Title To Be Determined

Here's a story that i will occasionally sit down and add a few lines too. It's a great idea, has some interesting characters and i am going to try my best to keep up with it and bring it to fruition. I hope you enjoy it.

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Part one

It's a typical summer night in the Puget Sound. The Moon is full and creates interesting shapes and shadows as it shines through the trees. Two of the shadows seem to have a life of their own as they move to and fro quietly. These shadows make their way to a clearing amongst the trees where a wooden skeleton, a promise of a house that is a dream come true, sits alone and unprotected.

"This is an abomination. Have I told you, that my Dad and I used to come here? We'd just sit and listen to the quiet of nature surround us. The only sound you could hear was the water lapping against the shore. Now look at it... the land has been marred by some idiot with money and no regard for the beauty of untouched land."

"Dude, you sure this is ok? I mean, it wasn't like, we asked if it was, you know... to do this one."

"Stop being such a pussy, Weed. Who cares if this was sanctioned or not. This is for the greater good. These rich assholes need to be taught a lesson, an expensive lesson. It's the only way they'll learn."

"I don't know, man... I just think we should have asked or something, ya know?"

"Look, since you don't have the balls to do the real work, why don't you go spray paint the calling card, ok? Just gimme the lighter fluid"

"Fuck you, Monk. At least I ain't no boot-lick, kiss-ass that is trying to make nice and get cozy with the Greenie Elite."

"Shut the Hell up, Dick-Weed. You wanna tell the whole world we're here." "Yeah, right, whatever", he says as he walks towards one of the bulldozers.

Monk walks toward the framework and starts soaking all the lumber. He works fast and meticulously, making sure that every piece of this would-be house burns to the ground hot and fast.

"You done?"

"Yeah. Did ya' leave our tag?"

"Yeah, on one of the Honeybuckets. I also have rags hanging out of the gas tanks of the bobcats and the Deere."

"High five, brother! That's the spirit. Okay... here she goes..."

Monk takes the silver Zippo out of his pocket and touches it to a stack of 2x4's. A bright flash of orange and the fire starts to devour the framework like a greedy child eating his favorite sweets.

"Oohwee! Look at her go. Toss the spray cans into the fire... get rid of the finger prints. Here…", Monk tosses the Zippo to Weed, "Go take care of those 'dozers while I get the boat ready."

"Yeah... you got it, Monk."

Weed runs toward the equipment as Monk heads toward the dock. Monk jumps into the small Zodiac and starts up the outboard motor. Just as the first 'dozer goes up in a ball of flames, he hears Weeds footsteps on the dock.

"Monk.... Monk, help me out, man."

Monk jumps out of the boat and runs towards Weed.

"What the fuck? Is that blood? Shit! What you do?"

"I tripped over some tarps and landed in a pile full of broken glass and shit. Help me into the boat. I heard sirens... We has got to go, man!"

"Yeah, lets get the Hell out of here. I think we've made our point."

Monk helps the bleeding boy into the Zodiac and pushes off the dock. The sound of the outboard motor at full throttle is lost among the explosions and sirens in the distance as the boys flee into the night.

Somewhere across Lake Union a phone rings, waking a sleeper. His hand searches for the cause of his rude awakening. He grabs the phone and answers with a very sleepy, "Hello..."

"Turn the TV on. Dan has a story that might be of interest to you…"

The caller hangs up and he is left listening to the monotonous dial tone. He reaches for his remote control and turns the TV to KOMO 4 News.

"...and now to recap our breaking news. There is a house fire on Lake Union as we speak. The multi-million dollar complex that was to be a retreat is now burning out of control. Firefighters arrived on the scene moments after the fire started, and could do nothing but make sure that the fire did not spread into the surrounding trees. The spray painted logo of the Green Anarchists Invisible Army, also known as G.A.I.A., was found spray painted on a Honeybucket at the scene. ATF has been notified and is standing by to investigate the cause of the fire...”

"Dammit!"

He jumps out of bed and goes into his study, opens a drawer in his mahogany desk and grabs his phone with a secured line. He punches in some numbers and waits for someone to pick up on the other side.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Shut the Hell up, Wort, and listen. Who auth’ed a run tonight?"

"N-No one. There shouldn't be anything going on."

"Really... It so happens that while I was watching the News, I find out that a GAIA logo was found spray painted on a Honeybucket, a house is burning to the ground, and ATF is on the scene."

"Shit! No worries sir, I'll find out who did it."

"See that you do. Found the assholes and bring them here to me! Understand?" "Y-Yes, sir."

He hits the end call button and flings the phone at the rich cherry wood shelves that line the walls of his study, shelves of books that he has never bothered to read nor does he ever plan to. His study, like everything else in his life is about status. What looks good to the upper management and what he can flaunt to his underlings.

The phone rings and he stares at it in disbelief. No one has this number. It rings again and out of curiosity he picks it up and answers the phone with a tentative, "Hello..."

"Mr. Lyneaux, I thought we had an understanding."

"W-Who is this?"

"You offend me, Mr Lyneaux. First you go back on your word and now you do not remember me. You really disappoint me. If a business associate dropped a few million dollars in my lap, I would make special effort to remember who it was."

"Miss Xin-Lao, I'm so sorry... I was just surprised that the phone rang, no one has this number."

"Pay the right people enough money and you can have anything you desire, Mr Lyneaux. Now, please explain to me why it is that my project has burned to the ground."

"Your project?"

"Yes, Mr Lyneaux. Imagine my surprise while I am watching your news and I see my house burning, and what is even more interesting, there is a GAIA tag sprayed on a portable."

"I had no idea that was yours, but no one gave an ok to do a anything tonight. This was an independent job. Someone acting on there own..."

"Mr Lyneaux, a man who has no control over his servants is a mere servant himself. See to it that I am not disappointed again. It could end up being detrimental to your health."

The connection is ended and Mr Lyneaux is left contemplating her last words.