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 Posted: Tue Sep 07, 2010 6:51 pm
The sun burns the horizon and gives the city an eerie red glow in the early morning while Brian rides his Crossbones back into Hells Kitchen. He rolls into an alley and parks the bike. Brian emerges back onto the street while checking the time on his phone. Once again he has the bag, the on he carries his dismantled rifle in, over his shoulder. He looks at his notepad and looks at the addresses on the buildings, after a quick stroll he finds the one he’s looking for and leans against the wall.
Anna, I’m sure you said something the police heard but didn’t care about, I want to hear what you said. I want to find the little girl.
Brian keeps leaning against the wall; looking up and down the street and glancing at the few people still on the street or entering the street at this hour, appears surprisingly awake for someone that hasn’t slept in almost three days. He keeps at looking around for a few minutes until suddenly he pounds on the door he’s standing next to. After a couple of minutes of pounding a female voice says from the inside, “what do you want, it’s too ******** early, I want to know about Maria,” Brian callously shoots back.
“I already talked to the police, you guys didn’t care before why would you care now?” The voice asks.
“I ain’t police, I’m freelance.” The door opens a little until the chain pulls tight to keep the door closed the woman looks at Brian whom quickly says, “If you don’t care enough to talk to me face to face I got a whole city of other ******** I could help.” The door slams, the chain rattles off the door and then the door swings open gently, the woman retreating back into the apartment, presumably to put on something better than a robe. “Look lady, I’m not here to get your number, I just want the story.”
She came back, invited him into the kitchen space which was just a coffee machine, a microwave and a mini-fridge on a counter with a badly damaged table and chairs that looked as though they’d fall apart at the idea of someone sitting in them. Anna sat, Brian leaned against the counter. Anna told him all that happened that amounted to her husband, who has been missing for months, owed a gang money and they took their little girl. Brian felt the story was off but it amounted to more than he previously had. Now to check out the next link in the chain: the gang.
Hells Kitchen has no small number of gangs, most just deal in drugs but some others are a little more ambitious and deal in guns too but only one is in human trafficking: The Cast Offs of Pandemonium.
Brian was smiling as he walked back to his motorcycle, aint nothing like takin’ on the champ first time in the ring.
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Posted: Wed Sep 08, 2010 10:56 pm
Brian starts the motorcycle and lets it idle while he checks the time on his phone, again. “It aint too hard to find those ********, I aint slept in a few days,” he mutters to himself which it would take spectacular hearing to hear what he said over the rumble of the Crossbones. He puts his phone back into its pocket and he rolls out onto the street. It’s not been long but the sun no longer burned the horizon once he put the bike into gear and rolled away.
He rolled into a diners parking lot as the sign in the door is switched from “closed” to “open.” He parked his bike before walking inside. He went into the bathroom and used the facilities, last time he had used them was leaving Stark tower III quite a few hours ago. He lingered at the sink after washing his hands to soap and than rinse off his face to help make him more presentable. He strolled back into the dining area and sat on a stool by the counter. He casually removed a menu from its holder and looked it over. All the usual American diner breakfast options like pancakes, french toast, regular toast, eggs and so on proclaimed their deliciousness to him from their well used and aged laminated paper. His mind was so absorded into the absurdity of pretending like he didn’t know what he was going to order and clouded with a lack of rest that he didn’t notice that the sole waitress had come and stood before him.
The waitress was confronted with the bouquet of smells this man had become. The soap smell had just been renewed in the bathroom but the smells she noticed were the sweat and the alcohol but she couldn’t place the sulphiric smell of spent gunpowder so she failed to notice it for what it was and instead let it soak in as just a general part of how foul this man was. “What’ll you have?” she inquired distastefully.
“Steak and eggs” he replied flatly and without looking at her, “with coffee.”
She noticed he ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, “You got to pay first,” she lied.
He produced a wallet and handed her a twenty which covered the food plus a little more, she took it without saying anything and put in his order before pouring a cup of coffee. He muttered a word of thanks and started drinking the coffee as black as it was before the cream or sugar even touched the counter.
He quietly drank his coffee and stared at the counter until she returned with his food and topped off his coffee. With the addition of food he quietly ate the food and drank his coffee. Once the food was exhausted he drank one more cup of coffee before putting another dollar on the counter. He rose and produced a partially smoked cigar and lighter. She noticed as he lit the zippo and she said, “you can’t smoke in here.”
He lit the cigar anyway and said, “******** the Democrats,” with the cigar in his mouth and disdain in his voice before he walked out the door to his bike.
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 7:59 pm
Brian mounted the Crossbones and started the engine, rather than back it out and leave the parking lot through the exit he rolls over the sidewalk and the curb to get to the street and into the early morning traffic. With the cigar still lit he turned towards Avengers mansion using the traffic law as a suggestion.
The latest misfit to the group of misfits.
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