Darkening: Thievery (Short Story)
  • *Hey guys! This story is actually part of a series I've been writing for a few months. There are almost eight completed stories, but I am working to edit them as best as I can before I release them. They all feature the same character, but are not told in any particular order, although they make reference to each other.*

    “One...two...two and a half...”

    It's funny how people lose the ability to think when there's a gun in their face. I think it's funny, anyway. The guy in front of me is sniveling and drooling, it's pretty pathetic. I tap the gun lightly against his forehead. “You do know what comes come after two and a half, right?”

    “I'm sorry,” he stammers, “I don't know where he is!” He slumps over, letting his wet, sloppy face make friends with the floor. He sobs with some real passion. It's quite touching.

    “Listen, I don't want to kill you, Adam,” I say this with as much sincerity as I can muster. “Just tell me where Raynoldi is.” He's his right hand man, you'd think he'd have some idea about his whereabouts. He stares at me with big puppy dog eyes, tearful and sad. I sigh and aim the gun. “Three.”

    He falls over with about as much grace as a drunken priest. I would know. I put my back to the wall and slide down, blowing air out through my lips the way a horse does. Neigh. See, tonight is a first. The guy I'm working for, Carter Raynoldi, has actually grown the balls to steal from me. It's usually the other way around, I assure you. I couldn't even comprehend it at first.

    And let's be honest here, I couldn't care less about the money. I never do. It's the principle of the matter! Nobody betrays me. That's my job. It's making me a bit paranoid. Are they somehow piecing it all together? How I move from city to city, state to state, country to fucking country. They couldn't possibly have it pieced together yet. Not yet.

    I notice the blood from Adam, the first mate, is pooling out and touching my boots. How long have I been out this time? I need to stop zoning out like that. I hear a noise and some footsteps, so I grow statue-still, ready to pounce like a goddamn lion. “Hey Adam, we're about to leave!” I hear a voice shout. “I can't believe it, the boss has really pulled one over on Bla-” he comes around the corner to find his intended target of dialogue dead and bleeding. Me, well, I'm aiming a gun at him.

    “Oh shit,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. Like that's ever stopped me.

    “I'm fairly certain you know what I'm going to ask,” I say, smiling in my wolfish way. He nods to the side.

    “He's, he's about to leave. Through the roof, he's got a helicopter.” I roll my eyes.

    “Are you serious? Why can't this shit ever be easy,” and with that, I shoot him in the chest. I holster the gun and take off down the hall, becoming aware of the heavy chopping noise of the helicopter blades. I burst through the door to the stairwell and begin the climb, leaping two, three steps at a time. I swear to Christ if he gets away. I continue past the top floor, straight for the roof exit.

    When I break out onto the roof, he's already strapped nicely in his getaway...copter? Seriously, how do these people get this rich? He's smiling oafishly, and I stride toward him and his crew completely undetected, their pride mixing with the helicopter's engine to drown out all noise. One gun out, I take a breath in, keep walking, steady, steady and pull the trigger. The pilot's head jerks and then falls forward onto the controls. The rest of them, Raynoldi and two of his lesser lackeys, look at me with complete shock and fear. Tasty, delicious fear.

    I make a twirling motion with my finger and shout, “This is a no fly zone!” They can't hear me, and I know that, I just like to make myself giggle. I start jogging with a big smile, like I'm happy to see some old friends. I can see his fat ass struggling to get out, to go somewhere, to get away, but I think he knows. He knows that I'm coming and there's nothing he nor anyone else on this earth can do. I walk around the helicopter mouthing 'I can't hear you,' shooting through the windows but missing the people intentionally.

    The door slides open, and his two goons hop out. One has a suitcase and the other has a gun. Negotiation has always been a favorite of mine. With no hesitation, I pour my last bullet into the armed one. The one with the suitcase freaks out and throws it toward me before lobbing his sorry self back into the helicopter, shutting the door again.

    I pick up the suitcase, and I know what's in it. Anyone who's seen any sort of bank heist movie will know, it has money in it. It's the prize! It's what we all want! Wrong. I unlatch it and jerk it upward, sending all of the money either into the spinning blades or over the sides of the building. And there it is! The face of a dead man. Not only does he know there's nothing he can do, but he's accepted it. He's defeated.

    But then I see him fumbling with something. Color me interested. I walk toward the helicopter cautiously but curious. Then I see it, a big ass shotgun. I freeze. This is new. Usually, I'm very good at telling when a person has cut their losses. There's a certain glow that fades from their face, their eyes. But he's not pointing it at me. I hear a muffled bang, and the other goon who was in there with him loses half of his head. Quick as a light, I figure it out. His losses are still cut. Another suffocated bang, and blood sprays from his face.

    Well, I'm not sure how to feel about this. I was ready to make this guy suffer and regret the second he ever contemplated screwing me over. All this paranoia of him escaping, getting it out into the spiderweb of crime that there's a devilishly handsome mercenary with piercing blue eyes and...okay, I'm trailing off. At any rate, whatever deed I was going to do here is now pointless. I can't help but feel robbed. I drop my empty gun on the ground and pull up my hood, leaving the rooftop. Leaving a part of my satisfaction in the barrel of that shotgun. Leaving the helicopter on and spinning, the hum it's making sure to be ingrained in my head for days.

    When I get outside at the bottom, people are everywhere, acting crazy and excited. From down here, the noise isn't nearly so bad. People are leaping into the air, grabbing at something flitting about. And then I see it. Money is literally falling from the sky. Everyone is so happy, completely oblivious to the grisly scene up on the roof. For just a small moment, their problems are gone. They are absolutely nonexistent. They are nothing.

    I smile.