Mean Joe Gets a Lift

Mean Joe did not feel good. He stood in the shadows of the old arcade, watching Fat Bob's goons mill around by the entrance to the disused river tunnel and pondered what it meant. He thought back to all the times he had felt this way before, sick to his guts. Something bad always happened. It was a warning and ignoring it had always had consequences. He couldn't back out now though. If he wasn't out of town soon something even worse would probably happen. Cut the probably, he would be dead. So how to proceed? Well, Fat Bob had sent four guys down, he thought, lets start with that...

Slick Jimmy was thinking of getting the job over with and going home to play World of Warcraft. He was thinking about how he was going to miss a very important raid when he caught something moving out of the corner of his eye and turned. Too late. A fist covered in brass knuckles came out of the darkness and planted itself in his face. Before he could react there was a foot in his stomach and a large man with a funny hat on took out a very large pistol and quickly shot all three of his coworkers before they could move to draw. How could a man so large move so fast? And what was with that suit? Slick Jimmy decided it was a good idea not to move from his current position. He spit out a tooth and watched as the man walked up to his boy Thug-Z who had a side wound and was struggling to get up. The man in the gray suit knelt down. He whispered something close to his face that seemed to reassure the young man who laid back down. Then the man punched Thug-Z's face in. Slick Jimmy proceeded to wet his pants.
The man stood over his now dead associate and stared down at him for what seemed like a very long time. The he got up, re-holstered his pistol, and stood over Slick Jimmy looking down at him. The thing that Jimmy noticed the most was the waves on the pier. It was such a nice normal calming sound, grounded in reality. Everything else seemed like a very bad dream. The man knelt down.
"Get up. You're going to drive." He said and stood back up.
Slick Jimmy, despite his bruised face and stomach had never moved so fast in his whole life.

The drive to the old cabin was unexceptional. It was quite a ways out of the city and the man did not make a sound the whole way. Every once in awhile Jimmy glanced at him in the rear view mirror. There was something in that face that frightened him a lot. Maybe it was those eyes or that hideous scar. Something about him smacked Jimmy as not entirely human. But that was stupid right? As the buildings gave way to trees and the pavement gave way to dirt, Jimmy tried to tell himself again that it was all a bad dream...

He almost missed the turn into the cabin's long driveway. It was easy to miss in the dark. Hell, it was easy to miss in the daytime. What would the man have done if he had missed it and had to turn around? He shivered as he turned into the slash in the trees.
It was always so dark in here, even during the day. All he could see now was the already overgrown dirt drive about a foot in front of his headlights. Jeez, they had just torn that up two weeks ago how was that possible...
Something ran out in front of the car and Jimmy slammed on the breaks. He turned his head quickly to catch a glimpse of whatever it was as it ran off into the thick woods. Before he could ponder what kind of an animal had a tail with a forked end, he felt a gun shove up against the back of his head and a voice that scared him much more than the weird old woods spoke up.
"Drive." It said.
That was enough for Jimmy. If I get out of this alive, he thought, I promise to god I won't use hacks in Counterstike again. Oh god please just let me live to see my computer again...

It seemed to take forever but when they finally pulled up to the front of the cabin, Jimmy stopped the car and turned it off. Then he sat as the man got out and came around to his side of the car and opened the door. He was pointing a gun at his head.
"Get out. You're going in first. You better pray to God your boss didn't set up an ambush inside that door or you're getting the first shots."
Jimmy wet himself again as they walked up to the entrance....

Something screamed deep in the woods and Mean Joe felt sick again. Something was very wrong here. He pushed the barrel of his 44 harder against the kids head as he turned the handle and pulled the door open....

Mean Joe Gets by With a Little Help

The walls of the private back rooms in Chicago's were soundproofed so you could come in and have a private conversation. Regardless, you could still feel the music's beat and the bass made the walls buzz. The rooms were very small, lit by a single dim overhead lamp and containing nothing but a low table surrounded by booth chairs. Mean Joe sat smoking, waiting for the club's owner to show up. It didn't take long. The door opened and in walked Bob Chicago surrounded by three goons in muscle shirts. He pointed and one of them posted at the door. The other two sat on either side of him as he took his seat across from Mean Joe. Inside his head Mean Joe laughed. Despite the size of his bodyguards, Joe knew he could take them all. He supposed Bob Chicago knew this too as he could sense fear coming off of him in waves and could even see sweat forming on his forehead in the dim light. Joe leaned back out of the light's range so only the glow from his cigarette could be seen.
"Nice scarf Bob," he said, "Which of your faggot friends gave you that?"
Mean Joe had nothing against homosexuals, he hated them as equally as he hated anyone else. He had just said it to piss Fat Bob off. And it worked like a charm, Fat Bob was practically shaking and his face was beat red.
"Now, now you listen to me! You can't just walk into my club and start making messes for me to clean up! My best bouncer had to go to the hospital and..."
Mean Joe interrupted him.
"Shit happens."
"Well, well, shit only seems to happen when you come around. On top of that I've got two bodies out there to get rid of before the cops show up and and and I want you out of here now!"
Mean Joe leaned back into the light.
"Shut your fairy mouth and listen. You owe me big time and I'm calling in my favor."
"I don't owe you jack shit!" Said Fat Bob, his jowls shaking in rage, spit flying from his mouth.
"I suppose you forgot how I spared your life last year. Without me you'd be lying in a swamp right now with a nice size hole in your head and your dick stuffed in your mouth. You'd be alligator food. Is that what you want? I could still make it happen."
Fat Bob's eyes went wide.
"You bastard, you unimaginable bastard. Tell me what you want and get the Hell out of here!"
Mean Joe leaned back in his chair again. He was enjoying this, enjoying it a lot. He pulled the last bit of tobacco from his cigarette and put it out on the table top.
"I need a place to hide away for awhile. You're going to get me one."
Fat Bob sighed in relief. He laughed.
"Is that all? Jesus, I thought you were going to make do some awful errand for you."
Fat Bob wiped the sweat away from his forehead. Mean Joe said nothing.
"Yeah, yeah I got a place. It's a ways out of town. I bought this run down cabin last year just in case I needed a place to go. Its got electricity and running water and not much else. I've been stockpiling food since I bought it....why do you need it anyways if you don't mind me asking?"
"You let your goons fuck you in the ass? I bet that feels real good. Bet you could shit standing up."
One of the guards started to get up and Fat Bob restrained him.
"I'll have a car ready to take you out there tomorrow..."
"Tonight."
"Tonight at midnight...."
"Eleven thirty."
"Eleven thirty at Seabird's Bridge..."
"Green River Tunnel."
"Green River Tunnel, they'll take you out to the cabin and drop you off. Now you listen to me buster, I don't ever, ever want to see you in here again, you hear me?"
Mean Joe laughed without smiling. It was a low rumbling sort of laugh that made Fat Bob's blood turn to ice and his face go pale. Mean Joe got up to leave. It looked like he was going to walk out but he turned and leaned in close to Bob's fat sweaty face and whispered,
"If you double cross me you candy ass piece of shit, you'll regret it more than you can even imagine. You got lucky that night I let you live, don't think I'll be so generous again."
Then he pushed past the bouncer blocking the door and walked out. Fat Bob sat for a minute, trying to get his nerves back. Then he ordered one of the goons to get the car ready and they all left. The room sat silent and empty except for the pounding of the drumbeat and the buzzing of the bass from the music outside.

Mean Joe's Adventure in Da Club

Mean Joe Anderson didn't like the current style of music. Actually, Mean Joe Anderson didn't like anything in the current style not the music, the clothes, or the attitude. Mean Joe Anderson would have been called an "old soul" if he had had one, which he most certainly did not. No one could quite figure out why he dressed like a 1940s gangster but no one really dared to ask. The last guy that made fun of his fedora hat had gotten his nose smashed into his brain. Needless to say, Mean Joe Anderson didn't have many friends either. He wasn't in the right line of work for that. The bouncer who's fingers he had just broken sure wasn't going to invite him out to the movies on Saturday night...

Chicago's had only opened up about a week ago but it had already earned a reputation as a "rough joint." You really had to watch yourself or risk getting a knife in your back...or worse.
Mean Joe sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. A slutty young bartender with a tramp stamp above her thong underwear tried to talk him up while he poured it. Mean Joe ignored her and she went to the other side of the bar. He was thinking about how much the young people grinding up against each other on the dance floor and the vulgar music make him ill when two young males in wife-beaters sat down on either side of him. Mean Joe lit up a cigarette.
"Hey man, whats with the crazy outfit? Where the fuck you think you is?" Said the one on the left.
Mean Joe pulled on his coffin nail and looked down at his shitty drink.
"Hey man, didn't you hear what my friend is saying to you? Is you retarded or somefin?"
Mean Joe looked at the guy on his right. He was wearing a large black hat with a white G embroidered on the front, canted off to the side. This amused Mean Joe quite a bit, but he didn't smile. Mean Joe never smiled. Maybe he had once after a particularly satisfying hit on a well paying job, but just that once and never again. Mean Joe took another drag on his cigarette. The punk on his left leaned in close to Mean Joe's face.
"You chicken shit motherfucker, you're going to get out of here, you hear me? Or you is gonna be in some serious trouble."
His friend pulled out a knife. Mean Joe took the cigarette out of mouth and said in his low gravelly voice:
"No, you're going to leave or I'm going to break your neck."
The punk on his left laughed and looked over at his friend.
"Hey man, you hear dat shit? Thats funny, do you know who we is? We's wanted in five states. We bad ass niggas, we ain't never scared of no clown ass pieces of shit like you. What the fuck you think you doin' walkin' in her wearing that shit? Don't make me tell you again, get the fuck out of my club."
Mean Joe put his cigarette out in the plastic ashtray and lit another.
"Did you hear me motherfucker? I said..."
He didn't get to finish. With one swift motion Mean Joe put his cigarette out in the kids eye and smacked the knife out of his friends hand, caught it, and sliced his throat open. The boy's screams were louder than the music and the DJ cut it. Everyone in the silent gloomy club stood looking at the dapper man in the gray suit with the scar down the left side of his face and at the young man writhing around on the floor in pain. As they watched, Mean Joe leaned over and whispered in the young man's ear.
"I told you I would."
Then he snapped his neck.
Mean Joe picked up his drink and walked back to the private room the owner of the club had reserved for him. Fun time was over, now it was time to get down to business...