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|By Count Kibbles N Bits||Genre||Rating||Reviews||Updates|
|More from Count Kibbles N Bits||Action, thriller, crime||PG-13||Here||No update page|
August 12, 2015
M'lady peeks behind a curtain of black, her silver grace shrouded in darkness as she shyly watches from behind it.
An older man sits at a private table on the top floor of the Kwong's Cuisine restaurant, overlooking the busy amber flooded roads of Republic City. The gentleman, with an air of aggressive refinement, cuts into a steak of seared turtle-seal, taking great care not to soil his white gloves as he does so. Occasionally, he glances out the window toward the street, eyeing the young women passing by in either lively gowns and jewels, or neat business dresses. He stares now, the wrinkles on his brow becoming more prominent as his grey brows furrow and his eyes fixate on the laughing young gals adorned by handsome young men, his pale blue eyes glistening with envy and contempt at their smooth skin, glistening hair. He sighs and goes back to his meal, a sullen look now overtaking his wrinkled face.
The old gentleman pauses and shifts his eyes to the entrance to his private room, where a young robust man stands, pulling the curtains open.
"Sorry to interrupt yah, Boss Viper, but yah got a call."
She stands in the dark amidst the white shimmering jewels, teasing him seductively, for she covers half her figure behind a dark shade.
A lone dockworker, clad in dark blue overalls and black long sleeve, face covered by a charcoal flat cap and black bandanna, teeming with blades, scurries behind the various containers and vehicles that adorn the shipyard. Avoiding the pools of amber light, he darts behind a small office building, peeking around the corner, eyeing a large warehouse several hundred meters away. The building teems with large bulbous ornaments, which spit out dull orange rays onto the pavement and men patrolling beneath.
The worker picks his way through the shadows of the buildings and containers that line the dockyard, snoring and grumbling waves drowning his every move, his every misstep, his every breath.
Just beyond the edge of the building's light, the worker lurks. He waltzes forward, arms spread wide as if to accept a hug, the amber glow engulfing his form. The blades wriggle from their sheaths hidden on his body, floating gently around their master.
Heads turn to greet this new arrival, eyes widen, mouths open to form words, knives fly, men scream.
She smiles brightly now, flaunting her full gown, a pearl, an irreplaceable jewel amidst the darkness.
The older gentleman stares out the window at the young couples in bright dresses and pressed suits, as his dinner grows cold. His mind longs to forget the glazed stares, the maggots, the smell, open mouths with bloated dark tongues.
He tries to forget even as Two Toes Ping watches him with that same grisly look, as his head rests within that pearl white leather purse. He avoids his and, especially, her gaze. That short-haired vixen who brazenly interrupted his dinner, with his right-hand man's head hanging from her shoulder. She smiled, and with a kind of smooth seductive yet intimidating air, she spoke
"So mister...Viper, do we have an understanding?"
The trolleys bustled past the restaurant, beating the rails in tune.
"Well, do we?"
Girls laughed, men chatted, cars honked. Fingers trembled as they tightened around the fork. Jaw clenched, she smelled like jasmine.
*sigh* "Well...I'll take that as a no..."
Eyes, cool, piercing. Gorgeous. B****. F*** her, D*** her.
"I'll just have to send you the rest of your men...I'm fairly certain we can find much more...interesting places to hide them, besides your bed."
The heads, the maggots shot into view, his mind betraying him. Eyes snapped shut. Make it stop, make it stop, get out of it, out of my head. Thirty.
She smiled, crimson lips framing a bright beautiful smile...flawless b****.
Thirty.. six already, Ping the seventh.
Then me, what about me? My bed, my house, my wife, kids. They can reach...D*** d*** d***. d*** her, d***it all. gorgeous b****.
She sat there quietly, that lovely smile still on her face a small hint of dimples creasing her cheeks. Her eyes hazel, studious, wounding. She sat there, hands on her lap, sitting straight, legs crossed. She smiled...waiting.
"I'm sorry, Mister Viper, can you please repeat that?"
"...Yes.........we have...an understanding."
"I'm happy to hear that, Mister Viper...Thank you for your time, and please...have a nice day."
She snaps her fingers. A clean cut young man dressed as a chauffeur, cap in his hand, emerges from behind the curtains. Without a sound, he glides behind the beautiful woman and pulls her chair out, then stands at attention as she rises. Ping stays, staring at nowhere.
She takes two steps, turns to the old man, and performs a small elegant bow, which her subordinate quickly imitates.
He goes to the curtains, pulling them aside. She gives one last parting smile, turns, and briskly walks out. He watches her shape sway side to side, the way the fabric moves across her figure.
She pauses, turns her head. "Your bodyguards should wake up in about half an hour ... enjoy the rest of your meal." She disappears behind the curtains, her chauffeur following silently behind her. The crack of high heels fading into the distance.
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