So you want to know my story huh? Well I guess the best place to start any story would be at the beginning, but trust me this ain’t no rose tinted fairytale as it’s a story filled with violence, nudity, foul language and questionable caffeine consumption….you know all that good stuff. So like I said the best place would be to start at the beginning for it, for it was twenty three or so years ago, that my father rolled off my mother, proclaiming it in his own mind a job well done….what too early?? Okay how about we just bring things up to speed and skip ahead to last week.
It was dollar a slice night at Nero’s in my beloved hometown of Portland, Oregon were as to be expected of the mid west I was raining yet again, not that I really cared as I was busy working on my pacman top scores, an on and off obsession since first picking up a joystick and as I guided that little pill head around the maze, gobbling up pills and running away from ghosts, the pizzeria slash classic arcade was buzzing with people, either on cheap dates or getting their own classic game fix on one of the numerous machines which Nero’s was home to, while a variety of classic rock and pop punk blasts from the overhead speakers..
The Suit: You know you can’t actually beat pacman
Ahh yes “The Suit”. Um…How can I put this? He is my handler. Basically it goes like this, you see a few years back I started out hunting down escaped cons and bail jumpers, finding that I was actually pretty good at it. Scratch that I was freaking awesome at it, which undoubtedly bruised more than a few egos, especially those of my male counterparts, the majority of which not happy to see a woman in the game, especially as I worked my way up the bounty hunter pile. So unsurprisingly it soon had the quality of my prey improving aswell with the company soon finding a use for my skills, which was of little worry to myself especially when the bounty was more than worth the added risk that came with them, plus when someone is paying you as well as these contracts do, you really don’t care who your ultimately workings for, be it private contracts or something filtered through some government associated body, the company it would seem has it’s links everywhere, having long built up a reputation for getting things done which others had failed or more precisely when they were wanting to ensure 100% deniability of the situation.
The suit handles my work load and generally acts as the go between, mainly between myself and the company as well as any other contracts he feels might be of intrest and lets face it the whole punk rock styling tends to not work so well in business circles, especially with big time players like the ones I now mainly deal with and hence the suit, whose name I guess pretty much explains his own style choices handles all the dealings before passing them across to myself. Needless to say while my clients might not get my style, they don’t question the results I bring as dead, alive I will find pretty much anyone who you’re after.
Becky: Yeah and when did you become such an expert on classic video games.
I say grumbling slightly to myself as I rapidly move the joystick, not bothering to break my attention away from the game, as the I now futily watch as he his now surrounded by the colourful ghost, the machine now purring out its spiralling whoop whoop noise as he dies his virtual death.
The Suit: They made these games with the intention that they couldn’t be beaten, so the last level is usually a jumbled mess of code were they ran out of room on the board.
I turn to look at him slowly as I curse the machine, banging a fist on the countertop of the console in frustration, pausing for a moment before turning to look at him slowly. Seeing him unsurprisingly dressed in a charcoal suit, his once dark hair streaked with grey around him temples, while his face still looks surprisingly youthful despite the fact he’s pushing his late forties.
Becky: Wow that is strangely fascinating, but I’m sure you didn’t come down here, to share random trivia with me.
The Suit. Yes well, needless to say there was a few issues with your handling of that last job, especially seeing how it makes it really hard for an informant to talk when he’s got to have his jaw wired shut, thanks to your so called tactics which are honestly like taking a baseball bat to a canary.
Becky: Hey they said they wanted him bringing in, they didn’t specify in what condition and plus they should be happy in came out in one piece, especially seeing how that place turned into a darn warzone, as bizarrely drug lords don’t tend to really like their accountants being snatched from under their noses, much less when the could potentially bring down their scummy empire. Still they know how I work, so perhaps they should be just grateful that I pull off something they’ve failed for the last six months to do.
I saw before returning my attention back to my game as I drop another quarter in the slot and kick off another session.
Becky: So what have you got for me this week? What sort of scumbag we hunting now?
I say casually as my attention now rests mainly with the game, though seeing how easy these first levels are, it barely requires more than a passing amount of attention, especially to a seasoned gamer like myself.
The Suit: That’s just the thing. You recent last few jobs have got clients questioning the amount of attention you’ve been bringing on to yourself, especially when it seems like there is not a corner of the globe which you haven’t reduced part of it to rubble, set on fire or in a couple of cases caused it to erupt in local warfare.
Becky: So what? We have no jobs??
The Suits: For the moment…but why don’t you just enjoy having the break, especially as it’s been awhile since you took some time off, plus if anything does come through I can always contact you.
Becky: And do you have any great ideas on were I should be spending all this vacation time? I mean you know I can’t survive without some kind of project to distract me.
I say glancing back at him, as he rolls his eyes slightly pulling out a card from his inside suit pocket.
The Suit: Yes seeing how, I thought you’d say something like that so why don’t you give these folks a call.
He says placing the card on the bottom of the screen as the level clear noise rings out from the cabinet, as I pick up the card reading it before placing it back on the bottom of the screen as the next round now starts up.
Becky: A wrestling company?
The Suit: Yeah why not, they need fighters and you need a distraction, plus it’s what you were doing before you decided to become a full time man hunter.
He’s of course right, as a few years back I’d been pretty active on the wrestling scene, finding it a useful outlet for all that pent up aggression, that of course before I got into my current trade, plus it beats working the 9-5.
Becky: Yeah well I’ll think about it.
I say trying to sound as non committal as possible and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right once again. It’s around this point that some scumbag wannabe punk Moses up behind me, so close that I can smell his stink before I feel his hand on my ass. Glancing back I only further confirm my original suspicion as this guy in his late twenties and trying to pull off a supposedly punk look with his leather and chains combo, combined with a questionable Mohawk, one which he no doubt has done himself while claiming that he’s been punk all along, rather than just trying to hop on the band wagon.
Punk: Hey suit, why you don’t scram, so me and sweet cheeks here can get to know each other better.
Now with his unwanted distraction, alongside his wandering hand I loose an easy life, causing me to punch down on the countertop again, as I now snap around to look at this fuckwit.
Becky: Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, let alone the fact that your unwanted hands just cost me a freaking life here.
Punk: Hey Baby! Chill out!
He says holding out his hands, with a dopey grin on his stupid face as I glance over at the suit, before grabbing the back of the punk’s head smashing it down onto the screen on the gaming cabinet creating a satisfying crack and with so much force that his head bounces back upon impact, as I can it on the up bounce and smash it back into the screen causing the screen to splinter with a cracking of glass as his skull explodes into a crimson mess as he’s body slumps into a pile at the foot of the machine. A hushed silence falling over Nero’s bar the music coming from the overhead speakers, as several onlookers look over at us with frozen expressions of shock on their face, as I now shrug picking up the card now slightly bloody as I look at the suit as we walk away, leaving mr gropey were he is.
Becky: So….wrestling you said.
