Whiskey Business - SCP Foundation

Whiskey Business

By: Corax D

Published on 07 Jun 2023 23:47

It was supposed to be a simple job, dammit. Just a handoff of some anomalous relic for a nice payday. We should have known that the deal had gone sour before we even stepped in the door. I even mentioned that something was fishy as we were pulling up to the warehouse, but Sid just flashed that winning smile of his and told me I should know he always has a plan. Rook just let out a deep, rumbling chuckle in response. Sid nearly jumped into the backseat as he berated Rook for a few minutes before he finally calmed down and we could get to business.

Sid was decked out in his usual suit fashion, opting for a red jacket for this job. In contrast, Rook wore a simple black shirt and that broad-brimmed fedora. Like Rook, my style rarely changes from my sky-blue jacket and white pants. I’ve never been partial to suits as they restrict my movements a bit, but Sid always insists upon it.

The guard at the door had eyes on us as soon as we entered the main yard, though I’m sure Rook had noticed him back in the car–as I had. Of course, he wanted to confiscate our weapons, which Sid and Rook obliged by each handing over one of their weapons–the other hidden weapons made such a simple formality. For myself, I didn’t even need to threaten the man. A simple denial and a hard look were enough to get the man to back down. He must be new. Inside the warehouse sat dozens of crates of varying sizes, no doubt all full of anomalous artifacts of some type. In the center of the room was a large table surrounded by chairs, several of them already occupied. At the head of the table sat Donovan Reail. He was an up-and-coming dealer within the anomalous community, and his rapid success showed in his arrogance. Rook and I had already counted the half-dozen men up in the catwalks and the four in the shadows around the crates. Counting the three enforcers sitting at the table, that made thirteen goons we might have to deal with. I’d count the one at the door, but I’m certain he’ll run at the first sign of trouble.

My mouth barely moved as I shared a few muttered words with Rook. ‘I don’t like this.’

‘Yeah, Sid, they got mooks all over the place.’

‘Calm down, guys. I told ya I got a plan.’

Rook and I shared an all too common look as Sid butted into our concerns. My hand gripped the handle of my cane a bit harder at Sid’s swagger and assurance. Rook’s fingers were twitching but didn’t make a move toward the hidden gun under his left arm.

‘Donny, ol’ pal! How the hell are ya?! I don’t think we’ve seen each other since that job in Backdoor Soho!’

The look that Donovan cast Sid’s way held little more than contempt and a fraying patience that only held because of the prospect of a payday.

‘Yes, Inside, I remember that particular deal…intimately. As I recall, our transaction went quite smoothly! However, when the UIU showed up to bust up the scene, you three immediately ran when you saw that ‘Pops’ was leading the charge. Leaving us to deal with those zealous, underpaid idiots.’

For once, Sid’s haughty attitude faltered. A nervous cough came from him as he pulled lightly at the collar of his shirt.

‘Oh-ho…yes, that. Well, you know how these things go sometimes! When the feds bust down the door, it’s every man for himself!’

As Sid was speaking, he was using his usual flare with dramatic gestures and bombastic philosophy. While it grated on me, it did always give Rook and I a chance to watch the scene while Sid did the dealing. As it was, both of us were acutely aware that the twelve goons had moved out of the shadows. And they looked ready for something.

‘Oh, Inside. It’s funny that you say that. Because I couldn’t agree more.’

It was always so quick when things go to shit.

Donovan had finished his statement by drawing a revolver and leveling it at Sid. At the first sight of the metal flashing in the warehouse lights, I was moving. In one fluid sequence, I was in the air, my sword already leaving the false cane scabbard. Then I was on the table in front of Sid. It was a trifling matter for me to intercept the bullet and slice it in half. I wasn’t finished, though, and in a matter of a moment, I was across the large table and kneeling in front of Donovan. In one hand, I gripped his hair and held his head back, neck fully exposed. In my other was my blade, held steadily against his throat.

Six gunshots rang out in the time it took me to protect Sid and pacify Donovan—not that I was concerned about any of them. Not a single one had come from the surrounding goons.

A few moments later, I counted the sound of six bodies falling and slamming into the surrounding concrete. Rook had cleared out the half-dozen men on the catwalks.

A familiar laughter rang out behind me and I was soon joined by Sid as he popped up on the conference table and took a long, exaggerated stretch before gingerly strolling down towards Donovan and I. He’d squat down next to me and grin broadly at the captive man before us.

‘Now, now, Donny. I know you’re miffed about Soho, but did you need to try and take us out like this? That’s just in poor taste and not becoming of upstanding criminals like us, ain’t it?’

It was then that Sid noticed the bottle of liquor sitting next to Donovan and would make a show of surveying it.

‘Well, shit, would ya look at this? 160 proof? Donny, you’re really looking to have a good time, ain’t ya? OH! And it’s Dwarven fire whiskey, too!’

With more flourish, Sid produced a handkerchief from inside his coat and poured the whiskey on it to soak it a bit. Before stuffing the bottle, he’d consider the soaking rag and the bottle for a few moments.

'Hang on now, this stuff is too high quality to just waste it all!'

With a shrug, he raised the bottle in a salute, then taking a long drink. The plume of smoke that rose from his mouth was proof that the liquor was genuine Dwarven fire whiskey.

‘OOOOO! Hot damn, that’ll really get your engine running. Kami, you want some?’

‘Hands’re full.’

‘Oh, yeah, right. Rook?’

‘Kinda making sure you don’t get put full of holes.’

‘Well, fine, more for the pyre.’

Sid’s eyes leveled with Donovan’s, and that playful smile spread back over his lips as he firmly stuffed the soaking rag into the bottle and produced a lighter. As he flicked the lighter open and closed a few times he leaned in close to the sweating, overweight gangster in my hands, and the smile faded.

‘Donny, I’m gonna let you live. Oh, you’re going to lose all your stock here while we’re keeping the relic and taking the money, but I’m letting you live. You wanna know why?’

Donovan swallowed so hard that his throat pressed against my blade and nicked him lightly. A small trail of blood trickled down as he weakly answered.

‘I-I don’t know…’

Finally, Sid flicked on the flame and held it up to the soaked rag. It went up quickly, though Sid held the bottle as he gave one last declaration.

‘Because someone needs to tell everyone else not to fuck with The Chicago Spectre. The ones who will inherit Richie D.’s legacy. The One Vault is real, Donny. And I’m gonna be the one to find it.’

And just like that, the playful grin returned to Sid’s face. He popped back up to his feet, reeled back, and hurled the bottle into the stack of crates. The flames spread easily because of the Dwarven whiskey, but we were already beating a retreat before they had a chance to hop more than a couple of crates.

Sid grabbed the cash and the relic before I released Donovan and kicked his chair over with him in it. Rook began opening fire to cover our escape, which was soon returned as we neared the door.

Over the din of the gunfire I could hear Rook roaring, ‘SID, YOU SAID YOU HAD A FUCKING PLAN!’

In his usual fashion, Sid let out a cackle as he returned a few shots of his own. ‘What’re you talking about?! THIS IS THE PLAN!’

We barrelled through the door with bullets flying all around and quickly beat it to the car. It would have been suspicious to leave the engine running, but I had left the keys in the ignition in case we needed to beat this likely retreat. The engine was roaring to life as Sid and Rook hopped in and I was already redlining the engine before the doors even closed. Donny’s boy at the door had closed the chain-link fence behind us, but it was barely of note as I slammed through it, turned the wheel, and skidded us around onto the main road.

I hadn’t driven more than a mile before Rook slapped my shoulder and shouted, ‘Hey, that’s the fucker with my gun!’

As I thought, the kid at the door had taken off at the first sign of trouble. Although Donovan was surely a few dozen seconds behind us, I slammed on the brakes and we skidded to a halt beside the runner.

‘Guns. Now.’

Rook simply growled at the fledgling goon and he was instantly fumbling in his pockets for Rook and Sid’s guns.

‘Good. Now fuck off and get a proper job, kid.’

With a quick flick of the doorhandle and a swing of his arm, Rook slammed the door into the kid and knocked him off the road into the muddy ditch below. With a shared laugh, we sped away down the highway and left the blaze of the warehouse behind us.

Though, Sid took a minute to hang out the window and look back as the flames found the rest of Donovan’s liquor. I could only see the explosion in the rear-view mirror, but fuck me if it didn’t look like a job well done.