Reading Time: 5 minutes

Fearless – A web novel

Chapter 8 – Such a clever crew

“Which one of you idiots want to tell me why some little broad walked away with four million of my fucking money? You?” Jake Ponzi stabbed the air in the general direction of Matt Knight. He moved the finger sideways, pointed it at Benny, then Guy. The idiot three kept silent. Matt squirmed in his chair. “Is there something chewing your arse hole or do you have something to say Knight? Well, do you?” Jake glared at Knight for another second before he barked. “Stop moving!”

Matt jerked back and made an effort to sit still. He opened his mouth, closed it, and stared wildly at the floor between his feet. Guy cleared his throat and Jakes head whipped around to face the offender. “What?”

Guy straightened up, looked at Jake. Still dazed and with a splitting headache, Zaffino glanced at Matt before talking. “The cops were coming and…”

“No, they were not, you ignorant piece of shit!” Jake interrupted. “And how the hell would you know. You had a tumble and were snoozing it up good when these imaginary cops showed up. You.” He pointed at Matt again. “You chicken shit stupid waste of air, hearing things in your old age?” Ponzi cupped a hand behind an ear and squinted at Matt. “Oy Sonny, I tink I hear somphing over there. Is dat a meow? Is that a rat farting? Oh noooo, Sonny, dat the poooooolice I reckon. Let’s just drop all the evidence why don’t we? Eh? Let some bitch stroll by and pick up Ponzi’s stuff why don’t we. Eh? Eh?” Jake pulled back, threw his hands out in exasperation, let his glare travel from Guy to Matt until it landed on the third stooge. Benny stood at the short end of Jakes desk, shuffling his feet.

“I told them to move.” Benny said quietly, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“Actually, I …” Zaffino said and fingered the huge bandage at the back of the head and grimaced. The grimace made the cut lip crack open, and wincing made the beautiful new shiner throb. Taking a steadying breath, Guy said. “I heard something. We would have been fine if…”

“If big and ugly here hadn’t dropped four million fucking dollars on the ground and forgot about it?” Jake screamed, spraying saliva over his perfect desk. He turned back to Benny.
“You told them to move?” Jake shot out of his chair, sputtering in fury. “You told them to move?” Suddenly he sank back down in his chair, dropped his head on the desk and covered it with his arms. What he said next could have been anything as he had his mouth pressed to the polished surface. The idiot three were not stupid enough to ask him to repeat it. Only Benny dared to press on.

“I heard em too.” Benny muttered. “And buddy hurt bad and we had to go.”

Jake just shook his head and groaned. “And why, if I may ask,” He said to the mahogany. “Was I not told yesterday?” The tone was mild and deceptively patient.

“Buddy had to go to…”

“We didn’t know until this morning that the load wasn’t all there.” Guy intercepted. “I wasn’t aware that anything had gone wrong with the money until then.”

Matt piped up. “Yeah, we had to go back, Sir. Jake.” He said placatingly. “I surely would have…”

The pipe turned into an off key flute when a fist slammed into the desk, rattling the phone. Jake shook his head. “Shut up.” He tilted his head up and fixed a weary eye on Guy. “And you came straight to me.”

Guy hesitated. “Yeah, sure. When we realized we missed one we went back to see if we had left one downstairs, and then…”

Ponzi held up a hand and sighed deeply. “Ok, so you went back to take a look, and then you came to me.”

Guy coughed. “Well, we kind of figured someone might have… I mean, there were those chicks inside, so we needed to take a look at the video. But he wasn’t there. So we had to come back later. And then when we got it, we called you.”

Ponzi stared blankly at Zaffino. “So you went back, you got the tech to dig out the video for you, and then you came to me.”

It was Guy’s turn to squirm and look away. “Yeah, sure. I just had to stitch my head, that’s all.”

Jake stared at Guy’s shiner for a long moment. “Stitched…” He said. “And what was your colleagues doing as you got your head sown up then?”

“We waited.” Benny blurted out. “Couldn’t leave Buddy, no way.” He shook his head and glanced at Guy.

“You waited.” Jake said quietly. “And while you two pussys held that cunts hand and admired his booboo… Where was the rest of the money?”

Guy looked down, Benny frowned and tried to remember, and Matt opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything that he could say that wouldn’t make things worse. The silence was interrupted by Jakes forced breathing, the barely audible wheezing from the ventilation, and three very still bodies trying not to breathe at all. “I’ve had about enough of you idiots. I’ll talk turkey with you so clear out the wax right now. I already know you left the van on the hospital parking-lot. Dumb fucking luck you didn’t fucking lose the whole lot before you got it here. Dumb! And in case you morons have a hard time with the language; dumb means stupid, brain dead, slow in the head.“ He sketched a circle in the air at his temple. “I also know…” He pulled open a desk drawer and fished out a photograph. He slammed it down on the desk and turned it the right way for his reluctant audience to see. Then he thumped it with a stiff finger. “Nobody knows this chick. Nobody knows the skank she was with. Isn’t that right Knight?” He glared at Matt, raising his eyebrows.

Matt shook his head. “Never seen them before. I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll tell you something, that lady there has my money. And you!” He pointed at Guy. “And you!” He pointed at Matt. He let the glance slide past Benny without acknowledging the giant with more than a twitch of his upper lip. He sat back in his chair and looked up; searching for something he knew wasn’t there. Then suddenly his face split into a wide grin and he looked down at the picture of a half drenched figure carrying his money away from his restaurant through the rain and dark. “You will give me one reason not to get ugly. I can be nice.” He nodded and smiled. “You gentlemen will set up a date for me. Find her. Then I want to meet the good lady face to face. Do you piss buckets understand me?” The smile vanished. “Talk to the dwarf. If anyone can locate anyone, it’s that little basterd. Now off you go boys. Don’t come back now you hear.” He slammed his fist down again, this time on top of the picture. “Not without her. Not without my money.”

To be continued…

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Fearless – A web novel

Chapter 7 – The plan

The day was coming to an end. I don’t know for sure how I knew as the lack of devices capable of measuring such things as passing of time was just as complete as the lack of light. The dank odour of earthen floor, human fear and stale urine assaulted me in a slightly more tangible way when there was nothing to fasten my wandering eyes on. They felt hollow and dry, suffering more from a need to see than the actual missing out on seeing what I knew was there. An odd sensation of body knowing something that mind really didn’t care to ponder. I did ponder, although not seriously, the plan.

Ah, yes, the plan. I was not terribly worried about the execution of said plan, or any consequences of “the plan” failing. As I have mentioned previously I have no fear. So my heart didn’t thunder erratically and my stomach was as serene as a Master level Zen guru on chamomile.

I had no fear for my own safety simply because fear is just another four letter word to me. I had severe concerns of other kinds though. A few issues regarding what my publisher would do when I failed to submit before deadline would have to be dealt with at some point. He was a real dickhead jerk off but he paid good money for my yarn spinning. . I had no fear of starvation and homelessness. That didn’t mean that I wouldn’t starve when wandering the streets of Ottawasearching for a dark alley where I could search for scraps of edible things in friendly companion with a skinny Labradorpoodle mix with mange. I was fearless, not stupid.

My mind lingered only momentarily on the M Malone financial situation, a shade longer on the landlord who had his chubby fist pounding my door at this very moment without a doubt as the rent should have been handed in a week or so ago and he was under the illusion that his pounding my door would produce cash just like that. This kidnapping had really been imperfectly timed but I shrugged it off and finally got to the point in my mental list of things I couldn’t fear but that nonetheless could become very inconveniently uncomfortable.

My brain raced hop skipping and twirling passed things like possible danger of involuntary bloodletting, eventual need for financial damage control of a possibly creative kind and complicated actions to be executed as part of “the plan” in only a few moments. Then I started to drift off, into a waking dream or simply attacked by one of my more imaginary states of mind I couldn’t say. It was an image I had cultured and nurtured in my mind for a long time, and as silence and darkness lulled me to fitful dozing, I found myself in front of it. I hadn’t seen it for some time and was mildly curious about the changes it had gone through. I walked toward it, floating more than stepping, and came to a halt at the gigantic door. The gate that protected my aware from my unaware.

The door was dark wood, about as thick as my ass, armoured with black metal bands hammered out by a big strong sweating blacksmith at some unfathomable imaginary time ago. That same leather clad hairy brute had also shaped robust looking hinges and bolts to hold the thing together and in place. Here and there, in no very orderly fashion protruded steel spikes with crusty blackish stuff covering the spear like tips. Embedded in the wood were pieces of broken glass and dismantled disposable razors. Framing the cathedral monstrosity, a razor-wire tangled vine in full bloom with toxic looking rodent eating hybrid venues fly-trap grew happily smacking its petals. As a friendly message to all visitors the ground before the door was littered with vicious looking bear traps alongside lazily rippling puddles of quicksand.

I swatted a curious flower out of my face, hopped over a toothy trap and ignored the puddle sucking my foot as I stepped to the door and opened it. It creaked and grumbled, sputtered and shivered in indignation as I stepped through. There I saw my nemesis. There I stood face to face with the image of my doom. There, on the far side of a mental block that had stood strong since I had built it when I was twelve years old and had just realized that fear was a verb as well as a noun and something that other people had all the time, was the one thing that could disconcert me. I looked upon the ultimate destruction of the me…. A whisper out of the darkness fragmented my trip into emo land and I slammed the door shut and flipped it the bird. I shuddered and closed my light deprived eyes and thrashed about with directing focus on the soothing safety of substantial peril at hand.

“Malone.” The whispered rumbling came from a bit off to my right and I turned to Dinky and then immediately towards the door where Dinky was heading sneaky fashion. For such a big person Dinky the oaf could move very quietly. I wondered if that was just a natural talent of oafs or if Dinky was somehow special. Oh, he was special alright, that’s not quite what I mean. I mean that since. The click of the lock saved me from further blundering through a newly discovered landscape of mindless gobbledygook.

I had had a long hard talk with Dinky. I had made it very clear and simple. He had looked at me with his wonderfully, oh damn, blue eyes waiting for me to talk and I glared at him. I spelled it out so that there could be no misunderstandings. He was still holding the pathetic piece of tissue and the puddle of piss had not yet quite sank down through the top soil of my cell.

“Dinky, You, me, escape, now!” Dinky had stared at me, eyes shining, jaw grinding back and forth and front to back for a second as he stuffed the paper in a pocket and smoothed his beard, considering. I could tell by then that the oaf wasn’t afraid of me anymore and a new thought was developing in one or more darkroom chemical baths in the back of his head. A blurred picture may or may not have become clear to him then. He smiled and winked.
“Ok.” He had said. As far as I knew, that was the total extent of “the plan” and now it was happening. “The plan” was coming in to play. If I only knew exactly what “the plan” was.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Fearless – a serial web novel

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Read from the beginning in Fearless – Chapter 1 – The Low down

Where Amy unloads and Marcy fails to understand the subtle goings about in dark alleys.

Chapter 5 A great man

Jake Ponzi prided himself on never having killed anyone. He didn’t have too. He had others that did that sort of thing.

Another pride of his was an ability to make money. He was rich, obscenely rich and wanting to be richer. Nothing was ever enough for Jake Ponzi. He had it all, he wanted the world. That was his first waking thought every morning, this one no exception. Nothing can stop me now. He thought as He softly floated up from sleep with silk caressing his body, or was that a hand? Yes, a very skillful hand stroking him, teasing him from sleep directly into blissful, relaxed, desire. Jake murmured and extended a hand, expecting a silky swell of platinum-blonde hair surrounding a perfect face. “Monica.” He mumbled and sighed contentedly. Monica knew how to use her hands, but all of a sudden the hand went still, even the quiet bedroom seemed to freeze, but Jake didn’t notice; it felt too damn good and he wasn’t done yet. He grunted in protest. “Don’t stop now. I love it when you wake me up that way. ” He crooned and snaked the hand closer to her. It found her face and he trailed his fingers along her neck, behind the ear, and tangled them in curly locks. He stiffened. Curly? He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Sue?”

Forty-five minutes later he was in his office, saved despite all odds after a harrowing icy morning with his balls in an emotional chopping block with a sledge hammer hovering… hovering, waiting for the blow. But Maria, not Sue after all, had decided to prolong the agony with a sweet smile as lethal as an ice-pick, and a promise of horrors yet to come. She had finally left his place. A quick shower, shave, and somewhat worried bowel movements had managed to evacuate Maria and Sue both from his mind. Now, polishing the corner of his mahogany desk with a specially designed polishing cloth, ordered for that purpose alone, he preferred to think about Heather. Now that was a piece of art. Black as sin and smooth as warm baby oil. He sighed happily and put the cloth back in its leather case. The desk was perfect. Everything in Jake Ponzi’s down town office glittered and sparkled. Jake had always liked shiny things. As a child he picked the shiniest stone, the sparkliest candy, the brightest piece of glass. His treasures. That was before he understood at an early age that coins were worth more than tinfoil balls. When he grew older yet, though, he understood that paper was immensely more valuable than both coins and glittery glass. Digital currency was still something of a work in progress for Jake’s retro mind. You couldn’t touch it, smell it, bathe in electronic money. There was something so wrong with computerized funds it gave Jake hives when thinking about it. So Jake Ponzie avoided thinking about it. Paypal what?

Jake’s gaze traveled the luxurious room and finally got stuck on a small gold frame. His first dollar bill earned through less than morally justified means rested there. Crumpled and torn, more precious than any of the once that came after. The sight of it gave him a warm satisfied glow inside, and a satisfied smug look on the outside. It never failed to make him puff up and swell a bit in his oversized leather office-chair. He sometimes wondered if Tommy Marishnikov ever noticed that the magical rock Jake had sold for the dollar was actually just a pretty stone he had found somewhere. Maybe on the beach, maybe in someone’s yard, Jake couldn’t remember. He had been six. Tommy had been four.

He released the mounted loot of his prosperous childhood from his greedy stare and reached for the phone. Pushing a shiny button he barked into the small microphone. “Anna, where is that coffee? And where the hell is that fat ass banker?”

The tiny speaker kept quiet for half a second, then Anna quietly replied. Mr. Andersson is right here, waiting… sir.” She paused, apparently to take a deep breath, and continued. I’ll bring your coffee presently… Sir. Shall I send Mr. Andersson in?… Sir?”

“Very good Anna, send him right in.” Jake shouted cheerfully into the microphone, overloading the sensitive circuit for the third time since the thing was installed. Jake sat back in his chair, waiting for the door to open.

Fat-ass Andersson was a good man. He had made more money for Ponzie’s official, and legal, affairs than anyone.

Jake liked to think he was a stock market guru. Chances are though that if Jake handled a certain stock himself, he’d have his head resting on a block of them after a week, just waiting for the ax to fall. He did however, have a knack for hiring people. So over the years he had gathered the best money-makers money, and covert knowledge of sleazy affairs, could buy. He had a bank of brokers that worked exclusively for him and were making money hand over fist. These guys were in different firms around the city and they were privy to numerous business dealings at all times. They had set up a complex system that would take knowledge, gleamed from one firm and send it out to the various other members and then the buying or selling would begin. And Jake didn’t need to lift a finger.

And they had a pretty nifty setup too. Jake gave himself a mental pat on the back as the knock came on his door and the most crooked honest man in his entire fleet squeezed through. “Joel my man.” Jake stood up and offered his hand to the bank man, making sure his Rolex peeked out of the sleeve before he grasped the mans damp fleshy hand. The handshake was as loose and clammy as always. Andersson didn’t like Ponzie. But that was alright. Jake didn’t like Fat-ass Anderson either. He grinned. “sit, please sit.” Jake waited until the other man had fitted himself in the visitors chair, placing his briefcase on the floor. Jake sat and rested his palms on the desk, showing off his diamond studded pinky ring in the process; sparkling its riches, screaming its gaudiness as if the price tag still hovered in the air around it. Anderson glared. Jake smiled, eyes shining as bright as his bleached teeth. Greedy little heart pumping with expectation. But he had to soften the ill-tempered man first. Chit chat always worked. He assumed a friendly and honest expression; one of genuine curiosity. “Elvira is doing well, I trust?”

Anderson’s face darkened into a shade of mottled purple and extruded droplets of spittle along with a sputtered word jake didn’t understand. Jake fought the involuntary cringe and failed. Oops, he thought. Forgot.

The corpulent man on the other side of the desk glared some more, but then he smiled tightly, ignoring the reference to his suddenly lesbian ex wife. He cleared his throat, wobbling the extra chins and went straight to the point. “We have a slight problem with the… ehum… off shore account. ”

Jake lost the smile and leaned forward, narrowed his eyes in what he thought was a look of power with the perfect hint of implied threat; he had practiced in front of a mirror after all, but he he wasn’t even close. He did manage to seem both severely nearsighted as well as stupid. “Problem?” He asked in his most ominous tone, but again he was way off the mark. Anderson raised his eyebrows, momentarily halted and mute by the expression on the mighty Ponzie’s face, so Jake tried again. He leaned forward even farther and deepened his voice, squinting harder and trying t drill his stare into the fat man. “what kind of problem?”

Anderson opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Anna tapped on the door. She struggled with the door for a moment and then she came waddling in, carrying a tray of coffee pot, cups, and butter tarts. She placed it on the desk, arranged the refreshments with pudgy fingers that nonetheless moved with efficient speed and practiced skill. After an appreciative glance and a suggestive smile in Anderson’s direction, she disappeared to her domains.

Jake stared at the door when it closed behind her generous backside, frowning. But with Anna’s so well timed interruption, Jake had lost momentum in his act of intimidation and Anderson had gotten his incredulity under control. They poured coffee and ate butter tarts, conversing politely about creative bookkeeping tips and tricks, and the sudden disappearance of four million dollars.

Reading Time: < 1 minute

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Fearless – A web novel

Chapter 4 – An ugly SOB

I strained my ears to learn what I could from the sounds my guest made. I thought, if not furiously, then quite actively about what might be going on. Curiosity never killed no cat. At least not any halfway intelligent cat. I did tense my muscles as lack of fear never made me stupid.

I was after all still chained to a stone wall in a pitch black room and safe and cuddly comfortable is probably not something any reader would associate with this particular scene. Wrong? Right? *Narrator rising a questioning perfectly shaped eyebrow.*

He or she although I doubted that it could be a she, had a heavy step. He was stomping his way across the floor towards me, then past me. His breathing was disgustingly loud and wet sounding. Past me he went like a steam train or perhaps a horny buffalo, misjudged something in his planned progress, I guess the darkness didn’t help either and he cracked his face hard against a very hard wall. He grunted and staggered wildly as far as I could hear.

Ok. Now I knew where that wall was. I was chained perhaps five paces from the door that the big oaf had come in through and not quite four paces from that wicked wall. I guess the oaf didn’t know that either. Who were these people? Escapees from the Sunny Meadow Funny farm or the local high-school jock self admiration squad?

If possible, the moron/ jock/ oafs breathing turned kind of mushy, raspy and shallow. Slobbering like a St. Bernard with a nice juicy butt chop tied to the forehead. Oh, I know it’s so cruel. But funny as hell. Ever tried it?

The oaf was making some really strange sounds now. I wasn’t insensitive by any means. Not at all. I could recognize pain when I heard it.

“Bet that hurt like a MotherFucker.” I said to the oaf in a conversational tone. I wouldn’t call it sympathy directly. Just… well, recognition of the event.

He growled. Ok, then that was settled. It really was a he. Or an “It” as nothing so far had proven that it/he wasn’t simply an “It” Even though there was nothing to see in the darkness, I let my eyes follow his movements with a slight frown creasing my brow. I liked making that face. My mother said once that it was a show of serious disapproval and that such a face should be saved for the most severe social misbehaviors. I didn’t much care about him stomping into my private little cell without a word of greeting. I didn’t really have any qualm over him promptly ignoring my presence. I could even forgive him for attacking my wall. Nah, not really. That wouldn’t do it. I just wanted to make sure that when he did find it in his very slow mind to light a torch of a similar light bringing device, he would see my face, the expression it bore, and he would maybe think twice about doing it again. I mean, it’s perfectly okay to arrive late to one Sunday dinner. If there was a really good reason that is, something like a tsunami shattering your home and destroying all of your Sunday attire. A diagnosis of medieval black plague could suffice as well. But twice?

I’m getting off topic here.

This thing, this oaf, jock, It…. Started towards me, sniffling and scraping his feet along the floor and stopped right in front of me. Well, not too too far away from right in front of me. I guess, and started growling at the wall somewhere behind my left shoulder. I listened for a long while, assuming he would stop, but when he ran out of air he started drawing another slobbering wet breath. I cleared my throat. The sound stopped and he adjusted his position slightly and continued the growling. That’s when I caught the reek of him full in the face. The rot, decay, the dross of digestion, the … the…. I whipped my head back and to the side, gagging, backing into the wall. I was trying, unsuccessfully to avoid the noxious, most likely toxic air, the breath from hell, roadside skunk and eggs fait pourri were the memories of sights and odors that decided to flash through my mind with a really creepy clarity just then. Panicked revulsion made me kick. My leg shot out and with perfect aim and a speed that was all but an instinctual reflex in my muscle memory. Naked toes met… steel. Well, ok. The steel might have been some type of plastic and in all honesty it was covered with a layer of leather or similar. That didn’t help my toes from taking a beating. A split second, joints popping, toes screaming in outrage at my brain that hadn’t quite registered the pain that was fast to follow. Excruciating. I hopped on one leg with the other pulled up. I wanted to grab my foot with hands that couldn’t grab anything at all unless I could fold myself double and take my toes to my hands while hanging from a chain. My yoga training hadn’t reached quite that far yet. I struggled for air but couldn’t seem to do anything with it once I had access to it. The stink had retreated somewhat though and it seemed safe to breathe, if I could that was. I chopped it to bits between my teeth perhaps, blew it out through the nose in quick spurts. Holy fuck that hurt. Hurt bad. I finally managed to stop hopping, stop chopping air and just stood there letting the pain do what it willed… It would fade. It did fade but so slowly. My mind was blank, not yet recovered from the stupidity of my last act. I heard something then. A bit slobbery, hoarse and rumbling. I would have called it Rhythmic growling if my mind had been clear. Suddenly I knew what it was. The bastard was laughing at me. He had taken a step back and was chuckling. A gut wobbling hearty chuckle. It stopped when he spoke for the first time since entering. In a warm and melodic bass he said: “I bet that hurt like a MotherFucker.”

The bastard Oaf kept chuckling as I felt the pain in my foot downgrade from throbbing to dull. I gingerly let it down to the cool dirt floor. It was wonderfully soothing on the burning digits. Nothing was broken as far as I knew. I had broken my fair share of bones in my life, very often due to idiotic things just like this. Things like that just kept happening to me, by no fault of my own of course. I glared at the figure I couldn’t see and heard clothing rustle and boots shifting around restlessly. He seemed to be searching for something as he kept muttering between sniffles and snorts. Well, he could search all he wanted, I had no wish to assist this intruder, I thought petulantly in lack of anything more profound to be petulant about. I endured more nauseating sounds of slimy throat clearing, hawking violently and spitting. Then a foghorn started blaring. In powerful bursts the man rid himself of mucus, and perhaps even blood and deposited it in something I really hoped was not a palm. I shuddered and stopped thinking about it. It was one of those things however that were damn near impossible not to think about once you started. Like saying, “Don’t think about a pink, or red, or green elephant or blue, or… or whatever colour sperm whale.” It’s simply not done. I dare you. Do not think about a pregnant goblin just now. See?

So I tried to think hard about a…. I couldn’t think of anything else to think about. He had at least turned away from me. I took great satisfaction in the small groans of discomfort he emitted between honking. I wondered if the inside of a brain could really tolerate that kind of sudden change of air pressure. I was curiously fascinated by the possibility but not really hopeful. He finally quieted and seemed to breathe normally. He suddenly walked a few steps away from me and when he stopped there was a scraping, a muffled profanity, and then a click and a really bright light. Actually, physics say that the light probably reached me before the sound of the light switch mechanism did but let’s not mince science here. I shut my eyes instantly and allowed the painful afterglow to entertain my visual cortex as the retina adapted to see light again. Very very slowly I opened my eyes a fraction, blinked and opened them another tiny bit. The first thing I saw was the floor, which was in fact hard packed dirt as I had suspected. My feet were filthy with greyish brown dust up to my ankles. I postponed taking a look at the rest of me. I had seen it before. More than once actually and I felt anything other than narcissistic just at the moment. I lifted my head and the next thing I saw was a pair of hiking boots, well worn but no doubt expensive and well kept. Continuing up from the boots was a pair of legs in black scuffed leather. I let my eyes slide fast past a package that I knew was well protected. My toes tingled in remembered agony. Tucked into the pants, although how it was possible to tuck anything into that sausage skin I would never know, was a plain black T-shirt stretched around a generous beer gut. On Around that, a black leather vest adorned with so many sown on patches and metal that hardly any of the leather could be seen. Out of the shirts neck line sprouted tufts of hair. The same black fur grew most everywhere else too on this creature. Head, arms, face, armpits. I stared at him. He stared at me with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. They sparkled with curiosity and narrowed with speculation. I searched for evidence of his sudden meeting with a stone wall but he seemed unharmed but with all that hair, how could I know. Thick and wild it fell down past his shoulders.
Unruly coarse hair covered his face from nostrils to neckline. He wasn’t an oaf, he was a fucking Sasquatch, but in black. He was certainly tall enough with his near seven feet and near 250 pound frame and feet of size enormous. The arms folded over his chest were covered with crude porn from elbows to shoulders.

I don’t really know what came over me then. I winked at him.
“Let me guess. You don’t drive a Honda Civic do you?”

His face split into a wide grin and he stepped towards me. He unfolded his arms and offered me a huge hand in greeting.
“Dinky Meyers.” he said with a cheerful rumble. He seemed genuinely happy to meet me. The moment stretched as I looked at his hand. It was clean, I noted. No mucus. His hand fell a few inches and the smile faltered but before he could pull his hand back I raised my right leg and placed my foot in his palm. I grinned when he carefully grasped my foot and shook it, giving me an apologetic smile. “Marcy Malone. Nice meeting you Dinky.”

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Fearless – A web novel

Chapter 3 – Absolutely gothic

Stone, cold stone on bare skin. My skin. Where was I? I was not sure but it sure as hell wasn’t my apartment. Definitely not my bedroom, where my last memory placed me. I had a slight headache and a fading unease in my stomach. Drugged? Where the hell was I and how the hell did I get here? I looked around as well as I could but in all honesty there was nothing much to see. Darkness. Absolute impenetrable darkness. I was standing at a wall that I now knew, by examining it with my bare foot as my arms and hands had limited use at the moment. Consisted of huge stone blocks. Slightly damp and perpetually chilly. How perfectly gothic.

I blinked a few times. There was a slight difference so I hadn’t suddenly gone blind as well as abducted and strung up like a haunch of beef in a meat cooler. Well, that was something. Always look on the bright side; I had heard someone say not too long ago. Ok, assuming this was the dark side of the wall I was chained to, thee aught to be another side of it and if that was the bright side, then that is where I should go. I just didn’t know exactly how.

I started a critical analysis of my faculties, mental and physical. Everything was feeling just about right. No pain, no particular bodily needs like hunger or a need for a toilet. Perhaps a little bit thirsty but there was no dizziness. My breathing was as regular and steady as always. It was a bit cold and I shivered. I really wouldn’t have minded something to wear. I was naked after all.

That was kind of weird. Like, really weird come to think of it. I sighed heavily. What had I gotten myself into this time? I had been in some freaky situations in my two decades as a walking and talking human being but this may just take the price.

Ok, I was hanging from a steel chain in a dark room with stone walls, not very big but not quite small enough to make someone claustrophobic. At least I didn’t think so. I wouldn’t know. And I was in my birthday suit and someone had obviously brought me here for a reason I was sure.
Oh well, nothing to do about it just now. This was where I had been put and this was where I would stay unless I could somehow free myself from my restraints. It seemed unlikely.

I pulled at the steel around my wrists. They were attached to a chain that was in turn attached to the wall somewhere above me but I couldn’t see where or how. They made a sound as I shook them. A soft metallic clinking, almost melodic in its glassy clarity. They were no less than a meter in length and completely without give. Unyielding.

I gave up on the chains for the moment and examined the darkness more carefully. It actually wasn’t totally without features. Off to my right, I could make out a thin; no it was three lines of light, making an open sided rectangle. Like a door. Ok, a door. Now that was something else.

I breathed deeply through my nose but it found nothing but a slight mustiness, old dry soil and earthy decay. A dirt floor? I also noticed that my own body odour overpowered the other scents, the unmistakable scent that was simply me, now with a hint of something foreign, perhaps chemical. I needed a shower. I also needed answers.

Were they, whoever they were, trying to frighten me? If they knew who I was they would know it was useless. Or was that perhaps the point?

I had a problem. I personally didn’t think of it as a problem but I had finally come to terms with the fact that I was different. I had no fear. I couldn’t describe it to you if my life depended on it. I was surely not afraid now. Uncomfortable, yes definitely having your arms chained above your head, being forced to stand for a longer period of time would possibly be very painful after a while. Being naked was no big concern to me although the cold temperature could eventually be harmful and very uncomfortable. Fear? I didn’t know what they meant. There were other things that bothered me but I was mostly curious and baffled by the audacity of these people.

Oh damn! I grimaced and forced my back against the rough stone. I contorted and wiggled and dragged my itchy skin across the surface. I wondered how much skin I was rubbing off in the process but that was not important. I closed my eyes and groaned when I found the offending itch and scraped it into submission.

That’s when my first guest arrived. The door suddenly opened and a figure appeared outlined by light. I wasn’t very interested in who was coming, I would know soon enough and perhaps I would get my questions answered. No, I squinted to pierce the glare beyond the doorway.
The door was open for only a few seconds and I couldn’t quite discern details through the painful brightness but I was sure that what I had seen before the door slammed shut was not a crude stone tunnel or dungeon style hall. Out there were electric lights, Walls not made out of stone, light colored flooring, other doors?

The darkness returned but I was no longer alone in my cell. I waited, fearless.