[11.30.00] » by Negative Creep
The bald headed man strolled purposefully across the busy avenues and
sidewalks of Junon. Dark navy suit spotless,
wraparound shades concealing his eyes and emotions, he made for an
intimidating figure, and people got out of his path as
fast as their legs could carry them. You didn't mess with the Turks, and
especially not Rude. If you got in his way, he'd either
help you up or stomp on your hands, depending on his mood.
Today he was in an especially businesslike mode. Glancing from side to side,
sun flashing off his bald head, Rude strode
towards a small line of brightly lit shops on the other side of the street.
Almost running over a small child playing with toy
soldiers on the sidewalk, he totally ignored the stores and their loud
mouthed vendors, opting to slink into a dank alleyway
that twisted in-between two of the small shops. It seemed strange that he
kept his sunglasses on in the dim passage, but
once again, noone was going to come up and ask him why.
The interior of the backroom he pushed his way into was even darker. Down an
even darker flight of stairs, past a weapon
vendor who had seen plenty of him before and knew when to keep his mouth
shut, and into the subterranean basement of
the store he went, still wearing his dark glasses. How he could see was
anyone's guess, but it didn't seem to bother the tall
man; he kept up his fast pace all the way down.
At last he reached his destination : a small bar, remarkably tidy despite
the darkness and the cigar smoke that was all but
permeable. A small, circular table sat in the corner of the dive, and around
it sat several well-dressed men. They too looked like
the kind that you wouldn't question, and the kind that played for keeps.
Rude fit right in with the Junon mobsters, except for one
detail: he got his paycheck from the government, and, except for on certain
occasions, the mobsters didn't. Other than that, their
jobs usually curtailed the same type of work. The other men barely looked up
as Rude nodded to the barkeep and pulled up a
chair at the table, settling down for what looked to be a die hard game. The
other men looked grim; a few smoked cigars, but
most seemed to be too intent on the cards for that.
Rude pulled out his own pack and shuffled them onto the table. Finally
seeming to take notice of him, one especially ugly
looking customer with a large scar across his temple glared at the Turk, and
then spat out a query.
"Got a Charmander in there?"
Rude looked over at the grizzled man though his glasses.
And the dealing was on. All in all, things went pretty smooth. Until........
"What's that card you're hiding there, Franky?" asked Rude, for the first
time since he entered pushing his sunglasses back
onto his head. "Something you don't want me to see?"
Franky, a chubby, nervous looking man, put out his cigar and glanced
apprehensively at the bald man seated across from him.
"No," he mumbled, reluctantly setting out a mint Mewtwo for all to see. Rude
carefully picked the coveted card up, examined it,
and very slowly turned to face Franky again.
"What izzit Rude?" asked one of the other traders, peering suspiciously at
the card. "Somethin' up?" Rude very calmly sat the
card down, eyes still locked on Franky. "Yeah, it's fine.........." and at
this Franky sighed with relief....
"...............Except all his cards are freakin' COUNTERFEITS."
The entire table erupted in chaos. The terrified Franky leapt up and made a
dash for the door, but was tackled to the ground by
three heavy set Junonites. Rude approached him with the card, and very
carefully shoved the counterfeit in the chubby man's
mouth, choking him. "You like this card, eh Franky? Well, you can take it
with you." Turning to his companions, he nodded
at the staircase going back up aboveground. "Teach him a lesson for me, eh
guys?" The three burly men nodded and dragged
the struggling man out of the room, to whatever fate his Pokemon
counterfeits had led him. Rude turned back to the remaining
players and glanced around the table.
"So, who's got a mint Meowth?"
Several hours later Rude came out of the basement with bulging pockets and a
self-satisfied smile. He met Reno standing at
the corner of the alleyway and the two matched strides as they walked down
the bustling sidewalks.
Reno grinned at his partner jovially. "Another good session?"
The red haired Turk snickered at his solemn partner. "Honestly Rude, I don't
know why the hell you collect those things. When
I said you needed a hobby I didn't mean THIS."
Rude's face never changed expression as he replied to his friend's taunts.
"I could say the same thing about your cosplay
group, Sailor Reno." The smile promptly fled from Reno's face and a scowl
replaced it. Now both men were silent.
Rude let a small smirk creep onto his features and continued staring
straight ahead, glasses once again pulled down despite
the now complete darkness that blanketed the area. He didn't even bother to
look at the chalk-outlined sketch of an unfortunate
who had fallen from one of the surrounding buildings to the pavement below.
But his smirk grew by an inch as he passed the
It was a tough game. But hey -- No one tried to swindle Rude out of a Raichu
and got away with it.
Yes, remarkably silly, and not funny in the least, despite my efforts. But I
tried, and it's my first non-serious fic, so there. Props
to Princess Artemis for the "First Edition" line. All e-mails should be sent
as usual to firstname.lastname@example.org G' wan, I dare you.