by Derek Slaton
The one with the flattened face moaned as he attempted to sit up.
“Where’s you think you goin’, pinkie pie?” Silky sneered, and drove his knife into the guy’s ass cheek, causing a surprised scream to tear its way out of his mouth before he passed out from the sheer pain that had been rained down on him.
Three down, one to go, and that one was dancing back and forth in front of the sliding door. Silky raised an eyebrow as the frat asshole performed a pretty impressive dropkick and a few well executed punches to the air in front of him.
“Oh, you’s gonna show Silky a thing or two, huh?” The pimp raised his eyebrows in skepticism. “Aight, bitch, come on.”
Kerr started to case the entire basement, trying to ignore the thumping and clanging from upstairs. He feared Silky’s wrath for not following orders more than the demons attacking the beach house, so he did as he was told. Rose and Silky could handle themselves.
His job was to take care of the basement.
He slowly moved in the darkness, straining his eyes. Every box and blanket down there looked like a humanoid shape, but nothing was moving. His senses were on such high alert that when the shriek of an angry woman pierced the air it seemed to slam into his eardrums like a skewer.
He’d found the window that he’d heard break from the top of the stairs, and though it was right at the top of the wall at ground level, he was tall enough to peer outside. The scream had clearly come from the beach.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw two frat dicks making off with his struggling and bound coworker.
“ROSE!” He yelled, and tried to aim his gun through the broken glass. They were too far away for a handgun. Fuck.
He took a second to decide whether to try to wriggle through the window and risk slicing himself into ribbons, or take the extra time to run back upstairs and out the back door. Every second counted.
He turned to make a mad dash for the stairs, and slammed right into a pink clad chest.
Kerr looked up into the glowing eyes of the biggest frat boy he’d ever seen, and curled his hand into a fist. But the guy was more beast than man at this point, and he grabbed the recruit’s shirt, tossing him into the concrete wall like a rag doll. The wind tore out of him like a storm, and he coughed as he staggered to his feet, scrabbling for his gun.
The frat dick was standing stock still, eyes glazed as if thinking really hard about something. Before Kerr could find his gun, the guy turned abruptly like a robot, heading for the stairs.
The recruit’s eyes widened when he realized that this brainwashed frat asshole probably was very much like a robot, and barked a laugh to get his attention.
“Where do you think you’re going, dickhead?” Kerr wheezed, injecting as much bravado into his voice as possible. “You had enough of Kerr? Or are you just afraid that you’re going to get your ass kicked?” He shoved his hand into his back pocket, retrieving a small device he’d been saving for a special occasion.
Polo shirt hesitated, his lips twitching into a sneer, but then back to a thin line as he turned to the stairs again.
“Oh, I get it.” Kerr laughed, and injected his voice with as much smooth and silky attitude as he could muster. “You ain’t nothin’ but a pussy.”
The guy whipped around, anger in his hellish eyes, and stalked back to where his heckler was bouncing back and forth from foot to foot.
“That’s what I thought you piece of-” Kerr was cut off by the superhuman frat boy snatching his throat in giant hands and lifting him off of the ground. “Shit,” he choked, but managed to slip the device under the pink polo collar as he slapped the asshole with his other hand.
The guy threw his forehead into Kerr’s nose with a sickening crunch, and then dropped him in a heap on the basement floor. The recruit gasped for air as the frat dick marched away from him and up the stairs.
This fucking job.
Silky wrapped his bejeweled hand around the doorknob of the dining room, leaning down to give his prisoner a menacing grin.
“Where they takin’ her?” He asked with sugary sweetness, and when he didn’t get an answer, he slammed the door on the fucker’s ugly face.
The frat boy groaned in pain, and it was music to the pimp’s ears.
“Silky axed you a question, frat fuck,” he said, “where they fuckin’ takin’ her?”
“You can’t stop us…” the pink clad guy hissed, gargling blood in his throat.
“Oh yeah?” Silky slammed the door two more times, and then rapped the head of his 9-iron against his enemy’s nose. “How’s that feel, muthafucka? Now Silky ain’t gonna ask again. Where they takin’ her?”
“Fuck you, pimp.” The words were even more garbled. “You lose.”
Silky let out a cry of frustration and slammed the door completely, severing the asshole’s head from his body. For good measure, he plunged his ceremonial knife into the center of that god awful pink polo shirt, reveling in the nasty goo that spread out over the carpet.
He skirted it as he sheathed his knife, heading through the kitchen around to the basement door. As he opened it, a bloody hand reached up from the stairs and Kerr groaned.
“Goddamn, cracka, somebody done fucked yo ass up.” Silky reached down to grab the recruit’s hand, pulling him through the door with concern in his eyes.
“Well.” Kerr grinned through the blood pouring from his nose as he managed to stand up straight. “I guess it’s better to have my ass fucked up instead of just plain fucked.”
“Boy, this ain’t no time for words of wisdom bullshit,” Silky snapped, wringing his hands around the golf club’s handle. “We’s in some serious trouble.”
“Tell me about it,” Kerr replied, motioning to his likely broken nose.
“Cracka, I ain’t playin’.” The pimp narrowed his eyes. “They’s got Rose.”
“I know.”
“They’s got Rose and they’s plannin’ somethin’ big.” Silky started to pace, slamming the club against the tile with every step like a heavy walking stick.
“I know.”
“Silky don’t think you know, cracka.” He turned and pointed the head of the club in Kerr’s direction, eyes wilder than the recruit had ever seen them. “Rose ain’t one of Silky’s hos. We’s got no way to track her.”
“I know.”
“Goddamn, Silky’s gettin’ tired of your shit, boy.” Even through his words of panic, he still sounded cool as a cucumber, and the recruit marveled at how together his superior was in a time of crisis.
“Silky.”
“Silky ain’t finished. Your dumb ass got any idea what’s gonna happen if we can’t find ‘em?”
“Silky…”
“Bad muthafuckin’ shit, that’s what. We’s gonna get our asses reamed, and that’s even assumin’ we’s be survivin’ this shit,” Silky rambled.
“Goddammit would you shut the fuck up, you ignorant pimp?!” Kerr cried, throwing his hands up in the air.
His superior blinked at him, drawing his shoulders back, cocking his head ever so slightly. His deep set eyes narrowed the tiniest bit and he clicked his tongue. “Is you outta your goddamn mind, honky?”
“Even though I’m pretty sure I left part of my mind on the wall downstairs…” Kerr put his hands up in front of him, taking a deep breath. “I was able to put a tracker on the guy that was beating me to a pulp. Which means we can track them with this.”
He wiggled his phone in the air, and his breathing returned to normal as Silky’s mouth spread into a wide grin on his face. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, eyes alight with glee at the news.
“If we survive this shit, you’s gonna get a free ho on Silky,” he promised, slinging the golf club up to rest over his shoulder.
“Really?” Kerr returned the smile, bloody face and all. “Do I get to pick?”
“Don’t be pushin’ it, boy.”
“Silky’s choice.” The recruit nodded. “That’s cool.”
Silky clapped Kerr on t
he back and barked a laugh. “My cracka’s growin up so fast!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his face.
“Alright, let’s go save Rose.” Kerr held up the phone, running the companion app to the tracking device.
Silky raised the golf club in the air like a sword. “Lead on, my honky!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rose twisted as best she could, but it was no use. These demons apparently had supernatural knot tying powers as well as their glowing eyes and ability to drink infinite amounts of beer.
“Save your strength my dear, you’re going to need it.” A regal voice declared, and a familiar beauty queen stepped up into Rose’s view, complete with a crown.
Rose raised an eyebrow, not having expected this bitch to show up at the frat boy’s altar party.
“The Princess,” she pursed her lips, and started wriggling anew. This could not be good. The six frat boys kneeling around her half naked and bound form had been disconcerting enough. But this was probably going to end far worse than if they’d been in charge.
“You know who I am?” The blonde raised a delicate hand to Rose’s face, drawing a pink fingernail down the curve of her cheekbone. “I’m impressed. I wasn’t aware that the Agency knew of my existence.”
“Well, what do you expect?” The redhead asked with her signature eye roll. “How many innocent people have you killed? Ten, twenty? The Agency was going to get wind of you eventually.” She hoped she could keep the bitch talking long enough for that very Agency to come to her rescue.
“My dear, the men that have fallen before me are but the tip of the iceberg,” the Princess smiled daintily, drawing her fingernail down Rose’s collarbone, reaching the swell of her lace clad breast. “After tonight, there won’t be a man--or woman--that will be able to resist us.” To accentuate her point, she took the bound woman’s nipple through the thin silk of her bra and twisted it cruelly.
“Us?” Rose seethed with the sharp pain of it, but was determined to keep the conversation going. “What are you planning? Why am I here?”
“Patience my dear, patience.” The woman looked like a valley girl but talked like a debutante, and it was really starting to annoy the agent who was being subjected to this tripe. “You mustn’t tire yourself out yet.”
“Yeah, because I’m going to need that energy to shove that tiara straight up your ass,” Rose snapped, and the blonde stared down her perfect button nose at her foul mouthed prisoner.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” she said, and moved away from the altar, gliding with practiced grace behind one of the kneeling frat demons. “You see my dear, my powers are profound by mortal standards. Do you realize what an act of god it is to make half a dozen frat boys sit silently on the beach when there is a house party just one block over? Do you?” She slid her hand up over the guy’s head, scratching behind his ear like a dog, and his eyes closed in elation.
The gentle swish, swish of the waves in the background were a strange soothing contrast to the twisted display.
“While you are doing all women a service with that, why do I get the feeling there’s more to it than that?” Rose inquired wryly, realizing that she’d twisted her wrists raw at this point. She wasn’t getting out of the ropes, her only hope of survival now was to stall as best she could.
“You’re quite right,” the Princess agreed, and slid a knife from the folds of her skirt, holding it to the frat boy’s throat. “You see, I crave more power. I want more than just the admiration of annoying little schoolboys who have no idea how to worship a woman properly.” With that, she fisted his hair and drew the blade across his neck from ear to ear without even a blink.
“Jesus Christ,” Rose blurted as the pink clad body hit the sand. “You killed him.”
“Yes.” The Princess ran a finger up the blade, fraternity blood pooling along her skin. She reached out and drew a line down Rose’s arm with it, causing the redhead to shrink away in disgust. “However, unlike so many of us, his death shall not be in vain. His death will help bring about a new order on this planet. His death, will help fulfill my destiny.”
She stabbed the second frat boy in the heart, and he fell to the ground with a grateful smile on his face. She wiped the blood and and drew it down her prisoner’s other arm, tattooing her with death.
“So what,” Rose demanded, “are you going to kill me too, skinny bitch?”
“Oh no, my dear,” the Princess tittered. “Your death, like these before you, will have meaning. But it will not be at my hands.” She stabbed the third guy in the back this time, and then wiped the blade itself across Rose’s forehead, leaving swipes of crimson on her creamy skin. “It will be at the hands of the King of the Beach.”
“Who?”
“He is the one who will fulfill my destiny,” the blonde purred, gutting the fourth frat boy with an expert stroke. His blood went along Rose’s left leg, and then the fifth, down her right.
The Princess of death stood behind the sixth and final pink clad asshole, rubbing his chin in an almost sensual way.
“When this boy’s blood hit the sand, the King of the Beach shall be reborn,” she said, voice carrying on the sea’s gentle breeze. “He will rise from the sea and take your life force for himself.”
“Great,” Rose sighed, “I’m a sacrificial offering?” The Princess’ eyes lit up with a wistful nostalgia, and she stared down at the redhead with an almost tender longing.
“He’s going to fuck the life out of you,” she said. “You have been marked with the blood of the innocent. After he has your life force and consumes the innocent blood from you, he will be more powerful than anything that has walked the earth. After that, there is nothing your friends at the Agency can do.”
“Don’t be so sure, bitch.” Rose smirked, eliciting a confused gaze from the demon Princess, and she turned to look at what the redhead had spotted.
“Alright, sugartits, Silky’s here to put an end to all this bullshit.” The pastel suede pimp stood with his legs apart in the sand, trusty 9-iron out in front of him in his signature pose. Kerr had his handgun aimed at the demon’s face, bits of paper towel shoved in his nostrils.
“What are you?” The Princess’ nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Smoothen Silky and his honky sidekick.” Silky smirked. “And we’s here to whoop yo skinny little ass.”
“I know someone who might take offense to that,” the Princess replied, and pinched the frat boy’s shoulder, simultaneously snapping her fingers on her other hand.
He stood up like a shot, turning to the newcomers as he cracked his massive knuckles. Kerr narrowed his eyes at the nemesis he’d faced in the basement.
“Goddamn that’s one big ass fuckin’ frat boy,” Silky let out an impressed whoosh of breath.
“He’s mine,” the recruit grunted, sounding slightly less intimidating with his nose plugged.
“You outta yo mind, boy?” Silky asked.
“Just be ready with that 9-iron,” Kerr growled and stepped forward. “Alright motherfucker, it’s time for round two. I hope you brought your A game, because you’re going to need it to walk away from this one.” He cracked his neck in a display of dominance.
The frat boy was stone faced, under the Princess’ spell, and thundered towards Kerr like a predator. When he was a few steps away, the recruit popped a round in each of his kneecaps, and screamed for the golf club.
Silky tossed it, and Kerr snatched it out of the air just time to smash the fray boy down to the sand, crushing his head in one swift blow.
“No!” Rose cried, letting out a sigh of frustration. They’d played right into the Princess’ hands.
“That is cold fuckin’ blooded, cracka,” Silky commended, and they both froze as the Princess began to laugh.
“That can’t be good,” Kerr commented, fist clenching around his gun. A flash of light drew their attention, and they looked up to see a glowing pod shoot down from the clouds like a meteor and plunge into the ocean below.
&nbs
p; “You completed the spiritual trigger,” the blonde demon spread her arms like wings, letting the breeze wash over her. “The King has been reborn.”
“Let’s go get this bitch.” Silky took the 9-iron out of Kerr’s hand, and the recruit’s arm fell limp. “Cracka?” He smacked Kerr’s shoulder, and realized his line of sight was directly at the ample cleavage of the demon before them. “Goddammit.” He backhanded his newest coworker, knocking him to the ground, useless.
“There’s no man on earth that can resist my tits!” The Princess cackled madly. “I’ll just have to use them on you, instead!”
The pimp swung his trusty club around like a bo staff, flinging frat boy blood all over the place. The Princess furrowed her brow at the fact that he was unfazed by her tits, ignoring the crimson splattering all over her.
