Sinning Saints and Saintly Sinners: The Story of Willy Skaggs

[Yamantau Em]

Willy sat quietly at the bar, enjoying the tall frosty pint of dark, bitter stout that sat before him, just as he had enjoyed the three before it. Yara's had long been his favorite bar in Kiroyev, and even after two long years in lockup, the usual girls still knew his name, and asked no questions when he first walked back through the doors.

He had come here every day after work for the last six months, sitting in the same seat, going through the same routine. He had been through all the waitresses more times than he could count already, but that didn't stop him from sweet talking a different one every night. He often thought he would rather go back to working for Lenid Nared, but that in turn would violate the conditions of his so-called parole. He couldn't help but feel something was off tonight though, he could feel eyes on him the moment he walked in the door.

He grew painfully aware of the growing silence in the room as patrons began filing out, until it was only him, the barman, and three large men he recognized from past endeavors.

"B'ys, if you've come tae say some shet, jus' be oot wi' it." Willy drawled

One of the men rose from the table in the back corner and cautiously approached the bar, sitting on the stool next to Willy. "Willy….Mr. Nared has….concerns, about your silence." the man said gravely, drumming his fingers on the copper bartop. Willy nodded before letting out a laugh as he saw the revolver sitting in the man's lap.

"You go on back an' tell ol' Lenid that A've no feckin' intention of sayin' a damn word." Willy growled angrily. "Now fook off." he said, turning back to his pint.

"Willy, Mr. Nared has asked to ensure your silence." the man continued, gripping the pistol in his lap.

Willy nodded as he looked to the barman, who slowly sank down behind the bar until he lay flat on the floor. For one tense moment, nobody moved, the air in the room filled with the sort of anticipation one would feel at an execution, just before the hangman pulled the lever, and then Willy struck.

Willy slammed the half full pint of stout against the man's forehead with hand, before slamming his head off the copper top with the other. The other two men tossed their table, and started towards Willy as their compatriot sunk to the floor in pain, clutching his head.
"Ya fookin' want some?! Come get it!" Willy shouted, putting up his fists. The two men rushed towards him, stopping just short as Willy stamped his foot at them, giving himself just enough time to send two thundering hooks at them, catching both in the jaw, sending them reeling back. The first man had somewhat regained his footing, but before he could even finishing trying to get Willy in his sights, Willy had grabbed the man by the arm which held the pistol, and slammed a punishing a elbow through his forearm, the snap and resulting scream of pain filling the room. Willy grabbed the pistol as it fell, pulling the man up by his shattered forearm with the other hand, and jamming the pistol into the man's neck.

The other two stood in shock as Willy stared them down, their friend with his shattered bones at Willy's mercy.

"Don't fook about now. Ye move, I splatter his brains on the hard wood. Don't...move." Willy urged them. "Now, ye listen, and ye listen well. You tell Lenid, that A'm only tryin' tae live my life. Can ye do that?" Willy asked impatiently. "Don't do it." the broken man groaned to his friends. "Well...if that's me only fookin' option…" Willy shrugged.

"NO!" the broken man objected, as Willy squeezed the trigger, before turning the gun on the other two as he let the man fall to the floor. Two more shots and the room fell silent. Willy inspected the revolver, shrugging as he tucked it into his pocket. He surveyed the scene before reaching for his pint, remembering he had wasted it on one of his assailants. "Ah fook." he lamented. "YE COULD NAE HAVE EVEN LET ME FINISH MY FOOKIN' PINT YA BASTARDS!" Willy shouted. The barman quickly stood, and poured one hastily, but still perfect. "Willy, we'll handle the mess. Take this one for the road." the barman sighed.

"I appreciate it, Yara. I'll...I'll pay ye for the uh…cleaning supplies later, mate." Willy said apologetically, taking the frosty pint after pulling on his thick navy blue wool jacket. Yara leaned in, his eyes getting brighter as he smiled. "We Icenian b'ys gotta stick taegether, aye?" he said with a sly wink, dropping the well rehearsed Yamanta accent. Willy winked back, and cracked a smile as he raised the pint and exited the bar room, into the chilly night air. "Well….may as well go see what the fook Lenid's issue is." Willy said to himself, before chugging the contents of the glass in his hand, and leaving it on the window sill, knocking on the window to alert Yara to the presence of the pint glass, who replied with a simple thumbs up as he began dragging the bodies back behind the bar, down into the cellar.

It wasn't a long walk to Nared's restaurant in the Low Markets, but the streets were more crowded now, all night, every night. No curfew meant that the city never slept. Past the brightly colored bistros and street food stalls, Willy marched ever onward, happily puffing on his cigarette as he smiled at the girls that passed by, going home or going to the next club. He gripped the revolver in his pocket as he neared the little hole in the wall that Nared called an office, unafraid and unphased by the reality of what he was walking into. The lady at the counter objected as he marched past her, pushing open the door of Nared's office, the man himself shocked to see the phantom in the doorway. Willy flashed a toothy smile as he stopped just inside the door. "Lenid!" he shouted happily, before pulling the revolver from his pocket and aiming it at the door, firing the remaining three shots through the door, killing Vanya, who he knew kept residence behind it at all times. Nared sat back in terror as Vanya slumped over onto the floor. Willy tossed the empty revolver on Lenid's desk, and slowly picked up the shotgun that Vanya always kept handy, before taking a seat and throwing his foot onto the desk, balancing the shotgun on the toe of his boot.

"Tell me, Lenid, why, in the actual fook, did ye decide to send men tae kill me?" Don' seem very friendly, now does it?" Willy asked. Lenid gripped the arms of his chair in terror as he stared down the barrel of the pumpgun not even eight inches from his face. "I...I...I…" Nared stuttered, too terrified to find words. "I...I...I...fooked up?" Willy mocked. "I didn't think you would stay silent, shimshon. I couldn't think of another way…" Nared pleaded. "YE COULDA FOOKIN' ASKED!" Willy shouted, his smile finally fading. "Ye coulda offered me a job, ye coulda just asked, ye coulda just sent a fookin' letter. Instead, I have tae kill t'ree men that did nae need killin' man. Oh yes, you'll nae be seein' them nae more." Willy told him, still pointing the shotgun at Nared's face.

"W-w-w-we can still work something out, Willy, come on." Nared laughed nervously. Willy clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he gently rocked the chair. "Nae, Lenid, there's fook all tae work out. Ye can consider this, a hostile takeover." Willy said sternly. Nared's face grew red with rage, "You can't be serious, Willy!" Nared shouted. "As a heart attack, mate." Willy said with a sigh, pulling the trigger.

Nared's chair flew backwards as the slug made impact with his face, which simply disappeared in a cloud of red mist, which left a fine crimson film on almost everything in the office. "Fookin' shame." Willy said, rising from the seat and exiting the office, the shotgun slung over his shoulder. "Ms. Rozili, call the cleaners, have them tidy up me new office, would ye darling?" Willy asked the woman at the counter, giving her a solid slap on the rear as he walked by. "And tell the rest of 'em, I expect their presence in this office by mornin' time. Tell 'em, we're takin' back our neighborhoods." Willy continued, looking out over the sea of canvas topped market stalls. "And one more thing. Tell 'em….wear a suit, like a respectable man."

 

[Yamantau Em]

Willy walked down the road towards the mosque, escorted by his new bodyguards, Anton and Mikael. The takeover of Nared's little corner of Kiroyev had gone over far better than expected, with most of Nared's men happily accepting the chance to be more than street hoods, and the rest taking the opportunity to get out of the life while they had a chance.

Today, Willy was trying to find a man he had met in prison, Abdulrahman Ahmad, a Rafhazani who had taught him the ways of Mehrabiism while they were cell mates in Duva. Willy had made sure to bathe and shave before he set out on this task, and wore his finest shirt, vest, shoes, and trousers.

"Shoes." Willy told his men as they entered the mosque, carefully setting his in the row with all the others, waiting for his bodyguards to do the same. "Right, this is a place of worship. Respect it. No fookin' foolishness." Willy ordered, his men both giving an understanding nod. "Good. You might learn something here today as well, so give it a chance, b'ys."

The Imam gave Willy a gentle smile as he approached. "Welcome brothers, how can I help you?" the Imam asked, his circle rimmed spectacles moving with his cheeks as he grinned. "Good morning, brother. I...I'm lookin' for a man who may come here. His name is Ahman, Abdulrahman Ahmad. He's an old pal a' mine, and I've been tryin' tae find him." Willy explained, bowing ever so slightly. The Imam nodded happily. "Of course. Brother Abdulrahman is here every day, I...think he lives somewhere nearby." the Imam said. "He will likely be here for prayer soon, if you would join us." the Imam continued. "Of course." Willy beamed.

A smaller man approached a microphone in the corner as people began to file in, taking up their places across the floor. The man at the microphone began the Azan*, his voice ringing loud and clear through the mosque, and through the speakers outside. Willy had missed it. The Azan always filled him with peace. He couldn't see Ahman yet, deciding instead to join the line of men as they stood ready.

As the Azan ended, Willy went to his knees, before bending over, and touching his head to the floor, hands supporting him, as he began to pray. His bodyguards did the same, with some confusion. After he was done, he rose again, and listened to the Imam recite the Mehrabiist scriptures, his voice dancing as he read. The beauty of his recitation struck Willy in a way he couldn't explain. Again, he knelt, and touched his head to the floor, praying to Allab.

This went on for some time, before prayers finally ended. Willy and his men stood off to the side, watching the throng of people begin to file out. He could see the Imam approaching through the crowd, side by side with another man. Willy smiled as Abdulrahman came into view, his arms open. "William." Abdulrahman said happily as the two embraced. "Abdul. How are ye, brother?" Willy asked as they parted, the Imam smiling as he looked on. "I have been quite well. It is so good to see you, my friend. What brought you here?" Abdulrahman replied. "Well, came t' talk tae you, actually. Best tae be a private conversation though." Willy said, a small smile on his face. Abdulrahman raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Of course, William. I live just a couple blocks away. We will speak there. Come!" Abdulrahman said, holding his hand outstretched towards the door. Willy nodded as they began towards the door, thanking the Imam for his time before they left.

Willy and Abdulrahman reflected on their time in prison, and caught each other up on the happenings of their lives over the last few months as they walked towards Abdulrahman's apartment building. The building was nothing special, a standard Yamanta housing project built in the 80's to house an ill-expected influx of young professionals, before Svrtan took over. The group packed into the small elevator, and headed to the top floor, still chattering away until they approached the door of the apartment.

"Please, make yourself at home while I get some tea ready." Abdulrahman said, gesturing to the chairs and pillow packed couches in the small apartment as he removed the shemagh from around his neck, and hung it next to the door. Willy sat at the table, Anton and Mikael sitting on the couch that faced the door, adjusting the holsters that hung at their ribs as they settled in. "Hookah?" Abdulrahman asked, pulling the water pipe from its place next to the window. "Absolutely." Willy replied happily. Abdulrahman smiled, and set it down next to the table, before loading it with shisha, and igniting the charcoal cake. Willy sat happily, taking the occasional pull from the mouthpiece as his friend prepared the tea.

"You must forgive me, William, but I still do not understand why you have sought me out. I am nobody important now. Just another Rafhazani in a strange land." Abdulrahman stated, filling the kettle. "Abdul, I'll be honest wi' ye, nae bullshet. Couple nights back, I sat across from Lenid Nared, an' I vaporized his face wi' a twelve gage slug, took everything he had, an' now, I intend tae take Kiroyev back from the squabbling l'il gangs that think they have some sorta claim tae this city." Willy replied, drumming his fingers on the table top. Abdulrahman froze for a moment, before opening the cupboard, and grabbing a tin from the top shelf, the tin looked like a salt shaker in his massive hand. "After he set you up, I am not surprised, but that does not answer the question, William. Why are you here, looking for me?" Abdulrahman pursued his prior question.

"I need men I can trust if A'm gonna do this. An' there's naecunt in this city that I trust more than ye, Abdul. Ye cannae sit here, look me in me eyes, and tell me that ye're happy workin' in a pub, flippin' burgers for drunks." Willy said, pointing an accusatory finger out the kitchen window. Abdulrahman took a deep breath, and let his shoulders fall dramatically. "No, William." he replied. "Nae? Nae what? Nae ye're nae happy? Or nae ye won't help me?" Willy inquired.

"No, I am not happy. But it is difficult for a convict to get anywhere. I pray to Allab and the Prophet Mehrab, peace be upon him, that I might find a better way, but it does not come." Abdulrahman explained, waiting patiently for the kettle to boil. "William, you know I would walk through the fires of hell for you, and this request, it is no different. You were my brother once, and you are my brother now. Besides, I still owe you for having my back in Duva, even though you know as well as I do, that I was in the wrong." he continued, turning the burner off as soon as the kettle started to whistle.

"Them b'ys had it comin' tae 'em, Abdul. It is what it is." Willy remarked, passing the mouthpiece to Abdulrahman, who took a long pull before handing it back, returning to preparing the tea. "What is your plan then?" Abdulrahman asked, pouring the water into the cups. "Well, as I see it, we can either convince all the l'il gangs to throw in wi' us, or, we put 'em down, for good, neighborhood by neighborhood, block by block. Just need the hardware tae to do it." Willy stated.

Abdulrahman snapped his fingers and walked slowly towards the curtain that separated the kitchen and living room from the rest of the apartment, held up by thumbtacks. Abdulrahman tore the curtain from the wall, revealing a hallway lined with crates, assorted weapons and equipment laying on top of some of them. "Fook….me." Willy wheezed, coughing out the smoke he had held in his mouth as he rose. "Ye...ye never fookin' changed, Abdul."

Abdulrahman flashed a toothy smile as he looked over his stock proudly. "The Imam, he is my cousin. He gets all this smuggled in from Rafhazan, usually in with books, or supplies. If this is what you need, you will have it, William. All of it."

Willy picked up a pistol that looked like it weighed more than he did, feeling the heft of it as he inspected the bulky weapon. "Fifty caliber, seven round magazine, you will need to hold onto it tight. A more manageable option is the forty-four magnum variant, it handles like a dream." Abdulrahman explained. "Nae, I...I think I like this one as is." Willy laughed. Abdulrahman nodded happily. "I will get my friends to move this wherever you need it, whenever." he stated, motioning to the crates all around him.

"There's jus' one other thing I need tae ask, since ye'd know better than I would. Have ye...uh...have ye kept in contact with old Vladislav?" Willy asked, still admiring the fifty caliber handgun. Abdulrahman let out a deep laugh as he nodded. "Let me make a phone call, and we will go see him tomorrow. He is a crusty old bastard, but he will probably jump at the chance, but for now...the tea should be ready, come." he replied.

Anton let out an audible "Oh shit." as he heard Vladislav's name. It wasn't every day you got to meet a serial killer and live to talk about it.
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* Azan = call to prayer