19380818 14:06:16
NW-N-5210
"Speak up! Please! Start over and speak up - I need to hear you from here!"
"My name is Brittany Nielsen! I am nineteen years old! I-" Here, her voice cracked, and she needed a moment to clear her throat and recuperate before continuing. "I deserve this part because I am willing to work as long as it takes to get the part right!"
"Thank you, yes thank you. Next please."
The stage call was not going very well in the opinion of Peter Mullins. Repeatedly asking for the girls to speak up was not especially new, but usually his request only needed to be said a few times before the rest of the girls understood the point and took it upon themselves to make their voices heard. Of this particular batch, though, there wasn't anyone who he had seen that made a distinct impression on him. One girl had a decent physical figure but was short in height. Another was comparatively the same and taller, but managed to look completely emotionless as she spoke her lines out - as if there was no passion behind her eyes. From one to the next he could give a two-word summary starting with "no" that would describe the fault of each one. No legs. No breasts. No voice. No passion. No control. The only light that he saw at the end of this abysmal group was this young lady who was due to speak at this moment. She was a lithe but healthy blonde with an ample bosom and above average height. Throughout the ordeal, she had managed to keep her eyes directed forward the entire time and did not divert her attention at the other girls as they may have happened to fumble in their speeches or otherwise show signs of boredom. This changed when he just had called for the next girl to speak. Upon hearing the command, she titled her head to face Peter directly, and did so with a determined glide of the neck as opposed to a snap. She also blinked and just as gracefully opened her eyes to make them appear to focus directly upon him before she spoke. Peter sat up and took notice of Helen Allegra.
"My name is Mary Yellowstone. I am twenty one years old. I deserve this part because I have several years of experience in other amateur shows, such as Line Call and Tribute to Tabaris. I have received acclaim for my performances there and elsewhere. I can bring that same professionalism to your production."
Her voice coated the entirety of the empty hall. Peter was able to hear it reverberate behind him. She managed to do with without any apparent strain in her speaking. The acclaim which she spoke of, and that he was aware of, did seem to be justified.
"Yes, I've heard of you, Mary. What was it like growing up with the name of Yellowstone?"
"I guess people always expected me to blow my top."
Her immediate response came with a sultry smile. A few other girls standing in line with her laughed along with Peter at the delivery. He supposed that he walked right into that one, and gave her the perfect chance to recite some kind of line that she had prepared to give at some point, but he was genuinely curious as to how she lived with the name, and couldn't resist but to feel charmed by her humor and strong stage presence.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
19290117 08:38:15
19290117 08:38:15
KF-N-7313
Pulaski slowly waddled through the front living room with his body hunched inward as he wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep some head within the sweater. The lingering waddle became an expedited hobble once his feet touched the cold surface of the kitchen tile. When he made it to the table, he thrust his body down onto the chair with enough force to make it slightly skid backwards. He only allowed the tips of his heels to touch the floor as he clenched his eyes closed and strained to keep himself from shivering. Madeline came into the room behind him and was better clothed to deal with the coldness within the house - her feet had two layers of socks within the thick wool slippers, and she still had her full velvet pajama suit on underneath the outer robe. The routine started as soon as she reached the kitchen sink. Water was poured into the pot for coffee, and a pat of butter was set to melt in the black iron pan to prepare for cooking eggs. After extinguishing the match used to light the stove with a sharp puff of breath, she lazily watched the smoke curl and billow upwards, then turned to face her husband while leaning against the counter.
"Toast?"
"Mngh. Yeah. Two."
Madeline nodded and turned back to the counter to get some wheat bread from the corner shelf, pulled two pieces from the bag, and quickly spun the plastic wrap to close it. She cracked the eggs against the side of the pan, kept the yolks intact, and gave a few moments of lead time in cooking before she put another pat of butter down to prepare the frying of the toast.
"Ugh. Maddy, this year is already shaping up to be some some kind of weird shit, I can tell." After saying this, Pulaski reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table and tapped the bottom of it on the surface until a single stick protruded from the pack, which he eagerly took into his mouth and lit.
"Oh?" She kept her back turned to him and her attention on the food.
"Well I mean, it's like. I don't get what Torrence is thinking. At least as far as making me some kind of goddamned mentor to these new folks. I mean, shit, you know Ridgeland is a strange duck, yeah? Well this guy Kedzie, somehow he's even weirder. And somehow he manages to be a totally different weird. He's like, some kind of Jesus freak in a way. More like a Bible freak. I'm going to go nuts trying to do work with either of these guys."
Before responding, Madeline knelt down to view the gas flame under the pan to ensure that it was as low as possible so that the food would stay warm and not cook longer while waiting for the water to boil. Next came the preparation of the coffee in the strainer so that it could receive the water.
"Maybe it's as simple as the fact that you're the best kind of guy he's got who can handle oddballs like that."
"Phhhhhhhhew. I guess. Fuck I'm still cold. Still, though, how hard is it to get guys to work with who aren't freaks, eh? Just find more guys like me. I manage to do that just fine I think. Why's that so hard?"
"I don't know, honey. I'd guess he's got a plan of some kind worked out in his head, or at least has seen them do things that he thinks are valuable. Maybe that's all there is to it." The water just started to boil at this point. As quickly as she shut the gas off and took the pot away from the stove, she carefully guided the water trickle from the lip and ensured that there wasn't a single drop that splashed or spilled away. Madeline rubbed her hands together sporadically and looked about the room while waiting for the coffee to pour through. He sat in silence. She poured some coffee into a mug and brought it to the table, then left and returned with the food. Rather than sitting with him, she returned to the stove with the pan to prepare her own course.
Pulaski took the coffee mug first, and let a mouthful of the brew swish around in his cheeks before swallowing it down. He let out an exasperated sigh as he felt the warmth trickle over his body. This broke his silence.
"I mean, did I tell you about the other night? All I gotta say is, the guy didn't even want to drop me off in front of his place at the end of it. We're in the middle of night in fucking January and he says to stop somewhere by the prison and says that he'll walk. I mean what the fuck is that about? Isn't that the strangest shit you ever heard?"
"I can't explain that, no." Madeline laughed after saying this.
KF-N-7313
Pulaski slowly waddled through the front living room with his body hunched inward as he wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep some head within the sweater. The lingering waddle became an expedited hobble once his feet touched the cold surface of the kitchen tile. When he made it to the table, he thrust his body down onto the chair with enough force to make it slightly skid backwards. He only allowed the tips of his heels to touch the floor as he clenched his eyes closed and strained to keep himself from shivering. Madeline came into the room behind him and was better clothed to deal with the coldness within the house - her feet had two layers of socks within the thick wool slippers, and she still had her full velvet pajama suit on underneath the outer robe. The routine started as soon as she reached the kitchen sink. Water was poured into the pot for coffee, and a pat of butter was set to melt in the black iron pan to prepare for cooking eggs. After extinguishing the match used to light the stove with a sharp puff of breath, she lazily watched the smoke curl and billow upwards, then turned to face her husband while leaning against the counter.
"Toast?"
"Mngh. Yeah. Two."
Madeline nodded and turned back to the counter to get some wheat bread from the corner shelf, pulled two pieces from the bag, and quickly spun the plastic wrap to close it. She cracked the eggs against the side of the pan, kept the yolks intact, and gave a few moments of lead time in cooking before she put another pat of butter down to prepare the frying of the toast.
"Ugh. Maddy, this year is already shaping up to be some some kind of weird shit, I can tell." After saying this, Pulaski reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table and tapped the bottom of it on the surface until a single stick protruded from the pack, which he eagerly took into his mouth and lit.
"Oh?" She kept her back turned to him and her attention on the food.
"Well I mean, it's like. I don't get what Torrence is thinking. At least as far as making me some kind of goddamned mentor to these new folks. I mean, shit, you know Ridgeland is a strange duck, yeah? Well this guy Kedzie, somehow he's even weirder. And somehow he manages to be a totally different weird. He's like, some kind of Jesus freak in a way. More like a Bible freak. I'm going to go nuts trying to do work with either of these guys."
Before responding, Madeline knelt down to view the gas flame under the pan to ensure that it was as low as possible so that the food would stay warm and not cook longer while waiting for the water to boil. Next came the preparation of the coffee in the strainer so that it could receive the water.
"Maybe it's as simple as the fact that you're the best kind of guy he's got who can handle oddballs like that."
"Phhhhhhhhew. I guess. Fuck I'm still cold. Still, though, how hard is it to get guys to work with who aren't freaks, eh? Just find more guys like me. I manage to do that just fine I think. Why's that so hard?"
"I don't know, honey. I'd guess he's got a plan of some kind worked out in his head, or at least has seen them do things that he thinks are valuable. Maybe that's all there is to it." The water just started to boil at this point. As quickly as she shut the gas off and took the pot away from the stove, she carefully guided the water trickle from the lip and ensured that there wasn't a single drop that splashed or spilled away. Madeline rubbed her hands together sporadically and looked about the room while waiting for the coffee to pour through. He sat in silence. She poured some coffee into a mug and brought it to the table, then left and returned with the food. Rather than sitting with him, she returned to the stove with the pan to prepare her own course.
Pulaski took the coffee mug first, and let a mouthful of the brew swish around in his cheeks before swallowing it down. He let out an exasperated sigh as he felt the warmth trickle over his body. This broke his silence.
"I mean, did I tell you about the other night? All I gotta say is, the guy didn't even want to drop me off in front of his place at the end of it. We're in the middle of night in fucking January and he says to stop somewhere by the prison and says that he'll walk. I mean what the fuck is that about? Isn't that the strangest shit you ever heard?"
"I can't explain that, no." Madeline laughed after saying this.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
19280428 22:10:22
19280428 22:10:22
DV-N-7644
"What've I been up to? Well just yesterday, the two of us had one hell of a time with a visit closer to downtown, ain't that right?" Pulaski used the edge of his elbow to nudge Ridgeland into his body, which caused him to rock away in his seat and required him to regain his balance.
"Yeah, we had to find a way to g-"
"We go in there, see, and the bum's sittin there playin cards with his pals and all, and I can see that there's already a decent pot already built up, so they've been there for a while and were setting up for longer."
"How much do you figure was on the table then?" Dietrich always had his attention go directly to the figures of money whenever the stories hit upon the subject. It seemed like having the facts around this aspect established helped to give him some true understanding and appreciation for all of the other details.
"Maybe a couple hundred, even. I didn't get close enough to look it over, but at a glance there seemed to be a lot of bills piled up there and not too many of them being singles, no." Pulaski took a drag from the cigar and pursed his lips to exhale the white plume in a thin cone. "Shit, woulda been nice to just take that, heh, y'know?"
"Oh man, would thata been sweet, yeah! If I was you I woulda been thinkin of ways to just call that good there and swipe my arm off the table and take that all away - woop! Ha ha! Or hell, even sit down and join in and try to win it out of them. Man, a few hundred." Dietrich licked his lips and shook his head slowly. "That's a lot to be spending on cards."
"Right. So yeah we're there and this guy -", Pulaski turned his hand with the thumb extended to the side to indicate his partner, "- goes over and tells him that we're there to collect, and then the man walks right up to him and breathes down his throat and like towers over him, he was a big guy, yeah; and he tells him to fuck off. Now, at that point, I was thinking like you were, D, I was thinking to myself, 'Fuck this guy, we otta just rush him down and grab the pot and go', but instead, he keeps cool and stands there for a minute, and then finally asks if he's won enough from the cards to pay up. That sends him into a rage and his pals had to struggle to hold him down. Kid doesn't move a muscle the whole time, and stands there like a statue until he's back in the chair."
"Right, OK." Dietrich held a new cigar in his mouth and looked down at his chest, then began to pat his chest to remind himself where he kept his lighter. After two pats on his body, Ridgeland snapped his hand down upon Pulaski's lighter, which was on the table between them, and flicked the lighter away, causing it to slide across the table with just enough force to stop from falling over as it teetered on the edge. Dietrich blinked at the table and hesitantly nodded to Ridgeland before picking it up to light his cigar.
"So we're walking away and I'm waiting for him to say what we're gonna do, because I knew that wasn't the end of it. He says nothin, he walks over to the stairway mute like he is now, and I'm followin him and waiting to see what he does. He does this trick and makes some of the plumbing between the floors sound like it gets a knock."
"A trick?"
"Yeah, D, a trick."
"What kind of a trick?"
"Eh, y'know, he just knew where to give it a tap so the sound traveled. Y'know how hollow it is between floors there, sound just carries. But yeah, that's what he does, and I heard it rattling a ways away, then he says to me 'Follow my lead' and goes to the room one floor under where we just were. He knocks on the door and this old broad answers. He says that we're both plumbers and that we were sent to do the repairs on that pipe that just made that noise. She lets us in. We're in, and the first thing he does is get upon a chair and looks around the ceiling. The woman starts to look confused, probably thinking 'what's a plumber looking on the ceiling for?', and I see that and I pull her away and ask if she could possibly get some water, and let me watch how the tap pours. We get to the kitchen and that was all he needed. He puts his blade in place, pointing up at the ceiling, and then telescopes it upwards with such force that it breaks through and shoots all the way up to the next floor - right fucking underneath where the asshole was sitting. Soon as we hear commotion upstairs, we say that we couldn't find the problem in the woman's place and get out in a hurry. We got out of the place and waited around the corner for the other guys to clear out. Then, finally then, we went back upstairs and made the collection."
"Damn! Woo that's some crazy tale there, damn boys. What the hell kind of tool you got that can shoot through solid floors?"
"Oh, it's custom made." Ridgeland said this with a polite smile that he struggled to maintain throughout the embellished recanting.
DV-N-7644
"What've I been up to? Well just yesterday, the two of us had one hell of a time with a visit closer to downtown, ain't that right?" Pulaski used the edge of his elbow to nudge Ridgeland into his body, which caused him to rock away in his seat and required him to regain his balance.
"Yeah, we had to find a way to g-"
"We go in there, see, and the bum's sittin there playin cards with his pals and all, and I can see that there's already a decent pot already built up, so they've been there for a while and were setting up for longer."
"How much do you figure was on the table then?" Dietrich always had his attention go directly to the figures of money whenever the stories hit upon the subject. It seemed like having the facts around this aspect established helped to give him some true understanding and appreciation for all of the other details.
"Maybe a couple hundred, even. I didn't get close enough to look it over, but at a glance there seemed to be a lot of bills piled up there and not too many of them being singles, no." Pulaski took a drag from the cigar and pursed his lips to exhale the white plume in a thin cone. "Shit, woulda been nice to just take that, heh, y'know?"
"Oh man, would thata been sweet, yeah! If I was you I woulda been thinkin of ways to just call that good there and swipe my arm off the table and take that all away - woop! Ha ha! Or hell, even sit down and join in and try to win it out of them. Man, a few hundred." Dietrich licked his lips and shook his head slowly. "That's a lot to be spending on cards."
"Right. So yeah we're there and this guy -", Pulaski turned his hand with the thumb extended to the side to indicate his partner, "- goes over and tells him that we're there to collect, and then the man walks right up to him and breathes down his throat and like towers over him, he was a big guy, yeah; and he tells him to fuck off. Now, at that point, I was thinking like you were, D, I was thinking to myself, 'Fuck this guy, we otta just rush him down and grab the pot and go', but instead, he keeps cool and stands there for a minute, and then finally asks if he's won enough from the cards to pay up. That sends him into a rage and his pals had to struggle to hold him down. Kid doesn't move a muscle the whole time, and stands there like a statue until he's back in the chair."
"Right, OK." Dietrich held a new cigar in his mouth and looked down at his chest, then began to pat his chest to remind himself where he kept his lighter. After two pats on his body, Ridgeland snapped his hand down upon Pulaski's lighter, which was on the table between them, and flicked the lighter away, causing it to slide across the table with just enough force to stop from falling over as it teetered on the edge. Dietrich blinked at the table and hesitantly nodded to Ridgeland before picking it up to light his cigar.
"So we're walking away and I'm waiting for him to say what we're gonna do, because I knew that wasn't the end of it. He says nothin, he walks over to the stairway mute like he is now, and I'm followin him and waiting to see what he does. He does this trick and makes some of the plumbing between the floors sound like it gets a knock."
"A trick?"
"Yeah, D, a trick."
"What kind of a trick?"
"Eh, y'know, he just knew where to give it a tap so the sound traveled. Y'know how hollow it is between floors there, sound just carries. But yeah, that's what he does, and I heard it rattling a ways away, then he says to me 'Follow my lead' and goes to the room one floor under where we just were. He knocks on the door and this old broad answers. He says that we're both plumbers and that we were sent to do the repairs on that pipe that just made that noise. She lets us in. We're in, and the first thing he does is get upon a chair and looks around the ceiling. The woman starts to look confused, probably thinking 'what's a plumber looking on the ceiling for?', and I see that and I pull her away and ask if she could possibly get some water, and let me watch how the tap pours. We get to the kitchen and that was all he needed. He puts his blade in place, pointing up at the ceiling, and then telescopes it upwards with such force that it breaks through and shoots all the way up to the next floor - right fucking underneath where the asshole was sitting. Soon as we hear commotion upstairs, we say that we couldn't find the problem in the woman's place and get out in a hurry. We got out of the place and waited around the corner for the other guys to clear out. Then, finally then, we went back upstairs and made the collection."
"Damn! Woo that's some crazy tale there, damn boys. What the hell kind of tool you got that can shoot through solid floors?"
"Oh, it's custom made." Ridgeland said this with a polite smile that he struggled to maintain throughout the embellished recanting.
Friday, October 4, 2013
19280427 19:29:38
19280427 19:29:38
EA-S-1200X0415
"We were sent here to collect. You owe for two months of dealing. You're at the point now where your weekly take may not pay the juice."
"You? You two white boys were sent here to collect? Who sent you two?"
"Carbondale." Ridgeland made no hesitation in giving that answer.
"Oh, he did now, did he. The C-man himself, heh." The other four men seated at the table smirked and softly laughed with hearing that moniker. "Well uh, I apologize for saying so, Mister Stick-in-the-ass, but if that man has something he wants to discuss, he can send someone other than you pale faced faggots over here to do it. You tell him I said that." Virgil then walked over to Ridgeland so that he could stand directly before him and impose his stature. He bowed his larger body down so that his face was less than an inch apart from Ridgeland's, and his body bent over enough to compel him to tilt his neck backward. "Now get the fuck out of here."
Virgil turned his back to them and leisurely made his way back to the open seat so that he could resume the poker game with his friends. The game quickly resumed once Virgil had his cards in his hand and asked who had the bet. Ridgeland studied the room while standing silently to watch the game transpire. He turned his chin downward to look at the edge of the doorway and brought his head up to study the distance that the men's table was from the entrance. There were two windows against the wall at the opposite side of the room, and he tilted his head slightly to face each one individually, and made a triangle layout in his mind with Virgil's seat at one end and the midpoints of the windows at the others. He took a moment to finalize the plan, then suddenly spoke out.
"Do you have enough winnings there to pay for a month now?"
"I told you to get the fuck out! Get out! Now!" As Virgil darted his body upward to stand up to Ridgeland and taunt him, two of his nearby friends reached their arms out towards Virgil and begged for him to simply sit down in an attempt to tell him to calm down. Their suggestion was heeded as Ridgeland promptly left the room, then walked past Pulaski as he headed towards the stairwell.
"Who's the landlord here?" Ridgeland asked this without specifically waiting for Pulaski to walk with him, nor faced him to ask the question directly to his face.
"What? The landlord? Erm, I uh, I don't-"
"OK well who financed this building, anything." Ridgeland quickly walked down the stairs, casting a sharp echo within the stairwell as he made his descent. "Someone important backed this building, right? Wasn't Pritte one of them?"
"Oh! Yeah, I think you're right, yeah. Yeah this seems like the kind of place he'd back. Why, what's that got to do with anything?"
"You'll see."
Ridgeland came to a sudden stop when he was in between the third and second floor. He reached into the pocket within his suit coat and brought the cigar case out into the open. He held his hand level to the area that would form the floor of the third level rooms. He let the cigar case deform and melt in his hand, commanding a thin strand to extend out. The strand pierced the sidewall of the floor. Ridgeland held his stance for a few seconds, then suddenly curled his fingers upward and kneaded the remainder of metal in his hand while feeling for the tension. Once he was satisfied with the resistance in the strand, he formed a fist and sharply jerked his hand to the side of his body in three sharp tugs. A few yards away, a faintly muffled striking of metal could be heard between the floor. He released his grip on the metal line and waited for it to collect within his hand before he raced back upstairs to the third floor and proceeded to Room 315. He knocked on the door, held his hat in his hands, and made a conscious effort to put a smile on his face as he waited for someone to answer. He was relieved to see a middle aged housewife stand at the other end of the opened door.
"Hello, ma'am, sorry to bother you, but we're some maintenance men that Mr. Marcel Pritte had just hired. Did you hear that noise in the pipes right now? We're trying to fix that."
"Oh, I see! Yes, I just heard that and it scared the daylights out of me! I never heard anything like that at all!" She bore an expression of genuine shock as she pressed her fingertips against her sternum.
"Hah, I can certainly believe that, ma'am. So, yes, since it was nearby, we need to investigate - would you please allow us in for a brief moment?"
"Certainly, yes. Come in."
Upon entering the apartment, Ridgeland first cast his eyes to the ceiling within the main living room and saw that the light fixture was basically in the same spot as in the other room. The windows within the opposite wall were also in the same location. Pulaski smiled and nodded while removing his hat. The woman smiled back meekly and closed the door behind Pulaski, and became inquisitive as she looked the two men over.
"Is someone else going to bring your tools?"
"Oh, they're downstairs, ma'am, we just need to investigate first so that we know which ones to get." Pulaski said this with a glib smile, then quickly blinked to look over at Ridgeland as he stood in the center of the room and held his arm upright. He saw a metallic glint briefly shine from underneath Ridgeland's hand. Pulaski suddenly placed his arms on the woman's shoulders to draw her attention to him and turn her to face away from the center of the room. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, hah! Where are my manners? My name is Joey, what may we call you?"
"Oh I'm uh, I'm Misses Deers."
That moment was enough.
Ridgeland closed his eyes and commanded the liquid metal to shoot directly up from his hand. The spike rushed upwards and easily pierced the ceiling, but then it slowed in its push upward beyond that point. Ridgeland grasped the metal tightly in his fist as he heard the scurrying of seats and excited yelling from the floor above him. He snapped his hand back to pull the metal towards him and immediately headed for the door.
"Problem's not here after all. Thank you, ma'am." Ridgeland smiled and replaced his hat as he walked through the door.
"Well! I guess we gotta go then, heh. Uh, thank you, Miss Deers." Pulaski hastily shook her hand and ran after Ridgeland, and wasn't able to catch up until they were both at the bottom of the stairway.
EA-S-1200X0415
"We were sent here to collect. You owe for two months of dealing. You're at the point now where your weekly take may not pay the juice."
"You? You two white boys were sent here to collect? Who sent you two?"
"Carbondale." Ridgeland made no hesitation in giving that answer.
"Oh, he did now, did he. The C-man himself, heh." The other four men seated at the table smirked and softly laughed with hearing that moniker. "Well uh, I apologize for saying so, Mister Stick-in-the-ass, but if that man has something he wants to discuss, he can send someone other than you pale faced faggots over here to do it. You tell him I said that." Virgil then walked over to Ridgeland so that he could stand directly before him and impose his stature. He bowed his larger body down so that his face was less than an inch apart from Ridgeland's, and his body bent over enough to compel him to tilt his neck backward. "Now get the fuck out of here."
Virgil turned his back to them and leisurely made his way back to the open seat so that he could resume the poker game with his friends. The game quickly resumed once Virgil had his cards in his hand and asked who had the bet. Ridgeland studied the room while standing silently to watch the game transpire. He turned his chin downward to look at the edge of the doorway and brought his head up to study the distance that the men's table was from the entrance. There were two windows against the wall at the opposite side of the room, and he tilted his head slightly to face each one individually, and made a triangle layout in his mind with Virgil's seat at one end and the midpoints of the windows at the others. He took a moment to finalize the plan, then suddenly spoke out.
"Do you have enough winnings there to pay for a month now?"
"I told you to get the fuck out! Get out! Now!" As Virgil darted his body upward to stand up to Ridgeland and taunt him, two of his nearby friends reached their arms out towards Virgil and begged for him to simply sit down in an attempt to tell him to calm down. Their suggestion was heeded as Ridgeland promptly left the room, then walked past Pulaski as he headed towards the stairwell.
"Who's the landlord here?" Ridgeland asked this without specifically waiting for Pulaski to walk with him, nor faced him to ask the question directly to his face.
"What? The landlord? Erm, I uh, I don't-"
"OK well who financed this building, anything." Ridgeland quickly walked down the stairs, casting a sharp echo within the stairwell as he made his descent. "Someone important backed this building, right? Wasn't Pritte one of them?"
"Oh! Yeah, I think you're right, yeah. Yeah this seems like the kind of place he'd back. Why, what's that got to do with anything?"
"You'll see."
Ridgeland came to a sudden stop when he was in between the third and second floor. He reached into the pocket within his suit coat and brought the cigar case out into the open. He held his hand level to the area that would form the floor of the third level rooms. He let the cigar case deform and melt in his hand, commanding a thin strand to extend out. The strand pierced the sidewall of the floor. Ridgeland held his stance for a few seconds, then suddenly curled his fingers upward and kneaded the remainder of metal in his hand while feeling for the tension. Once he was satisfied with the resistance in the strand, he formed a fist and sharply jerked his hand to the side of his body in three sharp tugs. A few yards away, a faintly muffled striking of metal could be heard between the floor. He released his grip on the metal line and waited for it to collect within his hand before he raced back upstairs to the third floor and proceeded to Room 315. He knocked on the door, held his hat in his hands, and made a conscious effort to put a smile on his face as he waited for someone to answer. He was relieved to see a middle aged housewife stand at the other end of the opened door.
"Hello, ma'am, sorry to bother you, but we're some maintenance men that Mr. Marcel Pritte had just hired. Did you hear that noise in the pipes right now? We're trying to fix that."
"Oh, I see! Yes, I just heard that and it scared the daylights out of me! I never heard anything like that at all!" She bore an expression of genuine shock as she pressed her fingertips against her sternum.
"Hah, I can certainly believe that, ma'am. So, yes, since it was nearby, we need to investigate - would you please allow us in for a brief moment?"
"Certainly, yes. Come in."
Upon entering the apartment, Ridgeland first cast his eyes to the ceiling within the main living room and saw that the light fixture was basically in the same spot as in the other room. The windows within the opposite wall were also in the same location. Pulaski smiled and nodded while removing his hat. The woman smiled back meekly and closed the door behind Pulaski, and became inquisitive as she looked the two men over.
"Is someone else going to bring your tools?"
"Oh, they're downstairs, ma'am, we just need to investigate first so that we know which ones to get." Pulaski said this with a glib smile, then quickly blinked to look over at Ridgeland as he stood in the center of the room and held his arm upright. He saw a metallic glint briefly shine from underneath Ridgeland's hand. Pulaski suddenly placed his arms on the woman's shoulders to draw her attention to him and turn her to face away from the center of the room. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, hah! Where are my manners? My name is Joey, what may we call you?"
"Oh I'm uh, I'm Misses Deers."
That moment was enough.
Ridgeland closed his eyes and commanded the liquid metal to shoot directly up from his hand. The spike rushed upwards and easily pierced the ceiling, but then it slowed in its push upward beyond that point. Ridgeland grasped the metal tightly in his fist as he heard the scurrying of seats and excited yelling from the floor above him. He snapped his hand back to pull the metal towards him and immediately headed for the door.
"Problem's not here after all. Thank you, ma'am." Ridgeland smiled and replaced his hat as he walked through the door.
"Well! I guess we gotta go then, heh. Uh, thank you, Miss Deers." Pulaski hastily shook her hand and ran after Ridgeland, and wasn't able to catch up until they were both at the bottom of the stairway.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
18680711 14:55:31
18680711 14:55:31
MK-S-4798
Gloria opened the door to her son's bedroom and turned her head around its edge to look in before entering. He saw him silently sitting on the edge of his bed, with his hands folded into his lap.
"Rodney?"
"Hi Mama." He looked up to her when he responded, but his face bore no change in reaction to her walking into his room.
"Oh, honey, are you OK?" She walked briskly over to him and suddenly wrapped her arms around him and pressed his body against hers. "Your father told me about the incident you were just in. I'm just relieved to see you back safe. That's the most important thing."
"I know, I know. I'm OK Mama, really."
Gloria placed her hands on his shoulders to pull herself away from him and kept her hands there as she knelt down. She has no reason to disbelieve that he was telling the truth, that he really was fundamentally unshaken by the incident - and this realization made her feel proud, yet worried. Neither she nor Jesse were the type to be overtly emotional, and to this point she had seen no difference in this regard with her son, and she was impressed by his stoic demeanor at this point. But a question began to form in the back of her mind as she realized this, and she wondered if it was normal for a child at the age of nine to have witnessed something horrible such as that and not show signs of distress? She looked Rodney over silently, turning her head from one angle to the next to look him over for any signs of cracking in his facade, and was unable to find any such fissure points.
"Y'know I'd understand if you were scared or disturbed, I would understand if you were. You can talk to your Mama about it."
"I know." Rodney said this with a nod that could have been otherwise interpreted as cheerful. "Daddy explained it, though. It's like he said - it was them or him. They were gonna kill him, or he was gonna kill them. He had no choice. That's the only way he could have done that to stay alive. That's the only way he keep me alive. It was the only way."
"That may be so, this time. But don't forget, it's not like that every time. Most every time there's always a way where-"
"But Mama, they had guns on him and they shot the guns. They tried to kill him first. I saw it."
"Rodney, listen to me. We're talking about death, here. Death. Those folks were killed. You watched your Daddy kill a man. There's no coming back from that. Deciding to kill a man isn't something you do the same way you choose what clothes to wear in the morning. It isn't like throwing away a bent nail. We can't just go killin everyone we have a problem with. That's what I mean."
"I know, Mama, I know."
"I hope you do. I mean it. This isn't some regular thing here. Oh and that's another thing - don't go talkin about this in the wide open to anyone else. Not at school, not away from school, not here, not anywhere else. Your Daddy may have saved you, and he may have done that to save you, but that doesn't mean it's something you go around and tell everyone about, and brag to everyone about. Death isn't something to celebrate, you hear?"
"Yes'm."
"Tell me again." Gloria suddenly cupped her hand under Rodney's chin and raised his head up to compel him to look into her eyes. "Who else are you gonna talk to about what happened today?"
"N, nobody."
"That's right." She stepped away and stood upright. "Well, I believe we have some supper to eat soon. As long as you say you're feeling good, I guess that's all there is to say, and you ought to wash up and get ready then."
She bent over at the waist to kiss her son on the forehead, then turned around to leave the room. Gloria closed the door partially shut behind her, and stood at the other side of the doorway in anticipation of hearing his footsteps on the ground. After a prolonged period of silence, she stomped her foot on the wooden floor and yelled out one word.
"Now!"
Finally, she heard his footsteps creak upon the wooden floor. As Gloria walked away from the bedroom, she still ruminated over whether Rodney was acting appropriately.
MK-S-4798
Gloria opened the door to her son's bedroom and turned her head around its edge to look in before entering. He saw him silently sitting on the edge of his bed, with his hands folded into his lap.
"Rodney?"
"Hi Mama." He looked up to her when he responded, but his face bore no change in reaction to her walking into his room.
"Oh, honey, are you OK?" She walked briskly over to him and suddenly wrapped her arms around him and pressed his body against hers. "Your father told me about the incident you were just in. I'm just relieved to see you back safe. That's the most important thing."
"I know, I know. I'm OK Mama, really."
Gloria placed her hands on his shoulders to pull herself away from him and kept her hands there as she knelt down. She has no reason to disbelieve that he was telling the truth, that he really was fundamentally unshaken by the incident - and this realization made her feel proud, yet worried. Neither she nor Jesse were the type to be overtly emotional, and to this point she had seen no difference in this regard with her son, and she was impressed by his stoic demeanor at this point. But a question began to form in the back of her mind as she realized this, and she wondered if it was normal for a child at the age of nine to have witnessed something horrible such as that and not show signs of distress? She looked Rodney over silently, turning her head from one angle to the next to look him over for any signs of cracking in his facade, and was unable to find any such fissure points.
"Y'know I'd understand if you were scared or disturbed, I would understand if you were. You can talk to your Mama about it."
"I know." Rodney said this with a nod that could have been otherwise interpreted as cheerful. "Daddy explained it, though. It's like he said - it was them or him. They were gonna kill him, or he was gonna kill them. He had no choice. That's the only way he could have done that to stay alive. That's the only way he keep me alive. It was the only way."
"That may be so, this time. But don't forget, it's not like that every time. Most every time there's always a way where-"
"But Mama, they had guns on him and they shot the guns. They tried to kill him first. I saw it."
"Rodney, listen to me. We're talking about death, here. Death. Those folks were killed. You watched your Daddy kill a man. There's no coming back from that. Deciding to kill a man isn't something you do the same way you choose what clothes to wear in the morning. It isn't like throwing away a bent nail. We can't just go killin everyone we have a problem with. That's what I mean."
"I know, Mama, I know."
"I hope you do. I mean it. This isn't some regular thing here. Oh and that's another thing - don't go talkin about this in the wide open to anyone else. Not at school, not away from school, not here, not anywhere else. Your Daddy may have saved you, and he may have done that to save you, but that doesn't mean it's something you go around and tell everyone about, and brag to everyone about. Death isn't something to celebrate, you hear?"
"Yes'm."
"Tell me again." Gloria suddenly cupped her hand under Rodney's chin and raised his head up to compel him to look into her eyes. "Who else are you gonna talk to about what happened today?"
"N, nobody."
"That's right." She stepped away and stood upright. "Well, I believe we have some supper to eat soon. As long as you say you're feeling good, I guess that's all there is to say, and you ought to wash up and get ready then."
She bent over at the waist to kiss her son on the forehead, then turned around to leave the room. Gloria closed the door partially shut behind her, and stood at the other side of the doorway in anticipation of hearing his footsteps on the ground. After a prolonged period of silence, she stomped her foot on the wooden floor and yelled out one word.
"Now!"
Finally, she heard his footsteps creak upon the wooden floor. As Gloria walked away from the bedroom, she still ruminated over whether Rodney was acting appropriately.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
18680711 13:20:18 continued
18680711 13:20:18
TA x 16 S
Cook watched the leader of the three men in front of him draw his pistol in position first. The two men who flanked him seemed to motion to do the same, but did so later, so Cook knew that his priority was on the man in the center. He fulfilled his promise and shot his gun at Cook without issuing another word of warning. When he pulled the trigger, Cook steadied his feet on the ground and turned his hand slightly to its side as he thrust the sword in a circular motion in front of him. In that instant, the sword appeared to create a shadow of its motion in mid air as a thin screen of the metal spread from the blade, and the bullet from the gun reached the screen and shattered in metallic fragments. The shooter let a trail of tobacco juice slowly dribble from the side of his mouth as he saw the bullet get deflected away and leave Cook unharmed. Cook knew Massac was at his right, and the two understood what to do next; the men pivoted away from each other and lunged their swords at the direction of the men on the sides of the leader. The inertia of the motion seemed to compel the metal in the blades to shoot forth from their tips, and the swords shot forth in length. Before the two men could fire their weapons, the tips of the swords had each pierced through each of their necks, which caused each to drop their pistols without having a chance to fire them. Massac braced his left hand under his right to thrust his sword upward, causing the sword to slice through the top of his target's head; Cook braced his hand in a similar manner but used the force to swing sideways, causing the impaled neck to be slashed in half and for the sword to race towards the leader. Before he could turn his head to see it, Cook's sword penetrated the leader at the shoulder with enough force to cleanly cut his right arm off and follow through to exit at the left side of his collar bone. Cook's first victim had his head fold over the side of his body, and the lack of balance and consciousness caused him to fall to the ground instantly and leave a trail of blood smear upon the horse's body. The fragment of the leader's torso fell forward and landed on the ground before the rest of his body reached the surface. Massac's target sat upright and stunned for a moment before the man fell forward and remained slouched over his horse.
Cook turned around before the leader's body finished falling to the ground and ran towards Rodney. The rider at the rear of the carriage behind Rodney was only capable of staring at Cook with eyes bulging from his head and his breath labored.
"You want it next?" Cook screamed the question at the rider as he put his arm around his son's shoulder to pull their bodies closer together. The rider remained standing still, except to silently shake his head. "Well gwan git then! Get the hell out of my home! I'll kill you next time! Go!"
The man did not hesitate to turn his horse around and race off away from the scene. Cook kept his gaze upon the man and watched him ride off until he noticed that Rodney was whimpering and weeping as he was being held against his body. Cook snapped his sword back into the chain length and motioned his arm around to use the centripetal force to wrap it around his body. He then knelt on both knees to face his son more directly.
"OK now look. Look at me. It's OK now, look at me." Rodney sniffled loudly as he looked up and felt his tears drip over the sides of his face. Cook rested both of his hands on the child's shoulders before speaking again. "This is the truth, here. This is the truth. There are some folks out there who want me dead, you see? You saw those guns. You heard them. They wanted to shoot me dead. It was them or me."
"But, ... but why kill you? What did you do? What did you do to them?"
"Uh, well, without knowing who they are, I don't know for sure. It might be a few different things."
"Like what?"
"That don't matter right now. Right now, what you need to understand is that I got to do things like that to keep me and you alive. If they don't die, I die. We die. That's what you need to know from this. Now, we gotta do some clean up here before we can get back goin home. You gotta stay out here where we can see you while we do that, OK? Stay right by us."
"Urm, can't I just go sit in the wagon-"
"No! What just happened out here, boy? Pay attention! That wagon gets jumped again while we're taking care of things, then what? We might not be so lucky next time. No, you just hush and stay with me."
"Yes, Daddy." From this point on, Rodney obeyed his father's order without another word of protest, but kept his eyes to the ground and away from any pools of blood as best as he could. Massac and Cook approached the bodies and pulled the bandannas away on the men to get a closer look.
"Anyone you recognize? I don't." Cook took one of the fallen men up by his armpits and dragged him to the side of the road as he asked.
"Nope, nobody. That much is a relief." Massac let the body he was holding fall to the ground and ran to the body that Cook was dragging to help lift it by its feet. The two mean used the same teamwork to move the two other bodies, then Massac tended to the horse left behind to get it tethered to the carriage. Luckily, the animal was braced and ready to go with no difficulty and within a short span of time.
Nobody said another word for the rest of the ride home. By the time he entered the carriage, Rodney was able to regain his composure and stopped crying.
TA x 16 S
Cook watched the leader of the three men in front of him draw his pistol in position first. The two men who flanked him seemed to motion to do the same, but did so later, so Cook knew that his priority was on the man in the center. He fulfilled his promise and shot his gun at Cook without issuing another word of warning. When he pulled the trigger, Cook steadied his feet on the ground and turned his hand slightly to its side as he thrust the sword in a circular motion in front of him. In that instant, the sword appeared to create a shadow of its motion in mid air as a thin screen of the metal spread from the blade, and the bullet from the gun reached the screen and shattered in metallic fragments. The shooter let a trail of tobacco juice slowly dribble from the side of his mouth as he saw the bullet get deflected away and leave Cook unharmed. Cook knew Massac was at his right, and the two understood what to do next; the men pivoted away from each other and lunged their swords at the direction of the men on the sides of the leader. The inertia of the motion seemed to compel the metal in the blades to shoot forth from their tips, and the swords shot forth in length. Before the two men could fire their weapons, the tips of the swords had each pierced through each of their necks, which caused each to drop their pistols without having a chance to fire them. Massac braced his left hand under his right to thrust his sword upward, causing the sword to slice through the top of his target's head; Cook braced his hand in a similar manner but used the force to swing sideways, causing the impaled neck to be slashed in half and for the sword to race towards the leader. Before he could turn his head to see it, Cook's sword penetrated the leader at the shoulder with enough force to cleanly cut his right arm off and follow through to exit at the left side of his collar bone. Cook's first victim had his head fold over the side of his body, and the lack of balance and consciousness caused him to fall to the ground instantly and leave a trail of blood smear upon the horse's body. The fragment of the leader's torso fell forward and landed on the ground before the rest of his body reached the surface. Massac's target sat upright and stunned for a moment before the man fell forward and remained slouched over his horse.
Cook turned around before the leader's body finished falling to the ground and ran towards Rodney. The rider at the rear of the carriage behind Rodney was only capable of staring at Cook with eyes bulging from his head and his breath labored.
"You want it next?" Cook screamed the question at the rider as he put his arm around his son's shoulder to pull their bodies closer together. The rider remained standing still, except to silently shake his head. "Well gwan git then! Get the hell out of my home! I'll kill you next time! Go!"
The man did not hesitate to turn his horse around and race off away from the scene. Cook kept his gaze upon the man and watched him ride off until he noticed that Rodney was whimpering and weeping as he was being held against his body. Cook snapped his sword back into the chain length and motioned his arm around to use the centripetal force to wrap it around his body. He then knelt on both knees to face his son more directly.
"OK now look. Look at me. It's OK now, look at me." Rodney sniffled loudly as he looked up and felt his tears drip over the sides of his face. Cook rested both of his hands on the child's shoulders before speaking again. "This is the truth, here. This is the truth. There are some folks out there who want me dead, you see? You saw those guns. You heard them. They wanted to shoot me dead. It was them or me."
"But, ... but why kill you? What did you do? What did you do to them?"
"Uh, well, without knowing who they are, I don't know for sure. It might be a few different things."
"Like what?"
"That don't matter right now. Right now, what you need to understand is that I got to do things like that to keep me and you alive. If they don't die, I die. We die. That's what you need to know from this. Now, we gotta do some clean up here before we can get back goin home. You gotta stay out here where we can see you while we do that, OK? Stay right by us."
"Urm, can't I just go sit in the wagon-"
"No! What just happened out here, boy? Pay attention! That wagon gets jumped again while we're taking care of things, then what? We might not be so lucky next time. No, you just hush and stay with me."
"Yes, Daddy." From this point on, Rodney obeyed his father's order without another word of protest, but kept his eyes to the ground and away from any pools of blood as best as he could. Massac and Cook approached the bodies and pulled the bandannas away on the men to get a closer look.
"Anyone you recognize? I don't." Cook took one of the fallen men up by his armpits and dragged him to the side of the road as he asked.
"Nope, nobody. That much is a relief." Massac let the body he was holding fall to the ground and ran to the body that Cook was dragging to help lift it by its feet. The two mean used the same teamwork to move the two other bodies, then Massac tended to the horse left behind to get it tethered to the carriage. Luckily, the animal was braced and ready to go with no difficulty and within a short span of time.
Nobody said another word for the rest of the ride home. By the time he entered the carriage, Rodney was able to regain his composure and stopped crying.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
18680711 13:20:18
18680711 13:20:18
TA x 16 S
Everything came to a sudden standstill when the gunshot ripped through the air and left a reverberating echo cascade over the road and houses nearby. Massac snapped the horses reins to his chest to immediately bring the carriage to a halt, then quickly stepped down away from the driver's seat to stand by the carriage door. He kept his back against the door and stood at attention with his hand at the side of his hips. Cook looked through the windows to see two horses rush past them, one from each side. They were being surrounded. Rodney looked up at him in total shock with white eyes widened and protruding. Cook took a sharp breath in and out through his nose, then leaned forward to place his hand on the doorway so that he could exit the carriage.
"We're being surrounded. C'mon out boy, no safe for you in here with guns out there."
"Guns? But Daddy, I-"
"Shut up and c'mon. Do exactly as I say. This ain't no game." Cook grabbed his son by the arm and applied enough strength to lift him out of his seat as they both got out of the carriage.
"Leave the kid inside!" The command came from one of the riders who stood to their right and was flanked by two other men on horses. They all had pistols in their hand, but the man in the middle had one trained in their direction. "He shouldn't have to watch you two die. Send him back in!" The man's voice was deliberately strained to sound unnatural, with the vowel and ending syllables being stretched out and grated over his vocal chords. This led Cook to believe that the man was concealing his identity, but he didn't recognize who the person was based on his other physical characteristics.
"No, I don't trust you. He sits inside, you'll miss and hit him first before one of us. He stays with us."
"Oh, you question my aim, do you? Very well!" The leader instantly flicked his wrist to turn it to the side and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the horse's skull, cleanly between its eyes. The horse fell to the ground as if gravity had suddenly crushed it from above. Rodney gasped at the attack and suddenly felt the air escape his chest and his eyes well up with tears. He was about to yell out when he suddenly felt his father's hand cover his mouth. Rodney forced himself to swallow the air he was about to scream out in order to keep himself quiet. Cook stepped away from his son and activated the chain around his waist, and Massac did the same when he heard the metal transforming at his side. Within one second, both men stood with their swords pointed straight up from their hands and the edge steadied between their eyes. Cook silently walked towards the leader in a deliberate pace. The man lost the grin that was on his face from shooting the horse and scowled at their advance as he brandished the pistol towards them.
"One more step and we shoot! One more fucking-"
Cook continued to walk forward without making any kind of reaction or response to the ultimatum.
TA x 16 S
Everything came to a sudden standstill when the gunshot ripped through the air and left a reverberating echo cascade over the road and houses nearby. Massac snapped the horses reins to his chest to immediately bring the carriage to a halt, then quickly stepped down away from the driver's seat to stand by the carriage door. He kept his back against the door and stood at attention with his hand at the side of his hips. Cook looked through the windows to see two horses rush past them, one from each side. They were being surrounded. Rodney looked up at him in total shock with white eyes widened and protruding. Cook took a sharp breath in and out through his nose, then leaned forward to place his hand on the doorway so that he could exit the carriage.
"We're being surrounded. C'mon out boy, no safe for you in here with guns out there."
"Guns? But Daddy, I-"
"Shut up and c'mon. Do exactly as I say. This ain't no game." Cook grabbed his son by the arm and applied enough strength to lift him out of his seat as they both got out of the carriage.
"Leave the kid inside!" The command came from one of the riders who stood to their right and was flanked by two other men on horses. They all had pistols in their hand, but the man in the middle had one trained in their direction. "He shouldn't have to watch you two die. Send him back in!" The man's voice was deliberately strained to sound unnatural, with the vowel and ending syllables being stretched out and grated over his vocal chords. This led Cook to believe that the man was concealing his identity, but he didn't recognize who the person was based on his other physical characteristics.
"No, I don't trust you. He sits inside, you'll miss and hit him first before one of us. He stays with us."
"Oh, you question my aim, do you? Very well!" The leader instantly flicked his wrist to turn it to the side and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the horse's skull, cleanly between its eyes. The horse fell to the ground as if gravity had suddenly crushed it from above. Rodney gasped at the attack and suddenly felt the air escape his chest and his eyes well up with tears. He was about to yell out when he suddenly felt his father's hand cover his mouth. Rodney forced himself to swallow the air he was about to scream out in order to keep himself quiet. Cook stepped away from his son and activated the chain around his waist, and Massac did the same when he heard the metal transforming at his side. Within one second, both men stood with their swords pointed straight up from their hands and the edge steadied between their eyes. Cook silently walked towards the leader in a deliberate pace. The man lost the grin that was on his face from shooting the horse and scowled at their advance as he brandished the pistol towards them.
"One more step and we shoot! One more fucking-"
Cook continued to walk forward without making any kind of reaction or response to the ultimatum.
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