Igneous Interrupted (804 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Necro
Rating: 1.37 on 30 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Snark << snarkk.at.gmail.com (View user info) at 2005-12-05 14:29:43 EST
IGNEOUS INTERRUPTED
Ngana set me up with some decent clothes and some leaves to chew, and then sent me on my way.
She helped me dress before I left and I used the opportunity to ask her some questions.
I asked her if she'd ever heard of Delilah Baines and she said no, and that it surprised her that she didn't, because she'd only seen the Seductress taint so deep in a man on one other occasion, and even then, she hadn't had to take the ritual as far as she had with me. Whatever Delilah's real name might have been, she was exceedingly powerful. Ngana had run one hand over the snake wrapped around my arm as if affirming its existence, and told me that it was rare for the byproduct of the ritual to take a physical form.
I asked her how she usually removed the taint from the men I sent her and she smiled then licked her broad lips in the way of an answer.
On the subject of the runes carved into my back and the word 'Necrosiac' she was a little more helpful. She gave me the name of a client of hers. A man she saw regularly, a professor from the university who had become as addicted to the cure for the Seductress burn, as he was the burn itself. Kingsley is his name, and he's at the top of my list of people to visit, but first-things-first.
I'm standing at the mouth to the alley behind my Office. I'm dead center in the shadow where the sign of the shop next door intercepts the yellow light from the street lamp on the other side, and I'm looking for an assassin.
There's a car sitting across the street from the other side of the building, and there's a fat bald man in a black and white pinstriped suit sitting behind the wheel. His name is Jimmy Six and he's Martini's number two guy. They say he's been shot six times. They say he can't be killed, but they say a lot of things. Listening to "Them" is a lot like listening to Dames. The trick is to read the bits and pieces of truth that floats in their lies, like cigarette butts in a toilet.
Dames and lies... I've just about had enough of them. Even Ngana wasn't without hers. I saw the look of fear in her eyes when I said Necrosiac. She knows something... maybe not everything, but more than she's telling me, and she knows something about Delilah as well. It was evident in the way she said the Seductresses name as she placed her hand on Lust; the slow tentative tracing of her fingers along his scales, the widening of her Cleopatra eyelids and contraction of her pupils, as if the snake was reviving some long lost memory.
The alley in front of me is as long and dark as the passageway to a tomb. It's cluttered with refuse and a million places for some two-bit hood looking to make a name for himself, to hide. I got my hand in my jacket pocket. It's wrapped around the grip of the peashooter I stole from Pitt, but it's little comfort. I can't make out any sign of life in the alley; no sudden glow from a cig, no tell tale cough, so I take a tentative step out of the shadows, half expecting to be greeted by the sudden rattle of a tommygun, but nothing happens.
I'm making my way towards the fire escape, half way down and on the right. I'm doing my best to stay alert, to keep my eyes and ears open, but that feeling is back in my guts again. Lust twitches, then tightens on my arm as if it feels it too. There's a pain with it this time. It's sharp and deep. It feels like I'm gut shot, so I pull one of the brown leaves out of the cloth bundle Ngana gave me and place it in my mouth. It squirts bitter juices into my mouth when I bit down on it. The taste spreads down the back of my throat and makes my teeth numb, but I think I can feel it helping a bit, so I put the package back in my pocket as cold metal presses hard against the back of my head.
"You ain't so smart. The Boss said to look out for you but you ain't smart at all."
I recognize that nasally voice immediately.
"Heya Spits."
"We been waiting for you a long time Kane. It's not nice to keep someone waiting so long seein as how it's so cold and everything."
I put my hands up and slowly turn to meet him eye to eye.
"Didn't know you were coming. Come on up, I'll fix you some soup."
His beady eyes narrow and his greasy forehead creases under his shiny straight black hair.
"Still a wise guy huh? Still a joker, well laugh it up you prick, cuz I got you cold and we got business you and I."
Gotta keep him talking, gotta buy some time, time to figure a way out of this mess.
"You sellin insurance now Spits?"
His beady eyes narrow to slits, and his finger tightens on the trigger.
"You got something what don't belong to you. You're gonna give me what you stole from the Boss, you're gonna give it to me and then we're going for a ride."
He steps back, and the shiny silver automatic in his hand stays trained on my forehead.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He wags the pistol at me, like a teacher would his finger at a wayward student, then growls his response.
"I'm gonna ask you nice one more time, just to prove what a solid guy I am, then I'm gonna ask again, not so nice."
His face twists into a rat like sneer as I remain calm and emotionless.
"Well?"
"Well what?" I reply.
"What's your answer?"
"I'm waiting for you to ask again...nicely."
The sneer turns into rage and he pulls the pistol back, to bash me in the head. He's played straight into my hands. I'm gonna step into him and push his balls into his throat with my knee, but before I can, there's a hiss and a blur, and he's staring at me wide-eyed as blood begins to dribble out of the twin holes in his scrawny neck.
The pistol swings back but I grab it away and kick him to the filth-strewn ground.
"What the...?" he croaks.
I lean down and say "Snake bite." Then smash the butt of his gun into his temple, watch him go limp, and snatch his wallet out of the breast pocket of his baby blue suit. For one of Martini's men, he's traveling light. There's no more than a sawbuck on him. I take the money and drop the wallet, then turn away. With any luck he'll die where he is. I can't afford to shoot him. There's no telling who a gunshot will bring. Even the peashooter will sound like a cannon in the cramped alley, and I ain't never been one for killing a man with my bare hands. There's something disrespectful about doing it that way. It's not the way men should kill other men.
Lust hisses tentatively into my ear then places its head back on my shoulder, and I'm thinking it's weird having it there, but it ain't so bad either. The little bastard is quick, and quite possibly deadly, and no one is gonna see it coming. I hadn't put much thought into it since it poked its head into the world from between the Sorceresses legs. As far as I was concerned, if it wanted to hitch a ride, so be it, dead men can't be picky about their company... but now, as I glance back at Spits lying motionless on the ground, I'm beginning to like the scaly bastard.
I figure the leaf has done its job so I spit the wad onto the ground, grab the rusty ladder, and start my ascent, and thirty seconds later, I'm quietly climbing through the window into the cold dark interior of my office.
Martini's boys have been her already. The evidence of their visit springs into life when I pull the cord on the lamp hanging above my overturned desk. The bulb buzzes and spits, then bathes the office in its familiar dull glow. My shotgun lies in pieces in one corner, the shells lie together in another. The bloodstain is still there. It's wide and curdled and glints blackly in the low light.
The mirror in the bathroom is busted and the decoy money I placed there is gone. Someone's walking around with five large in counterfeit bills.
I pocket the automatic again, reach into the alcove, hit the hidden switch to open the compartment at the back, and breath a sigh of relief as the fake wall swings open to reveal the undisturbed contents within:
Bottle of iodine
Needle and Thread
Bandage.
$1200.00 green.
Flask of Bourbon
Pocket Knife
Fake Passport - Walter Kroening
Lockpicks
Pocket Cannon
Box of Shells.
Pack of Cigs - Liberty Lights
Small Red Tobacco Pouch
I grab the Roscoe first, flip open the cylinder and stuff it full of shells, then swap it for the automatic in my pocket. The clip ejects easily into my hand, and I work the action to remove the last remaining round, then toss it all out the window. It's a thug's gun, and I've never been partial to the automatics. They jam too easy and who knows how many murders that one's been involved in.
I return to the bathroom and take the cash, knife, lockpicks, and flask. The rest can stay. I ain't going anywhere when it's all said and done, so I don't need the passport, and I ain't shot... yet.
The match makes an ember of the tip of the cig and I inhale deep, then wash the tar out of my mouth with a pull from the flask. Lust twitches on my arm, then tightens. The sound of a heavy foot trying to tread softly sounds out from the other side of the office door, as the bourbon burns its way down my throat like liquid betrayal and hits my stomach hard, and all-of-the-sudden, I'm on my knees.
I manage to crawl to the bathroom in time to avoid the hail of bullets that rip through the door, as the thug on the other side unleashes with the tommygun. Three bursts sound out, and by the second, I'm on my feet, pulling the Roscoe out of my jacket with one hand, and steadying myself over the sink with the other while blood and bile splashes darkly onto the porcelain below.
Hot lead shatters the windows and rips open the legs of my desk. It moves across the room in a wide arc then back again. A slug punches through the wall in front of me and screams as it tumbles past my ear. I need to find cover but the pain has me locked in place. The acid ain't done coming up yet. It spurts out of my mouth violently, like water from a leaky pipe, and I hear the office door burst open.
Somehow, I manage to clench my mouth shut, hard enough to fill my head with the sound of grinding teeth. My stomach heaves but I keep it down, as one, then another tentative footstep sounds out from the doorway. The shooter's coming in, and if he's got any sense in him, he's comin for the bathroom first. He'll get a better angle, then punch my death through the walls of the bathroom unless I do something, so I turn and let the contents of my stomach fly out the door. I open my mouth and let a stream of bile darkened blood sail into the office beyond, and its splash is greeted by Jimmy Six's low chuckle.
"Where ya hit Kane? Sure hope I didn't mess up that pretty mug of yours."
I answer with my Roscoe.
I jam my hand out the door and it bucks six times as I spray the room.
There's a grunt on the last shot then nothing, so I grab hold of the door jam and lean out far enough to see.
It's Jimmy Six, he musta seen me enter the alley. He's standing in the middle of the room and looking down at his bulbous chest. There's a red stain just right of center in his shirt and its growing. His face has this quizzical look on it, as if he can't quite figure out what's happening, and then he stands straight, chuckles, smiles, and raises the tommygun.
A shot sounds out and he grunts again, then half turns towards the door, and I replace my cannon with the peashooter from my jacket as another slug punches into him from behind. I'm shaky and weak. My first shot is a miss. He turns back and I let fly as fast as I can. The snap of my weapon is joined by the crack of the pistol from beyond the door and Jimmy twitches under their chorus, like a rag doll, until I go dry, yet still he's on his feet, and that stupid smile is still stretched across his pudgy face.
He takes another step and puts me in his sites, and I can almost feel the slugs ripping through me, but then one more shot sounds out from behind him and his forehead erupts into the air between us.
His eyes cross and he says something that sounds like "Humpf" and then he plants his face into the Seductress stain, and I'm looking past him at the ashen face of Officer Pitt.
"Goddamn." He mutters.
I reload, then pocket my weapons. The blinding pain my stomach has quieted down to a dull roar again.
"That who I think it is?" he asks.
I nod and wipe the blood off my chin and lips with the back of my hand, as Pitts face turns ghostly.
"Oh shit... I'm in it now..."
"I can get you out kid. You don't have to be a part of this."
"Looks a little late for that Kane."
"What the hell are you doing here anyways?"
He looks down at his pistol as if it were uncomfortably heavy in his hand, and then slides it into his holster. He turns to me and holds out one hand.
"You got something that belongs to me."
The peashooter sails through the air to land with a slap in his outstretched palm.
"Gimme a hand. Help me roll him over."
"You know I can't do that... I gotta call this in and I should probably be slapping iron on you..."
I give him a look that tells him that, that ain't gonna happen.
"Stop and think for a second Pitt. Think about your career and your wife. You just plugged Jimmy Six. You killed on of Martini's men. Your badge ain't gonna protect you from that."
"Goddamn... they said he couldn't be killed..."
"They shot him in all the wrong places is all. Help me roll him over."
Pitt gets on his knees beside me and we both grunt with the effort of flipping the big man over.
"What you gonna do Kane?"
There's something stuck to the dead man's back. It's covered in congealed blood, but a part of it glints silver. I make a motion as if steadying the body, palm it, and hope that Pitt didn't see it.
"He's full of police issue lead. They're gonna know you shot him just by looking at the holes."
I pull my Roscoe and push it against one of leaks in Jimmy's back and then pull the trigger.
"I'm gonna buy you some time. It'll take them awhile to figure out what we've done. If you're lucky, they won't cut into him and you'll be fine, either way, this is all gonna be over before it matters."
I do the same with the other leaks then push the gun against the back of Six's head and splatter the remainder of it across the room.
Pitt gags, then stands up and shakes his head.
"I ain't gonna let you take the fall for me."
"Don't flatter yourself kid. I got my own reasons. You owe me now and I'll be calling the favor in before long... now don't look at me like that. I ain't gonna dirty your hands any more than they already are. I ain't putting you on the take. I just want you to keep an eye on someone for me."
"Who?"
"Delaney."
"Why?"
"You don't need to know."
An approaching siren splits the silence of the night and I watch as fear and doubt play across Pitts face like waves in a tidal pool. This is a tough choice for him. I'm dragging him into the grey place between right and wrong and he don't like it, but I think he's beginning to understand he ain't got no choice.
"When your boys arrive, tell them Six was already dead. Tell them you found me here and I was drunk and mad-dog crazy. Tell them I came up behind you."
He opens his mouth to answer but I cut it short with a well-placed blow to the soft spot behind his ear with the butt of my gun. He goes down fast and I barely catch him in time to keep him from planting his mug in the hard floor. I set him down and pocket his badge.
The sirens are getting close so I'm outta time. I didn't get to search for clues, but I take some consolation in the fact that Martini's thugs probably messed them up when they tossed the place, and at least I got something.
The object in my hand is a broach. I'm thinking it must have been in the pool of blood before Jimmy fell into it. It's silver where it's not darkening red and it's covered in diamonds. It's intricate, expensive, and real money says it spells out the dead woman's initials.
D P
User Reviews
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-01-25 10:25:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
phenom
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2006-01-24 22:48:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:21:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
dude this series fucking rocks hard core... gangstars magic and you
say 'dame' i dig it man,
however:
"There's something disrespectful about doing it that way. It's not the way men should kill other men."
i disagree. look em in the eye and strangle 'em. though i guess i prefer knives.
y'know, get that 'fucking' feeling in while you kill em.
beautiful and intimate like.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-09 08:41:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-07 21:24:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Ahhhh I get it, it's the ole retaliatory neg 2.
I should go back and +2 your post just because your childish insult gave me the best laugh I've had in 2 days.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-07 21:22:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
AHAHAHAHAHA!
Who's alter is this I wonder?
Submitted by dooawop (user info) at 2005-12-07 21:15:07 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
You are the biggest waste of time on the internet. "OOHHH my tummy is ouchy!"
Fag.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-06 11:42:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Man I love the way you review stuff.
Here's some answers to the points you brought up... not so much to dispute them as to show where my head was at while I wrote it.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-06 07:54:05 (#)
Ranking: 1
I got confused in a couple of places, which really slowed down the story for me. First, in the alley, when he says he feels gut shot and chews on that leaf. No explanation was immediately provided, so I assumed he had been shot in the gut. But then there was nothing, so I still don't know what happened to him there. I think the problem is that the problem with his gut hasn't really been established until now, so when it flared up, I was kinda surprised. When you wrote "that feeling in my gut" I thought it was some kind of danger sense.
>>>
Kinda felt like I hade overdone the "My tummy is ouchy" thing. I figured anyone reading it would understand, but I should have made it clearer. I mentioned it on 3 occasions in the previous story and was conerned with the length of this one
>>>
In his office, when he suddenly gets sick. When you say, "all-of-the-sudden, I'm on my knees," I thought he dropped to his knees on purpose because he knew Jimmy Six was going to spray the room with gunfire. When you talk about blood and bile, I thought for a second he had been shot; I didn't know why he was bleeding. So that whole scene was hard for me to follow.
>>>
Yeah, coulda explained that better. I figured the line "as the bourbon burns its way down my throat like liquid betrayal and hits my stomach hard, and all-of-the-sudden, I'm on my knees." explained it, but I can see now it could be unclear.
>>>
Also the owing a favor thing -- seems to me that Igneous should really owe Pitt the favor for saving his life.
I think it also would have been nice for Igneous to chastise himself a little bit; for drinking bourbon when he has what seems to be the equivalent of a mystical stomach ulcer, and for manipulating Pitt, who's only crime has been to help him out and save his life. Igneous seems like the type of guy to be hard on himself for that sort of thing.
>>>
Here I don't agree. I'm not sure if you missed a story or what, but I've gone into detail concerning Pitt's stomach condition. There's nothing mystical about it. He was beat too hard by Delaney and he's bleeding internally.
As far as Pitts involvment here... as far as Kane is concerned, he was a cop doing his job. Kane has saved his career and life by taking the blame for the shooting. Half the police force is on the take from Martini and he knows that Pitt is fucked if he gets fingered for icing Jimmy Six, also he's desperate. He's running out of time. He wants his revenge and he knows he may need help to do it. He's not the kind of guy to feel bad about calling a favor if he needs it. Kane is no boyscout.
The bourbon thing is the starter for the next story. I just didn't feel like he had time for self recrimination in this one.
Once again, thanks for the review man. Very fiew comments are as valuable as the ones you leave on stories.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-06 07:54:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I got confused in a couple of places, which really slowed down the story for me. First, in the alley, when he says he feels gut shot and chews on that leaf. No explanation was immediately provided, so I assumed he had been shot in the gut. But then there was nothing, so I still don't know what happened to him there. I think the problem is that the problem with his gut hasn't really been established until now, so when it flared up, I was kinda surprised. When you wrote "that feeling in my gut" I thought it was some kind of danger sense.
In his office, when he suddenly gets sick. When you say, "all-of-the-sudden, I'm on my knees," I thought he dropped to his knees on purpose because he knew Jimmy Six was going to spray the room with gunfire. When you talk about blood and bile, I thought for a second he had been shot; I didn't know why he was bleeding. So that whole scene was hard for me to follow.
Also the owing a favor thing -- seems to me that Igneous should really owe Pitt the favor for saving his life.
I think it also would have been nice for Igneous to chastise himself a little bit; for drinking bourbon when he has what seems to be the equivalent of a mystical stomach ulcer, and for manipulating Pitt, who's only crime has been to help him out and save his life. Igneous seems like the type of guy to be hard on himself for that sort of thing.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-12-06 06:43:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Who really cares about a couple of small mistakes. One person can't possibly pick them all up. I was surprised to see the rating on this until I saw that you had an unwanted little camper.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-12-05 21:45:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
WTF? Do you actually think I should read all that?
Well, I did. Good job.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-12-05 21:34:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
We've come to expect and yes, even be amused by, the typos. It's cool- that's what editors are for.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-12-05 17:18:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Some pretty big leaps here and there, but over all I really like the style you are using with this one.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:46:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:44:13 (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool story. Even though this chapter seems a little disjointed.
================
I know what you mean... felt disjointed as I was writing it as well...
I'll make up for it with the next one.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:44:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool story. Even though this chapter seems a little disjointed.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:22:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:17:50 (#)
Ranking: -2
Well, if I won a Nobel Prize I suppose I'd just put it on the mantle...next to my Pulitzer.
======================
I'd give ya a +1 for that if I could, it made me smile.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:17:50 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Well, if I won a Nobel Prize I suppose I'd just put it on the mantle...next to my Pulitzer.
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:14:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:13:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:10:05 (#)
Ranking: -2
I've ALWAYS been low on material so that doesn't phase me, Underdog.
==============
Jesus Christ. That's from the Andy Griffith show. Fuck, I gotta learn how to speak 'Old Man', or I'm gonna miss out on all the fun.
And of course it doesn't phase you. That's the thing people like about you; the fact that someone can tear you a new one, and you still walk away with a grin on your face, like you just won the Nobel Prize. There's something to be said for that special kinda retarded denial.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:12:54 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Hadley - do you understand this symbolic finger gesture I'm making right now?
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:12:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:09:36 (#)
Ranking: 2
Mistakes can be overlooked when the story is worthwhile, man.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:10:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Some people definitely understand.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:10:05 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I've ALWAYS been low on material so that doesn't phase me, Underdog.
Submitted by OneCheapGeek (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:09:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yes yes, ignore the little men.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:09:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Mistakes can be overlooked when the story is worthwhile, man.
Ignore the bitter little men.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:08:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I never get hits. That doesn't worry me.
You're stretching with the Fife thing. Kinda low on material these days Shlongster?
Hold on a sec, ima set my secret decoder ring to washed-up and see if I can figure out who that is.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:05:04 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Based on the response here, Barney Fife, I'd say I'm not the only person ignoring you.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 15:01:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Until recently, we were doing a great job of ignoring each other's existance.
You getting hungry for attention?
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-12-05 14:57:47 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Maybe this will help get the reviews coming in.
Please bear in mind that this -2 in no way reflects that I took any time to actually read this story.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-12-05 14:34:41 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Blaringly idiotic mistakes.