I scan the street again as I ease my weapon back into its still-warm bed under the back of my jacket. The smell of gunpowder is still fresh in my nostrils, a scent that always perks me up and makes me smile just a little inside.
I ponder my surroundings for variables that might enter into the cleaning-up of this situation. I'm downtown, surrounded by the dark windows of office buildings. It's doubtful that there were any witnesses, at least that's what I'm hoping. Nonetheless, I'm now stuck with having to park my sled on the street somewhere, knowing that when I return for it chances are it won't be there in one piece.
"Occupational hazard, I suppose," I mutter to my bike as I reluctantly walk it to a nearby alley and wish it the best. I quickly pop the license plate off the back thanks to the cotterpins I rigged-up in place of bolts for just such an occasion. The serial numbers are filed off since it was bought hot anyway, so there shouldn't be any means of tracing it back to me now.
I make my way back to the limo, still idling under the dull glow of the street lights. I pop the trunk hoping that the driver had some sort of cleaning supplies in the back ... nothing. A frown tugs down on my already tired and sagging face as I drag the driver to the back and load him into the trunk. I pull off his coat and throw it over the pool of red that collected in the passenger seat, but I've still got the blood on the windows and dashboard to deal with. Two blocks from the nearest safehouse, I'll have to chance it.
No sooner do I get moving, than I see the headlights of a slow-moving vehicle turning up the street behind me. Any car moving that slow in my direction just means that my poor fortune isn't through with me just yet. I stop at the first light and flashes of red and blue erupt behind me. I pop the safety off my piece for the second time and pull-out my wallet as I step out of the car, a big smile on my face.
The typical words flow from my mouth almost melodically, "Something the matter officers?" I don't recognize either of them through the high beams, but they don't sound as if they recognize me.
"Place your hands on top of the vehicle!"
I comply, but in the process I slip a business card from my wallet with red dots on each corner and the words 'Get Out of Jail Free' in fine print in the center. I hold the card upright between two fingers as I place my hands on the limo and wish I believed in a deity of some sort to beg mercy of as they approach. I'm gauging distances between them and thinking of the quickest possible way to take them both out before either has a chance to draw and return fire. I'm anxious and trying as desperately as I can to hide it.
The driver's side cop approaches while the other waits near the rear of the limo's passenger side, unknowingly within arm's reach of the corpse in the trunk. He's no doubt lining me up, the same as I was him just a moment ago, in case I try anything 'funny'.
"What's this," asks the first cop as he takes the card from my fingers. He studies it a moment, then hands it back to me with a smile. "Looks like we've got the wrong car," he says with a smirk to the other cop, who seems a bit puzzled. "I know this guy, he's a friend of my cousin."
"Shouldn't we at least check it out? There were reports of gunfire near here."
"C'mon Steve, relax. This guy's already out at stupid o'clock working and probably wants to get home to bed just like us. You have a good night and drive safely, sir. Give my apologies to your passengers."
"Will do, you gentlemen have a good night."
They drive off and pull down the next street, at which point I search the nearby windows with a scowl, hoping to catch a glimpse of the 'helpful' citizen who caused me to come within moments of having to off two cops. I give up my search in favor of getting this limo into someone else's hands and going to bed.
I ponder my surroundings for variables that might enter into the cleaning-up of this situation. I'm downtown, surrounded by the dark windows of office buildings. It's doubtful that there were any witnesses, at least that's what I'm hoping. Nonetheless, I'm now stuck with having to park my sled on the street somewhere, knowing that when I return for it chances are it won't be there in one piece.
"Occupational hazard, I suppose," I mutter to my bike as I reluctantly walk it to a nearby alley and wish it the best. I quickly pop the license plate off the back thanks to the cotterpins I rigged-up in place of bolts for just such an occasion. The serial numbers are filed off since it was bought hot anyway, so there shouldn't be any means of tracing it back to me now.
I make my way back to the limo, still idling under the dull glow of the street lights. I pop the trunk hoping that the driver had some sort of cleaning supplies in the back ... nothing. A frown tugs down on my already tired and sagging face as I drag the driver to the back and load him into the trunk. I pull off his coat and throw it over the pool of red that collected in the passenger seat, but I've still got the blood on the windows and dashboard to deal with. Two blocks from the nearest safehouse, I'll have to chance it.
No sooner do I get moving, than I see the headlights of a slow-moving vehicle turning up the street behind me. Any car moving that slow in my direction just means that my poor fortune isn't through with me just yet. I stop at the first light and flashes of red and blue erupt behind me. I pop the safety off my piece for the second time and pull-out my wallet as I step out of the car, a big smile on my face.
The typical words flow from my mouth almost melodically, "Something the matter officers?" I don't recognize either of them through the high beams, but they don't sound as if they recognize me.
"Place your hands on top of the vehicle!"
I comply, but in the process I slip a business card from my wallet with red dots on each corner and the words 'Get Out of Jail Free' in fine print in the center. I hold the card upright between two fingers as I place my hands on the limo and wish I believed in a deity of some sort to beg mercy of as they approach. I'm gauging distances between them and thinking of the quickest possible way to take them both out before either has a chance to draw and return fire. I'm anxious and trying as desperately as I can to hide it.
The driver's side cop approaches while the other waits near the rear of the limo's passenger side, unknowingly within arm's reach of the corpse in the trunk. He's no doubt lining me up, the same as I was him just a moment ago, in case I try anything 'funny'.
"What's this," asks the first cop as he takes the card from my fingers. He studies it a moment, then hands it back to me with a smile. "Looks like we've got the wrong car," he says with a smirk to the other cop, who seems a bit puzzled. "I know this guy, he's a friend of my cousin."
"Shouldn't we at least check it out? There were reports of gunfire near here."
"C'mon Steve, relax. This guy's already out at stupid o'clock working and probably wants to get home to bed just like us. You have a good night and drive safely, sir. Give my apologies to your passengers."
"Will do, you gentlemen have a good night."
They drive off and pull down the next street, at which point I search the nearby windows with a scowl, hoping to catch a glimpse of the 'helpful' citizen who caused me to come within moments of having to off two cops. I give up my search in favor of getting this limo into someone else's hands and going to bed.
marloski:
awww thanx!!! 