Cast-Iron Chris: October 2008 Archives

The women of Grimland are like none other. Sure there are fast women, dangerous women, all over the world.

But not like they are in Grimland. The fastest, strongest women in the world live in this town.

It's best to assume that in Grimland every one of them is packing something. Pistols, knives, shotguns, swords, poisons, grenades, hand cannons, chainsaws, rocket launchers, expect anything and all things.

Of course, the most powerful weapon of all is themselves. Their bodies, the way they move, the way they talk, the way they look at you, the way they look through you.

God I love fast women.

Simon Refing burst from his apartment building's front doors like buckshot from a double barrel shotgun.

He had one hand holding a cell phone to his ear while the other hand fumbled to find the way inside his jacket sleeve. His holstered gun flopped around beneath his arm as he struggled and ran toward a black Ford Lotus-Cortina.

"Jasmine can we talk about this shit later I really gotta get a fucking move on!" said Simon into his cell phone. "I gotta go pick up this guy I'm going to be working with and I'm already late!" He straightened out his clothes as he approached the Cortina. "The Damsel is fine baby. It's safe. Me and Jacquie fucked up that one guy because he was a raging psycho but that shit ain't normal, that ain't run a da mill kinda shit. The cops were cool they saw our licenses and we're good. Go to work, have a good time, and make some money." He switched the cell phone to his other hand, unlocked the car, and got in. "bye, babe."

Simon jingled the keys as he put them into the ignition. Just as he was about to turn on the car, he caught sight of something in the mirror behind him. When he looked up at the mirror he saw a thin round faced man sitting in his back seat. The shock delayed all of Simon's reactions. He turned around in the car and went for his gun. The little man in the back seat quickly punched Simon and became the little man in the front seat. Everything happened so fast, Simon barely realized he had been punched by the time the little man had taken his own gun from the holster and was pointing it at his head.

"I hope to God your fucking name is Lee," said Simon gritting his teeth.

"You are late," said the little man, "I am Lee Fook. They call me Lotus Wolf. You ever late again, I kill you."

"Are those to be the parameters of our relationship?"

"Yes. You fuck up. I kill you," Lee put Simon's gun back in his holster for him. He then turned around and put on his seat belt.

Simon turned on the ignition and began driving away from his apartment, "Gillingham gives you permission to kill me if I step out of line?"

"Mr. Gillingham tells me I may kill you if I think you thinking about stepping out of line."

"Damn, so right off the bat I already know you're a brown noser. No question about who's daddy's favorite."

"Don't be a child, Mr. Refing," Lee seemed impossible to get a read on but Simon found himself actually liking the guy.

"Call me Simon. Is it cool if I call you Lee?"

"Lee is fine. Actually, Mr. Gillingham never gave that order."

"That's a fucking relief."

"I made it up but that does not make it untrue."

"What? How can something you made up still be true?"

"Did Gillingham tell you anything about me?" asked Lee.

"Not a fucking thing."

"We are on our way to kill Lessox Vernon."

"What?" Simon replied rapidly. His eyes grew large and the Cortina slowed down. "We're going to kill Lessox Vernon, the Gun Bearer?"

"Yes. I am Lee Fook. I am Lotus Wolf. I am a Gun Bearer. If the Gun Bearers are killers who kill bad people, who kills the Gun Bearers when they've been bad?"

Simon swallowed hard, "Lee Fook does."

 Jacqueline Bloom walked into the Damsel looking to trade his anger for a nice show, a few kind words, and maybe a few too many drinks.

What he didn't expect to find was Simon slumped over the bar with a stack of shot glasses next to him.

"Simon," Jacquie called out but didn't receive an answer. He repeated Simon's name but again got nothing in return. He walked up to Simon and grabbed his shoulder, "Simon, you haven't spent the whole day drunk have you?"

Suddenly, Simon whipped around, grabbed Jacquie's hand, and pulled him down onto the barstool next to him, "Yeah, I been spendin the whole day TRYIN ta get drunk, but it ain't dun a damn lick a good. I'm probably the most sober guy in this place, next ta you dat is, seein is how ya just walked in and all."

"You mean you're not drunk?" Jacquie asked as he glanced at the stack of three ounce shot glasses.

"Nope, ain't been drunk all damn day. Buzzin like a bumble bee, fuck yeah, but dat is it! Ya ever do that? Try and get shitfaced but somethin in your brain just won't let ya? Like ya can't fuckin relax?"

"Yeah, Simon, I have."

"Fuckin' A', I heard you been runnin for Gillingham solo, bro. Is it true?"

"Yeah, I just came back from a job."

"Good to know you can handle it, even if it is for just a little while."

Jacquie sat up straight in his chair, "Gillingham's going to let you partner back up with me?"

Simon smiled almost as if he received some small amount of gratification from disappointing Jacquie even if his answer really disappointed himself, "Naw, we're each getting new partners."

Jacquie slumped back down and turned to face the bar. Just as Jacquie was about to say something a scream rang out from the other end of the club. Jacquie and Simon both flung their entire upper bodies in the direction of the scream.

"Shit," said Simon, "that came from the room where Kitten does he dances!"

The duo was half way across the club when the screaming stopped but that only made them speed up. The clubs first round of night patrons were beginning to take their seats but they proved to be an easy obstacle for the Gun Bearers to dodge.

Simon entered the room first but the sudden rush sent the whiskey to his head and made him stumble trying to get out his gun. Jacquie was right behind him with his gun drawn and aiming at the shadows dancing in the room. In the corner of the room were two girls hugging each other with their faces buried in each other's shoulders. On the floor, in the middle of the room, was a man in a brown business suit writhing on the ground.

"Sir, you have two guns aimed at you. Whatever you're doing that made these girls scream, I suggest you stop it immediately," said Jacquie.

The man stopped twitching and convulsing. His limbs straightened from his body and appeared to become rigid. Slowly, he turned over on his stomach and from there he began to get to his feet. His stiff, slow movements made him look like a life-size wooden doll.

"You may call me Stolas! I am the fourth Prince of Hell and the Commander of twenty-six Legions!" said the business man when he got to his feet. Jacquie and Simon looked at each other as they held their guns at the level of the man's chest.

Suddenly a teeth grinding hiss filled the Gun Bearers ears and the business man, Stolas, ran toward the Gun Bearers. As he came at them he entered the light and the duo got a look at Stolas' twisted face. It looked like he had bitten through his lips. Blood covered his chin and neck. His tongue was black and wiggled like a caught fish.

Jacquie kicked Stolas to keep him back but it only made him stumble. Stolas quickly recovered and charged again. Jacquie fired the first shot, quickly followed by Simon, and then they both fired until their clips were empty. Stolas was a bloody corpse on the ground. The screams that came from the girls against the wall were joined by the screams of patrons outside.

Simon walked into Mr. Gillingham's office after getting the 'go ahead' from the foxy little secretary outside his door.

"Fine, do the job, get me my money back," Gillingham said into the receiver of his desk phone, and then hung up. "Mr. Simon Refing, I trust this is a visit that I will find pleasing?"

Simon clinched his jaw as he took a seat in front of Gillingham's desk and then quickly loosened up after he sat. "Yes, Mr. Gillingham," he started, "all objectives required by the mission have been completed."

Gillingham reared back in his seat and laughed a few deep chuckles and then, like a jack in the box, he sprang forward leaning over his desk, "this calls for a drink, Simon my boy!" Gillingham pulled a bottle of Scotch and two glasses from a drawer in his desk.

"Sir, it's nine in the morning."

"Your point?"

"No point, just mentioning it," said Simon and he took the glass Gillingham handed him and drank.

"If you continue to do as I say, Mr. Refing, you'll find yourself in a very good position in no time."

"I appreciate not being given up on, Sir."

"No mention of it is necessary. Your old partner is on his way at this very moment to take care of some business of mine that I don't think he would be up to if it haden't been for your actiosn forcing me to cut the cord that bound the two of you."

"Jacquie?"

"Yes, Jacquie."

"So we are in fact no longer partners."

"The plans I have no longer necessitate you two being paired, which is not to say you will not have a partner."

"A new partner?"

"Yes, one whose services are unlike any other Gun Bearer, you'll be assisting him. Don't think for a second that this celebratory drink and lack of your blood on my hands means that you are now within my good graces. Never forget that your impulsive actions at the beginning of the original mission nearly disrupted the Syndicates plans as a whole. Your punishment for that will be ongoing until I see some permanent changes."

Simon's jaw clinched. He drained his drink and tried not to slam it down on Gillingham's desk.

"I can feel the temperature in the room rising, Mr. Refing, perhaps it is time to end our meeting. Your payment will be waiting for you at the Damsel as always."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Refing."

Simon walked into the Damsel at half past eleven and was met by a few surly patrons, two dancers in their respective arenas, and the bartender, Jack. He couldn't help but look around for Kitten. And when his eyes couldn't spot her, he took a deep breath and plopped down on a stool at the bar.

"How much is it, Jack?"

"And hello to you too," said Jack.

Simon looked at him with half way apologetic eyes.

"Sixty thousand."

"Sixty Kay? Fine. Pour me a drink and just start hitting the minus button."

"You really wanna start drinking this early?"

"I've already started, Jack, just pour the fucking drink."

Jack poured a stiff whiskey.

Simon held it up, "this is to the end of my life. It won't be long now."

The old black Lincoln pulled into the empty dock lot next to Freemount Point on the Westside of the river.

Jacquie leaned over the passenger seat, flipped open the glove box and removed four 20 round pistol clips. He put one in his inside right breast pocket, then another in his inside left breast pocket. He put one in his left pants pocket, and the last one in the inside of his right sock. 

Jacquie stepped out of the Lincoln and buttoned his suit jacket. The Berretta 93R machine pistol, Victoria, slept comfortably and unnoticed in the shoulder sling under Jacquie's left arm. His arms were straight and stiff at his sides. He spread his fingers wide apart and then slowly tightened them into fists, which made the knuckles crack.

Jacquie's vision tunneled as he walked down the paved driveway to the docks. Just as he was about to be face to face with the warehouse, he stepped off the pavement, out from under the streetlamps, and into the darkness.

The three heavily armed guards clustered together outside of the warehouse never had a chance to move their index fingers to the trigger. One guard saw the glint of Jacquie's glasses as he stepped back out into the light, but couldn't even get a word out to alert his companions. Jacquie pumped them with three rounds each and kept walking.

When he reached the door a window from two stories up flung open and a man brandishing a gun appeared. Jacquie cut him in half without even looking.

Jacquie kicked open the door and was welcomed with a hundred pieces of hot lead flying within inches of his body. He jumped back and pivoted off to the side putting his back against the outside of the warehouse. He counted the shots, picked out the different guns by the sound of the bullet leaving the barrel, and listened for the directions of heavier sound and lighter sound. He found a pause in the gunfire, then another.

Suddenly, Jacquie appeared once more in the doorway but this time he kept walking forward. He caught a man loading a gun and put two in his chest, and then he found three more just like him.

Jacquie kept walking. He didn't run, hide, or even pick up the pace. Bullets took turns trying to frighten him but none succeeded. His steps seemed to be keeping pace of all his actions. He flipped the switch to unload his clip, and in the blink of an eye he had another in its place.

The men in the warehouse never got more than a hand full of shots off before Jacquie put one in their head or two in their chest. Whenever one of them made enough adjustments to put Jacquie in their sights, Jacquie got to them first.

In the far right corner of the warehouse Jacquie saw a small tan lockbox on a foreman's drafting bench. He continued to walk and fire. He fired three round bursts at objects he could hear. Objects he had to actually look at, he would switch the pistol's firing type and put a single bullet in the objects face.

As he got closer to the lockbox the amount of fire increased. Though there were fewer defenders, they were more desperate and the space around Jacquie was decreasing. He stepped forward and felt the edge of a bullet graze his jacket. He stepped back, killed the man responsible and continued to walk.

In the end, a few feet from the lockbox, Jacquie put a round in three guys standing on a platform. He thought he had hit them all in kill points but as he took another step forward a man fell to the floor in front of him still breathing with wide pitiful eyes. The man grabbed Jacquie's leg.

"Please," the man said, "I have a wife, a kid; don't kill me, for them!"

"You've gotta be kidding me," Jacquie said as he put three in his chest. "You don't deserve them."

With the lockbox in hand Jacquie walked away from the warehouse turned into an inferno. 

Outside of the cookie cutter home, Jacqueline Bloom sat in the black Lincoln sipping at a hot coffee.

He looked at the house droopy eyed and sighed quick and faint. The mailbox did not share his last name. It read "O'Connell."  

One knock at the door was all it took to summon the dragon. She had straight chestnut hair mostly the same as the last time Jacquie had seen her, maybe a little longer though.

"What do you want? I saw you from across the street staring at us."

Jacquie was quiet. The words seemed to do little to him until the end when he lowered his eyebrows at her creepy suggestion.

"Can I see Jake?"

"Now? No. He isn't here. And I don't want him to see you anyway. So that takes care of any other time in the future." She went to close the door but Jacquie knew she wouldn't really do it.

"You can't keep me from my son, Tiffany. It isn't right!"

"Joe!" Tiffany suddenly barked back at the house.

"You don't have to whip out your new boyfriend to try and intimidate me, Tiff. I just want to see Jake."

"Do you really not know what full custody means, Jacquie?" From behind Tiffany the sound of footsteps on the stairs was growing louder.

"Maybe it'd be best if I left before someone got hurt."

"Yeah you should do that."

"I wouldn't want Jake to come home to a crime scene." Jacquie said as he turned away from the house.

"Oh real nice, threaten me, that'll get you a chance to see your son again."

Jacquie was on his cell before he was half way to his car.

"What is it?" said a grizzly voice on the other line.

"Mr. Gillingham, I need a job. Lucius Martin told me that you'd come through when I needed you most. I need something rough, something quick and dirty."

"You sound like someone just twisted your titties and ran away, Mr. Bloom." A pause on the phone, Jacquie was barreling down the road in the Lincoln. "Alright here we go. The Westside Docks, Freemount Point, you'll find it. There are gonna be a coupla guys who've got my money. They took it and didn't deliver what the promised. They'll be expecting one, Hell probably a few, of my guys to come by and take it back. Dangerous shit Jacquie, you sure you wanna do it alone."

Jacquie clinched his teeth, "Hey, you hired me as me, there was never a fucking package deal in this. I can handle shit on my own."

The sound of wheezing laugher came over on the receiver, "Well, you do carry a Beretta machine pistol."

"Victoria."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Fine, do the job, get me my money back."

"Yessir," Jacquie hung up the phone. He stopped at a red light and removed his machine pistol from the holster. He flipped the release and the clip dropped to his palm. He inspected the bullets then, gently and accurately, slammed the clip back into place. "Victoria, the only woman who will never leave."

"Look fella's, I appreciate the hospitable gesture but I'm really not interested," said a tall dark man in a navy blue suit and red tie.

Despite the loud club music Simon's voice was still distinct and direct, "Congressman Vasquez, it's truly an honor to have you at the Damsel, and it'd really upset everyone that works here if you didn't have a dance on the house... I'm sure with your liberal affiliations you've got a lot of potential voters here tonight."

"I don't think my policies mention much about strip clubs, really though, I made a promise to a friend that'd I'd come to this bachelor party. I didn't know it would be at a strip club, not not that there is anything wrong with that, I just really would like to be left alone."

The last few words of Congressman Vasquez's sentence fell on deaf ears, Simon was already outside of the Congressman's circle of body guards and headed back to the other side of the club.

The Congressman watched Simon as he approached a tall dark skinned blonde in a red dress. The talked for a moment and then she started to walk to the other side of the club, in Vasquez's direction. His heart muffled in his chest.

In a few short seconds, long dark legs slipped past the body guard wall and next to Vasquez. The long dark legs tied off at a tight waist and peaked with a beautiful smile and a spark made with the wink of an eye. Vasquez was half in the bag. Kitten slid one of her legs up against the inside of Vasquez's thigh as she whispered something that would make the Devil blush.

Kitten got off Vasquez's lap but kept hold of his hand. He nodded his head and got out of his seat. His bodyguards twitched in toward Kitten but he eased them down and exited their protective circle. Kitten led the Congressman into a small dark room lined with seats made of red velvet. She put her mouth up to his ear and out slipped her tongue. Her tongue licked his ear as she pushed him down onto the chair. Kitten backed up and turned around. She could feel Vasquez's eyes on her body, she moved her hips, and she could feel which area of her body he was staring at. She backed up to Vasquez and exposed more of her left leg by hiking up her dress. She turned at the waste and grabbed hold of Vasquez's hand then placed it on the zipper. She nudged him with her hips and soon the zipper in his hand went from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. The sound of a camera's click echoed in the room. Vasquez heard nothing.

Kitten flicked her hips out one more time and the little red dress fell to the floor as a crumpled wreath. She turned around with the blink of an eye wearing only a small red thong. She held Vasquez by the wrists as she made him hug her around the waist. She pushed his hands into her flesh until he was between her skin and the string of her underwear. Kitten's skin was dry and calm; Vasquez's hands were sticky with sweat and roughly ran down her legs with her thong following behind. The sound of a camera's eye winking snapped off so often that even Kitten started to forget about it. Simon, who was hiding behind a black curtain near the door of the room gritted his teeth and continued to snap away pictures of sin.

Down in Cold Cases

I sip at the coffee

Despite growing cool

Deep in folders

I glance through murderers

But nothing gets to me

Sadistic eyes stare back

I drag the cigarette hard

And blow it in their faces

Open

Sip coffee

Read

Blow Smoke

Close

Next

Take this guy for instance

He likes their hearts

And he takes them

Cupid the papers called him

I call him evil

The evidence wasn't there though

Sip coffee

Blow smoke

We got him on a DUI

He fit an eyewitness' profile

But it wasn't enough

The coffee is cold and bitter

The cigarette is down to the filter

My eyes droop, but not theirs

I had a heart once

But this guy and a dozen others

Took it from me long ago

Start another pot

Light another cigarette

Welcome to Grimland

"Well speak of the Devil now," said Lucius to Jacquie.

Jacquie didn't understand at first but then Lucius nodded his head in the direction of Jacquie's left. Jacquie followed the nod and turned around to see a very serious Simon walking into the Damsel's main room with Kitten Kaboodle closely in tow. Jacquie had seen Simon's serious look plenty of times, but the look on his face as he walked past the bar was uncomfortably new. The look in his eyes was so focused, so driven, and determined. Simon had never looked that focused in his and Jacquie's entire partnership.

Wow, motherfucker, so I guess it's really over, Jacquie thought to himself. I guess what Lucius has been saying was right, I have to face the fucking music, Simon's done gone and dug himself a whole I can't help him crawl out of. The look in his eyes, him acting like he's never acted before, fuck maybe I should be more glad that I don't have to help him complete Gillingham's mission.

"Kitten looked a little fucked up, don't you think?" Lucius asked.

Jacquie took a big pull from his glass trying to wash away the guilt he had for thinking he was lucky not to be in Simon's shoes. "Sorry man, whaddwuzthat?"

"I said, Kitten looks sick, not well at all."

"Gillingham formulated this new plan to not only get what he wanted but to fuck with Simon's life. I'm part of that, Kitten is part of that, fuck man, Gillingham is one twisted bastard," said Jacquie as he put his head down and rubbed his scalp hard.

"Yo bro you really think it's a good idea to be trash talking your boss in a club he owns, operates, staffs, and uses to do his dirty work?"

"Do I look like I give a damn at this point?"

Lucius looked at Jacquie with lazy accepting eyes, "Fine man, you'll be changing your tone when Gillingham dangles a treat in front of your face."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're mad now but in this town, in this business, it won't last. Have another drink."

As Lucius spoke, Jacquie watched Simon zigzag between loud, obnoxious patrons to the other side of the room.

"I think I'll be switching to beer soon."

Simon stopped at a wall of burly men in tight shirts and tight jeans, bouncer wear but not Damsel's bouncers. He talked to the wall of muscle for a moment.

"Fuck beer man, shit will go bad in your stomach if you plan on staying here all night."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Besides, I don't plan on staying here all night."

Simon walked back to the other side of the club. He got close to Kitten's ear and pointed back at the wall of muscle.

"Sun comes up in a few hours."

"We're the Syndicate of the Darkening Sun, right?"

Kitten headed for the personal bouncers.

"Yeah, so?"

"So if the Sun rises we've failed in our task for another night, my friend."

The wall of muscle opened.  

"Fuck that, it's just a name."

"Is it?"

Kitten disappeared inside.

A tall dark man dressed in the suit of the Gun Bearer walked into the Damsel. His stride across the thick red carpet was smooth and graceful.

The bouncers looked up and then looked past him like he wasn't even there. His sharply toned muscles were clear through the layers of cloth that made up his suit.

"Mr. Lucius Martin," said Jacquie looking in the reflection of his room temperature scotch.

"Mr. Jacqueline Bloom," replied Lucius taking a seat next to Jacquie at the bar and ordering a Cosmopolitan extra shot of lime.

"Glad you could come out."

"Oh really? I can already tell you've got an excessively grim demeanor about you. Did a witch boil your dog or somethin'?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"What?"

"Things are becoming strange, Lucius."

"Like this conversation 'strange,' or really strange?"

"Fucked up," Jacquie paused as Lucius' drink arrived. They made a soft ching of their glasses that was only audible because the DJ was in between songs. "Look I'm sorry for the grave talk but things tonight have gotten me really fucked up, like I'm talking distorting my sense of reality fucked up."

"Has Cherry already been on stage?"

"I'm not ready to change the topic."

"Who's changin' the damn topic, I figure this fucking non-sense coming out of your mouth is from Cherry bein' on stage and wagging that perfect ass of hers in your not-so-perfect face."

"Cherry's been here and gone, we had a scuffle earlier today and then another here just a few hours ago."

"I see it didn't injure business too badly."

"You know how the Damsel is."

"Yeah and I know how that drunk bastard's leg is too."

"You know about that?"

"Fuck yeah. I know about Simon's fuck up too."

"Yeah he fucked up, but Gillingham is losing his mind. I'm afraid because of his fuck up and Gillingham's decaying brain juice Simon's been put on a fucking suicide mission."

Lucius took a big gulp of his cocktail, "You probably right about that. I agree Gillingham's lost the ability to play the sharp notes, but Simon's dealings are his own, my friend."

"I know that but he's my partner and we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"Oh I get it, so he's keeping you out of the loop to protect you and you think that if he trusted you and had more faith in your abilities he'd let you in on his mission. Then the two of you could blaze a hole in a few motherfuckers and put everything head's side up again?"

"Like putting a nut back in its shell."

"That's some down home bullshit, Jacquie."   

"Simon is protecting you, it's cute when you really think about it, but this is his bag, not yours. You guys aren't partners out of necessity, you guys are partners because you want to be and Gillingham lets it slide. Simon helped you early on, and you keep him cool...most of the time... but the symbiosis fucking ends there. I don't have a partner, sure part of it is because I have a legitimate business by day, but most GB's don't have partners. Pretty soon man, you'll have a separate assignment away from Simon and that will be that. You gotta face the facts man; this ain't the old west, Sherriff and Deputy, bullshit. This is Grimland. You walk your own path.

That was dirty what I did to Jacquie, thought Simon on the drive to Gillingham's office.

"Jacquie seemed a little upset," said Kitten staring at the night lamps as they whizzed by.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about Kitten, he'll be fine. You can never tell with that guy anyway." I wonder if Kitten is okay? Fuck I know Jacquie isn't okay. Fucking Salty fucked everything up, now Gillingham's gunning for my balls, fuck.

"How are you doing, Kitten?"

"I'm alright, Simon...you should have let Jacquie in though."

Simon took a deep breathe through his nose. "I could really use your support, not your opinion right now, Kitten. I did what I thought was best for Jacquie."

"You were protecting him?"

"You're damn right I was protecting him!"

"But then why didn't you protect me?" Kitten yelled as she turned to Simon and hit him on the arm. She burst into tears, "why did you make me dance for that psycho?"

"I didn't know that would happen. I didn't want you to be involved either, but I didn't have a choice. This has all been part of Gillingham's plan."

"Yeah his second plan, after you FUCKED up the first one!"

"Kitten, I know you're upset, but right now, SHUT THE FUCK UP, and chill!"

Kitten turned back in her seat, crossed her arms, and tightened her lips.

The black Lincoln pulled up to Gillingham's building. The couple got out and headed for the sixty-sixth floor. They passed the night guard who tipped his hat to the fast walking dame. Outside of the office, Simon pushed a button.

"Come in, leave the girl outside."

Simon walked in. Gillingham was in the exact same spot he was in six and half hours ago. Simon sat down on the other side of Gillingham's desk. Gillingham offered Simon a cigar or a drink. Simon refused.

"Let's get on with it then, how'd it go?"

"I wouldn't be here if it went anyway other that great."

"Can the cheek talk, boy, and tell me how it went. I noticed Jacquie wasn't amongst the troop."

"I dropped him off before we came here; you said you wanted him involved as little as possible."

"I do. Your little fuck up meant I had to let you in closer, dangerous for me and you, but if I can keep Jacquie farther away then he stays alive. Go on..."

"I had Kitten dress how you said she should dress. The VP Billows was one weird fucker, like Salty but different, he seemed more in control."

"He was and he wasn't, Kitten had him in something of a trance I suspect. Those types are very susceptible to temptations of the flesh. Kitten went a little mad didn't she?"

Simon swallowed hard, "yes."

"She's on their side now, the price you pay for fucking with the Syndicate, Simon. What was the message?"

"They want us to frame the incorruptible Congressman Eric Vasquez at the Damsel."

"Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Excellent."

To Jacquie and Simon, Vice-President Mike Billows looked like a very tired and worn down man, he sat in his work chair like a discarded old bathrobe. The boys were happy because they thought it meant they could just wait outside while Kitten got the information, but the Dame overruled them and they were forced to sit in the dark corner of the office.

When Kitten came into the office after changing clothes it was like a closed rose had fully bloomed. If a rose were fiery red with a black stem and made of latex. The latex suit hugged her perfectly curved body from neck to mid-thigh. A thin line of golden skin peaked between where the latex suit ended and the black thigh highs began. The cherry stilettos walked her up to the VP.

Kitten paused for a moment in front of Billows. His eyes were slowly becoming aware of what was in front of him. Suddenly, with the whip of her golden hair a thunderous blast of bass music filled the room courtesy of a wide eyed Simon pushing "play" on a boombox. A deep female voice came over the bass and sang between blasts of screams and instrumental battles between the guitarist and the drummer. Kitten turned more feral, more dangerous with each beat of the music. She walked in circles around Billows, with each lap she got closer and closer to him until she was just barely an inch away from touching him. First his eyes followed her, then his head turned and then waited for her to come back around so he could see again, and eventually he careened his neck all the way around so that he could see her through every turn she made.

 Kitten stopped in front of Billows and pushed her face and chest into his lifeless body. He straightened a little. She unzipped her black and red latex top. It glided gently off her sunrise shoulders and down her smooth long arms. The bright red latex bra underneath made her breasts look like succulent red apples ripe for picking. Billows glanced at the Gun Bearers. Forbidden fruit. Kitten had a dozen more tricks to pull on the VP. Everyone of them brightening him, reanimating him. Her moves were slick and naughty but so good for all the wrong places.

The sweet little Kitten Kaboodle had let the Devil inside her and she was raising the Devil inside of Mike Billows. She unzipped the side of her skirt and let it gently fall down to her ankles with a little flick of her hips. Her chest, stomach, and thighs were slick with sweat. The music fought on. She moved faster. She moved around him, up and down him. She took his hands and rubbed them around her body making them both hotter. She raised one of his hands up to her lips and put his index finger between her lips. It disappeared inside her mouth, Billows reminded Jacquie of a horny dog chained within an inch of a female dog. Suddenly his eyes turned to fear, then pain. His mouth opened wide but no sound came out. A thin spurt of blood appeared from his hand and Kitten's mouth. He rose out of his chair. Kitten grabbed him beneath his arm pits and straddled him so he remained locked in the chair. The music has either stopped or Kitten was screaming overtop of it. Billows was a frightened little ghost of a man.

"Jacquie!"

Jacquie snapped his head away from Billows.

"Go get the car! I'll get Kitten! Go!"

Jacquie ran for the door and didn't look back. 

"Jacqueline Bloom are you trying to score with Cherry Valentine or what?" asked Kitten Kaboodle from the backseat of the black Lincoln.

Jacquie turned around and glared at her, "No, Kitten, for the last time the guy pulled a knife."

"Yeah, the police found a knife. Good thing you shot the guy in the leg too. But did you see the way Lorenzo stared you down?"

"Was it the same way I'm staring at you now?" 

"Man he was heated. And Cherry was all over you. You could have fucked her right then and there."

"Enough, Kitten," Simon declared.

"Sorry, Simon," Kitten apologized. She reached one long slender dark brown arm deep into her purse and removed a mirror and pink sparkly lip gloss. "Can you tell me again, what it is I gotta do for you fellas?"

"In a nutshell, baby?" Simon looked back at Kitten through the rearview mirror, "you gotta save both our jobs, and my neck ta boot."

Kitten gently applied the gloss to her full, pouty bottom lip and then smacked a kiss for the mirror. "Oh, is that all?"

"You gotta give this private dance."

"What's the Sweater's name?" Kitten asked.

"Sweater?" Jacquie interrupted.

"It's what she calls these kind of guys, I dunno. His name is Mike Billows. Ya see, Sweetie, me and Mr. Bloom here fucked up real bad earlier today... well, more specifically I fucked up, anyway we off'ed a guy who had some information. This guy was a real nutcase, a real stupid motherfucker."

"I think she gets it Simon, calm down."

"Yeah well, now we gotta go see this VP down in the bank district to get the same information. Only thing is, I guess he won't give up the info without a hot, sultry lap dance from a one Miss Kitten Kaboodle."

"Did he ask for me specifically?"

"Uh, yeah pretty much, sweetheart."

"Wow."

"Yeah, so you put on a show, get the info, and then the shows over so we can call it a night."

At the edge of the bank district Simon pulls off into an Oyster Gas Station, "I'm getting something to drink, you guys want anything?"

"I'll take a tallboy and a Top Gauge energy drink," said Kitten.

"Damn! Jacquie, you want your usual?"

"Yeah man."

Simon threw the gas nozzle into the tank and then walked toward the glowing building.

"So do you and Cherry talk much?"

"AH- HA! HA HA HA! I knew it! You do like that little skank!" Kitten taunted.

"You make small talk really fucking hard, ya know that Kitten?"

"Sorry, Jacquie."

"I have an easier time interrogating guys twice my size."

"Yes, Jacquie, we do talk. All the girls talk. She has mentioned that she thinks you are cute. But I wouldn't pull out your pistol any time soon. Metaphorically speaking a course, seeing as how you already pulled it out once today, ha ha ha."

"Yeah, funny."

"She's not an easy girl to line up a shot with, Mr. Bloom. I'd take it slow, play it cool, but like I need to tell a Gun Bearer to play it fucking cool, right?"

Simon pulled out the gas nozzle and hopped back in the car. He handed Kitten her drinks and handed Jacquie a bottle of chocolate milk and a candy bar.

Jacquie could smell something foul in the air. Was it stale beer or sweet and sour cocktail juice? No. And it wasn't body odor or anti- bacterial hand sanitizer either.

It was frustration and hormones. The room was full of it, and it was the right mix to make anger. Rage. Disaster. Somebody was in for a world of hurt. The Damsel strip club was divided into seven arenas of various sizes. The largest arena, center stage, was occupied by Cherry Valentine. In the front row was her obsessed stalker, Lorenzo El Scorcho, a fellow Gun Bearer but not a friend of any kind to Jacquie and Simon.

It was while Simon was in the back retrieving his girl, Kitten, when Jacquie got the smell of trouble. His first guess was that El Scorcho was the source, but noticing things around the room quickly changed his mind. It wasn't coming from any one source. A spilt drink on a man's lap caused him to jump up. Another man tried to grab a dancer's leg, the dancer slapped him hard across the face. Two men at the doorway of a private dance room were playing tug of war with a one dancer, arguing over who had asked her for a dance first. The bouncers started to move in to their targeted areas but the front door was starting to pour in with patrons and the room was filling up fast.

All it took was one single punch to send the levels of rage in the room through the roof. One punch to spark a chain reaction of small fights throughout the club.

Jacquie looked across the room at Lorenzo, Lorenzo stared back. Neither man moved. They were Gun Bearers. The time wasn't right and it wasn't their fight.

Suddenly a voice very close to Jacquie's ear yelled very loudly, "Look out!"

Jacquie squatted low beneath the bar he was standing next to and then moved out and away from it. As he moved, a cocktail table slammed down on the bar above him. What the fuck? thought Jacquie. Liquids, wood splinters, and broken glass rained down on him. The shot had been fired, the Gun Bearers had joined the fight. Jacquie jumped up and located the man responsible for throwing he table and quickly put him on the ground with a swift punch to the throat. The next chance Jacquie got he looked for Cherry. He located Lorenzo about 10 feet away waist deep in knocked out bodies. Cherry was still on stage trying to avoid flying bottles while picking up the remains of her tips. As Jacquie kept one eye on Cherry and the other on whoever he was punching, a muscle bound man jumped up on stage with Cherry. A strong arm lashed out and tried to grab Cherry, she turned and instead he ripped off one strap of her bra. Jacquie quickly fought his way toward the stage. Lorenzo suddenly took a hard right hook to the temple. Simon burst from behind a satin red curtain with an arm wrapped around a sultry young blonde. Jacquie jumped on stage behind the large drunk patron. The drunk man dropped Cherry's bra strap and pulled out a switch blade knife. Lorenzo reared back from the blow with his hand on his colt .45. Simon's face grew hot as he assessed the destruction in the club. The blade shined in Cherry's direction.

A booming Ba-KLOW! froze the room like a fast action camera.

All eyes fell on Jacquie, who held a smoking Beretta 93R machine pistol.

The drunken man with the knife was the first to break the silence screaming in pain as he held his bleeding leg.

"So I'm guessing by the silence you don't want to talk about what happened inside of Gillingham's office after I left."

"Nothing to talk about, Jacquie, we're headed out to the Damsel to get Kitten. Gillingham says we have to fulfill our assignment and Kitten can help us."

"'Fulfill our assignment?' How? Salty is dead!"

"I dunno man. He just laid out a new set of instructions and told me if I fucked this up I was going to 'fly sky high on a chair made of rockets and razors.'"

"He said that?"

"Yep."

"Gillingham has lost his mind."

The pair of Gun Bearers rolled into the Damsel just as the last remains of sunlight left the sky. The word "Damsel" was written in bright white lights over a solid black building. There were no windows just a set of double wide doors beneath the glowing sign. The parking lot was filling up fast. The sign was like a beacon for the cities lonely, depressed, frustrated, and excited. They joined together with one common interest, fast women. The Damsel had a reputation for delivering the highest quality entertainment, which meant eye candy by the bucket load. 

Simon walked in a few steps ahead of Jacquie. Simon's eyes were straight forward. Jacquie looked down, only occasionally glancing up. A large bald bouncer wearing a white shirt and gold necklace came out of the front desk when he saw the pair coming in. Simon opened his suit jacket, slightly revealing the butt of his gun. The bouncer stopped walking and turned his attention to the patrons walking in behind Simon and Jacquie.

Inside the club's main room, Jacquie headed for the bar, while Simon headed for the dressing room. The main room had seven separate miniature arena bowls. The bowls were lined with chairs, tables, and wide eyes. At the center of all the arenas were beautiful dancing women. The main stage, the largest arena bowl, had three poles while the others only had one. And using up two of those poles, when Jacquie glanced over, was Cherry Valentine. Jacquie had met Cherry before, a red-headed dame with the attitude to go with it. She was hot and fast, everything Jacquie and Simon loved and hated about the Damsel.

Sitting in the front row, watching everyone else that was watching Cherry, was Lorenzo El Scorcho. Lorenzo was a fellow Gun Bearer. However, he was anything but a friend to Jacquie and Simon. Jacquie only noticed him through the darkness of the club because he could feel the icy stare Lorenzo was giving him. Jacquie rubbed his beard, palmed his Beam and Coke, and only looked back at Lorenzo when he took a quick sip.

This day is far from over, thought Jacquie to himself, far far from over.