Cast-Iron Chris: August 2008 Archives

After a long period of silence, "Who, the fuck, is Apollyon?" Jacquie asked as he scratched his eyebrow and made a left turn.

            "I have no idea, was it Salty's allies maybe?" Simon replied from all fours in the back seat collecting chunks of brain and bone. "You want to give me a hand here?"

            "You know the rules: you kill, you clean," Jacquie said, then breathed and added, "no fuck that, the rule was NOT to fucking kill Salty."

            "That wasn't fucking Salty, Jacquie," Simon said back.

            "You know what? I agree with you, which is why I don't think Apollyon was Salty's allies, I don't know what the fuck it was. But what I do know is that this little fuckenstance we've found ourselves in is just one more thing that freaks me out about The Syndicate."

            Simon rose up from the backseat, whipped his chin with his wrist, and looked at Jacquie through the rearview mirror, "You got your doubts about The Syndicate too, huh?"

            "After what we just witnessed, how could I not? But it is good to hear that you're on the same page as me."

            "Fuck yeah, Jacquie. At first I just thought Gillingham was a little eccentric, and then I thought maybe he's a little crazy, maybe even senile. I mean a crime syndicate in this day and age is kinda lost on most people especially one called The Syndicate of the Darkening Sun, whatever the fuck that means. But the old guys got us picking up whacko's calling themselves some kind of satanic voodoo lovecraft bullshit and we're supposed to just play along?"

            "No way man."

            "You're damn right, no way. And ya know what? I'm glad I blew off Salty's head, we're headed back to Gillingham to show him our mistake. I look forward to it, I know you probably feel differently, Jacquie, but I can't wait to see the reaction on the old boss' face when he hears the story we've just played out."

            "Yeah, you're alone on that one, but I'll be right behind you when we walk into his office."

            "Don't worry, I ain't gonna play 'who has the smokin' gun' I'll lay down my piece and swear to every word. He never should have sent Gun Bearers to do a job like this."

"Dammit, Simon we do all kinds of jobs, Gun Bearer is just a title. What I don't understand is why you're even allowed a gun in the first place; giving you a gun is like gas on a forest fire."

"In light of the current circumstance I find myself in, you might be very right about that."

"He's gonna have your ass for this."

"I'm his number one guy, what's he gonna do to me?"

            "Bury you with Salty and the gun."

            "Hey, don't start in on me with that gravedigger pessimistic attitude, Jacquie."

            "They don't call you Simon 'Corpse-maker' Refing for nothing."

            "Ain't that right."

"Remember, no violence," said the thin, bearded driver.

"Yeah, I remember Gillingham's specifications," grumbled the thick necked passenger. "I don't understand, why send Gun Bearers to just pick up a guy?"

"Probably to protect him, Simon," replied the thin man as the black Lincoln Continental stopped.

"Yeah you're right, Jacquie. But this guy really needs both of Gillingham's best guys?" asked Simon as he got out of the car.

"You're the best brawler," said Jacquie while stepping out, "but you get out of control sometimes." They were dressed in expensive black suits.

"No doubt, but you're calm for the both of us, why we work well, plus you're his best shot," said Simon as they walked to the decrepit building.

"Just answered your own question," said Jacquie as he climbed a set of stairs, "we're both here because we work well together."

At the top of the staircase, the men walked through until they reached apartment 616.

Jacquie went to knock.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a rat-like old man.

"Gillingham's boys?" The old man quickly took Jacquie's hand in his old waxy grip and shook it up and down, "glad ta meetcha." The old man continued to hold on as he coughed and hacked from deep within his chest.

Jacquie pulled away, "you must be Salty, right?"

"Yep," said Salty through a second set of wheezes and coughs as he turned around and walked back into his apartment. "You boys stay right there," he twitched and jittered, "I'm almost ready."

Back inside the Lincoln, Simon lit a cigarette with the dashboard lighter and offered one to Jacquie. Jacquie refused as he peered at Salty through the rearview mirror. 

"I'll take one," said Salty.

"I don't think that's a good idea with the cough you've got," Simon replied.

"Don't worry about me you puss bucket motherfucker," Salty retorted in a drastically altered voice right next to Simon's ear with big yellow teeth gleaming.

Simon looked at Jacquie. They both wore the same shocked look.

"Hey ease up, Salty," Jacquie said.

Salty threw himself against the back of the seat. He got low in the seat, flailed his arms up and down, beating the seat while stomping on the floor. "Oh it hurts! I had no idea it would hurt so bad!" Salty exclaimed. Jacquie tried to focus on the road. "Gillingham should have warned me it would be like this!"

"Salty what's wrong?"

"Just give me a fucking cigarette!" Salty screamed in Simon's ear.

"No, now sit down!" Simon pushed Salty back in the seat at the same time pulling out his pistol.

Jacquie's eyes widened at the site of Simon's gun.

Salty clawed at Simon's hand, "This is how you treat me? You dare treat Apollyon like this? Apollyon, the destroyer?"

"Who?"

Salty wailed and moaned

Simon's index finger squeezed.

Jacquie hit the brakes, "Simon, don--"

KaBLAM!

The Lincoln rolled into an ally.

"Sorry, Jacquie."

"S'all right ... what the fuck just happened?"

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