by B.A. Savage
Shadow
Bashan Savage
Copyright © 2005 by B.A. Savage
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An Original Publication of Savage World Entertainment.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except for use of quotes for review purposes. For information please contact: [email protected]
Printed in the U.S.A.
ISBN #: 978-1-105-49063-7
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Chapter One
The lighting in the compartment car flashes each time it passes under one of the McLaughlin City's many tall buildings. Packed beyond full capacity, different sounds and smells bounce off the walls. It's late, so the majority of the people on this monorail ride are young, with a small mix of elderly and single parents with children. Using a handrail is a man who doesn't fit any of these categories, yet blends in quite inconspicuously. Wearing a trench coat on a typical summer night is not uncommon since the weather of this area usually permits it. On his head is a matching Stetson hat that barely exposes his face, except to the person sitting next to where he's standing.
He has already surveyed the train, no one interests him. He looks down and tries to zone out the various conversations he hears, including the people whispering at the front of the car.
He thinks, “Here I am in ‘Mac L’ City again. I haven't been here since the World's Fair, and it looks fairly different now.”
He looks out the window to see a few skyscrapers, “Yup, a little different. Well, I guess it's good to get out every once and a while with the people, so at least I can keep up with the local trends. It's not like most snitches wear the latest clothes or gear. I believe that's what they call it now days.”
The lady next to him looks up and blushes when she realizes a very handsome and well-groomed man in his early twenties has been standing right next to her the whole ride. He notices her looking. She realizes this and turns away.
The man thinks to himself, “Too bad lady, it could never be. There was a time when I was foolish enough to believe in love, but I've learned a long time ago, love and me don't mix.”
He looks away in effort to not encourage any communication. “So those are the new Trezelle Thomas shoes. And to believe in this day and age, with mass production methods and thousands of shoe companies that anyone would pay several hundred dollars for tennis shoes. And it's even less conceivable that people still kill for them.” A teenager seated a few feet in front of him provoked this thought. “I guess several all-star appearances and championship after championship really do mean something, like big pay checks.”
The train screeches to a slow stop. The man waits patiently for nearly everyone to exit the train before he does. The place he's going means very little to him and time means even less. Once he's exited the train, he stands off to the side and unfolds a piece of paper. “Who needs a smartphone when you can use a good ol' napkin.” The unfolded napkin reads, “Go up three blocks, cross the park by the statue and the tallest building is it.” He then throws the napkin into a nearby trash bin.
He can see the park off in the near distance, he heads towards it. “If I wasn't so bored with life...again, I probably would not have taken the job offer from these criminals. It's not like I need the money. For most people ten million dollars is a lot of money, but money along with time has lost its importance to me hundreds of years ago. I just hope that they aren't typical mafia type who wants someone dead, and for ten million it's probably a lot of someones.”
He enters the park. It’s late at night, so he's the only person in earshot besides a late night jogger and his dog.
“I don't kill for pleasure. Never have and never will. It's just not me. Now hurting someone is a different story. Usually these mafia guys have a tough time hearing that I don't kill for money, so I usually have to leave a room full of clear headed people.”
He comes up to the statue. “A statue of Donovan Wates? I thought that one day he would have a statue of himself...in his house but not in a so-called public park." He stands in front of the statue looking it over, he says, “A nerd with muscles? Can someone say ‘Oxymoron’?”
“No! But I can say give us your wallet!” demands one of three armed assailants who had approached the man from behind. He heard them approach but figured they were just nightwalkers, joggers, or something, so he paid them no mind. He turns around to find three men, two armed with knives, one with a bat. The three men start trying to circle him. He notices that the assumed ringleader is wearing a pair of nice Italian shoes, easily worth a couple of grand. The man figures that these shoes must have been specially ordered because the man's feet must be at least size fourteen.
“So much for the wallet, huh?” asks the man, who is standing non-chalantly.
“What?” asks the ringleader.
“Well, you asked for my wallet, but before I could even hand it over, you three started circling me.”
“Um...yeah give us a wallet!” says the assailant in a demanding yet uncertain voice.
“Where do they get idiots like this from?” thinks the man silently.
The ringleader who has more balls than brains demands again, “Give me a wallet!”
The man tries not to laugh at what he just heard and thinks, “Give me a wallet? Did someone forget his criminal acts flash cards?” He decides to have a little fun with these guys before he heads off to his business appointment.
“Can I give you his?”
“What? His what?”
“His wallet, you did say a wallet right? Not anyone’s in particular?”
The leader of this goon squad looks baffled but one of the other goons grows tired of this game and charges the man. The man easily ducks his attacker's wild swing, elbow’s him in the midsection, then raises his forearm sending him to the ground. Another one charges, the man dodges his feeble attempt and chops the attacker in his throat. The thug drops to the ground, choking gasping for air and rolling around.
The ring leader finally runs at the man, who easily sidesteps him. He trips him on the way past, sending the attacker head first into the metal statue. The collision sounds like a church bell chimed once.
“Ouch, that had to hurt,” said the unharmed man as he approaches the only one who's not unconscious, he's on his hands and knees. The approaching man says, “See, you aren't able to kick it with the big dogs, but I am,” then kicks the man in his face. Now all three would be attackers are out cold.
The man kneels down and digs into the downed man's pocket. He pulls out the man's wallet, then walks over toward the downed team captain and says, “Here you go champ, here's a wallet,” then tosses the wallet of his partner in crime on him. The man then continues his way through the park, with the Katsuya Corporation skyscraper in front of him.