...And Fighting It Ain't No Use

“The pasta’s good,” Loco said.

Across the table, his partner nodded.

“I especially like the way they make it over here. One of the best places for Italian cuisine in Mumbai, this. But we’re wandering. We were discussing…”

“I know, I know. But you know what? Shit happens.”

“Shit does happen. But this easily gets classified as one of the top three weird things I’ve heard of till date.”

Loco said nothing.

“You know, for a minute, when the Boss told me you wanted to quit, I thought it was some elaborate joke. Then he told me why you were doing it, and somehow, I believed it. I mean, only you can quit doing something you’re best at for a girl,” his partner said.

“THE girl,” Loco corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Loco said, sipping his drink. “But basically, A girl is just another girl, but THE girl is the one……well, the one you quit being a killer for, simply speaking.”

“Right, right,” his partner nodded.

A silence followed as both men focused on their food.

“There isn’t a chance, is there? For anything between you and her?” his partner finally asked.

Loco shook his head.

“However much I’d like to say otherwise, there doesn’t seem to be any chance.”

“Damn sad.”

“You believe in destiny?” Loco suddenly asked.

“Say what?”

“Destiny, fate, karma…that sort of thing? You know, stuff that says there’s a grand plan for all of us, and fighting it ain’t no use?”

“Not really. That would mean I’m taking my orders to kill people from the Almighty, not the Boss,” Loco’s partner chuckled. Loco didn’t laugh.

“It was almost like destiny,” Loco said pensively. “Almost like…you know, someone or something didn’t want me to change. As if this is what I’m supposed to be and the minute I try to stop being that, this fate-destiny thing intervenes…”

“Hey, Brooding Hitman, can it. You’re freaking me out,” Loco’s partner said uneasily. “Look, give it a rest, okay? Don’t think so much. You’re disturbed right now. But…”

“I was disturbed,” Loco said, pushing away his plate. His partner sat back and stared expressionlessly at the change that seemed to come over Loco in a moment. “I was thinking it’s damn unfair that after years of leaving nothing to hope or chance, the one thing that I sincerely hoped for could not happen.”

Loco paused, then went on.

“I spoke to the Boss in the evening.”

“And…?”

Loco sat back and locked eyes with his partner.

“Three men. Staying in Santacruz. Armed.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Deadline?” his partner asked then.

“24 hours. Boss says it’s a sensitive matter and they need to be eliminated quickly.”

“Hardware?”

“Two Berettas, loaded and silenced, in the trunk of my car. Two spare ammo clips. And I got a change of clothes and a mask for you.”

Loco’s partner gazed steadily for several seconds. Then he turned to a passing waiter.

“Buddy…can we have the check please?”

Loco returns

Ok, I have no clue as to what was the logic, purpose, point, etc behind this one. but it kept playing inside my head, and I had to write it. Just me, i guess

________________________________________


Lying on a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of him, he thought about the last 35 years and felt no regrets.

They called him Loco, and the veteran cop lived up to his name. Infamous for a temper and violent ways of dealing with criminals, Loco had ended up in the operation theatre of the hospital after a confrontation with a drug Mafioso had gone horribly wrong. What was supposed to have been a simple arrest turned out to be a bullet-fest when the druglord’s henchmen stormed out of his liar, guns blazing. Loco had managed to shoot all three of them, but had taken three bullets in the chest and two in the stomach in the process. The Mafioso had been jerked out of his hiding place under his office table and dragged to jail.

After a three hour long surgery where surgeons and nurses struggled to deal with the damage caused to several of his vital organs, a barely conscious Loco was wheeled into the Intensive Care unit. He was now thinking about the innumerable encounters with criminals in which he had always come out the winner. His partner always said he had a death wish.

Damn right I did, Loco thought.

He wasn’t worried. Every criminal that he had taken an interest in was either dead or in jail. Those from the latter category had slim chance to walk free; Loco had seen to that by providing enough evidence for the state to present a watertight case in court. He had lived life the way he wanted to, and was now going down in the proverbial blaze of glory.

Floating in a world that exists between consciousness and unconsciousness, he became aware of his partner and immediate boss beside him.

“We’re losing him,” his partner said.

As if in corroboration, the cardiograph emitted a beep, indicating erratic heartbeat.

“What do the doctors say?” Loco’s boss asked.

“Chances are slim. The damage is extensive.”

So I’m dying. Big freaking deal, Loco thought. Cheer up partner. At least I’m not leaving the job unfinished.

“Crazy devil! Pitting his handgun against those assault rifles!”

“That’s how he always was”

The cardiograph beeped again. There was a doctor in the room now. The heartbeat and other vital signs were getting increasingly erratic, and Loco could hear the doctor issue several instructions which were so full of medical jargon that he had no clue what the doctor had just said.

At about the same time two nurses rushed into the room, a cell phone buzzed. For two minutes after that, there was only silence. Then Loco’s boss spoke.

“The drug dealer’s escaped. Snatched a gun, shot two cops and jumped out of the police jeep while being moved for security reasons.”

The cardiograph was beeping continuously now. Heart rate was low and breathing was laboured.

Time ceased to exist as realization permeated Loco’s consciousness. The bastard had escaped. He had also shot two cops. His death was going to be in vain after all.

Not if I can help it, Loco thought savagely.

The cardiograph beeped. The heartbeat stabilized just a little bit.

I hate drug dealers, and I especially despise those that kill cops

Another beep. More stability.

You’re going down, you sorry piece of shit. You’re gonna wish you’d listened to your mother and become a good man

Loco didn’t even realize that he had just taken a deep breath without any problems. The cardiograph showed a steady heart rate.

“He’s coming back to us. I wouldn’t be too hopeful, thought. It could be momentary,” the doctor told his partner and boss.

Momentary, my ass. The sod better watch out for me now.

The heart rate stayed steady.