ozbonius_2000
SOC-10
I believe it has been attempted in this forum before, but I would like to try again. I invite any and all to add a piece to the short work of fiction I started. Feel free to change the point of view, or add characters. Most of all - Have fun. Let's see if we can write a group story.
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Jaren Stromberg walked out of the casino in disbelief. He had just lost a weeks pay at the Dhe tables. The dice were rolling almost unbelievably in his favor until an hour ago. In the last dozen rolls he lost all his winnings and this weeks pay. Nothing to do now but head back to his stateroom aboard the Shady Lady and wait for her departure for Regina in 4 days.
The outer door of the casino latched shut behind him with a harsh ‘click’ that almost seemed to say “Don’t come back ‘til you have more money.” A chilly breeze crept down the neckline of his jacket as he stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust. The dimly lit city street was quite a change from the bright neon interior of the casino. The street was also very quiet, although it was also late. He started walking down the street towards the starport, wishing he had kept enough money for cab fare.
As he turned left down a side street, a man staggered out of a doorway carrying a brief case and crashed into him. There was blood flowing from a hole in the man’s suit jacket and he looked desperately at Jaren. “Whatever you do, don’t let them get a hold of this.” He whispered as he handed Jaren a key ring with two keys on it. He then collapsed to the ground in a heap. Jaren stood in shock for a moment before he heard loud voices yelling right on the other side of the same door the man had come through. It was the back door of a business with a small label that read “1203 Lars, Suite A”. Without thinking, he stuck the key in his pocket, grabbed the man’s briefcase, and ran back out onto the main street he had just come from. As he rounded the corner, he heard the door open again, and the voices grew louder. He didn’t stick around to find out what they were saying.
After zigzagging through the streets for 10 minutes, Jaren stopped at a small, plain looking tavern, “The Red Rum Inn”. He walked through the door, and went straight back to the rest room. The bar was empty with the exception of the bartender, and two customers engrossed in their ale and a Grav-ball game being replayed from earlier in the day. Once in the rest room, Jaren sat down in one of the two stalls, and placed the briefcase on his lap. It was an expensive looking black leather case with gold trim. He clicked the latch to open it, but it was locked. Damn, he cursed to himself, I just can’t win at anything tonight.
Seconds later, he remembered the key ring the man had handed him. He pulled it from the pocket of his jacket where he had stuffed it while running through the streets. Two keys were attached to the ring. One had a small brass tag with “C-476” engraved on it, and the other looked like a key that would fit a suitcase – or perhaps a briefcase. He tried it, and luck was on his side this time. The key fit and made a satisfying ‘thud-pop’ as it turned in the tumblers. He clicked the latch again and it swung upwards. Lifting the top of the briefcase, Jaren looked inside.
The briefcase contained 6 stacks of Cr100 notes, a very fancy blue and gold laser pistol, a large manila envelope containing several papers, and a small metal box with a hinged lid. Inside the box, were 7 rubber stopped glass vials of a blue colored liquid, encased in foam padding. There were no markings on the vials, or the box. As he closed it, Jaren noticed 3 syringes embedded in the foam padding of the lid.
At this point, Jaren realized two things. First, that he couldn’t spend too much time in the bathroom without arousing curiosity or suspicion from the bartender. Second, He needed to get rid of the briefcase. It was the only thing visible that linked him to whoever was chasing the man who had died in front of him. He stuffed the money and the box into the pockets of his pants, and jacket. He folded the envelope in half lengthwise, and slid it into his left boot. He checked the laser pistol and saw that the charge was at the halfway point and put it in the waist of his pants, at the small of his back. He then stuffed the briefcase in the cleaning supply cabinet under the sink, not even noticing his further luck – the cabinet had been left unlocked. He walked back out of the tavern, looking over his shoulder. Not a soul in sight…
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Jaren Stromberg walked out of the casino in disbelief. He had just lost a weeks pay at the Dhe tables. The dice were rolling almost unbelievably in his favor until an hour ago. In the last dozen rolls he lost all his winnings and this weeks pay. Nothing to do now but head back to his stateroom aboard the Shady Lady and wait for her departure for Regina in 4 days.
The outer door of the casino latched shut behind him with a harsh ‘click’ that almost seemed to say “Don’t come back ‘til you have more money.” A chilly breeze crept down the neckline of his jacket as he stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust. The dimly lit city street was quite a change from the bright neon interior of the casino. The street was also very quiet, although it was also late. He started walking down the street towards the starport, wishing he had kept enough money for cab fare.
As he turned left down a side street, a man staggered out of a doorway carrying a brief case and crashed into him. There was blood flowing from a hole in the man’s suit jacket and he looked desperately at Jaren. “Whatever you do, don’t let them get a hold of this.” He whispered as he handed Jaren a key ring with two keys on it. He then collapsed to the ground in a heap. Jaren stood in shock for a moment before he heard loud voices yelling right on the other side of the same door the man had come through. It was the back door of a business with a small label that read “1203 Lars, Suite A”. Without thinking, he stuck the key in his pocket, grabbed the man’s briefcase, and ran back out onto the main street he had just come from. As he rounded the corner, he heard the door open again, and the voices grew louder. He didn’t stick around to find out what they were saying.
After zigzagging through the streets for 10 minutes, Jaren stopped at a small, plain looking tavern, “The Red Rum Inn”. He walked through the door, and went straight back to the rest room. The bar was empty with the exception of the bartender, and two customers engrossed in their ale and a Grav-ball game being replayed from earlier in the day. Once in the rest room, Jaren sat down in one of the two stalls, and placed the briefcase on his lap. It was an expensive looking black leather case with gold trim. He clicked the latch to open it, but it was locked. Damn, he cursed to himself, I just can’t win at anything tonight.
Seconds later, he remembered the key ring the man had handed him. He pulled it from the pocket of his jacket where he had stuffed it while running through the streets. Two keys were attached to the ring. One had a small brass tag with “C-476” engraved on it, and the other looked like a key that would fit a suitcase – or perhaps a briefcase. He tried it, and luck was on his side this time. The key fit and made a satisfying ‘thud-pop’ as it turned in the tumblers. He clicked the latch again and it swung upwards. Lifting the top of the briefcase, Jaren looked inside.
The briefcase contained 6 stacks of Cr100 notes, a very fancy blue and gold laser pistol, a large manila envelope containing several papers, and a small metal box with a hinged lid. Inside the box, were 7 rubber stopped glass vials of a blue colored liquid, encased in foam padding. There were no markings on the vials, or the box. As he closed it, Jaren noticed 3 syringes embedded in the foam padding of the lid.
At this point, Jaren realized two things. First, that he couldn’t spend too much time in the bathroom without arousing curiosity or suspicion from the bartender. Second, He needed to get rid of the briefcase. It was the only thing visible that linked him to whoever was chasing the man who had died in front of him. He stuffed the money and the box into the pockets of his pants, and jacket. He folded the envelope in half lengthwise, and slid it into his left boot. He checked the laser pistol and saw that the charge was at the halfway point and put it in the waist of his pants, at the small of his back. He then stuffed the briefcase in the cleaning supply cabinet under the sink, not even noticing his further luck – the cabinet had been left unlocked. He walked back out of the tavern, looking over his shoulder. Not a soul in sight…