20th Century Legend

It wasn't long before Valentine ran into 20th century Legend, a pre-mo speed freak. Legend prided himself on knowing every little bizzaro factoid about New York during that time period.

"Where you headed Valentine?" 

"Looking to cop something mean." 

Valentine quickly hurries past him down the subway stairs only to be followed by Legend, who spins Valentine around like a top with the butt end of his umbrella.

"You owe me ten bucks." 

"I ain't got it right now man." 

"Don't make no difference.  You still owe me ten solid," 

Legend said, pointing his umbrella like a sword at Valentines chest. 

"What's with the fucking umbrella man, there's not even a cloud in the sky." 

Legend's ostrich eyes grew even larger. 

"Not Yet!"

"I ain't got time for this shit Legend."

"I got nothing, but time. How the fuck you gonna cop with no money anyway?"

Valentine flashes his ring .

"Shit thats enough for two. What do you say you cut me in on whatever it is you're getting and we call it even?"  

Valentine twists his ring around one full rotation to think. 

"Fine."  

Valentine walks away. 

"Hey, what you thinking bout getting? Wait up!"

Hearing the metal screams of the train Valentine runs. He bursts out onto the platform only to  see the ass end of the train being eclipsed by darkness. 

"Fuck!"

Valentine turns to see Legend slumped over huffing and puffing. 

"You made me miss the fucking train!"

Still slumped over with his hands on his knees, Legend looks up, his hair dangling in his face. 

"The good thing about the subway is there's always another train behind it."

"Ya, 3o minutes behind it at this hour. Jesus Christ, now I'm stuck here with you."

Legend regains his composure.

"Hey man, that's...that's not very nice."

"Don't talk to me."

"Why not? It will go by faster if we talk."

"Do you ever wake up, look in the mirror and think...retard?"

"No."

"I'm surprised."

Valentine pears down the platform hoping to see the dim glow of subway lights, nothing. Legend begins to tell Valentine about the graveyard beneath Washington Square park.

With arms folded Valentine looks at Legend and listens only hoping to hear the deafening metal screams of the next train. 

VALENTINE

With a beer held precariously between his middle and index finger Valentine shut the door and stepped out into the hallway. As he lit a cigarette the smell of "fuck" slid deep into his nostrils. Was he the only one in this building not running a goddamn sex operation? 

It was well past 1 am. 

Being broke didn't matter to Valentine. Having a hundred dollars or a dollar, he spent it all just the same; cigarettes, beer, rent, and Mila, the Russian whore on the 5th floor. He stood atop the steps listening. Occasionally he could hear Mila faking an orgasm for some hairy fat drip that would bust his nut between two slices of wet boloney while he waited to make enough money to visit her.  Tonight was quiet though.  Just the sound of Valentine's cheap tobacco crackling and his pitiful exhale. Where could he score some chemicals at this hour and how would he pay for it? He didn't need much. After all he only weighed 150lbs full of shit. 

He took another drag, chased it with a beer and began his slow descent down the "beautifully" carpeted stairs stained with more DNA than Jenna Jameison's vagina. Valentine knew it wasn't his night, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to own it. 

It felt good to shut the front door and hear the lock snap into place behind him. It was a reminder of his second chance at life when he was released from prison two years ago. He didn't like to talk about it and that was fine with him because he had no one to talk too except Mila, but she had a short attention span.  

It was darker tonight as if a magnificent raven had died in mid air and was still falling. He walked twisting the loose gold ring around on his finger.  This could surely get him something from the Doctor.