by Simon Archer
“That’s it.” He actually stood up from his chair, putting out his fat cigar in the crystal ashtray on the desk at his side of the screen. “City Hall. Ten minutes. One second more, and I start crushing your bots with my own bare hands.”
“Excellent.” I agreed to the terms, reaching for the button to end the call. “See you then.”
“Are you going to fight him out in the open?” Kate shifted around in my lap as I attempted to work around her. “Do you have a plan? Some kind of strategy or secret attack tactic that’s going to blow him away? Anything? You did think this part, though, right?”
“Well, I do plan to cheat, if that’s what you’re wondering.” I flicked the last switch to get the plane moving towards city hall. “But, yeah, this fight’s going to be a lot of improvisation.”
“You promised that you wouldn’t do something like this!” She tried to get my attention as I steered the controls around. “Remember, with the medieval king that turned out to be a crocodile got crushed by his own castle, and we all thought you were dead under tons of rock? No crazy risks!”
“It’s a little hard to plan ahead for a guy who never leaves his damn safehouse to be properly studied.” I excused my fudging of the promise I made to her. “We just have to settle for what we can do with what we have, and just play it smart from there. We’ll start with a big opener so we can get the first hit in, and we’ll see where things go from there.”
“We?” Kate repeated, “is that the same ‘we’ that’s going to be fighting Perignon together, so you won’t be taking any unnecessary risks? Because I’m coming with you to fight this guy, Dantem. I hope you know that.”
“Of course, what did you think I meant by ‘cheating?’” I kissed her on the cheek. “I’m using every damn advantage I can get with Perignon, and you are first on that list. I’d take you to every fight if I could. You and the girls.”
“You’re sweet.” Kate smiled that quiet, alluring smile of hers. “Thank you, Dantem.”
The punk-styled powerhouse brought her face closer to mine, gently placing her lips upon my own and pressing her body up against my chest. In the heat of the moment, my focus wavered, and I nearly lost control of the plane. When Kate wanted my attention, she sure didn’t take any substitutes. With a few fingers still on the controls that kept us alive, I gave Kate all the affection she could ask for.
“Trust me. We’ll be more than fine,” I said, regaining a better grip on the steering rig. “This guy has no idea what’s about to hit him.”
13
Don John Perignon
This kid, whoever he was, just itched at all the parts of my pride I couldn’t quite scratch. Here I was, at my special desk with the ebony wood finish, with a bottle of scotch older than the country, just finished my Yuronian cigar, sitting in my crocodile leather chair, my feet on a grizzly bearskin rug, looking at all the pieces of art I’d collected in my glittering penthouse of a bunker the size of a solid-gold warehouse, all underneath the city I’d kept under my thumb with no slips to date before today, and I still couldn’t settle down. It was like I could feel all of these creature comforts slipping away from my grasp. Everything I’d built here, all the wealth and luxury each of these expensive toys and baubles represented, that I’d clawed onto with my own might and hard work, was like sand in my cupped hands, and I couldn’t plug the leak at the bottom for the life of me.
No way to beat around it, though; he’d shaken me down bad. I couldn’t believe that he got me to snap out of my accent without trying to. That voice was part of a meticulously cultivated persona I kept on for my people, so they thought of me as something larger than life. I’d spent years keeping every part of the routine perfect, making sure that no one saw anything else other than exactly what I wanted them to see. It was flawless; the bodyguards working night shifts could sometimes hear me talking in my sleep, and they suspected nothing. Even when I was dreaming, I wasn’t loose or soft on the act for a second.
It wasn’t like I did this because it got me off or nothing. It was all a part of the process of leadership, see. The more they saw the head honcho as a character, a foreign agent that controlled their lives, the more they were gonna assume I was far above their station. If I was powerful beyond what they think they could handle, like a force of nature or something, then they’d be willing to do anything that pleased me enough to stay on my good side. Any mook on the street might just try something stupid with any old flesh-and-blood boss of theirs, but no jackass in their right mind was gonna try to box an earthquake throwing buildings at them, you know what I mean? I had to be something untouchable in their minds, something that their imaginations could sink their teeth into and make into something mythical.
And then, out of nowhere, in one conversation with some dingus over a video call, and it’s all out the window. The worst part was that I didn’t even notice I dropped it until I turned off the call. Goddamn pathetic. I was only glad that I’d already sent all of my boys topside to deal with those damn bots.
Well, it was time I got my ass in gear. Leaning out of my fancy boss chair, I mosied myself over to the cabinet with my gorgeous dame of a gun, La Dorada. Any Tommy gun would be envious of the polished gold finish, the encrusted rubies and sapphires along the side, the swirling inlays dancing between them, or the massive drum that held enough rounds to put a family of catholic rabbits in the morgue. That alone made it the best damn gun in the world, not even mentioning the massive size to fit my beefy hands, the thicker metalwork keeping it together from both the powerful shots this thing fired, and my generous bashings to anyone thinking they could get close to me.
The best part was that this drum, like all my magazine drums, was filled to the brim with special shotgun shells, each of them just as dangerous as the last. Right now, La Dorada had the dragon breath shotgun shells, still keeping a classic Tommy gun’s fire rate going strong for a true breath of dragon flame across a whole mess of mooks. And that was just the first drum. There were five others to worry about, and hotshot was going to worry. Picking up the other magazine drums, I moved over to the elevator doors connecting my bunker to the outside world.
I thought I was in a good mood until I took a good look at the inside of the elevator, realizing I didn’t really remember much of what it looked like. It’d been a while since I’d used this express elevator. With all the proxies I’d set up, the chain of command I’d established to keep my empire running smoothly without me having to micromanage them, I almost never left that chair in my penthouse.
Now I was going outside for the first time since I’d taken this city over. And, just like that, the energy drained out of me. I could already feel how tired I’d become, how used to being in charge I’d gotten, when lifting my arms to press the button for the surface took a bit of effort to get me up with the rest of my people. Had I gone soft? Would I even be able to do all the things I thought I could, the things I could do before I made Carmanelo my home? Yeah, I was a fighter back in my heyday, but now that I’d thought about it, I actually hadn’t had to fight someone else for a while. No one really fought against the Don. They were afraid of me. What if I was rusty? Had my body changed in all of that time? Would it do what I wanted?
Now, now, what was I doing, moping about? What kind of Don moped? I was the Don, baby! Don John Perignon! The Mafia Don of New Carmanelo! Nothing happened in this city if I didn’t give the OK first, capiche? Any mook who tried something with me paid the price with interest, plus late fees, and a down payment! I was king around here, and this hotshot was about to learn to respect the crown. He’d be bowing before me before long, even if I had to make a mold of his face in the concrete to make it happen.
Maybe I should have screwed the ten minutes I gave him and just set up shop on the main street, beating into any and all bots that came around. Sure, I hadn’t had a chance to stretch my legs in a while, but that didn’t mean these robots were going to pose any threat to the Don. I’d be chewing up bolts and spitting out lugnuts by
the time this kid showed his mug around my town.
I bet he wouldn’t even show, anyway. Punk ass kid was probably psyching himself up to go toe to toe with the likes of the Don. Take all the time you needed, hotshot. While you try to put your money where your mouth is, I’d be cracking your robots open like they were fresh eggs. I think the Don wanted some scrambled eggs today, with a piping hot side of ‘mouthy little prick’ to bring it all together. I could already smell the savory scent of success in the air, taking a deep breath in through the nose.
Times like this reminded me of the glory days, back when I was a Ghoul executive. God, I loved those days back at the Ghoul. Working with Mr. Yin was some of the best times I ever had, and I was king of my own slice of the whole world. He knew how to make shit happen and make it happen fast, no questions asked. Scary as all fucking get out, too. What a fucking monster. Now there was a man who’d master the art of making a persona like an apocalypse in a tie. There wasn’t a man, woman, child, animal, or fucking bush in a field that didn’t tremble when they so much as heard his name, let alone saw him. Nobody in the Ghoul, let alone the world, messed with Mr. Yin, or regretting their mistake would be the sweetest thing they’d feel for the rest of their unnatural lives.
Why was I thinking about Mr. Yin at a time like this? That bastard had to up and die on us, leaving the Ghoul to crumble down to dust, and we were left picking up whatever didn’t shatter into dust. This city, with all the power it afforded me, wasn’t so much as a smoldering match compared to the wildfire of political clout I was swinging with back in the Ghoul. Now, I couldn’t so much as stretch my hand out of the city limits without it getting smacked down by the military. This place felt like a cage, now. I built it all myself, made it as comfortable as possible, and I still hated it when I thought about what could have been.
Damn, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been worked up like this. This little shit hadn’t been in my life for half an hour, and he was already the biggest thorn in my side since the heroes first showed up in the world. The Ghoul had never been stronger, with a finger in every pie in the bakery, and then those damn termites ate it all away like it was an old deck. Just like back then, I was finding myself worried for everything I’d put my heart and soul into with this damn kid.
This was why I hated heroes. They could do anything they wanted, take anything they wanted, and the world would love them for it. Heroes like the hotshot just waltzed into whatever place they thought they could, shitting over the honest work of criminals like me. If it weren’t for heroes, Mr. Yin would still be around, and none of this shit would even be happening.
They’d even tried to get at my Capone Crew and me a few times, but they never managed to put any of us down for long. No matter how hard they came at us, my boys would always manage to get away in the end. Though, not without its share of knocks to the head. Any time I ask my boys how they got away, they’d always act a little punchdrunk and forget I was asking them a question.
Where did this hero and his robot army come from? Who did he belong to? The Bombardiers? The Guarddogs? Hopefully, it wasn’t the Egalitarian League. They’d have the money for it, but they didn’t have much of a presence here. I had a few of the little hero clubhouses for each of those hero guilds infecting my city, stomping around on the street crime, and cutting into my bottom line. Were they working together? Did a merger happen between them to pool their resources, and this hotshot with the superpowered broads is the new top hero in my city? They were trying to muscle me out of my turf, get me to quit, and run with my tail between my legs. Nuh-uh, not in my city. Not while I was still kicking.
Gotta admit, though, it was pretty smart of them to get those robots to start off the assault. Didn’t think heroes had it in them to break out the big guns like this. If I just let them do their thing, they’d burn through my whole operation by killing all of my people, and then I’d have no choice but to give it up to them. And they wouldn’t even waste a single hero of theirs. That was almost villain thinking. But, like any hero would do, they underestimated how powerful I still was, and the powerhouses I commanded with absolute loyalty.
I was still the Don. And I’d come to collect my due from this little shit.
The elevator doors opened up to the top floor, in a secret, secluded corner of City Hall. I loved this elevator. It allowed me to call on the mayor to visit me personally in my office whenever I wanted. Anytime I needed some local legislation pushed through, or some operations helped along, or a construction project started to get some union boys on pay, I could have him groveling at my feet whenever I wanted.
Moving through the hallways of the offices, I walked past the door to the mayor’s office, finding it locked. Too bad for him, I was feeling the need to exert some influence and power over a subordinate of mine, and he was the perfect man for the job. With a quick twist of the knob, the lock proved to be child’s play, and I walked in to find my favorite toupee-wearing, heavyset, pear-shaped administrator for the city. His slouching face, with all of its fat wrinkles, expressed just the amount of fear I was hoping it would behind those thick glasses on the wireframe. I was sure that the guy had a name, but I never bothered to remember it. Never came up in conversation, and I didn’t have to respect him enough to learn.
“Oh, uh, Mr. Perignon, sir, der, um, der, um, d--um, hello.” The man stuttered like an engine that barely started whenever he talked to me, pushing his soda-bottle glasses up his nose. “I, der, I was, um, I was, der, I, d--um, what do you need? Please, der, um, please, um, please say, der, um, der, d--um, please tell me you know about the alien invasion!”
“How you doin’, Mr. Mayeh?” I returned to my persona for his sake. “Ya seem tense.”
“Oh, der, uh, der, I, der, uh, d--um, no?” The mayor couldn’t lie worth a damn. “I was just, der, um, just, er, d--um, I was just finishing with my, der, um, eh, workout.”
“Ya couldn’t lift a dumbbell to put it away.” I laughed, feeling that all was right with the world. “I didn’t need nut’in’. Just wanted to make sure ya were safe, Mr. Mayeh. I’ll take care o’ the aliens. You jus’ sit tight.”
“Oh!” The bulbous mayor seemed relieved as well as surprised, like he always did when I displayed my good side to him. “Der, um, der, um, der, d--um, thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Perignon! We can never repay your kindness!”
“No, ya can’t,” I reminded him, “but ya knew dat already. I’ll be right back, Mr. Mayeh.”
Closing the door, I walked the rest of the way through the halls, finding the front doors and making my way down the steps. Just the boost I needed to get through the rest of this day with a smile on my face. And I was sure that beating down this motherfucker who’d come my way was just going to be the icing on the cake.
Jesus, my city was a fucking mess. I knew that I’d blown half of it to smithereens just to spite the hotshot, but man, it may have been more thorough than I wanted it to be. I could count the number of skyscrapers left standing on one hand, and the number of buildings with more than two stories on with both. Everything else was nearly all just giant boulders that used to be the inner parts of the buildings that once stood.
Skyline was nearly wide open because of that. Sun was starting to rise up, lighting up that horizon like a silent firecracker. Not a sight anyone gets to see often around here. The cloud cover above us was a bit of a downer, but it did make the morning sunlight look especially colorful, spreading across the folds and setting them ablaze with orange.
It would have been a beautiful sight to take in if it weren’t for all the robots mucking about the place. They really did look like eggs but covered in tentacles shooting lasers. Along with all the screaming and running for everyone’s lives, the scene wasn’t a beautiful one in the slightest. I could hear the war cries my men shouted as they braved the onslaught of massive, spherical robots crushing them.
Dear god, that was a lot of bots. I wasn’t going to have to fight all of those myself, was I? My Capone Crew
had left, fighting some heroes working for the mystery hotshot, and my boys here weren’t slowing these tin cans down. And it didn’t help that those damn bots could put themselves back together like being destroyed was just a bad hangover.
Checking down my watch, I double-checked the time to see if it was time for me to join in the fight. I hadn’t been keeping careful track of the time, so I just decided to give it another three minutes, then charge in myself towards those bots.
Had to check La Dorada, inspecting the classy firearm with all the delicacy and manners as if she really was the dame I saw her as. This would be the first time we’d gone out together in a while, and she was just as radiant as ever. There was never a point where I hadn’t taken care of her, kept her oiled up and squeaky clean. Maybe I hadn’t used her in a while, but she was as ready as ever for a fight.
You know, maybe I’d have given the hotshot another few minutes. A few bonus ones, some extra time to dawdle about however he wanted to. If he wasn’t a coward, he’d have shown his face around here somewhere. And then I was going to shoot him a dozen times in the face with some incendiary rounds. If that didn’t burn him to a crisp, then maybe I’d shoot him a few more times, just to be safe.
Looking back at that skyline, I realized that something was forming inside them. At first, I thought it was just the natural movement, until I realized that an opening was shaping above me, and a steely blue object was coming out of it. It was a bit far away for me to see exactly what it was, with the sunlight still cutting underneath the clouds and diluting my vision. Blocking the light with a free hand, I managed to stop the light pollution enough to regain my normal vision. The object was, thankfully, moving out of the thicker part of the clouds as well, and the picture I could make out of it became clearer with each passing moment.
