2 comments/ 9987 views/ 3 favorites Chronicles of a Runner Ch. 00 By: Alivitari **This is the story of a cocaine runner and his rise and fall to glory. I am testing the waters with this one. Have many more chapters waiting if is something you are interested in post some feedback and I will keep posting.** * Prologue The sleek outline of the black Jaguar XJ-8 nearly disappeared against the darkness of the desert. Quick and sexy, the car cut through the heavy blackness like a sharp knife through tissue paper. Rumbling and growling the big six speed, V-12 engine pulled the machine deeper into the California desert's Coachella valley. I checked the clock built into the hide-a-way face head unit for the car's after market stereo system. It was 12:33 on a Saturday morning. The rap song, Dial M for Murder, sang in Ja Rule's gravely voice was pounded into my ears by 250 watts of pure power. Usually I don't listen to rap, I like Jazz and oldies. Every now and then a bit of good old fashion country. Tonight was different, it had to be rap. Tonight I could meet my death, tonight I was running. Eight weeks hand gone by since I had made that fate full phone call from my Grand mother's pool. Not the smartest thing I had ever done, but nevertheless I have no regrets. This is what I had become, and the only way out was to push through it and hope you were still human on the other end. This life does have its benefits though. I was sitting on a three thousand dollar Louis Vitton wallet stuffed with fresh hundred dollar bills. I was driving the runner's dream, a Black Jaguar XJ-8 with an after market stereo system, limo tint windows and plenty of NOS. Basically the car was a sleeper street racer. I had a net worth of just fewer than 15.8 million dollars. Not bad for a back woods Missouri redneck. The icing on the cake was my age. I had turned eighteen just ten weeks before. My hand dropped to the stereo and clicked off the CD, which was now playing Down Ass Bitch from Ja Rules Pain is Love CD. My hand then slid from the dash to the leather covered stick and dropped the car into neutral. I eased the car to a stop; I didn't bother to pull off the road because there wasn't one. I was being lead by a Magellan GPS unit mounted to the dash board. With the car stopped and braked I looked over at the seat next to me. The aluminum brief case sat proudly in the seat. It was almost as if it knew about the nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars it carried. Soon the case would be in the hands of Columbian cocaine traders. I was a drug runner. Plain and simple. I got a phone call on Friday afternoon and given the information I needed. At ten o'clock that night I would saddle up my runner's bag, check the car, and head to a pick up zone. We would trade case for case and I would return to a safe house. There, I would wait for another call giving me the drop time and place, make the drop, pick up my pay, and go home. I reached into the back seat and pulled a black duffle bag upfront. Stepping out of the car I set the bag on the ground and opened it up. I calmly took inventory of the contents. A change of clothes, an extra two hundred thousand dollars in a zipper pouch, and three wallets each with cash and a false identity all compliments of my cartel. I pushed all this aside and reached for another zipper pouch, the weapons bag. I wore a black suit, specially made to fit my large and ridged physique. It had some sort of tailoring trick that allowed for a better range of motion and agility. I really liked this feature because it allowed me to use my martial Arts training if need be. The cartel made sure that I could handle what I was doing. They trained me to be fearless. I slipped nimbly out of the coat and pulled a knife from the pouch. A Fairbairn Sykes fighting knife, if you know anything about knives you have heard of this. For those who haven't, this knife was designed in World War II and became the best in the world. I strung this into a concealed position on my belt. Reaching to the pouch again I removed a gun in a shoulder holster. Nothing flashy, a nine millimeter Glock with that new poly frame stuff. I don't really like guns so I don't know much about them. I would much rather have a good knife, which goes hand in hand with my martial arts training. I put the shoulder rig on and the jacket. I moved around a bit to get everything settled. To most people reading this, it would seem that I am ill armed for the fight I was going to face, but as a runner it pays to pack light. I tossed the bag into car and pulled the gun. I jacked out the clip and checked the magazine. Fifteen rounds loaded in an alternating pattern of armor piercing rounds and incendiary tipped rounds. One round in the chamber, an armor piercing shot. I liked everything I saw. Content, I holstered the gun and got back in the car. I fiddled with the GPS a little and discovered that I was about ten miles from the pick up zone. I checked the clock, 12:54; I had six minutes to cover ten miles. No problem. I moved the stick into first and tore off across the desert. By the time I hit fourth gear I was pushing 125. I love this car. Three minutes and five miles. I spotted the plane easily. We are out in the middle of a pitch black desert and the plane was lit up like a baseball field. I could see them and they couldn't see me, just the way I liked it. I turned the CD player back on and the car was filled the Ja Rule's They'll Never Take Me Alive. My car circled the landing strip at about five hundred yards so I could see what they had. A twin engine Sesna, a black Hummer, and a dark green Mazarati. That meant at least two security guys, two drivers, the boss and the pilot. I felt satisfied and pulled into the pool of light. Leaving the engine running I stepped out of the car. You learn quickly to leave an easy out. Two guards approached and I retrieved the noble case and set it in the sand. Next, I spotted the boss. He was fat sweaty Columbian in a cheap suit. I already didn't like him. He carried a case identical to mine. The cocaine. "You're late." he said with more spit than sound. "Only one minute. You'll live." I said in a caviler tone. In an instant the two guards were at my sides pinning me to the car and I didn't resist yet. "I should kill you for your disrespect." He said. Spit flying as he pronounced the 'p'. "You should, but you won't." I said switching to Spanish "If you are going to tell me to be afraid of you because you work for Juan Vittio save your breath. I have no respect for that no good fucking whore of a pig." He was pushing it now but I kept my cool. "You respect his money though." I said "And no you shouldn't be afraid of my boss you should be afraid me." Like I said the Cartel had made me fearless. He literally laughed out loud as I said this. "Oh and who are you that I should be afraid of you?" "My name is Roger James Carson." I saw the fear flash in his eyes and the fade quickly. I learned that I am the most feared and wanted runner in the state of California. By now the thugs and found my Glock and had relieved me of it. "That makes no difference. You will learn to respect me or..." I struck. Using the strength in my right hand I threw number one off me and pulled my knife. I spun and pulled the blade through the midsection of one and then two. Once clear of the Columbians I spun back and sliced an even line about an inch from their throats to show that they could die very quickly at my hand. I took the step separating me and Sweaty and pushed the tip of the knife to his throat just enough to draw a trickle of blood. "Or what?" I said with my eyes on fire. It was false, but he didn't know that. So, he said nothing. "Take three steps back." Sweaty pulled his self off of my knife and did as he was told. Fear and lies are an awesome weapon. I never took my eyes off him as I reached down and plucked my gun up. The two thugs lay on the ground moaning and cussing in Spanish. "There are more people here. How many?" I asked with the gun now pointed at him. 'My pilot, the two drivers and two more security on the plane." "Call them out. Now. No one will die if you are not stupid." he complied and thirty seconds later I had a Columbian drug Cartel at my mercy. "Slowly draw your weapons and cell phones." I said "Set the phone on the ground in front of you. You will put one round into your phone and drop the gun. Any more that one round and you will die. Kick the gun away when you are finished. Now." I still had a bead on the leaders head so they complied. After they were disarmed and with out communication I fucked them over. I put a round into the planes engine. It was an armor piercing round. It did nothing. The second was incendiary. The plane exploded into a fire ball. I wiped out the other vehicles and pulled the brief case the boss was still holding out of his hand. "You are a bunch of sorry ass mother fuckers who are to pussy to even defend yourselves. It's a long walk back to Columbia." I got in the car and said. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." I tore off into the desert. All I really did was send a message. I let the Columbians know that the Vittio Cartel was not to be fucked with. That I was not to be fucked with. They would use the phones of the wounded men and call for retrieval, they weren't really stranded. This was the man I had become. A hardcore, no bullshit drug runner. Now let me show you the man I was. Chronicles of a Runner Ch. 01 **This is the second part of the story. Your feedback will keep this story alive and keep me posting chapters.** Chapter 1 As the Boeing 747 made its final descent into the Los Angeles International Airport I felt my stomach begin a dance around my ass. I clutched my notebook for all it was worth, like my thoughts on the paper would protect me from what was coming. To most people what I was doing would be considered minor, but to an eighteen year old country boy from rural Missouri it was like stepping into another, very hostile, world. I had turned eighteen only the day before and my parents decided that it would be good for me to and stay with my grandparents for the next year. I agreed, if for no other reason than to get out of Rolla, Missouri. I had been home schooled and had never really had any friends growing up so I thought I was ready to go out and meet the world. Even as I sat in the airliner's seats, that happened to be too small for my large frame, I was regretting getting on the plane in the first place. I held tight to my notebook, full of miscellaneous writings and sex stories, as the pilot made a perfect seamless landing and broadcast to the entire plane that we had arrived in Los Angeles. My stomach sank into my knees as I rose and gathered my few carry on items. I forced my self to remember that this wasn't all bad. There was Nicole, a friend of my grandparents. This woman is a vision of perfection. A small five foot two inch frame topped with blonde hair touched with natural highlights of brunette. Soft looking skin that curved into perfectly round breasts and tapered to a firm fleshly backside. From the time I was first budding as man I had been infatuated with Nicole. She was probably seven years older than me putting her at a perfect twenty-five. The bitch was her husband Daniel. He was the classic case of little man syndrome. An out and out prick. Many a time in the past and through out this story I have had to keep myself from flat laying him out. My heart skipped a beat as I stepped off the causeway and saw her standing there. And there was fucking Daniel. I stopped just out her line of sight and collected myself. First all this leaving home for the first time shit and to top it off Nicole was picking me up from the Airport. I took a second to admire her tits confined by a very tight, very low cut shirt. "Oooooh, Bear it is so good to finally see you again. You have really grown up." First of all Bear is a family nickname, I am a junior. Secondly, she was right, I had changed. The man she saw was tanned and well muscled from years of hard work and Martial Arts. I was three and a half feet wide at the shoulders and stood at six foot five inches. "It's good to see you too Nicole." I said. "How was your flight?" Nicole asked in her bubbly way. "Don't ask. Hey, let's get out of here. I have been stuck on a plane for four hours and I could really use a cigarette." I replied. "That sounds like a good idea." toned Daniel. He is always in a hurry to leave anyplace but home. A few minute later we had collected my check baggage and were heading for the car. As soon as the sliding doors opened into the waning California sunlight I had a Camel Filter out and light, much to the dismay of the other patrons. I could tell that this was going to be an interesting year. Modern California law says that is illegal to smoke outside. I would have had a record as long as my arm. While we made the drive back to Nicole's house we made idle chit chat and just generally caught up with each other. For the full hour we were in the car Daniel never said a single word. Like I said we have had our disagreements and I was sitting there chatting up his wife and half ass flirting with her. What really pissed him off is that she was flirting back. A lot can change in six years. We arrived at Nicole's apartment complex in Ontario at about seven that night. They set me up on the couch for the night and then we started making dinner plans. "So Bear, where would you like to eat on your first night in California?" asked Nicole after we had gotten settled in. "This is your turf, I have no idea what is here or what is good. And by the way what ever happen to Gramma?" I asked referring to my grandmother. "They will be here in the morning to pick you up and take you back to Cat city." she said, "I say we go to Marie Calendars." Without skipping a beat Daniel chimed in with "I don't want to go to Marie Calendars. Let's just stay here and eat." "I think Marie Calendars sounds great." I retorted. I'll admit I did it just to piss Daniel off. He knew it and he looked at me like 'I will set you a fire right now.' In the interest of my time and sanity I am just going to say that we went to dinner and Daniel did nothing but bitch. The conversation was the basic bullshit chit chat all through dinner. It was about ten o'clock by the time we got home. Daniel went straight to bed. Nicole and I stayed up for about another half an hour catching up on the six year gap since my parents had moved from California. I told her about my jobs. All cooking and most of them were bullshit fast food joints. The one that I am really proud of was the college. Rolla houses the University of Missouri -- Rolla, the formost engineering school on the face of the planet. I worked in one of the dorm cafiterias in a Benny Hanna kind of thing. Next came the martial arts talk. "So, how did you tone up so well?" Nicole asked me as we sat on her living room couch, aka my bed for the night. "I have been doing martial arts for about five years now." I said. "Really, so like what kind of karate? And can you like kick peoples butts and stuff." "What I know is called No Ryu Ninjitsu. It's a modern Ninjitsu. I suppose I could kick someone's butt if I wanted to." I said. This is where I am probably going to lose you. People hear all this martial arts stuff and tend to lose interest to prevent that I will give you some background. When I was thirteen I meet an uncle who had just left California and was an ex-skinhead. One time got into a fight and an old Japanese man called Hitori saw him fighting and took him as his student. He learned a lot of Ninjitsu, some Kung Fu and most weapons. The most prominent being the twelve inch nunchucks and the forty-two inch katana. My uncle taught these things to me after drastically changing his life in the hopes that I would never use them. I did. So now I am here with illegal underground training. I promise there is no bullshit in that and it will not take prominent part in the story. "That's like way cool. Can you teach me some self defense stuff?" she asked. "Sure, I can do that." I said knowing that she would never really learn anything. "Well it's pushing eleven and I should probably get some sleep. It has been really awesome to talk to you again. Gramma is coming tomorrow and then next weekend Daniel and I are going to Cat City so we will see each other again soon." "Yeah, sounds good." "Well good night, Bear." "Good night."I said and watched her walk up the stairs. It was time for the hard part. I could never sleep in strange place. I mean I was a little more comfortable but I was still on high alert. I hate to sleep. Even when I can sleep I am plagued by nightmares. It never fails that I wake up at four in the morning in a cold sweat. Always the nightmares come, but nonetheless I pull my shirt off and lie on the provided pillow and cover with the strange blanket. Get used to it kid, your not in Missouri any more. ¬¬¬_____________________ I am standing on a road in the desert. It is so black I cannot even see my hand in front of my face. My mind tells me to run. It's always running. I opt for the right and start moving. I have no idea what I am running from but I know that I am running for my life. My legs pump as hard as they can and I start to sweat. A sound cuts through the night like dagger and my legs will carry me no longer. As I fall to the sand I twist my body and fall facing the direction I was running from. If this is the end I will embrace it and meet it head on. It has always been my way. I look up and see two round headlights aiming straight for me. I'll not fight it. I will not fear it, it is my time and I know it now. Bring it on. As the head lights grow closer my voice rises in a scream. Not a scream of fear but rage. I push the lights from my mind and I can make out a face. My mother's face looked back at me from behind the windshield. She seems haunted and pale; she looks at me with a mix of fear and sorrow. I feel and hand on my chest and my eyes fly open. I am in danger a figure looms over me and I react. My hand shoots for my attacker's throat, but half way through I recognize Nicole and I force my hand to the left and miss her. "Hey, it's me. Are you alright." Her voice is dripping with genuine concern. "Yeah, I'm alright. I am sorry about that." I said looking into her eyes. "Don't be. Do you want to talk about it?" "No." I said. I sat up and pulled my shirt back on and slipped into my shoes. "What are you doing?" she asked "I am going outside to do my workout." "Do you have any idea what time it is." She asked "It's four a.m." "How did you know that? There are no clocks in here." "It's always four." I walked over to my stuff in the corner and pulled a small bag out of my suit case. These were my nunchucks, I wasn't sure how they would go over here but I was going to give it a shot. "Why don't you try to get a little more sleep?" "Because it won't work, once I am up I am up." I said "Can I watch?" ___________________________ I started with push ups. I let every thing fall away as I moved. After about three minutes or so sheen of sweat began to form. That was sign that it is time to start the workout. My hands and feet moved in slow motion and I felt my muscles power up. They began a dance and take over me. This continued for a while until my hands deemed the dance done. I looked over at Nicole to see her reaction. It was warm in the California twilight but not warm enough for the sweat on her skin and hard breathing. Smiled to my self, I was getting to her. I will still swear that it wasn't my plan to seduce Nicole, she did her self. Married to Daniel it really didn't surprise me. I reached to my back and pulled out the nunchucks I had put in my waistband earlier. My hands pushed them into a quick rotation. They crossed my body and moved into a wrist roll spinning faster. The wood danced around my body at unreal speeds and my mind was finally free of my mother's face. Nicole was breathing harder and harder, the chucks whistled past my head. I was free and relived. I wound down the chucks and pocketed them under my right arm. I was standing with my right side to Nicole and the sun was just coming up on my left. I put the chucks back into my waistband and stepped in front of Nicole. I leaned close into her face and grabbed my cigarettes. I turned away from her and lit one. "Wow." She said. "That was for real." "Yeah." I said. "Well, what sounds good for breakfast?" Nicole asked, trying to sound calm and collected. "Don't worry about that. I'll make breakfast. Just go have your shower and then it's my turn. I'll make breakfast for everybody." "No, you are our guest and I can't ask you to cook." "You are not asking me to cook. I am telling you that I am going to cook. Now go." I said and took a hearty drag off of my Camel.