This is a No-post. I'm putting this here so I can say I posted something for today, without actually having to say anything important.
Just too stressed about the car thing for now, so I will get back to our regularly scheduled story as soon as I can.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
We got a car.
We have a new car.
It's a 2014 Mitsubishi Outlander Sport, with keyless entry and start, backup cam, touchscreen sound system with bluetooth audio streaming, and calling. It has "bells and whistles" up the wazoo.
But the old adage doesn't hold up in this case: Getting there was NOT half the fun. There was no fun to be had in getting there. The process was about as stressful and irritating as it is possible to be without adding in thumbscrews and pepper spray. I don't want to get into the details, but suffice it to say that I am a cynic about some things, and I think that car dealers are out to get you for everything they can.
And there are little signs you can look for when you know what they are. Verbal cues, kinesthetics such as the way they shake hands, wear-down tactics, ETC. I can't prove any of that though.
We had to wait for a long time on the financing too, both of us getting very hungry and cranky, because we had no idea how long it was going to take.
But worst was the drive home. I can think of nothing more stressful than driving your Brand New Car which has only like 12 miles on it home through heavy traffic, that slows to a crawl at a moments notice, in pouring rain, which has the dual problems of making it incredibly difficult to see, and making road conditions more hazardous. I was constantly worried that I was going to hurt the car in some way, after having just driven it off the lot. So worried in fact that Tori had to take over for me when we were a little over an hour away from home.
I am so exhausted right now that I'm only writing this blog out of the need to maintain the habit. As soon as I'm done I'm going to hydrate, then fall into a deep coma until tomorrow. Guh.
2 more things. I'm trying to decide how to approach a delicate issue. I think we MAY have been the victims of bait-and-switch false advertising, and I THINK I can even prove it, and if this is true we paid about $2000 more than we needed to for this car. HOWEVER... I don't know how to approach the subject without stressing my wife out over it all, this has been a very traumatic experience for her. ALSO I would feel like a bit of an asshole calling someone a liar if it turns out there was a plausible explanation for this all along. I'm thinking about emailing the woman who initially made contact with me to see if we can come to terms with the discrepancy, and maybe understand how it happened, but again, I don't know how they would react in a situation where they are called out on what appears to be a bald faced lie.
Second: I had a cramp in my calf this morning SO PAINFUL it was as hard as a baseball, and would not go away until Tori massaged it. It's better now, but still stiff. Tori thinks it might have been that I was dehydrated, and wearing socks so tight as to cut off circulation. I think that's plausible, but I'm not sure. I'll be checking online for both of these questions to see if I can find answers, but if any of you dear readers has any comment or suggestion, please leave a contribution in the little box.
And thanks for reading.
It's a 2014 Mitsubishi Outlander Sport, with keyless entry and start, backup cam, touchscreen sound system with bluetooth audio streaming, and calling. It has "bells and whistles" up the wazoo.
But the old adage doesn't hold up in this case: Getting there was NOT half the fun. There was no fun to be had in getting there. The process was about as stressful and irritating as it is possible to be without adding in thumbscrews and pepper spray. I don't want to get into the details, but suffice it to say that I am a cynic about some things, and I think that car dealers are out to get you for everything they can.
And there are little signs you can look for when you know what they are. Verbal cues, kinesthetics such as the way they shake hands, wear-down tactics, ETC. I can't prove any of that though.
We had to wait for a long time on the financing too, both of us getting very hungry and cranky, because we had no idea how long it was going to take.
But worst was the drive home. I can think of nothing more stressful than driving your Brand New Car which has only like 12 miles on it home through heavy traffic, that slows to a crawl at a moments notice, in pouring rain, which has the dual problems of making it incredibly difficult to see, and making road conditions more hazardous. I was constantly worried that I was going to hurt the car in some way, after having just driven it off the lot. So worried in fact that Tori had to take over for me when we were a little over an hour away from home.
I am so exhausted right now that I'm only writing this blog out of the need to maintain the habit. As soon as I'm done I'm going to hydrate, then fall into a deep coma until tomorrow. Guh.
2 more things. I'm trying to decide how to approach a delicate issue. I think we MAY have been the victims of bait-and-switch false advertising, and I THINK I can even prove it, and if this is true we paid about $2000 more than we needed to for this car. HOWEVER... I don't know how to approach the subject without stressing my wife out over it all, this has been a very traumatic experience for her. ALSO I would feel like a bit of an asshole calling someone a liar if it turns out there was a plausible explanation for this all along. I'm thinking about emailing the woman who initially made contact with me to see if we can come to terms with the discrepancy, and maybe understand how it happened, but again, I don't know how they would react in a situation where they are called out on what appears to be a bald faced lie.
Second: I had a cramp in my calf this morning SO PAINFUL it was as hard as a baseball, and would not go away until Tori massaged it. It's better now, but still stiff. Tori thinks it might have been that I was dehydrated, and wearing socks so tight as to cut off circulation. I think that's plausible, but I'm not sure. I'll be checking online for both of these questions to see if I can find answers, but if any of you dear readers has any comment or suggestion, please leave a contribution in the little box.
And thanks for reading.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 9 part 4
More running around! Tomorrow will probably have no story, but I hope to have a post. After all, I'm getting
"A Brand New Car!"
Bonus points if you said that in Rod Roddy's voice in your head.
*********************************
He eased his pace slightly going through the parking lot, watching traffic on the far side, making mental notes, and calculations
'Those sneaky buggers,' he thought grinning. Despite his outward misgivings about botched jobs and gettaways that weren't clean and leisurely, he had to admit that... he was enjoying the challenge. It made him feel alive.
As he approached the street , preparing to turn left, he quipped, "D'you fellows know that there's a roadblock to get onto the freeway?"
The halfling swore loudly and started to reach for his assault rifle on the floor, fighting against the seatbelt straps, but unwilling to take it off yet because of what happaned last time.
The brown haired human asked, "What are we gonna do?" They started to heft their assault rifles. Furiously the halfling tore off his seatbelt in sheer frustration and dove for his assault rifle.
"Oh we're going through that roadblock..." The two humans looked nervously at each other, and Bernard went on, "...but you aren't going to need them guns. But I will need one of those ski masks..."
He glanced in the mirror at their stunned faces, as he accelarated around the left turn onto North 7th street. He was still accelarating when he reached the intersection with Race Street, and controling his speed with minute care, accelerating and braking in turn, steering only ever so slightly, until he passed right through the intersection without being touched, though the cars he missed, and that missed him, screeched to a halt leaning on their horns.
Still he gained more speed. He had to swerve around slow moving traffic as the road went off at about a 30 degree angle to avoid the little park on his right, then merge as the road when north again.
And then he saw the red, blue, and white lights ahead. He gunned it up to the underpass, dodging around the cars waiting there for the light to change, and tapped the button to roll down the driver window.
The police had 4 patrol cars, and 3 SUVs parked at the North Franklin interchange. Bernard made a wide right turn and started up Highway 30 while leaning his ski-masked face out the window, flipping Philly's Finest the bird... all while heading into oncoming traffic.
The officers who stood outside their cars looking for the Escalade and directing traffic looked surprised, and dove for their vehicles, which their partners were already starting up. The sound of sirens blared loudly, and Bernard rolled his window back up, pulling off the mask, while swerving through the oncoming cars. He tossed it back to the red bearded human.
"I think we got their attention, wouldn't you say?"
Their only response was to flinch, moan, and grunt with fear every time he had to dodge a car, sometimes only be inches. He rolled his eyes.
"Amateurs."
********************************* Chapter 9 part 5
"A Brand New Car!"
Bonus points if you said that in Rod Roddy's voice in your head.
*********************************
He eased his pace slightly going through the parking lot, watching traffic on the far side, making mental notes, and calculations
'Those sneaky buggers,' he thought grinning. Despite his outward misgivings about botched jobs and gettaways that weren't clean and leisurely, he had to admit that... he was enjoying the challenge. It made him feel alive.
As he approached the street , preparing to turn left, he quipped, "D'you fellows know that there's a roadblock to get onto the freeway?"
The halfling swore loudly and started to reach for his assault rifle on the floor, fighting against the seatbelt straps, but unwilling to take it off yet because of what happaned last time.
The brown haired human asked, "What are we gonna do?" They started to heft their assault rifles. Furiously the halfling tore off his seatbelt in sheer frustration and dove for his assault rifle.
"Oh we're going through that roadblock..." The two humans looked nervously at each other, and Bernard went on, "...but you aren't going to need them guns. But I will need one of those ski masks..."
He glanced in the mirror at their stunned faces, as he accelarated around the left turn onto North 7th street. He was still accelarating when he reached the intersection with Race Street, and controling his speed with minute care, accelerating and braking in turn, steering only ever so slightly, until he passed right through the intersection without being touched, though the cars he missed, and that missed him, screeched to a halt leaning on their horns.
Still he gained more speed. He had to swerve around slow moving traffic as the road went off at about a 30 degree angle to avoid the little park on his right, then merge as the road when north again.
And then he saw the red, blue, and white lights ahead. He gunned it up to the underpass, dodging around the cars waiting there for the light to change, and tapped the button to roll down the driver window.
The police had 4 patrol cars, and 3 SUVs parked at the North Franklin interchange. Bernard made a wide right turn and started up Highway 30 while leaning his ski-masked face out the window, flipping Philly's Finest the bird... all while heading into oncoming traffic.
The officers who stood outside their cars looking for the Escalade and directing traffic looked surprised, and dove for their vehicles, which their partners were already starting up. The sound of sirens blared loudly, and Bernard rolled his window back up, pulling off the mask, while swerving through the oncoming cars. He tossed it back to the red bearded human.
"I think we got their attention, wouldn't you say?"
Their only response was to flinch, moan, and grunt with fear every time he had to dodge a car, sometimes only be inches. He rolled his eyes.
"Amateurs."
********************************* Chapter 9 part 5
Monday, October 28, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 9 part 3
I'm expecting that the getaway scene is going to take some extra work to finish, but even so, it's going to be quite awesome to work on, as I'm using google maps street view to map out the route of the chase. Feel free to follow along by searching Sovereign Bank, 1101 Market Street, Philadelphia, PA, and following the directions in the chase.
I just feel like this adds an extra layer of realism and depth that feels more real than making something up which nobody can figure out. But it will take a bit longer, so in order to keep from completely frying my brain, I'm breaking it into small, bite-sized chunks. Hope you like it!
********************************
He gunned the engine a half a second before the light changed, nearly clipping a red Hundai, and swerved to avoid a bus parked in his lane. As he did so he saw red and blue flashing lights in his peripheral vision coming up Arch Street no more than a block away. Even in just a fraction of a second he could see that cars were starting to pull over to make room.
He pulled around the bus, and juked back into the right lane, and cut speed hard, pulling a right onto a street called Appletree which so narrow it hardly deserved to be called a street. It was clear and open though, and when he got to the end of the brown brick building, he glanced across the parking lot on his right. The police car had already passed, but another zoomed past. It had only blue lights on top, but was otherwise, was unmarked.
He accelerated down the rest of the alley, past several signs that were printed in both English, and Chinese. He reached 10th street, which was a one-way. There were plastic orange and white pylons lined on the street though, and he turned left, toward the oncoming traffic, drawing panicked noises from his passengers. All the traffic though was in the other lane, so they stayed in the left lane - their left - and powered up the street, - right past the cop car coming up the street in the opposite direction
The construction ended only about a hundred feet past the intersection, so Bernard cut to the right across the traffic, right in front of a red Audi, and sped up a narrow parking lot which ended in a very narrow cobble alleyway. He was about to turn left, when he saw a police cruiser parked at the end.
"Ha!" he grunted. "Well done boys." He turned right instead, which took him back to Cherry Street, and turned left, going WITH the one-way this time. When he crossed 9th street there was cruiser coming down the block, which turned onto Cherry just behind him.
Bernard chuckled, and poured on the speed, accelerating past the parking lots, and the large white building on the left. He braked hard just before reaching North 8th St, forcing the police car to either brake to avoid colliding with him. He gunned the engine again, crossing 8th just in time to cross in front of a city bus, which after narrowly avoiding hitting him screeched to a stop, blocking the path of the police cruiser.
He went through the parking lot ahead, as the red bearded human asked, breathless, "How the -HOLY FUCK- did you miss that bus?"
Bernard frowned up into the rear view mirror. "What? Like you don't know your own bus schedule?"
********************************* Chapter 9 part 4
More to come. I haven't even hit the freeway yet. *evil grin*
I just feel like this adds an extra layer of realism and depth that feels more real than making something up which nobody can figure out. But it will take a bit longer, so in order to keep from completely frying my brain, I'm breaking it into small, bite-sized chunks. Hope you like it!
********************************
He gunned the engine a half a second before the light changed, nearly clipping a red Hundai, and swerved to avoid a bus parked in his lane. As he did so he saw red and blue flashing lights in his peripheral vision coming up Arch Street no more than a block away. Even in just a fraction of a second he could see that cars were starting to pull over to make room.
He pulled around the bus, and juked back into the right lane, and cut speed hard, pulling a right onto a street called Appletree which so narrow it hardly deserved to be called a street. It was clear and open though, and when he got to the end of the brown brick building, he glanced across the parking lot on his right. The police car had already passed, but another zoomed past. It had only blue lights on top, but was otherwise, was unmarked.
He accelerated down the rest of the alley, past several signs that were printed in both English, and Chinese. He reached 10th street, which was a one-way. There were plastic orange and white pylons lined on the street though, and he turned left, toward the oncoming traffic, drawing panicked noises from his passengers. All the traffic though was in the other lane, so they stayed in the left lane - their left - and powered up the street, - right past the cop car coming up the street in the opposite direction
The construction ended only about a hundred feet past the intersection, so Bernard cut to the right across the traffic, right in front of a red Audi, and sped up a narrow parking lot which ended in a very narrow cobble alleyway. He was about to turn left, when he saw a police cruiser parked at the end.
"Ha!" he grunted. "Well done boys." He turned right instead, which took him back to Cherry Street, and turned left, going WITH the one-way this time. When he crossed 9th street there was cruiser coming down the block, which turned onto Cherry just behind him.
Bernard chuckled, and poured on the speed, accelerating past the parking lots, and the large white building on the left. He braked hard just before reaching North 8th St, forcing the police car to either brake to avoid colliding with him. He gunned the engine again, crossing 8th just in time to cross in front of a city bus, which after narrowly avoiding hitting him screeched to a stop, blocking the path of the police cruiser.
He went through the parking lot ahead, as the red bearded human asked, breathless, "How the -HOLY FUCK- did you miss that bus?"
Bernard frowned up into the rear view mirror. "What? Like you don't know your own bus schedule?"
********************************* Chapter 9 part 4
More to come. I haven't even hit the freeway yet. *evil grin*
Saturday, October 26, 2013
The lamentation of vehicular acquisitions in post-calamitous happenstance.
Hey guys.
So, since being in the accident I have discovered something important.Buying a car SUCKS. we want to get a new model 2013 or 14, because the previous used cars that we purchased have all had some major flaws. The Jeep had some problems in the rear axle, I wasn't that keen on the Malibu at first, but it grew on me, but now it has the slight disadvantage of being totaled.
I'm in a rental car right now but that's gonna last for so long, so we need a car and we need it yesterday.
But of course, we don't want to let the dealers know this. It's year end close out time, everyone's got a quota to meet, and while the deals are going to be very good, I'm preparing myself to feel like shark bait.
The biggest problem we have to deal with right now, is that we have a very specific and tight budget. My wife, who is both genius and OCD about these things, has been running herself ragged with stress, looking at cars and trying to figure out what we can afford. And you know, planning a wedding was not this stressful. Getting my job was not the stressful. Hell, buying a goddamn house was not stressful.
Of course it moulding be nearly this bad if you weren't such a hurry, and under normal circumstances I'd be extremely excited about this. We would finally afford to get all the things we want a car. Just from a safety standpoint I've been wanting bluetooth for a long time. Preferably with the option to stream music directly from my phone, but at least with an audio jack if nothing else. for too long now I've been having to use headphones to listen to audio books, which isn't really very safe either.
The rental car, a Ford Focus, is this hideous silver color which I just can't stand. in fact most colors seem garish and ghastly to me currently. So that would leave either a neutral beige color, some shade of off-white, or my personal preference, black.
And of course since I live in Iowa, and we have snow here in the winter, and because I commute to work 5 days a week, 4 wheel drive or all wheel drive seem like a pretty good idea too.
And of course I know there are people who get by without this stuff every single day, and if they don't feel like they want them that's fine too, but I would feel safer knowing that I had them, and would take them if I had the choice.
The other big problem is that we keep getting our expectations set really high, only to find out that what we thought was possible actually isn't. we were going to use car buying services through either AT&T or USAA, found out that what they were offering wasn't that great anyway. We also found out that the payout on your insurance is not going to be nearly as much as we thought, though we will get the deductible back and that's kind of nice. But when we started we were using the tools that these services gave us, and they made it seem as though we were going to have a very good monthly payment, well under our expected budget, but then when we started to make adjustments to get closer to what we're finding out we will have available for financing, and then the numbers starting to not look as good anymore.
And is highly demoralizing, because then you have to start thinking about what you'd be willing to give up. And that's like freakin Sophie's Choice, which one of my children has to die?
Okay, yes, I'm being melodramatic. But nonetheless it is stressful.
But anyway, we found a Mitsubishi dealer near Chicago that has what we want at an incredibly low price, and of course it's 3 hours away. But if that's what it takes, we're just going to have to suck it up and do it. its still going to hit our budget pretty hard, but Tori thinks she can make it work. She is an absolute genius I tell you, and if there was any justice in the world the US government hire her to balance a budget and eliminate the national debt.
Anyway ranting complete. now it's time to relieve some stress by gunning down troops with an AK 47... in GTA of course... why, what did you think I meant? Then I need to get to bed.
Tomorrow is going to be a loooong day.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 9 part 2
The two men in the back seat looked at each other as if sharing some secret inner pain, while the halfling scowled at Bernard.
"Listen Dipsh-" he began.
"First you plan a heist at a bank in one of the busiest
areas of the city for both foot traffic and vehicle traffic..." They
were at a red light at the end of the tunnel now, unable to move due to
the aforementioned vehicle traffic, and he took that moment to change
the radio over to the CD player. Mozarts Symphony no. 25 quietly filled
the cabin.
"Second, you leave the bank in broad daylight wearing masks
and holding guns - a dead giveaway if you ask me..."
The traffic began moving again and Bernard accelerated at a
leisurely pace, checking his mirrors and changing lanes, using proper turn signals. The halfling
was growing visibly agitated now, and began to hold his gun in a more
threatening manner without ever pointing it directly at the driver.
"Awright asshole, I dunno who you think you are but y-"
Bernard tapped the brakes, and the halfling flew forward into the back of the passenger seat, knocking the gun out of his hands.
"Third," he said, "you didn't put on your seatbelt. Did you
know that even a very slow speed collision an cause an enormous amount
of a physical injury? I don't plan on having one o'course, but you just never know."
The halfling scrambled into his seat cursing, and worked his seatbelt. One of the humans, the one with red hair and beard, tried to help him, but was met with a viscous snarl, and held his hands up in surrender.
"As far as I can tell," said Bernard, as if nothing had happened, "you've really only done two things right. Number one, and I'm almost certain this was an accident, you picked a time and a place that was advantageous for a couple of reasons. First, there is a baseball game starting in just under three hours, and many of Philly's finest are currently stuck working traffic at the park. Second, due to this game, and the busyness of the street, police response time will be at around nine minutes. A good crew can knock over a bank like that, clear the safe and the teller's drawers and be out again in about six minutes, and the remaining three minutes is more than enough for us to make a nice leisurely getaway with no fuss." He smiled serenely, for just a moment, but frowned he saw the two humans look at each other shiftily.
"Tell me," he said.
The dark haired man shrugged guiltily and, with the barest nod toward the halfling, said, "It was more like eight minutes."
That's when Bernard heard the sirens. He grimaced and sighed heavily. "Right. Of course." He looked through the windows all around him, checking sight lines and traffic openings. "Well then gentlemen, if you have access to an 'Oh-shit' bar, this would be the time to grab hold. This is going to be an interesting ride."
The red bearded man had grabbed the bar over the halfling's head, as he was to short to reach, when he looked like he had just remembered something. "Hey..."
Bernard raised an eyebrow in his review mirror.
"You said there were two things we did right. What was the second thing?"
Bernard smiled, his large lower canines protruding past his upper lip. "Now that is an attention to detail that will take you far in life young man. And the answer is: You hired me."
******************************* Chapter 9 part 3
I think that chapter nine is going to have more than four parts, as I intend to keep them shorter so they don't burn me out too quickly. Also I've found some new settings on my phone that I think will help me when using voice dictation, that I hadn't noticed before, like a different keyboard, with a better layout to get TO voice to text. So we'll see how that goes.
Comments and Suggestions welcomed like Foghorn Leghorn to a KFC.
And thanks for reading!
The halfling scrambled into his seat cursing, and worked his seatbelt. One of the humans, the one with red hair and beard, tried to help him, but was met with a viscous snarl, and held his hands up in surrender.
"As far as I can tell," said Bernard, as if nothing had happened, "you've really only done two things right. Number one, and I'm almost certain this was an accident, you picked a time and a place that was advantageous for a couple of reasons. First, there is a baseball game starting in just under three hours, and many of Philly's finest are currently stuck working traffic at the park. Second, due to this game, and the busyness of the street, police response time will be at around nine minutes. A good crew can knock over a bank like that, clear the safe and the teller's drawers and be out again in about six minutes, and the remaining three minutes is more than enough for us to make a nice leisurely getaway with no fuss." He smiled serenely, for just a moment, but frowned he saw the two humans look at each other shiftily.
"Tell me," he said.
The dark haired man shrugged guiltily and, with the barest nod toward the halfling, said, "It was more like eight minutes."
That's when Bernard heard the sirens. He grimaced and sighed heavily. "Right. Of course." He looked through the windows all around him, checking sight lines and traffic openings. "Well then gentlemen, if you have access to an 'Oh-shit' bar, this would be the time to grab hold. This is going to be an interesting ride."
The red bearded man had grabbed the bar over the halfling's head, as he was to short to reach, when he looked like he had just remembered something. "Hey..."
Bernard raised an eyebrow in his review mirror.
"You said there were two things we did right. What was the second thing?"
Bernard smiled, his large lower canines protruding past his upper lip. "Now that is an attention to detail that will take you far in life young man. And the answer is: You hired me."
******************************* Chapter 9 part 3
I think that chapter nine is going to have more than four parts, as I intend to keep them shorter so they don't burn me out too quickly. Also I've found some new settings on my phone that I think will help me when using voice dictation, that I hadn't noticed before, like a different keyboard, with a better layout to get TO voice to text. So we'll see how that goes.
Comments and Suggestions welcomed like Foghorn Leghorn to a KFC.
And thanks for reading!
Magic World (working title): Chapter 9 part 1
Chapter 9
The black Cadillac Escalade ESV, or Extra Sized Vehicle sat a regulation six inches from the curb. It idled almost silently. The cabin was perfectly air conditioned, and insulated from outside noise. It was an island of peace in the shadow of the Metro PCS store, in the middle of the crowded busy streets of Philadelphia.
It was sitting in the diamond lane. This drew a few resentful looks from the passers-by, but otherwise no undue attention. The windows were darkly tinted so that the occupant could not be easily seen from the street. He sat reading the latest issue of CAR Magazine on his Kindle Fire, reflecting that this was a far less expensive option than having it sent from the UK, while on the radio two intellectual types debated the pros and cons of the hotly controversial Affordable Health Care Act, otherwise known as "Obamacare." He thought this laughable. Only in America did politicians try to demonize something by naming after someone they hated. Nobody ever in the UK would you ever hear things like "The Tony Blaire Witch Hunt" on mainstream media. Well not yet anyway, though the way the bloody internet was getting these days European news outlets might soon desperate enough to ape the fear-inducing panic-mongering style of journalism, just to keep up.
He sighed and swiped to the next page, giving a yawn as he did so. He cracked his neck, more to stretch more than anything, and glanced across the street, but nothing was happening yet. The two NPR guys had broken out of their little argument, and were moving on to the news for a moment.
"Well, let's get to it, shall we? Our top story this morning is... whoa. Did you hear about this Jack? Apparently a bomb went off in Indiana, leaving four dead."
"Wow who the heck would do something like this?"
"A dead person apparently," said the reader sardonicaly. "It happened outside of town near a self stodrage in a town called uhm,,, Storage Solutions. This is Terre Haute, Indiana."
"Mkay..."
"They've only released one name in connection with this so far- they haven't said if they think it's an act of terrorism, or and accident, or like a ... car bomb. Hey maybe it was a Mafia hit."
"Oh yeah, maybe they were 'Hitting the Mattresses' or whatever they call it. Old school."
"Could be, sure. Anyway the name is Raul Muyres-"
"FUCK ME!" said Bernard loudly. The orc set the Kindle aside and pulled out his mobile phone. He pulled up his contact list and sent a message to someone name Flicker: "Oi. Nd intro for Terra Hote IN ASAP, this is 911." He sent the message and shook his head for a moment contemplating what this meant. The old man had lost his last race then. Balls. He hoped the car at least was-
Across the street he noticed a commotion. Two men and a halfling in ski masks and holding dangerous looking automatic rifles were coming out of the Sovereign Bank holding duffel bags, and crossing the street. They saw his vehicle idling, and made their way over to him. People on the street had noticed them and were taking cover, some of them pulling out their cell phones.
The two masked men were heading toward the back doors of his SUV while the halfling was heading towards the front passenger door. He pulled the handle a couple times, but while the back doors had opened smoothly, the front was locked.
Bernard rolled down the darkened window enough for the halfling to see his face, his eyebrow raised as if to say "Really?" and nodded his head toward the back seat. He rolled the window up while the halfling, looking upset, but knowing there was no time to argue, got in the back.
"THIS is what you got man? An SUV? Man, we're never gonna outrun the cops in this thing, I thought you were supposed to be a professional," said the halfling, as he pulled off his mask, his spikey blond hair sticking up all over now. Bernard put the Cadillac into gear and pulled smoothly out of the diamond lane, and preparing to turn from Market Street onto North 11th, which was illegal, but cut 45 seconds from the drive time, and put him on a route with better options for evasion.
"You know," he said, "I'm not sure if you lot are the biggest morons in 'istory or bloody fucking brilliant. Seatbelts please gentlemen." He completed the turn and was now headed for the Hilton Garden Inn tunnel.
******************************* Chapter 9 part 2
Okay got something up anyway. Fell asleep part way through, and couldn't pull out of the dive. But I wanted to get to the part where they started the getaway. I'm not thoroughly familiar with Philadelphia, but fortunately I have Google Maps, which shows me exactly what I need to know. All Hail the Mighty Internet!
Comments and Suggestions welcome.
Thanks for Reading!
The black Cadillac Escalade ESV, or Extra Sized Vehicle sat a regulation six inches from the curb. It idled almost silently. The cabin was perfectly air conditioned, and insulated from outside noise. It was an island of peace in the shadow of the Metro PCS store, in the middle of the crowded busy streets of Philadelphia.
It was sitting in the diamond lane. This drew a few resentful looks from the passers-by, but otherwise no undue attention. The windows were darkly tinted so that the occupant could not be easily seen from the street. He sat reading the latest issue of CAR Magazine on his Kindle Fire, reflecting that this was a far less expensive option than having it sent from the UK, while on the radio two intellectual types debated the pros and cons of the hotly controversial Affordable Health Care Act, otherwise known as "Obamacare." He thought this laughable. Only in America did politicians try to demonize something by naming after someone they hated. Nobody ever in the UK would you ever hear things like "The Tony Blaire Witch Hunt" on mainstream media. Well not yet anyway, though the way the bloody internet was getting these days European news outlets might soon desperate enough to ape the fear-inducing panic-mongering style of journalism, just to keep up.
He sighed and swiped to the next page, giving a yawn as he did so. He cracked his neck, more to stretch more than anything, and glanced across the street, but nothing was happening yet. The two NPR guys had broken out of their little argument, and were moving on to the news for a moment.
"Well, let's get to it, shall we? Our top story this morning is... whoa. Did you hear about this Jack? Apparently a bomb went off in Indiana, leaving four dead."
"Wow who the heck would do something like this?"
"A dead person apparently," said the reader sardonicaly. "It happened outside of town near a self stodrage in a town called uhm,,, Storage Solutions. This is Terre Haute, Indiana."
"Mkay..."
"They've only released one name in connection with this so far- they haven't said if they think it's an act of terrorism, or and accident, or like a ... car bomb. Hey maybe it was a Mafia hit."
"Oh yeah, maybe they were 'Hitting the Mattresses' or whatever they call it. Old school."
"Could be, sure. Anyway the name is Raul Muyres-"
"FUCK ME!" said Bernard loudly. The orc set the Kindle aside and pulled out his mobile phone. He pulled up his contact list and sent a message to someone name Flicker: "Oi. Nd intro for Terra Hote IN ASAP, this is 911." He sent the message and shook his head for a moment contemplating what this meant. The old man had lost his last race then. Balls. He hoped the car at least was-
Across the street he noticed a commotion. Two men and a halfling in ski masks and holding dangerous looking automatic rifles were coming out of the Sovereign Bank holding duffel bags, and crossing the street. They saw his vehicle idling, and made their way over to him. People on the street had noticed them and were taking cover, some of them pulling out their cell phones.
The two masked men were heading toward the back doors of his SUV while the halfling was heading towards the front passenger door. He pulled the handle a couple times, but while the back doors had opened smoothly, the front was locked.
Bernard rolled down the darkened window enough for the halfling to see his face, his eyebrow raised as if to say "Really?" and nodded his head toward the back seat. He rolled the window up while the halfling, looking upset, but knowing there was no time to argue, got in the back.
"THIS is what you got man? An SUV? Man, we're never gonna outrun the cops in this thing, I thought you were supposed to be a professional," said the halfling, as he pulled off his mask, his spikey blond hair sticking up all over now. Bernard put the Cadillac into gear and pulled smoothly out of the diamond lane, and preparing to turn from Market Street onto North 11th, which was illegal, but cut 45 seconds from the drive time, and put him on a route with better options for evasion.
"You know," he said, "I'm not sure if you lot are the biggest morons in 'istory or bloody fucking brilliant. Seatbelts please gentlemen." He completed the turn and was now headed for the Hilton Garden Inn tunnel.
******************************* Chapter 9 part 2
Okay got something up anyway. Fell asleep part way through, and couldn't pull out of the dive. But I wanted to get to the part where they started the getaway. I'm not thoroughly familiar with Philadelphia, but fortunately I have Google Maps, which shows me exactly what I need to know. All Hail the Mighty Internet!
Comments and Suggestions welcome.
Thanks for Reading!
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Music from The 38s: covers
There are 4 videos all told, so if you're seeing this with less than 4, check back soon.
It's worth noting that we do not own any copyrights, these performances are for entertainment only, and we get no monetary gain from them.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Oddball things and annoyances.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a magnet for really oddball random one-in-a-million bad luck things. Mostly annoyances, but still, very strange.
For example my glasses have a very odd effect where they refract light if I look off center even by a few degrees, giving everything a very strange blurry look, like looking at an old color picture tube.
Actually I just found a picture that demonstrates perfectly, the left is what I see through the center, and the right is what I see when I look through just a few degrees into my peripheral vision.
There have also been other oddball bad luck things lately but I can't think of all of them right now. There was a thing with the adapter for the dishwasher, but that's all fixed now. Still annoying though.
Anyway, I've been feeling lately like I don't have enough time. For everything. Though I'll admit that a lot of that is due to playing too much GTA 5, but some of it is just that I spend too much time driving back and forth to work.
Oh, speaking of which when you are on a tight budget and you need a "new" car (as in new to you) things are SUPER stressful. I have a few things I would like in a vehicle, but it seems like some of these things are really jacking up the pricing. Really though I only have two things that are fairly important to me, other than the obvious drivability, safety, etc. The first one is that I would like a 4WD or AWD, because driving something else around in wintertime in freaking IOWA when commuting to a job that really doesn't have a very impressive bad weather policy... Yeah, it's not fun. The second thing is some way to connect my phone, which is, again, a safety issue. I love being able to play music through the car stereo, which I used to be able to do when I had a vehicle with a tape deck, then suddenly with this last car (may she rest in peace) I only had CDs or Radio or my phone with freaking headphones. Again not the safest.
Also the Focus has bluetooth so you can use that to talk on the phone in the car which is really freaking awesome, and I loves it so much. Can I live without it? I dunno, maybe? But should I have to try?
Also, I would love to have something in Black. For the car. Yep.
So yeah, life is being a little unusual lately. I'm just waiting for the little people to come after me and try to kick my ass for my portrayal of halflings and dwarves in my story.
Or shins maybe.... I'm a horrible person for even thinking that.
For example my glasses have a very odd effect where they refract light if I look off center even by a few degrees, giving everything a very strange blurry look, like looking at an old color picture tube.
Actually I just found a picture that demonstrates perfectly, the left is what I see through the center, and the right is what I see when I look through just a few degrees into my peripheral vision.
There have also been other oddball bad luck things lately but I can't think of all of them right now. There was a thing with the adapter for the dishwasher, but that's all fixed now. Still annoying though.
Anyway, I've been feeling lately like I don't have enough time. For everything. Though I'll admit that a lot of that is due to playing too much GTA 5, but some of it is just that I spend too much time driving back and forth to work.
Oh, speaking of which when you are on a tight budget and you need a "new" car (as in new to you) things are SUPER stressful. I have a few things I would like in a vehicle, but it seems like some of these things are really jacking up the pricing. Really though I only have two things that are fairly important to me, other than the obvious drivability, safety, etc. The first one is that I would like a 4WD or AWD, because driving something else around in wintertime in freaking IOWA when commuting to a job that really doesn't have a very impressive bad weather policy... Yeah, it's not fun. The second thing is some way to connect my phone, which is, again, a safety issue. I love being able to play music through the car stereo, which I used to be able to do when I had a vehicle with a tape deck, then suddenly with this last car (may she rest in peace) I only had CDs or Radio or my phone with freaking headphones. Again not the safest.
Also the Focus has bluetooth so you can use that to talk on the phone in the car which is really freaking awesome, and I loves it so much. Can I live without it? I dunno, maybe? But should I have to try?
Also, I would love to have something in Black. For the car. Yep.
So yeah, life is being a little unusual lately. I'm just waiting for the little people to come after me and try to kick my ass for my portrayal of halflings and dwarves in my story.
Or shins maybe.... I'm a horrible person for even thinking that.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Writing Prompt from Reddit
So here's the link to the Reddit page where I got the idea, it was a writing prompt.
I'll try to finish tomorrow but I'm falling asleep right now.
"I should have kept that goddamn car," thought Daniel as he walked backwards down a narrow blacktop county road. Iowa was never his favorite place, mostly because of how far it was between any of the larger cities. If you weren't in the middle of miles and miles of corn and countryside you were in the woods, or in the middle of a one-stop-sign "town" that only came by the name by virtue of the fact that there were more than 3 homes, and a bar with a name like "Scooters." He prefered places like Louisiana, or Florida. Sure there was wilderness there too, but at least the majority of "towns" had more than fifty-two residents.
Not to mention traffic. Why, seriously, did they bother to blacktop a road, when maybe one person in four hours would ever even bother to use it? And if nobody was using it, how the F*** did it manage to get so many Potholes? He was guessing meteor strikes. It had to be. This was the only place that could have so many and nobody would notice.
He realized, after thinking that, that his thoughts were rambling, and he was getting close to exhaustion. His Chicago Bulls team jersey, and grey sweatpants were already soaked with his sweat, and his backpack was at least seventy pounts. He would have to rest soon or he would pass out.
Once he got to the top of the hill - and that's another thing; how is the whole freaking state FLAT except near the Mississippi River? - Once he "mounted the summit" he dropped his heavy backpack on the ground, reached into the side pocket, and pulled out a water bottle, shaking sweat out of his face and hair. After taking a few small swallow. He put the cap back on the water, and looked at his backpack.
He couldn't help it. He was proud of himself. He pulled the bag over toward himself and unzipped it. The blonde hair poked through, and he ran his fingers through it, surprised at how silky and smooth it was. You didn't find enough people who took care of their hair these days. It was the first time he'd taken the trouble to find out what kind of Shampoo and Conditioner someone used. The other two in his pack weren't nearly as nice.
But what could you do? He'd had to really go out of his way to convince the second one, the bunette to go out into the woods with him when the blond hadn't come back yet. After that the redhead was simple, since there was no one left to be a witness.
He congratulated himself again when he heard the one thing he didn't expect, and the worst possible thing at this moment: A freaking CAR was coming. He thought about his options as he hastily stuffed the hair back into the zipper, and yanked it shut just in time for the car to show over the next hill. But now that was clear, he still needed a ride. He decided that his best option was to just concentrate on looking exhausted (not a huge struggle) and stuck his thumb out as high as he could while still sitting down.
The white SUV seemed like it was just going to thunder past, but once it got past the brake lights came on, then as the car gradualy stopped, the reverse lights came on.
Daniel stood up, and grabbed his heavy pack by the handle just as the SUV's passenger window came level with him.
The lady in the drivers seat was... Well not pretty, not ugly, just... a lady. Her hair was curly, but limp, her features were plain, but marred by acne scars. She seemed to be in her late forties, early fifties, and wore narrow glasses with a beaded chain around her neck. She was holding them up to her face now, looking at him through them, then she dropped them as she asked sweetly, "Need a ride?"
Daniel nodded and smiled. "Yes ma'am. Thanks so much for stopping."
"Aren't you Carl Roberts son?" she asked squinting at him.
"Uh... no ma'am. I'm not from around here." He didn't show it on his face, but he mentally kicked himself, thinking she might not give him a ride if she thought she didn't know him.
But she just said, "Oh," in a mildly disappointed, but mostly disinterested tone.
"Do you mind if I put my pack in your back-end? It's ah... pretty heavy."
She looked at him again, as if just noticing him again, then squinted at him. "Oh," she said as if just comrehending his question. "Uh, no, there's something back there already. Just go ahead and toss it in the backseat there."
He did, noting the smell and the sound of flies coming from the back.
"Um... mind if I ask what it is?"
She looked at him in the rear-view mirror. "Oh- my husband and his brother go deer hunting. He wanted me take this one home so he could get it cleaned up later."
"So where are you headed?" she asked.
He sighed and shrugged. "I'm not sure, is there a hotel or motel or something nearby? Preferably near a truck stop or something where I can get ride tomorrow."
She shook her head and smirked. "You know hitchhiking is illegal right?"
He smiled. "Are you gonna turn me in?"
She laughed, "Only if you promise not to turn into some kind of serial killer or something."
He grinned. "No danger there. You can't turn into something you already are." he said in a joking tone.
"Right!" she said laughing. "Well the i80 Truck stop is the biggest one in the country, and we're about a half hour from there now. And I live just on the other side of there, so I could drop you off there."
"Oh wow, that sounds perfect. I should be able to get a truck from there to pretty much anywhere."
"I would expect so," she agreed.
******
About 33 minutes later they pulled up outside the Econo Lodge. The smell had been bothering him a little, and he wondered if it was starting to smell familiar, like the smell of a dead person rather than an animal, but then he remembered that he was probably smelling the heads in his backpack, and he relaxed.
"Hey, um... I hate to ask, but when you get your room, do you mind if I come in and use the bathroom? I'm still about fifteen minutes from home, and I hate using public bathrooms."
He tried to look a little reluctant, but actually he was ecstatic. She wasn't his normal type, but she would help meet his needs. Tradition called for three in the wild, one in the private, and two in a public place.
He was a little OCD about it, borderline superstitious really. He just thought of it as his "ritual." First the heads, then the torso, and finally the arms and legs. Then they would all be fixed to a large uniform flat surface, like the side of a building or barn.
So he nodded. "I guess. Well then why don't you just wait here, then when they give me the room you can drive around the building to where it is. Then I don't have to carry around the pack."
"Sure, that's fair," she said.
He got out and went to the counter, got out his ID and credit card. He allowed himself to smile once he got inside and out of her sight.
"Room for two?" said the round little man behind the counter.
Daniel looked at him. His hair was a little messy, and his goatee was well trimmed, but didn't quite hide his neck-fat. But he noticed...
"You're not wearing a name tag," commented Daniel. It was odd, because he always called people in the service industry by their name when he could. It made them feel more comfortable with him.
"Oh sorry, I'm Benjamin, I'm the owner, so I don't normally wear a name tag. So, room for two?" he asked again in exactly the same tone as the first time.
"No Benjamin, I'm by myself."
Benjamin for his brow and nodded out the window. "Isn't that your wife in the car?" he asked. "
Oh no," said Daniel. "She's just giving me a ride."
Benjamin looked skeptical for a moment, but nodded and rang Daniel up for a single room and Handed him the key card. Daniel thanked him and went back out to the SUV, and the woman.
They drove around the side of the building until they reached his door, room number 1020. They got out, and he grabbed his pack out of the back, and went to the door and unlocked it, then stood aside to let her in.
After she went in and had gone into the bathroom and shut the door is curiosity got the better of him, and he went back out to the SUV and checked the backend. There was a tarp covering something up and some thick heavy duty plastic wrap underneath. He checked under the tarp and saw a naked male body, which had had the flesh stripped off each of its arms.
He closed the backend, and headed back into the room. He pulled open the front pouch of his pack, and pulled out a loop of wire with handles on each end. He move silently behind the door of the bathroom and waited for her to come out.
In a few moments he heard the toilet flush then a few seconds later the door opened and the woman came out of the bathroom with a knife in her hand. She was looking around for him, when he slipped up behind and quickly pulled the wire around her throat coming off air and blood flow. She struggled silently for about 25 seconds, then went completely limp.
This was a common mistake that people made, thinking that the coil would listen as soon as they went limp, Daniel held on for further 45 seconds, to ensure the job was done. Using the convenient handles now around her neck he dragged her back into the bathroom and into the shower where he dropped her body, then he turned on the shower.
This was always a huge exertion for him and always make him sweat profusely, so he took off his shirt as he started to head toward the bathroom door and was undoing his pants when he opened the door. To his surprise Benjamin was standing outside, and befor Daniel could react he felt a syringe plunge into his neck. "Oh dear," said Benjamin. "We have been unfaithful haven't we?"
Daniel felt a fire in his neck which started to spread quickly down his chest and into his arm. He felt those parts of his body going very stiff, and he started to lose control of them.
"What," he slurred out of the side of his mouth that was still working.
"Snake venom," said Benjamin with a smile. "Just what an adultering snake like you deserves.
As he crumpled to the floor, Daniel reflected once again that he hated Iowa.
I'll try to finish tomorrow but I'm falling asleep right now.
"I should have kept that goddamn car," thought Daniel as he walked backwards down a narrow blacktop county road. Iowa was never his favorite place, mostly because of how far it was between any of the larger cities. If you weren't in the middle of miles and miles of corn and countryside you were in the woods, or in the middle of a one-stop-sign "town" that only came by the name by virtue of the fact that there were more than 3 homes, and a bar with a name like "Scooters." He prefered places like Louisiana, or Florida. Sure there was wilderness there too, but at least the majority of "towns" had more than fifty-two residents.
Not to mention traffic. Why, seriously, did they bother to blacktop a road, when maybe one person in four hours would ever even bother to use it? And if nobody was using it, how the F*** did it manage to get so many Potholes? He was guessing meteor strikes. It had to be. This was the only place that could have so many and nobody would notice.
He realized, after thinking that, that his thoughts were rambling, and he was getting close to exhaustion. His Chicago Bulls team jersey, and grey sweatpants were already soaked with his sweat, and his backpack was at least seventy pounts. He would have to rest soon or he would pass out.
Once he got to the top of the hill - and that's another thing; how is the whole freaking state FLAT except near the Mississippi River? - Once he "mounted the summit" he dropped his heavy backpack on the ground, reached into the side pocket, and pulled out a water bottle, shaking sweat out of his face and hair. After taking a few small swallow. He put the cap back on the water, and looked at his backpack.
He couldn't help it. He was proud of himself. He pulled the bag over toward himself and unzipped it. The blonde hair poked through, and he ran his fingers through it, surprised at how silky and smooth it was. You didn't find enough people who took care of their hair these days. It was the first time he'd taken the trouble to find out what kind of Shampoo and Conditioner someone used. The other two in his pack weren't nearly as nice.
But what could you do? He'd had to really go out of his way to convince the second one, the bunette to go out into the woods with him when the blond hadn't come back yet. After that the redhead was simple, since there was no one left to be a witness.
He congratulated himself again when he heard the one thing he didn't expect, and the worst possible thing at this moment: A freaking CAR was coming. He thought about his options as he hastily stuffed the hair back into the zipper, and yanked it shut just in time for the car to show over the next hill. But now that was clear, he still needed a ride. He decided that his best option was to just concentrate on looking exhausted (not a huge struggle) and stuck his thumb out as high as he could while still sitting down.
The white SUV seemed like it was just going to thunder past, but once it got past the brake lights came on, then as the car gradualy stopped, the reverse lights came on.
Daniel stood up, and grabbed his heavy pack by the handle just as the SUV's passenger window came level with him.
The lady in the drivers seat was... Well not pretty, not ugly, just... a lady. Her hair was curly, but limp, her features were plain, but marred by acne scars. She seemed to be in her late forties, early fifties, and wore narrow glasses with a beaded chain around her neck. She was holding them up to her face now, looking at him through them, then she dropped them as she asked sweetly, "Need a ride?"
Daniel nodded and smiled. "Yes ma'am. Thanks so much for stopping."
"Aren't you Carl Roberts son?" she asked squinting at him.
"Uh... no ma'am. I'm not from around here." He didn't show it on his face, but he mentally kicked himself, thinking she might not give him a ride if she thought she didn't know him.
But she just said, "Oh," in a mildly disappointed, but mostly disinterested tone.
"Do you mind if I put my pack in your back-end? It's ah... pretty heavy."
She looked at him again, as if just noticing him again, then squinted at him. "Oh," she said as if just comrehending his question. "Uh, no, there's something back there already. Just go ahead and toss it in the backseat there."
He did, noting the smell and the sound of flies coming from the back.
"Um... mind if I ask what it is?"
She looked at him in the rear-view mirror. "Oh- my husband and his brother go deer hunting. He wanted me take this one home so he could get it cleaned up later."
"So where are you headed?" she asked.
He sighed and shrugged. "I'm not sure, is there a hotel or motel or something nearby? Preferably near a truck stop or something where I can get ride tomorrow."
She shook her head and smirked. "You know hitchhiking is illegal right?"
He smiled. "Are you gonna turn me in?"
She laughed, "Only if you promise not to turn into some kind of serial killer or something."
He grinned. "No danger there. You can't turn into something you already are." he said in a joking tone.
"Right!" she said laughing. "Well the i80 Truck stop is the biggest one in the country, and we're about a half hour from there now. And I live just on the other side of there, so I could drop you off there."
"Oh wow, that sounds perfect. I should be able to get a truck from there to pretty much anywhere."
"I would expect so," she agreed.
******
About 33 minutes later they pulled up outside the Econo Lodge. The smell had been bothering him a little, and he wondered if it was starting to smell familiar, like the smell of a dead person rather than an animal, but then he remembered that he was probably smelling the heads in his backpack, and he relaxed.
"Hey, um... I hate to ask, but when you get your room, do you mind if I come in and use the bathroom? I'm still about fifteen minutes from home, and I hate using public bathrooms."
He tried to look a little reluctant, but actually he was ecstatic. She wasn't his normal type, but she would help meet his needs. Tradition called for three in the wild, one in the private, and two in a public place.
He was a little OCD about it, borderline superstitious really. He just thought of it as his "ritual." First the heads, then the torso, and finally the arms and legs. Then they would all be fixed to a large uniform flat surface, like the side of a building or barn.
So he nodded. "I guess. Well then why don't you just wait here, then when they give me the room you can drive around the building to where it is. Then I don't have to carry around the pack."
"Sure, that's fair," she said.
He got out and went to the counter, got out his ID and credit card. He allowed himself to smile once he got inside and out of her sight.
"Room for two?" said the round little man behind the counter.
Daniel looked at him. His hair was a little messy, and his goatee was well trimmed, but didn't quite hide his neck-fat. But he noticed...
"You're not wearing a name tag," commented Daniel. It was odd, because he always called people in the service industry by their name when he could. It made them feel more comfortable with him.
"Oh sorry, I'm Benjamin, I'm the owner, so I don't normally wear a name tag. So, room for two?" he asked again in exactly the same tone as the first time.
"No Benjamin, I'm by myself."
Benjamin for his brow and nodded out the window. "Isn't that your wife in the car?" he asked. "
Oh no," said Daniel. "She's just giving me a ride."
Benjamin looked skeptical for a moment, but nodded and rang Daniel up for a single room and Handed him the key card. Daniel thanked him and went back out to the SUV, and the woman.
They drove around the side of the building until they reached his door, room number 1020. They got out, and he grabbed his pack out of the back, and went to the door and unlocked it, then stood aside to let her in.
After she went in and had gone into the bathroom and shut the door is curiosity got the better of him, and he went back out to the SUV and checked the backend. There was a tarp covering something up and some thick heavy duty plastic wrap underneath. He checked under the tarp and saw a naked male body, which had had the flesh stripped off each of its arms.
He closed the backend, and headed back into the room. He pulled open the front pouch of his pack, and pulled out a loop of wire with handles on each end. He move silently behind the door of the bathroom and waited for her to come out.
In a few moments he heard the toilet flush then a few seconds later the door opened and the woman came out of the bathroom with a knife in her hand. She was looking around for him, when he slipped up behind and quickly pulled the wire around her throat coming off air and blood flow. She struggled silently for about 25 seconds, then went completely limp.
This was a common mistake that people made, thinking that the coil would listen as soon as they went limp, Daniel held on for further 45 seconds, to ensure the job was done. Using the convenient handles now around her neck he dragged her back into the bathroom and into the shower where he dropped her body, then he turned on the shower.
This was always a huge exertion for him and always make him sweat profusely, so he took off his shirt as he started to head toward the bathroom door and was undoing his pants when he opened the door. To his surprise Benjamin was standing outside, and befor Daniel could react he felt a syringe plunge into his neck. "Oh dear," said Benjamin. "We have been unfaithful haven't we?"
Daniel felt a fire in his neck which started to spread quickly down his chest and into his arm. He felt those parts of his body going very stiff, and he started to lose control of them.
"What," he slurred out of the side of his mouth that was still working.
"Snake venom," said Benjamin with a smile. "Just what an adultering snake like you deserves.
As he crumpled to the floor, Daniel reflected once again that he hated Iowa.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 8 part 4
Chapter 8 part 4
“So what’s wrong sweety?” asked Miranda looking concerned. “You look kinda miserable, is everything okay?”
Pearl gave a deep sigh and brushed the hair back
over her ear, which Miranda noted was the distinct short point of a
Halfling ear. She glanced at her shoes quickly and realized she was in 5
inch platform shoes, with a heel that was about
8 inches, making her even tinier than she had appeared at first.
“Well… like I said, I don’t really have a
boyfriend… but there is this one guy, and he treats me really well… Buys
me things, takes me places, gives me money.” Miranda nodded. “But well,
sometimes….” She paused to take a deep breath. “Sometimes
he can be a little scary.” Her eyes started to fill with tears, and
Miranda was moved to lean over and rub her arm reassuringly.
“Oh Sweety, that’s terrible. I can’t imagine what
you must be going through,” she said in a commiserating tone. “That is
so hard, to have to deal with choosing between comfort or… not being
afraid.”
Pearl raised her head and looked at Miranda, her
chin quivering, and mascara running down her cheeks. She nodded, and
looked down at her hands again.
Miranda looked around and saw a tub of wet wipes on
the counter among all the make-up. She pulled it open and wiped of the
Halfling girl’s face, clearing away the mascara.
“Can’t have you looking a mess when you go out there can we? Don’t worry sweety, I’m sure things will work out.“
Pearl nodded and smiled sadly, laughing a little
through the tears. “I’d thought about going out like this actually. Guys
always seem to like it when girls seem to be all vulnerable. Like they
can save us or something.“
Miranda actually laughed at that. She hated it when
guys tried to save her, or act like they needed to break down the door
and stomp some heads. SHE was usually the one doing the stomping, and
the saving. The only one she had ever let
save her was Raul. But that wasn’t by being a total badass butt-kicker,
it was by pulling her out of herself, and giving her what she needed to
recover when she lost her leg.
"Thank you for being so nice to me. You remind me of that nice man last night." she looked regretfully down at her hands. "I think he was trying to save me too, but not like most guys. It was more like he was trying to give me a chance to save myself..." she trailed off.
Miranda was starting to have a hard time NOT losing it now, everything Pearl said reminded her of-
"But then I saw him on the news this morning, they showed his picture. They said he was in that crazy... explosion ... thingie... Over on the south side of town..."
Miranda froze. Her ears started ringing and she could feel every beat of her heart.
"Ow, Ruby."
She had to force herself to breath when she realized that her body wasn't doing it. It was almost painful to inhale, like a great weight was sitting on her chest.
"Ruby, my arm!"
When she exhaled it was ragged, but the rest of the world started to come back into focus, and she realized she was holding something, but someone was pulling it away. She let it go when she realized it was Pearls arm.
"Sorry. Uh. I'm sorry. I kinda lost it there." She blinked, and realized that her face was wet, and when she looked in the mirror she realized that her own makeup had started running down her face. Again.
"Oh, god, I wonder when it's my turn to-"
She realized that the song Cherry Pie was just about to come to an end, and the DJ's voice droned through the PA. She probably had only seconds. She turned back to Pearl.
"Listen, I have to go on like right now, but I REALLY really reallyreallyreallyreally need to talk to you when I'm done okay?" She started for the stage entrance.
"But I have to go back out, somebody asked for me..." she said plaintively.
"Just don't leave!" said Miranda. She grinned mischievously at Pearl. "I hope you were right about the eyeliner thing."
The next nine and a half minutes seemed to pass in a blur, but a few things stood out in Miranda's mind. First, was that sometime during the first song, Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry, somehow the spirits of exotic dancing moved her to tear - literally TEAR - her tank top off. Ripped right down the middle. She'd had to go back down the block, only barely able to cover herself up to get another one later.
Second was that she had kissed one of the three women sitting in front of the stage during the second song, Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days. She was pretty sure the other lady had initiated the kiss, but there was defiantly tongue involved. She'd also grabbed Miranda's right breast. She hadn't minded in that moment, but later the moment would make her sweat wondering about her own proclivities.
Third, she didn't remember climbing the pole, she only heard about it later, but at the beginning of the third song she recalled remembering just in time that she wasn't wearing underwear, so she couldn't take her camo-pants off, but she did ride them down on her hips as low as they would go without falling off, and the open mouthed faces of the guys, and the cheers of the three girls.
Lastly was the odd thin man... elf, she was almost sure, but that was based only on his build... who had walked over to where Pearl was sitting, almost directly in front of her at the stage on the lap of some biker who was with friends. The supposed elf had started to take Pearl away, and when the biker started to object, the skinny guy had said something to him, that seemed to calm him down, or at least confuse him.
Then he led Pearl outside. "No," she'd said quietly, "Oh no."
The song was coming to a close, and even before it was completely over the DJ's voice was thundering across the stage, so she scooped up the respectable pile of one dollar bills, surprised to see that there were even a few fives, and a ten as well... with lipstick on it. She looked at that bill, then over her shoulder at the woman who had kissed her. The lady winked and at her and blew her a kiss.
Miranda smiled, mimed catching it, and slapped it onto her left breast. She hurried off stage, sticking the bills into her wallet pocket. She was about to put her shirt back on, then realized that it was ripped in front. She swore quietly but slipped her arms through the holes nontheless, and tied the loose hanging bits into a knot, so they would at least cover the important bits, but she could tell it wouldn't hold for long. But as long as she could get back down the block to her van-
A loud crashing noise from the main room. The biker had a flipped his table, he and his buddy were stomping toward the door.
"Oh shit," she said, and ran after them.
The bouncer seemed to have been knocked to the ground, but seemed otherwise okay. When he saw her his eyes went wide. She feinted like he was going to kick him, and he curled up into a ball. She smirked, but didn't othrwise hurt him.
But that reminded her of something, and she bent to get something out of her "emergency" pockets on her lower calves.
Outside, the bikers were shouting something that included "respect", and "make you pay."
She stepped through the outer door, and quickly assessed the situation.The thin man had Pearl behind him, and the bikers were facing him, and away from her, which was a problem. And they were wearing leather, which was also a problem.
But she had the answer to both of those problem, didn't she?
"HEY BITCHES! LOOKING FOR THESE?" With her just-barely free fingers she grabbed the sides of the torn tank top and yanked it open.
In slow motion it seemed she watched as the second biker glanced over his shoulder, his mouth dropping open started turning toward her. The first biker looked at his buddy's face, and turned to see what he was looking at...
...and they both exposed their cotton T-shirts under their open front biker leathers.
She raised her paired weapons and aimed both, one in each hand at each of the bikers shirts. She pulled the triggers simultaneously, and 4 barbed spikes flew out towards their chests and dug in. As they did, Five Hundred Thousand volts flew down one wire on each of them, into their chests, back into the other barb, and up it's wire, straight back into her standard police issue Stun Gun.
Their bodies convulsed for a moment and they lost control of their muscles, and when she let go of the triggers the exhausted muscles went limp and they fell to the ground. She though it sounded like the first biker may have also released his bowels.
The thin man, (she thought she saw a hint of pointed ear) stared calmly at her, but never once did his eyes drop down to her chest. She raised and eyebrow at that, as she stepped toward him, narrowing her eyes.
"What do you want with her?" she asked point blank. "Are you working for her boyfriend?" She heard the second biker groan and pulled the trigger again, since the barbs were still in him. She heard a low hum, and he gurgled a little, then fell silent again.
"I need to ask her a few questions. My name is Agent Regan Florida with the DHS."
She stared at him for a moment, stunned, then after half a second's thought she said, sneering, "Bullshit. Where' your badge?"
He smirked slightly. "Suddenly everyone wants to see the badge," he said a little wryly.
They looked away from each other when they heard the car door close, and the engine start up. The car's tires spun for a moment on the pavement, then sped up the block around the corner, heading south.
"FUCK," said Miranda, as this was happening. "She's getting away!"
"In my rented car," he confirmed in a calm steady voice. "She must have picked my pocket. Fuck indeed," he said quite placidly.
She glared at him, realizing that his NOT looking at her chest was making her more self conscious than if he had been, and tying the tank top back over it. "Were you going to hurt her? ARE you going to hurt her?" she asked.
He looked at her as if he was examining her through a Microscope. So she turned it right back on him glaring right into his eyes, which stared calmly back at her.
"No." he said simply.
She believed it.
"Fine, my van's just up the block. If we hurry we might be able to ca-"
Her words were cut short by the sound of motorcycle engines coming up the block. She stopped short and looked down at the two bikers laying unconscious on the road, and flung the Stun Guns down in frustration.
"Fuck," she said frustratedly. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK."
The thin elf nodded, seeming not to have been ruffled at all. "Fuck," he said betraying no emotion whatsoever.
************************************
Miranda was leaning forward, and looked like she was getting ready to continue when Bernard interrupted her, "An that, is where I come in."
She looked like she was ready to argue the point, but rolled her eyes, and snarled, "Yeah, I suppose it is."
Bernard looked smug, and started, "Awright, so there I wos, sitting in Philly w-"
"I'm sorry," said Davin, holding an apologetic hand up to Bernard, and turning to Robert, "but you'd said rented car. Was it a Hertz?" Robert nodded. "Don't all Hertz rent-a-cars come with GPS tracking now?"
The room was quiet for a moment, then Gary smacked his forhead. "Ah my gahd, I'm such a spaz." He turned to his computer array, but spared a moment to glance at Bernard. "You might as well go ahead, this is gonna take a minute."
Bernard had looked a little annoyed, but now, mollified, he nodded graciously. "Awright then. Let me start again..."
******************************* Chapter 9 part 1
And FINALLY chapter 8 is completed. Oh. holy crap I thought this one was gonna go on forever.
Okay, I'll be taking a short rest break between chapters here to talk about other things I think, but hopefully I'll have chapter 9 at least STARTED by the end of next week.
Comments and suggestions welcome of course.
And thanks for reading!
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 8 part 3
So if any of you are wondering why I'm making this chapter so long: I have no idea, and the only reason I haven't ended this chapter and started a new on is that I'm trying to tell the story of each character in their own Chapter. But since this is only the second character to tell their story, it might come to pass that
Okay, by the time I reached the end of this post I was halfway to la-la-landm, so I hope it makes sense. I'll look at it again tomorrow for now, I'm 'bout to pass out, so time to shower and get my butt to bed.
Comments and suggestions etc
Thanks for Reading.
*********************************
Chapter 8 part 3
The whole place seemed to be lit only by red light and black light except for the big grounded stage right in the front dead center, which was barely higher than the floor, with a protective padded wall around it, and a pole at the center, and about 15 cushioned swiveling half-barrel chairs, all around it. Small round tables with about four or so metal framed chairs each were scattered around the room, with the bar on the far right hand side, and wooden booths along the back and left hand sides. The ones on the left formed a kind of wall, behind which were rooms marked “The Emerald Room and The Sapphire Room, and the opening that led back to them showed a sign that said “Private Dances: $25”
The DJ booth with set of the across from the stage behind the booths in a little room with glass windows and a small white light on inside. As the epic ending guitar solo of Money by Pink Floyd died away the DJ picked up his microphone and said, in that fast announcement voice that's all DJs use in strip clubs around the world, “Alright let's give it up for Kendall. Alright, Kendall. Remember that any of our lovely ladies will be happy to dance for you privately for the low low price of $25, get them while they're hot hot hot. Coming up to the stage next we have newcomer Candy so make some noise and show her some love."
The girl Miranda took for ‘Kendall’ gathered up all the singles, along with her skirt, skimpy bra, and halter top, and blew kisses to all the guys gathered around the stage, who whistled and applauded, but didn’t otherwise make a huge fuss. She smirked, and shook her head.
When women went to see male strippers there were hoots and cat-calls, and dancing and a general rowdiness. But it seemed when guys watched a female stripper, they sat almost motionless, just staring slack-jawed. There were a few women there too, sitting next to their men and acting a little more animated, dancing in their chairs. Most women could handle seeing other women get naked, and even see their men get their faces pressed into cleavage, but men always looked away from other naked dudes, and got practically homicidal if they saw another dude rubbing up against their women. Hypocrisy, on an epic scale, but useful to know in a situation like this.
The back of the flier had a space for 3 songs and a stage name. After a moment’s thought she jotted down 3 songs, and name, and took it to the DJ booth, knocked on the glass, and slid the flier in the small opening. The DJ, without bothering to look at her, took the flier and looked at it, nodding mutely. He pointed toward the maroon blackout curtain to the left of the stage. She went through into a dimly lit room where a few girls were busy putting on makeup, or rubbing on oil, or sprinkling glitter. A few were in the process of putting skimpy clothes back on, and heading back through the curtain.
But one girl, a petite little thing, no more than 5’ 2” and maybe 98 lbs except for the 5 pounds of silicon bolted to her chest, was sitting on one of the stools in front of the mirror, with her head down, shaking silently with sobs, Miranda realized. Looking around, she noticed that nobody else was paying her any attention, and in fact they seemed to go out of their way to avoid her. She pulled a little makeup case out of one of her many cargo pockets, and moved over to the un-occupied stool next to the crying girl.
“Oh. My. GAWD Iamsonervous,” Miranda breathed at the girl all in one breath, and started applying makeup, while keeping up a constant stream of chatter. “Are you regular here? How do you DO it? Like, I’m here on a dare from my girlfriends, and I have to bring back all the sweaty dollar bills as proof, but to be honest this was on my bucket list anyway, like YOLO, I mean with MY chest, I am totally surprised I haven’t done it earlier. How long have you been here?" she stopped talking abruptly, still going about putting on her makeup apparently oblivious to anything and waited. The girl looked up, and glanced at Miranda, but looked away again very quickly. Just as she started to look like she was holding back an answer, Miranda started again.
"Oh, are you here for amateur night TOO? You could SO totally be a real stripper with a rack like yours, I thought about getting mine done but it was SO expensive, and it's not like I'd ever show them to just anyone, but I guess I am tonight huh? But like all the time, I mean it's not like I'm a slut or anything, I just like it when guys notice, so I wonder if that means I SHOULD go through with it, are you glad you got yours?" The girls eyes, glistening with tears blinked in confusion a few times. She glanced down at her own chest, and over at Miranda's in the mirror, as Miranda leaned forward to apply some lipstick, letting her cleavage come together. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but Miranda started again.
"But of COURSE I can't afford it on what I make, and I don't think they'd like it too much if I used my student loans to get a boob-job, I don't think it's a major qualification of marine biology, but it couldn't hurt, I mean there is this one really cute guy Alphonzo in my class right, and I SWEAR he's always checking out my rack, like he thinks I don't notice, but that's okay, because I know he can't see it when I check out his ass when he sits in front of me in class, Hoo Boy, is it a fine one too, like that guy from Boogie Nights who pulls out his fake thingie at the end on the blueray or whatever, cause THAT thing couldn't have been real, no way, but That ASS? Omigawd I would just like to smack it, and bite a big hunk out of it. So does your boyfriend know you're here?"
This got a moderate response.
"He- I mean I d- I don't have a... Boyfriend. Right now. I mean."
She looked flustered, and was preparing for another onslaught from Miranda, but Miranda just sat and grinned at her mischievously.
"Ruby," she said sticking out her hand.
The smaller girl giggled weakly, and returned the handshake. "Pearl," she said.
Miranda laughed. "What is 'Two things that look pretty on a pendant!"
Though Pearl looked on the verge of exhaustion, and her eye makeup was runny, she laughed too.
********************************* Chapter 8 part 4
Okay, by the time I reached the end of this post I was halfway to la-la-landm, so I hope it makes sense. I'll look at it again tomorrow for now, I'm 'bout to pass out, so time to shower and get my butt to bed.
Comments and suggestions etc
Thanks for Reading.
*********************************
Chapter 8 part 3
The whole place seemed to be lit only by red light and black light except for the big grounded stage right in the front dead center, which was barely higher than the floor, with a protective padded wall around it, and a pole at the center, and about 15 cushioned swiveling half-barrel chairs, all around it. Small round tables with about four or so metal framed chairs each were scattered around the room, with the bar on the far right hand side, and wooden booths along the back and left hand sides. The ones on the left formed a kind of wall, behind which were rooms marked “The Emerald Room and The Sapphire Room, and the opening that led back to them showed a sign that said “Private Dances: $25”
The DJ booth with set of the across from the stage behind the booths in a little room with glass windows and a small white light on inside. As the epic ending guitar solo of Money by Pink Floyd died away the DJ picked up his microphone and said, in that fast announcement voice that's all DJs use in strip clubs around the world, “Alright let's give it up for Kendall. Alright, Kendall. Remember that any of our lovely ladies will be happy to dance for you privately for the low low price of $25, get them while they're hot hot hot. Coming up to the stage next we have newcomer Candy so make some noise and show her some love."
The girl Miranda took for ‘Kendall’ gathered up all the singles, along with her skirt, skimpy bra, and halter top, and blew kisses to all the guys gathered around the stage, who whistled and applauded, but didn’t otherwise make a huge fuss. She smirked, and shook her head.
When women went to see male strippers there were hoots and cat-calls, and dancing and a general rowdiness. But it seemed when guys watched a female stripper, they sat almost motionless, just staring slack-jawed. There were a few women there too, sitting next to their men and acting a little more animated, dancing in their chairs. Most women could handle seeing other women get naked, and even see their men get their faces pressed into cleavage, but men always looked away from other naked dudes, and got practically homicidal if they saw another dude rubbing up against their women. Hypocrisy, on an epic scale, but useful to know in a situation like this.
The back of the flier had a space for 3 songs and a stage name. After a moment’s thought she jotted down 3 songs, and name, and took it to the DJ booth, knocked on the glass, and slid the flier in the small opening. The DJ, without bothering to look at her, took the flier and looked at it, nodding mutely. He pointed toward the maroon blackout curtain to the left of the stage. She went through into a dimly lit room where a few girls were busy putting on makeup, or rubbing on oil, or sprinkling glitter. A few were in the process of putting skimpy clothes back on, and heading back through the curtain.
But one girl, a petite little thing, no more than 5’ 2” and maybe 98 lbs except for the 5 pounds of silicon bolted to her chest, was sitting on one of the stools in front of the mirror, with her head down, shaking silently with sobs, Miranda realized. Looking around, she noticed that nobody else was paying her any attention, and in fact they seemed to go out of their way to avoid her. She pulled a little makeup case out of one of her many cargo pockets, and moved over to the un-occupied stool next to the crying girl.
“Oh. My. GAWD Iamsonervous,” Miranda breathed at the girl all in one breath, and started applying makeup, while keeping up a constant stream of chatter. “Are you regular here? How do you DO it? Like, I’m here on a dare from my girlfriends, and I have to bring back all the sweaty dollar bills as proof, but to be honest this was on my bucket list anyway, like YOLO, I mean with MY chest, I am totally surprised I haven’t done it earlier. How long have you been here?" she stopped talking abruptly, still going about putting on her makeup apparently oblivious to anything and waited. The girl looked up, and glanced at Miranda, but looked away again very quickly. Just as she started to look like she was holding back an answer, Miranda started again.
"Oh, are you here for amateur night TOO? You could SO totally be a real stripper with a rack like yours, I thought about getting mine done but it was SO expensive, and it's not like I'd ever show them to just anyone, but I guess I am tonight huh? But like all the time, I mean it's not like I'm a slut or anything, I just like it when guys notice, so I wonder if that means I SHOULD go through with it, are you glad you got yours?" The girls eyes, glistening with tears blinked in confusion a few times. She glanced down at her own chest, and over at Miranda's in the mirror, as Miranda leaned forward to apply some lipstick, letting her cleavage come together. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but Miranda started again.
"But of COURSE I can't afford it on what I make, and I don't think they'd like it too much if I used my student loans to get a boob-job, I don't think it's a major qualification of marine biology, but it couldn't hurt, I mean there is this one really cute guy Alphonzo in my class right, and I SWEAR he's always checking out my rack, like he thinks I don't notice, but that's okay, because I know he can't see it when I check out his ass when he sits in front of me in class, Hoo Boy, is it a fine one too, like that guy from Boogie Nights who pulls out his fake thingie at the end on the blueray or whatever, cause THAT thing couldn't have been real, no way, but That ASS? Omigawd I would just like to smack it, and bite a big hunk out of it. So does your boyfriend know you're here?"
This got a moderate response.
"He- I mean I d- I don't have a... Boyfriend. Right now. I mean."
She looked flustered, and was preparing for another onslaught from Miranda, but Miranda just sat and grinned at her mischievously.
"Ruby," she said sticking out her hand.
The smaller girl giggled weakly, and returned the handshake. "Pearl," she said.
Miranda laughed. "What is 'Two things that look pretty on a pendant!"
Though Pearl looked on the verge of exhaustion, and her eye makeup was runny, she laughed too.
********************************* Chapter 8 part 4
Magic World (working title): Chapter 8 part 2
Chapter 8 continued:
Ten minutes later she pulled up outside a dirty little
white building with no windows, and nearly no signage, apart from an old
beat up stand up sign, the kind that was supposed to light up on the
inside, and had an arrow on top that pointed to whatever it was
advertising. This one though wasn't just yellowing, it was practically
brown.
The sign said, "LIVE TOPLESS GIRLS, 2 FOR 1 BEERS AFTER 10 PM, TONIGHT IS AMATURE NIGHT."
'Of course,' thought Miranda ruefully. 'It just had to be
a strip club.'
It was early afternoon and already there were a good
number of vehicles in the lot. Something about the chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire told her it would not be a bad
idea to park there, so she drove up the block and around the corner by this little brick building with a hanging sign that said RC: YOUNG MEN'S CLUB about a block away.
When she made her way back to the club she went in through the first set of doors and into a small alcove where a bouncer was taking cover charges. He took one look at her and said, "Boy I guess I know why you're here." He looked slowly up and down wanting to take time. "You must be here to-"
"-Get information," she said, making her disdain for him clear.
His face fell and he stood up a little straighter suddenly looking at her with great distaste. "Oh," he said. "Well I'm 'fraid I'm not very good at rememberin thangs." Then he leered at her. "Least not without a bit of... motivation." He smirked salaciously.
She shook her head and reached for her wallet thinking to just pay the damn cover charge and realized that she didn't actually have any cash on hand, just her debit card. She sighed heavily.
"I don't suppose you have an ATM machine here do you?"
He grinned cockily again and nodded his head toward a run-down beat up little machine that once might have been an ATM about a hundred year ago.
"Sorry," he said. "An' the next nearest one's clean 'cross town. But uh... I know how's you can make some quick cash." he licked his lip, looking her slowly over again.
Her temper flared, and her lip curled into a snarl and she stalked towards him. Surprised, he tried to back away from her forgetting that he was up against the wall. Her hand shot out and grabbed...
...One of the amateur night flyers on the wall. She ripped away in one clean yank and walked to the other end of the alcove, reading it, then she turned back to him. He flinched away again, which she found amusing, seeing that she was about one quarter her size. This thought cheered her greatly and suddenly she turned very perky and bubbly again.
"Okay," she said. "I guess I can do this." She skipped past him through the darkened glass inner door, and into the cloud of heavy bass music, but paused before going through. She leaned over to the Bouncer, smiling, and whispered in his ear. "Oh, but if I catch you watching me..." she pulled an electric stun-gun out of one her pockets and gave it a quick press of the trigger. The spark leaped between the posts, snapping and buzzing. "..I'll taze you till you piss blood," she whispered playfully. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and skipped through the door giggling.
******************************* Chapter 8 part 3
Damn, still not done with this chapter. I'm going to have to get a word count, 'cause this is really getting long. I think it might be that I just really like this character. (BTW the spelling of Amateur above is intentional.)
Also I think I might have to consider slowing my output a bit. I've been stressing about this a lot, and it's taking up a lot of time which has also been stressing my wife out, so I owe it to her to slow things down a little.
Found this picture of a model called Charlotte Free (click the pic for the source):
She has more or less the right face and hair, and possibly makeup, but she's WAY to skinny to be Miranda. Physically, I'm thinking more like this (click the pic for the source) :
Or maybe this (ditto) :
When she made her way back to the club she went in through the first set of doors and into a small alcove where a bouncer was taking cover charges. He took one look at her and said, "Boy I guess I know why you're here." He looked slowly up and down wanting to take time. "You must be here to-"
"-Get information," she said, making her disdain for him clear.
His face fell and he stood up a little straighter suddenly looking at her with great distaste. "Oh," he said. "Well I'm 'fraid I'm not very good at rememberin thangs." Then he leered at her. "Least not without a bit of... motivation." He smirked salaciously.
She shook her head and reached for her wallet thinking to just pay the damn cover charge and realized that she didn't actually have any cash on hand, just her debit card. She sighed heavily.
"I don't suppose you have an ATM machine here do you?"
He grinned cockily again and nodded his head toward a run-down beat up little machine that once might have been an ATM about a hundred year ago.
"Sorry," he said. "An' the next nearest one's clean 'cross town. But uh... I know how's you can make some quick cash." he licked his lip, looking her slowly over again.
Her temper flared, and her lip curled into a snarl and she stalked towards him. Surprised, he tried to back away from her forgetting that he was up against the wall. Her hand shot out and grabbed...
...One of the amateur night flyers on the wall. She ripped away in one clean yank and walked to the other end of the alcove, reading it, then she turned back to him. He flinched away again, which she found amusing, seeing that she was about one quarter her size. This thought cheered her greatly and suddenly she turned very perky and bubbly again.
"Okay," she said. "I guess I can do this." She skipped past him through the darkened glass inner door, and into the cloud of heavy bass music, but paused before going through. She leaned over to the Bouncer, smiling, and whispered in his ear. "Oh, but if I catch you watching me..." she pulled an electric stun-gun out of one her pockets and gave it a quick press of the trigger. The spark leaped between the posts, snapping and buzzing. "..I'll taze you till you piss blood," she whispered playfully. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and skipped through the door giggling.
******************************* Chapter 8 part 3
Damn, still not done with this chapter. I'm going to have to get a word count, 'cause this is really getting long. I think it might be that I just really like this character. (BTW the spelling of Amateur above is intentional.)
Also I think I might have to consider slowing my output a bit. I've been stressing about this a lot, and it's taking up a lot of time which has also been stressing my wife out, so I owe it to her to slow things down a little.
Found this picture of a model called Charlotte Free (click the pic for the source):
She has more or less the right face and hair, and possibly makeup, but she's WAY to skinny to be Miranda. Physically, I'm thinking more like this (click the pic for the source) :
It's all in the thighs and hips here, and probably the shoulders... and *ahem* other attributes.
Anyway, if anyone is able to find me a picture of a girl that is a good amalgamation of these girls, feel free to send it my way.
Comments and suggestions are always welcome.
Thanks for reading!
***BTW I don't own any of these pics, I'm just borrowing them as examples, so please don't sue me.***
Thanks for reading!
***BTW I don't own any of these pics, I'm just borrowing them as examples, so please don't sue me.***
Monday, October 14, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 8 part 1
No glib comments tonight, just right into the chapter.
**************************
Chapter 8:
Miranda laced up her skates preparing for the roller derby, careful of her left foot. She had to make sure the laces on that one were tight enough since she couldn't feel that one, but it wasn't too difficult. She hummed a little tune, "My Sharona" out of tune and bounced as she chewed her bubblegum and blew a bubble, her pink pigtails bobbing and swinging wildly.
She stood up and stretched, enjoying the attention she got from the guys who worked at the roller rink. But they were too easy. All she had to do was bat her eyes and jiggle her boobs, and smile, and they fell all over themselves. But they also expected her to just fall into bed with them too, they didn't ever want to WORK for it. What she wouldn't give for a challenge.
Oh well, that just meant spending more time alone at home with BOB, her Battery Operated Boyfriend.
She got out onto the rink floor and started in on some laps while pulling her special helmet on over her head. It had special holes for her pigtails to come out, or so everyone thought. She had pulled her pigtails through there at one time it was true, but now she tucked them up under the helmet and pulled through the decoys.
Once, and only once, someone tried to pull her down by the pigtails, but from that point forward if anyone did grab at them all they would get was a handful of fake hair, which usually caused them to lose balance and fall, and cause a pile up.
That thought made her smile, and she rolled past the speaker just as the song ended and the radio came on.
"That was My Sharona, by the Knack. WNCX time is 9:22 am, and we have a breaking news story. A few hours ago a bomb blast woke the residents of Terre Haute, Indiana. Nobody's really sure what happened, Terrorist attack, accident, or car bomb, the cops aren't talking, and even the feds won't say what they think just yet. The only info we have so far is that the blast happened in Storage Park, which was owned by a guy named Raul Moo-ee-res... Muyres."
Miranda's face froze, and spun around and she stared at the speaker.
"But they're not saying if he's the cause, or just a victim, because I guess he was caught in the blast, and doesn't appear to have made it."
She gasped dropped down, sitting on her heels, her hands covering her mouth and nose in a state of shock, and the tears coming unbidden. Her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her butt, and rolled onto her back, crying silently now, mascara smearing down her cheeks.
It was about a minute before she could gather herself up. She pulled off her skates, and headed to the locker room in her stocking feet. She knew that the boys there were watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that right now. It was time to hat-up and put on her ass-stomping boots.
She pulled them on, the ones she had worn through two tours... before...
She ran her hand over the soft silicon gel, which felt smooth to the touch, like silk. The straps went around the upper part of her knee. They had chaffed at first, now she barely felt them. She noticed more when they weren't there than when they were. The silicon folded up over the knee such that you could barely even tell anything was there. It was even colored the same as her skin. The only thing missing was the tattoos.
The knee hinges, the ankle hinges, even the toes. They all moved with perfect grace and precision, so smoothly, and it was like they seemed to know when they needed to flex. The exact mechanism was a mystery to her, but it seemed to just have an equal an opposite reaction to whatever she did. It gave back whatever she gave to it.
The prosthetic was a part of her, it almost felt more natural than... clothes. Or her boots. Or her pink hair. She finished dressing and looked at her self in the locker room mirror, which was broken. It still gave her a pretty good view though. She cleaned off the mascara, and she had her pink and white camo pants on, which were baggy, and full of pockets, all of which had a little somethin' something' for a rainy day. Her tattoos covered both arms, neck, shoulders and across her back, but there were bruises marring all those areas too, from throwing them into other skaters in the rink.
She checked her account balance on her phone, which showed the deposit from her last job in Mexico, helping the Policía push back the gangs and drug runners, to keep the cities safe, and take them back one at a time.
She sent a text to the team captain, explained this was an emergency, a death in the family (which was true in her own mind,) got directions to Terre Haute, jumped into her cargo van, painted with Hello Kitty and skulls, and took off.
The GPS said she should make it in about 6 1/2 hours, but she made it in 5 1/2. But during the ride her mind raced... what would she do when got there?
She thought back to all the conversations they had while she was in the Hospital after losing her leg, when he was measuring, and testing flex and force, and having her push against the pressure sensors, and pull on weights and rubber bands, testing her. She had thought it was some goofy form of therapy, and went along with it.
But he's talked about so many things, but mostly about art. About DiVinci and Michaelangelo... about hidden meanings, and about how Mona Lisa was actually a self portrait, and how DiVinci had actually designed prosthetics for various limbs, but had never been able to have them made, and that this design, her design, had been based on some of the sketches, but with ergonomics in mind, and with a few secret magical touches....
She thought about that for a moment. She'd thought he'd meant "magical" in the common sense that they had been amazing, or clever. But it occurred to her now that he might have meant that he had used actual magic in their construction. Of course most fabrication techniques involved some kind of metaphysical manipulations, but maybe he'd meant that he'd put a little something extra in... Magic... Art.
Magic AS Art? She'd seen displays and things that used Magic to pull off some spectacular looking effects...
She Googled "Art, Magic, Terre Haute" and the first thing that came up was Halcyon Art Gallery, which was having a show called MetaPhysical, the Art of using Magic to create Art. All kinds of different artistic representations of Magic, people's perceptions of Magic, and Magic used to create art would be on display.
This sounded promising to her. She set her GPS, and arrived there shortly thereafter.
Halcyon was practically just a little shop set into the surrounding buildings, similar to any Midwest shops except for the large round sculpture set into concrete out in front. She parked the van in the blacktop parking lot across the street, and jogged across the street.
The interior of the building was all one singular room, pure white, except where the displays were being shown along the walls and in an aisle down the middle. But Miranda didn't have a lot of time for any of that. She found an official looking lady, and walked up to her pulling out her phone.
"Hi," she said.
The lady was dressed in a dark jacket and dark skirt, with her hair pulled tightly up into a bun, and severe looking glasses, which were on a chain around her neck. Her brows furrowed as she looked over Miranda's pink ensemble, pink hair, and combat boots, and she said, as if it were against her better judgement, "Mm... Yes?"
Miranda glanced up at her from her phone, and let a little of the pain she'd been shielding away come back for just a moment to show on her face. "Yeah, hi. So uuummm..." she started, letting her voice shake, and her chin tremble just a bit. She glanced up at the ceiling then back at the lady as if trying to hold it together as she said, "I was wondering if you could help me?" She gave a little smile, and sniffled a bit.
The lady began to lose her severe disapproving attitude for just a moment, recognizing a fellow girl in need of emotional support. "Of course sweetie," she said touching Miranda's arm, and putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on," she asked sympathetically.
"Well, an old friend of mine was here in town, but I heard something on the news, and... Well... do you know this guy?" She showed him the picture of Raul, the low-res one she had used as his contact picture.
The lady gasped. "Oh my goodness of course, yes!" Miranda's heart jumped. "Mister Muyres was well known to me, we have spoken many times on the phone. Oh," she said gushing a little, "He was your friend? He is a little older, but were you two... you know... "
Miranda took a second to catch on, then said, "What? No! Oh no, GOD no. I'm pretty sure he was gay. But he did make this for me." And she reached down and pulled up her pant-leg, showing this lady her prosthetic leg."
"Ooooooh!" said the lady drawing out the word to show how sweet she thought this was.
"Yeah, and then I heard he'd been killed in..." Miranda's voice had gone higher and higher as she went through that sentence, till finally her voice was just a series of incoherent squeeks, which the lady apparently understood. She led Miranda to a row of benches between the exhibits and sat her down.
"Oh dearie, I'm so sorry. The Poli- OH! By the way, I'm Celia Fry."
"Miranda Herrera," she said in a still high pitched voice.
"Hi Miranda. Well anyway, the Police, the FBI, and for some reason even the CIA have all been here with questions, and I told them that without a warrant I cannot violate the privacy of our clients." Celia looked around conspiritorialy. "But I can say that he was supposed to be meeting one of my other clients at a place called Club Koyote, over in West T.H."
Miranda gasped. "Do you know who? Or why?"
Celia shook her head. "I can't really tell you anything about the other client unfortunately..." she sighed and looked a little sad herself, and started crying a bit herself. "I'm not even supposed to give you any information on Mr Muyres either, but seeing..*sob* as he's not *sob*here to object..."
They sat and cried together for a few moments, and compared notes about how they'd met Raul and , and little entertaining tidbits, and Miranda showed Celia her prosthetic leg, which Celia dutifully Ooo'ed and Aahhh'd over.
************************** Chapter 8 part 2
Okay have to stop there for now, running out of time tonight, so I'll have to finish the rest tomorrow, and hopefully get a start on Chapter 9. Just when you think you're getting ahead!
Anyway, comments and suggestions, welcome, welcome, welcome.
Thanks for Reading!
**************************
Chapter 8:
Miranda laced up her skates preparing for the roller derby, careful of her left foot. She had to make sure the laces on that one were tight enough since she couldn't feel that one, but it wasn't too difficult. She hummed a little tune, "My Sharona" out of tune and bounced as she chewed her bubblegum and blew a bubble, her pink pigtails bobbing and swinging wildly.
She stood up and stretched, enjoying the attention she got from the guys who worked at the roller rink. But they were too easy. All she had to do was bat her eyes and jiggle her boobs, and smile, and they fell all over themselves. But they also expected her to just fall into bed with them too, they didn't ever want to WORK for it. What she wouldn't give for a challenge.
Oh well, that just meant spending more time alone at home with BOB, her Battery Operated Boyfriend.
She got out onto the rink floor and started in on some laps while pulling her special helmet on over her head. It had special holes for her pigtails to come out, or so everyone thought. She had pulled her pigtails through there at one time it was true, but now she tucked them up under the helmet and pulled through the decoys.
Once, and only once, someone tried to pull her down by the pigtails, but from that point forward if anyone did grab at them all they would get was a handful of fake hair, which usually caused them to lose balance and fall, and cause a pile up.
That thought made her smile, and she rolled past the speaker just as the song ended and the radio came on.
"That was My Sharona, by the Knack. WNCX time is 9:22 am, and we have a breaking news story. A few hours ago a bomb blast woke the residents of Terre Haute, Indiana. Nobody's really sure what happened, Terrorist attack, accident, or car bomb, the cops aren't talking, and even the feds won't say what they think just yet. The only info we have so far is that the blast happened in Storage Park, which was owned by a guy named Raul Moo-ee-res... Muyres."
Miranda's face froze, and spun around and she stared at the speaker.
"But they're not saying if he's the cause, or just a victim, because I guess he was caught in the blast, and doesn't appear to have made it."
She gasped dropped down, sitting on her heels, her hands covering her mouth and nose in a state of shock, and the tears coming unbidden. Her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her butt, and rolled onto her back, crying silently now, mascara smearing down her cheeks.
It was about a minute before she could gather herself up. She pulled off her skates, and headed to the locker room in her stocking feet. She knew that the boys there were watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that right now. It was time to hat-up and put on her ass-stomping boots.
She pulled them on, the ones she had worn through two tours... before...
She ran her hand over the soft silicon gel, which felt smooth to the touch, like silk. The straps went around the upper part of her knee. They had chaffed at first, now she barely felt them. She noticed more when they weren't there than when they were. The silicon folded up over the knee such that you could barely even tell anything was there. It was even colored the same as her skin. The only thing missing was the tattoos.
The knee hinges, the ankle hinges, even the toes. They all moved with perfect grace and precision, so smoothly, and it was like they seemed to know when they needed to flex. The exact mechanism was a mystery to her, but it seemed to just have an equal an opposite reaction to whatever she did. It gave back whatever she gave to it.
The prosthetic was a part of her, it almost felt more natural than... clothes. Or her boots. Or her pink hair. She finished dressing and looked at her self in the locker room mirror, which was broken. It still gave her a pretty good view though. She cleaned off the mascara, and she had her pink and white camo pants on, which were baggy, and full of pockets, all of which had a little somethin' something' for a rainy day. Her tattoos covered both arms, neck, shoulders and across her back, but there were bruises marring all those areas too, from throwing them into other skaters in the rink.
She checked her account balance on her phone, which showed the deposit from her last job in Mexico, helping the Policía push back the gangs and drug runners, to keep the cities safe, and take them back one at a time.
She sent a text to the team captain, explained this was an emergency, a death in the family (which was true in her own mind,) got directions to Terre Haute, jumped into her cargo van, painted with Hello Kitty and skulls, and took off.
The GPS said she should make it in about 6 1/2 hours, but she made it in 5 1/2. But during the ride her mind raced... what would she do when got there?
She thought back to all the conversations they had while she was in the Hospital after losing her leg, when he was measuring, and testing flex and force, and having her push against the pressure sensors, and pull on weights and rubber bands, testing her. She had thought it was some goofy form of therapy, and went along with it.
But he's talked about so many things, but mostly about art. About DiVinci and Michaelangelo... about hidden meanings, and about how Mona Lisa was actually a self portrait, and how DiVinci had actually designed prosthetics for various limbs, but had never been able to have them made, and that this design, her design, had been based on some of the sketches, but with ergonomics in mind, and with a few secret magical touches....
She thought about that for a moment. She'd thought he'd meant "magical" in the common sense that they had been amazing, or clever. But it occurred to her now that he might have meant that he had used actual magic in their construction. Of course most fabrication techniques involved some kind of metaphysical manipulations, but maybe he'd meant that he'd put a little something extra in... Magic... Art.
Magic AS Art? She'd seen displays and things that used Magic to pull off some spectacular looking effects...
She Googled "Art, Magic, Terre Haute" and the first thing that came up was Halcyon Art Gallery, which was having a show called MetaPhysical, the Art of using Magic to create Art. All kinds of different artistic representations of Magic, people's perceptions of Magic, and Magic used to create art would be on display.
This sounded promising to her. She set her GPS, and arrived there shortly thereafter.
Halcyon was practically just a little shop set into the surrounding buildings, similar to any Midwest shops except for the large round sculpture set into concrete out in front. She parked the van in the blacktop parking lot across the street, and jogged across the street.
The interior of the building was all one singular room, pure white, except where the displays were being shown along the walls and in an aisle down the middle. But Miranda didn't have a lot of time for any of that. She found an official looking lady, and walked up to her pulling out her phone.
"Hi," she said.
The lady was dressed in a dark jacket and dark skirt, with her hair pulled tightly up into a bun, and severe looking glasses, which were on a chain around her neck. Her brows furrowed as she looked over Miranda's pink ensemble, pink hair, and combat boots, and she said, as if it were against her better judgement, "Mm... Yes?"
Miranda glanced up at her from her phone, and let a little of the pain she'd been shielding away come back for just a moment to show on her face. "Yeah, hi. So uuummm..." she started, letting her voice shake, and her chin tremble just a bit. She glanced up at the ceiling then back at the lady as if trying to hold it together as she said, "I was wondering if you could help me?" She gave a little smile, and sniffled a bit.
The lady began to lose her severe disapproving attitude for just a moment, recognizing a fellow girl in need of emotional support. "Of course sweetie," she said touching Miranda's arm, and putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on," she asked sympathetically.
"Well, an old friend of mine was here in town, but I heard something on the news, and... Well... do you know this guy?" She showed him the picture of Raul, the low-res one she had used as his contact picture.
The lady gasped. "Oh my goodness of course, yes!" Miranda's heart jumped. "Mister Muyres was well known to me, we have spoken many times on the phone. Oh," she said gushing a little, "He was your friend? He is a little older, but were you two... you know... "
Miranda took a second to catch on, then said, "What? No! Oh no, GOD no. I'm pretty sure he was gay. But he did make this for me." And she reached down and pulled up her pant-leg, showing this lady her prosthetic leg."
"Ooooooh!" said the lady drawing out the word to show how sweet she thought this was.
"Yeah, and then I heard he'd been killed in..." Miranda's voice had gone higher and higher as she went through that sentence, till finally her voice was just a series of incoherent squeeks, which the lady apparently understood. She led Miranda to a row of benches between the exhibits and sat her down.
"Oh dearie, I'm so sorry. The Poli- OH! By the way, I'm Celia Fry."
"Miranda Herrera," she said in a still high pitched voice.
"Hi Miranda. Well anyway, the Police, the FBI, and for some reason even the CIA have all been here with questions, and I told them that without a warrant I cannot violate the privacy of our clients." Celia looked around conspiritorialy. "But I can say that he was supposed to be meeting one of my other clients at a place called Club Koyote, over in West T.H."
Miranda gasped. "Do you know who? Or why?"
Celia shook her head. "I can't really tell you anything about the other client unfortunately..." she sighed and looked a little sad herself, and started crying a bit herself. "I'm not even supposed to give you any information on Mr Muyres either, but seeing..*sob* as he's not *sob*here to object..."
They sat and cried together for a few moments, and compared notes about how they'd met Raul and , and little entertaining tidbits, and Miranda showed Celia her prosthetic leg, which Celia dutifully Ooo'ed and Aahhh'd over.
************************** Chapter 8 part 2
Okay have to stop there for now, running out of time tonight, so I'll have to finish the rest tomorrow, and hopefully get a start on Chapter 9. Just when you think you're getting ahead!
Anyway, comments and suggestions, welcome, welcome, welcome.
Thanks for Reading!
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Magic World (working title): Chapter 7
Hey all.
So it's been a little difficult to write while I've been unable to see very well. You'd think that all the time off work would give me plenty of time, but apparently not. I've been spending most of my time with my contacts out and finding stuff to do on my phone, which is the only thing I can get to close enough range to see. But with that, here's the next chapter.
******************************
Chapter 7
Richard G Dean was in the middle of a book tour, and had just finished signing about 200 copies of his self help book "The Inner You: A guide to discovering what it is you truly want," and in his car on the way to a 5 star hotel in Miami when the news came over the radio.
"...And news out of Terre Haute Indiana today, experts think that a terrorist attack is responsible for the explosion that rocked the small college town. It's unknown whether this was a directed attack or the preparation for an attack gone wrong, but police and FBI are looking into it. The explosion occurred in a storage unit in the South part of town, and the unit in question was owned by one Raul Muyres- I hope I'm pronouncing that right. Neither the police nor the FBI are saying whether Mr... Muyres ... was involved with the bombing, but are investigating every angle."
Richard, aka Robert, who had let his guard down, and let his own persona show through had slowed down on the Dolphin Expressway, and pulled over to the side once Raul's name was mentioned. The name brought back many memories, and emotions that he had not genuinely felt for a long time. Robert never had real emotions. They said this was the mark of a Sociopath, but Robert knew what that was, and had never felt himself in that category. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that if he was a Sociopath he was a very high functioning one. He was manipulative, this was true, but he'd discovered a long time ago that manipulating people in a way that helped them yeilded far greater benefits than just a short term manipulation which led to their eventual destruction. He had grown rich selling self help to the masses, self help that was mostly rhetoric, but there was some good advice in his books if one took the time to read them.
But the emotions that he denied were brought back to the fore upon hearing Raul's name. Love, fear, sadness, and thought the radio had never specifically said it, loss, as he was certain that Raul was killed in the blast.
He shifted the car into gear, making up his mind on the spot, and causing several cars behind him to blare their horns in protest. He went to the hotel, and gathered his things, and checked out early. The desk clerk reminded him that he had paid for the whole week in advance, and that would not be refunded.
Robert didn't care.It was only money.
He boarded the first plane for which he had to wait 2 hours, then the flight took another 2 hours 45 minutes to reach Indianapolis, then he rented a car, and drove a further hour and a half to get to Terre Haute. He arrived directly at the site of the blast at about four o'clock, about 10 hours after it had actually occurred. He drove up to the gate, which was still blocked by police cars, and got out of the car, looking for all the world, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
However the first officer he reached had a combination of stupidity and stubbornness that was altogether too common in small town police, in Robert's opinion.
"Whoa there chief, where do you think you're going?" he said.
Typical. Robert had heard the line a thousand times in various contexts, and even in different languages. He gave the officer a look that said that he had barely noticed him, because he was in fact beneath notice.
"Special agent Regan Florida, Crime Scene Recovery Unit from Homeland Security. I've been sent to assess the bomb site and determine if anything points to domestic terrorism." He started to walk past.
"Nuh, uh Mr. Fancy title with no badge, and no ID. I was told by the the Lady FBI agent to not let anyone through except her and a very small group of others. An' that don't include any upity Homeland Security types, less'n they can conjure up proper ID."
Robert decided to gamble a little. "Have you ever met a member of homeland security who wore a badge? Wouldn't that kind of defeat the purpose." He was banking on the cop to have never met a member of Homeland Security, ever.
Unfortunately...
"Actually my cousins husbands college roommate worked for tbe DHS, and he showed us his badge. Gold with blue with an eagle right up on there. It looked pretty slick." He eyed Robert warily.
Robert sighed and nodded. "Can you at least point me in the direction of the nearest hotel?" he asked resignedly.
He was walking back to his car when something blew across his path.
It was a glossy advertisement for a place called Club Koyote with a K. It was about 40% burned away, which indicated that it had been in proximity of the blast, and it seemed fairly new, not faded or tattered on the remaining portion, in fact the remaining edges and single remaining corner were still fairly sharp. He went back to his car and set his GPS for the hotel, but as soon as he was out of sight of the cop, changed it to the address of Club Koyote.
It was a dingy looking little hole-in-the-wall from the outside, but the cars in the lot ranged from rusted pickup trucks to high end SUVs, with all manner of car in between including a couple of motorcycles. He went in, paying the 15 dollar cover, and sat down at the bar barely noticing the girl on stage, and pulled out his phone, pulling a picture of Raul up on his phone and making sure he looked suitably sad and slightly forlorn. The bartender, a sweet looking girl, dressed in a tight tank top, who apparently didn't believe in bras, asked him for his drink order. He ordered only a coke, and when she brought it back she took pity and asked if everything was alright.
Just like he knew she would.
He showed her the picture of Raul from his phone, it was a picture they had taken together in a hotel bar. Raul looked fairly happy and Robert looked straight faced, though somewhat happier than he normally did. It was their last night together, though Robert had known in advanced that it would be. It was as close as he had ever come to true happiness.
However what he told the bartender was a story about his favorite uncle, and how he'd been missing for several days, and this was one of the last places he'd been known to be, or at least his phone had been. He'd checked in from there about 22 hours ago, and did she remember seeing him?
She thought about it for a moment, and remembered seeing this guy out in the parking lot with a bunch of other guys, well dressed men, and that one of them had been trying to talk to Pearl, one of the dancers. She pointed her out to him.
He thanked her, relief evident on his face, and she gave him a very sympathetic look, and he could tell she was feeling the warm glow that came with helping someone out.
He turned to go to Pearl and saw that she was talking to what he took to be the owners of the motorcycles parked ouside. He hesitated and for a moment considering his actions, but determined that this situation was one that couldn't wait.
She was sitting on the lap of one of the bikers, looking for all the world like she was having a good time, but Robert could see the nervous tension she held in her back muscles, like she was ready to flee. He put a delicate hand on her shoulder and she craned her neck around to look at him and he circled her to be at about a 45 degree angle to her, the optimal angle for a woman when she is unfamiliar with you.
"I'm sorry to bother you miss," be said in a polite but nervous voice. The two bikers looked at him in disbelief for a moment as if he had grown another head. "...but I was told you might know something about my uncle."
"Hey, asshole. You blind or somethin'?"
Robert turned to the biker looking nervous, and stammering, " I-I-I'm sorry sir I just w-"
"Don't you sir me you little panty waist, I work for a living." Robert filed that away for later, under Marine Sergeant, probably a drill instructor, though not for many years by the looks of him. The orc was built like a Sherman Tank, round and slow but powerful when he hit. He wore leather head to toe, except for a sleeveless leather vest, with long hair which showed signs of helmets use, and a large red beard. "Now turn your little scrawny elf ass around and walk away before I toss you away like a cord 'o firewood."
Robert appeared to look nervously, and helplessly around, and noted some details, which he put together into a coherent picture of the man. There was a line where a wedding ring should have been, and a tattoo on his arm with a male and female name and date, about 10 and 14 years ago respectively, right below the one he had expected to see on his shoulder, the eagle, globe and anchor of the marine corps insignia.
He straightened his shoulders and stood up straighter, and showed himself to be more confident, making a show of noticing the Marine Tattoo for the first time.
"Semper Fi, Sergeant," he said, and the biker blinked once and shook his head. "I'm not here to take the young lady away from you, and I'll only be a moment. D'you have a family young man?" he asked slipping ever so slightly into a southern accent similar to the one the biker had used.
"Uh... yes, sir." Just by his tone and wording the biker had assumed that Robert was a higher rank than he was.
"And I know you would do anything to protect them, like any good marine who has ever uttered the sacred vow, Semper Fideleus. Always Faithful." The biker nodded mutely, and Robert nodded back. "Well Sergeant, this is a matter of family, and one I must resolve as quickly as possible. I'll let this nice young lady return to you very soon, I promise, if you will allow me the courtesy of a few minutes of her time."
Both the bikers were looking at him mutely, and nodding their heads in a slight daze, as if they couldn't quite work out what was going on.
Robert smiled thinly at them took hold of the girl Pearl's upper arm and gently steered her toward the door of the club, and onto the street outside, and slightly up the block toward the little parking lot.
"Don't worry, we'll be in sight of the bouncers outside. I don't intend to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple quick questions, then I would recommend taking the rest of the night off, since you didn't really want to be with the bikers."
She gasped. "Was I really that obvious?"
He smiled at her, to calm her nerves. "Only to me."
Then suddenly there was a roar from inside, and the sound of a table being flipped and tossed into other tables.
"We don't appear to have much time, so have you seen this man?" He held out the picture to her.
"W-w-whhu-uh... Yes. Yeah I saw him last night, he was with one particular group. I remember him because..."
Then at that moment the door crashed open, and the bikers appeared in it.
******************************
Miranda cut him Robert off at this point. "And that's where I come in, which makes it MY TURN!" She bounced and giggled as Robert raised an eyebrow.
In his Richard G Dean voice he said, "My dear you need some professional help. But I will concede the floor to you, if that is your wish." His features seemed to slowly drift back toward the neutral expression always worn by Robert.
Miranda smirked, and looked at Davin. "So there I was in the strip club, showing off the girls..." she wiggled her ample breasts back and forth a little, and Davin's eyes went wide, while Bernard and Gary both grinned and looked at each other. "When all of the sudden... Oh Hang on..." she smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead lightly, and playfully. "I forgot to tell you how I got here!"
****************************** Chapter 8 part 1
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