Post by Krähe on Sept 19, 2019 23:32:47 GMT -5
Once upon a time Krähe would have slipped into the dive bar, eager to stalk his mark...but it was better this way. He'd studied his guy well enough to know he was more likely to follow the "bait" into a dark alley than Krähe himself.
A match strikes with a sudden burst of flame, briefly illuminating the cab classic car's interior, before abandoning it to the light pollution of numerous bars and clubs. Soon smoke was coiling through the neon lighting of the "red light district", the scent of whiskey tobacco mingling with the smell of leather.
Mediocre live music clashes together to assault Krähe's ears just loud enough to annoy any sober individual. For tonight that category included Zachariah Krähe, and prompted him to flick up the volume of the stereo, drowning out the background noise with "La Grange".
With a sigh of relief he shifts in his seat, grey eyes trained on the entrance to a club dubbed "The Blue Clam". Yes it was as bad as you think, and likely worse.
Taking another draw from his cigarette he absently stroked his fingers over a folder labeled Pastor Richard (Richard was crossed out with Dick written beside it). The simple action grounding Krähe into the moment, settling his nerves.
This was familiar, there was very little that surprised him when it came to his "side jobs" , and that was exactly what he needed right now.
His eyes cut to the clock noting that the time placed Dick slightly behind schedule. It was rude pure and simple. A corrupted pastor should at least have the common decency to stick to a schedule. Then and there he decided that if he had to actually go in and drag him out...Dick would have a broken rib. It was all about principals after all.
Just as he exhales a frustrated plume of smoke his mark stumbles his way out onto the sidewalk. The barely legal woman at his side is the only thing holding him up, while the odd couple make their way helter skelter towards the alley.
"Yahtzee…"
A slow grin twists the corner of Krähe's mouth, as the engine purrs to life.
The classic black Chevy smoothly glides its way down the darkened side road to rest in the shadows of the parking lot. Resting as patiently as any predator waits for its prey.
Krähe's soft humming is the only sound, ad he silently prepares for his future guest. Scarred hands work with meticulous speed in checking the plastic and rope in the trunk. Pausing only at the sound of the couple leaving the alley with giggles and slurred words..
Pastor Dick never saw him when the world went dark. Within minutes Krähe has the man rolled into his trunk where he works deftly with rope and duct tape. Tying someone up in such a limited space was not and easy task, Krähe turned it into an art form that few truly appreciated, but Tina (the bait) seems impressed enough while she counts her money.
"Hey…you're a bit too good at that. Don't know if it's sexy or scary TBH." The giggling Bimbo from a few moments ago had vanished. Replaced by someone whose calculating eyes had seen far more than they should have by her age.
Krähe chuckles while securing the final knot, and quickly slams the trunk with a smirk and wink.
"It can be both, but obviously not for this guy…"
Tina's nose scrunches up in distaste, unconsciously nodding her agreement. Why not, just another night at work. She contemplates seeing if she could earn a bit more quick cash, but decides against it.
He honestly didn't seem like he would bite, but if he did, he might be a bigger catch than she could handle. With that decided she tucks her hard earned money away, and turns away without a second glance at the taillights pulling away.
Another night, another dollar.
Meanwhile back on the road "La Grange" picks up where it left off, the music leaking out the windows to mingle with the highway wind.
At the first faint sound of thumps and indistinct yelling, Krähe turns up the volume, and fully relaxes for the drive.
Life was good, he had a sleazy pastor in his trunk. Everything was going to be ok...
youtu.be/Vppbdf-qtGU
A match strikes with a sudden burst of flame, briefly illuminating the cab classic car's interior, before abandoning it to the light pollution of numerous bars and clubs. Soon smoke was coiling through the neon lighting of the "red light district", the scent of whiskey tobacco mingling with the smell of leather.
Mediocre live music clashes together to assault Krähe's ears just loud enough to annoy any sober individual. For tonight that category included Zachariah Krähe, and prompted him to flick up the volume of the stereo, drowning out the background noise with "La Grange".
With a sigh of relief he shifts in his seat, grey eyes trained on the entrance to a club dubbed "The Blue Clam". Yes it was as bad as you think, and likely worse.
Taking another draw from his cigarette he absently stroked his fingers over a folder labeled Pastor Richard (Richard was crossed out with Dick written beside it). The simple action grounding Krähe into the moment, settling his nerves.
This was familiar, there was very little that surprised him when it came to his "side jobs" , and that was exactly what he needed right now.
His eyes cut to the clock noting that the time placed Dick slightly behind schedule. It was rude pure and simple. A corrupted pastor should at least have the common decency to stick to a schedule. Then and there he decided that if he had to actually go in and drag him out...Dick would have a broken rib. It was all about principals after all.
Just as he exhales a frustrated plume of smoke his mark stumbles his way out onto the sidewalk. The barely legal woman at his side is the only thing holding him up, while the odd couple make their way helter skelter towards the alley.
"Yahtzee…"
A slow grin twists the corner of Krähe's mouth, as the engine purrs to life.
The classic black Chevy smoothly glides its way down the darkened side road to rest in the shadows of the parking lot. Resting as patiently as any predator waits for its prey.
Krähe's soft humming is the only sound, ad he silently prepares for his future guest. Scarred hands work with meticulous speed in checking the plastic and rope in the trunk. Pausing only at the sound of the couple leaving the alley with giggles and slurred words..
Pastor Dick never saw him when the world went dark. Within minutes Krähe has the man rolled into his trunk where he works deftly with rope and duct tape. Tying someone up in such a limited space was not and easy task, Krähe turned it into an art form that few truly appreciated, but Tina (the bait) seems impressed enough while she counts her money.
"Hey…you're a bit too good at that. Don't know if it's sexy or scary TBH." The giggling Bimbo from a few moments ago had vanished. Replaced by someone whose calculating eyes had seen far more than they should have by her age.
Krähe chuckles while securing the final knot, and quickly slams the trunk with a smirk and wink.
"It can be both, but obviously not for this guy…"
Tina's nose scrunches up in distaste, unconsciously nodding her agreement. Why not, just another night at work. She contemplates seeing if she could earn a bit more quick cash, but decides against it.
He honestly didn't seem like he would bite, but if he did, he might be a bigger catch than she could handle. With that decided she tucks her hard earned money away, and turns away without a second glance at the taillights pulling away.
Another night, another dollar.
Meanwhile back on the road "La Grange" picks up where it left off, the music leaking out the windows to mingle with the highway wind.
At the first faint sound of thumps and indistinct yelling, Krähe turns up the volume, and fully relaxes for the drive.
Life was good, he had a sleazy pastor in his trunk. Everything was going to be ok...
youtu.be/Vppbdf-qtGU