The Graveyard

The Lair Of Gary James

NaNoWriMo: Doogs (fragment)

Doogs knew he had screwed up, even before they had come looking for him. The temptation to take whatever he wanted was too great to pass up a sweet deal, but the balance in the old district calls for a payment every time a theft is carried out.
The three men were following Doogs, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
“Hey, Doogs.”
He didn’t respond. Answering would confirm his identity.
“Doogs, we need to talk to you.”
One of the men’s hands landed on his shoulder before he could get away, and suddenly Doogs was against the wall, one enforcer either side of him. A smaller man bearing an artificial eye watched on, smoking a thin cigarette. “You’ve been a bad boy, Doogs.”
“What, what I do?”
“You didn’t give payment to the Kings for your little activity the other day.
“That weren’t me, no way.”
“People watch. People talk. They talk, more specifically, of how you have managed, somehow, to get your hand on a bunch of hardware from the warehouses.”
“Oh, dat. Jeez, I meant ta pay up, but I don’ have any money on me at th’ moment.”
“That’s very unfortunate, because my superiors require some recompense for your gain.”
“I’ll go get my stash, an’ drop off yer payments as soon as-”
One of the enforcers landed a punch directly in Doogs stomach, cutting off his protestations.
“I’m sure you know how these things work.”
“You’ll get paid ah swear.”

Sirens from the streets above held the promise, even if a moment, that help would come. Doogs knew that anyone that could help would want payment, and he was broke. The man with the cybeye nodded slightly, and another punch landed on Doogs.
“You have to understand that your actions have repercussions, and the way things work is very simple indeed.” The cyclops slipped a card into Doogs jacket. “Make the call before midnight, or we’ll have to have a more serious conversation.”
“Ah swear, Jeez, I’ll have yer money. Fuckin’ swear. I’ll go get yer money right away.”
The cyclops waved his hand, the enforcers easing off slightly. “Make sure you do.”

Doogs watched as the men walked the length of the alley, thinking of the places where he could hole up for a few hours until he could get some cash. There were few places that offered protection, but he knew such places still existed. Fishing in his pockets he came across the card which had been passed to him. It had the address of the Kings’ lieutenant, a scary half-man half-robot freak who had been said to rip in half those who angered him.
Doogs watched the cyclops pass by the end of the alley in his hov, the goons sitting in the back of the vehicle. “I ain’t afraid o’ you guys,’ Doogs panted, out of breath.
The Lucky H. Doogs could find sanctuary in the Lucky H, ’cause a bar is as good as a church for the kind of people he associated with. Nobody would think to look for him there…

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