FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #7

"She's a local."  Prada Franks leaned over the bar, whispering the information into the right ear of a man outfitted entirely in black. The man was tall with broad shoulders.  His granite handsome face featured a massive black mustache that drooped downwards, emphasizing a strong, square chin.   A black Stetson hat banded with snakeskin covered his head.  A black leather holster and utility belt were strapped around his waist.  Astute obsidian eyes reflected deep interest in Prada’s disclosure.  He shoved five gold coins towards the barman.

“Send her a drink from me and keep the change.”

Vic Vengeance, intergalactic bounty hunter, watched Prada greedily grab up the coins and scurry off to mix a cheap drink to deliver to the female sitting three stools to his left.

“She doesn’t look much like an assassin to me.”  Angie Creedence whispered.

Vengeance looked to his right, surveying his Wiccan partner.  Angie was dressed provocatively in a skimpy black dress cut low in the front, black fishnet hose, and four-inch black stiletto heels.  Her frizzy red hair was tamed into a fashionable style.  Her makeup was dramatic, emphasizing large almond-shaped green eyes that were almost snakelike in intensity.

“Jealous?” Vengeance inquired.

“Of what?” Angie said, frowning.  “She’s rather common looking, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” Vengeance replied indifferently, “I only care that we take a body back to Grubtown Central.

“I’m missing out on quality time with Cain to do this job,” Angie whispered.  “He’s growing so fast, Vic.  I don’t want to miss a moment of his childhood.  The bounty on her is dead or alive.  I vote dead!”

Cain was the son of Yelania, an informer for Vengeance, who'd died during a gun battle between Vengeance, Angie, and a pimp named Darvon Jones. Vengeance took over guardianship of the boy after Yelania’s death.  Angie was besotted with the boy, and spent most of her spare time mothering him.

“She’s worth more alive.” Vengeance said, taking a swallow of whiskey. 

“I don’t care,” Angie hissed, taking her wand out of her handbag.  “I could zap her with a dead hex right from here.”

“No!” Vengeance snarled.  “She’s a local.  She’s part of a gang and this place is her territory, not ours.  She’ll have backup that outguns and outnumbers us.”

Angie sighed and returned the wand to her handbag.  She picked up her drink, a tall glass of pink lemonade laced with 200 proof Schneck’s.   The drink was called a sour pink zap.  Angie’s full red lips pouted as she sipped the toxic liquid through a thin green straw.

Vengeance’s shrewd eyes surveyed the room.  Gophers Tavern was small and dark as a gopher hole.  The only light in the place came from blood red wax candles placed strategically in areas that required light.  The area behind the bar where Prada mixed drinks was the brightest area, having two large candelabra, one on each side of a massive ornate wall mirror.  A candelabrum lit the entrance doorway, and two more highlighted a shadowy stairway leading to guest rooms located above the tavern.  A number of small flickering votive candles were scattered atop the round wooden tables surrounding the bar.  The light they emitted was too weak to clearly reflect the visages of those seated at the tables.

Vengeance watched the mirror reflect Prada delivering a drink to a tall, oval-faced female with wide blue eyes and short black hair centrally parted and tucked neatly behind petite ears.  She wore blue denim overalls with plenty of pockets large enough to hold the tools of her trade, weapons and devices useful in bringing about the death of a target.  Her face was void of makeup.  A black teardrop tattoo next to her left eye marked her as a gang member.  Inside the teardrop was a black frog, identifying her gang as Toad’s Spawn.

The woman gazed into the mirror, curious eyes focusing on Vengeance’s reflection.  Vengeance nodded to the woman.  She didn’t respond.  She handed her glass back to Prada and whispered something. Prada pandered to her for a moment, then her eyes narrowed and she hissed something that put a sour look on Prada’s face.   He moved to the sink and dumped the drink.  The woman watched as Prada mixed a new drink and set it before her. She looked back into the mirror making eye contact with Vengeance.  She held the glass aloft, nodded once, then downed the drink in one shot.

“She has trust issues,” Angie observed.  "Nabbing her might end up more of a challenge than we planned on.”

“Nabbing her isn’t the plan,” Vengeance said calmly, sipping his whiskey his eyes still on the mirror.  The woman pulled a small grey drawstring bag from a pocket.  She pulled out a few pieces of silver from the bag, and tossed it on the bar.  She pocketed the bag, stood up, then headed towards the exit.

“Are we going to follow her?”  Angie asked sipping her drink.

“No,” Vengeance replied.  He kept his eyes on the mirror, watching the woman exit.

“Why are we letting her get away?” Angie asked. 

“She’s not getting away,” Vengeance replied, taking a sip of whisky, “She’ll be back.”

Angie rolled her eyes.  Vengeance had a plan, but he wasn’t ready to share it with her.  Angie was comfortable with this maneuver.  Her job was to back Vengeance up, not carry out the nab.  When it was time to act, he would let her know what he needed and trust that she would perform without hesitation.  They had worked enough jobs in the past to build a solid trust in one another.  They had blended their individual talents into a formidable partnership and had forged a seriously profitable business as a result.

Angie turned on her stool, resting her back against the bar.  She sipped her sour pink zap, surveying the dark areas surrounding them.  An hour ago, she had used her incredible memory, honed by years of Wiccan training, to mark the location of every dangerous corner of the place. She noted all the areas where one could fade into the darkness and not be seen.  She rechecked all danger zones and noted that changes had occurred since her last surveillance.  The dark corners of the room, once vacant, were now populated with shadowy figures.   The vibes they were giving off were not good. 

“Vic, what’s the plan for dealing with the bunch of goons surrounding us?” Angie asked fingering the wand in her handbag.

“They’re Lexie Rust’s backup crew,” Vengeance replied calmly sipping his whisky, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

“I don’t like them, Vic.”  Angie said taking another sip of her drink.  “They’re giving me the creeps!”

“Stay cool, Angie.”  Vengeance said.  “We don’t want a fight.”

“I know that,” Angie replied crossly, “It’s their territory and  blah…blah…blah.  I’m becoming bored with this waiting game, Vic.”

“Just a while longer, Angie,” Vengeance told her.  “Big Toad isn’t in the building, yet.” 

“Big Toad!”  Angie turned and gave Vengeance a furious glare.  “If you'd told me Big Toad was part of this I wouldn’t have come!” 

“I know,” Vengeance replied, his eyes never leaving the mirror.  He took another sip of whisky. “That’s why I didn’t tell you until now.”

Big Toad was the son and heir of the deceased mobster, Old Toad.  The Toads were the main mobster family currently in charge of Grubtown’s criminal industry. 

Angie had become acquainted with the Toad family over a decade ago when Old Toad and a group of similar scum had bonded together and waged a surprise attack on the Wiccan Order of Alder.  Their intent was not to wipe the order out, but to take several young Wiccans hostage with the plan to ransom some of them back to the order and sell others for profit to their mob mogul friends who wanted to build their empires by using magic performed by Wiccan slaves.  Angie had been one of those taken.  Her order had offered a fat ransom for her, prompting Old Toad to rightly assume the young Wiccan had considerable powers he could compel her to use for his financial benefit. 

Old Toad’s style was to use torture and death threats to compel the unwilling to obey.  Angie had complied with Old Toad’s demands after a brief stint in a torture chamber convinced her that she was not martyr material.  She had been forced to watch two of her Wiccan clan die in agony rather than defy their vows never to use their powers in criminal enterprise.  Their senseless deaths and her survival during a rather intense day of torture had propelled the once moral Wiccan towards acts of deceit considered unforgivable deeds by her pacifist Wiccan brethren. 

As a prisoner, Angie shielded her hatred and bided her time, increasing Old Toad’s profit margin through a few dozen wealth spells, and gaining his trust enough to get her out of the dungeons and into a locked room in Toad’s main household.  She befriended members of Toad’s crew who were on the lower rungs of the gang and who were charged with guarding her.  She learned through her association with them how the criminal element in Grubtown operated.  She gained their sympathy when Old Toad’s son, known back then as Little Toad, had beaten her senseless on several occasions just to show her that he held power over her existence.  After one particularly brutal beating, one of her guards, a thug named Squid, had broken the rule never to narc on a fellow gang member.  He had gone to Old Toad to express his outrage at Little Toad’s inhumane treatment of their prisoner.  Old Toad went ballistic when he saw the extent of Angie’s injuries.  He banished Little Toad from the main household and ordered Squid killed for narcing.  He then told Angie he would kill her also if she didn’t immediately cast a spell to increase the profits on his illegal car theft operation. 

Half dead, her right eye swollen shut, the rest of her body bruised, bloody, and sore, and beyond furious that the guard who had stood up for her had been killed for having a sense of decency, Angie Creedence decided enough was enough.  She was ready to die, and she was pissed off enough to want to take a few dozen criminal types with her into death.  Old Toad handed over her wand and told her to get to work.  She struggled into a standing position and then began to chant in Wiccan tongue.  Her plan was to implode the place, killing everyone including herself.  The acrid smell of brimstone filled the room signaling that a spell had been cast.  Angie readied herself to die, but instead of the expected implosion, time stood still.  It was then that Angie realized she had become empowered beyond her wildest expectations.  She had stopped time, the most powerful spell a Wiccan could cast. 

Amazed, she had at first stood frozen, fearful that her mind was playing tricks on her.  Then she became bolder and wandered amongst the frozen bodies, touching some and noting that they felt like warm stone statues.  Then she felt the pull in the atmosphere which signaled her that the spell was fading.  Angie returned to where she had been standing.  There was a rumble like thunder that traveled through the room and then a crack of lightening as time restarted.  Old Toad glared down at her and told her to hurry up and do her job.  He hadn’t noticed a thing.  With a cold smile, Angie stopped time once again.  When time restarted fifteen minutes later, Angie Creedance had escaped and Old Toad and the worst members of his crew were dead.

She returned to her Wiccan order, at first being welcomed back and forgiven of her sin of deceitful use of magic.  Her time as Old Toad’s captive had changed her.  She had become a powerful being with a keen sense of justice and little patience for the wishy-washy style of her fellow Wiccans. They booted her out of the order when it became apparent that she would not keep her vow to remain neutral and use her magic only for Wiccan ceremonies.  She was too powerful for them to divest her of her magic.    They told her never to return.

“I want to leave now, Vic.” Angie hissed.  “If I see that bastard, I will zap him dead whether you like it or not!”

“Stay calm, Angie,” Vengeance cautioned her.  “Trust me.”

“Trust you like you trust me?”  Angie hissed, enraged.  “Trust means you share information, Vic!  You know my history with Big Toad!” 

Angie pulled the straw from her sour pink zap, tossed it aside, and gulped down the drink.  It scorched her throat and her eyes became teary from the acidic rush.   Her nerves were on edge, and her temper was fully inflamed.  She pulled out her wand and palmed it.

“Trust me, Angie,” Vengeance whispered, reaching over and spinning her barstool so that she faced forward.  She looked into the mirror, her eyes connecting with his eyes.  His expression was cautious, hers furious. 

The entrance door opened and both bounty hunters observed the mirrored image of a short, squat thug, dressed in an expensive blue pinstripe suit enter Gophers.  Two massive thug guards dressed in black suits with wide blue ties flanked him.  Big Toad had arrived.

“Don’t move,” Vengeance spoke softly as he felt Angie’s body stiffen at the sight of Big Toad.  “Just watch and move when I tell you to.”

Angie nodded to signify she understood and would comply.

Before Big Toad had moved more than five steps into the place, the door behind him banged opened and Lexie Rust, expert assassin, strode into the place.  Then, all hell broke loose. 

A dozen Lexie Rust henchmen emerged from the shadows, guns blazing and knives pulled!  They rushed towards Big Toad!

Prada gave a yelp and ran to the end of the bar throwing himself onto the floor! 

Tables were flung over as Big Toad’s henchmen retaliated to the surprise attack!

“Zap us behind the bar!” Vengeance ordered.  Angie complied with a flick of her wand! 

They landed on top of Prada, who cursed them!  Vengeance viciously kicked Prada out of the way so that the two bounty hunters could flatten themselves against the floor!.  Angie chanted up a shield spell to deflect stray bullets!

There was booming gunfire, the soft sickening squish of bullets entering flesh, chips of wooden tables being struck by gunfire exploding into the air, anguished cries of the wounded, and loud thunks as dead bodies hit the floor!  The mirror behind the bar shattered into thousands of shards which fell tinkling to the floor!

Then silence.........

The silence was soon broken by whimpers, virulent curses, and an occasional gunshot as the mortally wounded were put out of their misery.

“All clear, Vic,” Lexie Rust’s voice was soft, melodic, and victorious. 

Vengeance stood up, then helped Angie stand.  Angie sighed in relief and then began brushing bits of wooden table off her dress and out of her hair.  Prada stood up, his legs shaking so badly that he had to clutch the bar to keep from collapsing. He took one look at the carnage on the other side of the bar and was, for once, speechless.  His business was in shambles.  His profit for this day would be nil.  He moaned in disgust and rested his head on his forearms.

Lexie Rust strolled around the bar and held out her right hand towards Angie.  Angie’s eyes widened.  She didn’t offer her hand in return.  She never shook hands unless she trusted the other person or was setting the person up for a nab.

“Angie Creedence, meet Lexie Rust.” Vengeance introduced the pair.

“Proud to meet you.”  Lexie said with a friendly smile, her right hand still held out.  Her body was spattered with blood and bits of Big Toad’s flesh.

Angie’s eyes focused on Vengeance.  His eyes glimmered with a grim humor indicating to Angie that his plan, whatever it had been, had come about the exact way he had envisioned.  She shot  him a puzzled look, then reached out and shook hands with Lexie.

“Big Toad is dead.” Lexie said with a grim smile. “I’m claiming his territory as of today."

Angie looked over the bar at the heap of dead thug that had been Big Toad.  His death had meaning to her.  She’d planned to be the one to bring it about even through she knew her own death would follow.  Toad's followers couldn't forgive an outsider for killing one of their own just as she couldn’t forgive the humiliations dealt her by Big Toad.  Cain's needs had delayed her plan.  She'd wanted to see him speak his first words and take his first steps before she kept her vow to rid the world of the scumbag who still appeared in her worst nightmares.   Revenge by proxy, Angie decided, was just as sweet.

“Good work.”  Angie remarked.    

“My best to date.” Lexie Rust replied. “I’ll have my guys deliver the body to Grubtown Central for you.

The sound of distant sirens heralded the immanent arrival of the local cops. 

“Time for us to leave,” Vengeance said nodding his thanks to Lexie.  He handed her a fat wad of bills.  She handed them back.

“This one’s free of charge, Vic,” Lexie said with a wink.  “Local girls don’t take pay for returning favors."

Vengeance grinned, pocketed the cash, and then signaled Angie to zap them to Grubtown Central.

“Why didn’t she accept payment?” Angie asked later as they prepared to transmute back to their sanctuary on planet Earth.  “That’s quite a favor, risking your life for no profit.”

 “The favor wasn’t for me,” Vengeance replied gruffly.  “You earned her respect years ago when you killed Old Toad and revenged the death of her father. She returned your favor by taking out Big Toad.”

“Squid had a daughter," Angie said softly, at last understanding the gift she'd been given, "I never knew.”

back to Contest #7