The Tin-Man (Look below for the Prologue) :
Chapter 1 : Uncle Sam and the poster boys

Bulgzhnia is the epitome of crime. A city plagued by the corruption of drugs, sex and money - in that order. Usually, walking down its streets at 3 am gives you a dull, thumping noise in your head. Somehow, blood moving that fast in and out of your brain seems to slow time down. The glints of knives and the blackness of the guns tucked into the seams of any kind of clothing is usually enough to give you that dry feeling in your throat. It’s called fear.

Today, I felt nothing. I think anyone who passed me saw the same morbid sense of death lurking with me. I felt like the grim reaper. No-one tangos with death.

The usual mugging line begins with "Got a light?" I end them with a flash of my .45 and "I just quit." I usually have one desert eagle tucked into the back of my pants. Today, I was packing five. Don't ask me where.

I reached the door I was walking to in under 5 minutes. The tricky thing about waking a person up is that there are a variety of ways to do it in. If you want a favor from the person, you have to do it gently. If you want to piss him off, break the door down! I needed a favor, but I decided on the colorful approach.

Muscles contracted almost instantly as the hinges shattered through. The wooden door splattered splinters on the floor and 20 guns cocked in my direction. It was a warm welcome! When a gun barrel is pointed at your face, you don't tend to notice that the wielder has blue eyes. But the first thing I noticed was his eyes. He had only one of them. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

There then followed that uneasy silence. It’s so much like getting into a lift with only one other person you don't know. There’s shuffling of feet and that awkward cough. There was no shuffling of feet now, but I felt the cough coming.

"I'm looking for John", I said. I was met by silence.

I tried my saving grace. "You have a rat amongst you." The one -eyed man might have pulled the trigger, but my guardian angel wouldn't allow it.

"Hefner, my old friend ", said John. My saving grace had stepped out of the shadow.

“What are you doing here Bob?” I’d rehearsed this at home. I was playing Uncle Sam. I needed these men and they needed a reason to help me. I gave it to them. The elaborate story of how they had a rat amongst them .Had sent 5 of them to prison in the last 2 months.

I didn’t know the guy who was executed. Cyclops almost enjoyed putting lead into his brain. His eye never blinked. It was like he was making up for something.

“So, whats your friend want John ?” Cyclops began to speak again.

“Why don’t you tell us Bob? What brings you back? “

I told them the plan. Cyclops didn’t like me very match. He had questions. I answered them. Cyclops didn’t like me at all. But the rest were happy. Someone cleaned up the dead man’s body. He wasn’t a rat. But he was scum like everyone in the room. The worst kind . I felt no remorse.

We were ready in six hours. We were going to walk into the bank through the front door.Old school.The promise of riches and prize right in front of us.

The darkness of OZ was painted by Ronald Stiesen. It was painted with glue and dust. Stiesen was so good at what he did, that he bought the arts of the renaissance masters into his field.
He started with a black canvas and meshed the light into it. The painting showed the Dorothy, the lion and the Tin-man staring back at you with fear in their eyes. The painting was my prize.

As we stood in front of the bank, I couldn’t help but think of the painting. Dorothy, her innocent affiliation to OZ. She wanted to go home. Home had stopped mattering to me a long time ago. The lion, he wanted courage. In some vivid sense, courage is why I stood here.

The Tinman on the other hand wanted to be human. I’d lost my chance at humanity. I didn’t have enough time to redeem myself. We’re all a bit like them. Everyone’s innocent. Everyone’s afraid. Only I had nothing to lose now.Just the hope of my prize and the immortality of my time.

I was the tin-man.

The Tin-man

Prologue:

If you listen for the lower decibels of lighting a cigarette, you'll probably hear the tobacco crack under the orange embers. There I stood, under the half-ellipse entrance to the mosque. I took my first swig of smoke and felt my lungs choke as the rain poured outside, 3 inches in front of me.

The smoke is eating through my lungs. I can't help but fall onto my knees and cough out blood. Watching the rain wash your blood away is like seeing a second chance. With that in mind, I pull my trench coat tighter around me and take another puff.

My name is Bob Hefner. I have 10 minutes left to live and I'm going to spend it telling you my story. At any point, feel free to punctuate this dark and dreary tale by ripping out the pages and throwing them into a furnace.

Here we go.......

My life began the day my doctor told me that I had 48 hours left to live. A chronic lung disease caused due to smoking. I think the moment was intensified when I asked him how much time I had left and he consulted his wall clock. You’d think I had something to say about that. Well, my mind was never blanker. I can’t exactly remember how I reached home. I do remember sleeping though. YES, I had 48 hours to live and I decided to catch some shut-eye, just to warm-up.

I woke a different man. I had a resolution. I wouldn’t waste what little time I had left ……which was 36 hours to be exact. I set about to make a plan.

I would rectify all my wrongs! But, looking at the time constraints, that was an ambitious goal to hit. So I settled finally on 2 things:

One, make my ex-wife’s life a living hell. Give her a preview of whats going to come.
Two, Steal from the rich and throw a party! A Robin Hood of sorts.

So with my salvation in hand and a resolution to quit smoking, I donned my trench coat and cowboy hat. I looked at my house one last time and trudged down the muddy streets with my black boots. The night had another 3 hours before dawn cracked down on it. The rain blurred my vision. I needed help on this one and I knew exactly where to find it.

The funny thing about lightning is that it expands the moment. What I see in my minds eye is the lightning illuminated the smile that cracked my lips …and the bank that I was about to rob. I think its appropriate that, knowing I had only 35 hours left is what made me an insomniac.