Luigi Flashback
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(posted by Rachel for historical data)
(Luigi talking in the flashback)
*Chi-town is always nice in the spring. the allergies always fucked with my sinuses pretty bad, but still that meant all the fine flowers were in full bloom....if you catch my drift....*
*no, but I wasn't in town and risking the retribution that comes with my current New York employer's scorn to get some lay. had some other kinds of business...."family" type of thing.....*
*Lincoln park was a nice place. right by the lake, and on a weekend like this an easy place to get lost amongst all the busy bodies and eyes. everyone looks good here, so even your average model type turns into a regular Joe or plain Jane here.....that's why that floozy of a mistress doesn't know I'm tagging her...she's got her nose too far up that geriatrics' ass thinking a ton of green is going to spill out the longer she pursues it....he ain't much better. 'cept that he has the advantage of getting all the money he dumps on her back after he's done with her....they all end up like that in his hands: cold and clammy....*
*the modern day-street-arciciologist drags the mark with her into a lingerie shop. he motions for the two goons to stay outside. much as well- you know he won't make it til evening because at his old age he'll probably fall asleep when she's working his fly. yea- the changing stall is probably optimal when he's still awake and can muster the sweat to even get it up....sucking the nicotine bliss through loose lips...always helps me focus....get into character...*
*thinking....it's broad day light. Chuck Norris machismo ain't a good idea here. if I go delta force, guns blazing outside not only will Don Juan and his wench be tipped off, but there's no way I could do crowd control in a busy public sector like this....casing the building,...surroundings....and bingo. about half a block down there's an alley way. back door is always a good plan-b.....which is where the mark is working his way up to, or at least trying to....*
*on the way towards the back way, my eyes frantically look for anything else to help. on the other side of the alley I see a buy in some brown shirt, brown shorts that are way to tight, and a digital keypad. a thankful smirk crosses across my stubble. flicking the the exhausted cig over my shoulder and stopping the man. to him I'm a tourist- I'm trying to get to Hyde Park but don't know how to get back on to lake shore drive 'cos I'm not from around here.... he nods and "uh-huh"s me in his high voice...his eyes have an evil hunger in them. he makes a move verbally and suggests I should get lost somewhere else with him. like a park. he says that with a hand on my chest. I look at the hand and to him. and I smile. because he's just given me incentive without the baggage of guilt that comes with a conscience. I break the guys wrist and pistol whip him something silly. I drag his body to a dumpster nearby and "borrow" his clothes....*
*the address of the place is marked in back. they all are- city code. how else are parcels supposed to be delivered. oh, and boy did I have something to give. I knock on the door carrying a random box that looks kinda beat up which is housing the clothes I came into town with. hmm. seems like a gentle rapping on the door doesn't do. so I kick the shit out of it. a bored girl appears and cracks her bubble-yum at me. she makes a comment about my shorts being nice. can't blame her and not mad at her- she's on minimum wage and running on coffee. I ask her where I should put the shipment. and then she makes her mistake by pointing it out for me. another pistol whipping- but much more nicer than the other guy...it shouldn't leave a mark for whoever is doing her to notice, anyway....easing on in and closing the door behind me...*
*these garbs just won't do. never liked the way brown looked on me anyway.... changing back into my civies and taking the safety off my gun. music is blaring, obviously, and thank my lucky stars the lighting is dim to fit the trashy/gothic motif of the place.... making my way towards the back....through the narrow corridor....stopping at the only door that is closed....pressing my ear up against it and grinning at the thumps against it, which obviously isn't the bass coming from the house speaker system....good.....*
*I walk back out and find my way to the front of the place....casually taking out another Winston and carrying it between my lips....opening the door, I stand right in between the two goons and light it, taking in a nice hard drag....I embellish a bit more- to be convincing and let out an "ahhhhh" in the form of satisfied nicotine exhale....stumping out the cig with my back heel and wheeling back into the store.....the sound system is just off to the side, so I crank up the volume a smidgen then move off to the darker corner of the store that is already dim....*
*amateurs. waiting, as I count down for the goons to rush in after realizing I was guy who was smoking right in front of them across the street not just a few minutes ago.....*
*screwing on the elongated, metallic tube to the barrel, when in busts two larger bodies....not exactly ready to shoot, I stick out my foot for the first guy, who causes the second one to tumble over him as he tries to recover. two quick "pap! pap!"s to the base of their heads and it's back towards the changing area for me....*
*it's a good thing that the son of a bitch needs to time to work his thing and that the bitch's patience is easily trained through money. they don't even hear the squeal of the rusty hinges under the music....he's got his hands stretched to either side of him for support, knees shaking with both strain of old age and excitement of the ride....she's bot her hands wrapped around the back of his shiny, balding head..."ooo"ing and yelping waaaaaaay the fuck too much that an invalid would know she was faking it.....but she's well worth the money he's skimming off the top to spend on her....her tits cover his face and neither know that modified Beretta .92 is cocked for some threesome action.....*
*obviously if I squeeze off a round, he's going to know I'm here to collect. so I off the girl first. dead weight is a lot of weight- at least long enough for him to have to fumble for his piece in his holster....so I take away his weapon...both of them, actually. surprised the pain hasn't driven him into shock. but then again, Sicilians are the toughest SOB's that I know of....*
*oh yea. he's pissed. he's hissing threats at me through clenched teeth....asking me if I know who I'm messing with....naming the list of every prevalent don in the Midwest to see if any one of them sent me.... I look into his eyes and just smile. stroking his oily hair, I whisper in his ear....* you cock-sucking rat bastard....this is for ma....we waited seventeen fucking years for this.... *the last thing he hears is a "click"....but at least I send him off with some smokes coming out of his gaped mouth.....*
*wow- wasn't as satisfying as I had thought it would be. wish the poor dead bastard would get up and laugh, saying he was just joking. so I could plug him again. which I still could. but why leave more evidence? going into clean up mode, I take my gun and search for the surveillance room. jimmying it open, I look for the tape and take it with me, making sure to wipe off any areas in the store that I touch.....*
