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#10 The Beginning of the End

That was dirty what I did to Jacquie, thought Simon on the drive to Gillingham’s office.

“Jacquie seemed a little upset,” said Kitten staring at the night lamps as they whizzed by.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about Kitten, he’ll be fine. You can never tell with that guy anyway.” I wonder if Kitten is okay? Fuck I know Jacquie isn’t okay. Fucking Salty fucked everything up, now Gillingham’s gunning for my balls, fuck.

“How are you doing, Kitten?”

“I’m alright, Simon…you should have let Jacquie in though.”

Simon took a deep breathe through his nose. “I could really use your support, not your opinion right now, Kitten. I did what I thought was best for Jacquie.”

“You were protecting him?”

“You’re damn right I was protecting him!”

“But then why didn’t you protect me?” Kitten yelled as she turned to Simon and hit him on the arm. She burst into tears, “why did you make me dance for that psycho?”

“I didn’t know that would happen. I didn’t want you to be involved either, but I didn’t have a choice. This has all been part of Gillingham’s plan.”

“Yeah his second plan, after you FUCKED up the first one!”

“Kitten, I know you’re upset, but right now, SHUT THE FUCK UP, and chill!”

Kitten turned back in her seat, crossed her arms, and tightened her lips.

The black Lincoln pulled up to Gillingham’s building. The couple got out and headed for the sixty-sixth floor. They passed the night guard who tipped his hat to the fast walking dame. Outside of the office, Simon pushed a button.

“Come in, leave the girl outside.”

Simon walked in. Gillingham was in the exact same spot he was in six and half hours ago. Simon sat down on the other side of Gillingham’s desk. Gillingham offered Simon a cigar or a drink. Simon refused.

“Let’s get on with it then, how’d it go?”

“I wouldn’t be here if it went anyway other that great.”

“Can the cheek talk, boy, and tell me how it went. I noticed Jacquie wasn’t amongst the troop.”

“I dropped him off before we came here; you said you wanted him involved as little as possible.”

“I do. Your little fuck up meant I had to let you in closer, dangerous for me and you, but if I can keep Jacquie farther away then he stays alive. Go on…”

“I had Kitten dress how you said she should dress. The VP Billows was one weird fucker, like Salty but different, he seemed more in control.”

“He was and he wasn’t, Kitten had him in something of a trance I suspect. Those types are very susceptible to temptations of the flesh. Kitten went a little mad didn’t she?”

Simon swallowed hard, “yes.”

“She’s on their side now, the price you pay for fucking with the Syndicate, Simon. What was the message?”

“They want us to frame the incorruptible Congressman Eric Vasquez at the Damsel.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Excellent.”

#9 Have I Got a Show For You

To Jacquie and Simon, Vice-President Mike Billows looked like a very tired and worn down man, he sat in his work chair like a discarded old bathrobe. The boys were happy because they thought it meant they could just wait outside while Kitten got the information, but the Dame overruled them and they were forced to sit in the dark corner of the office.

When Kitten came into the office after changing clothes it was like a closed rose had fully bloomed. If a rose were fiery red with a black stem and made of latex. The latex suit hugged her perfectly curved body from neck to mid-thigh. A thin line of golden skin peaked between where the latex suit ended and the black thigh highs began. The cherry stilettos walked her up to the VP.

Kitten paused for a moment in front of Billows. His eyes were slowly becoming aware of what was in front of him. Suddenly, with the whip of her golden hair a thunderous blast of bass music filled the room courtesy of a wide eyed Simon pushing “play” on a boombox. A deep female voice came over the bass and sang between blasts of screams and instrumental battles between the guitarist and the drummer. Kitten turned more feral, more dangerous with each beat of the music. She walked in circles around Billows, with each lap she got closer and closer to him until she was just barely an inch away from touching him. First his eyes followed her, then his head turned and then waited for her to come back around so he could see again, and eventually he careened his neck all the way around so that he could see her through every turn she made.

Kitten stopped in front of Billows and pushed her face and chest into his lifeless body. He straightened a little. She unzipped her black and red latex top. It glided gently off her sunrise shoulders and down her smooth long arms. The bright red latex bra underneath made her breasts look like succulent red apples ripe for picking. Billows glanced at the Gun Bearers. Forbidden fruit. Kitten had a dozen more tricks to pull on the VP. Everyone of them brightening him, reanimating him. Her moves were slick and naughty but so good for all the wrong places.

The sweet little Kitten Kaboodle had let the Devil inside her and she was raising the Devil inside of Mike Billows. She unzipped the side of her skirt and let it gently fall down to her ankles with a little flick of her hips. Her chest, stomach, and thighs were slick with sweat. The music fought on. She moved faster. She moved around him, up and down him. She took his hands and rubbed them around her body making them both hotter. She raised one of his hands up to her lips and put his index finger between her lips. It disappeared inside her mouth, Billows reminded Jacquie of a horny dog chained within an inch of a female dog. Suddenly his eyes turned to fear, then pain. His mouth opened wide but no sound came out. A thin spurt of blood appeared from his hand and Kitten’s mouth. He rose out of his chair. Kitten grabbed him beneath his arm pits and straddled him so he remained locked in the chair. The music has either stopped or Kitten was screaming overtop of it. Billows was a frightened little ghost of a man.

“Jacquie!”

Jacquie snapped his head away from Billows.

“Go get the car! I’ll get Kitten! Go!”

Jacquie ran for the door and didn’t look back.

#8 The Road to Hell

“Jacqueline Bloom are you trying to score with Cherry Valentine or what?” asked Kitten Kaboodle from the backseat of the black Lincoln.

Jacquie turned around and glared at her, “No, Kitten, for the last time the guy pulled a knife.”

“Yeah, the police found a knife. Good thing you shot the guy in the leg too. But did you see the way Lorenzo stared you down?”

“Was it the same way I’m staring at you now?”

“Man he was heated. And Cherry was all over you. You could have fucked her right then and there.”

“Enough, Kitten,” Simon declared.

“Sorry, Simon,” Kitten apologized. She reached one long slender dark brown arm deep into her purse and removed a mirror and pink sparkly lip gloss. “Can you tell me again, what it is I gotta do for you fellas?”

“In a nutshell, baby?” Simon looked back at Kitten through the rearview mirror, “you gotta save both our jobs, and my neck ta boot.”

Kitten gently applied the gloss to her full, pouty bottom lip and then smacked a kiss for the mirror. “Oh, is that all?”

“You gotta give this private dance.”

“What’s the Sweater’s name?” Kitten asked.

“Sweater?” Jacquie interrupted.

“It’s what she calls these kind of guys, I dunno. His name is Mike Billows. Ya see, Sweetie, me and Mr. Bloom here fucked up real bad earlier today… well, more specifically I fucked up, anyway we off’ed a guy who had some information. This guy was a real nutcase, a real stupid motherfucker.”

“I think she gets it Simon, calm down.”

“Yeah well, now we gotta go see this VP down in the bank district to get the same information. Only thing is, I guess he won’t give up the info without a hot, sultry lap dance from a one Miss Kitten Kaboodle.”

“Did he ask for me specifically?”

“Uh, yeah pretty much, sweetheart.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, so you put on a show, get the info, and then the shows over so we can call it a night.”

At the edge of the bank district Simon pulls off into an Oyster Gas Station, “I’m getting something to drink, you guys want anything?”

“I’ll take a tallboy and a Top Gauge energy drink,” said Kitten.

“Damn! Jacquie, you want your usual?”

“Yeah man.”

Simon threw the gas nozzle into the tank and then walked toward the glowing building.

“So do you and Cherry talk much?”

“AH- HA! HA HA HA! I knew it! You do like that little skank!” Kitten taunted.

“You make small talk really fucking hard, ya know that Kitten?”

“Sorry, Jacquie.”

“I have an easier time interrogating guys twice my size.”

“Yes, Jacquie, we do talk. All the girls talk. She has mentioned that she thinks you are cute. But I wouldn’t pull out your pistol any time soon. Metaphorically speaking a course, seeing as how you already pulled it out once today, ha ha ha.”

“Yeah, funny.”

“She’s not an easy girl to line up a shot with, Mr. Bloom. I’d take it slow, play it cool, but like I need to tell a Gun Bearer to play it fucking cool, right?”

Simon pulled out the gas nozzle and hopped back in the car. He handed Kitten her drinks and handed Jacquie a bottle of chocolate milk and a candy bar.

#7 Gun Bearers and Damsel Strippers

Jacquie could smell something foul in the air. Was it stale beer or sweet and sour cocktail juice? No. And it wasn’t body odor or anti- bacterial hand sanitizer either.

It was frustration and hormones. The room was full of it, and it was the right mix to make anger. Rage. Disaster. Somebody was in for a world of hurt. The Damsel strip club was divided into seven arenas of various sizes. The largest arena, center stage, was occupied by Cherry Valentine. In the front row was her obsessed stalker, Lorenzo El Scorcho, a fellow Gun Bearer but not a friend of any kind to Jacquie and Simon.

It was while Simon was in the back retrieving his girl, Kitten, when Jacquie got the smell of trouble. His first guess was that El Scorcho was the source, but noticing things around the room quickly changed his mind. It wasn’t coming from any one source. A spilt drink on a man’s lap caused him to jump up. Another man tried to grab a dancer’s leg, the dancer slapped him hard across the face. Two men at the doorway of a private dance room were playing tug of war with a one dancer, arguing over who had asked her for a dance first. The bouncers started to move in to their targeted areas but the front door was starting to pour in with patrons and the room was filling up fast.

All it took was one single punch to send the levels of rage in the room through the roof. One punch to spark a chain reaction of small fights throughout the club.

Jacquie looked across the room at Lorenzo, Lorenzo stared back. Neither man moved. They were Gun Bearers. The time wasn’t right and it wasn’t their fight.

Suddenly a voice very close to Jacquie’s ear yelled very loudly, “Look out!”

Jacquie squatted low beneath the bar he was standing next to and then moved out and away from it. As he moved, a cocktail table slammed down on the bar above him. What the fuck? thought Jacquie. Liquids, wood splinters, and broken glass rained down on him. The shot had been fired, the Gun Bearers had joined the fight. Jacquie jumped up and located the man responsible for throwing he table and quickly put him on the ground with a swift punch to the throat. The next chance Jacquie got he looked for Cherry. He located Lorenzo about 10 feet away waist deep in knocked out bodies. Cherry was still on stage trying to avoid flying bottles while picking up the remains of her tips. As Jacquie kept one eye on Cherry and the other on whoever he was punching, a muscle bound man jumped up on stage with Cherry. A strong arm lashed out and tried to grab Cherry, she turned and instead he ripped off one strap of her bra. Jacquie quickly fought his way toward the stage. Lorenzo suddenly took a hard right hook to the temple. Simon burst from behind a satin red curtain with an arm wrapped around a sultry young blonde. Jacquie jumped on stage behind the large drunk patron. The drunk man dropped Cherry’s bra strap and pulled out a switch blade knife. Lorenzo reared back from the blow with his hand on his colt .45. Simon’s face grew hot as he assessed the destruction in the club. The blade shined in Cherry’s direction.

A booming Ba-KLOW! froze the room like a fast action camera.

All eyes fell on Jacquie, who held a smoking Beretta 93R machine pistol.

The drunken man with the knife was the first to break the silence screaming in pain as he held his bleeding leg.

#6 Not In Much Distress

“So I’m guessing by the silence you don’t want to talk about what happened inside of Gillingham’s office after I left.”

“Nothing to talk about, Jacquie, we’re headed out to the Damsel to get Kitten. Gillingham says we have to fulfill our assignment and Kitten can help us.”

“‘Fulfill our assignment?’ How? Salty is dead!”

“I dunno man. He just laid out a new set of instructions and told me if I fucked this up I was going to ‘fly sky high on a chair made of rockets and razors.’”

“He said that?”

“Yep.”

“Gillingham has lost his mind.”

The pair of Gun Bearers rolled into the Damsel just as the last remains of sunlight left the sky. The word “Damsel” was written in bright white lights over a solid black building. There were no windows just a set of double wide doors beneath the glowing sign. The parking lot was filling up fast. The sign was like a beacon for the cities lonely, depressed, frustrated, and excited. They joined together with one common interest, fast women. The Damsel had a reputation for delivering the highest quality entertainment, which meant eye candy by the bucket load.

Simon walked in a few steps ahead of Jacquie. Simon’s eyes were straight forward. Jacquie looked down, only occasionally glancing up. A large bald bouncer wearing a white shirt and gold necklace came out of the front desk when he saw the pair coming in. Simon opened his suit jacket, slightly revealing the butt of his gun. The bouncer stopped walking and turned his attention to the patrons walking in behind Simon and Jacquie.

Inside the club’s main room, Jacquie headed for the bar, while Simon headed for the dressing room. The main room had seven separate miniature arena bowls. The bowls were lined with chairs, tables, and wide eyes. At the center of all the arenas were beautiful dancing women. The main stage, the largest arena bowl, had three poles while the others only had one. And using up two of those poles, when Jacquie glanced over, was Cherry Valentine. Jacquie had met Cherry before, a red-headed dame with the attitude to go with it. She was hot and fast, everything Jacquie and Simon loved and hated about the Damsel.

Sitting in the front row, watching everyone else that was watching Cherry, was Lorenzo El Scorcho. Lorenzo was a fellow Gun Bearer. However, he was anything but a friend to Jacquie and Simon. Jacquie only noticed him through the darkness of the club because he could feel the icy stare Lorenzo was giving him. Jacquie rubbed his beard, palmed his Beam and Coke, and only looked back at Lorenzo when he took a quick sip.

This day is far from over, thought Jacquie to himself, far far from over.

#5 Alone In the Hall

“Sorry I can’t stay and chat, Mr. Gillingham said I could leave at five today,” said the dominatrix-looking receptionist, “bye.”

Jacquie Bloom nodded his head at the receptionist as he took a seat outside of Gillingham’s office.

Dammit, Simon, thought Jacquie to himself. Such a fucking hot head all the time…but then again…Salty was acting really weird. Actually, that was probably the weirdest I’ve ever seen anyone act. He was out of his mind. He went from calm to hostile in like zero to sixty. Not just that though, Simon was using almost all of his strength to keep Salty from jumping over into the driver’s seat. I can usually get a pretty good read on people and that little old man having that much strength really fucked with my mind. And what was he saying about “Apollyon?” He called himself Apollyon, but he used a different voice, running jobs for Gillingham and other Bosses has pushed me into confrontations with schizophrenics before but Salty…Salty was something way different.

I don’t blame Simon for what he did, maybe he could have knocked Salty out instead of blowing his brains against the rear window but he’s a Gun Bearer for a reason, if Gillingham didn’t want him to use it than he shouldn’t have given it to him. I’d never tell that to Gillingham though…fuck I hope Simon walks out of that office.

Gillingham was irate over Salty’s death, but he was fine when Madinger and Wilhelm told him about his loss of illegal firearms just three minutes prior. Fuck, Gillingham’s mind seems gone sometimes. Gun Bearers, Diggers, Guides, Tempters, everyone seems to think so. I’ve never thought joining Gillingham’s Syndicate of the Darkening Sun was a good idea, but he offered me a way out when I needed it most. Maybe I can see through the trees now, but I’m not quite out of the woods, and until that happens I still owe the crazy kook. I don’t know Simon’s full story but I have a feeling he’s in it for a different reason. We get by pretty well as partners, I’d stick my neck out for him, and I think he’d do the same. Not much else I’m looking for, really. That whore of an ex-wife of mine proved to me there isn’t much else out there. Not for me anyway, my son however, I’ll give him everything I never had. I’ll shape up, show her, and take him back. Right now though, I just have to sit and wait, and hope Simon comes out of there somewhat the same as when he went in.

#4 Changing a Tiger's Stripes

“Sorry for the interruption, Jacquie, Simon,” Gillingham said to his two best men, “please go ahead, how was your mission to pick up Salty Foreman?”

Jacquie looked over at Simon. Simon shrugged back at Jacquie, which meant, based on how Gillingham had just treated the bad news about his weapons being lost, Simon wasn’t going to hold back the truth.

“Mr. Gillingham, Boss, it did not go well,” announced Simon.

Gillingham stared at Simon, his large yellow grin faded quickly; he turned to Jacquie who kept his face as blank as possible.

“It was horrible, sir,” said Jacquie.

“Horrible?” Gillingham used the word as a weapon to cut through the duo. “You boys better start talking, fast!”

“It was my fault, Boss,” Simon jumped in.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jacquie interrupted, “it wasn’t his fault, Salty was fucked up, the situation was fucked up.”

Gillingham’s forehead started to turn as red as his hair.

“Jacquie,” said Simon, “no matter what, it was my gun. It was my gun, Boss. I killed Salty.”

“WHAT?!” Gillingham screamed, he stood up behind his desk.

“Jacquie was right, Salty went crazy, started to attack us when we were bringing him back. We were bringing him back like you wanted, he was cool, cooperative, normal, then he just snapped like a fucking twig. He attacked me, acted insane, we were in the car, he could have killed Jacquie and me! I put a shot in his head. Jacquie tried to stop me, I just, just reacted. I’m sorry, Boss.”

“I should have never given you a gun, Simon you fucking idiot. You have no idea the plans you’ve screwed up with that one bullet. I should have never made you a Gun Bearer.” Gillingham laid into Simon treating him like a child. Simon’s head hung low refusing to look at Gillingham in the eyes. “LOOK UP AT ME!” Like a bullwhip, Simon’s neck snapped up and pointed at Gillingham. “You have no idea the trouble you’ve put me in, not to mention yourself and your partner.”

“I’m just as much to blame, Mr. Gillingham.”

“Shut up, Jacquie. You two balance each other out, but you’re not Simon’s keeper. Jacquie, if you wouldn’t mind waiting out in the hall. I need to talk to Simon alone.”

Jacquie looked at Simon, their faces were both mostly blank but Jacquie had thin layer of pity on his. Simon noticed Jacquie’s pity and he slowly became stone-faced and hard, angry at Jacquie’s pity. Jacquie knew as he got up to go wait in the hall that if Simon survived Gillingham’s punishment, their partnership would not.

#3 The Nature of a Changing Tide

Simon and Jacquie sat in stiff leather and steel chairs across from each other outside of

Gillingham’s office. The receptionist in the corner leaned over her cell as she texted. Jacquie stared at Simon. Simon stared at the receptionist, whose visible tattoos on her hands and neck made her look like she belonged on an internet website that caters to non-conformity beauty.

Suddenly, the cell phone in the receptionist’s hands buzzed. “Mr. Gillingham says he’s ready for you two now,” she called out.

The pair entered Gillingham’s office. The surroundings shifted dramatically from the waiting room to the office; the boys stepped onto black marble tile that made every footstep echo. The metallic, abstract art in the corners were the only things aside from Gillingham and his desk inside of the office.

“MY BOYS!!! Jacqueline Bloom and Simon ‘Corpse-maker’ Refing!” Gillingham shouted from behind his desk. He wore a large smile across his even larger head which, coupled with a thin tuft of fire-red sweat slick hair, made him look like the Devil himself. “SIT DOWN! How did it go?”

Simon and Jacquie looked at each other.

“Well, Boss,” Simon started to say.

“Uncle Dreedrick!” Someone suddenly called out.

Looking behind them, Jacquie and Simon saw what looked like an alternative rock star and an old man, both dressed in the same suits as Simon and Jacquie.

“Jason? Wilhelm? What is the meaning of this sudden intrusion?” demanded Gillingham standing up behind his chair.

The tattoo clad receptionist fumed behind the intruders but when she saw an even angrier Gillingham she quickly turned around and went back out the door.

“What is Wilhelm “War-cry” Collins doing with Gillingham’s nephew?” Simon whispered.

“I think we’re about to find out.”

The odd pair stood beside Simon and Jacquie.

“The shipment, Uncle, it just got real fucked up,” announced Jason.

“What are you talking about?”

The old man, Wilhelm, stepped forward, “Dreedrick, our assignment, we failed you my friend. I failed you.”

Gillingham’s angry face melted away, “I still have no idea what you two are talking about.”

“Dreedrick, three days ago you ordered Jason Madinger and me to seize a shipment of weapons coming in on the bay. The shipment was forged on the manifest and you needed us to get them out before the guard checked it. You wanted me to take the kid to help show him the ropes, get him ready for gun bearing, make his mother, your sister proud. Something got real fucked up. A fire broke out on the boat. The boat sank, along with all the hardware. We’re sorry.”

Gillingham took his time as he looked at every man’s face, “So?”

“Sir?” Wilhelm said.

“I had insurance on all the cargo. Is this what had you all worked up? Go on, get out of here! Can’t you see I have a meeting? More important things are going on right now!”

#2 The Long Road Back

After a long period of silence, “Who, the fuck, is Apollyon?” Jacquie asked as he scratched his eyebrow and made a left turn.

“I have no idea, was it Salty’s allies maybe?” Simon replied from all fours in the back seat collecting chunks of brain and bone. “You want to give me a hand here?”

“You know the rules: you kill, you clean,” Jacquie said, then breathed and added, “no fuck that, the rule was NOT to fucking kill Salty.”

“That wasn’t fucking Salty, Jacquie,” Simon said back.

“You know what? I agree with you, which is why I don’t think Apollyon was Salty’s allies, I don’t know what the fuck it was. But what I do know is that this little fuckenstance we’ve found ourselves in is just one more thing that freaks me out about The Syndicate.”

Simon rose up from the backseat, whipped his chin with his wrist, and looked at Jacquie through the rearview mirror, “You got your doubts about The Syndicate too, huh?”

“After what we just witnessed, how could I not? But it is good to hear that you’re on the same page as me.”

“Fuck yeah, Jacquie. At first I just thought Gillingham was a little eccentric, and then I thought maybe he’s a little crazy, maybe even senile. I mean a crime syndicate in this day and age is kinda lost on most people especially one called The Syndicate of the Darkening Sun, whatever the fuck that means. But the old guys got us picking up whacko’s calling themselves some kind of satanic voodoo lovecraft bullshit and we’re supposed to just play along?”

“No way man.”

“You’re damn right, no way. And ya know what? I’m glad I blew off Salty’s head, we’re headed back to Gillingham to show him our mistake. I look forward to it, I know you probably feel differently, Jacquie, but I can’t wait to see the reaction on the old boss’ face when he hears the story we’ve just played out.”

“Yeah, you’re alone on that one, but I’ll be right behind you when we walk into his office.”

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna play ‘who has the smokin’ gun’ I’ll lay down my piece and swear to every word. He never should have sent Gun Bearers to do a job like this.”

“Dammit, Simon we do all kinds of jobs, Gun Bearer is just a title. What I don’t understand is why you’re even allowed a gun in the first place; giving you a gun is like gas on a forest fire.”

“In light of the current circumstance I find myself in, you might be very right about that.”

“He’s gonna have your ass for this.”

“I’m his number one guy, what’s he gonna do to me?”

“Bury you with Salty and the gun.”

“Hey, don’t start in on me with that gravedigger pessimistic attitude, Jacquie.”

“They don’t call you Simon ‘Corpse-maker’ Refing for nothing.”

“Ain’t that right.”

#1 Two Men, a Demon, and a Bullet

“Remember, no violence,” said the thin, bearded driver.

“Yeah, I remember Gillingham’s specifications,” grumbled the thick necked passenger. “I don’t understand, why send Gun Bearers to just pick up a guy?”

“Probably to protect him, Simon,” replied the thin man as the black Lincoln Continental stopped.

“Yeah you’re right, Jacquie. But this guy really needs both of Gillingham’s best guys?” asked Simon as he got out of the car.

“You’re the best brawler,” said Jacquie while stepping out, “but you get out of control sometimes.” They were dressed in expensive black suits.

“No doubt, but you’re calm for the both of us, why we work well, plus you’re his best shot,” said Simon as they walked to the decrepit building.

“Just answered your own question,” said Jacquie as he climbed a set of stairs, “we’re both here because we work well together.”

At the top of the staircase, the men walked through until they reached apartment 616.

Jacquie went to knock.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a rat-like old man.

“Gillingham’s boys?” The old man quickly took Jacquie’s hand in his old waxy grip and shook it up and down, “glad ta meetcha.” The old man continued to hold on as he coughed and hacked from deep within his chest.

Jacquie pulled away, “you must be Salty, right?”

“Yep,” said Salty through a second set of wheezes and coughs as he turned around and walked back into his apartment. “You boys stay right there,” he twitched and jittered, “I’m almost ready.”

Back inside the Lincoln, Simon lit a cigarette with the dashboard lighter and offered one to Jacquie. Jacquie refused as he peered at Salty through the rearview mirror.

“I’ll take one,” said Salty.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea with the cough you’ve got,” Simon replied.

“Don’t worry about me you puss bucket motherfucker,” Salty retorted in a drastically altered voice right next to Simon’s ear with big yellow teeth gleaming.

Simon looked at Jacquie. They both wore the same shocked look.

“Hey ease up, Salty,” Jacquie said.

Salty threw himself against the back of the seat. He got low in the seat, flailed his arms up and down, beating the seat while stomping on the floor. “Oh it hurts! I had no idea it would hurt so bad!” Salty exclaimed. Jacquie tried to focus on the road. “Gillingham should have warned me it would be like this!”

“Salty what’s wrong?”

“Just give me a fucking cigarette!” Salty screamed in Simon’s ear.

“No, now sit down!” Simon pushed Salty back in the seat at the same time pulling out his pistol.

Jacquie’s eyes widened at the site of Simon’s gun.

Salty clawed at Simon’s hand, “This is how you treat me? You dare treat Apollyon like this? Apollyon, the destroyer?”

“Who?”

Salty wailed and moaned

Simon’s index finger squeezed.

Jacquie hit the brakes, “Simon, don—”

KaBLAM!

The Lincoln rolled into an ally.

“Sorry, Jacquie.”

“S’all right … what the fuck just happened?”