by Leo Romero
The helicopter cut through the air at a rapid speed, covering mileage at a crazy pace. It was at moments like this that Dom knew he wasn't cut out for the army, or for a mercenary force; he just couldn't handle the amount of air travel. He began deep breathing and he found that helped. He was gradually growing accustomed to the sensation of bobbing on the air a hundred miles up in a metal bird with Guns N' Roses blasting in his ears. His chest began to calm and he ventured to have another look down. Downtown Chicago was fast coming into view. A patch of forest-like buildings intersected by a gash of a river. The whole area radiated an angelic glow from the lights, burning the night sky a rust color. Dom squinted his eyes to study the area. And he saw it. Sticking up like a giant nail or black fingernail was the I-Sore building. It was dark and brooding, no lights at all emanating from it bar the blinking red LEDs attached to the roof to warn low flying aircraft of its existence. A black-tinted box of secrets. A pylon of whispers. Dom gulped.
The music then went low. "Black fingernail, this is Rhino Peacock, come in," Mack said into his radio.
Dom watched him with anxious eyes.
"Black Fingernail, this is Rhino Peacock, come in, over."
"Rhino Peacock. What is your status?" came a reply accompanied with crackle.
"Preparing to land, over."
"Affirmative, someone will be up to meet you. Over."
"Get ready!" Trixie shouted above the noise of the rotors.
Dom sucked in a big breath of air, steeling himself. He closed his eyes and muttered a small prayer, to who and for what, he didn't really know.
He watched on as they began to make their descent toward those flashing red lights on the roof of the I-Sore. They were like the eyes of a waiting spider, its web a myriad of tinted glass windows stitched together with steel beams. Who knew what was waiting for them in that building; the non-public floors were like Chicago's very own Area 51--no go zones unless one had clearance. A place where those who wished to remain hidden could do so under the guise of commerce. A place where the mantra of 'security threat' was utilized to ward off snoops and prying eyes. And they were about to delve deep into its confines; a young gun fresh off the street and a chick who could pull off a summersault with the guile of a dolphin leaping through rough seas; both of them armed with dart guns. He grabbed his head and rubbed it, the realization setting in that they most probably wouldn't walk back out of that black tower. He looked around him; the man-made forest of the Loop sprawled like a contagion. He thought of Vincent, a prisoner inside that fortress; the man who was trying to save both him and his brother from these creatures of darkness. He thought of him bound and gagged like that weirdo back at Whiplash; the only difference Vincent being tortured against his will. A sudden anger usurped the nausea and fear. This is what he'd signed up to: war. A war between what he believed to be good and evil. And right then, he was being sent in on a rescue mission. A rescue mission that had to succeed. Had to.
"All right," he said to himself with a steely nod. "Let's do this!"
A soft hand fell on his knee and he flinched. He rolled his eyes down to see Trixie's small hand there; she squeezed his knee. He looked up to meet her stare; her flawless emerald eyes gazed back at him from within the faceless mask of her balaclava--the two were a total contrast; they just didn't fit at all. He caught slight signs of fear slushing around in those eyes, but he also saw a determination, an abundance of strength, a compassion solidifying her irises, injecting him with equal measure the same way vamps jab their venom into the veins of humans.
She gave him a small nod of her head and he knew, somehow, he knew she was smiling beneath her mask; he could see it in her eyes. He thumped his knee. "I'm ready! Let's do this!" he shouted, pumping his chest out. "Let's frickin' do this!"
Trixie leaned in and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder.
Dom glared downward to see they were now hovering over the roof, a giant 'H' embossed on its surface directly below them. Lights blinked all around them in synchronized patterns as they began their descent. As they dropped, Dom's stomach flew up. He sat back and closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down again. The surface of the roof was approaching fast, all around him red lights flashed like warning signs. He glanced over at Trixie; the red LEDs were winking in her irises. Dread was creeping back into his mind. Butterflies fluttered through his rearranged stomach. Keep it cool, he kept telling himself. Remember why we're here!
In the next instant, they made contact. The skids hit the roof and they bounced up again. Dom rocked in his seat. Woah! Mack tried again, this time getting his landing more fluid. The skids touched the roof once more, and this time they stuck. They were now steady, back on land, kind of.
"We made it," Trixie said in a relieved whisper, looking around with wide eyes.
"No problemo," Mack said before he got on the radio. "Black fingernail, this is Rhino Peacock. We've just landed, over."
"We'll be right there."
Mack killed the engine and the rotors began to slow to a lazy whirl. Then everything went eerily silent. He turned in his seat to face them. "Remember, if you don't make contact within an hour, I'm outta here."
Trixie unbuckled her belt. "Understood."
"Good luck in there," Mack said with a sincere smile before turning and flicking buttons.
"So where's the welcoming party?" Dom asked in a nervy voice while undoing his belt.
Trixie slid the door open, releasing the outside world; it was silent, bar the distant drone of downtown Chicago traffic way down somewhere below. A cold air cut through the helicopter, shivering Dom to his bones.
"Come on, let's go," Trixie said, before she stepped out of the helicopter. Dom slid across the seat and followed her up. He threw his legs down and landed his feet on the concrete roof. He turned and threw the door shut behind him. He then looked around. A black night sky stared back at him, those blinking LEDs all over the roof now appearing like detonators; get too close and they'll go off.
"What now?" Dom asked Trixie.
"I don't know."
"I told you this wasn't gonna work."
"Will you--"
The roof door over to their left then swung open, halting Trixie mid-sentence. They both spun to face it. Standing in the doorway was Sammy the Saint, the vamp from Club Venom. Dom's jaw dropped. He snapped it shut again. Sammy swung an arm across the air, urging them to follow him.
"Looks like we enter the building," Trixie said in a quiet tone.
Dom took the lead, puffing his chest out. He tried his best to inject authority into his march, wanting to replicate a Blacklake thug as best he could. He kept his stare fixed on Sammy the whole time he neared him. Be cool, Dom. Be cool, he kept telling himself. Be. Cool.
As they drew closer to Sammy, Dom could see he was smiling; his fangs and dark eyes gleamed in the low light of the stairwell he was stationed in.
"We thought you were never gonna find the item," Sammy said to them both as they stopped short of the doorway. "The old man's a tough nut to crack."
Dom glanced back at Trixie; her eyes brimmed with concern.
Sammy then stepped back into the doorway, allowing them entrance. They walked through, Trixie allowing the roof door to close behind her.
And they were in.
In the I-Sore, the Black Fingernail. Part A of the plan was a success, now they just needed to implement part B: get to Vincent.
The overhead fluorescents lit up the whole stairwell: the bland off-white walls, the metal staircase leading down to a fire escape door and up to the small metal grating all three of them now stood on. Dom got a sudden sensation of being locked inside the womb of a demon; somewhere deep down below them pulsed a black and putrid heart. His venom sense leaped into cataclysmic mode. There were sources of venom everywhere in this building, with one in particular like a waterfall of the stuff. It was skulking somewhere not far off; a few floors at most. It was calling them like a chocolate river to a kid. It wanted to pull him in. A shiver jol
ted up his spine alongside the venom hum.
Keep cool, Dom. Keep cool.
He sucked in a hot breath through the fabric of his balaclava, trying his best to ignore the intense tingles. It was like trying to shake off an electrical charge.
Sammy turned to face them both, his hands on his hips. There was a confused frown etched into his pale face. "Ain't you a little short for a Blacklake?" he asked Trixie, pointing at her.
Trixie's eyes darted left and right.
"He only started on the roids last week," Dom interjected. "They still haven't kicked in."
Sammy nodded. "Roids, huh?"
Dom grinned. "Yeah. Give it a month and he'll be shitting bricks!"
Trixie gave Sammy a firm nod of her head.
"I can't wait to see that," Sammy said with just a hint of irony. "So, you got the item?"
"Affirmative," Dom replied.
"Show it to me," Sammy demanded.
Trixie put her hand in her pocket and pulled the item out. She held it up for Sammy to see.
Sammy's eyes sparkled as he stared at it. He put out his hand. "Hand it over."
Trixie shook her head.
"Negative," Dom said to Sammy. "We want to hand it to Leviah personally."
Sammy's face contorted. "Do you know who I am?" he countered in a spiky tone.
"Of course, but we want to give it personally to Leviah as a gesture of goodwill on the part of Blacklake."
Sammy froze. He stared at them with that same contorted face. Dom swallowed, he held his stare on the vamp as hard as he could. He was just waiting for Sammy to trigger off his eyes and try and hypnotize them both, and then he'd have to worm his way out of explaining why he wasn't being put under. The Sun Enterprise anti-vamp hypnosis lenses they were both wearing would give them away. He could feel his legs beginning to tremble.
They're not gonna buy this, they're not gonna buy this! THEY'RE NOT BUYING! he screamed in his mind as he stared forever at that hard, twisted face ahead of him.
From nowhere, Sammy burst into hearty laughter. His face reached for the ceiling, his fangs protruding outward. "HAHAHA!" he bellowed. He then turned to face them once more. "Goodwill, huh? That's a new one. You mercs always come up with them. Black fingernails and rhino peacocks and shit like that!" He gave Dom a vigorous pat on the shoulder. "Goodwill?" he laughed again.
Dom joined him. "Ha, yeah, goodwill. That's all, man. Just plain old goodwill."
"Ah, the boss will just love you two. Come on, let's go." He turned his back on them.
Dom's chest relaxed. He glanced at Trixie; she gave him a positive nod, placing the item back in her pocket. Plan B was in full effect. This fool was going to lead them to Leviah, which would surely lead to Vincent, and then they could get plan C into action, whatever plan C was.
Sammy began sauntering down the stairs, the clang of his shoes on metal bouncing off the brick walls around them. "Drake had us all scared shitless after he stole that relic," he said over his shoulder. "Still don't know how he managed it. The boss usually keeps that thing under lock and frickin' key. It's a mystery."
Trixie urged Dom to follow Sammy down the steps. Dom patted the air in response before he began his descent, his boots creating a louder clang than Sammy's shoes. Trixie followed up.
"The boss kinda went crazy after that," Sammy continued. "It's weird, like it's got some kind of spell on him. He really needs that relic for some reason. Don't know why."
"Maybe it's his good luck charm," Dom suggested.
"Yeah, he sure acts like it is. But, who am I to question him, huh? Man, damn Drake really got what was coming to him when the old man and his bitch daughter smoked him."
Dom started. He briefly turned his head to face Trixie. She was giving Sammy's back daggers.
Sammy reached the end of the stairwell, stopping ahead of the fire escape. He reached out a hand and grabbed the door handle. He then paused for a moment. "Mind you, I never did like that asshole. He had shifty eyes." He then pulled the door open and held it. He turned to face them both. "After you..."
Dom took a deep breath and then stepped past Sammy through the doorway. The whole time, Sammy's eyes never left him alone. A shiver of discomfort squirmed across Dom as he entered the room beyond. It was a bare floor space; looked as if it had been gutted out. The tinted windows running along all the off-white walls offered subterfuge from the daylight. Outside, the night sky appeared almost black. Over on the left hand wall were the elevators; straight ahead was a set of double doors leading to another room beyond.
Trixie entered and went and stood next to Dom on the smoke gray carpet.
That uncomfortable shiver coursed through Dom again. Something didn't feel right. He couldn't explain it; it was a sensation akin to being caught in headlights. He tried to shake it off and get into character. They were in the building and that was all that mattered at that moment. Now they just needed Sammy to lead them to Vincent. Any signs of nerves would just give them away.
Sammy then followed up, the fire escape door swinging shut behind him. "We're gonna get this floor renovated," he said as he moved ahead of them. He whirled in a slow circle, his hands out to the sides. "Me personally, I'd like to see it become a nightclub. You know, loud music, lights, pretty girls in thongs." He grinned to himself. "Yeah, you can picture it can'tcha?" He then made a move toward Dom and Trixie, who were lounging like a pair of lemons.
"Yeah, a nightclub," Sammy continued, "kinda like Club Venom, you know that place down on Michigan? Club Venom? I know you do, don't you..." He reached out, grabbed both of their balaclavas, and ripped them off their heads with a grunt. "Dom!" he finished.
Dom spun left and right, disorientated. He caught a glimpse of Trixie's shocked face, Sammy's contemptuous grin beyond it. He went for his dart gun just as the doors to the room opposite crashed open. Within seconds, mercs came swarming in like ants. Dom's instincts tweaked. He balled his hand into a fist and slung a punch in Sammy's direction. Sammy caught it on his chin, the smug look on his face wiped clean off. He reeled away with a groan.
Dom shook his now throbbing hand on the air as he turned to face Trixie. "Run!" he urged.
Trixie hesitated, giving him a brief shake of the head.
"RUN!" Dom demanded, before he turned and ran for the throng of thugs, roaring like a cowboy.
"Dom!" Trixie said in alarm, throwing out a desperate hand.
"Get outta here!" Dom shouted over his shoulder, just as he dived into the first merc, sending him sprawling back into the others.
But, it was like Trixie was rooted. She had to get outta there while she had the chance, he couldn't hold them off forever.
He stood upright and sent a right hook to the face of the nearest thug; his head snapped back under the pressure. He turned and shoved his dart gun into the chest of another thug and pulled the trigger; the thug staggered back under the pressure. He hit the wall before his legs buckled beneath him as he was temporarily sent out of the game.
Dom's roar reverberated through the empty room; he sent a boot into the crotch of another thug, dropping him to his knees. He slammed another one with a solid haymaker, sending him staggering.
Dom was pleasantly surprised at how much ass he was kicking. All that training with Rufus was finally paying off.
But his next move wasn't so hot. He threw out a reckless hook, totally missing its target, who dodged it with ease. He got caught with the sucker punch, a fist to the kidneys from a merc lurking behind him. Dom's back straightened, sharp pain tearing up his spine. And then he was overwhelmed. They circled him and dived in, smothering him. He hit the deck hard. He began struggling against them all. Through the forest of limbs, he noticed Trixie still standing there.
"JUST GO!" he screamed, just as he took a head slam.
"Dom!" Trixie shrieked.
The noise caused heads to turn her way.
A thug pointed at her. "Get her!" he ordered.
In an instant, they stormed her way.
; Trixie didn't wait for them. She whirled and ran, her legs and arms pumping like well-oiled machinery. As she went, her bulging eyes took in everything, seeking escape routes. She stormed across the floor, her head spinning left and right. There were no other doors, and the windows were a definite no-no. Her eyes locked on the elevator. It was the only way out. She put her head down and bolted for it like an athlete gunning for gold. On reaching it, she ground to a halt, her hasty momentum almost sending her into the wall. She threw out a fist and thumped the call button. Luckily, the doors slid right open. She took a quick glance over her shoulder; Blacklake thugs and Sammy the Saint were stomping her way as if they were bulls and she'd been doused in red paint.
She jumped into the elevator, her frantic eyes seeking out the control panel. The sound of boots then ramped up in volume; she spun to face the horde steaming in. Her eyes bulged, her back stiffening, they were virtually on her. And she had nowhere to run. She flung out an instinctive hand toward the panel adjacent to the open doors. She managed to get the 'close' button just in time. The doors slid shut, just as the nearest thug reached the elevator. He thrust a hand in between the doors, just as they were closing, hoping to get them back open. Trixie yelped. The doors closed on his hand, his pink fingers poking through the tiny gap and wiggling like worms. Repulsed, she slammed a karate chop at those fingers as hard as she could. They snapped back like bent straws. A searing roar of agony shot through the elevator before the fingers were pulled back out, allowing the doors to close.
Her chest heaved in relief. She slapped her hand on the panel, lighting up a plethora of floor numbers, just wanting to get the elevator moving before they got the door open. A ping sounded out and a friendly, robotic voice spoke to her. "Heading to floor thirty-three."
The elevator dropped, her stomach moving with it. She collapsed back against the far wall, her mind a hot and frenzied mix of relief and anguish. Oh God, Dom, what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?
