The sound from outside of the wind blowing, and a slight rain fall had been echoing inside of Kevin's room through the open window. The sound of the hum of the television was also apparent, now that movie that Kevin and Karina were watching had ended. Other than that, the sound of the small desk fan that was blowing on maximum power, there wasn't a sound in the room.
His room usually wasn't so messy, but this was a very rare exception. His computer desk was covered in food, some comic books, a few video games, even some movies. Not to mention the required assortment of dishes that collected on the desk as well. His television stand had a few pop cans on it, as well as a stack of about 22 DVD's
Beside that, clothes were scattered all over his floor, but almost in a path. A pair of Jeans sat near the door to Kevin's room, socks, a pair of boxers, followed by what was a pink woman's t-shirt that had ended up on Kevin's x-box, a bra, a pair of shorts, panties, and some yellow socks, last was another t-shirt, the clothes made a path to Kevin's bed.
Kevin and Karina had just made love for the first time.
Karina laid in Kevin's arms, eyes closed, a look of content relaxation wearing on her face. She looked peaceful, almost angelic. Kevin however was a different story. The look on his face as he lay, for the most part quietly, with his arms around the woman of his dreams was a look of distress, and borderline fear.
Karina had fallen asleep soundly afterwards, where as Kevin hadn't slept an ounce, and even the subtle hum of the television that Kevin always got annoyed by when no sound was coming out of the TV to mask it wasn't bothering him. He, as far as he was concerned had bigger issues to worry about.
He didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. They had just made love and he had felt nothing. They just shared this momentous moment in their relationship. And Kevin hadn't really felt anything. It wasn't that he wasn't feeling anything for Karina. He loved her more than the world. He didn't feel anything, down there.
He wasn't paralyzed. But he for sure wasn't getting his fair share of the sextravaganza, as far as he was concerned anyway. Kevin stirred a bit and this caused a yawn to escape Karina's mouth, and a stretch that caused her arm to smack Kevin right in the face. "Sorry hon." she said softly, sleepiness still on her voice. "You okay?" He turned to face him. Her blue eyes drew his like a moth to flame.
"No." he said with a slight deflation in his voice, where hers was from sleepiness, his was from stress. "I think I have problems…"
"What do you mean?" She asked, rubbing his shoulder lightly, she smiled. "You seem fine to me."
Kevin looked. "No, not like, mental problems or anything." Kevin blushed a bit as he continued to speak, "Umm…" he sighed lightly, "How, how do I say this." He looked to be contemplating something, it made Karina worry a bit, she just gave him a hug.
"It's okay Kevin," Karina gave him a re-assuring smile, he was sure she could inspire him to do anything. "What's wrong?"
"Well umm, I think my mutant power is causing some problems." Kevin said with a slight shrug. "I umm… don't feel anything."
"Well you do have that whole…anti-pain factor." She said with a smile. "I could probably run you down with a car and you wouldn't feel it."
"Well… that's not the only thing I'm not feeling." He said with a slight sigh.
"What do you mean." She was now growing concerned. "What's wrong Kev."
"I didn't feel it, when we just did what we did, I didn't feel anything." He sighed lightly. "What if I never get to enjoy it." He said with a sigh.
Karina sat up and looked to Kevin lightly. "It'll be okay Kevin, it's probably just because you were nervous or something." She grinned a bit. "I'll be rocking your world in no time, stud"
Kevin sat up as well. "I'm glad you're confident." He said with a smile. "Just never call me 'stud' again." They both laughed before sharing a kiss. "Hungry?" he asked.
"Starving" Karina said with a small grin as she started to get dressed.
"I'll make something." Kevin said as he followed suit, getting dressed as well.
Karina looked to Kevin with a half-smirk on her face. "How about I make something Kevin? I know you love to cook, but I'm not craving Macaroni and Cheese right now…"
"Macaroni and Cheese is an art!" he said before pulling on his shirt and heading down stairs. "I'll put on a pot."
"Kevin." She said, dressing quickly to chase after him. "Kevin we're not eating pasta!"
Elsewhere, Duane Bannts stood behind the counter of Patterson's Sporting Goods. The local sporting goods store that sold everything from chest protectors to jock straps, from hunting rifles to shuffleboard tables, the store had it all. Duane was the manager of the store, the full time job he worked outside of school. Usually only working 3:30-8:00PM shifts, but on Friday, Saturday and Sunday he worked 11:00-8:00PM, save for days of football games and every Tuesday and Thursday which he did not work.
Over spring break, Duane had been working full time. Every day too, he'd only optioned to take Sundays off. He did need to pay rent, and his job did make him okay money, but he was running short.
Duane was sweeping up the store. It was 8:10 PM, he had locked the doors, the owner was in his office in the back of the store but other than that, the store was silent. Duane swept up the store, and began to double check to make sure everything was done. He heard a bit of chatter coming from his boss's office, but he didn't care. His boss often had friends visit him at work, sometimes they'd sit in his office and smoke cigars.
They stunk up the store, Duane liked a good Cigar, but sometimes his boss' carelessness had a negative affect on the job. Duane threw on his trench coat; he was ready to go home. Duane was going to let his boss know he was leaving, he walked up the steps, but he slowed to a almost molasses like pace as he listened.
"I'm not fucking around!" There was a loud slam. "Now I want my money." The rather agitated voice began, "Now are you gonna give it to me? Or am I going to have to complicate things?"
Duane snuck forward as he continued to listen, he heard the voice that he recognized as his boss. "Please." He hesitated, "Just, just one more week, I swear I'll have the money, and next months!"
The other voice sounded very displeased as Duane listened on, now about 5 feet from his boss's office. "You will not have another week. Your life or your money, it's your choice Mr. Patterson."
Duane could see the body of one man keeping watch beside the doorway. Duane didn't quite know what to do, he stood with his back to the wall, breathing, as the conversation continued.
Mr. Patterson's voice was next, "Please, give me another week. I'll have this payment, and I'll pay double for next month, please!" He was begging, a desperate man. Duane only had moments he was sure of it.
The other voice was back. "Mr. Patterson, I'm tired of your truant attitude. We're not playing a game here, and—"
It was this brief moment that Duane seized to go into action. He turned violently around the door frame, hitting the man standing around the corner with a vicious elbow to the face, drawing his gun virtually simultaneously he pointed it at the other guy. "Back up, back the fuck up!" he yelled.
The man was wearing a black suit; he a man of medium build, maybe 6'0" probably 200 pounds. Duane wasn't scared because he knew he was the bigger man and he was pretty sure he could kick the guy's ass. He backed up quite surprised by Duane; he drew a gun and pointed it to Mr. Patterson. "Put the gun down kid, and I won't kill your boss."
Duane didn't hesitate; he looked to Mr. Patterson, who seemed as stunned at Duane's presence as anyone. "How can Mr. Patterson get the money by next Sunday." He said.
"There is no." Duane fired quickly by the mans foot. He jumped.
"What the fu--, "he asked.
"How can he get the Money, next time it's going in your head." He sounded confident; he was scared out of his mind. He couldn't believe what he was doing. The man was somewhat backing down but Duane couldn't take any chances; he wouldn't let him kill his boss. Even if he had to kill him. In the back of his mind, he was wondering why his elbow wasn't killing him. At the speed he was going, Duane was sure he would have broken his elbow, and he was committing with that in mind. But he felt fine, it was fucked.
"Okay, okay!" he said with a sigh. "Thursday night, there's a drop. There will be a man at the train station with a brief case, it will have 20, 000 dollars. 15,000 for your debt. This payement, and the next of double, and an extra 5,000 dollars, give it to us as a… good trust fund." He said.
"But… on one condition, you have to kill him." The man smirked.
"I could never do that!" Mr. Patterson said. "I won't."
Duane stood up. "I'll do it." He said.
"Don't do it Duane, I wont let you." Mr. Patterson said.
"You want to do this kid?" The man asked Duane.
Duane looked at him. "Do you think I'm fucking around here?" Duane wasn't really excited about this. But he liked his job, and he liked his boss. He was a fair man and he helped Duane out a lot. He respected the man. "I will do the drop."
The man nodded. "Be at the train station, the transaction is due to occur at the 10:00 train, it's the last of the day." He said with a small smirk, he knew what Duane was getting into, so he felt confident the kid would eat his words. "The transaction is clean, pick up the briefcase and get out of there."
Duane nodded. "Okay." He said as his boss looked on with a look of certain terror. He did not like this situation.
"Okay…" His boss said, Duane put his gun away. The man did too. Nothing had to get complicated tonight.
Duane looked to his boss, and then at the guy who began helping his friend up. "Don't come back either." Duane said. "Or it won't end very pretty Sunday, you'll have your money."
The man left. "I hope for the both of you, you're right." He said as he was passing Duane and exiting the doorway.
Duane's boss, Mr. Patterson, was lighting a Cigar he never got around to smoking, neither did the other one he cut for their departed counterpart. "I'm glad he's gone." He lit up his cigar and looked to Duane. "Cigar?"
Duane smirked. "Sure." He sat down and looked to his boss; he was kind of worried for his situation, and really, all of a sudden now that the moment was calming down, he was starting to realize the decision he made. "Do you realize the severity of the situation Duane?" he boss asked, as if reading his mind.
"Listen, There is not a doubt in my mind that those assholes are double crossing us. I don't like this situation, so I want you to have these." Duane raised an eyebrow. On the table sat a pair of pistols. Semi-Automatic, they were silver in color, although the handle had a brown grip. They looked custom made, Duane couldn't tell what they were.
"Did you make these guns?" Duane asked.
"Yes they are, they're my babies. I made them and now I want you to take them with you, incase this deal gets hairy." He sighed. "Those guys own my ass until my corpse washes up on these walls. But this will help me get them off me for a little bit." He sighed. "I'd do it myself if it weren't for my bum leg, and my bad eye." He shrugged. "My shot isn't as good as it used to be but. I just can't take the risk. All together, It's just not worth the risk, I'd rather die defending my store, it's all I got left." He looked like a desperate man.
Mr. Patterson had always struck Duane as a man who was on his last string. A middle aged man who looked like he lived some rough days. He had a heart as big as Possibility City as far as Duane was concerned. Duane nodded, taking the gun, he'd placed his gun, an older revolver he owned, and kept for self-defense, on the table. Duane smirked, he'd bought double holsters and put them in his coat, he'd, however, only owned one pistol. Duane now had two pistols, two he knew.
"They've been in peak condition for over 15 years. They're the best gun you'll ever see, way better than this shit that all those fucking gang-bangers buy." He said. "Make sure you get that money.
Duane nodded. "I will…" he didn't want to let the man down. "Thanks, for the Cigar by the way, I hate smoking Cigarettes."
"Those things will kill you; these things will kill you too. But at least they taste good." He laughed a bit. Duane just nodded. He drove home shortly after smoking a Cigar with his boss. The drive home was uneventful; he couldn't get the whole thing off his mind. He didn't know if he liked what he was getting into.
Duane lived in a tiny one bedroom house, it was roughly 70 years old, but the landlord allowed him to maintain it if he wanted to keep his rent down. He only paid $450 a month for rent and utilities. This, he'd gladly bank anything from this if he could. He maintained it well, put as much money as he could into it at first, it was mostly renovated, he had to re-do the bathroom. He'd just redone the kitchen recently. It cost much more than he would have liked. But in the end result, he lived in a pretty nice house.
He got home and there was a note on his front door. It was from his landlord, he read it out loud. "200 dollar rent increase, eviction on the 1st." He just sighed. "Fuck!" he yelled, now he was especially broke. And he already owed his friend 300 dollars for helping him with his kitchen.
Duane entered his house, he pulled out two beer, over the next hour he watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. It was about 12:00 and Duane heard his doorbell ring. "Oh fuck…" He didn't feel especially excited, what if it was those guys from work coming to eliminate him from fucking up their mess. Even though he didn't know why they'd to that. He grabbed his gun from his coat, held it behind his back. He walked slowly below the door.
"Hello?" he said, opening it just a smidge. Immediately he tucked his gun behind his pants, and opened the door, a look of joy and surprise on his face. "James?"