The Longest Night

[coz1]

More fb-fb:

Meyer Lansky? I saw the name, but ignored it since he's not playing a part in this - I thought it was mere period flavor.

Indeed, I had hoped there might be some consideration of the name and what it held for the next update, but alas, perhaps I kept it too brief. I considered more of a teaser but left it alone hoping Lansky's name was enough. I am glad you posted that link, hopefully causing people to read up on his life and role in the mafia. If so, it allows me some shorthand in the next post. We enter mob territory and since I find it fascinating, dammit, the rest of you should as well.

Wow. I AM honored.

Yes, your hypnotism trance works well. It fits in nicely with plenty of vampire stories and games I've read/played. You're doing an outstanding job with this! Of course, that comes as no surprise.

Completely, CatKnight. When considering writing a mindless, controllable being, Exeter must come up if one has read their AARs. But you wrote such a complex being, I had to think about that as I began to consider Otto and what he would do...how he would act. Like I said, it wasn't easy (nor does it look to be in future) so I remain in awe of your ability to bring it across so well and consistently.

Great to see you around and thanks for reading!

Sam and Jasper are in need of allies, and I suppose they are in need of allies fast, as in almost everything they do, someone is one step ahead of them

Very true. And they gain a few coming up. Read on.


To all - Still tinkering with the next update and still have a few problems to solve. It is written though, so it is at least just tinkering. Maybe later today, maybe tomorrow.

 

[coz1]

* * *​

New York City, 1938​

The two men walked along the crowded sidewalk, dodging patrons coming out of bars and plenty of well dressed men struggling to hold in their thick necks. In Little Italy, the crooked noses were plentiful and you couldn’t step two feet without encountering the ever-present “men of honor” and their fiefdom. Italian culture exploded in New York, creating their own city within a city and these men ran it with a gun and an iron fist – or “black hand” as it was once known.

Every step they took seemed to worry Jasper White that much more and he could finally hold his silence no longer, “Finch, do you realize where we are?”

“Of course,” Sam answered trying to ignore the man.

“We stick out like a sore thumb, for crying out load. This is dangerous, Finch. These guys don’t mess around.”

“Trust me, White. I’ve been dealing with my guy for years. Just take it easy.” Sam took a step ahead of Jasper but could not outdistance him.

“And just who is this man, if I may ask? I don’t know how any man could know this town better than Lansky.”

“He seems to know plenty. He works for Costello.”

Jasper stopped and caused Sam to do the same and look back at the reporter. When he remained silent, Sam was finally caused to ask, ‘What?!”

“Frank Costello, Finch? He’s the boss. You don’t want to mess around there.”

“Boss? What boss? He’s a businessman, White. All these guys are. So a little of it comes on the side. Who hasn’t been getting it where they can since the crash? It’s catch as catch can and you know it.”

“Finch…it is far more organized than that. Do you not see it?”

Sam turned and continued walking, leaving Jasper to catch up once again but the reporter remained steadfast in his thought, “Do you not realize how this structure works?”

“How the hell do you know?” Sam threw back over his shoulder still trying to outpace Jasper.

“I’ve been researching them for years, Finch. It’s my job. There are five families in this city and Costello runs the biggest one. Just who is your guy again?”

“Name’s Vizzini…”

“Salvatore Vizzini? Surely you must be joking, Finch. How do you have access to him?” Jasper reached out, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and turning him around.

“I told you…he owes me a favor. I got some information for him.”

Jasper was taken aback. “Are you suggesting you work with these men?”

“Absolutely not, White. Keep your hat on. He came to me asking about some little gal he was seeing. I guess she had a big mouth.”

Sam did not look so concerned but Jasper’s eyes grew wider, “You probably have no idea what happened to that woman.”

“What? What could happen? He stopped seeing her, I guess.”

“Really Finch!” Jasper was shocked. “Can you be so naive? That woman is probably dead. That’s how they solve their problems around here.”

Sam threw up his hands and starting walking again. “Always some conspiracy with you.”

Jasper quickly followed, “And you are quick to throw it away as nonsense. Trust me…I’ve watched these men for years…Mangano, Gagliano, Bonnano, Profaci and yes, Costello. Certainly Luciano before him. You do NOT mess with these men.”

Sam continued to ignore him and kept up a speedy pace. They were quickly in front of a restaurant and the detective could see his man sitting at a back table through the window. Jasper finally caught up and surveyed the scene but Sam shifted and held him away.

“Why don’t you just stay out here, OK? Let me talk to him. I wouldn’t want you to sully yourself by stepping foot in such a dirty place.”

“Oh no you don’t…” Jasper tried to resist. “I want to meet him.”

A smile covered Sam’s face and he almost laughed at Jasper, “Thought you detested these guys, White? What gives?”

Jasper turned his eyes down to the sidewalk at first, raising them only to suggest, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet him.”

Sam turned to go inside and Jasper held up a finger, “It would be good research.”

“No, White. Just stay here and don’t bother anyone.”

Sam opened the door and walked into the restaurant leaving Jasper to shiver in the cold. The reporter made sure to look through the window and take in as much as he could. Vizzini sat by himself at a table covered in food and wine. He was a larger man…not so much fat as strong, though his weight had started to balloon in recent years. He was one of only a few Italians that wore a large mustache, the fashion having receded in the past decade after the “Young Turks” took over from the “Mustache Pete’s.” But Vizzini dated his time prior to the Castellamarese War and no one seemed willing to tell him that times had changed.

As Sam approached the table, two beefy men stood up from separate tables and blocked his path. Neither said a word but from behind their backs a voice called out, “Let him through.”

They parted to show Salvatore Vizzini standing, a smile on his face and a small chicken leg in his fingers. He took another bite and greeted Sam as he chewed, “Been a while, Mr. Finch. What brings you down here?”

Sam continued to stand at the head of the table as Vizzini sat back down and continued to feed his face. The detective started to speak but Vizzini made a large gesture with his hands, “Si accomodi…mangia…mangia…”

He did not understand the words but the directive was clear enough. Sam sat down and Vizzini started to fix him a plate. Scooping various pastas and meat onto a dish barely large enough to hold it, the mobster placed it in front of Sam and went back to his own meal.

“Try the managot.” He held up his hand and pinched his fingers together in an approving gesture, “Squisita!”

Sam slowly reached for a fork and picked at his food which caused Vizzini to stop. He looked almost hurt. “What? You not hungry?” As the wily mobster looked at Sam, he could see some seriousness on his face. “What a face brute.”

He went back to his eating, but signaled with his other hand, “Then what is it? What have you come here to ask me?”

“I got a few questions…”

“This is clear, Mr. Finch. If you do not wish to share a pleasant meal, then speak your business plainly.” Again, Vizzini appeared hurt. He chewed his food with vigor as he looked at Sam and waited.

“Well…what do you know of some Germans that might have cleaned some place uptown?”

Vizzini continued to chew his food as he thought on it and finally said just before another bite, “I know of a few.”

Sam’s face grew bright and he pushed his next question, “What’s their game? What are they after?”

Vizzini held up a fork to silence Sam as he finished swallowing a hefty bite. He took down some wine to help and then looked back at Sam with a curious smile, “Maybe I gotta ask why you want to know?”

“They are interfering with my business,” Sam replied easy enough.

“You too?” The smile grew larger and the mobster shoved another fork filled with pasta in his mouth. He kept his smile as he chewed and spoke as he ate, “These guys…I don’t like these guys. They make trouble for a lot of my interests. Just like you, Finch.”

He poured himself another bit of wine and didn’t think twice as he filled Sam’s glass as well. Sam did not try to dissuade him. In fact, he drank it eagerly as Vizzini continued, “I hear Lansky and his boys have been giving these guys what for…breaking up meetings and whatnot. Those are some tough Jews.”

“You know how to find them?” Sam asked as he quickly eyed Jasper out front and then turned back to Vizzini.

“I know a couple, three guys that might have an idea…sure. But I gotta ask…what’s in it for me?” Only then did Vizzini stop eating and sat silently waiting for Sam’s answer.

“Hey…you owe me…” Sam tried to offer but Vizzini held up his hand to stop him.

“Please, Finch…I owe you, you owe me…whatever. I just want to know what I get out of this. What’s my end?”

Sam was at a loss for words, “There’s no end. I need to find these fellas for a case. You’d be helping me out a great deal.”

“And if I help you at this time…then maybe some other time, you help me…capish?”

Vizzini went back to his food without waiting for an answer. Sam was not sure what to say but started to nod his head. The mobster broke into a wide smile, pasta falling from his lips. “You’re a funny fella!” He broke into a hearty laugh that nearly choked him such was the amount of food in his mouth. But he reached out a strong hand and clapped Sam on the back, “I kid…I kid. Such a face brute!”

As Vizzini allowed his laughing to fade slowly, Sam struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to offend the man but he needed information. Thankfully, the amused mobster saved him the trouble. He called over a man sitting silently at the bar running across the front of the restaurant. This man whispered in Vizzini’s ear after they briefly spoke in Sicilian. Sam watched as Vizzini nodded a few times and followed occasionally with “Si…si…” Finally, he waved the man away and took another bite as he looked back to Sam.

“There is supposed to be a ball…some diplomatic ball…” he drank some wine and looked over Sam’s shoulder at something. He thought for a few seconds as he swallowed his food and then turned his eyes back, “Anastasia and Lepke have this thing…it’s probably Lansky, but who knows? Doesn’t matter…”

Vizzini offered Sam another drink as he started to pour another glass for himself and Sam just nodded. He wanted to hear the rest. The mobster pulled his fork over his plate a few times, pushing some food around and then finally stabbed another bite, holding it up as he finished speaking, “I’ll give you the place. Just watch out. These guys…they been around the docks for months now…they can be pretty tough. This Hitler…this guy is not my kind of guy. But he knows how it works.”

Sam watched as Vizzini took the food into his mouth still thinking about the larger world. He was almost impressed, but then he remembered Jasper’s words…how they solved problems. It wasn’t so different from what he’d heard of the Nazis. A chill ran down his back as he considered where he was sitting and with whom, but he tried to let it go. He took another drink and watched as Vizzini scribbled something on a bit of the paper tablecloth. He ripped it off and slid it over to the detective with a blank, stone face.

“That’s the place, Finch. Like I say…”

“Yeah…watch my back…” Sam tried to answer but Vizzini stopped him.

“Just keep your mouth shut.” The mobster was serious and the look on his face told Sam a story of what might happen if he said anything.

“Sure…sure…” Sam tried to relieve Vizzini of any apprehension, but the mobster wanted to make sure. He reached out his hand and grasped Sam’s forearm with strength. Not enough to hurt but enough to make a point.

“We are friends, you and I, si ?” Vizzini asked in a friendly tone.

“Sure…of course,” Sam gave his own reply, his eyes dropping down to see the forceful gesture.

“Then I don’t have to tell you what could happen if what I speak…what I say…finds a wider audience.” He stared deep into Sam’s eyes and the shiver ran down the detective’s back once again.

Sam nodded easily and picked up his glass of wine with his other hand, “You got my word.”

Vizzini released his grip and picked up his own wine, touching it to Sam’s. “Bene.”

The mobster returned to his meal and began to eat as if Sam was no longer sitting there. It took a few moments before he realized his audience had ended. He stood and considered offering his hand as thanks but it seemed as if a wall was built suddenly keeping the men apart. The detective looked to the two goons that offered protection as he walked from the table and both men kept their eyes directly on him the entire way. When he walked out into the night, Jasper greeted him immediately.

“Well…what did he say?”

Sam was still mulling over that question hours later as he dropped Jasper off at his apartment and went down for one last drink at the corner bar. They had a direction now. The ball was tomorrow, Vizzini having included the date in his note. He and Jasper agreed to meet and go together. But Sam wanted a bit more help and planned on asking Min too the next morning. She could be good cover and Sam would need it if he planned on snooping around. And that was exactly his plan. After all, that was his job.

 

[robou]

Sorry I missed an update. So, Sam has been affiliated to some less likable people; he knows it underneath. But at least they will now have a lead, however dangerous.

 

[Enewald]

One last drink?
Is it the last drink of the day when it is take 1 am the next day?

Hmm, Italian Mafia being able to form in US and Adolf in this timeline...
The world doesn't look that different from ours.

 

[Lord E]

So Sam has mafia connections, it seems handy at the moment, but those kind of connections can also turn out dangerous and deadly. But as long as Sam play this game the way they want I think he is safe... but to do that he needs to watch his mouth, he can’t trust Jasper, the man is a journalist after all so he might decide to make a news story from all this and I don’t think the mafia will like that.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Sorry I missed an update. So, Sam has been affiliated to some less likable people; he knows it underneath. But at least they will now have a lead, however dangerous.

No problem, robou. It happens. Just never let it happen again!

I've been looking forward to this for a while. I hope it shows perhaps a different side to Sam, both the "before" and the "after" of the meeting. And his association in the first place is somewhat suspect, though it is innocent enough.

One last drink?
Is it the last drink of the day when it is take 1 am the next day?

Hmm, Italian Mafia being able to form in US and Adolf in this timeline...
The world doesn't look that different from ours.

One last one before sleep, that is.

No, it won't look too much different as I'm mixing some games together and so I get to pretty much decide what things are like in the 20th century. There are a few changes that will be apparent, but your current knowledge of RL shouldn't be too confused in this story.

So Sam has mafia connections, it seems handy at the moment, but those kind of connections can also turn out dangerous and deadly. But as long as Sam play this game the way they want I think he is safe... but to do that he needs to watch his mouth, he can’t trust Jasper, the man is a journalist after all so he might decide to make a news story from all this and I don’t think the mafia will like that.

You make a good point about Jasper and one I admit I am considering for potential future use. I don't think this is the last time we might see Vizzini, though I won't promise anything. As for Sam, indeed, it pays to have friends...the question with the mafia is - How much does Sam have to pay?

 

[phargle]

This mobster scene makes me very hungry, hungry for pasta and wine. I'm also pleased to see my tribe represented so well in the criminal underworld. We are a warrior people, and don't you forget it!

Did you consciously reach for the name Vizzini, or is there some historical reason for it? Otherwise, uh, Finch clearly can't choose the wine in front of him. . .

NEVER GO IN AGAINST A SICILIAN WHEN DEATH IS ON THE LINE!

 

[coz1]

This mobster scene makes me very hungry, hungry for pasta and wine. I'm also pleased to see my tribe represented so well in the criminal underworld. We are a warrior people, and don't you forget it!

Did you consciously reach for the name Vizzini, or is there some historical reason for it? Otherwise, uh, Finch clearly can't choose the wine in front of him. . .

NEVER GO IN AGAINST A SICILIAN WHEN DEATH IS ON THE LINE!

Yeah? Did I get the language correct? I am a huge fan of mafia fiction (and fact) and I hope I added the needed verisimilitude. But never sure. As to your question, I'll just answer "Inconceivable!"

Honestly, I went through about two dozen Italian names after I decided to make up a fictional caporegime. I only realized the connection just as I wrote it but said what the hell. Its a good name.


To all - re-reading the last part, I almost think I should have ended the scene on "Well...what did he say?" It wouldn't give the further exposition needed, but that last paragraph is weak.

Working on the next update. Let's call it the middle of the week? Thanks for the comments.

 

[comagoosie]

NEVER GO IN AGAINST A SICILIAN WHEN DEATH IS ON THE LINE!

Good movie

Anyways, I loved that scene, you captured the gangsters perfectly. Not too gangstery and just enough realism. I could actually believe the gangster scene with the previous foiling by Jasper. Though I thought that Sam would encounter a few more problems than that

 

[Stuyvesant]

I liked the scene in the restaurant, especially Vizzini sharing his food, his drink, his information... A generous man, but the continuing undercurrent is that all this is not for free. The fact that Sam is lost for words when Vizzini asks what's in it for him, suggests that Sam didn't quite think things through all the way. Vizzini's comment that he's only joking is not much of a relief: yes, he says he's only joking, but even Sam can't be that naive.

Nice to see the tough exterior that Sam shows to Jasper (walking through Little Italy ostensibly unworried) contrast with his unease when he's actually dealing with Vizzini. Either Sam is out of his depth and he didn't realize it before; or he knew what he was getting into, but was too proud to show it to Jasper.

Neither of which is an admirable character trait, but either might serve him well as a PI.

 

[volksmarschall]

Hmm, looks like I have a little catching-up to do. Well, at least I can know I'll be reading something good!

This will be a top priority.

 

[Director]

I reallt liked that scene. Vizzini strikes me as a middling intellect but no fool. He understands that doing favors brings favors, especially when the favor asked of him is so easy to grant.

Sounds like the Germans haven't paid their respects to the local powers. In New York in the 30's that can be fatal - we hope.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Good movie

Anyways, I loved that scene, you captured the gangsters perfectly. Not too gangstery and just enough realism. I could actually believe the gangster scene with the previous foiling by Jasper. Though I thought that Sam would encounter a few more problems than that

I'm pleased to see it worked. I really like the atmosphere surrounding the mafia and this time is especially fun as it's the true apogee of mob history in America. Other periods have just as much ink spilled over their exploits, but I'm not sure the bosses had as much power as they did in the 30's. It makes for an interesting dynamic.

I liked the scene in the restaurant, especially Vizzini sharing his food, his drink, his information... A generous man, but the continuing undercurrent is that all this is not for free. The fact that Sam is lost for words when Vizzini asks what's in it for him, suggests that Sam didn't quite think things through all the way. Vizzini's comment that he's only joking is not much of a relief: yes, he says he's only joking, but even Sam can't be that naive.

Nice to see the tough exterior that Sam shows to Jasper (walking through Little Italy ostensibly unworried) contrast with his unease when he's actually dealing with Vizzini. Either Sam is out of his depth and he didn't realize it before; or he knew what he was getting into, but was too proud to show it to Jasper.

Neither of which is an admirable character trait, but either might serve him well as a PI.

Indeed, I wanted to show that dealing with Vizzini, or the mob, comes with a price - always. They never do anything for free. You may have Vizzini pegged pretty well. He's a hungry man with a healthy appetite, as I surely showed in the scene. This attitude is not just limited to food.

As for Sam, I kind of backed into that but think it works pretty well. I wanted Jasper to be the know it all in the scene, having studied the mob, which meant Sam had to disagree (of course.) I liked the idea of him being somewhat of an apologist of which there were many, especially at this time. The public did not really understand the real organized nature of the mafia until much later. But they understood the power of men like this, so they were either blind or complicit, in a way. Sam straddles that line.

Hmm, looks like I have a little catching-up to do. Well, at least I can know I'll be reading something good!

This will be a top priority.

Good to see you back, volksmarschall. Happy reading (I hope.)

I reallt liked that scene. Vizzini strikes me as a middling intellect but no fool. He understands that doing favors brings favors, especially when the favor asked of him is so easy to grant.

Sounds like the Germans haven't paid their respects to the local powers. In New York in the 30's that can be fatal - we hope.

Well said on Vizzini. That's about the right balance I was hoping for with him. And didn't you know I had to add the mob in a 1930's story? I'm not sure which scene I like best - this one or the one in your Frontier.

 

[coz1]

* * *​

New York City, 1792​

…And when he withdrew his beefy arm from under the bed, it was covered in blood…wet, thick blood that felt sticky to the touch. Knox could only stare at it while Temple moved closer and squeezed his eyelids together as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. But he knew…they both knew…something horrid had happened. Temple Franklin feared the worst. But Knox calmed the younger man, “Tis just blood, young Temple. Do not fret.”

“My God, Mr. Knox…that must be…it must be Huard’s!” Temple moved back and started to sit in a chair before Knox rose to stop him. The larger man pulled Temple close, covering his jacket with the same blood. He shook him slightly with both hands and then held him at arms reach.

“Get a hold of yourself, Mr. Franklin! This is a serious business. If that be Huard, then our fears have come true. And if not, we know not what fears we are yet to have. Steal your nerve.”

Knox let Temple go and walked backed to the bed. He struggled to his knees and bent to reach under the bed. He stopped suddenly and turned back to Temple, awkwardly twisting his fat frame, “Come now, damn you! Give me a hand.”

Franklin was shook from whatever daze held him and moved now, quickly helping Knox pull the form from under the bed. Who ever it was…what ever it was…neither man was particularly looking forward to finding out, but the reveal must come and soon they saw an arm and then a leg. Temple started to jump away again, but Knox pulled harder, “Grab the damn thing, you bastard!”

Temple reached under again and felt the lifeless head. He pulled and soon the torso was also exposed, covered in blood from the neck down and drenched through the clothes. The horror was evident for Temple Franklin, perhaps as much as the sight of blood and death was no new thing for Knox. But neither man could have expected the shock still awaiting them. As they both looked upon the dead corpse, a second arm reached out from under the bed and pulled the dead man back from whence he came as if the body was nothing more than a kerchief or a feather. It happened so fast, neither Knox nor Temple realized it at first, like a trick in the lights or some such thing but it soon became apparent. The body had disappeared in a flash.

Temple was not only caused to jump back, but he took extra caution by placing the table between himself and the bed. Knox too stood with surprising speed and moved away from whatever lay beneath. However, Knox found determination one of his stronger traits and he was not about to run or hide from this devil playing tricks on him.

“Come here…now, Mr. Franklin! Help me move this infernal bed!”

Temple refused to move and wanted to turn away but Knox moved swiftly to his side and physically pulled him towards the other end of the bed. “Pull it away from the wall.”

Temple did as he was told and he and Knox soon started to reveal the horror before them. For under the bed lay Abraham Huard with his body wrapped around the dead corpse. His mouth suckled at the neck but struggled to find any real purchase. He seemed half asleep or in a daze, barely even alerted that his presence was revealed. He did not even move when Knox called out his name. Only when Knox bent to touch him did Huard pull away slightly, not wanting the offered help. But the Secretary persisted and called out for Temple to assist him, “Let us put him on the bed. Try and pull his arms from that body…”

When Temple began to pull at the dead body, Huard wrapped his arms into a tighter squeeze. Franklin looked up and begged with his face but Knox would not hear of it, “Then move them both. We must get him from the ground.”

His stomach already queasy, Temple Franklin could hold it no longer and he purged himself on the wall next to him. He had not had much to eat, which made the pain even worse. But he pushed his way through it and drew his arm over his mouth to wipe away the mess. Had Knox been disgusted, he could at least admire the boy’s tenacity as Temple shifted back to the bed and started to pull both Huard and the dead body from the floor. The two men struggled and they had nearly pulled the body onto the bed when Huard arched his back slightly and raised his head.

The eyes seemed a void, no color exposed and his teeth were stained with the blood of the corpse he had clearly been trying to drink. It ran down his chin and his tongue continued to flit from his mouth trying for that one last taste. Huard pulled away from both men and let the body be, seeming to slide easily under the bed and out the other side. He crawled across the floor, instinct pulling him away from the light entering through the window. He stood tall, stretching his back against the wall. Facing Knox and Temple as they tried to believe what they were witnessing, it would be Huard that would speak first.

“You must leave this place.” The words came out slowly and hardly audible but the tone of voice was certain.

Knox made to go to his friend but Huard held out a forceful arm, “No! You must not come near me!”

The strength in his voice was returning such that it stopped Knox in his tracks and caused the hairs on Temple’s neck to stand on end. The younger man made a point to move further away but Knox stood his ground. “What has become of you, Abraham Huard?”

“I…do not know…” And it was clear he did not. As Knox looked closely, he could see the expression on Huard’s face change from horror to sadness and back again in a cycle. The pain was evident and caused Knox to step forward again. Abraham Huard stopped him. He shifted with speed and pushed at Knox, unaware of his true strength. His force sent the heavy Secretary across the room and crumbling in a pile against the opposite wall. As Knox regained his senses, Huard moved back to the wall and held his hands out as if he wished to help.

“I am sorry…” he started to say but shut his mouth. It did not seem an adequate gesture.

Temple suddenly moved into the center of the room and tried his best to stand tall in front of his friend, “Mr. Huard! That is enough, sir! Tell what has happened at once!”

When Huard shifted to move again, Temple reached out and picked up an iron poker. He brandished it before him and asked again, “What has happened?!”

From across the room, Knox began to move and slowly pulled himself from the floor with the help of a chair. He knelt, holding his frame in the seat of the chair as he reached out his hand, “Be careful, Temple!”

Temple did not take his eyes away from Huard. The oddness and unfamiliar had finally reached their limits in Temple Franklin and from deep inside, he found a courage he did not realize he knew. But even if it were merely fear and adrenaline causing him to act so boldly, he would keep his ground and would not allow Huard…this Huard…to hurt him.

Abraham Huard closed his eyes and tried to repeat, “You must leave me!”

But Temple would not listen, his own voice strong now, “Tell us now, Huard! What has come over you?!”

“I am no longer…” Huard started to say and then stopped again. He pulled his hand to his face and started to cry such was his desire not to hurt his friends, but he did not trust himself. He pulled his hand away and gestured towards the body as he said through blood stained tears, “Do you not see?”

“See what, Mr. Huard?” Temple shouted back. “That you have so clearly murdered in a most gruesome way? I see it well. The question, sir, is why?”

“Calm yourself, Temple,” Knox called from across the room and finally stood again, his head still light.

Abraham Huard paid him no mind and dropped his arms to his side. Raising his face to look into Temple’s eyes, he finally responded, “Just so, Franklin…just so.”

Before Temple knew what happened, Huard rushed forward. Whether he meant to flee or attack, Franklin did not know, but Temple held up the poker for his own safety. It buried itself deep in Huard’s chest, causing him to pause with his eyes wide. Looking down, blood of his own began to mix with that of the other on his shirt and he backed away from Temple, the younger man as surprised as he.

 

[comagoosie]

What a shocker

I can only hope that wound isn't fatal or else we might have a problem...

 

[CatKnight]

I also greatly enjoyed the Vizzini scene. Adding casual details made me feel as if I was there.

The scene with Huard...wow. He is in a fix. I doubt the wound's fatal though. It'll probably heal before Franklin's eyes just to startle him further. :rofl:

 

[TreizeV]

So Huard is now one of them

you must forgive me Coz, i haven't had time to read from this forum, but it seems like you've been busy while I was away. your attention to detail is as fine as ever. I'm feeling a bit hungry for some italian pasta after reading that restaurant scene.

 

[Lord E]

So Huard is a vampire. This scene was really tense and a little scaring. I fear Franklin might have put himself at risk forcing Huard to react like this. I only wonder if the wound is enough to kill the vampire or if it has only wounded him, if it has only wounded him I fear for the two men. Because a wounded beast is always a dangerous beast…

 

[robou]

Wow, I did not expect that. I guess a poker in the chest could act like a stake... we'll see. I must say, you have got me beaten if Huard is now actually dead. I loved the way that Knox and Franklin basiclly changed chains of thoughts as soon as Knox was beaten. Very well done, sir, very well indeed. You have us all shocked!

 

[Enewald]

Hmm, always expect the unexpected.
And be prepared for bloodshed.



Remember ACA!