Heist - Episode 3

The thin cards felt good in Trent’s hand. His eyes studied his three opponents, then found their way to the mound of clay chips in the center of the table.

A beefy man across from him with buzzed red hair took another moment to look down at the four sixes in his hand. “I call.”

Another burly man tossed down his hand nervously “Two pair.”

The red haired man couldn’t contain his excitement any longer, he tossed the 4 Kings down on the table and smirked at Trent. “Four of a kind!”

Trent frowned a little and leaned back in his chair, his face set in defeat. Slowly he fanned his cards out onto the table. His fake frown quickly turned to a smile, “Royal flush boys!” His thin hand shot in to sweep the chips toward his already massive stack.

“Bullshit!” the red haired man spat, “No one’s luck is that good, you’re cheating!”

“C’mon Drake, I don’t cheat, maybe you just need to find a new game.” Trent winked.

“You son of a bitch!” Drake reached to his side and with practiced skill pulled a comfortably sized handgun from its holster.

Obviously taking command from Drake the other two also pulled guns on Trent. For a long tense moment the four sat still, three guns cocked, ready to fire on Trent. “You guys are going to shoot me because you suck at poker?”

Without hesitation Trent launched himself from his seat, with his left hand he grabbed one of the men’s guns, his right hand flung the table up on its side spilling poker chips everywhere. With a quick twist he pulled the gun away from the thug and spun on the other thug, kicking the gun from his hand. Another swift kick to the man’s face and he was out cold. Trent twisted again, lunging toward the first thug, he wrapped the man’s arms behind his back with one hand and then brought his other arm around the man’s thick neck. With quick determination he placed the thug between himself and Drake.

Drake took a step back, gun trained on the entwined pair, the gun waved a bit in his hand as he tried to find a way to shoot Trent without hitting his comrade. Trent grunted as he shoved the thug into Drake, then leapt, grabbing Drake by the wrist and twisting, the black gun wrenched from his hand and fell to the floor. With the men disarmed, Trent made quick work of them, within fifteen seconds all three of his opponents lay unconscious on the carpet.

Trent rubbed his shoulder as he surveyed his work. The thin man pulled two aces he had stashed from his sleeve and tossed them on the ground before grabbing a suitcase full of cash. “My hard earned winnings.”

His feet quickly found the door as the phone in his pocket rang. His slender hands opened the phone and brought it to his ear as he closed the door behind him. “Hey Samuel.”

Heist - Episode 2

Warm light cascaded in through large windows, wide green leaves tapped gently against the glass outside as spring wind cooled the air. Two men sat in a large office, ornate oak trim hung on textured coffee walls, a warm oak desk sat between the men.

The smaller of the two had olive skin, his short black hair curled at the tips, his eyes inquisitive, yet ready to solve any puzzle laid before him. He leaned back just enough to seem comfortable without appearing lazy. “Sounds like good information.”

The larger of the two men wore a white fedora with a matching suit, thick hands protruded from the cuffs holding a large round cigar. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise Samuel, I can afford the very best.”

Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick white envelope. “Standard fee for the information, plus five percent of the profits.”

The white suited man took a long drag from his cigar. “Ten percent of the profits.”

Samuel cocked a brow, “Seems your rates have gone up?”

“Only for you, your team can handle any score, but you’re getting reckless. You are a bigger risk now, so your premiums are higher.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, we always deliver.” Samuel knew it was a battle he’d lose, but he had to at least try.

“Fair?” The larger man chuckled, “What can I say? It’s a cut throat market.”

With a long sigh, Samuel slid the envelope across the desk over to the fat fingers. “It’s a deal then.”

Golden rings decorated the hand that grabbed the envelope without even opening it to check its contents, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Samuel withdrew another envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the oak desk.

“In this business, you can’t afford to miss anything. All it takes is one slip, one mistake and you’re out of the game for life.” Fat fingers pulled the thick cigar to his lips again. “You and your crew would do well to remember that.”

Samuel nodded and stood up slowly, with two steps and a flick of his wrist the door was open and the curly haired man soon found himself outside of the beautiful, lavish home of the local mobster that people simply referred to as “The Man”.

Fountains decorated the grounds, large exotic trees stood in every corner and crevice, each blade of grass was cut to length, each flower was perfectly arranged. Samuel slid the cell phone from his pocket as he started to walk down the brick path that lead away from the mansion. His fingers dialed familiar numbers as his feet hit the ground.

Heist – Episode 1

As you may have guessed by now, I have trouble coming up with titles. Anyhow, the current project is a Heist story. I originally wrote it as made for the web movie shot up in different short episodes. I wrote it a couple years back, got everyone together for some pre-production stuff and then we never made the movie due to time constraints. So I'm adapting into a story and here it is. As with "Hero's" Story I welcome your feedback, let me know what you like or dislike. Enjoy.

The room was dark except for the one bright light hung in the center, above the table, dangling from the drop ceiling. The walls were brick, painted over and over again with the cheapest off white paint possible. Sitting at the table was a wiry man, short blonde hair messily spiked this way and that. He was a small man, not young, but small and he leaned back, hands cuffed, an obnoxious little grin on his face.

“You and your little gang have quite a reputation, you’ve been busy the last few years.” Across the table from the man stood a police captain, his blue button down shirt tucked into grey pants. His tie hung just a little too low, thin glasses perched atop his nose, his hair was starting to pepper. A polished badge clipped on his belt read Captain Thomas Jackson.

“Listen, Trent, I know you aren’t smart enough to plan this all yourself, come clean and maybe we can work out a deal.”

The wiry man shrugged, his blue eyes almost passive as he stared up at the Captain. “I work alone.”

Captain Jackson tossed a manila folder down on the old table, surveillance pictures spilled out, pictures of Trent and three other men, all taken over the past few months.

“Try to cover for them all you want kid, but we’ll find your friends and when we do, one of them will break, turn on you and then you’re going away for a long time.”

“You seem so sure of yourself. If you know so much, why are you wasting time with me? Go out there and catch my friends.” Trent scoffed.

The Captain inhaled deeply and leaned down, palms resting on the table, the tip of his tie touching the old wood. “Listen smartass, this is your one chance to come clean, save yourself. You’d better start talking, and talking fast. Tell me everything and start at the beginning.”

A sigh escaped Trent’s lips as his eyes fell to the photos on the table, he wouldn’t talk, he’d never roll over on his friends. The four of them were like family and you didn’t turn on family. Sitting in the cold interrogation room he couldn’t help but let his mind slide back, back to the beginning.