Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Bloggaday 115 – PWND: The Funeral Job 1 of 3

Bloggaday 115 – PWND: The Funeral Job 1 of 3

Blood mixed with the young man’s saliva and ran a trail from his lips. A cough cut the stream as a voice came, “Get him up.”
Men in suits grabbed his arms and craned him to his feet, revealing more a boy than a man. “Alright, alright. I’ll get you your money. I just need a little bit more time.”
The man’s head dropped before he turned back to the trio. “You might want to hurry, Mr. Ford. You have the unfortunate luck of owing me the wrong amount of money. He grabbed a handful of scraggly hair and continued into gazeless eyes, “You owe me enough money to physically intervene, but it’s small enough that the message it sends for us to kill you… Well, that does more for our reputation than taking that piss-poor excuse of collateral you put up.” He clinched the hair and sent another blow to the boy’s gut.
As he turned and walked away, he said with a wave of his hand, “You know what to do with him.”
As they began to drag the flailing boy, one of the suited men hooked the sledge resting against the door.

Clad in black but behind a white collar, the baritone rang to a full room. “Nathan was a fine young man, and that is how we should remember him. Some people have expressed to me that they would like to pay their last respects in private, so I’d like to ask all of you to join me in the reception area and celebrate the LIFE of Nathan Ford.”

An older gentleman, grey offering a distinguished shock to either temple, retrieved a browning baseball from his jacket pocket and admired it. He held the door open after a woman left the room. With a nod he went in after she cleared the way.
A few moments after he disappeared, a boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, scanned the reception room from the same doors. He pried one open and slipped in. He ducked in between the rows of pews as the man began to speak, “Hey, Nate. I know it’s been a while. I’m just sorry I couldn’t come sooner or on better terms.”
The man covered the last step to the coffin with a catch in his throat. “I know how much you always loved this ball, and every time I looked at it, I just think about that time at the bar. I don’t know. I always figured I would give it to you sooner or later, so I guess this is my last chance.”

Alright, if any of you have ever seen the T.N.T show, Leverage, you’ve probably already guessed that this was a Leverage-based fic. Over the next two weeks, I’ll post the other two parts on Wednesdays. This was a bit different from what I usually do, so it was rather fun.*

115 June 9

* I actually got the inspiration for this during the weird haze between sleep and waking up. Basically, baseball and funeral, so it has evolved quite a bit. I’m happy for the unique start though.

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