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The Darkness Of Today
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M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

May-23-2010 09:30

Every second that is wasted on the battlefield in a war, is every second that a wounded soldier is bleeding to death. Every chance a medic got to save a life, they got killed. As I sit in a bar and reminisce about the days in the war, I realized just how much my life changed.

I watched in horror as people died. I held people as they died in my arms. I came home from the war. And no one, not one person, knew the horrors that me and my fellow brothers in arms saw. No one even thanked us for serving our country when we came home. So here I sit, inside this bar with my flask in my hand drowning myself with pure alcohol flashing back to the war.

I start to feel the alcohol taking affect as it runs through my body. Someone comes in and sits down next to me. It is a scum bag of the streets; a scam artist who steels what little money the poor and those in poverty have and keeps it for himself.

"How 'bout it?" He says as he sits down next to me. I merely stare at him and look away. He orders a drink. Gin. He orders shot after shot as I gulp the whiskey from my flask.

"You might want to slow down there, chief." The bartender says.

"Oh shut up!" I snap. I can't even remember his name or the name of the bar I'm in. I then look over at the dirt-bag next to me. How neatly dressed he is. With his crisp hat and pressed suit. I compare myself to him and realize I am dressed no different and smile to myself. But as I sit and stare at him, something in me changes. I become angry. A little voice in my head starts to talk in a dark, deep whisper.

"Do it," it says to me.

"No," I say to it. "I can't do it."

"Yes, you can," it says to me, "you know you want to. He's scum. He won't be missed."

An argument starts in my mind. My pure thoughts fighting that little voice. The small whisper wins.

Something in me snaps and I crack my neck with the turn of my head.

"Hey buddy, you okay?" the scum bag asks.

"I'm fine," I snap.


Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 09:08

Presently, they unloaded at the Tricky Mister, Molly pausing to adjust the smart black walking-suit she had put on before they left the house. She flipped open the clasp of her purse, pushed her tiny wallet aside and methodically pulled out a pair of black silk gloves, which drew stares from the other two.

"You know, if you come in lookin' like a looker, they'll be way more eager to tell you what you want to know." She said to Grace in particular, who was curling her lip in thinly veiled disgust. Dismissively, she tossed her cascade of red hair over her shoulder and led the way into the dimly lit bar. She wondered idly to herself if anyone would notice if she just up and shot Grace. The woman had quite the nasty attitude that she had never noticed before.

She pushed open the door, her lamp-like eyes searching the place curiously before they landed on the bartender, Cyrus Tibby. Smoothing her skirt and letting a little smile twist over her lips, she sauntered over to him, noting to herself in an amused way how much time she seemed to spend in low-brow drinking establishments.

"Cyrus, darling." She said by way of greeting, placing one delicate, slim-fingered hand over his, which was wiping down the bars surface with a rag. He looked up as she approached, and the way his chest puffed out and his whiskers bristled told her she would have all the help she needed.

"My love." she said, letting her voice drop slightly into a husky alto. "I need you to do me a favor."

He looked as if someone had just come in to announce he was a distant relative of the Rockefellers and would be inheriting their fortune.

Molly just smiled and looked up at him through her lashes. "I need you to find me Vince Gambini."

His face dropped comically.

"I knew it was too good to be true." he said gruffly, then braced his beefy forearms on the counter and fixed her with a hawklike stare. "Look, lady. I'm not mixing myself up in whatever business you've got with the Gambini family."

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 09:20

"No?" Molly pouted. "I assure you, it would be well worth your while."

Like a magnet, the aging bartenders eyes were drawn to the flirting V of her shirt. Molly frowned slightly, then raised one eyebrow as sweat beaded on his forehead. Her hand paused in the act of delving into her purse to retrieve the wad of bills she had set aside for this purpose. The moment stretched on, and on, Molly's surprise growing into blatant disbelief and incredulity. Experimentally, her other hand went to her thigh, but Cyrus was quite caught up in his own thoughts and didn't notice. Smoothly, she drew her pistol and with a bored expression, shot down a bottle of liquor that stood just beyond his head.

He jumped with a yelp, and Molly looked around to notice that almost every patron of the bar had whipped assorted firearms out and were staring at her, alert for any signs of trouble.

"Oh, relax." she said crossly to the room at large. "I'll pay for it."

With an impatient noise, she smacked the wad of bills on the counter between Cyrus.

"For your damn bottle. And the information I asked for."

Cyrus hesitated, and Molly's green eyes narrowed.

"Do not think I won't shoot you." she said calmly, tapping her pistol against her leg. Cyrus paled, and then leaned over the bar to whisper something to her before pocketing the wad of bills and moving as far down the bar from her as he could get.

With a vulpine grin, Molly holstered her gun and put her hands on her hips.

"Tough crowd, huh?" she threw over her shoulder conversationally at Riza, before picking her way delicately through the scattered tables and chairs to the back corner where two men sat, cigars in their mouths. She turned to look back at Riza, her eyes zipping to the man nearest to her and back to Riza.

Distract him, she mouthed. With a nod, Riza stomped over and pulled the man up by the collar.

"Hey. Buy me a drink." she said politely, and hauled him away.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 09:34

(lol. Thats weird)

"Vince Gambini, I presume." Molly said, taking the other mans place across from the dark-haired thug. He looked up from the glass in front of him and frowned at her.

"You're bein rather rude, kitten. You must not know who I am, if'n you think its acceptable to act that way."

"Yes, yes, you're the toughest thug ever to walk the streets of New York. Even La Cosa Nostra is terrified of you." Molly said dismissively. "Faaaaaascinating, I'm sure."

"Damn straight." Gambini said, puffing out his chest. Apparently he was not one for sarcasm.

"Alright, look, you unpleasant leech. I need to find my...friend Marc. You know him, I know him, joy and rapture abound..." Molly's jovial smile dropped from her face. "Now tell me where he is."

"No can do, doll. Now why don't you get up and walk out straight the way you came in? I'm done talkin' to you." he said, squinting his eyes.

Molly cast her eyes at the ceiling, and made a decision. It seemed only one thing worked with these people.

With a sigh and a gentle roll of her neck, Molly got up and sauntered slowly around the table moving to stand behind the chair Vince occupied. It was pinching her uncomfortably against the wall, and her feet were killing her, but she had always prided herself on being an excellent actress. Leaning over, she placed her slim hands on his shoulders, kneading her fingers gently as she moved her slick red lips to his ear.

"What a way to talk to a lady." she said, playfully, her voice a silky murmur. "Just when I had decided I liked you, too." Her hands slipped from his shoulders down to his chest, and cat-like, she draped herself delicately across his shoulders.

"Oh, is that the reached?" he asked, his tune changing in an instant, Molly noted wryly. She also detected a slight slur in his speech, which ought to make her job much easier.

"It is indeed. But you know, my mama always taught me, never waste your affections on any man but a gentleman."

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 09:43

That wasn't strictly true, Molly thought, her chin resting on the mans shoulder. Her eyes were fixed on a stain high on the opposite wall; it was a lot more interesting than this man who smelt of stale smoke, sweat and booze. Besides, her mother hadn't said a damn word about a gentleman, her primary concern was money.

"I...I can be a gentleman." he said, his tone petulant, and Molly rolled her eyes, before fluttering her lashes against the side of his face.

"Oh is that so?" she asked breathlessly, planting a tiny kiss just under his ear before she irritatedly, yet discreetly, removed an eyelash from her eye.

"Yeah." He stood, and Molly nearly lost her balance before recovering nicely and fixing him with her most smoldering look. "Lets go into that alley back there and I'll show ya."

It took all of Molly's will to keep the look of disgust from twisting her face. Instead, she smoothed her hands over her hips and said, "I think I'd like the rooftop better. Less chance of being...interrupted."

Vince Gambini seemed to agree, because before she could quite process, he was yanking her up a dark stairwell. She looked around the first landing, and the second. It seems the two stories above the bar were a couple miniscule apartments. Welcome to New York. Space was limited, you built up, not out.

Suddenly a rush of cool air smacked her in the face, and Molly rolled her neck again.

"Come here, doll, and show me--"

She never really did bother to find out what Vince wanted to see, because she had decided to shoot him in the knee instead. He fell to the ground with a strangled yell.

"You are disgusting, did you know?" she informed him conversationally, grabbing him by the tie and pulling as hard as she could towards the roofs edge. He had to push himself along awkwardly or be strangled by his own accessory, so she didn't really have to do that much work.

Suddenly she dropped him and pointed her gun at his other leg.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 09:53

"Tell me where to find Marc or you'll never walk again." she said pleasantly.


BANG! A fine spray of blood and a yell. Molly twirled the little pistol around her index finger before looking down at Vince again.

"You really oughtn't waste my time. You're running out of limbs."

" house! Its a few blocks from here, on the corner of 11th and 34th! One of the rooms above the old grocery store, thats where he goes!" Vince babbled, tears streaming most unbecomingly down his face. Molly looked down at him with clinical disinterest.

"You really are a terrible friend, you know." she said thoughtfully. "Marc won't be thanking you. In fact...yes. I think I'll push you off the roof, now."

Vince screamed, but she merely pushed up her sleeves and began to roll him closer and closer to the edge of the rooftop.

"Boy, you're heavy." she grunted, hair falling about her face and sweat beading on her forehead from the exertion.

"I'll tell you anything you wanna know! I'll do you a favor, anything! Just don't do this-"

His arm was hanging over empty space now, but Molly paused and cocked her head.

"A favor?"


"Oh good." she smiled and clapped her hands. "Here's the favor you can do for me."

Vince looked up at her, doughy face eager in the pale light.

"You may give the Devil my regards." And with one well-aimed kick, Vince Gambini was gone.

Dusting off her hands, Molly went to the door and raced down the steps, tapping Riza on the shoulder from where she was engaged in an enthusiastic drinking contest with the man. She collected Grace as well.

"We should go. Now." she said, hustling them out the door and into Riza's car without further delay.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

May-30-2010 10:07

(Excuse the error- I used the name Vince when the guys actual name is Vinny. My bad!)

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

May-30-2010 10:45

(Vince; Vinny; Vincent; it's the same name so don't sweat it. It's all good)

Jack Billings
Jack Billings

May-30-2010 12:37

The night hung heavy on this particular street.

Jack Billings wondered if it were perhaps his general outlook on life that made it seem so- after all, he had made a living dealing in shadows, working in corners, and back rooms, and alleys. His work was his life, perhaps it followed him this way, creeping at the edges of his vision, dimming the world before him.

He thought this was rather poetic, until one roving blue eye saw the outdoor lamp with the smashed lightbulb.

Or that might account for it as well.

With a sigh, he adjusted his suit and entered the glass doors, not bothering to look at the doorman. He knew exactly where he was going, and Molly knew it. She was a shrewd one, and didn't feel the need to play games. It was one of the many things he found attractive about her these days.

Of course, the fact that she continually defied him and escaped when he set fire to their old penthouse counterbalanced it with murderous rage.

But she had managed to offer him a deal he couldn't refuse. Besides, as much as he was loath to admit he liked anybody, Nicholas had been a good friend of his for many years. In fact, he was one of the reasons Jack had met Molly, then Amelia, in the first place. That and her money-hungry dim-witted socialite parents. The lie to them had been effortless to maintain, and he was set in style when he got access to her funds.

It seemed that one of her detective friends, a man who had pointed the business end of a gun at him many times had killed Nicholas. Maybe he finally snapped. Jack didn't particularly care. He didn't like people defying him, and this Marc was just one more person he didn't mind ridding the world of.

Silently, he let himself into her apartment. He had bribed a locksmith to double the key the last time he was in New York. Childs play, really. Molly had already figured on this as well, because he had been asked to meet her in her apartment.

Jack Billings
Jack Billings

May-30-2010 12:43

He roved around, looking at the spotless floors and tasteful furniture. It reflected the elegance that had been bred into the woman, but the deep reds and gleaming blacks on the same token spoke of her silent rebellion.

Here and there were framed photographs, some of strangers he didn't recognize, some with Molly in them- always caught in laughter or looking off thoughtfully. Such delicate, beautiful features. And that hair- the shiny coppery silk that nearly blinded in sunshine, and the flashing light green eyes that were so like a cats. Despite her notorious temper, Molly didn't have a drop of Irish blood in her veins. Or so her parents said, but they had definitely kept worse secrets.

He found himself presently in her bedroom, and couldn't help but smirk as he caught that floral scent she had always carried about her. It permeated the room, lingering on her clothes, and he imagined wryly, on the sheets of her bed.

It brought back good memories.

After staring around thoughtfully for a few moments, he went back into her living room and settled, straight-backed, on the couch to wait.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

May-30-2010 15:35

Marc left the bar pulling out his pipe. It was dark outside and the full moon lit his path down the lonely road. Vinny had left just after Marc had. He watched Vinny get into his car and head out toward the Tricky Mister. Vinny often had business deals there.

Marc started to walk that way himself. Maybe Shady knew something. As corrupt and strange as Shady was, he always helped the detectives for a small fee so he could drown himself with whiskey and gin. Mist began to form in the darkness as Marc made his way into town. He emptied his pipe and put it away.

With six blocks to go, Marc pulled out his pocket watch and held it up under a street lamp. 10:30 p.m. Sammy's Greek Restaurant closed two hours ago. Marc's stomach growled out of hunger as he walked through the thin mist and fog toward the bar. The building loomed closer and Marc pulled out a cigarette. As he flicked his lighter, something fell in front of him, spraying his face and a small part of his suitwith blood. Marc froze instantly and dared to look down at the body.

The first thing Marc saw was the face of Vinny Gambini. His knees were blown from being shot. Vinny's lifeless eyes stared back at Marc who was shocked to see his friend fall from the sky. The cigarette dropped from Marc's mouth and he threw his lighter back into his pocket and looked around for witnesses. Marc felt every ounce of life within him fall. Yes, Vinny was an organized crime boss. But he and Marc had become friends over the past couple years. And to see his friend like this, set Marc in a rage.

He looked around and saw a familiar car parked outside the bar. It belonged to one person; Molly. Marc's neck twitched, and soon his whole body shook with anger and rage.

He stepped into the alley just behind the entrance to the bar. He could hear Molly and Riza talking and one more person. The was Grace! Damn it! She had gone to them!

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