I came up with the idea for this while waiting out a lengthy hospitalization during a faction war and figured it would help pass the time. Let me know what you think and if there's any interest I'll keep posting what I write in installments. Otherwise it'll just be for my enjoyment!
Chapter One: A Fresh Start
A new start they said. A fresh start they said. That’s what he tried for, but this place, this Torn City…well by name by nature. The sound of sirens cut through the air at any time of day, always some lowlife on the run from their latest foray in a life of crime. A veritable breeding ground of petty thieves all itching to make it big, grouping together in factions that turned the city streets into a war zone. And to cap it all his connection, this ‘Duke’ guy? Jesus Christ, he’d met rocks who could cobble together a job better than him, and probably had a damn sight better personality too. Pay your dues though he’d been told, work your way up. Well shit rolled downhill; so he had to make it to the top somehow…anyhow.
The shack they’d put him up in was beyond a joke too, the door rotting off its hinges and the windows long since smashed in. The glass crunched underfoot as he looked around, he could feel it sucking the happiness out of him. The saving grace was that the worryingly stained mattress was at least raised, and seemed free of glass. Save a table fashioned from a wire drum and a beat up box as a chair there was no other furniture. The place reeked of second, maybe third or more, chances among other things. But he had to start somewhere, no use in complaining. No-one listened, or cared, around here anyway. So he did what he knew best, he smoked and he walked, taking in the city and its inhabitants.
This part of town had a rundown, long neglected look but it felt familiar. It wasn’t long before he spotted a mark, some tanked up suit with more money than sense who was definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. Hell he was doing the guy a favor he thought as he deliberately barged into him.
‘Watch where you’re f**king going, dickhead,’ the guy slurred, barely able to keep from falling.
‘Sue me,’ he replied with a wry grin, the suit’s billfold safely in his hand. And just like that, he felt he was getting somewhere already. The wallet had a heavy, satisfying feel to it. The stitching wasn’t bad either he mused as he flicked it open. A little under $3000 dollars in cash and a couple of credit cards along with the dumb-asses driving license was a good start, but his nose told him to keep looking. Sure enough tucked away he found a decent amount of grass, of quality unknown, but anything to take the edge off of being the new fish in town.
With his head suitably clouded he felt he could take on anything. So he kept walking, relieving the good, or close enough, citizens of Torn City of their possessions one by one until he had a decent haul. A nice stack of cash, an array of credit cards and drivers licenses, and even a couple of cell phones. It was only when he got cocky, trying to lift the wallet of some clearly connected thug, and came close to spending the night in the ER, that he called it a night.
He would have to find somewhere to shift the cards and licenses but that could wait, the cold beer couldn’t. It didn’t take him long to find his kind of bar. A typical dive with seasoned patrons, one of whom was being forcibly ejected as he approached the door.
‘Stay the f**k out Phil!’ the grizzled barman shouted down at the drunk now rolling in the dirt, ‘That’s one f**kin’ time too many!’
Stepping over the incoherent mess on the pavement he followed the bartender into the neon lit gloom, casting his eye over its questionable customers. A group of try-hards, drunk on light beer and telling tall tales occupied one of the tables. While various others sat around, some nursing drinks, some sorrows and some minor injuries. Taking a seat at the bar he ordered a beer, pulling one of the smaller bills from the wad in his pocket. He was careful not to let on to the extent of his ill gotten gains lest he become a mark himself. As he sank the beer he thought to himself that maybe he could make a go of it here after all. So he drank to a new start, still not convinced of the freshness, but definitely new.
The next morning the sun was shining and the birds were, well the birds were getting shot at by junkies. Survival of the fittest, or so they say. He found a place to get coffee and then it was time to go back and meet Duke again, to see what the clown actually had in store for him. The walk over showed him the real underbelly of the city. Even by day the crime level barely dipped, not that was a problem for him, it just showed there was money to be made. But it wasn’t like other cities he’d been to where the criminal element was hidden away. Here the lunatics ran the asylum and he actually watched a cop get jumped on his way over. The thug left the cop reeling him on the floor with spray paint coating his face like some f**ked up modern art. Still, it gave him something to aspire to, he thought, that level of brazenness.
He arrived at Dukes place and it was decked out exactly like you’d expect some mid level crooks to be. Full of the kinds of things those guys thought a mob boss had, hell there was even a goddamn Tony Montana poster on the wall. A motivational poster for budding psychopaths he thought. Still, he sat down, bit his tongue on and put on his best dumb-f**k face.
‘So, listen,’ began Duke already worked up ‘these two dumb f**ks thought they could fleece me. Set up some football game that was supposed to be a sure thing, we place some hefty bets, the other team takes a dive, we all make money. Should have been simple.’
‘And I’m guessing it wasn’t?’
‘It sure as shit wasn’t!’ Duke raged ‘They only went and f**kin’ won! Lost a hell of a lot of cash and I want payback.’
Hired muscle he thought, so it had come to this. But this seemed as good a place as any to start making a name for himself.
‘Just give me some names and I can get to work.’
Duke slid a folded piece of paper across the desk, he took it and walked out, before Duke worked himself up anymore.
Once outside, blinking in the early sun, he opened the paper and took a look at the names. Once memorized he took out his lighter and lit the corner, letting the paper burn almost to his fingers before dropping the still burning corner. He lit a smoke and started walking back to the dive bar from the night before, to see if he could glean any information about his unfortunate targets. The place was still open, a place like that attracted customers who could provide business at any hour. Sitting in the same seat as the night before he ordered a beer and sat, waiting for an opportunity to fall into his lap. And fall it did. He had barely drunk half the beer before two thick set goons walked into the bar, raging about lost bets. He set his game face, employed his best drunken swagger and made his way towards them
‘You guys…you guys talking about that sure thing?’ he slurred at them ‘That team that didn’t know how to take a goddamn dive?’
It hadn’t taken long, a few minutes of conversation and he got what he needed. Descriptions and known locations. Muttering into obscurity he stormed out the bar in a convincing drunken rage, slowing to his usual pace once a few blocks were between him and the bar. He hailed a passing cab and taking a gamble, based on its beat up appearance and the driver's missing teeth, asked where he could relieve himself of some questionable merchandise. A few minutes later they pulled up outside an abandoned looking warehouse, a burnt out car sitting out front. He paid the cabbie and gave a generous tip, it always helped to have someone with local knowledge on your side. Then, squaring his shoulders and standing to his full height he made his way into the warehouse through an open side door. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A goddamn marketplace, of the unsavory variety.
Strolling the makeshift aisles he soon found someone who eagerly took the credit cards off his hands for a good price, then made his way further in. He stopped at a long row of benches, laid out with what looked like enough small arms to kit out an army. He didn’t need anything fancy for now, just something that would open mouths and shit pants. There was something reassuring about the weight of loaded iron in his hand again and after a little haggling left with what he needed.