Appetite For Destruction

“Welcome to the Jungle”, those were the first words I heard when I entered the club some months ago. I can only guess that it was months, honestly, because since that night, much of it was a total blur. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but my bravado and my arrogance really didn’t give a shit. Captain Butterweck was my recruiter, and he was a man I had vowed to follow into any war at any time. Peter was my company commander in the Army, and he noticed my combat skills early on. Looking back on it, the pushing to “make me a better soldier” wasn’t really to make me a better soldier, but to prepare me for the life I had found myself in these last few months.

Now, I’m not going to complain, because this life was one I never could’ve imagined… Booze, girls, drugs, and a shitload of money. I was living like a king, and all I had to do was protect the top brass and go on a kill once in a while. It’s so easy to kill, to be quite honest. An enemy is an enemy, and everybody bleeds red, the fact that it sprays out onto the desert sands or the back seat of a $75,000 Mercedes is irrelevant. This was a new war for me, fighting for control of a city’s underworld, but it was a war nonetheless, and I was bred for it. Hell, I didn’t even care which side I was on. Sure, I was a part of this gang and went joyfully about killing the members of the others, but I would’ve been just as content doing this for any of the gangs against the one I found myself serving in. I had NO loyalty, except to the lifestyle.

Then, one night, the lifestyle caught up to me. I was a hero among the men of my gang, and I was revered, so I heard, by the members of the others. We were winning the war, we could all feel it. Especially me… I was a killer, I was also a dope-fiend and an alcoholic, but I was a killer. So, on this particular evening, I overdid it just a little bit. As the alcohol coursed through my veins making me numb and mellow, I felt the coke zipping through my brain making me hyperaware. Do you know what it’s like to have your brain move fifty thousand times faster than your body? It’s not fun. The ambush came as I was placing the rolled up, coke-dusted fifty dollar bill on the bar following a long drag of powder. The tang in my nose was pleasant, but the gunshots were a nuisance that became a nightmare. Somehow, I escaped into the night and made my way to the El platform and hitched a ride on the night train.

I stumbled off the train at the Broad Street stop, finally noticing a splotch of red on my white button-down shirt. I didn’t care… no doubt I would face punishment for being ambushed and losing Bobby and Chet in the process. It wasn’t until I flopped down into the seat of the train that I realized I was alone. But again, I didn’t care. My only concern was finding safety and getting back to my lifestyle. I approached the doors to the Bullet Rose, our operations center, our home base. Wet from the light drizzle and stumbling from a bout of blood-loss induced vertigo, I placed my my hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the doorman, and said matter-of-factly, “They’re out ta get me.” For some reason he laughed…

Mr Brownstone was a nice enough fella, even allowing me to call him “Elliot” when he felt like it. Tonight was not one of those nights. I was never sure if Elliot was truly Italian, or if the accent was just a show of intimidation. It was one of those useless points of reality that always nagged at the back of my brain. However, there would be no “Elliot” tonight, fake accent or not, Mr Brownstone was not happy. I sat down across from his backroom desk, body numb and mind racing. The butler brought in a tray with a snifter of brandy and small pile of coke and placed it on the wooden table between the chairs. I wasn’t sure if I should dig right in, but I did. The snifter was drained in a single, fiery gulp of relaxation, and I didn’t even bother cutting the coke, I just snorted. Sitting back with a smile on my face, there sat Mr Brownstone watching. He raised an eyebrow and gave a stiff grin. Our conversation was curt and to the point. I was becoming a liability. I laughed. I asked if I was being fired. He said no. I asked if I was being transferred, with another laugh, for there was no such thing. This went on for a few minutes, a useless back and forth. Personally, I was surprised that the boss indulged me for so long.

Finally, Mr Brownstone called Jade into the office. Her stunning green eyes clashed with the purple, barely-there lingerie she wore. She stood in front of me, hand extended and silent. I heard the boss say, “Jade is going to take you to Paradise City. I believe this will be your first time. It’s a night of enjoyment for you, then you can take some time off and return to us when you’re ready. We need you, kid… You’re an invaluable asset to the company.” The words shuffled to the back of my mind, then went out the left ear as quickly as they had entered my right ear. I only had eyes for Jade. I didn’t notice the disingenuous smile from the boss as she led me out of the office.

I soon found myself in a Champagne Room in the basement of the club. Four women, including Jade, were now dancing for me, as I sat in the booth and snorted even more coke from the small table in front me. Paradise, indeed! I didn’t know the names of the other girls, the drugs told me that it was superfluous information anyway. But one of them, I could swear that she was my Michelle, the woman I had been in love with when I left for the Army. I felt the crack form in the wall of coke and liquor that surrounded my ability to care about anything. Kansas was a long way from here, but this girl was my Yellow Brick Road. I wasn’t even sure it was her, but it didn’t matter at this point.

Michelle was the star cheerleader to my star quarterback. I had thought about her every day after I left for boot. I vowed to marry her when I returned, and we would buy a farm and have a large family. You know, the white picket fence shit. “Of all the places and times, Michelle, it’s now that I think about you,” I grumbled to myself. The hands and bodies of the four girls rubbing against me disappeared from my mind, as did the haze of drunkenness and ecstasy. All I could see was Michelle. What I didn’t see were the knives that these women had in their hands. What I didn’t feel were the blades cutting into my skin through the Armani suit, nor the blood trickling across my skin.

The waking dream continued unabated, and I saw Michelle in a beautiful, white wedding gown, walking down the aisle arm-in-arm with her father. I saw a hospital room where our first child was delivered. I watched as my wife and my sweet child o’mine played about the house as I headed to the barn to get the tractor for harvest. I saw a life I had wanted, a life I had given up, a life that had been stolen. And the cracks in the wall of my mind became gaping holes as it crumbled. And for the first time this evening, I was truly aware of what was happening to me. Jade was first… She brought the knife in for another attack, and I grabbed her wrist before the blade struck. With a twist, her hand became forever useless, and the knife fell to the floor. My other hand went to my waist where the Glock waited. In an instant, Jade lay on the floor next to her bloodied knife, a bullet in her brain. Remembering where I was, I couldn’t afford to fire off another shot. The other three women, “Michelle” included, soon joined Jade on the floor of the Champagne Room… Broken necks all around!

That lone gunshot, unfortunately, brought trouble. The door was kicked open, and I hid behind it. “Oh shit!” I heard the guard exclaim. Before he could pull his piece, though, I kicked the door shut and leveled the Glock’s barrel at his temple. He raised his hands high and tried to look at me through his peripherals. “What the hell have you done? You’re crazy!” Then I put a bullet in his brain, too. The jig was up. I was supposed to die down here, but I had other plans now.

As I left the room, I turned to the dead man on the floor and said, “Anything goes, now. I’m a killer, and all of you will die tonight.” With a smile on my face, I left the room. For every step I took there seemed to be a shell that hit the floor. I wasn’t sure if I had enough ammo to get out of the club, so I picked up a clip as often as I could as I littered the floor with dead body after dead body. The killing had never come easier for me than it did in these moments. As I reached the front door of the club, there stood Mr Brownstone. Seeing his whole operation murdered, even he couldn’t keep the normally stoic expression on his face. All he could say was, “Why?”

“’Cause you’re my Rocket Queen, Elliot! ‘Cause I can turn on anyone, just like I’ve turned on you! I’ve done favors for you for a long time, and now you’re gonna do whatever I like! And that’s to die!” I put a bullet in each limb, and he fell to his knees, tears flowing freely down his face. Another bullet to each shoulder, then one to the abdomen. As he lifted his head to look at me, the red blood staining his expensive and tailored white suit, I put the barrel in his mouth and fired. His brains splattered across the glass door of the club. They were all dead, and I was bleeding profusely.

But I was still alive, the only one left alive… As the final wave of liquor and coke induced vertigo spread through me, so did the thought that my appetite for destruction was finally satisfied. I walked through the door and out onto the sidewalk. I was free…

BANG!