Each week, we will spend ten minutes writing and attempting to complete a flash story. We hope that the exercise will allow us to grow as writers, as well as provide a small amount of entertainment for you. Further, we hope to inspire you to do the same.
Bruno and Wretch, otherwise known as the Strongarms, did what they did every single night. They stood at the entrance to Holiday’s Gentleman’s Club in Halfway City. The city was—not so creatively named—for being the halfway point in the Tri-Star System. It’s bright lights, gambling and gratification houses made it a stopping point for anyone looking break up the monotony of cross-system travel.
Holiday’s Gentleman’s Club was just like any of the hundreds of other grat-houses in the sleazy city. Guys entered in with pockets full of cash and left with their pockets emptied and their needs relatively unsatisfied. But the men didn’t seem to care. The thrill must have been worth the cost because the Strongarms, Bruno and Wretch, saw the same men night after night.
Every establishment in Halfway City was required to have the latest construction technology. Equipped with digi-walls, the design of a building could be changed with a simple recoding. Holiday’s digi-walls displayed a brick facade. Bruno and Wretch stood outside, the soft glow of the display backlighting them ever-so-slightly Their primary job was to ensure that no weapons entered, men were properly dressed—all this meant was that they wore pants and a shirt, no strict dress code—and none of the ladies were harassed more than was allowed by the guidelines of the establishment. Mostly, they were big, hulking brutes who imposed their own laws and accepted bribes to pad their already too-huge paychecks.
“What you doing after work tonight?” asked Bruno.
“Same t’ing I do er’ry night,” Wretched answered, “enjoy a beet of da scenery, heh, den home for some sleep.”
“I’ve got a job that you might be interested in.”
“Yeah? What’s dat?”
Bruno went on to describe a heist. Bruno was always planning some huge, elaborate casino heist, but Wretch knew he was all talk and no follow through.
“Oh,” said Wretch, “you mean da same t’ing you been talking about for da last t’ree years?”
Bruno threw a playful punch into his partner’s arm.
“No, no,” he said, “I’m serious this time. I’m gonna do it.”
Just then a scream broke through the silence of an otherwise quiet night. The Strongarms followed the sound to the side of the building and saw a large black hover-van parked with the side door wide open. Seven men, easily as large as the Strongarms, worked together to load an equal amount of Buzilian girls. The girls wailed and screamed, scratching and clawing at their kidnappers. They grabbed at the sides of the van in an attempt to escape.
“Get da bikes,” said Wretch. “Dat looked like Boneface’s crew. Ain’t going ta happen on my watch.”