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Angelus · **03-30-2013, 09:35 PM**

Chapter One

"Cause & Effect"

It's a little after eight when Sam Burke walks into The Rusty Nail bar. The stroll in is casual. Never mind that he just sold the man, who's done more for him than his own father, right up the river to the feds. He walks past all the guests and staff members tonight. Quick smile, hellos passed around like spare change, just like nothing's wrong.

But inside, his stomach is turning and twisting in all directions. Thirty-six years old, been in the business since he was able to grow facial hair, never ratted on anybody. Then, like thieves in the night, they came along and held his life and his family on a string right under his nose.

He couldn't say no to them. No matter how badly he wanted to.

Did he feel like shit? Of course. Cobb looked out for him when no one else would. His loyalty had never wavered.

Nicky points to the doors that lead to the basement. Sam nods and slides him a fifty before going on back. He makes his ways down the stairs and into the basement, where sure enough, he finds Cobb.

He seems to be in a decent mood as he's bullshitting with a couple of the lost boys he keeps around the place. It isn't long before they notice Sam.

Cobb turns and smiles at his old friend. One of the guys tosses Sam a beer. He cracks it open, but never once does he take a sip.

"Sam," Cobb says. "Where you been all day? I got here and the boys said they haven't seen you all day."

"Sorry," Sam replies. "I got caught up in some shit."

"Some shit, huh? Something I should know about?"

Now Sam takes a long pull on the beer.

"Nah," Sam says. "I got it covered."

"That's why you're my guy, Sammy."

"We can chat a minute? Alone."

"Alright," Cobb says. "Clear out and do some work."

The other guys get up and head back up stairs. Only Sam and Cobb are remaining now. Sam takes another swig from the beer before setting it down. Cobb can sense something serious is up. Sam seems hesitant, real hesitant.

"I think you need to get out of the country," Sam starts. "Real soon. I got guys on payroll who are saying they’re closing in on you. They could come nab you anytime. As soon as some red tape is taken care of…"

"Christ," Cobb says. "Not this again. Sam, look. I'm not leaving."

"I'm not sure you understand the ramifications here."

"HEY!"

Cobb swings hard, cracks Sam right in the jaw. He stumbles back a few feet. It was a good shot. He shakes it off and feels around his mouth for a moment. Then, he looks at Cobb, nodding his head.

"Ok…" he stutters. "If that's how you want it."

Sam steps forward sliding off his jacket and throwing it to the side. The two begin walking in a circle, waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, Sam steps in, swinging and nailing Cobb in the face.

He swings again and catches Cobb in the stomach making him lean forward a bit. It's enough for him to grab Cobb and drive a knee up into his face.

Cobb falls flat on his back, and snaps his head back and forth trying to shake it off. Sam's still got a bit of a punch.

"I'm trying to take care of your ass," Sam says. "But you're stubborn as ever. Never fucking listen to what I gotta say."

Sam reaches down and yanks Cobb up. There's a sudden jerk of his head as he slams it into Sam's forehead, knocking him back. He then kicks him on the inside of the left thigh, bringing Sam down to a knee.

Sam looks up only to see a blur of Cobb's foot going across his face. Now it's Sam looking up at the ceiling.

"You're fast, my old friend. But this old guy's still got it."

Sam gets up as Cobb is coming forward. He tries to throw a punch, but Sam catches it. Sam throws one right back and it's Cobb's turn to catch.

Both stare, sucking wind, spitting blood out onto the floor.

"One day your number will be up."

"Today," Cobb replies. "Is not that day."

Cobb smiles as he pats his friend on the back and they share a laugh. Then he turns, his back facing Sam as the smile runs off his face.

We could still run for it, Sam thinks. We could still get out of here and leave this shit-hole town in the rearview.

A morbid thought crosses his mind then. Yes, they'd both be leaving alright, but one might be in a body bag, but Sam didn't know which one would go first.

Coma Therapy

Part One: The Hammer

They say everything goes black when those lights go out and they (whoever "they" are) are absolutely right. Everything does go black and for a moment you're motion sick because your body doesn't know if you're standing, sitting, falling or moving. It's the strangest of experiences. He imagined himself drifting through the air and floating like a crumpled leaf through the trees. There was a sense of urgency to what was happening, but he wasn't sure why. The first thing he noticed was that his mind was full of very few thoughts.

Red door.

Red door on a white garage.

Yeah, that was it.

The door was only red on the inside, so that meant it was open. The lock was broken so there must have been a heavy breeze that day. He wanted to walk through that door, he really did, but he felt afraid.

His legs were carrying him without his permission and he was walking through the doorway now. The smells in the garage brought back a flood of memories. The smell of gasoline, sawdust, and old metal machinery pushed a wave of nostalgia over him.

He felt himself looking over to the corner where the workbench was. He smiled, the light, with its smooth yellow arc of light washed over the bench just like old times.

He went to it and ran his hand over the smooth wood. He opened the toolbox and admired the order in there. A 1970s Playboy calendar hung over the bench and he caught himself laughing at the sight. The calendar was still on March like it always seemed to be. A warm feeling swelled inside him followed by a buzzing in his ears.

Someone was walking into the light…

The man was wearing a blue work shirt, untucked, with his name "Grant" on the pocket. Large hands hung at his side, covered in grease, and he dabbed them on his faded jeans.

The man squinted at him, his glassy blue eyes catching the light from the workbench.

"What do you say, kiddo? Want to see if we can get that old pickup up and running?"

Grant smiled over at him and scratched at the five o'clock shadow on his face. Anj felt himself nodding and Grant gestured for him to follow him over to the other side of the garage.

He didn't know how he had missed it waling in, but there was an old Ford pickup, looking like its best days were behind it. Grant popped the hood and started fussing around inside. Anj sat on an old wooden chair and watched Grant work away.

"Am I dead, dad?" he asked.

"I don't know, are you?"

"You're dead, right? And yet, here I am. So you tell me."

"You're not dead, kiddo," Grant said. "You're somewhere else and pretty soon you won't even be here."

"What's happening?"

"Hard to say. However, we are short on time."

"What do you mean?" Anj asked.

"Wherever you go next, it's going to be a lot worse than here. Just remember, son. There's always a way out. You just gotta find it."

"I -- I don't follow."

"You're going to need a weapon."

"What? Pop, slow down."

Grant stood up and reached down inside the hood of the truck.

"Do me a favor, huh? Hop in and lets see if we can get this old bitch to start."

Anj opened the driver's side door and found the keys in the ignition. He pressed on the gas and turned the key. A few clicks followed, but finally the engine turned over, and the truck was chugging.

"Doesn't run like the day your grandfather bought her, but it's a start. Anyway, Anj, the weapon I told you about…"

Anj looked through the dusty windshield of the truck but couldn't see Grant as he was standing behind the hood.

"What?" Anj asked. "You trailed off at the end."

"…is a hammer. You'll need it."

"A hammer? I don't understand. Where do I find it?"

"…the woods by…"

"You keep trailing off. You're losing me."

"Anj?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, son."

Anj crawled out of the bed of the pickup and around the side of the vehicle, but, Grant was gone. His father was gone.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Identity (Part 2 of 3) [RP#2 Xtreme/Gauntlet]
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