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Time to shine. Give me a flash rule.
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Nov 5, 2013 18:50
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| # ¿ May 1, 2024 02:44 |
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Dead Bear 795 words. It was an unusually warm day in eastern Europe, hidden beneath the dirty streets was a dusky, dim light bar. There were only two men in this bar, one was a bear of a man, a grand lover of vodka, with patches of gray indicating an age just exceeding Russian life expectancy. Another, an even older man working as a bartender continually wiping a glass. A third man entered the bar, no one paid attention to him. He approached the bar, proclaiming “Nesti Bogdanovich. I have come for you.” Nesti the burly drinker, slowly rotated with weary eyes to face whoever interrupter his drinking time. He saw a man he had never seen before, ghostly white, wearing a suit too fancy for a business man. He took a moment to think of what this apparition wanted, then came to a conclusion. “Come friend, drinks on me.” Nesti Opened his arms wide, almost stumbling off his stool. The Suited man gave a self satisfied smirk. “I don't drink with dead men, it's a policy of mine.” Black gloves began adjusting each other. “You can call me hunter, by the way.” Nesti didn't know whether to cringe or chuckle. He steeled his face. “You are no government man. What business you have with me.” Hunter walked over to the bar, he slid his fingers across the counter repeatedly. “I've come to take you, and your secrets or leave you as a corpse.” He said somewhat in a sing-song manner. “And do what with these secrets,” asked the bear “Sell nuclear secrets to Muslims!?" He let lose a grand belly laugh. "You think it's funny now, but it will be very possible, and profitable soon." Hunter had successfully killed any joy in the air. Nesti took in a moment to reevaluate this situation and this man. The serious matter had sobered him some. "I know nothing but stolen ideas from greater men." Nesti shook his head “How valuable can I possibly be?” "It's true, you are no one special, you just happened to be convenient to find." Hunter leaned in to observe his target's face, taking in every detail and line. Nesti turned to face the bartender, who has paid no mind to the conversation. He stares into his glass. “You know,” Began Nesti “This vodka is the greatest in the world, brewed by the Bogdanovich for generations. I know that I am truly alive for this drink-” “I'd shoot you right now but that wouldn't be very entertaining.” Interrupted Hunter. “Make a decision, work for us, or die in your precious drink.” The suited man was shaking slightly. Nesti took this moment to touch an object by his side. It was an ornate revolver, plated with silver and equestrian images. It had been in his family for generations, something always close by. Hunter had snatched the gun. “A beautiful gun.” He appraised it like an expert gun smith. “She is a virgin.” It was a statement, not a question. “Comrade,” pleaded helpless Nesti “I would like to play a game. Roulette. Hunter was ecstatic. “Roulette!” He slammed his fist on the counter. “I have never lost a game of Roulette.” The bullet loaded, the chamber spun, it was time for the game to start. Hunter had once again taken the gun out of Nesti's hands. “Allow me to go first.” He raised the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Click went the gun. It was Nesti's turn, as the gun pointed against his head he thought of his youth. Click. Hunter pulled the trigger effortless and returned the gun back to Nesti. The fourth attempt, Nesti thought of his service to his country, and how he had failed his family. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pulled. Click. Once again hunter pulled the trigger against his head, giggling like a child. He held out the gun back to Nesti. All this time he was still standing and Nesti was sitting on the barstool, a bartender still ignoring the situation. Nesti began quivering, the rattle of the pistol echoing into his brain. Tear began welling up in his eyes. “H-How!?” Screamed Nesti. “I have never lost a game of Roulette” Smiled Hunter. Nesti could not let it end here, he turned the gun toward Hunter and- BANG. A dead Russian man slumped against a bar counter, blood from his chest mixing with spilt vodka. “Tsk.” Hunter had an expression mixed with disappointment and frustration. He eventually regained his bearings. “Ahem,” Coughed a man trying to not interrupt “My apologizes for eliminating a well paying patron. I'd pay for his tab, if you wish.” The bartender spoke. “No, that won't be necessary. After all this is where dead men come to rest.”
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Nov 11, 2013 05:59
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