City of IF

[misterbiz]

Biz Bit: Hello folks. Yes. Another project. Decided to drop Survival of the Strangest. Came to the realization that it should have stayed buried a while longer. Now I'm transforming this...the first project I ever completed...into an SG. This prologue is dp free. But please enjoy.

Vladimir rose in the early morning. It was just before dawn as usual and his cabin was freezing as usual. Russian winters tended to be a bit on the frosty side. In the pitch darkness of his bedroom, he found a set of long underwear and slipped his body into them. They were a snug fit over his heavy body. The tailor had screwed up and made them too small. He would rectify that later in a way that the tailor was sure to find most uncomfortable. Mumbling some curse words under his breath, he slipped into a nice suit and departed his sleeping quarters.

A wiry, black-haired individual was busy building a fire as he entered. “Yuri, where is Xavier?” he barked.

Yuri said nothing and instead nodded toward the door. Vladimir moved to the window and watched out the window and his other lackey as he chopped wood while the sun started to peek up over The boss quietly scanned the trees around the cabin for a moment before grabbing his fur coat from the rack near the door and sliding it over his body. This was quickly followed by a furry hat. With the newest pieces of clothing, Vladamir now resembled a tubby bear.

“Yuri, it is time for church. Go get the car.” The man tending the fire stood, grabbed his jacket and hat from the couch and immediately headed to the door. The bear of a man watched as his personal chauffeur and assistant ran out and around to the back of the cabin. Vladimir looked away from the window and looked around his cabin. A small amount of fear and tension building in his gut. Looking back to the window, he saw his black vehicle pull up around in front of the cabin. There had been several threats against the gangster's life and most recently, he had started to receive letters, each one from the same individual containing the same message and object within. The letter stated simply, I'm Coming, and came with an ace of spades with a bullethole in the center.

Over the last several years, Vladimir had heard the stories of the people receiving the letters. At first nobody paid them any mind but each person that received one ended up in the ground. Each one murdered in a spectacular fashion just a week after they received the calling card. Vladimir glanced at the calender that hung on the wall and swallowed. Today was day seven.

Pulling the collar of his coat up, he headed outside and traversed the two feet to the vehicle and hopped in. The car started to pull away almost immediately as the door closed and the large man relaxed in his seat. The letter he had received a week ago sat on the seat next to him. After half an hour of driving his eyes fell upon it.

His heart started to race as he looked at it. He was marked for death and if the killer's record was any sign, he wouldn't live to see tomorrow. The assassin always killed them seven days after they received the note. No matter how well they were protected. No matter how good their security was. They all got dropped by a single shot to the head.

With a grunt, he reached over and swept it to the floorboards. As the paper landed, he noticed something odd about it. Leaning down, he picked it up and stared at the sheet of paper. There were only two words upon it yet they were different than the words that had been there when he had first gotten the message. I'm Watching.

Crumpling up the paper, he threw it on the floor. “Yuri, speed up.”

The driver obeyed and before he knew it, the car was speeding up through the forest. Trees whizzed by outside and the large man rested his head against the window. After another good portion of time, when Vladimir thought he may make it to the church and be able to properly pray for protection. The car came to a complete stop.

“Yuri, why we stopping?” Vladimir barked.

“Out of gas,” Yuri stated.

“Imbecile,” Vladimir shouted. “Call Xavier. Have him bring the extra canister.”

The assistant obeyed and pulled out a cell phone. “No signal, sir.”

“Idiot,” the boss shouted. “Then go get one. Return only after message is sent.”

The driver adjusted his hat and nodded as he stepped outside and started to wander away. A satisfied smile came across Vladimir's face. Until the realization once again presented itself that someone wanted him dead. Inside his head, he proceeded to count the time that Yuri spent outside the vehicle. One minute became two which in turn became five and as his mental timer hit forty five minutes, he opened the door slowly and stepped outside. The wind was starting to blow quite wildly, freezing the big man down to the core through his coat and long underwear.

His teeth chattered loudly as he followed Yuri's footsteps in the snow. He followed them for at least five minutes before he discovered something. Yuri's footsteps stopped and there were signs of a struggle. Going a bit further, he found Yuri. Yuri was hanging from a tree by a noose that appeared to be made of piano wire. The wire was dug into Yuri's flesh, a small trail of blood frozen on his clothes and throat.

The fear in him turned to terror and added to the amount of chills and trembling he was suffering from. He spun around intending on attempting to run through the forest. To find help of any kind. Yet he was too late. A large blonde individual stood before him. A gun aimed straight at Vladimir's skull.

“I hope you don't mind, but I had to go ahead and fire your employee. You understand, don't you?” he said. He was an American. Young, probably late twenties. He had to stand about six foot eight as he towered over the six one mob boss. He had a head of long blonde hair that hung down to his shoulders. He was quite muscular, his physique making the white dress shirt he wore stretch slightly.

“But how? The letter, the car, Yuri? How? Why?”

“Easy. Yuri. I paid him to replace the letter and stop the car where he did, citing gas troubles. Then he just had to get out here to receive the rest of his payment. Unfortunately, I couldn't let him live.He saw my face. No loose ends.”

“It's freezing though, how could you endure this waiting for me. And why wait?”

“Viking blood, training and the right supplies have kept me warm and I waited because I knew you would come out here eventually. You would get impatient and worried, leave the car and follow in Yuri's footsteps.”

“How?”

“Because you're stupid, Vlad. You. Are. Stupid. You trusted Yuri simply because you thought him beneath you, which is the very reason you shouldn't have trusted him. You should have looked at the fuel gauge. You should have known that there is no cell signal out here. You should have just been a good boy. Too bad.”

Yuri opened his mouth to speak but before a single sound came out, the assassin stepped forward and placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth.

“Now, I think I've talked a little too much. Been doing that a lot lately. I think its because, at the moment, the bastard that lives in my skull is trying to talk as well and I like interrupting him. So, any last words?”

Vladimir tried to talk but the gun in his mouth stopped him completely.

“No? Oh well.”

The assassin squeezed the trigger. Vladimir's body fell, dead before it landed.

[Lilith]

Hmmmm..... I'm waiting to see what happens here. Are we following the assassin or the family of the mob boss? Did Xavier betray Vladmir as Yuri did or is all of this irrelevant? You've piqued my interest, Biz.

[Tikanni Corazon]

Hey Biz!


Very good so far, I have to say! Finding it a little odd, given the genre that you're famous for here on IF, strange to think that your first finished project wasn't a Horror tale. But this is a very readable, well-written piece, and, as with One More Time, I'd go so far as to say that it's actually more well-written than your Horror pieces. Not putting down your tales in Manor of the Macabre at all by saying that though, as they're all awesome. But the quality of the writing in the two tales you have here in Reality Road exceeds them. :)


Noticed a couple of little things here...

Quote: Vladimir looked away from the window and looked around his cabin. A small amount of fear and tension building in his gut.

Either these need to be combined into one sentence with a comma in place of the full-stop, or 'building' needs to be changed to 'was building' or 'built'.

Quote: His teeth chattered loudly as he followed Yuri's footsteps in the snow. He followed them for at least five minutes before he discovered something. Yuri's footsteps stopped and there were signs of a struggle. Going a bit further, he found Yuri. Yuri was hanging from a tree by a noose that appeared to be made of piano wire. The wire was dug into Yuri's flesh, a small trail of blood frozen on his clothes and throat.

Yuri's name is used far too many times in this paragraph, and it's rather jarring to the reader.


Anyway, yes, very interesting start, and I hope to see more soon! Keep up the good work! :)

[misterbiz]

Lucky stood for a moment and stared down at Vladimir's corpse. Feeling a little more dead inside because of his actions. Vlad brought his kill count up to at least fifty. He moved to Vladimir's side and knelt down, placing a hand upon the big man's chest. A sigh came from his lips as he stared into the dead eyes of his victim.

“Nothing personal,” he said. “Simply business. Rest in peace, Vladimir. Forgive me.”

“Not this shit again, Luck,” a voice said from right next to him. He looked over and saw a figure standing next to him. The truth was that he had been standing there for a while. Vladimir just didn't see him. No one else ever did. Technically, he didn't even exist. Lucky knew it as well, deep down. The figure stood at six foot eight, same as Lucky. In fact, almost everything about him was identical. Almost twins. Yet there were several glaring differences. The figure was clad in a blood stained, white suit and tie complete with a light blue undershirt. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail and he was wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses with a large crack in them.

“Shut the fuck up, Ace. I'm not in the mood for one of your physical visits,” Lucky said, standing up to look his mental double in the eye. “So why don't you just drink a nice tall glass of shut-the-fuck-up and go away.”

The imaginary fiend put on a pretend pout and clutched at his chest. “I'm offended, Luckster. Really hurt. I thought we were friends.”

“Shut up,” Lucky said, shoving past his alter-ego. He kept walking toward his car with Ace following behind closely.

“No. You shut it. I'm getting pretty sick of you shutting me out. All I'm trying to do is help you out, since you insist on going through with this stupid little plan of yours, and you respond by ignoring and interrupting me. You have to listen to reason eventually or you're going to end up like Vladdy.”

Lucky stopped and spun around, he raised his gun up and quickly squeezed a shot off. The bullet went through Ace's skull and the madman fell to the ground. Lucky lowered the gun and made the rest of the trip back to Vladimir's vehicle. He got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. It turned on almost immediately.

“Dumbass really should have checked the fuel gauge,” Ace said from the passenger seat.

Lucky cast a glance at him and sighed. He was perfectly fine. He always was. Then again, it was probably pretty hard to kill a delusion. Looking back to the road, he started driving. He moved out of the woods, down a long stretch of road and to a large field holding a helicopter a few miles away. After killing the engine, he simply sat there.

“Ready, sport?” Ace said.

Lucky nodded, grabbed the keys and made his way to the trunk. A small smile appeared as he thought that his plan might just go off without a hitch. That he might just get away from The Agency. He could be free.

With excited quickness, he unlocked the trunk and looked inside. There was a large plastic bottle filled with a thick red liquid, a small spray bottle filled with the same liquid and a small black briefcase.

“Guess Yuri pulled through on all fronts,” Ace said from behind Lucky. He looked over his shoulder and found himself smiling at the figure he had grown to detest.

“Gotta love the mindless peons.”

“I guess that's why Abe loves you so much. Now quick. Let's get this show on the road,” Ace said.

Lucky stopped smiling and grabbed the large bottle and the sprayer and moved to the driver's seat. Cautiously he poured some of the blood down the back and sprayed the steering wheel, the seat and anywhere else that could have been hit if the driver was caught with a couple bullets. Once he was satisfied with the carnage in the vehicle, he sat the blood down and went around to the trunk. It was time to utilize the contents of the case.

“Better hurry, Luck. Mike is probably getting impatient in that chopper.”

“Shut it. I'm working.”

Lucky quickly reached inside the trunk and opened the plastic case. Inside was an earpiece and a handgun. The earpiece was his, to report back to The Agency when the mission was complete. The gun would be traced back to Xavier. Vlad's other crony. He pulled the gun out and moved around to the front of the car. Without emotion, he stood at the front of the vehicle and fired three rounds from the powerful handgun through the windshield and into the driver's seat.

“And now, time for a show,” Ace said, appearing suddenly in the driver's seat. “I simply can't wait.”

Lucky refused to respond as he made a final trip to the trunk and pulled earpiece out. He placed it in his ear and moved to the driver's side of the vehicle. Ace was now sitting on the roof of the car with a bucket of popcorn in his lap. Lucky reached up and turned on the earpiece. He let out a loud cough.

“Agent 13 reporting in,” he said. “The target is down. But I've been hit. It's bad, Wally.”

“My name is Walter, you prick. Not Wally. How bad are your injuries?”

“Caught three times,” Lucky coughed again. “Not gonna make it. Managed to get out of the car but I'm not going anywhere. Where's Mike?”

“Not responding.”

“Well, unless he get's here fast I'm not going to...”

Lucky cut himself off by firing a shot into the driver's side door. Right where his head would be if he were leaning against the car. A quick motion later and the earpiece was out of his ear and on the ground where he stomped on it. On the roof of the car, Ace started to clap.

“Bravo. Bravo.”

“There. Plan is done. Now back in my skull. I'm tired of looking at you.”

Ace raised a middle finger and as Lucky blinked, the madman had disappeared. Dropping the gun and grabbing his supplies, he smiled as he made his way across the field. The Agency would probably find out eventually that the whole thing was staged. But with any luck it wouldn't be for a while. And by the time they figured it out, he would be well hidden. He was free. By the time he had reached the chopper, his smile had grown exponetially.

Standing outside his exit transportation was an overweight individual wearing a set of coveralls and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. His smile reflected Lucky's and the large man held out a hand.

“Ready to get back to reality, Luckster?”

Lucky nodded. “Yes sir, Mister Mike. Let's go.”

As the now former assassin climbed into the back of the chopper. Mike maneuvered into the front and started it up. Within minutes, they were in the air and on their way out of Russia. Mike had been the closest thing to a friend that Lucky had at The Agency with the sole exception of his former partner. Mike was the only one that Lucky had entrusted with his plan for escaping his employers. After all, no one left The Agency. Not unless they were in a box. Lucky knew it. Mike knew it. Together they put together the perfect escape plan. With Lucky's skills and Mike's job of being the extraction expert, it had to work.

“Where to, buddy?” Mike shouted.

“Signet City. The last place they should look for me.”

Lucky leaned back in his seat and let his eyes drift close. As he retreated into his mind, he was greeted by a pitch black room. The only light was that of a spotlight that shone down onto a brown recliner where Ace sat with a grin.

“Welcome to the gray matter, Luck,” Ace said, his voice echoing around the empty space. “You and I should talk.”

“About what?”

“Mike.”

“What about him?”

“We can't trust him. After we get to Signet City, you're going to have to kill him. Its the only way to ensure that you are never found by Abe, Wally and the rest of the fuck squad.”

Lucky shook his head. The thought was ludicrous. He could never kill Mike. Mike was the most loyal person he had ever met. He shook his head again. “No. Never.”

“Think about it, Lucky. The Agency will find out the scene on the road is fake. They will ask Mike and when he feigns ignorance, they will torture him. They will do horrible, awful things that will make what you and bimbo did in London look like it tickled. Then he will talk. They will find you and then they will kill you and in the process. Me. I don't want to die, Lucky. Kill the fat fuck or let me do it for you.”

Lucky stepped forward in the blackness and pointed a finger at the delusion in the chair.

“You are not going to touch him. We are not killing him. He won't talk. I know it. He wants to be free as much as I do. He would never sabotage this even if he was being tortured. And frankloy, you gying is a very appealing thought.”

There was a flash of light and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Ace was directly in front of him with a hand on Lucky's throat. “I don't die unless you do. However, I could take you out up here and occupy that worthless flesh in which you reside. Then I will kill Mike and whatever else I feel like. Got me?”

Lucky nodded. Ace let go and appeared back in his chair with a smug smirk on his face. Lucky coughed and clutched at his mental throat.

“If you think Mike is that desperate to leave. That loyal to you. Ask him to leave with you. If he says yes, then you're right and I won't say a word for an entire week. If he refuses, then I say we kill him to spare him the pain he will experience later. Deal?”

Lucky simply stared, unsure of what to say. He really wanted to just tell Ace to shut up anyway but doubts started to present themselves. What if they did get to Mike? What if he did talk? He hated to admit but for the first time in a long time, Ace made a little bit of sense.

*************

What does Lucky do? Ignore Ace and just leave his mind? Accept the deal? Accept it and back out if Ace wins? Its up to you.

[kkdestiny]

Nice. I think i'm becoming a fan of your biz XD

Well, knowing how torture works and how mentally strong you'd have to be to keep a secret even through it and the fact that lucky is a trained assassin and is desperate for freedom, the idea that mike could become a hole in their plan is a real possibility. A strong one.

Choosing between taking the chance of your mind killing your main personality and possibly unleashing a fricken psycho on the world to kill the closest thing you have to a friend without mercy and do whatever else while you cease to exist...or giving your buddy a chance to free himself, keeping your mental self alive, and possibly having a friend to keep you company in your freedom.

Given the choices, I'd make the deal with, my own person devil, if you would.

[Lilith]

You should ask him to go with you. If he refuses, you can't exactly kill him without making it obvious that you're still alive. Ace's plan is whacked. At least with letting Mike live, you've got some time to use and disappear from The Agency.

[Tikanni Corazon]

Hey Biz!


A great first chapter we have here! I can see this turning into much more a psychological thriller than the gangster-type tale it seemed to be in the prologue. The appearance of Ace was unexpected, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of him yet, but at this early stage in the story, it's a good edition. :)

I found a couple of things here...
Quote: Lucky stood for a moment and stared down at Vladimir's corpse. Feeling a little more dead inside because of his actions. Vlad brought his kill count up to at least fifty.

The sentence marked in red needs to be joined to one of the others quoted or modified slightly...

Lucky stood for a moment and stared down at Vladimir's corpse, feeling a little more dead inside because of his actions.

Lucky stood for a moment and stared down at Vladimir's corpse. Feeling a little more dead inside because of his actions, Vlad brought his kill count up to at least fifty.

Lucky stood for a moment and stared down at Vladimir's corpse. He felt just a little more dead inside because of his actions. Vlad brought his kill count up to at least fifty.

I personally think that the first version has the best flow, but all of them work.

Quote: And frankloy, you gying is a very appealing thought.”

Frankly and Dying

Quote: He hated to admit but for the first time in a long time, Ace made a little bit of sense.

I think there needs to be an 'it' after the 'admit' here.


For the DP...I'm saying that Ace should be ignored and Lucky should let Mike go free. Ace seems to be made up of Lucky's 'mad' side, that one can imagine that all assassins, no matter how sane they seem, must have, and the actual sane side of him personality should avoid doing what Ace says. If Mike was going to be a rat, he wouldn't have agreed to helping Lucky in the first place, so he should be given the benefit of the doubt.


Much enjoyed Biz! Keep up the good work! :)

[Andolyn]

love it, Biz!! exciting and just your type of weird. XD

i'm going to go with everyone else and say let's ask Mike to come with...if he doesnt, we'll have our answer.

[Seraphi]

I am loving this story! The right amount of action, mystery and suspense, mixed with the way you write (which I greatly admire) makes this a super enjoyable read!

I'm going to go with Lilith on the DP. Ace's plan has holes. I say agree with what he's saying for now and as soon as Lucky is out of the "gray matter" go back on the deal. Ask Mike to come; if he says no, say good-bye and good luck. It seems that when Lucky is in his physical body Ace can only annoy the crap out of him (that's how it seems anyways), so it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Great job, keep it up! :D

[sagittaeri]

Biz, great introduction! I love your characters and how you portray them. They feel alive to me. I found Lucky a particularly interesting character because right off the bat we can tell he's multi-layered. He has a dark side, but it doesn't overwhelm his other traits. I got a feeling this one is going to be great. :D

As for DP, I disagree with either options. I don't believe Lucky would ever go for killing Mike, nor would he let his friend walk right into a potential torture.

No, I believe not only will Lucky *ask* Mike, but he will *persuade* his friend to leave the agency, whatever the cost. It's clear that the plan that will buy them the most time, would be to fake Mike's death, too. Crash the damn chopper, I say. ;)

[misterbiz]

Getting Lucky is now officially polling. Ace commands you to vote

[misterbiz]

Lucky took a couple steps forward and extended his hand. Ace smiled and pushed himself out of the chair. As the madman reached out to shake it, Lucky brought it up and backhanded his alter-ego. The blow sent the shades from Ace's face and a low guttural growl echoed from around the room. Before Ace could react, Lucky's eyes opened and he was once again in his seat in the chopper. Every instinct kicked in and in a very sudden motion, he examined the entire interior of the vehicle. Ace was nowhere to be seen.

His words echoed around in his head. He was right about what The Agency would do to Mike if they got their hands on him. He had done similar things to people as well. It was a certainty that the illusion of death would dissipate. And Mike would be left to take the fall. A million images flashed inside Lucky's skull of Mike in various states of agony from varying means of torture. Methods that Lucky recognized as the ways he had gone about injuring people in the past. After a minute of the horrific slideshow, he could have sworn that he hear Ace chuckling in the back of his head..

For the next hour, Lucky put together numerous scenarios in his head and they each held the same outcome. Either Mike, Lucky or both of them in shallow graves while Abe and Walt stood by shaking their heads. He had to do something. Mike was too good of a friend to be left out to dry like that. The fact that he was taking this risk now cemented that fact.

Lucky moved a bit in the back and leaned up near the front. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Ace's voice rebounding within the walls of his skull.

“You're not seriously going to ask him to come with you, are ya?” his twisted voice said.

Lucky patted Mike on the shoulder and leaned a bit further up. “Hey, Mister Mike, I've got a proposition for you.”

“He's gonna say no. You know that, right?”

“What is it, Luck?” Mike asked, never removing his eyes from the sky in front of him.

“Leave with me,” Lucky said. “Get out of The Agency. Use this as an opportunity to turn in your two weeks.”

“Sorry, Luck,” he said. “I can't. Unlike you, I'm not too resourceful or sneaky. They'd find me in less than a week.”

“Told you,” Ace stated.

“We'll fake your death too. We'll figure out a way to make it look like your bird crashed and then you just walk away.”

Mike nodded. “But I don't know my way around Signet City. That's your town. I'm a Chicago boy.”

“I'll set you up. I've still got some friends in high places. And some in some very low places.”

Mike paused and it made Lucky uneasy. In the back of his head, Ace subjected him to another mental slasher flick of Mike being murdered in a variety of colorful ways. “I dunno, Luck.”
Lucky took a deep breath and released it. “Look, if you don't leave, when The Agency figures out that my death is fake, they will come to you. You'll deny it and then they are going to hurt you. They will subject you to the worst horrors anyone can endure. If you manage to stay silent, they will kill you. Hell, they probably will anyway. You have to leave. Please, for me. I can't have what they will do to you on my conscience.”

Mike nodded. There was another long pause for the pudgy pilot. Eventually he nodded again. “Alright, Lucky. You have any ideas on how we're going to make it look like Ol' Betsy here crashed, though?”

“One. Land at the Signet Tower helipad. You'll recognize it. The building's huge. Once we're there, I'll make a call.”

He nodded and Lucky moved farther back in the chopper, glad that he was actually able to talk Mike into leaving. Back in the gray matter, he could hear Ace let out some disgruntled mumbling. The sound of his alter ego displeased was enough to put a Cheshire like grin onto his face. The thought of sleeping briefly occurred to him but he didn't want to be in his subconscious for too long while Ace was in a foul mood.

Instead, he stayed awake and thought back to his days back when he was a resident of Signet City. A million memories came to him at once, nearly overwhelming him with nostalgia. Pushing through the mess of remembrance, he locked onto one past event in particular. It was when he was younger. He was sitting in the office of Harry's Strip Club, his father's business. He was seated in his dad's chair, eyes focused on a portable television that was playing some cartoons.

The office door behind him opened and a statuesque blonde in a gold bikini entered. She smelled of cheap perfume, sweat and shame. A trio of smells he had grown up to find absolutely intoxicating. She ruffled his hair and smiled a wide, blindingly white smile.

“Heya, Luck Man,” she said. “Your old man in?”

Luck nodded and pointed to the door that led out back. The door that had acted as his entrance and exit for many years so that his puberty ridden mind wouldn't see anything. Around fifteen he stopped using that door. The dancer looked to the door smiled back at him and dropped a couple singles in front of him.

“Thanks, big man,” she said.

Growing up the son of a strip club owner had been a blessing and a curse. He had earned his share of scorn from jealous schoolmates though he couldn't care less. He was friends with strippers, after all. He flashed through more of his days in his father's shadow, dreaming to one day take over the business for himself. Life, however, had different plans. As his memories started to shift, he was pulled out of his thoughts by Mike's voice.

“Yo,” he called. “We're approaching the city.”

Lucky sat up and gazed at his watch. Hours had passed. Either he had fallen asleep and Ace had left him alone or he had simply zoned out. Either way, it didn't matter. Gazing out the window, he could see the city's lights.

“Welcome home, sport,” Ace's voice hissed into his ear. “I sure hope its worth pissing off The Agency.”

After another hour or so, the chopper landed on the helipad of Signet Tower. The tallest building in the entire city. Mike killed the chopper and Lucky hopped out. He stretched for a minute before pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. It was disposable and untraceable. He had made sure to leave his real phone back in Russia. He wasn't stupid enough to keep a GPS anywhere near him. With a sigh he dialed a number and pressed it to his ear.

“Floor 13, Room 13,” the voice said on the other end.

“Do you...” Lucky started.

“Yes. I know where you are. Had you pegged about two hours ago. Floor 13, Room 13. Now.”

The person hung up and Lucky looked over to Mike. With a small gesture to the door, the two of them walked to the only set of doors available and strolled inside. They were greeted by a long hallway. On each side of the hall were three men in designer suits, each one holding a double barreled shotgun.

A look of nervousness came over Mike's face. Lucky patted him on the shoulder and the two of them proceeded forward and onto an elevator. As Lucky pressed the button to take them down several floors, his companion looked at him..

“Just who did you call? Those guys up their looked like they belong in The Agency.”

“I called a guy who owes me a favor. I did him a solid once so he owes me. The goons upstairs are his personal guard. Don't worry, he's not with The Agency. Them and him aren't even on speaking terms anymore.”

Mike nodded but looked unconvinced. Once on the thirteenth floor, Lucky made his way to the room with a giant thirteen painted on the large double doors. On the other side of the door, Lucky could hear the sound of growls and groans fired by gunshots. After shoving the doors open in a dramatic fashion, he quickly found himself feeling foolish.

Inside the room, a younger gentleman in a gray suit had his eyes fixated on a television. On the screen, Lucky could see a young man in a dress shirt and pants shooting a zombie in the skull as it was about to devour a pair of women, one with short blonde hair and another with crimson hair. The man watching it, paused it and then rose from his chair. Slowly, he picked up a skull cap from his seat and slid it onto his head. Then he turned and promptly drew a gun and fired it in Lucky's direction.

The bullet grazed Lucky's cheek and he reeled back in pain. His eyes watered as a burning sensation spread through the side of his face.

“I've owed you that for a while, Lucky,” the figure stated.

“What the fucking fuck, Stone?” Lucky shouted as he turned his attention back to the figure in the room.

“That is for London. You're really living up to your namesake. That should have been between the eyes but unfortunately that would be taking a side. Scarring you is just justice.” The man in the suit put his gun away and sat back down in his chair.

“What do you want, Lucky?”

“Look, Stone, I know I fucked up but you still owe me a favor. I want you to use your old fixer resources and make it look like a helicopter crashed with my friend here inside.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Bullshit. I pulled your ass out of the fire. You were about to earn your old man's fate. You messed up and I took the fall.”

“And I did so for you on three other occasions. If anything, you owe me.”

“Fuck you, Stone. I'm just asking for one favor. A one time deal. Help my friend escape The Agency and you will never see me again.”

Stone looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Alright, you two go downstairs. My driver will drop you off wherever you want to go. I'll take care of the chopper. And if I ever see your face again, Lucky, I will personally blow it off.”

Lucky nodded. “Thanks.”

Stone restarted his zombie movie and leaned back. “Get the fuck out. Let me watch my Eternia in peace.”

Lucky nodded and quickly escorted his friend to the elevator.

“He was nice,” Mike said nervously.

“He was always a cold bastard. Part of being a Cleaner and a Fixer. He's moved on up but his attitude hasn't changed. Last I heard, he was trying to drink himself happy and failing. Probably gonna start doing other substances. He'll find one that works.”

“You sound like you two were close at one point,

“In a way,” Lucky said. “We dealt with some similar things so we could relate. We ended up going down two different paths though.”

On the bottom floor, the elevator doors opened and the pair was led to a limo by another thug with a shotgun. They took their seat in the back and the window to the front slid down. The driver said nothing. The goons never did. It was all a part of their intimidation factor. Lucky opened his mouth to say where to go but found himself overrun with possibilities. A large part of him wanted to visit the visiting place of his youth. Harry's. Yet other parts of him wanted to head to his childhood home and to the spot he had used as a safehouse for anytime a mission brought him through the area. It was sure to contain clean clothes and a nice sum of cash to get started in the city. The realm of possibilities was vast. He glanced out the window as he thought of where to go first.

*************

So where to first? Childhood home? Dad's strip club? Safehouse? Just cruise the city? Where shall Lucky go now that he's home?

[Seraphi]

Squee, its Stone! (<-is becoming an obsessive fangirl and does not care XD) Another super awesome amazing brilliant chapter, Biz! Loving all the tie-ins. Let's see if I can guess them all, yes?

1) Signet city (from KtD) and Signet tower (from the Christmas competition)
2) Harry's Strip Club (also from KtD - never expected Lucky to be connected to that place!)
3) Rat and Ana (from Eternia)

I probably missed something, but that will just make rereading later all the more fun!

A few things...

misterbiz wrote: After a minute of the horrific slideshow, he could have sworn that he hear Ace chuckling in the back of his head..

Heard

misterbiz wrote: “Just who did you call? Those guys up their looked like they belong in The Agency.”

There

misterbiz wrote: “I called a guy who owes me a favor. I did him a solid once so he owes me.

Take out the "so he owes me" in the second sentence. It was already estabished in the first sentence that the guy (Stone! <3) owes Lucky, so we don't need it.

...and that's it. Nothing major.

It's tough to choose where to go. I kind of want to go to the strip club/cruise the city because I want the potential for more tie-ins. XD But I think the safest bet is to probably either go to the childhood home or the safehouse so Lucky and Mike can get some rest and make some plans.

Keep up the great work! :D

[Lilith]

Seraphi took care of the typos so I'll just kick back and enjoy the show. ;) Good chunks of info in this chappie, especially with the memory of Luck's past ... that being said, I don't think it's a smart idea for him to head anywhere with Stone's goons with him. While Stone himself may not be speaking to The Agency, it doesn't mean his goons can't be persuaded with the promise of money or dismemberment to give up info on Lucky & Mike. So definitely cruise around the city somewhere until they reach a neutral location that allows Luck to get Mike and himself where and what they need. Then shake the goons quick like a bunny.

[Tikanni Corazon]

Hey Biz


Like Seraphi, I found the links amusing to pick out (I purposely didn't read Seraphi's post so that I didn't get any clues as to who/what the link might be) I got two of them, and two out of three isn't bad, though I should have got all of them I realise, upon seeing Seraphi's list. I didn't make the connection of Harry's Strip Joint though, unfortunately.


Anyway, another nice addition to your tale here. The tale is certainly building and you're creating the exoskeleton of the world in which many of your stories are set, ready for the finer points to be worked out when you get the chance. Good job! And I'm glad Lucky didn't kill Mike. I think if he had, it would've made me far less keen for him to get away. As it is, Ace is like Lucky's bad side, and I personally would prefer it to stay that way, rather than have Lucky start being ruthless, especially towards someone considered a friend.


I found a few things as I was reading...
Quote: Mike paused and it made Lucky uneasy. In the back of his head, Ace subjected him to another mental slasher flick of Mike being murdered in a variety of colorful ways. “I dunno, Luck.” 
Lucky took a deep breath and released it. “Look, if you don't leave, when The Agency figures out that my death is fake, they will come to you. You'll deny it and then they are going to hurt you. They will subject you to the worst horrors anyone can endure. If you manage to stay silent, they will kill you. Hell, they probably will anyway. You have to leave. Please, for me. I can't have what they will do to you on my conscience.” 

There needs to be a gap between the two speakers here, after Mike speaks.

Quote: The dancer looked to the door smiled back at him and dropped a couple singles in front of him.

Comma after 'door', and I think there needs to be an 'of' after 'couple'.

Quote: He had earned his share of scorn from jealous schoolmates though he couldn't care less.

Comma after 'schoolmates'.


For the DP...Clean clothes and cash sounds like the sensible option, and best to do that sooner rather than later, just in case The Agency doesn't fall for their plan and comes after them, or Stone betrays them. So, to the safehouse!


Great chappie, Biz, keep up the good work! :)

[sagittaeri]

Well done, biz! I much enjoyed this chapter! Typing on a mobile phone now, so I'll be brief.

I agree with Lilith. Drop off at a busy central train station to shake off the goons, then get to the safe house and stock up on whatever they need. Don't stay long, in case the agency knows about the safe house.

[misterbiz]

Polling!

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

Whoo, that was entertaining. I like how well thought out everything seems to be, and I'm always a sucker for dark alter egos springing from mental issues. Much love for Ace. I think he's my favorite so far :P I almost fell out of my seat when you mentioned Stone watching Eternia, that was a nice touch. Great story telling and inside joke.


I got my vote in, and am waiting for the next chappy!

[misterbiz]

Lucky leaned back in his seat as an idea sprang to mind. He looked over to Mike who was staring at him with a look of nervous dread. A slick smile tugged at Lucky's lips. He cleared his t5hroat and focused his attention on the goon who was glaring at them from the front.

“Take us to Charon's Liquors,” he said.

The goon said nothing. He simply turned to the front and raised the window separating the two sections. The vehicle started moving and Mike moved closer.

“Luck, why are you having this guy take us to a liquor store?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucky could make out the form of Ace materializing and leaning in close as well.

“Yeah, good buddy, why we headed there?” Lucky swallowed hard, doing his best to ignore the manifestation on his left. Turning to Mike, his smile grew slightly.

“Don't worry about it. I'll explain it once we get there.”

Turning his attention back to the front, Lucky had to stifle a startled gasp as he found Ace had moved directly in front of him. The mental madman was sporting a look of mock insult.

“Aww...that's not fair, Luckster, I really wanna know. You planning on taking up drinking. Oh please say yes,” Ace said.

Lucky said nothing in return. Mike had no idea about Ace's existence and Lucky wasn't going to let on about it now. Instead, he just grit his teeth and glared ahead at the bastard in front of him. The look of insult morphed into a twisted grin that caused Ace's face to contort in a way that reminded Lucky of a cartoon character.

“Ignoring me now, Robinson,” Ace said in a voice reeking with malice. The evil that flared in the back of Ace's blank eyes sent a chill down his spine. Ace turned his sickening gaze toward Mike and the already too large smile expanded. “Oh that's right, Fatty McLardass doesn't know about your better half, does he?”

Lucky squirmed in his seat. Ace's mangled face and evil tone made him extremely uncomfortable, yet he could do nothing. Usually when the phantom spoke up, Lucky could discharge a weapon at him or bark him into being quiet but his current surroundings prevented both options. Ace's attention turned back to Lucky and allowed his smile to simply fade away.

“You shouldn't have brought him out with you,” Ace said, his voice sounding suddenly serious. For the first time in his entire existence there was no trace of psychosis in his voice. There was no maliciousness or half-insane amusement. Just darkness. “You are going to get him killed or worse. You should have just done it yourself. At least then, it would have been painless. Once Abe finds out where you are, and you know the old man will, you two will endure enough pain that even a masochist would beg for mercy.”

Then in a blink of an eye, Ace disappeared back into the recesses of Lucky's gray matter. Lucky sat deathly still. The tone that Ace had taken frightened him even more than his smile. Logically he knew that the whole idea of fearing Ace was ridiculous. He was, for the most part, harmless. He was only able to take the reigns when Lucky's inhibitions were low or when Lucky needed a break from the world. Other than that, all Ace could do was talk, bluster and threaten. But still, Lucky feared him. Ace was his own personal boogeyman. A vengeful ghost that haunted him simply because it was fun.

Lucky pushed all thoughts of the madman out of his skull and turned his attention to the window and watched as the city passed outside. The skyscrapers of the downtown district towered high into the sky like an army of unfeeling glass gods. The handful of times he had been in this area of town provided him with enough of a recollection to conclude that in the years he had been away, nothing had changed. This conclusion spawned another. If downtown was still the glittering gem of jaded assholes that it had always been, then surely his neck of the woods was still the grim, gritty wasteland that he had once loved.

In silence, they drove. Lucky's eyes bouncing between Mike, the outside surroundings and the front of the vehicle. Mike nearly had his nose pressed to the window and was staring in awe at the city around them. He was still not used to being in the big city. He was usually required to land outside of city limits and wait. From the couple hundred conversations that pair have had, Lucky knew that Mike had been raised in a small town and had gotten flying lessons from a friend in the private airport outside of his hometown. Lucky continually glanced over and watched as his gaze intensified as their surroundings seemed to morph around them.

Skyscrapers gave way to cookie cutter houses painted up in beige and other neutral, non-offending colors. These houses sat amongst average schools, minivan dealerships, a golf course and necessities of suburban living. Another metamorphosis came a few miles later, although this shift in class was a bit more subtle and slow. All of the nicety began to slowly fade. The houses became a little worse for wear and little less cookie cutter-esque. More graffiti appeared on walls. An abundance of crappy, pay by the hour hotels started to crop up.

“How much farther, Luck?” Mike asked, breaking the silence as it became apparent that they were in the seedy part of town.

“Not far,” Lucky said. “Shouldn't be long now.”

The limo stopped about three minutes later. The window separating the front of the limo and the back lowered and the goon glared back at them again. Lucky nodded at him and gestured for Mike to get out. The hefty man obeyed, stepped out and Lucky followed after giving a mocking wave at the driver.

“Come on,” he said, flashing Mike a grin to let him know that he knew exactly what he was doing. Lucky moved through the front door of Charon's Liquors and stopped at the front desk.

“Holy shit,” the man behind the counter said, “Lucky Robinson, is that you?”

The man was about average height with rainbow colored hair. He was wearing a white shirt with the image of the fabled ferryman that the business was named after.

“Yep. Back in town. On a permanent basis, this time.”

The man behind the counter smiled. “Well, its fucking nice to see you, bro. Been to see Kelly yet?”

Lucky's eyes widened and his heart climbed a few notches into his throat. That wasn't a name he hadn't heard since he took off and signed up with Abe's Agency. He swallowed hard as he fought to put up a mental dam to hold back the flood of memories and emotions that were starting to build up within him.

“Kelly's still in town?”

The cashier grinned. “Oh yeah. You should stop by and see her. She works every night down at your pop's ol' shop.”

His heart suddenly dropped to its original position and a blast of jealous anger burst through his subconscious sandbags. The thought of a million strangers eying her and seeing parts of her that in the lighter hours, are covered sickened him. Fighting back the emotion, he gave a nod.

“I'll be sure to do that.”

Lucky looked the the front for a moment before glancing back toward the man behind the counter.

“Can you tell me if a limo is still parked outside?” he asked. The cashier took a step back to gaze through the small front window that the building had.

“Yep. Sitting there, engine off.”

Lucky gave a nod then started toward the back of the store. “Gotta run, Remy,” he said. “I'll stop by in another time.”

Without looking to see if Mike was following, Lucky moved to the far back of the store where a large, iron door sat. Pushing through, he found himself in an alley with a single green dumpster a couple feet to his left.

“What's the plan, Luck?” Mike asked.

“Simple. We exit the alley, take a cab to another location, walk a block to the safehouse, and then do whatever the hell we want.”

“Sounds good.”

“No, it doesn't,” Ace's psychotic voice mumbled in his ears. “It sounds fairly stupid.”

Lucky ignored the voice and turned, exiting the alley on the side opposite the dumpster. At the street, he turned and started walking away from the store. For several blocks there were no signs of either cab or a pay phone to call for one. There was only the sight of the beat up decade old cars and the beat-up people that owned them. Somewhere in his head, Ace was humming a funeral march. It seemed appropriate.

Every thirteen steps, Lucky would cast a glance over his shoulder and watch for the limo or anything else that was out of the ordinary. There was no trace of the limo. If the driver had been ordered to keep an eye on him and Mike then he would have probably left to report back to Stone. Yet there was something. A red convertible sat on the side of the street a few yards away. Through several different glances, Lucky could tell that it was moving. It was following him. Sitting in the passenger seat was a muscular black man wearing a white button-up shirt, fedora and sunglasses. Seated next to him was a smaller male that appeared topless and was also clad in a fedora and sunglasses.

“Doesn't that just reek of Abe?” Ace's voice chuckled. “Told you that you were gonna die.”

Lucky shook the madman away. It didn't make any sense. It couldn't be the Agency. Chances were that, if anything, they were still investigating his “death.” No. It couldn't be them. It had to be Stone or some random creeper. That had to be it. It was only his nerves,. The situation at hand was getting to him.

As he tried to keep himself focused on finding a cab and getting out of the area. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that the men in the convertible were watching him and meant trouble. A war erupted in his skull. Part of him wanted to double back and confront the men in the convertible, the rest of him wanted to just keep going to the safehouse. And somewhere, deep down, a sliver of him was crying out to go see Kelly.

He kept walking as he weighed the pros and cons in his head.

**********

So what does he do? Confront the men? Stick to the plan? Some different plan to throw the guys off?

[Seraphi]

Woo! Another Getting Lucky! And it is as brilliant as always, Biz. It was short, but not lacking - mysterious red convertible with some shady guys (that may or may not belong to Abe), a love interest, and most importantly a brief mention of Stone *is shot*

Anywho, saw one typo...

misterbiz wrote: He cleared his t5hroat and focused his attention on the goon who was glaring at them from the front.

That bastard 5 XD

I'm thinking because the city hasn't seemed to change all that much since last Lucky was in it, he shouldn't be too hard pressed to give those guys in the car the run around to shake them. The safe house won't be all that safe with these goons on their tails, so its best to lose them first. Maybe all that bobbing and weaving will even get them close to where Kelly works, and Lucky can get his glimpse of her (just so he doesn't go berserk on all the patrons XD).

Keep up the great work, Biz! :D

[sagittaeri]

Yeah! Awesome work, biz! I love the way you described the city - it feels alive. Mike the small town boy, loving it.

Who are the people in the car? Is it yet another new player in the game? Lucky seems convinced that it's neither Abe nor Stone. Not knowing what chess pieces are on the board is a huge disadvantage. So, for DP, I see Lucky trying to turn the tables around a bit by first attempting to shake them, and then tail them. He might want to send Mike somewhere safe before tailing the red car, though.