Post by Nick L. on Apr 1, 2012 18:37:50 GMT -5
We were a hundred miles outside of Chicago, in a black mustang with a supercharged engine. I had turned eighteen the night before. Every year before I had a big party with friends and family, but this year Mark didn't throw such a party for me. He was my uncle, or at least that's what he was called. I still am not sure if he's actually related to me. I lived with him, and when my birthday came this year, he told me that we'd be doing something completely different from the past years.
He told me to be up early. We left the apartment around six in the morning. I sat in his car for the next few hours, where little words were spoken. He was always a quiet man with long hair that was dirty blonde. Today he wore a suit that I'd never seen before. It was a black coat and pants, with a white shirt and a black tie. It looked like the suit should have been buttoned, but it was wide open and wore casually. The tie he wore was also loose on him. He wore a pair of dark black sunglasses while we drove on the dirt road, out in the middle of nowhere.
I would ask him where we were going, and every time I asked he just remained silent. A feeling of anxiety began to come over me. For all I knew, he had snapped and was planning to take me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me. I blame television for my wild imagination. He had taken care of me since I was ten, when my parents were both killed in a car accident. I know he loves me like his own son. I had almost no knowledge of him when my parents were alive. Occasionally they'd mention his name, and say he was always too “busy” to see the family.
The car came to a stop. A plume of airborne dirt kicked up from the braking tires. I looked around us. There was nothing around us except for a pair of hills on either side in the distance, and a large wooden shack in the middle of a grassy field. After a minute Mark turned the key and the engine rumbled down into silence. We sat in the quiet car while he looked out towards the shack. I looked in the direction he was looking. After a moment, three more cars rolled down the hill to the far right. They were all black mustangs like the one we sat in. The far left one had a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror and had a purple interior. The one in the center wasn't supercharged and had a small crack in the glass, and the third one was very identical to Mark's, only this one had a long scratch down the left side of it.
The three cars rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and a moment later the doors opened. Six men piled out of the three cars. Each of them wore a similar suit that Mark was wearing, with tie and glasses. All of them did except for the third mustang. The driver donned the suit, but his passenger did not get out. From this far away I couldn't see inside his car, but the driver walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger's door, and pulled the person out. The man wore nothing but a wife beater and gray underpants, with a brown sack over his head, his hands cuffed behind his back.
My eyes widened and I looked the Mark with concern. So many questions rose into my mind. What was my uncle tied to? Was this the man that was too busy to see the rest of the family, and this the business he was tied up in? The six men all went inside the shack, then I heard Mark's door open.
“Nathan... This is why we came out so far today. My gift to you this year is freedom. After today you will be a different person. One who does not play by the same rules as normal people. You'll be above the system, and you may hate me for it today, but one day you will thank me for this.” He said. My heart beat frantically at his words. What was he planning? He was going to free me?
Mark stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. I was so stunned I almost forgot where we were. I blinked slowly as I took a deep breath to calm my tense nerves. I unlatched my car door and caught up to my uncle. We walked towards the shack together, side by side. He had at least seven inches on me in height. I was quite skinny and a bit short for my age.
“I'm nervous.” I said to him as we walked. He nodded slightly as we did.
“So was I when I was your age.” Mark said. We approached the shack and pushed the door open. The others had already made it inside. The inside of the shack was like a warehouse. The room was surrounded with boxes and machinery. The man from before was tied to a wooden chair and had a white light beaming down on him. No other light entered the shack except for light seeping in through cracks in the wood.
The five men stood in the light behind the man. Each of them looking similar but shared distinct traits. One man wore a black fedora hat with a cigarette in his mouth. One man had curly brown hair and a square face, with a kind smile. Another man was bald and slightly overweight, with a goatee and a stern look on his face like he'd kill the next person who looked at him wrong. One of them was looking at me through his black shades. He looked the youngest out of the group, between Mark and I in height. He looked lean and strong the way he stood, almost like a white Bruce Lee. The last man looked like the highest authority. He had black hair slicked back and curling at the ends and large gold rings on his fingers.
Mark smiled at them and laughed slightly. The others laughed as well and they all walked towards each other, as I stood where I was. They hugged and shook hands like they were all close friends. I heard them say things like “good to see you”, “how are you?”, and “glad to see you again brother”. After their exchange of greetings they cleared their throats. Mark and the others looked towards me like I was supposed to come with them. I cautiously approached them, easy to tell that I was nervous and uncomfortable.
Mark introduced me to each of them. The fedora man was named Jimmy Steel. The square faced man was Ace Diamonds. The large set man was Big Tony. At this point I was starting to think I was in an old time gangster movie. The tough looking young guy was known as simply Irish. Which to me sounded like a lazy name, until later on when I would realize he got the name because he killed seven men in an Irish bar with just his bare hands, and that he was actually from Sweden. I never was given the name of the last guy. Everyone there just called him Boss. It was also strange to hear them refer to my Uncle Mark as Iceman. I learned they called him that because he was cold as ice, and did everything with a blank faced expression.
“So I'm sure you're confused as hell as to why you're here, chatting with a bunch of gangsters.” Boss said. Right away I felt out of place, and was affirmed in my suspicion of who these guys were. I took a step back from them, both out of fear and anxiety. Boss laughed a bit and Mark stood behind me.
“Nathan scares easy. If you go too fast we'll lose him.” Mark said. I looked up at my uncle and realized why I was here.
“You... want me to... join whatever you people do?” I asked. Boss smiled at me. “He's got a good head on him, Ice. The kid will need some toughening up, but that will be easy.” He said. I looked around me then turned around.
“What are you, uncle? All this time you were in a gang? Why would you take me out here?” I asked him loudly. He stood stiff like a statue and didn't answer. Footsteps could be heard as someone approached us. I felt a hand on my shoulder. The hand had a pair of large gold rings on it. I looked up to see Boss looking down at me and smiling. “It's okay son, you're young and confused right now. You're among friends, though we might not be for long if you relate what we do to that of a petty gang of misfits trying to fuck each other over.” He said. His tone was smooth and relaxed. I turned towards him. His teeth showed through his smirk.
“The Casual Ties aren't a gang. We do our country proud, even if they hate us for our actions. We eliminate those who need to be eliminated. That wall street banker that cheats the system? That business owner who sells his shares before the company goes bankrupt, and that politician who lobbies the bill for the super corporation. We end people who think they're better than everyone else, and think the world owes them a favor. Now, can you see the wrong in that?” He asked.
I looked into his eyes. His eyes looked lively and bright, as apposed to a couple others I had seen there, my uncle included. Their eyes were empty. Something about Boss stood out. He genuinely believed he was doing the world a service by killing people who do more damage to the country than any murderer could. I always felt that people like he described didn't deserve to get away with their actions, but to kill someone for the act?
He told me to be up early. We left the apartment around six in the morning. I sat in his car for the next few hours, where little words were spoken. He was always a quiet man with long hair that was dirty blonde. Today he wore a suit that I'd never seen before. It was a black coat and pants, with a white shirt and a black tie. It looked like the suit should have been buttoned, but it was wide open and wore casually. The tie he wore was also loose on him. He wore a pair of dark black sunglasses while we drove on the dirt road, out in the middle of nowhere.
I would ask him where we were going, and every time I asked he just remained silent. A feeling of anxiety began to come over me. For all I knew, he had snapped and was planning to take me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me. I blame television for my wild imagination. He had taken care of me since I was ten, when my parents were both killed in a car accident. I know he loves me like his own son. I had almost no knowledge of him when my parents were alive. Occasionally they'd mention his name, and say he was always too “busy” to see the family.
The car came to a stop. A plume of airborne dirt kicked up from the braking tires. I looked around us. There was nothing around us except for a pair of hills on either side in the distance, and a large wooden shack in the middle of a grassy field. After a minute Mark turned the key and the engine rumbled down into silence. We sat in the quiet car while he looked out towards the shack. I looked in the direction he was looking. After a moment, three more cars rolled down the hill to the far right. They were all black mustangs like the one we sat in. The far left one had a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror and had a purple interior. The one in the center wasn't supercharged and had a small crack in the glass, and the third one was very identical to Mark's, only this one had a long scratch down the left side of it.
The three cars rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and a moment later the doors opened. Six men piled out of the three cars. Each of them wore a similar suit that Mark was wearing, with tie and glasses. All of them did except for the third mustang. The driver donned the suit, but his passenger did not get out. From this far away I couldn't see inside his car, but the driver walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger's door, and pulled the person out. The man wore nothing but a wife beater and gray underpants, with a brown sack over his head, his hands cuffed behind his back.
My eyes widened and I looked the Mark with concern. So many questions rose into my mind. What was my uncle tied to? Was this the man that was too busy to see the rest of the family, and this the business he was tied up in? The six men all went inside the shack, then I heard Mark's door open.
“Nathan... This is why we came out so far today. My gift to you this year is freedom. After today you will be a different person. One who does not play by the same rules as normal people. You'll be above the system, and you may hate me for it today, but one day you will thank me for this.” He said. My heart beat frantically at his words. What was he planning? He was going to free me?
Mark stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. I was so stunned I almost forgot where we were. I blinked slowly as I took a deep breath to calm my tense nerves. I unlatched my car door and caught up to my uncle. We walked towards the shack together, side by side. He had at least seven inches on me in height. I was quite skinny and a bit short for my age.
“I'm nervous.” I said to him as we walked. He nodded slightly as we did.
“So was I when I was your age.” Mark said. We approached the shack and pushed the door open. The others had already made it inside. The inside of the shack was like a warehouse. The room was surrounded with boxes and machinery. The man from before was tied to a wooden chair and had a white light beaming down on him. No other light entered the shack except for light seeping in through cracks in the wood.
The five men stood in the light behind the man. Each of them looking similar but shared distinct traits. One man wore a black fedora hat with a cigarette in his mouth. One man had curly brown hair and a square face, with a kind smile. Another man was bald and slightly overweight, with a goatee and a stern look on his face like he'd kill the next person who looked at him wrong. One of them was looking at me through his black shades. He looked the youngest out of the group, between Mark and I in height. He looked lean and strong the way he stood, almost like a white Bruce Lee. The last man looked like the highest authority. He had black hair slicked back and curling at the ends and large gold rings on his fingers.
Mark smiled at them and laughed slightly. The others laughed as well and they all walked towards each other, as I stood where I was. They hugged and shook hands like they were all close friends. I heard them say things like “good to see you”, “how are you?”, and “glad to see you again brother”. After their exchange of greetings they cleared their throats. Mark and the others looked towards me like I was supposed to come with them. I cautiously approached them, easy to tell that I was nervous and uncomfortable.
Mark introduced me to each of them. The fedora man was named Jimmy Steel. The square faced man was Ace Diamonds. The large set man was Big Tony. At this point I was starting to think I was in an old time gangster movie. The tough looking young guy was known as simply Irish. Which to me sounded like a lazy name, until later on when I would realize he got the name because he killed seven men in an Irish bar with just his bare hands, and that he was actually from Sweden. I never was given the name of the last guy. Everyone there just called him Boss. It was also strange to hear them refer to my Uncle Mark as Iceman. I learned they called him that because he was cold as ice, and did everything with a blank faced expression.
“So I'm sure you're confused as hell as to why you're here, chatting with a bunch of gangsters.” Boss said. Right away I felt out of place, and was affirmed in my suspicion of who these guys were. I took a step back from them, both out of fear and anxiety. Boss laughed a bit and Mark stood behind me.
“Nathan scares easy. If you go too fast we'll lose him.” Mark said. I looked up at my uncle and realized why I was here.
“You... want me to... join whatever you people do?” I asked. Boss smiled at me. “He's got a good head on him, Ice. The kid will need some toughening up, but that will be easy.” He said. I looked around me then turned around.
“What are you, uncle? All this time you were in a gang? Why would you take me out here?” I asked him loudly. He stood stiff like a statue and didn't answer. Footsteps could be heard as someone approached us. I felt a hand on my shoulder. The hand had a pair of large gold rings on it. I looked up to see Boss looking down at me and smiling. “It's okay son, you're young and confused right now. You're among friends, though we might not be for long if you relate what we do to that of a petty gang of misfits trying to fuck each other over.” He said. His tone was smooth and relaxed. I turned towards him. His teeth showed through his smirk.
“The Casual Ties aren't a gang. We do our country proud, even if they hate us for our actions. We eliminate those who need to be eliminated. That wall street banker that cheats the system? That business owner who sells his shares before the company goes bankrupt, and that politician who lobbies the bill for the super corporation. We end people who think they're better than everyone else, and think the world owes them a favor. Now, can you see the wrong in that?” He asked.
I looked into his eyes. His eyes looked lively and bright, as apposed to a couple others I had seen there, my uncle included. Their eyes were empty. Something about Boss stood out. He genuinely believed he was doing the world a service by killing people who do more damage to the country than any murderer could. I always felt that people like he described didn't deserve to get away with their actions, but to kill someone for the act?