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"Crooks at the Carnival"
Date: April 2, 2000  It's a carnival. A dull carnival, we'll say, and one that disallows beer and wine and all those wonderful trivialities that makes a party a party. So now it's just rides and screaming kids and a few necking couples and a lot of bored parents and then... And then the Augusts arrive. They're a Family, if you know what I mean, and they create both an entrance and an exit, leaving a swathe of open space behind them as they pass, that few take advantage of. Then the crowd will slowly mill into that space and things are as they were, maybe somewhat subdued. But through that newly-reformed crowd, trips a woman who seems to be trying to catch up with the other crew, with that Family that came by. Of course, in the 1930s, alcohol is never far behind. Nor drugs. At a corner, with darting eyes and shifting fingers, a man and a woman are talking to each other. Well. If their screeching can be defined within the boundaries of conversation that is. A woman, her hair painted all white, is pointing her sharp red nail at another guy with no hair. "I want my money, ya hear? You bought them tea from me. You gotsa pay me back!" From the look of the man, wearing black leather and with an earring on his nose, they probably are not talking about jasmine or earl grey. Wings Augustin limps and sidles along in these too-high heels, her boa flopping off her arm and threatening to tangle itself in her legs, once she gets a few steps going. The expression of exasperation lies just beneath the surface, coming to the fore whenever Wings manages to further wrench her ankle or stub a toe. Naturally the fight draws her attention. Naturally, she welcomes the opportunity to stop and stare. The man lays one greasy hand on the bare arm of the woman. In a placating tone, "Liz, sugar. Once I do this thing... I'll make nuf cabbage to get you those shiny stones you always wanted." The woman snorts, "You are just all talk, Grey." The red nail is pushed deeper into his flesh. The man shakes his head vigorously, "No no. It's a real job this time. I just gotsa throw some lead into some Family. You know... the Au--" At this, his eyes shift around before leaning in and whispering into Liz's ear. The woman's blue eyes widen. Eyes so blue like the summer sky, they gotta be contact lenses. No! Wings' gaze also widens, but she doesn't have the contacts (contacts in the 30s?) and she's just not that marvelous looking that anyone would feel inspired to, say, click her mug. Oh quick! She's got to hide, to listen, to discover. Wings, in one of the first bright moments of her evening, reaches to remove her high, high high heels, and she drops her head -- hoping to be unrecognized (she is rather plain) -- while she fastens them to her purse-string, by their little lacy buckles. Some dude discovered contacts in the 1880s. Anyways. The pale blue eyes, and that bleached white hair, gives Liz a look that would have made her unique, except that everyone else seems to be doing their hair in purple or any other hue of the rainbow. Though bare skin seems to be a fad too. Sweat gleams off Grey's bald head. His voice rises again as excitement overrides caution. "Man, they promise me a century, if I take off this August fellah. An' he ain't even the big man. Just some no name cat. I think he pissed off one of them Al Capone's girls. And so he is a walking dead man." Wings Augustin swallows, sure that even that is audible. Ever since Ty talked her into doing this stuff, Wings has been pretty sure it was a waste of time. But this --THIS -- here's her chance to prove to everyone that she really can do it! It! Whatever It is! That is, Wings can make sure that they understand that she's not just a pair of pretty legs, and that.... Well... Hey. Wings begins thinking frantically for other reasons to continue to loiter. That red dress of hers is siren-conspicuous. And she has no nails to break and mourn over. The woman glances around. Ah-hah! A cotton-candy stand there, a little closer to the speakers. And the line is long. Wings heads over, ushering a man into line ahead of her. Nevermind that he cranes his neck to look at her bare feet. "I don't know, Grey. Them Augusts are all mean. Scum all right. Just tough mean scum. Like those things that grow on your bathroom tiles. Hard as heck to scrub off. Anyways, haven't got good cocaine sales ever since they stepped into our turf. Are you sure you wanna go af--" Liz's eyes just manage to flicker over to the cotton-candy stand as a bright red figure tries to hide among the crowd. Members of a Family are known to most dealers. "Hey... Isn't that an Aug--" But Grey had already spotted Wings and his arm is now reaching into his jacket. Wings Augustin isn't armed. Except with two arms. She has, and she does the mental survey quickly, a purse and two shoes. And she can move a little better now, though her nickname comes from her Family's teasing her about her clumsiness. 'Wings-on-her-feet' August, that's Wings. Casting a quick, desperate look over to the two, Wings turns and flees, putting foremost the cotton-candy waiters between her and them. Grey's hand comes back to view, this time, with a slick black revolver. As for his name, people call him Grey, cos that's how he tends to make most of his victims. Grey. And stiff. Fortunately for Wings, the cotton-candy waiter was just stepping forward to hand some pink fluff to a little pony-tailed girl. With a sickening thud sound, the bullet goes into his shoulder. Hands grasping unbelievingly at the blood spurting from the wound, his eyes roll back and he faints, right into the arms of Wings. That'd have to be some trick, as Wings was heading out pretty fast. But her exit is interrupted by the man who slams down against, and then on her. Wings is frail, small, and nearly buried by the man. Screams erupt from around the scene, and people back off, run and dive behind what they hope are obstacles to more bullets. Wings can't go anywhere. She marshals what meager strength she has and tries to shove the man off. Grey mutters some obscenities, and he runs towards the chaotic scene. Meanwhile, Liz just watches the scene for a few seconds before a shaking hand moves towards her purse. Then, between her slim fingers, she lights a cigarette and inhales deeply before following after Grey. To the left and right, people are tripping over each other and a cop, finding himself alone, quickly makes himself scarce. Either he's a wimp. Or he's under the pay of Liz's own family. The Triads. Well, there's the third option that Wings hadn't considered until she got this man falling on her, and his belt buckle digs into her stomach. Hey! Maybe he is packing. She begins to feel around in his pockets, like some desperate trapped street-rat going for the gold, before the constable sweeps down to get her. And she comes up with -- a switchblade. Who'd-a-thunk? Well. Wings takes another moment to shove the man off of her and she clicks the blade and holds it between herself and the gun-toting man. "Whoever you're looking for, they went the other way." Her eyes couldn't get any wider, as Wings kneels, now filthy and bloody, on the ground, with her paltry knife proffered. The man laughs at Wings. "Sugar baby. You going against my bean-shooter with your needle?" He aims the gun at her forehead. "Tell me why I shouldn't off you right now?" Heels clicking against the soggy grounds, Liz finally catches up with Grey and she stands at his side. "Don't bop her now, she might have info that we'll need." The man laughs, "That's right, Liz. You're smart for a broad." Watching Wings intensely, the gun lowers to her chest. "So Babe. Where is Ty?" "Don't know." Wings returns, lowering, but not yet releasing her (stolen) knife. "You think he checks in with me before he goes anywhere?" Nevermind that the two are very often seen together in public. Nevermind that Ty regularly hauls Wings into places of both ill and high repute, and they've been spotted at every speakeasy in town, smoking and drinking and, in Ty's case, getting his trousers burnt because Wings still doesn't have the knack of inserting her cigs into her holders correctly. With a snake-like movement, Grey's fingers wrap around Wing's hand, the hand in which she holds her knife. And he begins to squeeze tightly, so that the pain slowly begins to increase in intensity. The tip of his revolver is brought before her face, and tenderly, almost lovingly, the gun traces her jaw. Speaking so close to her that his pungent alcoholic breath washes all over her face, he drawls out, "Come on doll. Word on the street is that you are Ty's kitten. Don't make me get rough on you. Don't wanna leave marks on your pretty face." Liz smirks at that. Well now, Wings knows the guy is either blind or a liar and she's betting on the latter. "So let me get this straight," Wings drops her usual southern-belle accent for straight-talk. "You think that you're going to -- Ouch ouch ouch..." The knife drops, and Wings -- teeth gritted for a moment -- curls slightly over her wrist, though she's not arguing about contact with the gun. And she continues, brave words for a dire situation: "You think that you're going to get me to betray Ty, by threatening to shoot me up? So if I tell you where he is, then you get to shoot HIM AND Me. But if I stay quiet, then you only shoot me and Ty will skin you, when he gets his hands on you." You've heard those rumors, right Grey? Grey rolls his eyes and gives Liz an annoyed look. "Can we just kill her now? She ain't gonna snitch without hard work." He complains, "And I ain't no bringing my torture tools with me right now." Liz shrugs, her bleached hair becoming one with the cigarette smoke. "She's all talk, probably won't tell you anything you won't find out later. Just shoot her." On that verdict, Wings darts her hand down to try to catch up that fallen knife. This is the other hand. And the knife is a switchblade, double-edged. So if Wings is going to get killed, she might as well take the risk and try to stab/cut/slice Grey's gun-arm with the knife, as she drop. That is, it's a coordinated effort: Her grab-and-cut is supposed to happen at the same time as the drop-and-roll. This is not a maneuver that Wings has practiced. As she moves downwards, the revolver finds itself aiming at empty hair before refocusing at the woman. As it is, the gun fires haphazardly, managing to only graze Wing's arm as her own weapon pierces into Grey's thigh. Ignoring the pain and twisting his body to one side, Grey falls onto the woman, pushing his shoulder blade into her body and throwing her towards the gritty ground. Thunk. Wings granted herself another spare few seconds of life. And this is the second time some man has fallen on her, in the past five minutes. It's becoming a trend. And while the carnival clears out, people taking to their heels, Wings fights to recapture some breath that Grey knocked out of her. That knife is yet clutched in her left fist (she's right-handed), and she'll try to get some aspect of the pointy end to contact some part of Grey. At this juncture, Wings ain't particular. Anything will do. But knowing where the knife is, Grey moves his body aside. And while he is lying fully atop of her, he has to use his right gun-occupied hand to restrain her flailing knife. Deciding to ignore both gun and knife, he uses his left hand and begins to choke her. A woman isn't going to defeat a hatchetman like Grey so easily. Even if he is slightly drunk. Likely, Wings wouldn't defeat him if he was tied up and she was better armed. She can't shoot. She can't use a weapon with much clarity. She can't do much of anything physical, but boy-howdy can Wings pick a lock! Now, this man's weight about collapsing her lungs, and her knife-hand effectively captured, she tries to both bite him and to try to poke at his face. Eyes. Nose. Whatever. A siren begins to sound in the background, growing insistently louder. Liz quickly looks around and notices the police cars. She runs towards Grey and pulls at him. A strange grin had begin to form on his face as Wings slowly turns blue. "Grey, we must run out. Now. More cops are coming." Giving a final tug at Grey, she shrugs and says, "'Bye sugar. If you survive this week, you know where to meet me." And Liz quickly slips into the shadows. Grey mutters as he hears the cops, and then he looks at Wings calculatingly. He gives her a full kiss before throwing his gun away and snatching her knife from her grip. "I'll let you live this time, but here's a present so that Ty won't forget that I am coming for him." With three quick strokes, he cuts her cheek, forming a triangle, the symbol of the Triad Family. "Good bye, Babe." With that, he leaves the scene before any cops could catch him.
FIN
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