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The Soulless VI (527 hits)

Category: None

Rating: 2 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by Anthony Locascio (View user info) at 2005-04-08 16:32:50 EDT


I have posted this excerpt once before. I am reposting it to maintain continuity of the story.

Installment I http://www.ubersite.com/m/62497
Installment II http://www.ubersite.com/m/62652
Installment III http://www.ubersite.com/m/63199
Installment IV http://www.ubersite.com/m/63469
Installment V http://www.ubersite.com/m/63641
-----------------
John Glaim was a fat bastard. He'd been a fat bastard since his girlfriend had left seven years ago and old John had had some hard learning to do. Since that time, he'd paid as he went where broads were concerned. He'd been doing it that way since the beginning, now he was just more honest about it. He made his way down the rotting steps of his shitty tenement with the peeling paint and the fucking junkies in the alley next door and the winos that slept on the fire escapes and down the worn concrete front step to the waiting car. It was less than two hundred feet down from the fifth floor to the car and already he was sweating through his cheap white golf-shirt. He yanked open the passenger door, thoroughly pissed off both at the early onset of the humidity-laden heat as well as the early hour.

"What the fuck is this?" he barked. "You're an hour early, I ain't even brushed my teeth. And what the fuck is so important that you can't use the cell?"

The small-framed Hispanic man behind the wheel turned with a self-satisfied smirk of someone who has heard dozens of such outbursts and expects many more.
"Padilla called. There's a problem. You said no Padilla on the cell."
John grunted. He had indeed said that, but he'd be damned if he'd acknowledge it. Son of a bitch gets enough jack to do what he's told he thought. Grunting a second time, he wedged his fat frame into the passenger seat and slammed the door. They pulled away from the curb.

"What now? And why the hell are we stuck with the Crown Vic? Isn't the goddamn Skylark fixed yet?"

"I talked to Kilkenny last night, he said they had to order a new radiator."

"Good. Yeah, go get the fucking crooks, here's your Yugo. See if you can outrun the next rice-burner that runs a red light."

"What's the difference between the Vic and the Skylark?"

"It smells like feet, that's why, and the passenger seat doesn't adjust right. And look at this..." John pulled at the support of the steel mesh that blocked off the rear seat where it bolted into the roof. It rattled about loosely. "A few good kicks would bust this thing off. If I wanted out of there, I could just kick the thing out."

"Yeah, you'd kick it out. You'd have just enough room for your sausage-legs to wiggle your big toe."

"Are you trying to be a smartass?"

"I'm trying to alert you to the perils of a diet composed mainly of pepper jack cheese."

"Shut up. What does Padilla want? I told that son of a bitch I'd see him Saturday, this couldn't wait?"

"No. It's bad."

"Fuck. What?"

"Him and his crew hit a truck coming out of TIA last night."

"Did they score? I get my cut today, I can book that action on Indianapolis this weekend."

"It's military."

There was a moment of silence that stretched into seconds. The look of slowly dawning rage mixed with disbelief. The smaller man took his cue and pulled into the nearest parking lot of an office building.

"You've gotta be putting me on."

"Padilla called me at about four. He said his crew had hit a truck. It's full of weapons. Looks like military, but under the radar. No markings, guys driving were civilians. Padilla whacked them both when he found out what the cargo was."

"Oh God....." He sat holding his already-throbbing head in his hands. It was shaping up to be another fifteen-Advil day. "What about the truck? Camo?"

"No. Just a fourteen-wheeler like any of a thousand getting trucked out of TIA. That they picked it was just luck. It's the worst of all worlds."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, whoever shipped those weapons, maybe military, maybe government, whatever, they knew the shipment was too sensitive for a lot of security. Whoever was shipping it was trying to ship it discreetly. They didn't want the attention. But you can't ship guns without setting off some kind of warning bell. Which probably means they had all the right people lined up. This is probably a routine thing for them. They have definitely run shipments like this before."

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"Because they wouldn't run such a valuable load without complete confidence that it would arrive. The only reason Padilla got to them so easily is that they've done this before with ease and were expecting business as usual."

"Who is they?"

"Don't know. But it's definitely not the military."

"You just fucking said it was a military shipment!"

"The shipment was of military goods, not for the military."

"How do you know that?"

"Military doesn't need to go under the radar like this. They could have all the security they wanted without arousing suspicion. And they certainly wouldn't have flown it into TIA.

John stopped to think for a moment. It wouldn't make any sense for a military transport to fly in to Tampa International Airport with MacDill Airbase less than five miles away.
"Where is he?"

"Padilla?"

John nodded.

"Out on Davis at the warehouse. I think he's got three of the crew with him."

"Go, go, get us there. Christ. I want this wrapped up in an hour. Jesus, it ain't even six yet."

"I came prepared."

"You did?" John opened the console. Inside were two huge Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistols side-by-side. He cracked a smile, pulled back the slide to check the action, then let it snap back. He checked the underside, noting that the serial number had been filed off. Ditto for the second. "What the hell is this?" he semi-laughed.

"You want a gun to get the job done, right?"

"Yeah this will get the friggin' job done alright. We line them up, we'll only need one bullet. Where'd these come from?"

"From the DeRoy bust. And I didn't even have to grease Shelby. Guy had the runs last Friday, was never at the desk.

"Good. Son of a bitch never earned a dime in his life."

He reached into the console again and grabbed the shells.

"Dummies?"

"Nothing but the best. So, are Padilla's services no longer required?"

John thought for a moment. He sighed.

"Let's see what he's got. Fucking step on it."


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User Reviews


Submitted by BlazinBull (user info) at 2008-01-31 10:17:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Viper_04 (user info) at 2005-11-11 08:11:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Desert Eagles....yeah biatch

Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-11-09 09:49:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-05-02 15:10:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

glorious

Submitted by Jungle_Jimanee (user info) at 2005-04-12 11:59:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-04-12 10:44:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Nice to step out of the lab for a change. Dialogue was great, characters were great, and it fits in with the other segment of your story. Groovy, baby.

Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2005-04-12 09:22:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-04-09 16:07:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

WHAT NEXT??? GIVE ME MORE, MOTHERFUCKER!


Thank you. That is all.

Submitted by Dannie (user info) at 2005-04-09 09:10:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Degreeless_Capibara (user info) at 2005-04-08 21:31:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I just noticed the second 'c' in Locascio.

Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-04-08 21:12:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2


Man, you were in the zone when you wrote this.

It flows like, well, as Richard Adams says in 'The Plague Dogs,' "like a turd from a healthy anus." Smooth perfection.

That's a complement, by the way.

Really good. Waiting for more.


Submitted by tlozoot (user info) at 2005-04-08 19:19:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Way cool.

Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-04-08 18:54:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

"Who is they?"

that sentence is either gramatically correct or incorrect depending on which
word you emphasize.



Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-04-08 16:39:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

The intrigue builds...

DUN DUN DUNNNNN


Twenty of the suckiest minutes of my life.

-- Homer Simpson
Burns, Baby Burns