Chapter 37: Blown Dried
RING! RING! RING!
The cell phone's ringing reverberated in the bedroom, causing Artie to slowly stir awake. Blinking the crust out of his eyes he gently pushed Gladys off of him and reached over to the nightstand where his phone rested. With a labored grunt he launched himself over and snatched it, struggling to open it at first in his half-asleep state.
"Hello?" he rasped, coughing loudly to clear his throat.
"Artie, it's Zeke, thank god I've managed to get through to you," the bartender spoke from the other end, his voice a half-whisper, "For a second there I was thinking you would've been in the middle of banging a hooker or something."
The hired gun furrowed his brow at the younger man's words, but kept his cool when he replied, "Oh hey Zeke, yeah I'm still among the living. What's up?"
"You need to get over to The Little Black Book right away. Johnny is over here and he wants to talk to you," Zeke replied, his voice taking a nervous edge as raucous laughter sounded in the background, coming from another familiar voice. It shot him fully awake and he struggled to maintain his composure upon hearing it.
"What the hell does that rat bastard want?" Artie demanded, stirring Gladys awake.
"I don't know. He hasn't told me anything, then again why would I want to talk to him if I could help it anyway?" Zeke replied.
"Heh, you got me there," Artie replied throwing his feet onto the floor.
"Yeah, anyways you'd better get your ass over here pronto before Johnny has his boys shooting this place up," Zeke spoke as more laughter rang out in the background.
"Alright, I'm heading over now," the Italian-American replied before hanging up.
"Who was that Artie?" Gladys asked now sitting up in bed, her tone tired as she rubbed her eyes open.
"That was Zeke. I'm sorry, but I have to go. Urgent business to attend to," Artie replied pulling on his boxers and then reaching down for his shirt.
Gladys could tell by the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes that he was serious. She quickly stood up and walked over to him and pulled him close, placing a hand on his chest. "Well be safe," she said before planting a quick kiss on his lips.
"I will, don't worry," Artie said pulling on the rest of his clothes and gathering everything else he needed before making his way out the front door.
Stepping out into the daytime air he was hit by a gentle breeze and saw there weren't many people or cars out on the street. He looked down to his cell phone's clock to see that it was almost high noon, most people in work by now. A passing squad car deterred him from running over and hijacking a Feltzer that had come to a stop in front of the Screw-It Center hardware store. Even though he could probably afford it, it was still a painful thought for him to have to buy a new car following the destruction of his Sentinel, a car he had become quite accustomed to.
Pulling out his Whiz he went through the list of contacts until he came to Freeman Cabs and he speed dialed the number.
"Hello, Freeman Cabs, this is Trudy speaking. How many I help you today?" the receptionist's nasally tone called out.
"Trudy, it's Artie Cappelli. I need you to send a cab over to 1147 Claremont in Horgate," he spoke.
"Ah yes, no problem Mr. C.," Trudy spoke enthusiastically from the other end, "Mr. Freeman told me to ensure that any cab rides for you in the future are to be free of charge after all the hard work you've done for him."
"Well that makes my day a little easier. Tell him I said thank you," Artie replied.
"No problem. Esteban is in the area, I'll send him over right away," Trudy replied before hanging up.
Artie knew he was going to be waiting for a few minutes, so he went over to a nearby cart where the vendor was selling bags of warm nuts and then over to a newspaper stand to buy a copy of 'The Daily Blowhard' and he sat down on a bench to read through the headlines.
The only noteworthy story he had happened across thus far was in the 'National' section, where legendary porn star Ron Jeremy revealed his plans to run for President of the United States in the upcoming 2016 elections. The headline brought a chuckle to the hitman, thinking that for once maybe he could make politics bearable.
"Wonder how many interns he's gonna be lying about sleeping with in press conferences," Artie thought to himself as a Freeman Cab pulled up and he was met by a Puerto Rican man in a puffy Rushmore City Statesmen jacket.
"Where to ese?" the man asked.
"Take me to The Little Black Book over in Camden Heights, and step on it," Artie demanded.
"Whatever you say," the driver replied as he turned up the Fiesta 103 station and began singing along with some Spanish-language song.
Fortunately there wasn't much traffic on the ride over to Camden Heights and he was dropped off at his cousin's bar, where a black Schafter was parked out front. The site of the accursed car made his blood boil, but he had again somehow managed to keep his cool and he turned to face the cabbie.
"Don't worry bro, you're free to go. Boss' orders," Esteban said.
Even through all the rage he harbored towards Johnny Sneed, the hitman still found some pangs of generosity and reached into his wallet to pull out both a 10 and 20 dollar bill and handed them to the young man, "Take it anyway. Do whatever helps you survive in this dump."
"Really? Wow, thanks," the young cabbie said accepting the money, albeit reluctantly.
The hitman turned on his heel and pushed his way inside, where he immediately spotted Zeke manning his usual post behind the counter, shuddering nervously. Towards the back two black-suited men were engaged in a game of pool while a third stood guard near one of the booths. Loud retching from the bathroom also indicated Pukin' Pete's presence.
With a nod to Zeke, Artie made his way over to the booth where the third man stood guard, finding Gino and Johnny sitting together in the middle of a meal.
"…uh yeah, that doesn't sound like a bad idea at all!" Gino nervously laughed before shoving half a cheeseburger into his mouth and taking a big bite before taking notice of his cousin, "Oh hey! Artie! Artie!" he shouted, spitting bits of meat, cheese and ketchup all over his cheap sport coat, "How ya' doin' Cuz? C'mon over and grab yourself a seat!"
Johnny looked over and smiled venomously towards the errand boy, "Arthur Cappelli, it's very nice to see you again," he said before returning his attention to Gino, "If you'll excuse us, your cousin and I have very important business to discuss. Now get your fat ass outta here!" he snapped waving him away.
"S-Sure thing!" Gino squeaked as he climbed out of the booth, but not without grabbing handfuls of French fries. It was here Artie finally took notice of the bandages still covering his face after his beating from a few days earlier.
"Go ahead, take a seat," Johnny said patting the spot across from him, "It's been awhile since you and I have had the chance to sit down and enjoy a normal discussion, hasn't it?"
"Whatever," Artie grunted as he reluctantly took a seat across from the slimy loan shark, "What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you promised you'd leave my cousin alone."
Johnny casually chuckled, "You seem to be suffering from a case of memory loss my friend. I only promised that I wouldn't touch your cousin, but I didn't say anything about not leaving him alone. Do I look like I've touched him at all?" he asked, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers mockingly.
"Let's just get to the fucking chase. Why did you want to see me?" Artie demanded his patience at its end.
"If you insist," Johnny said leaning towards him and clasping his hands together, "Some gooks that run a sweat shop over in the Harbor district have decided to stop paying their monthly tribute. Now I don't know when they finally decided to grow a pair of balls, no matter how tiny they might be, but as a businessman I cannot stand for that."
"There's obviously a lot of things you can't stand for," Artie replied stealing a quick glance to the bar, where Gino sat downing a full bottle of Mack Samuels whisky.
Johnny shrugged off the comment and continued, "Well I've had enough of this shit. I'm gonna show those swamp rats what happens when they don't pay up, more specifically, you're going to show them what happens when they don't pay up," he said pointing to Artie.
Artie could only sigh heavily, "Alright, what do you want me to do now almighty sir?" he asked, the 'almighty sir' part dripping with sarcasm.
"There's a garbage truck over at the waste disposal facility in Jansport. One of the boss' boys has it rigged with an entire shit ton of C-4. Those gooks know that I'm onto them and they won't open their gates for me or any of my boys, but they will open them for a Trashmaster. Drive it on in and park it between the gas canisters located behind the building and then get the hell outta there. You gotta be careful, it's very sensitive and the slightest bump could set it off."
Artie looked at him almost incredulously, "You're actually warning me about something that could go wrong? Wow, that's new for you."
"Nah, I just really wanna see some gooks get blown to bits," Johnny replied.
"Great, just what I needed to hear," Artie replied with a roll of his eyes, just as the storage room door came open a crack.
"Are they gone yet?" Randy whimpered stepping halfway out, only to stop when he saw Johnny and his goons still there. Letting out a girlish shriek, he quickly disappeared back into the storage room and locked the door behind him, prompting another shudder from Zeke.
"Well what the fuck are you waiting for? Christmas? Get your ass in gear! Vamos!" Johnny ordered clapping his hands.
"Sure thing bub," Artie replied rising to his feet and leaned closer to Johnny one last time, "You just stick true to your word of not harming my cousin or my friends!"
With those words Artie looked over to Zeke and Gino, giving them an assuring nod before making his way outside.
Right away he spotted a middle-aged man climbing into an Intruder sedan and he waited for an Alphamail to drive past before running up behind the man, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and slamming his head into the side of his vehicle before tossing his unconscious form aside. Pulling himself inside, he quickly switched the car on and sped away down the street.
He blew through the stoplight and caused a Borgnine Cab to go flying head on into a Redcoat Burrito. There would likely be hell to pay on behalf of the rival cabbie, but Artie didn't care, knowing they could kill each other for all he knew and at the end of the day he would go home and sleep like a baby.
The radio was currently in the middle of a broadcast from Weazel News, giving him another incentive for speeding up.
"In other news, it has been reported that the no fly zone established over Rushmore City will be temporarily lifted later on today as teen pop sensation Dustin Beaver makes a stop in town. What brings him to such a crime-ridden cesspool remains unknown at this time, except that there will be a spike in suicides amongst teenage girls when he refuses to impregnate them and allow them to bring more worthless, superficial piss ants into the world-"
Artie switched the channel over to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, currently playing "Don't Come around Here No More" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, expressing his feelings towards Johnny.
"God I can't wait until I never have to see that filthy rat bastard ever again," Artie thought to himself as he passed the nearby Byway restaurant and was contemplating stopping to order a Big Willy since he hadn't eaten anything yet, but figured he should stick to the mission for the time being, knowing Johnny probably wouldn't even bother to bitch him out and instead blast his cousin where he stood.
It wasn't long before he reached the Jansport district and right away he was seeing the Hellcats out in full force. Whenever they were out and about like this he knew trouble was sure to be nearby and it kept him on his toes as he passed Rollio Records, seeing a quartet of them standing out front smoking weed and having a few beers, their weapons left out in the open like they owned the place.
They were punks who needed to be put in their place, but for now that would have to wait as Artie came to the disposal facility, right next door to the recycling center. The aforementioned Trashmaster was waiting for him in the loading dock area as some sanitation workers casually stood off to the side on their cigarette break. Ditching the Intruder, he ran over and climbed into the garbage truck, switching the radio over to 94.3 CSKD, which was just starting up "Angel of Death" by Slayer.
"Now to get this over with," he thought to himself as he looked down and found another sticky note from Johnny, this one containing a number he was to dial on his cell phone that would detonate the explosives. Memorizing the note, he shifted the big truck into drive and approached the gate, coming to a blinding halt as a blind man stumbled into view, nervously feeling around with his white cane. Not wanting to draw attention from the authorities, he allowed the man to pass before pulling into traffic and making his way towards the nearest intersection, only to halt once again as he heard the rattle of automatic fire and the roar of motorcycle engines.
He looked over to see some of the mobilized Hellcats scurrying behind whatever cover they could find as some members of the Luciferian Brotherhood came riding into view, firing upon their tan-clad adversaries with machine pistols and AK-47s.
"Johnny told me the slightest bump could set this thing off. Crap, now I gotta find another way," he thought backing the truck up. One of the Hellcats overheard the beeping as he backed up and ran over to him, leaping up and trying to pry the door open.
"Fuck off asshole!" the errand boy screamed, swerving in an attempt to shake the gang member off, but the young man held on tight. With no time to fool around he was forced to raise his Beretta and fired a shot through the window and into the man's face.
"Fucking Hellcat bastards!" he spat returning his attention to the road. Due to the narrow street he was on, it took some time before he was finally able to turn the Trashmaster around and move it down a less populated side street before he was en route to the Harbor district.
It wasn't much of a drive and Artie moved about to find a majority of the locals going about their daily routines, the sight of a garbage truck nothing new to them. He would have to slow down for a few larger trucks moving around and a couple of road construction crews in the middle of repairing potholes before he got closer to some of the factories and eventually found the building he was seeking.
The Me Me Qau Garment Factory was a lone teal-colored building surrounded by a 15 foot high concrete wall and at the front, the gate Johnny mentioned.
Artie slowly pulled up to the front gate and waited patiently for the guard to open it, but as soon as he pulled in his jaw would drop.
Parked in front of the building were two Yardie Lobos and a Huntley Sport.
He was aghast.
"What the fuck are those bastards doing here?" he whispered to himself as two Yardies were approached by a short Laotian man with a briefcase in hand, giving it to one of the thugs.
"Could they be paying protection money to the Yardies instead?" he asked himself as he continued towards the back of the building and found the two large gas canisters.
Nevertheless he still had a mission to carry out and carefully maneuvered the large vehicle between the two steel canisters before climbing out and looking around for any possible Yardies that could be standing guard.
"Now to get the hell outta here," he whispered while searching for a way out, knowing he would have to improvise as the front gate would be suicide. "Now think damn it!"
The wall surrounding the building was too high for him to scale, even with the aid of a dumpster and one of the company-owned trucks would have drawn too much attention. His only other option would probably be to lure one of the workers outside, kill him, and then take his uniform.
"Doubt I'd make a believable Asian. Once again, thank you Johnny. Fucking asshole," he thought bitterly.
Sure enough, a lone man emerged from the back door clad in a heavily-stained white jumper and was lighting up a cigarette. Artie took cover behind a nearby dumpster and looked around for anything of use and smiled as he found a discarded brick lying amongst a bunch of stubbed out marijuana joints and emptied beer cans.
"Now just be a good sport and stand still," Artie told himself as he crept towards the smoking worker. He was just inches from bashing the man's head in when the back door opened and another worker stepped into view and shouted something to his co-worker.
It was too late as Artie's hand shot forward and the man turned his head just in time to take a brick to the side of his face.
"Son of a bitch!" the errand boy spat turning to face the other worker, who by now was thrashing his arms and shouting hysterically in his native tongue.
"Well there goes that smooth plan of mine, if it was even 'smooth' to begin with," the hitman told himself as he withdrew his Beretta M9 and pumped three rounds into the man's chest.
"We got company bruddas!" a Jamaican-accented voice called out from within.
"The absolute last people I wanted to see," Artie grumbled taking cover behind a dumpster just as it was pelted by automatic fire.
"Ya' ain't gon' be shootin' up our turf witout consequences Yankee boy!" one of the thugs shouted firing upon him with a Micro Uzi.
Artie stuck his arm out and fired blindly at the attacking thugs, stopping to look back at the parked Trashmaster, hoping their gunfire wouldn't set it off as the truck was struck by a few rounds.
A feral cry came from above and the errand boy looked up to see a dreadlocked man with his face covered in what appeared to be cocaine, making a suicidal charge towards him with a machete in hand.
Artie ducked low and the machete clanged harmlessly off the dumpster's metal surface. Shooting his arm out he fired a round point blank into the man's kneecap and then grabbed him by his long braids and slammed his face into a part of the bin that stuck out, severely lacerating the thug's face before grabbing him from behind and using him as a human shield, the man's comrades showing no regard for their colleague as they riddled his body with bullets. Tossing the corpse aside he bolted as the madmen continued firing relentlessly.
"Lady Luck, if your bitch ass is out there you'd better get the fuck over here right now. Lord knows I need you now," Artie thought as he went to blind fire over his shoulder. So far the Caribbean gangsters hadn't been successful, yet he didn't know how long it would take them to finally get their shit together and plant one in his backside.
Eventually another dumpster came into view and he took cover behind it, given enough room to turn around and fire a round that caught a Yardie thug in the groin, leaving the man coughing up blood as he clutched at his destroyed nether region. "Damn, now that's gonna leave a mark for sure. Not like the world needs another drug-addled psycho running around."
"Gonna be sorry ya' spilled Yardie blood little boy!" another thug called out, shouldering his emptied shotgun and withdrawing his sidearm.
Times were desperate and Artie again popped out to fire a few rounds before he was again forced into cover, the dumpster being the only object saving his life. At the frenetic pace which the Yardies fired he had to wonder how much more punishment it could withstand.
"Looks like I've got no other choice but to take the long road," Artie told himself looking past the garbage truck and seeing the opposite end of the building. "It's all or nothing kamikaze time."
The hitman bolted, pumping his arms and legs as hard as he could, listening to the cries of the bloodthirsty Yardies chasing after him and not even wanting to think about what they would do if they caught him. A quick death was not certain with those jackals.
Having bolted past the Trashmaster he was about to reach the opposite end of the building when a green-clad Yardie stepped into view. Without mercy, Artie performed a professional wrestling-style clothesline that caught the man in the throat and sent him wheezing to the pavement. Having incapacitated the man, the errand boy finished him off with a quick road to the forehead, no time to swipe up his AK-47.
"Bulk Brogan would be so proud of me right now," Artie told himself, referring to the world-renowned professional wrestler he watched growing up. He still remembered how Gino of all people had actually managed to hospitalize Donnie when they were children after taking him down with the very same maneuver.
The rattle of gunfire brought his mind back to the present and the hitman continued sprinting along the building exterior and fired into another Yardie that had attempted to launch a surprise attack upon him, tearing into his midsection with a quartet of screaming metal rounds before his gun clicked empty. He could still hear the man's screams of agony and the angry cursing of his brethren behind him and knew he had to keep running while simultaneously struggling to reload his Beretta.
The adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off and Artie could feel his legs and chest starting to ache. He would need to get out of there fast and looked ahead to see a Huntley Sport, which at the moment was guarded by three Yardies.
"End of dey road mon!" one of them cheerfully called out before opening fire with his machine pistol.
Artie was literally knocked behind cover as three of the bullets had mushroomed against his bulletproofed vest and knocked the wind out of him. "God that hurt," he gasped, feeling like he had been struck by a baseball bat.
Shrugging off the pain as best as he could, he peeked out and fired a round that caught the same thug in his leg, causing him to collapse to the ground and unwittingly let loose a barrage that took down one of his friends.
"You just did my job for me," Artie laughed as he finished the wounded thug off and then dropped the last remaining guard with a three shot burst to his neck, causing his blood to gush all over the S.U.V.
With the three guards dispatched, the errand boy bolted over to the parked gang car and threw himself inside, already hearing the gunshots behind him. Finding the keys in the ignition he started it up, just as the rear windows shattered behind him.
"Fuck it all to hell," Artie spat slamming the gas pedal down and charging towards the gate, slamming his way through it and fumbling for his cell phone.
When he was confident that he was outside the blast radius, he typed in the code he was given and a deafening explosion came from behind him. Looking in his rearview mirror he stared in awe at the mushroom cloud.
"No way could anybody have survived that," Artie muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of the Oar House restaurant and pulled out his cell phone to dial Johnny's number.
The phone rang three times before he was greeted by the blast of techno music from the background.
"Why hello there loyal lackey of mine," Johnny's voice boomed from the other end.
"Don't get cute with me Johnny! I did your fucking job, but now you've got other problems to deal with," Artie snapped.
"Heh, are you threatening me Artie boy? I doubt you're in any kind of position to be," Johnny chuckled heartily.
"No I'm not threatening you, you fucking prick, but I'm damn sure you're gonna be threatened by somebody else pretty soon," Artie shot back.
"And just what the fuck are you saying?" he demanded, followed by some audible chugging letting him know he was in the midst of getting hammered.
"I'm saying that I know why those guys weren't paying you protection money. They were paying it to the Yardies behind your back!" Artie shouted impatiently.
The sound of liquid being spat out came from the other end. "What the fucking hell? You're seriously telling me that those fucking tiny dicked gooks were dealing with a bunch of second-rate, spear-chucking coke fiends behind my back?"
"You're goddamned right I am!" Artie snapped.
Just as quickly as Johnny had become angry, his tone suddenly regained its casual brogue, "Heh, no big deal. I was gonna kill off all those fucking slopes anyway."
"No big deal? What the fuck are you saying you ignorant fuck? You're going to be starting a war with somebody else if you keep this shit up! Those Yardies are crazy as fuck you son of a bitch!" Artie hollered.
"Aw, is my 'big bad handyman' getting all 'fraidy cat on me now? Jesus Christ if you're going to keep all this whining up then you might as well cut off your own fucking dick and rename yourself Aretha!" Johnny laughed.
"Fuck you Sneed! I hope they chop your dick off and shove it up your own fucking ass!" Artie snapped before switching his phone off. Tossing his phone to the floor he threw himself back into his seat and banged his head hard into the headrest behind him, taking a couple deep breaths before shooting his eyes open.
"God I hate that fucking asshole," he muttered resting his head against the steering wheel.
Sirens could be heard from a distance and he wasn't sure whether or not anybody had reported seeing him fleeing from the scene of the blast, but Artie wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks and stopped at the nearby Pay n' Spray, having the black, yellow and green vehicle repainted into a regular shade of silver with a black stripe along the sides.
"These vehicles are actually pretty dependable from what I've seen. I'll have to hold onto this baby for the time being," he thought to himself as he exited the shop in his newly-acquired S.U.V.
"Now time for some lunch," he told himself as he switched on The Traveler 107, currently playing some Far East instrumental music.
XXXXX
It had been nearly three hours since he had successfully carried out his job for Johnny and now Artie was waiting at a red light. He had been driving around in an attempt to clear his head following yet another brush with the boorish Johnny Sneed and was now listening to a news report live from the scene of his most recent crime.
"At this point there is still no clue as to who could have been behind this savage attack, from which there is still no exact tally regarding the number of casualties, which continues to grow with every second.
"We will keep you posted as more details emerge. Back to you in the studio," a woman reported and her voice was soon replaced by a male newscaster.
"In other news, reclusive oil billionaires Daniel and Chester Toke are scheduled to make an appearance tomorrow at a groundbreaking ceremony in Crystal Springs that will mark the site of their future chemical plant.
"The event has sparked protests from numerous environmental groups who fear chemical runoff in the aforementioned springs, as well as the displacement of local wildlife. Fearing a potential showdown with the more radical activists, it has been confirmed that Patrol Invest Group will be providing security for the event. The arrival of the billionaires has also drawn criticism from mayoral candidate Robert Kretchell, a longtime critic of the brothers who along with other progressive groups, has slammed them repeatedly as opportunistic lobbyists with Mayor Walker in their pocket. It has been rumored that the brothers have donated generously to get Walker elected and are accused of giving him gifts in exchange for carrying out their agenda. When pressed on the issue, Mayor Walker gave this response."
Another male voice came over the radio, having switched to a scene where the flashing of cameras could be heard in the background.
"You have my assurance that the Toke Brothers are stewards in finding innovative ways to produce energy while at the same time finding a way to preserve the natural environment around them," Mayor Walker spoke.
"Mayor Walker, what is your response to the environmental protection groups who allege that the presence of this new chemical plant will create runoff that leaks into the nearby rivers and all the forests that will be chopped down to make way for this facility?" a female reporter asked.
The mayor audibly scoffed before replying, "You honestly think I'm gonna let a few tree hugging hippies stop me from bringing jobs and money to this fair city? Christ lady what are you? One of Robert Kretchell's bitches?" the mayor chuckled before catching himself, "Ooh, you can have that edited out, can't you?"
"Mayor Walker, it has come to our recent attention that you've come into the ownership of a brand new Infernus and a Bullet GT, cars you likely wouldn't be able to afford on a typical mayoral salary unless you were using the money of your own taxpayers," a male reporter called out, "Also, how do you explain the recent additions to the executive mansion and that pet elephant you've recently acquired? What about the recent trip you made to Madagascar? How can we be certain these weren't gifts from the Toke Brothers? In fact, one of our sources has just recently provided our network with pictures of you hanging out with the Tokes at Madame de Sade's House of Iniquity!"
"And why should you people be questioning a man's love of fine cars or his desire to protect an endangered species?" a visibly rattled Mayor Walker shot back, "Jesus Christ what are you? One of Kretchell's plants sent to throw me off? Ah wait a minute; yeah I see that VBC pin on your uniform! You work for those liberal douchebags! Guards, have that man removed at once!"
Artie switched the radio over to the End Zone 86.6 sports station just as the guards converged upon the aggressive reporter.
Artie was passing through the Sawyer Gardens district and was passing the Didier Sachs when he was forced to bring the S.U.V. to a screeching halt after a woman suddenly cut across the street.
"Jesus lady, what the fuck are you thinking?" Artie shouted out the window and was climbing out when he suddenly noticed who the woman was.
"Oh my god Artie, I haven't seen you in a long time!" a familiar voice called out as its owner fell against the Huntley's hood.
"Jade?" Artie asked taking notice of her typical all black attire, "What the hell's going on?" he asked as he caught the Didier Sachs cashier before she could sink to her knees, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"More like a psychotic hobo tearing up my store!" she blurted out as she was helped to a nearby bench, "Gunnar took the day off due to a family emergency and nobody else would come in, so I had the store all to myself. From out of nowhere this guy comes running in and starts tearing shit apart. I tried to call the cops, but he got to the phone before I could and ripped it from the wall! Oh my god, I'm so scared Artie!"
Artie looked over to the aforementioned clothing store and could see a shadowy figure darting back and forth at a manic pace.
"Will you help me? Please Artie, I don't know what he's gonna do next," the woman pleaded, her mascara running down her face in blackened tears.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do. You just sit here and don't move," the Italian-American spoke as he proceeded towards the store.
Walking inside Artie was greeted by what looked like the aftermath of a hurricane.
Once immaculate articles of clothing were strewn about the floor, mannequins were tossed about and splintered, mirrors were shattered, the cash register was smashed open, yet all the money was still there. Whoever this guy was robbery wasn't his motive, he was pissed beyond all means and needing to destroy whatever he could. Ragged hisses came from the back of the store followed by incomprehensible grumbling.
"Who's there! Show yourself now!" Artie called out.
A feral growl called out and a haggard figure stepped into view. The man was clad in the tattered remnants of a black and gold track suit and had a nearly empty bottle of brandy in hand.
"Oh it's you," the man grumbled "Come to ruin my life some more?"
Artie started quizzically at the man, wondering what he meant and if he recognized him from somewhere.
He stared more intently towards the disheveled man and peered beneath the layers of filth covering the man's once tanned skin, along with the mane of shaggy hair and the bushy beard that extended to the man's chest.
"Clancy Mays?" he suddenly blurted out.
"I see you remember the names of all the people whose lives you've destroyed," the former M.M.A. fighter growled, "I oughta' fucking kill you right here, right now bitch boy!"
The man tossed his brandy bottle to the floor and tried to go into a fighting stance, but was so inebriated he stumbled into one of the few mannequins left standing and fell to the floor with a loud crash. Bracing himself against the fallen mannequin's stand the fighter turned hobo slowly pulled himself back to his feet.
"This ain't over 'til I say so," Clancy said trying to raise his fists while remaining steady on his rubbery legs before finally shrugging his shoulders, "Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? It's fucking hopeless."
Again, Artie could only stare wordlessly at the man as he stumbled towards him.
"You might as well fucking kill me, end my suffering once and for all," Clancy said throwing his arms to his sides.
"Giving up, just like that?" Artie asked.
"Heh, I've got nothing else to live for," Clancy sighed, "Everything I ever loved is gone. All my sports cars, the jet, the yachts, the mansion in Pinecone Grove, the penthouse apartment in Emerald Hill, the cabin at Devil's Cone, the beachfront condo in Jefferson beach, the multimillion dollar trainer, those two mail order Russian brides…it's all gone! All I have now is a cardboard box down by the river and my brandy…," he rambled on and on, stopping himself when he suddenly realized his bottle of brandy was no more, "…shit…"
"Really? That's all you've ever cared about?" Artie asked lowering his fists and adopting a more relaxed posture, "You don't have family or close friends you care about? What about your trainer? I'm sure you spent all sorts of time with him, wasn't he like a second father to you?"
Clancy shook his head ruefully, "Nah, he left me high and dry when some other guy offered him more money, left me just like my actual old man…goddamn I need another fucking drink."
"Okay," Artie said backing off, wondering whether or not he should have said that.
"If you need me, I'm gonna be drinking myself to death now," Clancy said stumbling past Artie and making his way out the front door while the hitman stared in shock, wondering whether or not he had just done a good deed or driven a man to suicide. He tried not to think anything more of it and made his way back outside and over to the waiting Jade.
"Alright, I dealt with the son of a bitch. I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon," the hitman explained looking back towards the store's direction.
"Oh thank you so much Artie! You're a lifesaver. I truly mean it. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before, I swear!" Jade gasped hugging him tightly.
"Hey no problem, I figure you already gotta put up with my hornball of a cousin more than you'd like to, so why not give you a reason to view the Cappelli name in a more positive light for once?" Artie smiled as she let go.
"Well thanks and between you and me, next time you come around maybe I'll let you get a discount on anything you want," Jade said leaning towards him.
"I'll hold you to that," Artie said watching as she reentered her shop.
The errand boy's phone suddenly rang again and he looked down to the caller ID, "Speaking of hornballs," he muttered switching it on.
"Hey Artie, what's up favorite cousin in the entire universe?" Donnie called out from the other end.
"Are you in another jam or something if you're already kissing my ass that much at the drop of a hat?" Artie asked.
"Well…yes and no. You see Cuz, tonight is the grand reopening of Hell's Belles and one of my guards can't make it because he came down with the swine flu, so I'm gonna need somebody to fill in for him. So what do you say to that? Be a little extra money in your pocket…hell, I'll throw in free lap dances for you as an added perk! Compliments of being The Don's favorite cousin in the entire fucking universe!"
"Hmm, well I don't know just yet Donnie…" Artie spoke only to find himself rudely cut off.
"Cuz, don't be a fucking faggot on me! If you have any other plans for the night, consider them cancelled! I need you over here at 9 o'clock sharp. See you there!" Donnie blurted out before hanging up.
"Ugh…damn it Donnie!" Artie growled squeezing the cell phone in his hand. "How the fuck did I end up with this kind of bullshit in my family? Oh well, guess I've gotta be there before he does God knows what to make me the laughing stock of Rushmore City."
Shrugging his shoulders Artie made his way back towards the Huntley Sport and proceeded back home for a quick nap.
XXXXX
Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of "Rushmore City," almost caught up to where I left off with the original before I decided to scrap everything and start over from the beginning.
The Toke Brothers are meant to be a parody of real-life shady oil magnates David and Charles Koch, two right-wing douchebags who dedicate pretty much their entire fortune to smearing anything and anybody that doesn't share their far right views, pretty much bankrolling a majority of the Tea Party movement. I personally call them the "Cock" Brothers, but their last name is supposed to be pronounced "coke" like cocaine, so I wanted to keep the drug-related humor going and named them "toke" as in marijuana.
Them being accompanied to the groundbreaking ceremony by the PIG mercenaries is inspired by current events here in Wisconsin where unlicensed heavily-armed guards have been reported hanging around what is supposed to be a future mining site here in my state.
The headline Artie reads about porn star Ron Jeremy running for President is inspired by a display pic I used to have on my Facebook profile that is of a mock presidential flier saying "Ron Jeremy for President 2012" and then his tagline is "You're gonna get screw anyway, might as well get screwed by a pro!" In a way that's inspired by Burt Reynolds being the mayor of Steelport in "Saints Row: the Third."
Mack Samuels is a parody of Jack Daniels and Bulk Brogan is a parody of Hulk Hogan.
The Me Me Qau sweat shop Artie blows up, Me Me Qau is Hmong for "small dick," keep in tradition with Rockstar's sexual innuendo-based sense of humor.
Well I think that's pretty much it then for my author's notes so until next time, read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/