Post by Michael Hughes on Oct 9, 2010 7:00:31 GMT -5
Standing against the pillar of the subway stop, Mikey had a cigarette in his mouth as he waited for his train. Sure, it was illegal to smoke anywhere indoors, but what the hell? The cops would take it from him and send him on his way rather than have to clog up the court system with a case like his. Let alone filling out the paperwork. And no one would complain. Everyone around here didn’t want anything to do with the cops, unless they could help them. City full of apathy, that’s what he was living in. He wanted to go back home, a place where a mugger on the street had the whole block to contend with. He’d have his ass beat by everyone and their dogs, and the cops would have to take him to the hospital for a good while before they could take him to booking. And not a charge would be filed against the good Samaritans, at that.
Ah, home.
Speaking of anything wrong with the city, he could hear a few of them coming now. Bunch of rejects from society. Kids mainly, younger than him, most of them. Idea of a good time was to go around and terrorize folks afraid of a group. Pack mentality, till it came to trouble. They’d abandon one another quicker than shit if it looked like they were on the losing end.
Whooping and hollering they came, down the stairs from the street as they jumped the turnstile. They spread out, looked for people who shrank away from them to hit up for money or goods. Mikey didn’t move, uninterested in the whole ordeal. Too much for him to handle. He’d be happy if it all went down and no one got hurt.
It wasn’t going to be that easy.
“Hey man, cough up the cash.” One of them said, coming over to Mikey with a spring in his step. The smaller man with a chip on his shoulder stood close, pushing on Mikey’s shoulder.
“I said make with the cash.” He said, louder.
“Go fuck yourself.” Mikey said, uninterested. The kid smirked and looked back to his friends. He reached into his pocket and grabbed for a switchblade. Flicking it open, he held it up in a way he thought was menacing.
“How about now, huh?” He said with a smirk.
“Walk away.” Mikey said, taking another drag off his cigarette.
“Bitch, I will…” The man began in a louder voice. They never figured out what he was going to do, any words cut off by the pained scream he let out. Covering his eye, trying to get the glowing hot ash and tobacco from the cigarette jammed into it out, he stopped when Mikey grabbed him by the back of the hair and yanked. Moving at the last moment, there was a sickening thud as the thug’s head hit the concrete pillar.
All eyes were on him. Silence filled the platform. And then, footsteps. The rest of the gang got it in their heads that he couldn’t pull that same surprise twice, got it in their heads that they could take him. They soon changed their minds.
A click was heard, the sound of the chamber of a revolver turning, the hammer cocking back, ready to fire. The snubnose .357 in Mikey’s hand looked very undersized, but it was still a snubnosed .357.
“Walk away.” He said, repeating the warning. This time, it was heeded. The thugs cut and run, leaving their friend on the ground, out cold. Mikey slipped the illegal revolver back into the small holster at his back, under his shirt, and looked around. By now, the crowd had started to move. Most of the people who had seen what happened were gone, the new ones none the wiser. Upside of living in the city. Anyone who saw something illegal would take off, never report a thing.
God, he hated this place…
Ah, home.
Speaking of anything wrong with the city, he could hear a few of them coming now. Bunch of rejects from society. Kids mainly, younger than him, most of them. Idea of a good time was to go around and terrorize folks afraid of a group. Pack mentality, till it came to trouble. They’d abandon one another quicker than shit if it looked like they were on the losing end.
Whooping and hollering they came, down the stairs from the street as they jumped the turnstile. They spread out, looked for people who shrank away from them to hit up for money or goods. Mikey didn’t move, uninterested in the whole ordeal. Too much for him to handle. He’d be happy if it all went down and no one got hurt.
It wasn’t going to be that easy.
“Hey man, cough up the cash.” One of them said, coming over to Mikey with a spring in his step. The smaller man with a chip on his shoulder stood close, pushing on Mikey’s shoulder.
“I said make with the cash.” He said, louder.
“Go fuck yourself.” Mikey said, uninterested. The kid smirked and looked back to his friends. He reached into his pocket and grabbed for a switchblade. Flicking it open, he held it up in a way he thought was menacing.
“How about now, huh?” He said with a smirk.
“Walk away.” Mikey said, taking another drag off his cigarette.
“Bitch, I will…” The man began in a louder voice. They never figured out what he was going to do, any words cut off by the pained scream he let out. Covering his eye, trying to get the glowing hot ash and tobacco from the cigarette jammed into it out, he stopped when Mikey grabbed him by the back of the hair and yanked. Moving at the last moment, there was a sickening thud as the thug’s head hit the concrete pillar.
All eyes were on him. Silence filled the platform. And then, footsteps. The rest of the gang got it in their heads that he couldn’t pull that same surprise twice, got it in their heads that they could take him. They soon changed their minds.
A click was heard, the sound of the chamber of a revolver turning, the hammer cocking back, ready to fire. The snubnose .357 in Mikey’s hand looked very undersized, but it was still a snubnosed .357.
“Walk away.” He said, repeating the warning. This time, it was heeded. The thugs cut and run, leaving their friend on the ground, out cold. Mikey slipped the illegal revolver back into the small holster at his back, under his shirt, and looked around. By now, the crowd had started to move. Most of the people who had seen what happened were gone, the new ones none the wiser. Upside of living in the city. Anyone who saw something illegal would take off, never report a thing.
God, he hated this place…