the damned

PROLOGUE

I pushed the heavy oak door of the pub aside and took in the smell of burning cigars and the intoxicating stench of the alcohol being excessively consumed. I stepped inside and the door was closed behind me.

There's no going back now.

'Sir,' I started. The man ignored me.

'Sir, Sir...' I tried to gain his attention. More ignoring.

I walked over, directly in front of him, banged my hand hard on the table and looked him directly in the eye. He snapped to attention and looked at me, his look smiling.

I thought,' Sheesh! Are all crime lords this nice?'

'Sir, please I think you would like to hear what I have to say.' I said.
His face retained his jovial expression and in that dawdy Texan accent that I despised, he asked,' Hello son, what did you want to tell me?'

In a cold tone, I replied,' It might be better for business if you started paying me to protect you. There are a lot of bad things out there now, don't you think?'

He looked at me a moment, stunned and started laughing out loud. Pretty soon, the pub which was full of hardened criminals, lawbreakers and wannabe gangsters started laughing with him too.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. I think it was the "kid" thing. I almost forgot to tell you. I'm 16 years old.

He rummaged through his pockets, took out a toffee and stretched it towards me.

'There! I think that's the cost of all the protection I need from you.' He chuckled lightly, proud of himself and his pitiful comment.

'Oh.' And I also started laughing. A slight chuckle at first which turned into a full-blown laughter. The whole bar went quiet.

'Would you like the DEA to know that you cook Ecstasy in your basement, or the CIA that you ship over illegal Russian immigrants in beer kegs or for someone to inform the FBI that the Deputy Director of the Organized Crime Office, one Special Agent Benjamin Keller is buried four and a half feet under the apple tree in your backyard? Or maybe you wanna explain to the NSA why there are seventeen crates filled with M45 semi-automatics sitting in the secret room under this pub?' I asked.

'Which one do you want to get out because I'm betting that they will make for an interesting bedtime story.' I continued, still amused.

Behind me, some fool locked the door.

'Oh, I'm really scared now.' I remarked sarcastically. The barman's face lost its jovial nature. He and every other person in the pub took out a gun.

Counting on my fingers, I said,' An MM6 Sauer, A .32 Beratta, an M45, and ohh, with a silencer too.'

'Kid, do you see this?' He asked seriously, indicating his gun which was pointed straight at me.' Now I'm going to ask you a series of questions and if you don't answer me truthfully, I'm going to shoot you in the...'

'Wow. Now that's original.' I had walked up to him and I was now holding the nozzle of his gun.' Do you people see this? A 9mm Glock with an extended barrel too.' I interrupted talking to the whole bar. I distracted him enough, giving me the split-second I needed to place the nano incinedary device on the underside of his Glock.