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Urban Terror Blogs
Frankie V's blog
Chapter 2: Paging Mister Charles Jordan.
It was the same ritual everyday.
Charles sat on the wall that divides the ally from one side from the other eating his ham sandwich . The city of Toronto had put it there to prevent commercial vehicles from using the ally as a short cut and Charles figures that a lot of the high end shops that use to share the ally were owned by council members probably had a lot to do with it.
It was his wall now and he would always start the day the same way. At the far end of his world he could watch the sun come up over the city of Toronto and as the sun began to flow down the row after row of alleys with a river of light it was the moment that the finger of light touching his face that he knew it was time to start the day.
No need for watches and calendars to mark time Charles though to himself as he looked down at the new scuff mark on his Charles Jordan’s.
It's not like branding means anything these days as during the “happening”, as Charles likes to call it as he was to young to fully understand what was happening at the time, dumpster after dumpster was being filled to the brim with merchandise for the pickings and except for what he could wear to keep cool in the summer and warm in the winter he would be more than happy to trade it all for a half eaten ham sandwich.
As Charles sat eating his sandwich he chuckled to himself as to how strange people find value in objects that has someones name stitched into them. The first thing Charles did was to take a marker and wrote with flair HIS name over this guy Michael Jordan. To bad for Michael, Charles though to himself at the time, if he can't keep track of his own stuff I'll be more than happy to make it my own.
“Can't let my stuff get dirty” rubbing the scuff with the sandwich wrapper Charles was please to see the scuff mark disappear just in time to hear those two words he hears every day at this time.
“Hay Chuck”
“It's Mister Charles Jordan to you good sir” as Charles pushed off the wall with a half attempt of grace and posture.
Truth be told Charles did not have a last name but it was the same joke everyday that he would share with his friend Yoann every morning and most on the streets are not know by name but by first impressions. Charles by his shoes and Yoann called Nono as every time he says no he would say no twice.
So you getting into trouble?
No no
See told you.
So Nono what have you to trade, as Charles picked up his bag with the strange looking cat on the back, I have a few things I know you will like.
Reaching into his cat bag Charles pulls out two packs of cigarettes...sealed.
Charles does not smoke but on the street a single cigarette is worth more than food to some and two packs SEALED makes you a very rich man.
Nono's eyes pop out of his head like a bad cartoon.. “HOLY CRAP WHERE DID YOU GET THOUSE?”
Yeah he smokes.
“Well lets just say a one-percenter is not happy with me right about now”
“I don't know what I got but last night I was down by the river and those UTRT guys were rousting another newbie camp.”
For those of you not in the know as to the way of the streets being a newbie refers to those who have lost their homes and forced out into the streets by the bankers. As misery loves company they always manage to find one another in familiar places and it's those places the UTRT guys don't want you hanging around all day.
“So while they were doing their move along move along thing I jumped into the back of their equipment van and filled my bag with anything I could get my hands on. Don't know what I got, to dark to see, but check it out”
Nono hands the pack to Charles.
“Heavy” Charles remarks nearly dropping the bag of unexpected weight, “You been carrying this all night?”
“Yeah I had to keep moving as someone was following me so I did not have time to see what I got”
“OK then the Charles Jordan trading post is now open for business” Charles says as he props the bag on the edge of his wall.
“YOU TWO STAY RIGHT THERE AND DON”T MOVE”
Call them UTRT, blue meanies, mercs or any multitude of slurs one can think of to describe thous who are no more than hired thugs of the one-pecenters they are still the dumbest bunch of idiots to think that everybody does what they tell them to do.
This and more said in a single look exchanged between Charles and Nono that was punctuated by a single though.
“RUN”
Charles books left, Nono right and just before rabbiting down the side ally Charles shouts out “Nono catch” and toss him the two packs of sealed's “on faith brother” and the last words Charles would ever hear for a long time from his good friend Nono is “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssss” as the two vanish into their world of familiar surroundings.
Now to say Charles knew his backyard would be an understatement as he had long planned out escape routes not seen on any map or programed into hand held GPS portables used by the UTRT and was not the first time he has been chased for what ever reason even if for no reason at all.
Charles though it as a game of catch me if you can and has always won as in all cases the chase would end before it even started. It was like they did not even want to try and mission was accomplished by having him move out of an area much the same way they would roust newbies because some one-percenter did not like them being there.
This was different.
As Charles peeked out from his rabbit hole it was clear that UTRT had control of the streets. Road blocks at ever turn and ally ways guarded.
“What the hell is in this bag” Charles though to himself.
To get an idea what game he was playing this time Charles manages to work his way up to what looked to be a command post.
“That's right sir we have the area boxed in and waiting for the gunship to arrive with the ground scanners”
OK this is NOT a game anymore and these guys have serious intent.
There was no way these guys would catch him even with the gunship, he was to good of a rabbit, but it's for sure they would not just give up as they have in the past and there was only one though that came to Charles.
“I've got to get out of town until it all blows over”
“Next stop train yard.”
Breaking out of the box was easy enough as Charles moved towards the yard through pathways only he knew or had made to ensure he always had more the one or two escape routes and getting down to the yard as mission one was easy considering.
Setting up shop at the edge of the yard Charles scanned with the Opera glasses he keeps in his jacket pocket to find just the right car which did not take long to find the one with the open door.
Now be it myth, legend or fact this is the point of no return where an act of randomness would have taken the story in a different direction. He could have missed the open and inviting door and could have selected a different option but instead of considering options Charles took action.
Running across the yard as fast as his Charles Jordan would carry him he toss the bag through the now moving car door at almost same instance he pulled himself up and standing the last thing he remembers is.
BANG lights out.
They say when your knocked out that is much like falling asleep except for the pounding headache equal to that of a hangover and takes a bit for your brain to figure out just what the hell happened.
As Charles eyes begin to adjust to what his brain is telling him the first thing to registrar was red, lots and lots of red that Charles brain told him he needed to brush the blood out of his eyes. The second thing his brain told him that attached to the red was a face, then a nose, mouth and finally green.
Green eyes staring at you out of a pool of red would make any brain say “screw you buddy your on your own” and Charles sense of self preservation took over as to the basics of survival of fight or flight.
“Easy now Charles your safe...mostly”
“How do you know my name mam?”
The nice lady, well at least she seems nice at the time, points down at Charles shoes.
“I'm assuming a good guess” not taking her eyes off of Charles as if looking for something.
“OK fair enough how did I get here mam?”
“Well as far as I can tell you got bonked by the train car door. The new ones have auto closers to prevent unauthorized travelers such as yourself and will close once the train reaches speed”
“Lucky or unlucky you were just in the right place at the wrong time.. or is that the other way around?”
“I don't believe in luck I make my own mam” Charles says a bit more comfortable with the situation but still unsettled with the visual scanning going on.
Still with the see through gaze..
“Well the luck comes in that it was lucky Pierre found you when he did. Another ten minuets and you would have been hooked to the south bound to Miami Beach Florida”
For those of you not informed after the “happening” MBF as it now called became a stronghold for the haves over the have not's and was a place where newbies tends to disappear rather than moved along moved along as Nono would call it.
“What?”
Where am I?”
The green eyes still staring back.
“Upper New York just this side of the Canadian border”
This was something new to Charles and as he was processing his new reality a rather large man with a patch over one eye walks into the room through the door slightly bigger than him.
“I went through his bag and there was not much of anything of interest except for this”
With ease he toss the plastic wrapped package on to the bed that bounces a few times before settling.
With out looking down and still scanning.
“What is it? Can we eat it”
“Well you could but I doubt your digestive system would take kindly to C4”
For the first time since they meet the nice lady, or at least Charles though, broke target lock and reengaged a new target. There was that look again. An entire conversion taking place as to something that was already decided and agreed to.
Reaching into the footlocker at the foot of the bed the lady in red and green pulls out what looks like a toy, a toy monkey with a windup key sticking out of its back. With practice precision, not the first time to the dance, out comes and the click of the switchblade and the thud of steal on cloth in one single motion.
While pulling out the stuffing by the handful.
“Charles you and I are going to go out on a date”
“Ah mam a date? I'm not sure I understand? Why me? Date!”
The once nice lady, so Charles though, turns to the one eyed man and toss him both the now empty toy along with what we now know is C4 and turns her green lasers back onto Charles.
“Bucko if you can get of of Toronto you have the skills to get me in and out of where I need to go tonight”
“I rather not mam”
The now not so nice lady, so Charles though, stands up and looks down.
“Charles after tonight you have no choice, it's time to pick sides”
moving to the doorway the now scarey lady turns back.
“Oh and you can call me Sarah”
Trailing off down the hall.
“You finished rigging up that monkey Pierre? And while your at it make me a sandwich bitch”
It's funny how gravity at times takes over as the only thing Charles could feel was his entire body sinking into the mattress and his brain telling him he needs to sleep.
The last though on his mind before the lights went out was.
“Why did I not take up smoking?”
Charles sat on the wall that divides the ally from one side from the other eating his ham sandwich . The city of Toronto had put it there to prevent commercial vehicles from using the ally as a short cut and Charles figures that a lot of the high end shops that use to share the ally were owned by council members probably had a lot to do with it.
It was his wall now and he would always start the day the same way. At the far end of his world he could watch the sun come up over the city of Toronto and as the sun began to flow down the row after row of alleys with a river of light it was the moment that the finger of light touching his face that he knew it was time to start the day.
No need for watches and calendars to mark time Charles though to himself as he looked down at the new scuff mark on his Charles Jordan’s.
It's not like branding means anything these days as during the “happening”, as Charles likes to call it as he was to young to fully understand what was happening at the time, dumpster after dumpster was being filled to the brim with merchandise for the pickings and except for what he could wear to keep cool in the summer and warm in the winter he would be more than happy to trade it all for a half eaten ham sandwich.
As Charles sat eating his sandwich he chuckled to himself as to how strange people find value in objects that has someones name stitched into them. The first thing Charles did was to take a marker and wrote with flair HIS name over this guy Michael Jordan. To bad for Michael, Charles though to himself at the time, if he can't keep track of his own stuff I'll be more than happy to make it my own.
“Can't let my stuff get dirty” rubbing the scuff with the sandwich wrapper Charles was please to see the scuff mark disappear just in time to hear those two words he hears every day at this time.
“Hay Chuck”
“It's Mister Charles Jordan to you good sir” as Charles pushed off the wall with a half attempt of grace and posture.
Truth be told Charles did not have a last name but it was the same joke everyday that he would share with his friend Yoann every morning and most on the streets are not know by name but by first impressions. Charles by his shoes and Yoann called Nono as every time he says no he would say no twice.
So you getting into trouble?
No no
See told you.
So Nono what have you to trade, as Charles picked up his bag with the strange looking cat on the back, I have a few things I know you will like.
Reaching into his cat bag Charles pulls out two packs of cigarettes...sealed.
Charles does not smoke but on the street a single cigarette is worth more than food to some and two packs SEALED makes you a very rich man.
Nono's eyes pop out of his head like a bad cartoon.. “HOLY CRAP WHERE DID YOU GET THOUSE?”
Yeah he smokes.
“Well lets just say a one-percenter is not happy with me right about now”
“I don't know what I got but last night I was down by the river and those UTRT guys were rousting another newbie camp.”
For those of you not in the know as to the way of the streets being a newbie refers to those who have lost their homes and forced out into the streets by the bankers. As misery loves company they always manage to find one another in familiar places and it's those places the UTRT guys don't want you hanging around all day.
“So while they were doing their move along move along thing I jumped into the back of their equipment van and filled my bag with anything I could get my hands on. Don't know what I got, to dark to see, but check it out”
Nono hands the pack to Charles.
“Heavy” Charles remarks nearly dropping the bag of unexpected weight, “You been carrying this all night?”
“Yeah I had to keep moving as someone was following me so I did not have time to see what I got”
“OK then the Charles Jordan trading post is now open for business” Charles says as he props the bag on the edge of his wall.
“YOU TWO STAY RIGHT THERE AND DON”T MOVE”
Call them UTRT, blue meanies, mercs or any multitude of slurs one can think of to describe thous who are no more than hired thugs of the one-pecenters they are still the dumbest bunch of idiots to think that everybody does what they tell them to do.
This and more said in a single look exchanged between Charles and Nono that was punctuated by a single though.
“RUN”
Charles books left, Nono right and just before rabbiting down the side ally Charles shouts out “Nono catch” and toss him the two packs of sealed's “on faith brother” and the last words Charles would ever hear for a long time from his good friend Nono is “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssss” as the two vanish into their world of familiar surroundings.
Now to say Charles knew his backyard would be an understatement as he had long planned out escape routes not seen on any map or programed into hand held GPS portables used by the UTRT and was not the first time he has been chased for what ever reason even if for no reason at all.
Charles though it as a game of catch me if you can and has always won as in all cases the chase would end before it even started. It was like they did not even want to try and mission was accomplished by having him move out of an area much the same way they would roust newbies because some one-percenter did not like them being there.
This was different.
As Charles peeked out from his rabbit hole it was clear that UTRT had control of the streets. Road blocks at ever turn and ally ways guarded.
“What the hell is in this bag” Charles though to himself.
To get an idea what game he was playing this time Charles manages to work his way up to what looked to be a command post.
“That's right sir we have the area boxed in and waiting for the gunship to arrive with the ground scanners”
OK this is NOT a game anymore and these guys have serious intent.
There was no way these guys would catch him even with the gunship, he was to good of a rabbit, but it's for sure they would not just give up as they have in the past and there was only one though that came to Charles.
“I've got to get out of town until it all blows over”
“Next stop train yard.”
Breaking out of the box was easy enough as Charles moved towards the yard through pathways only he knew or had made to ensure he always had more the one or two escape routes and getting down to the yard as mission one was easy considering.
Setting up shop at the edge of the yard Charles scanned with the Opera glasses he keeps in his jacket pocket to find just the right car which did not take long to find the one with the open door.
Now be it myth, legend or fact this is the point of no return where an act of randomness would have taken the story in a different direction. He could have missed the open and inviting door and could have selected a different option but instead of considering options Charles took action.
Running across the yard as fast as his Charles Jordan would carry him he toss the bag through the now moving car door at almost same instance he pulled himself up and standing the last thing he remembers is.
BANG lights out.
They say when your knocked out that is much like falling asleep except for the pounding headache equal to that of a hangover and takes a bit for your brain to figure out just what the hell happened.
As Charles eyes begin to adjust to what his brain is telling him the first thing to registrar was red, lots and lots of red that Charles brain told him he needed to brush the blood out of his eyes. The second thing his brain told him that attached to the red was a face, then a nose, mouth and finally green.
Green eyes staring at you out of a pool of red would make any brain say “screw you buddy your on your own” and Charles sense of self preservation took over as to the basics of survival of fight or flight.
“Easy now Charles your safe...mostly”
“How do you know my name mam?”
The nice lady, well at least she seems nice at the time, points down at Charles shoes.
“I'm assuming a good guess” not taking her eyes off of Charles as if looking for something.
“OK fair enough how did I get here mam?”
“Well as far as I can tell you got bonked by the train car door. The new ones have auto closers to prevent unauthorized travelers such as yourself and will close once the train reaches speed”
“Lucky or unlucky you were just in the right place at the wrong time.. or is that the other way around?”
“I don't believe in luck I make my own mam” Charles says a bit more comfortable with the situation but still unsettled with the visual scanning going on.
Still with the see through gaze..
“Well the luck comes in that it was lucky Pierre found you when he did. Another ten minuets and you would have been hooked to the south bound to Miami Beach Florida”
For those of you not informed after the “happening” MBF as it now called became a stronghold for the haves over the have not's and was a place where newbies tends to disappear rather than moved along moved along as Nono would call it.
“What?”
Where am I?”
The green eyes still staring back.
“Upper New York just this side of the Canadian border”
This was something new to Charles and as he was processing his new reality a rather large man with a patch over one eye walks into the room through the door slightly bigger than him.
“I went through his bag and there was not much of anything of interest except for this”
With ease he toss the plastic wrapped package on to the bed that bounces a few times before settling.
With out looking down and still scanning.
“What is it? Can we eat it”
“Well you could but I doubt your digestive system would take kindly to C4”
For the first time since they meet the nice lady, or at least Charles though, broke target lock and reengaged a new target. There was that look again. An entire conversion taking place as to something that was already decided and agreed to.
Reaching into the footlocker at the foot of the bed the lady in red and green pulls out what looks like a toy, a toy monkey with a windup key sticking out of its back. With practice precision, not the first time to the dance, out comes and the click of the switchblade and the thud of steal on cloth in one single motion.
While pulling out the stuffing by the handful.
“Charles you and I are going to go out on a date”
“Ah mam a date? I'm not sure I understand? Why me? Date!”
The once nice lady, so Charles though, turns to the one eyed man and toss him both the now empty toy along with what we now know is C4 and turns her green lasers back onto Charles.
“Bucko if you can get of of Toronto you have the skills to get me in and out of where I need to go tonight”
“I rather not mam”
The now not so nice lady, so Charles though, stands up and looks down.
“Charles after tonight you have no choice, it's time to pick sides”
moving to the doorway the now scarey lady turns back.
“Oh and you can call me Sarah”
Trailing off down the hall.
“You finished rigging up that monkey Pierre? And while your at it make me a sandwich bitch”
It's funny how gravity at times takes over as the only thing Charles could feel was his entire body sinking into the mattress and his brain telling him he needs to sleep.
The last though on his mind before the lights went out was.
“Why did I not take up smoking?”
Frankie V
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