On a cold, frigid night on the road a wine delivery truck was en route to their destination. The drivers were tired; making deliveries to and fro all day for their living. It's a job they were comfortable with but nonetheless left them exhausted by the end of each day. Tonight was supposed to be a night just like any other night, but as they approached a car that is blocking the road their routine was about to hit a hairline fracture. The driver honked his horn a couple times before he finally hopped out of the cabin and approached the broken down car.
"You's guys need help?" The truck driver asked in a hurry.
"Yea, sorry man ma friggin battery died. Ya got a jumper or something, man?" The man in the car replied.
"Yea yea, hang on a sec." The driver walking back his truck to check for jumper cables. "Jesus, frickin battery dies but what's that gotta do with you blockin' the road fer everyone else just because you got bad luck?" He muttered. As he approached the cabin he was immediately met was a hammering blow to jaw that sent him sprawling to the ground. Rubbing his jaw to make sure it was still connected he looked up to the sight of menacing silhouette of a massive man wearing a bowler and a trench coat lording over him, Brimstone.
"If I were you, I'd get over it." Brimstone spoke.
Three loud bangs on the cabin door rang out from the other side of the truck. "C'mon tough guy! C'mon let's go, get outta the cabin. Move yer feet or lose em buddy! Let's go!" Another robber ordered the remaining delivery man in the truck. The other man complied and hopped out the truck to his co-worker who was back on his feet but still holding his chin tightly. The group of gangsters kept guns drawn and pointed to keep them standing in place.
The driver finally ungripped his jaw and plead his case to the group, "Hey, no offense guys, but come on it's fucking 9:30 at night, it's freezing, we got one last stop on our route, why you gotta do this now?!"
One of the gangsters, an average sized man wearing a baggy jacket and sweatpants, held his gun out and attempted to explain the situation. "Hey hey, easy there aight? This is a quick and simple operation, ok? We're taking the truck and you guys can get a cab. Ya want me to call ya a cab?" The men were silent at the offer so the gangster continued, "I'll call ya a cab. Ya both can both go home tonight, back to ya families, nobody's gotta lose their lives over a little bitta spilt wine tonight, ok?"
"Ooh! Where do you get the balls, you's guys? Who the hell robs a wine truck? Shouldn't you rob like a bank, some'in like that? You're not even wearing masks, c'mon!"
Brimstone stepped forward and gave the driver a hardened look and stated. "We're not wearing masks because concealing our identities wasn't the intention. We're taking the truck as a means of sending a message and you should thank your lucky stars I don't use your corpses to send another one. My associate, James, will call you a cab and you're going to report this to your boss in the morning, understood?"
The driver was bewildered but didn't argue any further for his life's sake and just complied. Brimstone and crew fled the scene leaving the two men out on the side of the road awaiting their cab they were promised.
"Big score guys." Lady Construct said as she guided the hijacked truck into a low key downtown garage. She opened the back door of the truck and couldn't stop her smile. Crates on crates of wine that would sell for at least $500 a bottle, the Brimstone organization is back and already making the large sums.
"So what made you wanna jack them boss?" James asked Brimstone while unloading the crates into the garage. "I'da figured you'da at least taken some time to stretch ya legs first before going big time on us, I mean you just got out."
"It wasn't for the money, actually, but it's a lovely bonus." Brimstone responded as he heaved a couple crates himself with his crew.
"Oh then what was it about?" Lady Construct asked as she began to sample some of the product straight from the bottle.
"The owner of the factory that manufactures the wine, Jim Morressy, remember him?" Brimstone asked.
"Right, that scumbag." Said James.
Lady Construct was a new recruit so the name was unfamiliar to her so she had to ask, who was Jim Morressy?
Brimstone took a deep breath and recalled a story. "One of the drivers under him about I wanna say 11 years ago had run over a child in Hackensack. Innocent kid, reckless driver. The kid barely survived; his injuries were severe and he needed medical attention quickly. However, the family unfortunately lacked the funds to pay. A supposedly be grieved Jim issued an apology statement and promised that his company would pay for the damages caused by said incident. Days to weeks flew by and the only thing received was a public apology and continued renewals of a promise he didn't plan to keep. The child succumbed to his injuries eventually and not even a dime was offered in reparation."
"That's horrible." Said Lady Construct. She covered her mouth and fought back tears in her eyes.
"It is. That woman, the child's mother came to me for help. She told me the story of how her family slowly rotted in the shadow of a man who turned his back on them when they needed him most. Her soul was beyond broken. Her eyes had said it all from the moment we met that she prayed and prayed God forgive her for asking favor from someone like me, but she had been pushed to this decision. I gave that woman my word that Jim Morressy would make right would he had wronged, I gave her my word. But not soon after is when I went away. And I'm willing to bet that in those ten years I was in Santa Maya, Jim hasn't had a change of heart. But all of that changes now, I don't ever break my word."
"Good ol' Jim's next on the list, huh?" James asked.
"He'd better be." Lady Construct demanded, balling her fists tightly.
"He is." Answered Brimstone. "He is."
The last of the crates were unloaded and Lady Construct lock the door shut behind her as the crew exited the garage. Brimstone gazed at the downtown urban area of New Jersey, newspapers wafted carefree in the icy wind with a silent howl, the streetlights blanketed the streets in a soft orange haze up and down the block, and the apartment buildings eclipsed the sky unless looking straight up. Even at night the city moved with a daytime pace, people had places to go and people to see. Ten years had passed and his heart was warmed to see this part of New Jersey hadn't changed at least on the surface. But deep in his heart and the pit of his stomach Brimstone was disappointed.
Brimstone thought to himself as he walked down the block with crew in tow. This old city has changed. It wasn't always about the money before. Back in my hayday if you had $20 you were a rich man. The community wasn't a bunch of unfamiliar faces who don't even deserve a hello when you walked by, the 'unity' in 'community' actually meant something. Fear didn't run these streets, respect did. Even amongst the gangsters there was always a code, an unwritten law that we were bound to that always kept what was between us, between us. Nowadays being a senseless murderer and creating more corpses than the city can bury is the path to supremacy, being man of morals and code is only a path to pariah. Much like Lucifer this city has fallen into its own pit of despair and it's nothing more than heart breaking.
"You's guys need help?" The truck driver asked in a hurry.
"Yea, sorry man ma friggin battery died. Ya got a jumper or something, man?" The man in the car replied.
"Yea yea, hang on a sec." The driver walking back his truck to check for jumper cables. "Jesus, frickin battery dies but what's that gotta do with you blockin' the road fer everyone else just because you got bad luck?" He muttered. As he approached the cabin he was immediately met was a hammering blow to jaw that sent him sprawling to the ground. Rubbing his jaw to make sure it was still connected he looked up to the sight of menacing silhouette of a massive man wearing a bowler and a trench coat lording over him, Brimstone.
"If I were you, I'd get over it." Brimstone spoke.
Three loud bangs on the cabin door rang out from the other side of the truck. "C'mon tough guy! C'mon let's go, get outta the cabin. Move yer feet or lose em buddy! Let's go!" Another robber ordered the remaining delivery man in the truck. The other man complied and hopped out the truck to his co-worker who was back on his feet but still holding his chin tightly. The group of gangsters kept guns drawn and pointed to keep them standing in place.
The driver finally ungripped his jaw and plead his case to the group, "Hey, no offense guys, but come on it's fucking 9:30 at night, it's freezing, we got one last stop on our route, why you gotta do this now?!"
One of the gangsters, an average sized man wearing a baggy jacket and sweatpants, held his gun out and attempted to explain the situation. "Hey hey, easy there aight? This is a quick and simple operation, ok? We're taking the truck and you guys can get a cab. Ya want me to call ya a cab?" The men were silent at the offer so the gangster continued, "I'll call ya a cab. Ya both can both go home tonight, back to ya families, nobody's gotta lose their lives over a little bitta spilt wine tonight, ok?"
"Ooh! Where do you get the balls, you's guys? Who the hell robs a wine truck? Shouldn't you rob like a bank, some'in like that? You're not even wearing masks, c'mon!"
Brimstone stepped forward and gave the driver a hardened look and stated. "We're not wearing masks because concealing our identities wasn't the intention. We're taking the truck as a means of sending a message and you should thank your lucky stars I don't use your corpses to send another one. My associate, James, will call you a cab and you're going to report this to your boss in the morning, understood?"
The driver was bewildered but didn't argue any further for his life's sake and just complied. Brimstone and crew fled the scene leaving the two men out on the side of the road awaiting their cab they were promised.
"Big score guys." Lady Construct said as she guided the hijacked truck into a low key downtown garage. She opened the back door of the truck and couldn't stop her smile. Crates on crates of wine that would sell for at least $500 a bottle, the Brimstone organization is back and already making the large sums.
"So what made you wanna jack them boss?" James asked Brimstone while unloading the crates into the garage. "I'da figured you'da at least taken some time to stretch ya legs first before going big time on us, I mean you just got out."
"It wasn't for the money, actually, but it's a lovely bonus." Brimstone responded as he heaved a couple crates himself with his crew.
"Oh then what was it about?" Lady Construct asked as she began to sample some of the product straight from the bottle.
"The owner of the factory that manufactures the wine, Jim Morressy, remember him?" Brimstone asked.
"Right, that scumbag." Said James.
Lady Construct was a new recruit so the name was unfamiliar to her so she had to ask, who was Jim Morressy?
Brimstone took a deep breath and recalled a story. "One of the drivers under him about I wanna say 11 years ago had run over a child in Hackensack. Innocent kid, reckless driver. The kid barely survived; his injuries were severe and he needed medical attention quickly. However, the family unfortunately lacked the funds to pay. A supposedly be grieved Jim issued an apology statement and promised that his company would pay for the damages caused by said incident. Days to weeks flew by and the only thing received was a public apology and continued renewals of a promise he didn't plan to keep. The child succumbed to his injuries eventually and not even a dime was offered in reparation."
"That's horrible." Said Lady Construct. She covered her mouth and fought back tears in her eyes.
"It is. That woman, the child's mother came to me for help. She told me the story of how her family slowly rotted in the shadow of a man who turned his back on them when they needed him most. Her soul was beyond broken. Her eyes had said it all from the moment we met that she prayed and prayed God forgive her for asking favor from someone like me, but she had been pushed to this decision. I gave that woman my word that Jim Morressy would make right would he had wronged, I gave her my word. But not soon after is when I went away. And I'm willing to bet that in those ten years I was in Santa Maya, Jim hasn't had a change of heart. But all of that changes now, I don't ever break my word."
"Good ol' Jim's next on the list, huh?" James asked.
"He'd better be." Lady Construct demanded, balling her fists tightly.
"He is." Answered Brimstone. "He is."
The last of the crates were unloaded and Lady Construct lock the door shut behind her as the crew exited the garage. Brimstone gazed at the downtown urban area of New Jersey, newspapers wafted carefree in the icy wind with a silent howl, the streetlights blanketed the streets in a soft orange haze up and down the block, and the apartment buildings eclipsed the sky unless looking straight up. Even at night the city moved with a daytime pace, people had places to go and people to see. Ten years had passed and his heart was warmed to see this part of New Jersey hadn't changed at least on the surface. But deep in his heart and the pit of his stomach Brimstone was disappointed.
Brimstone thought to himself as he walked down the block with crew in tow. This old city has changed. It wasn't always about the money before. Back in my hayday if you had $20 you were a rich man. The community wasn't a bunch of unfamiliar faces who don't even deserve a hello when you walked by, the 'unity' in 'community' actually meant something. Fear didn't run these streets, respect did. Even amongst the gangsters there was always a code, an unwritten law that we were bound to that always kept what was between us, between us. Nowadays being a senseless murderer and creating more corpses than the city can bury is the path to supremacy, being man of morals and code is only a path to pariah. Much like Lucifer this city has fallen into its own pit of despair and it's nothing more than heart breaking.
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