Siap
02-02-2007, 02:11
OOC Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=515997)
OOC: This is open, provided you sign up in the OOC thread.
IC:
The two police officers holding shotguns kicked at the door. "We have a warrant to search the premises."
Two officers stood in front of room 21 at the Dew Drop Inn just outside Birmingham, Alabama, Kicking. "Son, open the damn door. I'll kick it in!"
A scared voice came back from inside. "Let me see the warrant!"
"Open the damn door Smitty and we'll show it to you."
The smallish, skinny man on the inside slid a large dresser in front of the door. Need to buy time. He thought. "Slide it under the door! I need to see it before I let you in! This ain't Russia, y'know!"
He quickly shoved his possesions into a small duffel bag, and stuffed papers into another bag. He heaved both his bag and the briefcase out the window.
"My brother works at the construction site and he can get me dynamite! I'll blow up this damn building with you inside of it if you don't let me in!" Smitty slowly grabbed his shoes, removing the laces quickly and quietly. He then moved the dresser back several inches and opened the door. A fat arm with a revolver came in. Smitty slammed the door, forcing the arm to drop the revolver. "Sheriff, this don't look like no warrant. I thought you was a man o' peace." Smitty looked at the face connected to the arm and smiled, opening the door slightly. A fist flew at him, which he trapped with the other arm in the door. He then fastened the chain and bent the sheriff's thumbs back and quickly tied an exceedingly complicated knot around his fingers and the chain. "Sheriff, you come at me and you break your thumbs. You try to bust down the door, your fingers come out of the joints, and you pull back, you'll break your arms. So, I'd advise sitting still for a bit.
Smitty gathered the revolver off of the floor, looking at the make. "I see you boys never trust an automatic. Thats not a bad policy." He tucked the revolver into his belt and opened the nightstand, removing his own heavily customized Colt 1911 pistol and the Gideon Bible. "Don't hurt y'self, Sheriff." Smitty put away the gun and the Bible, and picked up a crate marked "Miracle Tonic" and a small metal vial which he placed on a chain around his neck. Sons o' Bitches always want somethin' when they don't even know what it does. He hopped out the window and darted to the small office in back of the hotel.
"Checking out." He said to the man.
"Smitty, the sheriff is going to tar and feather you. Your a dead man."
"The hell I am, Billy." He threw down a wad of cash on the table. "Two grand, cash and the keys to my car."
"What you want?"
"The Great Red Whale."
The man stared at him, aghast. "If it wasn't what you did for my wife, I'd call the sherrif in here now." The man gave him the keys. "Go 'round the construction site. The sherrif's got it all blocked. Goes right to the expressway. The Whale has a full tank. It's Five hours to the state border. Don't stop until your past it." Smitty grabbed the keys. "Don't worry 'bout me." He ran out the door.
Three hours and forty five minutes later...
The giant red convertible was flying down the highway. Smitty was cackling, which grew into full-blown mania when he saw the "Welcome to Tennessee" sign. Noticing a small diner on the side of the road, just past the sign, he lifted the handbrake, leaving a giant trail of rubber across the state line into the diner parking lot." He staggered into the diner, panting. He faced the homely woman running the place and chuckled. "Free breakfast for everyone here and a bottle of coca-cola for me." He slid what he realized to be one of his few remaining bills on the table. He didn't care what time it was. All he knew was that he was free.
OOC: This is open, provided you sign up in the OOC thread.
IC:
The two police officers holding shotguns kicked at the door. "We have a warrant to search the premises."
Two officers stood in front of room 21 at the Dew Drop Inn just outside Birmingham, Alabama, Kicking. "Son, open the damn door. I'll kick it in!"
A scared voice came back from inside. "Let me see the warrant!"
"Open the damn door Smitty and we'll show it to you."
The smallish, skinny man on the inside slid a large dresser in front of the door. Need to buy time. He thought. "Slide it under the door! I need to see it before I let you in! This ain't Russia, y'know!"
He quickly shoved his possesions into a small duffel bag, and stuffed papers into another bag. He heaved both his bag and the briefcase out the window.
"My brother works at the construction site and he can get me dynamite! I'll blow up this damn building with you inside of it if you don't let me in!" Smitty slowly grabbed his shoes, removing the laces quickly and quietly. He then moved the dresser back several inches and opened the door. A fat arm with a revolver came in. Smitty slammed the door, forcing the arm to drop the revolver. "Sheriff, this don't look like no warrant. I thought you was a man o' peace." Smitty looked at the face connected to the arm and smiled, opening the door slightly. A fist flew at him, which he trapped with the other arm in the door. He then fastened the chain and bent the sheriff's thumbs back and quickly tied an exceedingly complicated knot around his fingers and the chain. "Sheriff, you come at me and you break your thumbs. You try to bust down the door, your fingers come out of the joints, and you pull back, you'll break your arms. So, I'd advise sitting still for a bit.
Smitty gathered the revolver off of the floor, looking at the make. "I see you boys never trust an automatic. Thats not a bad policy." He tucked the revolver into his belt and opened the nightstand, removing his own heavily customized Colt 1911 pistol and the Gideon Bible. "Don't hurt y'self, Sheriff." Smitty put away the gun and the Bible, and picked up a crate marked "Miracle Tonic" and a small metal vial which he placed on a chain around his neck. Sons o' Bitches always want somethin' when they don't even know what it does. He hopped out the window and darted to the small office in back of the hotel.
"Checking out." He said to the man.
"Smitty, the sheriff is going to tar and feather you. Your a dead man."
"The hell I am, Billy." He threw down a wad of cash on the table. "Two grand, cash and the keys to my car."
"What you want?"
"The Great Red Whale."
The man stared at him, aghast. "If it wasn't what you did for my wife, I'd call the sherrif in here now." The man gave him the keys. "Go 'round the construction site. The sherrif's got it all blocked. Goes right to the expressway. The Whale has a full tank. It's Five hours to the state border. Don't stop until your past it." Smitty grabbed the keys. "Don't worry 'bout me." He ran out the door.
Three hours and forty five minutes later...
The giant red convertible was flying down the highway. Smitty was cackling, which grew into full-blown mania when he saw the "Welcome to Tennessee" sign. Noticing a small diner on the side of the road, just past the sign, he lifted the handbrake, leaving a giant trail of rubber across the state line into the diner parking lot." He staggered into the diner, panting. He faced the homely woman running the place and chuckled. "Free breakfast for everyone here and a bottle of coca-cola for me." He slid what he realized to be one of his few remaining bills on the table. He didn't care what time it was. All he knew was that he was free.