Hatchet Man

[Oxidizer]

Awesome as usual. Particularly liked the ending, which was well-done and ominous.

 

I can't really give you the kind of feedback you deserve 'cause my mind's gone completely blank, but know that I liked it (see? ).

[saltinespike]

For the record, David is not meant as it David Hunnington, so I'm sorry if that confused anyone. Anyways, thanks for your kind words! I think there will only be one more part of this chapter, then I start one the still unnamed chapter 3.

[Coral_City]

Great f*ckin' chapter. Definitely intensifying -- as always, progression + development are great, writing is good, description is decent. Overall, keep up the good writing!

[Vercetti21]

That chapter had some of the best dialog I've ever seen on here.

 

Good stuff, I love how this story is shaping out. Especially Blood Money's story, which I am interested to see what happens next. Although the story may be slightly overcrowded with characters of all different stories, which can be confusing at times, it's all for the better.

 

Bring on the next chapter!

[Chickstick]

A fantastic chapter. This is getting pretty good, not that it wasn't before.

 

Looking forward to the next part.

[saltinespike]

Negotiations (Part Four)

 

Shawn smiles as a desperate king stutters over his words trying to explain himself. Aaron Jacobson, better known as A-Ron, pleads with the cryptic hit man within his mountainous brothel. “See man, I’m try’na help you! I call my guards off, get The Black Eights off yo ass, protect your woman, and this is how you thank me?”

 

Shawn fires a warning shot from the pistol he’s holstering and pushes it deeper into the pimp’s chin. “I’m not here to kill you, but I won’t hesitate if you push it. All I want is the money you failed to pay me.”

 

“Don’t gimme that sh*t, man, I know you better than you think. You got plenty of money. You wanna snoop around; make sure I’m still loyal. You could f*ck off if you gon’ play me like that. I been doin’ just fine with you in prison; lucky I didn’t ship your little bitch off to Miami. Now we can keep in dealings, if you can loosen your asshole up. You so uptight, nigga – tell you what, I’ll give you one of these bitches for a freebie. Pick one.” Shawn loosens his grip on his former client, slowly lowering his gun to his abdomen.

 

“I didn’t come here for that.” As his anger subsides, Shawn straightens his uniform up, still keeping a cautious grip on his weapon. He hears a rumbling engine approaching from the parking lot – it dies with the turn of a key. “Who is that?” Shawn asks, approaching the front room’s blinds.

 

“Probably just another client of mine, Shawn, no need to worry.”

 

“Sh*t!” Shawn hurriedly busts through a nearby door. Pieces of a business suit scatter across the room. A nude man and woman vigorously hump each other on a bed placed in the center of the confidential area. The woman on top looks around, stopping when she sees the stranger staring at them. “Sorry, uh,” Shawn stumbles. “Keep on.”

 

The man continues but the prostitute climbs off, much to the customer’s dismay. She wraps herself in a towel and heads to the door, to which Shawn jams it closed. A-Ron looks to the room, disregarding it when he notices it is the room Shawn is in. “Anyways, what did you need?”

 

“We found a little somethin’ crawlin’ down Ballberry Street, thought he might be of interest to you.” The Black Eights give the superior an evil smile. The hooker finally manages to storm out, half naked. The gangsters turn around, but do not spot Shawn, for he backs into the darkness, closing the door to a crack shortly after. He watches as the men engage in a conversation.

 

“Oh? Who would that be?” the pimp demands. Shawn squints, trying to make out more detail of the familiar victim.

 

“Daryl, ‘Blood Money’.” The men present Blood Money, who is bruised and bleeding. DK, the group’s leader, speaks. “Thought you’d fit him with a good punishment, if you know what I mean.”

 

Moments pass. “No… what you want me to do to him?”

 

“Well, you into the black market and all, we thought you could, well… be creative.” The men stand nervously downtrodden from the unruly tycoon.

 

“Well?! Pay up, these shipments ain’t free, nigga!”

 

They look around, confused, but pay him nonetheless. “You seen Shawn around? Lil’ bitch you got there squealed like a f*ckin’ pig. Told us Dillard got out.”

 

“Why the hell should Shawn Dillard come to me? I actually wanted to talk to you about keepin’ an eye out for him. He’s got some bad blood with me. Anyways, good lookin’ out. I’ll deal with the pusher, but get the f*ck outta here. Don’t want anyone to see us around, aight?”

 

“Sounds good, dude. Be back tomorrow.” With the Eights’ withdrawal, Shawn comes out, smiling at A-Ron.

 

“Naw, nigga, you ain’t gon’ do jack sh*t, because if you do, guess who it falls on… me. Keep away from the Black Eights and we don’t got no problems, aight?”

 

“I got you, man.” Shawn shakes his finger, pleasantly surprised at the pimp’s honesty. He smiles as he exits through the door, after making sure the coast is clear.

 

“What? You forgot I’m a man of my word? Two weeks in prison and you already forgot. Shawn!” The hit man turns around, halfway out the door. “I don’t wanna see you around here, neither. Don’t wanna start no sh*t you can’t get out of. If you don’t mind, I got business to take care of.” Shawn shakes his finger once more and departs with a smile on his face, but still somewhat curious at Blood Money’s presence.

 

---

 

“Yeah, Shawn will be glad to know you’re here. He said he had to run a few errands.” Vincent spreads out along an elegant couch, drinking wine. Louis sits across from him, leaning forward. He’s desperate, needing information.

 

“I can’t stay here, man. This will be one of the first places the FBI will look for me. I need to talk to Shawn, now! So if you would please hand me a goddamn phone—“ He is interrupted by a loud buzzer.

 

“That’s probably him now, wanting to get in the gates.” Louis sighs as Vincent enters the other room. Following a loud thud, Vincent yelps, “GET THE F*CK OUTSIDE, NOW!” His troops nervously scurry about, rushing to find their guns and hurry into the rainy night. They sprint toward the gates half-dressed as Shawn pulls up.

 

He spots a van pulling away, leaving a beheaded stripper in a ditch in front of the main gates. "F*CK!" Shawn shifts his truck into gear and slams down the gas pedal, recklessly sliding in an attempt to chase the van. The van gains speed as Shawn regains control – he speeds after them, but stops halfway down the street, ruling it hopeless.

 

He makes a U-turn and heads back to the entrance, where Vincent is gripping his sister’s body, silently weeping. His army stands back, observing the scene. Louis continues to watch as Shawn walks up to his side. They both keep hard faces, seeming unaffected by the tragedy. Louis speaks to Shawn first, “there’s a big mess that needs cleanin’ up.”

Edited January 26, 2008 by saltinespike

[Chickstick]

Good chapter. Looking forward to the next.

[Oxidizer]

Stole the letters straight from my keyboard.

 

Excellent chapter and I too shall be looking forward to the next part!

[Coral_City]

Great chapter!

 

Keep it up, spikey

[Vercetti21]

A fair chapter. Some parts were pretty confusing, but the writing was good. Although it wouldn't have hurt to have a bit more detail there.

 

Good stuff, waiting for the next one.

[Coral_City]

A fair chapter. Some parts were pretty confusing, but the writing was good. Although it wouldn't have hurt to have a bit more detail there.

 

Good stuff, waiting for the next one.

Ehh, my sentiments exactly. Had to do a bit of re-reading there...

[TonyZimmzy]

Nice chapter. A lot of Randy..err..Shawn is always a good thing .

[Oxidizer]

On a nostalgia trip. Is this being picked up anytime soon, or...?

[saltinespike]

Yeah. You should know best, Oxi: I'm on an inspiration drought. Combine that with a writer's block and you get what I have now. I'm hoping to redeem it soon, though. I'm trying to squeeze some of it through now.

[saltinespike]

Emergency (Part One)

 

“As we mourn the death of young Christine Moretti, the Moretti Family and the Catholic Church would like to request a moment of silence.” The priest bows his head, along with the rest of the limited group. Vincent symbolically follows a cross along his upper body with his hand, gripping the reflective cross that graced his chest shortly after. He sighs, seeking strength in the metal necklace, to no avail. “I believe Vincent would like to speak a few words,” the priest announces, lifting his head.

 

The godfather sighs, grieved by the responsibility. He steps up to the podium, grabbing an unopened bible from the religious leader. Joseph squints, noting the small transaction. He nudges Omar, a capo, whispering a warning softly; Vincent takes note of the subtle comment. Omar Zavatski parts, heading for the parking lot of the large cemetery. Putting on a shallow face, Vincent begins his eulogy with a few fake tears. “Christine was a great sister and a wonderful person; she truly added a lot to this family. A mere 22 years old,” he sniffs, “Christine had an optimistic view for the future. She wanted to help the world in a wonder—“ He is interrupted by an explosion.

 

Grasping the unstable podium, he spots fire shooting up from the distant parking lot. The crowd turns around, surprised by the sudden boom, in the midst of which is Shawn. He climbs up from his shocked fall and reviews the blaze beaming from the lot. Within seconds, he walks away from the procession, reaching into his pocket, which holds a cell phone and a gun. With hesitation, he grabs the cell phone, quickly dialing Louis. “I see it,” Louis informs him, before the hit man can get a word off. “I’m headed there now.”

 

“No!” Shawn nearly yelps, “I’m hopping the gate. Meet me there.” Before his assistant can object, he hangs up, leaving the driver to speed around the burial park. Vincent catches up to Shawn, panting, for the dark tuxedo squeezes the air from him.

 

“Shawn,” he sighs, “I’m coming with you.”

 

“No,” he retorts, glancing at the terrified crowd behind him. “You need to get your family out of here. Don’t take any of the cars you drove here, they’re rigged. Louis has been in the car he has, so I’m taking that. The Giordanos shouldn’t retaliate, but you shouldn’t leave things to chance.” Louis pulls up in a sleek black car as Shawn hops the small gate. He turns to address the mob boss. “Call your boys and tell them to rush here, so that your family can get away safe. I’ll head…” he grunts, disgusted. Opening the door, he finishes his briefing. “I’ll figure something out, you just get your family out.”

 

“F*ck,” he mumbles, not understanding what to do in the midst of the chaos. He decides to obey Shawn’s orders as he watches the car drive off, pulling his cell phone out. “Frank? It’s me. We’ve had a bit of a situation. You need to get here, now.”

 

---

 

“What you got?” Louis inquires.

 

“I got jack sh*t, what do you f*ckin’ got?”

 

The accomplice ponders the question, mulling over any possible Giordano ties. His eyes widen and he nearly slams on the brakes. “Sh*t! Rachel Daniels: fiancée to Leonard Giordano and former lover of our old friend Christian.”

 

“Christian…” Shawn broods, confused. His eyes also widen, “…Wilcox?! The drug dealer?! He f*cked around with Giordano’s woman?!”

 

“Heh, yeah. I hung out with him a bit when you were in the big house. He ain’t with the black market no more, but apparently she’s in deep sh*t with Giordano. She’s been laying low working as a waitress for some sh*tty ass diner. What she can tell us, I don’t know yet, but it’s gotta be better than what we have now. I say it’s worth a shot.”

 

“Alright then, let’s hit it up.”

 

---

 

“Jeffrey Angel,” Mark Hammond narrates, explaining the criminal to his boss, George Beyer, “hit man. Apparently Officer…” He checks the papers. “Austin Orville arrested him, and Chief Collins, who caught the APB, forwarded him to us. He has ties to the Moretti Family, or did before he resigned. He says he thinks he’s being hunted by the Morettis, which is why the officer, who was apparently investigating a different case, found Mr. Angel lurking in an abandoned warehouse. I don’t think he can provide us with much, but he may be able to pin a murder or two on Vincent, leading to his arrest and interrogation.”

 

“Wow,” the superior compliments. “I must say, Hammond, this is really impressive. Is he ready for questioning?”

 

“He’s in room 12 right now, sir, simply waiting.”

 

“Excellent,” Beyer answers, smirking, and heads toward the interrogation cell area. Mark Hammond shrugs the lone comment off, returning to his desk. An e-mail catches his eye: “You F*cking Pig”.

 

---

 

Hammond anxiously waits by his boss’s office, savagely clutching a group of papers. The head approaches, smiling, almost missing the nervous subordinate. “Well, we’ve got our information!” he exclaims, overjoyed.

 

“Sir,” Mark stutters.

 

“He’s on the team! Jeffrey Angel!”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

“Yeah! What’s the problem?”

 

“I just received a death threat.”

 

(To Be Continued...)

Edited May 24, 2008 by saltinespike

[Oxidizer]

The long-awaited reprisal has finally happened! That was as wicked as anticipated. Most excellent stuff, sénor.

 

@ That e-mail BTW. How rude!

[Vercetti21]

Awesome stuff - just don't forget where you got the idea about the funeral incident!

 

I'm liking the cliffhanger. Perhaps the Morettis suspect the cops are on to them?

[Chickstick]

Good to see this back.

 

The funeral scene at the start was well done, and of course I enjoyed this. Hopefully there'll be an update in the near future.

[saltinespike]

Emergency (Part Two)

 

“What can I get for you fellas today?” the waitress inquires in a deep Chicago accent. She stands with her hand on her hip, staring at the built male looking into the menu. He places the list on the table and looks into the server’s hypnotizing eyes.

 

“I’ll stick with coffee for now, thanks.” Shawn looks at his large counterpart, as does the waitress.

 

“Oh, me?” Louis asks, “I’ll have…” He searches the menu, handing it to the woman when he decides, “your six pound burger.” When he is sure they are out of earshot, Louis leans forward, “Did you catch that? Her nametag?”

 

“Rachel,” Shawn replies, not as excited. He senses Louis’s curiosity and continues, “When she gets back, we’ll drop Giordano’s name, perhaps offer her some money in exchange for information. That’s really all I got. If it comes down to it, we’ll just take her. Something is up if she works at a diner. She might—“ He is interrupted by the ring of his own cell phone. “Hello? What? Oh sh*t, are you ok? You got who? What are you gonna do with him? Well listen, I’m at the diner where Giordano’s woman works at. I don’t know why, but I’m going to find out. Do you need me back there? Hang in there. This shouldn’t take long.”

 

“Vince?” Louis inspects; Shawn nods. “What’s the problem?”

 

“They were chased on the way home, by Giordano’s soldiers. They killed them all except for one, who they’re holding up in a warehouse.” An elder couple turns around disturbed by the conversation. Shawn stops, glaring at them. “He’s back at the Estates, trying to figure out what to do. We have to take her quick.” The waitress approaches, holding Shawn’s coffee. The men make eye contact, loosely gripping their weapons.

 

The older woman in the other booth cleared her throat, making her move. “Excuse me, young lady,” the woman blurts. Rachel places the coffee on the table and quickly attends to the other customers. The duo watch as the senior whispers to the woman. A stare turns into a glance as the woman quickly walks to the back, trying not to look offbeat. They quickly get up, chasing her into the kitchen. When they run into a waiter, Shawn flashes a badge. “Detective John Spooner, this is official police business. I need to speak to Rachel Daniels immediately.”

 

“Oh, uh,” the waiter stutters, “right away, Detective.” The men follow him into the public restroom. “Rachel, they’re cops.”

 

“Rachel Daniels?” Shawn investigates in a professional tone. “We need to speak to you about private matters and this would best be done… in private.”

 

“A bathroom is private enough, officer.” Louis dismisses the male server as Shawn approaches the closed stall Rachel is confined in. A long pause follows. “You aren’t cops.”

 

“My name is Shawn Dillard and if you do not get out of the stall right now, we’re going to bust in.” He waits. “Alright, you have until the count of three. One… two…” The door opens and Rachel walks out, hesitantly. “Good,” Shawn narrates. He whips out his pistol and pushes it into her back, strictly grabbing her arm in the process. “We’ll talk in the car. Got it?”

 

She bites her lip, forcing back terrified tears. “I’m going to put this gun away, and we’re going to walk to the car, nice and steady.” Shawn pockets the weapon and releases her, exiting into the outdoors after the girl. The aged woman watches from inside, whipping out her cell phone, only dialing three numbers.

 

---

 

The gangster laughs grimly, punching his victim again. He circles the bruised man, as if to inspect his condition. Blood Money is tied up, seated on a chair unhindered. “What the f*ck am I gonna do with you, Big Money? I mean, killin’ ya won’t do sh*t for me – the cops are already lookin’ for you – no need puttin’ up a blood trail. A-Ron won’t touch you, so I damn well can’t putchoo in the black market. So I’m left with one goddamn strenuous question: what the f*ck am I gonna do with you?”

 

An aid stands in the corner, making no attempt to cover his smile. “I happen to have this friend that hasn’t gotten any in quite some time, Daryl.” The man in the corner turns the camera on, resting it on the tripod. He unbuckles his pants, approaching the helpless gangster. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down nigga! Wait ‘til I f*ckin’ leave the buildin’ – I ain’t in to all that gay sh*t.” He glares at the mysterious man, who is revealed to be a large white jock. “Jesus Christ.” He turns away, slamming the door on his way out.

 

The man walks closer, smiling even more; he rips the tape from his mouth, causing a small scream. The predator drops his pants – Blood Money utilizes the pause to use his freed legs to kick the killer between the legs. He falls back in the chair, successfully hitting the target. He climbs up, delivering a head butt to the armed culprit. Quickly, pulling his hands to the front of him, he attacks again. The thug shoots Daryl in the abdomen, causing him to also drop to the ground.

 

Before the assailant can get another shot off, Blood Money sacks him, trapping him under his body. He throws in a few punches before the wrestling for the gun. With a few choice hits and a bite to the fingers, Blood Money obtains the gun, immediately backing away from the man. Realizing he’s got the advantage, he stomps the man’s head to the ground, jumping on him afterward. He smashes the butt of the gun over the man's head, knocking him unconscious.

 

He searches the room, finally noting he is in a basement. There is only one door, that of which connects to the living room. He places his ear against the thin door; it’s met by voices. He readies himself, tightly gripping the gun, and kicks the door through.

 

(To Be Continued...)

Edited May 24, 2008 by saltinespike

[Oxidizer]

That was so beyond incredible. Specifically the basement scene. Now that is my type of thing! *salivates*

 

Very good job.

[Chickstick]

Oxi said it all. Another good chapter.

[Vercetti21]

I like where this whole thing is going, and I agree that the basement scene was interesting. The story, in general, seems to be getting darker, which I like. The dialog is top-notch, and brings out interesting characteristics of different people. Only thing weird to me is that the story jumps around between chapter segments, such as the scene at the funeral and then the diner. Ah well, I guess the in-between stuff isn't really important, but try not to become too inconsistent with your writing. Not much else to say, to be honest. Good work, man.

[saltinespike]

Part Three tonight.

[Vercetti21]

HELL. YES.

 

So the story's not over...

 

Welcome back to the dark side.

[saltinespike]

F*cking christ. One more day, because the nearly finished thing was lost when my computer decided to crash (stupid Windows Vista). Maybe some new guys will take a gander at it.

 

May 23rd.

Edited May 24, 2008 by saltinespike

[saltinespike]

Emergency (Part Three)

 

“God damn it. No one’s left?” Stuart kicks his desk repeatedly in a fit of anger when his fear is confirmed. He clears everything on top with a furious sweep, leaving his employees to cower in the corner. “Do you know what this means?! God damn it,” he repeats. Mario enters his office, sweating and dirty, but otherwise unharmed. Stuart approaches him aggressively; even the large hit man flinches. “YOU! What the f*ck happened?!”

 

“The car f*cking exploded!” he yelps. “We chased them like you asked! Nighs is dead and they took DeLuca!”

 

“You’ve got to be F*CKING ME!!!” Stuart rampages on in the heat of his tantrum, practically destroying the once polished office. The two men who he had been venting to sneak out, leaving Mario to watch the psychotic fit. “You get the hell out of here.”

 

“Where do you want me to go, Mr.—“ He’s interrupted.

 

“I don’t care where the hell you go, get the f*ck out of my office! Don’t come back! I am three seconds away from shooting you with your own f*cking gun! MOVE!” He quickly exits, trying to locate where the other two men went. “God damn it,” Giordano sighs, finally realizing what a mess he’s made. Of the rubble, he picks up the phone, slamming it onto the desk; he quickly dials the number of his adviser. “Kali! We have a problem. I need you here right now. I don’t care if you’re on a date with Cindy f*cking Crawford – if you want a dick tomorrow morning, I suggest you hurry!”

 

---

 

The car parks inside of a deserted car garage. Shawn pulls the key from the ignition and the men in front turn around to face the woman. “I need to know everything you know about Leonard Giordano,” Shawn begins. The woman chuckles in disbelief.

 

“Is that what this is about?” she laughs. The men continue to glare at her as she continues laughing. “Well god damn!” she hoots, “I thought you guys were working for Lenny. What a relief.” She sobers up, seeing the angst in his eyes. “I ain’t with him no more. I couldn’t handle being his little slut anymore. That’s really all I was. I met him when I was working on the streets; he was kind enough to pay the more than decent wages I was getting at the time. He became my lone client and he wanted me to be his wife, due to pressure from the family.

 

“I accepted, figuring I’d be swimming in a pool of gold if I married into a mafia family. His brother abused me, leading to fights between the two along with problems with the…” her words trailed off and she pointed a shocked finger at the duo, “…Morettis.” They nod. “It became too much, so I broke into his safe and stole $5,000, to support me and my child. I’ve been working at the diner ever since. He’s come in a few times but Ray usually just tells them that I quit without information on where I’d be.”

 

“Well sh*t, that gives us… nothing. Is there any way you can contact him? He can’t hurt you under our protection.”

 

“There’s no immediate way, but I can look into it.” Shawn revives the car and pulls out of the large lot. “Will you guys do me a favor? My house is just off of Ballberry Street. Can I pick up my kid and go with you guys? Seems a bit safer than working in a half-sh*t diner.” They agree and make their way into the ghetto. Sirens interrupt the soft music – Shawn pulls over.

 

---

 

A plain room engulfs the four men. One is bound to a chair, one circles him like a predator, and two stand guard. “Antonio DeLuca,” Vincent narrates, running a dirty finger across the back of his prey’s bloody neck. “If I had known you worked for Giordano, I would have already destroyed that place. I overestimated him – figured he might have a decent crew, but no – instead, he has you. Hard to believe we’ve made any progress at all. If Leonard’s simply sending Kamikazes out, I think we can strike any time. How about you, Toni?”

 

“I ain’t workin’ for Leonard,” DeLuca spouts, spitting upon the utterance of his name. Vincent gives him a curious look. “I’m working for Stuart.”

 

Vincent seems unsurprised, not affected by the words. “I know who you’re working for; I was simply waiting for him to strike. But I can’t help but wonder why he would send you guys out to kill my guys. We had an agreement and you guys broke that deal when you shot at us. What was your intention?”

 

“We were sent to deliver a message, a message we did not quite agree with. Leonard did better with this – Stu’s gone insane.”

 

Vincent withdraws his gun and pressures it into his victim’s cheek, amused by his unmoved reaction. “It takes a man not to flinch in his moment of death.” The ring of a cell phone interrupts the exchange. “Hello? You what? Good. She told them what? Good. Wait, she’s coming here? Why? Well Jesus Christ, Shawn, you can’t handle this sh*t on your own? I know I do, but I thought a grown f*cking man such as you could put two and two together and pitch me the names. What the f*ck ever, bring her. No, it’s fine, just bring the bitch and we’ll deal with this sh*t together. Yes, he’s sitting right here. No, you interrupted that. Bring her or not, whatever, I gotta go. Alright, later.” He hangs up with a disgruntled moan. The gun returns to Antonio’s head. “So, uh, you mind deliverin’ that message, or do I have to shoot the information out of your brain?”

 

(To Be Continued...)

 

 

----------

 

 

First post is updated. Site should be updated soon.

Edited May 24, 2008 by saltinespike

[Chickstick]

Not bad, a good chapter to return with. Some of the dialogue employed about half way through was excellent, really true to life.

[Coral_City]

There's not much to say, except, keep up the good work!

 

Oh, right, also dialogue needs to be less Godfather-ish and more Goodfellas or Soprano-ish

[Vercetti21]

Not your best, but a pretty good chapter. I agree that your dialog needs some work. I often find myself confused when a character become so enraged that the reader has to question the character's motives. Almost as if he seems too angry about the situation - just slightly enough to drift away from reality a bit. Emotion is good, but too much can be annoying. Just a heads-up.

 

At any rate, I hope you keep this story going, because I'm hooked until the end.

[Eminence]

Finally started reading this, albeit only the first chapter (well, first part of the first chapter, specifically) thus far. Current thoughts:

 

Good opening. It's engaging and to the point - it establishes a good precedent for the entire piece, and draws the reader immediately in. The description does trail off a little, though, for example as this short opening finishes - with a "loud thud". It's pretty bland description - the chair fell with a thud. Not too exciting, imaginative or vivid. Meanwhile, the preceding word - loud - is fairly redundant. Of course the thud is going to be loud. It's similar to saying the hot sun. Of course the sun is hot.

 

Again, however, the second part of the part/chapter opens well - crisp morning air, while a fairly commonly used phrase, is implemented well and is always a solid descriptive phrase. However, the description following on from this, while solid and in-depth, becomes more of a character profile than a narrative; it's based solely on the physical attributes of this person, derailing the narrative as it stops to focus completely on this appearance. It'd be much more effective to splice in other observations for the reader as opposed to a simple description of this one character; after a couple of sentences, it drags on a little.

 

I found this phrase a little later out of place:

 

 

The younger beau’s heart pace quickens

 

This reminds me of using a thesaurus to find another word for 'younger man', without really knowing the word and using it in the wrong context. Really, he's a beau? Why? It's completely out of place and, for the reader, detracts from the flow of the piece as they stop to think - why is this person a beau? This specific word has certain connotations to accompany it - it can't be used as a substitute for 'man', as you were evidently attempting.

 

 

He is pulled backward and heaved into the dirty enclosure of the backstreets.

 

The use of the word 'back-' to describe the location of this character is repetitive, and therefore again somewhat redundant.

 

 

He is kicked twice after his drop, once in the gut and once in the chest.

 

This becomes a little too simply dictated and uninteresting for the reader. Such a large, violent action could - and should - be accompanied by appropriate engaging description. As it stands, this seems too commonplace and ineffective - the reader doesn't really acknowledge what's happening to this character - it's simply a line of diction from the narrative.

 

 

With that, he releases the man, and hastily retrieves his bat. The victim still stood there, trying to catch his breath.

 

Here this should all be the same sentence - the key part is that the second makes little sense on its own. A simple read over this should suffice in order to recognise this.

 

 

A dark “R00591242” is printed on his white tee shirt

 

Within this description, is it really necessary to detail the exact number on his shirt to the reader? Would saying something to generally describe an identification number not suffice?

 

 

Overall, it's not bad. It's nothing special thus far, though. One of the major problems with it, and your writing in general, is that you're often not adventurous enough with your description. You don't go all out with it - it's just the most simple, bare-minimum that you include. This sentence sums this up, I feel:

 

 

He steps through the rusted doorway and into a large room.

 

You often dictate numerous actions to the reader, going through the overall process of what's happening in the story. You craft in well-worked dialogue - I will say that the dialogue you incorporate is authentic and engaging - but the description is basic. 'Rusted' doorway. It's this one word that you include - no more, no less. It makes for a good, simple read, but nothing special. Nothing blowing the reader away with excellent engaging description that's simply a pleasure to read.

 

I'll catch up with the next chapter soon.