It's funny, but people don't know you're a writer, and you can go and create a character from someone you dislike, or someone who has angered, or annoyed you, and do whatever the hell you want with them. They'll never know they have a small roll in your book.
I know we've all done this. I don't know if I've ever actually put any one person into a character, but usually I've rolled a few people up, and created someone. I'm not sure who Penelope (Nephilim), was before I created her. She dies brilliantly in Vampire Nocturne. I'm not certain who Alucard (vampire), was--but possibly any rotten man who dared to piss me off. Huh. Drakulya kills him in the end of same book. So, I think mostly I roll up everyone who have annoyed the crap out of me, into one or two characters, and do away with them.
My WIP is coming along. This morning I've gotten to page 180. One thing to note, you don't want your readers to become bored when your MC is off doing something dull. I knew that Sabrina's visit to a dry goods store in the town of Patchwork Junction, something needed to happen. The men who come in are drunk and make a bee line to her. But I couldn't have a very long confrontation. I needed Sabrina to get out of the jam quickly and be on her journey. At this point, I was in about the center of the book. I needed to keep things happening. So, in stead of her having to endure their pawing her, she has a gun. Points it... Well, here is the scene from "Six Shades of Hell". Quickly, Virdin is the store owner who she met on the train, and Gilbert is his son.
I shrugged and strapped on the gun belt and adjusted it. It was like when I had put on my dagger's sheath, only much heavier and bulkier. I had to put my dagger on my left side, so that the gun was at my right, since I was right handed. On second thought, I'd probably put the dagger away. I didn't really need the dagger where I was going. At least not right away.
Virdin counted out the amount of bills I needed to pay him for all the things. “This should do it. Five crowns.”
“Yer sure you kin handle that thar hogleg?” the old-timer asked.
I finished tying the leg thong around my thigh and with the aplomb of a gunfighter, I pulled the gun out twirled it on my finger—much heavier than a toy gun, believe me—and slid it back into place. I turned and collected my change from the counter. I knew from the cowboy's loud laughter I had impressed him because he laughed so wide I could count the remaining teeth in his head—about six.
A noisy couple of men came through the door, making rowdy sounds and one of them kicked over a bunch of shovels, which went crashing to the floor. A woman nearby darted away, her eyes big. She held a number of packages, and stood like a deer frozen in gunsights.
“Uh-oh,” Gilbert said. “Not these guys again.”
“Why?” Virdin said. “Who are they?”
“Trouble. They're the Brayton brothers. That's all I know about them, except that when they get drunk all they want to do is tear up the town,” Gilbert said.
One of the brothers looked at the lady, and with one hand threw all her parcels up, out of her hands and they went flying everywhere. With a screech, the woman darted around them and out the door. The brothers laughed, thinking it was funny.
“Go get the marshal, Gilbert,” Virdin said. Gilbert nodded, and ducked through a back doorway—where they kept extra supplies. Oddly enough, I didn't see where the old-timer had gone, but he had cleared out like a cock roach when the lights go on.
The Braytons turned our way. Upon seeing me, they stopped. One brother knuckled the other in the chest casually.
“Hey, lookie thar. It's one of them girl-men.” They laughed.
“How kin ya tell?” Said the larger, heavier one. They both looked like they hadn't had a bath since they were twelve, and that age had long since gone by. It was hard to tell, just by looking at them how old they were, but they were old enough. A quick read of these Bozos told me they were in her to make a ruckus, and break things. Finding me was like a cat finding a cornered mouse. Well, I had news for them. I had to stop things before they got started because they were bit, strong, and dumb as rocks. And, they hadn't had a woman in a long, long time.
They stepped toward me, still chuckling like goofs, leering at me, and nudging one another, egging each other on. It wouldn't take much, and if they crossed the store too me, no one was going to stop them. Not even Virdin.
My gun cleared leather and I pointed at them. This gave them pause and their mouths hung open. Then, they laughed stupidly.
“Awww, she's gonna shoot us,,” the bigger one said. They laughed.
“Look, gentlemen,” Virdin said. “We don't want no trouble, here.”
“Trouble? Who says we gonna make trouble?” one said.
“Yeah, we just wanna talk to the lady, here,” the other said.
Okay, these guys were getting annoying. I wasn't going to shoot them, but I had to find a way to stop them in their tracks. My gaze went above their heads. The ceiling was tall, and above was a wagon wheel with four lanterns arranged around it for light. A rope held it aloft, tied to a wall brace, and hung down, and was used to lower the make-shift chandelier in order to light it. Presently they were not lit, as it was daylight out. The rope was about two fingers thick. A steady hand and good aim, I knew I could cut it.
The two had taken another step and were directly under the lights/wagon wheel. I shot the rope holding it up. The wheel came crashing down on them. They went down, stunned. One was out on his back.
Virdin's gasp of surprise made me turn. I reached into my pocket, pulled out another bill, and handed it to him. “For the damages,” I said.
“Oh, no. You needn't pay for these two—”
“No,” I said, collecting my purchases. “They don't have any money, and they were going to do a hell of a lot worse, if they got a chance.” I had the riffle, amo box, and a few other things in my arms. “I need to clear out of here before the marshal comes.”
“Go the back way, through the alley,” he said.
I went behind the counter, and ducked through the doorway his son had taken.
“Thank you, Virdin,” I said, pausing to glance back over my shoulder at him.
“If you need anything, Sabrina—anything—wire me,” he called to me.
I nodded, feeling the bite of tears at the corners of my eyes, and had to turn and move away. He'd been a great friend to me.