Enemy Unknown

The sleek black car parked behind a warehouse in the old section of St. Louis. Reuben took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Glancing at a photo of his family, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was to come. It was exhausting always acting like the cool, confident cat his reputation had been built on. It wasn't exactly a façade, but it did take a lot of energy to not show a hint of weakness to such dangerous men. Still, Reuben's acting served him well. The door to the car opened for him and he put away his watch before stepping out.

Before him was a small circle of the most dangerous men in St. Louis and at the center was the contact his boss had sent him to meet. Broad-faced with thick eyebrows and sleek, black fur, Gaetano Buffa stood tall with confidence to match Reuben's own.

Marion, one of the most senior gang members and Buffa's advisor, whispered in his ear. "I caution you to not antagonize this one."

Buffa smiled and nodded, noting the advice but deciding that asserting himself was paramount for a man in his position. "Reuben Pepper," The crime boss began, "We have a problem."

"So I've heard." Reuben replied. "And my boss is none too pleased with how the situation has been handled so far."

Buffa laughed, "I didn't realize I had to please the jumped-up body guard you call a boss."

Reuben smiled back, casually walking into the middle of the circle. He was in a den of hyenas, yet experience taught him that to tame such people he must become a lion, all five-foot five of him.

"Carrollo is not who you have to please, Thomas, and I did not come at his behest. Although, that 'jumped-up bodyguard', would already have the violence under control."

Buffa gritted his teeth at the insult. "Then who sent you, Ruby?"

"Tom Pendergast." Reuben explained. Buffa changed his tone immediately. Though not in control of St. Louis, T.J. Pendergast was not a man to be crossed. He had the ear of the governor and the mayor of Kansas City in his pocket. In a criminal world dominated by Italians, old TJ was the last of the Irish standing tall.

Buffa took a moment to explain the situation. "So far as we can tell, most of these people don't have a connection to a gang or criminal enterprise."

"Doesn't matter." Reuben retorted. "Kansas is dry and Missouri is wet. It's the last regional booze trade we got and it's a big one. Your job, Buffa, is simple. Keep the river flowing by eliminating anyone who tries to stop it."

Buffa narrowed his eyes. "TJ might have sent you, Ruby, but you are so very far from home and quite alone."

"I'm never alone, Buffa." Reuben said, holding his ground.

"Oh yes, that's right." Buffa said, "You're the man with all the connections, aren't you? You know, I have connections too and I hear your daughter is quite the doctor now in St. Louis. I didn't think women could become doctors, but the University was very open to promoting her as one of the first in the city."

Reuben's smile dropped and he got serious. "I'll let you off with a warning, Buffa. As a professional courtesy. Kill me, and you'll have to deal with Pendergast and the entirety of Kansas City. Harm my daughter or her family, and you'll awaken someone far worse."

"Oh? Now you have intrigued me, Ruby. Shall I test my luck?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Reuben said, glancing at the oldest associate among the gang. "Marion was here long before you. One of the old-timers, right? How many years have you served this 'pillow' gang?"

"Seventeen years, sir." Marion said in response.

"And you give your bosses counsel often, don't you? Ever the dutiful servant."

"Indeed, sir."

"Then answer me this, who is the most dangerous man in St. Louis?"

Marion briefly glanced at his boss and sighed. Loyalty was an absolute in this business and he had an obligation to fulfill. "Gaetano Buffa, Mr. Pepper."

Reuben smiled and shook his head, acknowledging the lie. "Dutiful indeed, Marion, but I know when someone is lying. Now then, shall we get down to business? I've had a couple of contacts chart me out a new route that should smooth things over for a while."

"I'd gladly like to begin, Mr. Pepper. You stand taller than most, and it's good to know your wit matches your legendary charm."

"My wit as at your service, so long as it is required." Reuben responded before pulling a map out of his pocket. "Now, let's start with the new route, shall we?"

Though not as fast, Buffa noted how their liquor trucks wouldn't be going through as many towns and it had plenty of possible detours if any of the local law enforcement got wise to their operations. The route would take them away from the river and around the boundaries of the hill country in the central part of the state. It was a solid plan that would at least give Buffa some time to deal with a growing threat to the empire he inherited from Fresina. Still, as the meeting went by, he couldn't get that question out of his head. Who was the most dangerous person in St. Louis?

Afterwards, as everyone went their separate ways, Buffa finally decided to ask his old mentor about Reuben's riddle.

"You did well tonight, Marion. Knowingly lying like that is no small thing."

"I've met Reuben a time or two, he won't hold it against me." Marion explained.

"Although, I found it interesting what Reuben asked you. The 'most dangerous man in St. Louis?' Who could he be referring to?"

Marion took a long pause to consider the question. He had met many killers, but only a few could claim such a title.

"There is only one name that comes to mind…"

Seven Years

As the waning moon shone through the bedroom window, it's pale light landed on Rocky's face. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, letting his vision adjust to the night. Sleeping soundly against his chest was Evelyn. He rolled himself away from her and made sure the blankets covered up his girlfriend before sitting up and taking in his surroundings. It was eleven o'clock and eerily quiet. Her roommates must have still been out on their date.

Getting up, he silently slipped through the open window onto the porch roof overlooking the backyard. Life for him had gotten so much bigger for him in the last seven years. Sitting on the roof and bathing himself in the moon's glow, he laid back and listened to the distant hum of the city center only two miles distant. Near the horizon, the rolling Mississippi flashed in the dark. Rocky smiled, recalling his old poem.

"Old Man River…" He whispered quietly to himself. "It's been a fortnight since I last recited that lyric."

Ten years ago he was just the lonely violinist of a speakeasy band. But now? He had a brother, a cousin and aunt who still talked to him, even a girlfriend! Kids called him "uncle" now, and he was an adoptive father to one hell of a son. He couldn't help it as tears formed in his eyes.

"I did it mom, hope you're proud." He said to himself.

"I wish I would have met her." Evelyn said, startling Rocky out of his thoughts.

"Evelyn! I, uh, was…"

"Thinking about her again, I know." She said while struggling to climb up onto the roof. Rocky reached down and helped her up, holding Evelyn around the waist as she sat down and nuzzled under his chin. "The bed gets cold without you." She said.

"I'm sorry…" Rocky replied.

"For what?"

Rocky took a deep breath before looking back up at the moon. "For not being as adventurous as I once was."

Evelyn laughed before resting her head against his shoulder. "I understand why you don't want to leave, Rocky. You have family and friends here, not to mention responsibilities. If anything, I should be the one apologizing."

"No, don't." Rocky said, holding her tight. "Don't ever apologize for having dreams. I want to be a part of them."

"I want that too, Rocky. And I know I've been getting impatient."

"Impatient? With me? Oh Evelyn, the fact that you're still here shows you've got the patience of a saint." Rocky said. "I've been kicked to the curb, disowned, called worthless and far worse than that. Even in the early days, Miss M, the band, and my own family merely tolerated my eccentric presence. Yet here we are, in the depths of a national crisis, slowly building our lives together."

"And yet…" Evelyn said.

"And yet… I don't know if I can say goodbye to this city again. The dirt and dust and grime, it's part of my soul."

"I know how you feel, Rocky. As much as I can't stand being around my parents, Los Angeles is still part of who I am as well. I couldn't wait to leave, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the city some days."

"You know, I can't recall you ever saying what happened between you and your parents.

"Yes, I have. They're controlling and wanted a different life for me."

"No, Evelyn. I meant the details."

"I don't know…"

Rocky backtracked immediately. "It's okay, I don't need to know. It's just that we've been together for seven years now, and—"

"Alright, I'll tell you. Lord knows you've told me enough about your past to justify me telling about mine. But let's go inside, I'm getting cold."

Following Evelyn back into the house, Rocky Quickly found himself as Evelyn's pillow while she buried her head into his chest fur.

"Dad works in Hollywood."

"Really?" Rocky said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, he's a producer. He and mom must be doing alright because I see his name on a lot of films."

"That's… one way to keep track of one's own parents, I guess. But if your Dad makes films, then why'd you—"

"They both kept me wrapped up in their own little world. I was just an accessory to their life. Mom would dress me up like a doll and dad would parade me around the film lot. Some of those stars… I never felt safe around them. It was always 'hey toots' or 'hey, doll, come here and give me a kiss, would ya?'. They'd squeeze me and hug me while mom and Dad just told me to grin and bear it. 'Our careers a riding on this,' they'd tell me. You ever been around people like that?"

"I—" Rocky thought about it but realized that for all the faults of the adults in his young life, none of them forced him to live like them, and if anyone ever treated either him or Freckle like that, they would have faced a swift retribution from Nina. "I guess I've been more fortunate than that."

"Well… I mean, it's not like they kicked me out. And they are still alive, so I guess I could go back if I wanted to. I just don't."

"That I can understand. Pretty sure my Uncle is still alive and kicking in Illinois, but I don't particularly care to see him again."

"Exactly. Life in LA was suffocating, Rocky. So when I got the chance, that's why I came out here. I packed my bags, told them I was leaving, and left as fast as I could."

Rocky moved his arm over Evelyn to hold her even closer. "What about your mother?"

"I'm sure it's hard to believe, but she was a model."

Rocky laughed a little.

"What?" Evelyn asked, confused.

"Oh nothing. I'm pretty sure I can see how your mother was a model." Rocky said with a sly smile, his hand running down the side of Evelyn's body.

"Oh yeah… I guess I'm not a bad looker myself."

"Understatement of the century, Eve." Rocky said, closing his eyes in contentment.

"Well… there's really not much more to it than that. Enough detail for you?"

"It was more than you should ever feel obligated to explain." Rocky said. "Just because I'm curious doesn't mean I don't understand keeping your past to yourself. Besides, we have a future to plan. Just promise me you'll make Joseph part of it."

Evelyn picked her head up and kissed Rocky passionately. "Oh Rocky, he's your son. I'd never want you to be separated from him, especially over me."

"Thanks." Rocky said. "There's also one more thing I want to do while we're still in St. Louis?"

"Oh?"

Rocky dreamed of the prize. "I want to win in my hometown race. Drive a big, shiny car to victory. For once, win something in my life."

"Rocky, when you cross that finish line, I'll be waiting there for you." She said. "We'll all be there."

Kigy and Fong

Robert Adams looked across the small crowd that had gathered on his property for their weekly rally. He was disappointed to see how far their cherished organization had fallen in less than a decade, but now as leader it was his responsibility to ensure their mission continued through yet another decade. Fortunately, there were signs around town that they were not the only ones with such a glorious vision. Tonight was a celebration! And what celebration of religious fervor would be complete without an appropriate speech?

Adams wiped the sweat from his brow and moved his soaking locks of blonde hair to the side. He cleared his throat as a pair of piercing blue eyes made contact with every member of his congregation. A reverend by day, the man was well practiced in the art of the silver tongue.

"Good evening, my brothers! While we celebrate tonight in this sacred place of fraternal bonding, let us also keep this great city we call home in our hearts. Long ago, before scourge of lesser felines, St. Louis used to be a shining testament to order, faith, and heritage. Now? It's being carved up and handed out like bread to beggars—sold to the highest bidder, no matter his race, creed, or country of origin."

The small crowd echoed his sentiments with shouts. "Yes!" "Damn Right!" "We're not for sale!" The loudest voices boomed in the small building.

Ten years ago, we were five hundred strong in this chapter! And yet, now only the truest believers of our cause have remained loyal. Since having authority thrust into my hands in the hope that we can lead ourselves out of the darkness, we have seen the erosion of our nation's wealth, the decimation of our lands, and the slow destruction of our holy way of life. This festering cancer has been dressed up and presented to us as 'progress'. But progress to what end?

Vermin crowd our neighborhoods, Catholics raise their cathedrals like monuments to a foreign pope, and Jews—they hold the purse strings of this city, pulling them tighter every year. They own the shops, the newspapers, even the judges. What kind of progress is this?"

Robert let it all soak into the crowd before they began shouting back. "They lie to us!" "Hang 'em high!" Yet, they weren't answering the question. Robert took a breath before continuing.

It is not progress at all, my brothers! It is blasphemy and hypocrisy in its purest, most vile form! Foreigners pour in by the trainload—Italians, Poles, Slavs—swearing allegiance to anything but the flag, speaking tongues that don't belong on our streets, raising children who will never understand what it means to be American.

They want to replace us—make no mistake. They don't just want our jobs. They want our churches, our schools, our daughters. They want to rewrite what it means to be a citizen of this nation and of this city. But we know the truth, don't we? We remember the blood that built this land, brick by brick, honest and Christian. And now this country is paying for the grave error of its ways. Fields lay barren, rain doesn't fall, locusts swarm a western prairie plowed under, and while times are hard for us, let us remember all the wealth that has been bled from the supposed 'elite' who, in their pride, committed the terrible sin of striking deals with—"

"Untermensch!" A lone voice interrupted from the back of the room. The stranger smiled as he slowly made his way through the small crowd. "The lesser men, the undeserving, the wicked and needy. The ones who control the world and yet remain vulnerable through their terrible ways."

Robert paused and looked at the cat who was dressed in plain clothes. His hair was slick and groomed to a gloss finish. Yet the cat's unassuming face held a set of fiery eyes that were a window into a soul that was eclipsed years ago by fantasies of his 'heritage'.

"I see we have a guest." Robert said, hoping that this stranger was a prospective member.

"Not just a guest, an ally. An ally you surely need, looking at the state of the current membership." The cat replied.

"Who are you?" One of the members in the small crowd asked.

The stranger smiled. "My name is Albert Mueller and I've come here with an offer of sincere friendship between kindred spirits. It is indeed a shame to see a city such as St. Louis brought so low by unnatural influences and ideas. I believe that, through embracing our shared heritage, and by working together, we can rebuild this city in a way that we can all be proud of."

The small group clapped at the short speech, liking what Albert had to say, but Robert was still unsure.

"And who is this we you speak of?"

"Why, the Friends of New Germany!" Albert announced before whistling for his fellow friends to enter. A small detail of cats marched in through the door with military-like discipline. One cat held the stars and stripes high and proud, but not as proud as the cat next to him. Billowing from the breeze outside, a bright red flag waved in the entrance bearing a black swastika inside a white circle. The small group of friends flanked the Klan congregation and took their posts on each side of the room.

Robert cleared his throat. "I-I suppose, given our shared animosity toward the undesirables of society, we can break bread together."

"Excellent!" Albert excitedly said. "Excellent. I am glad we are of the same mind, because we would hate for our food to go to waste."

Albert motioned for two more cats to enter with catered food. "Courtesy of Heinrich Spanknöbel, the president of our new organization." Albert explained.

As everyone feasted in the background, Robert took Albert aside. "You make quite the entrance, young man."

"Making entrances is a key to growing a movement." Albert replied with a smile, running a hand through his hair. "Must be hot under that hood."

"Yeah, but being a grand cyclops requires it." Robert said, sitting down in his small backroom office. "But before we keep discussing matters, I must ask. Why are you really here?"

"The truth is, we need people as well. Two years ago we split from the Teutonic order and our fledgling organization is in need of support.

"I see. Make no mistake, Mr…"

"Mueller." Albert confirmed.

"Right, Mr. Mueller. Make no mistake, our ideologies are plenty different. For starters, we are red-blooded Americans, and what happens in Europe is none of our concern."

Albert was prepared for this though and simply smiled before responding. "Indeed, there are differences. But, there are plenty of people in your own organization that are descended from Germans. It is they who should be running this city, this state, and this country. You yourself, Mr. Adams, are descended of Germanic people."

"And how would you figure that?"

"Because of your name, Mr. Adams. You are English and protestant. Tell me I'm wrong and that this corner of the world wouldn't be better with you in charge of it."

Robert couldn't find a sound argument for why that wouldn't be the case. It was, after all, the goal of the Klan a decade ago to take over St. Louis and Missouri politics. The mafia got in the way of that, as did a few undesirable ethnicities. Seeing that his hook was sinking in, Mueller continued by pulling out various photographs.

"I recently got back from a visit to Hitler's Germany. Look at how much different that country now is to the United States. There are no unemployed or homeless people. The little German children no longer starve, and most importantly, their defenses grow more effective every day. Imagine what you and I could achieve for St. Louis if we put in the same effort."

Robert studied the photos carefully. Everything was so… clean. Still, he knew that mere photographs didn't tell the whole picture. "Even so, I don't want my own country to look like Germany. We simply want to bring back the naturally established order of who is in charge and who is following orders."

"That is exactly what we want as well. Look at them now, they're already enjoying each other's company and becoming fast friends."

Robert leaned over in his chair and saw all of his remaining followers laughing and trading stories with their unexpected guests. All over good German food.

"Okay. Now, I'm not saying we are officially joining your organization, but if we have the same goals then perhaps, we can work together. Besides our open support, what is it that you really want from us?"

"We need people to rely on and connections. Your own organization was once quite close with many German Americans. You can be that again… with a little help. So, what do you say?"

"I think we're going to have a lot of details to work out between us."

"Of course!" Albert said, shaking hands with the Klansman. The first step in his plan was complete.

So It Begins

Despite how far life had come, I still often heard the cannon in my sleep. Rolling over, I tried to shut it out, but Ogun still lurked in the shadows. It went away for some time, but since joining the CCC, the symbol crept back into both my dreams and nightmares. Something was coming, but I could not say what it was. Was it real? Maybe, maybe not. But I imagined the worst thing this symbol could mean, and it was foreboding indeed. It meant that my work wasn't done, and becoming a killer once more scared me like nothing else.

Sitting up, I took in my surroundings. Bella was there beside me, yet there was a distance between us that had yet to close up. I could only guess it was my two-year absence working for the government. And, as much as I didn't want to admit it, William's presence wasn't helping matters. Still, my obligation to him was absolute and there was no force on Earth that was going to keep my from fulfilling my duty as his father. That first letter we sent would be to Roselyn soon enough, and I'd have to write a second one within a few days to keep her updated on our son. That could wait a little while, though. A small movement caught my eye and I remembered that Emily was there in bed as well, safely guarded by both Bella and me. Smiling, I leaned down and kissed the girl on the forehead before pulling the covers back over Emily. I stood up, stretched, and looked around for a clean pair of pants.

Walking down the hall, I peaked in and checked on Riley. Her becoming a woman in my absence was about the most reliable way to make me feel old. It felt like last month I was changing her diaper and last week I was letting her sleep on my chest during a thunderstorm. Now there she was, the silhouette of a woman lit by the moon's light shining through the window. Even if she wasn't completely grown yet, she was damn close. By some miracle I actually succeeded in giving her a better life.

"At least you did one thing right, Ethan." I said to myself as I continued down the stairs. Looking in on the Rickabys' room, I peered in and was happy to see Oliver sleeping soundly in one bed and Joseph in the other. The three adolescents under this roof along with Casy would soon be taking on the world, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was going to throw at them. Hopefully nothing as bad as trench warfare, the mafia, and all the things I had to face. At least I had a family to show for all that sacrifice and risk. "I hope I taught you well enough." I whispered before closing the door.

I looked at the time. It was four in the morning and twilight was coming to an end. "Well, might as well get to work." I said to myself.

Sliding open the barn door, I carefully lit the kerosene lantern hanging from a nail just inside the barn. The warm glow of the lantern illuminated the sleek paint of the new coupe. It was indeed a fine choice of automobile, not that we had much of a choice. But if Rocky was going to carry us to victory, then it was likely to be in this Ford before me. I didn't know much about racing cars, but reducing weight was one thing that would surely help. Digging around in the chest of Viktor's old tools, I found the right wrench and opened up the car door to start pulling seats. By the time Rocky and Freckle were back out here I wanted them to have a fresh canvas upon which they would build a masterpiece.

"Daddy?" A small voice asked just as I was starting to concentrate. Startled, I hit my head on the inside of the door.

"Ow! Son of a b—" I had to bite my tongue to not swear in front of the little one. There she was, standing around in her night dress and boots, rubbing her eyes.

"Sweetie, it's really early. Come on, I'll get you back in bed." I said, standing up and leaning down to pick her up.

"No!" Emily protested. "I want to help."

It really was adorable to see her so determined to help me of all people. But young kids needed their sleep. "Emily, you should try to sleep some more."

"Why are you here?" She asked instead.

Sitting down on the seat I only managed to loosen one bolt on so far. Taking my jacket off, I wrapped it around the girl so she wouldn't catch a cold. "Your uncles need this car to win their races, so I'm getting a head start."

"Oh…" Emily said, taking in the new information. "Can I help?"

"I think it's important you get some more sleep, sweetie. Let daddy take care of this stuff."

"Aww… please?" Emily then gave me a sad but hopeful look. It always was my weakness.

"Okay, but you'll have to stay up until nap time, so if you start getting cranky don't be crying to me about it." I set her down and spun her so she was looking at the tool cabinet.

"I need you to get me the five-eighths wrench. Look for a five over eight."

Emily nodded and went over to the cabinet while I got back to work.

Handing the wrench to me, I took it and started loosening the other set of bolts holding the back seat down.

"Dad, why are you taking the car apart?"

"We have to make the car lighter so that it will go faster." I said.

"What's this do?" She asked. Rolling my eyes, I craned my neck from under the car to see what she was pointing at.

"That's the window crank, sweetie." I explained.

"Oh…"

After a couple minutes of silence, I heard the dreaded complaint. "Daddy, I'm bored."

Sighing, I thought quickly to figure out what I could have her do. Just then, the nut came loose and it dropped into the dirt by my head where I couldn't reach. Then a light bulb came on in my head.

"I've got the perfect job for you, Emily. I need you to pick up every nut and bolt I drop. Can you do that?"

"Okay!" She said with renewed excitement. I guessed she just wanted to feel helpful. And helpful she was! I didn't have to stop to search for every nut and bolt and screw as I worked around the car. And she stayed out of the way as I worked… except for the occasional tail or butt in my face as she tried turning around. By the time the sun peaked above the horizon, we were both filthy from dirt and grease, but as I finished taking off the last bolt, Emily laid down beside me and tucked herself under my armpit.

"And there! Now all those parts will come out easier." I explained, setting the wrench down on my chest. Glancing down, I caught her staring out the barn door at the rising sun. I also noticed all the dirt for the first time.

"Goodness, mom isn't going to be happy about that." I said.

"Why?"

"You're all dirty, silly!" I said, dabbing some grease right on her nose. She smiled and giggled in response before patting my cheek with an open, dirty palm. It left a small handprint on the side of my face.

"You're dirty too!" She said with glee.

"Yep! Not as bad as being in a mine though."

"What's a mine?"

It occurred to me that in my two-year absence Emily probably never heard that word before. "It's a hole in the ground where people dig out metals."

"Is the work bad?"

"Bad? Oh, you mean 'hard'."

She nodded.

"Yes, it's very hard work. Your uncles… not Rocky and Freckle, but two others you never met, worked in a copper mine with me."

"What's copper?"

Glancing around, I saw a stripped grounding wire under the car. "Copper is this stuff; it lets us power houses and cars with electricity."

"Wait, I have more uncles? Can we see them?"

I remembered then that I probably shouldn't have brought it up.

"They, uh… Liam and Sean aren't here anymore."

She gave me a confused look, so I sighed and explained. "They passed away long before you were born, Emily. It's also why you don't see grandma and grandpa on my side of the family."

"Are they old like nana Julia and papa Andreas?"

"They would be older." I said, remembering them. "There's a lot I need to teach you, but for now let's go get a head start on breakfast, shall we?"