Chapter 9: Things Best Left Alone
He awoke promptly at ten despite the fact that he had just opened himself to sleep barely four hours previous. He heard stirrings from the other room and reached under his pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. Looking around as the haze cleared from his eyes he remembered that he wasn’t in his apartment and sat up, the sun filling the standard white room with a glow that attacked his sleepy eyes from all sides. He scratched at his clean bald head and walked to the heavy reinforced door that led from his bedroom. The smell of breakfast filled his nose as he realized he hadn’t had anything to eat since roughly six the night before.
Walking stiffly into the den area he caught sight of Shin Lao, dressed casually in sweat pants and a white tee shirt. It was quite a contrast to the impeccably dressed woman the night before. The smell of coffee drew him to the kitchen where she was frying what appeared to be eggs. “I’ve already eaten, but I thought this might be more to your liking than what I had.” She shuffled the food off onto a paper plate and handed it to him. He set it on the barren white counter top and grabbed the only mug out of the pantry and poured a cup of coffee. He ate quickly and turned to face Shin Lao as she sat across from him at the large oak table. “Today we see Mac and find out what he knows. While you’re waking up I’ll finish my story that I started in your office. That might shed some light on why Tommy is still alive, and how much shit we got ourselves into.” Skinner sat attentively across the table, aware of his crumpled suit and scratchy face. Even first thing in the morning dressed as she was, she still made him self conscious with her beauty.
“True to his word we showed back up at The Pit three days later. Tommy had a small army sitting around waiting for us. Obviously talking was out of the question. Though we thought that would be the direction that he went in. Challenging an Irish man’s virility essentially just leads into a fire fight. I don’t know if that’s what the Viper was planning on, but that was the result. We walked in there and the bartender brought the shotgun to bear on the door. Whether he had done this to everybody that walked through the door that night or not we don’t know, but the noise of that bit of steel being pumped seemed to stir the nest as it was followed by the sound of every other piece in that place being cocked almost at the same time.” Skinner stopped sipping his coffee for a moment. He remembered walking that crime scene. There were literally hundreds of bullet casings covering the floor along with half that many discarded clips. Forty two bodies had been tagged that night. They had thought that it was a gang hit just by the number of bodies. He found it hard to believe that these two people had taken out that many people and had still managed to walk out of that place under their own power. “So, lemme get this straight, you two walked in there, killed all of those people, and walked out? I know you guys are good but...wow. All I can say is wow.”
“I’m getting to that Skinner. The bartender opened up first. He saw Elias draw his pistols and jumped the gun so to speak. It was hell after that. I dove behind the bar and Elias dropped two rounds into the man. Only hit him in the shoulders though, didn’t kill him. The others trained their guns on him and the Viper didn’t say a word, only raised his guns and scanned the crowd, seemingly daring them to pull a trigger.”
Someone did pull the trigger however. The single shot seemed to ignite the area like the pits of hell the bar was likely named after. The Viper simply seemed to spin around into a crouch, ducking below a table. The spray of bullets passing overhead, plugging into the mirror behind the bar, glass and liquor spraying everywhere as the bullets pounded into the wood behind. The bartender screamed as the rain of high test alcohol soaked him and his wounds. Shin Lao stood up from behind her cover and pulled her .45 pistol. The Viper, ever cool and collected strafed to the left, his fingers creating the torque needed to let fly with a hail of bullets. He tagged three people before the shock wore off and they opened fire again.
Several people were trying to flank the Viper as Shin Lao fired off several rounds, killing several more. Morale was starting to wane in the group as they were realizing that they were outclassed. They concentrated on the staccato beats of the wads of steel and lead flying from the Vipers guns. He had walked himself into a corner but he was far from cornered. Taking a diving leap he landing behind the bar, landing on the wounded bartender. The man screamed once more and started to kick at the Viper, tangling himself in the man’s coat. Stripping it off in a fluid motion the Viper stood again as the goons were reloading. Now only wearing his black suit he picked off several more. They seemed to be in shock as the wounded thugs seemed to fly back from the impact of the .50 rounds making contact with solid bone and flesh. He holstered his pistols and seemed to stare down the remaining thugs. In one motion he kicked his foot and sent the bartender’s shotgun flying upward. He caught it smoothly and aimed it into the crowd before they had time to disperse. He pumped the trigger once, sending a swath of shot into the crowd. Shin Lao followed up with several more rounds into the stunned mooks before she had to reload.
The Viper pumped the shotgun with a loud CHA-CHINK noise before bringing the shotgun again to bear on the few remaining thugs. They threw down their pistols quickly as their will to continue this completely disappeared as they looked around at roughly forty of their fallen comrades. “I was wondering how long it would take you guys to see reason. Now, one of you is going to tell me where I can find Tommy before I start picking the rest of you off. I’d tell you to ask the guys I just hit how much it hurts to have your chest turned into hamburger, but they seem to think that it’s pretty fatal.” He emptied the rest of the shells out of the shotgun and handed the empty weapon back to the bartender. “I’m a killer not a thief. Next time I’d suggest you ask questions before you start shooting. You might want to have those wounds looked at.” He picked up his jacket and strolled around the bar. Shin Lao stood up again and followed behind him keeping her gun trained on the small group that was left. The Viper’s guns were again in his hands, hanging at his sides as he sauntered across the empty space. The crunch of broken glass and bullet casings under his boots made the gathered criminals flinch. “So, again I ask you, where’s Tommy Mac?” He looked at the meanest looking thug in the bunch. The guy just spit and said something hurried in Gaelic. “That, my man is the wrong answer.” The Viper leveled his gun at the man’s head and pulled the trigger.
The click of the empty chamber made everybody jump. They were anticipating the thunder of the ejected bullet. Even the man jumped as he realized that the gun was empty. He laughed and lunged forward confident that he could take the young man. BLAT went the boom of the gun as the Viper brought it up to the man’s chest. The gas vents made the normally thundering crack of the Desert Eagle .50’s sound strange close up, almost like a ghostly wail. The man fell down, his vital fluids running down the large hole in his chest. The Viper coolly slid another clip into his empty pistol and dared the rest of the crowd. “Anyone else feeling brave?” They could almost feel his icy stare radiating from behind the designer sunglasses.
“That won’t be necessary Bruno. You seem to have caught us behind the eight ball.” The Viper turned his head and saw the form of Tommy MacGregor walk out from the side room behind the assembled thugs. No need to blow down the rest of us. You’ve got moxie kid I’ll give ya that. Let’s talk business.” The Viper had heard of Tommy’s obsession with the old 20’s film noir movies. He fancied himself as a Sam Spade or something and seemed to always speak like he actually was. The three of them walked into the back room. Both of the hired killers scanned the room looking for any possible ambush. None came, though thankfully for whom no one was certain. “So, I assume you’re here to bump me off, eh button man?” “That would be the idea.” The Viper set the marked bullet that he had been given by Boss Tanaka on Tommy’s desk. The declaration had been made. “So, fire that bean-shooter of yours and let’s see what the big sleep has to offer eh?” “Let’s talk first shall we.” It obviously wasn’t a request and Tommy shuffled in his seat. “All right, we’ll barber for a bit.”
12.13.2005
12.12.2005
Chapter 8
Chapter 8: Smoke and Mirrors
“Elias stopped by almost a week later to ask what I had decided.” Skinner thought back to that second meeting with a smile. “He brought German beer that night. Was the most god awful stuff I had ever drank.” “Well we see how things progressed from there.” Edgar piped up. He had sat enthralled by the detective’s story for the entire duration. He had always been impressed with the Viper’s work ethic and had heard often of this man, but only vaguely. “I remember that night in the police station. That was the first time that I’d walked into a police station of my own volition.” Shin Lao sat down on a grubby chair by Edgar’s desk. Everything was tinged with the nicotine yellow of the man’s smoking. “So, did he ever find your daughter?” Everybody was curious. They all knew the Viper to be a man of his word. “Not that I know of. I suppose that he died before he could find her. Who knows, perhaps he did find her and it was better that I not know.”
“You know I was one of the reasons he was doing what he was doing don’t you?” Shin Lao threw into the conversation, blushing slightly. “I was the person that he owed the Boss for.” Both Skinner and Edgar’s head turned to look at her. “You see, Elias was in this for several reasons really. He seemed to find something new to keep him in it, but someone always benefited in the end, aside from himself of course. Something happened with his family and he got turned over to Boss Tanaka. I never really found out what the circumstances were, he never told me anything much from before we met. In that way he was something of a mystery to everybody. But about the time that he met you, he was doing jobs to pay Boss Tanaka for my freedom.” She looked down, almost embarrassed for the first time that either of them had ever seen. But the Boss kept telling him One More Job after a while. He paid for my freedom all right. After that, he never told anyone what he was in it for. But the Tommy Mac job was the one where everything started going bad.” “Yeah, you never finished that story. What happened?” Skinner’s head was swimming with all of the new information that had been revealed in the last eight hours. The life of the professional killer seemed to be so much more complicated then even his own. “Perhaps we should go down to see Mac himself, he could tell you.”
Skinner was shocked. He, along with everybody else knew that Tommy MacGregor had died but here was Shin Lao telling him otherwise. “He’s still alive?” “Yes, he’s still alive, much to the ire of the Asian families. Hey Edgar. Do you happen to have any of those Colts that I like laying around here? We could use something to take with us.” Edgar puffed on his cigar for a second before he stood up and walked to the other room. “Yeah I’ve got a couple of them. Street rats around here go through em like toilet tissue. Got a couple of clips lying around as well.” Edgar brought back a pair of matte black and stainless .45 ACP’s and dozen clips. “That gonna do ya for tonight?” His cloud of smoke clung tightly around his head as he laid the guns and ammunition on his desk. “Yeah I hope that’ll do us for this evening.” She tossed a large wad of cash on the dealer’s desk and picked up the weapons. “That should cover the cost of everything. I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick up the rest. Fix those DE’s up nice Edgar; they’re for a special occasion.”
They let themselves out of Edgar’s apartment and walked quickly to the Black Aston Martin that seemed very out of place in this neighborhood. “You know, while tonight has been very informative, there’s still something on my mind that really confuses me. The EBay page that was sent to me, who is selling his guns? And why? None of this is making a whole lot of sense to me.” “I don’t know much about it myself. Though from what I’ve seen of the sale, the name of the seller, HKBOluvah, I can decipher a bit. Most eastern action movies come from the Hong Kong area, so the HKBO most likely stands for Hong Kong Blood Opera, as the films are often known by movie buffs over on this side of the world. So the name simply means that whoever this is, likes those Hong Kong movies. But who that is, and why they have them, and even why they’re selling them is a mystery to me as well. We’ll see Tommy Mac tomorrow night; let’s hit one of my safehouses for the night. We’re gonna be no good dead tired tomorrow. By the way, I’d stay away from the police station tomorrow until we figure out what’s going on. There’s still a dead officer in front of your apartment.”
Skinner had forgotten all about officer Warren and didn’t like where this night seemed to be taking him. He didn’t know if he had a job to return to, or if he was even going to be put into prison after all of this cleared. “Don’t worry about a thing detective; you’ll have a plausible alibi by the time we’re done.” The streets of New York sped by in a blur as the black performance car sped through dark neighborhoods and deserted warehouse districts. It was almost 5am and the sun was just cresting the horizon as they pulled into a dark lot just outside of New York proper on the New Jersey side of the line.
The house appeared to be one of roughly twenty that looked just like it in a new building division that was still in the process of being built. The garage opened with the light squeal of something new. The lights flicked on as the door opened and the car fit into the new garage. There was nothing else out here as far as normal clutter went. More than likely there wouldn’t be much as far as furniture went inside as well. People that needed safehouses tended to need several, so it was rather uneconomical to fully furnish them. To his surprise the place was moderately furnished. The small strip of space that was the kitchen just beyond the door from the garage had all of the appliances and several pieces of cookware. The house opened up beyond that into a large central area that held a dining table and several chairs. Everything seemed to be made of dark oak. There was a couch facing an entertainment center in the den area. There were pictures on the wall, which Skinner was sure were fake, as they depicted Shin Lao and what appeared to be family. Just something to reassure the neighbors he was sure. Several closed doors both to the side of the den and rear most likely were where she kept some equipment. “My bedroom’s over there, you can stay either on the couch there or in that rear bedroom, though all there is, is a mattress on the floor and a blanket. This IS a safehouse after all.” She smiled and went towards her room. “Oh, and I wouldn’t recommend running off. There are more than likely a couple of hitters out there looking for you, and possibly a few cops. Even more likely is that there are people who are both, out there looking for both of us.”
That was all that she said as she shut the door to her room. Skinner heard a bolt slide into place and knew that he was totally alone in the house. He wasn’t as tired as he thought he was however and looked around the living room at the pictures that hung on the wall and stood on the entertainment center. Everybody has to have a family he thought to himself. He was surprised however that there was a picture at the rear of the entertainment center that caught his attention. It happened to be a picture of Shin Lao and Elias. He looked much as he remembered him, young and clean looking. What really caught his attention was that in the picture they were looking rather affectionate. This forced Skinner to think on whether this was a staged picture for the sake of the illusion, or whether he had just glimpsed a little further into the private lives of the two professional killers. Either way she had been right on one thing, if he was going to be of any use, hell today, he would need to sleep some.
The door itself was much heavier than he thought it would be. He gave it a solid knock and found that there was most likely a sheet of steel in the core of the otherwise normal looking door. He glanced about wondering what other amenities she had installed into this house for the possibilities. Skinner decided that he wouldn’t abuse the killer’s hospitality any more than he had and lay down on the mattress that sat in a corner of the moderate sized bedroom. Other than the mattress the room was bare. It wouldn’t be necessary to furnish those places out of normal visitors’ sight he reasoned. He settled in a laid his head on the pillow and surprisingly fell asleep quickly despite the fact that he was sleeping not one hundred yards away from what was technically a mass murderer.
“Elias stopped by almost a week later to ask what I had decided.” Skinner thought back to that second meeting with a smile. “He brought German beer that night. Was the most god awful stuff I had ever drank.” “Well we see how things progressed from there.” Edgar piped up. He had sat enthralled by the detective’s story for the entire duration. He had always been impressed with the Viper’s work ethic and had heard often of this man, but only vaguely. “I remember that night in the police station. That was the first time that I’d walked into a police station of my own volition.” Shin Lao sat down on a grubby chair by Edgar’s desk. Everything was tinged with the nicotine yellow of the man’s smoking. “So, did he ever find your daughter?” Everybody was curious. They all knew the Viper to be a man of his word. “Not that I know of. I suppose that he died before he could find her. Who knows, perhaps he did find her and it was better that I not know.”
“You know I was one of the reasons he was doing what he was doing don’t you?” Shin Lao threw into the conversation, blushing slightly. “I was the person that he owed the Boss for.” Both Skinner and Edgar’s head turned to look at her. “You see, Elias was in this for several reasons really. He seemed to find something new to keep him in it, but someone always benefited in the end, aside from himself of course. Something happened with his family and he got turned over to Boss Tanaka. I never really found out what the circumstances were, he never told me anything much from before we met. In that way he was something of a mystery to everybody. But about the time that he met you, he was doing jobs to pay Boss Tanaka for my freedom.” She looked down, almost embarrassed for the first time that either of them had ever seen. But the Boss kept telling him One More Job after a while. He paid for my freedom all right. After that, he never told anyone what he was in it for. But the Tommy Mac job was the one where everything started going bad.” “Yeah, you never finished that story. What happened?” Skinner’s head was swimming with all of the new information that had been revealed in the last eight hours. The life of the professional killer seemed to be so much more complicated then even his own. “Perhaps we should go down to see Mac himself, he could tell you.”
Skinner was shocked. He, along with everybody else knew that Tommy MacGregor had died but here was Shin Lao telling him otherwise. “He’s still alive?” “Yes, he’s still alive, much to the ire of the Asian families. Hey Edgar. Do you happen to have any of those Colts that I like laying around here? We could use something to take with us.” Edgar puffed on his cigar for a second before he stood up and walked to the other room. “Yeah I’ve got a couple of them. Street rats around here go through em like toilet tissue. Got a couple of clips lying around as well.” Edgar brought back a pair of matte black and stainless .45 ACP’s and dozen clips. “That gonna do ya for tonight?” His cloud of smoke clung tightly around his head as he laid the guns and ammunition on his desk. “Yeah I hope that’ll do us for this evening.” She tossed a large wad of cash on the dealer’s desk and picked up the weapons. “That should cover the cost of everything. I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick up the rest. Fix those DE’s up nice Edgar; they’re for a special occasion.”
They let themselves out of Edgar’s apartment and walked quickly to the Black Aston Martin that seemed very out of place in this neighborhood. “You know, while tonight has been very informative, there’s still something on my mind that really confuses me. The EBay page that was sent to me, who is selling his guns? And why? None of this is making a whole lot of sense to me.” “I don’t know much about it myself. Though from what I’ve seen of the sale, the name of the seller, HKBOluvah, I can decipher a bit. Most eastern action movies come from the Hong Kong area, so the HKBO most likely stands for Hong Kong Blood Opera, as the films are often known by movie buffs over on this side of the world. So the name simply means that whoever this is, likes those Hong Kong movies. But who that is, and why they have them, and even why they’re selling them is a mystery to me as well. We’ll see Tommy Mac tomorrow night; let’s hit one of my safehouses for the night. We’re gonna be no good dead tired tomorrow. By the way, I’d stay away from the police station tomorrow until we figure out what’s going on. There’s still a dead officer in front of your apartment.”
Skinner had forgotten all about officer Warren and didn’t like where this night seemed to be taking him. He didn’t know if he had a job to return to, or if he was even going to be put into prison after all of this cleared. “Don’t worry about a thing detective; you’ll have a plausible alibi by the time we’re done.” The streets of New York sped by in a blur as the black performance car sped through dark neighborhoods and deserted warehouse districts. It was almost 5am and the sun was just cresting the horizon as they pulled into a dark lot just outside of New York proper on the New Jersey side of the line.
The house appeared to be one of roughly twenty that looked just like it in a new building division that was still in the process of being built. The garage opened with the light squeal of something new. The lights flicked on as the door opened and the car fit into the new garage. There was nothing else out here as far as normal clutter went. More than likely there wouldn’t be much as far as furniture went inside as well. People that needed safehouses tended to need several, so it was rather uneconomical to fully furnish them. To his surprise the place was moderately furnished. The small strip of space that was the kitchen just beyond the door from the garage had all of the appliances and several pieces of cookware. The house opened up beyond that into a large central area that held a dining table and several chairs. Everything seemed to be made of dark oak. There was a couch facing an entertainment center in the den area. There were pictures on the wall, which Skinner was sure were fake, as they depicted Shin Lao and what appeared to be family. Just something to reassure the neighbors he was sure. Several closed doors both to the side of the den and rear most likely were where she kept some equipment. “My bedroom’s over there, you can stay either on the couch there or in that rear bedroom, though all there is, is a mattress on the floor and a blanket. This IS a safehouse after all.” She smiled and went towards her room. “Oh, and I wouldn’t recommend running off. There are more than likely a couple of hitters out there looking for you, and possibly a few cops. Even more likely is that there are people who are both, out there looking for both of us.”
That was all that she said as she shut the door to her room. Skinner heard a bolt slide into place and knew that he was totally alone in the house. He wasn’t as tired as he thought he was however and looked around the living room at the pictures that hung on the wall and stood on the entertainment center. Everybody has to have a family he thought to himself. He was surprised however that there was a picture at the rear of the entertainment center that caught his attention. It happened to be a picture of Shin Lao and Elias. He looked much as he remembered him, young and clean looking. What really caught his attention was that in the picture they were looking rather affectionate. This forced Skinner to think on whether this was a staged picture for the sake of the illusion, or whether he had just glimpsed a little further into the private lives of the two professional killers. Either way she had been right on one thing, if he was going to be of any use, hell today, he would need to sleep some.
The door itself was much heavier than he thought it would be. He gave it a solid knock and found that there was most likely a sheet of steel in the core of the otherwise normal looking door. He glanced about wondering what other amenities she had installed into this house for the possibilities. Skinner decided that he wouldn’t abuse the killer’s hospitality any more than he had and lay down on the mattress that sat in a corner of the moderate sized bedroom. Other than the mattress the room was bare. It wouldn’t be necessary to furnish those places out of normal visitors’ sight he reasoned. He settled in a laid his head on the pillow and surprisingly fell asleep quickly despite the fact that he was sleeping not one hundred yards away from what was technically a mass murderer.
12.11.2005
Chapter 7
Chapter 7: First Impressions
Detective Skinner stared down at the large stack of files that were now residing in a large part of his desk. All of these cases were related. In fact they were all committed by the same person. Forensics had not only linked the bullets, but the casings to the same guns. The markings on the casings were what had thoroughly interested the organized crime divisions in particular. Most of the time they could track these “marked” bullets to one crime family or another. The Triads and the Yakuza in particular liked to mark their assassin’s bullets so to send a message to the opposing family. But these markings were unique in that they didn’t match any established identity of a family.
The investigation had originally led to the suspicion that there was a new crime syndicate trying to make its mark upon New York. But the fact that they were fired from only two guns, both of the same make, led them to believe that this was the work of one person. Who that one person in particular was, for the most part, a mystery. Squeezing the normal rats only produced one name, someone who called himself The Viper.
Skinner knew through his experience that these hired killers never used grown up names, finding something much “cooler” to call themselves. The fact that one hundred and twenty three killings later that he was just now hearing of this man meant that he was good. Skinner glanced over the pictures that the CSI squad had taken and the ballistic reports that gave him a general idea of the height and weight of the killer. Unfortunately beyond that he was clueless. No hair, no blood, no fingerprints. In fact the only witnesses that could be found were dead ones that were cooling in the morgue three floors below. He beat his fist on his desk, creating a hollow thud that only he heard.
He decided that the only way that this case would likely get solved would be through good, old fashioned police work. He slung his light spring jacket on and left his office. While he waited for the elevator he thought about what else he had to do. Nothing. There was no one waiting for him at home, only pictures and memories of happy times. Times before Ellie had left him and his daughter had disappeared. Thankfully the elevator arrived just in time to spare him the later events of his life from flashing through his memory. There was police work that needed to be done. Time to get his head into the game.
His first stop brought him to his normal mafia snitch, a rat by the name of Jimmy “nine fingers” Luciano. When they had first brought him into custody on extortion charges four years ago, Skinner had made the mistake of asking him why they called him nine fingers. Jimmy, with the air of someone who had had to tell this story hundreds of times held up both hands, showing a decided lack of an index finger on his left had. “Cuz I’ve only got nine fingers. Sheesh, and they call you the detective?!” Jimmy had rolled over like a show dog and led to the indictments of no less than thirteen underbosses in the local mafia families. Since then he’d been an informant, and a pretty reliable one at that.
When Skinner rolled to a stop near Jimmy he was in the process of buying himself some “company” for the evening. “Hey Jimmy, we need to talk” Skinner yelled from the parked sedan. Jimmy rolled his eyes and said something to the hooker and walked over to the open passenger side window. “Whatdya have to go and ruin my evening for Skinny?” He knew that Skinner hated that nickname. He’d been trying to lose weight at the time and it was something of a sore spot. “I need you to tell me everything you know about this.” Skinner held up a picture of the marked bullet casing. The somewhat crude outline of a snake ran along it. “Ya, I seen that before Skinny. Work of the Viper. He’s a bad mother from what the word around here is. He’ll wipe ya before you even know enough to turn around. Everyone around here with any dirt on em is scared stupid by that guy.” “Yeah, that’s all stuff I’ve heard before Jimmy. Every mob boss in this city thinks this guy is the grim reaper or something. Seems to be some sort of boogey man. But what I want is something a little more concrete. I want real information. Who’s he working for would be a good start.” “That’s the problem Skinny; he doesn’t do any work for anyone in particular. Seems as long as he’s whackin’ a wiseguy, and the money’s right, he’ll work for anybody. Real piece of work that guy.” “Well that makes him a little harder to track, doesn’t it?” Skinner was getting frustrated. This guy seemed to be a real ghost.
“All right Jimmy I’ll let you get back to your business. How’s that finger of yours? Any luck?” Skinner threw out the jibe before he pulled away. He didn’t like Jimmy Luciano, but the guy told it to him straight whenever he asked and so he didn’t hassle him too badly. Wouldn’t be a good thing to drive away all of your informants. The next stop on the list was to a small time wiseguy that seemed to be on the outs with the local family. Johnny “Bats” ran the numbers down at a little place by the ferry, which he tried to sell to the police as a “shipping depot”. “Evenin’ Johnny” Skinner called out as he strolled into the warehouse. Creeps and thugs scattered like bugs when they saw the stocky form of the detective walk into the place. “Whatdya have to go an do that to my business Kojak?” “You know you’re the second person tonight that has asked me that question. I’ve got some questions for you Johnny. And if you’re not forthcoming with what I wanna hear you may not have to worry about your business being ruined anymore. From what I see on that table I’ve got enough to put you away for, oh lemme see. Five, seven, nine…eleven years Johnny. You wanna cooperate and knock off the posturing or should I call the dogs in to see what’s in the rest of these crates?” “All right dee-tective, let’s hear what ya gotta say.” Skinner wasn’t sure what the emphasis on the word was supposed to mean, but he figured that Johnny was just stupid enough that he didn’t know either. “Tell me everything you know about this.” Skinner again presented the picture of the marked casing. This time it seemed to elicit a greater response from the wiseguy. The look of fear on the man’s face wasn’t something you saw from his type often. “I don’t know nuthin about that bullet.” “I’m not buying it Johnny. Tell me…and remember your future as a free man rides on what you tell me.”
Johnny seemed to gulp down something that wouldn’t quite fit. His face seemed to go white. “That’s the Viper’s mark. He’s a bad…” “Mother fucker, yeah I heard that before Johnny. Tell me why you’re so afraid of this guy.” “Holy shit man, I’ve seen that guy work. That man’s cold as ice. Never said a word. I don’t think he even stopped to reload. I swear to god those guns of his shot hellfire itself. That man is a god damned machine.” I’ve heard all the ghost stories Johnny; I want to know the facts. You know what he looked like? You got a name?” Skinner aggressively forced the picture into the man’s face. “Give me a face that belongs to this bullet Johnny or so help me god every convicted mobster in Riker’s is gonna know that you snitched!!” “Hey, I didn’t snitch on nobody. Don’t play those games with me. You aint got nothing like that.” “No, no I don’t, but it doesn’t take much to convince wiseguys doing life and looking for someone to pin it on. Give me this man’s fucking face!!” Skinner’s frustration was starting to pour out. He seemed so close, someone who had actually SEEN this man, and he was dancing around like a ballerina. “All right, all right, I’ll tell ya what I know.” “You’re gonna have to come downtown with me so you can tell this to the sketch artist Johnny.” “No fucking way! There’s no way I’m going down to the doughnut shop to rat out a man like that. He’ll have my ass before I even finish packing.” “Your choice Johnny. Just lemme call in the dogs real quick and we’ll have you off to Riker’s in no time. Don’t drop the soap is all I can tell you.” Skinner could see the inner turmoil boiling within the man. “All right, I’ll do it. You just gotta protect me is all. Hitters like him, they have ways…” “Smart man Johnny. You did the right thing. There might even be a cup of coffee in it for ya.” Johnny didn’t seem to appreciate the joke and walked his stumpy self over towards the door of the warehouse. He knew he was a dead man, he just didn’t know when it was gonna happen now.
Skinner sped most of the way back to the station. He was so close to getting an ID on this perp that he didn’t waste any time with trivial things like stop lights, his portable siren light making the way for him. He slid to a screeching stop in the parking lot of the station and walked around to let the man out of the car. Johnny stepped out, looking around wildly like he was surrounded by wild animals. Something caught the criminal’s eye that spooked him and sent him gibbering to the ground. The man was scared nearly unconscious as Skinner looked around the area. That’s when he caught the glint of something from the alleyway. He pulled his revolver and took several steps away from the car, trying to get a better look at whatever it was. He could vaguely make out the outline of somebody standing in the shadows over between several dark buildings. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit” Johnny kept saying over and over again like a mantra. Skinner didn’t have time to investigate, nor did he want to leave his only lead alone out in the parking lot. He took Johnny by the sleeve and led him to the door of the station. Acting as a shield he led Johnny inside quickly. “Gimme Lauren now! We need a sketch of a perp quick.”
Skinner led Johnny “Bats” to an inner interrogation room. With no windows and only the one door he was certain that everybody involved would be safe. The police artist, Lauren Montoya however was out for lunch. “Dammit all! Who else can do it?” “We can get someone from the fifth precinct over here in about twenty minutes detective.” “Do it, I want a profile before anything can possibly happen.” Skinner had somewhat started to buy into the hype just judging by the reaction of the normally cool Johnny “Bats”. If this man scared the hell out of the local goons like this, he had to be some sort of ghost. These guys would have a gun in their face and they’d still have the nerve to spit at you. This kind of fear he hadn’t seen before.
Almost to the second, the artist from the neighboring precinct showed up twenty minutes later. She was very attractive Skinner thought as she introduced herself. “Michelle Wei” She introduced herself as and produced her large department sketch pad and pencils from her messenger bag. “Forgive me for my paranoia but I need to search for weapons officer. Please understand that this is an incredibly sensitive matter.” “Of course detective.” Skinner patted her down and searched her bag. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. She appeared to be what she claimed to be. Skinner took a good look at her. She was tall, pretty athletically built, like most of the female officers tended to be. The felt that they had to push themselves to be equal to their male counterparts. She wore some bookworm type black glasses, he long black hair up in a bun, held together with two plastic sticks. They walked into the interrogation room and had a seat across the table from Johnny. “OK Johnny this is our police artist. Please describe the man for us.
Johnny swallowed again; his face was pale as he stared at the pair of police officers. Reluctantly he began to describe the man who brought him so much terror. Twenty minutes went by as the artist drew a face according to Johnny’s description. Every so often he was asked to compare the drawing to his memories. Everything seemed to fit together so far. Johnny finished his description and let out a sigh, apparently mentally drained from being on edge for so long. The artist stood up and stretched her hands, probably cramping slightly from the furious drawing as she interpreted the skewed images that Johnny had spewed forth.
“I apologize detective; you’re a good man just doing your job.” Skinner looked up in horror as the artist thrust one of the ornaments holding her hair up into his neck. The syringe punched into his skin and he felt something cold running through his blood. He didn’t have enough time to yell before he lost consciousness. Johnny however had more than enough time to scream. “holy shit holy shit holy shit!!” he yelled over and over again as the police artist pulled a thin, flat blade from between the blank sheets of her sketch pad. “Now Johnny, we can’t have you telling the police about us. You paid for good work, and you received it. Now you’re going to turn us in? That’s just bad business.” Shin Lao brandished the flat twelve inch blade and in one smooth swiping motion made a thin red line across the man’s throat. The man’s fluids spilled to the floor and she turned and walked out of the door, the identity of the Viper still safe for the moment.
She made it out of the station before anybody became aware of what had happened. Skinner woke up twenty minutes later, covered in the man’s blood and with a hell of a headache. “Dammit!” He yelled in anger and beat on the table that was still in front of the dead gangster’s body. Every time he seemed to have a break something happened. Who exactly was he dealing with here? “Fuck!!” He yelled into the open room.
After he had to report to the lieutenants about the death of the informant Skinner went back to his office to fill out the appropriate paperwork. He was certain that he was going to be buried in paperwork until he retired after this incident. Three hours passed as he filled out everything in triplicate and told his story leading up to the assassination. Nothing short of that word could describe what had just happened several hours ago. After all of this he was still no closer to finding the Viper than he had been. The only difference now was that he had blood on his hands. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and closed the numerous folders that he had to file all of this paperwork into. It was time to call it a night.
“Great job Skinner. You may not have given us a hitman, but you sure got that piece of shit off the street. All in all sounds like you’ve had a productive night for society.” Skinner shot the younger detective a look that could have bored through steel. “Fuck off Betz, or I’ll have someone do a sketch of you next.” The younger detective laughed shortly, knowing that he’d found something to rib the older detective over. “Give my regards to the wife” The detective had pushed it a little too far and didn’t realize it until Skinner was jumping desks and cold cocked the young detective cleanly out of his chair. He stood over detective Betz, his fist cocked back, shaking from how tightly he had his fist clenched. As it began it’s downward arc the young man was saved by the harsh shouting of the lieutenant. “Skinner! In my office…NOW!!” Skinner let go of the man’s tie and collar and dropped him to the floor. Straightening his own tie he walked calmly around the man’s desk and straight into Lieutenant Richards’ office.
“What the hell was that all about Skinner?” The lieutenant didn’t tolerate much. He was new and still felt that he should “reinvent the wheel” as most new management tended to do no matter what the field. “Betz pushed me a little far tonight is all lieutenant. It’s been a very bad day from what you well know. He was pushing my buttons, and he just found the right one.” “Well, take a couple of days off. Get your damned head on straight and come in for your shift on Friday. Maybe you can make some progress when you calm down. We don’t need anything like what happened here tonight.” “Yes…sir” Skinner spat out through clenched teeth. Perhaps he did need a day or three off. He walked out of the lieutenant’s office and shut the door harder than was necessary. He didn’t make eye contact with anybody as he left the station and decided to walk home. It was a gorgeous night and maybe the night air would clear his head a little bit.
The walk home was rife with the general din of a major population center. The regular drug dealers, pimps, thugs and prostitutes were going about their business in the dark corners of New York. They slipped out of sight as Skinner passed on the street, and re-emerged just as quickly after he had passed. Everybody here knew he was a cop, and there were nights not to get in his way. By the look on his face this was one of those nights. He walked up the stairs to his apartment. His mailbox was stuffed with bills and junk mail as it normally was. So many expenses and not enough money coming in. It was the plight of every working class person in America, and the veteran detective was no exception.
He walked up the several flights of stairs to his apartment noticing how the light bulbs in the hallway had burned out again. Normally it was just the druggies downstairs stealing them to use as pipes, or on the rare occasion, to use as light bulbs. The street lamp from outside the landing window cast enough light for him to find his lock though. He opened the door to his spartan accommodations and flopped the mail down on the end table. He smelled something different however and whipped his pistol out of it’s holster, flicking on the light at the same time. Scanning around the room he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He was just jumpy he thought to himself as he lowered his pistol. The smell of a foreign aftershave kept his attention up however. Perhaps that had been what had given him the creeps, but nothing appeared to be missing or rummaged through so there hadn’t been a burglary. He raised his gun again in a ready position, ready to sweep his own house.
“You know that you simply look ridiculous detective. Why even bother.” Skinner knew without even having anything concrete he knew that this was the man he’d been chasing for months. The Viper was sitting in his living room. “You really need to invest in better beer. This stuff tastes like watered down urine. Perhaps the Germans are right about our beer.” “FREEZE you bastard. Don’t you friggin move.” Skinner brought his pistol down to aim at the Viper’s head and was shocked for a moment. This was not the man that he had expected to be the mass murderer that he thought he was looking for. This man couldn’t have been any older than twenty five, twenty six at the most. Clean shaven with a boyish face. The thin designer sunglasses covered his eyes however; Skinner had wanted to see them most. He wanted to see how cold this man truly was.
“Have a seat detective. Have a beer, they’re yours and after a night like you’ve had I’m sure you could use one. The Viper pushed the cooler that Skinner normally used as a footrest towards the detective. He peered down and saw that it was full of ice and the beet from the fridge. “I thought if we were going to have this little talk there should at least be cold drinks involved.” “Why the hell would I want to have a conversation with you? You’ve killed no less than a hundred people in the last few months! That’s friggin insane” No, not insane detective. Just dedicated. And you have to admit that they were all scum.” “That’s beside the point, those were still people and you tossed their lives aside like a candy wrapper.” “It's all semantics detective. How many truly innocent peoples’ lives have they tossed away before they ran afoul of something much larger than themselves? For every one of them that I took a job on, they had killed at least five other people, some of them really didn’t deserve it.” “I really oughtta just put a bullet in your skull now for all of the trouble that you’ve caused me.” “Now that truly hurt detective. And besides, if I had wanted to kill you, it would have been done. God knows that the syringe my partner had with her could have been just as easily something fatal instead of the tranq that it was.” “So what do you want to talk to me about? If you’re not gonna kill me what the hell do you want?” “I want to give you some information. Something of a deal I guess we could call it.” Skinner seemed both astounded and impressed with the man’s bravado. Not only had he killed someone in a police station, but he had broken into his house, and now wanted to bargain with him. As much as he simply wanted to empty his revolver into the man’s body he was simply intrigued at this point. “What could you possibly have to offer me?”
“That is a simple matter of what you’re willing to do to help me. I’m not the evil vicious killer that the common thugs make me out to be. There’s “debts” that must be paid, and the people involved seem to find me “uniquely qualified” to pay them back.” “So you got yourself into some shit and now you’re killing your way out of it? Doesn’t sound like you’re much better than the common thugs as you call them.” “No detective, I didn’t get myself into anything, in fact I am getting someone else out of shit, as you put it. But here’s my deal. I’ll state my offer and it’s up to you whether you take me up on it. I assure you that I will walk out of that door after I say what I have to. It would be wise to put that revolver down now that I think of it. Savvy?”
Skinner sized the man up. He looked pretty solid, but in an athletic way. On closer inspection he saw the shine of the matte black handles of the twin pistols peaking out from underneath the man’s expensive overcoat. He tallied up his chances and decided that even if he got the drop on the hitman he’d still wind up dead. Being a wise man he put down his revolver and leaned back into his sofa, cracking the beer open and taking a swig. “Good man Leonard. Now here’s my deal. I want you to lay off. Yes what I do is reprehensible. I think so myself at times. But what I do is necessary to a point. Yes I kill people. Yes I’m an efficient son of a bitch. But I’m nowhere as twisted as those bastards I take out. Now, lay off the case. If you do this, then I can get your daughter back. Good night detective. I’ll be in touch.” Skinner spit half of his beer out when the man had mentioned his daughter, and choked on the rest. Before he could clear his airway enough to speak the man was gone. He ran to his door and looked around outside but there was no trace of anybody. He didn’t even hear the door close downstairs. The only sound he heard was that of a powerful engine revving up somewhere close by and speeding off into the distance. He sat back on his couch and finished what was left of his beer, cracked open another one and drained that one as well. Dare he get his hopes up that this scumbag could actually find what half of the police force in New York and tens of thousands of dollars worth of private investigators and forensic specialists couldn’t?
Detective Skinner stared down at the large stack of files that were now residing in a large part of his desk. All of these cases were related. In fact they were all committed by the same person. Forensics had not only linked the bullets, but the casings to the same guns. The markings on the casings were what had thoroughly interested the organized crime divisions in particular. Most of the time they could track these “marked” bullets to one crime family or another. The Triads and the Yakuza in particular liked to mark their assassin’s bullets so to send a message to the opposing family. But these markings were unique in that they didn’t match any established identity of a family.
The investigation had originally led to the suspicion that there was a new crime syndicate trying to make its mark upon New York. But the fact that they were fired from only two guns, both of the same make, led them to believe that this was the work of one person. Who that one person in particular was, for the most part, a mystery. Squeezing the normal rats only produced one name, someone who called himself The Viper.
Skinner knew through his experience that these hired killers never used grown up names, finding something much “cooler” to call themselves. The fact that one hundred and twenty three killings later that he was just now hearing of this man meant that he was good. Skinner glanced over the pictures that the CSI squad had taken and the ballistic reports that gave him a general idea of the height and weight of the killer. Unfortunately beyond that he was clueless. No hair, no blood, no fingerprints. In fact the only witnesses that could be found were dead ones that were cooling in the morgue three floors below. He beat his fist on his desk, creating a hollow thud that only he heard.
He decided that the only way that this case would likely get solved would be through good, old fashioned police work. He slung his light spring jacket on and left his office. While he waited for the elevator he thought about what else he had to do. Nothing. There was no one waiting for him at home, only pictures and memories of happy times. Times before Ellie had left him and his daughter had disappeared. Thankfully the elevator arrived just in time to spare him the later events of his life from flashing through his memory. There was police work that needed to be done. Time to get his head into the game.
His first stop brought him to his normal mafia snitch, a rat by the name of Jimmy “nine fingers” Luciano. When they had first brought him into custody on extortion charges four years ago, Skinner had made the mistake of asking him why they called him nine fingers. Jimmy, with the air of someone who had had to tell this story hundreds of times held up both hands, showing a decided lack of an index finger on his left had. “Cuz I’ve only got nine fingers. Sheesh, and they call you the detective?!” Jimmy had rolled over like a show dog and led to the indictments of no less than thirteen underbosses in the local mafia families. Since then he’d been an informant, and a pretty reliable one at that.
When Skinner rolled to a stop near Jimmy he was in the process of buying himself some “company” for the evening. “Hey Jimmy, we need to talk” Skinner yelled from the parked sedan. Jimmy rolled his eyes and said something to the hooker and walked over to the open passenger side window. “Whatdya have to go and ruin my evening for Skinny?” He knew that Skinner hated that nickname. He’d been trying to lose weight at the time and it was something of a sore spot. “I need you to tell me everything you know about this.” Skinner held up a picture of the marked bullet casing. The somewhat crude outline of a snake ran along it. “Ya, I seen that before Skinny. Work of the Viper. He’s a bad mother from what the word around here is. He’ll wipe ya before you even know enough to turn around. Everyone around here with any dirt on em is scared stupid by that guy.” “Yeah, that’s all stuff I’ve heard before Jimmy. Every mob boss in this city thinks this guy is the grim reaper or something. Seems to be some sort of boogey man. But what I want is something a little more concrete. I want real information. Who’s he working for would be a good start.” “That’s the problem Skinny; he doesn’t do any work for anyone in particular. Seems as long as he’s whackin’ a wiseguy, and the money’s right, he’ll work for anybody. Real piece of work that guy.” “Well that makes him a little harder to track, doesn’t it?” Skinner was getting frustrated. This guy seemed to be a real ghost.
“All right Jimmy I’ll let you get back to your business. How’s that finger of yours? Any luck?” Skinner threw out the jibe before he pulled away. He didn’t like Jimmy Luciano, but the guy told it to him straight whenever he asked and so he didn’t hassle him too badly. Wouldn’t be a good thing to drive away all of your informants. The next stop on the list was to a small time wiseguy that seemed to be on the outs with the local family. Johnny “Bats” ran the numbers down at a little place by the ferry, which he tried to sell to the police as a “shipping depot”. “Evenin’ Johnny” Skinner called out as he strolled into the warehouse. Creeps and thugs scattered like bugs when they saw the stocky form of the detective walk into the place. “Whatdya have to go an do that to my business Kojak?” “You know you’re the second person tonight that has asked me that question. I’ve got some questions for you Johnny. And if you’re not forthcoming with what I wanna hear you may not have to worry about your business being ruined anymore. From what I see on that table I’ve got enough to put you away for, oh lemme see. Five, seven, nine…eleven years Johnny. You wanna cooperate and knock off the posturing or should I call the dogs in to see what’s in the rest of these crates?” “All right dee-tective, let’s hear what ya gotta say.” Skinner wasn’t sure what the emphasis on the word was supposed to mean, but he figured that Johnny was just stupid enough that he didn’t know either. “Tell me everything you know about this.” Skinner again presented the picture of the marked casing. This time it seemed to elicit a greater response from the wiseguy. The look of fear on the man’s face wasn’t something you saw from his type often. “I don’t know nuthin about that bullet.” “I’m not buying it Johnny. Tell me…and remember your future as a free man rides on what you tell me.”
Johnny seemed to gulp down something that wouldn’t quite fit. His face seemed to go white. “That’s the Viper’s mark. He’s a bad…” “Mother fucker, yeah I heard that before Johnny. Tell me why you’re so afraid of this guy.” “Holy shit man, I’ve seen that guy work. That man’s cold as ice. Never said a word. I don’t think he even stopped to reload. I swear to god those guns of his shot hellfire itself. That man is a god damned machine.” I’ve heard all the ghost stories Johnny; I want to know the facts. You know what he looked like? You got a name?” Skinner aggressively forced the picture into the man’s face. “Give me a face that belongs to this bullet Johnny or so help me god every convicted mobster in Riker’s is gonna know that you snitched!!” “Hey, I didn’t snitch on nobody. Don’t play those games with me. You aint got nothing like that.” “No, no I don’t, but it doesn’t take much to convince wiseguys doing life and looking for someone to pin it on. Give me this man’s fucking face!!” Skinner’s frustration was starting to pour out. He seemed so close, someone who had actually SEEN this man, and he was dancing around like a ballerina. “All right, all right, I’ll tell ya what I know.” “You’re gonna have to come downtown with me so you can tell this to the sketch artist Johnny.” “No fucking way! There’s no way I’m going down to the doughnut shop to rat out a man like that. He’ll have my ass before I even finish packing.” “Your choice Johnny. Just lemme call in the dogs real quick and we’ll have you off to Riker’s in no time. Don’t drop the soap is all I can tell you.” Skinner could see the inner turmoil boiling within the man. “All right, I’ll do it. You just gotta protect me is all. Hitters like him, they have ways…” “Smart man Johnny. You did the right thing. There might even be a cup of coffee in it for ya.” Johnny didn’t seem to appreciate the joke and walked his stumpy self over towards the door of the warehouse. He knew he was a dead man, he just didn’t know when it was gonna happen now.
Skinner sped most of the way back to the station. He was so close to getting an ID on this perp that he didn’t waste any time with trivial things like stop lights, his portable siren light making the way for him. He slid to a screeching stop in the parking lot of the station and walked around to let the man out of the car. Johnny stepped out, looking around wildly like he was surrounded by wild animals. Something caught the criminal’s eye that spooked him and sent him gibbering to the ground. The man was scared nearly unconscious as Skinner looked around the area. That’s when he caught the glint of something from the alleyway. He pulled his revolver and took several steps away from the car, trying to get a better look at whatever it was. He could vaguely make out the outline of somebody standing in the shadows over between several dark buildings. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit” Johnny kept saying over and over again like a mantra. Skinner didn’t have time to investigate, nor did he want to leave his only lead alone out in the parking lot. He took Johnny by the sleeve and led him to the door of the station. Acting as a shield he led Johnny inside quickly. “Gimme Lauren now! We need a sketch of a perp quick.”
Skinner led Johnny “Bats” to an inner interrogation room. With no windows and only the one door he was certain that everybody involved would be safe. The police artist, Lauren Montoya however was out for lunch. “Dammit all! Who else can do it?” “We can get someone from the fifth precinct over here in about twenty minutes detective.” “Do it, I want a profile before anything can possibly happen.” Skinner had somewhat started to buy into the hype just judging by the reaction of the normally cool Johnny “Bats”. If this man scared the hell out of the local goons like this, he had to be some sort of ghost. These guys would have a gun in their face and they’d still have the nerve to spit at you. This kind of fear he hadn’t seen before.
Almost to the second, the artist from the neighboring precinct showed up twenty minutes later. She was very attractive Skinner thought as she introduced herself. “Michelle Wei” She introduced herself as and produced her large department sketch pad and pencils from her messenger bag. “Forgive me for my paranoia but I need to search for weapons officer. Please understand that this is an incredibly sensitive matter.” “Of course detective.” Skinner patted her down and searched her bag. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. She appeared to be what she claimed to be. Skinner took a good look at her. She was tall, pretty athletically built, like most of the female officers tended to be. The felt that they had to push themselves to be equal to their male counterparts. She wore some bookworm type black glasses, he long black hair up in a bun, held together with two plastic sticks. They walked into the interrogation room and had a seat across the table from Johnny. “OK Johnny this is our police artist. Please describe the man for us.
Johnny swallowed again; his face was pale as he stared at the pair of police officers. Reluctantly he began to describe the man who brought him so much terror. Twenty minutes went by as the artist drew a face according to Johnny’s description. Every so often he was asked to compare the drawing to his memories. Everything seemed to fit together so far. Johnny finished his description and let out a sigh, apparently mentally drained from being on edge for so long. The artist stood up and stretched her hands, probably cramping slightly from the furious drawing as she interpreted the skewed images that Johnny had spewed forth.
“I apologize detective; you’re a good man just doing your job.” Skinner looked up in horror as the artist thrust one of the ornaments holding her hair up into his neck. The syringe punched into his skin and he felt something cold running through his blood. He didn’t have enough time to yell before he lost consciousness. Johnny however had more than enough time to scream. “holy shit holy shit holy shit!!” he yelled over and over again as the police artist pulled a thin, flat blade from between the blank sheets of her sketch pad. “Now Johnny, we can’t have you telling the police about us. You paid for good work, and you received it. Now you’re going to turn us in? That’s just bad business.” Shin Lao brandished the flat twelve inch blade and in one smooth swiping motion made a thin red line across the man’s throat. The man’s fluids spilled to the floor and she turned and walked out of the door, the identity of the Viper still safe for the moment.
She made it out of the station before anybody became aware of what had happened. Skinner woke up twenty minutes later, covered in the man’s blood and with a hell of a headache. “Dammit!” He yelled in anger and beat on the table that was still in front of the dead gangster’s body. Every time he seemed to have a break something happened. Who exactly was he dealing with here? “Fuck!!” He yelled into the open room.
After he had to report to the lieutenants about the death of the informant Skinner went back to his office to fill out the appropriate paperwork. He was certain that he was going to be buried in paperwork until he retired after this incident. Three hours passed as he filled out everything in triplicate and told his story leading up to the assassination. Nothing short of that word could describe what had just happened several hours ago. After all of this he was still no closer to finding the Viper than he had been. The only difference now was that he had blood on his hands. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and closed the numerous folders that he had to file all of this paperwork into. It was time to call it a night.
“Great job Skinner. You may not have given us a hitman, but you sure got that piece of shit off the street. All in all sounds like you’ve had a productive night for society.” Skinner shot the younger detective a look that could have bored through steel. “Fuck off Betz, or I’ll have someone do a sketch of you next.” The younger detective laughed shortly, knowing that he’d found something to rib the older detective over. “Give my regards to the wife” The detective had pushed it a little too far and didn’t realize it until Skinner was jumping desks and cold cocked the young detective cleanly out of his chair. He stood over detective Betz, his fist cocked back, shaking from how tightly he had his fist clenched. As it began it’s downward arc the young man was saved by the harsh shouting of the lieutenant. “Skinner! In my office…NOW!!” Skinner let go of the man’s tie and collar and dropped him to the floor. Straightening his own tie he walked calmly around the man’s desk and straight into Lieutenant Richards’ office.
“What the hell was that all about Skinner?” The lieutenant didn’t tolerate much. He was new and still felt that he should “reinvent the wheel” as most new management tended to do no matter what the field. “Betz pushed me a little far tonight is all lieutenant. It’s been a very bad day from what you well know. He was pushing my buttons, and he just found the right one.” “Well, take a couple of days off. Get your damned head on straight and come in for your shift on Friday. Maybe you can make some progress when you calm down. We don’t need anything like what happened here tonight.” “Yes…sir” Skinner spat out through clenched teeth. Perhaps he did need a day or three off. He walked out of the lieutenant’s office and shut the door harder than was necessary. He didn’t make eye contact with anybody as he left the station and decided to walk home. It was a gorgeous night and maybe the night air would clear his head a little bit.
The walk home was rife with the general din of a major population center. The regular drug dealers, pimps, thugs and prostitutes were going about their business in the dark corners of New York. They slipped out of sight as Skinner passed on the street, and re-emerged just as quickly after he had passed. Everybody here knew he was a cop, and there were nights not to get in his way. By the look on his face this was one of those nights. He walked up the stairs to his apartment. His mailbox was stuffed with bills and junk mail as it normally was. So many expenses and not enough money coming in. It was the plight of every working class person in America, and the veteran detective was no exception.
He walked up the several flights of stairs to his apartment noticing how the light bulbs in the hallway had burned out again. Normally it was just the druggies downstairs stealing them to use as pipes, or on the rare occasion, to use as light bulbs. The street lamp from outside the landing window cast enough light for him to find his lock though. He opened the door to his spartan accommodations and flopped the mail down on the end table. He smelled something different however and whipped his pistol out of it’s holster, flicking on the light at the same time. Scanning around the room he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He was just jumpy he thought to himself as he lowered his pistol. The smell of a foreign aftershave kept his attention up however. Perhaps that had been what had given him the creeps, but nothing appeared to be missing or rummaged through so there hadn’t been a burglary. He raised his gun again in a ready position, ready to sweep his own house.
“You know that you simply look ridiculous detective. Why even bother.” Skinner knew without even having anything concrete he knew that this was the man he’d been chasing for months. The Viper was sitting in his living room. “You really need to invest in better beer. This stuff tastes like watered down urine. Perhaps the Germans are right about our beer.” “FREEZE you bastard. Don’t you friggin move.” Skinner brought his pistol down to aim at the Viper’s head and was shocked for a moment. This was not the man that he had expected to be the mass murderer that he thought he was looking for. This man couldn’t have been any older than twenty five, twenty six at the most. Clean shaven with a boyish face. The thin designer sunglasses covered his eyes however; Skinner had wanted to see them most. He wanted to see how cold this man truly was.
“Have a seat detective. Have a beer, they’re yours and after a night like you’ve had I’m sure you could use one. The Viper pushed the cooler that Skinner normally used as a footrest towards the detective. He peered down and saw that it was full of ice and the beet from the fridge. “I thought if we were going to have this little talk there should at least be cold drinks involved.” “Why the hell would I want to have a conversation with you? You’ve killed no less than a hundred people in the last few months! That’s friggin insane” No, not insane detective. Just dedicated. And you have to admit that they were all scum.” “That’s beside the point, those were still people and you tossed their lives aside like a candy wrapper.” “It's all semantics detective. How many truly innocent peoples’ lives have they tossed away before they ran afoul of something much larger than themselves? For every one of them that I took a job on, they had killed at least five other people, some of them really didn’t deserve it.” “I really oughtta just put a bullet in your skull now for all of the trouble that you’ve caused me.” “Now that truly hurt detective. And besides, if I had wanted to kill you, it would have been done. God knows that the syringe my partner had with her could have been just as easily something fatal instead of the tranq that it was.” “So what do you want to talk to me about? If you’re not gonna kill me what the hell do you want?” “I want to give you some information. Something of a deal I guess we could call it.” Skinner seemed both astounded and impressed with the man’s bravado. Not only had he killed someone in a police station, but he had broken into his house, and now wanted to bargain with him. As much as he simply wanted to empty his revolver into the man’s body he was simply intrigued at this point. “What could you possibly have to offer me?”
“That is a simple matter of what you’re willing to do to help me. I’m not the evil vicious killer that the common thugs make me out to be. There’s “debts” that must be paid, and the people involved seem to find me “uniquely qualified” to pay them back.” “So you got yourself into some shit and now you’re killing your way out of it? Doesn’t sound like you’re much better than the common thugs as you call them.” “No detective, I didn’t get myself into anything, in fact I am getting someone else out of shit, as you put it. But here’s my deal. I’ll state my offer and it’s up to you whether you take me up on it. I assure you that I will walk out of that door after I say what I have to. It would be wise to put that revolver down now that I think of it. Savvy?”
Skinner sized the man up. He looked pretty solid, but in an athletic way. On closer inspection he saw the shine of the matte black handles of the twin pistols peaking out from underneath the man’s expensive overcoat. He tallied up his chances and decided that even if he got the drop on the hitman he’d still wind up dead. Being a wise man he put down his revolver and leaned back into his sofa, cracking the beer open and taking a swig. “Good man Leonard. Now here’s my deal. I want you to lay off. Yes what I do is reprehensible. I think so myself at times. But what I do is necessary to a point. Yes I kill people. Yes I’m an efficient son of a bitch. But I’m nowhere as twisted as those bastards I take out. Now, lay off the case. If you do this, then I can get your daughter back. Good night detective. I’ll be in touch.” Skinner spit half of his beer out when the man had mentioned his daughter, and choked on the rest. Before he could clear his airway enough to speak the man was gone. He ran to his door and looked around outside but there was no trace of anybody. He didn’t even hear the door close downstairs. The only sound he heard was that of a powerful engine revving up somewhere close by and speeding off into the distance. He sat back on his couch and finished what was left of his beer, cracked open another one and drained that one as well. Dare he get his hopes up that this scumbag could actually find what half of the police force in New York and tens of thousands of dollars worth of private investigators and forensic specialists couldn’t?
12.10.2005
Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Liminality
The old man’s apartment was just as Skinner had imagined it. The third floor brownstone was dimly lit with old, threadbare furniture that screamed that it was out of some magazine like “Better Lairs and Safe houses”. Edgar, however, was not as he imagined him. He looked like anybody’s grandfather. He was far too pale, far too skinny, with a knitted button-up sweater and thick glasses. There was a cloud of smoke around the man’s head as he sat at his desk, presumably from the Cuban cigar he was puffing on. The tools of his trade lay scattered all over his apartment. From boxes of various ammunitions, to steel cases stacked to the ceiling in several corners; this man was very obviously a gun dealer. Skinner’s mind profiled this man in a matter of seconds thanks to the hushed dealings going on with Shin Lao and the old man.
The old man obviously smoked too much, and drank even more by the look of the stack of bottles in the box by the back door. Through the years he apparently had developed ulcers or some other stomach condition because the man chewed antacids like candy while him and Shin talked. And his job had apparently been all the man ever knew since there were no pictures of family, friends or anything else to indicate that this man had done anything but sell guns, albeit top of the line, and surprisingly incredibly legal, save for the submachine guns and assorted ammunition.
“I’m going to need several of Elias’ favorites, a pair of Uzi’s, and a rifle. You know what I like.” Shin Lao made it sound like she was ordering from a fast food restaurant rather than buying instruments of death. Edgar didn’t seem to help things any with his following questions. “Would you like them in the standard matte black or nickel plated?” “Matte black will be fine. I don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.” “You want holsters and ammunition for this stuff?” “You know I do Edgar. I need gas vents in all of it as well.” “That’s going to cost you extra, and take some time to make the modifications.” Edgar jotted some numbers down on a piece of paper, doing the math. The man also didn’t seem to like newer technology, as anybody else would have just used a calculator. “It’s going to take about 3 days to modify the weapons. On these Desert Eagles does he want the gel grips like on his regular ones?” Skinner looked down at his shoes, apparently the old man hadn’t heard about the Viper’s death. “Edgar, Elias is…he’s dead.” Shin Lao seemed almost to choke up just saying the words. Edgar however was much more shaken and his old eyes, which seemed to resemble runny eggs in the best of situations clouded up and several large tears rolled down the elderly man’s cheeks. “H-how?” He stammered out before he composed himself. “We don’t know yet, that’s what I’m investigating. We know it had something to do with the Mac job a while back, but beyond that I’m not entirely sure.” “He was the last of a good breed. True professional that one. He had morals, unlike these thugs we have running the streets now. Give these guys a gun and an overcoat and they think they’re Chow Yun Fat. I have to say I’ll hate to see the business die down though. He had something of a trickle down effect on my business.” “How do you mean?” Skinner piped up. He hadn’t really considered the economic side of illegal gun distribution. “Well young man, the Viper was such a legend in certain circles that his jobs became almost celebrity news. When it became known that he had used a certain piece for a job, the demand for that went up incredibly. Like those DE’s he liked so much, when word got around that he used those, the market went up. Though nobody could modify one of those canned hams like he could. Most people gave up on em after they tried to rebalance them and couldn’t.”
Skinner was thoughtful on this a moment and decided that it made sense. How many times had he seen a rapper on television wearing a certain brand, and then the hood rats in the neighborhoods worn something almost identical days later. Edgar interrupted his train of thought a second later. “So, detective, I assume since you’re traveling around with our pretty little Ghost here that you’re not here to arrest me. Also I’d like to assume that you won’t be around here in a couple of days to do anything similar?” This shocked Skinner as he was in plain clothes, and thanks to Warren, no longer had his service revolver or badge on him. “No I’m not. Though how did you know I was on the force?” “I can smell your type detective. You don’t get to be seventy three years old in this business, and still be in it, by not knowing who’s who. Besides that the Viper used to talk about this detective he knew in the PD. And since you’re running around with Ghost here, I assume that would be you.” The old man was very astute. There was no point in lying to the man as he’d already been made. “Yeah, I’m detective Skinner. Shin just saved my ass at my apartment from a dirty cop. It’s been a very trying day to be sure.”
Edgar chuckled at the comment. “I can imagine it has been, though I wouldn’t imagine it wouldn’t be too harsh considering you’ve had the Viper’s case files in your hands for a number of years. Though I do have to ask, how does an outstanding detective such as yourself get to be acquainted with a killer like the Viper?” “That’s a very interesting story actually. It’s one we probably don’t have time for.” “Indulge an old man detective. I hear stories from all sorts of crooked drug dealers and two bit hoodlums. A tale from a man of the law, albeit one who has recently been involved in an illegal gun deal, traveled with a professional killer, and has witnessed the death of an officer at his own apartment, should make for a nice change of pace.” “All right, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
The old man’s apartment was just as Skinner had imagined it. The third floor brownstone was dimly lit with old, threadbare furniture that screamed that it was out of some magazine like “Better Lairs and Safe houses”. Edgar, however, was not as he imagined him. He looked like anybody’s grandfather. He was far too pale, far too skinny, with a knitted button-up sweater and thick glasses. There was a cloud of smoke around the man’s head as he sat at his desk, presumably from the Cuban cigar he was puffing on. The tools of his trade lay scattered all over his apartment. From boxes of various ammunitions, to steel cases stacked to the ceiling in several corners; this man was very obviously a gun dealer. Skinner’s mind profiled this man in a matter of seconds thanks to the hushed dealings going on with Shin Lao and the old man.
The old man obviously smoked too much, and drank even more by the look of the stack of bottles in the box by the back door. Through the years he apparently had developed ulcers or some other stomach condition because the man chewed antacids like candy while him and Shin talked. And his job had apparently been all the man ever knew since there were no pictures of family, friends or anything else to indicate that this man had done anything but sell guns, albeit top of the line, and surprisingly incredibly legal, save for the submachine guns and assorted ammunition.
“I’m going to need several of Elias’ favorites, a pair of Uzi’s, and a rifle. You know what I like.” Shin Lao made it sound like she was ordering from a fast food restaurant rather than buying instruments of death. Edgar didn’t seem to help things any with his following questions. “Would you like them in the standard matte black or nickel plated?” “Matte black will be fine. I don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.” “You want holsters and ammunition for this stuff?” “You know I do Edgar. I need gas vents in all of it as well.” “That’s going to cost you extra, and take some time to make the modifications.” Edgar jotted some numbers down on a piece of paper, doing the math. The man also didn’t seem to like newer technology, as anybody else would have just used a calculator. “It’s going to take about 3 days to modify the weapons. On these Desert Eagles does he want the gel grips like on his regular ones?” Skinner looked down at his shoes, apparently the old man hadn’t heard about the Viper’s death. “Edgar, Elias is…he’s dead.” Shin Lao seemed almost to choke up just saying the words. Edgar however was much more shaken and his old eyes, which seemed to resemble runny eggs in the best of situations clouded up and several large tears rolled down the elderly man’s cheeks. “H-how?” He stammered out before he composed himself. “We don’t know yet, that’s what I’m investigating. We know it had something to do with the Mac job a while back, but beyond that I’m not entirely sure.” “He was the last of a good breed. True professional that one. He had morals, unlike these thugs we have running the streets now. Give these guys a gun and an overcoat and they think they’re Chow Yun Fat. I have to say I’ll hate to see the business die down though. He had something of a trickle down effect on my business.” “How do you mean?” Skinner piped up. He hadn’t really considered the economic side of illegal gun distribution. “Well young man, the Viper was such a legend in certain circles that his jobs became almost celebrity news. When it became known that he had used a certain piece for a job, the demand for that went up incredibly. Like those DE’s he liked so much, when word got around that he used those, the market went up. Though nobody could modify one of those canned hams like he could. Most people gave up on em after they tried to rebalance them and couldn’t.”
Skinner was thoughtful on this a moment and decided that it made sense. How many times had he seen a rapper on television wearing a certain brand, and then the hood rats in the neighborhoods worn something almost identical days later. Edgar interrupted his train of thought a second later. “So, detective, I assume since you’re traveling around with our pretty little Ghost here that you’re not here to arrest me. Also I’d like to assume that you won’t be around here in a couple of days to do anything similar?” This shocked Skinner as he was in plain clothes, and thanks to Warren, no longer had his service revolver or badge on him. “No I’m not. Though how did you know I was on the force?” “I can smell your type detective. You don’t get to be seventy three years old in this business, and still be in it, by not knowing who’s who. Besides that the Viper used to talk about this detective he knew in the PD. And since you’re running around with Ghost here, I assume that would be you.” The old man was very astute. There was no point in lying to the man as he’d already been made. “Yeah, I’m detective Skinner. Shin just saved my ass at my apartment from a dirty cop. It’s been a very trying day to be sure.”
Edgar chuckled at the comment. “I can imagine it has been, though I wouldn’t imagine it wouldn’t be too harsh considering you’ve had the Viper’s case files in your hands for a number of years. Though I do have to ask, how does an outstanding detective such as yourself get to be acquainted with a killer like the Viper?” “That’s a very interesting story actually. It’s one we probably don’t have time for.” “Indulge an old man detective. I hear stories from all sorts of crooked drug dealers and two bit hoodlums. A tale from a man of the law, albeit one who has recently been involved in an illegal gun deal, traveled with a professional killer, and has witnessed the death of an officer at his own apartment, should make for a nice change of pace.” “All right, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
12.09.2005
Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Continuity
The Viper and Shin Lao walked the blocks around The Pit. It was a seedy little bar in the south end of Hell’s Kitchen. If the term “worst of the worst” could be applied to anything accurately it would be to this bar. It had been taken over by the Irish mob roughly five years before and had become something of a base of operations for Tommy MacGregor and his Irish Boys as he called them. Tommy was something of an oddity amongst gangster, and oddity amongst the Irish gangsters to be sure. Tommy was something of a Film Noir nut and loved the language. To hear him say things as “You’ve got moxie, kid” in his thick Irish accent was almost humorous, if you didn’t know that he was holding a pump shotgun under the table. But like most Irish mobsters he was true to his word and repaid his debts, when he gained any that was.
They entered the place and were instantly struck by how much of a shit hole the place was. They could see where it had once been half reputable, that was before the gangs had declared it their own. The place now had a haze of thick smoke that hung almost three feet from the ground and the smell of stale beer was almost nauseating. Many of the tables had been broken over the years and now a patchwork of different types littered the place. None of this fazed the pair however. When you’ve seen a man die in horrible ways, a little beer and clutter didn’t seem to get to you too much.
They had a seat at a couple of sticky stools at the bar and shortly an overweight slovenly bartender walked over to them. His aroma arrived seconds before he did however. The smell of body odor and stale beer, and some other smell which could have been aftershave at one point in history made for a horrid combination. “Whut cen ah do for ye?” he asked in a thick Irish accent. He was wiping a beer mug, almost stereotypically with a bar towel that could only be described as disgusting. “Just a couple of beers.” The Viper peered around the hazy bar trying to get an idea of the lay out and how many people this place held. There was roughly fifteen people in the place, all clustered around the pool tables.
The barman tapped him on the shoulder roughly with his meaty finger. “I’ll serve ye yoor beer, but she’s ginna have ta leave. The management doona like her kind around here.” The man’s breath could possibly have been worse than his aura of filth that preceded him. “Very well sir. Didn’t mean to offend” The Viper replied diplomatically. He gave Shin Lao a quick glance and she understood. No need for trouble at this point before they were ready. She hopped down off her stool and sauntered to the door. Despite the racial problems the bartender may have he couldn’t help but check her out as she walked to the door. The bartender dropped the beer in front of him, some sloshing over the rim and onto the bar.
“Ye know we’re na stupid.” “Excuse me?” The Viper replied, genuinely surprised at this comment. “Let’s be honest here. Ye know that ye stick out like a sore thumb around here. We’ve seen plenty a’ professional around here. So there’s only three things that ye can be. Yer’re either incredibly lost, a cop, in which case ye’d be incredibly stupid, or yoor a professional, in which case ye’d be more than likely na walkin outta here.” “Who’s to say that if I were a professional that I’m here on business? You know I’m not a cop because I’d be ridiculously trying to blend in and still sticking out like a sore thumb, and if I we’re lost I’d have left when you asked my friend to leave.” “Tha’s very truthful of ye sir. So as long as ye don’t cause any trouble, and you finish ye’r beer an leave, there won’ be any trouble.” “Understandable.” The Viper finished his beer, aware of the bartender’s vigilant stare at the side of his face. Leaving a twenty on the table he smiled at the bartender. “Tell Mac I’ll be back in three days. It’ll be up to him whether we talk or I turn this place into the world’s first eighteen thousand hole golf course.” The bartender reached for something under the bar but when he turned around to bring it to bear on the Viper there was no one there. He’d never even heard the door close.
Outside Shin Lao leaned against the Aston Martin and smiled. “So, what’d you find out Shin?” He asked. He knew that she wouldn’t quietly sit here and wait. “There’s an alarm on the roof. The top three floors are occupied, undoubtedly by Tommy and some of his men. They’re holed up like rats here, but they would have to be all over this neighborhood or else Tanaka would have simply sent someone to “rezone” the place.” “They know we’re hitters. I just raised the stakes a bit. Hopefully we can get this thing done quietly.” She nodded and opened the door. “Where to now?” “Dinner” he simply said.
He chose a place down on 144th named Trattoria Dopo Teatro. The Viper had a soft spot for Italian foods, and despite the fact that there were many finer restaurants around the greater New York area; this one seemed to be his favorite. They were seated quickly as the Maitre D’ recognized his face. “So, why the sudden dinner? Shouldn’t we be gearing up for the job? You had said that they’re onto us so why slack off?” Shin Lao was often more business than pleasure and often didn’t understand how the Viper could so often find time to relax in the middle of his jobs. “Why not? We have three days to carry this out. Why not take the time to relax a bit.” “You know what I mean. The bartender made you, and now we’re dining in a very public place. You don’t exactly have the least noticeable car in New York either. What if they decide to…” She was cut off abruptly by the Viper’s hand over her mouth, the pressure of his hand turning her head slightly so that she caught a glimpse of the door over the bar. “I don’t think it’s Tommy’s men that we should be worrying about.”
The four men that walked through the door were obviously Yakuza. The tall bald man in the middle they both recognized as Kajiro Shinikawa, something of an underboss in the local Yak circles. The three around him were just a few nameless goons that were simply members. Something of bodyguards to be sure, they were here looking for something or someone. “You have your piece on you?” He asked Shin. He was sure that she did but he always liked to know where things stood before he was possibly forced into a fight. “Do you have yours?” She retorted. He never went anywhere in public without them, except for certain circumstances where it would be impossible. He reached his hand into his jacket, reaching his fingers around the gel grips. “Cocked and ready.” He kept his eyes locked on the four men. He’d had a run in with Kajiro in the past, and was responsible for at least two of the bullet scars in the man’s chest.
“This isn’t the place for a fire fight. There’s too many people here. Though of the six people carrying weapons in here, we’re probably the only two that care about that fact.” The Viper unsnapped the strip of leather that held his pistols securely into his holsters and was ready to lay down fire if he needed to. The four men seemed to be circling through the crowd and would be at their table at this rate in less than a minute. He looked over at Shin Lao who had reached behind her where she kept her .45 underneath her jacket. They both saw the glint of the micro-Uzi underneath the man’s waist-length leather jacket. “Get ready” he whispered to Shin Lao as he slowly began to draw his pistols. The goon locked eyes with him moments later and shouted to the others in Japanese. This was going to be hell.
All four men drew aim on the table nearly instantly. The Viper pushed back in his chair, sending himself over backwards, kicking the table up on its side as bullets started flying in their location. Being around the corner of the bar offered them a little more cover, but the oak wouldn’t last long under the fire of the submachine guns. The Viper peeked his head around the edge of the table, getting a good location for where the gunmen were. “Lay down some suppressing fire, I’m going for it.” People were running and screaming for the door. Those that happened to be between the two hired guns and the Yakuza were quickly gunned down in a hale of gunfire. Bolting across the room, the Viper took aim on the closest of the gunmen, firing his twin .50’s straight into the man’s chest. The force of the bullets spun the man around, his vital fluids pouring out of the two quarter sized holes in his chest. He came to a skidding stop behind a couple of tables that had been knocked over in the chaos that had suddenly broken out. He glanced over at Shin Lao who was firing shots into their general direction.
The men had started to fan out in an attempt to flank around the duo. Shin Lao popped up, her fingers a blur on the trigger as she emptied shot after shot into the goons. The Viper stood up, took a quick glance around and squeezed his triggers repeatedly, firing off at the two furthest goons. Both were hit repeatedly, sending them off their feet into several overturned tables. That left only Shinikawa who apparently had a grudge to settle, and wanted it settled tonight. “Come on out you bastard” The large men howled into the deserted restaurant. “Why would I do that?” “Because if the situations were reversed I would do the same for you.” “Would you? That’d be pretty nice of you Kajiro. Why don’t you just go ahead and save me the trouble. Just go ahead and drop the steel you’re carrying?” “Why would I do that? I’ve got you pinned down. All I’ve got to do is pull the trigger and fire into that table you’re hiding behind. But I’d really rather save the bullets, you’re not worth the price.” “Now that hurts Kajiro. That really does. But really what makes you think that I’m at a disadvantage?” This seemed to make Kajiro think. He glanced around nervously at the room. There had been two of them. “Dammit” he thought to himself. He had lost the girl in the firefight and so the next few seconds came to him as slightly less of a surprise than they otherwise would have been. “Checkmate you bastard” Shin Lao spit through her teeth. The cold, disconnected sound of her voice made his blood run cold before she emptied the rest of her clip into the back of his skull.
“Thanks” the Viper said as he rose from behind the table, dusting his suit off. He holstered his guns and walked over across the carnage towards the door. He looked down at Kajiro’s body, a frown on his face. “It’s a shame really. He was a decent man and a professional at one point. But I killed his brother for the boss a couple of years ago and he went downhill after that.” They left the restaurant, stepping over the body on the way through the door. Their night however wasn’t over. The sounds of sirens echoed through the night like a banshee. The skyscrapers and alleys of the city made a perfect canyon for the sirens to be twisted into dirges that sent low life criminals and muggers scurrying like roaches. The Aston Martin roared to life and the Viper pulled it into a hard skid face into traffic and tore off into the dark cloudy streets of New York.
Several cops turned around and sped off to chase them. The speedometer on the AM Vanquish hit 4200 and the Viper threw it into the next gear, lurching the car forward with the expanded torque of the engine. He couldn’t open it up on the busy streets, but he could lose them. He fishtailed around a corner sending other drivers skidding trying to avoid some imagined accident. This bought them a minute or two before they heard the heartbeat of the chopper that was quickly chasing them. “Never a dull night out with you Elias.” Shin said holding her gun in her hand, the empty clip ejected onto the floorboard. The new one slid in easily with a hard click indicating that the next round was chambered. “Just take out the light; we don’t want a cop’s blood on our hands tonight as well. We’re already in enough trouble with the Yaks, we don’t want the cops onto us more than necessary.” “Aww where’s your sense of adventure?” Shin retorted jokingly. “Driving close to one hundred and twenty down a New York street after having a shoot out with Yakuza enforcers in a crowded restaurant is more than enough adventure for me. Get ready and hold on” The Viper pulled the hand brake and cut the wheel, sending the car into a controlled skid that brought Shin Lao’s side of the car to face the helicopter. She stepped out, drew her .45 level and fired six shots at the helicopter. Her aim was of course true and the high powered halogen searchlight exploded in a shower of hot sparks. The chopper pulled off from tailing them. She jumped back into the car and the Viper revved the engine to 3500 and released the brake, clouding the street with white smoke and a harsh squeal as the sped toward the interstate exit. “They’re going to be blocking off the interstate soon. We’d better hurry.” Sixth gear came quickly at the Viper shifted hard through the gears, propelling them at close to one hundred and thirty miles per hour towards the freedom of open road.
“We’re here Skinner; we’ll wrap this up later.” “I remember that case. I was the first detective on the scene. That was a real bloodbath you know.” “Yeah, I do. Elias felt horrible about it as well. But you must understand that we didn’t go in there with the intent. Things just happen how they happen, and you live with the consequences.” “I will say however that the chopper pilot was pretty amazed. Usually perps will shoot for the glass trying to take out the pilot. He was pretty freaked when the searchlight went out and you stopped firing.” “Let’s talk to the old man. I’m going to need some new artillery if things are progressing like I think they are.”
The Viper and Shin Lao walked the blocks around The Pit. It was a seedy little bar in the south end of Hell’s Kitchen. If the term “worst of the worst” could be applied to anything accurately it would be to this bar. It had been taken over by the Irish mob roughly five years before and had become something of a base of operations for Tommy MacGregor and his Irish Boys as he called them. Tommy was something of an oddity amongst gangster, and oddity amongst the Irish gangsters to be sure. Tommy was something of a Film Noir nut and loved the language. To hear him say things as “You’ve got moxie, kid” in his thick Irish accent was almost humorous, if you didn’t know that he was holding a pump shotgun under the table. But like most Irish mobsters he was true to his word and repaid his debts, when he gained any that was.
They entered the place and were instantly struck by how much of a shit hole the place was. They could see where it had once been half reputable, that was before the gangs had declared it their own. The place now had a haze of thick smoke that hung almost three feet from the ground and the smell of stale beer was almost nauseating. Many of the tables had been broken over the years and now a patchwork of different types littered the place. None of this fazed the pair however. When you’ve seen a man die in horrible ways, a little beer and clutter didn’t seem to get to you too much.
They had a seat at a couple of sticky stools at the bar and shortly an overweight slovenly bartender walked over to them. His aroma arrived seconds before he did however. The smell of body odor and stale beer, and some other smell which could have been aftershave at one point in history made for a horrid combination. “Whut cen ah do for ye?” he asked in a thick Irish accent. He was wiping a beer mug, almost stereotypically with a bar towel that could only be described as disgusting. “Just a couple of beers.” The Viper peered around the hazy bar trying to get an idea of the lay out and how many people this place held. There was roughly fifteen people in the place, all clustered around the pool tables.
The barman tapped him on the shoulder roughly with his meaty finger. “I’ll serve ye yoor beer, but she’s ginna have ta leave. The management doona like her kind around here.” The man’s breath could possibly have been worse than his aura of filth that preceded him. “Very well sir. Didn’t mean to offend” The Viper replied diplomatically. He gave Shin Lao a quick glance and she understood. No need for trouble at this point before they were ready. She hopped down off her stool and sauntered to the door. Despite the racial problems the bartender may have he couldn’t help but check her out as she walked to the door. The bartender dropped the beer in front of him, some sloshing over the rim and onto the bar.
“Ye know we’re na stupid.” “Excuse me?” The Viper replied, genuinely surprised at this comment. “Let’s be honest here. Ye know that ye stick out like a sore thumb around here. We’ve seen plenty a’ professional around here. So there’s only three things that ye can be. Yer’re either incredibly lost, a cop, in which case ye’d be incredibly stupid, or yoor a professional, in which case ye’d be more than likely na walkin outta here.” “Who’s to say that if I were a professional that I’m here on business? You know I’m not a cop because I’d be ridiculously trying to blend in and still sticking out like a sore thumb, and if I we’re lost I’d have left when you asked my friend to leave.” “Tha’s very truthful of ye sir. So as long as ye don’t cause any trouble, and you finish ye’r beer an leave, there won’ be any trouble.” “Understandable.” The Viper finished his beer, aware of the bartender’s vigilant stare at the side of his face. Leaving a twenty on the table he smiled at the bartender. “Tell Mac I’ll be back in three days. It’ll be up to him whether we talk or I turn this place into the world’s first eighteen thousand hole golf course.” The bartender reached for something under the bar but when he turned around to bring it to bear on the Viper there was no one there. He’d never even heard the door close.
Outside Shin Lao leaned against the Aston Martin and smiled. “So, what’d you find out Shin?” He asked. He knew that she wouldn’t quietly sit here and wait. “There’s an alarm on the roof. The top three floors are occupied, undoubtedly by Tommy and some of his men. They’re holed up like rats here, but they would have to be all over this neighborhood or else Tanaka would have simply sent someone to “rezone” the place.” “They know we’re hitters. I just raised the stakes a bit. Hopefully we can get this thing done quietly.” She nodded and opened the door. “Where to now?” “Dinner” he simply said.
He chose a place down on 144th named Trattoria Dopo Teatro. The Viper had a soft spot for Italian foods, and despite the fact that there were many finer restaurants around the greater New York area; this one seemed to be his favorite. They were seated quickly as the Maitre D’ recognized his face. “So, why the sudden dinner? Shouldn’t we be gearing up for the job? You had said that they’re onto us so why slack off?” Shin Lao was often more business than pleasure and often didn’t understand how the Viper could so often find time to relax in the middle of his jobs. “Why not? We have three days to carry this out. Why not take the time to relax a bit.” “You know what I mean. The bartender made you, and now we’re dining in a very public place. You don’t exactly have the least noticeable car in New York either. What if they decide to…” She was cut off abruptly by the Viper’s hand over her mouth, the pressure of his hand turning her head slightly so that she caught a glimpse of the door over the bar. “I don’t think it’s Tommy’s men that we should be worrying about.”
The four men that walked through the door were obviously Yakuza. The tall bald man in the middle they both recognized as Kajiro Shinikawa, something of an underboss in the local Yak circles. The three around him were just a few nameless goons that were simply members. Something of bodyguards to be sure, they were here looking for something or someone. “You have your piece on you?” He asked Shin. He was sure that she did but he always liked to know where things stood before he was possibly forced into a fight. “Do you have yours?” She retorted. He never went anywhere in public without them, except for certain circumstances where it would be impossible. He reached his hand into his jacket, reaching his fingers around the gel grips. “Cocked and ready.” He kept his eyes locked on the four men. He’d had a run in with Kajiro in the past, and was responsible for at least two of the bullet scars in the man’s chest.
“This isn’t the place for a fire fight. There’s too many people here. Though of the six people carrying weapons in here, we’re probably the only two that care about that fact.” The Viper unsnapped the strip of leather that held his pistols securely into his holsters and was ready to lay down fire if he needed to. The four men seemed to be circling through the crowd and would be at their table at this rate in less than a minute. He looked over at Shin Lao who had reached behind her where she kept her .45 underneath her jacket. They both saw the glint of the micro-Uzi underneath the man’s waist-length leather jacket. “Get ready” he whispered to Shin Lao as he slowly began to draw his pistols. The goon locked eyes with him moments later and shouted to the others in Japanese. This was going to be hell.
All four men drew aim on the table nearly instantly. The Viper pushed back in his chair, sending himself over backwards, kicking the table up on its side as bullets started flying in their location. Being around the corner of the bar offered them a little more cover, but the oak wouldn’t last long under the fire of the submachine guns. The Viper peeked his head around the edge of the table, getting a good location for where the gunmen were. “Lay down some suppressing fire, I’m going for it.” People were running and screaming for the door. Those that happened to be between the two hired guns and the Yakuza were quickly gunned down in a hale of gunfire. Bolting across the room, the Viper took aim on the closest of the gunmen, firing his twin .50’s straight into the man’s chest. The force of the bullets spun the man around, his vital fluids pouring out of the two quarter sized holes in his chest. He came to a skidding stop behind a couple of tables that had been knocked over in the chaos that had suddenly broken out. He glanced over at Shin Lao who was firing shots into their general direction.
The men had started to fan out in an attempt to flank around the duo. Shin Lao popped up, her fingers a blur on the trigger as she emptied shot after shot into the goons. The Viper stood up, took a quick glance around and squeezed his triggers repeatedly, firing off at the two furthest goons. Both were hit repeatedly, sending them off their feet into several overturned tables. That left only Shinikawa who apparently had a grudge to settle, and wanted it settled tonight. “Come on out you bastard” The large men howled into the deserted restaurant. “Why would I do that?” “Because if the situations were reversed I would do the same for you.” “Would you? That’d be pretty nice of you Kajiro. Why don’t you just go ahead and save me the trouble. Just go ahead and drop the steel you’re carrying?” “Why would I do that? I’ve got you pinned down. All I’ve got to do is pull the trigger and fire into that table you’re hiding behind. But I’d really rather save the bullets, you’re not worth the price.” “Now that hurts Kajiro. That really does. But really what makes you think that I’m at a disadvantage?” This seemed to make Kajiro think. He glanced around nervously at the room. There had been two of them. “Dammit” he thought to himself. He had lost the girl in the firefight and so the next few seconds came to him as slightly less of a surprise than they otherwise would have been. “Checkmate you bastard” Shin Lao spit through her teeth. The cold, disconnected sound of her voice made his blood run cold before she emptied the rest of her clip into the back of his skull.
“Thanks” the Viper said as he rose from behind the table, dusting his suit off. He holstered his guns and walked over across the carnage towards the door. He looked down at Kajiro’s body, a frown on his face. “It’s a shame really. He was a decent man and a professional at one point. But I killed his brother for the boss a couple of years ago and he went downhill after that.” They left the restaurant, stepping over the body on the way through the door. Their night however wasn’t over. The sounds of sirens echoed through the night like a banshee. The skyscrapers and alleys of the city made a perfect canyon for the sirens to be twisted into dirges that sent low life criminals and muggers scurrying like roaches. The Aston Martin roared to life and the Viper pulled it into a hard skid face into traffic and tore off into the dark cloudy streets of New York.
Several cops turned around and sped off to chase them. The speedometer on the AM Vanquish hit 4200 and the Viper threw it into the next gear, lurching the car forward with the expanded torque of the engine. He couldn’t open it up on the busy streets, but he could lose them. He fishtailed around a corner sending other drivers skidding trying to avoid some imagined accident. This bought them a minute or two before they heard the heartbeat of the chopper that was quickly chasing them. “Never a dull night out with you Elias.” Shin said holding her gun in her hand, the empty clip ejected onto the floorboard. The new one slid in easily with a hard click indicating that the next round was chambered. “Just take out the light; we don’t want a cop’s blood on our hands tonight as well. We’re already in enough trouble with the Yaks, we don’t want the cops onto us more than necessary.” “Aww where’s your sense of adventure?” Shin retorted jokingly. “Driving close to one hundred and twenty down a New York street after having a shoot out with Yakuza enforcers in a crowded restaurant is more than enough adventure for me. Get ready and hold on” The Viper pulled the hand brake and cut the wheel, sending the car into a controlled skid that brought Shin Lao’s side of the car to face the helicopter. She stepped out, drew her .45 level and fired six shots at the helicopter. Her aim was of course true and the high powered halogen searchlight exploded in a shower of hot sparks. The chopper pulled off from tailing them. She jumped back into the car and the Viper revved the engine to 3500 and released the brake, clouding the street with white smoke and a harsh squeal as the sped toward the interstate exit. “They’re going to be blocking off the interstate soon. We’d better hurry.” Sixth gear came quickly at the Viper shifted hard through the gears, propelling them at close to one hundred and thirty miles per hour towards the freedom of open road.
“We’re here Skinner; we’ll wrap this up later.” “I remember that case. I was the first detective on the scene. That was a real bloodbath you know.” “Yeah, I do. Elias felt horrible about it as well. But you must understand that we didn’t go in there with the intent. Things just happen how they happen, and you live with the consequences.” “I will say however that the chopper pilot was pretty amazed. Usually perps will shoot for the glass trying to take out the pilot. He was pretty freaked when the searchlight went out and you stopped firing.” “Let’s talk to the old man. I’m going to need some new artillery if things are progressing like I think they are.”
12.08.2005
Chapter 4
Chapter 4. There’s No Place Like Home
Skinner turned his computer off and when the screen faded he felt like there wasn’t much else to look forward to at the end of the day. Yes, the man was a hitman and should have been hunted to the ends of the earth, but all things being equal the Viper had done more of his police work than he’d been able to. He picked up his coat from the hook it hung from, turned out his light and left his office. The couple of beat cops that were filling out paperwork from the night’s arrests whistled at him as he left. “Finally moving on old man? We thought you’d be retired before you found yourself another lady. A lifer like you usually can’t commit until it’s all over and done with.” Skinner shot the rookie a sharp look and took several more steps. “For the record portable, that woman was a friend of mine’s widow and you’d be best to show some respect before you find yourself on the Hell’s Kitchen beat permanently.” He lied about Shin Lao, but what was he to say? That this “friend of his” was indeed a recently deceased hitman with at least one hundred and eighty unsolved homicides under his belt. And that the woman was oftentimes his partner? He stormed the rest of the way down the hall and out of the building.
The night air was just getting cold as the first signs of autumn fell on the concrete jungle that was New York City. The buzz of the whiskey made the cool air feel almost surreal as the heat from his face met the blowing breeze and the smells of the dirty city with it. He loathed this city but he had too much history here to move. “Two more years until retirement.” Had become his mantra for several months now. In reality he probably should have been thankful for the Viper’s early retirement as he seemed to be the cause of many of his cases over the years. Many on the force saw him as a merciless killer. Skinner knew differently however. Skinner knew him as a man who did what needed to be done to protect those who were actually innocent in this god forsaken city.
It was forty three blocks to his apartment in the heart of the Bronx. It was a hell of a walk but Skinner decided to walk it anyway tonight. There were many things that he needed to think on and the long walk would probably be the only thinking that he would have the chance to do tonight. The streets seemed to be deserted at this time of night. People often didn’t drive through this section past midnight and for some with good reason. All of this added up to a hell of a surprise as Skinner inserted his key into the lock of his apartment. “Excuse me, Detective Skinner?” The man’s voice was familiar. He was sure it was one of the afternoon beat cops. When he turned around he was relieved to see the face of Officer Warren, one of the veteran portables. “What can I do for you Peter?” Skinner asked. He didn’t like the situation. This seemed like something that happened in the movies. He wasn’t to be disappointed. “You’ll need to come with me detective. There’s some gentlemen that have some questions to ask you for a change.” The cold glint in Peter Warren’s eyes told him that the man wasn’t kidding, and that he would more than likely shoot him if he didn’t accept his offer. “We’re seeing Matsuo Tanaka I presume.” Skinner didn’t know for certain, but considering the events of the last day or two he felt he was on pretty solid ground with his guess.
“You’d be correct Detective.” A voice came out of the darkness from the hallway. The female’s voice he wasn’t sure was a blessing or a curse at this moment. “This little weasel has been an employee of Tanaka’s for quite some time. And he most assuredly will kill you.” The look on Skinner’s face betrayed no emotion as he looked to Officer Warren. “I’ll be taking your piece as well detective. Both of them.” Skinner bent down to grab his back up revolver from his ankle holster when the two shots rang out just above his head. He looked up, his hand still wrapped around his revolver and the limp body of Peter Warren slumped backward and broke the flimsy railing at the edge of the landing. There were meaty sounds as it hit several floor landings and down some stairs. “What the Fuck did you get me into?” He shouted into the dark hallway.
“I apologize Detective but I wasn’t sure who the rat was until tonight. Since I was freed from Boss Tanaka’s service I have been “out of the loop” as I believe it’s put.” Shin Lao screwed the light bulb back into its socket before she walked up to Skinner. I recognized one of the faces as I walked through the station. I just assumed he would be reporting back to Tanaka and sent here to fetch you.” “Well thanks for the warning. So, what now?” “You tell me, you’re the detective.” Skinner smiled briefly. “So I am. Well since my apartment obviously isn’t safe, where to now?” “We’re going to the old man’s. Obviously Boss Tanaka doesn’t believe that the Viper is dead and thinks that you might know otherwise. He’d never come after me with his own men. He knows I’d do just what I did to his messenger tonight. He’ll be hiring professionals.” That last sentence scared the hell out of Skinner. He thought he was dealing with professionals and in a sense he was correct. But he knew what Tanaka would hire would be ruthless and without any sense of remorse.
They walked down the stairs carefully and stepped over the dead body of Officer Warren. Skinner felt bad to a point that another officer had had to die, and that the accompanying phone call to Warren’s wife would more than likely be made by him. There would of course be an investigation since his door was covered in the officer’s blood. His life was about to get much more interesting. The cold night air hit his adrenaline fueled lungs and seemed to burn like fire. He glanced around and the familiar black Aston Martin caught his eye. “Perhaps that would be why Tanaka doesn’t think that the Viper is dead? I mean his car is sitting out front of my apartment.” “I’m sure Elias wouldn’t mind me borrowing it for the evening. I was back at his place trying to figure out what he was working on when he died. That’s when the file on Officer Warren popped up and everything seemed to click. My SLK doesn’t have the power that this thing does.” “Care to finish the story a bit more while we’re on the way?” “That’d probably be a good idea as it seems to pertain in its own way to the events of late.”
Shin Lao started the engine with a roar. Skinner had never had the privilege of riding in this powerhouse before and felt he was owed a little. Skinner looked over to her sitting in the seat that had been custom built for a man now dead. Surprisingly he noticed that her skirt which she hadn’t been wearing in his office had ridden up a little revealing her well muscled thighs. He looked away rather embarrassed. It didn’t feel right to him on several different levels. “Now where were we, oh yes, Tommy Mac…”
Skinner turned his computer off and when the screen faded he felt like there wasn’t much else to look forward to at the end of the day. Yes, the man was a hitman and should have been hunted to the ends of the earth, but all things being equal the Viper had done more of his police work than he’d been able to. He picked up his coat from the hook it hung from, turned out his light and left his office. The couple of beat cops that were filling out paperwork from the night’s arrests whistled at him as he left. “Finally moving on old man? We thought you’d be retired before you found yourself another lady. A lifer like you usually can’t commit until it’s all over and done with.” Skinner shot the rookie a sharp look and took several more steps. “For the record portable, that woman was a friend of mine’s widow and you’d be best to show some respect before you find yourself on the Hell’s Kitchen beat permanently.” He lied about Shin Lao, but what was he to say? That this “friend of his” was indeed a recently deceased hitman with at least one hundred and eighty unsolved homicides under his belt. And that the woman was oftentimes his partner? He stormed the rest of the way down the hall and out of the building.
The night air was just getting cold as the first signs of autumn fell on the concrete jungle that was New York City. The buzz of the whiskey made the cool air feel almost surreal as the heat from his face met the blowing breeze and the smells of the dirty city with it. He loathed this city but he had too much history here to move. “Two more years until retirement.” Had become his mantra for several months now. In reality he probably should have been thankful for the Viper’s early retirement as he seemed to be the cause of many of his cases over the years. Many on the force saw him as a merciless killer. Skinner knew differently however. Skinner knew him as a man who did what needed to be done to protect those who were actually innocent in this god forsaken city.
It was forty three blocks to his apartment in the heart of the Bronx. It was a hell of a walk but Skinner decided to walk it anyway tonight. There were many things that he needed to think on and the long walk would probably be the only thinking that he would have the chance to do tonight. The streets seemed to be deserted at this time of night. People often didn’t drive through this section past midnight and for some with good reason. All of this added up to a hell of a surprise as Skinner inserted his key into the lock of his apartment. “Excuse me, Detective Skinner?” The man’s voice was familiar. He was sure it was one of the afternoon beat cops. When he turned around he was relieved to see the face of Officer Warren, one of the veteran portables. “What can I do for you Peter?” Skinner asked. He didn’t like the situation. This seemed like something that happened in the movies. He wasn’t to be disappointed. “You’ll need to come with me detective. There’s some gentlemen that have some questions to ask you for a change.” The cold glint in Peter Warren’s eyes told him that the man wasn’t kidding, and that he would more than likely shoot him if he didn’t accept his offer. “We’re seeing Matsuo Tanaka I presume.” Skinner didn’t know for certain, but considering the events of the last day or two he felt he was on pretty solid ground with his guess.
“You’d be correct Detective.” A voice came out of the darkness from the hallway. The female’s voice he wasn’t sure was a blessing or a curse at this moment. “This little weasel has been an employee of Tanaka’s for quite some time. And he most assuredly will kill you.” The look on Skinner’s face betrayed no emotion as he looked to Officer Warren. “I’ll be taking your piece as well detective. Both of them.” Skinner bent down to grab his back up revolver from his ankle holster when the two shots rang out just above his head. He looked up, his hand still wrapped around his revolver and the limp body of Peter Warren slumped backward and broke the flimsy railing at the edge of the landing. There were meaty sounds as it hit several floor landings and down some stairs. “What the Fuck did you get me into?” He shouted into the dark hallway.
“I apologize Detective but I wasn’t sure who the rat was until tonight. Since I was freed from Boss Tanaka’s service I have been “out of the loop” as I believe it’s put.” Shin Lao screwed the light bulb back into its socket before she walked up to Skinner. I recognized one of the faces as I walked through the station. I just assumed he would be reporting back to Tanaka and sent here to fetch you.” “Well thanks for the warning. So, what now?” “You tell me, you’re the detective.” Skinner smiled briefly. “So I am. Well since my apartment obviously isn’t safe, where to now?” “We’re going to the old man’s. Obviously Boss Tanaka doesn’t believe that the Viper is dead and thinks that you might know otherwise. He’d never come after me with his own men. He knows I’d do just what I did to his messenger tonight. He’ll be hiring professionals.” That last sentence scared the hell out of Skinner. He thought he was dealing with professionals and in a sense he was correct. But he knew what Tanaka would hire would be ruthless and without any sense of remorse.
They walked down the stairs carefully and stepped over the dead body of Officer Warren. Skinner felt bad to a point that another officer had had to die, and that the accompanying phone call to Warren’s wife would more than likely be made by him. There would of course be an investigation since his door was covered in the officer’s blood. His life was about to get much more interesting. The cold night air hit his adrenaline fueled lungs and seemed to burn like fire. He glanced around and the familiar black Aston Martin caught his eye. “Perhaps that would be why Tanaka doesn’t think that the Viper is dead? I mean his car is sitting out front of my apartment.” “I’m sure Elias wouldn’t mind me borrowing it for the evening. I was back at his place trying to figure out what he was working on when he died. That’s when the file on Officer Warren popped up and everything seemed to click. My SLK doesn’t have the power that this thing does.” “Care to finish the story a bit more while we’re on the way?” “That’d probably be a good idea as it seems to pertain in its own way to the events of late.”
Shin Lao started the engine with a roar. Skinner had never had the privilege of riding in this powerhouse before and felt he was owed a little. Skinner looked over to her sitting in the seat that had been custom built for a man now dead. Surprisingly he noticed that her skirt which she hadn’t been wearing in his office had ridden up a little revealing her well muscled thighs. He looked away rather embarrassed. It didn’t feel right to him on several different levels. “Now where were we, oh yes, Tommy Mac…”
12.07.2005
Chapter 3
Chapter 3 Tommy Mac
“A lot of this revolves around a small time gangster named Tommy MacGregor.” “Tommy Mac, he just runs numbers and is into small time protection racket, what does he have to do with the big Triads?” Skinner was both confused and nervous. This whole tangled web of events was starting to take an interesting turn. He had assumed that this whole thing revolved around the Triads and Yakuza. But apparently it covered much of the organized crime, big or small, across the city. “Well I’ll get to that, but it’ll all become clear by the end of the story.” Shin Lao looked down into her glass. She wasn’t much for alcohol as it tended to dull the senses, and in her line of work that meant the difference between life and death.
“Well you see, it all started with the Viper’s contract on Tommy MacGregor’s life.”
The job was supposed to be simple. Boss Tanaka wanted the competition out of the way. So far he had been unable to shake the Yakuza out of his territory, and this vexed him incredibly. There were things that needed taking care of and he could think of no better people to dispose of them than his own “adopted daughter” and the hired gun he often used. He sat down at his desk and made a quick phone call. “Yes, Mr. Burke. There is a matter that I must discuss with you. I would like to see you in one hour. Standard rules apply.” He hung up the phone and paced the floor a little more. He had started growing increasingly dis-satisfied with the Viper of late. He had taken a decidedly negative slant in his opinion. This would quickly be remedied after he ousted the Yakuza from the surrounded neighborhoods.
The Viper’s warehouse headquarters was quite a sight to behold. He had taken the rundown building just upstate of New York City and turned it nearly into a mansion. Downstairs his garage held several very expensive and very fast cars. The workbench to the left of them held over two dozen license plates. They were all legal and were switched out when they needed to be. Upstairs was his living area. All of it looked very Spartan in comparison to a normal home, but he kept to the essentials. He had built a training area when he practiced several different styles of martial arts and had a shooting range installed, sound proofed, and sealed off from the rest of the space. He looked to the case files that he kept in his desk drawer and found the one he was looking for. The tab at the top read “Burke, Jennifer and Benjamin.” He thumbed through it like he often did, though this provided no additional result from any other time. His family was still gone, he still had no idea to where or if they were even still alive. But it kept him going. He picked up his two modified Desert Eagle .50’s from his desk and grabbed a handful of clips from another drawer.
Jogging down the stairs he grabbed the keys to the sleek black Aston Martin V-12 Vanquish parked in the middle of the garage. This one was by far his favorite. The purr of the supercharged engine was relaxing. One of the few things left to him that brought a smile to his face. He liked things in their proper order, and the sound of the Aston Martin was one thing that was as it should be. A small button on the console opened the door behind him and he squealed from the garage bay. He braked hard and cut the wheel when he cleared the door, sending the car into a controlled skid that left him facing the road. Another button closed the door and set the high tech alarm that he’d had Iceman install for him some months ago.
Eighty Five. Ninety. One Hundred and five the speedometer read, and still the tach didn’t ping about four thousand. “The English sure know how to build em” he thought out loud as the stretch of highway between his base and New York City sped by in a blur. New York City crept up on far too quickly and he was forced to slow to the speed limit. He state cops wouldn’t mess with him on the highway, but these city cops wouldn’t think for a second about pulling him over, and that would be a bad thing. He passed through some of the roughest neighborhoods of New York and thought nothing of it. Most of the people around here knew him, and knew that he was no one to be trifled with. He had done many of the worst element around here many favors in his life so they owed him at least that much.
Boss Tanaka’s estate was something straight out of a Hong Kong action movie. The Viper often wondered if he had just been caught up in the cliché or if it was a conscious effort. Though it occupied nearly an acre just outside of Hell’s Kitchen, it looked to be a Japanese styled abode. He twelve foot brick wall that surrounded the estate was the only thing that was out of place. However inside of that small bit of protection all appeared lush green and tranquil. Reflecting pools and atriums nearly littered both sides of a pebbled walk that surrounded the house. The Japanese architecture of the building itself was something of a paradox considering Boss Tanaka’s decided attempts to hide his mixed heritage. It was a very sore subject to discuss his Japanese family. His name and his home were both very indicative of the Japanese, yet he insisted that he was wholly Chinese. This was never discussed as the last person had had his tongue pulled from his body and pulled behind a speeding car through Hell’s Kitchen and finally disposed of on the island.
The Viper parked the car in a shower of gravel near the house. Walking to the front entrance he was quickly patted down to ensure he wasn’t carrying any weapons. “You know I know better than that. This isn’t my first time you know.” “Yes, but you know the reasons. Boos Tanaka is very paranoid and you are not family. You’re just some hired rat who does whatever Boss Tanaka wants for a piece of cheese.” The Viper simply smiled. This singular trait was the main reason that he was still alive, despite many people’s attempt to the contrary. He was very cool headed and didn’t take to provocation very easily. “Very well Tien, I’m here to see the boss. You wouldn’t want to make me late would you?” He was allowed to pass after some words the guard spat at him in Chinese. The Viper understood everything the man said as he spoke fluent Chinese, amongst other languages. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he flung over his shoulder as he walked through the door.
He strolled through the house as he often did several times a week. Boss Tanaka in his increasing age was becoming desperate to gain as much strength as he could in this neighborhood before he died. This led him to want to be rid of as many people that opposed him as he could, thus keeping the Viper very busy. This was good, because dead gangsters meant money for him. He knocked on Tanaka’s office door waiting to be called in. He wasn’t disappointed as the elder man’s serene “enter” was heard through the heavy oak and steel door. “Good afternoon mister Burke. I see you made it without issue?” Boos Tanaka always seemed to state things as a question as if he wasn’t sure what went on outside of this office. “As always I made it easily with time to spare I notice.” The Viper prided himself on his efficiency in all things and being late was one of those things he couldn’t afford in his line of work. “But there is business to attend to and I do not want to keep you too long. This man, Tommy MacGregor has become a problem to me. I want him eliminated. Standard fee, standard conditions. You’ll bring Shin Lao with you. You’re bound to meet some…interference. You’ll leave at once. You have three days.” Boss Tanaka got right to the point and said no more after that, simply sliding the file forward. The Viper picked it up without saying a word and exited Tanaka’s office. Shin Lao was waiting for him by the front door, duffle bag slung over her shoulder and the hard plastic case he knew held a powerful HK227 rifle in her hand.
“Let’s drive.” He said with a small smile. He liked these particular jobs.
Several city miles later he broke onto the interstate and kicked up the engine to a dull roar. “I don’t know about this one Shin. It feels wrong.” He trusted her completely. They had worked together on close to fifteen jobs now and had become quite close. They now often flirted back and forth playfully to pass the time waiting on the job. “What do you mean?” she asked. She knew that if his instincts were telling him something, than more than likely something smelled bad. She’d come to respect his shrewd eye and his uncanny knack for detecting bullshit. “This guy, Tommy MacGregor is small time. He’s nobody in the grand scheme of things. Why is this simple hoodlum on Tanaka’s radar at all? There’s something somebody’s not telling us and I don’t like that. Not one bit.” The Viper hit the clutch and pushed the car into sixth gear, the tachometer rising up sharply for a brief second and then falling back down to a comfortable 4500 rpm. “Tanaka’s been pretty secretive lately. He’s been calling out hits on a lot of people. I think he’s becoming too paranoid of late.” Shin recounted the story of how she had recently killed a small time gun dealer on the island because he had refused to deal with Tanaka for a “bargain price”.
“It’s getting kind of scary Elias. The man has slowly been slipping further and further into his own paranoia.” “That’s what makes me worry about this particular job Shin. Something doesn’t feel right. We’ll do the legwork on this before we act. I’ll have Iceman pull some information and we’ll see how we go from there.” The pulled into the lot at roughly one hundred and twenty miles per hour and skidded to a halt just in front of the warehouse door. The Viper stepped out of the car and looked around. Something just wasn’t feeling right and he reached into his jacket, his hand resting on the Desert Eagle in its holster. He peered around the front of the building. Shin Lao became worried by the intense look on his face. His instincts were not often wrong and she pulled the small Glock that she kept as a back up piece from her duffle bag. “Speaking of paranoid.” She whispered playfully. “shhh” he hissed quietly. “There’s somebody here.” He flung the door open and noted that the alarm didn’t make its traditional beeping. It had somehow been deactivate. “I’m gonna need to speak with Iceman about that” he thought as he peered around the darkened garage. He hit the lights and found nobody.
They spread out and searched the downstairs quietly but no sign of anybody being there was found. They both crept upstairs, the light on in the Viper’s office. The feeling of warmth when you pass shortly behind someone could be felt at the door as the Viper forced it open quickly and brought his gun to level on the man sitting in his chair, puffing strongly on one of his Cuban cigars. “Dammit Edgar!! You almost got several holes punched in you. I told you that I’d come around next week to see what you’ve got.” “Yeah, but this old man might not be around next week, so there’s no time like the present. I’ve got something that your lovely lady might be interested in this time as well.”
Edgar Oswald was a small time gun dealer. He had to be well past seventy but still lived his life like he was twenty. He drank often, and much. He smoked those damn Cuban cigars that the Viper couldn’t stand. Edgar Oswald also supplied much of the Viper’s firearms and had a very good mind for the type of work that he was in. “One of the Seven Dwarves put out a new toy for you, as well as for your co-worker there. The cloud of smoke that surrounded Edgar’s head always seemed to be there. Edgar wasn’t an impressive man physically by any means. His thin grey hair was combed over his balding scalp in a futile attempt to hide the face that he was mostly bald. He reached over and popped a few antacids into his mouth. “Is that ulcer still giving you hell?” The Viper found Edgar amusing in his little routines. He was generally a kind man, reminding him of the friendly grandfather in the holiday movies. Unfortunately that type of thing never happened in the real world. “You know it boy. If that ulcer doesn’t get me than the smoking probably will.” The man’s doctor had been telling him for years to knock it off, but he never listened. Indignant didn’t even begin to describe Edgar’s feelings towards the medical community. “Now let’s get down to business”
Unfortunately the weaponry itself didn’t interest the Viper all that much. He had a well stocked room with the things that he most often used and none of the new toys really stood out. Although some of the new AET rounds that Edgar brought interested him unbelievably. He generally used the standard .50 rounds but these new ones Edgar tested out in his range and the damage piqued his interest. “I’ll take a box of them for now. If I like them I’ll pick up more in the future. You know the deal; I don’t take anything out on a date unless I’ve fired several hundred rounds.” The Viper was very picky about his weapons and tended not to stray too far from what was tried in true. In the middle of a firefight wasn’t the time to find out just how fragile that new sub-machinegun really was. Nothing interested Shin Lao however and she told Edgar maybe next time. Edgar packed up his things smiling to himself, happy that he was dealing with true professionalism unlike some of those other thugs and goons that walked through his door. These two were the real deal.
The next stage of the job was reconnaissance. Never walk into a situation blind, which was always the Viper’s motto. For the next leg of their job the Viper contacted his man with the information. Someone named the Iceman. “I never met the Iceman face to face, nor have I ever heard his real name.” Shin Lao explained to Skinner. Skinner was totally enthralled in the tale thus far and recognized several of the names that she had mentioned. The Iceman had never shown up on his radar though, so there was doubtfully any hard information. “It’s getting late, perhaps we should continue this story tomorrow, and maybe away from a police station. This is a dangerous situation on both of our parts.” Shin Lao nodded. Her thoughts were obviously on the past six years throughout the telling of the story. “Yes, perhaps you’re right detective. I’ll be in touch.” She stood and headed for the door. Her lean athletic body moved with the grace of a cat as she reached for the handle and turned her head slightly towards Skinner. “You’re the only one on this entire force that he trusted Skinner. He was certain that the rest of them were on the take. Watch your back.” Before he could say anything she had silently slipped through the door, leaving him alone with two empty glasses and nothing to go home to.
“A lot of this revolves around a small time gangster named Tommy MacGregor.” “Tommy Mac, he just runs numbers and is into small time protection racket, what does he have to do with the big Triads?” Skinner was both confused and nervous. This whole tangled web of events was starting to take an interesting turn. He had assumed that this whole thing revolved around the Triads and Yakuza. But apparently it covered much of the organized crime, big or small, across the city. “Well I’ll get to that, but it’ll all become clear by the end of the story.” Shin Lao looked down into her glass. She wasn’t much for alcohol as it tended to dull the senses, and in her line of work that meant the difference between life and death.
“Well you see, it all started with the Viper’s contract on Tommy MacGregor’s life.”
The job was supposed to be simple. Boss Tanaka wanted the competition out of the way. So far he had been unable to shake the Yakuza out of his territory, and this vexed him incredibly. There were things that needed taking care of and he could think of no better people to dispose of them than his own “adopted daughter” and the hired gun he often used. He sat down at his desk and made a quick phone call. “Yes, Mr. Burke. There is a matter that I must discuss with you. I would like to see you in one hour. Standard rules apply.” He hung up the phone and paced the floor a little more. He had started growing increasingly dis-satisfied with the Viper of late. He had taken a decidedly negative slant in his opinion. This would quickly be remedied after he ousted the Yakuza from the surrounded neighborhoods.
The Viper’s warehouse headquarters was quite a sight to behold. He had taken the rundown building just upstate of New York City and turned it nearly into a mansion. Downstairs his garage held several very expensive and very fast cars. The workbench to the left of them held over two dozen license plates. They were all legal and were switched out when they needed to be. Upstairs was his living area. All of it looked very Spartan in comparison to a normal home, but he kept to the essentials. He had built a training area when he practiced several different styles of martial arts and had a shooting range installed, sound proofed, and sealed off from the rest of the space. He looked to the case files that he kept in his desk drawer and found the one he was looking for. The tab at the top read “Burke, Jennifer and Benjamin.” He thumbed through it like he often did, though this provided no additional result from any other time. His family was still gone, he still had no idea to where or if they were even still alive. But it kept him going. He picked up his two modified Desert Eagle .50’s from his desk and grabbed a handful of clips from another drawer.
Jogging down the stairs he grabbed the keys to the sleek black Aston Martin V-12 Vanquish parked in the middle of the garage. This one was by far his favorite. The purr of the supercharged engine was relaxing. One of the few things left to him that brought a smile to his face. He liked things in their proper order, and the sound of the Aston Martin was one thing that was as it should be. A small button on the console opened the door behind him and he squealed from the garage bay. He braked hard and cut the wheel when he cleared the door, sending the car into a controlled skid that left him facing the road. Another button closed the door and set the high tech alarm that he’d had Iceman install for him some months ago.
Eighty Five. Ninety. One Hundred and five the speedometer read, and still the tach didn’t ping about four thousand. “The English sure know how to build em” he thought out loud as the stretch of highway between his base and New York City sped by in a blur. New York City crept up on far too quickly and he was forced to slow to the speed limit. He state cops wouldn’t mess with him on the highway, but these city cops wouldn’t think for a second about pulling him over, and that would be a bad thing. He passed through some of the roughest neighborhoods of New York and thought nothing of it. Most of the people around here knew him, and knew that he was no one to be trifled with. He had done many of the worst element around here many favors in his life so they owed him at least that much.
Boss Tanaka’s estate was something straight out of a Hong Kong action movie. The Viper often wondered if he had just been caught up in the cliché or if it was a conscious effort. Though it occupied nearly an acre just outside of Hell’s Kitchen, it looked to be a Japanese styled abode. He twelve foot brick wall that surrounded the estate was the only thing that was out of place. However inside of that small bit of protection all appeared lush green and tranquil. Reflecting pools and atriums nearly littered both sides of a pebbled walk that surrounded the house. The Japanese architecture of the building itself was something of a paradox considering Boss Tanaka’s decided attempts to hide his mixed heritage. It was a very sore subject to discuss his Japanese family. His name and his home were both very indicative of the Japanese, yet he insisted that he was wholly Chinese. This was never discussed as the last person had had his tongue pulled from his body and pulled behind a speeding car through Hell’s Kitchen and finally disposed of on the island.
The Viper parked the car in a shower of gravel near the house. Walking to the front entrance he was quickly patted down to ensure he wasn’t carrying any weapons. “You know I know better than that. This isn’t my first time you know.” “Yes, but you know the reasons. Boos Tanaka is very paranoid and you are not family. You’re just some hired rat who does whatever Boss Tanaka wants for a piece of cheese.” The Viper simply smiled. This singular trait was the main reason that he was still alive, despite many people’s attempt to the contrary. He was very cool headed and didn’t take to provocation very easily. “Very well Tien, I’m here to see the boss. You wouldn’t want to make me late would you?” He was allowed to pass after some words the guard spat at him in Chinese. The Viper understood everything the man said as he spoke fluent Chinese, amongst other languages. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he flung over his shoulder as he walked through the door.
He strolled through the house as he often did several times a week. Boss Tanaka in his increasing age was becoming desperate to gain as much strength as he could in this neighborhood before he died. This led him to want to be rid of as many people that opposed him as he could, thus keeping the Viper very busy. This was good, because dead gangsters meant money for him. He knocked on Tanaka’s office door waiting to be called in. He wasn’t disappointed as the elder man’s serene “enter” was heard through the heavy oak and steel door. “Good afternoon mister Burke. I see you made it without issue?” Boos Tanaka always seemed to state things as a question as if he wasn’t sure what went on outside of this office. “As always I made it easily with time to spare I notice.” The Viper prided himself on his efficiency in all things and being late was one of those things he couldn’t afford in his line of work. “But there is business to attend to and I do not want to keep you too long. This man, Tommy MacGregor has become a problem to me. I want him eliminated. Standard fee, standard conditions. You’ll bring Shin Lao with you. You’re bound to meet some…interference. You’ll leave at once. You have three days.” Boss Tanaka got right to the point and said no more after that, simply sliding the file forward. The Viper picked it up without saying a word and exited Tanaka’s office. Shin Lao was waiting for him by the front door, duffle bag slung over her shoulder and the hard plastic case he knew held a powerful HK227 rifle in her hand.
“Let’s drive.” He said with a small smile. He liked these particular jobs.
Several city miles later he broke onto the interstate and kicked up the engine to a dull roar. “I don’t know about this one Shin. It feels wrong.” He trusted her completely. They had worked together on close to fifteen jobs now and had become quite close. They now often flirted back and forth playfully to pass the time waiting on the job. “What do you mean?” she asked. She knew that if his instincts were telling him something, than more than likely something smelled bad. She’d come to respect his shrewd eye and his uncanny knack for detecting bullshit. “This guy, Tommy MacGregor is small time. He’s nobody in the grand scheme of things. Why is this simple hoodlum on Tanaka’s radar at all? There’s something somebody’s not telling us and I don’t like that. Not one bit.” The Viper hit the clutch and pushed the car into sixth gear, the tachometer rising up sharply for a brief second and then falling back down to a comfortable 4500 rpm. “Tanaka’s been pretty secretive lately. He’s been calling out hits on a lot of people. I think he’s becoming too paranoid of late.” Shin recounted the story of how she had recently killed a small time gun dealer on the island because he had refused to deal with Tanaka for a “bargain price”.
“It’s getting kind of scary Elias. The man has slowly been slipping further and further into his own paranoia.” “That’s what makes me worry about this particular job Shin. Something doesn’t feel right. We’ll do the legwork on this before we act. I’ll have Iceman pull some information and we’ll see how we go from there.” The pulled into the lot at roughly one hundred and twenty miles per hour and skidded to a halt just in front of the warehouse door. The Viper stepped out of the car and looked around. Something just wasn’t feeling right and he reached into his jacket, his hand resting on the Desert Eagle in its holster. He peered around the front of the building. Shin Lao became worried by the intense look on his face. His instincts were not often wrong and she pulled the small Glock that she kept as a back up piece from her duffle bag. “Speaking of paranoid.” She whispered playfully. “shhh” he hissed quietly. “There’s somebody here.” He flung the door open and noted that the alarm didn’t make its traditional beeping. It had somehow been deactivate. “I’m gonna need to speak with Iceman about that” he thought as he peered around the darkened garage. He hit the lights and found nobody.
They spread out and searched the downstairs quietly but no sign of anybody being there was found. They both crept upstairs, the light on in the Viper’s office. The feeling of warmth when you pass shortly behind someone could be felt at the door as the Viper forced it open quickly and brought his gun to level on the man sitting in his chair, puffing strongly on one of his Cuban cigars. “Dammit Edgar!! You almost got several holes punched in you. I told you that I’d come around next week to see what you’ve got.” “Yeah, but this old man might not be around next week, so there’s no time like the present. I’ve got something that your lovely lady might be interested in this time as well.”
Edgar Oswald was a small time gun dealer. He had to be well past seventy but still lived his life like he was twenty. He drank often, and much. He smoked those damn Cuban cigars that the Viper couldn’t stand. Edgar Oswald also supplied much of the Viper’s firearms and had a very good mind for the type of work that he was in. “One of the Seven Dwarves put out a new toy for you, as well as for your co-worker there. The cloud of smoke that surrounded Edgar’s head always seemed to be there. Edgar wasn’t an impressive man physically by any means. His thin grey hair was combed over his balding scalp in a futile attempt to hide the face that he was mostly bald. He reached over and popped a few antacids into his mouth. “Is that ulcer still giving you hell?” The Viper found Edgar amusing in his little routines. He was generally a kind man, reminding him of the friendly grandfather in the holiday movies. Unfortunately that type of thing never happened in the real world. “You know it boy. If that ulcer doesn’t get me than the smoking probably will.” The man’s doctor had been telling him for years to knock it off, but he never listened. Indignant didn’t even begin to describe Edgar’s feelings towards the medical community. “Now let’s get down to business”
Unfortunately the weaponry itself didn’t interest the Viper all that much. He had a well stocked room with the things that he most often used and none of the new toys really stood out. Although some of the new AET rounds that Edgar brought interested him unbelievably. He generally used the standard .50 rounds but these new ones Edgar tested out in his range and the damage piqued his interest. “I’ll take a box of them for now. If I like them I’ll pick up more in the future. You know the deal; I don’t take anything out on a date unless I’ve fired several hundred rounds.” The Viper was very picky about his weapons and tended not to stray too far from what was tried in true. In the middle of a firefight wasn’t the time to find out just how fragile that new sub-machinegun really was. Nothing interested Shin Lao however and she told Edgar maybe next time. Edgar packed up his things smiling to himself, happy that he was dealing with true professionalism unlike some of those other thugs and goons that walked through his door. These two were the real deal.
The next stage of the job was reconnaissance. Never walk into a situation blind, which was always the Viper’s motto. For the next leg of their job the Viper contacted his man with the information. Someone named the Iceman. “I never met the Iceman face to face, nor have I ever heard his real name.” Shin Lao explained to Skinner. Skinner was totally enthralled in the tale thus far and recognized several of the names that she had mentioned. The Iceman had never shown up on his radar though, so there was doubtfully any hard information. “It’s getting late, perhaps we should continue this story tomorrow, and maybe away from a police station. This is a dangerous situation on both of our parts.” Shin Lao nodded. Her thoughts were obviously on the past six years throughout the telling of the story. “Yes, perhaps you’re right detective. I’ll be in touch.” She stood and headed for the door. Her lean athletic body moved with the grace of a cat as she reached for the handle and turned her head slightly towards Skinner. “You’re the only one on this entire force that he trusted Skinner. He was certain that the rest of them were on the take. Watch your back.” Before he could say anything she had silently slipped through the door, leaving him alone with two empty glasses and nothing to go home to.
12.06.2005
Another Day...Another Chapter
Chapter 2 Days Gone By
Shin Lao had met the Viper close to 6 years before. Her parents had brought her over, with the help of the local Triad boss, Boss Tanaka. Unfortunately for almost everybody involved, Boss Tanaka had gone back on his original deal with her parents and raised the price of her immigration. When her parents, humble owners of a small store in Brooklyn, had been unable to meet the price Boss Tanaka simply kept her, not even offering them the chance to pay for her eventual release. What Boss Tanaka saw in her however was a young bit of clay to mold. Of course she had tried to run away on numerous occasions, but the beating and desolation, punishments for her transgressions, had eventually left her loyal and ready for what the aging gang boss had in mind. She was trained, both mentally and physically, to be an assassin. Her young body and mind were shaped quickly into a killer. At the age of 20 he sent her out on her first kill, coupled with the Caucasian he often hired.
The Viper and Shin Lao, who went by the moniker of Ghost we sent out to kill a local store owner who had gotten the police involved when he was told to pay the protection money or lose his store. Of course the police proved a minor inconvenience and were quickly persuaded that there was nothing illegal going on under Matsuo Tanaka’s roof. Unfortunately for the store owner, that was far from the truth. This was Shin Lao’s first kill and she was terrified. Despite all of the Boss’ training and programming, she still didn’t want to kill anyone. The rifle in her hand had shaken wildly as they discussed the plan. “Think of this man as the worst person in the world. Imagine him as the person you’d like to put a bullet in the most. I find that helps most of the time.” The Viper had told her. “What if it doesn’t?” the young girl asked, still frightened of taking another human life. “If it doesn’t then that’s what I’m here for.” He cocked the two hand cannons that he had taken from his shoulder holsters beneath his overcoat. She was instantly frightened and nearly began to cry. He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “Don’t worry sweetie, these aren’t for you. I just meant that I’m here to finish it if you can’t. Don’t worry about Boss Tanaka if you don’t have the nerve.” This had been the first bit of warmth that she had been given in nearly 8 years and she smiled a little, her narrow brown eyes shiny from the tears that almost had fallen from them.
The plan had been simple. Shin Lao was to sit on the adjacent roof and wait for the man to leave for the night. If she missed or he didn’t come out, then the Viper was to finish things “up close and personal”. Shin Lao looked over the picture that had been given to her of the target. No name was in the file on the job. The Viper had told her that that was the way it was so that no one got too involved in the target. “It’s just a nameless face that had committed some wrong to the family. No family, no friends, no personal involvement. Just a face and a gun.” He had told her. She wondered about this man, and how he had become so cold and such and able killer when he wasn’t so much older than herself. However she didn’t have much time to ponder the other man’s back-story as she heard the bell of the store’s door jingle. She peered over the buttressed roof and checked the face of the man leaving the store with her picture. They matched and she leveled her rifle.
The man peered around, as if expecting what was about to befall him. He had gone against the Triads and knew his days were numbered. The police had called him and told him of their findings and that it was dangerous to bring such slanderous charges against someone who was such a large contributor to the community. But he knew differently and so he wasn’t surprised at all when the hushed shot came from an unseen elevation, hitting him square in the shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. He went into shock before he had time to be surprised by the tall white man that walked up to him and declared “Boss Tanaka sends his regards” and fired several rounds into the man’s skull.
Shin Lao had of course imagined this man was the one person on this planet that she had wanted dead, Boss Tanaka. However her hands still shook and her eyes were still bleary with tears, sending her shot down and to the left. Through a great strength of will she had pulled the trigger and fallen behind the buttress to hide from the scream of pain the man had let out. She didn’t want to see. She heard the voice of the Viper, the man who had comforted and reassured her not a half hour ago. It was now cold, and sounded like Boss Tanaka’s. “Boss Tanaka sends” his regards, then came four of the loudest noises she had heard in her life as he emptied the rounds into the man. She had had only moments to cry when the light footsteps of the other killer were heard coming through the rooftop door. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling in front of her, his dark glasses slipped slightly down his nose, showing two dark brown rings around his dilated pupils. She then realized that he was scared as well and she smiled. “It’s never easy taking another life, no matter how long you’ve been in this business. Only the truly wicked and insane relish this type of job. I do it for the money…and other reasons.” “And what reasons would those be?” She asked, slightly emboldened knowing that she wasn’t alone in her fears. “Personal” He replied and pushed his glasses up. “Now let’s get out of here, those shots were loud enough to wake up hell itself.”
That night she had cried herself to sleep. She didn’t want to be a killer, but she really had no choice. Boss Tanaka owned her and she had to do what he wanted her to do. That was her first job, and her first run in with the Viper. Six years had passed since that night and there had been hundreds of jobs since then, both solo and coupled with various others of Boss Tanaka’s henchmen. But she had loved the times that she had to run with him. He didn’t leer over her like the others did. At twenty six she was gorgeous by most people’s standards. Tall, lean, well muscled her body was well a product of her training and knew it drew attention from the twisted bastards of Tanaka’s gang.
So here she stood, in a Detective’s office, a free woman thanks to a man that was just recently dead wishing it were otherwise. She cried in this man’s office, whom she had only met twice. The Viper’s words from her first job kept coming back to her whenever she had a moment to herself. She had very much loved him, but the job had kept them apart in that capacity. “Mind if I have a seat Skinner, I have a lot to tell you.” “By all means fill me in.” He poured her a glass of his whiskey and she sat in the obligatory, incredibly uncomfortable chair in front of his desk.
Shin Lao had met the Viper close to 6 years before. Her parents had brought her over, with the help of the local Triad boss, Boss Tanaka. Unfortunately for almost everybody involved, Boss Tanaka had gone back on his original deal with her parents and raised the price of her immigration. When her parents, humble owners of a small store in Brooklyn, had been unable to meet the price Boss Tanaka simply kept her, not even offering them the chance to pay for her eventual release. What Boss Tanaka saw in her however was a young bit of clay to mold. Of course she had tried to run away on numerous occasions, but the beating and desolation, punishments for her transgressions, had eventually left her loyal and ready for what the aging gang boss had in mind. She was trained, both mentally and physically, to be an assassin. Her young body and mind were shaped quickly into a killer. At the age of 20 he sent her out on her first kill, coupled with the Caucasian he often hired.
The Viper and Shin Lao, who went by the moniker of Ghost we sent out to kill a local store owner who had gotten the police involved when he was told to pay the protection money or lose his store. Of course the police proved a minor inconvenience and were quickly persuaded that there was nothing illegal going on under Matsuo Tanaka’s roof. Unfortunately for the store owner, that was far from the truth. This was Shin Lao’s first kill and she was terrified. Despite all of the Boss’ training and programming, she still didn’t want to kill anyone. The rifle in her hand had shaken wildly as they discussed the plan. “Think of this man as the worst person in the world. Imagine him as the person you’d like to put a bullet in the most. I find that helps most of the time.” The Viper had told her. “What if it doesn’t?” the young girl asked, still frightened of taking another human life. “If it doesn’t then that’s what I’m here for.” He cocked the two hand cannons that he had taken from his shoulder holsters beneath his overcoat. She was instantly frightened and nearly began to cry. He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “Don’t worry sweetie, these aren’t for you. I just meant that I’m here to finish it if you can’t. Don’t worry about Boss Tanaka if you don’t have the nerve.” This had been the first bit of warmth that she had been given in nearly 8 years and she smiled a little, her narrow brown eyes shiny from the tears that almost had fallen from them.
The plan had been simple. Shin Lao was to sit on the adjacent roof and wait for the man to leave for the night. If she missed or he didn’t come out, then the Viper was to finish things “up close and personal”. Shin Lao looked over the picture that had been given to her of the target. No name was in the file on the job. The Viper had told her that that was the way it was so that no one got too involved in the target. “It’s just a nameless face that had committed some wrong to the family. No family, no friends, no personal involvement. Just a face and a gun.” He had told her. She wondered about this man, and how he had become so cold and such and able killer when he wasn’t so much older than herself. However she didn’t have much time to ponder the other man’s back-story as she heard the bell of the store’s door jingle. She peered over the buttressed roof and checked the face of the man leaving the store with her picture. They matched and she leveled her rifle.
The man peered around, as if expecting what was about to befall him. He had gone against the Triads and knew his days were numbered. The police had called him and told him of their findings and that it was dangerous to bring such slanderous charges against someone who was such a large contributor to the community. But he knew differently and so he wasn’t surprised at all when the hushed shot came from an unseen elevation, hitting him square in the shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. He went into shock before he had time to be surprised by the tall white man that walked up to him and declared “Boss Tanaka sends his regards” and fired several rounds into the man’s skull.
Shin Lao had of course imagined this man was the one person on this planet that she had wanted dead, Boss Tanaka. However her hands still shook and her eyes were still bleary with tears, sending her shot down and to the left. Through a great strength of will she had pulled the trigger and fallen behind the buttress to hide from the scream of pain the man had let out. She didn’t want to see. She heard the voice of the Viper, the man who had comforted and reassured her not a half hour ago. It was now cold, and sounded like Boss Tanaka’s. “Boss Tanaka sends” his regards, then came four of the loudest noises she had heard in her life as he emptied the rounds into the man. She had had only moments to cry when the light footsteps of the other killer were heard coming through the rooftop door. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling in front of her, his dark glasses slipped slightly down his nose, showing two dark brown rings around his dilated pupils. She then realized that he was scared as well and she smiled. “It’s never easy taking another life, no matter how long you’ve been in this business. Only the truly wicked and insane relish this type of job. I do it for the money…and other reasons.” “And what reasons would those be?” She asked, slightly emboldened knowing that she wasn’t alone in her fears. “Personal” He replied and pushed his glasses up. “Now let’s get out of here, those shots were loud enough to wake up hell itself.”
That night she had cried herself to sleep. She didn’t want to be a killer, but she really had no choice. Boss Tanaka owned her and she had to do what he wanted her to do. That was her first job, and her first run in with the Viper. Six years had passed since that night and there had been hundreds of jobs since then, both solo and coupled with various others of Boss Tanaka’s henchmen. But she had loved the times that she had to run with him. He didn’t leer over her like the others did. At twenty six she was gorgeous by most people’s standards. Tall, lean, well muscled her body was well a product of her training and knew it drew attention from the twisted bastards of Tanaka’s gang.
So here she stood, in a Detective’s office, a free woman thanks to a man that was just recently dead wishing it were otherwise. She cried in this man’s office, whom she had only met twice. The Viper’s words from her first job kept coming back to her whenever she had a moment to herself. She had very much loved him, but the job had kept them apart in that capacity. “Mind if I have a seat Skinner, I have a lot to tell you.” “By all means fill me in.” He poured her a glass of his whiskey and she sat in the obligatory, incredibly uncomfortable chair in front of his desk.
12.05.2005
Enter the Viper Pit
Well, as promised I'm starting to post my NaNoWriMo 2k5 novel. I'm going to post a chapter a day so it'll take close to a month to put the whole thing up on the interweb. So without any furter ado I present to you...Chapter 1
Chapter 1. Anonymous Posting
The veteran detective couldn’t believe what was shown on the monitor in front of him. Detective Leonard Skinner had a blank, shocked look upon his dark face as the EBay listing in front of him had been something that he hadn’t expected when he opened the envelop that had been sitting on his desk when he came in to turn in some paperwork from a recent homicide case he had been working.
The screen in front of him showed exactly this: One pair of collectors Desert Eagle .50’s with intricate scroll work across the barrels of both. Due to the graininess of the photo you couldn’t make out exactly the work that was done, but to Detective Skinner he knew those guns all too well. He continued to read the description of the well modified firearms. “Not your off the shelf hand cannons, these guns have been modified with gas vents on both pistols, gel cushion grip and have been rebuilt nearly from scratch to reduce weight, yet still balanced enough to reduce kick back. One owner.” The name of the seller was HKBOluvah, whatever that was supposed to mean.
The 38 year old policeman rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been one hell of a week and now there seemed to be one more thing wrong. “You’ll know when I retire.” The young man had said to him over 3 years ago. “I’ll put down my guns when I’m either dead or out of the game. But until then I’ll do what I do, and you do what you do, and neither of us will have to suffer.” That’s what the Viper had said at their first “meeting”. It wasn’t that it was so much a meeting, but that Skinner had finally caught up to him after many, many attempts.
The Viper was obviously an alias, and it had taken quite a bit of work on the detective’s part, but he had finally managed to find a record of the man’s existence that hadn’t been wiped out. What else had he to do than to hound perps now? After Ellie had left him 12 years ago, he had nothing else to go home to besides an empty house and a growing caseload.
He opened the drawer just to the left of him and takes out a bottle of fine Irish whiskey. The half empty bottle reminded him that he had said he was gonna quit this stuff years ago. But with cases like the ones he ran, it was most likely the only thing keeping him sane. He poured a glass and sipped at it while he stared in disbelief at the computer screen again. “So the bastard’s giving it up eh. At least my caseload will go down after this.” He had been trailing the Viper for years. After he had left a trail of dead gangsters and pimps and the like, the cases started to pile up on Skinner’s desk. Forensics had proven long ago that the same man had killed all of them, and not by the unique rounds that they had found lodged in the victims, but by the casings that lay littered around the crime scenes. All of the casings had the same etchings on them, of a coiled snake baring its fangs.
He’d seen the type before. They were marked bullets, often used by local Yakuza lords to give to their assassins so that the victim’s organization knew who was responsible for the death. But this particular one had been unique. The case had originally been steered towards a new crime syndicate in his beloved New York City, but his own perseverance had proved otherwise, at least to himself. There was something charismatic about the guy, and even though Skinner was a seasoned cop, he just couldn’t help by sympathize with the hitman.
Skinner had often had thoughts of doing what the Viper did after his daughter was kidnapped and never found. He had become frustrated by the inability of the police force to find his daughter or who was responsible for her disappearance. No body had ever been found and it had been considered a closed case. But he was a man of the law and couldn’t perform such vigilante actions, and so here he sat in his old swivel chair, sipping Bushmill’s, staring at a computer screen that told him that there was a hitman that was either dead or retired.
It was after 20 minutes of this line of thoughts that the knock on the door came. He hadn’t expected anyone, most of the people who would require his attention had left hours ago. He checked the silhouette against the frosted glass and lettering of the door and noted a tall slender figure on the other side. “Come in!” he shouted, not really concerned with getting up. He turned off his monitor before he noted the face of the young woman that walked through the door. “You know that you’re in a police station, right?” He asked her. She was almost as ballsy as the Viper had been. “Yeah, once you’ve seen one PD you’ve seen em all.” She retorted, the saddened expression on her face almost changing to a small grin, but not quite. “So, is he….dead?” Skinner asked hesitantly. These two were close, partners in a sense. “Yes, he’s dead.” She managed to whisper out before the sobs racked her lithe body.
Chapter 1. Anonymous Posting
The veteran detective couldn’t believe what was shown on the monitor in front of him. Detective Leonard Skinner had a blank, shocked look upon his dark face as the EBay listing in front of him had been something that he hadn’t expected when he opened the envelop that had been sitting on his desk when he came in to turn in some paperwork from a recent homicide case he had been working.
The screen in front of him showed exactly this: One pair of collectors Desert Eagle .50’s with intricate scroll work across the barrels of both. Due to the graininess of the photo you couldn’t make out exactly the work that was done, but to Detective Skinner he knew those guns all too well. He continued to read the description of the well modified firearms. “Not your off the shelf hand cannons, these guns have been modified with gas vents on both pistols, gel cushion grip and have been rebuilt nearly from scratch to reduce weight, yet still balanced enough to reduce kick back. One owner.” The name of the seller was HKBOluvah, whatever that was supposed to mean.
The 38 year old policeman rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been one hell of a week and now there seemed to be one more thing wrong. “You’ll know when I retire.” The young man had said to him over 3 years ago. “I’ll put down my guns when I’m either dead or out of the game. But until then I’ll do what I do, and you do what you do, and neither of us will have to suffer.” That’s what the Viper had said at their first “meeting”. It wasn’t that it was so much a meeting, but that Skinner had finally caught up to him after many, many attempts.
The Viper was obviously an alias, and it had taken quite a bit of work on the detective’s part, but he had finally managed to find a record of the man’s existence that hadn’t been wiped out. What else had he to do than to hound perps now? After Ellie had left him 12 years ago, he had nothing else to go home to besides an empty house and a growing caseload.
He opened the drawer just to the left of him and takes out a bottle of fine Irish whiskey. The half empty bottle reminded him that he had said he was gonna quit this stuff years ago. But with cases like the ones he ran, it was most likely the only thing keeping him sane. He poured a glass and sipped at it while he stared in disbelief at the computer screen again. “So the bastard’s giving it up eh. At least my caseload will go down after this.” He had been trailing the Viper for years. After he had left a trail of dead gangsters and pimps and the like, the cases started to pile up on Skinner’s desk. Forensics had proven long ago that the same man had killed all of them, and not by the unique rounds that they had found lodged in the victims, but by the casings that lay littered around the crime scenes. All of the casings had the same etchings on them, of a coiled snake baring its fangs.
He’d seen the type before. They were marked bullets, often used by local Yakuza lords to give to their assassins so that the victim’s organization knew who was responsible for the death. But this particular one had been unique. The case had originally been steered towards a new crime syndicate in his beloved New York City, but his own perseverance had proved otherwise, at least to himself. There was something charismatic about the guy, and even though Skinner was a seasoned cop, he just couldn’t help by sympathize with the hitman.
Skinner had often had thoughts of doing what the Viper did after his daughter was kidnapped and never found. He had become frustrated by the inability of the police force to find his daughter or who was responsible for her disappearance. No body had ever been found and it had been considered a closed case. But he was a man of the law and couldn’t perform such vigilante actions, and so here he sat in his old swivel chair, sipping Bushmill’s, staring at a computer screen that told him that there was a hitman that was either dead or retired.
It was after 20 minutes of this line of thoughts that the knock on the door came. He hadn’t expected anyone, most of the people who would require his attention had left hours ago. He checked the silhouette against the frosted glass and lettering of the door and noted a tall slender figure on the other side. “Come in!” he shouted, not really concerned with getting up. He turned off his monitor before he noted the face of the young woman that walked through the door. “You know that you’re in a police station, right?” He asked her. She was almost as ballsy as the Viper had been. “Yeah, once you’ve seen one PD you’ve seen em all.” She retorted, the saddened expression on her face almost changing to a small grin, but not quite. “So, is he….dead?” Skinner asked hesitantly. These two were close, partners in a sense. “Yes, he’s dead.” She managed to whisper out before the sobs racked her lithe body.
12.01.2005
11.28.2005
In Other News...
Rakion is going live December 1st, with open beta right up until the launch date. Woohoo and all. Can't wait to see if they're ironed out the class balances and all.
Mahalo
Mahalo
Observations
Every time I wipe my hard drive I seem to get a little nostalgic. So I went through my old back up cd's and looked at stuff I'd made or written years ago. And so I went through my web spaces and found There are little bits of me all over the Interweb.
Of course several of those sites harkened back to my time with Vampire: Redemption and one of those many of you will remember from my infancy on the internet. And all of them were before I learned CSS, if you can't tell by the sizing issues and frames and tables that I used prfoundly. But all in all they're a part of me.
How many of you can remember your first web address? We've all built a web page at one point, whether it was more recently in the form of a blog, or way back in the day with the geocities page builder. What was your first web address? Mine was www.geocities.com/paris/metro/6409/. This was also followed shortly by my fortune city account which the next to original ORTWAS site was found on. There are several other sites still on that fortune city address, but I'm not able to log in to them anymore so the early ORTWAS site will have to do for that shard of my life. Many of my early sites don't exist anymore because the services have gone out of business or been bought out and removed, so that's pretty much all that's left.
Mahalo
Of course several of those sites harkened back to my time with Vampire: Redemption and one of those many of you will remember from my infancy on the internet. And all of them were before I learned CSS, if you can't tell by the sizing issues and frames and tables that I used prfoundly. But all in all they're a part of me.
How many of you can remember your first web address? We've all built a web page at one point, whether it was more recently in the form of a blog, or way back in the day with the geocities page builder. What was your first web address? Mine was www.geocities.com/paris/metro/6409/. This was also followed shortly by my fortune city account which the next to original ORTWAS site was found on. There are several other sites still on that fortune city address, but I'm not able to log in to them anymore so the early ORTWAS site will have to do for that shard of my life. Many of my early sites don't exist anymore because the services have gone out of business or been bought out and removed, so that's pretty much all that's left.
Mahalo
11.27.2005
Computer Viruses and The Art of War...
As you can tell from the title I've had a trying 24 hours ridding my computer of various viruses and such. It was an epic battle and in the end I emerged victorious, though there were many casualties.
"While heading the profit of my counsel,
avail yourself also of any helpful circumstances
over and beyond the ordinary rules."
So I had to remove my Anti-Virus program for a brief period of time. I had bought a cheap one because my McAfee CD was nowhere to be found. So I uninstalled the old one when I found my CD and installed McAfee. For some reason my McAfee AVP would crash and so I was left with the sole defenses of my firewall for a scant few days. Apparently that was all that was needed for the insidious forces of the interweb to crawl its way into my system. It had some help though, I believe.
"If he is secure at all points, be prepared for him.
If he is in superior strength, evade him.
If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to
irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.
If he is taking his ease, give him no rest.
If his forces are united, separate them."
So with McAfee finally working last night I was incredibly surprised to find a huge alert pop up from both my AVP and firewall almost simultaneously saying that things were going very foul indeed. Running the scan produced the horrible finds of not only Browser Hijacks, Trojans, and several other nasty things. I was forced to lock down the network to try and contain everything and then I got to work on removing things. I had to split my tricks between my Spyware cleaning, registry cleaning, and AVP. I had to do this all simultaneously because as soon as one stopped and cleared it would pop up on the next scan. I had to hit everything at once. I was growing frustrated and tired at this point. It was going on towards 2am before I set up Virus Scan and went to bed, all traffic blocked and my computer removed from the network.
"In the operations of war,
where there are in the field a thousand swift chariots,
as many heavy chariots, and a hundred thousand
mail-clad soldiers, with provisions enough to carry them
a thousand li, the expenditure at home and at the front,
including entertainment of guests, small items such as
glue and paint, and sums spent on chariots and armor,
will reach the total of a thousand ounces of silver per day.
Such is the cost of raising an army of 100,000 men."
I had to break down and buy the latest version of Virus Scan last night in my battle. I got to the point to where my older version simply wasn't picking anything up and Ad-Aware was also coming up with nada after probably the 15th scan, but still I was getting desktop pop-ups and browser hijacking. So with my troops in place I went about the ordeal of scanning, finding, editing the registry and scanning again.
"It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted
with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand
the profitable way of carrying it on."
The viruses had the advantage in that they didn't need to worry about getting tired or frustrated. I kept a cool head and continued my attack on the invaders that had held my computer hostage.
"When you engage in actual fighting, if victory
is long in coming, then men's weapons will grow dull and
their ardor will be damped. If you lay siege to a town,
you will exhaust your strength.
Again, if the campaign is protracted, the resources
of the State will not be equal to the strain."
I had laid seige to my own computer for close to 24 hours now and I had come to a certain point where neither of us was budging. I had decided that enough was enough and I fired my final salvo...I formatted my hard drive. That's not to say that the invaders didn't go down without a fight. Somehow the F1-12 keys were disabled on my keyboard and made it incredibly difficult to continue into setting up a new Windows installation. That would be when I had to get inventive. I stole a page out of David's book, a trick I saw him do a long time ago...I reprogrammed my keyboard. Through an act of High Geekery a while ago I had learned the ASCII and binary values for such an act, and I remembered David doing something of the like several years ago and so I went about the act of kludging together a small config script in the dos shell I had to install. Don't ask me why I still have DOS disks but I do.
"Thus the highest form of generalship is to
balk the enemy's plans; the next best is to prevent
the junction of the enemy's forces; the next in
order is to attack the enemy's army in the field;
and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities."
So needless to say I'm back and pretty well drained. Why, you may ask, did I not just reformat from the beginning. The answer is simple...I didn't want to. I was determined that I could beat this thing without resorting to the Great Wipe. However in the end it was that sort of short sighted arrogance that led to about 24 hours of me fighting this thing to a standstill. And so that was my weekend...how about you?
Mahalo
"While heading the profit of my counsel,
avail yourself also of any helpful circumstances
over and beyond the ordinary rules."
So I had to remove my Anti-Virus program for a brief period of time. I had bought a cheap one because my McAfee CD was nowhere to be found. So I uninstalled the old one when I found my CD and installed McAfee. For some reason my McAfee AVP would crash and so I was left with the sole defenses of my firewall for a scant few days. Apparently that was all that was needed for the insidious forces of the interweb to crawl its way into my system. It had some help though, I believe.
"If he is secure at all points, be prepared for him.
If he is in superior strength, evade him.
If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to
irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.
If he is taking his ease, give him no rest.
If his forces are united, separate them."
So with McAfee finally working last night I was incredibly surprised to find a huge alert pop up from both my AVP and firewall almost simultaneously saying that things were going very foul indeed. Running the scan produced the horrible finds of not only Browser Hijacks, Trojans, and several other nasty things. I was forced to lock down the network to try and contain everything and then I got to work on removing things. I had to split my tricks between my Spyware cleaning, registry cleaning, and AVP. I had to do this all simultaneously because as soon as one stopped and cleared it would pop up on the next scan. I had to hit everything at once. I was growing frustrated and tired at this point. It was going on towards 2am before I set up Virus Scan and went to bed, all traffic blocked and my computer removed from the network.
"In the operations of war,
where there are in the field a thousand swift chariots,
as many heavy chariots, and a hundred thousand
mail-clad soldiers, with provisions enough to carry them
a thousand li, the expenditure at home and at the front,
including entertainment of guests, small items such as
glue and paint, and sums spent on chariots and armor,
will reach the total of a thousand ounces of silver per day.
Such is the cost of raising an army of 100,000 men."
I had to break down and buy the latest version of Virus Scan last night in my battle. I got to the point to where my older version simply wasn't picking anything up and Ad-Aware was also coming up with nada after probably the 15th scan, but still I was getting desktop pop-ups and browser hijacking. So with my troops in place I went about the ordeal of scanning, finding, editing the registry and scanning again.
"It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted
with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand
the profitable way of carrying it on."
The viruses had the advantage in that they didn't need to worry about getting tired or frustrated. I kept a cool head and continued my attack on the invaders that had held my computer hostage.
"When you engage in actual fighting, if victory
is long in coming, then men's weapons will grow dull and
their ardor will be damped. If you lay siege to a town,
you will exhaust your strength.
Again, if the campaign is protracted, the resources
of the State will not be equal to the strain."
I had laid seige to my own computer for close to 24 hours now and I had come to a certain point where neither of us was budging. I had decided that enough was enough and I fired my final salvo...I formatted my hard drive. That's not to say that the invaders didn't go down without a fight. Somehow the F1-12 keys were disabled on my keyboard and made it incredibly difficult to continue into setting up a new Windows installation. That would be when I had to get inventive. I stole a page out of David's book, a trick I saw him do a long time ago...I reprogrammed my keyboard. Through an act of High Geekery a while ago I had learned the ASCII and binary values for such an act, and I remembered David doing something of the like several years ago and so I went about the act of kludging together a small config script in the dos shell I had to install. Don't ask me why I still have DOS disks but I do.
"Thus the highest form of generalship is to
balk the enemy's plans; the next best is to prevent
the junction of the enemy's forces; the next in
order is to attack the enemy's army in the field;
and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities."
So needless to say I'm back and pretty well drained. Why, you may ask, did I not just reformat from the beginning. The answer is simple...I didn't want to. I was determined that I could beat this thing without resorting to the Great Wipe. However in the end it was that sort of short sighted arrogance that led to about 24 hours of me fighting this thing to a standstill. And so that was my weekend...how about you?
Mahalo
11.25.2005
NaNo...Epilogue
Well I officially verified my word count this afternoon and I'm an Official 2005 NaNoWriMo Winner, as you can tell by the small graphic to the right. Yay me. Now to just get everything else back on track. *sigh*
11.22.2005
NaNo...Day 22
I finished my story this morning, weighing in at 52,631 words. It'll probably shrink some and grow some over the next couple of weeks as I edit it a bit. It is very much an unpolished diamond at the moment, but all in all it turned out pretty decently. That is all for today.
Mahalo
Mahalo
11.21.2005
NaNo...Day 21
And I made it!! I crossed 50,000 words this morning and still have about two chapters left to write to wrap everything up. I may not push it past or even to 55,000 but it'll probably be pretty close. I'd have kept writing this morning but my mom showed up to do a little christmas shopping. Looking through friends' blogs and LJ's I noticed that a friend of mine is in the same boat that I was in last week a la "Loathing...There's no Fear to it." It seems to be a common ailment according to the forums and such, but the only advice I can really give is stick through it and the story won't turn out nearly as bad as it appears from inside the jar. My opinion of my own story went from total crap to pretty cool, in my opinion. That's not to say that it isn't total crap, but to me it turned out kinda cool. So in a couple of weeks I'll be posting it up chapter by chapter and you guys can tell me whether I just wasted a month of my life or not ;)
11.20.2005
NaNo...Day 20
I'm at roughly 47.5K words as of this morning. Yes I could have finished it this morning, but I want to plan out the last chapter a little rather than flying by the seat of my pants. I have a lot of things to reveal and I'm not quite sure how I'm going to make it all unfold. I have at least four major plot points that absolutely have to happen nearly simultaneously and I have to try and bring them around without just making them sound corny as well as make them sound plausible. I'm not going to reveal exactly what, since I'm gonna make everybody wait. I'm going to post the story here after I've given it a little bit of polish. But other than that things are about normal around here.
Mahalo
Mahalo