Black Heaven

[fragilefigure]

The bank was old, but in a lovely sort of way, with windows that made the air seem golden and soft couches made of velvet. There was a huge set of steps leading up to the front door, and there were more than a few pairs of pillars, veined in gold like marble. Carissa always used to sit on the steps and sketch the garden out front, or sometimes people that would pass her by, but that was years ago. Now the bank was merely somewhere she went to pay her debts or to take out cash. Not that she was terribly broken hearted over it, really. No, she was a new wife now, and couldn't spend her time like she used to.

Still... when she pulled open one of the beautiful doors and felt the rush of warm, green-scented air from inside, rustling her wavy hair around her shoulders, she couldn't help but give a small sigh. Her new husband, James, was what every woman wanted. He was kind, gentle, rich... anything she wanted he would gladly give her. She had no right to complain. For some reason, though, every time she thought of... of... growing old with him, or even raising his children, she felt a sick sense of repulsion in her stomach. She didn't want to live with him for the rest of her life - she hardly wanted to live with him now. He was boring. He didn't understand her need for excitement, for passion. But instead of taking the ring off of her finger - a ring ten times more gaudy then she would ever want - she acted the good wife, cooking his dinners and giggling about babies that she didn't even want.

Carissa got into the long line at the counter, shifting her purse on her shoulder. The beautiful, rediculously expensive purse that matched her high heeled shoes perfectly. No - she couldn't complain. She acted the good wife so that she could live this comfortably. It was her decision. She led him on herself. The only thing she could possibly ask for at this point was to be infertile - pregnancy would ruin her.

She tossed her curled auburn hair over her shoulder and moved forward as the line proceeded, listening to the quiet murmuring of the people around her instead of dwelling on her own thoughts. That wouldn't do any good.

[Hisoka]

"Yo Damion pass the ball already man."

The calm air of a early summer morning blew over the dilapidated basketball court set in the slums of the inner city, the pavement cracked and the hoops lacking nets. But for the ten kids playing ball it was just part of the background, just like the hookers and drug dealers not to mention the dead junkies who overdosed on the misery the dealers pushed.

" Yeah sure thing Mack." The child known as Damion replied, he had been spacing out again. He did that a lot, sometimes he just start thinking about things so deeply he'd forget where he was. But being brought back to reality by the so called Mack, a name he earned by wearing the hood emblem of a Mack truck he 'found' as a necklace. The silver bulldog caught the morning sunlight reflecting it back tenfold.

Tossing the ball Damion rejoined those of us back on plant Earth, his black converse high tops hitting the ground with force as he dodged, blocked, and generally ran circles around the other team. Damion was a child prodigy, able to hold his own against players much older then him. His elementary school's basketball team had never lost a game since Damion had joined it. And the trophy case was full of the awards they won with Damion as their captain.

He was lanky this Damion, nearly 5 feet 11 inches and he was only 11, with many growth spurts ahead of him. Of African heritage his skin was dark, nearly the black his race was color coded by. All lean muscle he could run for hours and not feel tired, he did a little track and field on the side after that coach had begged him to join.

Life would have been prefect for Damion had he been born some other time and some other place. But instead fate had decreed his mother was a drug addict and his father no where to be seen, which was why his mother did drugs. It helped with the utter hopelessness of being poor in the inner city.

But in spite of the nights he went hungry and the times he had to call the ambulance after his mother overdosed Damion was pretty much your happy go lucky kid. One of the reasons he was so good at basketball and running was this hell of a childhood. Instead of going home every night Damion stayed at this wreck of a basketball court long after the other kids had gone home. He would run drills, practice his free throws, and his dunks. And the running part, well the inner city was a dangerous place at 1 in the morning suffice to say.

" Yo Damion." Mack said throwing him the ball, the prefect set up for scoring a three pointer presented itself. Catching the ball with the ease those long nights of practice had given him the child prodigy leaped in the air, throwing the ball with the correct timing, and as it had done a thousand times before the ball first found the backboard then the rim and finally went into the net.

" That's game to us pay up brother." Mack spoke to the other team as the ball bounced away, one of the kids running after it,no doubt the owner of the ball.

" Yeah yeah Mack, next time we get Damion." The captain of the other team moaned handing a small billfold packed with twenties, he was the son of a major drug dealer and thus always had money to burn. Mack and Damion being the product of negligent and poor mothers loved people like him.

" In your dreams brother." Mack replied with a laugh. " Me and Damion we is tight."

" Whatever you say Mack, just hand over my share already." Damion chipped in with a laugh of his own.

" Sure thing bro, here ya go, don't spend it all in one place."

The small stack of bills was divided in to 5 parts, an equal share for each member of the team. This was the agreement amongst these poor yet skilled basketball players when the game was played for money. For many of them this was the only time they would see cold hard cash, for some like Damion it meant the difference between eating and going hungry sometimes.

"Well I gotta go Damion, see you tomorrow bro." Mack spoke after the money had been handed out.

" Yeah sure thing Mack, I'll be here."

" Yeah I know, sometimes I think you live here or something." Mack replied with a hollow laugh, he to knew the pain Damion lived with all too well. But he was in the end a coward, too afraid to stay away from home. And unlike Damion whose mother sometimes forgot he even existed Mack's mother would remember him, if only to beat him.

Nodding his reply the child prodigy that was Damion left the court. With money in his hands the child wanted to eat before he either got mugged for it by some junkie looking for a quick fix or his mother sniffed it out on him, so pretty much he wanted to keep it away from junkies.

Stopping only to pick up a beaten up canvas backpack Damion ran down the streets, dodging people with uncanny ease. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city closing in on him like the door of a coffin. The ironies of this place were not lost on even this child.

In a cafe a elitist snob paid 12 bucks for a latte, in the alley next to the cafe a man lay with a stab wound no doubt the work of a mugger. Being just another homeless bum his death wouldn't be mourned by anyone. In the restroom of a McDonald's a 14 year girl was sticking her finger down her throat while another bum rummaged around the dumpster out back for a bite to eat, Damion had entertained similar ideas when those hungry nights came too often.

But as with any child of this cruel and cold world he ignored it, after all no need to tempt fate right.....

Reaching a diner, his favorite diner he stopped. Mostly he liked this place because the food was cheap and plentiful. It wasn't particularly good but Damion assumed it tasted better then dumpster trash. Pushing open the door he set the bell ringing.

" Ah it's the little man, what will it be." The cashier said noticing it was Damion. The cashier was an African as well although his skin was far lighter.

" I'll have the tomato soup and grilled cheese Bobby."

" Sure thing, 7.95 please."

Handing over the money he had won Damion was given his change and was in short order dining on a grilled cheese sandwich big enough to feed an army. And there was enough tomato soup to float a battleship. Bolting it down like he was afraid it would be taken from him Damion was soon done. His meal done he left the diner.

Once more the gauntlet of the city streets was run through, the foot traffic had thinned, the hookers began their strutting, and the dealers began dealing more openly. Basically the untamed night had arrived but for this 11 year old it was simply once more part of the background.

Arriving unharmed once more to his home away from home Damion sat on a stone bench set by the side of the court. Opening his pack he dug out his most prized possession. A basketball, blue and white it was the one thing he cherished above all else. Leaving his pack by the bench he began to dribble the ball. And his nightly routine of drills, free throws, and escape from reality began.

He was all star MVP, the crowd was going wild, the clock was ticking down. The opposition rushed at him eager to deny his victory, his teammates shouted encouragement. His steps took him to the other net, dodging the defenders with quick and clever sidesteps. But the clock was ticking too fast, he'd never make it time for the assured slam dunk. So leaping once more from center court he jumped and threw the ball with everything he could muster.....The crowd fell silent, time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. Every prayer he knew ran itself through his head...

And the ball fell short of the net.......

Suddenly he was just a 11 year old on a trashed basketball court in the slums of the inner city. The product of a non-existent father and a drug addicted mother. A kid with no future but the bleakness of inner city life ahead of him. A kid who couldn't hack it at school, who played basketball for money so he could eat.

Picking up the ball he stuffed it into his pack and began the long and lonely walk back home



----------------------------------------------------

" Damion go check the bedroom, sure to be some crap there worth hocking."

" Sure thing Mack." Damion whispered.

Damion walked quiet as could be, for despite the fact this house had no alarms and had no one inside of it beside him and Mack he felt no need to tempt fate.

He had done some growing up, his lanky frame filled out with some muscle, the ghost of a beard dusted his cheeks. And in his eyes was a hard look, the look of a child who became a man too fast. In his hands he held a sack and a crowbar with which he had gained entry into this upper class house in the west end over looking the ocean. The owner had forgotten to set his alarms before leaving on vacation....Mack had like Damion become a man too fast and soon was a pro at casing targets.

His muted footfalls taking him to the upstairs bedroom the former child prodigy began a through and detailed ransacking of it. Jewels, valuable and light electronics, even some cold cash, nothing escaped his experienced eye. Shoving it all in his sack Damion soon was holding a fortune. Or he would have been had their Fence been slightly more generous. But as with all such assholes the Fence knew he had Mack and Damion over a barrel. And so their ill gotten gains netted them little then a tenth of their true value.


" Man this place is a gold mine, wish we had bought the truck." Mack said behind him.

" Yeah maybe but you know the truck would attract too much attention." Damion replied turning around.

The truck in question was a 5 ton international dump track. Of nearly 30 years age and bad shape it would be rather noticeable in this upscale neighborhood. Damion and Mack had 'obtained' it when the need to steal car parts from a junk yard arose. The transmission from a Buick Regal was a rather hefty burden even for the muscular Mack.

Instead using stolen identities they had purchased a Rolls Royce so as to blend into the upscale neighborhoods, going so far as to dress in dark but well made suits. They had hit 4 houses so far and had actually not only covered their costs but made a healthy profit to boot. But the heat was beginning to build and these professional thieves knew this would be the last house they hit in this neck of the woods for awhile.

" Guess so, well lets get going with what we got while the going is good." Mack replied, despite ditching the hood emblem he was still known as Mack to his friends. But his bulk suited his truck nickname. He wasn't exactly the fastest person around but his sheer strength amazed even Damion from time to time.

" Couldn't agree more Mack, let's get the hell outta dodge."

-------------------------------------------------------


" Oh so now it's an inconvenience..." Mack said speaking into his cellphone while Damion rested nearby on a black leather couch set by the stairs of their rather large loft apartment. Granted it was still in the slums and the building itself was not much to look at the loft still was a step up for Damion and Mack. And considering their sole source of income was theft it was a wonder they could afford the rent, not to mention the rather nice furnishings.

" Yeah well fuck you too bitch, go choke on your daddy's dick already." Mack shouted at the top of his voice before hurling the phone against the wall with all his considerable strength where it shattered into a million pieces.

" Problems Mack?" Damion asked without batting a eyebrow, Mack had an anger problem so it was nothing new to see him do this. In fact this was the 16th cellphone he had shattered.

" I'll say Big Devil called in our tab......with interest.......that fucking whore said it's too inconvenient to wait till next month when our money comes in. We got three days to pay it."

Big Devil was a woman, a gun runner and seller of all things illegal. She had carved out a niche as the only such person willing to sell on credit. Mack and Damion had a somewhat good relationship with her, Damion was actually going out with the gun runner's daughter. But it seemed Big Devil had no time to wait for their monthly money shipment. And the pair had a considerable tab with her.

" Where in the hell does she expect us to come up with 30,000 in three days."

" Fucked if I know Damion......Why are you looking at me like that?" Mack replied with a worried tone in his voice, Damion was not one for such odd looks.


" I think we may need to rob a bank, after all you remember what happened to the last son of a bitch that didn't pay Big Devil."

" You don't need to remind me Damion, I was there. She fucking butchered the guy like he was a pig. Christ and she did it while he was still alive and kicking. Guy screamed for a half hour before he died......but robbing a bank is risky shit......" Mack replied going green around the gills so to speak. He still had nightmares about that day, the screams in particular still haunted his waking moments when he let it.

" You got a better idea or do you feel like practicing your pig squeal?"

" Shit......"
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Damion pulled over the stolen BMW M3, it's tinted windows and black paint job blending well with the other high class cars parked outside the marble palace to wealth.

Ignoring the beauty of the manicured grass and the garden out front Damion and Mack walked up the marble stairs. Dressed in the same dark suits bought for the house robbery and wearing black trench coats which concealed M4s the pair strode in. They had chosen this bank because it was the furthest away from any police station. Mack estimated the fastest police could show up would be 15 minutes, 30 minutes before a considerable force could be mustered. And there were too many exits for the police to block all of them, many of them leading to the freeway.

The bank was full, the lines of the snobbish rich hinting at the massive wealth this marble palace housed.

Pulling out their M4s Damion and Mack shot into the air, the automatic fire echoing loudly as the shell casings hit the floor.

"Everybody down on the ground right now, I want your wallets and purses out and emptied. " Damion ordered as he reloaded his M4.

Mack as planned rushed the clerks smashing through the bullet proof glass barrier with sheer force. Shattered glass pouring down his body the muscular thief turned bank robber shouted his own orders.

"Open the fucking vault now."

The rich unused to the terror brought before them this day did as complied, their mouths gaped in both terror and shock. One fat old woman closed and opened her mouth like a land stranded fish.


"Any more fucking heroes, open the fucking vault now." Mack roared as he emptied a few rounds into a security guard dumb enough to go for his weapon.

[fragilefigure]

Carissa didn't have time to react before two men had entered the building, given orders, and then shot a guard. No one around her really did anything but stand dumbly and watch, and she acted similarly. Only when the bigger man rushed and broke the bulletproof glass did she finally start to panic, feeling her heartbeat begin to beat faster.

When the one man ordered everyone to empty their purses and get on the ground she quickly complied, zipping open her purse and pulling out all of the contents: her wallet and all of the credit cards and cash inside, her cell phone and blackberry, her make up, and all of the other odds and ends hidden in the corners. Some of the people around her just stood there, looking alarmed but not reacting. It was as if they thought that any moment the police would run inside and they would reserve their dignity by showing that they wouldn't follow these black men's orders.

Feeling a rush of fear mixed with anger, Carissa yelled out, "Get down! Do as he says!" Her voice echoed off of the marble, blending with the echoed gun shots and orders. A few of the people around her dropped, but some still stood, setting their chin while their eyes showed their panic.

All she could think was that they were idiots, and that they were gonna die. They were all going to die.

[Hisoka]

"Yes sir, right away sir." A clerk answered with terror written large in her voice as she obeyed the muscular Mack who stood atop the rapidly cooling corpse of the guard who had foolish chosen duty over common sense. The shattered remains of the bullet proof window littered the ground around the counter like the crystallized snow after a slight thaw then freeze. The fear of these rich snobs was heavy in the hair, a bitter stink that made the bank robbers noses twitch .

" About fucking time, come on we ain't got all day bitch." Mack replied shoving the clerk ahead of him." Take care of the idiots out here bro." Mack threw over his shoulder as the polished steel door of the vault swung open.

" Sure thing." Damion replied as he strode around the cowering people that had the misfortune of being in the same bank as they had chosen to rob. " I don't think you heard me, is your hearing messed up...." He spoke in a cold a deliberate voice to one of those foolish enough to still be standing. And suddenly the stock of the M4 carbine smashed itself directly into the general area of the ear of this standing idiot. Damion wasn't built like Mack but the forces involved in such an attack helped his still somewhat lanky frame. The fool hit the ground clutching the side of his head, blood pouring profusely from between his clutched fingers.

" How about you, you need to see Dr.Head Smash bitch. " He spoke as he strode from this victim to another. This one was a woman, a slender almost childlike one whose defiance didn't fit her fragile looking figure. Smashing the stock of the M4 into her chest the sound of broken ribs could be heard loud echoing loudly in the largely quiet bank.

Falling to the ground she gasped for air in between howls of pain.

" All right any one else need a visit from the good doctor." Damion spoke once more to those still standing. Each figure one by one laid themselves on the ground emptying their wallets and purses.

" Alright that is more like it...." He said checking his watch." Hey bro you got 5 more minutes in the vault before we gotta go." Damion yelled to the muscular Mack who answered with a positive grunt.

Walking around he gathered the valuables the bank customers had dropped upon the floor. Cash, electronics, jewelery, gold watches, credit cards. It was all gathered up and dumped into gym bags they had stuffed underneath their trench coats.

The sound of police sirens echoed loudly.

" Shit, Time's up bro take what you got and lets make ourselves scarce." Damion said as Mack rushed out of the vault holding gym bags fit to burst. His heavily muscled arms bore fresh bruises and his fists were bloody.

" Bitch tried to kill be with a gold vase so I had to crush her little skull with my fist ya know."

" I see well let's get the fuck out of her already shall we." Damion said in reply as they hefted their loot in more convenient carry positions.

Mack suited his reply in actions charging out the front door, were upon a hail of sniper fire riddled his body. For a split second Mack struggled onwards driven on by sheer rage. His efforts earned him another round of fire, and despite that he crawled on his path marked clear by a sold crimson tide. Once more bullets tore into him. And even rage couldn't deny death anymore.

Damion cried out in rage, firing a few rounds before retreating back into the back. He had been missed, a pure stroke of luck saw him unharmed and still alive. But now he was trapped in this bank. The front entrance was the way his car lay, the back entrance no doubt blocked off. He and Mack had bet a lot on this gamble and it looked like lady luck had thrown him snake eyes.

" I still got hostages though." He said out loud as a few of his remaining chips attempted to run off. Without hesitation he gunned them down." Alright next fucking idiot who moves will die too. If I even see any of you twitch I'll give your a second smile got it mother fuckers?" He asked as he jumped behind the desk. Keeping three feet of marble between him and the cops seemed like a good idea.

" How the fuck did the police snipers get here so fast and quiet. Fuck man Fuck.......Fuck." He muttered to himself as he tired to think of a way out of this death trap without ending up in a morgue.

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