(no subject)
So I've been writing more to my previous post and I thought about it's been four years since i started working on the church the first thing I ever wrote. To mark that I'm going to post rough drafts of this bitch just like I did that one regardless if anyone will read it or not...
Fox was the idiot son of two civil servants predisposed to a dogmatic and idealized conception of the world. His monosyllabic name wasn’t his by birth, but he wouldn’t go by anything else. By 18 none of the notions of family or faith had paid off and his dumbed down disillusionment propelled him aimlessly into the city. He caught the tail end of the war and played a part as low-level soldier in Jordan’s ranks; a loosely applied and self appointed title. There wasn’t much fighting left by the time he hand joined the ranks. He’d survived a little action though, and he’s survived Walker’s purge. He was exactly what Walker wanted in a right hand man, blunt, violent, hardened and not particularly intelligent.
Fox frequented the Lion. It wasn’t the best place to get a gun anymore but it was a good spot to get information. Walker had called him first or at least that’s what he said over the phone. Someone had tried to kill the boss. If it had been a year ago, before the epidemic and the peace Walker would already have had everyone knee deep in blood. Now he had to face extenuating circumstances peace had to be kept as best as it could because blood could bring down Marshall law. Added to that and more eminent, Walker was brokering a deal with Doug Carter, a major member of the mayor’s cabinet and chair of the committee hastily constructed to solve the health crisis. The deal was assured freedom for operations, tax exemption and political alliance for Walker in exchange for donations to the crisis board and Carter’s regulatory control over the drug trade. Carter needed to insure the epidemic didn’t spread north and Walker wanted to insure that the epidemic stayed a local problem. It was a deal with the devil for both men and meant to control the disease and the population but to keep flourishing.
Walker was no politician and Carter didn’t quite cut it as a crook.
These were things that exceeded Fox’s shallow role. The attempt on Walker’s life was to be kept a private matter. Walker was no doubt crawling in his skin and if he couldn’t trust himself to remain peaceable if he looked in to it, so Fox was deployed quickly to get answers. Walker increasingly trusted Fox, and Fox wasn’t going to fuck that up.
The Lion was nearly cleared out when Fox got there. Susan was there. She tried her hardest not to acknowledge his presence, but he didn’t have the luxury of time tonight. She was usually a good source of information but she wouldn’t even talk to him anymore. A hard bop Horace Silver Jazz composition was playing over the murmur of bullshit and glasses clanking. Fox looked up at the beer steins that ornamented the ceiling, and wondered why he had never noticed them before. Fox anchored in front of the bar and lit up a smoke.
Fox turned back to bar and leaned. He scanned the room to see who was in. A guy next to him turned, “Smoke that somewhere else.” Fox responded, “Excuse me.” “Smoke that somewhere else chief.” The guy didn’t turn to look at Fox. Fox looked him over. He was fat, medium height, 30’s, tattooed, bar scum. Fox had noticed him around before, “If it bothers you then fly away shit bird.” Fat man turned and looked at Fox this time, “Hey fuck nut. I’m trying to be civil. You want to throw down. I’ll oblige.” “You’ll oblige? Listen you tubby scholar, move it to the other end of the bar or lock your fucking trap and throw away the key.” Tom Waits crooned raucously now on the speakers. Fat man made a move on Fox. Fox pushed in on him pinned him to the bar with one hand around his neck and held a knife to his balls with the other. “Oh sh…” The fat man’s response was cut off by Fox, “I bet you pull this shit a lot. Getting into it with cats that you can kick the shit out of and shake down. You assumed I was a good mark you got 50 pounds on me. You fucked up though. I’m a bed-wetting, serial killer with a limp dick, mother issues and complex knowledge of the human anatomy. You want to die for your assumption?” Walker relented, released and pocketed the knife. The fat man breathed again. “Off on the dusty trail tubsy, never to return.” Fat man made for the door quickly. Everyone who had stopped to watch turned away. Susan gave fox an apathetic glance. Ross the Jew that owned the place had come out from his office upstairs and surveyed the scene. He disappeared as soon as it was over.
Fox was the idiot son of two civil servants predisposed to a dogmatic and idealized conception of the world. His monosyllabic name wasn’t his by birth, but he wouldn’t go by anything else. By 18 none of the notions of family or faith had paid off and his dumbed down disillusionment propelled him aimlessly into the city. He caught the tail end of the war and played a part as low-level soldier in Jordan’s ranks; a loosely applied and self appointed title. There wasn’t much fighting left by the time he hand joined the ranks. He’d survived a little action though, and he’s survived Walker’s purge. He was exactly what Walker wanted in a right hand man, blunt, violent, hardened and not particularly intelligent.
Fox frequented the Lion. It wasn’t the best place to get a gun anymore but it was a good spot to get information. Walker had called him first or at least that’s what he said over the phone. Someone had tried to kill the boss. If it had been a year ago, before the epidemic and the peace Walker would already have had everyone knee deep in blood. Now he had to face extenuating circumstances peace had to be kept as best as it could because blood could bring down Marshall law. Added to that and more eminent, Walker was brokering a deal with Doug Carter, a major member of the mayor’s cabinet and chair of the committee hastily constructed to solve the health crisis. The deal was assured freedom for operations, tax exemption and political alliance for Walker in exchange for donations to the crisis board and Carter’s regulatory control over the drug trade. Carter needed to insure the epidemic didn’t spread north and Walker wanted to insure that the epidemic stayed a local problem. It was a deal with the devil for both men and meant to control the disease and the population but to keep flourishing.
Walker was no politician and Carter didn’t quite cut it as a crook.
These were things that exceeded Fox’s shallow role. The attempt on Walker’s life was to be kept a private matter. Walker was no doubt crawling in his skin and if he couldn’t trust himself to remain peaceable if he looked in to it, so Fox was deployed quickly to get answers. Walker increasingly trusted Fox, and Fox wasn’t going to fuck that up.
The Lion was nearly cleared out when Fox got there. Susan was there. She tried her hardest not to acknowledge his presence, but he didn’t have the luxury of time tonight. She was usually a good source of information but she wouldn’t even talk to him anymore. A hard bop Horace Silver Jazz composition was playing over the murmur of bullshit and glasses clanking. Fox looked up at the beer steins that ornamented the ceiling, and wondered why he had never noticed them before. Fox anchored in front of the bar and lit up a smoke.
Fox turned back to bar and leaned. He scanned the room to see who was in. A guy next to him turned, “Smoke that somewhere else.” Fox responded, “Excuse me.” “Smoke that somewhere else chief.” The guy didn’t turn to look at Fox. Fox looked him over. He was fat, medium height, 30’s, tattooed, bar scum. Fox had noticed him around before, “If it bothers you then fly away shit bird.” Fat man turned and looked at Fox this time, “Hey fuck nut. I’m trying to be civil. You want to throw down. I’ll oblige.” “You’ll oblige? Listen you tubby scholar, move it to the other end of the bar or lock your fucking trap and throw away the key.” Tom Waits crooned raucously now on the speakers. Fat man made a move on Fox. Fox pushed in on him pinned him to the bar with one hand around his neck and held a knife to his balls with the other. “Oh sh…” The fat man’s response was cut off by Fox, “I bet you pull this shit a lot. Getting into it with cats that you can kick the shit out of and shake down. You assumed I was a good mark you got 50 pounds on me. You fucked up though. I’m a bed-wetting, serial killer with a limp dick, mother issues and complex knowledge of the human anatomy. You want to die for your assumption?” Walker relented, released and pocketed the knife. The fat man breathed again. “Off on the dusty trail tubsy, never to return.” Fat man made for the door quickly. Everyone who had stopped to watch turned away. Susan gave fox an apathetic glance. Ross the Jew that owned the place had come out from his office upstairs and surveyed the scene. He disappeared as soon as it was over.