Rating: NC17 / violence, gunplay, death, language
Pairing: Taylor Reese / OFC / OMC
Archive: VX, FDB
Feedback: In this thread only, no shreds
Disclaimer: I own neither Taylor Reese nor KAG. All else is mine. Any resemblance to those living or dead is purely coincidental. No money made, no harm intended.
Summary: Many years after the events of KAG. A lot more violence and a few more deaths have darkened Taylor’s life considerably. He takes a job because it’s what he does. It doesn’t end up as planned.
A/N: Most of this has been in play for well over a year now (I started this before “Last Chance Cafe” called on me.) In getting it ready for print, I realized that there were similar themes to the newly released Babylon AD movie, but only in that it involves moving a woman from one place to another, and how things change. Serendipity is an interesting thing. So it’s not quite a disclaimer, but I understand that there are possible similarities, and I’m acknowledging them.
It’s always easiest to get rid of a body first thing in the morning.
Late at night works too. Not only for cover, it’s not like there’s no one around at that time of the night. So it’s not just privacy.
It’s the smell.
Something about the cold ground. The wind. Something. Where the hell I picked that up, I have no idea. Just something that sunk deep early on.
Like shooting first and asking questions later. Like how I know that there’s no fucking way to wash the blood out of shit so don’t even bother. Just burn it and move on. Just like that, I knew that it would be easier to plant this fuck first thing in the morning.
The ground’s hard. The back end of October. If I’d waited any longer, I’d've had to put him in a freezer somewhere and taken another shot at it in the spring. Just like some kind of fucking gardener, I guess.
The ground on top is already growing cold again. Steam rising off it. It’s always warmer underneath. Dark dirt going grey again as whatever shit keeps it wet dries out. Got to wait for it to dry out a bit more and then I can cover it up with shit again, make it hard to find.
Not that anyone’s looking for this fuck anyway but that’s hardly the point. I do it because I’m the fuck that’ll get hung out to dry if anybody stumbles over the body. Me. Not my bosses, not anybody else.
The cops’d come gunning for me and, if I was lucky that day, they’d get me first. I’m not that lucky; haven’t been for a while. The word’d go out that a body was found and the next body found would be mine. Cops’d wrap it up nice and neat. One piece of shit killing off another and that would be that.
Light up. Watch the smoke drift over the river. Part of it’s smoke but most of it’s my breath. It’s cold out.
And quiet. Another reason I come out here so early. Sometimes come out even when I don’t have a job to do, the way some people go to the park. Even packed something to eat like some sort of half-assed picnic.
If anyone knew I did it, knew I came out here the way I do, they’d laugh their fucking asses off. If they even believed it in the first place. Probably think it was some kind of fucking joke anyway.
Don’t quite know how to take that. What, like I can’t come to a place for the view? Yeah, that does sound pretty fucking stupid, I know. Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
I’ve only been a few places that were nice, mostly when I was younger, when I still thought I could see shit. When me and Matty looked to get out of all this shit for good.
It didn’t work out that way. That still stings like a bitch.
Time worn habit, grind the butt out and drop it in the car’s ashtray. Take everything out with me. To not leave anything behind. Not leave anything of mine behind. There’s more in that thought somewhere but I’m not really smart enough to put all that shit into words. At least not here. Or yet.
Something like when I’m gone, there’s nothing left of me. Nothing to say I was even here. My dad’s been gone since I was a kid, leaving me and mom. She’s gone now too. A year ago. Cancer.
Friends I had my whole life shot dead in some little fucking town in Montana. Wibeaux. The rest are gone now too.
I pour a cup of black shit out of the thermos I brought with me, not really wanting to think about the rest. Knowing I’m going to think it anyway. Like a fucking busted tooth that I can’t leave alone.
The hardest of all of them was Matty. Not that the others weren’t hard but there was always something about Matty. Like none of this shit was ever meant to touch him.
It shouldn’t've either. We got about as far the fuck away from it as we could. Wasn’t far enough I guess. When Benny Chains finally went down, all the sharks came out. Every fuck that had their guns out for Chains came for Matty.
Matty died on the floor of some shitty little bar as he was trying to apologize for some stupid fucking thing that his old man had done years ago. Guess Benny ended up being the death of him anyway.
I didn’t give a shit about much of anything after that. So it wasn’t hard to go back to the one thing I knew I could do.
Never went to school much. When I was younger, sure. Mom wanted me to. I was good, I guess, but there wasn’t a fuck of a lot I could do about it later. About what happened.
With dad gone the money dried up so when that rat fuck Teddy came to me with a job, it was easy. Fuck, maybe it just got easier after a while. I was nine.
When Matty died and I had nothing else, I came back. Teddy took me back with that smug fucking look on his face like he saw it coming.
For all I know, he did. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. About if he knew about Matty. Fuck probably did but I’ll never know.
Outside of shooting Teddy in the head, I’ll never get an answer to any of it. Know he wouldn’t talk, just to fuck with me. Wouldn’t bring Matty back no matter what I did to him. Something fucking sad about that.
It’s stupid and fucking useless to say it hurts. It’s not going to do anything. But yeah, it fucking hurts. I miss him. Never had friends like that after. Maybe I don’t want them, it’s easier not to care.
The shit I brought with me gets thrown back in the box it came in cus I know that’s another fucking lie.
Yeah, I cared about Matty. So the fuck what, like something’s wrong with that? He mattered to me. For a while he was the only thing other than Mom that mattered to me.
I miss him.
The fucking phone rings on the seat behind me. I ignored it the first time, let the machine pick it up. Give Teddy some fucking excuse about it later.
Can’t ignore it forever and I hate the sound of it here anyway. If I don’t pick it up he’ll just send someone out to get a hold of me and I’ll be shaking a fucking tail all morning if I want any time on my own.
Likes to keep me on a short leash, like his own personal fucking pet. The killer he pulls out to get shit done and scare the shit out of the other dogs.
I think Teddy’s getting a little scared in his old age. Like Benny was before him, right at the end. Benny was a ruthless fuck too but he had some balls. Didn’t need to go yanking fucking chains and shit. Didn’t need to prove nothing to fucking nobody.
That lack of fear probably got him fucking killed. Matty was the same way and it probably got him fucking killed too. Trusted all the wrong people.
Teddy don’t trust nobody. Probably whack me in a cold minute if he didn’t like having me around to scare the fuck out of people that scared the fuck out of him.
Lost my fucking appetite.
“Reese,” I get out, picking up the phone finally.
“Well, it’s about time, Taylor. I thought I might have to send someone out to find you.”
Teddy still talks in that slow controlled way he’s always had. Like some fuck that got to see the whole fucking show before everyone else and likes to rub your nose in it. Something off about it lately like maybe he doesn’t know everything he acts like he knows.
Don’t bother saying nothing to that. Teddy doesn’t give a shit about what I think. Never did. So I wait for him to finish saying whatever it is he wants to say.
“I want you down at Nick’s Diner in half an hour, Taylor. There’s a job for you and I don’t want to hear any excuses.”
Just like that, the fuck hangs up. Didn’t expect any different. Not like he can talk on the line anyway. Never know who’s listening.
Makes me feel like a fucking errand boy. Which is exactly what I am.
© copyright sept 2008 xxxevilgrinxxx