Chapter 37 – Out of the Frying Pan
October 4, 2004 = Monday
~Eliza Flores~
Waking the next night, I found Brian sitting backwards on his kitchen chair, again. Watching him, I saw him flipping cards and laying them on the desk while I stretched my muscles. It wasn't until I stood up that I saw he was playing solitaire on top of the cover covering up Yukie's tied down leg. When my gaze traveled north, I also saw Yukie was awake, though still gagged, and was struggling to get free.
"Hello, Yukie," I said, and she glared at me as she stopped struggling. "I'll remove the gag if you'll agree not to start yelling, okay?"
Taking her calm appearance as a yes, I reached under her head and undid the buckle that held the ball gag in her mouth and pulled the large red ball free. Once Yukie had full use of her mouth she let loose a string of foreign words and none of it sounded good. Using my free hand, I shoved her chin down forcing her mouth open and reinserted the ball gag and tied it back on. Yukie went back to struggling quietly, but I ignored her and turned to Brian.
"So, everyone at the motel?" I asked him and he nodded, handing me my shades to slip on which had been hanging from the neck of his shirt.
"Yeah, we got rooms with the girls at Four-Play," he said with a smile. "Might end up with some new customers."
"Supplying Duke's girls with blow?"
"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "They need a pick-me-up to help them and I have it. Doesn't hurt that they're open to alternative payment options."
"Where do you get the cash to pay for it?" I asked him, wondering how he managed to buy drugs when he wasn't getting any money for them. I knew he wasn't getting the money from me, he didn't have access to my bank account yet.
"I sell them at three times what it costs to get them," he said proudly. "Means I need only one paying customer to pay for two girls who prefer to get down and dirty. Works for me."
"And you make no money," I said, and Brian shrugged his shoulders.
"Not everything in life is about money," he said with a mischievous grin. "If you don't enjoy it, it passes you by and you're dead."
"Preaching to the choir," I said with a rueful smile. "So who gave you the idea for that anyway?"
"What? Having paying customers pay for my sexy time? I did," he said proudly. "Back when I first became a pusher, I used to use my money like everyone else and buy it at the street corner. Not a few months later, my good friend Bo, who was also a pusher, caught something Ajax wouldn't wash off from one of the girls. Made me learn fast another way to get my quality time in and not kill myself doing it. And always wear a condom, can't understate the importance of that."
"Ouch," I said, wincing in sympathy. "So how long you been pushing?"
"Aw, gee," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm thirty-two, so been doing this," he said, looking up as he did the math, "Twenty years. Twenty-one years now. I've survived nine bosses."
"How?" I said and he shrugged his shoulders.
"Never had a registered home, no phone or anything," he said as he shuffled the cards as he hit the end of his current game. "Pretty sure the cops want me, but they've had no way of tracing me. Hard to find a guy with no home."
"Well, your home is with me now," I said, meaning it.
"Aww, don't go getting mushy on me now," he said with a chuckle. "I wouldn't know how to handle it. Besides, life is a gamble anyway. I could end up dead or in prison tomorrow."
"Or laid again?" I said with a smile. Yeah, he was bad, but he was loyal.
"Always," he said as he put the cards away.
"Are you going to be quiet now?" I asked Yukie after she quieted down since I began ignoring her. She nodded her head in acquiescence and I unbuckled and removed the ball gag.
"Release me, demon," she said calmly, and I set the ball gag on my dresser since she was being somewhat compliant.
"Only if you agree to something," I said and her face twisted in a snarl.
"I will never serve a demon," she spat, and I shook my head as I wiped the spit away.
"Okay, but that wasn't what I wanted you to agree to," I said and her eyebrows went up in shock. "You agree not to harm anyone in this house, or return to it to cause anybody in it harm, and I'll let you go. I'll even have Brian take you wherever you want to go."
"You will not force me to serve you?" she asked quizzically and I shook my head.
"No," I said and sat beside her. "I told you once that I'm not a monster. I did what I had to to save your life, and that carries some drawbacks to it. Yes, I used my blood. Yes, I could keep you tied up here and force you to take my blood again and again until you are my slave, but that would make me a monster. I just didn't want you killing my servants."
"If you release me, I will not harm anyone here," she promised and I nodded at Brian who pulled the cover off her to reveal the restraints.
She calmly waited while Brian undid the restraints, stretching what had to be sore muscles from being tied up all day. Once she was free, she sat up, rubbing her wrists as she examined her surroundings. She hobbled to her feet, examining the wall before she turned to me.
"Is there toire?" she asked, then shook her head. "I mean, restroom, here?"
"Brian, show her the master bath on the ground floor. I'll see her in the Great Room upstairs before you leave," I told him and he nodded.
Brian took her arm, leading her out of my bedroom. She had to hobble, probably because she really had to go since she'd been tied up all day. The moment they were out the door, though, I stripped off my bathrobe and began looking for my clothes. I didn't bother with a shower, since it seemed I had so much to do, and I had showered before sleeping. I found a pair of pink panties and a matching bra in separate drawers, and slipped them on. I opened another drawer to find a pair of socks and threw them on the bed for later, then went to my wardrobe.
I didn't know what all I had anymore, but I found a selection of business suits, long sleeve blouses and skirts hanging up. I picked a robin's egg blue blouse out, mainly because it looked cheap along with a dark gray light pants that looked equally cheap. I slipped them on, hanging the hangars back in the wardrobe for Heather, then went back to the bed and put on my socks.
Once I had my socks on, I hurried to get up to the Great Room on the ground floor before Yukie thought I was delaying her. She was just coming out of the master bedroom when I reached the top of the stairs, and I led the way in. My painting was being nice today, and was sunbathing in a chaise lounge, but otherwise not moving. I took a seat in a recliner, and Yukie sat opposite me, while Brian stood by my shoulder.
I watched as Yukie took in the room, and she seemed awed by it all. "Your home is so big," she breathed finally, her eyes settling on my painting just as it rolled over to lay on its stomach. She continued to watch it, but it no longer moved, and looked like a normal painting again.
"I'm still making payments on it," I said with a chuckle. "I might be a vampire, but it doesn't mean automatic wealth."
"I see," she said, as she brought her eyes back to me. "What did you do to save me, and what does that mean to me?"
I nodded, figuring it was a fair question for her. "I gave you my blood, but since you weren't dead it didn't make you a vampire like me. During the next few days, you might develop one of my powers, but you won't keep them unless you take more of my blood. If you do that, you become one of my servants, doing anything and everything I say until something kills you.
"You can leave now, tonight, and go back home with minimal problems," I told her and she looked curiously at me. "Sometime in the next week you're going to feel an urge to return though. That will mean you want more blood, your body will crave it like an addiction. If you don't want to be my servant for the rest of your days," I warned her, making direct eye contact so she knew I was serious, "You'll need to keep yourself away."
"If I do," she asked, her voice wavering in the seriousness of the situation, "If I return, even though I tell you now that I don't want to be your slave, will you still make me drink your blood?"
"If you ask for it," I said and she hung her head in thought. "I won't make you do it against your will, but if you return, if you are weak, you will enslave yourself."
"Will you ever seek me out?" she asked, and I shook my head.
"Not unless I need help destroying another creature of the night," I told her. "I'm not a monster, and I would only seek you out as a Hunter to destroy a creature I might not be able to handle alone."
"That is, acceptable," she said. "I promise you that I will not return to this house in anger, and thank you for saving my life."
"You're welcome," I said with a smile. "One thing I would ask of you before you go," I told her which caused her face to pinch in worry. "I found some armor with a hunter that would seem to fit a woman about your size. Would you care to look at it to see if you could use it?"
"Hai," she sod, nodding in acceptance. "I could use some replacement armor since mine was stolen. I had thought that I would have to learn to fight demons without it."
"Well, we know how that went," I snarked and turned to Brian. "In one of the duffle bags I brought home with me is the armor. Would you bring it to me?"
"Sure thing, mistress," he said, then left in a hurry to go get the duffle bag. He was only gone a minute, while me and Yukie sat in the silence. She returned to watching my painting, who began to stretch in various various yoga-like poses, once again sans clothing. I could only shake my head at the shameless painting, who promptly began to display my bare backside to Yukie.
Yukie looked away, blushing, her cheeks only getting redder when she caught me smirking at her. "Your painting is haunted?" she asked, trying to change the subject away from my bare naked painting.
"Magical, not haunted," I told her. "It was given to me as payment for helping stop some of my fellow kindred's destructive behavior to innocent people. You heard about the mysterious plague that hit Los Angeles recently?" I asked and Yukie nodded. "Well, I stopped it, and that painting is was my payment so that I might see myself again, even if she does love showing off all of my body." I said as my painting smiled and flipped me the bird as she continued to stretch and pose in the nude.
"She has clothes she can wear?" Yukie asked and I nodded.
"Yes," I said and Yukie looked again just to have my painting do a big toe pose for our benefit. Yukie quickly turned away, the blush on her face deepening and I took pity on the hunter. "Alright, you've shown off my body enough. If you want to continue posing, put on some clothes or I'll have to have you rolled up and put in storage."
My painting scowled at me, but shiny black leggings and pink mesh sports bra appeared on her. I give her an intense look and she rolled her eyes as she made a skin-tight gray tank top appear also, along with a pair of blue slip-on trainers. She went back to her stretching, and Yukie looked at it for a moment before turning back with a look of wonder on her face.
"She obeys me somewhat," I said, suppressing a giggle. "Mostly I think she's just lonely."
"She cannot leave the painting?" Yukie asked and I shook my head.
"It's all she is, paint and canvas," I told her as I heard Brian coming back up the stairs. "I don't even know if she sleeps or dreams, but she is capable of seeing out. As such, she is capable of mirroring my looks and acting as a mirror of sorts."
"You have no reflection?" she asked and I shook my head.
"None whatsoever," I told her. "I'm even invisible to cameras, which makes getting into places that rely on them a breeze."
"So how do you do your make-up and hair?" she asked me.
"I have a ghoul that does it for me," I said as Brian came back in. "You didn't get to meet her, but she's away…taking care of something for me," I told her, not wanting to tell her that Heather was hiding in case I turned into a monster again.
"And I'll be joining her later," Brian said as he set the duffle bag down in front of me on a table. I gave him a shut up look, which he caught and pursed his lips together as he straightened back up before letting his face go blank.
"She is in trouble, yes?" Yukie asked, and I shook my head.
"Just running errands," I told her as I opened the duffle. "Brian will be joining her as he has her car."
"Ah," she said as she eyed the chest piece of armor I pulled out of the duffle. "That is my armor!" she exclaimed, coming to her feet and snatching the piece from my hands. She set it aside, quickly pulling other pieces out. "Where did you get this?"
"Yesterday, after I saved your life," I told her and she fixed an intense gaze at me that made me uncomfortable, "I was attacked by a hunter."
"You kill?" she said in a serious tone as she began dressing herself in her armor and I nodded.
"It was him or me, and believe me I tried to get away," I said, remembering my crushed Harley Fatboy. "It cost me my motorcycle, and once he had me on foot, I was trapped. I'm sorry, but fanatical hunters aren't my problem. I treat them as I would anyone else. They attack me, they die. I would like it if no one tried to kill me, especially you."
"I see," she said, as she tugged on the armored leather pants. It suddenly made sense why she was gearing up; it was for her own modesty.
I made up my mind then that if she attacked me, I was taking her down without killing her and tying her back to my bed. She was already past her first drink of blood, and in a few days she'd be needing her second dose and I'd get a better measure of control on her. "He pursued you, and only when he had you cornered did you kill him. It is...understandable. You are not bad demon."
Relief flooded through me that she didn't want to argue the point. "I found this in his car, along with a few other things, that I took. Some of it could be used against kindred, like crossbows and stakes. If you want, I'll let you have a few of those items as well. As I said before, I would rather have you as an ally then enemy."
"Alright, demon," she said, a small smile forming on her face as she lashed a pair of leather arm guards onto her arms. "We have truce between us. I will not kill you as long as you are honorable, and you stay honorable."
"Deal," I said, getting up from my chair and extending my hand. Yukie extended hers and we shook in agreement. "Follow me and I'll get you weaponized again," I told her, moving past her and leading the way back to my private room. I hated to show it to anyone, but I had the woman under some control at least, and we did have a truce. If nothing else, I'd be sleeping with the door locked until I knew one way or another what would happen with her.
Inside my room, I pulled out the duffle that had the medieval weaponry and began laying out pieces. Yukie went wide-eyed at seeing the small wooden crossbow, and she lovingly caressed its polished wood. "This was my sensei's," she said, as she began checking it. "Yoi, it still works," she said as she cocked it. Taking one of the small arrows, she fitted it into the arrow slot, then slung it on her back.
She then picked up the small pouch of arrows and fitted it to her belt and tied it to her left thigh. Several of the stakes went inside it, then she tucked a few in her arm guards. When she picked up a bottle marked holy water, she raised an eyebrow at me before sniggering. "Do people think this works?"
"It's Hollywood movie bull," I told her and she sniggered again. "Like garlic and crosses, useless."
"Head and heart," she said, and I nodded.
"Remove the head, or destroy the heart," I said with a smile as I guessed at the significance of the saying. "Since you don't want to stay, Brian, could you take her where she wants to go, please?"
"Sure thing, mistress," he said. "I got Heather's car in the garage. Oh, and Rochelle brought a package for you. It's in the bottom drawer of your dresser."
"Thank you, Brian," I said as he started to leave my room with an armed and armored Yukie in tow. I could only wonder what Walsh's ghoul would deliver during the daytime.
"Come on," he said, motioning for Yukie to follow him. "Where do you want to get dropped off at?"
"My home is in Glendale," she said as they went down the hall. "I will show you where."
I listened as they went up the stairs, the quietness allowing me to hear their conversation. When they hit the main floor, I opened my bottom dresser drawer to find a large brown paper parcel tied with string. There was an envelope attached to it, and I pulled it off the package, opened it up and read the contents. It was from Walsh, and it contained my drivers license which included the endorsement needed for motorcycle driving. The woman in the picture did resemble me as if I'd had a bad hair day when I took my picture, to which I was thankful. At least if I were pulled over the cop wouldn't ask too many questions. He also let me know my license set me back five hundred more bucks, because of casting costs.
Tucking my license away in my pants pocket, I set the envelope to the side and opened the brown paper package to find my new checkbook. It was a business style setup, with a running register on the left hand side and three checks stacked on the right side of the page. Checks were removed similarly to personal checks by perforated edges, just along two sides now instead of just the top. I removed several of the checks, sticking them in my pocket along with my license and finished getting ready for the night ahead of me.
Looking down at what I already had on, I went to my shoe selection and slipped the two inch black pumps on my feet that I had been wearing when Lasombra was in control. Hunting around, I found my leather belt and put my Glock's holster at my back in its usual location and felt a little easier at its weight on my belt. Going through my inventory of weapon's made me appreciate the normal life a bit more, when I would have abhorred the idea of owning half of this stuff.
My mind went to my complete lack of bullets, and figured I'd best head for Larry's before I started to get shot at again. Putting on my coat, I picked up my cell phone and had the cab company come out to the house so I could take a ride into town.
While I waited on the cab I slipped most of what was in my messenger bag into my dresser, with the rifles and flamethrower going in the wardrobe. The only things I kept were the 44 Magnum, the Desert Eagle and the Uzi with it's six spare clips, which I placed in a pouch under the flap along with the two spare clips for the Glock I carried at my back. I was hoping that the tight confines of the compartment which was designed to haul things like accounting calculators and paper tablets would keep the clips from rattling and giving me away.
I took the makeup kit with me and set it near my painting. She saw the makeup and made a happy fist pump before mirroring my outfit. Settling herself down, she began to mirror me as I applied the concealer, base, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick and blush. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than guessing. Once I had the makeup done, I took stock of my hair and did that up in a ponytail and tied it with a scrunchie. It would hold if I had my bike, but remembering my loss sent me a shiver down my spine. I came too close to dying that night to suit my tastes.
I needed a new mode of transportation. Problem was, cars were too clunky. Sure they could haul more, but a stock sport bike could outrun any stock car on the road, as evidenced by the many news reports I had watched where police had tried and failed to catch a speeding bike. Even choppers could hardly keep up if they got on the freeway and hauled.
I checked the phonebook for motorcycle dealerships to check on a replacement for my Harley. I couldn't help but think that if I had a faster bike I might have outrun the hunter when I hit the freeway. Problem was, I had pushed the big bike about as fast as it could go, but that was only in the eighties. I need something faster.
'Something like a crotch rocket,' I thought as I looked through the yellow pages at the motorcycle dealerships. It wasn't all that different than the average motorcycle, but the better ones could smoke any car on the road in a heartbeat and reach speeds over a hundred eighty miles an hour. If I had a bike like that, I could have escaped long before it got to the point it did. At least now I could afford it.
One of the ads caught my eye, a Kawasaki dealership in Rodondo Beach was featured to be open till eight. I looked at my phone to find the time was still about six thirty, so I had time to get there. Slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder, I stepped out just as the cab entered the drive. I smiled at the driver as I climbed in the back seat.
"You know the Kawasaki dealership in Rodondo Beach?" I asked and he nodded. "Step on it." I said and he nodded. He got me there pretty fast, taking just over thirty minutes, and dropped me off in front of the red and gray brick brick building. I paid him by Walsh's card, and stepped out to check out the bikes that were on display.
They were mean, sporty looking things, the bikes they had on display, and I began perusing them. The controls on them seemed close to identical to the Harley, and I figured I could intuit one into starting if I had to, so I wouldn't look like a fool. Soon a suave man in skin tight leather and mesh shirt approached me, his eyes trying to check me out from behind dark colored shades. "Heya babe," he drawled as he put his arm around my shoulders. "Looking for a bike or a boyfriend?"
"I don't do boys," I told him in a serious tone and he quickly removed the arm. "Wrecked my ride trying to outrun a guy, and need something with oomph to get back at him."
"Alright," he said, no longer drawing his words. "Couple of questions. One, how much can you spend? And two, how much can you handle?"
"I'll drop fifty grand on it tonight if I can drive it out of here," I told him and he smirked at me. Not liking his attitude I continued on. "And I can handle anything you got."
"Then we should talk the Ninja ZX-12R," he said leading me inside. "Hottest thing to come out this decade, and it leaves that Suzuki Hayabusa begging."
"Great," I said as he led me to the center display where a large black bike sat. I took it in, noting the thing was far larger than my Harley Fatboy. I moved closer, checking out the instrument cluster and that the speedometer topped out at one-ninety, unlike the Fatboy which topped out at a buck-twenty.
"How fast does it go?" I asked, deciding to cut out any questions I had about its speed.
"Stock goes a hundred eighty-six," he said, and the definite number drew my head up. "We got a lot of flack for selling bikes that can break two hundred when no country allows them to go half that fast, so now they come stock with limiters. You can get an aftermarket part fitted on it that removes the limiter, making it go faster, but its a suicide run unless you're on some sort of track or an expert rider."
"Dodging in and out of traffic?" I guessed and he nodded his head.
"She can do it if the rider has the reflexes," he said making me smile as I remembered how slow things moved with my celerity. "She's more nimble than the Hayabusa, and brakes better. I took one out on a ride through the hills, and she dives into the corner like a lynx after its prey. She's also easy to correct if you dive wrong, always giving you an out."
"I'd like to take her for a test run, if you don't mind," I asked him and he nodded his head with a smile on his lips.
"Just need your ID," he said, and I slipped mine out of my pocket and handed it over. He soon came back with a key and handed both it and my license back to me. "She's five hundred and fifty pounds, so I'll just heft it off..." he began to say, as I reached down and hefted the bike off its stand with my potence.
I tossed a leg over and settled into the seat as the salesman stood there slackjawed at my display of raw strength. I was able to take my license from his limp hand and tuck it into my coat pocket without a problem, the action seemed to shock some sense into him and he handed over the key when I stuck my hand out for it. Starting the motor with a roar, causing what few people were browsing to suddenly look my way. I popped it into first gear, the sudden grabbing of the clutch and the stickiness of the tires had me doing a wheelie out the front door. Since I was too used to having my feet forward on the Harley, I accidentally hit the shifter as I brought my feet back to the pedals, kicking the bike into second while I still had the front wheel up while going through the doors.
Willing my body to respond faster, the world seemed to go into slow motion as I did a brake check to bring the front tire down and nearly lay the bike on its side as I crawled through the turn. My speed boost was initially confusing, as the slow screech of tires hit my ears and I realized I was accelerating through the turn as if I were doing a hairpin curve on a race track with the exit being the street where cars were humming along. I didn't even get the chance to gauge my entry as my hard curve took me into the street and I quickly brought the bike up and dodged right between two cars to split the lanes with oncoming traffic mere inches away.
I quickly caught third, the Ninja leaping down the street and the speedometer climbing higher. I was now passing cars with ease and at the next intersection, I braked and downshifted, turning hard into the curve much as I had done my Harley and the tires screamed right through, allowing me to execute a perfect ninety degree turn at over fifty miles an hour.
My face lit in glee as it dawned on me that with a bike like this I could outrun a car with ease. With the interstate ramp coming up fast, I took the one on my side that led to Long Beach and once again screamed through the curve. Once I had it on the interstate, I opened the throttle and blasted through the gears, and soon once again I was needing my celerity to dodge the traffic as I held it near one-eighty. Cars seemed to scream past me the other way as I roared down the highway, and as I saw a break in the median come up, geared down and did a quick U-turn to go back the other way so I could return and pay for the bike.
Pulling back into the store, I saw the salesman I had been dealing with, minus his sunglasses, getting chewed by a man in a polo shirt. I killed the motor by turning off the key, letting the bike coast right up to the pair before dropping the kick stand, never having put a foot down to steady the bike as it was so well balanced.
"You don't just let a customer peel out of the store like that!" the man in the polo yelled at the salesman, taking no notice of my quiet entrance.
"I followed protocol and she just amazed me by lifting the Ninja right off on her own," he shot back. "I didn't even get the chance to go over protocol with her! She just peeled out and split!"
"Guys," I said, gaining both their attention. "Rides like a dream. I'll take it."
The two men went slack-jawed at seeing me, the polo-shirted manager finally regaining some composure. "Very well. Andrew, check her credit score and get her approved on a loan."
"But," my salesman Andrew started to say but the manager cut him off with a sharp look.
Taking my salesman side in this argument, and to preserve what time I had tonight, I cut right in before the manager could say anything more. "I won't need a loan, or have my credit checked. I'm paying for it in full today by check."
"I assume it will clear," he said in a condescending manner.
"It better," I said, dropping the smile off my face. "I have a beachfront Malibu mansion on almost a full acre, and not having my checks clear would be a big problem for me."
The managers face went slack as he found out he was dealing with a millionaire who could probably by several of these bikes without a problem. He also probably figured there was nothing he could say that would salvage the situation on his own, so he just turned on his heel and walked away. Smart man, because his attitude was grating on my last dead nerve.
"Let's go fill out some paperwork," he said, as I slipped off the Ninja.
He led me to his desk near the rear of the store, and we began filling out the paperwork, mostly by him. All I had to do really was sign the dotted lines on about twenty different pages to acquire what I thought was a modestly priced motorcycle. I priced a car once for thirty grand, really liking the options it came with, but ended up with my little red Mazda for two grand instead as that was all I could afford. This Ninja though, only set me back twelve grand, including registration fees, and the salesman assured me that the tag would be sent to my mansion in the mail. In the interim though, he had a temporary tag for me to use that he attached to the bike for me.
So it was that when I sat back back on my new Ninja not an hour after arriving, that the clock was reading just past eight. I ran a hand lovingly over the shiny black finish, then decided I needed to get on with my night. Starting it up, I headed for Larry's truck in downtown LA to get some bullets for the hardware I carried.
Larry was easy to find, sitting on the back of his truck working on what looked like a modified Uzi. It was bigger than the gun I had, but the clip seemed to go in front of the trigger like a rifle. I shut the bike down, and Larry's face broke into a big smile when he looked up and saw me.
"Baby girl!" he shouted, standing up with the gun in his hand. "Just working on this MP5. Got it from a buddy of mine, but its all jammed up. Sucker needs to learn to clean his weapon or he don't deserve no weapon at all. So what can I do for you tonight?"
"Need some bullets," I said as I got off the bike. "Need them for my Glock, a 44 Magnum, an Uzi, and I think this is a Desert Eagle," I said, showing him that gun I had taken from the hunter.
"That's some real commando gear you're stocking up on," he said as he opened the back of the truck up. "You ain't just using that stuff for keeping the neighbors away from your shit, is you?"
"Oh, let's see," I said as he began pulling boxes of ammo out and tossing them to me to sit on the rear of the truck. "I fought Andrei, the Sabbat leader and destroyed his little monsters, then cleaned them out of the sewer. I managed to fight a building full of Tong and survived two hunters."
"Damn, baby girl," he said with a smile. "I thought I used to be the go-to-guy for stomping mudholes around here. Must be getting old."
"Older and wiser," I assured him as he brought the last box to the back of the truck.
"You know, I could use a hardcore, pimp killin' Cleopatra Jones for a super-sized score," he said as he jumped down with his MP5. "Straight up Pam Grier style. Still wi' me?"
"You've got my attention," I said, wondering what he had in mind. If it didn't take too long I might do it just for the benefits that might come with it. Say a discount on future purchases. I had no problem against killing low-lifes like Russian Mafia and Tong, especially since both were prone to ruining people's lives. I considered it more like community service than murder.
"Here's what's going down," he said, hunching down a bit and getting conspiratorial. "I have a client who's hired me to get a briefcase for him. Group that's got it is a bunch of local Russian Mafia boys. They're trying to sell it some Chinatown Tong. Meeting will be going down soon at a parking lot not far from here at nine. I was just about to go bust that meeting up, when you arrived.
"Now, I can't tell you what they's exchangin'," he said, and I smirked at that, "but let's just say a client of mine is ready to drop some Uncle Sam-sized bucks to acquire what's in the Russian's briefcase. You get it for me, I'll not only gi' you a cut of five grand, but I'll roll out my special stock as well. Now how dat sound?"
"I'll do it for that and a discount as well," I said, and he smiled.
"You gonna shake me down like that, huh?" he said with a smile, then nodded. "Alright, you get the briefcase, and I'll give you a discount on top of everything."
"Alright, I'll do it" I said and he started laughing.
"Yeah, that's what I like to hear," he said as he sat back down with the MP5 and began to slide the internal bolt back and forth. "Now if your the straight-out, hard-boiled terminator type, I'd suggest you buy some heavy firepower 'fore you roll up to the parking garage. You need anything?"
"I'm good," I told him as I started to pull out my clips to load them. "How much for the bullets?"
"Since you about to do something for me that may make you need them, no charge," he said as he started to spray oil in the inside of his gun. "Let's jus' call it an investment."
"Sounds good," I said as I loaded up. Larry whistled at my Uzi when I brought it out to change out the clip with a freshly loaded one and so I could load the one that was in it. I was just finishing up loading the Desert Eagle when Larry spoke up again.
"Place you're headed for is over at Fourth and Grand, southwest of here," he said, telling me where to be as I stashed the extra bullets in my messenger bag. "Place is called the Ampco, got about five stories on it. One way in, one way out. Client don' care if they know you stole it or not, so if you walk in Cleopatra Jones style and wipe 'em all it or play it cool and walk out without anyone knowing who stole it. I'll be here waiting."
"It won't take long," I said as I climbed back on the Ninja and started it.
Popping it into gear, I cruised west towards the parking lot, soon finding Grand, then moving south to find Fourth Street. The building in question was marked by a big blue and white sign, and I headed inside only to find the first ramp up blocked by a brown Ford Focus parked across the ramp, two men leaned against it. The older of the two was an overweight man in a suit while his younger friend was an Asian kid in an oversized hoodie.
I idled my bike right up to the pair, and the overweight one held up his hand to stop me. "That's far enough," he said, then reached into his suit and pulled out his wallet and flipped a badge at me. "Detective Cross. We have an active crime scene upstairs and we can't allow anyone up. If you want, you can park over there."
"Oh, thank you detective," I said, walking my bike back so I could turn around. I idled my bike over to the empty spot and shut it down, leaving it on the kickstand and taking the key with me.
I walked out of the building mainly because the cop and his friend were watching me. Not that I believed for a minute that the other guy was a cop, most likely he was Tong and was just making sure no other person showed up to crash their party. Once I was out of sight, I ducked into the shadows, sneaking my way back in to hide behind the cars. I could see the two still standing by the car, and as I scanned the wall for the stairs up, saw there were none. It really was one way in, one way out.
My gaze went north to the ceiling and the shadows there. With the darkness of night, and the light shrouds all focusing the light down, making the ceiling dark. Pushing my sight into the shadows, I jumped to a spot above the supposed cop, then up the ramp. More thugs were spread out here, and the divide between the two became clear. They were watching each other, waiting for the deal to go down in their favor or they'd be standing by to take it by force. One thing was for sure, all the cars that were around gave plenty of cover if it devolved to that point.
One side of the upcoming fight seemed to be the Russians, all white males, probably with Russian ancestry as they were mafia, in at least business casual with no gun visible. The other side was the Tong, all Asian males in hoodies carrying bats and metal pipes. They guarded everything, and eyed the other side suspiciously, but it was as I watched them it made a kind of sense. If one side was making a deal, and the other side was buying, but neither side trusted the other and we are talking chips-to-a-secret-missile level of seriousness; yeah, this was bad.
Pushing from the ramp across the lot to the ramp on the other side, I kept finding more thugs on both sides. The third level was the same, though here, they'd taken up a more group on group view instead of being scattered around. The fourth level would have had me raising eyebrows, if I had any as a shadow, as I took in the sight. The men carried their guns openly, and they looked fresh from a military armory as they faced each other.
I was about to push to the last level when my ears picked up the sound of gunfire. With that one round, the building erupted in a rumble like thunder, and I dropped my extended vision to return to my body just as gunfire erupted between the man and his friend. I looked over the top of the car to see the kid in the hoodie fall as the 'cop' shot him several times, and I reached behind my back for the Glock and drew it.
Coming around the car, I shot the cop before he even noticed me. After he fell, I took the badge from his coat pocket, figuring it might cause some indecision if I flashed it as I moved up the ramp. I did my best to imitate the cops in the movies and keep my Glock leveled for threats while moving, figuring I was less likely to get surprised that way. When I hit the top of the ramp, I hid behind a nearby car to take in the scene. Sporadic gunfire still erupted between the two sides, with the Tong close to me and the Russians on the far side.
Taking aim, I shot the first Tong to expose himself to my line of fire, prompting several more to spin and shoot towards me. More gunfire erupted as they stupidly stood and moved closer to my hiding spot and the Russians cut them down. I moved closer to the Russians, as they spread out.
"Nick! Nick, you okay?!" one man called, probably looking for the man that identified himself as Detective Cross. I let the men get close, reloading my gun with a fresh clip before I opened fire. Taking a peak around the car I was hiding behind, I saw the line of Russians get close to where I had been hiding as they passed my current hiding spot, likely following the bullet holes the Tong had inflicted when they opened fire on me.
"Nick!" a man in a gray suit called again and I came around the car and opened fire, taking the five men down as I emptied my clip in their direction. The men fired a few shots wildly, as their bodies spasmed and triggered their guns accidentally.
Once the last man fell, I slid along the wall, making sure to keep myself hidden in case anyone was left alive. I also eyed the guns of the dead as I moved, noting thirty-eights and a few Glocks among them. The Glocks I relieved of their clips, searching the bodies for spares and coming away with six much needed extras. If I had been thinking of it, I might have asked Larry about more clips, but it slipped my mind.
As I approached the top of the ramp to the third level, I could still hear the rip of multiple guns above me, though it seemed like it was more on the fourth level than third. I pulled the shadows around me like a cloak as I approached the top, seeing three Tong guys aiming pistols towards the ramp. At the far end, I could see more Tong with the ramp sealed off signifying that maybe the Russians controlled the fourth level.
I aimed my Glock and shot the first Tong dead between the eyes before I dove for cover behind a large SUV, his two buddies yelling something I didn't understand before filling the area with flying lead. I hunched low behind the SUV, then had an idea and crawled under it to get a tire between us. The Tong didn't take notice fast enough, and I shot the second man low in the throat before his buddy tried to turn and run. I emptied my gun into him as he fled, my bullets seemingly doing little harm as he ran.
I crawled out just as he scrambled back to his feet, and I dove behind the car his two buddies had hidden behind as he tried to kill me. Stashing my Glock in my bag while I scrambled for a replacement pistol. My hand found the Desert Eagle, and I drew the large gun. The moment the Tong thug ran out of bullets, I came over the car with mine and aimed straight for the guys heart.
His eyes went wide as he scrambled for bullets to his semi-automatic pistol, and I fired. My bullet made him dance back, tripping him over his own feet. I thought for sure I had him that time when he got to a knee as I came around the car, his face twisted in pain but a clip full of bullets in hand. Shock and fear had me cranking bullet after bullet into his chest, dropping him back to the ground. I quickly pounced on him, but he didn't move. I felt for a pulse on his neck, but there was nothing, and a look at his chest revealed that he wasn't bleeding.
Thinking it was odd, I ripped his shirt open to find he was wearing a bulletproof vest, the front ruined with heavy fire from my Desert Eagle. A large hole was ripped into the front of it, not quite penetrating but ruining it. It took my brain a second to figure out that my rounds had likely stopped his heart with their heavy and repeated hits, which while rare could happen.
I left the man in the center of the garage and worked my way around the vehicles to the other four Tong who held the ramp. It was here that the true fight raged, and I pulled out some bullets for the Desert Eagle and reloaded the heavier gun. Once it was full, I worked my way closer, the Tong paying me no mind as they exchanged sporadic gunfire with the Russians one level up.
When I was only twenty feet away, I pulled my 44 magnum from my messenger bag and tucked it in my pants for easy access. When the Tong leaned over the car and began to return fire, I leaned over the car I was hiding behind and opened fire on them, aiming for their heads as their chests seemed to be protected. Two fell before they realized they were exposed on my side, and a third was shot in the arm by an overly itch trigger finger of his buddy, causing him to drop his gun as he limped away in pain.
The fourth fired a grand total of one shot before his gun clicked empty. He was experienced enough to immediately drop the clip out and get a fresh clip in hand in short order, but not fast enough for me to get a bead on him and put one in his eyeball. The third man, who had been holding his arm and cussing in a foreign language pulled some kind of small pistol from his pants pocket. I shot him again, this time in the other arm, and he dropped his pistol as he took a knee. Taking aim, I put another round into head, felling the Tong thug permanently.
Moving to the ramp that the Tong had been firing up, I could see several men hiding behind a car at the top, military-style rifles in hand. I had no immediate way in, except using Shadowstep, and I didn't want to risk someone surviving and talking about the teleporting ghost that shot up the parking garage. The prince would have my head, literally.
Remembering the badge I had taken off the cop, I decided to try my hand at deception.
"LAPD!" I shouted up the ramp and held the badge out where they could see it. "Hands in the air and guns on the ground or I open fire!"
"Where Nikolai?" one of the men shouted down, his Russian accent thick.
"Dead," I called back up the ramp as I pocketed the stolen badge. "So far, only you guys on the top two floors are still alive. I've sent the rest to the morgue."
"You never take us alive!" he called, his rifle singing a death song written in gunpowder. I stayed duck behind the concrete wall, figuring eventually they'd run out of ammo if they kept that up. Problem was, how many extra clips and bullets did they bring?
Another round of fire ripped into the wall, and I looked around. They had the ramp covered extremely well, and there weren't any easy ways around them. In the lull that followed, I pushed into the ramp and cloaked myself in shadow. Once hidden from sight, I worked my way up the ramp to the two waiting Russians who seemed antsy as they waited.
Switching pistols for the 44 Magnum, I cocked the heavy handgun and aimed it for the Russian who held his rifle in my general direction. It's boom was loud, and the man fell over backwards and out of sight before his friend even flinched. The other Russian gripped his weapon tighter, scanning the shadows for me. I lined up the sights and ended him before he ever fired a shot.
Moving up the ramp, I came around the car and checked on the two men. Well, more specifically I checked on their weapons. I didn't know the actual number, but I knew the two carried Russian made military rifles; AK-fortysomething. I took both, stashing one in my messenger bag with its clip in my pants pocket. There was an ammo box full of clips beside the car, some empty, some full. I filled my pockets with full ones, coming away with six more fully loaded clips, and the weight was starting to get at me.
I trudged on, finding a nearby van that resembled a delivery van that seemed out of place among the cars. The door on the back was open, and I saw more ammo crates, all of them containing clips for the Russian weapon I was carrying. I stowed my bag in it, to curtail forty pounds of extra weight I was carrying and then went back and got the box and tugged it back to the van. I needed my potence to lift it, but I got the box back in the back and shut the door.
With the Russian rifle in my hands and my fully loaded Magnum tucked into my waistband, I moved through the remaining cars like a ghost. I found the two surviving Russians behind a pickup with more guns. They weren't firing, but their rifles were aimed up the ramp as if they were waiting on something. I readied my rifle, taking careful aim down the sights and squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked like a rockette, and I was wholly unprepared for the rate of fire the weapon had. I barely managed to hold on to it, let alone aim it with any kind of accuracy, but I seemed to luck out as my first bullets ripped the two to shreds.
I quickly got around the truck and rushed up the ramp, only stopping at the top to check out the scene. There were two men who had been guarding the ramp that now lay dead, likely from fire taken by the two at the bottom of the ramp. Two more men squatted behind their cars as they traded shots at each other. I reloaded the rifle, watching the two men as they traded shots and decided to take out the closest one first. Coming around the corner of the vehicle, I emptied the clip into the guy, taking care to quickly release the trigger so it would quit kicking.
The gun let out a brief burst of fire, and the guy danced as the bullets hit him before he fell face first against the ground. I stayed low, keeping out of sight of the other guy even though he hadn't fired in a few brief moments.
"Mili? Grisha? Is that you?" he shouted, staying behind cover. I stayed quiet, working my way closer and keeping my gun ready to fire.
He eventually tried to sneak a peak over the cars trunk, and I yanked the trigger and emptied the clip at him. Some of my bullets must have hit, because he fell back. I pulled my Magnum with my right hand, holding the rifle in my left and approached him. He was wounded bad, several shots to the chest but he wasn't dead yet.
"W-who are you," he said, his voice trembling as he struggled to speak.
"Just the delivery girl," I told him, reaching into the backseat and pulling out the briefcase with handcuffs attached to it. I looked the briefcase over, noticing the heavy locks used to secure it. It had to be the one I was after. "And it looks like I got what I came for."
"Why?" he asked, his eyes glued to me. "Who hired you?"
"I don't even know who the client is," I told him, giving him a serious stare from behind my shades. "Probably another low life scum like you. Tell me, how many innocents have you killed? How many lives have you destroyed?"
"No...more…than...you," he coughed out, blood trickling from his mouth.
He moved his mouth to say more, but he cried out in pain, his arm clutching at his chest as he fell silent. I knelt down and checked his pulse, but there was nothing. I looked down at the Russian mobster, and felt sick at the thought that I might be as vile as he was. I didn't go around ruining people's lives like he did, killing indiscriminately and murdering the innocent.
I saved those I could, like Yukie and Kiki, and even Lily. I reunited E and Lily, let Julius go even though I was supposed to have killed him, and got Jose banished from LA instead of beheaded like the prince wanted. Even when my saving came at a price, like Heather, I didn't force them to stay, and would have allowed them to leave if they wanted. In fact, the only person who served me against their will was Brian, but I didn't hear him complaining.
Taking the briefcase, I walked back to the other car the Tong leader had hidden behind when I got an idea. Leaning my head in through the broken window, I pulled out another briefcase, though this one had an ordinary lock on it. I took it also, tucking it under my arm with the secured one in my hand. With the Magnum back in my waist and the rifle in hand, I headed back to the van and stowed everything in the back.
I had to believe the cops would soon arrive, with all the gunfire that was on display. The keys were in the ignition, so I started it and backed it out of the hole. The cars that blocked the ramp were my first concern, and as I came down the ramp I gunned the engine and rammed them out of the way. There was a screech of metal as the cars gave ground, and soon I had the van going down the next ramp.
Once again I had to force the cars out of the way, to make it the second level, but with one last level to go, I floored it down the straight away and rammed the other cars hard enough that soon I was headed out the main gate. I felt a brief stint of worry over leaving my new bike behind, but figured there was no proof I was involved and would likely be left alone. I could probably return in a bit and claim it with no problem.
Taking the van though had me wondering what to do with it. It was a bit of a drive back to my house, and it wasn't like I had much use for the weapons in it. Larry might, and if he was willing, might take the whole thing off my hands. Of course, I'd likely keep one of the Russian weapons for Brian, more of a stroke to his ego if nothing else.
Larry was sitting on the back of his van when I drove up, and he gave me a wolf whistle when I parked the battered van behind his. "I say there girl," he said as I stepped back to talk with him, "I send you after a briefcase and you bring back the whole shebang."
"Speaking of briefcases," I said as I opened the back door on the van and pulled out his briefcase. "Here you go."
"Outstanding!" he said, a big smile on his face as he took the briefcase and slipped it in the van behind him. "Well worth the price, trust me."
"Wouldn't happen to know what this is?" I asked, pulling out the Russian gun from my messenger bag and showing it to him.
"Russian AK-47," he said, taking and examining the gun. "Sometimes called Kalashnikov. Most dependable and cheapest machine gun ever made as it never jams. You could lay this sucka in the mud, work the action a dozen times, leave it for a year, dig it out, and fire it just as good as the day it was made."
"Really? I got spares," I said as I opened the other door to show all the crates. Together we opened them up, finding we had over a dozen all told with five more crates of ammo. The Russians must have been preparing for a war with the Tong tonight.
"I can give you four a piece for these babies," he told me, placing the AK-47 back in the box I pulled it from. "Going rate is about six on the black market right now. You keep this up, you're gonna be givin' me competition."
"As if," I responded with an eye roll. "I don't know enough about guns to sell 'em. I can barely work 'em."
"So what's in that other briefcase?" Larry asked me as we hopped out of the back of the van.
"Money, I hope," I said, pulling it out. "The Tong had this in their car."
"Let's see what's in it," Larry said, reaching into his pocket for a knife. He popped the locks, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head at seeing all the hundred dollar bills. Larry pulled a stack out, and let out a whistle. I was starting to wonder how much it all added to when Larry tossed it back in the briefcase.
"Russian's were going to get screwed," he said with a chuckle.
"What's that?" I asked him, picking up a stack reverently to inspect it while I had visions of yachts and sandy beaches.
"It's phony money," he said and my heart sank. "Likely all of it. Tong must not have wanted to pay for it. Good thing I sent my best girl. Chinatown wouldn't be no place to go for anyone till the dust settled on this deal."
"Speaking of Chinatown," I said, throwing the money in the van and pulling out my messenger bag. I put one of the AK-47's in it that had a folding stock, making it fit in my bag when it wasn't in use. "Want the whole thing? I can't do anything with it."
"Sure, sure," he said pulling out a small lockbox. "Twelve Kalashnikovs, over three hundred magazines, and an armored van, give you ten grand for the whole thing."
"Sounds good," I said, as Larry started to count out the bills. "That makes it fifteen grand total."
Larry counted out the money, and I stashed it in a compartment on my messenger bag. "Fifteen grand well spent, too. Ever get any more hardware you want to unload, jus' see me."
"Will do," I said, stepping into the shadows getting ready to teleport myself back to my bike. There were things I needed to do, and standing around talking didn't get it done.
"Another night Larry," I said, and stepped to my bike. Chinatown was calling, and I was hot on Barabbas's heels. I just knew it.
Author's Note: 10.5 K words. Whew.
For those not up on your Japanese, toire means toilet, hai means yes, and yoi means good. Since you can't do the parking garage mission until you see Larry a second time, I didn't want to throw it out early since it might seem awkward.
Also, I hope everyone likes the Kawasaki Ninja 12R. I had to do a lot of research to come up with a good bike replacement for Eliza, and most everyone seems to like the Ninja 12R to the Suzuki Hayabua. To those that don't keep up with sport bikes, they really do cap out at 186, for reasons stated.
Hope everyone likes the changes to the garage shootout. Always hated it that your character shows just as the deal goes down, so I made it where she was late to the party, which works out for Eliza.
And thanks to all those that keep favoriting and reading this story! I love ya you crazy fools.