[Sodium_noir] Titus and Sugar - "A Gun for any Seaon."

[eugene mcfadden]

>Titus drove around town a while, letting his head clear, letting the 
>jitters
>
>die down.  Khan Titus now.
>
>
>
>Khan.
>
>
>
>Like Genghis Khan, only meaner, deadlier.  Genghis Khan on the up and up,
>
>looking to make a name.  Any name.
>
>
>
>And a Khan needed a weapon.
>
>
>
>Stopped at traffic lights, Titus dug the knife out of his belt, turned it
>
>over in his hands, admiring it.  Hell of a thing, that weapon. It killed
>
>just about anything.  Something like that, he could use.  Myth was a real
>
>powerful thing in the underworld: Rep was everything, and a good rep was
>
>myth.  Khan Akrill did this, Khan Akrill did that.  Well, Khan Titus killed
>
>Khan Akrill's yellow arse and tossed him off a building.  That was myth
>
>making.
>
>
>
>Lights went green and he slid the knife back into his belt, got back to
>
>driving, zenning out and letting his mind work on the problem; jus' driving
>
>around till he got to the bottom of his thoughts, letting his subconscious
>
>direct him.
>
>
>
>Myth making and keeping the myth, that was tricky.  He was already a
>
>presence, he was already surrounded by his little myths.  His Rep went
>
>before him, it scared many, it bent them to his will.  But it needed 
>tending
>
>
>to.
>
>
>
>Turn left here.
>
>
>
>Santiago, now, that old Dragon knew a fair bit about myth making, why else
>
>would he have so much power and so many looking at him like he was the 
>devil
>
>himself and not just another Dead White European?  Estoban… Estoban was a
>
>little shit who hung on Santiago's coat tails.  Wanted power, but only went
>
>about it by kissing arse and chewing down on turd burgers.  No sense of
>
>myth, no rep other than being a slimy little shit.
>
>
>
>Turn right here.
>
>
>
>Harl, he was a man to talk to, all Myth and Magic and Rep.  Up and down the
>
>East coast sires told their childer, "Don't fuck with the Rav or the
>
>Harlequin will get ya!". And Panic, he had a good eye for a tall tale.
>
>People to speak to, brains to pick.
>
>
>
>Go straight for a bit, turn left, pull up, park.
>
>
>
>Titus looked out, saw where he'd parked: still very much on the bad side of
>
>town, all graffiti`d shop fronts, garbage bags on the side walks, winos in
>
>the gutters.  The shop five metres down from where he'd parked caught his
>
>eye: Gideon's.  Pawn broker extraordinaire, fence to just about every two
>
>bit hood in the area.  Myth said that he had a box of rings under the
>
>counter; wedding rings, engagement rings, friendship rings… all stolen.  
>Lot
>
>of pain and loss in that box, lot of people ripped off on the street.  
>Titus
>
>really hated muggers, lowest of the low, down there with rapists and kiddy
>
>fiddlers.  But then, Titus was the kind of criminal that preyed upon other
>
>criminals, he mugged muggers, ripped off drug dealers, snapped leg breakers
>
>in two.
>
>
>
>He'd lit up by the time the shop door bell was jangling and he was stepping
>
>in: dingy dark little place, all racks of `ware behind mess wire and big
>
>padlocks.  And there was Gideon, fat greasy, chewing down on his cigar,
>
>looking like he needed a shave, but before that a wash.  A porn mag lay 
>open
>
>
>on the counter.
>
>
>
>Titus blew smoke, leaned on the counter, tapped some ash onto Gideon's
>
>ashtray.
>
>
>
>' Mr Bane,' Gideon grinned, folded the magazine over, ' what can I do for
>
>ye?'
>
>
>
>' You now me, Gideon?'
>
>
>
>' Not many six-four, two fifty pound guys with a walking sticks in this
>
>neighbourhood.  What can I do fer ya?'
>
>
>
>' I need two things, Gideon; one, I need a holster for this, a knife belt 
>or
>
>something,' he placed the Black Jade knife on the table top.  ' Two, I need
>
>a gun.  A handgun, something ugly as hell.  A Hand Cannon, you know the 
>type
>
>of thing I mean.'
>
>
>
>' Yeah, yeah, I guess I do, let me…'
>
>
>
>And at that point, the door bell jangled and someone else entered the shop.
>
>
>
>It was a dame wrapped in a black trench.  It was tied tightly around her
>
>dainty waist.
>
>
>
>Even from 20 feet away the men in the grimy store could smell her 
>particular
>
>scent on the air.  Base notes of trouble and intrigue covered delicately by
>
>middle notes of not-so-subtle feminine charm 'n curves.  The clincher 
>though
>
>were those top notes.  One shy outta place frown and eyes so liquid and 
>deep
>
>you could lose yourself for months in 'em.
>
>
>
>Teetering on high black heels, Sugar closed the door behind her and flashed
>
>a glance between Gideon and Titus.  She looked about as outta place as a
>
>fish did in the desert.  The only girls wandering the streets dressed-up
>
>nice in this part of town weren't so much wandering the streets as working
>
>them.  The doll looked a little too high-class to be running around by
>
>herself.
>
>
>
>Pulling off a small set of fine brown leather gloves, she let her gaze stop
>
>momentarily on the knife laid out on the counter and then onto the man who
>
>had laid it there.  Who could forget a man who looked like that...
>
>The slender brunette approached the counter with something less than the
>
>confidence Titus had seen her wield previously.  Even a blind man could 
>tell
>
>
>she was shaken up bad.
>
>
>
>"How much is that one?"  She asked with a waver in her silky voice.  
>Without
>
>any hesitation she pointed to a large revolver behind Gideon.  The thing
>
>looked like it was built to bring down cars or giant gorillas.
>
>
>
>Gideon sat there slack-jawed with a small pool of saliva forming on the 
>edge
>
>of his crusty lip.
>
>
>
>"Oh for Christ's Sake!  I just need a gun!"  Sugar slapped down a wad of
>
>cash onto the counter with a thud and shot Gideon a dangerous look.  It was
>
>the look of someone desperate.
>
>
>
>Nothing was worse than a desperate dame.
>
>
>
>Titus looked at the gun she was buying, then checked out her overall build,
>
>lingering on a few points.  He did some maths and knew, just knew, he
>
>shouldn't be getting involved...
>
>
>
>' Ma'am, I really wouldn't buy that gun.  You won't be able to aim it right
>
>and it'll probably take your arm off.  And it's only got six rounds, you'd
>
>be better with that Browning High Power over there.  Semi-automatic, 13
>
>rounds in the magazine and another one in the chamber.'
>
>
>
>As he spoke, he saw another weapon, further down from the Browning.  An
>
>M1911, like he had in the Marines.  He'd lost it in a card game back in the
>
>bad days after he'd been discharged on medical grounds.
>
>
>
>Watching him like a fox, Sugar nodded for Gideon to pull the gun from the
>
>it's wired casing and lay it on the counter for inspection. Her stormy gaze
>
>never left Titus' mouth and she ate his advice with spoon.  He looked like 
>a
>
>
>man who knew his guns.
>
>
>
>Grabbing the gun in her left hand she pulled it upright and looked 
>surprised
>
>at how heavy it was in her grip.  With a coyness creeping into her features
>
>she looked down the sights at Titus' wide chest. The back of her mind
>
>tingled when it noticed how little his chest moved.
>
>
>
>"Would 13, plus 1 in the chamber, bullets stop someone like you?" She asked
>
>with a curious melody to her voice as she closed one eye to better focus.
>
>"I need something that could stop a monster dead in his tracks..."
>
>
>
>"A real brute if ya know what I mean."
>
>
>
>Titus shrugged, ran through scenarios in his head.
>
>
>
>A monster dead or a dead monster?  How much did she know?  Though some days
>
>seemed like everyone in Gotham new what went on behind the scenes.
>
>
>
>' It might slow a... a brute like me down.  You'd need to aim well though,
>
>you any good at aiming?'
>
>
>
>Sugar looked up at Titus and believed him when he said it would only slow
>him down.  She got the strange impression it took a lot to bring down a
>made-man in Gotham.  She was a smart girl who often made bad decisions, but
>very little escaped her attention.  Although the weirdness she'd recently
>experienced couldn't quite be explained rationally, slowly pieces were
>falling into place in her mind.
>
>
>
>"Aiming?"  Sugar said as she held the gun out and looked down the sites.  
>It
>appeared as if she was comfortable holding a gun, but the subtleties eluded
>her graceful grasp.  Finishing the transaction with Gideon for the gun and
>some bullets, she looked at Titus thoughtfully.
>
>
>
>"You look like the sorta guy who could help a girl out with that.  Where 
>can
>I sign up for lessons?" She added with a wistful smile as Gideon counted 
>the
>cash.
>
>
>
>"I've seen you 'round before. We get invited to same sort of parties..."  
>Sugar
>noted as recalled the invitations to tonight's round of socializing.  She
>was looking forward to being in a room full of people and warding off being
>alone.  "I'm Sugar."
>
>
>Holding out her hand in introduction, she eyed him curiously feeling as if
>she were about to try to pet a tiger.

Titus gestured for Gideon to get him down the M1911, turned to Sugar and 
took her small hand in his huge paw; broken nails, scars on the knuckles, no 
rings on any fingers.  He shook her hand with surprising delicacy, as if he 
expected to be breaking it off by acccident.

' Ah'm Titus.  I don't normally give lessons.'

Titus let go of her hand.

Gideon put the M1911 on the table, Titus picked it up, turning it to see the 
pearl handle, to note the inscribed name: Gladys.  What would Gladys do?

He sighted along it, feeling the familiar heft once more, that artful 
balance.  They'd been through some rough times, and he pissed her away.

And now suddenly she turned up again on a night like this.  Bringing with 
her memories of the desert and battles and a time when he could look at 
himself in the mirror.

Literally.

Titus shook his head, placed the gun on the counter, still not looking at 
Sugar said:

' Ma'am, why would you be needing a gun anyway?'

TAG