For a PriceBy Dark Side LukePlease note that all characters, settings and ideas in this work are the property of one, Dark Side Luke. You may use this story or any other by DSL on a website by contacting DSL by contacting him prior to the posting. Thank you.A/N: I'm finally able to put this in writing. I originally wanted to write this a long time ago, but it needed serious editing. I think I have everything right now. If not, or if you have a few suggestions,
Damen Puma Schuhe, drop me a line in a kindly worded review. And thanks for the help. Please enjoy.Christopher Raven stepped into the dimly lit nightclub, stopping just past the threshold to allow his eyes to adjust. He glanced around, noting the riot of dancers on the raised dance floor, moving and swaying under a shifting grid of multi-colored lasers. Opposite the door Chris stood by, there was the DJ's booth, surrounded by what looked to be Plexiglas. The DJ was in a world of his own as he spun and changed records with the same fluid motions of a machine. Speakers shook the club's foundations, booming bass from each corner of the warehouse-sized room. Above the dance floor, there was a steel mesh floor, where people could sit and drink while watching the dancers below.Chris walked around the raised dance floor, his hands in the pockets of his black coat. The bass emitting from the speakers shook his entire body and a lock of jet-black hair fell into his blue eyes. Irritated, he pushed the medium-length hair behind his ear. As he walked, he couldn't help but add a slight bounce to his step, in time with the music, although he tried not to.He reached the wooden staircase that led up to the club's second floor. The music was just as loud as below and the constant boom-boom-boom of the song's rhythm began to grate on his nerves. He tried to forget the sound by concentrating on his immediate surroundings.Tables were scattered among the mesh floor and many of them were occupied, always with no less than two people who bobbed their heads in time to the music, probably more on a subconscious level than on purpose. A bartender stood behind the bar to Chris's left, busily mixing drinks for a few patrons who sat on barstools, talking loudly to be heard over the music. One man sat alone, nursing his half-empty mug of beer.Chris inspected the man for a moment. He was older than most of the club's denizens, probably around fifty or so years old,
new era casquettes pas cher, and wore a wrinkled business suit among people wearing short shorts and T-shirts. His hair was unkempt and he had bags under his eyes. Beside his barstool, on the floor, was a briefcase.This was the one Chris sought.He took a step forward, his feet springing slightly on the steel mesh floor. He looked down and saw steel bars were set at regular intervals to reinforce the floor. Chris silently thanked the engineers in charge of the club's design. Without them, the floor would probably have caved in on the dancers below a long time ago.Quick strides carried him to the bar and he sat on the barstool next to the older man, ordered a beer from the bartender. Before he opened the bottle the bartender gave him, the older man was looking him up and down with a casual-appearing glance. The more he looked at Chris, the greater his interest became until he was no longer slouched but sitting with his back straightened and his shoulders no longer hunched. Chris took a sip of his beer and pretended not to notice."Are you Mr. Grace?" the older man asked intently, his eyes fixed on Chris.Chris took another slow sip of his beer and then turned to regard the older man. Chris looked the man up and down and then asked, "Mr. Robertson?" The man nodded. "I am Mr. Grace."A weight seemed to have been lifted off the older man's shoulders and he exhaled a great breath. He picked up the briefcase at his feet and clutched it tightly to his chest."We have much to discuss," Robertson said and stood his gaze darting left and right, at the tables full of people. "But in private, I think." He pointed to the washrooms across from the bar. Chris nodded and allowed the man to lead the way.The washrooms were a sharp contrast to the club itself. Where the club interior was dimly lit and full of people, the washrooms were bright and empty. The music was able to permeate the thick walls, however, but it was muffled to a great degree. The place was clean. The urinals, a dozen feet right of the door, were spotless and Chris wondered if anyone actually used them. The bathroom stalls, set in an alcove by the urinals, were closed and empty.Robertson walked up to the sinks opposite the door and inspected his thinning hair in the mirror. He placed the briefcase on the counter in front of him. Chris watched him, standing beside the door. He crossed his arms and slipped his right hand under his coat."These plans," Robertson said, breaking the silence, "are incredibly hard to come by." He patted the briefcase softly, like a father touching the head of a child. "I worked a long time on these plans, but those guys think they can take all the credit, all the rewards." He turned and looked at Chris. "You can help me get my revenge.""I'm not here for your revenge," Chris stated coldly."Right." Robertson turned to the mirror again and watched Chris from its reflective surface. "You're here for the merchandise. It should make me very rich."Chris shifted his weight slightly. "How many people have seen these plans?" he asked."Just me.""Let's keep it that way."Chris brought his hand out of his coat and produced a gleaming .45 pistol. The gun was marked with black birds in flight around the barrel - ravens, to be exact. Robertson saw this and turned to confront Chris, but before he had even completed his turn, Chris fired once. The shot sounded like a crack of thunder in the bathroom's confines, but Chris was sure no one outside had heard it.The bullet hit Robertson in the temple and threw him over the sinks and into the mirror. Glass shards imbedded themselves in Robertson's skull as the mirror cracked in a tangled, blood-spattered spider web. He slumped to the counter, then to the floor in a pool of his own blood.Chris stepped over the body and grabbed the handle of the briefcase. It was lightweight, he was pleased to find. He stuffed his pistol in his shoulder holster under his coat and left the bathroom. As he had thought, no one had heard the noise. He walked across the steel grid floor as quick as possible without attracting attention.Just before he reached the stairs, a large man stepped in front of him. Chris looked up at the stone-like face, his eyes catching the three angry red scars over the man's right eye. Ragged blonde hair curtained the mark slightly, but Raven knew what to look for."Brewzer," Chris said softly, his voice carrying over the music. "I didn't expect to see you."The larger man stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown trench coat and leered down at Chris, his one good eye gleaming dangerously."Raven," Brewzer said. "I expected to find you here."Chris sighed and clutched the briefcase's handle in a white-knuckle grip. This was not what he needed right now. "I was hired for this job, Brewzer," he said. "Do you think you can just walk in here and take my fee?"Brewzer took a step forward. The two were barely three feet apart."It's my fee now," Brewzer said. "If you'll hand over the case, this won't be so messy.""You're breaking the rules."A few people noticed the tension between Chris and Brewzer and watched them from a safe distance. It wasn't uncommon for a fight to break out between two drunks,
wholesale coogi jeans, but something else was afoot here. Chris noticed the unwanted attention and grated his teeth together. It would be just like Brewzer to walk in on the middle of a job to take "what was rightfully his" - which was everything."Rules are for suckers, Raven," Brewzer said. "Besides, I owe you for the little mark your dumb cat left on me." His closed and scarred eye twitched. He shifted his arm and Chris noticed a bulge in Brewzer's coat pocket - a gun, most likely. Chris managed to keep his anger on a short leash. Brewzer could ruin everything! If the thug took out that gun here and now, Chris's plans were as good as gone.Chris looked around without shifting his head and saw they had now attracted the attention of two of the club's bouncers. He decided it was time to end this.He brought up the case and smashed it into Brewzer's face before the larger man could react. As soon as he did, however, the bouncers - men at least as large as Brewzer - rushed forward. Chris continued the swing of the case, gathering momentum, as the first bouncer approached within arm's reach. He cocked back an impossibly thick arm to hit the smaller man in the head, but Chris brought the case around again. It smacked the bouncer's cheek and broke the skin in a bright mist of blood. He went down hard and a grunt of pain.The other bouncer threw a punch, which Chris easily dodged. He threw himself forward and jammed his knee into the man's groin, downing him instantly. Before he even hit the ground, Chris was around him and heading for the stairs.Brewzer dragged himself to his feet just as Chris ran by and threw a hand out to catch his ankle. The attempt was successful when Chris pitched forward as he turned to run down the stairs. He twisted in midair to fall on his back and as he did so, he caught sight of someone running into the men's washroom to escape the fight. Moments later, a scream tore through the air as Roberton's corpse was found.And then Chris hit the stairs.The breath was instantly blown from his lungs and his back muscles screamed for mercy as a hot pain arced through them. He rolled down the stairs and landed on the floor. The briefcase clattered loudly beside him and he grabbed it again before standing and running.He glanced behind him once and saw Brewzer halfway down the stairs with something in his fist. At first, Chris didn't recognize what it was in the dim light but the moment passed and he saw a 9mm pistol. Chris quickly changed his course and clambered up onto the raised dance floor.The first shot was almost impossible to hear over the music, but everyone near Chris heard the screams of the man hit in the thigh. The people quickly discerned situation and tried to flee in all directions, stampeding over one another in their attempts to escape. Chris was caught in the middle of it, pushing and throwing people out of his way as he tried to find a clear path to safety.Another shot took a woman in the back, directly behind Chris. He silently cursed Brewzer for his stupidity.How could the fool even think that he could still get a fee from this disaster? Chris wondered. More important, he wondered how he was going to get a fee from this disaster. Or even how he might get out of it alive.He broke through the crowd and jumped from the dance floor. He was about to run for the front door, but saw flashing red and blue lights through the windows and bouncers stopping anyone from getting through. Chris knew the cops outside would give them hell for that. He made a beeline for the back door.The door was locked, but a hard and fast kick quickly opened it. The cool night air greeted him, chilling the sweat on his forehead. He found himself in an alleyway, beside the club's filled dumpster. He casually left the alley and looked down the street. Police officers were evacuating the club's denizens and questioning a few. No one so much as looked at Chris.He walked down the road and up to a hunter green Jeep TJ parked next to the curb. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, inserting one into the Jeep's lock. He hopped inside the vehicle and threw the briefcase on the passenger's seat beside him. He quickly drove away from the club and the chaos.He picked up a cellular phone from the dashboard and dialed a number with one hand. The phone rang once and someone picked up."Do you have the package?" the man on the other end demanded without a greeting of any kind. Chris knew this line had been made for his purposes alone so there was no need for discretion."Yes," Chris replied. He turned the Jeep onto the expressway, merging with the midnight traffic easily."Bring it to the drop-off on fourteenth and ninth," the deep-voiced man said. "Your fee will be sent to you upon the package's arrival, as discussed.""There's been a change of plans," Chris said. "I'm going to keep the package and you're going to give me one hundred and fifty thousand dollars." He passed a slow-moving SUV. "I will give you people five days to get me the money, or I sell the package to the highest bidder.""Damnable thieves," the man on the other end of the line muttered. "You won't get away with this.""I already have." He disconnected and turned off the phone. After a moment, a slow smile touched his lips. He turned on the radio and drove back to his house for a quick shower and a change of clothes.He felt like celebrating.Thank you for reading. Remember: If you see anything that needs improving, don't hesitate to tell me. At least be kind about it.Topics related articles：
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