Poker Night Page #5

Night after night

I was learning more.

Arguing.

Sharing knowledge.

It was like being a member

in the most exclusive club ever.

I was liberated.

I didn't feel alone

for the first time in my life.

But...

I needed something more.

Someone to share with,

to learn from,

to help me sharpen my skills.

I needed a mentor.

It was everything

I ever hoped for and more.

Someone who got me,

understood me,

where I was coming from.

He helped me be the man

I am today.

To be all I could be.

But there comes a time

when you have to grow up.

There comes a time when you kill your

parents, and you leave the house.

What a dipshit.

That time came,

and that's when I knew

I was ready.

Ready to be on my own again.

What happened to your mentor?

And you call yourself

a detective?

Enough about me.

Let's talk about you.

I see potential in you,

Detective.

You're a lot like me.

Trapped.

Well, you saw what I had

to do to break free.

And I want you to do the same.

Please.

Just let me go.

Let yourself go.

Free yourself.

I want you to think

about something, Detective.

Why you?

Out of everyone.

Why you?

Do you think you have what

it takes to go up against me?

You think you're smart enough?

I don't think so.

I think you fall short.

Way short.

Game's almost over, Detective.

You know, I've been thinking.

You know,

what's going on here is, uh,

it's not right.

I used you to catch the detective

and now that I have him,

I don't really need you anymore.

I have a sickness, and, uh,

I see that now.

And I can't keep doing this.

So what I want is for you

to call your family...

and tell them that

you're all right,

and tell them to come get you.

Okay?

What?

Oh, but...

All right.

All right. So.

Here.

Daddy?

Can you hear me?

Yes, I'm alive.

He wants you to come get me.

He said he's gonna let me...

Ah!

No.

Dad.

Hello, Amy's dad?

How are you today?

Oh, I wouldn't talk like

that if I were you. Stop!

You do realize I have your daughter, right?

Daddy!

Don't listen to him.

Don't listen to him! Da...

Get off!

Yeah, that was her.

All right. So this is gonna be simple.

You're gonna take $10,000.

You're gonna get in your car and

you're gonna drive up River Road.

You're gonna drive 5.2 miles, and you're gonna

head up to the house there. You got it?

3:
00 pm. And no cops.

And I mean no cops or your daughter

comes back dead and pregnant.

That's it for me, boyos.

Cash me out.

What are you talking about?

It's 11:
30.

Yeah, you're not going anywhere

till we hear our favorite story.

Give me a f***ing break.

No, no, no.

You're gonna stay right here

and tell us a sexy little story.

- I get all tingly just thinking about it.

- I bet you are.

Floyd. Come on.

I'm out of Viagra.

The little woman's been begging for it.

I need you, bro.

You guys are a**holes.

Thirty-five years

on the f***ing job,

highly-decorated detective,

you think I only got one story?

I got a million.

Here, there's one.

I had this guy...

No!

Hey! No! Nope.

Come on. Tell it, Floyd.

- We want the story.

- You want the story?

Yeah, the story.

Yeah!

For your own

f***ing perverse pleasure...

All right.

Thank you.

I will indulge you...

in a tale of fine police work.

And whatnot.

It was a little ways back.

I had a little less gray in my hair.

I might have been wearing a

Members Only jacket, I'm not sure.

Bottom line is,

there were three bodies.

One in the water.

One in the woods.

One in the Dumpster.

Now this was a big deal

at the time...

because this was the first serial

killer in the area, right?

Each of the victims was killed

in a different place.

But all of them were missing

their pinkies.

So we called this guy

"the pinky thief."

All the victims though,

they were hustlers, right?

Guys selling themselves

out to the highest bidder.

But the one common thing was,

each of 'em was afraid of the same guy.

This a**hole named Nate Munson.

He's some bullshit photographer,

right?

He would lure 'em

into his world,

you know, with the promise

of glamour pictures, right?

'Cause they're all aspiring models,

f***ing actors and whatnot.

So we liked this guy

for all these killings.

Oh, such a nice night.

He would lead them into the woods to his

own little personal lovers' lane place...

that he'd staked out.

Oh, watch your step.

It's slippery on this moss.

We thought he killed them there,

then disposed

of the bodies later.

I don't see anything here that

says that this is our guy.

- This is our guy.

- We know this is our guy.

- I know it is. I can feel it.

- But each scene is too clean.

We can't bring him in

without evidence.

He'll take a f***ing walk.

But if we're right,

and he kills someone else,

we're gonna catch hell in the press when

they find out that we knew about the guy...

and he went on killing.

So there's only one way

to do this right.

Someone had to go undercover.

I drew the short straw.

They wired me up,

and the go word is,

"You're making me hot."

"You're making me hot."

Wow.

Poor choice of words.

It comes from upstairs.

They make the unfortunate

f***ing tactical decision...

to link us up with

some local SWAT team.

These guys were f***ing

world-class bozos, right?

Sh*t-bird number one.

Sh*t-bird number two.

Sh*t-bird number three.

Here, that's you.

Sniper two, Johnson, there.

Snipers had me triangulated, ready to put this

f*** in the ground first sign of craziness.

Nice.

Whoa, hey.

The guy's f***ing feeling me up

and I'm thinking to myself,

this better be the f***ing guy,

all right? You know?

Because if this guy's just in it

for the f***ing sex,

he's never gonna see

a jail cell...

'cause I'm gonna take him out

right there on the spot.

So after a while he starts

getting rough.

Handcuffs.

Oh, hey. Hey.

- What is that?

- Who's in charge now, huh?

What are you doing?

Huh? Come here, come here,

come here, come here.

Hey.

Ah, yeah.

Yes. You're kinky.

You're f***in' kinky.

Come on.

Now you're f***ing... You're making me hot.

Why don't we get...

- You're making me hot.

- Why don't we...

You're making me hot.

Yeah, you're making me hot!

You're... You're making me...

Oh, sh*t!

Hey, you're making me hot!

Sh*t-bird number one has been

on the phone with his wife.

They're having a fight.

Sh*t-bird number two catches

some kids smoking pot.

Sh*t-bird number three ate Mexican for

lunch and he's got the f***ing runs.

You're ma...

You're making me hot!

Hey, hey.

You're making me hot.

Uh.

So at this point,

Munson moves behind me,

and I know he's gonna cut my finger off.

I realize that

I'm on my own, right?

There's gonna be no back up.

So I do the one sensible thing

that any man would do.

Hey, hey, hey, hey. W-W-Wait.

Come here. Come here.

I asked for a kiss.

Give me a kiss.

Huh?

Turns you on?

Yeah. F*** it.

Come here.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah. Come on.

Oh, yeah.

- He's down.

- Move!

Hey, where the f*** were you?

F***in' piece of sh*t.

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