PLAY 1

HALF-CLOUDED

Chapter 1

Plot

”Get the fuck outta here”, Tapani – who was doing a little better by now – said to his friend Samuli. It was the middle of May 2015, and any- and everyone could feel summer in the air.

Walking out of the local convenience-store by the name of Siwa, the guys headed to a little trail that leads one’s way through a trail in between two big hills, both standing around fifteen-to-twenty meters tall. At the top of one hill, there was a rocket-shaped wooden structure, pointing at the sky. Samuli pulled on Tapani’s sleeve, interrupting his little break from walking.

— Tapani, I love you, but let’s be reasonable about this.

— Asa Akira better than Diamond Foxxx? Where’s the reason in that? You really like watching a small-titted woman with a reasonable – and objectively nothing more than that – ass, practically screaming at you like she’s losing her virginity to a stranger in an Indian train, and her home village’s being destroyed at the same time?

— Have you not seen the moves, the versatility this oriental beauty possesses?

— Versatility shmersatility. If I may repeat myself: What point is there, for a woman to have moves or versatility instead of shape? Diamond’s tits fell down here from heaven.

— Well first of all it’s a sign of how much the counterpart is actually in the act. We both know porn is fundamentally just acting, but each of Asa’s performances, she makes look like the man – whoever it is – is doing her the worlds biggest favor by sticking his Junior up that wonderful vagina of hers. It’s like her life is dependent on it, and her voice – while admittedly reaching something above an ideal level of decimals – is praising God in Heavens for it. For dick.

— She sounds like a pig giving birth.

— Well Diamond fucks selfishly as hell. That old cougar’s way too hung up on who she is and what kind of a favor she’s doing to the world by letting them see that kind of a body in action. You can tell by the way she always poses for the camera whenever she’s facing it in a scene. I’d not feel good about myself as a man, if I was fucking a woman who pays more attention to the man behind the camera, than me.

— ”OK I’ll admit, there’s a little truth in that”, Tapani partly opted to Samuli’s view. ”The cougar-part. She’s older, so I might be a little biased here. Just a little; I still think Asa’s performances are way over-the-top.”

— Diamond’s well-preserved, too…

— ”Unlike me.” Tapani admitted. ”That might also be a factor. A small one.”

— ”True, true…” Samuli responded.

— ”So you also think I’ve not kept my looks well?” Tapani asked his friend.

— Well that was nicely nitpicked.

Tapani dug out his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, and Samuli kept talking:

— But yeah, indeed, I won’t deny Diamond also has a way of making me pulsate from time to time. It’s just… it’s just up to the mood. The way I would sum this up is: Diamond’s a temporary stay, while Asa is a wife. A porn-wife. To me.

— ”Fuck.” Tapani muttered, having stopped listening to his friend talking a while ago.

— What is it?

Samuli and Tapani looked at each other. Tapani quit flapping the hem of his jacket.

—”I’m out.” Tapani complained.

Samuli looked at his friend, first quiet, at a loss, then, like hit with a lightning from the clear sky, he realized what was going on and had an idea in that head of his. The moment it dawned upon him, was visible.

— ”Steal a pack.” He said.

—”What.” Tapani said like he wasn’t even considering to entertain the thought.

— Because guess what I heard? This was an interesting story; I was supposed to tell you this one a while ago but I forgot.

— What is it?

— This one gypsy… No, gypsy’s a bad word--

— ”You’re in adult company, Samuli.” Tapani interrupted. ”I can handle bad words.”

— Either way, this Romanian boy, who lived next door to me years ago, told me this story. A true story, that took place in this store.

— Well how did it go?

— He had this habit of always bragging, to me, about all the stupid shit his brothers and cousins pulled. Even if I didn’t ask, he’d tell me. He told me one day, that in this Siwa, one of his cousins from Sweden – this outrageously big, broad-shouldered guy I actually saw live once – stole a pack of cigarettes from here, back when the law would allow stores to keep cigarettes on display and you didn’t have to crack secret codes and shit to find your brand from the shelf. The way he did it was fucking ace: he just waited in the line until all other customers ahead of him got their groceries, paid, and left. He then walked up to the tobacco-shelf when it was his turn, and, standing there, ready to pay for his purchases, he took one pack outta there, and put the shit in his pocket. He did all this while the lady at the register just looked, and then he just looked at her intimidatingly, into her soul. Through her eyes.

— ”…And?” Tapani asked. ”What then?”

— And that’s it. He left. With the pack.

— Fuck you. Of course the register-lady called security.

—No, she didn’t. He never heard about that shit afterwards; just got himself a free pack of cigarettes, and went on his way. The look in his eyes was deep and dark enough.

— ”Okay” Tapani said. ”But that doesn’t matter. I haven’t even gotten around to express to you yet how fucking air-headed this idea of yours is. I haven’t picked the right words to illustrate it to you.”

— ”How?” Samuli asked, semi-dumbfounded by the doubt. ”It could work.”

— How? Do you listen to yourself when you talk? They don’t have their cigarettes on display. So I couldn’t do the same shit, even if I looked intimidating enough. Which I don’t.

— So what they don’t have it on display? It took just as much balls from the gypsy to do it, as it would take you.

— Well the difference between me and him is, I don’t have a whole clan of armed and dangerous goons on call, ready to come roll on anybody that talks back to me.

— ”Yeah you do.” Samuli corrected.

—…Well be that as it may, that lady at the register doesn’t know that. I don’t look like that. Matter of fact, I can’t even believe I’m dignifying this bullshit proposition with an answer.

— You’re a shouldered guy.

— Well thanks, but--

Tapani shook his head, and turned back to the actual subject:

— No! You’re not talking me into this and attacking me from that self-esteem angle. And stop pulling those fast ones on me.

— ”All the while you’ve entertained my idea, you haven’t even asked me about what if I get caught?” Samuli pointed out.

— I’m not afraid of cops.

— Yea you are. Pussy.

— You’re a pussy. And I can as easily just drive two miles to Kapteeni and get a withdrawal for some cigarette-money.

—It’ll take you less time to just walk up in that store and tell the lady, ”Listen here, you’re giving me a pack of cigarettes right now and I’m not paying you a fucking thing, okay?”

—You’re a fucking moron.

Tapani threw his unlit cigarette in the ground, as well as the empty pack from his other hand, and started walking back inside the store.

—”Wait, you’re doing it?” Samuli asked his determined friend.

— ”Yeah I’m doing it.” Tapani said while on his way.

Samuli looked, dumbfounded, as Tapani quickly slid into the store through the sliding doors that were opening up for him while taking the steps.

Chapter 2

Sitting in a Car

THE NEXT DAY:

Samuli’s car was standing at the parking lot of the Oulu police station. Tapani jumped inside. Skipping the minutes of silence otherwise-inevitable, Samuli took it upon himself to immediately ignite some conversation:

— That didn’t go too well.

— ”No, it did not.” Tapani affirmed.

Aside from the Velvet Undergound song Sunday Morning on the radio, there was only silence following the first two respective lines. They went along, might’ve nodded their heads to the song once or twice, but besides that, nothing.

Until:

— ”Last summer was fucking crazy.” Tapani spoke. ”I don’t want another crazy summer. I still have no idea how I had the time to be depressed all summer long.”

— I feel you. Thank God you’re feeling better now.

— Riku’s still gone and I moved in with you, you and your wife welcomed new members to the family. All of this in one year. I can’t help but feel like someone or something’s kicking in the gear and my life is catching new wind under its wings. How is Markus, by the way?

— He’s loud. Really loud. At night he’s loud, at day he’s tired from being loud.

— Tiia’s been amazing to me, Samuli. You’re really lucky for snagging that one.

— ”Those therapy-sessions seem to be breathing new life into your lungs, too.” Samuli reminded.

— God, I feel like I haven’t stopped living the fuck outta life ever since that day when… when you know what happened.

— ”Indeed I do.” Samuli quietly replied, while reaching to the utility box and grabbing a cigarette from an opened pack in there.

— Samuli…

— What?

— You know what I’m about to say.

— I was supposed to kick this habit when I had the baby?

— That.

— Well a lot of things were supposed to happen.

— Okay, Riku.

Samuli looked his friend in the eyes. Are you serious? It was silent for a second, until Tapani followed his natural inclination to ask:

— Are you still bothered by his thing? Riku’s?

—How can I not be? The guy just up and disappeared. No one’s heard a peep from him or Pasi in a year. They just vanished.

— I’m gonna just straight-up ask: do you think he’s dead?

— …Do you want me to be honest?

— No. I want you to fill my head with dirty lies. I get a kick out of it.

— ”Your sarcasm is losing its’ punch already and it’s not even noon.” Samuli replied, annoyed.

— What do you think has happened?

— ”I think – and this is not due to personal bias, or wishful thinking, at least not as much as you might think – that Riku came out on top.” Samuli was confident. ”He has the skillset, the instinct to kill.”

— Who’s to say Pasi doesn’t? Or didn’t?

— He was insecure.

— Based on what?

— Every time him and Rene popped up out of nowhere on us last summer, he was the loud one. Loudest one in the room is the weakest, as the saying goes. And besides, sometimes it seemed like Rene genuinely didn’t even like the guy.

— Were they appointed to run the Oulunsalo-operation together by the Russian? Or were they friends before, like us?

— …You know what? I don’t have the vaguest idea.

— You never asked?

— ”Never.” Samuli confirmed.

— Weren’t we going to meet Rene at the office today?

— Where do you think we were driving?

— I thought we were going home.

— No. We’re meeting Rene, doing some pre-calculation for tomorrow’s cargo. Also, we gotta send a pack to the post-boy in your old neighborhood.

—”Viktor was his name, wasn’t it?” Tapani made sure.

— Yeah. Viktor… Viktor Whatever. His last name is Whatever now.

With a little hint of laughter, Tapani continued:

— Who’s dropping the re-up?

— You.

— Me? Why me?

— Because I just called it. I call not delivering the re-up! There.

— One day, Samuli. One day I will.

— You will what?

— You’ll see.

— I wish you would.

Tapani and Samuli traded playfully threatening looks.

—”No, but really”, Samuli continued. ”We’re doing some division, someone drops a re-up to Viktor, and then we’re going home. That’s today for us. Oh, and first we eat, of course.”

— So we are driving home, currently, at this moment?

— Yes.

— I’ve missed Markus, Samuli. Is that okay for a middle-age guy, to be missing a baby all day while he’s being held for petty larceny?

—”You want him? ’Cause you can have him.” Samuli said, joking, but with his grim inflection distantly flirting with seriousness.

— I don’t understand how someone with that kinda a sense of humor can bag on my sarcasm. Both you and Tiia. You guys never get enough.

— We know how to have a good time.

— You know how to give me a fucking headache.

— I thought you just said Tiia’s been great to you.

— ”She is. I’m grateful.” Tapani switched tones to a more serious one. ”She understands my grievances. We relate to each other. Truth be told, I would be awkward having this kind of a platonic relationship with any other woman, than the girlfriend of my best friend.”

— She’s got a nice ass though; admit it.

— What?

— Say Tiia has a nice ass.

— Why? What’s in it to you? What--

— ”You’re ducking the question – you agree with me.” Samuli interrupted.

— No. I’m sick of your jokes, you’re making me uncomfortable you sick fuck.

— I’m not gonna believe you’re being sincere unless you admit you’ve oggled at that ass at least once. Don’t be afraid; it’s only natural.

— ”No.” Tapani insisted. ”Even if I did agree with you – which I never said I did or didn’t, by the way – I won’t say it. If I did, you’d have that to use against me forever.”

— Fair enough.

—Yeah. Let’s drop this subject.

The space inside the car fell tacit… until:

— ”Besides”, Tapani said. ”I’ve seen better. It’s good at best. Good on a good day.”

Samuli looked Tapani in the eye. He smirked. They both did.

— ”So anyways…” Samuli switched the subject. ”What do you assume?”

— Assume about what?

— What happened with Riku?

— Oh, that… You want me to be honest or keep up the light mood?

— Honest.

— I think they’re both dead.

Chapter 3

Re-Up

Viktor Ekholm, a 17-year old young man, average in height, everyday-like in appearance, strolled along in his home street – formerly that of Tapani’s as well – with his hands in his pockets, music playing from earphones, and a sure look in his eyes. Around the feel of that look was minor exhaustion. There’d been a lot of walking done.

His phone rang. He picked up:

— ’Ello?

— ”Wanna go fishing?” Samuli’s voice asked from the phone.

— ”Sure.” Viktor answered, getting what was really being said but being low-key about it. ”I love me some fishing. Don’t have too much food left anyways. How long ’till you pick me up?”

— Like right now. Your ride’s turning to your street as I say these words. It’s been following Johnny on its route all morning long for some great bait-worm spots.

— ”Great.” Viktor said, delighted, and hung up.

He started to walk again, approached the end of a little pathway into the woods… it traveled over two hills, and a park behind those hills. It’s an odd structure. But it’s a pretty complete and concise park, where kids can – even though the toys have all been taken off since maintenance via the city is nada – at least slide a slope in the wintertime…

He took a careful – cautious, but not visibly so – look around over both his shoulders, lit a cigarette, walked up the hill in the middle of trees. And, on the other side of the hill, there’s a clay court with some swings on the side. Well, formerly there were swings. I don’t even know why those had to go. Nobody’s taken care of that park since I was little, not the town, not Oulu City ever since we became a part of that larger entity… He heard a car approaching. Here it is. Having made his way to the top of the hill, Viktor saw the postman’s car. It drove past, to the mailboxes, dropped something either big or small on each one, skipping none. Viktor just watched it happen, calmly, holding the cigarette between his lips, but not paying any real attention to it. The mailman drove away, and Viktor watched. The moment the car’d left Vik’s sight, another car drove to the mailboxes, then stopped next to them. A hand reached out from the open passenger’s window, and reached to the box at the furthest end, slipping a white cardboard package in there. It drove through the same turnaround as the mailman – this road ends at that point, you gotta get through that to make a U-turn – and drove away.

It was over quick. Viktor walked down the hill once the first moment or two after all cars leaving the spot.

He walked to his mailbox – the one the white package just got dropped into – and got the stuff out of there, looked right ahead, and walked towards the red house in front of him – home.

Chapter 4

Home

Viktor walked home, shut the door behind, took a moment to bathe in the ill-intentioned silence that was ridden with a looming feeling of…

— ”Viktor? You home?” The voice of an older lady – not old, older – called for him. Fuck.

— ”Yeah, mom. I’m here.” The words came out of Viktor’s mouth even more awkwardly than he’d thought they would.

— ”Why you gotta talk to me like that?” His mother – walking to the hallway of the house – asked him. ”Don’t act like you’re too stressed out and too important to answer your own mother.”

— Mom, I’m not stressed, I just really don’t care to go through this with you again.

— What’s that supposed to mean? Go through what? What the fuck did I do now?!

Viktor shut his mouth, and with the package still in his hand, rushed past his mom, walking to the kitchen.

— ”You’re no better than me just because you got a big important job working for fancy Eastern mafiosos”, his mother – following him to the kitchen – complained.

— Mom, I’m really not trying to do anything else but live here. Could you stop nagging at me about nothing?

— Oh, look how easy that was; blame the mother, blame her for being stressed out, for all of your shit. You’re so fucking selfish I can’t stand it sometimes, Viktor.

— I haven’t said a goddamn thing to insult you. You’re overreacting.

— Yeah, that’s right. I’m the crazy one again. How do I know this story so well? Jesus, they always told me it’d be hell going through your kid’s puberty, but this is something else.

— ”Mom.” Viktor said, turning away from the whole arrangement he had with that cardboard-box, and a kitchen-knife, on that table.

— Son.

— What’s the matter with you?

—”Why is it always my fault, huh?” Viktor’s mom asked. ”Everything?”

— I’m not trying to be mean to you. I don’t want to bring you down. I know you’re not doing well, and haven’t, for years.

— That disease had no right to take your father’s life.

— Yeah, well, I’m sorry but I don’t have the energy – 8 years after the fact – to still go over his death every day. But mom, you gotta listen to me this time, I--

—Don’t start telling me I need to go out more! I’m the one that buys food in this house. I go out.

— Yeah, but that’s not what I, or other people mean, by going out. I mean socializing, meeting friends.

— You don’t need to tell your mother how making friends works. Kids your age always think you know everything about everything.

— Even when you do see your old friends at the store, you just come home all sad about how far they’ve gotten in life, how horrible you look with your tired eyes or your hair. It’s stupid, to be completely honest.

— Did you just call me stupid?

—”Hey, if the shoe fits…” Viktor gave up trying to be polite. It was ringing on deaf ears anyway.

Viktor’s mother walked up to him, grabbed him by his hair, pulled his head ears-first real close to her, and told him:

— You don’t do that. This is not something that’s gonna start happening. You pay respect to your mother in here, under this roof. Where the fuck do you think you get off, coming here with your fucking whatever-it-is-you-got-there, and telling your mother she’s stupid?

—”Mom, I’m not trying to insult you,” Viktor tried explaining, still in her grip. ”I’m trying to help. You’re being stubborn.”

— ”I’M STUBBORN?!” She yelled at him, still holding onto his head and starting to shake it.

Viktor swinged his hand, consequentially smacking his mom in the face. She let go and took a couple of steps back from the impact. He looked at her while she was regaining her balance, holding on the fridge’s door, looking behind her back.

— ”No.” Viktor cynically interrupted what she was obviously trying to do. ”There wasn’t anything sharp behind your back you could now point out that if you had fallen, you’d have gotten accidentally stabbed by. I checked while you were pulling on my hair. I covered your back, which I always have to do for you. Not that I get any thanks for it.”

He took the package and the knife with him and left the kitchen.

— ”Oh!” His mother said to him, following him to the living room this time. He was trying to concentrate on opening the package. ”So that’s how you trea--”

— Shut up you fucking degenerate druggie and let me work so I can make us the money you buy groceries with, and just hold that against me as well because fuck logic.

—”Ah. Okay.” She said, not okay at all.

— What okay?

—”Nothing.” She said. ”Okay, that’s all.”

— Oh, that’s right, I forgot, I shouldn’t try to conversate with you at all. Thanks for reminding me.

— ”You’re gonna give your mother a taste of that?” She outrageously enough asked him after all of this.

Viktor looked at his mother with profound disappointment. He wanted to sigh out loud, wanted to shrug his shoulders, to make any sort of gesture expressing the volume of emotion running through his mind at that moment. But, seeing the same look again – one that was asking him sincerely, one that was ready to let all of this go just for this one favor – he gave in without even trying to protest.

— …Sure. Bring a bag. A small one. The guys are gonna notice sooner or later if I let you take however much you want.

Tapani & Samuli were in Samuli’s car again.

— ”Look”, Tapani opened up a new case. ”I’m sorry if I left a sore taste in your mouth back there.”

— Well, what can I say? Way to fuck up the mood.

— I’m sorry… But you did say you wanted me to be honest.

—”I don’t even know.” Samuli said more calmly. ”It’s just hard to even grasp the possibility that our friend could really be… well…”

— I know it is. But it’s something you’ve got to think about, sooner or later. This is an unusual situation we’re in with Riku, we haven’t heard a peep in a year. But, there’s also the fact that, in our line of work… it happens. People do die.

— ”When he was in jail I could always – if not visit, because I was too young when he actually got locked up – at least know where he was.” Samuli ruminated. ”I care about him. We spent a long time talking just, on the day that… fuck.”

Something new had dawned upon Samuli. Tapani picked up on it.

—”What is it?” He asked.

— ”I was the last one who saw him.” Samuli realized out-loud. ”Our plan was to go separate ways, for me to kill Jere, for him to kill Rene and Pasi. I was… The last word he said to me, was tonight. He was confirming it. Sounded like he had a plan, like he always does.”