming in and taking seats at the bar, and as usual, Pukin' Pete could be heard from the men's restroom.
"This is better than you guys usually get," Artie said to Zeke as he opened his can for him, "Either you getting rid of that Borker bitch really helped things out or you learned some kind of new marketing trick I wasn't aware of."
"Heh, could be a little of both I guess," Zeke chuckled as the men's room door opened and Gino emerged with a newspaper in hand.
"Eh Artie, how ya' doin'?" he said walking over to give his younger cousin a hearty pat on the back, "Just another day in paradise, don't cha' agree?"
The younger Cappelli cousin had to stifle a chortle at the remark.
"Well if your definition of 'Paradise' is a roach-infested shithole dive bar-" to which Zeke began stomping his feet down in emphasis, several sick splats following, "-and your definition of its inhabitants being a bunch of people getting their kicks at destroying their own livers on a daily basis, then I guess I'd be inclined to agree that things are just fuckin' peachy!"
"Yeah, sure they are," Gino replied ignoring the insult, "Hey I need to talk to you for a bit, so why don't cha' come with me?" he said motioning for his cousin to follow him to his office.
"So what's up now?" Artie asked, remaining standing while his cousin took a seat behind his desk in the cramped quarters.
Gino took some time to compose himself, resting his head in his hands before looking up to his cousin with worried eyes.
"That prick Johnny Sneed called me yesterday and as usual was bitching me out about wanting his usual tribute," the elder Cappelli explained while struggling to keep himself calm.
Artie exhaled deeply and had to resist the urge to punch the wall next to him. "That prick again? Jesus, when will he just fucking learn to give it up?"
"Knowing that rat bastard, never," Gino replied reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle of anti-anxiety pills and shoving a few into his mouth and gulping them down loudly, much to his cousin's disgust. "If Hell froze over tomorrow you can bet your sweet ass he'd be down there demanding Satan repay his loan for the heating repairs. That guy's literally like a bad case of herpes…just ask Old Freda out back!"
The younger Cappelli suppressed the urge to gag and began waving his hands wildly in front of him, "Okay, okay, okay Gino that's enough! That's enough! You don't need to go that far! Christ, now I won't be able to eat anything for the rest of the day!"
Gino ignored his cousin's outburst and rose to his feet, "There's gotta be something you can do about it. I alone obviously can't manage to gather all the tribute that son of a bitch needs and poor Zeke can't help me much either. I'm gonna need you to help me out…please if not for me, at least do it for Mama and Papa! I'm not in any hurry to be joining them in the afterlife, please Cuz you've gotta help me out!"
Artie calmed himself and looked towards the family photo hanging on the wall behind his cousin. Gino may have been a whiner and a liar, but even he wouldn't deserve the kind of fate Johnny Sneed would likely have waiting once he got his hands on him. To him, he was still family…even that troublesome sack of shit Donnie.
"Okay, what do you want me to do now?" the younger Cappelli asked, steeling himself for the kind of reply Gino would likely have for him, "Do you want me to kill somebody? Rob somebody? Blackmail somebody?"
"No, no, no!" Gino replied looking down to a business card lying on his desk, "Cuz, I want you to help somebody who could easily give us a steady income and I think this could very well be a concrete solution."
"I'm all ears then," Artie said crossing his arms over his chest.
"Okay, there's a lady I know, I met her through my therapy group. She's a local businesswoman who has her own little 'side job' as well and from what I hear she makes quite a bit of green off of it," Gino explained.
"Therapy group?" Artie asked with his eyes widening, "Why do all the head cases find their way to me?"
"Yeah, that Aunt Gracie lady who runs the diner, sweet old lady…as long as you don't piss her off. Anyways, she and I were talking one day and she says she is always looking for the extra help. Maybe if you swing by she'll have something for you, tell her I sent you!" Gino exclaimed before collapsing back into his seat.
"I don't know Cuz-" Artie started before he was cut off.
"You have to!" Gino blurted out as he began rocking violently at his cousin's protest, "Please, please, please Artie, please consider it! I need the money bad…you need the money…hell poor Zeke needs the money! I can barely keep a roof over our heads and you've gotta do something fast or else I'm gonna be at the bottom of the Komojack River with a pair of cement shoes!"
"Alright, alright I'll consider it, please just calm the fuck down!" Artie shouted grabbing his cousin by the shoulders and steadying him. "I'll go over and give it a look. Just keep your marbles all in one place," he said making his way out the door and leaving the older man in a near catatonic state. He approached the bar where Zeke was attempting to flirt with some young ladies who had just entered and plopped down next to them.
"Zeke, you'd better keep an eye on Gino. Make sure he doesn't have a massive coronary," Artie said looking back towards the office before approaching the front door.
"Will do," the bartender blurted out with a curt wave before returning his attention to the women.
Stepping outside Artie looked around for any available means of transportation, noticing a cab driving past, yet was already carrying three passengers.
He suddenly snapped his fingers when he took notice of a Steel Horse manufactured Zombie parked outside the Pawn-o-Rama.
"Time to rock on outta here," he said running over and throwing one leg over the motorcycle, only to hear a booming voice call out from behind.
"Hey buddy, that's my bike! Get yer fuckin' ass off a it!" the unseen assailant shouted before grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him to the concrete.
A burly man stood tall above him, wearing a Confederate flag-patterned bandana and a denim vest with a patch identifying him as a member of the Whiteskins M.C. "Time ta' teach yer monkey ass a lesson in respect!" the biker growled pulling out a butterfly knife.
Artie shot his foot out and caught the man in his shin, bringing him down to a knee before he shot both his feet out and struck him in the chest. He pushed himself back to his feet, but the persistent outlaw lunged at him, only to miss and go face down into the ground.
"Then you shouldn't be leaving such a beautiful bike out in the open like this," Artie taunted before stomping his attacker repeatedly until the man cried out in pain and was left coughing up blood, "Amateur!"
Artie switched the bike's radio over to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, now playing "Working Man" by Rush, and sped down the street in time to avoid a green Landstalker nearly clipping him, chased by a police cruiser.
"Motherfuckers," the hitman shouted over his shoulder as he continued down the street, spotting two more cruisers parked outside the Shocker Electronics store, where officers had been questioning a suspected drunken driver, his Contender pickup truck having driven through the store's front display window.
"There are some idiots in this city who frighten me, and those who actually make me laugh," he thought to himself as he approached Aunt Gracie's Corner Diner, where the only other vehicles present were a Linerunner and a Mule van, a stark contrast from the last time he ate there.
"Should mean some faster service," he said to himself dismounting the motorcycle and making his way inside, finding the only other patrons to be some tough-looking guy in trucker's garb and two sneaky-looking fellows in industrial jumpers. Fortunately they appeared to be too caught up in their own activities to notice him as he slipped into a booth.
The only employee he spotted right away was a brunette pink-clad waitress, who seemed busier texting some friend of hers rather than taking notice of the new customer, yet no signs of an older woman he assumed would be the diner's proprietor. A kitchen door swung open behind him, but it was a plump, middle-aged woman approaching him with a menu.
"Hello and welcome to Aunt Gracie's Corner Diner, may I get you something to drink while you decide what you want to order?" the waitress asked dryly, uninterested in the new customer and already succumbing to the fatigue displayed in her brown eyes.
"I'll take an orange Sprunk and I won't need a menu, ma'am. I already know what I want," Artie said bringing his hand up.
"Okay sir, what may I get you then?" she asked reaching for her notepad.
"I'll take one of your large cheeseburgers with extra onions and a basket of fries," he replied, prompting an odd stare from the woman.
"You sure don't eat much for being a big, strong-looking guy," she remarked.
"Ma'am please, I just want my food thank you very much," Artie replied dismissively.
"Okay then," she said walking off with his order written down.
"Um ma'am wait, I almost forgot," Artie said calling out, "Is Aunt Gracie by any chance in today?"
"She is, but she's very busy at the moment," the waitress replied, "She's very hands on with her business y'know."
"Uh yeah, thanks," Artie replied and looked around noticing there was no newspaper to keep him occupied, but there was an old television set where he noticed 'The Dianne Cooter Show' was on, hosted by the local celebrity and champion of family values by the same name, currently in the middle of interviewing Mayor Ron Walker.
"Mayor Walker, there are many within this great city who have criticized your alleged 'lack of action' regarding several complaints of rampant corruption within your administration, police brutality being carried out for minor offenses, using taxpayer funds for a family vacation to Thailand, as well as your recent decision to strip all local unions of their collective bargaining rights, the most vocal of them being your opponent in the upcoming election, Robert Kretchell-"
The crowd booed loudly at the mention of the mayor's Democratic challenger, cutting off the host midway through her question and she waited for them to die down before continuing.
"Mayor Walker, how do you respond to these allegations?"
"Well Dianne," the mayor cleared his throat before continuing, "I won't lie, I truly do believe it is unfair of my critics to attack me over my resolve to restore this city to its former glory, pulling it out of the cesspool my predecessor turned it into with his liberal policies aimed at coddling rapists, murderers, child molesters, prostitutes, smugglers, and those juvenile delinquents illegally downloading music through Crackster-"
The mayor found himself cut off as the crowd booed even louder at the mention of his unnamed predecessor.
"Yes, thank you," Mayor Walker said to the crowd before continuing, "With the state of decay this city was left in I have been forced to make some unpopular choices…at least they're unpopular with all those hippies over in the LaFollette district-" the politician spoke before he was again interrupted.
"Fuck the LaFollette district! Fuck those liberal douchebags! Send N.O.O.S.E. over there to bomb the hell outta all of 'em!" shouted an overzealous audience member dressed like a Founding Father with a misspelled sign reading 'Comminest Robart Crotchell wants to raype ma wife, kill mah granbabies, take my gunz an take mah Jesus!,' his inflammatory remarks drawing a standing ovation from the capacity crowd.
"Again thank you for your kind words sir," the mayor said waving to the man, "Anyways back to the point, why do you think Camelot fell? Because King Arthur was too busy being 'kind and merciful' when he should've been taking Excalibur and chopping the heads off of all those dragons and disease-ridden peasants? Why do you think Rome fell? Because Caesar was too busy allowing his men to partake in homosexual orgies! (A comment which drew a deafening gasp from the audience) Why do you think Lincoln got shot? Because he was too busy letting the Indians run free and scalping everything that moved! Why do you think Canada became Communist? Because their Mounties were too busy fornicating with the moose and beavers to the point where the Chinese government was able to ship in their agents disguised as cute, cuddly panda bears to march straight to Ottawa, kill their prime minister and install Jackie Chan as their new dictator for life!
"I will do whatever I must to keep this city safe from those who wish to ruin it, even if it means I have to declare martial law or start planting bombs around the soup kitchens to kill off all the homeless!" the mayor finished, his homily drawing raucous applause from the audience.
"At least he got Canada's capital right," Artie muttered to himself as his food arrived.
"You have yourself a nice meal now," the waitress said before disappearing from sight.
Artie said nothing and went to work devouring his meal, able to plow through it much faster with nobody around to distract him. As soon as he guzzled down the last of his Sprunk he let out a loud belch, not caring if he grossed anybody out, including the rude waitress at the counter, who stopped in mid text to crinkle her nose in disgust at him.
Feeling a little heavier after his meal, Artie slowly pulled himself out of his booth and made his way over to the bathroom to do his 'business.'
As soon as he was finished washing his hands a gunshot rang out and the other patrons quickly scattered. Frightened cries coming from the kitchen indicated any of the other workers present had begun to flee as well.
"Now what do we have going on in this 'oh so wonderful place?'" he asked withdrawing his Glock and taking a position behind the counter, ready in case any gunmen were to come storming through. A door leading to the kitchen was half open and he could hear a man's whimpering.
Creeping around the counter the errand boy carefully approached the door and snuck into the presumably empty kitchen, following after the source of the pained cries. Sneaking up to the nearest corner, he peeked his head around and saw what was up.
Lying on the floor was a young African-American man with his hair worn in cornrows, bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was one of the same thugs he had beaten up a few days ago at the Well Stacked pizza parlor.
Standing over him was an older woman with snow white hair worn in a bun on the back of her head and wearing a long pink sweater over a green blouse and skirt, holding a smoking Beretta M9 in her hands.
"Tyrell you little bastard, you cost me five-thousand dollars! You best give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now!" the old woman spat viciously.
"Please Aunt Gracie…" the bleeding man begged, but was cut off before he could say anything else.
"You *BANG* best *BANG* learn *BANG* how *BANG* to *BANG* do *BANG* things *BANG* right *BANG* if *BANG* you *BANG* want *BANG* more *BANG* work *BANG* you *BANG* asshole!" she screamed, firing her pistol with every word until her gun clicked empty, "Damn it!"
The woman noticed Artie and her hateful façade quickly transformed into that of a sweet old granny.
"Is everything alright for you kind sir? I trust you received the best service possible while visiting my humble establishment?" Aunt Gracie asked, smiling pleasantly as she shoved her empty gun into a side pocket.
"Well, I couldn't help but notice your treatment of one of your 'employees' down there," Artie spoke staring down at the man's shot up carcass.
An angry scowl crossed the woman's features and she reached over for a meat cleaver, "Don't you be telling me how to treat my employees you cocksucker, or else I'd more than gladly chop your sorry ass into tiny pieces and make you part of my patty melts!" she screamed lunging towards him, prompting the young man to back off with his hands raised defensively.
"Whoa! Whoa there lady! I'm not telling you how to do anything!" he said backing towards the kitchen entrance, "Then again, when you fire a gun in a small place like this it's hard not to take notice!"
A cell phone rang and the woman took her attention away from Artie, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a Badger phone.
"Yes, what is it?" she screamed, "You'll get your shipment you annoying cunt, just hold your fucking horses!"
"An unsatisfied customer?" Artie asked as the woman switched her phone off.
Aunt Gracie resumed her genteel, business-like demeanor before speaking, "In a matter of speaking young man, a client of mine needs to receive her 'medication.' Without it, she cannot function properly and loses her will to live."
"Hey lady, I'm not a cop," Artie said holstering his firearm, "Whatever kind of drugs you're giving her, that's between the two of you."
Aunt Gracie giggled innocently before speaking, "There is a situation though. That 'gentleman' you saw back there was both my deliveryman and bodyguard. I would deliver the merchandise all by myself, but I am an old woman. Surely those misguided ruffians out there wouldn't hesitate to 'bust a cap in my ass' if given the opportunity. I will require assistance in getting this job done."
"Um yeah, I was sort of here about that," Artie said rubbing the back of his neck, "My cousin, Gino Cappelli, said you might need some help."
The diner proprietor inspected Artie thoroughly before snapping her fingers, "Ah yes Giovanni, such a dear, sweet little boy…a bit of a pussy, but still such a thoughtful young man, especially to send someone who appears to be a strong young man that eats his vegetables and I would hopefully assume, knows his way around a gun."
"So I've been told," Artie chuckled.
"I'll pay you a percentage for your service," she said making the money motion with her right hand, "Whatever package I deliver, I can give you five hundred dollars for every successful delivery."
"Hmm, well I do need the money," Artie said scratching his chin, only to receive a slap across the face from the much smaller woman.
"Don't sit there and ponder you asshole, just fucking say yes!" she screamed.
"Fine, you've got a deal," Artie said, wanting her to calm down as soon as possible. "Now I know why she's in that therapy group. Why couldn't Gino have just partnered me up with someone who still thinks there's a monster under the bed?"
"Very well then young man, I will be waiting in the car," Aunt Gracie said with a polite wave before disappearing out the back door.
"Sheesh!" the young man said aloud, "What have I gotten myself into now? This is going to be like a bipolar version of 'Driving Miss Daisy.' Smooth going Gino, I'm so kicking your ass for this later."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Is everything ready dear?" Aunt Gracie asked adjusting her rearview mirror.
"Sure is ma'am," Artie replied checking over the H&K MP5A3 he had been provided. In addition to the submachine gun, he was also given a Benelli M3 Super 90 shotgun, Desert Eagle magnum, some fragmentation grenades and a taser, in addition to a bullet proof vest to slip over his green polo shirt, some kneepads that went over his matching khakis and a pair of steel-toed boots for combative purposes.
"She might be a bipolar bitch, but at least she knows how to pick the right hardware for a job like this," Artie thought to himself as she started up her Dilettante hybrid, not the ideal kind of car for running from the cops or rival gangs.
"Christ, I feel like I'm being driven to soccer practice in this thing," he thought to himself as she switched over to the Symphony 104.1 station, prompting a loud groan from the hired gun.
"You better not be insulting such fine classical music, young man," the elderly woman spoke with an edge.
"No ma'am, stomach cramp," Artie groaned, wanting to prevent her transformation into her 'psychotic self.'
"Very well," she said pulling into traffic, "Now Arthur, tell me more about yourself. You have a wife?"
"Unfortunately not, I've been too busy with a lot of stuff in my life," Artie replied, "Besides, when most women find out you're a gangster they tend to avoid you like herpes."
"Now, now, no need to be such a gloomy gus," Aunt Gracie giggled as if she were talking to a toddler.
Already he was beginning to hate this woman and couldn't wait until this mission was over.
"Whatever you say ma'am," Artie replied with a roll of his eyes, only to find a gun pointed in his face a second later.
"Don't you back talk me young man! I have every nerve in my 'old ass' to put a bullet between those eyes of yours unless your worthless ass starts showing me the respect I deserve!" the old woman hollered.
"Alright, alright I get it!" Artie shouted back again raising his hands defensively into the air.
"So aside from Gino, do you have any other family members in the area? Anything else that brought you to this fine city in the first place?" Aunt Gracie asked resuming her 'normal, cheerful tone.'
"I have another cousin in the area yes," Artie replied, staring out the window at a small gaggle of hookers congregating on a nearby corner, "but he's not exactly anything to write home about. Gino, he's a piss poor pathological liar who claimed to own a trendy nightclub, which turned out to be the shithole dive bar I'm living above now. Donnie…well he's an alcoholic law school dropout who likes to fuck everything that moves and nearly got me killed a few nights ago."
"There, there dear Arthur, your life cannot be as bad as you make it out to be…" the drug dealing granny commented in a perky tone, until her gaze darkened within the next breath, "…until you've met my family."
"Okay, so where are these 'clients' of yours?" Artie asked as the nice clean hybrid car moved towards the Red Light District, receiving them a myriad of stares from the hookers, druggies and hobos populating the street.
"We're on our way to visit our first right now, a dear sweet little girl who has agreed to meet us behind the Horny Cougar," the elderly woman stated as she noticed a group of Redcoats walking towards her with bats held in plain sight. Not bothering to wait for the stoplight to turn green she sped through.
"With a location like that, of course she screams 'sweet and innocent.' I wonder if she'll offer us some Girl Scout cookies while we're at it," Artie sarcastically remarked.
The hired gun's snarky comment was ignored as the granny approached the aforementioned gentlemen's club and took a right into the side alley, where a scantily-clad woman waited for them, her beaten face heavily made up to disguise her bruising.
"Alright dear, now you just sit here and wait for Aunt Gracie to do her business. I should be back in no time," the woman ordered, again sounding as if she were talking to a small child.
"Damn Artie, you've really gotta start learning how to say no when certain people will offer to pay you," he told himself as Gracie approached her 'customer' and pulled out a small zip lock bag with her 'merchandise' inside.
"Alright Aunt Gracie, just give it to me!" the woman begged reaching anxiously for the bag, only to be met by the elderly dealer's Beretta M9.
"Now you know how I do business you little cunt," Aunt Gracie roared in her psychotic tone, "No money, no fix for you tonight! Now hand over the dough before I'm forced to use your sagging tits for target practice!"
Whimpering like a scolded dog the buyer reached into her purse and presented her payment with a shaking hand.
"See dear, now that wasn't so hard," the granny spoke, reverting to her friendlier tone, "Now you be a good little girl and make your money so I can come visit you again soon."
Aunt Gracie made her way back to the car and climbed inside, "Alright sonny, we've got two more stops and then it's back home we go. I made chili for tonight and you're more than welcome to join for a job well done," she said with a wink.
"No thanks, I already ate some of your delicious food from earlier thank you very much," Artie replied, wanting to get away from this crazy woman as soon as possible. "I wonder what she puts into that chili anyway…" he thought, remembering something he had seen in a horror movie years ago where a crazed restaurant owner similar to Aunt Gracie would murder his victims, dismember their bodies and then grind them up and serve them in his 'award winning chili.'
"Knowing her that wouldn't surprise me at all," Artie thought as she drove into Jansport, Hellcats territory.
"Okay, not to be a turd in your punchbowl or anything, but we are traveling into Hellcats territory. Do you really think you should be doing business here?" Artie asked watching as some of the aforementioned gang members made their rounds, including a small group of them smashing up a bakery.
"Awww…are you going to pussy out on me just like my faggot of a nephew?" the old granny snapped back, "Keep up your bitchin' and I'll be doing exactly to you what I did to that limp dicked faggot Tyrell! I'm paying you to be an escort, not some pussy liberal lecturer!"
The Dilettante pulled into the parking lot of the very Cluckin' Bell that Randy worked at and surely enough, a short Hispanic man in a cashier's outfit waited for the old granny.
"Hola Aunt Gracie, I have mucho dinero in exchange for some of your sweet juice, it's muy caliente!" the excited man spoke.
"I have everything here too Felipe, tell all the boys inside I said hi!" Aunt Gracie cooed as the man walked back inside, leaving Artie wondering as to how people could be working there again so fast after what had happened the other day.
He sat quietly in the car as the old crone counted through the stack of dollar bills she had just been handed, when he heard the rumble of a muscle car's engine and sat up darting his eyes back and forth when he spotted the last vehicle he had hoped for.
A tan Dukes with flame decals, the trademark vehicle of the Hellcats, came into view and he was able to see the vehicle's passenger pointing towards the deal that had just taken place.
"As if things couldn't get any worse," he said unfastening his seatbelt and stepping out of the car with his submachine gun ready.
The Dukes pulled up alongside Aunt Gracie and the passenger spoke up, "Excuse me ma'am, but can I ask what a nice little lady like you is doing out here all by yourself? This isn't a safe spot for old ladies y'know," he spoke in mock concern.
"Yeah, you're quite a ways from the retirement home over in Kirby, aren't you?" the driver asked, eliciting a chuckle from his passenger.
"Fuck off Bucko!" she snapped, "I have select clientele. You want some of this shit; you have to sign up like everybody else does!"
"Goddamn you woman!" Artie hissed.
Both doors flew open and the Hellcats emerged with machine pistols drawn.
"If you're gonna be talkin' like that to a Hellcat, then you'd best be ready to be shoppin' for your burial plot, old lady!" the driver spat.
"Not only that tea bag, we don't take very kindly to 'non-sanctioned' dealers slinging in our neck of the woods," the passenger added pointing his pistol at her forehead, "Hand over the profits and perhaps we might be nice enough to let you scream for mercy before we blow your fucking head off!"
"Why don't you suck a donkey's cock, faggot?" Aunt Gracie retorted, showing no apparent fear of her attackers.
"Okay, this has gone was too far," Artie said raising the MP5A3 and firing a three shot burst into the head of the thug holding Aunt Gracie at gunpoint.
"What the fuck?" the driver cried whirling around.
Before he could focus his aim on Artie, Aunt Gracie fired a lone round through the back of his skull.
"Cocksucker," she scoffed making her way back to the Dilettante, "Come along Arthur, we have one more stop to make."
"I gotta give it to you, you sure didn't let those Hellcats push you around," Artie complimented while buckling up.
"Trust me dear boy, when you've survived three failed marriages, sixteen piss ant kids stretching your clit to the size of the Grand Canyon, being kidnapped and sold into prostitution over in Kazakhstan, putting up with bitchy waitresses and other workers who wouldn't know the difference between their guns and their dicks, trust me you'll learn to be pretty fearless," the old woman replied.
The rear window exploded, causing both of them to jump.
"What the fuck?" Artie blurted out as the roar of a Dukes engine called out from behind.
Turning around he spotted two tan-colored Dukes hot on their trail, the passengers from both vehicles sticking their arms out the windows and firing away with machine pistols, riddling the car with bullets.
"More of those Hellcats," Artie shouted rolling down his window and sticking his upper torso out the window to return fire with his submachine gun.
"I have a rearview mirror, jackass," the old woman snapped, just a second before it was shot down and clattered to the vehicle's floor, "Damned pansy ass bitches!"
Artie exhaled deeply as he fired upon their pursuers, unable to get a clean shot at either vehicle's driver as the Dilettante swerved violently back and forth to avoid oncoming traffic.
"Kill them already, will ya'?" Aunt Gracie shouted as she attempted to listen to her classical music over the gunfire.
"I'd be able to if you weren't all over the place!" the gunman shouted back while loading a fresh clip into the MP5A3.
Sticking his upper half out of the passenger's window he again opened fire and managed to riddle the hood of the closest Dukes repeatedly until its hood loosened and black smoke began billowing out from underneath. Nevertheless, the muscle car continued its pursuit and the passenger continued to fire until Artie fired a burst that caught the gunman in the chest and sent him tumbling out of the moving car and hitting the pavement with a sickly splat, followed by him being run over by a Sweeper.
The hybrid car lurched violently as Aunt Gracie took an abrupt turn, creating enough space for Artie to strike the driver through the car's windshield and send it swerving out of control, right into a fire truck parked outside the Jansport fire station.
As soon as the first Dukes crashed there was another appearing from around a corner to join the other vehicle in the chase.
"How far away are we from the last customer?" Artie shouted before firing upon one of the pursuing vehicles.
"We're meeting them over in Stilsen behind the Pizza This…," the woman replied, sounding as if this were a pleasant drive in the country for her.
"Well you'd better hurry it up. I don't think this pussy car of yours is going to withstand much more punishment," Artie shouted as the hybrid car rocked while being rammed from behind by another Hellcat Dukes.
"How dare you insult my ride!" the granny roared reaching for her M9, only for it to clatter to the floor as the car was again rammed from behind.
Firing through the shattered rear window, Artie managed to take out the driver and the pursuing Dukes swerved to a halt, the other Hellcats vehicle clipping it as it attempted to continue the pursuit.
"I'd be more worried about making it to your next deal in one piece rather than me insulting your ride," the hired gun shouted back, again firing through the shattered rear window and peppering the Dukes behind them with hot, screaming lead until flames shot out from underneath the car's hood and the vehicle came to a halt, its occupants bailing out before it exploded seconds later.
Aunt Gracie ignored his comment and continued driving towards her final destination.
Keeping his eyes trained on the road behind them, Artie watched as another Dukes roared into view, sure to cause serious damage if it connected. Remembering the fragmentation grenades he had been provided with, he unclipped one and tossed it out the back window, watching as it rolled along the ground. His timing would be perfect, the grenade exploding just as the muscle car drove over it, flipping the burning husk into the air and sending it falling onto a vegetable stand.
It wasn't too long until the duo had made their way to Stilsen and the street they were on quickly became familiar to Artie, recognizing it from his travels with Iceman.
"Alright, we're getting close," Aunt Gracie reported as the aforementioned pizza parlor came into view.
More screeching tires and rumbling engines followed as they got closer and Artie turned to see three Hellcat Dukes speeding into view, followed by a tan Slamvan that had the Hellcats logo of the flaming tiger-like head on the side.
"More of those fuckers wanna join the party, huh?" Aunt Gracie asked.
"Never mind them, just get out and make your deal. I'll hold them off!" Artie ordered as the Dilettante came to a halt in front of Pizza This.
Leaping out of the vehicle, Artie provided cover fire for Aunt Gracie as she made her way into the alley. Once she disappeared from view he took cover behind a stone partition and checked his MP5A3 to make sure it was full.
"You're gonna pay for dealing on Hellcats' turf without our permission and pay even more for wasting some of our boys!" a Hellcat called out before opening fire.
Artie grimaced as little pebbles were chipped away from the partition and bounced off him at high speeds, stinging away at his exposed skin. He also had to resist the urge to gag as small clouds of dust flew into his opened eyes and mouth.
"You can't hide forever bitch!" one of the tan-clad thugs called out.
A low whoosh was heard, one that Artie recognized right away. "Oh shit!" he blurted aloud before pushing himself away from the partition. A second later, a Molotov cocktail struck the ground where he had been crouching.
"Take him down!" another Hellcat called out, followed by the multiple explosions of firearms discharging simultaneously.
Numerous tears were heard as the bullets ripped away at the hired gun's pants and shirt, just missing his skin by mere inches as he scurried along the outdoor dining area, using tables, chairs and whatever else he could hide behind as he waited for an opening to return fire upon his assailants.
Taking a couple deep breaths to suppress the bile building up in his throat he shot his arm up and fired a stream of hot lead blindly towards the attacking gang members, managing to take down one of the Hellcats and sending another stumbling backwards with a round to the shoulder. His counterattack did nothing to deter his assailants as they began attacking with more ferocity and it wasn't long before his submachine was clicking empty again.
At the same time his gun ran dry, he heard another sound he never thought he would be happy to hear.
More than one police siren blared from the distance and within seconds he was hearing the screeching of numerous pairs of tires.
"R.C.P.D., drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!" an unseen officer called out, only to be met by a barrage of gunfire.
Peeking his head up from underneath a table, Artie watched as the Hellcats turned their attention away from him to engage in an all-out battle with the police, a back and forth struggle that saw both sides incurring losses.
"Deal's done dear boy," a voice spoke from behind, causing the hired gun to nearly jump out of his skin.
Whirling around, Artie found Aunt Gracie standing behind him with her typical toothy grin, too out of place for a moment like this, "Now, shall we be moving?"
"Aunt Gracie, you're not in the back alley anymore!" Artie replied, in a mixture of surprise and joy, only to have her purse striking him upside the head.
"Of course I'm here instead of there, jackass! I might be old, but I'm not stupid! Now let's get out of here," the woman replied, just as her Dilettante blew up after all the punishment it had taken. "Aw damn it, that's the second car this month!"
"Guess we'll have to find another way home then," the errand boy replied, making his way over to a parked Peyote and smashing the driver's side window open with the butt of his shotgun. The battle with the cops had distracted their enemies long enough for both of them to safely climb inside and wait for Artie to finish hotwiring the car before it finally roared with life, Aunt Gracie wasting no time in switching the Rasta 106.9 reggae station back to her beloved classical music.
Slamming the gas pedal to the floor the car screeched loudly as it pulled away from the carnage, thankfully not attracting any attention from the nearby authorities. The hired gun kept his foot glued to the floor until the scene finally disappeared from his rearview mirror.
"That was close," Artie sighed as he slowed the car down to a legal speed.
"No fucking shit Sherlock, I saw that back there!" Aunt Gracie snapped back.
Not wanting to further agitate the volatile old woman, Artie kept all smart remarks to himself and continued driving until he reached the diner and pulled around to the back of the building.
"Very well done Arthur," Aunt Gracie spoke in her 'normal' tone as she stepped out of the car and offered him a roll of dollar bills, amounting to $1,500. "Now be a good boy and I trust I will be able to rely upon your help again in the future now, won't I?" she asked, giving him a sinister stare.
"Yeah sure," Artie grunted in disinterest, wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. "If I have to run any more errands for you in the future, I'll be sure to do them by myself!"
"Very well then, run along dear boy!" Aunt Gracie spoke with a wave.
Not even bothering to reply he took off down the street, speeding away as if he were still being chased by the cops, only daring to slow down when the sanctuary of The Little Black Book came into sight and he pulled the car to a halt in front of the drug store next door, not worried by the prospect of the police coming to tow it away.
A cheery ringtone sounded from his cell phone as he stepped out and looked down to the ID screen to see a text message had come from Donnie. Groaning at the sight of his troublesome cousins' name, still he grudgingly read the text:
"Cuz, its Donnie Boy, gimme a call sometime. You're missing out on all sorts of fun with this cold shoulder BS you're giving me. Talk to ya later," and enclosed with the message was a picture, an up close shot of a woman's buttocks barely covered by a tiny G-string.
"Well for once he was thinking of somebody else," Artie thought entranced by the sight briefly before slapping his phone shut as he made his way to the stairs leading back to the apartment, until he was startled by the rattle of something metallic.
Whirling around with his gun raised, he found the old homeless hooker pushing a rusted old shopping cart into the alley. A yellowed grin greeted the young man as she turned to face him, unafraid of, or just completely unaware of the gun being pointed at her.
"Hey, I recognize ya'…yer that young fella' I was gonna suck off a while back!' she shouted in glee, saliva dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
"And you're the rancid old bitch I'm gonna put a bullet in if you don't start fucking leaving me alone!" Artie screamed running past her and sprinting up the stairs, struggling to slide his key into the keyhole and eagerly yanking the doorknob and pulling himself inside, locking it behind him.
"One of these days I seriously need to kill that woman…no, that inhuman freak of nature!" Artie thought while trying to calm himself, trying to think of something he could do to expel the images of that rancid old prostitute from his mind. "The city health department would love me too," he thought making his way over to Gino's favorite armchair and grabbing the remote, hoping some TV would make him think about other things.
"And a nice, warm shower," he thought, switching on the TV and being met by the images of an attractive brunette being railed from behind. Normally the sight of a naked woman would have aroused him, but after what he saw outside, sex was the absolute last thing on his mind.
Flipping to the next channel, he happened across 'Princess Robot Bubblegum,' but was again put off by the blatant over sexualized tone, especially because the sight of a being with a little girl's face and a DDD-sized chest almost made him feel like a pedophile.
Up next was 'Republican Space Rangers,' which made him feel like a bigot, given the not-so-subtle radical right-wing undertones.
He would flip through a few more channels before eventually happening across 'North Mountain,' a show which he hadn't seen in quite a while which detailed the misadventures of four foul-mouthed fifth graders.
"Oh my god, you murdered Benny you sick bastard!" shouted the series protagonist Dan Parch to the overweight, bigoted Derrick Fartman.
"Bring it on you son of a bitch! I'll kick ya' hard in the balls!" the chubby mama's boy shouted just before farting fire and a space ship shooting out of his ass and kidnapping their Jewish friend Miles Witkovski.
"Don't get much quality programming like this anymore," Artie laughed to himself as he finally began to sit back and relax after a long day's work.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: Alright, I have an entire shitload of references to other games and parodies in this chapter.
This mission was largely inspired by the 'Drug Trafficking' missions from the "Saints Row" series, especially with how you ride along with the dealer instead of driving yourself and how you have to protect them all throughout the deal while they're being shot at by rival gangs and cops. I would also have it where Artie does for Aunt Gracie similar to the 'Drug Dealing' odd jobs that Niko does for Little Jacob in GTA4.
"Warped Steel" is a spoof of "Twisted Metal" and I might make further references to that in future chapters where it also borrows elements from "Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax" as seen in "Saints Row: The Third."
Magic & Monsters is a parody of "Dungeons & Dragons" and Spartan Condoms are a spoof of Trojan Condoms and also the scene with that E-Z Mart cashier's Arabic dialect sounding 'rather cartoonish in nature' is a reference to Apu from "The Simpsons," although he is Indian and this guy was Arabic.
The Whiteskins MC will be an outlaw motorcycle group encountered later on in the story and they are a play on the Aryan Brotherhood and could also in some senses be a reference to the Imperial Klans of America.
"North Mountain" is a spoof of "South Park" and the scene with Derrick Fartman farting fire and a space ship coming out is inspired by the very first episode.
Dianne Cooter is a spoof of Ann Coulter (or as I like to call her 'Man Cunter') and the scene where she is interviewing Mayor Walker is a nod to the opening of "Saints Row 2" where Dane Vogel is being interviewed on that daytime talk show and the audience booing whenever anything is mentioned about the liberal politicians.
Ron Walker himself is a spoof of right-wing politicians here in Wisconsin, his name being a combination of Senator Ron Johnson and Governor (it seriously pains me to call him that) Scott Walker, both of whom are right-wing douchebags whom I seriously cannot stand, especially the latter with his anti-worker policies that are basically tearing my state apart. The mention of him stripping union workers of their collective bargaining rights is a nod to what Walker has done here in real life, and why I'm so hopeful his bitch ass gets recalled soon.
The LaFollette district over on Jefferson Vale would be intended to be the most liberal district in all of Rushmore City, named after an early 20th century progressive politician from Wisconsin named Robert M. "Fighting Bob" LaFollette, who is one of few Republican politicians whom I do show some form of respect for and I know deep down he would throw up if he could see what our state has become today.
The scene with that one overzealous audience member is inspired by how I see all those pictures on Facebook of the Tea Partiers running around in those goofy Colonial-era costumes and how they're always holding up signs with their words misspelled; you will find a whole bunch of that shit on Facebook.
'Crackster' is a spoof of 'Napster.'
If I had to physically base Aunt Gracie off of anybody I would base her off of Rosemary Harris, the old lady who plays Aunt May in the Spiderman trilogy (huge Spiderman geek here! \m/).
Well I think that covers everything pretty much so until then read and review as always! This is your friendly neighborhood Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/