A Wicked Haven

by Barry Smith

  “Well, I see how the city being rid of one pack of anarchists is good, but how is it also bad?” asks McCormack.

  “For a gang as formidable as HB-17 to be completely decimated,” answers Brown, “The attackers must have had some serious firepower; and we have no idea whatsoever, as to who they are; our investigations, so far, have yielded no leads. But I suspect…”

  “The InfliXion,” cuts in McCormack, while running his hand over his scalp, “You think it may have been gang rivalry, don’t you?”

  Brown nods affirmatively.

  McCormack sat silent, for several seconds, before saying, “Leave the file on my desk, I’ll tend to it later.”

  “Yes, Sir,” complies Brown, as he places the file on the desk and heads for the door.

  ***

  Hours before the show, the talents of Quist are warming-up in the performer break room, when Dax Brayton walks in. He surveys the room, sees a particular group sitting at a table, to the far side, and goes over to them.

  “Hey guys!” he greets, “I got a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot man!” replies Jett, “Anything for Dax Brayton!”

  Then turning to Phoenix, “You’re Phoenix, right? I just want to say I’ve seen you perform and heard your raps, and I think you’re fucking amazing. Sage once told me you are a natural when it comes to spitting out lines and I doubted her, but now, I know better.”

  “Please Dax,” coos Phoenix, “You’re making me blush, and if I were a white girl, that would be quite apparent.”

  Dax laughs before continuing, “Anyway, I would love to feature you in one of the songs I’m working on for my new album. What do ya say?”

  “I say ‘Hell Fuckin Yeah’! Let’s do it!”

  “That’s cool; let’s meet tonight so you can hear what I have, then you can write and record your segment tomorrow. I was thinking we can debut the performance here at Quist.”

  “That’s no problem, I’m down with your plan,” replies Phoenix.

  Then turning to the remaining two, Dax said:

  “Jett and Chloe, isn’t it? I will definitely need both of your amazing vocals for backup, you in?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. Come listen tonight after work at my place. We can do a rehearsal jam-session tomorrow as well. I want us all to be spot-on when we perform this live for the first time. We cool?”

  “Yeah, we cool,” replies Phoenix.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you three tonight,” ends Dax, as he turns and walks out the room. As he walks away, Jett whispers in Chloe’s ear:

  “Wait for it!”

  And as soon as Dax is out of ear short, Phoenix does a backflip, lands on her knees and screams:

  “I’m recording a song with Dax Brayton. Take that, bitches!”

  “Jeez!” whispers Chloe back, “I really thought the cool front she puts up with Dax was for real.”

  “Please!” replies Jett, “That girl’s a hardcore Dax Brayton fan; she’s probably gonna try and steal a strand of his hair while we are recording with him.”

  “Too late bitches,” remarks Phoenix, holding a strand of hair.

  As they revel in their laughter, Sage strolls in, leading a tour of Quist for the four newly hired dancers.

  “This here is the breakroom, where all performers can stretch and relax when you are…”

  “Sage!” calls a voice cutting her off, “I need to speak with you ASAP.”

  It is Christian calling her to speak privately.

  “Dancers, a moment please. I’ll be back soon,” as Sage excuses herself and saunters over to Christian.

  “This better be good,” she threatens.

  “It’s Alexa,” begins Christian, “If you remember, she didn’t show-up for work the last two nights, and she’s not here today either; I tried calling her, got nothing. Then I went to her place and her neighbors said they hadn’t seen her in about three days.”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” explodes Sage, “This is the fourth performer who’s bailed on us without any notice. It can’t all be just a strange coincidence. I’m now concerned.”

  She taps on her lips for a moment, in thought, before saying:

  “You know what! I need you to take over this training for me; I need to speak to Bossman Twist about all this.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “What the fuck else can I do?” hiss Sage, before returning to the trainees:

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she begins with an indiscernibly false smile plastered across her face, “I would like to introduce you to Christian. Christian here, will be continuing your tour and training of the fantasy rooms. There are pressing matters that require my attention.”

  A new female dancer’s hand goes up, seeking to ask a question,

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t mind servicing the fantasy rooms, but isn’t prostitution illegal now?” asks one of the ladies.

  “Oh, honey!” replies Sage, “We’re a little more business savvy these days. Your services of satisfying horny bastards are secretly accounted for in their membership and resort fee, so you got nothing to worry about dear.”

  Sage flashes a wider sarcastic smile before strutting gracefully out the room, along a hallway, and into an elevator, headed for Quist’s topmost floor.

  ***

  In his gorgeous penthouse office suite that overlooks the skyline of Corbindale Bay, The Indian man, with the pet cockatoo on his shoulder, sits behind a white desk with gold-lined edges, listening to a young man ramble.

  Tired of listening to the young man before him, he says:

  “Hey, Dax! That’s enough! Now listen to me; remember, it was my brilliant plan to video tape that sexscapade between you and that high-profile married actress, and put it out for all to see. That’s what made you famous overnight and launched your career to become the international celebrity and heart-throb you are today. So you owe me a full year residence here at Quist, not just a measly few months.”

  “Yes uncle, but I…”

  The man cuts him off further, “We may not be full blood relatives, but I still see you as family, and that’s what families do for each other; so I expect you to do this for me.”

  “Ok, Uncle,” replies Dax, with a low shrug.

  “And I’m glad you changed and dropped your last name before that sex scandal. Not sure if it would have played out the same as Dax Twist, bloodlines of the infamous ‘Twist’ mafia family.”

  The elevator bell ding to indicate a person seeking entry into the office. Condor, the man’s bodyguard and confidant, walks over to the monitor showing camera feeds inside the elevators,

  “It’s Sage Sir.”

  “Let her in,” he responds before returning to Dax, “It looks like I have company.”

  “I’ll see myself out, Uncle,” says Dax, as he rises to his feet, “Thank you for your time.”

  As he walks towards the elevator doors, an irate Sage storms past and immediately begins to vociferate,

  “Quade Twist! We need to increase security! I have had four performers go missing and not a concern or peep from anyone on your team. I don’t know what’s going on here, but ever since that night some mysterious person chopped off Doctor Eto’s hand, things have gotten completely strange, and even stranger when this new Doctor Whitfield arrived. And speaking of strange, now there are weird requests from patrons to ‘play on the Playground.’ What the hell is that, and why is it in 7734? Not to mention…”

  “Sage! I need you to concern yourself with only the things I’m paying you for, your voice and your fucking twat. Don’t worry about my other affairs, and stay away from my mother fuckin’ ‘Playground.’ You hear me?”

  She nods in agreement, but her crossed arms and body language says otherwise.

  “Good!” replies Quade, “Now, get the fuck outta my office!”

  Sage turns to leave the office more angry, frustrated, and less trusting of Quade. As the elevator do
ors close, she sees Quade go back to business, as if she was never in the room.

  Once the elevator doors shut. “Fuckin’ Diva, she thinks she’s gotta know everything!”” mutters Quade.

  ***

  In Trouble Town, Captain McCormick and Luke Munson have stopped briefly, for cups of coffee, at a local dive called Ike’s Waffle & Henhouse. After receiving their order, they are making their way out the diner, back into their cars, when they see Damien Estrada pull up a few yards from them.

  “Hey Estrada!” yells McCormack, “I have reports accusing some of your punk-ass thugs of fucking with the missionary boys. If we catch you or any of your InfliXion fuckers harassing the Disciples, you’ll have to deal with me personally! Also, I have an entire gang eradicated, and it has your name written all over it.”

  To that, Damien responds, “Dearly noted, Captain. But I wish you would show the same amount of concern when my, as you call them, ‘fuckers’ get killed or go missing. After all, we all are citizens, aren’t we? Aren’t the cops supposed to protect us all?”

  “Please, don’t make me laugh,” replies McCormack, “You’re a notorious thug leader and a prime suspect in many of our cases, and you expect the police to protect you? What were you expecting, smooches and gift baskets? Come ooon! You’d better get that tattooed box you call a head out of the clouds before someone puts a bullet in it.”

  The Captain is still itching to get more words in when Munson pushes him towards their car, gets in, and drives off.

  ***

  Inside the Guilty Pleasures showroom, Jett, Chloe and Phoenix are rehearsing a new song with the dancers.

  “Ok guys,” shouts Phoenix, while staring at a sheet of paper, “I just got this from Sage, and she wants us to rehearse it; it’s a new song called ‘Come Inside’.”

  “Oooh!” exclaims Chloe, “I like it! It sounds, sensual.”

  “Trust me, you’ll like it even better when you hear it,” replies Phoenix, “So it goes like this…1,2,3…”

  ~

  On the other side of town, Arch Bishop Father Gallegher stands on an altar, at the Grand Temple at Shrimp King’s Wharf, giving a sermon:

  “The carnal mind is enmity against the Lord Savior. So you must clear your mind and only be one with Lord Savior, and let Him inside. Let Him inside your mind, Let Him inside your soul. Let Him inside your body, for He is all mighty. Can you feel it? The Lord Savior is here, He is inside you now, He’s inside her!”

  He points to a woman seating in the front row of the church,

  ”He’s inside him! He’s inside me! Let the choir speaketh of thy lord. You are inside us all!”

  The choir soon rise and join in, with an up-tempo gospel of ‘He’s inside me”, which took on an entirely different meaning back at rehearsals, at the Guilty Pleasures showroom. Both songs overlap into a discordant mash-up of righteousness and lustful sinfulness.

  ***

  The next day, Bryce is walking through Mid-town Park, and is passing by one of the smaller Disciples of Zion’s Temples there, when he sees a Disciple school girl standing outside its steps, and next to a booth handing out Zion leaflets. The front of the booth has a sign that reads:

  “Life with Him.”

  At the same booth is a nun selling the blue and sparkling ‘Sapphire of Life’ necklaces.

  “Good day to you, Sir. Would you like to purchase the spiritually rejuvenating ‘Sapphire Of Life’ necklaces?” asks the nun, as Bryce passes the booth.

  “No can do ma’am,” replies Bryce, without even batting an eyelid.

  The schoolgirl then ask,“Have you accepted the Lord Savior into your life, Sir? He can take all your sins away.”

  Bryce replies, “No, thank you, I’m good with my sins.”

  As he walks away, the schoolgirl tries to get in some last words by shouting:

  “All can be forgiven to inherit the Kingdom of Zion. Just repent and let the Lord Savior into your life!”

  Bryce turns the corner, and walks a few blocks more before reaching the police precinct. He immediately heads for Ryan’s office, and on getting there, he swiftly opens the door, only to find Ryan drop something and fluster upon his entrance.

  Ryan leans forward in his chair, and reaches underneath, as if to zip up his trousers, all the while saying,

  “You’ve got to learn how to knock kid.”

  “Let me guess,” responds Bryce,“You have another assistant under there?”

  Ryan then holds up his right hand and says, “Yes, Bryce, meet Candy; she’s very handy in the Self-Service Department.”

  Then turning his hand into a puppet, he speaks in a high-pitched voice,

  “Oh, it so nice to meet you. Don’t mind me; I’m just here to help.”

  “I think you need more poetry in your life,” remarks Bryce, as both men share a laugh.

  After normalcy has returned, Ryan apologizes,

  “Yeah, sorry about that, Bryce; just another ‘itch’ I had to scratch.”

  A familiar female voice then chips in, “Indeed, we are truly sorry, my boss is such a pervert.”

  “Hey, that’s no way to talk about me?”

  “Yeah right!” continues Gloria, “I’ve witnessed so many of your perversions, that it’s starting to leave remnants in my personality data. Ugh!”

  Bryce burst into laughter again, as Ryan’s cellphone begins to ring.

  “Hello,” answers Ryan.

  From his seat, Bryce can hear words being rapidly and incoherently spoken on the other end. Ryan listens patiently for several minutes, his initial smile slowly changing into a scowl, before in frustration, he hollers:

  “Look, stop calling me! Get a fucking life and move on!” He then ends the call, switches off the phone, and tosses it in his drawer.

  “Trouble in paradise?” asks Bryce.

  “Sorry, kid. That was my ex-wife. A fucking crazy woman who won’t leave me alone. Our union was single-handedly the biggest mistake of my life. I keep blaming myself for thinking that our marriage would be ‘Happily Ever After’. But even after the divorce, I can’t rid myself of her and her ‘controlling ways’.”

  “She sounds scary,” comments Bryce.

  “Trust me, she is,” affirms Gloria, “I looked her up and yeah, she’s quite the bitch!”

  “Okay, that’s enough talk about the sorry excuse for a woman that is my ex-wife,” says Ryan, before steering the conversation in a different direction, “Bryce, what do ya got on Sage?”

  Bryce replies, “Other than her big tits are real because they float in the bathtub; not much on my end.”

  “Oh, you men,” sighs Gloria.

  Ryan then shares his findings in the course of following the Enforcer the previous night, with Bryce: Ashton Heights, the captured young man with the alligator boots, the girl chasing after him and all.

  “Sounds like you struck gold,” says Bryce, after Ryan has finished talking, “You certainly had more luck than I did.”

  “I don’t know Bryce, I still don’t have much on this Enforcer. I checked his license plate number and home address into our systems, but they both came up as registered under one…eh…What was it again?”

  “Quade Twist,” offers Gloria, helpfully.

  “You don’t say?” exclaims Bryce, “Quade ‘Mother Fuckin’ Twist, haven’t heard that name in a long while.”

  Ryan peers at him, in the way one looks at a crazy person, before Bryce explains:

  “You see, that was his mob nick name, because he could barely complete a sentence without saying the word ‘mother fuckin’.”

  “Charming nickname,” notes Ryan, “What else do you know about him?”

  Bryce goes on to tell the story of Quade Twist; how his mother Aanya Dayal, a beautiful woman of Indian heritage hailing from Mumbai, eloped into an Irish-American mob family, named ‘The Twists’.

  “Quade always resented his mother deeply, and the only thing he hated more was how his step-father and crime lord, Frank Twist, ran the family.
Those family ties changed the direction of his life, because Quade was a young genius scholar, who earned two Masters in Biomedical Engineering and Computer Science. He was recognized immediately for his talents, and was recruited by the military’s Bureau of Scientific Defense. But instead of him being known for his brilliance, his fame comes from conspiring to kill his father, and succeeding in doing so to become the first Indian crime lord of an Irish mob, and the most powerful mob boss in Corbindale Bay history.”

  “Oh, I can just imagine their Thanksgiving day dinner; green beer and chicken curry, yum!” chimes Gloria, with sarcasm.

  Bryce laugh’s but continues, “Quade also has this obsession for birds. He has a pet cockatoo that he loves dearly. He even named his assassins after one bird or the other; he calls them all ‘Sky Kill Assassins’. A ruthless mafia handed down from his father’s reign, who was always clad in black suits and ties. But Twist has been off the radar for a few years now, no doubt due to that Zion movement, and the fall of many other crime families in the city,” concludes Bryce, as his revelation winds to its close.

  “Wait a minute!” he exclaims again,“ I never thought about it this way but what if the club’s name, ‘Quist’, is a combination of Twist’s last name and first name?”

  “Nice work picking up on that!” commends Ryan, “If that is really the case, then there’s a whole lot of fishy business going on down there, fishy business we have to bring to the surface.”

  “This ‘Enforcer’ fellow, were you able to pin his identity?” asks Bryce.

  “Not quite. But I do have a strange feeling I’ve encountered him somewhere before,” responds Ryan.

  “Too bad. If I had a photo of the guy, I might have been able to recognize him since I’ve lived in Corbindale for quite some time…. but maybe I can still help with that,” says Bryce, as he pulls out his phone and dials a number.

  “Who are you calling?” asks Ryan.

  “My roommate, Doug; he works at the paper as well, as a photojournalist; he should be able to get us some pictures of this ‘Enforcer’.”

  Turning aside to make the call, Bryce speaks into the phone,

  “Hey Doug, it’s Bryce. I need some SP’s done at Quist, then followed to the property of 8133 Davenport Lane… Subject’s Identity? Uhhh…”