No rest for the wicked?

Started by Bagelz, 08-12-2009

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Lachance propped his steel-toed boots on the ivory desk of his office, propping his leather jacket on the 50's clad style coat hanger that stood beside his desk. Now standing, he flipped his antique outback-esque hat on his finger, spinning it 360 degrees. The hat on his head, the cigar smoke fumed from his lips, rolling the tip of it between his teeth.

The officers stormed into his office, the handgun's aimed directly at his temple.

He thought, quickly with agility. Like any good spy or thief, they keep a trick up their sleeves at all times. Be it the Joker, Batman, Bonny and Clyde, Dirty Dan, James Bond, or any other cliche' characters, it still applies to real life itself, and anyone who uses mental power to a battle will always keep tactics and strategies on hand in their mind, ready for use 24/7.

He had two options. There was a flash-grenade in jacket, now stooped over the coat-hanger. The window was open, with the fire-escape ladder already positioned, or he could flat-out talk his way out of this predicament. He chose the latter, and decided to go for the flash-bang.

He knew why they were here, though. He was most likely under warrant for the plethora of crimes he committed in his pursuit and escape from the chase. Be it the massive destruction of civil, and public property, or be it the murders taken out to protect the public, or perhaps the possessions of illegal data. The last one seemed a bit more obvious than the latter, seeing as he might have a solution of how to possibly eliminate the head-honcho of the Reavers, but impossible to take down with one man.

Meanwhile, the police units aimed their side-arms directly for his head, the safety clicked off, one of them yelled at him telling to get up, and put his hands on the wall, himself answering with, "Officer, if you let me go to my coat, I'm gonna get my wallet...and we'll all sort this out...nice and easy...Mmkay?"

"Do it fast, now, you have TEN seconds before you are detained with non-lethal force."

The officer yelled at him to hurry up, as he reached into the coat pocket. He mistook the right one by accident, and jumbled his hand in the left.

With the flick of a wrist, a single left hand with quick and nimble fingers, he ripped the pin from the grenade, priming it for detonation. The police units were unaware of the loud *click* noise that followed, probably thinking of it as car-keys jumbling about.

"Here we are, boys..."




In the blink of an eye, he covered his face. as he dropped the flash-bang onto the floor. "Uhh, oops...", he whispered, chuckling under his sleeve as the grenade detonated with a loud bang and flash in the blink of an eye, the police-men stumbling about inside his office. One of them tripped over his desk, another hitting file-cabinet on the left-side of the room.

He removed the sleeve from his face, grabbing the PDAS and keys within his jacket. He vaulted through the window, grabbing the C.D that laid upon the sill of the window, sprinting down the fire-way stairs. At the second step, he vaulted over the rail, landing on bags of garbage, right where he wanted to be. He landed right next to the alley-way in which his 83' Camaro was parked. He whiped the banana peel off of his boot, landing with a loud splat sound. He vaulted once again over the hood of the car, unlocking the manual key-lock on the left door.

He sat himself in the cold leather seat of the Camaro. With no time to eye the details of the custom dash, he placed the key into the ignition, with a gentle turn of the wrist. The car rumbled to life, the empty cup of coffee vibrating from the dash-panel. He hit whatever CD song was last playing. And lo' behold, one of his many favorites begun to play.

The tires squealed, as he slammed the safety-break off, his seat-belt buckled, following with the quick nimble fingers gliding the shifter from Park to Drive. In a split second, the tires squealing halted, as the car raced from the alley-way, followed with a fast gun of the wheel into the right lane.

The police officers finally recovered from their blinding ordeal, as they chimed in their radio's for back-up. The all-way radio transmitter in his car picked up a large ordeal of dozens of frequencies jumping back and forth. From units in the office calling for back-up, to calls from dispatch played out by civilians and other police-men. He tapped one of the main sources, the big one, as he took a turn into a parking garage.

"All units, Sergeant Korsilliev here. Code-100 in progress, be ready to intercept suspect. Suspect is designated as lethal, and is armed."

Another officer patched in as he listened from his head-set, "Ehh', chief, deh' hell is a Code-1", he was cut off by the sergeant yelling.


The channels went silent for ten seconds, followed by approval signals. The chatter went back to its normal talk, as they went on talking about Lachance, and other various crimes and sources.

He stepped out of his car quickly, peeling the vinyl black one-piece paint set, followed by a light tap on the license plates, replacing them with fake altered ones. It was a risky move, especially if any of them contemplated verifying his license plate by computer-use, and got no matches. They'd pull him over in a heart-beat, and he'd be in jail just for that alone for years.

But he took the risk, a daring move, especially since punishment for crime in Ukraine was severe.

He took his foot of the break, throwing it into reverse, as he pulled out of the garage with a 180 degree turn of the wheel, the tires squealing as the rubber glided over the pavement. He made a left turn, followed by smacking the ON/OFF switch of the radio, going back to his CD.

He leaned his head back, as he tipped his hat over his eyes....

"Well I was walkin' down the street, when in the corner of my eye.... I saw a pretty thing lookin' at me..."

"She said 'I've never seen a man who looks all alone...who could use a little company..."

"And if you pay the right price your evenin' will be nice, or you can go and send me on my way..."

"I said you're such a sweet thing, why do you this to yourself?"

"She looked at me and this is what she said..."

He gunned the gas, as he pulled onto the deserted road, fifty kilometers from the checkpoint to Chernobyl.

"There ain't no rest for the wicked..."

"Money don't grow on trees..."

"Well I got bills to pay, and mouths to feed..."

"Baby nothin' in this world is free..."

"She said I know I can't slow down, and I know I can't hold back..."

"Though you know I wish I could..."

"Oh no no, there ain't no rest for the wicked...."

"Until we close our eyes for good..."

"Baby there ain't no rest for the wicked..."

He gunned the gas, jumping to 140 miles per hour. It would only be a matter of time, before he arrived at the checkpoint to the Cordon.


Nice. loled at the code 100 part.


Nice nice Backstory, Loved that Cage the Elephant thing also.


"I now stand, four hundred meters away from the very first checkpoint. It strikes me as odd, that one such as myself, a figure of deep authority, now has to contemplate a plan in which to smuggle himself past the boundaries established.. But alas', I shall find a way. I have to. The land of Chernobyl, she is the beauty in which I see, and I must tend to her wounds."

"Everytime I look at the beauty of which that is the Zone of Exlusion, one of many thoughts goes through my mind. One of them majorly being that it makes me think of song 'Greensleeves' quite a bit. I mean, look at it...Have you ever seen a land, of such magnificant beauty and whim? Just to grace in the land of Chernobyl is a gift, but looks truly are deceiving, for deep down, she is not what she appears to be."

"She was my joy, my delight, my heart of gold, just the story of how Lady Greensleves: Queen Boleyn, was to marry King Henry the eighth, but was flabbergasted as to when she denied his marriage. What does this have to do with anything, though? Nothing, really, but in my deep opnion, it the Zone appears to me as if she was Lady Greensleeves, who on the outside burns a beauty, but inside, burns greed and hate. The story goes that Greensleeves was written by King Henry the eighth, and was to marry Queen Anne Boleyn. Sadly, the Queen rejected his attempts at lust and desire, supposedly motivating Henry to write the song, who would remember his love until death. Sure, it ain't confirmed if he wrote it, but I deep down believe King Henry the eighth truly did write it, and burned a passion for his love of music."

"So now I move onward, like a knight in shining clad Spartan's armor. My exo-suit, shining from the brilliant sun-light, the pathway I carve ahead shall be a great one indeed. It has been quite a while since I have returned to her, but I shall complete the mission that I have created for myself. But what exactly is my purpose here? Who am I really, in this land of wonder? Am I the thief who lurks in the shadow, stealing every coin he can possibly he find? Am I the knight who gallantly saves the townsfolk from destruction, or perhaps the duke who creates a second image, and takes as he desires? Only time will tell, but surely, I shall carve my own path. Destiny does not control mine, I control it."

"I move onward, now, towards the checkpoint. Perhaps someone will take my car, hopefully, because the it would indeed be a shame to leave such a magnificent piece  of American craftsmanship to the wastes of Chernobyl..."


Nice story, it puts towards that your character is a kinda cool guy... What is the name of him? Or is this just a story you made?


Khaletskiy Lachance has been my main character for about a year and a half now, more info