Em Cal: Dragon Ascending
by
Speed Demon
"No, please," begged the bloody battered man, trying to crawl away from the c ircle of men. Both of his legs had been broken. "It wasn't me, I swear!"
"Shut the fuck up!" growled the largest one of the men, who was holding a Marlin .450. "You stand accused of stealing money from this bar. How do you plead, Brian?"
"Innocent!" said Brian, his voice pitched to the highest peak in his terror. "I'm being set up!"
"Set up?" said one of the men, a large stocky man with a horseshoe like mustache. "You've been spending more than you can afford!"
"Lies!" said Brian. "Em Cal, are you believing this story they're telling you?
"My brothers have no reason t o like to me," said Em Cal. "Besides, the profits have been sinking. The percentages don't add up."
"But you've got to believe me," gasped Brian. "Interrogate everybody else, ask them what they've been doing with their money."
There was silence. All you can hear was Clutch's "Electric Worry" issuing from the bar.
"Enough of this nonsense," said Em Cal stepping forward, a dangerous flame dancing in those hateful green orbs. "We find you, the defendant, guilty on all charges. I hearby sentence you to-"
There was a loud BANG as the Marlin went off. There was a perect hole right between Brian's eyebrows. He was dead.
"Death." Em Cal finished.
There was a brief silence. Em Cal lowered the Marlin and said. "Take his sorry ass and put him in the dumpster. And do it quick before someone sees you all."
Em Cal watched as his men picked up Brian's body and disappeared with it. He went back into his office to put the Marlin back into its place.
"I've still got it," he muttered, chuckling evily to himself.
Things were different for Em Cal. He was now the owner of his favorite bar, the Se7en Spades. Under his care, the bar multiplied in customers and made much more money than under the previous owner.
Em Cal was also the leader of a biker club called Black Venom, whose numbers were getting larger by the minute. Their main objective was busting ass and drinking beer. Em Cal loved it.
While his life had changed for the better, Em Cal would never change the cold callous assassin that V.K. McMahon hired 20 years ago. It he had to make a kill like he did Brian, he still would and would think nothing of it.
It was closing time. Em Cal shut the bar down and hopped on his new bike, a luxury blue metallic Harley and headed home. He no longer lived in the apartment on Starkweather Street. He had long moved to a ranch style home in Diamondback Desert with a beveled glass door and Denton style garage door.
Em Cal parked the Indiana in front of the garage. He entered his house. His living room was nice and roomy with black Venetian walls and walnut parquet floors. The previous owner had a boring old chandelier hanging from the Cal replaced it with an imperial dragon chandelier.
Em Cal walked up the spiral stairs to his bedroom. He removed his jacket and shirt, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was well over 6 feet tall and three hundred pounds of well solid muscle. He was rugged with long auburn hair, streaked with bits of gray. His eyes were pale green and piercing cold.
Em Cal took a hot long shower. Then he lit up a Winston before going to bed. No sooner had he closed his eyes, did his Blackberry go off. Grumbling, he picked it up.
"Yeah," he said with a touch of impatience.
"Em Cal, darling," said a Darth Vader like voice. "Long time old pal."
"Who the hell is this?" demanded Em Cal. "I don't have time for the games."
The voice tsked.
"How could I forget how impatient you were?" said the voice. "Fine, meet me on the corner of Cassidy and Sundance pronto. Looking forward to seeing you there, pal."
Em Cal put his clothes back on, went downstairs in his basement where he kept a plethora of guns. After choosing the Diamondback .38 Special and a silenced Mac 10, he hopped on his Harley.
Who the hell was that? thought Em Cal as he cruised up Diamondback Desert. He had said long time no see. Who hadn't he seen for that long. At first Em Cal thought: V.K. McMahon. He hadn't heard from the old man since he had done in the entire Saracino family and destroyed their factory. But then, Em Cal realized that V.K. McMahon didn't pull off stunts like altering his voice. Being open and blunt was his forté.
Em Cal pulled up in front of a bunch of old abanded stores. Not a soul walked the streets, nor did any cars drive by. To Em Cal, it was the perfect place to do someone in.
Em Cal stood in front of a boarded up liquor store. He lit up a Winston, as he waited for this unknown person to show up.
About half an hour later, a Dupont chrome orange '95 Acura Integra pulled up behind the Harley. Em Cal tried to peer inside, but the Integra had smoke gray tints. The car door opened and out came a small man with hazel eyes, a mohawk, and a beard. His ears were rather large. They stuck out far away from his head.
The man grinned at Em Cal and said. "Hey, Cal, how goes it?"
"Holy shit," said Em Cal, haven recognized the voice. "S.D.?"
It definitely wasn't the S.D. that he remembered. He old S.D. had been thin, dirty and lacked good hygiene. Where there had been skin and bone, sinew had replaced it. his clothes were brand new and he smelled of what Em Cal knew to be very expensive cologne. Unlike the old S.D., confidence leaked from his every orifice.
"Yes, it is I," said S.D., shaking Em Cal's large hand. "How have you been?"
"Pretty well," said Em Cal. "No need to ask how you've been. A picture speaks a thousand words."
"Yes, I'm living the life of Riley now," said S.D. "And I owe it all to you, Cal."
Em Cal knew what he was talking about; He had paid S.D. a hundred grand as a way of dismissing him from his services.
"What happened to you, S.D.?" asked Em Cal, who wasn't one to ask questions. "Explain this new you."
"Do you remember last year when I asked you when you were going to stop calling me boy, and you answered when you stop acting like one?" said S.D.
Em Cal nodded.
"Well after that and getting shot, I had a revelation; I was a piece of shit that was only good for stealing and getting high. Nobody respected me. Not even my own sister. So, I decided to turn my life around. I quit smoking pot and took up weightlifting. I also took it upon myself to study the Chinese arts. I'm already at advanced level in Dragon Kung Fu.
He stepped back and did an impressive kick.
"That's all nice, kid," said Em Cal, "but do you want to tell me why the hell you dragged me out of bed to meet you here?"
"Never thought you'd ask," said S.D. "I started my own window cleaning business. The thing is though, I'm ready to get into another business. I want to start a protection business. I need help setting it up. And I thought, who's the most ice cold mother fucker I know?"
"And my name came up, huh?" said Em Cal
"Right," said S.D. "Em Cal, will you be willing to be partners with me, in exchange for helping me set things up?"
"Absolutely," said Em Cal. "With me behind your back you needn't worry about shit"
"That's what I wanted to hear," said S.D. "We can discuss business later first thing tomorrow."
He gave Em Cal a white piece of paper with an untidy scrawl written in red Sharpie. It read 24 Lee Street.
My new headquarters," said S.D. "See you soon."
He and Em Cal shook hands again. Then, S.D. got back inside his Integra and drove off, leaving Em Cal alone.