To Follow Through

We were stopped at least twice before being allowed to continue toward the grand archway and I was still desperate for the lav. It was an oddly busy little spot was this place they called “The Bar”. 

I suppose it made sense, symbolically,  that a deeper meaning resonated behind the superficial chain that spanned, scuffing across the cobbles in the mid-point, between the opposing sentry posts either side of the archway-come-singular-entrance. That chain wouldn’t hold against even the feeblest of resistences. Like, for example, a man desperate for a shit! Something to be said for that. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or dissapointed. I crossed my legs. The guard holding back the chain eye balled me as we passed. I saw that he held one hand on a funky looking sidearm.

We entered the soveriegn territory of ‘The City of London’. A mile square of independant state. It made me think of the Vatican. Already I didn’t trust this place. A city within a city. The concept of it boggles the mind, but still, it’s as true as I live and breath. If you don’t believe me just go ahead and bloody google it. 

‘Right you are Lo-, ahhh Henry, if you would just hand over your weapons amd we can be-

I rounded my bemusement on him, snatching his sentence away from his expectant hand, the other hand firmly holding the carriage door closed. 

He saw me look at his hand and swallowed. A miltary man approached the carriage door but stopped short of opening it. That was when I noticed that the carriage was entirely surrounded. The sounds of bated breath and steel sole plate scratching cobble resonated through my caution and grated against my base desire and needs.

‘Not a fucking chance,’ I smiled to the officer through gritted temperment. 

He looked to the shorter officer on his left who had flushed a royal bergundy by this point. I don’t think he had the…ahhh, well, I don’t think he had the balls for dealing with the likes of me.

I looked back at the officer’s gloved hand. ‘If you’re not going to open that door, officer, I suggest you get the fuck out of my way before I end up-

‘D, don’t you know where you are?’ Blurted the purple one. 

‘Look, you two fucking dick jockeys jumped me before I’d even had the chance to take a shit. Now, I didn’t ask to come here. So if you would kindly get out of my way, please, else I might just take a shit down both of your throats.’

The officer didn’t move his hand. I sighed. The purple one stiffened in his seat, making himself larger, it seemed. I produced my fruit knife, the one I use for, well, the one I use for cutting the rough skin off pears. 

I waited until the officer reached for the knife before stabbing him through the hand, sending both blade and the poor fellow’s extremity firmly into the roof of the carriage. Give him his due he didn’t scream, well, not immediately he didn’t.

The purple one’s mouth smacked open as his hands flustered inside his jacket. Clumsily he produced a dull-black, antique looking pistol and cocked the hammer.

Usually I have no taste for the firearms but this one looked interesting enough to make me curious. 

Sadly, it was at this point when officer with hand impailed to ceiling began to wail. 

The handle of the pistol just about fitted in the purple copper’s gob. And I mean just a-fucking-bout. Truth is I had to smash a few teeth out to get it in there properly. I smiled as his eyes flickered upward into his soft-shell brain, just as the door to the carriage was torn open. Abruptly I was met with a larger version of the antique firearm purple copper was currently dining on.

I considered surrendering as the weapon levelled on me. My boots must have had other ideas. Before you could smell a fart the young army man had a UK size eleven depression in his chest, roughly the same shape as my boot if truth be told. Bones and organ reconfigured in an instant and the man literally went flying.

An order was given from somewhere outside. I could hear dozens of solid steps advancing. Perhaps fighting wasn’t the way out of this situation?

The purple one sounded like he could have possibly swallowed his tongue. I considered helping him, but I didn’t. I don’t know why…

I decided to shut the other officer up with a perfectly weighted head-but.

‘Look, I’ll come out…peacefully, on one condition!’ I bellowed through the open carriage door.

The advancement halted. Another moment passed before a deep voice responded. ‘And what is this condition Lord Game?’

I cringed. ‘You take me straight to a fucking toilet, before anything else happens – oh, and my weapons stay with me, yes? Nobody dies as long as nobody does anything stupid, yeah?’

A deep laugh rumbled beyond my view, followed by the laughter of several others. 

I relaxed, a little pip of wind escaping me, threatening to follow through and turtle head right there and then.

‘So Nobody’s fucked either way then! Ha!’ Laughed the deep voice. Again follwed by more laughter. 

I laughed too as I thought about it. A soft mass hatched beneath me. I shouldn’t of laughed. Nobody wasn’t the only one in deep, rich shit.


About Henry Game

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