* CHUD Mafia RPG - Chapter 6 - Page 2

Administration

Roman pulls his Glock and aims it Forbes.

"Calm yourself. This is not the way we do business." Roman turns to Avery. "I believe my associate has endured some trauma at the hands of our mutual adversary. My sincere apologies at this display..." through gritted teeth, "...in public, no less."

Administration

"Idiot."

He decides it's time to make his appearance. He comes out of the back door of the van and strides across the street like a vengeful African god. Both hands are deep in his duster pockets.

Administration
Empty Playing Field

Othello stops, twice, just to play with the goons.

The Stakeout
In the car

The eerie silence starts to grate on Virgil's nerves. He makes an attempt at starting small talk.

"So, Frank, tell me, what happened exactly at the warehouse? I know you've been wounded but I'd like to hear details."

the stakeout

Frank begins to unbutton his shirt. He opens it up to reveal the scar that the Triad sword made.

'One triad plus my stupidity equals one big scar, kid.'

The Stakeout
In the car

Virgil whistles at the sight of Frank's impressive scar.

"Triads uh? Shit, he must have used a meat grinder to do a wound that big." His fingers touch the left side of his face. "Motherfucking hero cop is what fucked up the pretty face. Looks like we're brother in scars. Let's try and do this job right so we don't end up uglier than we already are."

Moments later, the car comes to a halt in front of the bank. The three men jump out and stride toward the entrance.

Adminstration

McCready slides the weapon back into its holster, grimacing.

"Fuck you, Avery, and fuck your penance. It's only out of fuckin' respect and fear for my colleague Roman here that I'm not unloading into your fuckin' buddy here. Now...tell us about this Asian cunt. More importantly, tell me . Now."

Paulie spreads his arms wide.

"Hey, there you are!" he says with a broad grin. "We been hearin' about this fantastic sausage Big Sal serves up, figured we come down, pick up a few pounds, grill out this weekend."

He's walking around now, pacing in front of the meat counter.

"And the veal cutlets here, they're supposed to be fuckin' fantastic!"

He strolls calmly back towards where the presumed Big Sal is standing, crowbar at the ready.

"And the pork chops! They're lean, tasty --"

With a flash, Paulie's .45s are in his hands and pointing right into the big meat cutter's chest.

"-- and unbelievably light. Kinda like some other things around here, ain't they?"

Questioning

Dino looks at his stained silk shirt and literally sees red. The motherfucker ain't gonna budge. He hears Bruno chuckles in the background and he starts to lose his cool.

Dino dips his right forefinger on the blood in his shirt. He attempts to do some fancy psychological tactics by licking the blood from his finger.

The mooks laughs.

"What's fucking funny, motherfuck?"

The Chinaman continues to laugh and says, "V.D."

"Say what?"

"I fucked hos with V.D., you fat fuck!" the chink explains.

Bruno chuckles some more while Dino spits out the blood from his mouth.

The Chinaman continues to laugh, taunting Dino's stupidity.

Dino gets closer to the hyena that he can feel the mocking Chink's breath on his face. "Listen to me, pun--"

The mook lands a swift left kick on Dino's nuts. Dino collapses on top of the Chinaman while the chink takes a big bite of Dino's greasy hair.

Dino struggles like a bear stuck in a trap. He pulls himself quickly and hears the sound of his hair ripping apart from his scalp.

Dino stares at the laughing Chinaman with pieces of his hair in his mouth.

Bruno laughs maniacally as Dino starts to feel trapped in a small dark room. He's back there. Back to the place where he had pissed and shat on himself. The place where he was tortured and ridiculed.

In that swift moment, he lands Mister King on the mook's nose. There is a loud cracking sound and a reverberating thud as the Chinaman lands backwards to the floor.

Administration

"Mr. Avery, you're a busy man and I don't wish to keep you any longer than necessary. It appears our ships will sail in the same direction." Roman offers his hand in closing.

the stakeout

Frank splits from the pack and walks to a small counter, where a pretty little bank clerk is arranging leaflets. He chats idly to her, and as she smiles and laughs, his eyes waver from her to her surroundings, subtly checking the room out in full.

Administration

"Mr. Avery, if I may say so, it was a distinct pleasure working for you. You handled all of your dealings with me in an honorable fashion. A pity the same can not be said of some of the cowardly, short-sighted men in your employ. If you ever need someone with a real eye for talent and not the mooks you usually rent, give me a call."

He extends a card to the man. One of Avery's guards reaches out to take it and Othello grips his arm above the elbow and squeezes. The man turns pale as all feeling leaves his forearm. Othello releases and continues holding the business card out to his former employer.

His head swivels towards the rent-a-thug. "Thank you for making my point for me."

Looking back at Steadman, he says "I hope future dealings between you and my present employer will be as profitable and enjoyable for us all."

Administration

"Othello, would you mind seeing Mr. Tivoli safely back to the compound? And I appreciate the save."

Roman turns to Forbes. "I know you want Linh Lao. We all do. And we will get her. I need you to reign it in. Your skills are without measure...but the only way they will be effective is through cold, calculating, and precise planning."

Roman walks back to the vehicle and head sback to the mansion to catch up with Dino. Inside the car he calls Bruno to inquire about their progress.

Administration

First Othello takes care of Tivoli's leg irons. "I doubt you're going anywhere."

He helps the man toward the van. "Why do these people want you so bad? I don't buy Avery's line that you aren't valuable. I might be able to swing saving your hide if it's worth saving."

He gets him buckled in and go around and starts the van.

the stakeout

'No, not at the moment. But I might be interested in, uh, opening one up.'

Administration

McCready smiled as he lit a fresh cigarette. Roman was finally remembering where he came from. It was time to go to work.

Administration

The short stop knocked out Othello's breat but not his wits. He snapped off his belt and hit the latch on Tivoli's.

"Get in the back and stay down!!"

He snatched the shotgun from its clip. He racked a shell in place and scanned the area.

[edited for typos)

Administration

Othello rolls to the back of the van and hands him a card. "Go to this address. You got lost in the scuffle. Unless you wanna die sooner rather than later."

He kicks open the back doors and grabs the briefcase. He plants his feet firmly and tosses the briefcase in an arc over the van towards the sound of gunfire. Looking through the windshield he watches for the case to reach the optimum distance, drops to both knees, and hits the detonator.

the stakeout

'I didn't mean to offend you. I'm not too good when talking to chi-women.'

As he attempts to speak to her again, Frank watches the guard standing at the edge of the door nearby.

Administration

The sound of an explosion is like music and smoke like perfume to the man. He hopes Tivoli will be good to his word but doesn't suppose it matters much. The twelve-gague is secured to the loops inside his coat and he makes sure the .45 is still in the holster. His long legs start moving towards downtown. No cabs around here would likely pick him up. He flicks open his cell phome and dials Roman.

the stakeout

Frank begins to turn away, his ploy not working, but not worrying him. He walks past Herman, and near the guard, moving around like a shark near a cage.

Administration

Roman's phone rings, the lighted display reading "OR". Roman answers...

"Yes?"

"Problems boss. Problem one, the Tri's tried to jack me. Problem two, the package is loose. Problem three, I have no van no more."

Administration

Roman slams on the brakes pulling the wheel hard right. The black BMW squeals as it 180's. Two cars in on-coming traffic stop inches from the passenger side. Roman stabs the accelerator and the car immediately responds with a slight purr from the engine.

"We're on our way." Roman tosses the phone into Forbes lap and uses both hands to spin the car around corners. From 2 blocks away roman and Forbes can see a tell-tale column of black smoke rising from near the park.

Administration

Othello waits on a corner and sees Roman's car coming at an alarming clip. When the beemer stops Othello climbs in.

Administration

"Which way did the little guy go, big man?" Forbes growls as he checks his pistol.

Administration

"How exactly did Tivoli get away?"

"I took him out of the van with me to keep him safe. When the briefcase went up, he got away. I lost him while I was ducking from pieces of flying van.

Administration

"Where might he have gone? North, south, east, or west....if it's east, we're going to have a fuckin' problem. I ain't goin East unless you blokes are fuckin' ready for blood. Buckets of it. Fuckin' buckets."

PROTECTION

Paulie grins, completely without humor. "Looks like you and me get some quality time."

He puts one of his .45s away, keeping the other trained square at Sal's head, he grabs the stack of receipts. He pulls them off the metal spike and looks at the first one.

"Now this is the saddest thing I've read since I read the back of the box for Old Yeller," Paulie says, shaking his head. "Gimme a hand."

"With what?" Sal asks hesitantly.

Paulie moves his gun closer. "Put one of your fuckin' hands on the counter, numbnuts!" Sal jumps, then slaps a meaty hand down on the countertop, the crowbar rattling to the floor. His eyes never move from the barrel threatening to core his face.

"Now we're gonna take a little stroll down memory lane," Paulie says, "starting with this little piece of news right here." He tosses the first receipt in Sal's face. Then he picks up the metal spike and slams it point-first into the counter, right between two of Sal's splayed fingers. Sal jerks his hand back instinctively, and Paulie belts him across the face with his pistol. "Move it again, asswipe, and I'll use this like it's supposed to be used!" Sal's hand goes back on the counter, trembling. Paulie calmly puts down the spike and picks up the next receipt.

"And this, oh, who can forget this day?" he says, crumpling it and throwing it at the terrified butcher. He grabs the spike and again stabs the counter, again barely missing two of Sal's fingers. There's a twitch, but the hand doesn't move. Sal's eyes are starting to tear up.

Twelve receipts later, and Sal is barely able to control his blubbering, and 14 pinpoints surround his sweating fingers. Paulie holds up the last receipt for what seems like eternity.

"And ain't this one here just a fuckin' heartbreaker?" he tsks. He picks up the metal spike and hefts it, almost like a pitcher looking for a sign from his catcher. Sal's eyes watch it dance in Paulie's grasp. "That's a real tale of misery and woe there, Sal. Problem is, we don't give a flyin' fuck if the combined Heavenly host came down and emptied your register. We set an amount, you pay. Simple enough even for a dumb sack of shit like you to understand." He slowly lowers the gun, smiling all the while. "Now hopefully this is the last time we have this conversation. Hopefully I don't need to bring this down here again," he says, gesturing to the gun. He grins, and it's the wolf and the sheep.

"And hopefully I've made my point."

And he drives the metal spike right through Sal's hand into the countertop.