069 – Diplomatic Immunity

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Rule one, fighting was prohibited. We were indoors, in a fancy hotel, filled with prim and proper people, and those whose business was very much not, but still kept up their appearances. Getting into an altercation here would be career suicide. And, frankly, it was just plain rude.

Rule two, we had until tomorrow to conclude this, noon at the latest. We had to check out by then, and if we hadn’t gotten this sorted out, blood would begin to spill, and it would spill out onto the streets. I wasn’t exactly opposed to that, but only if the damages were incurred on Granon’s side of the board. I was not about to lose any of my own people.

Rule three, and perhaps the most critical, was that I could trust no one. There was Lawrence, but he wasn’t at his best, and I’d hesitate to have him out and about with Granon being around. If he had, somehow, gotten to Lawrence first, rule one would have been thrown out the window, and we would have lost right then and there. D… was a whole other thing, and with her being out of the picture yet seemingly having a hand in these events put a large question mark over everything. Couldn’t trust anyone around me, and I fought the urge to not trust in my ability to handle being on my own. I had to believe I could do this, as much as I actually had to do this. Win.

So I was limited in my options, pressed for time, and I had no allies to rely on. I was on my own.


Granted, these rules were largely self-imposed, and it wasn’t as if Granon had to follow them as well. But, we did have a reputation to develop for the future, and if we could clinch a victory without needing to resort to violence, then it would reflect well on our performance as a gang.

I had to do my best.

The doors moved on their own. It had been a long way down.

The lobby opened up before me. Somehow, it looked nicer than the last time I was here, only minutes ago.

Cast in a soft, golden hue, the space was wider than it was tall, but it was still impressive in its scope. Shaped into a rotunda, though the ceiling wasn’t curved, the lobby was filled with people going about their business, or waiting for others so they could conduct business together. People checking out, checking in, everyone dressed like they had somewhere important to go. Chairs made of fine leather, countertops and tables crafted with intricate detailing, almost to the point that they looked more like decorations than anything functional.

I noted the chandelier again, segmented into fractals, but assumed the shape of the moon. From where it was attached to the ceiling, more painted vines and leaves and fruits branched out, stretching and twisting until they weaved an intricate arrangement of color, even more vibrant from the light of the chandelier.

Dang. I could get distracted, just by looking around. I was in a high-class, luxury hotel, so the interior was nothing I had ever seen before. Maybe it was a bit too flashy, ostentatious for my tastes, but then again, what did I know? My tastes weren’t anything near developed.

I walked to cross the lobby, moving around people, trying to find a good place to start, while trying not to stand out by looking lost.

I didn’t get very far.

“Hello, ma’am.”

I knew the voice. I’d heard it just recently.

I glanced to the side, noticed, realized, then stopped.

The lady from the front desk, but she wasn’t at the front desk.

She was out, by an arrangement of chairs around a small table. On the table was a cup of coffee, half empty, with no owner to speak of. The chairs were unoccupied, the lady moving one of them back into place. She must have noticed me as I walked by.

Though I wished she hadn’t said anything.

I turned my shoulders, but I was still leaning forward, putting some weight on the foot ahead of me. A subtle signal that I wasn’t here for an extended chat.

I made a sound to prompt her. “Hm?”

“Did you find everything in your room to your satisfaction?”

She’s just asking if the service has been good so far.

I answered quick, already shifting my weight to move again.

“Everything’s great, thanks.”

“Did your husband find everything great as well?”

The question made me stop again, resulting in an awkward half-jerk, half-skip forward. I turned back.

“My what?”

She blinked twice, her smile restrained by her lips being pressed together, head tilted, slight. A professional demeanor.

“I assumed incorrectly. I do apologize.”

I figured I had to do some damage control.

“Oh right. No, he loves it, he’s taking a nap up there right now.”

The lady’s expression remained.

“That’s great to hear. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

There were a few different ways to interpret that. I choose not to consider any of them.

“Thanks,” I said. This particular interaction was already starting to drag, I didn’t want to be around her any longer than what was absolutely necessary. Her poised, polite disposition creeped me out to say the least. It was a reason why I let Lawrence talk with her as we checked in. I’d feel more comfortable if her focus wasn’t on me. That, if she looked just a little harder, she’d realize just how much I didn’t belong.

The other reason was that she worked here. This hotel had a very specific reputation, and it had to be next to impossible for her to not notice the true nature of her guests. I had to keep rule three in mind.

One, two steps. Then the third, when I was stopped yet again.

“Mrs. Vazquez.”

I had to face her directly. No half-turn, no signal that I had to go soon.

Fine, fine. If she really wanted my attention, so be it. She’d get it.

“Yeah?” I asked, blunt.

The lady took her hands off the chair, and clasped them together. She positioned herself so her posture was nice and proper.

Her civility never left her.

“If you’re looking for something to occupy your time for this evening, may I perhaps recommend the lounge and casino? I’m sure you’ll find some entertainment waiting for you there.”

The wording, I didn’t like that there were multiple ways I could take it. A clue to Granon? A good place to start? Did it mean that she actually knew who I really was, this whole time?

Or was it another set up?

But I couldn’t ask any of those questions.

“Which direction is the lounge?” I asked instead. There wasn’t much else I’d want get out of her.

She gestured, her arm out in front of her.

“It’s directly behind you, on the other side of the lobby. Just take the stairs up to the second level. The lounge will be to your left and the casino will be to your right.”

I nodded, playing along. Couldn’t show my unease on my face. I had to be just like her. Poised, polite.

“Thank you,” I said. Then I moved to leave, for the final time.

“Do enjoy your stay, Mrs. Vasquez,” she said, with that light tone. “And good luck.”

Those last three words hit me like a bucket of ice water. A cold, prickling sting that ran down my neck.

You have got to be shitting me.

I crossed the lobby, lumbering in my steps. I held onto the handrail as I went up the stairs.

Rule three. I didn’t trust that lady, but I also didn’t have any leads. I wasn’t following up on her suggestion in good faith. This wasn’t like previous times, I wasn’t going into this blind. I knew what the risks were, and I knew to take anything I get with a healthy dose of paranoia.

It was a conflicted feeling that I couldn’t shake off. Was I playing a game, or was I the one being played? Every new development, it seemed, would give me more reasons to watch my back, to keep my knife close by.

And my feelings on that were very well established. Especially to D. I fucking hated it.

Heated. Had to force myself to cool off, or I might tear the rail off the wall with just my hand.

Was this really what it would be like to lead a gang? The constant second-guessing, problems stacking one on top of the other, being pulled in every direction, always needing to improvise? I could see how Lawrence had trouble maintaining operations when we first met, and I could almost understand how the stress of the position weighed on Benny, causing her to snap at the worst possible place at the wrong people. Everything was so unstable, anything could happen at any time, and it required some ingenuity and imagination just to maintain a status quo. Not everyone could keep up, and some were dragged even lower in the process. And trying to move up was another matter entirely.

Couldn’t let myself be dragged, wouldn’t let that happen. I had to be the exception.

If we were to succeed, I had to stay focused, and concentrate on one problem at a time. And the biggest one hadn’t changed. It was still Granon.

I had to find him.

The stairs ended, and I was on the second level.

The lounge and the casino. I saw them both.

The lounge was open, filled with smoke and people. More tables and chairs, but these had occupants, conversing and enjoying the ambiance of the soft light and even softer jazz music. There was a bar farther back, but I wasn’t particularly thirsty. Not for alcohol, anyways.

For the casino, however, there was a glass wall separating here and there. There was an entrance, but someone was standing in the way, barring the way through. A small line had formed, with people waiting to go in and try their luck. On the other side of the glass were the bright, beeping slot machines, and tables, people playing with chips and cards and cash. The sounds and the sights were harsh, even with a literal barrier to entry.

I’d start at the lounge. It was free to get in, while getting in line for the casino ran the risk of me getting stopped by the guy there. If I wanted to keep a low profile, I’d have to avoid that kind of gamble.

I moved.

I stepped from tile to carpet as I entered the lounge area. The lighting immediately dimmed, smoke and music making my senses swim. The atmosphere was thick, intoxicating, the desire to sit down and unwind was almost enticing. Almost, though. I wasn’t about to take it easy, now. I had a job to do, and I had to do it fast.

Moving, keeping out of the way, I observed the lounge.

No one that looked like Granon, or any of his men. I was confident that I’d see him if he was here, he wouldn’t be hard to miss. Everyone here was much… smaller, with less imposing frames. And no one looked as though they wanted to wreck the place, or had the temperment of a bull. It was exactly how it appeared, a place to relax, to smoke and drink the night away. With class.

No luck.

Sticking close to the perimeter of the lounge, I traversed a wide arc around, just to cover my bases. I didn’t see Granon, but I still wanted to be thorough.

I maneuvered around leather chairs and velvet couches, the guests sitting, trying to get as close as possible without alerting them to my presence. Studying faces, catching words.

I wasn’t picking up much.

Investments, details of private dealings, recent trips to Asia. The minutia of people’s daily lives, that I’d never fully learn the context of. In short, nothing of value.

Nothing of worth. Just pointless chatter.

Was this really the best I could come up with? Walking around, aimless, hoping to catch anything of worth towards finding Granon, if not finding Granon himself.

And, was Granon even in the building right now? He might be staying here, but that didn’t mean he was currently here. I might have to change my approach, and go after his men instead, have them lead me to him. But would I be able to pick them out if they weren’t making themselves obvious?

Too many things I was unsure of, too many things I didn’t know. I hated being blind.

Anymore of this, and I might just try to torch the hotel to the ground, smoke him out that way. It had worked once before.

I finished my loop around the lounge, coming up with nothing. The idea of playing with fire seemed to burn that much brighter.

Fuck, nothing or no one stood out.

If not here…

Then somewhere else.

Time to get in line.

I left the lounge, moving over to the other side. The casino. The lounge was too placid for someone like Granon. If he was going to be anywhere, it would be where it was loud, flashy, and active.

I settled into the back of the line. My pulse quickened as everyone moved, as I joined in step, and as someone fell into place behind me.

The opposite of standing out, but it achieved the same effect. I didn’t look like D, body-wise, but I was standing around fully grown adults, several heads taller than me. They all had a natural, relaxed about them, exuding confidence, while I was trying my damndest to not be noticed at all. It was such a minor detail, but I could imagine getting tripped over the most irrelevant thing.

Which would be sad, but not impossible.

But I wasn’t supposed to be doubting myself.

The line progressed forward, and I went along. And then some more. And even more. The line was moving faster than I initially expected.

My heart raced, and I swallowed, hard. I made a mental note of where my wallet was in my jacket.

And then it was my turn.

The security at the door. It was just one guy, but the hotel management clearly thought that would be enough. He was huge. Bigger, wider, taller than even Granon. Built like a square, his head shaved, jaw set, eyes peering into me. If I didn’t possess the unnatural level of strength that I had, his physicality would have given me pause.

It didn’t. But something else did.

Strength wasn’t the factor at play, here. It was credentials. I couldn’t punch my way into the casino.

He stared, and I did everything I could to be able to stare back.

One word, two letters. Several notches deep.


I flinched a little as I responded in turn, fishing my wallet out of a pocket. I flipped it open to slide the card out.

I’d already showed it once before, and it worked out alright. It had better do the trick again, here.

He grabbed it out of my hand, with more force than he needed. He brought the card close.

He looked at the card, then at me, then the card, me, and back again.

When his eyes looked over me the final time, he took his time. Everyone that was ahead of me just waltzed right in. Already, I knew that my entrance wasn’t so graceful.

He spoke, his voice deep, and I felt it in my chest.

“You twenty-one?”

Called out on the spot, and he was being loud enough that he could probably be heard halfway down the line. It was a move, getting other people involved without having to make them active participants. Letting them know what was going on, making me stand out even more.

I swallowed.

“That’s what it says on the card, right?” I asked him.

The ID was a fake, key details that entirely falsified, like the surname… and the year of birth. The card had dropped mine down by a few years, but the month and day were the same. November the twenty-eight. An important day, on several levels.

I had to try and sell that image, somehow. Act the part. Being standoffish could be a substitute for maturity.

His stare maintained, he frowned, slight.

I reciprocated with a level stare of my own, standing tall… as much as I possibly could. I quickly learned that I wasn’t as good at this as Lawrence. Not at wearing this kind of mask.

He wasn’t budging. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Hm, ma’am,” he said, eyes still trained on me, “You’re going to step to the side, now-”

It wasn’t a word that interrupted him, but an action. And it wasn’t even an action done to him.

A hand slid down the small of my back, staying there, the fingers wrapping around my hip.

Shock coursed through me. I was stunned.

My eyes widened. I hadn’t broken eye contact with the security. As if I wanted his help, now.

Someone was standing right beside me. Someone I couldn’t see.

Touching me. I was very aware of that.

A new voice. A male voice.

“She’s with me.”

The security guy changed directions. Not just in who he directed himself to, but how he directed himself. Poised and polite.

“Of course, sir. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“As you should be. I’ll be sure to let management know about this. Tell Mrs. C…”

Sounds and sights and smells were fading. Like I wasn’t even present at the scene, just observing from a distance. And even then I couldn’t quite catch everything.

I couldn’t move.

I was reminded of the incident with those girls, Dani. Uncomfortable, an assault on something I preferred to remain unmolested.

Something squirmed under my skin.

More words, but they were warbled utterances, now.

The hand removed itself off me, but it was a momentary relief. It came back, faster and harder. A sharp pat, right above my butt.

I stumbled a bit, catching myself, reminding myself that I had legs to use. They were weak, my waist down feeling numb.

The security guy stepped aside, not unlike a heavy door being swung open.

I was pushed through. And I had wanted to go in.

I did my best to not trip as I was ushered down the steps leading to the central area of the casino. Eyes forward, concentrating on walking, instead of the slot machines and the people playing them.

He talked as he brought me down. Like this was nothing.

“I have to say, it’s a relief that Mr. Hitoshi is willing to try and collaborate with us again. Please tell him that I still deeply regret my decision about deciding to hold our meeting at one of my clubs. If I truly did not want to be… interrupted, we should have just met here. And I also understand his decision over not coming in person, but I will appreciate his business all the same.”

Even if I knew what he was talking about, I couldn’t find it in me to reply. All my focus was going into putting one foot ahead of the other. Trying not to feel the pressure on my back.

I found another handrail, my fingers sliding over it for purchase. Had to wait until I got off the steps.

My back was feeling damp, now, my shirt sticking to skin, and I led away from my main task, forced into a new problem.

I had to tear myself away.

Reaching the last step, I gripped the handrail, feeling the metal give. I planted my feet down, and the hand pressed more into my back. That ugly feeling spiked, but I stood my ground.

The person who took me kept on forward, then stopping to face me. He hand slipped off me and returned to his side.

No one I knew.

A man, thirty at least, wearing a suit. But it wasn’t dark or monotone in its color. Flashy, loud, if an outfit could even be loud. Red jacket and dress pants, with a white shirt, the top button left undone. His hair was neat and recently cut, with some length that was styled and combed on the top, shorter around the sides and around the ears. A youthful look, though that youth would escape him in a few more years.

He had a cane as well. Black, with gold engravings running up the length of the thing, stopping at a gold handle that his other hand had a grip on. But, I noticed how he was standing, how he seemed to favor one side, using the cane as support. It was just as functional as it was for show.

I started to connect the dots, but I still felt like I needed a shower.

He had a look of confusion. Whatever I was feeling must have showed on my face.

Tension was stirring inside me, begging to come out. And I couldn’t throw a punch for release.

I directed it into my words.

“Who the hell are you, you fucking creep?”

I had raised my voice, second only to the added volume of the crowd and machines cheering and ringing alike. Some people spared a glance at us, at me, but they were either too preoccupied, too inebriated, or they just didn’t care to help.

Not that I needed their help, now. I was free, and I still had some tension left to spare.

“You better keep both hands on that cane, or else I’ll-”

Wait, stop.

I couldn’t even do that.

I was in the middle of the casino, in one of the many beating hearts of the beast that was the criminal world of Stephenville. And if I didn’t want to get eaten alive, I’d have to not make a mess of things. To ostricate myself and the group I was representing.

I breathed in, deep.

It was fucking shitty, but I had to keep that tension down, for just a little bit longer. I had to be diplomatic.

Something Lawrence learned from his old boss. I had to try to learn the same lesson, too.

I fixed my stance, removing my hold off the rail. There was a small handprint left behind on the metal.

“I… shouldn’t have done that,” I said, eyes downcast. “Sorry about that.”

The man shifted his weight, lifting his cane and setting it back down in front of me.

“No, please, it was my fault. I mistook you for someone else. You can go. I, here.”

The man brought his hand out, the same hand he used to touch me.

“Santino D’Angelo.”

That name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I almost didn’t want to. The connection was a little weaker, there.

I didn’t want to shake his hand. I didn’t want to touch it.

Diplomacy first.

Fuck that.

I shook his hand. I touched it.

“Wendy,” I said. If I had tried to say my surname, fake or otherwise, my voice would have certainly cracked.

I hadn’t felt this much vitriol before, not even towards Alexis. But it was there, now, and that intensity was directed right back to me. It squirmed. I so badly wanted to direct that intensity elsewhere. Out. To everyone else. Not me.

We broke, my arm falling limp at my side. I only barely had a faint idea about what I was here to do.

An awkward pause followed. I was supposed to leave, he said I could, but I hadn’t. I was a few flickers away from burning out.

So many things I lacked. Experience. Memories. Connections.

Santino D’Angelo… D’Angelo seemed to take notice of me still sticking around, and commented, saying, “If you need to take a seat, there’s a decent spot in the back. Would you like to accompany me?”

He shook his head, then added, “It’s only for a moment, and only if you’re comfortable with the idea. I’m actually supposed to meet someone, and I’m not about to wander around looking for them. If we’re to talk, they’ll have to come to me.”

It took a considerable effort to shore back up some composure, maintain it, and answer properly.

“I’m fine with that. I’m actually trying to look for someone, and I’m tired of wandering.”

D’Angelo seemed to relax, hearing that.

“Splendid. Come.”

He went off, and I came with. Ushered again, but not by a gesture.

I needed a breather.

He pushed through the party of people moving about, from slot machine to slot machine, from game to game. I stayed back, twisting around so I wouldn’t hit or bump anyone as I walked. The casino was large, I had followed D’Angelo for some time, until he eventually stopped at one of the round tables at the far back.

They were booths, made of velvet, D’Angelo slid into one side, and I moved into the other. I kept my distance, staying on the edge of my seat, scanning more faces.

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since I left Lawrence in the hotel room, and already, there were so many left turns that it made me dizzy. I could get lost, just reeling from each and every one.

I had to focus, but it was getting so much harder to.

“You do seem a little too young to be hanging around here.”

My head whipped around. D’Angelo, talking to me again.

“But something tells me you’re not just here for some thrills.”

I replied, and it wasn’t as hard, this time.

“I’m not here for pleasure. Just business.”

D’Angelo cocked his head slightly.

“Business, here? That word has a very specific connotation, if spoken under this roof. May I ask who you’re with? Do you have a card?”

“Card?” My thoughts went to cards we got in that envelope. The room keys and fake IDs.

D’Angelo didn’t look impressed. “Business card.”

Gangs use business cards?

“I… just gave out my last one,” I said, thinking on the fly.

He nodded, unconvinced.

“Nice save, but I know a newbie when I see one. Here, I’ll give you mine.”

He pressed something on the underside of the handle of his cane. A paper slipped out.

He handed it to me. I took it, slipping it into my jacket after only giving it the smallest of glances. The name matched, at least.

“May I still get a name?” he asked.

Rule three. I wasn’t about to tell him.

“Personal business,” I said.

D’Angelo tapped his cane against the table.

“Listen, Wendy was it? It’s an amateur move, that. It’s a privilege, just to make it through the front doors. As long as you abide by the rules and keep it civil, you’re free to use the Lunar Tower as a place for discourse and refuge. A safe haven, if you will.”

I tried to loosen up, but it was useless, given the task and company at hand. I was still sitting where I was in the booth, ready to jump if I got even the slightest glance of Granon.

“We’re still making a name for ourselves, at the moment,” I told him. “We hold territory, and we have momentum, though we’re still getting our ducks in a row. But, just you wait, everyone will know who we are.”

“So I’ll be hearing about you very soon. I’m looking forward to it.”

We didn’t actually have anything planned, aside from the plans we already had in motion.

That was a move, as well. I still didn’t trust him, the third rule still in effect, so if anything were to happen in the next few weeks, I knew who to look for, and who to punish, if need be. It was a test for both him, and this establishment.

If nothing else, we might be able to use him in the near future, too.

“Well,” D’Angelo said, “You gave me some info, it’s only fair I divulge some of my own. I like balance, and if you are going to be as promising as I think you’ll be, it should be a worthy investment.”

“Fair?” I questioned, “You’re a larger gang, you can afford to give up some scraps of info here and there. It’s hardly an equivalent exchange.”

“You’re saying you’d use whatever I tell you?”

I didn’t gesture, or make any indication of what I was thinking.

D’Angelo tapped his cane again. He was smiling.

“You may be an amateur, but I know promising when I see it. It takes a lot of fucking guts to walk in here, especially with fakes, and try to get in on the action. That’s dedication, right there, that’s initiative. If you want a spot at the top, you have to take it. That’s straight out of our playbook, Wendy, you’re a natural at this.”

Hard to tell, if he was actually impressed or if he was just flattering me for other reasons. To take something else.

But, either way, I had to take it. Maintain diplomacy.

“You flatter me,” I said, voicing my thoughts from earlier, “But thank you.”

Nodding, looking elsewhere, D’Angelo lifted a hand.

“Not flattery, just mere observations. Oh, here she is! I won’t make the same mistake twice!”

He got up, pushing himself to his feet with his cane. He moved out of the booth to greet another person.

A woman, Asian in her features. Japanese, to make an educated guess. But she looked nothing like me, or even Shiori.

She was tall, towering over D’Angelo, though she did have heels. Slender, too, her waist smaller than mine, and I hadn’t had proper food… ever.

Her dress was fitting, proper for the setting, her skin a shade brighter than the pearls that adorned her neck. Hair done up, lips full, eyelashes long and smoky.

Standing by these adults… I felt as fake as the ID I used to get in here.

D’Angelo embraced the woman, still greeting her. It was brief, and they broke, talking.

“Hello, Mr. D’Angelo,” the woman said, her accent noticeable. Courtily, she placed her hands together in front of her. “Hitoshi-san is anticipating good things to come from this meeting.”

I watched as D’Angelo’s hand dropped, to her hip. Then, a twitch, and his hand recoiled to the handle of his cane.

“Hello to you too, Miss…”


“Lovely name. And yes, I assure you the Path will be steered in the right direction with me. Ah, excuse me, but this is a colleague of mine, Wendy. She won’t be joining us, but she is someone to look out for, believe me.”

Miss Kimiko turned her gaze to me, and I wanted to jump out of my skin. I was so out of my league.

“Cute,” she said, with a grin.

Cute? Was that all I was here?

All I could do was grin back in return, tapping my teeth with my tongue. Ready to snap.

“I should get going,” I said, “You two can get down to business. I still need to find my person.”

D’Angelo motioned with his cane, nudging it forward.

“You want a tip? If you want to show that you have power, even if you don’t actually have any, you don’t seek them out. Make them come to you.”

“I’m not exactly in a position to do that,” I said.

“Then put yourself in that position. Circle about, get yourself the high ground. Now you have power.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” I said. Though the whole point was to approach Granon while he was unaware.

“Do that, and you’ll see results. It… ended up being nice to meet you, Wendy. I’m expecting big things from your group.”

For a third time, D’Angelo tapped his cane, and he left, Miss Kimiko at his side, taking his arm. They conversed, discussing matters that I’d probably never learn the specifics of. Our paths split apart from there.

And I had to go on my own.

I went through the other booths, heading back into the main area of the casino. I wasn’t examining every detail of every face I saw, rather I was just making myself aware. Intaking the surrounds, absorbing the culture, learning whatever I could pick up. Not hiding, drawing away from other eyes, I was here, making myself present, acting like I knew what I was doing, where I was going. Like I belonged.

The lights from the chandelier seemed less harsh, the melancholy feeling of insecurity diminished. It wasn’t completely gone, but it lessened in increments. Better than going the other way.

A creep, but maybe D’Angelo had a point.

Still didn’t trust him.

I turned at the end of a row of slot machines, and something on the glass of the slots caught my eye. It took turning at another row to see it again and know for sure.

I was being followed.

Four, maybe five men. I tried getting a glimpse of them by tilting my head, reflecting off my glasses. Nothing clear, but I doubted this was hotel security.

I grabbed my phone out of my jacket, trying to get a look that way. Oh. Several missed calls from Lawrence. He’d have to wait.

I didn’t get a look at them. I put my phone back.

Still moving, I searched for options.

A door, at the far end of the casino. Unmarked, large, green with a gold outline. A backdoor to a maintenance hall?

I’d head there.

I picked up the pace.

I reached the door. Didn’t bother to look around, check behind me. Had to work fast.

Door was locked, needed a card. I didn’t have one.

It didn’t matter.

I grabbed the handle and pulled.

The door broke free from the lock. No alarm sounded, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’d be silent.

That was fine. I’d roll with it.

I slipped through the door, into a hallway, walls white. Maintenance hallway. Even for a place that was off limits and not to be seen by guests, it still looked nice. The walls and floors were smooth, not a speck of dirt.

I was already partway down the hall when I heard the door open again from the back. I had put some distance between us, but they were starting to gain, now that there wasn’t anyone else around.

I didn’t find them. They found me. But I could use that in my favor. The higher ground. They’d have to wait for me to act first, make the first move. I was the one being pursued, but I still had the power, here. And I’d use it.

The hallway continued, but a path also opened up to the left and right. I didn’t hesitate as I banked left.

There were cameras above the door and on of the other side of the hallway, had I continued straight instead. None here. Good.

Rules were still in effect, but in the off chance I had to break them…

I stopped on my heels, spinning back. I waited with my hands behind my back.

Finally, they turned the corner. Three men, actually. Probably miscounted.

They stopped at a distance. The sight of me standing here must have given them reason to pause.

None of them looked armed. Then again, so did I. I kept rule three in mind as I said, “Kept you waiting, huh?”

The man on the right stepped forward, and responded, “So you are the one that interrupted our plans yesterday.”

So they are with the People’s Hammer.

I couldn’t tell if any of these guys were a part of the blockade, but I supposed that was hardly relevant. Any group worth their salt had to be, at minimum, decent at communication.

“You guys were the ones interrupting us. It would have gotten worse if I hadn’t done something about it.”

“How? You have injured a handful of my comrades.”

“And do you want me to include you in that number?”

He shifted. His two ‘comrades’ watched us both, carefully.

“We noticed you walking around the casino,” he said.

“Yeah, I was kind of being obvious about it.”

The man’s expression was cold.

“Why are you even here? You have no reason to be at this hotel.”

“I have every reason to be at this hotel. I need to speak with Granon.”

I needed to direct the conversation to that as soon as possible, use that control while I still had it. Or they might somehow wrangle that away from me.

He dismissed the request right there, on the spot.

“Granon has no need to speak with you. He, we, intend to take your territory and start our tenure in this damn city. We demand our seat at the table.”

“You’re not going to get that by going through us,” I said. “Because it’s just not going to happen. Take me to Granon. I speak for my gang, and I’m willing to extend another hand to you if it means him calling off all attempts to encroach upon my territory and challenging our authority. Let’s handle this diplomatically.”

“That will not happen.” He then said a short phrase in another language. “-for him when I say he is not open for any discussions. And, even if he was, it would not be with you. That discussion is for him and that Lawrence, and for them alone.”

I wasn’t surprised, there. Maybe it was his ego, or perhaps some other prejudice, but it did seem like a shot in the dark that I’d be the one to talk with him. Then again, they weren’t aware the leadership was split into three, with Lawrence being the face presented to everyone else. The least I had wanted to accomplish was convince Granon to back down from this fight. If Lawrence had to take it from there, then fair enough, I could concede that part to him. I just needed this to work out.

These guys weren’t willing to work with me.

I spread my arms a little.

“What? Is Granon too shook to seek a dialogue with me? Did I rattle him too hard?”

“No. The only one who will do any shaking, is you.”

“Great comeback there, buddy, just-”

I heard it before I felt it.

The pop, then the ring. Stunned again, the white lights and tight, close walls threw me to being back at the school. It debilitated.

Hot metal passed through me like I was made of paper.

I was falling before I realized what was happening. I was on the floor when it settled in. I’d been shot.

I’d been shot. I’d been shot.

Shot. Shot.


I had been shot down, I was shut down, my mind going somewhere it didn’t want to go, reminded of something it’d rather forget. I was blank.

Writhing, squirming. My insides were hot, screaming to get out.

Worse than Dani, worse than D’Angelo.

They reached out, groping, manhandling me.

I was wrong. This was so much worse.

The lack the lack the lack the lack-

My head hung as my waist mended. From the back, through the muscle and bone, and out to the other side.

A clean shot.

Shot. Shot.

A hot breath steamed my cheek as a voice spoke.

“Who is shaking now?”

It was Xander L. Granon. He had me in his grasp.

My ears were ringing, his voice just barely able to be heard. Ears ringing.

Kids screaming, crying.

She lunged for Harrian and

“The same scheme as you, yes? Except this time, you are blockade.”

Couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, even though it was well within my power to do both. I didn’t know why, I couldn’t think.

“I will take your territory, and I will build my employer’s empire from there. That is, as you say, an inevitability.”

Multiple hands, grabbing at me, moving me. My arms were pushed up against my back, drawing my hands close to my shoulder blades, restraining me. A sharp pain.

Something cold slid against my fingers. Something cold.

“However,” Granon said, still breathing down my neck. “Perhaps I can negotiate a deal with that boy once the territory switches hands. Have him pay rent and taxes. Suffer infractions.”

The cold edge cut into a finger, sliding back and forth. I felt a pang.

If I moved now, I’d lose more than just my faculties. I was forced to stay still.

The tension from before was coming back, even more intense, wanting even more to explode.

“You want to talk? To negotiate? The only thing worth discussing is how many pieces he wants sent back to him. And let us start with this, your finger.”

I can heal I can heal I can get through this and slip out and figure something out


It was all wrong.

Pain. Fire. Excruciating.

Screaming. Crying.

Not just me.

All wrong.

Growls and shrieks, over the sound of the air around me being sliced. Hands pulled away from me, and I started to collapse.

My hand, where my finger was supposed to be. Numb, yet it was on fire.

My descent felt slow and gradual. But I felt so heavy. It would be a long way down.

When I hit tile, I fell in blood.

A sweet taste splattered into my mouth, hanging open from the sudden energy being sucked out of me. Drained.

It took a long time for me to get moving again, bringing my hands forward to push myself up.

I drew in a breath, pained.

My hand, my right hand. All five fingers were there. My back and hip were fine, too. But the middle finger… It felt like it was burning. White hot. Like I had touched heated metal. It wasn’t diminishing.

Bringing that hand close, I used the other for support. I had all five fingers there. I crawled, getting out of the blood, which was still pooling.

I turned my head, and through the creeping shadows in my vision, I saw why.

Blood, everywhere.

Splashed and splattered across the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. Entire lines and streaks, then specks. There was distance to it.

And the direction.

Haphazard, but it wasn’t random. The blood went in one general direction, pointed one way. Out, away from the bodies and where I had my back turned.


The bodies?

Bodies. Five of them, collapsed, limbs splayed and unmoving. One even had his face buried in the nook where the floor and wall met, flat on his stomach, head bent at an awkward angle.

I couldn’t see Granon. Would I even recognize him among all the red?


I scratched at an eye with my good hand, trying not to get blood on my glasses. My strained vision persisted. The scene still looked grim.

Are they all dead?

Footsteps, hurried. Coming closer.

My eyes were locked at the destruction before me. But there was no sense to make of this. There was nothing to understand.


I pulled away from the scene. I looked up, my expression blank.

Lawrence. He was keeping a distance, but he was here.

My mouth hung open, as if I had anything to say.

“Wendy,” he said in a breath, eyes wide, in shock. “What the hell did you do?”

Previous                                                                                               Next

068 – Upward Mobility

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Hair neat, chin up, back straight, feet together. Hair washed, glasses clean, clothes fresh. Makeup applied. I was trying not to go overboard, but I wasn’t even sure where that particular line had been set. Had I gone too far, not far enough? What image, exactly, was I supposed to present, here?

Fuck me, I’m nervous.

My heart was pounding with anticipation. One false move, one wrong step, and this would be over before we could ever start.

We walked as a pair. I let him lead, let him take point.

Did I trust him? It didn’t really matter. He just needed to get the job done.

The weights behind us dragged.

I was wary of the eyes. The people watching, noticing. Even if they were mere glances, even if I didn’t register in anyone’s attention, I was still here, being seen. I wasn’t used to this. I preferred staying in the dark, keeping to the shadows.

The chandelier shined bright above. Exposing me, attacking me as if it was my natural enemy.

He stumbled. I stuck my hand out for support. And to lessen the chance of him falling, but it resulted in getting even more eyes on us, the stares lingering even longer.

All I wanted was to get in, and get out. It was all I had to do. For now. The hard part would come a little later.

For now, I just had to get through this. And this was not where my strengths were applicable.  He was the face, and I was the muscle. I had no use here.

Hair neat, chin up, back straight, feet together…

Fuck me.

We approached, and he stopped. I took my hand off of him. He was fine, now.

The lady smiled. Her hair was tied back, tight, not a single strand of hair was loose or out of place. Her cheeks were a rosy red, her lips cherry. Her makeup was better than mine. It looked professionally done.

And her eyes.

There was a thin, ashy black line that ran around her eyes, accentuating her lashes and giving her a fuller look. Pretty seemed like an understatement, and beautiful seemed overdramatic. Somewhere in between.

Appealing, then.

She asked us a question. He answered.

“May I have a name?”

“Lawrence Vazquez.”

She looked at me. I froze.

“And name?”

I felt my cheeks warm up by a significant degree. Rosier than hers.

Fuck me.

I answered.

“Wendy Vazquez.”

-had better knock him the fuck out.

Again, I found myself agreeing with him. We couldn’t drag this thing with Granon out any more than was appropriate or allowed. Doing so would paint the wrong image. That we couldn’t handle situations as they came up, however minor or pressing. Intruders, deals, relations with residents in territories. Word spreads, and anything negative or damaging could ruin our reputation. And our reputation was still developing. It had to be nurtured, helped along the way. If we fucked it up now, it could disrupt everything.

Seeds and roots. It all went back to that concept.

“I’m with you on that,” I said. “Any potential ideas?”

Not at the moment. That’s not my department.

I frowned, even though I was on a call.

“Not mine, either.”

But we both knew whose department it was, though. And they weren’t here, and they weren’t responding to our attempts to reach them.

The silence was disconcerting.

“I could try,” I said. “Worked out okay for me, just now.”

Tone turned his head, slow, giving me a prolonged stare. He still had a hand on Sarah, keeping her steady.

His look wasn’t one of contempt or distaste. It was a response, his way of bringing attention to what I had just done, or said. He seemed to have a way of getting a lot across with not a single word spoken.

“It… worked out,” I said, amending my previous statement, staring back at Tone.

Repeat that? I can barely hear you.

The rumbling to the back of us was getting louder. I had to speak up.

“I said we could try to come up with something, ourselves.”

Lawrence responded, but the rumbling overtook the first part of his sentence. I tilted back, getting ready to check behind us, after I concluded my call.

-so helpless without her, but we could use her input, too. Which requires her being here. Dammit. Still nothing?

“I’ve been talking with you this whole time. Nothing’s changed. I can try and give her another call after I hang up.”

Okay then, do that. I’m, ah fuck, still hurting here. Head back to the theater and we can sort things out.

“Will do,” I said. “Bye.”

I hung up.

I opened my mouth to give out another order, but the rumbling behind us swelled, and I could hear it move around us, to the side.

A vehicle, then. An engine?

I turned.

I could see him on the other side of the window. A man and his motorcycle. If I could even call him a man, and that thing a motorcycle.

The biker and his bike matched in color. A dark, smoky grey. It would have been black if the sun wasn’t out, beaming, letting the subtle shade show.

The color was all the same, but it was the form that twisted and snarled.

The bike itself had mechanical parts that twined together, running together, parts meeting and flowing into one another like sinew on muscle. Exhaust flowed out of the tailpipe, billowing out, to the point that no one could drive behind the bike without losing the ability to see. I checked the lane behind him, and it had thinned out. No one was following him.

Not a machine, it looked like a beast.

It wasn’t any normal bike.

The biker, too, had an aura about him that bordered on the fantastical.

Covered completely. Helmet, gloves, shoes. All matching in color and design. The rider was as sleek as the beast was not. Where the bike thrummed with power, rumbling, the biker was still, showing no sign that riding the thing was easy. Showing no sign at all. The face was obscured, only a black plate staring back at me.

With every inch of his body covered, it stripped away his identity, the person underneath. What remained was a new image, portrayed for the world to see. The rider and the beast.

No ordinary biker, and no ordinary bike.

I had a feeling I knew what was being portrayed. Or who it represented.

It was a uniform.


Reggie spoke, breaking the relative silence. The rumbling had only gotten louder now that the biker was riding in tandem with us.

“Should we do something?”

A good question. Were we supposed to engage, respond?

“He’s not doing anything,” Tone said, changing his gaze from eye to the biker. To the ferryman. “He’s just… looking at us.”

The ferryman stared, only taking the occasional glance ahead to keep himself steady. His helmet blocked our view of his face.

It felt odd, not being able to see what was usually so common. Another person’s face. We couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t parse why he would be here. Did other people feel that way towards Blank Face, V?

I didn’t appreciate having that feeling be directed back at me.

“Voss?” Reggie asked.


“How’d you want to take this?”

Various things to consider. Was he here to sabotage us? Was he hostile? The longer we drove, the less likely that seemed. We were going down the highway, surrounded by other cars, many of them being the ones that were backed up by the blockade earlier. Getting into a conflict now would lead to an even bigger pile up.

We continued to drive, and so did the ferryman. If he had something planned, he would have done it by now.

But he didn’t.

Then, why was he here?

“Keep driving,” I said, careful. “I don’t think he has ill intentions.”

“Are you certain about that?” Tone asked.

No, but what else can we do?

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”

Reggie kept the van at a steady speed, steering slightly as the highway curved. The ferryman kept up with us as we went along.

I was more curious than worried, now. Well, I still harbored a little concern. Having Styx’s Gang make a sudden appearance at this juncture could only lead to more complications. And we were trying to make things with Granon simple, and quick.

The ferryman raised his arm. I tensed, putting my phone away, watching him with a cautious eye.

Not to his side. He wasn’t reaching for anything.

Helmet gazing back, a hand off of the coiling metal handlebar. The beast crawled forward at a brisk speed.

He gestured.

“What’s he doing?”

It was Sarah that asked. She hadn’t turned to look, or perhaps she couldn’t, the impact of a van crashing into two cars was finally starting to get to her.

I really felt for Sarah. I wished I had come up with another plan, one that didn’t put her in danger.

I kept my eyes on the ferryman.

“Is he flipping us off?” Tone asked, angered.

I looked again.

It wasn’t that, the gesture was wrong. Unless he meant to flip himself off.

He lifted the other finger.

“Peace,” I said. But I had my own interpretation.


That prompted a few ideas to formulate in my mind.

“Find a place to park,” I said, still watching him. “Somewhere out of the way.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Tone said.

“He’s not here to pick a fight. Otherwise, he’d have tried something by now, and I’d personally see to it that he fails.”

“So, what?” Reggie asked.

“There’s something he wants, whether it’s from us or for us. Let’s find out what that is. Take the next exit.”

Reggie gave me a nod, and signaled that he was about to make a turn. The ferryman acknowledged us by slowing down, maneuvering around until he was back to tailing us again. Smoke trailed us as we made it off the highway.

In taking the time to decide what our course of action should be, we had gone a considerable distance. We were well beyond the scope of our territory, entering into another part of town I had never visited before. Another neighborhood, but there were more shopping centers and restaurants around.

I let Reggie pick where we’d stop. I wasn’t familiar with the area, and I figured that I needed to learn how to delegate. It was an important skill in being a leader, one I couldn’t lack. I’d get in the practice when and where it was possible.

We moved, and the ferryman followed.

The back of a strip mall, between two trailers that were unloading inventory. No one was around.

Reggie stopped the car, and I heard the rumbling finally stop, as well. The ferryman was here, too.

I got the door for myself. I glanced back, and saw that Tone was still tending to Sarah, going the extra mile to make sure she was okay.

They could stay, I wasn’t going to push them any further.

I got out of the van. Another set of footsteps joined me.

Reggie. I wasn’t shocked to see him here, but I did appreciate it. Every little bit would help.

So many problems, happening and presenting themselves one after the other. Granon, those girls, the blockade, and this, with the ferryman. Not to mention that D had simply disappeared on us, leaving us with nothing but silence.

A lot on our plate. A lot of work, running a gang.

We walked, and so did the ferryman. We met at a middle point.

I was the first to speak.

“Here we are. What do you want from us?”

The ferryman looked between the both of us. Or, to be more precise, his helmet faced me, then Reggie, then back to me. He hadn’t taken the damn thing off.

Not a word came from him. As if the contrast the rumbling of the beast he rode in on, he was exercising complete silence.

You’re making this harder for me.

I tried another question.

“What does Styx want from us?”

That elicited a response, if I could even call it that.

A tilt of his head, directed at me. His hand went to a pocket on the side of his leather jacket.

I waited, cautious.

It wasn’t a gun, or a knife. An envelope.

It could still have something dangerous inside.

He brought the envelope forward. To me.

There was a delay before I realized I was supposed to take it.

I took it.

I looked it over, flipping it around. Looking over my shoulder, Reggie was observing the envelope, too.

No markings. It was just paper, plain and white. I shook it, and felt weight redistribute inside. Something solid, thin.

I looked back up to the ferryman.

“I suppose you won’t tell me what this is?”

The lack of an answer was expected.

I had learned more about Styx, his gang, and his ferrymen as I sunk deeper into the gang side of things, deeper into the underworld. A neutral party in most respects, only in that they worked with every gang. Moving drugs, delivering supplies and messages, making sure everyone was playing by the rules. If our gang managed to grow, it would lead to us working with Styx’s Gang. It was a part of the process. It was how things worked.

But, we were still new, not established. Styx’s Gang had no business working with us yet. Which, with this ferryman being here, naturally begged a lot of questions.

And he doesn’t seem interested in answering any of them.

But I tried, regardless.

“Am I supposed to open this now?”

No answer. Of course.

Putting my other hand on the envelope, I pinched my fingers together. I breathed in, then out, slow.

“Take a step back,” I told Reggie. “Just to be safe.”

Reggie didn’t protest or question me. He took a step back.

No hesitation. I couldn’t show a sign of weakness.

I tore open the envelope.

Stuff fell out, I caught them out of the air, the shredded pieces of paper were lost in the process. They flew away, drafted by the wind, and I didn’t see the need to chase after them.

I got what I needed, however.

Four cards, split into sets of two. I flipped through each of them.

I saw Lawrence’s face. I saw mine. I did a double take.

Fake IDs.


I already had one. Though, it was as real to me as the sky being blue. Look it up, and the information on that card would appear. It was as legitimate as it needed to be. For my part, I believed the information on there to be true. I was not lying to myself, there.

This card, the one in my hand, was a fake. Only slight-

A couple of details hit me all at once.

The photo itself. Identical to the one used on my actual ID. The exact same. How did Styx even get access to that photo in the first place?

The last name. Wasn’t my last name.


I flipped to the card for Lawrence. I’d never seen his real card before, so I could only guess if his picture was the same. Probably was.

I read the name.

Lawrence Vazquez. Wasn’t his last name.

The fuck is this?

I turned my attention back to the ferryman.

“The fuck is this?” I asked.

I actually got something this time.

It was another gesture, though. The ferryman raised his hand to point.

The other set of cards.

I rearranged the cards to get a better look at them.

White. Black stripes at the bottom of one side. An arrow. The logo and name and number on the other side helped in piecing things together.

They were keys for a hotel room. Keys for the Lunar Tower.

My attention went back to the the ferryman, a curious expression on my face. Not confusion, but curiosity, I had an idea of where this was going.

“Why?” I asked, already knowing it would be useless. “Why are you giving this to me? Why is Styx helping us?”

Or, is he setting us up?

Nothing. He was starting to piss me off.

Could I beat the information out of him? Until he answered in squeals? It was possible, and I wouldn’t be above doing that, if it was absolutely necessary.

Possible, but not viable. If this gang were to continue and grow, we had to establish a decent working relation with Styx and his gang, and bringing harm to one of his own was a great way to have that not happen.

I couldn’t touch the ferryman, and he knew it. He could push me as far as he wanted, with no repercussions, not unless I wanted to ruin my own gang.

I didn’t want that. We had a good thing going.

A metallic clang, a distance away. We all turned in the direction of the noise.

A man, standing by one of the long trailers. Dressed like a trucker. He had a panicked look on his face.

A civilian, who had walked in on something he had no reason being around. Unsure if he should run, or if he even could.

With a hard jerk of his body, he decided to run. He disappeared behind the long trailer.

A small distraction. We returned to the business at hand.

“Thanks,” I said, putting the cards away. “We’ve got it from here. Tell Styx he doesn’t have to worry about us. We’ll prove our worth.”

The ferryman bowed his head. The most movement I’d ever seen from him.

He brought himself back up, and turned to go. I took that as my sign to leave, too. Had to wrap things up early after getting interrupted. That trucker might come back with other, even more unwanted guests.

Reggie and I returned to the van, the ideas starting to solidify.

I didn’t like the conclusions I was coming to.

“Shit,” I said, “Shit.”

“What did he want?” Tone asked. He was sitting back in his seat, now, next to me. Sarah was leaned back as well, the seat reclined. Her eyes were closed.

She was breathing, I could tell that much, and she didn’t appear to be in pain. I chalked it up to her just resting.

Reggie started up the van again as I talked.

“I think… This isn’t just between us and the People’s Hammer. Not anymore.”

“Elaborate, Voss.”

“Styx’s Gang literally gave us the keys to go straight to Granon. Considering how well connected they are, there’s a chance that there might be other eyes on us, now, other parties interested in how this unfolds.”

“You really think so?” Reggie asked.

I stuffed the cards into a pocket of my hoodie, switching them out for my phone.

“It’s one possibility. I’ll admit that it’s just a guess. What this does mean is that we’re in a fight that we can not lose.”

“As if we were going to lose at all,” Tone said. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re right,” I said, nodding.

But this does make it complicated.

I dialed my phone, bringing it to my ear.

No answer from D.


I had a sneaking suspicion, that D had something to do with this. And I was only able to consider that connection, because this wasn’t the first time a similar set of circumstances occurred.

That night, it felt so long ago. The night we burned down East Stephenville to find Benny. Another ferryman had made an appearance while I was making my way back to the restaurant, square one. That ferryman had made the same symbol too. Victory.

I would have questioned it more if things weren’t so hectic, if we weren’t in a rush to get Benny back. Now, it was starting to be a more pertinent issue. Not as pressing as Granon, but with these cards in my possession, I couldn’t just let it go, anymore.

Dial tone. She still wasn’t picking up.

D goes missing, and a few hours later we get a visit from Styx’s Gang, giving us access to where Granon is staying. And only one person could possibly get a hold of my ID. Hell, she was the person who made my new one.

I was starting understand Lawrence’s paranoia towards D.

I put my phone down, flipping through the address book to find Lawrence. I’d have to call him about this.

My finger was over his name, ready to call.

I put my phone away.

I’d give him an hour. Spare him the immediate stress.

It would help me, too. Instructions weren’t included in that envelope. Styx gave us the cards, but wasn’t going to tell us how to play them. That was for us to figure out.

An hour. I’d take an hour to think and plan on my own. Then I’d let Lawrence in the know.

And then I’ll find D and strangle her for not letting us in the know.

The door swung wide. I let Lawrence go first.

“Dammit, it’s gorgeous,” Lawrence said.

“I hate that I keep agreeing with you,” I said.

The room did look amazing. Better to call it a suite, in all honesty. Or maybe something even sweeter than that.

Not curtains, but drapes. Not just lamps, but candelabras, and another goddamn chandelier. The suite could be defined by having everything a normal room would have, but better. Fancier. Gaudier.

A blue and gold color palette gave the room a lax but extravagant feel. Unwinding in style. The couches and chairs had cushions that looked more fluffy than pillows, patterns of flowers on the walls and furniture gave everything a softer, natural touch. Silver grooves and engravings, to give just an extra dash of extravagance.

Otherworldly, almost. Surreal, in just how out of place I felt. This felt like a room for royalty. On the board, I was the queen, but being here stretched that definition.

Speaking of…

“They even have a chessboard here,” I said, pointing it out on the long, rounded table, with leather legs and raised gold dots at the edges. “And it’s made of glass.”

“So what?” Lawrence asked, walking more into the room, bringing his luggage with him. “We don’t have time for games.”

I shot a look at him, but his back was to me. I grabbed my bag and entered the suite.

“I know that, I was just thinking along those lines and I just saw it and I wanted to… You know what? Never mind.”

The board isn’t even set up properly.

I passed Lawrence, who had elected to fall into one of the couches, groaning as he went down. Every bit of movement must have ached, for him.

For me, I was just happy to be out of the lobby, and out of sight. I couldn’t get that lady’s face out of my head. How she watched as I tried to act like I belonged. If this institution really had a reputation of being a neutral ground for gangs, then she probably saw right through me.

Fuck me, this is why I wear a mask.

I headed to the double doors in the back of the suite. Wooden, but with gold wrapping around the edges of the frame like vines.

Had to be here.

I pushed the doors open. I blinked, an eyebrow raised. I blinked again.

“Ah hell.”

“What?” Lawrence asked, from behind.

For a second, I was lost on what to specify.

Keep it simple.


“There’s only one bed,” I said.


I heard a rush of pillows and bags and chairs being knocked over.

Lawrence rushed past me, into the bedroom.

He groaned, probably both from the pain he was still recovering from, and the most recent discovery of this strange, strange situation we had found ourselves in.

“Ah, hell.”

The bedroom was its own section of the suite, but it was no less impressive.

It matched with the rest of the suite with its aesthetics, blue and gold, fancy light and decorations. And the bed itself was the crown jewel.

Framed by drapes, with a renaissance-style painting right above the head of the bed, mounted on the wall. The plant and flower motif continued in here, too, painted vines twisting along the wall and the side of the bed, smooth lines flowing around in an almost random fashion, like how I’d imagine actual plants to grow when left on their own. No one pattern or design was repeated, but nothing clashed or hurt the eyes. It was all so… relaxing.

Relaxing, yet somehow a slap in the face.

Something was waiting for us on the bed.

An oversized teddy bear, placed between the pillows. It was holding a box, shaped into a heart, probably filled with chocolates.

That confirmed my suspicions.

Still a slap in the face, though.

Only one bed, and there was only one night on the reservation. We had until we checked out at noon tomorrow to finish this.

Those were the rules of this game.

It did make things easier, in a sense. Having a deadline snap at the heels had a tendency to make a person run faster.

But, still…

“This is a joke right?” Lawrence asked, summarizing my own thoughts. “This has to be a joke.”

“It most definitely is,” I said, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. “In a strange way, we can probably take comfort in that. The fake IDs, giving us the same fake surname, the fact that it starts with a ‘V,’ the single bed, even the chessboard and… the fucking teddy bear. This has her style written all over it.”

“Her…” Lawrence said, seething, the word sliding between gritted teeth.

“D,” I said, finishing his thought for him.

I saw Lawrence twitch, his head jerking around, as if looking for a fly that buzzing around him, or avoiding the gaze of the stuffed animal.

“You think she’s here?” he asked, gaze still darting, “Listening in on us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, though I couldn’t help but wonder, despite myself. “Just think of this as another one of her pranks.”

“Pranks, right.” He trudged over to the bed, putting a hand on it for balance. “As if I needed to be pranked by her again. I thought that shit was behind me, now.”

With a sudden motion, he pushed the teddy bear out of the way and over the other side. He fell onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Another chandelier.

“Shows just how much I know,” he said, breathing out, barely audible. “I can hear her laughing, somewhere. It’s echoing. Constant. Ha, ha. Ha.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t get so worked up over it,” I said. “Wherever she is, she’s just trying to help. It just so happens that she has a very particular idea of what ‘help’ means.”

Lawrence mumbled.

“Did it have to be like this, though?”

I took my shoulder off the frame, moving to get my bag out of the way of the door. “Like I said, stressing out over it isn’t going to benefit you any. You’ll never be able to get any rest, doing that. Just… you can take the bed.”

Lawrence sat right up, but he couldn’t stifle an aching groan.


“I’m not about to share it with you. I can take the couch or floor or whatever, if we even get time to sleep.”

I was moving as I talked, setting my bag next to the couch. I didn’t bring a lot with me, I didn’t even have a lot to bring. An extra set of clothes, the necessities like a toothbrush and comb, my glasses case, and my costume… In case it would ever come to that. A small part of me hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Though, would bringing it mean that I was expecting to wear it?

I nudged the bag, letting it roll an inch or two away.

I told myself that I would bring it as a precaution, but using it would probably make things worse. Not just for us and the People’s Hammer, but for everyone. And nothing good could be salvaged from that.

Maybe I brought it for security? That I had something to fall back to if this goes south?

I knew I was out of my element, here. I couldn’t resort to my old tricks, I couldn’t fall on old habits. Had to draw upon other stuff. Stuff I normally lacked.

I couldn’t doubt myself.

I opened my bag.

“I think I’ll head out,” I said, digging through my luggage. “Take a look around. Get a better sense of the building, and see where else it earns its five stars.”

Lawrence replied, shouting from the bedroom. He still sounded far away.

“Are you sure?”

No, but what choice do I have?

“Yes,” I said. “Though, actually, I would have you come with me, but the last thing I want is for you to bump into Granon. We know he’s staying somewhere here, but we don’t know where, exactly. They didn’t exactly make this easy on us.”

“They led us right to him, but bringing us here, where so many representatives of other gangs stay and rub shoulders… If we get into a fight, that’s not going to present the right image to everyone else.”

I nodded, saying, “It’s pretty much forcing us to try and cut a deal with Granon. Not a lot of elbow room to start swinging.”

“But Granon already tried to cut a deal with us, and we said no. How is it going to look if we go back on that?”

“Not good, but remember, the same thing applies to him. If he wants a spot in this city, he can’t make a mess of this place.”

There was a moment’s pause. The only thing I heard from Lawrence’s end of the room were bedsheets being tossed around.

“Do you want to cut a deal with Granon?” Lawrence asked, settling back in.

I was going to do my thinking aloud. “I don’t. Not if it means him being in our territory. The blockade alone was enough to show that he doesn’t care about the place or the people. The only thing he cares about is the growth of his own gang, and that means having a hold in this city, one way or another. He couldn’t get it through Mister, his proposal was rejected by his secretary, and I’m thinking there might be a reason why.”

“Like how we’re controlling what products are being sold in our territory? Tailoring our clientele?

“Something like that. Considering how little we interacted with Granon, and how volatile he proved to be in that short amount of time, if we didn’t want him, then the higher ups that run this city probably don’t want him, too.”

“We’re thinking like the big guys,” Lawrence commented. “I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not.”

I found my knife, and stuffed it in a pocket on my side. I had enough room.

“It means,” I said, getting up, “That we have what it takes to be one of the higher ups, one day. The big guys. With Granon, the People’s Hammer does not. And that’s why we’ll be the ones to stop them from swinging. Remove any nails they might have.”

“Um, is that you being literal or what?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Okay,” Lawrence said, and I could hear him trying to get up from the bed, and then succeed after another try. “Hold on.”

I was standing back up, too, stretching my back, feeling and hearing it pop. Lawrence was walking out of the bedroom, meeting me by the couch.

“What is it now?” I asked. I was itching to get out and do something, even if it meant going through the lobby again, being out of my element.

Lawrence jammed his hands into his pockets, looking at me, but not making eye contact.

“I’m sure I’ve made it clear by now, but in case you haven’t caught on… I don’t like this, any of this. I don’t like how Granon is trying to muscle in, I don’t like how D is missing, I don’t like how convenient it is that a fucking ferryman gives you the keys to the Lunar, and I especially don’t like how I’m included in this shit. I don’t know what me being here even accomplishes. I mean, no one’s watching the territory. Fuck, I’m useless, here.”

If I was doing an okay job at hiding my anxiety about everything, then Lawrence was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He knew what him being here would – and did – accomplish, and he knew he wasn’t useless. He still felt the need to say that, regardless.

And I had to settle him down. It would better settle me down, too.

“Did you see the lady at the front desk? She would have snuffed me out in an instant if I tried to come in by myself, even if I had a reservation. I just don’t fit in with this kind of scene, or at least, I’m not used to it yet. Not used to having a lot of money or interacting with those who do. Nouveau riche, I guess you can say.”

I pointed a finger, setting it on Lawrence’s chest.

“You, from what I’ve seen with Granon and the lady, can act the part of a poised gangster. I’m… not quite there. You’re the face of the organization, I’m just the muscle. We each have a part to play. You had yours, and now it’s my turn.”

I flicked my finger. A gentle movement, from my perspective, but it was enough to knock him on his ass. He landed on the couch.

“So take a damn break. I can tell you’re still hurting from Granon’s beatdown, yesterday. I’ve got it from here. And about the territory, I trust that Reggie and Tone can keep things together for a night. And… As for D, and how Styx fits in this, let’s just take the convenience as it is, and we can move on to that after we’re through with the People’s Hammer.”

Lawrence adjusted his posture on the couch, getting himself in a better position.

“I guess a full twenty-four hours is too much to ask.”

I smiled. Slight, sympathetic.

“It is.”

Turning, I moved to leave the suite.

Lawrence called out. “You have your knife? Keys? Phone?”

“I do,” I answered. All three were in the pockets of my jacket. A dark blazer, a white buttoned shirt under that, and a dark skirt and dress shoes. They were the only pieces in my closet that wouldn’t put me out of place with the other guests and staff of this hotel. Coupled with the makeup, I never felt so awkward.

I could imagine Alexis wearing this outfit like a second skin. Me? Not so much. It was another costume.

“You have your wallet?”

I stopped at the door.

“I… do, why?”

“Get me something to eat. I want to taste that fifth star, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll see what they have,” I said.

“And get yourself something while you’re at it. I’ve been meaning to bring it up for a while, now, but I haven’t seen you take a bite of anything, ever.”

Calling me out directly, was he?

“I can’t eat,” I said, turning the knob. “A drawback of my powers.”

“You can’t eat? Then what-”

“Good night, Lawrence,” I said, firm, opening the door. “Stay inside and rest. Call me if you need anything, or I’ll call you.”

I shut the door before Lawrence could reply.

Finally, I thought.

I was standing out in the hall. A warm glow from the lights above, a soft carpet with a constellation and moon imagery, and so many doors I almost felt dizzy. I had the key to the room, so I couldn’t get lost. Floor forty, fourth room. I’d never been in a building with so many floors, before.

And in one of these many floors, was Granon, and so many other gangs. Like looking for a needle in a needlestack. I couldn’t get myself, and by proxy, my gang, be riddled with holes as I search for him.

No big deal.

And, I couldn’t punch him when I see him.


Hands in my pocket, I started walking, heading to the elevators.

A lot of work, running a gang. And with how hard it was getting, I hoped that meant we were finally moving up in the world.

Previous                                                                                               Next

067 – Girl, You Gotta Carry That Weight

Previous                                                                                               Next

I walked into the Redhouse, a faint echo following every step I took.

No one was home. We still laid claim to the place, but we were able to move a lot of our inventory out to the new territory, our neighborhood. There was still some stuff in storage, either stuff that was too big to move, or not important enough that it needed to be close at hand. Extra funds, spare guns, and drugs we weren’t looking to deal. Once we were more settled, the plan would be for people to take shifts, essentially squatting at the location so it could remain within our jurisdiction. More territory meant more power, and we needed all the terrority we could get. But, for now, we needed everyone at the neighborhood, to help bolster our numbers and cement our presence there. Chances were good that we’d drop the place entirely, if we expanded even further, and found someplace better.

No, not if. When.

I needed to think along those lines, that we would succeed. If there was even a hint of uncertainty, then that could plant seeds in the mind. Seeds of doubt. And any setback or obstacle or difficulty faced, however minor, would only allow for those seeds to grow, the roots digging, until a final, decisive moment came, and I would be unable to act upon it, those roots already having me tied down.

I couldn’t afford that. I couldn’t afford failure.

And I wasn’t going to ever think that I could.

I walked into the Redhouse, the echoing growing louder.

Maybe this wasn’t the best place to…

To do what?

I looked around, even though I knew it was empty. Why had I come here, exactly? If I needed some time to think, I could have done it on the way to reconvening with D and Lawrence, and I needed to go somewhere secluded, having Sarah take me there would be defeating the purpose. I was wasting time and energy, going out of my way to come here.

And yet, here I was.

I wandered, each step less certain than the last. I scratched my head, played with my hair, fixed my glasses, straightened my hoodie, zipped it down, only to zip it back up again. I was wandering.

Going in circles.

My head was spinning, feeling dizzy for reasons I couldn’t explain or properly dissect. It all mixed together into a soupy mess, I couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and the other began. And trying to isolate any one thing brought a mess of other stuff with it. A mixture.

Fuck. I wanted to punch something.

“Did you find it?”

I turned to the door, startled.


Sarah. She had followed me inside, the door closing as she came in.

It was the most complete view I had of her. From head to toe.

Her hair was a light brown, an even lighter shade as she stepped into the light, the sun coming from above. Her skin was tanned, from having spent so much time outdoors and it simply being her natural complexion. To contrast, she had on a white sweater that hugged her body snug, leaving only one shoulder exposed. Her jeans were black, slim, but loose by her ankles, with boots to match.

If it weren’t for the gun that was strapped behind her, Sarah looked like she could be a model.

There was a maturity to her looks that I could never hope to ever match or develop. Which only made the displacement of power between us all the more noticeable. She was a few years my senior, yet she answered to me. I told her to take me here. I gave her an order, and she listened. I was the leader, and she was my subordinate.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Find?” I asked.

Sarah looked confused.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

I remembered, now. I already forgot?

“Uh, no, I just got in.”

Sarah nodded, accepting that answer. She glanced around as she crossed the lobby, approaching me.

I had given a flimsy excuse when I told her to take me to the Redhouse, and I’d come up with something better by the time we got here. It didn’t happen, apparently, my thoughts were drifting elsewhere the whole trip.

Even now, I still felt…

I wasn’t sure how I felt.

Distracted? Listless?


I set my hoodie straight again, even though it was already fine. I was very aware of how the cloth of the jacket brushed against my stomach, the cold of the zipper touching me whenever I breathed.

Sarah spoke, breaking the spell of silence.

“At the risk of repeating myself, are you alright, Voss?”

“You are repeating yourself,” I said.

Sarah shrugged. “You didn’t answer me the first time I asked, so I had to follow up.”

My gaze went down to her boots.

“Give me a second to look around,” I said.

I moved, walking across the lobby, to the counter. I put my elbows on the surface, and leaned over, as if I was actually searching for something.

“You’re upset,” Sarah said.

A very pointed statement, that.

I didn’t turn to face her when I responded.

“I don’t think upset is the right word to use, here.”

“What is the right word, then?”

That was where I was stumped.

I set my lips into a line, staring at nothing in particular.

Fuck, I thought, for the third time in less than the same amount of minutes. I was starting to regret coming here, I wasn’t getting anything out of this. I didn’t even know what I had come here to get. Why, and for what reason? As though I was operating on some instinct that hadn’t been called on in so long, that it had forgotten how to function, and how to express and release that building… tension? Pressure? Whatever it was, exactly, it was spreading, growing, putting a strain on other stuff as it pressed against it, adding stress.

A broken connection, being forced to carry an impulse. A burden it might not be able to handle.

If I wasn’t careful, something could break.

I felt like I was about to have a migraine.

I breathed, remembering that I had to.

What is happening?

“It’s those girls, isn’t it?”

Sarah questioned, my back still to her.

Another pointed statement. Sarah seemed to have a talent for hitting right where it stung.

But, did it sting?

A minor wound, one that-

No, no. Thinking, picking apart my thoughts, alone. Going in circles. Wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I let my eyes close, and I opened my mouth.

“Not them, not entirely. I, it’s, more complicated than that.”

“You want to talk about it?”

I screwed my eyes tighter.

“That’s what I was trying to do.”

“Sorry, Voss, I didn’t mean to push you. Please, take your time.”

I took my time, trying to think of a decent place to start.

“Wendy,” I said.


“It’s Wendy. Don’t call me Voss, not right now.”

There was a pause.

“Oh. Okay.”


That was a start.

“It’s not those girls, but they… I think I’ve realized something, about myself.”

A bit of time passed. I was expecting a response from Sarah, but I didn’t get one. Was she still wanting to give me space? Time?

It forced me to continue.

“I’m lacking, as a leader,” I said, matter-of-factly. “And I’m afraid that might reflect in other places, too.”

It felt as if I wasn’t even talking to her anymore. I was just talking aloud, and she happened to overhear.

Sarah responding diminished that feeling, though.

“I don’t understand.”

I wouldn’t expect you to.

“It happened with EZ and Krown,” I said.

“EZ and Krown? The Thunders and Royals?”

I nodded, but I still wasn’t facing her. “Before all this started, us moving into the neighborhood, D and I had gone ahead to check things out. We did some minor surveillance of the leaders of both gangs, on their turf, to get a sense of who they were and how they operated.”

“And something happened?”

I nodded again. “But, they knew we were outsiders, and they got the upper hand on us. On me. They lead me on, toyed with me, and made me look like a fucking idiot. I fell right into their tricks, and I had no idea I was being played.”

“And that made you upset,” Sarah said.

“More than upset. I was livid. I took that anger, that frustration, and focused it back at them. And look where they are, now.”

“Sounds like you did a pretty good job at turning things around.”

“But, that’s not my concern.”

Another few seconds of silence.

“What is your concern, then?” Sarah asked. She probably recognized that she was stepping on the time she had let me use to think. Probably not out of any disrespect, but to help guide me along to my point.

That was what I wanted to think, at least.

“My concern is… That, by myself, I’m not good enough, or well-rounded enough, to lead a gang. Twice, now, I’ve encountered a situation I wasn’t prepared for, or I wasn’t expecting, and I couldn’t… handle it.”

“You’re counting what went down with those girls as one of those situations?”

“I am. And what makes it worse is that they’re not even targets. I have no reason to seek them out again and make them pay. Nothing would come from it, nothing tangible.”

“I won’t ever say you’re wrong in feeling what you’re feeling, but you’re not alone. You’re not even alone as a leader. You have D, you have Lawrence. You have… the rest of us.”

I shook my head.

“I can’t keep relying on others. That time with EZ and Krown, I had D. This time with those girls, I had you, of all people. Strike one and strike two. What happens the third time around, when I’m at a critical juncture, and I fail? And there’s no one to help? Everything falls on me, and I won’t have the strength to keep it all up.”

“When you talk like that, you’re already assuming that you will fail. So stop that. And second, no one is asking you to carry that kind of burden, especially all by yourself. No one, even with super strength, can handle that. You can’t expect yourself to be bigger than life, all the time. No one is, and everyone has their shortcomings. That’s why people reach out, and rely on others in the first place.”

I slapped my hands on the counter, and turned.

I was facing Sarah, now, standing straight, feet planted firm.

Say it, become it.

“I know what I am,” I said. “I am bigger than life. I am a monster. I’ve done monstrous and ugly things, and I’ll continue to do monstrous and ugly things to get what I want. I have a power that no one else has, and I need to recognize that it puts me above, well, people.”

An arrogant thing to say, but, on a fundamental level, it was true.

But, I thought.

I spoke. “I am capable of so much more, and if I can’t reach those heights I know I can reach, then what am I good for? I can’t keep relying on others. Someone, a while back, had likened me to a gun, that others can use to point and fire. They direct me to where I need to strike, and they shoot. I can do that, I can be good at that. But that can’t be everything. There’s three of us, but we can’t stick with just our individual strengths and abilities. I know where I’m lacking, and that’s something they can’t help me with. It has to be me. I have to better than… this.”

Another silence. It lingered.

I brought my hand up, brushing my fingers through my hair. I adjusted my glasses.

“Am I even making any sense?” I asked.

I saw Sarah smile. Small, sympathetic.

“Not really, but that doesn’t mean what you’re feeling isn’t real. If that’s what you feel like you need to do, then do you, girl. Nobody can stop you. I’d love to see you grow and become a real leader. And, if it means anything coming from me, I think you’re doing a pretty good job right now.”

A warmth hit me. Not exactly like the one before, from my encounters with those girls. It wasn’t uncomfortable, awkward, or otherwise distressing. It was reassurance.

Which, in and of itself, sort of made it awkward.

“I… appreciate the sentiment,” I said, looking away. “You sound like you’ve done this kind of thing before.”

“I originally had gone to university to be a therapist. But, as I’m sure you know, life has a way of making things not go the way you want. And this ended up paying more, faster.”

She shrugged, spreading her arms.

“No big,” she said, smiling lightly.

I walked back across the lobby, heading to Sarah. My footsteps seemed to echo less than before.

“I’m sorry for taking up your time,” I said. “I didn’t actually have any real business here.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sarah said, giving me a wink. Even that had a different effect from the wink I had received earlier. “I hope you found something worthwhile, anyways.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Sarah spread her arms again, wide.

“Do you want a hug?” she asked.

I considered taking a step back.

“I’m fine,” I said.

Sarah lifted her arms an inch higher.

“You sure?”

I considered.

But, I thought again.

“I’m fine. At the risk of repeating myself, I, um, appreciate the sentiment.”

Sarah replied. “You are repeating yourself, Voss.”

We both smiled.

Sarah dropped her arms to her side, and I took that as a signal to leave. But, before I could take a step, I got a call.

I grabbed my phone out from my pocket.

“Hey,” I said.

Where have you been?

Lawrence. Sounding as strained as ever.

“Sorry. I… took a detour.”

Took a detour? Where are you now?

“I’m at the Redhouse.”

What the fuck are- whatever, never mind. Look, we’ve got a situation.

I looked at Sarah. She must have noticed my expression. It was serious.

Lawrence sounded serious.

“What kind of situation?” I asked.

Granon’s making a move.

I felt my heart pound faster, my pulse quicken.


Yeah. On Boseman and Jordan. All I know right now is that there’s some traffic disturbance, and the People’s Hammer are involved.

That was right in our neighborhood, if not right at the edge of it.


“You want me over there?” I asked.

No fucking shit. I’d, ow, shit, I’d come over there myself, but I’m still too fucked up to be of any use. I’m going to need your muscle on this one.

“I can do that.”

Then hurry. Hey-”

I was about to hang up, but I heard more from my phone.

“What?” I asked. “I missed that last part.”

I was asking if you’ve seen D.

If I’d seen D?

“Not since setting up at the theater,” I answered. “Why? I thought she was with you.”

She went out, she didn’t explain why, and she’s not picking up. I thought she went over to where you were.

Lawrence was right, this was a situation. Granon was taking action, in our territory, and D was not accounted for. She was our strategist, and she would have been useful in handling this. She would have planned something, and she would have made a game of it.

But, she wasn’t around, and we couldn’t afford to wait for her. Wherever she was, she had better show up, and soon.

Lawrence, too, was unavailable. Out of commission, still reeling from his one-sided fight with Granon. He could barely move, and I wouldn’t want him to. He had to be benched. He’d need to rest.

It was all up to me, now.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “D’s not here, but I can take care of it.”

Good luck. Bye.

“Bye,” I said. I turned to Sarah.

“What’s up, Voss?”

I blinked, feeling the pressure, like a weight on my chest. It was suffocating.

“This might be strike three,” I said.

I was running headlong into danger, knowing there was a chance that someone could get hurt, or worse, get killed.

So why did it feel like I was running away?

My feet stepped from road, to sidewalk, grass, sidewalk, and road again. I had turned corners, cut through alleys, and over gates. Past bystanders and onlookers.

I finally found a place to stop. Or, perhaps, more accurately, I let something stop me.

On the road, a car. People standing around it. Mine.

“Move!” I yelled.

They moved, out of the way, and right on time.

The side of my body collided with the car.

It absorbed most of the impact, stopping me and keeping me in place. The car skidded a foot to the side due to the hit.

Everyone shouted. Shocked, surprised at my sudden entrance.



“You dented my car!”

I pushed myself out and away from the car. A bone broke, but it had already mended by the time I settled everyone down.

“Guys, cool it! It’s just me!”

I had my arms up, hands high, as if physically making myself appear larger helped.

The initial confusion dissipated, and everyone’s focus was back, and on me.

I saw Reggie and Tone among the gathered group. I looked at them as I directed my questions.

“Any updates?”

It was Reggie who answered.

“Nah, it’s been like this for almost an hour, now. They’re still up there, blocking the access road.”

“Shit,” I said, barely hearing myself. Not just from all the running, but everywhere around us, every car was honking.

It was so fucking loud.

“Cops haven’t come in to move them yet?” I asked.

“You want them here? That’s asking for even more trouble. It’s not that bad, not yet.”

And I have to not let it get to that point.

Shit. Time was running out, and so were my options. I had to think, but I barely had any time for that, either.

Cover your bases, what’s going on right this second?

A lot of things.

Traffic stretched, going back several blocks. The People’s Hammer were situated right at the access road that merged into a highway. It was a major road for this part of the city, and in many respects, for a lot of people, it was their only way out of the neighborhood. People had jobs elsewhere, or they were looking to find some respite from the stresses of living here.

And Granon’s men were blocking everyone trying to get through.

To make things worse, the access road only went one way. Anyone who got stuck here was unable to turn back. A chokepoint.

The longer Granon’s men stayed in place, the longer the traffic became. It wouldn’t be long before the growing pressure bubbled, then boiled, only for everything to blow up in our faces. If we…

If I couldn’t deal with this, then we couldn’t continue as a gang at all.

Within me, the pressure started to bubble.

“Where’s Granon?” I asked. “Is he here?”

Tone turned to look, but Reggie answered.

“Haven’t seen him.”

Tone turned back. “Doesn’t rule him out of being here, though.

Reggie nodded.

“Anything else?” I asked. “Any fights that broke out, or any shots fired?”

Reggie shook his head.

“They’re just standing there, holding everything and everyone back. They’re probably strapped, though, with a few more in the trunk.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

Reggie shrugged.

“I just know that’s what I would do.”

I stepped to the side, to look past Reggie and Tone and the others, past the cars and other drivers who got out to get a look for themselves.

They were small dots from where I was standing, but I saw the black cars, and the black suits standing around them. Granon’s men. The People’s Hammer. I didn’t see Granon himself, but, if he was ever out here, I couldn’t miss him.

“At least they’re not actively doing any damage,” I said. “But they are making themselves known, here.”

“And they’re being annoying as fuck,” Tone said.

“Yeah,” I said, “That too.”

I let a few seconds pass as I stared off into the distance, looking at Granon’s men.

“You got any ideas, Voss?”

The question took me out of my thoughts. I looked between Reggie and Tone, trying to figure out who asked that.

“Thinking,” I said.

Tone spoke. “Well, think faster, Voss, this stalemate can’t last forever. Something’s gonna give, and it ain’t gonna be us.”

There were murmurs of assent around us, barely audible over all the car horns.

Not a lot of time to think, and I was being pressed to hurry.

What should I do?

Move in to attack, try to mitigate the damage done? Possible, but potentially messy, especially with all of the civilians around.

Move in to talk, get them to stand down? Less probable, but stranger things have happened. If I could appeal to them, somehow, drive home just how bad things could go if they stuck around? If I tried to be diplomatic?

The more I considered it, the more that idea seemed far fetched. They were here for a reason, and they’d only leave if they had anything worth reporting back to Granon. If they found anything useful, like a weakness in our group, or if they’d somehow managed to secure a win.

Right now, they were testing us, and it was a test we couldn’t fail.

Couldn’t engage, but words might fall on deaf ears.

Something in the middle, then?

“Spread out,” I said. “I’ll need eyes from as many different angles as possible. Let’s find an opening we can approach this from.”

I looked at everyone as they looked at each other.

“Spread out,” I said again, much firmer.

There was another slight delay before people started moving, going in different directions, going by themselves, in pairs, or smaller groups.

They listened, but they had to consider it, first. I didn’t have the command over them like Lawrence did. Not with everyone.

“Want us to come, Voss?” Reggie asked. He was still here, but he looked ready to move at any second.

“No,” I said. “No offense, but you won’t be able to keep up. Besides, I’ve got Sarah.”

Tone gave me a look of confusion.

“Yeah, wait, where is she, anyways?”

“She’s around,” I said, moving a foot forward. “Get going, and keep your phones at hand!”

I broke into a sprint, leaving them behind, heading to the blockade of Granon’s cars and men.

Dammit. I hated that I had to be on my own on this.

I didn’t have the capacity for scheming like D, and I didn’t have authority that Lawrence held, and I couldn’t do my usual thing, to boot. Brute force wasn’t the key, here, and I was forced into a position at playing the parts my colleagues usually handled.


Had to play it by ear, I figured I was pretty decent at doing that. I’d put the pieces on the board, get a layout of where the enemy was, and go from there.

It’s what D would do, but it would be my version of that approach.

Running down the street, between people and over cars, I got closer. I was moving fast. Fast enough to draw attention, but not fast enough to draw suspicion.

A crowd had formed near the blockade itself. Dense, packed with people, and I wouldn’t be able to get through unless I used a conspicuous amount of strength.

I found a nearby car, and climbed on top to get a better look.

Three black cars, six of Granon’s men. At least. There might be more on the other side of the cars’ tinted windows. Better to be paranoid and prepare for the worst, than to assume everything was okay and be blindsided.

Ten would be my conservative guess.

The cars were parked in a line, grill to bumper, blocking the opening into the highway. Granon’s men were also in a line, standing, making it very obvious that they were not to be messed with or approached. They were strapped, armed with rifles.

The guns weren’t aimed or directed at anyone in particular, but they were there. By their side, ready at a moment’s notice. Couldn’t let it get to that point.

Some of them noticed me, but they didn’t recognize me. I was standing out, literally.

I attracted the attention of some others, too.

“Hey! Get off my car, you asshole!”

Someone, from the gathered crowd that surrounded the cars and men, had turned and saw me. He left the crowd, me being where I was had become more pressing than the armed mobsters keeping him and dozens of people in place.

“I said get the hell off my car!”

I gave the man a cursory glance, and then it was back to the blockade.

Tools. I had my bag, my stuff inside. Knife, earpiece… costume.

Couldn’t use that. Bringing V into this would be like throwing gasoline where there was only cinders. A guarantee for disaster.

Had to do this as Wendy. Which was starting to feel like an impossible task. I ran all the way here, and I still hadn’t come up with anything.

I felt the roots dig.

I wish D was here. Lawrence. Sarah. Fuck, I’ll even take Reggie or Tone. Someone to-

“Hey, you!”

I looked down. It was that guy, walking faster to me.

“Are you stupid? Get off-”

It was enough for him to shut up.

I had made a face, twisting my expression. Teeth showing, eyes widening. A scowl, nearing a snarl. I stared hard, focusing my gaze into a single point on his neck. I wasn’t even looking at him as a person. Or perhaps, I was looking at him as a person, but something had changed from my end. My perspective.

The man stopped in his tracks.

“Fucking wait,” I told him, expression unchanging.

He waited. Standing there, staring back, mouth slightly agape. Perplexed, stunned. Unsure of what to do, or what he could do, next.

An odd exchange, but I’d take it.

He was disoriented for the moment, and I used that to get back to the task at hand.


I couldn’t tackle this directly. I had to go about it in an oblique way.

From behind, then.

It was something.

I hopped down, feet on the ground, phone in my hand.

I walked to the crowd, about to walk through it.

I passed the man, his eyes still on me, still locked into whatever compelled him to stare.

Someone else was at his side, now. Someone new.

A woman, mid-thirties, she looked like. She had a yellow sweater, with a black cap on her head. Thick rimmed glasses. In her hands were a pad of paper and a phone, the phone was pointed and directed in a way that made me apprehensive.

“Oli, who’s that?” she asked, as I put them behind me.

The man barely got out a word as an answer.

“Nat, I…”

His breathy tone was drowned out by the continued shouting and horn honking. It seemed to get louder, more intense, more pissed off. As if it was a gauge on how much patience the people here had, and how much time we had left.

And we were running out on both.

I put my phone out in front of me as I started moving through the crowd. I was small, short, and I was able to find the small gaps between the people here, however small.

I started typing as fast as I could, getting out as many messages as possible.

Please let this work.

The phone went back into my pocket as I made it past the crowd. I was met with some protest, but a harder nudge from my direction made them give. Easier than I expected.

And then I was facing the blockade. Granon’s men.

They noticed me again, all of them facing me. Did they recall me from before, when I was standing on the car?

I continued forward.

I walked at an angle, so I was heading to the car on the far left rather than going to them directly. They positioned themselves to keep me in their sights. I saw their hands lower, to their weapons.

I raised my hands, stopping by one of them. He was dressed like his boss. All black, long coat, a wide brim hat. The spitting image of a mobster.

“Hi,” I said, putting my hands to my side.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Just a concerned citizen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you and your friends are in the way. The people here are trying to get through.”

“That is precisely why we are here. To be a thorn in this community’s side.”

At least he admitted that he was being an asshole.

“Well, congratulations, you guys are pricks. You think you can pack it up now?”

He glowered at me. His shoulders were straight, his hand physically on his gun. He must have made some other signal or gesture, because the other men started coming our way.

“We are here under explicit orders, little girl,” the man said, assuming a more assertive tone. “You do not get a say in what happens, here.”

“Yeah, and those orders are from Granon, right?”

The mere mention of his name gave them each a bodily reaction. A twitch, a shudder, a gesture in some way.

I had gotten right to it.

They closed in even more, now, all of them with their hands on their guns. Their rifles.

I’d considered it, perhaps getting them to run off with just a look, alone. From the looks they had, though, and the weapons they held, I had a distinct, gut feeling that it wouldn’t work.

Had to hit them from another direction.

The man who had been entertaining me spoke again. “You are lucky we did not shoot you as you came here. It would be easy.”

“Yeah, and thanks for not doing that,” I said. “Appreciate it.”

He grimaced.

“Are you playing us, girl?” he questioned.

Trying to.

Someone else from the group spoke, addressing the man I had been talking to. It was a language I’d never understand.

They conversed, briefly.

They all faced me again.

The man spoke again.

Leave,” he said, that one word carrying with it an accent that gave his demand even more weight. “I do not know who you are, but I will give you one chance to go, with no harm done to you as you turn your back. You have my word.”

“Wow, a gangster with honor, never thought I’d see the day. But, here’s the thing, I can’t leave, I sort of help run the place. And with you being here, doing what you’re doing, it’s not helping me take care of the neighborhood. So, yeah, I’m going to have to be the one that asks you to leave. All of you. Go back to Granon and tell him you’re no longer welcome or tolerated here.”

“And,” I added, “If I ever see any of you again, I’ll make it so you never see again.”

That got a reaction out of them.

They didn’t bellow or scream like their boss, but they fell back on his tendency to belittle and downplay.

“We are going to stay, just to show you what little power you really have,” the man said, speaking for his group. “And then, we are going to take over, just to make sure you know.”

“Big words for adults who don’t know how to park their cars,” I said.

The man glared.

“That was your last chance for mercy, child. I can surmise that you work for Lawrence, who I believe is still nursing wounds from our boss. Continue to run your mouth and waste our time, and I can see to it that you meet a similar fate.”

The group muttered amongst each other.

While they were briefly preoccupied, I glanced at the road behind the blockade of cars. I gulped.

“No need to get so pissy,” I said. “I’m going. And you will, too. Call it similar fates.”

“What are you-”

It happened in a sequence. First, the crowd, crying out as they saw it coming. Confused, Granon’s men tried to look at the crowd.

Then came the crash.

Thousands of pounds, sixty miles at least. A big block of metal on wheels.

A van barrelled through the blockade.

I’d put some thought in it. Where I stood, where Granon’s men was positioned. Where the van would be coming in from.

We were standing close to the bumper of the car on the very left, the grill of the car in the middle. There was a small gap, there, that the van forced itself through.

Everything and everyone jumped at the impact.

I did, hopping a step back to gauge the changing situation by the millisecond. Some of Granon’s men did, too, trying to get out of the way. Some didn’t make it.

The van slammed into them, and they flew, tossed a distance into the road or the dispersing crowd. The man I had been talking to was one of them.

The cars, too, skidded out from the impact of the van, providing more of an opening. An opening I could make wider.

The car closest to me continued to drift my way, and I hopped to get over the trunk to the other side of the vehicle. I leaned back until I fell, my shoulder blades pressing against the back tire, my feet pressed hard into the ground.

I pushed.

The car moved even more, until it was facing the direction it was supposed to, the grilling facing the highway. I pushed some more, until it settled into position.

I ran across the road, stepping over one of Granon’s men, crossing the gap to get to the other car. The one that had previously been in the middle of the blockade. I put my hands on the side of the vehicle, by a front tire, and pushed.

It moved, until it was situated properly on the road. It was facing the wrong direction, the road was only one way, but I was fine with that. It would do.

The gap widened. Enough so that people could get through.

And they did.

Cars immediately started going through the gap, taking advantage of the sudden opening. Not civilians, though.


I caught a glimpse through the window of one of the first cars to pass.

Reggie. Not his car.

It was one of the orders I sent by text. An opening would be made, and with so many people out of their cars to go and yell at the People’s Hammer, they wouldn’t be prepared for any sudden and violent developments.

Get into any car near that opening, and get the ball rolling.

They wouldn’t steal it, that wasn’t their orders. Just to show the other people here that it was safe to go, to drive and go about the rest of their day.

I saw Tone pass by in a muscle car, close enough that my hair whipped past my eyes and into my glasses. Like Reggie, he’d have to stop and park the car on the side of the road, before the highway. The real owners of the vehicles could pick it up then.

I watched as others that weren’t in my gang start to get the idea. They got into their cars, and went through, before Granon’s men could get back up and try something again.

If they even could. About half of them weren’t getting up.

I edged along the side of the car I had just pushed, trying to avoid getting clipped by an oncoming truck. I made it out, and ran without missing a beat.

I went to the van that caused all this to happen in the first place. It was on the curb, a foot away from colliding with a light pole. It had stopped just before bigger disaster could take place. The van seemed to be intact, all things considered. There was some cracks the edges around the windshield, but that wouldn’t stop a van from running.

I opened a door on the side.

“Sarah! You okay?”

I heard a moan.

“Okay barely covers it.”

I saw her sitting in the driver’s seat, bent in a weird way, slouching over to one side. She responded and sounded okay, but I still feared the worst.

“Can you move?”

She moved an arm, to her side, where I couldn’t see. She moved her arm again.

She was holding a bear.

“We still have a bunch of these in here,” Sarah said, sitting straight. “They make for a great cushion.”

Yes, I thought, and I let myself breathe.

It was another order, another text I sent. The traffic was so bad that Sarah couldn’t take me all the way to the blockade itself, she dropped me off and I ran there. But I had her go around, find another way we could tackle this. It was just, at that time, she didn’t know that she would actually be tackling this directly.

I gave her that order, and she listened. She was willing to go that far.

“Thank you,” I said, getting in the van, sliding the door closed. I was in the row behind the driver’s seat. “I hate to ask, but can you drive a little more?”

“I think so,” Sarah said, but she groaned out the words. “I can try.”

“Okay, we just need to turn the van around and get out of here. We swing by to pick up Reggie and Tone, they’re just up ahead. We pick them up, and I can have them take the wheel from you.”

“I can manage that much, hold on.”

The van started to back up, getting on the road again. There was a bit of a wait, until someone let us get through the opening we made.

Two of Granon’s men were finally getting on their feet, scrambling to collect their colleagues and drag them away from the rush of vehicles. Their rifles were dangling, loose, at their backs. They wouldn’t, couldn’t use them now, or the situation would escalate too far for them to make an escape. They were the ones blocked from doing anything, now.

I can’t believe that actually worked.

It was messy, ugly, and all improvised, but I managed to cobble together a plan that diffused the situation. No one got seriously hurt, except for those who probably deserved it.

I zipped my hoodie down about halfway, feeling the heat from expending all that effort and strength.

The van drove up the access road, slowing and drifting to the side. I slid open the door.

We didn’t stop, but we had slowed down enough for Reggie and Tone to hop inside. The door was back to being closed as Reggie and Sarah shuffled around, switching places, as Tone helped Sarah settle into the passenger’s seat. The van meandered forward a bit as the switch was made, but Reggie got full control by the time we had to merge into the highway.

And then we were free. The blockade was opened, Granon’s men were humiliated, probably mutilated, and there were still some of my people staying behind to make sure the situation would remain all clear. And we would wrap around to double check.

I really did it.

“Ow, oh, ow,” Sarah muttered, as Tone aided her in getting the seat belt around her body. “Careful.”

“I am,” Tone replied. He wasn’t looking at me, but I could feel his words hitting me as he said, “Fuckin’ nuts, you’re fuckin’ nuts.”

I couldn’t look at Sarah properly. I felt bad for using her like that, like a pawn, especially after she had helped me to try and get my thoughts together back at the Redhouse. I’d have to find a way to make it up to her.

But, before I could think of how I’d go about that, I had to make a phone call.

I got my phone out and dialed. An immediate answer.


“Lawrence,” I said. “Hey. It’s covered. Granon’s not going to be happy about it, but we were able to get him back before the day even ended.”

That’s not terrible news. Thanks, Wendy.

“Speaking of terrible news, have you heard from D?”

I noted the pause.

I haven’t. I was hoping you’d have something new to say about that.

I started tapping my foot.

“I don’t. Fuck.”

Dammit, where the fuck is she?

“Aw, sounds like you miss her,” I said.

Not a fucking chance in hell. It’s bad enough when she’s right next to me, but a D that I don’t have eyes on? That’s potentially a whole mess of shit I try not to think about. It keeps me up at night.

“You have to learn how to chill,” I said. This wasn’t the first time we had spoke on something like this. “Being on guard is one thing, but letting fear make you irrational? That’s what we’re trying to do to our enemies, not to each other.”

You say that like it’s as easy as flipping a switch.

“I told you she’s trying, Lawrence, you need to have some faith in her, if you want this to work.”

Sure, that’s all well and good, but can you tell me you’re not the least bit worried about her not being around right now, that there might be something else going on in the background that we’re not aware of? She’s gone, and she’s not answering, who knows what she’s up to?

I could hear it in his voice, even though he was on a phone. D had clearly done a number on him, in the past, and he was still finding it hard to shake off that fear.

But, I could sympathize, even if it was just a little.

The mere mention of a possibility like that made my heart skip a beat. There were few things I hated more than not being in control. To have some other plot run along concurrently with ours, with the potential to interfere and disrupt, made me want to question everything and everyone. It made me scared.

Better to be paranoid, and prepare for the worst.

But trust went a long way, as well.

The van rolled along, down the highway, and I heard a rumble grow louder from behind.

I said my thoughts aloud.

“We know D, we work with her, and she’s only been gone for a few hours. If she’s off doing something, it’s probably for our benefit.”

It had better be,” Lawrence said, “Because, as much as I hate to admit it, we need her. We need everyone. Granon isn’t going to take what just happened lightly. He’ll want to strike back, but we need to strike again before he gets that chance. And that next strike had better knock him the fuck out.

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Omake.04 (Bonus)

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*These are to be read right to left, then from top to bottom. Click them to see a larger version. Enjoy!

4koma interlude 4 part 1

4koma interlude 4 part 2

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066 – CCC

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Three days ago

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen any semblance of the real world.”

I had to agree with Lawrence, there.

We were inside of a cafe, having got in right just before the first wave of the lunch rush. Sitting in a corner booth, we were able to find seclusion from the incoming crowd, a small bit of privacy while out in a public space.

There was a window beside our booth, giving us a view of the outside world. As it started to get louder inside the cafe, I concentrated on the activity outside, watching people walk by, going to wherever it was they needed to go. Everyone looked busy, even the people shuffling inside for a bite to eat. They were in a hurry to get in, and get out, and continue on with their day. We were no exception.

The hustle and bustle of a normal life. Being on the move to get to one normal thing to the other.

Weird, to be in a normal place, talking about normal things.

“It does feel like a nice change of pace,” I said, wanting to voice my agreement. It had been one hectic situation after another, constantly changing gears to handle new problems as they arose. Even now, we were in the middle of handling a new problem, but we had managed to fit in some respite, however brief. It was better than nothing, and I knew to appreciate a small break if I ever got one.

“Like, god damn, I wish we could get some time off, but I guess we don’t get breaks in this business. There’s always something else on the horizon.”

Lawrence paused, and I heard him grumble, then smack his lips. A crumpling of paper. He probably just wiped his mouth with a napkin. I wasn’t sure, I wasn’t looking.

He continued.

“From Benny, to EZ and Krown, and now this, I just need, like, I don’t know, a day. Give me a day where I don’t have to worry about anything, or at least not life and death shit. A full twenty-four hours, is that too much to ask?”

“Could be. Problems don’t just sit on the sidelines, waiting for you to come back to them. That’s why they’re problems.”

“And, to be fair, Benny and those other clowns were sort of things we made into problems. We could have left it well enough alone, if we really really wanted to.”

D had interjected, her mouth sounding stuffed with food.

“What did I say about talking with your mouth full?” I asked, sounding not cynical, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I’d have to remind her.

I heard her swallow, fast, washing it down with a glass of water.

“If I don’t say things when I think of them, I might forget.”

“Manners,” I said, as if stuff like that actually mattered to D. “But, anyways, we didn’t make them into problems, they were means to an end, a roadblock that we needed out of the way. If we didn’t have to deal with them, then that says something about us, and our lack of responsibility.”

“If you want to look at it that way, sure.”

I wasn’t sure what she had meant by that, if she meant anything at all, but I wasn’t willing to press it. Make it a problem, so to speak.

My eyes stayed on the scene past the window. At least I had a reason to keep my focus elsewhere.

Lawrence tried to find us a middle ground. “Let’s all agree that this is a problem that showed up, out of our control, but we have to be the ones to take care of it. Can we do that?”

“We can,” I said.

“Ditto,” D said.

Another thing I could agree with.

We weren’t given much time to settle into our new terrority, to make our presence known and establish a relationship with the locals. D and I didn’t even get a chance to touch base again with Fillmore.

We had just set up shop, and already people were knocking on our door.

Xander L. Granon. The People’s Hammer. New to the city in general, but they had been poking their heads into our neighborhood in the last couple of days. No significant moves, but a black limo driving through a not-so affluent section of the city did attract some attention. They weren’t exactly trying to keep a low profile.

It was natural that we’d catch on to their movements, but we wouldn’t make the first move. Rather, our first move was to do nothing. We’d keep an eye on them, but we wouldn’t approach. If they wanted something, they’d have to come to us. Just based on appearances alone, they had us beat. We didn’t have a limo. But, if we forced them to grow impatient, and they had no choice but to approach us first, that would give us a little bit of leverage over them. Also, we’d have a better understanding of them that way. Anyone would be kind if they were treated kindly. But, if they were angry, or even mildly inconvenienced, then their true colors would start to show.

It was D’s idea. Not surprising, I expected her to be the one to suggest a solution that was more underhanded. Lawrence, however, was the exact opposite. He wanted to square up to them, and D had to convince him to try another approach. I was fine either way.

But, it did mean a whole lot of sitting, and a whole lot of waiting. Driving around, watching, marking their path around the neighborhood, locations where they would sit and wait. The only thing we hadn’t gotten was where they were stationed. Once they left our territory, we let them be. We couldn’t risk getting caught tailing them. That would have to require a solo effort to accomplish.

And that would have to be our second move. The first would be setting them up, the next being the follow through. Which was part of the reason why we were here. We hadn’t gotten that bit figured out, yet.

“Oh oh,” D said. There was a sudden excitement in her voice. “That reminds me. Have you guys seen this?”

“What?” Lawrence asked.

“A video I saw. Here.”

A hard, fast series on pats on my shoulder.

“Wendy, Wendy, look here!”

She didn’t stop hitting me until I drew my eyes away from the window, and faced D and Lawrence. D was beside me, and Lawrence was across the table. He was leaned forward, elbows on the table, his plate pushed to the side. A ham and egg and cheese sandwich on rye.

D was sitting on her knees, her elbows also propped up on the table, her torso leaning over her plate. She had gotten the same thing.

I, for my part, had ordered a cup of hot tea. I tried a sip, but it had a foul taste. I let it cool.

I reached over to put a hand on her arm, in case she slipped.

Humming, she had her phone out, swiping her password.

“Oops,” she said, as she unlocked her phone.

A photo was loaded on her screen. A blurry pattern of tiles or squares or something, I wasn’t really paying attention, and she swiped away from it before I had the chance to care about getting a second glance. She went to load something else on another app.

It took a few seconds, with her typing and trying to find the right clip, but she got it, and positioned the phone for us to see.

Lawrence and I watched the video.

A close-up of a guy. A teenager. He had a varsity jacket and a cap, placed backwards on his head. It looked like he was indoors, somewhere. Maybe another restaurant.

He said something, but the video quality wasn’t the best, and it was too fast for me to catch.

A sudden cut, and he was running. Still indoors, definitely a restaurant.

Picking up speed, he brought his hands down, tumbling. With impressive athleticism, his feet went into the air, and he did a flip.

But, at the top of his flip, his face slammed into a sign that was just above. The impact was hard, and the sign actually broke at the hinges, and they both fell-

The video ended. It was only a few seconds.

D started to cackle, an ugly harsh sound, but she was having fun with it. She was loud enough that other people at the tables beside us turned to look.

I used my arm to push her phone away, and D sat herself back down in her seat.

“Gets me everytime,” D said, watching the video again, trying to contain her laughter. She wasn’t doing a very good job.

“That’s it?” Lawrence questioned. “How does our problem with the People’s Hammer remind you of that?”

D wiped the corner of her eye. “Because the restaurant staff wasn’t expecting him to all of sudden do a flip and break their sign. It was out of their control, but they’re the ones to clean it up. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious,” I said.

“WIth that logic, that make us the butt of the joke,” Lawrence said. “I don’t want to be the butt of anything.”

D made a grumbling sound, and fixed her plate so it was right in front of her again.

“You guys are no fun,” she said.

She then put her phone away. With her elbows back on the table, she picked up a piece of her sandwich, going back to eating.

D talked as she chewed. “So, how do y’all want to go about this?”

I turned, back to looking through the window.

“We need this Granon guy to come to us, but that means we need to know where that meeting will take place.”

“Somewhere in our territory, somewhere secluded, where we can have full control of the area,” Lawrence said.

“Our whole hood is pretty secluded,” I said.

A click of the tongue. “Don’t exaggerate. This is way closer to the city than the Redhouse ever was.”

“Ideally, we make it so we connect from here to Casa Martinez,” I said.

“That would be a really big territory,” Lawrence said. “Martinez is halfway across the city. Doing that would make us second to Mister, as far as power would go.”

D nudged me with an elbow.

“Go big or go home, right, Wendy?”

“Right,” I said.

“That aside,” Lawrence said, “I think I know a place we can lure him. There’s a theater, on Malcolm and Cedar Street. It’s not that big, but nobody’s going to use it, anymore. They’d have to go through us, first.”

“Sounds promising,” I said.

“I’m thinking, they get fed up and come to us directly, we lead them there, and we have it set up so we can flip the script on them, if we need to. We don’t have to get into a fight right then and there, but we hear what they have to say, see what they’re all about, and we decide if they’re worth having around or not. Then, we can work off of that.”

“I like that,” D said. “Not a bad plan. It might actually work out for us, after all. We are still pretty small, and new, and we’re already getting some attention. That’s big.”

“It is,” Lawrence said.

“I’ll have to do some more research on them, though. You can never be too careful.”

“Seconded,” I said. “But if we do it like how you suggested, you’ll have to be the lead actor, Lawrence.”

“Lead actor? Why?”

“Granon isn’t going to take us seriously when he shows up and sees that you’re leading a gang with two other, much younger girls. That kind of image isn’t going to fly. I’m willing to admit that.”

“You’re not that much younger, Wendy. D, maybe, but not you. And, please, don’t make me out to be some old fart.”

“But you get it, right? It’s all about presentation, and we can’t have it get around that we’re a part of the gang, me especially. D has her notoriety, and that’s its own thing, but the whole crux of our plan hinges on the fact that no one knows that Blank Face or V or what have you is involved with taking out the gangs of the territory we expand into. That needs to stay a company secret.”

“So D has the brains, you have the muscle, and I’m the face of the brand,” Lawrence said, summing it up.

“That’s the general idea, yeah.”

“And it all works out, since you such a dashing face,” D said.

“Pause,” Lawrence said. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Huh? Why?”

“It’s creepy, and I’m not about to get in trouble over someone overhearing the wrong words at the wrong time. So quit it.”


“Getting back on track,” I said, “Are you okay with that, Lawrence? You suggested a theater, so now you get to act.”

I heard him breathe out loud.

“Yeah, I can give it a shot, fuck it.”

“You’ll do great, sweetie.”

“Now you got me fucked up.”

I heard a cackle.

I continued to watch the people on the other side of the window. Lawrence and D started to bicker, and I let them have at it. This was more interesting.

Past the people and bikers, among the cars, a black limo strolled by on the street.

It had taken this path before, we had it noted on our map. Seeing them go another round said a lot.

“There,” I said.

I didn’t hear them respond to me specifically, but they stopped what they were doing, and I knew they were following my gaze.

“There he is,” Lawrence said.

“Yup, yup,” D said.

It was around noon, with traffic barely being manageable, but the limo slowed to a crawl on the street, forcing other cars behind it to either go around, or simply deal with it as an inconvenience.

On the other side of the street, directly across from the cafe, was a bank. Not particularly esteemed or reputable, but it was old, it was historic, and it was at the edge of our territory.

“This Granon guy is really going to spin himself in circles to get our attention, isn’t he?” Lawrence asked.

The windows on the limo were tinted, so I couldn’t see anyone in the vehicle, but I wanted to imagine Granon, with his large frame, the space cramped, tapping a fat, sausage-like finger on his knee as he steadily grew restless over our apparent lack of action.

D brought her voice to a whisper, a little girl’s mock impression of a little girl. “Ah, ah, notice me, senpai, notice me!”

“He seems to think we frequent that bank or something,” Lawrence said. “Which isn’t a lie, but little does he know that we’re just out for lunch, right now.”

“So he’s been looping around, that’s good to know,” I said. “And, do you know what that says to me?”

“I have a hunch, but I want to hear what you think,” Lawrence said.

It took a little bit before I answered. I was listening to the honks on the cars behind the limo, pressuring it to get a move on. It soon did, and it went off, until I lost all visual on it. I only saw the vehicle, not the people inside, but I could almost taste the growing frustration. I got a odd sort of satisfaction from it.

“Ah, um,” I said, realizing I was distracted, “It means he’s desperate. He wants something, and we’re somehow tied in with that. He has a heavy sense of pride, too. Whatever it is he wants, he doesn’t want to be the one to approach us about it. I’m willing to bet he’d rather wait to bring it up if we had gone to meet him first.”

“That’s quite the guess,” Lawrence said.

“Um, woman’s intuition?” I suggested.

“I was thinking the same thing too,” D said. “See? We are on the same wavelength!”

For emphasis, D hit me in the shoulder again.

“Well, it’s not going to come to that,” Lawrence said. “So if you’re right about him, then he is not going to be happy when he realizes that it won’t go his way.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” I repeated. “So get ready. We’re about to make this a problem.”


I was crouched, watching as the black limo finally made it to its destination.

One problem after another.

“I’m here,” I said, speaking into my earpiece. “This must be where Granon is staying during his visit.”

Where?” It was D that answered.

I read the large, ornate letters across the front of the building. “Lunar Tower.”

There was a pause.

They definitely have money,” D said. “And connections. You can’t exactly just waltz into the Lunar without having to call in a favor or two.

“So what, it’s some mob-run establishment?”

Something like that. All the top sponsored gangs chip in to help run places like this. It’s a fancy hotel, a sort of safe haven or neutral ground from any conflict or beef between any gangs. But hey, bad guys are bad guys, it’s kind of in our nature to break the rules.

I noted D’s use of the word ‘our.’ It was in our nature, apparently. We were bad guys.

Probably, maybe, but I wasn’t quite ready to be so lax about that label.

I tried not to dwell on it as I continued the conversation.

“If we wanted to hit them, and hit them hard, doing it where they’d least expect is one way to go. And, if they really want to give us a fight, I’d rather not have them bring it into our territory. Whether we win or lose, we still have to be the one that clean up the mess.”

Good point, but trying to get in there while we’re still nobodies? We’ll get stopped before we even get to the door.

“Groups like the People’s Hammer are noticing us, aren’t they? That means other, bigger, local gang have at least an inkling of who we are.”

Alright, we get to the door, but we trip over the carpet or… something. You’re stepping all over my metaphor, Vivi.

“Sorry, but you get my point?”

I do. Sure, we’ll figure it out.

I put a pause on the conversation, observing from up high, across of the street.

I had followed the black limo well past the boundaries that dictated our territory, heading closer to what was colloquially known as the Eye. I had my concerns about being noticed while I moving through the air, crossing rooftops and traversing the city’s skyline, especially during the day, but the longer the chase continued, the more those concerns went away. The buildings started getting taller, putting me well above the gaze of any wandering eye. It also just became more fun. I hadn’t gotten this much casual running in for the longest time. The exhilaration that came with every push of my legs, whenever my stomach got that dropping feeling, it was a rush that was addicting as any drug. Or, in my case, the taste of blood.

The Lunar Tower. It was a tall, very tall, black high-rise, with gold markings outlining the edges of the building. The top was pointed, with large, gold panels, giving it an appearance of an obelisk.

Looking down, I saw people starting filing out of the limo, Granon coming out last. They went in through the entrance, being greeted by valet, all wearing vests and dress pants. As they went past the glass doors, I caught a sliver of the lobby. Low lighting, carpet, and marble flooring.

Then, the doors closed, and that was all I saw of Granon. If Granon thought he was being followed, he didn’t act like it.

The Lunar looked extravagant, and heads and shoulders above our pay grade. Unless we fell into some really good money or standing with another group very soon, we weren’t going to be checking into a room there.

“Let’s save it for a little later,” I said. “At least we know where they’re holed up, now.”

Knowing is better than not knowing.

“Alright, so we have that.” My thoughts started to move on to other topics. “How’s Lawrence?”

I’m checking on him right now. You want him on?

Oh. I wasn’t intending on going that far. “Um, sure.”

Okay! Hey Lawrence, Vivi wants to talk to you.

There was a sound of mechanical buzzing in my ear.

You wanted to talk?

The voice was deeper. Lawrence. I noticed a bit of strain in his voice, like it hurt to carry a conversation.

“I’m not sure if ‘want’ was the right word, but how are you holding up? Granon really gave you a beating.”

Yeah, he really fucking did. I was kind of hoping you’d drop down and help me out a little, but nah, apparently.

“I would if I could, I hope you believe me. But you know why I can’t.”

Yeah, I know.

“But hey, way to take one for the team. We all really appreciate it.”

A mechanical cough.

You fucking better, I’m dying over here.

“He got you that bad?”

Grunts and groans.

Yeah, I mean, ow, yeah. My head feels like it’s splitting open, my back is aching to all hell, it hurts to breathe, and I’m pretty sure he broke my hip.

I winced at the list of injuries. I would have said that I was hoping he’d recover soon, but he could potentially take that the wrong way. I wasn’t one to suffer from long-term injuries, not anymore. Throw in that he had been recently shot, would have been more salt in those wounds.

Another shuffling from my earpiece.

You didn’t break anything, that’s just a bruise!

A very pained, very anguished scream.

D! That is not my hip!

A excited snickering started to drown out distressed yelps.

“D,” I said, using the name was a warning. “Give him a break.”

She didn’t directly reply, but the noise on the other end started to die down.

“So, we good here?” I asked, changing topics. “We know where they sleep at night, which is a big deal. The only hard part now is getting in.”

The thought crossed my mind again. One problem after another. We knew what the People’s Hammer wanted, now, and we knew where they were staying. They wanted to have a fight, and we had to bring that fight to them.

Somehow, we had to make it all come together. We had to figure this out.

And soon. From what I overheard, Granon was determined to take action against us, fast. Speaking for myself, I had no intention of sitting on my hands.

D was the one to answer. “We’re good. Come back, and we can sort this out.

“Alright, I’m getting out of my costume. I might take a detour before I head back to you, though. Some routine stuff for the territory.”

Okie. Text me where you’ll be later and I’ll send a van to go get you. Out.

The called ended, and I plucked the device out of my ear. I searched my sides of a pocket, slipping it inside.

I stepped away from the lip of the roof, and looked for a decent place to change.

This was about it, I felt like. Barring exceptional circumstances, there wasn’t going to any other changes made.

My costume was finalized.

There were multiple parts to it, but I made sure not to make it cumbersome. The first layer was the one that would have direct contact on my skin. If I was wearing my costume, that meant I would be active, and that would result in me getting really sweaty. I would need something that could breathe, and wouldn’t restrict me as I moved, especially since I would be wearing a few more layers on top.

Spandex shorts, and a dark thermal shirt with long sleeves. That just about covered my bases, and prevent chafing if I ran too hard or slid against something.

Over my shorts were the pants. Slim, but durable. Procured at the army surplus store at the Realm. Comfy, and would last multiple uses without needing a wash. A very big bonus when it came to a costume. I hated the feeling of wearing pants that hadn’t been cleaned for some time. Made me feel gross. Even she wore joggers whenever she went out in a mask.

And over everything was the hood, the poncho. Red, long, flowy, even more durable than the pants. It obscured my arms when I put them to the side, giving me a silhouette that was less definite. Abstract. The fabric would flow behind me whenever I ran or soared through the air, kind of like a cape, but over my whole body. I was trying to go for a wisp or mist effect that followed ghosts or spectres in movies, and this was the best I could come up with, replicating that in the real world. I thought it worked out pretty decent.

Then, there were the gloves and boots. Nothing fancy, they just had to not tear apart with the hard running and jumping I was capable of. So far, so good.

I had a bag, too, a single strap backpack, but it wasn’t part of my overall look. I wore it under my poncho, baggy and loose enough that the bag didn’t protrude or mess up the whole thing.

I, more or less, went with that drawing D made when we were coming up with costume ideas. It was a crude picture, but I managed to make something out of it. Something to be proud of, I figured. I didn’t look like a complete mess.

The only thing left was the mask.

With a minimalist aesthetic, it only covered the upper half of my face, obscuring my eyes, nose, and forehead. Made of a solid material, but there were openings so I could see, but they were covered by a thin layer of cloth, making sure my eyes stayed hidden. With how the mask was built and arranged, going from something solid to something more see-through was almost seamless, giving the impression that I was blindfolded. But, I definitely had my sight. It was for effect, to add to the mystic, abstract look I was going for. The more inhuman I appeared, the more enemies would fear me.

And fear was a good way of getting power over someone.

Piece by piece, I started removing the costume. I was on the roof of a tall building. It wasn’t as tall as the Lunar, but no one was about to look up and see me undress, and I’d be fast enough that I wouldn’t get caught by someone coming to the roof for a smoke break.

The poncho came off first, folded neatly by my feet. Then, my arms went around the strapped backpack that hugged my body, and I removed that along with my thermal shirt. I’d keep the pants on. By themselves, they looked normal enough. No one would bat an eye, looking at them.

I opened the bag, swapping out the regular grey hoodie inside for my costume. The bag wasn’t big, but if I folded everything correctly, it would zip up just fine.

I removed my mask, and I slipped it inside my bag. A tight fit, but the bag zipped closed.

I put my knife and earpiece in a side compartment, and then I was all packed up.

All I had on at that instance were my pants, the leggings underneath, and a sports bra. Not that I needed a sports bra, I hadn’t done much growing since the last big change that wasn’t puberty, but I was doing a lot of moving around, and I wasn’t concave. I figured that I didn’t feel complete without one. A small reminder that I was, before anything else, still a person.

I put the hoodie on, deciding not to zip it up. It was still cool out, but I had worked up a sweat from all that moving. No one would care if I walked around without a shirt, probably. I was decently covered without one.

Picking up my bag, I-

Oh, right.

Picking up my bag, I positioned it so I could reach another side compartment. I took out a case.

Opening it, I found my glasses, fixed it on my nose, and put the case back into my bag.

Now we were good to go. I was Wendy, again.

With everything packed away, I left the roof. I found the access door, found it unlocked, and let myself in. I passed through a hall, and located a service elevator. It worked, even without a key or code. I stepped inside, and I let it take me all the way down to the first floor.

My head down, my hands in my pockets, I was out of the building before anyone realized I was ever there.

I stepped on the street, and walked.

I saw the Lunar Tower again, this time from a civilian’s perspective. The hotel was tall. We were close to the Eye, so the buildings were already starting to scrape the sky, but this thing towered over everyone and everything else. To be honest, it was intimidating to look at.

I had suggested the idea, but staring up at the tower gave me a different perspective, overall.

That hotel was supposed to be a safe haven for many of the high profile gangs in the city. If we brought the coming fight there, that would be like kicking the biggest hornet nest ever. What else could we expect besides getting stung?

We’ll talk about it, I thought. But right now, I had other work to get to.

I turned onto another block, putting the tower behind me. The occasional passerby glanced at me, and I noticed the angle they were looking. My midriff.

I adjusted my posture, standing taller, and I fixed my hair and glasses. I found a good place nearby to be picked up, and took out my phone to send my text to D.

They were waiting for me as the van door opened.

I hopped out, almost into Sarah’s arm. I had to take a step to the side to get out of her way.

“Woops,” I said.

“You’re good,” she replied, getting the door for me.

I walked, and she hurried to get to my side. A few others followed. Reggie and Tone hadn’t joined her.

My thoughts were lagging a couple seconds behind.

She had her arm extended as I got out of the van. Was she wanting to help me down? I hadn’t asked, or expressed that I needed such assistance.

It reminded me of what I observed when Granon was getting up on the stage, earlier. Was I going to get used to that? That sort of power? Was there going to be a time that I expected that kind of treatment?

The idea sat oddly within me as I moved to deal with the next task at hand. A smaller problem.

A trio of girls were standing together, clearly irritated for having waited so long. Two were white, the other Hispanic, all three of them signaling their impatience. Tapping their foot, scratching their arms, glaring at me with a hard, almost feral look.

They looked as though they would eat me alive if they didn’t get what they wanted.

With Sarah beside me, and a few others from my gang, I approached.

“Hello ladies,” I said.

One of them clicked their tongue. I didn’t see who.

“And you are?” the Hispanic girl asked.

“I’m the one who’ll either give you a good day, or a really bad one.”

“Well I’m lookin’ to get fucked up.”

That could go either way.

“I’m sure I can arrange that,” I said.

Another click of the tongue. I saw the culprit this time. The white girl on the far right.

“Can you? It’s been hard getting a score lately.”

She snapped her fingers as she said the word ‘hard.’ Her bright green nails clacked together.

The sharp sound brought it to my attention the attire they chose to wear to this meeting. Heavy makeup, bare shoulders, bright tops, short skirts and heels. They were showing more skin than me, and I was still wearing the same outfit from before. I hadn’t gotten the chance to change.

The other white girl spoke up. “Yeah, where’s your boss?”

“I hold enough authority to speak on the matter,” I told her. I wouldn’t make it obvious that I was one of three leaders in the gang. Lawrence was a decent enough face of the group, and the less others knew about us, the better. But, I did have power, here, and I wasn’t shy about using it.

“Well, can you tell me why it’s been so expensive gettin’ anything lately? It used to just take about a month’s work to get everything I need. Now, it’s like, more than that. I can’t keep taking extra nights, I need my sleep.”

“I understand that it’s an inconvenience, but it’s a small hiccup as the neighborhood changes hands to another gang. It may go back down eventually.”

The looks they gave me were grim.

“Eventually?” the Hispanic girl repeated.

No point in hiding it. It would be clear to everyone in the neighborhood. Eventually.

“With a change of hands come with a change in how things are run. We’re emptying out the Thunders and Royals’ stache, and then we’re funneling out for something less… hard.”

From confusion, to anger. They sure had a wide variety of expressions.

“You’re doing what?”

“It’s not perfect, but we do want to make this place better than when we found it. That means controlling what we offer, and who gets what. We’re trying to tailor our clientele, and if we do that, it’ll reflect in the people who choose to hang around here. I’d rather have potheads passed out on couches than any crackheads stabbing someone at a corner for that one dollar they need but they don’t have.”

“That ain’t fair, we’re responsible, upstanding citizens. Why should we be punished for shit we don’t do?”

I shook my head. “We’re not punishing anyone. You want that stuff, there’s plenty of places and gangs you can go talk to. You just can’t get it here.”

I got glances, a few eye-rolls, and some smacked lips.

The girl on the right questioned me, “You playin’ us?”

I shook my head again. “I’m not. We want to make some changes, make a big impact, and this is one way to do it. We have other, more lofty goals, and we can’t let our stature be bogged down by… less-than-desirable customers, not that I’m saying you ladies aren’t… desirable.”

I fumbled that last bit, but they were smart enough to catch my drift.

Two of them crossed their arms, the Hispanic girl other placed a hand on her hip. I saw them consider.

The Hispanic girl spoke. “Okay, we’ll pay up this one time. Going somewhere now ain’t worth the gas money. I’ll say though, I appreciate the hustle.”

I reacted, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t expecting them to take it so well.

“Oh, hey, I appreciate you ladies. Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.”

“What were your names?” I asked.

The Hispanic pointed to the other two, and then herself. “That’s Tanya, that’s Melanie, and I’m Dani, with an ‘I.’”

“Tanya, Melanie, and Dani with an I, thanks.”

“Of course,” Dani said again.

I was about to give Sarah a nod, but Dani spoke up one more time.

“Although,” she said, “If we don’t have enough dough, maybe we can, perhaps, pay another way?”

I tilted my head. “What other way?”

She pointed a finger at me, moving her hand. It inched lower.

She was close enough to reach me, and she made that fact very clear.

Her finger touched my stomach, still exposed to the open air. I wasn’t anticipating that.

My breath was cut short.

Dani moved her finger up, and then down. I still had some trace amounts of sweat on my body, so the tip of her finger, and her nail, slid across my skin with ease.

I flinched at the touch, the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight. I felt a warmth rush through me. My whole body tensed.

The realization that I could move came to me very slowly, and her finger was nearing the waistband of my pants before I could step out of her reach.

She drew her hand up to her lips, resting her finger against her lower teeth. She lowered her gaze and gave me a look.

“Um,” I started, searching for something to say, but I felt dizzy.

“You’re a girl, but I don’t mind. And I know they won’t.” Dani glanced at the girls beside her. “Definitely helps that you’re actually pretty. It might be those glasses, I think that’s what does it for me.”

“I- um…”

“But you look at you, you’re all bones.” Tanya took a turn, now. “Would you even last? We might have to give you something to eat, first.”

“I have something you might enjoy.” Melanie gave me a wink, her tongue partially sticking out. “Something sweet.”

I tried to speak. “I, that’s not…”

That’s not an acceptable form of payment.

The thought, the idea was easy to formulate, but my head was swimming otherwise. I couldn’t get the words out.

But Sarah got them out for me.

“We’ll take the cash,” she said, firm.

Dani looked like she wanted to jump in and say more, not at all thrilled with Sarah’s interruption. But, she complied. Bringing her hands to her top, she reached inside and pulled out a wad of cash. Tanya and Melanie did the same.

Sarah collected the money, and turned. She signaled by raising her arm, making a circle with her hand. Everyone else moved to finish the exchange.

I startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder, but it was just Sarah. She gave me the most gentle of pushes, and it was enough to get my gears moving again.

I turned and walked back with her to the van.

“Thanks,” I said, blinking, my head still somewhat hazy.

“That’s why I don’t like having other women as customers,” Sarah said. “They think they can pay the same way every time. No way.”

We got to the van, Sarah getting the door for me. I got in without saying a word.

There was a wait before everything got settled, the payment and transfer was made without any hassle or further incident. When everyone was satisfied,  Sarah started the van, and took us out of the parking lot.

“You alright, Voss?” she asked, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror.

Was I?

I was, I should have been. I wasn’t hurt, broken, or injured in any way, and I wasn’t violated in a way that should last. I was just shaken, taken off guard by a move I didn’t expect.

If a sudden fight broke out, I could have handled it. If someone fired a gun or made a sudden loud noise… I’d need a second, but I could take action. This…

I wasn’t prepared for this.

I tried avoiding it, but my thoughts went to her. I’d seen the memories, brief flashes of impassioned meetings. I had them, but they weren’t mine. If she had been in my shoes, now, how would she have handled that? Play along, banter a bit before having to make it clear what she needed? Or would she have gone all the way, taking the offer as it stood?

That didn’t seem right.

Hard to navigate, harder still to make sense of what just happened. Leaders were not supposed to lose their cool, no matter what. If something changed, they adapted, and acted accordingly.

But that required experience, and I seemed to be lacking. And if Granon was going to start a fight, how could I lead us to a victory?

So, no. I was not alright. I felt naked.

I didn’t voice my answer. I simply zipped up my hoodie.

Previous                                                                                               Next

065 – Bad Boy

epy arc 10 gang

Bonus                                                                                               Next

Lawrence led the men inside the building.

Whiterose Hall for Music and Theater. A decent-sized hall that was built in the late seventies, made to support lower-income families by housing after-school programs for students in the West Stephenville area. However, the funding was never quite there, and the theater was abandoned a year before the turn of the century. Given almost twenty years to rot, and the same kids that were supposed to be saved by the arts were now dancing to the rhythm of another drum. The drum of a gun.

“It does not impress me, that you would take me to such a place for a meeting.”

A man walking just behind Lawrence started running his mouth.

Xander L. Granon.

“It is old, unwanted, and even stingy. My employer would not be pleased to learn that you are treating your guests in such a manner.”


He had to be joking.

Lawrence entertained him, regardless.

“I assure you, Mr. Granon, this is the safest place to be meeting in broad daylight. Out of sight, a roof over our heads, and we have control of every inch of this place. As you saw when we came in, the entrance was secured by my own men, and the same goes for the other entrance on the eastern wing, and all exits are accounted for as well. And we did a clean sweep of the area – stage, backstage, seats, rows and aisles and halls – an hour before the appointment. Believe me, no one will be interrupting us. If someone truly had something planned against you, here, they’d have to already be in the building.”

“Hm, your confidence in your men does not go unnoticed. But we shall see if you truly have the power to back up those words. Otherwise, my employer will not be impressed.”

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Granon, if nothing else, your employer will be very surprised by how much power we really have.”

Granon didn’t respond. He simply walked, eyes cast in shadow, appearing as though he was deep in thought.

It was Lawrence, Granon, Granon’s men, and then Lawrence’s men, walking down the center aisle towards the stage.

The difference between the two leaders, and by extension, the two groups, was clear as day.

There were gang members, and there were gangsters. Granon was the latter.

A long, black trench coat, unbuttoned, Granon let it flow behind him as he sauntered. Under that, he had a black tuxedo, sans the tie. Balding, or at least his hair was thinner at the very top. Taller than Lawrence, heavier as well, but he wasn’t fat. He had a stomach, and his weight affected his gait, causing him to take long, slow steps, but it didn’t seem accurate to label him with a short, simple word. Saying he was burly provided a more detailed image.

He could probably kill Lawrence with his bare hands, if he wanted. And Lawrence was well aware of that.

Lawrence, however, was much less informal in his attire. Hair slicked back, wearing a white sweater, with a leather jacket on top. Slim fit denim jeans and black dress shoes. Not exactly standard business attire, but this wasn’t exactly standard business, either. Exceptions were allowed to be made.

The subordinates matched with their leaders as well. Granon’s prim and proper to Lawrence’s not. In terms of power, size, and scope, the employer Granon was representing maintained an operation head and shoulders above Lawrence’s gang. In any other circumstance, Lawrence would have gone to him. But in the here and now? The situation was completely flipped.

Lawrence was the one with the cards.

“Did you have a long trip, Mr. Granon?” Lawrence asked, as they continued down the aisle. Decades of wear and tear had taken its toll on the theater. The carpet was sticky in some spots, sodden with something in others, and bits of various pieces of trash. Paper, kernels of popcorn, syringes, and bullets, casings and holes.

Granon made a low, deep grumble that carried throughout the space.

“I would rather not find trivial things to speak on, boy. I prefer to discuss topics of actual substance.”

“Of course. My apologies then.”

“Then step faster, boy.”

Lawrence stepped faster.

They walked the rest of the way without many more words being exchanged. They’d walk into patches of shadows, with soft patches of light falling on them every now and then. There wasn’t a lot of power going through the theater, but there was enough for it to function and be used as a meeting place. It would do.

Lawrence reached the front of the stage, the surface of it raised a good three feet above the ground. The rest of the men were right behind him.

There was already a small step ladder resting against the stage. Lawrence stepped up to it first, his back to the rest. Granon was about to go next, but he was stopped by one of his own men. They went up ahead of them, and extended a hand to him for assistance. Without appearing particularly upset at the gesture, he accepted the help and got up onto the stage.

He was used to it, expecting it, in a way. He had grown accustomed to having subordinates bend to his will, being the center of his own universe. He had become used to being a gangster.

As Granon was helped up, he was greeted again by Lawrence. A warm expression on his face, he signaled with his arm a suitable place for Granon to stand. Granon moved as though Lawrence wasn’t there at all.

One after another, everyone else got on the stage, taking their place. Lawrence stood closer to the side, stage left, while Granon settled for the spot opposite him, stage right. Their respective crews assumed their positions, too, standing together behind their leader.

The stage was largely cleared out from any props or set dressing, anything worth taken had already been claimed years ago, and anything left behind was left to the hands of time, breaking and falling apart, rendered even more useless.

From the auditorium, with everyone gathered, it probably would have looked like they were here for a rehearsal, going through the lines, practicing how to bounce off of the other person’s reaction. Actors on a stage.

But, this was no rehearsal, this was very much the real deal.

Both parties waited for the other to make a move.

A tension, but not a strained, tested one. There was no threat assumed, here. But, nothing was guaranteed, and as things stood, nothing was established.

That was why Granon was here. That was to be discussed.

“I’ll start,” Lawrence said, taking the initiative.

“Please,” Granon replied. His accent accentuated his impatience.

Lawrence smiled, clasping his hands together. He was taking it in stride, willing to maintain a pleasant attitude for present company.

“I wanted to start off by thanking you and your employer for approaching us with this opportunity. I was hoping that something like this would come my way, but I wasn’t expecting it to come so soon.”

Granon had his arms to the side. He made fists with each hand, and then unclenched.

“Don’t flatter yourself, boy, you just happen to be in a fruitful position. Anyone would be a fool not to overlook your movements.”

“Then, I appreciate the close attention you’ve been giving us, Mr. Granon.”

Granon made a sound, as if to blow off Lawrence’s comment.

“To be rejected by Mister after we gave him our proposal to enter the city. It is… offensive, to be forced to turn to hooligans and thugs, to achieve only a small portion of my employer’s original stake in the land.”

“It’s a shame that you had to experience such a setback in your plans, but I’m sure we can work something out, between us and your employer-”

“Yes, it is.”

“-but, who knows? Perhaps together, we can achieve far better results than if you had gone the more traditional route.”

Granon’s brow furrowed.

“That is what my employer hopes. So we shall see.”

Another set of seconds with silence, enough for it to be noticeable. Lawrence didn’t appear bothered by the brief lull in the conversation. Just the opposite. He used that time to fix his posture, keep his hands together, and to maintain a pleasant attitude. A lot of work, but he didn’t show it on his face.

“I’m curious, you mentioned that you had went to Mister first with a proposal. Did you, by chance, get to meet him?”

Granon scoffed.

“That’s strike two with your needless attempt for banter, boy. No, I did not meet with Mister. I have only met with his secretary. A woman.”

His face scrunched up, and his tone was one of disgust as he said that word. He was a man that thought highly of himself, clearly, and to be passed off to someone’s secretary…

The idea seemed to offend him, and he wasn’t happy to be reminded of that situation, the set of circumstances that had brought him here in the first place. To Lawrence.

“Again, I apologize for overstepping my boundaries. It’s unfortunately a bad habit of mine. I try my best to be diplomatic, especially with people I might be working with, but doubly so with those I’m simply acquainted with. Having even a decent standing can go a long way. It’s something I learned from my old boss.”

The side step. Lawrence had an open to inquire about this secretary. Not much of Mister himself was publicly known, or even acknowledged. The whole idea of him seemed to be shrouded in secrecy and mystery. Unsubstantiated claims and false notions, purposely thrown out as to cast doubt and confusion about his exact identity.

Getting information on this secretary would have been valuable, but Granon didn’t seem to be in the mood to divulge those details. If Lawrence wanted to get that out of him, it was not going to be now.

Granon massaged his chin, and then fixed his collar and jacket. They were already pretty straight.

“This old boss of yours… where is he now?”

Granon’s question was met with a brief pause, but that was on Lawrence, this time around.

With a slight tilt of his head, his arms spread, he answered, “It was something I learned watching her fail in trying to apply the same principles. I won’t make the same mistakes. That was what I learned.”

“I see.”

Then, Granon shook his head.

“Now your mindless prattling has begun to affect me. No more messing around, boy, we are to discuss our terms and be finished with this, as soon as possible. Let us start properly.”

Lawrence gestured. “By all means, Mr. Granon.”

Granon shifted, fixing his jacket and his collar.

He spoke.

“My employer would like to have a presence in your territory. To rent space, if you will. He wants a presence in the city of Stephenville, and to spare everyone from a war, he will work out something with you and your… group.”

“You’re asking to take a chunk of what little space we have.”

“We will be paying you for that… chunk. My employer has had an eye on Stephenville for a very long time. You see, the operation I represent, Molotok, is still relatively new, much like your own, but we’ve seen exponential growth in only just a few years. Our work reaches all over the world, and we have personal connections with dozens, if not hundreds of other organizations. From China, Mexico, and of course the motherland. If you would ever need to share correspondence with someone within the Kremlin, I could perhaps arrange that, should our arrangement prove to be fruitful.”

“Damn. I can’t think of reason why I’d need to, but it that would be a good resource to put in my back pocket.”

“So you understand the power we, and my employer, wield, yes? It would prove highly beneficial to have us in your backyard. And, as you have mentioned, we both stand to benefit from us having a hold, here, not just cash and connections. Though, I would think you have far more to gain from this that we do.”

“Do we?”

“We arrived here a week before we announced ourselves to you. I wanted to take our time and be thorough, but, I must say, I was not exactly enthused by what I had seen.”

“And what did you see, Mr. Granon?”

“Not just what I saw, but how long it took me to see it. I did not even need a week’s time.”

“Explain, if you may.”

“Your territory is still small, lacking in any meaningful real estate, aside from maybe this theater, but that is not much of a consolation. Your men are amateurs, untrained and unkempt. Like street dogs. I am shocked to see that such a low tier gathering of thugs have managed to get so far in such a short amount of time. Impressive, perhaps, but I question how tight a ship you run, here.”

“That’s what you got in only a few days of looking around?”

“I researched, boy, I asked around and gathered what I could. Because I knew someone like you, with a crew like that, could not have possibly gotten into the position you are in now without some sort of… divine intervention.”

Lawrence must have had some kind of reaction, and Granon must have picked up on that.

“Yes, see, I did do my research. I heard about what had befallen the last two organizations, that they were attacked by the one they call ‘V.’ No one has ever heard of you, and you suddenly rise up to fill in a void? It may have gotten my employer’s attention, but you have also raised my suspicion. That is why I am here. To screen you, before I officially extend my employer’s deal. I even heard a child is among your ranks, assuming a consulting position. Fitting, for a boy to take advice from a child.”

Lawrence had leaned a bit, looking around, clearly acting for his audience.

“God might be watching, but I don’t see any kids. Do you?”

Lawrence’s men reacted, chuckling at his bit.

“I do,” Granon said.

This probably wasn’t going as well as Granon had expected. Lawrence would have to find a way to convince him, if he wanted to.

Lawrence spoke. “It might not be quite up to your standards, Mr. Granon, but I can guarantee you that things are running just fine on my end. My crew might not have the experience, but we know to take care of a terrority. Our existence may have seemed like a very sudden development to others, but we weren’t born yesterday. As I mentioned, I had worked for another… operation, as you have put it, and I been in this city for almost two decades, now. I know the culture, I’ve lived in it. And I do have my own connections, as well, that have proven themselves to be quite useful, and will continue to be useful moving forward. If you manage to stick around, maybe you can borrow upon those connections, for a fee.”

Granon paused, as if to take in everything Lawrence was saying.

“I have been watching you closely, boy, and I was not at all subtle about my being here. Yet no one approached me to inquire about our business in the area. I had to go to you. It reeks of incompetence.”

It was starting to be clear why Granon was coming at this meeting with that blunt demeanor, making disparaging comments. Stingy, boy, hooligans and thugs, dogs, incompetence, among others. Granon seemed to hold himself in a high esteem, and he made it obvious that he was not pleased that the smaller, lesser man had all the cards. He had to go to him. Lawrence.

All of this was below him. If he had not been ordered by his employer to be here, handling this, then he probably would be elsewhere, far away from this theater as possible.

Lawrence answered. “Who’s to say we aren’t watching you closely, either? You call us dogs, so allow me to take that a step further and say we know a few tricks. For example, Molotok, while a Russian word, has its origins in Ukraine. But, on this side of the country, you’re known as the People’s Hammer.”

“Anyone with mouth and a brain could figure that out. It is not impressive.”

“All I did was tip my hand, I can’t exactly show you everything I’ve got, can I?”

Granon frowned, the lines on his face becoming more prominent. Nervousness? Something else?

Lawrence seemed to notice that reaction, and gestured, putting his hands up.

“I’m overextending myself again. Please, continue.”

It was impressive, that Lawrence was able to navigate through this. Dealing with headstrong, stubborn people, giving the air of a gracious host, trying to satisfy a guest.

It was almost uncanny.

Granon gave himself a moment before he did continue. “I add disclosure to my previous statements. They reflect my personal opinion, and my personal opinion only. They do not reflect upon the thoughts of my employer.”

“And what does your employer think, if I may ask?”

“He thinks that your organization has… potential, and, what is the word, momentum. You have managed much in just a short amount of time, and it has gotten his attention. My employer has already tried the traditional route, and he was stopped in his tracks, so now he hopes that a less direct approach will get him to where he wants to go.”

“And where does he want to go?”

“Everywhere,” Granon said. “My employer wants to build an empire, and that means having a hold in this city. With so many other organizations rubbing shoulders in one place, it means a lot of connections, and potential partners. He believes that everyone will benefit from our being here. I, too, share in this sentiment.”

“And your employer truly believes that working in our territory will help him get that empire?”

“I mentioned you having momentum. Truth be told, he sees you like a wave, that he can catch and ride out as far as it can take him. Going the traditional way, there is a chance that we might stagnate, and expansion efforts do not go as well as intended. I have seen it happen with many operations in the past, and I do not plan on ours falling to the side. Perhaps, with you, we could make the necessary splash to gain the proper notoriety, and our efforts can continue from there.”

It was easy to imagine that Lawrence’s thoughts going to The Chariot, after hearing Granon’s comment. Not everyone who ventured out to follow a goal or dream would make it out a success. It was probably easier to fail in a spectacular fashion than it was to come out on top, ahead of the pack.

“There’s a risk either way,” Lawrence said. “Try to catch a wave to make a splash, you could end up drowning, instead.”

Granon couldn’t have looked less pleased with that response. He inhaled, his upper body puffing out, and when he exhaled, the sound could be heard from way across the stage. Like a bull, getting ready to charge.

Lawrence couldn’t have looked less perturbed.

“I’m just giving one way it might go. If we do go through with this, and it doesn’t go the way you want, don’t come airing your frustrations out at us. We’re not liable for any trouble that comes your way as you do your thing.”

“I would not expect you to be, and I expect more of myself and my employer than to ever resort to such things. We operate on a far stronger code of ethics than you are perhaps used to.”

Lawrence shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Granon’s reaction was visible. He clenched his hands again, and started rolling his shoulders back. His men started looking amongst each other, as if worried what their boss’ next move might be.

“I tire of this, boy. You seem to have a real talent for making me meander, something I was trying to avoid, coming into this. I am a very busy man, and you are making me use up more time than I had scheduled for this. My employer should be expecting a report about our meeting right about now, and yet I still find myself stuck in the middle of it.”

Lawrence brought his hands together, making a sound that travelled and echoed across the theater. “Well then, let’s not keep him waiting any longer, shall we? But before we jump into anything, I have a suggestion. I have some terms and conditions and stipulations I want to share with you. If you’re going to be using some of our territory, then you have to agree to every single one. No exceptions.”

Another roll of the shoulders by Granon.

“Go ahead.”

“Very well. To start, I’d ask that not only you pay rent, but taxes, as well. It’ll help supplement our funds, keeping us from being in the red, and if we can keep operational costs down, we can actually continue. If we can afford to do that, then we both benefit. You know what I mean?”

Granon’s stare was hard. “We were not expecting a tax on top of rent, but I’m sure my employer is willing to negotiate something.”

“Good. Also, we have a very specific way we’re conducting our business here, in this neighborhood. I can’t exactly tell you those specifics, and I can’t exactly tell you how to conduct your business as well, but I will let you know when yours affects mine. I’ll give you up to, let’s say, three warnings? And from there, I’ll have to jack up the prices for every infraction thereafter, as a penalty.”

A pause by Granon.

“You assume that it will come to that.”

“I’m not assuming anything. I’m just laying down the rules as I see fit. If I draw the lines now, you know how to adjust to working here, to plan accordingly. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally stumble into something you shouldn’t, and I’d have to give you an infraction-”

“You are toying with me, boy!”

Granon’s voice boomed. His men stepped back, and Lawrence’s men responded in much the same way. The only person who kept their ground was Lawrence, himself.

“You have the gall to impose taxes on top of the generous rent my employer was willing to pay you, and then threaten me with warnings and penalties should I step on toes that you will not allow me to see? How about I crush your feet with a power press? How many of your infractions would I get from that?”

“I’ll pass on the feet crushing. And it would be one infraction for each-”

Granon bellowed.

It could not have taken him more than three steps to cross the stage, to reach Lawrence, but Granon moved with a surprising speed, rushing Lawrence before he or his men could properly respond.

Granon brought his arm low, swinging up. It collided with Lawrence, a solid hit to the stomach. With enough strength that Lawrence was lifted off of his feet.

No sound came out from him. Not a gurgle or a grunt.

Lawrence landed back on his feet, but he was bent over, clutching his stomach. Hurried, he put a foot ahead of him, as to not fall over.

His men moved to retaliate, and so did Granon.

“Stay!” Granon roared, as if he was ordering animals. “You move and my men will give this theater a sunroof! This is between two men!”

He swung again, slamming Lawrence in the back. He yelped, crashing down against the wooden surface of the stage. His body hitting the floor made an audible impact.

Granon’s men were already in position, half of the group down on one knee, guns pointed, with the other half standing over them, weapons at the ready. Two sets of that formation, positioned on either side of Granon. In that time, Lawrence’s men only had their hands by their hips. They wouldn’t move an inch without a violent repercussion.

Through grunts and groans, Lawrence tried to speak, address everyone on stage.

“Guys, guys, it’s, ow fuck, I’m okay. We were just, dammit, discuss things.”

“There is no more to discuss. I refuse to play along with your games any longer. My employer may have seen something in you, but seeing you, up close, I know that this was nothing more than luck falling in the lap of incompetent, inept fools. I predict that you will fall apart under your own weight very soon, unable to handle the pressure and attention your movements have received. Perhaps I should stick around and watch? I am sure I can take care of this territory with far more conviction than you could comprehend. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Another sound started coming from Lawrence. Scratchy, strained, cords scraping together.

A rasp laugh.

“You really did not do your research, did you? Less than one week of watching us, and that was the conclusion that you came to? You have no… idea, about who we are. Otherwise, you would have thought twice than to do what you just did. Believe… me. Those last two organizations that came before us? God or no god, they still wiped themselves out. So… watch out. You might end up going in much the… same way.”

Lawrence laughed again, or he tried to. The grating noise was enough to put a confused expression on Granon. Mixed with anger, he gave the air of a bull, looking for anything to put his horns through.

He settled for Lawrence again.

“Do not question me, boy!”

Granon accentuated every word with a kick, striking Lawrence with a on beat, four-on-the-floor rhythm. Lawrence had put his hands up and over his head to protect himself, but they fell to his side, limp. The last kick struck him square in the chest.

Lawrence stopped struggling, breathing, moving.

Watching, useless, the damage already dealt.

Lawrence’s men were fighting multiple urges. To check on their boss, to run after Granon, or to fire back at Granon’s men. But, said gangsters were still ready to shoot, holding them back. If they so much as twitched, the floor and curtains behind them would be painted red.

Like Lawrence, they were still, unmoving. Watching, useless.

Taking his large foot off of Lawrence, Granon clenched and unclenched his fist. He paced around Lawrence, glancing up, taking long, measured breaths. He was cooling off.

“Not much else to say? Consider this an infraction, for continuing to ignore my warnings about prattling me with small talk and useless questions. Pray that I do not give you another.”

If Lawrence was breathing again, it wasn’t noticeable. He was still down, on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Deliberate, lax, slow enough for it to make a point, Granon fixed his coat and suit jacket. He ran his fingers through his hair, putting more thin strands on top of his head, covering that bald spot.

He walked over to Lawrence, who was finally showing signs of life, however, they were taken away as soon as Granon put his hand on Lawrence’s shirt and jacket, using them for grip as he lifted him with an ease that was no longer surprising.

He tossed Lawrence at his own men.

Some of them ran away to avoid the incoming crash, a few stayed to try and catch him. They did their best, with Lawrence falling into their arms, and they fell back on their bottoms. At the very least, they softened the blow for him.

Lawrence was essentially dead weight as they struggled to return him, and themselves, to their feet. He was, in no way, shape, or form, able to continue this meeting, if it could even be considered one, by this point.

“I hereby rescind my employer’s offer. If we are not allowed a plot in this land, then we shall take it. It is what you Americans excel at, yes? So I am sure you will understand. The next time we are face to face, you will be having to make a deal with me.”

He turned to leave, his men a step behind him.

“I know my way out. Your other men stationed around here shall not touch me or my group as I make my exit, nor will you follow me as I depart from this theater, or there will be hell to pay. I say that not as a threat, but as truth.”

He marked his leaving with a final word, but it was hard to make out, or even guess the meaning. Another language, probably.

The doors at the far end of the auditorium clanged together as the closed, ringing out Granon’s exit with a bang.

It seemed that Granon would be able to leave without much trouble, as Lawrence didn’t have the breath or overall ability to voice an order to his men.

They regrouped, looking over him, checking to see if how bad he had been hurt.

It was clear, now, what Granon being here meant for the gang, and how far he was willing to go for any slight against his self-perceived notion of being a real man and gangster, and his superiority over those he thought was lesser than him. A real volatile figure, one who couldn’t be allowed to make movements in this part of the city.

Lawrence wasn’t able to voice an order to strike back, but he didn’t have to.

Xander L. Granon met the chilly wind as he got outside. What little hair he had left whipped above his head as he walked down the steps, heading back down towards the sidewalk and street.

He was talking to one of his subordinates, who had ran to stay by his side, catching his words. The outdoors, during foul weather, were not conducive to attempts to listen in, unlike a theater. The wind cut out most of what Granon had to say.

“… the men! Everything… and… mercy… takeover!”

Some of it wasn’t in English, but some of it was. The words mercy, paired with takeover didn’t seem to match very well. It was a small blank to fill, but Granon probably meant no mercy.

He was already preparing for a hostile takeover.

If he couldn’t get what his employer wanted at the normal rate, and if he couldn’t even handle making a deal with a smaller, but present gang, then what would that say of his competence when he returned? Granon’s ego was probably too bloated to simply go back home empty-handed. No, he wouldn’t leave until he had something to bring back. Even if it meant taking it.

Granon stood at the sidewalk, but he didn’t wait long. A long, black limousine pulled up to the side of the street, meeting Granon and his men.

Wordless, or rather without words that could be picked up, Granon got inside the limousine, followed by his men. The limousine hurried away from the sidewalk, turning onto the next road, moving with speed and purpose.

And then he was gone.

More words, much clearer than anything else in the past thirty minutes.

The People’s Hammer are definitely going to strike down some trouble, as I thought. They were never going to be good neighbors.

The voice that responded was hardly recognizable. Maybe it was the cold, or something else, but it grated, and had a twisted quality to it.

“Let’s remove their nails before they make a move, then.”

A snicker.

Fun fun fun. Let’s get them back for what they did to my L-Boy.

Silent, I leapt from the overhang above the Whiterose Theater’s entrance, and continued to tail Granon.

Bonus                                                                                               Next