by Barry Smith
The other thugs draw their guns on her in response, and the lead thug replies, “I think the odds say it’s you who’s about to get fucked up.”
Smirking, Night Sparrow leaps up and disappears into the night sky, leaving the InfliXion members staring and searching the place for her; the leading thug shouts,
“Where the fuck did she go?”
The very second he completes his statement, a loud bang is heard and his head explodes wide open, splattering the contents of his skull on the rest of the gang’s faces.
“Anyone still want to bet on those odds?” It is Night Sparrow, reloading her guns and standing behind the thugs.
Horrified and in shock, the thugs cowardly take to their heels.
***
In Twist’s office, Quade is being briefed by Shadowlark and Dovine,
”What’s the status of the bounty I placed on those two?”
“Well,” replies Shadowlark, “With the increase of security here on the island, I was only able to deploy six of our men.”
Then Dovine continues, “But I was able to call in a favor from one of my debtors: my brother, Damian Estrada, the leader of InfliXion, and he has let us borrow a few good men of his. This was the only way we could expedite the capture of…”
“Are you mother fuckin’ kidding me?” interrupts Quade and flying into another fit of rage, “Those InfliXion thugs are un-fuckin-predictable. They are not going to get the job done. They always go rogue and do sloppy work in their desperate dash for meager spoils; I watched these Ryan & Bryce on the security tape, these fuckers are professionals, and I need the best to go up against them. Find Falcon and have him do the mother-fuckin' job himself!”
“Of course, Commander!” replies Shadowlark, “We’ll do that right away.”
***
With the Corbindale Police Force having been temporarily disbanded, Ryan and Bryce are at the station packing the things they feel they will need.
“What’s going on; where are you going?” asks Gloria.
“I’ll explain more in the car. Shut down the office upon our departure.”
Ryan reaches for his bag and a few boxes of case files.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” replies Bryce, as he grabs his bag of clothes, and another bag full of guns, and walks out with Ryan out his office. They join the other police officers, who are headed out the main entrance. At the doors, stands Captain McCormack, who is the last to step out the building. He locks the doors to the precinct, passing chains around its handles before binding the ends with a chain. After locking up, he turns and heads for his car. As he gets into his car, he shouts,
“Swett! Delles! I want these fuckers badly. So find a way for us take them down, and hard!” And with that, he drives off.
Ryan and Bryce soon follow, with Ryan in his car and Bryce on his Harley-Davidson; they drive aimlessly, within the city limits, in search of a place to pass the night. After several hours of wandering, Bryce rides up to Ryan, and asks him through a wound-down window,
“Hey, there’s a diner a couple of blocks away, wanna stop and get something to eat? All this aimless roaming around has me hungry.”
“Sure,” replies Ryan, “Lead the way.”
Minutes later, both men pull up at the diner
“What a classy establishment,” Gloria comments sarcastically.
‘Ike’s Waffle and Henhouse’ was a rectangular building, and one of the few businesses that thrived on the north border of Trouble Town. Inside, Ryan and Bryce sit at the counter and wait for their orders to be taken. A redhead waitress, saunters up to them seconds later, with a stylus and a digital tablet in her hand and struck up a conversation.’
“Evening, Gentlemen. I’m Colette, as the nametag reads; what would you be ordering this fine evening?”
“A courteous waitress,” says Ryan out loud, “That’s a first.”
“Ours is truly a city of wonders,” adds Bryce.
“Not as much of a wonder as what I saw swinging between your legs when you walked in,” replies Colette, making Ryan burst into a laugh.
The three converse for a few more minutes, before Colette left to fetch their orders. When she returns with their food, Ryan and Bryce, like hungry wolves, immediately begin to devour it, and as she watches them eat, she says,
“It’s not too often we get good looking men like you up in here, and I lucked-out by getting two good lookers in my section. But it looks like I’m not the only one who has turning heads. Don’t look now, but the men at that booth have been eyeballing you since you guys got in, and it doesn’t look like they want you how I would want you.”
Bryce drops his keys, and as he bends to pick it up, he looks at the booth Colette had pointed out and its occupants, then he returns to his meal.
At the booth are four InfliXion thugs dressed in black and red; and as Bryce finishes his meal, one of them gets up and goes to the restroom.
“Where are you going?” asks Ryan.
“To have a closer look,” replies Bryce, before throwing onto the counter, the napkin he had used to clean his mouth and walking over to the InfliXion members.
“Gentlemen,” he begins, “Can I help you with anything?”
The thug sitting at the edge of the booth replies, “Yeah, by coming with us, there is a bounty out for both of you. So you can either come with us quietly, or we leave here with your severed head.”
Sarcastically, Bryce says, “Yeah, I hear you InfliXion boys give good head.”
“Oh, I give great head,” responds the thug.
“Then we’ll start with this one.” Forcefully pulling the man’s head towards his crotch, Bryce knees the man in the face, knocking him out cold. Before the other two men can react, Bryce stabs one of them in the hand, pinning his hand down to the table. The other one goes for his gun, but is shot in the head by Ryan from a distance.
A coffee cup on the counter next to Ryan shatters; it is the InfliXion member who left for the restroom that has returned, and is shooting at Ryan and Bryce. While Ryan ducks underneath the counter and Bryce underneath the booth, the assailant clambers on to the top of the counter and continues shooting down at both men. Abruptly, the shooting stops, with the thug grabbing his ankle and screaming in anguish. Behind him, Chef Ike stands, with a blood-stained cleaver and a detached foot on the counter in front of him, yells,
“Not in my restaurant, you don’t! I spent damn good fuckin money investing in this place, and I won’t have you fuckin’ hoodrats come in here and fuck shit up!”
He reaches down and pulls a shotgun from underneath the back counter and then shouts,
“Get the fuck out!! All of you!!” The busted gang members limp for the door, dragging their unconscious and handicapped friend with great difficulty.
“What the fuck are you two waiting for?” asks the Chef, with murderous rage in his eyes while training his gun on them.
“Shit!” whispers Ryan, “Let’s get the fuck outta here, Bryce.”
Both men then hurriedly walk out the door to their respective vehicles and speed off.
***
“Where on Earth is Sage?” asks Phoenix backstage at Quist’s, as another Guilty Pleasures show is about to commence.
All present goes mute as no one seems to have an answer.
“How the fuck are we supposed to have the show, if our host is not here?” thunders the voice.
“I can host the show,” volunteers Jett, “At least until she shows up…”
“I am sorry, everyone!”
It is Sage walking in somber.
“Sage, where the fuck have you been? You had me worried,” asks Phoenix
“I had business matters to attend to,” explains Sage, “But it’s all good; I’m here now.”
“Ok good, fuckin’ get dressed, you go on stage in five Miss Thing.”
Humming to herself, Sage walks over to her dressing mirror, sits, and slowly reapplies her makeup, her concerned face soon begins to smile, as ha
ppy thoughts begin to fill her head. After getting dressed, she stands behind the curtain and waits for her cue.
“You ok?”
It is a dancer placing her hand on her shoulders.
“Yes,” she replies, “Just have a lot on my mind.”
Flashing a knowing smile, the dancer responds, “From the looks of it, he must be really special.”
Sage cannot help but blush as the curtains are lifted, putting her in the harsh glare of the spotlights. The music starts, and as she performs a song portraying a businesswoman with a crush on her associate, she finds herself daydreaming about Ryan.
***
Ryan and Bryce drive to the outskirts of the city, and eventually chanced upon vacancy at a small rundown motel called “Look On the Bright Side Motel”. As they park, Ryan looks up at the signboard and thinks to himself,
“’Look On The Bright Side;’ yeah, easier said than done.”
Then he scoffs and goes into the reception. Inside at the front desk, sits a lady with an inordinate amount of makeup on her face, and an ill-fitting wig badly positioned on her head, chewing gum very loudly.
On sighting Ryan and Bryce, she says disapprovingly,
“Let me guess, you’re the bottom…” looking at Ryan, “…and you’re the top…” looking at Bryce, “…and you want the honeymoon suite?”
“Look, lady!” retorts Bryce sharply, “We’re tired, we need a room, and we’re not in the mood for your trailer park attitude. Either our money is good here, or it’s not!” Then he slaps a stack of bills on the counter.
Still chewing her gum loudly and revoltingly, the woman counts the money, then reaches into a drawer and hands Bryce a room key.
“You’re upstairs, room 6.”
Replying her in an angst tone, Bryce says, “Thanks again for your wonderful hospitality.”
They bring their bags up to the room, but Ryan, pondering what the receptionist had said:
“Why did she think I was the bottom?”
Bryce replies, “Maybe it’s because you wear your suits too tight, but who cares!”
Then taking his shirt off, he adds, “I’m going to take a shower because right now, I stink like waffles and ass.”
“Yes, not the best combo,” replies Ryan, “While you’re doing that, I’m going to run back out to the car and get my box of case files.”
After Ryan has brought in the box, he places it on one of the double-sized beds, and begins to examine its contents. As Bryce sings in the bathroom, Ryan sees that the officers have included some files that he had not seen before. He opens one and sees that it contains two report forms filled out by Father Covay several days before; his mind flashes back to the scene he created at the police station days ago, while complaining about the violence in Trouble Town. In his report, he has several detailed pages of the injuries each and every Brother of the Missionary had sustained while out in the field, but it is his second report that really catches Ryan’s eye. It reads that one of Covay’s Missionaries, Ricky Lawson had gone missing, but a church member had witnessed very late one evening, in Trouble Town, Ricky being thrown in the back of a trunk by a ‘…hippy-looking guy with an eyepatch.’
Knowing he is getting closer to something with this Enforcer, Ryan calls out to Bryce, and hurriedly runs to knock on the bathroom door to inform him of his findings,
“Hey Bryce!”
Ryan knocks on the door, unintentionally forcing the door to crack open, just enough to see in full view, Bryce’s naked backside staring back at Ryan through the curtain-less shower.
Bryce, with his eyes still closed from the lather of his shampoo, heard sounds and yells over the sound of the running water:
“Ryan, did you say something?”
Ryan, unable to find his voice, simply stands there staring, much longer than he should have, before relapsing into poetry:
Oops, I thought this was locked, but to my surprise,
I try closing the door, but stand frozen in time.
He responds to my voice, but I stand here mute.
Why don’t I answer him? Nothing computes,
No man can’t help but to idolize.
A tight ripped physique and stallion thighs,
His muscular butt forms a channel to pass
For the river of suds down the crack of his ass.
Naked before me, completely unaware,
For some damn reason, I can’t help but stare.
He turns away from the faucet to catch me there,
But his eyes are still closed from shampooing his hair.
I breathe a sigh of relief that my cover’s not blown,
But my obsession to see it has now quite grown.
Now finally, I see it, a work of art to admire.
My thoughts are conflicted; this can’t be desire?
His defined abs and slender waist,
The chance of being caught makes my heartbeat race.
As he lathers his body everywhere,
For some damn reason, I can’t stop my stare.
But when the lather is rinsed from his well-endowed,
My body betrays me when I become aroused.
What’s this feeling I have? I can’t summarize.
Is it true that my thoughts now fantasize?
Nah, it can’t be. I promise, I swear,
But with a cock like that, you can’t help but stare.
Ryan, forcing himself out of his trance, quietly shuts the door and tiptoes back to the bed where he sits pretending to wait for Bryce to finish having his shower.
Minutes later, Bryce comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and another in his hand, with which he used to dry his hair.
“I’m sorry, did you say something while I was in the shower?” he asks Ryan.
“Yeah,” Ryan begins, “I wanted you to see what I discovered.”
Then showing him the report forms, he says, “Look, this was the boy with the alligator boots I told you about, the one I said I saw the Enforcer dunk in his trunk, the same boots that your dancer friend had on; it says here his name is ‘Ricky Lawson’.”
“What about it?” asks Bryce.
“I was thinking,” devises Ryan, “you could go this Ricky Lawson’s residence and see if you can dig up more about Falcon; the night he was taken, I saw a girl run after him. If she’s still there, she may be able to give us useful information.”
“That’s fine. What about you, what are you going to do?” asks Bryce, putting his shirt on.
“I think I’ll go see Father Covay, find out more about this Ricky guy and why Falcon might be interested in him. The other thing that still clouds my mind is why hundreds would be missing, but just a handful were brutally murdered and put out on display. The Numerical Slasher case has become completely convoluted in all of this. And with these Sky Kill Assassins…what does one do about that? I’m not sure if their strength is an evil supernatural or just superhuman. Will this investigation lead to an exorcism or a State of Emergency.” he chuckles awkwardly to himself. “Either way, this could be some scary shit.”
***
An emergency council meeting is in session at the Corbindale City Hall. Among those in attendance are: Commissioner Luke Munson, Harold Redington and his son, plus two Disciples of Zion leaders; Father, Joseph Covay and Terence Kraven.
Tensions climb high in the Assembly room, as Harold Redington is being blamed by local constituents for ‘A Wicked Haven’ being the blame for the missing and primary cause of strife and malice that had plagued the city.
The Council President, with his raised voice and pounding gavel, tries to restore order to the gathering, but they are both drowned out by the shouts of the angry citizens. Commissioner Munson, coming to the President’s rescue, steps to the microphone and tries to appease the unruly crowd:
“Please everyone, calm yourselves!! I understand your frustration, but we are doing our best to figure out why people are going missing. At this time we have no solid evidence to bring a
nyone to justice, and we…”
“Well I don’t think your best is good enough,” retorts an angry citizen rising from his seat, “The papers today showed that the missing have increased by twice as much in the last month. That’s outrageous!” he shouts, “What is it going to take for the police to wake up and smell the shit that’s right under their noses? And that shit is A Wicked Haven!”
The citizens shout in support, while Munson says to the man who had just spoken,
“You sir, sit down!”
Shouts of “You can’t silence us!” and “We have our rights!” fill the air as several more people rise to their feet.
Father Kraven then speaks into his microphone, “I think we need support from other local precincts because this problem has, and is still growing at an alarming rate. We personally, have had several of our missionary boys go missing as well. We’ve asked for help from the Corbindale Bay Police, but there isn’t enough manpower to deal with this phenomenon. We need to admit to ourselves, that “We need help!”
The crowd borrows his last words and soon begins chanting with raised fists:
“We Need Help! We Need Help!”
The Council President bangs his gavel again, in a futile attempt to re-establish order while Joseph Covay rises to ask,
“What is being done about Wicked Haven? I’ve asked before, only to be swept under the rug; but now, I firmly demand something be done about these people,” he grimaces, as he pounds his fist on the table.
“A Wicked Haven has been part of an ongoing investigation,” replies Commissioner Munson, “But nothing we have found has linked it to the missing.”
“Look, my fellow citizen,” speaks Harold Redington, rising to defend his creation, “if something devious were going on at A Wicked Haven, I would be the first to know about it. While I realize that an adult entertainment island doesn’t win any ‘Moral Brownie Points’ in your eyes, but I assure you it’s not a place of murder or mayhem as most make it out to be…”
A gunshot rings out, silencing the chaotic room, and sending blood splattering on the wall behind Harold Redington, as his body drops dead to the ground. What followed the eerie silence are screams of terror, as everyone scamper for safety, shouting at the top of their voices. Harold Jr. runs over to his father, but just before he reaches him, the room goes dark. In the darkness of the room, the sound of metal piercing through flesh is heard, along with painful grunts of those being stabbed and sliced. More screams are heard, as an onslaught ensued.
