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Heavy Metal - Chapter 3.2: Through the Eye of a Needle, Pt 2
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 1:59 am    Post subject: Heavy Metal - Chapter 3.2: Through the Eye of a Needle, Pt 2  

Heavy Metal
Chapter 3
Through the Eye of a Needle, Part 2


Walter and Dave strode through the casino following the gigantic man before them. The crowds parted before the man, leaving a wake of open space to freely stride behind him. He led them across catwalks and innovative arches to the base of the hotel towers, where he paused to enter an elevator that seemed to open upon mental command. The two shuffled in behind him.

“So he agreed to see us then?” Walt asked as the elevator lifted them up the ‘Roman’ Tower.

“You think we’d be here if he didn’t?” the Bouncer replied as if to a child.

“Hmph,” Walt grumped.

“What’s he like?” Dave asked with the eagerness of a puppy.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the Bouncer quelled.

The rest of the ride carried on in silence, glass windows before them leaving stone walls behind and revealing a splendid view of the Vegas strip as they rose. Before long, a pleasant ‘ding’ indicated their ascent had come to a halt, though one could hardly feel the change in velocity.

Elevator doors slid to the sides to reveal a polished marble floor and a warmly lit lobby with just three doors leading off to assumed suites. By the view out the elevator windows, and the lit button on the elevator terminal, they had apparently arrived on the top floor.

“This way,” the Bouncer stated as he strode to the door inset into the end wall of the lobby. Pulling at a string around his neck, he produced a card from beneath his black, skin-tight t-shirt and slid the card through a reader to the right of the door, having to bend at the waist to reach it.

A blue light on the card reader replaced the glow from the red bulb next to it. After a moment of silence, a green light vanquished the blue and an audible click could be heard from the door, which apparently had no handle. Slowly, the door swung open with a dramatic sense of delay.

The bouncer stood to the side of the door, motioning the other two to enter. “Go on in. I’ll wait right outside. He knows you’re coming.” Crossing his arms, he took a guardian-like pose next to the doorway, complete with perma-scowl.

Dave strode through the doorway with a business-like air and Walt shuffled in after him, trying to hold his head up rather than stare at each step as he was accustomed to.

The suite was warm, both in temperature and theme. Beige walls and ceilings appeared to seamlessly join with polished sandstone flooring. This room appeared much as a living room, replete with finely furnished satin lounge chairs and a full sofa, all upholstered in black and orange classical patterns, appearing as if one could melt in their relaxing embrace. Dominating the wall opposed to the sofa was an enormous wide-screen television, set into the wall on the left. To their right, a sprawling tapestry largely concealed the kitchen and bed regions of the suite, decorated with unadulterated scenes of Roman warfare.

But their eyes were almost immediately drawn to the silhouette which stood, with little regality, gazing out at the Vegas streets through the far wall, a window from ceiling to floor which covered the expanse from the left wall, stretching beyond the tapestry to the right.

The figure who stood there, the light of the sun glaring around him, wore a half-cape and a pompous purple suit beneath it. In his left hand, he twirled a gold embossed cane with a crystal orb for a handle. Straight, shoulder length hair jut down from a wildly exaggerated purple top-hat, tilted crookedly on his head like a lazy crown.

With a hiss, the door shut behind them, leaving the pair standing there in silence for a moment. After yet another moment of silence, the figure in the window had not shifted and Dave shot Walter a curious look which asked, “What now?”

Walter scowled, looked back towards the silhouette, and loudly cleared his throat. “Um… Hello? Mr. Lucky, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” spat the silhouette, sounding impatient, “I know. You’re here. Sit. Be comfortable.” With that, the man planted his twirling cane into the sandstone flooring and threw out his hip as if a youngster throwing a minor fit. His voice had a high pitched tone of immaturity, yet with a quality which equally conveyed he was not a moment younger than middle aged.

Swiveling on the soles of his purple dress shoes, he stepped, and rested both hands on the crystal head of his cane, such that he could lean forward with both shoulders equally pressing down on the prop. Though difficult to note, with the sun beaming in behind him, the man’s suit appeared… polka-dotted… with yellow spots of various sizes plastered across the fabric in a random display. His head bowed down and his top-hat fell to the floor with a clatter, releasing his blond, bowl cut hair to spill down over his face.

“Welcome to my sweeeeet suite! Pretty cool, huh?” the man said with a sardonic twist. “Too much light though,” he said as he rose his shoulders, revealing his face, a finely crafted thin blond goatee scribed down the middle of his chin and a thin golden moustache lining his upper lip. His eyes wiggled with mirth and an eyebrow raised as he mentioned the light, gaze cast to the side as if he’d just discovered someone were sneaking up behind him.
Snapping into a Fred Estairesque pose, taking full liberties with his cane, twirling it and planting it behind him so he could lean against it, he lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers, wryly smiling as his gaze lanced its way in through Walter’s, as if in search for the old man’s soul.

As if in reply to the snapping of the pompous man’s fingers, the window grew shaded, darkening as if by some mystic force. Before long, light from soft, warm lamps, set into cherub carved sconces around the room, replaced the harsh glow of the desert sun. The window gradually faded completely dark.

Walter groaned as mournful violin strings sung enveloped the suite in cultured tunes from speakers invisibly situated throughout the room. Dave looked about in wonder.

With a wave, the theatrical gentleman motioned the pair to the sofa. Dave was quickly there, smoothing down his pant legs as he sat, wearing his anticipation on his sleeve, his eyes looking up with intense interest. Walter stumbled to the seat, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the darker setting, plopping down into the seat with a grunt and settling back in with a moan. “Urgh,” he muttered quietly to Dave. “You might have to help me get up from this one.”

“Yeah, comfy huh?” Dave smiled.

“Hmph,” Walt answered. Pretty much no position was comfortable for Walt anymore. He’d resigned to this fact years ago.

Meanwhile, continuing in his melodrama, the man who was apparently ‘Lucky’, skipped like a young boy over to a plush chair and pulled it around the coffee table in front of them.

Walt noticed an elegant ivory chess set had been placed between Lucky’s chair and the sofa, apparently with the white King in a state of checkmate. He harrumphed as he noted his side apparently played the white forces.

Leapfrogging over the back of the chair, Lucky plopped down and pulled a lever at the seat’s side, flinging back the recliner as he exaggeratedly crossed his fancy boots and stared across the tips of them at the men on the couch. His hands clasped each other in front of his chest, his index fingers rigidly pointing up to his chin and his thumbs twirling.

A moment of silence passed between the men as each seemed to study the other.

“So,” Lucky broke the moment like shattering a mirror, “watcha doin’?” He asked like a child asking a stranger.

“I guess you know who I… we… are,” Walt began.

“Mhmmmmm,” Lucky ended with an upturned note.

“And you must be the guy they’re callin’ ‘Lucky’,” Walter stammered.

“Mhmmmmm,” Lucky ended with an upturned note. The edge of his lips crept upwards in wry mirth and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I… I was just wondering why you wanted to… help… us… me,” Walt ventured. “What’s it to you if I win the X-prize?”

“We…” interjected Dave, correcting Walt’s use of ‘I’ where winning the X-prize was concerned. This elicited a dark scowl from Walter in his direction.

“Mhmmmmm,” Lucky ended with an upturned note. He nodded, showing exaggerated interest in what Walt had to say.

“Well?” Walt spat.

“Well what?” Lucky suddenly seemed to be engaging in the conversation, a surprised look on his face.

“Why are you trying to help me get my fuel? What’s it to you?” Walt insisted.

“Oh… that,” Lucky stated as if he’d snapped out of some sort of strange distant reverie, “Right.”

A moment passed as Lucky appeared to be thinking, rubbing at his cheek and squinting his eyes. Dave and even Walt, both leaned forward, waiting for a second or two longer than one would have expected for an answer.

“Well,” he began, “I feel like it.” Lucky said as he exhaled himself back down into his chair, flopping out his hands onto the armrests. “Anything else you wished to know?”

“I dunno,” Walt said, obviously irritated and confused by the man’s demeanor, “I was just maybe hoping to get an idea of who you were. I like to get a sense of the mettle of a man before I get involved with his business.”

“Heh heh… Mettle… interesting choice of words,” Lucky seemed to wander off track. Then, suddenly, he snapped back to focus on the conversation. “Oh it’s not business really. Just a bet as usual. I like the ones I don’t win without a contest. Too few of those these days…” his voice listed as his eyes gazed off into an unknown distance.

“A bet?” Dave leapt into the conversation. “With who?”

“With whom,” Lucky corrected.

“Huh?” Dave missed the point.

“Look,” Lucky said, “It doesn’t matter does it? Would you like some wine maybe?” Without waiting for an answer, he glanced up towards the bedroom behind the tapestry and shouted, “Sabrina! Wine for our guests!”

“I really don’t…” Walt objected while Dave nodded his head with a smile.

A rustling of the tapestry announced the all-too-sudden arrival of a curvaceous, long-legged, raven haired beauty, dressed in scantly more than silken bra and panties, revealing more than it concealed. She carried elegant glasses of some sort of deep red wine on a silver tray lined with vague figures in lustful poses. Gracefully, she handing a glass to those who reached for it, Lucky and Dave, and placing the last glass on the coffee table for Walter, who crossed his arms in refusal.

“What’s the matter?” Lucky asked.

“I’m already at my limit… couple a beers earlier.” Walt defended himself.

“Tis’ a shame, my flight-bound friend. This is absolutely divine stuff,” Lucky declared as he swirled the wine around the glass before quaffing a sip.

“Mmmm,” nodded Dave in agreement.

“Bah… wine’s for sissies,” Walt showed his true colors.

“Your loss,” Lucky warned. “So you wanted to get an idea of who I am, eh?”

“Yeah. That pretty much sums it up,” Walt replied.

Putting a hand to his chin in a thoughtful pose, Lucky’s sky-blue eyes squinted in consideration. “Do you read the Bible?” he asked Walt.

“Of course,” Walt said, apparently offended over the insinuation that he might not have. “Read the Good Book often. Why?”

“Well,” Lucky continued, “There’s this part in there… somewhere… New Testament I think… where Jesus states something to the extent of ‘A wealthy man has the same chance to enter heaven as a camel would have to pass through the eye of a needle’.”

“Yeah… sounds about right…” Walter led on, wishing this fellow would get to the point.

“Seven years ago,” Lucky explained, “I might have been able to stuff myself right through that eye of a needle without so much as a pin-prick. Anymore… I’m pretty much more f**cked than a camel has humps,” Lucky chuckled. “I relish the chance to lose some of my water retention. Get my drift?”

“Uh... yeah, I think so,” Walter struggled as the brunette vixen perched on the recliner arm rest and curled her arm around Lucky’s shoulder, her dark almond eyes blankly gazing at the men on the couch.

“I mean, nothing is going to keep me from being skewered on that needle. Once pricked, you’re pretty much stuck like a fish on a hook, y’know?”

“Ok,” Walter offered slowly.

“But maybe if I help out a good guy with a good cause, I can make an angel happy. I figured that might be you. You DO need my help, right?” With a knowing glance at Dave, Lucky flashed a crooked smile.

“Yeah, alright,” Walter stated, “But why does your hulking brute out there think there’s no chance to fail? I don’t have many years left to be spendin’ em’ in prison!”

“Cause I can’t lose, my friend,” Lucky winked. “It’s just my curse. He’s got some of his own as well. He’d be pretty hard pressed to fail where something like this is concerned.”

“Yeah, he said you have a ‘guardian angel’. What’s that all about?” Walt pushed.

“It’s just that, Walt. Nothing more, and definitely nothing less.” Pushing his arm candy from his shoulders with little concern, and her showing no reaction to the cast-aside, Lucky rose to his feet and strode over to Walt.

Patting the old man on one shoulder, he offered Walt a hand to his feet.

Once Walter had stood, Lucky threw his arm over Walt’s shoulder and began walking Walter to the door in a reassuring manner, his blue eyes penetrating into Walt’s. “Everything will be just fine Walter. I won’t even ask for anything in return. I’ll come out smelling like an exquisite red rose if all goes as you’ve planned. Just do what you were ‘born’ to do and everything will work out just fine. I’m sorry I can’t explain more, but things will come to light eventually.”

Pausing at the door, which upon approach began slowly swinging open for passage, Lucky gripped Walt’s hand in a warm shake, his other hand patting the man’s shoulder. “You never know. It may just all become illuminated in one glorious moment as you blast off from the earth bound for the heavens. That’s what you need, right? To fulfill your life’s quest?” Lucky drew down to a mirthful whisper as he ushered Walt and Dave out into the foyer, “Go, be yourself guys. Thanks now. Have a nice day.” His tone ended a little patronizing for Walt’s taste.

~

On the elevator ride down, Walt turned to the Bouncer. “Interesting boss you’ve got there. He doesn’t seem to be altogether… y’know...” Walt twirled his finger around his ear and rolled his eyes.

“Heh, yeah,” Bouncer chuckled. “He’s a little eccentric, that one.”

“So… what’s the plan exactly?” Dave asked.

“Well, It’s gonna’ go down like this…” the Bouncer began his explanation…

I’ll leave the skeleton of his plan up to you guys! Have fun planning out a fuel heist!
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 2:03 am    Post subject:  

Poll results were as follows:

From IF:
Larceny?
"I just need to run home and have supper with the missus first... then I'll join you."
33% [ 2 ]
"Let me just make a quick call... then we'll be on our way."
33% [ 2 ]
"Sure, let's just get this done!"
16% [ 1 ]
"NO WAY! I'm going home to figure something ELSE out!"
0% [ 0 ]
"Forget it! I'm turning you in to the authorities for even suggesting it!"
0% [ 0 ]
"Wait... I wanna speak with your boss, Lucky, first!"
0% [ 0 ]

From Tome City:
To steal or not to steal...
"I just need to run home and have supper with the missus first... then I'll join you." 0 (0%)
"Let me just make a quick call... then we'll be on our way." 1 (20%)
"Sure, let's just get this done!" 0 (0%)
"NO WAY! I'm going home to figure something ELSE out!" 1 (20%)
"Forget it! I'm turning you in to the authorities for even suggesting it!" 0 (0%)
"Wait... I wanna speak with your boss, Lucky, first!" 3 (60%)


Between the two, a tie was created, with 3 for the phone call and 3 for speak to Lucky first. I liked the results, personally. I know this was a slow chapter, but it led to what I think should be a fun DP, if not from an alternative POV (not Walt's).

Tome wins the volume contest by 1 vote but there was far more discussion on IF.
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Amichan



Joined: 06 Apr 2007
Posts: 480
Location: RL:Roseboro, NC./ IF: Retuning from a long journey in the land of OFF

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 2:55 am    Post subject:  

a fuel heist?? this is gonna be tough since this is probably a fuel that is most likely heavily guarded so might as well get some of Lucky's goons on the payroll to help out

and just for reference the bible passage you have used is Mark 10:25 "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." so if this a fuel heist looks like in this case the rich will find their way to a kingdom of fuel
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Crunchyfrog



Joined: 12 Dec 2006
Posts: 3998

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 3:25 am    Post subject:  

I'm not sure which fuel they're trying to steal, or who from? Without knowing that, it's a bit difficult to come up with a plan.

So I'm going to go off on a tangent here, and inspired by Lucky's brilliantly yet bizarre performance, and say that this plan involves going on a very long journey, blindfolded, with some very odd instructions to follow at the end of it.

Also I'm curious by Bouncer's remark 'He's a little eccentric, that one,' - suggesting that he knows others of Lucky's standing that either he or his friends/colleagues work for.

It suggests that Bouncer is involved in a larger organisation than we the readers or Walt are aware of.

So yeah, this involves a long journey, blindfolded. Excellent read, TB. :tu:
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Smee



Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Posts: 5215
Location: UK

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 5:12 am    Post subject:  

Fun chapter - you certainly created quite the character. I'm defiantely getting a Willy Wonka vibe, especially with the purple. Good stuff. :P

My first impression of the overall task/plan is that Lucky seems excessively confident. Even if you are 'lucky' it's never something to rely on. Each time you test it could be the time if fails. You can have some confidence, but not as much as the Bouncer and Lucky seem to have.

Plus Lucky is rich, so if he really wanted to help then he'd just buy Walt some fuel.

Which leads me to think that the planned heist is to actually 'steal' some of Lucky's own fuel. Call it a game, or Lucky's belief that things shouldn't just be given but have to be earnt in some way... perhaps nothing is worth having unless you take a 'gamble' - being in Las Vegas and a lucky man he probably loves the thought of taking a gamble.

So he is setting up the same for Walt. If Walt really wants the fuel, then he's going to have to take Lucky's gamble.

Therefore I don't think it really matters what the plan is. It'll involve some dicey moments, but like the Bouncer said, he can't fail.

In the interest of a plan... disguise Walt as some kind of high ranking Government Inspector/Auditor, needing a tour of the fuel depot. They can excuse the unannounced visit, and the late hour as being common procedure so as to not give people forewarning to hide evidence.

With the higher ups distracted, it leaves things more clear for Dave and the Bouncer to acquire the fuel.

Good chapter and good reading. Looking forward to more.

Happy Writing :)
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 12:05 pm    Post subject:  

I love the comments so far guys! Thanks! So far, all the ideas sound wonderful and I'm glad I could do Lucky some justice. I was a little worried he might not live up to his past performances...

To clarify... the fuel must simply be jet fuel (Walt's not sure which grade would be best really but he's designed his engines to be somewhat adaptive so any would work for this first flight... he can get a better sense of which type he SHOULD be using once the maiden voyage is complete.) Where it comes from is not critical either. Could be the nearby military base, or the airport, or acquired from a shipment en route, or anything else you can imagine.
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Crunchyfrog



Joined: 12 Dec 2006
Posts: 3998

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 12:22 pm    Post subject:  

It sounds as though Lucky will look after these guys, well, at least until the blast off. After that I have a feeling that they'll be very much on their own. :shock:

Well, if the fuel and where it comes from is not important, then maybe Lucky might not be bothered with blindfolding them to prevent them from knowing where he got it from. But he wants Walt to win the X prize for him, so he's not going to want to put the old guy through any risky adventure beforehand.

Instead (or in addition to) the previous option I suggested, let's have a ridiculously tame and easy one. Piece of paper, invoice copy, pen, clipboard, and one large tank on a truck. Driver of said truck is disposed of, Walt is given the driver's overalls.

Yeah. Sign here please, I've come to ship the delivery of rocket fuel to your customer. :)
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DeadManWalking



Joined: 24 May 2006
Posts: 1005

Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 1:41 pm    Post subject:  

Don't have much of a suggestion, just want to say nice chapter.

Look forward to more!
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Sat Oct 24, 2009 8:19 pm    Post subject:  

One day left till I poll... any more thoughts?
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2009 12:58 pm    Post subject:  

Poll's up! Which option will 'steal' the win?

(Oh yeah... figured I'd just put in a polite reminder to add this to your Fav's if your enjoyin' the read.)
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Crunchyfrog



Joined: 12 Dec 2006
Posts: 3998

Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2009 10:32 pm    Post subject:  

Finally made a decision on this... and voted! :D
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Thunderbird



Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes

Posted: Fri Oct 30, 2009 10:06 am    Post subject:  

Very soon, poll will close... no promises, but I'll try to get a chappy out this weekend...
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Vishal Muralidharan



Joined: 24 Aug 2010
Posts: 867
Location: City Of IF!

Posted: Sat May 07, 2011 2:26 am    Post subject:  

Just wanted to say...

It should be written as F*cked instead of F**cked... You don't use two asterixes for one letter.. ;)
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