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.
'What the hell?!' He asked thrown off balance.
I knew none of them were going to shoot me yet. They still needed some answers. As if they were going to get it from me.
'Now, you listen to me,' I continued, dropping a white card-like device the thickness of a pencil in front of me. 'You are going to put fifty thousand dollars in unmarked bills in a clear, plastic bag and hand it over to me or everyone in this pub dies.' I dropped another on my white "cards" behind me.
The barman smiled at me. He said, with a hint of arrogance in his voice,' I'm going to enjoy this.'
I smiled... again. I really must stop smiling. It's tiring. I thought exasperated.
'Now, who told you about the shipment of guns?' He asked.
A second later, the white card released an arc of pure electricity. Moving at a speed equal to that of light, the intense blue beam ionised the air as it moved, making it more powerful until it hit a random man on the uncovered portion of his arm. As the wave of 10 megawatts was fully absorbed by his body, his body's nervous system overloaded till they failed. Some of the electricity burnt his shirt to a crisp as we watched him die. The electricity heated up his blood, burnt up his skin and turned his insides to liquid before his entire body failed him totally. He spasmed a little before stopping to rest on the floor. Permanently.
A second later, another man checked his pulse. He looked at the barman and shook his head no.
'Got your answer now?' I asked. A smile still tugging at the corners of my mouth.
'You killed him.' He said hoarsely. His voice was now laced with fury and I could also detect an element of fear in his tone.
'Of course I did. What did you think I was gonna do? Give him a kiss?'
'You are going to die, kid.' He lifted his weapon and squeezed the trigger twice. Again, the arc flashed through the air, untraceable by eye and only it's blue hue informed us of its deadly presence and... effects. The bullets hit the floor with dull, metallic thuds. Once. Twice. And all was still.
I made a surprised face and an shocked O with my lips. I nervously tapped down my torso pretending to check for bullet holes.
'Ok,... that was strangely disappointing.' I said in a sad voice.
'Well, since I'm not dead yet I'm going to repeat myself.' I said in an exasperated tone, 'I'm going to kill five people every minute until the idiot behind the counter takes out fifty thousand dollars and hands it over. '
'Oh, and if you try to run away, trust me, I will kill you.' I said softly.
The silence was so thick, you could cut it up with a butter knife and serve with a pretzel. A moment later, the device on the floor cackled.
What? I was tired of waiting.
The royal blue flash followed. Five people hit the floor simultaneously.
'The way I see it, I have a shield and something definitely more powerful than a Glock and you have... nothing.' The last word was whispered softly.
The voice inflection meter and speech scanner in my nano-incinedary machine completed its work and at once, the device lit the gunpowder in the gun through diffused electroshocks. It also lit up its stock of gunpowder and you can guess what happened.
Well, I won't bore you with the details but it wasn't pretty. The device blew up the gun and the heat from the explosion blew the skin of his face off along with some of his hair and the tip of his nose. The force of the explosion had also shredded his right hand and part of his arm off leaving a raw, red, bleeding stump. It's kinda funny. I thought amused. Just like Rick and Morty. Hilarious!
He screamed his head off trying to reduce the pain and he shot me a death glare. Shit, if looks could kill, I'd be throwing sand on my coffin right about now.
But I've got to commend him, he didn't try and attack me. Although if he probably did that, I would have shot him in the head and taken the drug money anyway. Oh well, you can't say pain isn't useful.
The device on the floor hit the debris and shrapnel out of my way, so that nothing accidentally injured me.
'Ok. Ok.' The barman said. He was holding his face trying to staunch the flow of blood from his bleeding face. 'I'll give it to you.'
I opened the door to the pub, possibly for the last time and said,' Thank you again, good sir. And get something for your face. It looks like shit. Also, get rid of the burnt crisps on the floor. They look just a tad better than you though.' I laughed a little and continued.' Now, if any of you fuckers try to get out, my device on the floor is going to know it before you do and believe me, it's not gonna be pretty. Now sit tight for the next five minutes whiles I make my somewhat clean escape. Ciao!'
I walked on, oblivious of the stupid barman's discomfort. When I had reached a safe enough distance, I held up my digital watch to my lips and whistled a clear note. From Lizst's sixth symphony.
In the pub, the bodies were being cleared and a man was cleaning up the barman's face whiles he himself was describing in great detail what was going to happen to me once he got his hands on me,' When I catch that motherfucker, I'm gonna shoot every bone he has and...'
Sadly, the generous barman, did not get to finish his sentence. The pub imploded inwards, concentrating all the heat and energy into a single point before exploding everything outwards at the speed of light, vaporizing everything in sight and sending shrapnel and bits of metallic residue and wood ash swirling in the setting spring sun. At the center of the explosion, the two cards were a six thousand degrees each. The heat incinerated everything and everyone in one and a half mile radius. Nobody survived.
The shock wave came next. That one had a wider range but I was too far for it to make any significant dent in me. A few people closer flew backwards as the force of the explosion pushed them into the wall of the opposite building. The bar turned into an angry red fireball and started consuming the nearest building. In the distance, I could hear the siren of the fire truck.
That was quick. Oh well...
I turned and continued on my way home... With fifty thousand dollars in my bag.
Oh yes... life was good.
******************************
CRAZY AUTHOR'S NOTE
Well, that's that.
So, what do you think?
Is Paul too crazy? Too sick? Too cool? Too smart for his own good?
Tell me!! For a prologue, he is really sick. And I mean that mentally. Well, that's my opinion. What's yours?
Should he have killed all those criminals back there?
Now I really think that, that one can be acceptable because it is technically,'FOR THE GREATER EVIL.' Do you agree? Feel free to express your opinions.
When he blew up the man's hand?
Well, onwards to the Questions of the Update.
Someone asked me that in my opinion, who do I think she constitutes someone worth dating? He asked me not to reveal his username. So, assume Kim Jong Il asked me the question.
The Interview anyone?
Well, to be honest, after an intense video conferencing discussion with my subconscious, I decided that my ideal girlfriend should somehow be a bad-ass girl with a heart of gold, built like a Greek goddess, likes HP (Harry Potter not HP computers, just so you know!). She also gets along with my mother (Good luck with that! My mom's the most difficult person to get along with. Right after Hitler.)
*Phone rings* 'Excuse me, readers.'
'Paapa, my mom-senses are tingling over here. Are you badmouthing me on Wattpad?'
'What the...? How did you? Errm.... no?'
'Okay. Just know that if you're lying to me, I'm disowning you.'
'Mum, me? How could you even think something like that? How can I badmouth my favourite mum? Oh, I'm heartbroken. How could you!?' I sputtered out.
'Oh, baby. I'm touched. Ive got two things to tell you though. One, I'm your only mum. Therefore I can be your only choice to be your favourite.'
'Okay. What's the second thing?'
'Do you know that I follow you on Wattpad and I'm reading one of your stories right now?'
*Phone "accidentally" falls into toilet bowl*
Continuing, I think said girl should know how to smoke. More than me, of course.(I smoke zero sticks a day. Do the math, snickerdoddle) and not too much like Wiz Khalifa. He's gonna die a painful death. *shakes head and chokes up with emotion*
Ok, she should also have a cool ride preferably, a monster truck the size of Miami. Oh yeah.. *crazy smile* I'm seeing how that would work out.
Being as crazy or weird like me wouldn't be too bad though.
Finally, she should be a good Christian. Or failing that, we could run away, marry on the US-Canada border and live on Mars.
Well, that ends my ideal girl image. So, tell me what you think your "Perfect Girl or Boy" should look like. *Flips nonexistent hair* Maybe it'll be me.
'Paapa, I'm home! Done fishing your phone out of the toilet bowl yet? And Sweetie, if you try and elope, I'll kill you first.'
*Gulps hard*
'Muum! do you know how to block someone on Wattpad? I just can't figure it out.'
Vote, Comment- Let's be weird together.Let's rule this world with our oddness and craziness. *Laughing crazily in an unbalanced way*
Time to up my pills.