“Would rather not leave things to chance, Kimmy. Pointless logic if we have dead racers.”
Dill quickly opened his eyes as he slammed against the ground and felt another body fall on top of him. Everything was dark as he realized the bag was still over his head.
“Mierda!” the man on top of him said. The Latin accent was a relief; Hugo was still alive.
“Hugo?” Dill grunted. “Get off me, you’re crushing my bits!”
Dill noticed his hands weren't bound. He quickly got up and threw the bag off his head only to see several guards staring at him, along with a man in the middle sitting at a cluttered and messy desk littered with pornographic and racing magazines, cigarettes, and cheap ornaments.
The henchmen weren’t armed but their physical size and numbers made them daunting. He noticed McKenna across the room with even more guards beside him.
“Hey, guys,” McKenna said. “Funny, you’re having a good time, black out, and end up in a room full of big men.”
“I didn’t think we drank that much,” Dill said. Hugo stood up and ripped off his hood. He felt anger overcome him as he stared at the man at the desk.
“Rossberg!” Hugo shouted. Rossberg started laughing when he saw Hugo’s face. He sat up and started poking at his own guards.
“You ogres!” Rossberg jested with his Bavarian accent. “These are Wargame’s lieutenants?! Ba-ha-ha!”
The guards looked at each other with confusion as they realized their ignorance. McKenna chuckled.
“Pretty embarrassing when your own people don’t know the most prolific gang leader in Freedom—” McKenna said before Rossberg snapped to him, raising his finger.
“Watch your tongue from flapping too much! I can have Bippo and Clyde rip your arms from your sockets if I wanted, or maybe have Katz rip off your balls so fast you won’t realize she moved.”
McKenna looked to the huge bouncers beside him, wondering which was Bippo and Clyde, and then to the small oriental woman in front of him known as Katz.
“Now, Hugo… I thought there wasn’t going to be any hard feelings between us. But now you bring back your own posse to get, what exactly, revenge?”
“Hard feelings?! You took my chassis and beat my stomach out of my ass! Not to mention you’re the biggest cheat I’ve ever met!”
Rossberg walked up to Hugo, smiling until they were face to face. “Such ingratitude after all the years I gave you. Can you name any other garage that would’ve taken you in with your ludicrous ideas and background of shoveling shit?” Dill looked at McKenna who gave him a subtle nod. Dill took a moment before realizing what he meant. He chuckled.
“And you,” Rossberg said to Dill. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are.” Rossberg put himself close enough so that Dill could smell his breath. “Big bad Enforcer Roberts, The Circuit Enforcer. Oh yeah, I remember you. You arrested several of my colleagues back in the day. The fastest in Interpol, they called you. I guess you just couldn’t outrun petty criminals like us now, right?”
Rossberg started laughing as he looked at his henchmen who began laughing as well. Dill forced a smile and began laughing himself. Rossberg continued laughing.
“Cheers, mate!” Dill immediately drove his forehead into Rossberg’s face, sending him tumbling backwards. McKenna grabbed the henchman Katz beside him as he sent a fist flying, but Katz was remarkably fast and moved like water.
Dill threw a couple of elbows into the guard beside him, breaking his nose and knocking out a tooth. Bippo dashed towards him and began throwing punches, Dill throwing his arms up to block his face. Dill found an opening and sent a straight punch at Bippo’s eye, disorientating him and then sending him to the ground with a wild haymaker.
He then focused on the next target, Clyde, who landed a clean kick to Dill’s stomach. Dill threw another punch but was caught. He countered by head-butting Clyde only to see him take the blow gracefully. Dill continued with numerous head bashes to see Clyde roll his eyes backwards and tumble like a collapsing tower.
Dill shook his head, shaking off an immense dizzy feeling. He looked to McKenna who was keeping up with Katz while taking on several other guards simultaneously, most going for the Martian, but dropping many of them with the exception of Katz. McKenna was busy blocking a flurry of punches and kicks from Katz. The quick thug was well trained in Malaysian martial arts, most prominently being Pencak Silat.
Dill was tackled by Bippo, who lifted his feet off the ground and didn’t stop as they both slammed through and out the door and off the balcony overlooking the dance floor. They both hit a table beneath, sending the patrons scrambling. They both groaned as they scrambled to get up, both severely dazed.
McKenna sent a crushing elbow to another guard, dropping him to the ground writhing before Katz came at him with a jumping kick. He dived out of the way to get some distance, but she closed the gap almost instantaneously.
Rossberg stumbled onto the rail overlooking the dance floor and looked to the other club bouncers, motioning his hand for them to step in.
“Grind them up!” Rossberg shouted from above. The bouncers and guards below immediately looked to the fight on the dance floor.
Katz ran at McKenna again with the same high kick, but McKenna caught the small-statured Katz mid-air and threw her over the balcony, hitting Rossberg and tumbling them both onto the dance floor. Katz tumbled as she staggered to pick herself up.
McKenna jumped off the railing and rolled onto the dance floor beside Dill while another five bouncers ran to them. The two detectives brushed back to back with each other, ready to fight the wave of bouncers. Oddly enough, most of the club patrons were tuning into the fight rather than fleeing, while some others continued dancing. The electronic music still filled the club with radiance.
“Is this too rowdy for you, Dill?!” McKenna said loudly in attempts to overcome the rising audio of the song playing.
“Clearly you haven’t seen a bar fight in Glasgow! And you? The little chink too much for a Martian?”
“Oh, she just stole my heart, Dill!”
Rossberg stood behind the bouncers smiling as he saw his help rush in. Dill saw Bippo getting up beside his feet but made him stay on the floor by kicking his face, knocking him unconscious. He stared at the bouncers, particularly one with old sunglasses, come stepping at him with his fists up.
“Have at you, bastard!” Dill shouted. He then ducked as a punch came flying his way. He shifted left, sent a punch into the thug’s gut, and landed a left hook into his face.
McKenna was outnumbered, as always, as three bouncers rushed him, one wielding a stun baton, the sparks smoking as they projected off tiny ports. He focused on the armed bouncer first as the baton came thrusting towards his gut. McKenna moved his hands like water, grabbed the bouncer’s wrist, and twisted to loosen the grip on the baton before ramming it into the bouncer’s throat and finally kicking him away.
He then threw his elbows up to block an incoming punch from another bouncer. The blow grazed his arms but he countered with several sharp strikes from his elbows with a final punch to the bouncer's head to drop him unconscious.
The next bouncer was in line to fight as McKenna stepped at him, only to be greeted with a wild backhand. He threw his arms at the attack, shoving the blow to the left and throwing the bouncer off balance as his arms swung to the side. He drove his palm into the bouncer's left leg joint, just above the knee, and followed with another strike just underneath his right arm. The blow to the leg sent the bouncer to the ground as he felt immense pressure from two areas, writhing about from the pain.
Suddenly Katz dashed right in front, ready to fight again, flamboyantly taunting him with various guard stances. McKenna popped his neck to the side and put his fists up.
Dill took a fat punch to the face, scuffing his lip, while looking up at the bouncer who was chuckling. He tackled the bouncer to the ground and began throwing body punches and elbows to the face, pinning the bouncer to the ground. He then thre
w Dill off him, sending him slamming into the bar top. Dill got up quickly to see the bartender from before with a disgusted face. Dill smiled as he picked up a whiskey bottle from the counter.
“This spirit was absolute shit, luv!” Dill said.
He spun around and slammed the bottle of whiskey in the bouncer's head with enough force to shatter it into pieces. The bouncer smiled as Dill sent several more punches across the bouncer's face. Dill stopped for a moment to see the bouncer still smiling manically before seeing blood trickle out of his mouth. Dill cocked back another fist until he saw the bouncer fall backwards, straight as a pole onto the ground.
McKenna tried deflecting as many punches as possible from Katz before crossing his arms for a more rudimentary block. Katz was heavily trained in drunken boxing on top of Silat, as she constantly made confusing motions with her body only to attack unexpectedly. He felt a few blows sneak past and hit his abdomen, somewhat painful but not nearly enough to disable him. They rather tested his patience. He had size and strength on his side while Katz had speed. Unfortunately, her small stature made her aerodynamic.
Once Katz bent backwards to deliver another low blow, McKenna sent his boot into Katz’s ribs, sending her flying into a table behind. She quickly sprang up, ran up to him before stopping short, and began making fluid drunken movements, throwing off McKenna's concentration. She twisted her body and sent a jab. He barely dodged it but saw several open areas in the attack. Katz tried the same attack again but McKenna dodged and caught Katz's arm and grabbed her shoulder while locking his leg behind. She looked at McKenna and widened her eyes when she found out she was in a position of defeat. He smiled before pushing down with all his might, sending Katz slamming into the ground with an audible thud as her body was left unconscious.
Rossberg smiled as more bouncers ran into the room and encircled Dill and McKenna. The two went back to back again as they saw even more men from before. McKenna stared down a few as he prepared himself. A bouncer was hesitant to approach McKenna after seeing Katz fall.
“Well?” McKenna growled. “What are you waiting for, ass-wipe?” Dill smiled at the bouncers before him as he wiped the blood from his lip.
“Who else wants to kiss my arse?” Dill shouted. Ten bouncers rushed in at once. McKenna and Roberts growled, ready for the worst.
“Stop!”
All the bouncers stopped in their tracks to look at Rossberg. Hugo held McKenna's captured pistol against Rossberg's head as the racer began to cower, bringing himself to his knees.
“Big bouncer guys, back the fuck off!” Hugo shouted. The bouncers looked at Rossberg for some sort of confirmation, as the muscle clearly outnumbered the team, but Rossberg valued his life and image even more.
“Just do it, you idiots!” Rossberg shouted. McKenna and Roberts eased up as they both walked slowly to Rossberg.
“Now, Ross, we're going to talk about a joint business venture. This would've been a lot easier to just ask in the beginning, but you have to be a girly little bitch, huh?” Hugo said.
“Name it…” Rossberg sneered. McKenna stepped forward, hardly panting after the brawl.
“First, who put you up to hurt Hugo?” McKenna said.
Rossberg remained silent for a moment until Hugo nudged the pistol into his skull.
“Wordhunters! Hasker's goons, I know they were!” Rossberg gasped. “Paid good money to take you out of the race.” He looked up at Hugo and smiled. “I personally don’t have anything against you, Hugo! Well, not much at least…” Hugo slapped the pistol over his head and Rossberg went straight back to cowering. “I think they knew we had business with each other. I’m thinking the Syndicate didn’t want anyone to know it was them!”
“Now that we got that cleared up, we need something else from you,” Hugo said.
“Anything, just name it!”
“Since you trashed my bike, I'm going to need yours to compete.”
“No way!” Rossberg said with confidence, given the subject of his award-winning bike. Hugo slapped Rossberg to knock some sense into him.
“Who do you think designed your chassis?” Hugo barked. Rossberg rolled his eyes even in his position. His own experience and pride aside, Hugo was worth his salt. “Look, Ross, we only need to get to Hasker. Keep the cash prize if you want, and your bike afterwards, it makes no difference to us. Your bike will even get the title of fastest.”
“And if I don't?” Rossberg was still smug.
Dill stepped in to point his finger at Rossberg. “You ever piss off a Marshal, Rossberg?” Dill said. “How about a Martian? That man there is both. If you decide to get funny, we'll stab a hole in your racing career and send you to Pluto. He, being a Marshal, won't even have to fill out the paperwork.”
Rossberg looked around and saw the deal a strange one. He only ever competed in the race for the cash and the titles, so the grand-prize meeting with Hasker meant little to him. The gold trophy meant a lot more. He'd have to swallow his pride to see another team win, but at least it'd be with his bike. Getting on the bad side of a Marshal wasn't something he was about to do either. Rossberg was merely a business owner, he wasn't exactly a gang leader nor was he inherently violent for the wrong reasons.
“Fine,” Rossberg said. Hugo lifted the pistol from Rossberg's head.
“Bien. Now, since you've been so cooperative, I also need your people to serve as our pit crew and possibly have you as our backup driver.”
“Mach es dier selber!” Rossberg growled, his patience already past.
“What was that?” Hugo said as he placed the gun back to Rossberg's head.
“Nothing! Nothing at all…” Hugo threw the gun back to McKenna and threw Dill’s gun back as well. Rossberg stood up and looked at Dill.
“I hope you're good, English,” Rossberg said.
“Me too,” Dill said smiling.
“You've missed Q1 qualifying,” Rossberg said. “So, we'll start at the back of the grid. My bike is better than your soap derby scheisse, Hugo, even if you did design both. We shouldn't have a problem getting out in the top five by the third lap.”
“My engine will beat the rest of them,” Hugo said.
“I hope you are right.” Rossberg reached out his hand reluctantly to shake Dill’s and Hugo's.
“I'll meet you at your garage with my crew in an hour. The race starts in two, so I hope you gentlemen are prepped.”
Dill and the team proceeded to exit the club. Their strategy to join forces with one of the most famous Warp One teams was miraculously a success and instantly threw the Wordhunter’s plans upside down.
Now the anxiety began to set within Dill, but he could quickly suppress it. To Dill Roberts, the victory didn't mean a thing, only his own prize did. All he needed to do was get on the track to confront Team Head Hunter.
9
WARP ONE RACING: LIVE!
“I heard from a little broker that you people wanted more carnage to go with your games!”
Spunkmeyer’s voice echoed through the complex’s speaker systems. Warp One was another sport that was both popular in the legal and illegal parts of the system and, as such, the crowds were ecstatic. Rossberg and his crew were constantly running checks over the equipment in the paddock to ensure everything was in perfect condition.
“I hope everyone’s had their fill of calm and soothing card games, and what suspense it was! Martian Greys have the commanding lead in prime points with Team Gideon right behind, but this doesn’t mean a thing, you degenerate filth! It’s still anyone’s game as we move onto a sport as old as Old Earth itself. A sport for the speed junkie and fearless, where death can be met at the wrong turn at the wrong speed! The sheer speed is hard enough to keep up with from the untrained eye, but for the contestant, pure slipstream madness! Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you into the greatest speed fest on the planet. I give you Warp One Racing: Red Sector Edition!” The crowd made their excitement heard in the stadium and in the grandstands, rumbling their feet. “I now hand it
over to my more gearheaded colleagues: Martin Hobbes and Jules DeGaulle!”
Two well-known Warp One announcers appeared onscreen on the hundreds of terminals throughout. The two broadcasted Red Sector Warp One as well as all over the system; where the race took place mattered little to them. Hobbes was an older English man, a former Warp One hall of famer, and DeGaulle was a younger but well-versed gearhead and knew more about the sport than anyone else.
“Thank you, Mister Spunkmeyer. I’m Martin Hobbes in good company with Jules DeGaulle, as always.”
“That Spunkmeyer is quite the character, Martin,” DeGaulle said. “I’m not sure if he’s good at what he does or if he’s just plain mad.”
“Mad, I’d say, but let’s get straight to it, Jules. We have some interesting racers and some interesting teams to speak of. But I think I want to talk about this track first. Dear god.”
“Yes, Martin, we’re looking at a four-lap race. Not your typical race of endurance as we’re so accustomed to at other Warp One events in the rest of the system, but going the distance on the Red Sector circuit, I think I’d rather race go-carts.”
“It’s utterly treacherous. Red Sector Circuit has claimed more racers’ lives in the past year than Warp One as a sport in the past decade. We have several hairpins capping from blistering speed straights and equal amounts of chicanes that will definitely regulate the use of those warp engines and put the vector plates to the test.”
“Thankfully, the two major straights we have should be our overtake points, presuming the engines can handle the warp.”
“For those not familiar with Warp One engines, these warp bikes are capable of a burst warp, propelling the bike through faster-than-light speeds over short distances, so we’re always curious to see what the teams have improved on through their R&D. We’ll see how every component holds up, not just their engines. Aerodynamics goes a long way when these bikes aren’t in warp, which is only twenty-five percent of the track. Drivers will be mainly weaving and banking corners so downforce in these insane hairpins will be key.”
The Bloodlust: (Volume Three of the Virion Series) Page 10
