Things go from bad to worse.

Part one. And it all goes to hell.

In all stories there has to be a start, middle and an end. This does not have to say that each story must appear in that order though. Indeed, this one does not, but that is more due to the nature of our hero. Though, the term ‘hero’ is stretching it a lot when it comes to describing this one. He’s a man who is more likely to, well, to rip off your head than buy you a pint when it’s his round. Indeed one man really regretted taking his favourite bar stool when the guy had went to the toilet. All I can say on the matter is that the unfortunate guy was never able to look at a pint glass again without having…flashbacks. And not the good kind either. But I don’t want to put you off him either. He has a habit of being a bit of a good guy at times. Whether it’s saving damsels in distress, or fighting against the odds and throwing out the occasional one liner, he does it all. Though all of this does go hand in hand with massive amounts of property damage. But hey, nobodies perfect, right? So, what we have here is more of an antihero than a hero. Just don’t tell him that…

 

“What the F**K just happened?” This is not normally the first question that gets asked when you find out that your actually dead. Most people will say something like, ‘who are you?’ or everyone’s personal favourite, ‘where am I?’ But this question wasn’t part of the norm, even here. And it kind of shocked her. Well, maybe a little. Okay, it probably didn’t shock her at all when you considered things properly. You see, she was standing in the middle of one of Asgard’s many fields of battle. And before her was the newest addition to the ranks of the Einharjar. Not someone you would normally expect to see in the legions of the honourably dead.

 

“Hey, you! Yeah, you with the tits! Where. The. F**K. Am. I?” you could tell this about him; the guy was annoyed. Very annoyed. Being dead was not on his to-do list for the day. In fact, it’d probably never been factored into his plans. But it all started some months ago, when he was having a bad day. Not as bad as this one, but bad enough.

 

Some months ago…

The alarm clock started up, the latest crap pop song waking him. A fist crashing down through the cheap plastic stopped it though. Last night had been a very good night. But being woken up at this time of day was bad enough, but it was made worse if he had to listen to that stuff. One of these days he’d find out who it was that kept changing the settings from where he’d left them. And then, well, depending on what his mood was he’d either put them in hospital or the morgue.  He got up and did the usual things that needed to be done. Starting with his hair and finishing with setting up a replacement alarm clock, his last one now in pieces. He checked on the latest news that had been delivered. The idiot who had beaten quite badly one of his girls wasn’t going to be walking around for a while, mainly due to not having any legs. His shipments were due this evening and John, one of his more intelligent boys, had made the relevant arrangements. There is something about a man who calls people his ‘boys’. Normally it’s the fact that he only just tolerates there existence, if only because sometimes they have there uses. Oh, and the Mafia had been stirring up some trouble lately. A minor conflict over on the east side of his territory, and it was his territory, had resulted in a few wrecked cars, multiple bullet wounds and at least one shop had been blown up. Clearly his boys had been busy. This was good news, though he now regretted having missed the fun. Still last night wasn’t all that bad. She’s been a bit of fun, if only for a little while. Strangely though she hadn’t hung around and had disappeared before he’d awoken. This didn’t bother him much though. He’d had his fun.

A few hours later…

He stood in the cold night air, looking out over the sea of shipping containers in front of him. Soon he’d have his shipments in, and then things would get interesting. He’d had to send 3 of his boys over to the one of the other docks tonight, leaving him only with John and the new guy. Grigor, the stupid Russian b*****d, had done the stupid thing and forgot about which dock he was supposed to be at. And to top it all off, his drugs were also late. It pissed him off something rotten, and when he was this angry someone was guaranteed to die. Or at least, someone was going to get seriously hurt.

 

“Ahh, Gazini my old amico. What brings you out on a cold night? Shouldn’t you be doing, what is it you call it? ‘Pimping yo b***h’?” the thick Italian accent putting its own significant twist to the words.

 

“Vinnie, ya b*****d, what the hell are ya doin’ here? I’ve got business tonight, and haven’t got the time to deal with crap like you!” Things weren’t going well. And they were about to get worse. Vinnie would never be this bold if he was alone. He wasn’t that stupid. No, he’d have a few guys himself. And they wouldn’t be for show either.

 

“Well, well, my amico, it just turns out that we have business tonight. You’ve been messing around with the wrong people, friend, and there not happy with the way your doing things. They want you, how do you say, out of the picture.” Vinnie clicked his fingers. The hired help that had been slowly surrounding the unlucky threesome finally made themselves known, nearly a dozen of them stepping into the meagre amount of light. All hell broke loose.

 

The fight had lasted for moments. John and the new lad had earned there pay for this month, taking down over half of Vinnie’s hired help. The rest well, some were still alive. They had learned that when a big guy comes near you with nothing but a crowbar and his fists you don’t try and shoot him. Vinnie though, he was interesting. The fool had actually shot Gazini in the head. And it would have killed him, if he had been normal. The bullet had just rebounded off his skin, landing somewhere in the dark. The look on Vinnie’s face though when he’d had his .45 taken from him was making up for the night. The little runt had begged for his life. It didn’t matter.

5 of the help had survived, thought strangely they looked Asian. His drugs hadn’t arrived and some damned Italian thought he’d try and kill Gazini. The night was just getting better and better. He stalked over to the first one, swinging his now bloody crowbar in practiced circles.

 

“Alright, start talking. Where’s my stuff?” he asked. The idiot looked into Gazini’s eyes before spitting in his face. The crowbar went through the guy’s skull, adding more fresh blood to its coating. He looked at the second one.

 

“You got anything you want to say?” his anger rising. He got silence. Followed by more blood on his crowbar. Behind him John was lighting a cigar whilst the new kid threw up. He’d get used to the violence or he’d regret the day he signed on, though John’s ringtone was going to upset the Gazini. A look from him was all it took before the two walked off a little way. The same thing happened with the third one. But the fourth, well, that was different. Gazini’s voice had taken on a much more urgent tone to it, similar in most ways to the one that army drill sergeants use to such great effect. He’d got a one word answer, a name. ‘Motaro’, some big guy up in Chinatown.

 

“Now see, wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he said, whilst ramming the crowbar threw the last guys head. The one that talked could only nod.

 

“Now, what your going to do is your going to go back to your boss and tell him that Gazini’s going to be making a little visit soon, got it?” the guy ran off before he’d finished. He didn’t care anymore; he just wanted his stuff back.

 

“Errr, boss,” it was John. And he seemed nervous about something, “boss, they got the guns, boss”. Gazini breathed out slowly. John looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the presence of a man who’d just killed 4 people using only a crowbar.

 

“Well s**t, Vinnie, you’ve gone and fucked up my evenin’”

 

Author's Note

I've changed the layout a little. What do you think?

Reviews

[Ignacious Lamont Crowle..]

It did grab my interest...I shall have to check out more of your work.