Jamaican_Dynamite t1_jcmh8f4 wrote

"Or you could just not have a timer on the motherfucker in the first place."

"...But why would I do that?"

"So that nobody with a brain knows how long they've got." He clasped his hands together. "Think about it. What's scarier? Knowing you're gonna' die, but you have 30 seconds to go over it? Or knowing you're gonna' die soon, but you have no clue when exactly?"

"Man, that's... That's something."

"Plus think of all the money you save on buying clocks and stopwatches. Those LED screens add up in our yearly budget."

"We have a yearly budget?"

"I mean, yeah, boss. Didn't you just have us file our taxes?"

"Look, I don't wanna' fuck with the IRS."

"Me neither. They got Capone, they'll come get us too."

"This is why I hired you."

"Thank you sir."

"So, no timers. Got it. Anything else?"

"Maybe keep things separated in more than one place? I don't like being in the room with all of this in one spot."

"Yeah, makes me nervous a little bit too."

"Like, I know it won't go off at random. But you know, it's the fact all the components are here..."

"And we're standing in the middle of it all."


"You're right. This shit's uncomfortable. Let's talk somewhere else."

"Lock the doors, because we really don't want that just floating around."

"Yeah. Taxes are easy to explain. But this..."

"Wind up under the jail under the other jail."

"That's Supermax time."

"Jesus himself will be back before your ass get out."

"Matter fact, tell you what, we sell that shit in there. Get it off our hands. Go into something else?"

"Like what?"

"Scamming cryptobros, I don't know."

"Sounds good. Want me to make some calls?"

"Sure. And uh, help me repack this stuff?"

"Ok. Just... Be careful. They'll be picking pieces of us off the moon if we mess up."

"Yeah this is just extra trouble for no reason."

"We're evil, but not that evil."



Jamaican_Dynamite t1_jcgiu57 wrote

"What'd you say?"

"What'd you say?"

"I asked you first?"

"I asked you second?"

"How you gonna ask a question about a question?"

"Maybe I don't have context for why I was asked the question?"

"That question? Or this question?"

"I don't know, which one are you asking about?"

"That's what I'm asking you?"





"Is this like a Mexican Standoff but with words?"

"I don't know, is it though??"

"Well I guess will have to wait here and see, won't we?"

"What do you think?"

"What're you two doing?"

"What are we doing? What are you doing??"

"Wondering what you're doing?"

"We were wondering what we were doing?"

"No, remember?"

"Remember what?"

"What we were doing?"

"When you were asking what I was doing? Or what you were doing? Or the Mexican Standoff thing?"


"No, what were you going to say earlier?"

"...About what?"

"What is happening right now?"

"A Mexican Standoff?"

"With no guns?"

"Should we have guns for a Mexican Standoff?"

"Wha- Should we? Aren't we all friends?"

"Why are you having a Mexican Standoff?"

"Why did we even call it a Mexican Standoff when we live in Cleveland??"

"What the hell is going on here?!"

"I don't know?"

"So why are you still asking questions? Why do you have a banana in your hand?"

"Because it's a Mexican Standoff? But I ain't got a gun? I got a banana?"


"For lunch?"

"One banana for lunch??"

"....This is the last time I'm sharing edibles with any of you."


Jamaican_Dynamite t1_janxp5q wrote

"Will you, please?" He asked, light glinting in his eyes.

"Oh," she sobbed at it. "Omari. It's beautiful."

He really didn't like making Robina cry. For any reason. Even though he planned this as a bit of a joke amongst their friends, the gesture was genuine even if it wasn't the way he usually did things.

Robina however seemed to shake her head slightly in a 'no' motion and he wondered if he'd gone too far. If she said no, he still understood. And perhaps this would be a reason why.

"I, I..." She choked again. "Yes!"

Of course while she didn't put it on at that moment, it was because it took second place to the giant hug the pair gave each other as the others cheered at the reveal.

Omari thought it was cringeworthy, or cheesy, or whatever somebody felt like calling it. But a bet was a bet. He'd lost his, and the fact was he had agreed to these terms. He had to publicly propose to Robina if he lost. And for the occasion, he'd made sure to get a ring. Or at least try to. He felt like just silver wasn't good enough. But reality had met his wallet for the Nth time in life.

He just hoped he was worthy of her being there.

To shorten a long night, the party was great. A lot of familiar faces had came by to say congratulations, or just to help out with favors. And the rest of the night was pretty great too. Too his surprise, it also ended in the tangle of sheets many would hope for.

For some odd reason, he woke up early in the morning. It wasn't a normal lapse from sleep. Something was burning. It smelt like it. His alarm at this also brought his attention to the fact that the house was deathly quiet. Robina wasn't in bed. The door to the room was open, and the house was dark.

But something was burning.

A quick leap into some sweats led him to search the rest of the house room by room. Nothing was visibly on fire. And he still couldn't find Robina. He quietly lifted a bat from the closet as he kept creeping through the house.

"Robi-" He stopped himself from whispering. Just beyond the backdoor sat an absolute unit of a person. Way too big to be his fiance. Way too big to perhaps be human even. Something was still burning, an almost metallic smell he could taste now.

Omari's first instinct came to leave. Either upstairs or out the front door. He really didn't have a clue which would be the better choice. Or whether it even mattered.

"Listen. It'll be okay." Somebody spoke. "Just play it cool. Tell him you're allergic to silver. He can get another ring."

"It's the best he could do."

That voice, albeit scratchy, with much more base than was familiar. It couldn't be. He almost said her name, but assumed that whatever this was. It must have killed and ate her. He backed up a hair. And knocked an empty cup off the table.

The sound made the head turn instantly. Omari began to run. His subconscious screaming that it wasn't enough. That thing would catch him. Something deftly grabbed his collar and he was clotheslined into the floor.

Robina didn't mean to do that to him. But it seemed safer than tackling him or otherwise strong arming him from the front door. Nonetheless she found herself pinning Omari and checking to see if it was him. Yup. It was him of course, but you couldn't be too sure. He was trying his best to scream bloody murder. An acceptable reaction as much as she carefully tried to gently stifle it.

Something clattered from her hand into the floor. The ring spinning like a lost die before rolling flat.

"...Robina?" He asked between breaths.

"...So, I'm guessing he knows?" A voice reacted to the commotion.

She held the phone like a playing card in her oversized hand. "Call. Back. Later."

"Okay Robbie, have fun. Don't kill him."

"O...mari." Robina tried to say. "Wha'?"

"Crushin' me..." He breathed.

He sat on the couch. She sat on the floor as to be somewhat level with him. She took the ring, holding it up for him? It sizzled in her palm, until she yelped and let it fall onto the couch. That explained the smell.

"So you can't wear silver?"

Robina shook her head no.

"Anything else?" Omari said as he rubbed his ribs further. Robina simply opened her palms in that way she did and pointed at herself.

"Well?" She uttered. Big crocodile tears starting to form even now.

Omari looked her up and down and laid further back on the couch. "I mean. It could've been be worse."


"I thought you, um, didn't like the ring." Omari quietly explained. She palmed the floor at this meager deflection. "I mean, your hair look good though."

Robina sighed and rolled her eyes. Even as a giant werewolf, he still managed to remind her why they loved each other so much. She sat there for a minute before picking him up and calmly walking towards the hall. Tail wagging like a lost puppy.

"What are we doing?"


"Why would we-"

He got his head bonked on the wall by her bridal carry.



"Be careful. I'm tender."

Needless to say, getting a different ring was in order. And maybe another bedframe.

...He'll probably be aight. r/Jamaican_Dynamite


Jamaican_Dynamite t1_j9kdk09 wrote

Everyone remembered it like it was yesterday. Christmas, 1999. The more technophobic branches of society were busy fearing Y2K. Some apocalyptic events due to a computer bug.

Everyone wished they were that lucky. A quick death via the Walmart version of Skynet. What a time to be alive.

But no. Instead, the apocalypse came in the fashion many were unlikely to actually believe. Everybody's religious until actual angels are spotted. That's what happened. And then, people disappeared. Remember all those religious texts about The Rapture? God's chosen people ascend to the heavens and the rest of us are left behind to confront the apocalypse via legions from Hell.

Hundreds of millions of people around the world vanished in an instant. Which in the grand scale of things is already problematic enough. But it's not the people that was the problem. It's what those people were in the middle of doing, at the moment of being connected to God's Wi-Fi.

Vehicles crashed. Multiple infrastructure services, and resources collapsed for a couple of weeks. And generally the world shut down for most of a month. This isn't including things like mass panic, small civil wars, and generally idiocy that tends to occur when people assume it's the end of the world. You know, the usual.

Eat your heart out Y2K.

Then supposedly there would be several years of societal collapse and destruction before the second coming of Jesus.

"Well, Jesus never showed up. And neither did Satan or any demons. So I'd say we're in the clear." Parker said with a grimace. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"That's what I'm saying." Vinay agreed.

The pair continued scanning the various things around the room. In the 25 years since The Rapture, science had truly taken the wheel. Our differences were much more trivial than figuring out what actually happened that day. At least to learn why they each wore a cryptic symbol on their heads from that day forward.

Parker remembered the hours after it scratched itself in on him. A fun thing to occur immediately after losing your family. His mother and brother vanished, his father was killed when their driveless truck hit a retaining wall.

Vinay didn't fare much better. Famine visited his part of the world when much of the local farming community got deleted. Most of his family who didn't disappear starved.

"You know the thing that gets me." Vinay began, as they began working on the large skeleton in front of them.

"Hmm? What's that?" Parker agreed as they let the AI program begin reconstructing the odd symbols they found in the clothing.

"It didn't just take Christians."

Parker sighed. "I kinda' assumed that. The whole world doesn't believe in the same things. That'd just be vanity to think that."

"I know." Vinay continued. "Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims. Mormons."

"Exactly. The whole world got affected. Plenty of people told me their loved ones and friends got taken. Even people who didn't believe."

"So what does that tell you."

"Angels, God, or not..." Parker assumed. "It picked us at random."

"Like tending to a crop." Vinay explained as he checked the scans of the clothing. The symbols matched language used in the symbols on their foreheads.

"What does it say?" Parker asked from the skeleton.

"Do not harvest." Vinay paused. "Not fit for consumption."

The reveal was only a couple of years earlier. But the world erupted in confusion yet again at its translation.

"We're just food for them." Parker theorized.

Vinay continued reading what he could see. "We don't necessarily know that."

"If it was a rescue, you'd say it was a rescue. Unless we're talking tuberculosis, there's usually only one other meaning for the word 'consumption'."

Vinay grimaced at the idea. "We're the flock, they're the shepherds. Did I get that right?"

"Close enough." Parker brushed off. "So what happened to this guy? Thought they weren't able to be killed."

"You'd think that." Vinay said as he checked a work tablet. "Turns out being hit by a 747 at cruising speed does the trick."

They both looked over the shattered bones. The fanged jaw slack and broken. The wings that had been reduced to fragments.

"World's largest bird strike." Parker answered.

Violeta, their team's photographer, circled the body incessantly. She was busy snapping photos of the bones for later research. With new technology, came new chances to investigate past discoveries. She was there to document it all. She wasn't a fan of banter however; and so she continued silently despite their observation.

"Everything that comes in here just suggests what we keep talking about." Vinay said as he rested against a counter. "We're just food."

"What concerns me." Violeta spoke. "Every child born has the mark too."

"Not fit for consumption." Parker repeated.

"Yes." She said before setting her camera down. "But what if someone is born without it? After all this time?"

"...Be prepared." Vinay said as he looked at the bones again. "Because I think they're coming back."

Little bit of eldritch horror. Just a little. r/Jamaican_Dynamite


Jamaican_Dynamite t1_j6o1g4c wrote

"Why do you think we are here?"

"My guess? Somebody hates us." Mars answered.

This wasn't exactly the most far fetched theory at this point. Landon Park wasn't exactly a stellar place to begin with. Thus when it was somehow glassed and wiped off the map of Ohio; most others rejoiced in glee. At least online they did. Everyone tried to play along at the memorials.

The truth was that the Park had always been in some way on its way out. A slump in farm production, led into heavy industry. That slumped and led into further decline of the area. Numerous tech giants claimed they would buy land and repurpose the area. But in classic fashion, those that did either backed out, gave up, or pocketed the cash and ran. A city of 210,000 had dwindled down to 100,000.

And that was before the test facility exploded. Oddly enough, a speeding semi was rumored to have caused the blast. But that was a story for people back home to figure out.

"At least it's peaceful." Angelika smiled.

This brought up a lot of rather unpleasant memories. Their first raid from barbarians. The feral goblins. That one time Mars himself got abducted by harpies. The time one of the corner stores burnt down. At least they reopened next door. It's not like the neighbors were home in the last 30 years anyway.

"I beg to differ." He mused eventually.

"Oh come on. Look on the bright side." Angelika suggested.

He supposed being reincarnated as an Oni would do that to a lot of people. Pretty easy to feel comfortable when you can proabably level an entire human platoon using your hands and a fire axe. Mars on the other hand, Mars came back as something called a Kobold. He wasn't really big on his knowledge of lizards that walked on two legs.

"Whatever. This place is still a mess." He reacted.

"Oh stop. The Park has never been better."

"We're being pressed by a demon army on one side. A crooked human kingdom on the other side. And there's rumors of a dragon somewhere just over the hill there. You know, those things from those fantasy books you loved that torch everything when they get mad?"

"It's not like you're completely defenseless." Angelika pointed out.

Mars rolled the AR pistol in his hands. "Look. Just because I was involved with that incident at the hunting shop does not mean things have panned out."

"You're a Kobold that knows how to fight. Do you know how rare that apparently is?"

"It's not like I had a say in that."

A flash and rumble startled both of them, and the quickly left their lawn chairs and peered over the railing. Three floors below ther apartment, one of the neighbors was busy working with a cauldron. By cauldron, they meant a repurposed oil drum.

"Hey Patches!" Mars shouted down. "Do us all a big favor and don't burn the building down?!"

"Shut the hell up Mars!" The amateur mage retorted. "I'm reaching a breakthrough!"

"In magic, or crystal meth??" Mars shouted back.

A quick blast from Patches led Mars to lean backwards and let it strike the overhang. Flowers bloomed upside down from the ceiling, defying all logic. Well at least logic that normal people would carry.

Standing on the railing at the top rung, Mars hopped and snatched the bushel of flowers down. Dressing it like a bouquet, he handed it to Angelika in a mock formality.

"Flowers, my love?"

"Aww." She blushed. "You do remember it's our anniversary."

He smiled, but panicked internally. Because of course he had forgotten that it was their anniversary. He wasn't a complete idiot, sure. But as he always told himself, he sure gave it his all to reach such a high standard.

"What's wrong now?" She said as she quit hugging the flowers.

"I, uh... I gotta go downtown." He sidetracked. "Yeah. That's it."

"Well I'll go with you."

"No. No. You've been working guard for three days. Take a rest." He promised. "Have you seen Devon?"

"Oh God. What are you off to do?"

"Nothing." He lied poorly. "I just need to talk to him before I go."

"Last I saw, him and his friends were downstairs."

Of course, Devon and his friends didn't go easy on him about his proposal. A pack of Gnolls dying of laughter is rather contagious after a while, and it made sense why they were already his friends before they all got sent to see the Wizard of Oz.

"So. Let me get this straight." Devon said between tears of joy. "You came to get me. To break into the mall. To get a ring for your girlfriend?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Just ask one of the blacksmiths."

"They're still melting stuff down at the foundry. They've been at it for two months."

"Jewelry store over on 8th street."

One of the others interrupted them. "Ah nah, that place got looted day one."

"What about Smith's?" Devon suggested next.

Mars reminded him. "They burnt down."

"Shit." He frowned. Using a claw to scratch under his chin. "There was that one place next to the police station in the mall."


"You do realize that place is pretty much cult territory right? Ever since those preppers took over?"

"I'm not going for prayer and a blood ritual. I need someone to help me bust in. Grab some loot. Bounce out. That's it."

"Man I got you." Devon promised as he made sure to grab his war hammer. And strap on a bulletproof vest. He knew how trigger happy Mars could get in a pinch.

They crossed the parking lot as the sun began to set. A lone harpy watched them from a nearby strip mall before fluttering away on the breeze.

"You sure a ring will cut it?" Devon broached. "I'm serious. Your girl got some big hands."

"Shut up bro."



Jamaican_Dynamite t1_j65fvjd wrote


Jamaican_Dynamite t1_j64uurz wrote

It had been a rather odd transaction. The man had specifically asked for an appointment long after dark. Something that wasn't exactly requested on common notice. But nothing that unusual. There were other higher priority clients. But this one paid just as much as any of them, and then some.

Only after a certain point did conversation finally bubble to the surface. Lucio was his first name. That was the most recent information he had learned in their introduction.

"I must say." He uttered. "I haven't been in a place such as this in quite some time."

"Oh. A studio?" Dylan questioned. He wasn't really paying attention to anything but the canvas for a moment.

"Actually yes." Lucio responded. "At least one such as this. I haven't been invited to many social events. Lately."

The painter looked at him for reference before quietly continuing. Lucio always found that ability fascinating. Someone with the capability to capture the essence of life and recreate it in such a way. The focus on details.

"Yeah. I bet the pandemic probably put a damper on that for a lot of people. Haven't seen some friends in two or three years."

"That's a long time."

"Well, some of them have kids, grandparents. No sense in putting them in danger."

"Has your work been affected?" Lucio asked, making sure to stay as still as possible when Dylan was looking.

"Less than you'd expect actually."

"Good. That's good."

Dylan had to admit things had been easier thus far than usual. People usually need to take a few breaks or realign themselves a little to get comfortable. But it had been two hours and Lucio had yet to truly move. Occasionally he'd grin in some fashion, before settling back into the same look. The guy had some noticeable teeth however. Dylan didn't understand why that was what he'd noticed, but he ignored it and carried on.

"So what's the last thing you went to?"


"Oh nice." Dylan answered. "I've never been. How was it?"

"Very nice." Lucio smiled. "You've never been to Paris?"

"No. Never left the country." Dylan smirked. "I haven't left the state in maybe a year and some change."

"Oh goodness." The young man laughed. His voice carrying a vague air of wealth and perhaps royalty in some fashion. "You must surely go at least once."

"Eh, maybe some day... Not today though."

"At least tell me you do travel."

"I do. Every once in a while."

"How so?"

"Well, I walk from this room to another room. Take my shoes off and watch Hulu or something." Dylan shrugged. There was a mild look of disapproval that flashed across Lucio's face. Or misplaced concern?

"I'm kidding. Occasionally I drive up into the mountains. Go on a hike. It's peaceful."


"No. Motels." He explained. "Our ancestors fought and died for shelter for a reason. Me dying in a gorge somewhere sounds, cosmically; like a let down for them."

It had been four hours now. It was at least midnight. A cursory check corrected him that it had to be at least one in the morning. The basics had been covered. Now came the real details. Dylan nonetheless kept a steady hand. Lucio stayed statuesque as if actually made of stone.

"So what did you go to Paris for?" Dylan asked as checked his work. "Vacation? Business?"

"A bit of both." Lucio contemplated slowly. "You have to forgive my lack of detail. I've been all over the place. Paris, Rome, Berlin. Warsaw. Athens. Barcelona."

"Lifestyles of the rich and famous." Dylan jokingly interrupted.

"Yes. But well." Lucio redirected. "I was in town for the Expo. The World Expo to be precise."

"That's a pretty big deal."

"Arts and technology in modern life." Lucio recalled. "An interesting theme. Consistently relevant."

Dylan nodded as Lucio continued on. Little tidbits like this were fun to learn from clients. And usually they were bit more rigid. A lot of his earlier examples. Heads of state, corporate types, or celebrities. They tended to be tight lipped, too proud, or too withdrawn much of the time. For good reason he assumed.

But not Lucio. If anything, talk of his personal life seemed to have improved their progress. A bit of warmth that added to the portrayal. But he still felt a bit off about the details of the trip. He couldn't place why.

"...Guernica, by Picasso. Granted, he was a mess of a human being. But the man had talent, I tell you."

Dylan was finishing up his last touches. The clock reading somewhere close to 5:15 in the morning. The sky was still dark outside, but faintly turning a deep blue.

"I believe it." Dylan promised. "So did anything else really stand out?"

"There were a lot of things that one could enjoy." Lucio promised. "But it all, really, just told me what was going to go wrong. What was coming."

The painter stopped. A measured movement that suggested he had pried too hard.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." Lucio dismissed. "It's all ancient history now."

Perhaps a half hour later, Dylan turned the canvas and offered his work. It was a simple yet detailed visage. The colors and pose coming together to make a perfect depiction of a momentary lull in life.

"It's immaculate." Lucio began.

There was a rather lengthy silence as he studied it more. Most people, while impressed, never carried that much gravitas about it. Even when it was a picture of themselves.

"It's been so long." He frowned slightly. "I wondered what it was like."

"...Is everything okay?"

It was clear his change of behavior had made the painter a bit uneasy. Understandable. Lucio carried that air about him naturally. Especially when he was hungry.

"Forgive me. I haven't seen a portrait of myself in so long."

"A century. Right. You... um..." Dylan reminded him. "Lucio?"

"Yes?" The young man asked before checking the clock. "Ah, I must go."

Extra money was shuffled into Dylan's hands from a small bag Lucio had brought with him. "I will return for my portrait as soon as possible. Honest."



Dylan offered as he casually picked up a small black object and waved it at Lucio.

"I know you said you have some sort of problem with mirrors? But you do know mirrorless cameras exist? Right?"



Jamaican_Dynamite t1_j5vl9tx wrote


The voice came from the door like a song on the breeze.

"Gabrielle." He responded.

"I've been thinking of our little arrangement." She spoke now. The unlit cigar she removed from her mouth leaving a small ring of lipstick on one end.

"Oh. How so?" He asked.

She undid the trenchcoat she wore to reveal a rather startling scene of what little she still wore underneath.

"I understand you are a man of business."

It took Marten a moment to really explain himself. Let alone what all he was looking at.

"One could say that. Yes." He agreed.

She slowly bent over the mahogany desk and breathed on his mustache from a short distance.

"And I know that you and Adam are mortal enemies. What with him thwarting your plans all the time. Business plans, I mean."

"Well, yes. I wouldn't say we're mortal enemies." Marten watched as she slid around the desk to get even closer. "More of participants in a large conflict of interests."

"I'm surprised you haven't killed him." She stated.

He wondered how much Adam had told her about him before. Not that all the times Marten himself had used her existence as leverage against him.

"I've tried. The guy just comes back eventually." He shrugged. Gabrielle, slid the cigar she originally mouthed into his own. She lit it for him with a practiced hand, blowing the match out effortlessly.

"He has a family. You know? Start there."

Why would she say that? The statement even made Marten reconsider what she was there for.

"That's a bit excessive." He reacted. "Plus I really don't know where to start."

"Well, there's a retirement home a few neighborhoods over. Just to start."

She had left him to stare out of the windows of the penthouse. She had lit a cigarette of her own and was busy watching traffic far below.

"You realize I am a businessman? Right?" He stood.

The demure look she gave him made his heart melt, but his mind race.

"I didn't say you had to do it. You have a lot of workers after all."

"Exactly. I'd go to jail for that. Besides, I have to figure out how to seal this deal."

"For what?" She quizzically glanced.

"Oh, these warehouses we're building. The orphanage next door said they're taking us to court. Partially because they couldn't afford the funds to stay open, but mainly because they fairly sure they still own the land."

"Ok. Burn it down."

"And I- What??"

He stopped his rambling diatribe immediately at that. What even was that?

"What?" She sheepishly asked.

He palmed his face. "Obviously, I'm not doing that."

"Again I didn't say you should." She offered up. "Somebody you hired could."

"Like who?" He tried to sidetrack.

"Snake. Or No Ears Bobby. I bet Fat Richard could probably do it. Even as big as he is."

The thumb under her chin along with the cigarette and glasses made her look like some weird pastiche between a pin up model and a librarian.

Marten spread his hands. "Richie fat as hell but he's not gonna' burn down an orphanage. We'll take them to court. Like we're supposed to."

She walked over and embraced him again. Quietly, she worked her way around to lean on his shoulder. She began whispering in his ear.

"You know a couple of your workers on the plant floor are stealing from you."

He paused his mild concerns. Money was always tantamount.

"Okay. Which ones?"

She turnt her head to rest against his own.

"Does it matter. Take a couple of them out back, skin them alive, and I guarantee everyone will get right."

"Why... Why would I do that? Why would I do it like that?" He began to perspire. A mild shiver ran up his spine.

"Because, fear breeds obedience. It takes that little spark of contempt for authority and..." She stopped to put her cigarette out in her palm, of all things. "Puts it right out."

"Okay. I'll think about it. Look can you give me some time to work on these papers? I still have to see whose getting the shipments for the hospital."

He hoped this would steer their talk somewhere else. Or at least give him a moment to think about the ideas she'd given him.

"Oh, is that complicating things?"

"A lot. We might not be able to cover this and the construction job at the same time."

Gabrielle smiled. "Let somebody else deliver the supplies and focus on your land issue then."

"Not the worst idea perhaps." He admitted as she closed her coat and took another seat on the edge of his desk.

"Besides." She cheered up. "If you poison the supplies before they get to the hospital, that takes the heat off of you, so you can take care of that orphanage. Then when the orphans are out of the picture, you can finally finish off Adam.... And the city is ours."

"Hello? Operator? Put me through to Adam Ferriss. Yes. Thank you."

"Adam Ferriss, inquiry agent. How can I help you?"

"Adam! My boy! Good to hear from an old friend."

"...You've got a lot of nerve calling me."

"Why yes. Yes I do. Spare me the waterworks son. I'm not calling for formalities. I'm calling you because it's of great importance to you."

"I'm listening."

"As you may know. I've recently come into the possession of a very fine asset I'm sure you're familiar with.... Ferriss?"

"Go on."

"You tried to interrupt our little soirée. What with your precious wife Gabri-."

"Ex wife." Adam corrected. "If you do anything-"

"Ah, but I already did. If you want her back, come get her. The wharfs, tonight."

They readied their Thompsons and waited now. His immediate circle having positioned themselves through the yard. Gabrielle patiently stalking the aisles still in her trenchcoat and lingerie combo.

"You sure about this boss?" Fat Richard spoke.

"If we're lucky." Marten muttered as he slid a drum into place and pulled the bolt back. "We'll get both of them."



As much as I love classic noir, they always did the female characters dirty. So here's a femme fatale on demon timing.