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09-10-2012, 07:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-01-2022, 01:01 AM by Fearless Community.
Edit Reason: Fixed Encoding
)
Greetings fellow community members, do you remember the two weeks in the summer holiday where I was missing? I was in Croatia and due to the fact that I was feeling creative one day I sat down with my laptop and began writing a story. Originally it was just going to be a story about a mafia family but I began thinking of the coreleone and thought: What the hell, lets make it about FL. The story grew and I began adding names and places from the server, this is the final result. I would like to apologies beforehand for any mistakes I have made in the story.
Chapter 1
It was a dark evening and the rain was drumming against the window of the great mansion, a single source of light could faintly be seen inside the room. A lit cigar, James Blake was sitting by the window and starring at the road. He was dressed in a long black trench coat and had a hat planted on top of his head. Underneath the trench coat he had a vest made of the same material as the coat. He enjoyed the pleasant smell of tobacco and slowly patted his left side to assure himself that his piece was still there. It was. He heard the sound of metal grinding against metal from the kitchen downstairs and decided that probably meant dinner was ready. He lazily rose from the chair and walked to the door. Stopping halfway there he turned around and put out the cigar on the ashtray. Then he checked his clothes making sure not a single spot was to be found and left the room.
James was tall and slender some would even say unnaturally so, he had little to no facial hair and always looked gravely serious. He had developed a few paranoid habits through his years of work and always had a Browning Automatic Pistol hidden underneath his coat, he kept sure it was prepared to be used at any moment and dis- and reassembled it often to make sure no parts of it was broken. Blake had always been a little strange but it had been getting worse through the years or that was at least what people around him kept telling him, again and again. He had always doubted them, James knew he was more than sane; he knew he was one of the only sane persons left in this crazy world. Always wearing something the youth of today would consider old fashioned but he himself thought was stylish and who really cared what the youth thought about clothes anyway.
The old wooden stairs squeaked as he made his way down to the kitchen. The room was as dark as the night outside so he had to use his hands to feel his way to the door handle. He opened the door and was met by the light of a few candles. He entered the room and saw the silhouette of 3 persons sitting at a worn-out table with plates and cutlery in front of them. James gave them a nod as a greeting and pulled a chair back from the table and sat down. A yelp of pain startled him and he looked back. She was standing at the gas-powered stove and was dealing with a large number of simmering pans filled with a huge amount of different courses. She must have burned her hand on the stove or one of the pans. Isabella Blake had always enjoyed cooking.
It had come naturally for as a child as her mother had taught it to her back in the old country. That was the only part where Isabella was considered a normal Italian woman. The freedom she got when they moved to America had changed her. A lot.
She was no longer the innocent little blond haired girl that kept following her brother but had become an independent young woman with everything that follows. She began going to clubs and meeting up with American men, she stooped cleaning and even stooped nursing her own brother when he was sick. In Italy that would have been considered a disgrace but here in the states that was apparently what women did. James found himself wishing they had stayed put in Italy.
The person on the left side of James coughed and James came back to the present, he knew they had serious matters at hand that would require his full attention. He turned his head and looked at each and everybody at the table. There was Pete, William and Liberio. Pete “The Grub” Marston was a short man with glasses that dominated his entire face. He had only been a part of the family for a few months and was the newest brother among them. He was Italian like the rest of them but had been born in America and thus lacked some of the manners the rest of them had earned through a strict upbringing. He made up for that through with an incredible knowledge of explosives and firearms. Libero, a burly youngster with a baby face was the muscles of the family. Always had a smart remark ready to every situation and if that failed he was always able to fight his way out of any crowd. And then we had William, he had always been the oddball of the family, he could always be seen with a cigarette in his mouth and a knife in his hands. He was one of those persons you would forget the face of when you’re looking at it. Always able to hide in the shadows and stay quiet. He was jokingly called a ninja behind his back. No one would dear to do it face to face, god know what he would do with that knife if you did.
Pete slammed his fist down on the table “Why isn’t he here?” He stood and went over to the window facing the entrance. James went over to him and clapped him on the shoulder “ Don’t worry, he will come. He won’t miss his hour of glory” James smiled and returned to his spot at the table while Pete kept looking out on the road. It seemed so endless. The mansion had been the family’s property for over a few years but they had only just recently moved their operations here. It was from the civil war and it hadn’t been used for more than a decade when the family bought it. They have had several craftsmen working on modernizing the entire property and adding running water. Each family member had his or her own room with a simple and very scarce amount of furniture.
William was cleaning his nails with his usual knife, slowly and carefully to avoid cutting himself. Suddenly Isabella placed a few pots on the table. Pete came back to the table and reached for a sausage. Isabella hit his hand as he began lifting the lid off the pot. His body shock with surprise as he withdraws his hand with a scornful expression. “Jesus, I was just taking a little appetite. Don’t go out of your good skin because of it”. Isabella let out a chuckle “You will have to wait until our Father arrives”. One of the candles on the table flickered as they all sat there in silence, James began fiddling with another cigar and wondered if he had time to smoke another one before Father arrived. He never got time to think the consideration through because in the very same moment a light shone though the window and a car drove into the entrance. Everybody at the table jumped up and ran to the window to make sure it was him.
They all sighed in relive; it was Father’s usual car. He shut the door and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked with a pair of keys. They rushed back to the table and tried to look as casual as possible, Isabella returned to her pots and pans. The door was opened and Father entered the hall. He saw the light in the kitchen and followed them. Everybody in the room turned their head and James even stood up in respect of the man. Not that the man looked like a person deserving of the respect. He had an average height and no impressive physical features, his hair was greying and he his skin sickly white. He looked far older than he really was because of the burden of aging. But few knew that he had nearly as much physical endurance as somebody half his age. Tommy 'The Titan' Vittorio was indeed worthy of respect. He had been a priest back in Italy but had been chased away from the village he had lived in because of some plot against his person. Father lost everything, his family and his property. He had moved to America because of the promise of liberty and change. Tommy had gathered his loyal men and had boarded the ship to freedom and money beyond his wildest dreams. All he found in this forsaken country was hatred and corruption. It is said that America gave him a depression. He saw police officers attacking citizens in the street, he saw men selling drugs to children near the school and it drove him into a world of dread. He made those around him call him by the name of Father, perhaps to remember a world that had once been sweet and innocent and had taken a terrible turn.
He made a pact with those loyal to him, he wanted to regain order and rebuild order and peace in this country. Rebuild America in his picture and as it seemed the democratic system had failed then it would have to go as well. There would only be one leader, the beloved Father. It was necessary in his eyes, to rebuild our society and remove the root of corruption: Greed. Father slowly went to the end of the table and took a seat. Isabella took his plate and began taking food from the different pans. When the plate was filled she poured him a glass of wine. He leaned forward and folded his hands and closed his eyes in a silent prayer. The rest of the table joined him in his prayer for god. While the men were praying Isabella poured food up for them and when they opened their eyes they could begin their feast. They all remained silent as they enjoyed their dinner. James was slowly cutting a large beef into smaller pieces and found them tasteless and added a little salt.
“Gentlemen, ladies, my children” James looked up at Father that had begun addressing everyone in the room “Tonight our labour will bear fruit and as I got the full trust in the lord I am sure our plan not will lead us to failure”. He had a theatrical pause “But there is a few complications with it, our normal supplier of firearms have been rendered unable to smuggle his weapons here. The police took him in a night raid. We will have to use a local supplier instead, I have already made contact with a person that have been recommended to me”. He pointed at his glass and Isabella came over with another flask of wine, she filled each cup and took one for herself. Father raised his glass for a toast and so did the rest of them. The wine was sweet and made James slightly dizzy. They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. Preparing themselves for tomorrow and the start of a new world. When they had finished their meal they each moved their separate rooms. James began reading one of his old books from the old country. He sat at the window and had a gas lamp as his only reading light. He flicked out his Zippo lighter and lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair and enjoyed his evening. Little knowing that he was being watched.
Officer Antony 'Equal' Catalano’s leg muscles were getting tired, he had been sitting outside this damn mansion for three hours now and he was wet and cold. He weren’t even allowed to light a damn cigarette and he nearly found himself wishing he was the fool sitting up there with all the luxuries. “Oh well, duty is duty” he thought and looked at his watch. His shift was nearly over and the next unlucky officer would relive him soon. The police had known of the Family for months and had been watching them closely for a few weeks. First unofficially with a few officers and later officially as the police commander and the major had given permission for a full-scale surveillance. Antony knew something big was going to happen and whatever it was it wouldn’t be peaceful. His mobile vibrated and he checked it, his watch was over. He slowly backed away from the bush he had been hiding in and sneaked away. When he turned the first corner he took out his a cigarette and inhaled deeply savouring the bitter taste. He looked back at the old mansion and shook his head. It wouldn’t be peaceful at all. He unholstered his 9mm, pulled the trigger and heard the click. Nodding as if he had just taking a decision. He would be prepared though.
The night went on without problems and the citizens of Evo slept peacefully in their beds not knowing what would very soon happen. Adam 'Adman' Shepard had slept terribly and had woken up with a headache and yet he smiled. He let a hand run over his bold head and donned his greasy grey jacket. The alcohol was still giving him a hard time and he had to take a little glass of cognac before he was able to leave his rundown apartment. He entered his truck he had illegally parked on the sidewalk and threw the parking fine into the trunk to the ever-growing cluster. He hummed happily with on the songs on the radio and started the truck. While driving he noticed a man running around with a camera filming a large crowd of people running in the direction of the government building called the Nexus. The man had printed the word Race on the back of his jacket. Adam laughed for himself and pulled out a cigarette. 20 minutes later the truck pulled over at a dark warehouse in the city’s industrial area. The warehouse had been worn out and was slowly succumbing into rubbles. Large sections of the roof was already missing, Adam had made sure the delivery had been transported to the location the other night. He would become a rich man because of this deal. When inside the first thing he did was to check on his wares. He made sure everything was in order and then sat down with a cup of coffee. Waiting for his customer.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 - By Faustie
Chapter 4!
“Stronzo! How did it go so wrong? It was such a simple task.” Pete slammed his fist down on the table. One of the bottles toppled over and rolled over the edge. It fell to the floor and shattered, the pieces landed all over the floor. Isabella looked at Pete and yelled “You idiot!” she shook her head and opened the closet. From it she took a broom and began gathering it all in a small pile, she kept sending evil glares at Pete while sweeping. From the corner a sigh could be heard and James leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were tired and his face ravaged by his lack of sleep, in his hands he had his Browning. He was waving it around nervously, suddenly and without any notice he stood up and walked out of the house. When outside he kept his hat over his mouth and nose to shield him from the smoke that still was rising from the burnt down warehouse. The Father’s house were several streets away from the burning ashes of the warehouse, but the smoke was still heavy enough to poison the air in the area, the police had evacuated the area but they had all chosen to stay behind. They wouldn’t risk having the police check through their possessions while they were away, they couldn’t trust the government. He slid his pistol into its holster and walked down the street. Every house in the area was abandoned and James considered breaking into one of them and looting it.
He eyed the nearest house, a one-plan house with a red roof. It could be stuffed with valuables, a lot of easy money with a little effort. “James! James! Wait up, I am coming with you” James turned around and saw Pete running towards him. James nodded to Pete as he got up to him; Pete had an improvised mask on. “What the hell is that thing? It looks silly” James pointed at the mask and giggled. Pete sent him a piercing glare back “Well will see how funny you will think it is when your lungs has been turned into one large tumor” That silenced James and he took his hat up to his mouth again, they had reached the end of the street and walked into the nearby forest, they could nearly smell the fresh scent of the lake, a branch cracked under his shoe as James passed the first trees. They walked in silence for a moment, as the forest grew darker and darker. The forest seemed endless as they fought their way past the thick overgrowth. James could see a clearing in the distance and steered for it. A remarkable sight met him; the local military training ground was nearby. A puny net fenced off the area. When they had first had moved here the Family had looked raided the training ground for firearms but had found nothing. It seems the government had stashed it all away safely; it had hindered their plans for a great while as they had based most of their operations on the hope that they could gather a large amount of weapons. After the initial strike of the failure they had taken on a more realistic approach, they began planning every move and had eventually made it pretty big. Their enterprise had grown, they had moved from small time threatening storeowners to get protection money to organized crime.
Behind the training ground the sound of small waves could be heard, they had finally appeared at the lake. “Blasted, I should have taken my fishing rod with me” cursed Pete; he was eyeing the small bridge that they always used for fishing. James nodded and began regretting he hadn’t taken his own rod with him, the weather and time was ideal. James took out a small handkerchief and dusted off a small rock he could sit on. Pete chuckled and shook his head “Are you growing soft on me James? You really have to clean of stones now?” James laughed and put his handkerchief back into his pocket “You know how difficult it is to clean off a suit like this? It is literally impossible”. James turned his head and looked over the lake, enjoying the clean air. It seemed the forest was blocking off most of the smoke and dust from the fire. Pete was also looking at something and suddenly turned around, facing James. “James, have you ever noticed the cave over there?” Pete pointed at a small area in the distance. Shuffling to his feet James held his hand over his eyes to shield off the sun, he couldn’t really see anything. “Where? I cant see anything!” James looked at Pete, wondering if he had turned insane. “There!” Pete yelled and grabbed James head, turning it to face the cave. “Ah there it is, what about it?” James asked and looked back at Pete “Just remember it, it might be useful later” Pete answered. James rolled his eyes and sat back on the ground, leaning back into the grass he closed his eyes and tried to get a little rest. The Father was still planning in his closed off office and had given them all a long break. James was going to use his time off carefully but it was going to start with this nap.
I would like to thank Faustie for his incridible work on the third chapter, I can only hope that I one day will become that good a writer. I will get working on chapter 4 today. My current plan is to expand a little on the members of EvoCity.
Chapter 1
Spoiler :
It was a dark evening and the rain was drumming against the window of the great mansion, a single source of light could faintly be seen inside the room. A lit cigar, James Blake was sitting by the window and starring at the road. He was dressed in a long black trench coat and had a hat planted on top of his head. Underneath the trench coat he had a vest made of the same material as the coat. He enjoyed the pleasant smell of tobacco and slowly patted his left side to assure himself that his piece was still there. It was. He heard the sound of metal grinding against metal from the kitchen downstairs and decided that probably meant dinner was ready. He lazily rose from the chair and walked to the door. Stopping halfway there he turned around and put out the cigar on the ashtray. Then he checked his clothes making sure not a single spot was to be found and left the room.
James was tall and slender some would even say unnaturally so, he had little to no facial hair and always looked gravely serious. He had developed a few paranoid habits through his years of work and always had a Browning Automatic Pistol hidden underneath his coat, he kept sure it was prepared to be used at any moment and dis- and reassembled it often to make sure no parts of it was broken. Blake had always been a little strange but it had been getting worse through the years or that was at least what people around him kept telling him, again and again. He had always doubted them, James knew he was more than sane; he knew he was one of the only sane persons left in this crazy world. Always wearing something the youth of today would consider old fashioned but he himself thought was stylish and who really cared what the youth thought about clothes anyway.
The old wooden stairs squeaked as he made his way down to the kitchen. The room was as dark as the night outside so he had to use his hands to feel his way to the door handle. He opened the door and was met by the light of a few candles. He entered the room and saw the silhouette of 3 persons sitting at a worn-out table with plates and cutlery in front of them. James gave them a nod as a greeting and pulled a chair back from the table and sat down. A yelp of pain startled him and he looked back. She was standing at the gas-powered stove and was dealing with a large number of simmering pans filled with a huge amount of different courses. She must have burned her hand on the stove or one of the pans. Isabella Blake had always enjoyed cooking.
It had come naturally for as a child as her mother had taught it to her back in the old country. That was the only part where Isabella was considered a normal Italian woman. The freedom she got when they moved to America had changed her. A lot.
She was no longer the innocent little blond haired girl that kept following her brother but had become an independent young woman with everything that follows. She began going to clubs and meeting up with American men, she stooped cleaning and even stooped nursing her own brother when he was sick. In Italy that would have been considered a disgrace but here in the states that was apparently what women did. James found himself wishing they had stayed put in Italy.
The person on the left side of James coughed and James came back to the present, he knew they had serious matters at hand that would require his full attention. He turned his head and looked at each and everybody at the table. There was Pete, William and Liberio. Pete “The Grub” Marston was a short man with glasses that dominated his entire face. He had only been a part of the family for a few months and was the newest brother among them. He was Italian like the rest of them but had been born in America and thus lacked some of the manners the rest of them had earned through a strict upbringing. He made up for that through with an incredible knowledge of explosives and firearms. Libero, a burly youngster with a baby face was the muscles of the family. Always had a smart remark ready to every situation and if that failed he was always able to fight his way out of any crowd. And then we had William, he had always been the oddball of the family, he could always be seen with a cigarette in his mouth and a knife in his hands. He was one of those persons you would forget the face of when you’re looking at it. Always able to hide in the shadows and stay quiet. He was jokingly called a ninja behind his back. No one would dear to do it face to face, god know what he would do with that knife if you did.
Pete slammed his fist down on the table “Why isn’t he here?” He stood and went over to the window facing the entrance. James went over to him and clapped him on the shoulder “ Don’t worry, he will come. He won’t miss his hour of glory” James smiled and returned to his spot at the table while Pete kept looking out on the road. It seemed so endless. The mansion had been the family’s property for over a few years but they had only just recently moved their operations here. It was from the civil war and it hadn’t been used for more than a decade when the family bought it. They have had several craftsmen working on modernizing the entire property and adding running water. Each family member had his or her own room with a simple and very scarce amount of furniture.
William was cleaning his nails with his usual knife, slowly and carefully to avoid cutting himself. Suddenly Isabella placed a few pots on the table. Pete came back to the table and reached for a sausage. Isabella hit his hand as he began lifting the lid off the pot. His body shock with surprise as he withdraws his hand with a scornful expression. “Jesus, I was just taking a little appetite. Don’t go out of your good skin because of it”. Isabella let out a chuckle “You will have to wait until our Father arrives”. One of the candles on the table flickered as they all sat there in silence, James began fiddling with another cigar and wondered if he had time to smoke another one before Father arrived. He never got time to think the consideration through because in the very same moment a light shone though the window and a car drove into the entrance. Everybody at the table jumped up and ran to the window to make sure it was him.
They all sighed in relive; it was Father’s usual car. He shut the door and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked with a pair of keys. They rushed back to the table and tried to look as casual as possible, Isabella returned to her pots and pans. The door was opened and Father entered the hall. He saw the light in the kitchen and followed them. Everybody in the room turned their head and James even stood up in respect of the man. Not that the man looked like a person deserving of the respect. He had an average height and no impressive physical features, his hair was greying and he his skin sickly white. He looked far older than he really was because of the burden of aging. But few knew that he had nearly as much physical endurance as somebody half his age. Tommy 'The Titan' Vittorio was indeed worthy of respect. He had been a priest back in Italy but had been chased away from the village he had lived in because of some plot against his person. Father lost everything, his family and his property. He had moved to America because of the promise of liberty and change. Tommy had gathered his loyal men and had boarded the ship to freedom and money beyond his wildest dreams. All he found in this forsaken country was hatred and corruption. It is said that America gave him a depression. He saw police officers attacking citizens in the street, he saw men selling drugs to children near the school and it drove him into a world of dread. He made those around him call him by the name of Father, perhaps to remember a world that had once been sweet and innocent and had taken a terrible turn.
He made a pact with those loyal to him, he wanted to regain order and rebuild order and peace in this country. Rebuild America in his picture and as it seemed the democratic system had failed then it would have to go as well. There would only be one leader, the beloved Father. It was necessary in his eyes, to rebuild our society and remove the root of corruption: Greed. Father slowly went to the end of the table and took a seat. Isabella took his plate and began taking food from the different pans. When the plate was filled she poured him a glass of wine. He leaned forward and folded his hands and closed his eyes in a silent prayer. The rest of the table joined him in his prayer for god. While the men were praying Isabella poured food up for them and when they opened their eyes they could begin their feast. They all remained silent as they enjoyed their dinner. James was slowly cutting a large beef into smaller pieces and found them tasteless and added a little salt.
“Gentlemen, ladies, my children” James looked up at Father that had begun addressing everyone in the room “Tonight our labour will bear fruit and as I got the full trust in the lord I am sure our plan not will lead us to failure”. He had a theatrical pause “But there is a few complications with it, our normal supplier of firearms have been rendered unable to smuggle his weapons here. The police took him in a night raid. We will have to use a local supplier instead, I have already made contact with a person that have been recommended to me”. He pointed at his glass and Isabella came over with another flask of wine, she filled each cup and took one for herself. Father raised his glass for a toast and so did the rest of them. The wine was sweet and made James slightly dizzy. They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. Preparing themselves for tomorrow and the start of a new world. When they had finished their meal they each moved their separate rooms. James began reading one of his old books from the old country. He sat at the window and had a gas lamp as his only reading light. He flicked out his Zippo lighter and lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair and enjoyed his evening. Little knowing that he was being watched.
Officer Antony 'Equal' Catalano’s leg muscles were getting tired, he had been sitting outside this damn mansion for three hours now and he was wet and cold. He weren’t even allowed to light a damn cigarette and he nearly found himself wishing he was the fool sitting up there with all the luxuries. “Oh well, duty is duty” he thought and looked at his watch. His shift was nearly over and the next unlucky officer would relive him soon. The police had known of the Family for months and had been watching them closely for a few weeks. First unofficially with a few officers and later officially as the police commander and the major had given permission for a full-scale surveillance. Antony knew something big was going to happen and whatever it was it wouldn’t be peaceful. His mobile vibrated and he checked it, his watch was over. He slowly backed away from the bush he had been hiding in and sneaked away. When he turned the first corner he took out his a cigarette and inhaled deeply savouring the bitter taste. He looked back at the old mansion and shook his head. It wouldn’t be peaceful at all. He unholstered his 9mm, pulled the trigger and heard the click. Nodding as if he had just taking a decision. He would be prepared though.
The night went on without problems and the citizens of Evo slept peacefully in their beds not knowing what would very soon happen. Adam 'Adman' Shepard had slept terribly and had woken up with a headache and yet he smiled. He let a hand run over his bold head and donned his greasy grey jacket. The alcohol was still giving him a hard time and he had to take a little glass of cognac before he was able to leave his rundown apartment. He entered his truck he had illegally parked on the sidewalk and threw the parking fine into the trunk to the ever-growing cluster. He hummed happily with on the songs on the radio and started the truck. While driving he noticed a man running around with a camera filming a large crowd of people running in the direction of the government building called the Nexus. The man had printed the word Race on the back of his jacket. Adam laughed for himself and pulled out a cigarette. 20 minutes later the truck pulled over at a dark warehouse in the city’s industrial area. The warehouse had been worn out and was slowly succumbing into rubbles. Large sections of the roof was already missing, Adam had made sure the delivery had been transported to the location the other night. He would become a rich man because of this deal. When inside the first thing he did was to check on his wares. He made sure everything was in order and then sat down with a cup of coffee. Waiting for his customer.
Chapter 2
Spoiler :
His black leather shoes reflected the lazy light being emitted from a single light pulp, a constant humming could be heard coming from his mini-generator. He had his life figured out all right, going from one job to another, always in movement. Adam “Faustie” Jensen was sitting in a minimalistic room with only very little furniture. He was sitting by a small wooden table, his feet on the tabletop. He was leaned back in a black office chair and once in a while drew a small glass of whiskey to his mouth and sipped a little of it. He was reading through a file, sent directly to him from his mysterious employers. He had never seen them but every time he was needed or his services was required a single Word file would appear on his laptop describing his objective. He had started as a simple ruffian, working for a small crime ring. His clients changed through the years and he began getting more and more violent tasks. He didn’t care, they were all well paid and that was all that mattered to him. His methods had always been special, preferring to leave little mess at the crime scene. He was trained with several kinds of weapons and was slowly moving on to new kinds of getting rid of people. He had recently taken a liking to crossbows and their gruesome yet so beautiful way of ending life. A single bolt being fired through the air, hitting its target with an accuracy that is near frightening. The veins being cut over and the heart stopping, Faustie laughed for himself.
He rose from his chair and dusted his off his grey suit, after looking out the dirty window he walked to the small metallic drawer. It gave off a strange rotten smell and Faustie couldn’t help himself from letting a grin spread across his face. “Oh, the memories” he muttered for himself as he began searching through his clothes. Underneath a pair of nearly folded pants he found what he was looking for. A small crossbow with a holster that contained several steel bolts, his weapon of choice. Beside it was a leather briefcase, he grabbed both items and placed the inside a large bag. Scanning the room for any items he might have forgotten. Concluding he had remembered everything he walked over to the door and took the petrol can. The pleasant smell of petrol spread through the room as he drenched every item and the floor. Faustie opened the door and jumped down the stairs, outside was his vehicle; A black Mercedes with opaque windows. After throwing his bag into the trunk of the car he walked upstairs again and opened the door wide. He took out his Zippo lighter from his pocket and lit it. Fighting to control his laughter Faustie threw the lighter into the room and instantly felt a wave of heat hitting him. The room turned into a flaming hellish nightmare, everything was ablaze or slowly melting. He shook his head and ran to his car; outside he could see the smoke coming from the open windows of the apartment complex. He got into the car and turned the ignition, a few moments later he was gone from the area. He had removed all evidence he might have left; THEY wouldn’t be able to find him any longer.
Adman Shepard was still waiting and was slowly getting inpatient, he jumped down from the crate and went outside for his bag. He looked around the parking lot and his face turned into a puzzled expression as he found it was missing. The only car he could see was a black Mercedes in the distance. He cursed for himself but shrugged it off, he would be able to buy several new trucks with the money he was going to earn. He went inside the warehouse again and sat back down on the crate and poured himself a new cup of fresh coffee. He heard a metallic clunk as if something had been smashed; he turned around with his drawn pistol, there was nothing. Shepard slowly slid the pistol back into his pocket and returned to his cup. Muttering something about being too paranoid before taking out a small glass bottle from his back pocket. He removed the cap and took it up to his lips. He let his tongue run over his dry lips before he took a small sip from it, he enjoyed the bitter taste of whiskey and felt almost ecstatic as he felt the heat running through his cold limps. His hand let go of the bottle and it fell to the floor, being shattered into thousands of pieces. Shepard had stopped breathing as he tried grasping his heart. He fell over lifeless and cold, covered in cheap whiskey and as greasy as his business methods. A steel bolt had struck him from behind and had hit his heart, killing him almost instant. The smell of petrol spread in the room as smoke began rising through the holes in the roof. The echo of a sadistic laughter could be heard through the entire industrial area and a pedestrian walking by observed a black Mercedes driving by, before spotting the inferno starting at the old warehouse. The pedestrian would soon call the police and they would be on the scene.
He rose from his chair and dusted his off his grey suit, after looking out the dirty window he walked to the small metallic drawer. It gave off a strange rotten smell and Faustie couldn’t help himself from letting a grin spread across his face. “Oh, the memories” he muttered for himself as he began searching through his clothes. Underneath a pair of nearly folded pants he found what he was looking for. A small crossbow with a holster that contained several steel bolts, his weapon of choice. Beside it was a leather briefcase, he grabbed both items and placed the inside a large bag. Scanning the room for any items he might have forgotten. Concluding he had remembered everything he walked over to the door and took the petrol can. The pleasant smell of petrol spread through the room as he drenched every item and the floor. Faustie opened the door and jumped down the stairs, outside was his vehicle; A black Mercedes with opaque windows. After throwing his bag into the trunk of the car he walked upstairs again and opened the door wide. He took out his Zippo lighter from his pocket and lit it. Fighting to control his laughter Faustie threw the lighter into the room and instantly felt a wave of heat hitting him. The room turned into a flaming hellish nightmare, everything was ablaze or slowly melting. He shook his head and ran to his car; outside he could see the smoke coming from the open windows of the apartment complex. He got into the car and turned the ignition, a few moments later he was gone from the area. He had removed all evidence he might have left; THEY wouldn’t be able to find him any longer.
Adman Shepard was still waiting and was slowly getting inpatient, he jumped down from the crate and went outside for his bag. He looked around the parking lot and his face turned into a puzzled expression as he found it was missing. The only car he could see was a black Mercedes in the distance. He cursed for himself but shrugged it off, he would be able to buy several new trucks with the money he was going to earn. He went inside the warehouse again and sat back down on the crate and poured himself a new cup of fresh coffee. He heard a metallic clunk as if something had been smashed; he turned around with his drawn pistol, there was nothing. Shepard slowly slid the pistol back into his pocket and returned to his cup. Muttering something about being too paranoid before taking out a small glass bottle from his back pocket. He removed the cap and took it up to his lips. He let his tongue run over his dry lips before he took a small sip from it, he enjoyed the bitter taste of whiskey and felt almost ecstatic as he felt the heat running through his cold limps. His hand let go of the bottle and it fell to the floor, being shattered into thousands of pieces. Shepard had stopped breathing as he tried grasping his heart. He fell over lifeless and cold, covered in cheap whiskey and as greasy as his business methods. A steel bolt had struck him from behind and had hit his heart, killing him almost instant. The smell of petrol spread in the room as smoke began rising through the holes in the roof. The echo of a sadistic laughter could be heard through the entire industrial area and a pedestrian walking by observed a black Mercedes driving by, before spotting the inferno starting at the old warehouse. The pedestrian would soon call the police and they would be on the scene.
Chapter 3 - By Faustie
Spoiler :
Note: This one written by Faustie
An hour had passed before the police finally arrived at the grotesque stew of twisted metal and ceramic alloys that had once been the decrepid warehouse. This was little due to any fault of the police, but rather the lone pedestrian who had ventured upon the chaotic inferno eating away at the buildings infrastructure, saturing the night sky with smog and particulates. He had ventured far too close to the building and had fallen to the ground, barely able to breathe as his lungs were assaulted by the fumes. Too many years of inhaling carcinogens from cigarettes, pointedly refusing to do as his doctor recommended and simply quit the habit. It had taken him twenty gruelling minutes to crawl to a distance safe from the coiling tendrils of the toxin laden smog cloud. A further fifteen until his hands had stopped trembling enough so he could hold his mobile phone, and his body had stopped jarring from hoarse, gravelly coughs.
Officer Antony Catalano cursed as he sped through the city in his run-down patrol car, responding to the unfortunate pedestratian's call. Travelling through the city at night was never an easy journey, made even more difficult by his sweaty palms slipping on the worn-down rubber texture of the steering wheel. What had once been a fairly small city had grown into a much vaster metropolis, but the geographical borders hadn't increased, they'd simply stacked the buildings far too close together. The result was a haphazard mess of a road system laden with potholes and jammed with other cars and pedestrians, neither showing any care for the traffic laws. There was just too much for the city infrastructure to support, and lamp-posts flickered on and off due to power drainage - Too many inefficient buildings enterprising marketers trying to advertise their latest wares with outdated neon signs. The patrol car dangerously swerved to avoid a pedestrian on the road, narrowly missing the fender of a poorly parked car, as light reflected off its scratched windows from the neon signs, casting a ghostly blue glow on the road and surrounding claustrophic buildings, the shadows making each passing doorway seem like a menacing portal.
As he left the inner city he could see a faint orange glow far off, the first telltale signs of the drama at the warehouse, the colour making a stark contrast to the dreary black, greys and blues of the city. It illuminated the turmoil of clouds and the hazardous smog in the night sky, a beacon that drew police cruisers towards it like moths. When he brought his car to a crunching halt on the gravel road outside the warehouse, he took a moment to simply sit back in the painfully stiff drivers seat, trying to focus simultaneously on the sharp green letters appearing on the police monitor on his dashboard and the kaleidoscope of colours visible through his windshield. Fiery oranges and reds roared and hissed as firefighters doused the flames with what little water they could bring in their trucks, blues and reds flashing off every reflective surface from the parked emergency vehicles that had set up a cordon around the warehouse. Antony turned off his own lights - He never understood why the other officers left them on when there were already twenty other lights flashing. The sharp continuous strobing gave him a headache and made it difficult for him to concentrate.
His boots disturbed the gravel as he walked towards the detectives clustered around the cordon, making a crunching sound barely audible amidst the cacophony of deafening sirens and the sounds of metal shearing and wood splintering from the warehouse. He whistled at a man who was standing quietly at the front. He was a tall man, but poor back posture and too many years of sitting at a desk and eating nothing but the force's non-nutritious cafeteria food made him appear both diminutive and out of shape. He wore a dusty grey pin-striped suit over an off-white shirt, with no tie and suspisciously shiny black boots. He had pinned his detectives badge to his breast pocket, and it sagged slightly from the weight. His name, Garrett Battello, was hardly visible on his badge, and only the light from the fire glinting off the etchings made it visible. Perhaps he had once been an impressive man, but now the only things about him that were were his boots and sharp mind.
"Garrett! What the hell am I doing out here? By rights I should be at home right now, drinking a mug of tea so hot it scalds my hands as I rest my damned legs. I've been on patrol all night, why was I called out here?" Antony yelled to the man.
"Antony, will you shut your yapper for one minute? Gods knows I've had a thousand nights far worse than this, and I'm still standing. So stop moaning. Did you even read the report HQ sent to your car, or were you too busy reminiscing over your lost cup of tea?" Garrett spoke with a harsh jagged voice - He had once been in a firefight where an oil tanker had been badly damaged, until it spewed out enough fumes to permanently damage his throat. "Look, it's going to be a long night for all of us. If this was just your bog-standard warehouse fire we could just let it crumble into the dust and the city government wouldn't even give a crap as usual, but unfortunately for us, fireman have found what they suspect is a substantial amount of melted firearms residue in that place."
"A substantial amount of melted firearms residue? What are you now, one of our lawyers? Just give it to me straight, are you talking about a gun or two or something larger?"
"Larger. Once the firemen let forensics in we'll know for sure, but this sound like a weapons cache to me. Now, that family we're all meant to be monitoring, there has been rumour that they've had something to do with a few mislaid firearms. They've been going missing from government stockpiles, gun dealers, even stolen from peoples personal gun safes all over town. So, that's why we took you the hell out here away from your tea. Do I have to spell it out for you?" Garrett had never been a favourite of any of the police commanders or government officials. He could do his job, but he spoke with such a condescending manner all the time, and the gravelly tones didn't help much either. It made him sound like he was constantly sizing up his prey, or that he knew more than he let on.
"Right, fine, I get it." Antony responding, looking uncomfortable as the cold wind made shivers run up his spine whilst the scalding heat of the fire warmed his torso. He let out a breath in mock annoyance, before he continued. "Well, I guess it could have to do with the family. There's not exactly much we can do right now though, not without a search warrant, and we need hard evidence for a search warrant. And.."
"Yes, I know. You don't have to be a bloody forensics officer to see that any trace of fingerprints or DNA will be long destroyed in this mess."
"So what now?"
"We wait for this damned fire to be put out, and we go in and do our sodding jobs. We won't find anything, but the sooner this is all filed and on report the sooner we can both get out of here."
"Long night ahead then.. Garrett, give us a bit of whiskey. I know you keep at least one hipflask about your person. I mean why else would you wear that ageing suit?" The officer looked hopeful, and Garrett grumbled as he reached inside of his suit and pulled out a dented silver hipflask. He passed it to the junior officer, who took a sip, feeling the liquid burning down his throat, wishing he was back home at his small cluttered apartment in the inner city.
An hour had passed before the police finally arrived at the grotesque stew of twisted metal and ceramic alloys that had once been the decrepid warehouse. This was little due to any fault of the police, but rather the lone pedestrian who had ventured upon the chaotic inferno eating away at the buildings infrastructure, saturing the night sky with smog and particulates. He had ventured far too close to the building and had fallen to the ground, barely able to breathe as his lungs were assaulted by the fumes. Too many years of inhaling carcinogens from cigarettes, pointedly refusing to do as his doctor recommended and simply quit the habit. It had taken him twenty gruelling minutes to crawl to a distance safe from the coiling tendrils of the toxin laden smog cloud. A further fifteen until his hands had stopped trembling enough so he could hold his mobile phone, and his body had stopped jarring from hoarse, gravelly coughs.
Officer Antony Catalano cursed as he sped through the city in his run-down patrol car, responding to the unfortunate pedestratian's call. Travelling through the city at night was never an easy journey, made even more difficult by his sweaty palms slipping on the worn-down rubber texture of the steering wheel. What had once been a fairly small city had grown into a much vaster metropolis, but the geographical borders hadn't increased, they'd simply stacked the buildings far too close together. The result was a haphazard mess of a road system laden with potholes and jammed with other cars and pedestrians, neither showing any care for the traffic laws. There was just too much for the city infrastructure to support, and lamp-posts flickered on and off due to power drainage - Too many inefficient buildings enterprising marketers trying to advertise their latest wares with outdated neon signs. The patrol car dangerously swerved to avoid a pedestrian on the road, narrowly missing the fender of a poorly parked car, as light reflected off its scratched windows from the neon signs, casting a ghostly blue glow on the road and surrounding claustrophic buildings, the shadows making each passing doorway seem like a menacing portal.
As he left the inner city he could see a faint orange glow far off, the first telltale signs of the drama at the warehouse, the colour making a stark contrast to the dreary black, greys and blues of the city. It illuminated the turmoil of clouds and the hazardous smog in the night sky, a beacon that drew police cruisers towards it like moths. When he brought his car to a crunching halt on the gravel road outside the warehouse, he took a moment to simply sit back in the painfully stiff drivers seat, trying to focus simultaneously on the sharp green letters appearing on the police monitor on his dashboard and the kaleidoscope of colours visible through his windshield. Fiery oranges and reds roared and hissed as firefighters doused the flames with what little water they could bring in their trucks, blues and reds flashing off every reflective surface from the parked emergency vehicles that had set up a cordon around the warehouse. Antony turned off his own lights - He never understood why the other officers left them on when there were already twenty other lights flashing. The sharp continuous strobing gave him a headache and made it difficult for him to concentrate.
His boots disturbed the gravel as he walked towards the detectives clustered around the cordon, making a crunching sound barely audible amidst the cacophony of deafening sirens and the sounds of metal shearing and wood splintering from the warehouse. He whistled at a man who was standing quietly at the front. He was a tall man, but poor back posture and too many years of sitting at a desk and eating nothing but the force's non-nutritious cafeteria food made him appear both diminutive and out of shape. He wore a dusty grey pin-striped suit over an off-white shirt, with no tie and suspisciously shiny black boots. He had pinned his detectives badge to his breast pocket, and it sagged slightly from the weight. His name, Garrett Battello, was hardly visible on his badge, and only the light from the fire glinting off the etchings made it visible. Perhaps he had once been an impressive man, but now the only things about him that were were his boots and sharp mind.
"Garrett! What the hell am I doing out here? By rights I should be at home right now, drinking a mug of tea so hot it scalds my hands as I rest my damned legs. I've been on patrol all night, why was I called out here?" Antony yelled to the man.
"Antony, will you shut your yapper for one minute? Gods knows I've had a thousand nights far worse than this, and I'm still standing. So stop moaning. Did you even read the report HQ sent to your car, or were you too busy reminiscing over your lost cup of tea?" Garrett spoke with a harsh jagged voice - He had once been in a firefight where an oil tanker had been badly damaged, until it spewed out enough fumes to permanently damage his throat. "Look, it's going to be a long night for all of us. If this was just your bog-standard warehouse fire we could just let it crumble into the dust and the city government wouldn't even give a crap as usual, but unfortunately for us, fireman have found what they suspect is a substantial amount of melted firearms residue in that place."
"A substantial amount of melted firearms residue? What are you now, one of our lawyers? Just give it to me straight, are you talking about a gun or two or something larger?"
"Larger. Once the firemen let forensics in we'll know for sure, but this sound like a weapons cache to me. Now, that family we're all meant to be monitoring, there has been rumour that they've had something to do with a few mislaid firearms. They've been going missing from government stockpiles, gun dealers, even stolen from peoples personal gun safes all over town. So, that's why we took you the hell out here away from your tea. Do I have to spell it out for you?" Garrett had never been a favourite of any of the police commanders or government officials. He could do his job, but he spoke with such a condescending manner all the time, and the gravelly tones didn't help much either. It made him sound like he was constantly sizing up his prey, or that he knew more than he let on.
"Right, fine, I get it." Antony responding, looking uncomfortable as the cold wind made shivers run up his spine whilst the scalding heat of the fire warmed his torso. He let out a breath in mock annoyance, before he continued. "Well, I guess it could have to do with the family. There's not exactly much we can do right now though, not without a search warrant, and we need hard evidence for a search warrant. And.."
"Yes, I know. You don't have to be a bloody forensics officer to see that any trace of fingerprints or DNA will be long destroyed in this mess."
"So what now?"
"We wait for this damned fire to be put out, and we go in and do our sodding jobs. We won't find anything, but the sooner this is all filed and on report the sooner we can both get out of here."
"Long night ahead then.. Garrett, give us a bit of whiskey. I know you keep at least one hipflask about your person. I mean why else would you wear that ageing suit?" The officer looked hopeful, and Garrett grumbled as he reached inside of his suit and pulled out a dented silver hipflask. He passed it to the junior officer, who took a sip, feeling the liquid burning down his throat, wishing he was back home at his small cluttered apartment in the inner city.
Chapter 4!
Spoiler :
“Stronzo! How did it go so wrong? It was such a simple task.” Pete slammed his fist down on the table. One of the bottles toppled over and rolled over the edge. It fell to the floor and shattered, the pieces landed all over the floor. Isabella looked at Pete and yelled “You idiot!” she shook her head and opened the closet. From it she took a broom and began gathering it all in a small pile, she kept sending evil glares at Pete while sweeping. From the corner a sigh could be heard and James leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were tired and his face ravaged by his lack of sleep, in his hands he had his Browning. He was waving it around nervously, suddenly and without any notice he stood up and walked out of the house. When outside he kept his hat over his mouth and nose to shield him from the smoke that still was rising from the burnt down warehouse. The Father’s house were several streets away from the burning ashes of the warehouse, but the smoke was still heavy enough to poison the air in the area, the police had evacuated the area but they had all chosen to stay behind. They wouldn’t risk having the police check through their possessions while they were away, they couldn’t trust the government. He slid his pistol into its holster and walked down the street. Every house in the area was abandoned and James considered breaking into one of them and looting it.
He eyed the nearest house, a one-plan house with a red roof. It could be stuffed with valuables, a lot of easy money with a little effort. “James! James! Wait up, I am coming with you” James turned around and saw Pete running towards him. James nodded to Pete as he got up to him; Pete had an improvised mask on. “What the hell is that thing? It looks silly” James pointed at the mask and giggled. Pete sent him a piercing glare back “Well will see how funny you will think it is when your lungs has been turned into one large tumor” That silenced James and he took his hat up to his mouth again, they had reached the end of the street and walked into the nearby forest, they could nearly smell the fresh scent of the lake, a branch cracked under his shoe as James passed the first trees. They walked in silence for a moment, as the forest grew darker and darker. The forest seemed endless as they fought their way past the thick overgrowth. James could see a clearing in the distance and steered for it. A remarkable sight met him; the local military training ground was nearby. A puny net fenced off the area. When they had first had moved here the Family had looked raided the training ground for firearms but had found nothing. It seems the government had stashed it all away safely; it had hindered their plans for a great while as they had based most of their operations on the hope that they could gather a large amount of weapons. After the initial strike of the failure they had taken on a more realistic approach, they began planning every move and had eventually made it pretty big. Their enterprise had grown, they had moved from small time threatening storeowners to get protection money to organized crime.
Behind the training ground the sound of small waves could be heard, they had finally appeared at the lake. “Blasted, I should have taken my fishing rod with me” cursed Pete; he was eyeing the small bridge that they always used for fishing. James nodded and began regretting he hadn’t taken his own rod with him, the weather and time was ideal. James took out a small handkerchief and dusted off a small rock he could sit on. Pete chuckled and shook his head “Are you growing soft on me James? You really have to clean of stones now?” James laughed and put his handkerchief back into his pocket “You know how difficult it is to clean off a suit like this? It is literally impossible”. James turned his head and looked over the lake, enjoying the clean air. It seemed the forest was blocking off most of the smoke and dust from the fire. Pete was also looking at something and suddenly turned around, facing James. “James, have you ever noticed the cave over there?” Pete pointed at a small area in the distance. Shuffling to his feet James held his hand over his eyes to shield off the sun, he couldn’t really see anything. “Where? I cant see anything!” James looked at Pete, wondering if he had turned insane. “There!” Pete yelled and grabbed James head, turning it to face the cave. “Ah there it is, what about it?” James asked and looked back at Pete “Just remember it, it might be useful later” Pete answered. James rolled his eyes and sat back on the ground, leaning back into the grass he closed his eyes and tried to get a little rest. The Father was still planning in his closed off office and had given them all a long break. James was going to use his time off carefully but it was going to start with this nap.
I would like to thank Faustie for his incridible work on the third chapter, I can only hope that I one day will become that good a writer. I will get working on chapter 4 today. My current plan is to expand a little on the members of EvoCity.
