Cast-Iron Chris: December 2008 Archives

Congressman Eric Vasquez stood by the window of his empty office. The window blinds and the telephone on the floor were the only things left in the room.

The room glowed from the city lights slipping through the venetian blinds. Vasquez stared out the window motionless. His face looked like it had been carved from a brittle stone and years of rain had faded it away. His once strong shoulders sagged low from the weight of recent events.

Vasquez felt a presence in the room. He prayed it was the angel of mercy as he turned around to see who had snuck up behind him.

A large broad man with droopy eyes and thin blonde hair stood by the door.

"Congressman Vasquez?" said the man at the door. "You don't know me, but I've had a great deal of impact in your life. My name is Simon Refing. I am a Gun Bearer for the group called The Syndicate of the Darkening Sun, perhaps you've heard of us."

"Criminals."

"You can believe what you want, Congressman."

"Assassins."

"In some cases perhaps. Tide Turners might be more politically correct, Congressman."

"Are you here to kill me?"

Simon took a step forward, "No, sir! Far from it! The tide moved against you once, Congressman. I aim to send it back the other way. It's time for the tide to work in your favor."

Vasquez turned around to give Simon his full attention. Simon made sure to keep his hands where the Congressman could see him. He could tell Vasquez was nervous. He was tired and tense. Simon was tense too, but for far different reasons.

"What are you talking about, Mr. Refing?"

"Call me Simon. I know the truth about the scandal that has plagued you. I know you are innocent."

"You seem to be the only one who thinks so."

"Not thinks, knows. I know you are innocent. The stripper at the club only gave you a lap dance. The photos made it look otherwise."

"I don't even remember half of what those pictures allegedly show. It's like it was some magic camera or something."

"I know, Congressman."

"Well if you know what can you do? Can you find the stripper? Not one of my men can!"

"She's dead, sir."

"Of course she is...what the fuck did I ever do? Huh? Answer me that, Mr. Refing! What did I do to deserve this?"

"You were a good citizen, a moral leader that some powerful people thought needed to be taken down a peg."

"That's all this is?"

"I'm afraid so. But like I said, Congressman, there are ways for us to change things. It isn't too late."

"The board reconvenes with a judgment tomorrow morning," said Congressman Vasquez in a somber, beaten down tone.

"So we have all night," said Simon with wide eyes and a sinister grin.

Things you are looking for are always in the last place you look. True cuz once you've found what ya were looking for there is no reason to keep at it.

"Corpse Maker! My man!" said a homeless looking black man from across the street of Kitten Kaboodle's apartment building.

Simon Refing looked far less happy to see the homeless man, "Hey, Coats, what's walking the streets these days?"

"Sorry man, if it's information you're after I'm bone dry. People lately have been quieter than usual. It's harder for guys like me to catch a break, ya know?"

 "Yeah I understand. I was just curious, no, what I really need is inside that apartment building," said Simon as he gestured to the building across the street.

"Why? You gonna surprise Miss Kaboodle?" asked Coats with a devilish grin.

"You been spying again, Coats?" asked Simon as he loomed over Coats.

"No, no, I was just kidding, Simon. Here, here," Coats handed Simon a bronze key with no lettering or anything on it. "That will get you through the door."

Simon took the key and handed over a wad of bills and a small flask.

"Good to see you Corpse Maker. Hey you want to see some Coats?"

"Not today, but thanks," replied Simon. He pocketed the key, walked across the street, took the key back out, looked behind him, and inserted the key into the building.

A thick man in an ID-less uniform reading the paper raised an eyebrow at Simon as he passed. He shrugged and went back to his paper.

  Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, was all that ran through Simon's head as he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the 12^th floor.

Outside of Kitten's apartment building Simon was quickly realizing that things were not okay. He heard the faint sound of the radio, but nothing else. After 115 knocks at the door, Simon really knew things were not okay.

Simon stepped back from the door.

He clinched his fists.

He braced himself with his left leg.

He lifted his right leg high and fast.

His right leg went through the door in one powerful kick.

"KIT-TEN!" screamed Simon. He went around the corner of her apartment. He drew in a breath to yell again but there was no need.

Kitten was on her bed with one leg and one arm dangling off the edge. She was naked except for a pair of panties. Her mouth and eyes were open. Her eyes stared straight at the ceiling. Her skin wasn't tan like Simon was used to. It was pale white almost blue. Simon felt like he had been punched in the stomach. A piece of rubber tubing was still tied around her arm.

The result of the following event was that Kitten's apartment was unrecognizable. Glass and mirror and tile were shattered. Wood was splintered and broken. Clothes and magazines were torn to shreds. The TV and Stereo were destroyed. In the middle of it all was the most broken thing of all. Simon, his heart, his soul were no more. He knelt down on his knees, shirtless, red hot, breathing deep.

She died because of me, he said to himself. She died because of what I made her do. She did this on purpose because I used her to create false evidence; to destroy an innocent man's career; all because the Syndicate told me too. Not any more

Not anymore

Notanymore

Notenmor

Notnmr

Ntnmr

Nmr.

"If you had hopes of fucking my receptionist I'd hurry up and make a move," said Dreedrick Gillingham to Jacqueline Bloom from across his massive desk.

"I'm sorry sir?"

"I'm having Lee Fook kill her on Thursday. If you had any kind of red rocket for the bitch I'm telling you to make a move quick!" Gillingham said again as he let out a chuckle that rumbled through his chest cavity. "She started some blog about her job and how much it sucks. She made the ill fated mistake of mentioning me in the blog. Really I'm doing her a service buy killing her. If one of my enemies saw that blog they would surely capture her and torture her to death just to get at me."

"I appreciate the heads up, Mr. Gillingham," said Jacquie.

Gillingham raised an eyebrow to the sarcasm but chose to ignore it. "I trust that the afternoon with your son, Jake, was enjoyable?"

"Yes sir it was, thank you sir."

"I assume also that your assignment with LBD a few days ago went as expected."

"It went better than expected, and thank you again sir for the opportunity."

"If the opportunity you're inferring about was the elimination of potential Syndicate rivals, then you're welcome. Any other opportunities or any other rivals I know nothing about."

"Of course, Mr. Gillingham, I mean the opportunity to further the wellbeing of the Syndicate."

"You know that your work as a Gun Bearer will never go unnoticed right?"

"Yes of course, sir," said Jacquie.

Gillingham looked down at the papers on his desk. A brief period elapsed where no words were exchanged. "I have some information that you might be interested in. I have learned good deal more about the two mysterious accessories involved in the Austin Tellamore job."

Jacquie fidgeted in his seat.

"Eager. Good. I'm sure you remember what you saw but to clarify you saw a white woman with short blonde almost white hair wearing a white pants suit and a large black man wearing a blue suit, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"These two individuals are named Vanessa and Eugene. I don't know if it is their first names or last names. Hell they may not even have first names or last names, you know how irrational splinter cells can act. Anyway, they belong to a group called The Lead Feathers Club. I don't have an origin behind the name just as I don't have an origin behind the two people you saw, but names at least are a start. Lead might mean bullets. You witnessed their ability to fly or at the very least jump a far distance? That might be where the feathers angle plays in, but I'm just brainstorming here. The point is, Mr. Bloom, I need to know that by giving you this information you will hunt these motherfuckers with a ruthlessness that knows no bounds. Actually scratch that, you are bounded by me, keep me informed, but aside from that I want you to find these assholes and show them what happens when you interfere in the affairs of the Syndicate. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir."

"Say it."

"I will show the Lead Feather Club what happens when you fuck with the Syndicate of the Darkening Sun."

"Don't even bother taking off your coat," said Cherry Valentine to Simon "Corpse-maker" Refing as he walked through the doors of the Damsel Strip Club.

"What?"

"Don't bother taking off your coat. I want you to do something for me. Do something for yourself!"

Cherry was heated. Simon could tell. Being ordered around before he could take a breath, made Simon hot too.

"Take it easy, Cherry. What's this all about?"

"Just before you got here to start your shift Kitten Kaboodle was scheduled to go on."

"Yeah, so?"

"Did you not hear how I phrased that Simon? She didn't fucking go on! She hasn't gone on in a week! She doesn't return my phone calls. I have a feeling she doesn't return yours! You know this is your fault Simon Refing, you dumbass mother fucker! I want you out on the streets looking for her."

"Cherry, listen I..."

"I don't want to hear it Simon! You and your macho attitude are only good for one thing, hurting people! Get out there! Go find your ex-girlfriend or whatever she was to you. I have to stay here. I have to do my job. You have to do your job, and your job is about protecting us! So go out and find Kitten!"

As Cherry yelled at Simon through the main door of the Damsel, Simon could see a shallow stream of water run down the corner of Cherry's eye. It was faint, so faint it didn't smear her makeup on the way down. Simon barely listened to Cherry's screams but he was enthralled by her tear. He saw himself in her tear like a reflection in a pond. He saw his own soul inside her tear. The single tear was greater than any emotion Simon had ever had. He wished he was Cherry's tear. He wished he could form the tear that Cherry had formed. He wanted to cry for Kitten. He wanted to cry for himself, for Jacquie, for all the lives he had messed up, ruined, and ended. He could not cry. He could not form a single tear. He could not be a tear. He did not have a soul.

Suddenly Simon pushed Cherry back through the door of the Damsel. He saw her smack into the back of a patron as he closed the door. He pulled up the collar on his coat and walked away from the Damsel back to his car. As he walked away he heard the door open again and the voice of Cherry shouting something threatening. Simon hunched over and continued to walk to his car.

He was going to drive until he found Kitten. He was going to set his life right. He was going to earn back a piece of his soul.

The sound of the door bell, Bing! Bong! could be heard ringing throughout the house. The old oak door pulled away from the frame and standing in its place was Jacquie Bloom's ex-wife, Tiffany.

"Tiffany," said Jacquie in a melancholy tone.

"Jacquie," replied Tiffany with the same dry, emotionless inflection.

A black steel door still separated the two former lovers. Tiffany dared Jacquie, but he wouldn't move. His hands were visible at his sides. His chin was up, glasses straight on his eyes, beard neatly trimmed. He wore the same suit as always. Tiffany eventually pulled the door open.

"I called him to come down when I saw your car pull up," said Tiffany barely looking Jacquie in the eye.

Jacquie looked up at the staircase as he stepped into the house. "Hey, Kiddo!" he shouted.

"Da-a-a-d-d-d-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!" screamed a five-year-old boy from his bedroom, down the stairs, and into Jacquie's arms. "Me and you get to spend the whole day together?" he asked.

"The whole day!" said Jacquie with an uncommon smiled across his face.

"Is Mommy coming too?"

Jacquie looked up at Tiffany.

"No, Jake. I'm going to stay here. You need some quality time with your Daddy."

Jacquie lifted Jake up into one arm so they were face to face. "So Big Guy, what do you want to do first today?"

"Ice Cream!" shouted Jake.

"Uh, I dunno about..." interrupted Tiffany.

"Awesome idea Big Guy!" said Jacquie. "I'll get you an Ice Cream Mountain!"

"Yeah!"

Jacquie and his son sat on a park bench licking their ice cream. Jacquie's ice cream was caramel chocolate. Jake licked away at two scoops of double fudge marshmallow with gummy worms and sprinkles on top; it looked like a wad of dirt from where a travelling carnival had just been. They watched a couple of ten-year-old kids flying kites.

"Daddy, why don't I get to see you very much?" asked Jake.

Jacquie took a deep breath, "well what does your mom tell you?"

"She says you're not very nice and you hurt a lot of people."

Jacquie took another breath, "what do you think of me?"

"I dunno, you're always nice to me."

"Is Mommy nice?"

"Yeah, we-e-e-l-l she's nice most of the time," said Jake between ice cream licks.

"When she's mean is it because you were bad?"

"Sometimes..."

"Jake, buddy, listen to me...do you know what prison is?"

"Where grownups have time out?"

"Right, grownup timeout. I was in prison for most of your life."

"What did you do, Daddy?"

"When your Mommy was pregnant I got in a lot of trouble protecting her from some really bad people."

"But you got in trouble?"

"What I did to those really bad people was really bad too. Do you understand?"

"You shouldn't have been so mean to mean people."

"Yes, Jake. You should tell a grownup if someone is being mean to you. Don't get angry and behave badly okay?"

"Okay. So you went to prison for hurting bad people?"

"Yes to protect Mommy."

"What do you do now, Daddy?"

"Do you trust me Jake?"

"Yes, Daddy I love you."

"I love you too, Jake. When I'm not with you Jake, you just trust that I'm out protecting you and Mommy both, okay?"

"Okay," said Jake. They sat in silence for a few minutes as they finished they're ice cream. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Big Guy?"

"Can we go play Laser Tag?"

Jacquie laughed and messed up Jake's hair. "You want to play Laser Tag? Yeah, let's go play some laser Tag."

Congressman Eric Vasquez sat behind a barren office desk.

The desk used to be covered in paper work, manila file folders, yellow post notes, mail, his pc, two cell phones, and a dozen pictures of his wife and two children. The janitor turned out the lights in the office without checking to see if it was occupied first. Congressman Vasquez could only see the office with the light from the city coming through the window behind him. He sat slumped in his chair like a corpse but, despite how he might have felt at the moment, he was not dead.

All the objects that once took up space on Vasquez's desk and around his office were boxed up and stacked next to the door. The only object in the room that wasn't furniture was the office phone which sat directly in the middle of the desk. As Vasquez sat and took shallow breathes, he would glance at the phone from time to time.

Fuck what a horrible week, Vasquez thought to himself. He looked at the phone, just ring already. Just fucking ring! Vasquez was waiting for a phone call from his team of lawyers who were themselves waiting for a call from the congressional committee ruling over Vasquez's scandal. The Justice Attorney took the role of plaintiff and it had just been revealed that there was substantial evidence put in play. The evidence was believed to be a series of photos taken of Vasquez having sex with a stripper in exchange for money. The allegations had already been made. One of the members of the bachelor party that Vasquez attended claimed to have seen Vasquez giving money to a bouncer at the Damsel Strip Club and then going in to a private room. He then claims to have witnessed Vasquez and the stripper having sex.

The Congressman had spent the last week fighting to clear his name. He confessed to receiving a lap dance from a stripper at the club but argued that he did not pay for it and they did not have sex. The allegations couldn't have come at worse time with elections over his new policies that were voted into office were not being worked on so that he could focus on clearing his name. After a week of protest, Vasquez agreed to take a vacation until the verdict was in. The things in his office were packed so that if he was found guilty he could move swiftly out.

The week's deliberations seemed to be going in Vasquez's favor but took a turn when the announcement of picture evidence had been revealed.  

So Vasquez went through with packing up his office. He sat while they boxed everything up. He sat while the janitor turned off his light. His wife called once, but he just sat and let it go to voicemail. Mrs. Vasquez was strong and stood by her husband, at least when the camera were on. But when it was just the two of them, she couldn't bear to look him in the face.

Two weeks ago the new president called Vasquez about a possible position in his new cabinet. Vasquez turned the chair slowly so that he could look out the window without moving his head. The sky is black, he thought, just like my future.

"I didn't know the Syndicate of the Darkening Sun owned territory in the Gas Lamp District," interrupted Long Barrel Darrel. 

"You didn't know because you didn't need to know," replied Jacquie.

"Oh yeah I forgot that all shadow organizations have that code."

"Anyway," said Jacquie with a glimmer of annoyance, "a drug deal is going on at two p.m. today in an abandoned food preservatives warehouse."

"Why does the Syndicate own..."

"It's a graveyard, LBD. There are probably about fifty dead bodies in shallow graves surrounding that warehouse. It's in a part of town that city planners long forgot about, and so should you."

"If this goes bad..."

"Then there are going to be a couple of more bodies to add to the tall grass field."

Jacquie and LBD arrived at the warehouse ten minutes before the scheduled deal. Quick surveillance of the area showed only one car entrance and anyone trying to come in on foot would be spotted in a second because the warehouse was surrounded by hills. Even wearing camouflage would be risky because of the many types of colors that decorated the land: live and dead grass, piles of sand, pebble, rock, tires, small and large scrap metal of varying degrees of rust.

The Gun Bearers drive away from the warehouse and wait fifteen minutes.

When they return, Jacquie and LBD find three vehicles parked casually around the front of the warehouse. There is a large truck, a black Cadillac, and a Jaguar that looks familiar to Jacquie. As they pull up they are of course greeted with stern faces and hands resting on gun handles.

The Gun Bearers stepped out of the black Lincoln slowly. LBD counts eight people. Jacquie counts nine. There is still a man inside the Jaguar.

One of the only men not resting his hand on a gun spoke up and asked, "who the fuck are you?"

"We are Gun Bearers," announced Jacquie. "You are trespassing on territory that belongs to the Syndicate of the Darkening Sun. We don't care about your drugs or your money. All we ask is that you refrain from doing business on our property."

The man who spoke up looked back at the man in the Jaguar.

Jacquie clinched his teeth.

"Tell your man in the Jaguar to step out of his vehicle."

The man who spoke up didn't move or speak. The driver's side door popped open on the Jaguar. The man inside stepped out slowly.

"Come to visit me at work Jacquie?" said Joe LeStrauss. "I knew you were a Gun Bearer when I met you at your son's bus stop. The way you held yourself, the way your eyes threatened me, much like they're doing now. We beg your pardon for meeting on Syndicate ground. We will leave. No harm, no foul. I just trust you won't tell your ex-wife or your son. We've all just gotten comfortable with each other and I wouldn't want something like this to ruin it." Joe LeStrauss finished his sentence with the biggest greatest shit eating grin that any shit eater had ever made since the fad of shit eating became popular.

Jacquie took a short breath and then said, "This place is a crow's nest," which did not mean anything to the nine men in front of him but to LBD it was the code command to open fire and kill them all. 

Long Barrel Darrel's extended 15 inch .44 Magnum appeared like one of Zeus' lightning bolts. It was as fast. It was as loud. It was as deadly.

Jacquie's Beretta 93r "Veronica" unloaded her own bullets into two men's skulls.

Jacquie walked up to Joe LeStrauss who was on his knees in piss soaked pants.

"You probably would have walked out of here if you hadn't mentioned my ex-wife and our son."

"I'm sorry," said Joe.

"I'm not," replied Jacquie.

LBD's phone vibrated it read: TXT MSG: MR. GILLINGHAM: Tell Jacquie he's welcome. 

"I know you're not going to say it but I know what you're thinking," said Simon sitting at the bar having a beer.

"What am I thinking, Mr. Refing," asked Glenn the bartender.

"You're thinking 'man he has a drink before his shift starts and he has a drink as soon as it's over, how fucked up can his life be?"

"I can honestly say that isn't what I was thinking," replied Glenn.

"Well whether it was or it wasn't I appreciate ya not making any nod to it, like a role of the eyes or a sigh or a head shake."

"Please Mr. Refing, give me a break. The people that come in here check their morals at the door like they check their coats."

"You mean they leave them in the car so they don't have to pay a buck fifty?"

"Exactly," said Glenn as he poured Simon another, "exactly."

Simon laughed into his glass as he drained the remains of his first beer. As Simon sipped at his second beer a man in an expensive suit takes the stool next to him. Simon glanced at him, passes him off as 'he ain't any kinda threat' and went back to his beer. Suddenly his eyes grow wide and he turned his head back around. Simon caught the patron straight in the face because he had turned around to watch Cherry Valentine take the stage.

"Hey I know you," said Simon.

The man made a face that suggested what Simon had said was ridiculous. "I'm sorry sir, have we met before?"

"Well I dunno about actually meeting, but yeah you've been in here before."

"The last time I was here was for my bachelor party."

Simon's face showed surprise and then he lowered his head, "yeah, yeah that was it. You were here with Congressman Vasquez."

"Yeah that was the night...uh yeah that was quite a night..."

"Uh, right. Uh, how is your marriage working out for ya Mr..."

"Lucas, Berry Lucas..."

"Simon..." Simon motioned for Glenn and a second drink appeared in front of Mr. Lucas.

"The wedding was fine but, uh...let's just say the Damsel might be seeing a lot more of me."

"Oh, well you got me in a bit of a dilemma, am I happy about that or sad for you?"

"Do you work here, Simon?"

"I'm uhh a bouncer of sorts."

"Yeah I gotcha."

"Really I'm sorry for you and your old lady. That sucks man."

"Don't worry about it."

"So how is Mr. Vasquez? I heard some shit went down when he was here."

"You don't read the papers? His life is going to complete shit!"

"Yeah?"

"Apparently someone took pictures of him in one of your private rooms with a dancer. Supposedly they show sexual intercourse but I think it's all just suggestive angles. Hey, aren't these rooms supposed to keep shit like that from happening."

"Hey we try, but we can't make no guarantee ya know, not with today's technology camera phones and everything ain't nothing private anymore."

"I hear that."

"So what is going to happen to the Congressman?"

"Well he's wrapped up in this whole sex scandal its ruining his career. I think a congressional committee is going to make a verdict in a day or so, if he doesn't resign before then."

"Ya don't say," Simon took a big gulp of beer and wiped his mouth.

"And Vasquez was going to do a lot of good too. He was all about alternative fuel, decreased government spending, increased tax rates for the upper class. He was writing a virtual resume to the white house. Our new president would have had his eye on Vasquez for a seat in his cabinet for sure if this hadn't happened."

"Ya don't say."

"I guess that's how it goes though. Sometimes life is just out of our hands."

"Yeah," said Simon, "maybe it is."

Jacqueline Bloom strutted out of the enormous skyscraper that is the Syndicate's home.

The valet already had the his black Lincoln pulled up and was still running. Jacquie's phone rang. He pulled out. The face display read "Mr. Gillingham." Jacquie stopped. He flipped open the phone. "Sir?" He said into the receiver as he peered up at the skyscraper knowing that high above him Gillingham was on his office phone looking down at Jacquie like a hawk zeroing in on its pray.

"Do you like drug deals, Mr. Bloom?"

Jacquie paused for a second and then continued walking to his car, "I don't do any drugs and we aren't drug dealers, so I'd say my answer is impartial." 

"Fair enough, Mr. Bloom, but allow me to add to the question: do you like drug deals that happen on Syndicate owned property without Syndicate permission?"

"No sir," replied Jacquie as he got into his Lincoln and pulled away from the building.

"Of course you don't. Not a minute after you left my office, I received a call from a Guide who found out that a major drug deal is going to go down in one of my warehouses later today. I would like you to correct this miscommunication in person with Long Barrel Darrel as your Man Behind. I trust that, despite the night before lasts altercation, you are the best equipped to deal with matters such as these."

"Sir, what kind of matters do you mean?"

"Well, Mr. Bloom, Jacquie my boy, I have no idea if these are men that need to be dealt with severely or respectfully. All rationality is left up to you if you take this job. If you don't take it I don't know what else to do about it. I can't go down there. Simon can't go down there. What is your answer?"

"I'll take care of it for you, Mr. Gillingham."

"I know you will."

"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."

"You're welcome, oh and Jacquie?"

"Yes, Mr. Gillingham?"

"I think you'll appreciate this job," said Gillingham followed by the hollow, dead absence of sound that follows the end of a phone call.

"Hey, Mr. Refing what brings you in this morning?" said the Damsel Strip Club's opening bartender.

"Can it Glenn before you go and make a mundane morning into a bad morning," replied Simon Refing as he took a seat at the bar.

"Sorry, Mr. Refing, what can I get you?"

"Bloody Mary, Glenn," replied Simon. He got the drink, downed it, sighed and said, "Sorry for snapping at you Glenn. You make a good Bloody Mary, keep them coming. To answer your question from before, this is where I'll be working for the foreseeable future."

"Gotcha, Mr. Refing."

After Simon had his second Bloody Mary he caught sight of Lee Fook entering the building. Lee looked around for a second before spotting Simon. He walked over to Simon so quietly and with such poise that it looked almost as if he were floating just above the ground.

Simon faced forward as Lee approached. Lee stood next to Simon. Simon turned his head slightly but still not looking at Lee and nodded his head. Lee returned the nod and too the stool next to Simon.

"Mr. Fook."

"Mr. Refing."

"Buy you a drink?"

"Thank you, yes, bourbon please."

"Bourbon? Hell, Mr. Fook. What are you anyway, Chinese, Korean...?

"Mother from China, Father from Okinawa."

"Okay now wah?

"Island off of Japan."

"Gotcha," said Simon as he rose his drink to meet Lee's. They drank.

"No hard feelings, Mr. Refing?"

"About what?"

"My report is partly the reason you sit here now."

"What?" asked Simon, he paused and thought for a second, "Oh... No, Lee, you don't gotta worry about that. It wasn't your report it was me and my gun. But I guess that ain't a problem no more, so don't even worry about. I guess I just didn't understand how it all worked before. But I understand now."

"Good, Mr. Refing."

"Simon."

"Yes, Simon. Good to hear you are moving on."

Their conversation hit a brick wall after Lee's statement. They sipped their drinks in uncomfortable silence. Lee was more visibly uncomfortable than Simon.

Finally, after Simon drained his drink he said, "Well I ain't moved on entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I know there ain't no going back from the Lessox job but I've done some awfully wrong things and maybe I aim to put some of them right again."

"Things you did as a Gun Bearer?"

"Hey!" said Simon abruptly. "Now I'm trying to talk to you like a friend and not Gillingham's fucking Angel of Death. You act like a guy who wants to be treated like a friend, so is that what this is or should I just shut the fuck up now?"

"My apologies, Simon, I do want to be your friend. Please continue."

"Something I did has been aching at me real bad. You know a lot about this Karma stuff, what's up with that?"

"I think what you're searching for is a path to redemption. You feel you have wronged people in the past and it is affecting your current course."

"Well I guess, but I mean, well, I know I'm going to Hell, Lee. I know that is where I'm headed. I just want to lessen the charges against me while I still have time. Ya know, if I have to carry a stone for every misdeed I did while I was here on Earth than ya know, I just want to... carry less stones."

"Ah, well put Mr. Refing, very well put."

"So what do you think?"

"My heart tells me to advise you to go out and redeem whatever transgressions you can."

"I thought so," said Simon lifting his head a little higher.

"However, my job as the Executioner Gun Bearer tells me that you and I will meet again at the end of your new path."

"Really?" asked Simon with wide eyes.

"Two paths travelling within one vessel is my burden."

"Well, Lotus Wolf," said Simon with another deep sigh, "it's no longer yours to bear alone."

Simon ordered another round of drinks and they toasted: "To us both walking two paths."

The pretty little receptionist stared at Jacqueline Bloom as he sat outside of Mr. Gillingham's office waiting to go in. Jacquie sensed her eyes on him but took it as a compliment and decided not to return the gaze.

The reason the receptionist gave an extra hard look at Jacquie was because he looked different in some unclear way. He sat straight up in the uncomfortable leather chair. He seemed relaxed but stern. He reached into his pocket, removed his cell phone, observed the display, and placed it back in his pocket. He seemed exact in his movements, sure of himself, and of everything around him. The receptionist would never be able to discern what exactly made Jacquie so oddly appealing. She would never figure it out because it couldn't be observed, unless she could somehow see him a few hours ago. Jacquie had sex the night before. And not just casual before we go to sleep sex, Jacquie had raw, sweaty, unforgiving sex. Jacquie had the kind of sex that leaves at least one member of the party in quite a bit of pain the next morning. Jacquie might have been in a little pain but he was too high to feel anything.

"Mr. Gillingham will see you now, Mr. Bloom," announced the receptionist.

"Thank you," said Jacquie and as he got up to go to the door he felt her eyes move as well.

Behind the waiting room was Gillingham's massive office that would have fit in perfectly with the rooms' great warlords and emperors might have occupied. Gillingham sat behind a slab of marble and giving Jacquie his undivided attention.

"Jacqueline, I assume this personal visit has something to do with the events that took place the night before last?" asked Gillingham.

Jacquie waited until he was seated to reply, "Yes sir, they do."

"And how is Mr. Austin Tellamore?"

"I would assume that he is currently doing well."

"'Well?' Is this unfortunate?"

"For us it is. It seems that Tellamore aligned himself with some mysterious new players and in so doing found the means to pay us the amount that he owed us in full."

"'In full,' Mr. Bloom?"

"Yes sir. I know how investments like Tellamore are supposed to go and when I saw the money I told him that it would not do. It was at that time that Tellamore's alleged benefactors made their presence known." Jacquie took a deep breath. "The reason I'm here to deliver my report in person is not because it went badly, which it did. I'm here because of what happened next."

Gillingham's eyes were uncharacteristically wide, "well what did happen?"

"When Tellamore's allies appeared Long Barrel Darrel and I became immobilized. We were not stunned, or drugged, we were frozen in place. LBD had time to remove his gun as he was the 'Man Behind' but it was taken from his hand. I don't know how it was done but I did manage to free myself and pursue Tellamore and his allies on foot." Jacquie proceeded to tell Gillingham how he saw Tellamore's two allies lift Tellamore off the roof of the building and away into the night. Gillingham asked for a description of the people and Jacquie told him at the same time he gave him a USB key and said it contained a detailed report. "Who are these people, Mr. Gillingham? I cannot assure you successful jobs with characters like these running around."

In a flash Gillingham raised a fist and slammed it down on his desk. "Yes you can, Mr. Bloom! Yes you can!" He paused. Jacquie's eyes widened slightly from behind his glasses but there was no other way to tell he had been caught off guard. "I will see to it that this is not a reoccurring phenomenon. It WILL NOT happen again!"

"With all due respect sir, how will you prevent it?"

"You need not wonder, Jacqueline. Trust me. Future jobs will be reorganized to see to all variables. All I need from you is the same things you've always given me: accuracy and diplomacy. Assuming there are no other questions, you are dismissed."

Jacquie rose from his chair, turned, and walked toward the door.

"Oh and Jacqueline, in case you haven't figured it out. You are now my top Gun Bearer. No added pressure just thought you should know."

"Jacquie I think you should take a look at this," said Simon looking down at the bill.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's outrageous we've been here all day. So what?" replied Jacquie as he leaned across the table and took the bill from Simon.

At the bottom of the bill after the faintly printed numbers and abbreviations was a hand written message that read: "It was a pleasure serving you, maybe there's more I can do for you when my shift is over? -Cindy," a phone number followed the message. Jacquie, without looking back up at Simon tore off the message and put inside his jacket.

Simon smiled at him.

The Gun Bearers stacked their remaining plates at the edge of the table. Simon took the bill up to the cash register while Jacquie covered the tip. His eyes met Cindy's one more time and she looked away with an embarrassed look that could only be from innocence. Jacquie met Simon at the door and they walked out of the diner.

Simon started talking about something but Jacquie couldn't hear him because he was focused on a group of three men walking into the diner. They sure are coming in late. That's got to suck for the people inside. Everyone should know that when the doors lock in a restaurant it's time to get the fuck out, these people have lives too. As Jacquie thought to himself and watched the men, he noticed that they were all wearing black clothing. The smell of booze was quickly growing as they approached. And as Jacquie passed them he noticed a gun tucked into one of the guys black jeans.

Jacquie nudged Simon just in time for Simon to get a load of the gun too. Jacquie looked at Simon, whose face was already turning red. The guys had spent the whole day in that diner, for a brief time they called it home.

The Gun Bearers ran around to the back of the building. Simon kicked the door in and Jacquie provided the initial point and ready with his Berretta 93r.  No one was in the back of the diner but a few screams and shouts said all that the Bearers needed to hear. Jacquie looked back and saw that Simon was uncharacteristically hunched over. He doesn't have his gun. I knew something was different. Gillingham made him turn in his gun. Can he do that? Is Simon still a Gun Bearer?

"Go on ahead," said Simon to Jacquie.

Jacquie led the way with his gun drawn and pointed up. They burst into the front dining room from the back and surprised the three robbers. Two of the robbers had gun pointed at a closely held hostage. One robber's hostage was Cindy, the waitress. Jacquie noticed that Cindy was a hostage immediately but he kept his gun pointed at the robber by the cash register.

"Alright Kiddies it's time to put away the toys and go on home!" shouted Simon.

"Whoa what the fuck is this?" said the robber at the register looking back and forth at Jacquie and Simon.

"Do not take that tone with us, motherfucker. Do you know who we are? What we are?"

"Yeah some heroes who are about to get a bunch of innocent people killed!" said the unarmed robber.

"Dude," said the robber holding Cindy, "they're Gun Bearers, we're fucked!"

"Yes," said Jacquie, "you are."

"Blat Bla-Bla BLAT!" said Victoria, Jacquie's gun. Two holes in each of the armed robbers heads.

By the time the fourth bullet pierced through the second robbers' skull, Simon was already by the unarmed robber. Simon made a fist and smashed it down on top of the robber's head. Before he fell to the ground it was clear from the jagged knot that Simon had broken his neck.

I guess he really doesn't need a gun, thought Jacquie as he walked out of the diner with his arm around Cindy, while Simon walked close behind.

"Come on man, you know it's totally fucked up!" said Jacquie from across the restaurant table. The table was covered in dirty plates, cutlery, and glasses with sweat beads making small puddles.

"Hey, shut up, here she comes," warned Simon from the other side of the plate stacks.

A cute young blonde waitress made her way up the guys table, " how are we doing over here," she made eye contact with both of them but she went back to Jacquie a few more times than Simon. "Can I get some of these out of your way?" She started stacking the plates higher. Jacquie fumbled forward to help her and Simon took a sip from his coffee.

"We're fine for now, thanks," said Jacquie looking into the waitresses eyes.

"No problem, remember my name is Cindy," she replied.

"The dame likes you man," said Simon when she was far enough away not to be able to hear.

"Shut up, Simon. Like I was saying, you're taking all of this shit pretty well, ya know it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You used to be the top dog Gun Bearer. You know, I'm training this guy now LBD..."

"Long Barrel Darrel?"

"Yeah, I told him you and I used to run together and he nearly shit a fucking brick. He was impressed that I worked with you. Have you ever thought about the name you've created for yourself? Simon 'Mother Fucking Corpse-Maker' Refing."

"Ah cut it out Jacquie, it ain't that big of a deal, you gotta let this go. I've learned to live with it. Gillingham does what he does for the Syndicate. I screwed up I'm paying for it."

"We're all paying for it man," snapped Jacquie.

"Hey!" Simon snapped back, "Do you remember how I used to be? Do remember what kinds of things I did to become a fucking Grimland urban legend? Do you remember the Nelson Bigsby disaster?"

"No, I'd happily forgotten about that one, Simon."

"Yeah, well I haven't! We went in there just trying to get information on where we could find Nelson Bigsby. All we had was an address, 803 Highlight Apartments. We got there, knocked on the door, but no one answered. I pressed my ear to the door and could hear the faint sounds of conversation coming from another room in the apartment. I busted down the door and you drew your gun to back me up. I drew mine and all we found was a woman in the kitchen to the right of the front door. You got your hand to her mouth before she could scream. You tried to calm her while I swept the apartment. I should have waited for you to subdue her before going on ahead."

"No, you should have let me calm her down. Then I could have questioned her and we would have avoided the whole mess that ensued."

"Yeah, well...I went on ahead and you stayed back. I walk into the dining room filled with Nelson Bigsby's entire fucking family and there is Nelson at the head of the table."

"They were having Thanksgiving dinner."

"Thanks fucking giving dinner. I had my gun out of course but it was pointed up at the ceiling. The family, specifically the grandmother, must have known what I was there for. The grandmother rose from her seat and as she does I caught a glimpse of something in her hand. The next thing I know my left arm is in searing pain and the handle of a knife is all I can see sticking out of my arm. I put two in the old ladies gut. Then bodies start to jump on me. I unloaded every round. Every round, Jacquie, into Nelson Bigsby and his entire family. The only person who got out was his sister-in-law, who you were holding in the other room."

"Nelson Bigsby was a raving lunatic. When we searched his suitcase we found an Axe, Simon. We found an actual axe. He was probably going to murder his family."

"So? I beat him to it. It doesn't matter that I killed him too, his family is still dead. That's a lot of innocent souls Jacquie. I'm a dangerous man, and with a gun I'm a fucking monster."

"Jeez, Miriam, we've been sitting here through your entire shift?" asked Jacquie.

"Oh its okay sweetie, we ain't been busy at all and you guys have been sweet as pie, but I do need to leave do ya mind cashing out with me? You can stay where you are," said the elderly waitress with bright red lipstick. She had two pieces of paper in her hand.

Jacquie and Simon both looked at her hand and immediately went for the their wallets in their back pockets. They both were apologetic and sympathetic to the waitress, a behavior neither one of them was used to.

"Sorry,"

"Oh yeah we'll take care of that, don't you worry sorry,"

"We've just been catching up,"

"Lost track of time,"

"We'll take care of that,"

"Here that should be enough,"

"No actually, here,"

"Yeah have that,"

"That's for you,"

"No change back,"

"Nothing back thanks,"

"Thank you,"

"'preciate it,"

"Service was wonderful."

Miriam the waitress walked away from the table with a pile of money that was probably equal to the haul she took in one week.

"She we leave?" asked Jacquie.

"You got anywhere you need to go?"

"Not really, you?"

"Nope, let's hang out here some more they don't seem to mind."

"Cool with me," said Jacquie, "hey do you remember the Baby Jackal job?"

"Yeah," said Simon, "but that job was mostly you doing all the work I was just in the bedroom wrestling with that stupid baby's stupid father."

"Man, that was probably the first time that made me question it all."

"What do you mean?"

"That case blurred the lines for me, something happened, roles were changed, and what we were doing felt right, no, just."

"Uh...okay, what the fuck happened with that job again?"

"Well it all came about because we were at a slump in the Syndicate. Gillingham didn't have any jobs for us to do but there was something we found out we could do for one of the Damsel strippers. She was down in the dumps and it was showing through her work. Her husband had gotten custody of her kid because he had the money to get a big bad lawyer and she didn't have shit. The kid clearly needed to be with her, and so we went in.

"The apartment was one of those high-rise penthouse places and we had to..."

"Oh yeah, we fucking annihilated that apartment buildings security. I remember I cleaned this guys clock so nice he feet literally went over his head."

"You want to tell the rest of it?"

"Sorry."

"Yeah we did barrel through a bunch of them and all without the guns. We got to the apartment and there was the father with a snub nose revolver and the baby. I drew my gun. The father threw his baby to a friend. You took off for the father and got to him before he could aim his weapon. I went for the two goons, who passed the kid like he was a ticking bomb. You found your way into the bedroom bare-knuckle boxing with the dad. 

"I took down one of the guys with a kick to the face, I worked out more then, and the other guy was getting way to close to the window. I turned around and the kid was at the window seal like a hot apple pie. I did the whole action hero thing, right, and fucking dove at the guy at the same time as I said screamed 'n-o-o-o-o-o.' I missed the kid. He started to tumble out the window, but I didn't miss the guy who tried to execute him. I hit him and he lost his balance so we both head for the window. Together me and the goon fall out the window and I go over him and everything fucking slows way down. As I'm falling I see the kid and I tighten my legs around the guys waist. Thank God his own legs were caught by the broken window seal. I reach out still holding the goon with my legs. And with my fingers stretched out, I nab the little fucker."

"That's fucking brutal man. But how did it change your perspective on things?" asked Simon.

"I didn't say it changed them, it blurred the line. We went out and did something we knew was right. That baby almost died, fuck, I almost died but something helped me out."

"Sounds like you helped yourself out."

"Whatever, and of course in the end, as you know..."

"Yeah that baby was the grandson of the Jackal. The mother, the stripper, had been exiled from the Jackal family but the grandson was the only male hair to the Jackal fortune. The father was going to kill the kid and pick off the Jackals, so said one of his goons.

"And in the end," said Jacquie, "the Jackals joined the Syndicate. I don't know how it works man, but something happened, something just."

"Hmmm," stirred Simon, "you want to order some more food?"