* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Mr. Womack will see you now." The slim, 5'9"
blonde secretary replied to the gruff man standing before her.
The man reflected for a moment on just how annoying her voice was
and how much satisfaction it would give him to snap her neck and
silence that voice. However, he thought better of it. A major
business deal with the Boss Vamp and he would be on easy street
for the rest of his eternal existence. It probably wouldn't be a
good first impression to kill the guy's secretary. Besides which,
he could smell her humanity. She probably had very little idea of
exactly what she was working for. Or, if she did, she had blocked
it from her mind.
Mortals had an uncanny knack for doing that, he mused as he
headed down a long hallway to an oak set of double doors.
Supernatural things that were beyond the realm of simply being
explained away had a habit of being blocked from the mortal mind.
Selective memory, it was called... or was that stupid ignorance?
Their loss. Some vampires can be perfectly amicable
individuals. Take Mr. Womack for instance. Nice gentleman.
Downright professional at what he does. His only crime is lacking
a pulse. Well, that and a whomping load of money laundering, but
who doesn't engage in a little of that on occasion these
days?
He took the brass door knocker in his fist and knocked
confidently. He had nothing to worry about. This was just a
simple business deal, and it wasn't like he was in Womack's debt
or anything. If I were in debt to this
guy, the vampire mused, I wouldn't be
caught within a three state radius of this place...
"Come in, Jackson." A smooth, slightly street-accented
voice emanated from beyond the door.
Now how did he know... Eh, his secretary had probably
called ahead... but still... Jackson Knox pushed the
thought from his mind and crossed the threshold with a flourish.
It was nice to enter a halfway decent dwelling without needing to
force an invitation or kill its owner.
Womack had his back to the door as Jackson entered through it.
"Please. Sit yerself down. An' please 'elp yerself ta the
mini bar. Most I've done with it lately was jest alphabetizin' it
anyways."
"Is something wrong?" Jackson wondered what would keep
a vampire so famous for his booze consumption from taking a
single swallow.
The big-business vampire narrowed his eyes as if considering
something. He's deciding just how much information he
can trust me with. Jackson realized, smiling
inwardly. So he's clever as well as enterprising.
Looks like this is a match made in heaven.
"Just a minor deal I'm workin' out. 'Til I know it's gone
through, I need ta be on top of my game."
"I'll drink to that." Jackson had eased himself over to
the mini bar and taken out a bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a
glass, he raised it in salutation. Downing the contents in one
gulp, he smacked his lips in satisfaction. "Sure you don't
want any? Real tasty."
"Never drink on a job." Womack replied evenly.
"Fogs up yer mind."
Jackson shrugged. "To each his own."
"As I was sayin'---" Womack began, still facing the
heavy curtains hung over the windows of his stylish office. At
that moment, the intercom buzzed. Irritated at the interruption,
he spun in his chair, facing Jackson for the first time since the
vampire entered the office, and clicked on the small box on his
desk. "Yes?"
"There's a call for you on line 1, sir."
"What's th'mergency? Didn't ya tell the fool I was in a
conference?"
"Yessir, but the gentleman said it was urgent. Something
about a firearm."
"A gun?" Womack's eyes lit up.
The secretary made a clucking sound with her tongue. "Yes.
That was it. Gun. They've brought it down to the station--
whatever that means."
"Thanks Miz Evans. Ya've been more'n 'elpful. Feel free ta
take the rest of the evenin' off. I have a lil' business trip in
mind."
The intercom clicked off.
"This your 'deal'?" Jackson cocked his head
questioningly.
Womack walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of
scotch. "Signed, sealed, an' delivered."
"Yer a genius, Ty. I.. hope you don't mind my using your
first name. But I figured, since we'll be working
together---"
"That works nicely for me. Some of my best friends call me
Ty. Best friends... an' other folks."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gunn was flat on his back, staring up at the cement ceiling of
his cell. So much for a guy's rights. Seemed that they didn't
apply when one was a "ruffian street kid". He'd been
processed like any other run-of-the-mill criminal. Prints.
Mugshot. Nifty orange jumpsuit. Wouldn't mom love ta
see me now? He let out a deep sigh and rolled onto
his side so he was facing the cold iron bars a few feet in front
of him. Briefly closing his eyes, Gunn imagined that he was back
in the warehouse with Alonna. It would nearly be time for her to
go to bed. Sure, she was 13 now, but tucking her in was something
of a ritual for him. Silly, he knew, but by personally seeing
that she was in bed at night, Gunn could sleep easier knowing she
was alright.
"Hope the guys'll tuck 'er in for me tonight." Gunn
muttered.
"Worrying about your sister again?" A voice came from
just outside the cell. "Ya don't change a bit, do ya?"
"I've 'ad 'bout enough of the mysterious stranger thing fer
the day... jest lemme see yer face... spit on me or whatever an'
move on. S'gettin' really old."
There was no answer.
Am I loosin' it? Gunn got up and peered
out between the bars. There was no one there. "What's goin'
on?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"That's it. We get Gunn out now. No more waitin'
around." Rondell had been laying plans for the last hour
with several of the other boys to spring Gunn from jail. They
hadn't done anything wrong, and would prove that one way or
another. Stepping out into the street, they took off at full
speed for the Juvenile Detention Hall across the city.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ty had entered the cell block with a smile on his face. Things
were coming together nicely. In a few short hours, Gunn and his
little ragtag group would be out of the way. This mission wasn't
for financial gain-- more settling a personal score. He'd always
liked tormenting the boy, and now, thanks to the wonderful folk
at Wolfram & Hart, he had the means to destroy his enemies.
Not by sword and stake, but by checkbook and legal papers.
As he was close to Charles Gunn's block, Ty's cellphone rang
loudly. Damn. So much for the element of
surprise. He hissed and removed the small hand unit
from the breast pocket of his suit. This had better
be important. Raising the phone to his ear, Ty fought
the urge to throw it down and stomp upon it. He hated having
surprise visits spoiled.
"They're on the street."
"Well, call the police an' get the hell out of there!"
"Just thought you'd like to know...."
Ty didn't reply, but let the dead air hang for a moment. Placing
Gunn in prison was the first step. He had several other street
kids to lock up next.. the others he'd just let his men turn.
When one was a rising figure in the financial world, it never
hurt to create a few more expendable troops. That's how he'd
gotten Jackson on his side, after all---
----------------The young man pounded frantically
down the street. "Hell. And I thought the transfer to LA
meant I was rising up in the business world... so what am I doing
on the first day of my new assignment? Running the whole damn way
home being chased by something that goes bump in the night."
Junior Assistant to the CEO, Jackson Knox, cornered sharply...
too sharply for the slick, wet pavement, and landed flat on his
back. End of the road. Whatever was coming was right on top of
him now.
"Life sucks, doesn't it?"
"What are you? Some kind of loan shark? My family's illegal
dealings have nothing to do with me. I settled my debt a long,
long time ago."
The creature kneeled down and kicked Jackson in the kidneys,
rendering the man completely immobile. "Shhhh. I know, I
know. Mommy an' Daddy was all wrapped up in the Mafia an' ya
wanted out. S'alright. I'm 'ere ta make thin's better. No one'll
ever hurt ya again after I'm finished with ya. Ya won't fear...
ya'll be feared."
Jackson had to admit that he liked the sound of that, despite the
pain that the gentleman had inflicted on him. No more cowering
until the rain of bullets had passed. A chance to start all over
again... "What did you have in mind?"
Two shiny canines gleamed in the moonlight and, before Jackson
could utter a sound, were buried deep in his jugular. Life
slipped away silently, the black closing in blissfully, a slick
liquid flowing into his mouth and down his
throat.----------
"Boss?"
Ty was shaken out of the sweet reverie by the voice at the other
end of the phone. "Sorry. My mind was wandering."
Jackson chuckled on the other end of the connection.
"Perfectly all right. Thinking about those children again?
The trouble they're in for?"
"You bet." Ty lied. "You were saying?"
"I was explaining how the Kreis affiliates in Baltimore took
out the local Mafia affiliate two nights ago. We just got the
report in this afternoon. Not sure what took so long, but rest
assured, whoever caused that delay didn't live to make another
mistake like it."
"Are you satisfied?"
"Very." Jackson's vampire visage surfaced as he broke
into a vicious, cruel laugh of triumph. His past was as dead now
as the man Jackson Knox was. The demon that now inhabited his
body delighted in avenging the things that troubled the man in
life. "Now the least I can do is help you achieve your
goals."
Ty hung up with a satisfied click. He stepped into view of
Charles Gunn's cell and bent down, tapping on the bars.
"Good mornin'. Rise an' shine."
