Sins of the Father- In Progress

                                                            Sins of the Father

                                                          Written By: Trey Hines



                                                                Chapter One:

                                                              Chicago, Illinois

                                                                      1925



          The streets of Chicago were already flooding after three hours of pounding rain. The thunder and lightning had been turning the dead black night into a livelihood that the citizens had never seen before in years. The skies were of the blackest obsidian and could not be seen through even with the brightest headlights from the newest Ford T Cars off the line. Deep in a warehouse stood two men over looking another who had been blindfolded and tied down to a wooden chair. He had been kidnapped from him home hours before and was just now coming to. He tried to gain his bearings but he soon failed in his attempt to do so. The blindfold had completely disoriented him and the continuous rain, thunder and lightning and long since thrown him off track. He swung his head around in a feeble attempt to throw off the bandanna wrapped around his head and eyes. Tossing the chair from side to side, the frightened man struggled to escape from his wooden prison. His efforts were in vain. Above him was a single light hanging from the ceiling which provided the only illumination in the entire warehouse, for it had long been abandoned. The two other men remained in the shadows until one of them spoke up with a deep Irish brogue.



“Do ya wonder why you’re here O’Bannon?” He tried to concentrate on the voice, hoping to recognize it. The voice sounded familiar but it was too distant in his memory to recall.



“Cause yer a lien thieven bunch ya are!” He shouted to the winds hoping whoever was holding him captive would get the message of his disdain for his captors. His voice held an Irish brogue similar to that of his kidnappers, but it was softer, for O’Bannon had been in America much longer than the other.



“Wrong ye are lad,” and with that he delivered a powerful blow to his face, “yer here cause ye have something of mine. I want it back.”  Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the floor in the warehouse to reveal a man wearing a dark black fedora and a three piece suit covered by an even longer brown trenchcoat. His suit was made of the poorest materials as he was nowhere near the wealthiest man in Chicago, but he wore it with a grace and charm that drew others to him. His eyes were of a deep sapphire blue some said cut into your soul if you stared long enough into them. The man’s hair resembled the darkest obsidian and as slick as oil. He may have been one of the poorer men of Chicago, but people knew who he was. As soon as the lightning had lit up the room it was just as soon that it went dark again. The kidnapper held out his hand and the other man in the shadows proceeded to grab a baseball bat that had been leaning up against the wall and handed it to him.



“Now lad, we can do dis the easy way and ye tell us what we wanna know. On the other hand we can do dis the hard way and we squeeze it outta ya like orange juice.” He patted the fatter end of the bat in his left hand as he stood in front of O’Bannon waiting for an answer from the man. Recklessly the captive spit as far as he could out into the blackness hoping the saliva would meet its desired prey. Indeed it did as the spit splattered over the other man’s face and as if on cue another round of thunder and lightning crackled through the air. With cat like reflexes he swung the bat as hard as he could into the man’s chest and he could hear several ribs cracking as the bat made contact with flesh. O’Bannon’s screams of pain and agony were cloaked only by the continuous rounds of thunder and lightning.

“Wrong answer boyo! Would you like to rephrase yer answer?” He shouted into the blackness of the warehouse. O’Bannon began to cough up blood as the broken ribs had punctured his lungs. With a rasped voice and bleeding internally he attempted to answer his captor but was unable. Once more, the bat tore into his chest and set it on fire with burning pain. Blood came flowing out of his mouth like the Mississippi river.



“Damn it!” He shouted as he witnessed the man tied to the chair slowly dying. He waved his hand to the man still standing in the shadows. He was referred to only as Glasses. The accomplice nodded and moved to untie the man and throw him on his back and carried him outside to the back of the ware house. They stepped out into the pouring rain and they were instantly drenched with water, soaking them to their core. Glasses threw the man to the slick street and swiftly pulled out a Colt 1911 pistol. O’Bannon began to pray and clasped his hands, crossing his head and chest in the Catholic way.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…….” Glasses waited for another round of thunder and lightning to pass over head and at the opportune sent O’Bannon to Heaven with a .45 round in his skull. He watched as the limp body collapsed to the ground and he smiled. He picked him up and tossed him up into the dumpster that wasn’t too far away. After he had cleaned up as best he could he made his way back into the warehouse where his boss was waiting.

“It’s done Mace. All is clean.” The man called Mace Malone smiled and put out his cigar. He nodded while he reached for a crowbar that laid on the floor not far from him.

“Good. Now let’s see what he left for us.”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                             

         The powerful rain had long been drenching the streets of Chicago for hours and Detective Andrew Charleston was quite frankly very tired of it. The nonstop bellowing shouts of thunder and blinding discharges of lightning had long since become annoying. Even while Chicago was getting drenched in its usual March storms the Chicago Police Department still worked around the clock trying to protect the city. He had been on the force since he had turned seventeen and began to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather before him as law enforcement officers.

                                       

                                                                        -In Progress-