To catch a runner

[Shamino]

My name is Shamino Warhen. What do I do for a living? I end the lives of others. As a teenager I was trained for years to execute pimps, drug dealers, small time military personell, and finally working my way up to government officials. That was cut short, however, a year after my father was Killed In Action. I moved to Varron City to get away from it all- the killing, the drugs, the crime. My father spent his entire life saving people that were held captive by Terrorists, Gun Runners, Drug Dealers. His father- my grandfather- was a Spy during World War II, and his help saved many Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, Communist Sympathizers- I could go on. Then there is me. Within half a year of coming to Varron I started to illegally supply automotive parts to the Street Racing scene of Varron. Next I began to smuggle in guns small time- by myself. Pick up a few Uzi's, sell them to a few 'fellow' Hitmen for a nice price, make a few grand spending money...

It was when I decided that my life was spiraling downwards that I wanted to go Legitimate, as well as illegal. I purchased a small diner, and in months I built it up to one of the most famous restaurants on the continent. I've shared laughs with governors, senators, generals... But one of the most fascinating laughs i've ever had was with a South American cocaine dealer. He came into my restaurant like I did- like he owned the place. He casually shook my hand and then rubbed his finger under his nose with a laugh. I personally set him down on the third floor, which he had rented out for himself and his 'assosciates'. He told me that the first time he ever sold drugs, he was scared as hell. To this day, he still has that fear inside him, pumping through his veins. He's seem the movies, he's read the books- every single Evil falls. But he also told me not all good things last forever. A balance. He had just told me he was trying to balance it out.

He had a good meal, and tipped his waitress.


After that incident, two months ago, I had a craving... It wasn't drugs. I hate anything I have to smoke, snort, inject, or put on my tongue. I would be a liar if I said i've never killed somebody. I would be an all time bull-shitter if I said I haven't indirectly killed people. Varron has one of the largest teenage populations, and due to the capital punishment systems they all know how to use a pipe, fire a gun, and throw a punch.

They also know how to take them, too.

I looked around and realized that the one thing that Varron was exempt from was Gang violence. I was happy about that- but when University came, it was the same thing. No gangs, whatsoever. While this was excellent for everyone but me... I am a selfish, selfish man.

The problem with making an honest buck, is that honest bucks are so hard to find. My restaurant was creating enough profit to sustain my barely-used Spa. However, when I say barely used, I mean 'legally' used. The Spa is quite possibly the greatest thing I own. Ignoring the cars, the staff, and my own clothes- the Spa is my money maker. I probably spent ten thousand dollars a night on the Spa, but every month- I make over two mil. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean its not there.

Guns.

Today, where Honor is found in History Books, and History Books alone, Guns are used in every city by one or more people. There are over 550 000 000 guns in circulation at any given moment- one and twelve people own a firearm, using that statistic. I just do my bit to make sure 1 in 12 people in Varron own a weapon, as well. In the continent that has over 11 000 gun related deaths a year, that clearly shows that nearly everyone that owns a gun, uses it once a year... Using statistics. I am also, a statistic. An unknown statistic...


I don't know how many Gun Dealers there are, you see. Well, the authorities prefer 'Gun Runners'.

You have the Yakuza- one of the few organizations that try and incorporate Honor into their illegal works. They purchase Submachine Guns and small firearms all the time. The small Russian Mafia that resides in Varron are the only ones that Purchase the Klashnikov Nineteen Seventy Four edition, better known as the AK-74. Or AK. The Italian Families purchase a bit of everything- probably the most honorable illegal organizations still in existance. Italy invented the Mob, and they perfected it. If somebody fucked up, only that man would die. It would be frowned upon if his family got involved. If somebody had a firefight in the middle of the city- their body would be found in a car a week later. The Mafia were doing their bit to society to even the balance.

So every morning, at 1 A.M, the limo's, or the sport cars, or the Cadillac's arrive and pick up the guns, I get the money, and we all have a laugh. The Triads, the Yakuza, it doesn't matter who comes- as long as they have money, and they want guns.

My receptionist, Fauve, nearly got involved in a deal gone wrong- but that was because it was done at the restaurant. Every businessman keeps his personal funds away from his business. Those guns were business, the restaurant was personal.

I am not evil. I am far from. I am probably the most neutral person in the city. I supply Glock 22's to a Triad Group to go kill another rival Triad Group around the block- who misses them? No one. When a Glock 22 punctures the flesh of my friend Ajax, killing him in moments, everybody watches. You could say I am rambling, or I am simply proving point after point... It doesn't matter at this point. As of now, I am a Gun Runner. Try and catch me.






One O' Five AM, Saturday.

Shamino flicked the toothpick into the small trash bin beside his desk. He stared down at the arriving limosines. He brought his Five-SeveN up to his chest, and cocked a bullet into the chamber. He then holstered it under his ivory white overcoat, and snapped his fingers without turning around. The two men dressed in black turned on their laser sights and exited the office. As they moved the steam would increase two hundred percent. It would be near impossible to see five feet in front of you. The guards placed their optics down over their eyes, and the building became shades of green. The men would be escorted to a room that Shamino and King had been in- it was like a small park, yet indoors. The Koi fish swam about obliviously, and two benches would be where dealer and customer would sit. Shamino entered last, he always did. The guards entered the room and exited as Shamino came through.



Selling your first gun is much like having sex for the first time. Its somewhat confusing, you have no idea what you are doing- but it is exciting, and most of the time its over way too soon. Shamino had done this well over a hundred times by now, it was routine. A small table seperated the two benches which had been brought to the center of the room. "Hello Mister Hayamoto." Shamino said, taking a seat across from the grey haired Japanese man.
"Muchi Muchi, Warhen-Sama." Hayamoto bowed his head. Shamino bowed his an inch lower.
"What will be your method of death this time? A new shipment of Micro Uzi's came in, including silencers. I just got a few H&K UMP45's, Police Issue- extremley hard to get, they're roughly 1500 on the market, but you can get them for 1250..."


It was a little too easy to make money off of the organizations in Varron. The average UMP went for 750 to police, since I had friends at the SWAT department in the next city over, I could get a dozen UMP's a month for the same price that the cops pay, and I was making 500 a pop. Chump change compared to my monthly income- but every bit counted.

"I will take all of those, they can be silenced, yes?"
"Of course, Mister Hayamoto- not as well as the smaller weapons, but these things will put a dent in SWAT Vans..."
Ironically Enough.
"Alright. We have a deal then." The old man brought up his suitcase, and opened it to reveal a laptop. One of Shamino's men came in with an identical suitcase, and using the Wi-Fi connection, they began the money transfer. In two minutes, Shamino's man gave the thumbs up.
"Alright then, Mister Hayamoto. A crate filled with a dozen UMP45's with extra clips are now in your limosines. I will see you when I see you. A pleasure doing business with you."

Both stood, both shook hands, one left. Shamino turned and loomed over the large pond that took up half of the room. His hands were behind his back, and his eyes were closed as he took in the scents of the pond.

They're probably going to go and kill each other this very night using those guns. Hell, they might come back and try and kill me. It wouldn't be the first time. I slid out the Five-Seven and took the bullet out of the chamber, and flicked it like a coin into the pond. I could see the gentle shimmer of hundreds, if not thousands of spend rounds and unspent rounds in there. Every nine milimeter bullet was fifty cents, every .357 Magnum round, two dollars. I must of had a fortune in unspent bullets lying down there... Then I imagined the dockside, an army of dead Mobsters- all lined up in a row, all with their hands behind their back, all wearing the same cement shoes. All probably held at gunpoint- my guns-point.

Some kids fight for money, others steal- some get it from their parents. Either way, some of that money trickles my way. Keep fighting, keep spending- and i'll keep running my guns.

[Dale]

Wow. That's nice. I like it. What inspired you to write it, it's a very strong storyline =). Will there be more? .

- It's a shame this hasn't had more comments, i suppose people see the amount of text...

I hate storys this size!!! They're always uber gripping!! This was very nice, and interesting to read . I loved this. You neeeeed to write more. Or i kill you 53.4 times.

Please write more. =)

[Shamino]

Wow, thank you very much for the comment. No more? That's a shame. This was a spur-of-the-moment thing, I could add more if I wished, and I might, since yo uasked so nicely :P

[Mr. Kenny]

Yeah that was indeed quite cool.
I myself would love to see more.

[Switchblade]

I don't know why some people wouldn't read it. Just read the first few lines and you want to read the rest. It's great man, I especially like the way you go from thoughts to actions. They mesh really really well.
I too would love to see more.

[Shamino]

What is art nowdays? Fucking anything. Put a tin can on top of a piece of wood, take a picture of it, call it 'Substance' and sell it for a million fucking dollars. I took a picture of a spilt crate of M16's and called it 'Presence', blew it up, and tried to sell it and who bought it? That damnable Drug Dealer that was in my restaurant a few months ago. My name is Shamino Warhen, and I deal guns.

How many guns, even i'm not sure. But a fair amount, I suppose. To be honest, i'm just trying to get the guns to sell in the first place. Unfortunately, I am not the head of a major arms manufacturer or I wouldn't be dealing guns out of my Spa. No, my office would be the size of my pent house. There isn't a single Gun Runner alive that can call himself a Veteran until he's fucked up a deal. Luckily for me, the deal didn't happen in Varron, or I wouldn't be telling a story. No, it took place fifty miles south in another sprawling Metropolis known as Vivian Heights. Not a beautiful place- but the most beautiful places have the least amount of weapons. Driving there was easy enough, it was internally in the country- I don't export... At least, not yet. Two limousines filled to the brim with automatic weapons and ammo, me in my Ferrari, and we were set.


The black Ferrari F430 made a sharp right, drifting for half a moment before the tires once again caught the street. The sleek black vehicle seemed to blend in with the night, only able to be seen from its bright rims, the yellow and black horse on the center of each shining proudly, just as the vehicle did in the artificial light. The Valet's all lined up in a neat row, fixing their red caps and adjusting their matching red Duvet's. Shamino opened the vehicle, and threw the keys to the poorest looking Valet there- the colors faded, the unshaven face, the sunken eyes and the look that he desperately needed that car. "Park it underground and find me at the poker tables, do it in five minutes and you just made a hundred bucks." Shamino said as he tossed the keys. The Valet caught it in his outstretched left hand and nodded, slipping past Shamino with a Thank you sir and driving the vehicle off a little too speedily. The Limosines came up, dropped off four of Shamino's men- each over 6'4, each wearing expensive suits cut wide in the shoulders, each of them a dark, velvet shade of purple to counteract Shamino's black, felt suit. "My men will take the Limo's to underground parking, sorry boys." Shamino said as he passed the rest of the Valet's. They dissappated in a matter of seconds. The doors opened for the young entrepeneur, and he took in the sudden scents of new, expensive suits, expensive alcohol, and that unique smell... The smell of a gambler.
"She's here." Whispered a fimiliar voice into his ear.
"You don't say? I'm so suprised that my client decided to actualy appear, you know- people usually don't come for these kind of things." Shamino laced his words with sarcasm. He didn't hear a reply from the man. "I'll be at the table, i'm locked and loaded, just keep your distance. Don't hand over any keys until you get a ring from me."
"Yes sir."



The problem with women is that there is the idea in every decent man's head is that you arn't to harm a woman. So when you are doing business with a woman, the last thing you want to do is NOT look like a gentleman. Men with money are either slobs or they have too much money of theirs at stake to be rude to women. This wasn't the first time however, that I had dealt with a woman. I had killed a handful in Europe during my European Union escapades. One thing that Soviet Russia did while they were still in power was that they would use their female KGB agents for assassination. They would seduce, have sex with, and during the intercorse poison the target by lacing certain areas of their body with poison. Death for the target, and a shower for them. These Spiked Dishes were a bit of an inspiration to a few European female assassins, unfortunately I don't sleep-and-kill. I just killed. I felt a little honored, that women were after me for the reputation I was making- and not a good one either.

When I saw my client I had stopped for just a moment, I quickly saved myself and muttered to one of my employee's about something I had already known- the Casino was pretty filled, and it was nearly impossible to get a table. There she was, alone at the table, sitting with perfect posture, spectacles on the edge of her nose as she stared down at probably a file she had picked up about me. I nodded, gently patted the employee, and went for my seat...

She had a modern look, her expression twisted slightly in thought. She wore a grey woman's suit, cut in all the right places to make sure she looked as attractive as she was deadly. Behind her was an army of Killer Suits, packing all forms of heat. I also noticed the hand cannon that rested on her skirted thigh. The girl was packing a modern hand cannon alright- a small, polished six shooter with an atoms symbol on the side. The woman didn't look up at me, or even acknowledge my existance for ten minutes. This was an old trick of testing patience, one I had done many times before. I waited it out with a placid look. Now, I was in business mode.


"Top of the evening." He said.
"Evening." She responded. Her voice betrayed her age- younger than he could of possibly imagined... His age, maybe a year older.
"I am..."
"Shamino Warhen, yes, I know." She tossed the documents horozontally onto the gambling table, several pictures of him and his standard, fake statistics stared up at him."
"Interesting." Shamino picked up the papers with one hand, folded them over his index finger, and tossed them to the side. A man came, trashed them, and walked to the exit to make sure it was trashed well. "I'm not looking for a date, madam. I'm looking for money."
"And i'm looking for guns." She responded cooly.
Bullshit... Every single one of her tuxedo'd men is packing something, those suits cut so wide? They could hold a Submachine Gun in there. Piece together an assault rifle, maybe... Shamino nodded. "Well you're meeting the right person then."
"Quite." She said promptly. She brought up from the ground what seemed to be a poker-set of 1000 chips in an alumnium case. She used both hands, was very careful with her movements- she didn't want to show her female weakness of a lack of strength. She placed it on the table with a small bang, opened it up, and spun it around to show Shamino the sum of money. "And there it is."
"Beautiful. You drive automatic, or standard?"
"Pardon?"
"Automatic. Or. Standard." Shamino repeated, word for word.
"I... I don't drive." She retorted quickly, her eyes narrowing as her index finger pushed her spectacles back up to her eyes.
"Going to get one of the guys behind you to drive it all home, then."
"Excuse me?" She responded. Shamino eyed the small magnum, now on the table. "Where the hell are my guns?"
"My guns are in two limo's near the Casino, and two associates of mine in this building have them. They are filled to the max with the weapons you seem to want. They become your weapons once this briefcase becomes mine. You know my reputation, i've done dozens of deals before you. I'm not about to start fucking with people today."
"That's because your clientell are men, i'm sure." The woman responded. Her fingers were drumming on the table, he could see a slight bobbing motion on her left leg. She's getting aggitated, maybe nervous He thought.
"If I wanted anything else than your money, we'd be at my restaurant or an upper class club, I take it you wear such 'stylish' clothing because you can?"

She bit her bottom lip.

Men began to move...

"Well. Fuck." Shamino said.

Now, firefights are generally something not many people can walk away from. I have been in one firefight, in an esctasy club in Warsaw, and it was not fun. I had to use an Over-dosing teenage girl who had just come out of the bathroom after giving oral sex to her dealer because she was a few Euro's short. She took ten rounds for me, giving me time to fire five back. I'm not a fan of Poland much anymore. I was a pretty quick draw- my Five-SeveN pistol flashed in the artificial light of the casino as I slid it out. Already cocked and ready to fire, my pinky gently flicked the safety-switch off and I began to unload. At first, I shot the young woman's gun- shooting it off of the table and bending the barrel until it was useless. Gunshots rung out from behind me- my own men were already laying down covering fire. In seconds I realized that the men were carrying too bulky of weapons to sucessfully wield them in time- the ten Killer Suits behind my could-of-been client were down in under seconds, and she was still standing there with a fearful expression on her face. The magazine of mine dropped to the floor- slamming painfully loud into the carpet. I gently blew smoke away from the end of my pistol, and my right hand fished out of my pocket my spare magazine of .50 Caliber rounds. I slammed the magazine in, cocked a bullet into the chamber, and placed the gun down on my table.

"I didn't know you could be so stupid. Lure me into saying your own men's codeword to act. You are an idiot. Stylish, they began to move at, I think. You think you can just kill me and a few guys off, and drive away into the sunset with half a million of modern firearms and your money, as well?" Shamino looked over at the panicking crowd. The entire poker area was sealed off, but those rounds were probably heard. The Casino owner would be getting people's attention, his men were already locking the steel doors to their area of the Casino. She went for his gun, he leaned over the table to backhand her swiftly. She fell into her chair- leaning back on two feet, then positioning herself, staring upwards furiously.

"You don't want guns. Somebody you work for wants guns, and doesn't want to pay. This is gonna look really bad on his record." Shamino picked up his gun, cocked back the hammer. "Really bad." He pointed the weapon at the woman's chest. "Really, really bad..."


As I pulled the trigger, the back legs snapped. As they did- my bullet just grazed her blond locks as she pulled from her chest a derringer. A fucking derringer! My foot caught onto the carpet and helped me dive to the left, narrowly missing the two .40 S&W rounds that were aimed right for my head. I did a quick roll, raised myself- and shot her in both shoulders as she went to stand. She fell back like a rag doll against the pillar behind the table.


"You know, you are a really stupid bitch." Shamino fired a round at the poker table's leg, it fell to one side. He smashed it in two with a quick kick, and walked over the remains. He placed the gun to her head, and frowned slightly. "Crafty, but stupid." He pulled the trigger, and the bullet entered her head and exited with such force, it was embedded half way into the marble pillar she leaned against. The small body fell off to the side and landed silently on the carpeted floor. "Clyde, fix all this shit up. We're leaving. Call in Squeaky."


Squeaky was an idea I had a few years ago- a cleaning company that I would buy. Not just a cleaning company, a company that cleaned up any messes I may leave behind. They would come in, and then when the CSI arrived it would look like a black hole had sucked everything out of the crime scene. Squeaky employee's were all ex-cons-turned-janitors, and amateur Hitmen who were just trying to learn how to clean up after themselves, as well. My biggest asset was Clyde, who was one of my personal employee's as well as a cleaner. He made sure everything was nice and tidy. A few times before i've made away scott free with blatant murders only because the room smelt like a hospital when the CSI entered.

I holstered my weapon and looked down at the body. I know who she had worked for, and him and I would need a talk soon. I removed my cell phone from my other pocket, and called the Limo's. They'd be high tailing it back to Varron. O then called the Valet section of the Casino internally, and asked for my Ferrari to be brought to the front by the same Valet- I owed the poor kid a few hundred bucks.

[Roy]

" "Well. Fuck." Shamino said. "

That was hilarious, I actually laughed out loud.

This is great man, please write more, or I'll kill you 53.4 times. Please?

[Mr. Kenny]

Yeah it's very nice.
Quite impressive. Keep it up.
'Cuz if you don't....!
*waves fist*
P.S. I really like the ending of the second part the owing the valet thing. Quite the clever way to end it.

[OpticoN]

i read the first one...very exciting i am going to read the next one later keep them coming

[Dale]

I love this story, it's very well written, i like the use of italic / non italic writing and the 2 different styles with them. You should write a small book If you had time.

-Awesome , keep it up