"So, I want to know exactly what the hell we're dealing with," Roman Cunningham said bluntly. He was always blunt. Even in public, when he attempted to give off a charming and friendly air, he was notably plainspoken. Besides, a man with knife scars on his face and a patch over his right eye had some difficulty persuading people that he had always been a beloved figure. No wonder everyone's against me, was a sour thought that often crossed his mind. Not today, though. Roman Cunningham was cheerful today. All his problems were about to be solved.
"We've got several arrivals coming in today," Hickey informed him. Hickey was a big man, with long hair and beard, who looked distinctly uncomfortable in the shirt and tie he wore. Hickey was used to denim and leather. Hickey was used to a lot of things that were no longer in his life. For one, he was used to being in charge, but things had changed in the last year, and he now answered to Roman instead of calling the shots for himself. It was probably for the best. As far as anyone was concerned, anymore Hickey was just an office worker at Cunningham Transport, not the man who had been run out of Rapid City. The big man cleared his throat, went on. "Our man at the airstrip just called and said Honolulu just arrived. Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Oklahoma City have been here. Los Angeles, Cheyenne, Chicago, and Rhode Island all said yes, so they ought to be rolling in shortly. We're still waiting to hear from Las Vegas and New York, and we still have a pile of invitations to send out for, uh, the party."
"Start sending them out," Roman said tonelessly. He swiveled his chair, had a look out the office window. There wasn't really a very impressive view. Other men in his position had a penthouse office, a city to glower down upon. He just had this trailer, inside his fenced compound. Just outbuildings and a few trucks to look out. The mountains were visible, blue and indistinct in the distance, and maybe you could see movement if you looked the other way, towards Personville. A little town in the middle of the wilderness. Like an island in the ocean.
Roman frowned as he saw the slightly yellowish gas venting from the locked warehouse beside his trailer. One one hand, it meant the cook was going according to schedule. On the other, it made it too obvious what was going on. No wonder word had started to get out, people had starting speaking against him in the town, cops had come sniffing. And the bastards come up from Vegas, looking to buy him out. As if. The money was nice, sure, but this was his. He owned it. He owned this town, and every tweaker in five states. And nothing, no one was going to take that from him.
It'd be their funeral if they tried.
"We've waited long enough, Hickey," Roman growled. "Send out the lists. They know the score, we explained it in the email. We're offering a seven-figure salary, we ought to have the best answering. Let's see just how good they are." He rubbed irritably at his eyepatch, an annoyed tic he often displayed. "Let's start the auditions."
In the town of Personville, in planes in the air, in rental cars speeding along Interstate 90, the message was received. Laptops and mobile phones blinked to life, the secure and encrypted email received. Despite the layer of cybersecurity, it was still carefully couched in euphemistic language- you couldn't be too careful these days. The message was read, heads nodded, work began.
"We've got several arrivals coming in today," Hickey informed him. Hickey was a big man, with long hair and beard, who looked distinctly uncomfortable in the shirt and tie he wore. Hickey was used to denim and leather. Hickey was used to a lot of things that were no longer in his life. For one, he was used to being in charge, but things had changed in the last year, and he now answered to Roman instead of calling the shots for himself. It was probably for the best. As far as anyone was concerned, anymore Hickey was just an office worker at Cunningham Transport, not the man who had been run out of Rapid City. The big man cleared his throat, went on. "Our man at the airstrip just called and said Honolulu just arrived. Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Oklahoma City have been here. Los Angeles, Cheyenne, Chicago, and Rhode Island all said yes, so they ought to be rolling in shortly. We're still waiting to hear from Las Vegas and New York, and we still have a pile of invitations to send out for, uh, the party."
"Start sending them out," Roman said tonelessly. He swiveled his chair, had a look out the office window. There wasn't really a very impressive view. Other men in his position had a penthouse office, a city to glower down upon. He just had this trailer, inside his fenced compound. Just outbuildings and a few trucks to look out. The mountains were visible, blue and indistinct in the distance, and maybe you could see movement if you looked the other way, towards Personville. A little town in the middle of the wilderness. Like an island in the ocean.
Roman frowned as he saw the slightly yellowish gas venting from the locked warehouse beside his trailer. One one hand, it meant the cook was going according to schedule. On the other, it made it too obvious what was going on. No wonder word had started to get out, people had starting speaking against him in the town, cops had come sniffing. And the bastards come up from Vegas, looking to buy him out. As if. The money was nice, sure, but this was his. He owned it. He owned this town, and every tweaker in five states. And nothing, no one was going to take that from him.
It'd be their funeral if they tried.
"We've waited long enough, Hickey," Roman growled. "Send out the lists. They know the score, we explained it in the email. We're offering a seven-figure salary, we ought to have the best answering. Let's see just how good they are." He rubbed irritably at his eyepatch, an annoyed tic he often displayed. "Let's start the auditions."
In the town of Personville, in planes in the air, in rental cars speeding along Interstate 90, the message was received. Laptops and mobile phones blinked to life, the secure and encrypted email received. Despite the layer of cybersecurity, it was still carefully couched in euphemistic language- you couldn't be too careful these days. The message was read, heads nodded, work began.
