Author Topic:  A nσιя  (Read 263 times)

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Jack Of Shades

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A nσιя
« on: August 18, 2016, 09:39:30 PM »

The whiskey stung his esophagus that familiar burn. top shelf Jack Daniels on ice. Three cubes, no more than that, it waters down the drink. The bartender knew this, she never gave him anymore than that. And depending on how intoxicated he wished to get, was how many cubes she added. The less, the better honestly, but a little chilled helped the beverage go down smooth. The first sip was the best, and the last was the worst.

Jason thought to himself over and over, his lieutenant handed him a dossier of a man and a folder containing evidence and specifications about a murder. A double homicide, just to be clear, and it was not out of the ordinary in Vendice City. The dossier was a suspect whom had a criminal background, also ran a rather shady docks business where supposed illicit drug activity took place. But that was irrelevant to his investigation, his true suspicions lay else where. Most definitely at a few downtown bars that catered to the same man in question. He would soon find out, whether he played it through or tugged on some coat tails. Someone was bound to trip up and show their cards, let's hope none of them have a winning hand.



Jason threw the dossier aside, closing it in the process and flipped through a few more photographs of the crime scene. He noticed peculiar oddities in the photos and strange evidence no one else did. Mainly strange ways the furniture was positioned and small little clues that others over looked as it was deemed: Unimportant. Jason knew every piece of evidence helped in some way, either canceling out witnesses or suspects. This whole case was making Jason weary to begin with, he hated dealing with murders tied into the underworld of crime.



Dossier was filled with inconsistencies, small pieces of evidence that SHOULD have been recorded were not. This made Jason uneasy, when things go missing in a dossier there is ALWAYS a bad reason for it. And it was almost never due to 'clerical error'. Someone was paid off to get rid of some evidence, small time evidence...but enough to do some damage if the right person caught on to it. This small piece could be enough for Jason to figure out who pushed which buttons, and where they were being pushed from. Jason had a feeling this homicide was not a crime of passion, nor an accident.

Retracing his steps would be necessary to figure out what was removed. Compare the pictures of the crime scene to the dossier and see what was removed. Maybe if he went back to the scene of the crime, he could further investigate. Maybe find something he missed, something essential to this already doomed case. Jason understood a man has to do what he has to do. But paid off officers tampering with small time evidence and crooked investigators made his head throb.

His next stop, besides the local gas station for a pack of Marlboro reds 72s, was the crime scene. Maybe swing by his apartment and grab his coat, the night air was becoming colder. Autumn was around the corner, not to mention it was thundering. A storm was coming, in more than one point of view. Small time cases like these always meant a bigger piece of meat on the end of a stick. Something big was afoot, Jason could feel it.



With jacket in hand, Jason got into his car and drove from his apartment to the crime scene. He was going to take a few detours, talk to some inside contacts he had. He wanted to shake the hive a bit, see how many gullible bees come flying out. Perhaps steal some honey while he was at it, but he had to get the right bees out first. His number one stop was not far from his favorite bar in Vendice City. A man by the name of Carlos Oliver hung out there, mainly a street thug, pusher, gambler, low-life. but the guy was real up front, he had some honor in his ways.

Whenever Jason needed intel or information on a suspect or perp, he came to Carlos. The guy dealt information like cards, and the ante to buy in was always high. But the winning cards he dealt were always worth the price. Jason needed a lead to start with, otherwise his department would close the case and he would be stuck with mountains of paperwork. He hated paperwork. But he hated false leads and intel more.

Jason pulled up to the usual alley Carlos hung around, and lo and behold he was there. Jason clearly could see him pushing some product on a poor homeless guy. One that he would most likely come visit soon due to lack of payment for said substance. This was not Jason's concern right now, he needed information. Carlos looked over without any worry, mainly due to the fact that he was too useful to eliminate for any side.

Jason put his 1976 Chevy Camaro into park and turned off the car, he took the keys and got out. After stuffing them into his jacket pocket, he eyed Carlos and gave him a small nod. Carlos returned it with the same gesture, he waved over Jason and told the homeless guy to get lost. Jason walked up casually and looked at Carlos,"Take a look at this and tell me if you have anything. I need facts, now. This is important." Carlos had a cigarette in his mouth, he inhaled a large amount of it and then flicked it aside.

Exhaling the smoke through his nose, he opened the dossier and took a look at it's contents. After a few minutes of browsing, he handed it back to Jason. With a deep raspy voice he said, "You know my gamble, brother. This information is gonna cost extra, I know enough about what went down. But too much for the WRONG guy to know the inside story, ya dig?" Jason exhaled slowly and pulled out a manila envelop with about two thousand dollars cash in it. He slapped it onto Carlos chest and stood there eyeing him.

Carlos flashed a gold toothed grin and looked back at Jason. "Check this out, go back to the crime scene, there is a safe behind a picture there. It's the goofy looking one with the flowers and s h i t, you'll know what I'm talkin' about." Jason sighed and said, "Van Gogh's works, you uncultured b a s t a r d. Now get to the point!" Carlos laughed and flipped off Jason. "Anyway, there's a safe behind it. the entry is two-one-zero-seven. Get in that, you got enough of a lead to break several cases. Now, I think I deserve extra for possibly solving more than one crime..."

Jason laughed and turned to get in his car, pulling out his keys he opened the door and got into his car. He turned the ignition and saw Carlos flip him off, he waved and smiled back to Carlos before reversing out of the alley. On his way to the scene he began to crave a good Jack and ice, with a nice beer on the side. Maybe after doing some digging he could come back to the bar and look over the evidence again. Hopefully, with his favorite drinks to accompany him. He would need it tonight, he already knew he would step on too many nice shoes dealing with this shady case. But when is a case NOT shady in his line of work? Figures...




Jason was on his way back to the crime scene, he had a bad taste in his mouth. Something about what Carlos said made him feel...uneasy. How did he know so much on this case? Jason figured Carlos knew about most shady deal going on around the city, but this was too deep. He was a low ball on the table, his game was petty at times. This was bigger than the pond he thought he was in.

Jason took his time going to the scene, he saw enough death and violence for one night. But his job was a never ending horror picture without a pause button. His drinking had become habit and, eventually, his only solace after seeing the gruesome carnage that humans are capable of. Being in his line of work requires a lonely, ice cold soul with nothing to lose and even less to gain. The cigarettes always helped with the smell at the scene. The liquor was simply to numb the pain of not feeling anything, it brought on some semblance of 'feelings.'


He scoured the scene, cigarette in hand. His gun was always c o cked and loaded. He never knew when he would need to shoot a human. And believe you me, his kills while on the job stacked up high. His records reported an alarming thirteen kills thus far. Jason was not a man to tempt or chide, he was one for murder if it gave the world peace. Sometimes his vigilante justice grew too much, sometimes...his superiors hated him for such actions. He claimed they were 'self defense', but they knew he was working to fix the streets. Unfortunately any petty crook and no good could see, these streets...they were not worth saving. Jason lived here for many years and wanted to save his home from becoming Chicago or The Bronx. He wanted SOME semblance of peace and order within this streets.

But see, that was the thing. What is order for a city born to chaos? It was birthed in chaos, it grew from chaos, it was nothing but a cesspool of chaos and corruption. Jason knew this, he indulged it's curiosities. That doesn't mean the man enjoyed it, that just means he had to adapt to live. His drinking, his smoking, his underhanded ways. It was a way of life in the city, it was a way to survive and find those responsible for these injustices. Does it mean he submitted to everything that was chaos? Quite the opposite, but most thought he was a dead-end detective with no future to live for. This was false, the man was a war hero and a damn good officer.

Jason searched for the Van Gogh piece that Carlos mentioned, he couldn't believe that pusher was such a moron about true art. It was ridiculous, how could a man of 'taste' have no taste for real art? One could only wonder, but the painting lay there as was mentioned by his all worthy contact, if he could even be called such. Jason took the copy and tossed it aside, this thing could fetch no more than maybe twenty dollars at best from a junkie. Jason had no intent to sell a dead man's belongings. It was not worth the trouble, nor the paper work. He entered the code: two one zero seven. Lo and behold, the lock opened and allowed Jason into the urban Fort Knox of drug dealers.




Jason sat there, dumbfounded at what the vaults contents contained. He had been to war, he saw death around every corner. Things no man should ever have to witness, it gave his perchance for justice a cause. The blood. The senseless violence. It followed him anywhere he went.

So too, did betrayal and distrust. Jason was well aware his little exhibits of anger, violence, drunkenness, it all stemmed from his father and the war. Both were tied together. He resented his father, and as such wanted a way out. Whether it was through life, or death, he wanted some form of an escape. A way to release the beast and be free of the patriarchal tyranny.

Military was best for him. It provided the solidified discipline he needed, as well as channeling his inner demons upon something good. However, he never thought he'd be going to war not once, but five times. All five times, he was surprised he came home alive and whole. Not mentally whole, but his body had not been blown to pieces like a rag doll with an M80 attached to it. His father was a drinker, and a mean gambler.

Jason suspected much more than just that. He felt there was an underside to him. The man was too brutal and cruel for simple gambling and vices. He felt there was a 'gangster' side to what this man was. He knew too many people that were from the underworld scene. Some of which, still ruled highly on the streets while Jason scoured about for leads.

His father had to be in with these folks and, as Jason suspected, the man had to have some pull within these organizations. It had been years since Jason saw that mans face, and hoped many more would pass before he had to. He also figured he'd be placing those shiny bracelets on his wrists and be swept away to the concrete jungle with bars. As Jason sat there on the floor examining the dossiers and many other things that fell out, he was hit with a shade of melancholy. Everything was here to put away at least ten men. These ten men could get several decades of lovely views from a cell in Maximum Secruity prisons across the United States.

Funny side? There was one, it was in the fact that Jason's father was in these files. His WHOLE history of criminal activity was here. It was like a bad crime novel with no ending, only a 'to be continued...' Jason hated his father more than any human alive, but never wished him harm. Simply because, the man did keep him off the street.

Albeit, with a brutal ass beating every now and again. As well as the usual verbal abuse thrown his way afterwards. Regardless, Jason planned on taking him and his men down. No pusher was going to corrupt this territory with that snide attitude his father held so highly of his own personality. The man was a narcissist among most of his despicable habits, none of which were redeeming in any way. He deserved jail time, for the rest of his miserable life, but not yet.

Jason needed to use these documents to take down the entire outfit. Cut the proverbial head off the chicken and watch the body flail about until it dies. Jason was taking this seriously, he took it to heart. He wanted to ruin everything this man stood for, all of which were pure corruption and degradation. Jason remained in that room looking over everything, he saw this and that. Move here, deceit there.

Jasons dad had to have made a deal with the devil in a nice shirt and vest. That devil's name was Pierre Antoine Vey. his name would usually incite French suspicion, however he was Russian to the core. Jason knew the man, he used this to deceive most of his enemies. Hell, this name was the only one he had taken for longer than a year. Which led Jason to believe he was no longer 'hiding' his motives and personality from his usual crowd of villains.

It means he made all the right moves and fixed his position within the alley hierarchy. This made Jason worry, this man was dangerous when he started off. At this point, he was most likely a demon walking the streets with his army of nobodies he could dispose of for his pleasures and benefits. Jason stood up and went to the fridge of the abandoned dark apartment, he saw beer, milk, and a bottle of vodka. How amusing, a French wannabe with a Russian drink in his fridge. Funny thing, the drink was from Russia.

One could only purchase it there, it's alcohol content was far over eighty percent. Which meant this was damn near two hundred proof. Strong stuff, but his kind enjoyed such simply to prove something. Pierre was no different, the man proved something every second of the day. Jason grabbed the bottle and searched the cupboard, almost expecting the guy to have any form of cups or glasses. Unfortunately, Jason was proven wrong once again.

He had some nice crystal glasses for drinking in the cupboard. Jason grabbed one and set it down on the table. Jason unscrewed the top, poured the vodka on some left over ice he found in the freeze, and put the bottle back inside the fridge. He walked back over to the table littered with folders and other paraphernalia. He sat the glass down and reached into his jacket pocket. His cigarettes were far abused this evening, he bought them prior to speaking to Carlos.

They still remained in their film, he unwrapped them and popped the first one free from the package. Jason placed the sweet Marlboro to his lips and took out his flip lighter. He scratched it against his thigh on the jean fabric, it lit up immediately. He placed the dancing flame to his cigarette tip and inhaled deeply. The smoke rushed to his lungs, his head began to swirl, and he let loose the plume of smoke like a dragon. The combination of the Vodka and cigarette gave him a wonderful head buzz. He hoped to feel this wonderful tonight when he went to the bar to relax with his bar tender Breanna.





NOTE: This is an ongoing story that will be updated slowly just like Sage Chronicles. Unfortunately, I have writers block with Sage Chronicles. So I decided to work on this piece. Hope you enjoy it!
« Last Edit: August 27, 2016, 07:22:45 PM by Jack Of Shades »

Jack Of Shades

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Re: A nσιя
« Reply #1 on: August 22, 2016, 07:14:41 PM »
Please, anyone who judges my work and reads it, I welcome opinions and criticism. :)
I need opinions on whether I should continue the story here. Otherwise, it will end up like other works and I will privately work on it through MS Word.


Jack Of Shades

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Re: A nσιя
« Reply #2 on: August 22, 2016, 10:33:48 PM »
OP updated, few more lines of story to add.

Jack Of Shades

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Re: A nσιя
« Reply #3 on: August 27, 2016, 07:23:50 PM »
OP updated. About 13 paragraphs of story written. More to come soon.

-Jack

P.S. If anyone wants to know my music I listen to for inspiration, here is a playlist I use to help me write this story. I use different music for different stories.
Link
« Last Edit: August 27, 2016, 07:29:35 PM by Jack Of Shades »

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Re: A nσιя
« Reply #4 on: August 27, 2016, 07:29:51 PM »
You REALLY capture the humanity in your writing. The characters aren't just playing roles on a stage. They feel alive. I can't wait for more, but no rush. I don't want the story ruined.
/snail       /snail    /snail         /snail /snail      /snail   /snail                /snail         

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Re: A nσιя
« Reply #5 on: August 27, 2016, 07:43:45 PM »
You REALLY capture the humanity in your writing. The characters aren't just playing roles on a stage. They feel alive. I can't wait for more, but no rush. I don't want the story ruined.
I'm glad you enjoy it, PWR. I love writing for anyone who will read it. I must admit, during this portion I was drinking the same thing Jason was. But I tend to find that a few drinks, some music, and the right atmosphere set me off for writing A LOT. I'm just brainstorming ideas real quick and I will get back to doing the next part of the story. Also, Buddy Guy's song 'Feels Like Rain' helped during this. Among other great songs.