Got bored of writing fantasy so thought i would start a gangster pulpy story. hopefully have part two up this or next week.
Manhattan- blood and vomit“Manhattan” mumbled the tallest P.K.M with the green bobble hat on, his long black beard ruffled against the rough leather of his coat.
“What about it?” asked another, Standing in the doorway to Louis’s Diner, a small blue building tucked in between the tall orange brick office blocks.
“I didn’t ask you a question” the tall man answered. “Damn whores, guns, money, and blood. Don’t it ever stop?”
There was a foreboding silence as the shorter man, lit a cigarette and taking a strong inhale thought about his answer. A small ring of smoke ascended into the mist as he did so,
“No, it don’t, so get used to it.” The taller mans face dropped as if he had been called ‘big’ or ‘fat’ in a mocking way.
“I am damn used to it, that’s the fucking problem.” He paused “a smoke?” he asked in a pitiful way, like a child asking if he could have a toy of one of the high shelves.
“SSHHH, here they come!” the shorter man stooped into the shadows of the alley behind a small pile of bin bags and other waste. The taller man fell back into the doorway of the club.
Two well dressed gents walked out of a lightly lit doorway halfway down the alley. Classic jazzy tunes played across the air for a few seconds before the door was pulled shut by one of the guards in the bar. The men walked up the alleyway towards the two P.K.M’s and chatted in a formal manor.
“You make out what they’re saying?” asked the taller man stooping down to be at a similar level.
“shut it you big head giant” the other man replied stubbing his cigar in a small puddle of god knows what next to his foot “you’ll blow our cover!”
The two gents were growing much closer to the P.K.M’s and the conversation grew louder, snippets of “oh but I do disagree” and “ah but you see” could be caught upon the air and otherwise only the whispers of the wind were audible.
The two P.K.M’s stayed dead still until the two gents were within a meter when the smaller man gave a signal with his left hand and the two men jumped out to confront the gents.
The reaction of the gents was totally unexpected, one extended a hand to shake with the smaller man and the other gent turned and introduced himself to the taller man, only to be greeted with a knife to his gut!
The gent, not spluttering blood up the alley walls, realised what was happening soon enough and turned to run back down the alley, as he did so the smaller man threw a small wire lasso around his head and whipped it back with a quick cracking motion. The man lay headless on the floor.
The dyeing gent turned to the two men and asked in a blood sodden voice
“Who are you?” he coughed up a bit more blood, his perfect white shirt was no longer perfect white. He turned to look over in the headless mans direction.
“Personal”
“Killing”
“Machines”
answered the men in turn, and finished in a high pitched cackle of laughter.
With that the gent cough up his evening meal in an almighty heave of blood and vomit, and passed out not to wake.
The shorter man took his top hat.
“….how do I look?” he asked, bursting into laughter and running down the alley.
The taller man by his side, plodding one footstep to every three the shorter man took.