by M. T. Miller
“No knowledge is useless,” the Nameless said. “Especially to one as young as me.”
“As if you haven’t heard it all a hundred times before,” the sheriff scoffed. “Come on, you can’t have been younger than fifteen when it all happened. You know the drill: important people disappeared. Every remaining asshole with a hint of power wanted both to keep it and get more. Everyone fought everyone. Would-be dictators rose and fell. Cities became deathtraps. Police and army men robbed and pillaged like— like goddamn animals!”
He put his hand on his forehead, and the Nameless saw that the sheriff was sweating. “Screw such talk, Bones. It leads to nothing good. Don’t waste your brainpower thinking about it. Instead, think about what we have up here.
“This is a good thing,” he continued as he lifted his palm, his face now a picture of serenity. “Sure, it’s not perfect, but then what is? And with your help,” he turned his gaze toward the Nameless, “with your help we can keep cutting out the tumors faster, and our dear ol’ Ma Babylon can stay fat and healthy, and keep nourishing us with her ample bosom.”
The Nameless remained silent as the elevator reached its destination. What the sheriff said seemed reasonable. But then, he recalled the time he’d spent down in the slums, and it helped him look at the whole thing from a different angle. Be that as it may, Sheriff… your promised land rests on the backs of the oppressed. He considered making his case, but the doors started opening, and he could barely contain his curiosity.
Wh-what?
The Nameless had thought he was ready for anything. But the last thing he expected was a ray of sunlight to hit him in the face. Used to the artificial illumination from downstairs, he covered his eyes before he had the chance to see anything else.
“Overwhelmed?” the sheriff asked, the amusement evident in his tone.
“A… a window?” the Nameless grumbled, still as blind as a bat.
“No,” The sheriff said. “Not this close to the center.”
I see I am going to have to do this the hard way, the Nameless thought as he slowly moved his fingers. Bit by bit, the view before him became sharper and sharper, and he noticed the first way in which the third floor was different from the second: instead of ridiculous colors, the third floor was lit up with a pleasant shade of yellow.
Still squinting, he let his gaze jump from one direction to the next, inspecting everything like an animal out of its habitat. They were in some sort of hallway. The floor was smooth, more akin to white marble than concrete, and polished to such an extent that it was practically reflective. Besides the pair of guards that greeted them like best friends, there was not even a hint of the beat-stick squads that patrolled the area beneath. Expensive, metallic-looking chandeliers hung suspended from the ceiling, emitting the pleasant light.
Despite the opulence, though, there was a distinct sense of… of function over form to the whole place. The amount of unnecessary decoration on everything was minimal, as if to say ‘we are the elite, but times are still tough.’
“Are you done?” the sheriff asked, after who knows how much time. “Do your job the way you’re supposed to, and you’ll get used to sights like this. That, I promise you.”
“I am done, yes,” the Nameless said. It was a lie, of course. The place was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Something told him it was unlike anything he would ever see again. “As before, please lead the way.”
“Of course,” the sheriff said, gesturing for the Nameless to follow him to their right. “Yeah, one more thing: the whole Cleanup Crew will be wearing masks, and that includes you. Not being a member, I won’t be wearing one, but you will need to.”
“And you are telling me this now?” the Nameless said.
“No worries.” The sheriff slid his right hand under the side of his coat, swiftly pulling it back out and revealing something smooth and reflective. “I’ve got you covered.”
The Nameless grabbed the object. It was big enough to cover his face fully. On the outside, the mask was like a mirror: heart-shaped, completely featureless, and without any eye slits. Somewhere around where the ears were supposed to be, a pair of tough-looking leather harnesses protruded to hold the thing in place.
“And you just happened to have this?” the Nameless said after he was done inspecting it. “This thing does not seem cheap, so I doubt you had it made just for me.”
“Of course I didn’t,” the sheriff said, signaling for the Nameless to take a right turn. “Another member commissioned it a good while ago. Didn’t like it by the time it was done, called it blank. You don’t strike me as a nitpicker, so I didn’t think you’d have trouble with it. For starters, at least.”
Keeping pace beside the sheriff, the Nameless took note of an extravagantly dressed passer-by before looking at the mask once more. Blank, he says? He smiled a little bit. “I think this one will suit me just fine.”
“Of course it will.” The old man pointed to the side of a nearby door, took out a set of keys, and proceeded to unlock it. 307, it said on the tag. “Once we’re through, you put it on and wait for me to introduce you. Then, you come into the main room. You greet everyone, preferably not by handshake unless someone asks for it. Then, you take a seat and listen the whole thing out. That’ll be about it.” The lock clicked and he grabbed the doorknob, turning back toward the Nameless. “In the future, you’ll be coming here alone more often than not. In that case, just knock seven times, and someone will open it. Any questions?”
“A fair share of them.”
“Well, too fucking bad,” the sheriff said as he passed through the door. His voice echoed from the inside. “I guess you’ll just have to endure the suspense.”
Nothing new there, the Nameless thought as he followed.
Chapter Twelve
Mask in place, the Nameless stood behind the sheriff as the older man stepped into the meeting room. Hesitating for a moment, he looked to his right. A large mirror was there, as if to contest his newly assumed visage.
I look absolutely ridiculous. His lean figure, covered by the cheap black set of shirt and pants, made the head seem as if it was tacked on.
Then again, someone might find this appearance frightening.
“Howdy there!” The sheriff’s voice bellowed from the other room, causing the Nameless to turn back toward the door. The corridor behind it took a sharp turn to the left, so he could not see much of anything. “How’s my favorite band of elite trash men?”
A woman’s voice followed, in a tone that seemed almost sincere. “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty, boss!”
“You know how it is: killing time until you tell us to kill something else,” a man said. The Nameless thought his voice too soft to belong to a professional assassin.
“It’s a living,” an older man growled out. “Until it’s not.”
“Good to know you’re all in high spirits,” the sheriff said. “You’re going to need that energy.”
“Are we finally taking that asshole out?” another man asked. He sounded young and dedicated.
“Direct as always, Eagle,” the sheriff said. “And on point, too. Yes, we are indeed going for Zhang soon. However, that is only half of the good news.”
“What’s the other?” the soft-voiced man asked. “A raise?”
“As if I’m not overpaying the whole lot of you!” the sheriff said. “No, it’s more of a pay cut, actually.”
“You’re joking, right?” said the woman.
“Not exactly,” the sheriff replied. “As the leader of the Chinese crime syndicate, Zhang was always one tough son-of-a-gun, and in recent months he’s become even tougher. More men, more weapons, more of everything. And every time he grows in power, he becomes less and less willing to play ball.”
It seemed as if someone was about to intrude, but the sheriff kept talking regardless. “This state of affairs lasted a good while, until someone found the balls to start hitting his crew, and hit it hard. Alone, even!”
“I kn
ow who you’re talking about,” the older man said. “That crazy S.O.B. that’s been killing small-time gangbangers down in the slums. What about ‘im?”
“What about ‘im?” The enthusiasm was evident in the sheriff’s voice. “What’s about him is that he’s here! Ladies and gentlemen of the Cleanup Crew!” He slammed his foot against the ground, and the Nameless recognized his cue. “I hereby give you the terror of the underworld!”
Preventing himself from overthinking things, the Nameless passed through the doorway and turned left.
The meeting chamber followed in the overall style of the floor: expensive but minimalistic. Aside from a rather sizeable round table and some comfortable-looking chairs, there was nothing else, counting out the sheriff and the Cleanup Crew, of course.
They were all seated. Matching everyone’s voice to his or her face was easier than the Nameless expected. Eagle, the dedicated one, wore an elaborately carved wooden mask that evoked his namesake. The silky white shirt he wore did a poor job of covering his impressive musculature, and it was apparent that he was in peak physical shape.
The entirety of the woman’s upper face was covered by an exquisitely ornate mask that seemed more at home in Renaissance Italy than… wherever this was.
Is not the point of these things to conceal our identities? the Nameless found himself wondering. When taking into account the blond streaks in the woman’s hair, there was little chance for anyone not to recognize her, mask or no mask. To the Nameless’ dissatisfaction, she sat directly opposite his point of view, so he could see little of her body.
The soft-voiced man was as thin as a bamboo stick. His mask sported an inhuman grin with an opened mouth, and he used it to great effect. A lit cigar stuck right out of it, reminding the Nameless of just how much he hated tobacco. He wore a tight-fitting shirt and pants, all colored red.
Finally, the older man with the growling voice was all business. Somewhat overweight, but showing signs of intense weight training, his entire head was covered by a black balaclava. Even though he was seated, it was apparent that he was short. He wore a plain set of pants and a sleeveless wife-beater shirt.
“Looks more disturbing than dangerous,” the soft-voiced man said. “Still, I wouldn’t want to meet something like that in a dark corridor.”
“Welcome aboard, newbie!” Eagle stood up, extending his hand.
“Glad to be here,” the Nameless said as he accepted the greeting. While they shook, he snuck a peek toward the sheriff, who somehow seemed to be able to tell that he was being looked at. Discreetly, he signaled for him to sit down, and both men did just that.
“If you’re half as effective as your body count shows, kid,” the older man said, “then you’ll feel right at home here.”
“I most certainly hope so,” the Nameless said. “On both counts.”
“You can call me Uncle,” the older man said.
“Yeah, psychos and madmen of all kinds are more than welcome here,” the soft-voiced man said. “No need for the whole touchy thing, newbie. I am the Grin. Remember it.”
The Nameless did not care to dignify that with an answer.
“Now then,” the sheriff interrupted the silence. “We are to move on to the matter at hand. Unless anyone has anything more to say?” He scanned the room rapidly, expecting the potential complaint to come from one of the established members. He seemed genuinely surprised when it came from the Nameless instead.
“I find it amusing that the lady did not find it fitting to introduce herself,” he said.
“I am Divine,” she said in a dismissive tone.
I am certain that you think so, yes, the Nameless thought. He nodded, uttering but a single word: “Charmed.”
“As I was saying,” the sheriff continued, “in a few days we will be hitting Zhang, also known as ‘the Elusive Dragon.’ Why, you ask? Well, our buddy has been a very naughty old man; even more so than the rest of his fellow mobsters.”
“What did he do?” the Nameless asked, not exactly surprised that the rest of the Crew did not.
“Oh, blackmail, robbery, abusing the gambling system, forced prostitution… you name it. But as is usual in this game, that’s not the real problem.” The sheriff pulled out another picture, this one of a smoldering hunk of machinery. “This on the other hand, does require our immediate attention.”
“He is making drugs, newbie,” Eagle explained. “In massive quantities.”
“Precisely,” the sheriff confirmed. “Drugs and crowded city-states go hand-in-hand. Know what happens after that?” He stood up slightly, looking everyone present in the eyes before he made his point. “A drastic drop in productivity.”
“I’ve talked with the Management about this guy more times than you can imagine,” he continued. “We tried negotiating. The goddamned rice crispies won’t budge one bit. And legally we can’t do a thing about it, since the entirety of their operation is located in the ground floor, a place that is officially lawless.”
“That, newbie, is where we come in,” Eagle added.
“Up until this point,” the sheriff said, “it was too risky to strike at the bastards. The Cleanup Crew can’t deputize just anyone. We need people of exceptional skill. With this man on our side, however, we can make this work like a charm.”
“Whoop-dee-fucking-doo,” the Grin said. “Our savior, on a silver platter. Be still, my beating heart.”
“The presence or absence of one man has made the difference many times in the past, Grin,” the sheriff said. “In more ways than one. Or have you forgotten?”
“As if I ever could,” the Grin said, averting his gaze. “No matter. Ignore me. May the terror of the underworld break every bone in the chink’s body with his massive penis! I know I’d like it to happen.” He turned back toward the Nameless. “Just make sure your targets don’t die laughing at the sight of you before that!”
Divine chuckled a little bit. The sheriff did not appear amused.
“Right,” said Eagle. “Can we continue, please?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” the sheriff said. “As most of you already know, the criminal leaders reside within their hanging mansions. Being such a big-shot, Zhang of course has himself a particularly huge one.” He looked at the Nameless. “Those massive things down on the ground floor. I’m sure you’ve seen one or more in the time you spent there.”
“Indeed I have,” the Nameless said. That answers the great question of who lives there.
“The only way to get inside a hanging mansion is by using a rope ladder,” the sheriff continued. “The rope ladder is dropped at noon, six in the afternoon, and midnight, and from only one place. That place is typically watched over by two or more guards. The spot where it touches the ground is secured by another pair. In order for this to work, we have to wait until the place ‘opens up’ like that, and then take them all out simultaneously!”
“We move up the ladder fast,” Divine interceded, “not wasting a moment. Then the cleanup begins.”
“Exactly.” The sheriff nodded. “You are to leave no survivors. No room for error. Understood?”
Everyone nodded, so the Nameless did the same.
“I’m still working on the exact details, but the essence of the plan goes like this: Uncle and the Grin will take vantage points from afar, armed with sniper rifles. After the ladder is dropped, they will immediately take out everything they see in the mansion itself. It will be their job to prevent anyone from cutting the rope once the whole thing gets going.”
He turned toward Eagle. “Meanwhile, Eagle, Divine, and our new arrival are to eliminate the men at touchdown point. Then, they climb up. Once they are inside the mansion, the mission is entirely in their hands. That’s right: at that point, this becomes a close-quarters operation.”
“Good,” the Nameless let slip. “I do not have a lot of practice with rifles.”
“I’ve planned this around what I know,” the sheriff said. “However, I know absolutely nothing about what
you might find up—er, down there. The element of surprise will be significant, but sending only a pair of people in would be insane. With you on point though, the story changes.”
“Understood,” the Nameless said.
“Any other questions?” the sheriff asked.
“You don’t have our exact locations down yet, right?” Uncle asked. The sheriff nodded, so he continued, “Then I don’t think there’d be a point to questions.”
“Fair enough,” the sheriff said. “Anyone else?”
The room was silent.
“Alright. Then I proclaim this meeting, for all intents and purposes, adjourned.”
The Cleanup Crew wasted no time in rising, including the Nameless.
***
“I take it that you didn’t enjoy that too much,” the sheriff said later, his voice overpowering the noise of the descending elevator.
“I do not have to enjoy it,” the Nameless said. “I am to work with them, not like them.”
“Can’t argue with that,” the sheriff said, “but one goes a lot easier with the other. Trust an old man. If I have anything, it’s experience.”
That, and a private band of killers, the Nameless thought. “That will not come easy. You have seen the way some of them look at me.”
“I have,” the sheriff said. “They aren’t used to sharing. It’s been a while since the last time I’ve… deputized someone.”
“Still, I think I am well beyond enjoyment,” the Nameless said. “At least for the foreseeable future. Not that it matters in any way; I will do the job, when and how you want it.”
“And I wouldn’t have expected anything less of you,” the sheriff said. “As for the time, that little detail remains up in the air. I have several feelers out to determine Zhang’s patterns, as well as it’s possible to do so. The more we know, the less chance there is of this blowing up in our faces.”
“Of course,” the Nameless said. “My weapons? I assume that I am not getting them back anytime soon?”
