Friction

by Dwayne Gill

  September 29, 2028

  11:30 p.m. EST

  Miami, Florida

  Vinson sat in his private booth, accompanied by two of his lieutenants, Rick and Travis. They were entertaining a very influential Russian colonel tonight, Vladimir Voronoff, and their large room was packed with security from both sides.

  Vinson and Voronoff sat on opposite ends of a conference table and had been enjoying drinks and music, but they were here for business. The Russians were becoming nervous because of the past weeks’ events, but tonight Vinson wanted to show them things were still going as planned.

  Voronoff was short and stocky, with a big ego, and it was clear the Russians had sent him as a skeptic, challenging Vinson to convince him their plan would work. “We have a lot invested in this plot of yours,” said Voronoff. “Years of planning, for one. We’ve risked a lot and have been bringing attention to ourselves.”

  Vinson had been prepared for the man’s proud attitude and condescending tone, but he still fought the urge to kill him. The Russians were all too quick to point out how invested they were and how much they had on the line, but they didn’t know risk. Vinson and his lieutenants had been living on the edge their entire lives, fighting to stay in the shadows, all while producing an army right under America’s nose. However, Vinson feared they might have been too careful. Despite Amos’s brash endeavor that had cost him his life, he’d at least been assertive. Amos had foreseen Cane and Daniel being a problem, which was exactly what they’d turned out to be. Vinson had shunned his lieutenant’s attempts to pursue the two men more actively, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. Vinson had never thought Cane or Daniel could ever present any major, long-term problems, but he realized he had misjudged them. Now it was time to turn up the heat on the two vigilantes and try to remove them as a threat.

  It was more than just strategy motivating Vinson and his lieutenants. Amos’s murder had shaken them up, and they wanted revenge. They didn’t simply want to eliminate Cane and Daniel; they also wanted them to suffer. Though Vinson wouldn’t risk their long-term goals to do so, tonight he had a plan to accomplish both things at once.

  Vinson and his lieutenants were tired of staying in the shadows, and maybe now was the time for them to show Cane and Daniel just how lethal they could be.

  “We’ve taken substantial losses lately,” said Voronoff.

  “We’ll take many more before it’s over,” said Vinson.

  “Unnecessary losses,” said Voronoff, ignoring the comment. “One of your very own lieutenants made some glaring mistakes.”

  Rick tensed, and Vinson grabbed his friend’s arm to calm him, though part of him wanted to watch him tear the Russian apart.

  “Amos was trying to do too much,” said Vinson.

  “And possibly underestimated the assassin?” asked Voronoff.

  Vinson waved him off. “What happened was unfortunate, but it affects nothing moving forward.”

  “There’s been a lot of attention drawn our way,” said Voronoff. “We’ve had to move certain operations just to stay off the radar.”

  Vinson was stewing, and his reaction did nothing to disguise the way he felt. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, slamming his fists on the table. His loud tone echoed across the room, causing everyone to tense up.

  Voronoff looked at him and smiled, though Vinson knew it wasn’t a friendly gesture. “Will you be able to coordinate as planned when the time comes?”

  “I have men in every corner of the country,” said Vinson. “We’ll be able to lock down every major coastal port with ease.”

  Voronoff smiled more genuinely this time. “Let’s hope so.”

  Vinson stood. Voronoff’s security tensed, but even the Russian’s best men wouldn’t have a prayer against the powers in the room. If Vinson gave the order, Rick and Travis could tear through the Russians without breaking a sweat, but it was the last thing he wanted. As badly as Vinson despised most Russians, their role was necessary for the time being, and he needed to impress them, not scare them.

  “Look around out there,” said Vinson, pointing to the large crowd on the dance floor. “What do you see?”

  Voronoff took a moment to study the large gathering. “I see a bunch of mindless sheep.”

  Vinson laughed. “They feel safe. Sure, they’re aware violence exists, and they know there are people out there who can harm them. But look,” he said, pointing again, “they have no idea what dangers lurk right under their noses.” Vinson touched his earpiece. “Begin.”

  A few moments later, the crowd took on a different look. Random groups of people were moving in waves, shifting, and it wasn’t because of the music.

  “What’s happening?” asked Voronoff.

  “Dirty dancing,” said Vinson, though he doubted the pop culture reference would register with the Russian.

  As the chaos grew, they could see random acts of violence in the crowd unfolding. One man stabbed a half-drunk, dancing woman numerous times, causing her to scream and eventually crumple to the floor. Another attacker was beating a man on the side of the dance floor, and when he was done, he engaged the small group of spectators who’d surrounded him.

  As the violence escalated, crowd members realized what was happening and retreated. A panic ensued, accompanied by screams and shouts to get out, as a stampede of terrified civilians trampled one another.

  Vinson held up an EMP device and activated it, causing all the lights in the building to blow out. The once-lively looking club had become a tomb.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” asked Voronoff.

  “It’s poetry,” said Vinson. His voice carried a more sinister tone in the pitch-black room. “I spread my men around the crowd, and they blended in seamlessly. No one had any idea what was coming.”

  Rick lit a gas lantern, illuminating the room, and Vinson stepped into its light. “This club,” said Vinson, “is a microcosm of America.”

  *

  Quinton Mason, the owner of the club, sat in his upstairs office, bathed in total darkness. He’d never lost power here, apart from in major storms, but the club hadn’t been open at those times, anyway. More concerning was that his phone wasn’t working, so he couldn’t use the flashlight. His security scrambled around trying to remedy the situation, but Mason couldn’t help fearing something more sinister was happening. He thought of his past deeds and all the people he’d pissed off over the years, and as he went down his mental list, his thoughts stopped at Cane. Mason had done nothing to the assassin that would cause him to be angry, but had he somehow entangled himself in the affairs of the killer’s shady past?

  It didn’t take long for the strange events to reveal their true, sinister nature, when moments later, gunfire erupted from the door of his office. Two men holding gas lanterns had burst through and shot his three security guards methodically, then turned the gun on him. Mason didn’t recognize the intruders but noticed they were using percussion rifles and not Eguns.

  The two men didn’t look like assassins. In fact, they could’ve passed for a couple of normal club-hoppers. They were clean-cut and wore casual polos and jeans. The only things belying their normal appearance were their intense expressions and assault rifles.

  Mason had been in precarious situations before, but he’d yet to encounter people who couldn’t be persuaded by money, something the entrepreneur had plenty of. Maybe this whole thing could go away if he kept calm and reasoned with the invaders.

  “What do you want?” asked Quinton.

  One man stepped forward and lifted his lantern to shine into Mason’s eyes, causing him to squint and turn his head away. The man’s response was direct, and it left no doubt his motive had nothing to do with robbery, or even money, for that matter.

  “You,” said the intruder. “We only want you.”

  Old Wounds

  September 30, 2028

  12:00 a.m. CST

  Naperville, Illinois

  Daniel shut off the lights on the back patio and sat
, lost in his thoughts. The only remaining illumination came from the bulbs on the inside walls of the pool; those he didn’t know how to extinguish. The glow was a peaceful one, contrasting the way he felt inside.

  He could only hope Jordyn was okay, which, with Taryn’s comforting, she would be. Knowing he had caused her trauma wasn’t sitting well with him, and he’d give anything to go back in time to reconsider his actions.

  Daniel thought of his life, the failures he’d suffered, and how his darkness had been both a blessing and a curse. His rage hadn’t been able to save Layla, but it had later rescued Taryn from a terrible situation. What he feared most was the lack of control of his inner monster and the potential it had of someday costing him or someone he cared for. If he had killed Tom tonight, it would have caused even more chaos for Jordyn, had she found out.

  He thought of Layla and how she’d been able to help him suppress his rage. She’d taught him how to tap into his inner happiness, a side of him he didn’t know existed before. He’d finally broken through, or so he’d thought, but then she was taken away, by Rick.

  Daniel struggled to keep his fury at bay as he fixated on the man who’d taken everything away from him and who’d nearly killed him, twice.

  I will find you, Rick.

  I will kill you.

  Minutes later, Daniel watched Cane slip out the door and onto the back patio. He figured someone would eventually come outside to talk but was surprised it was Cane.

  Cane joined him poolside and sat on a lounge chair beside him. “It didn’t go as well as you’d planned.”

  Daniel shook his head. “How is she?”

  “I haven’t seen her, but Kristy said she’s okay,” said Cane. “I’ve been waiting for our victim to wake up.”

  Their mystery man had been out for hours. “They must’ve used some kind of anesthesia on him,” said Daniel.

  Cane shrugged. “He has to wake up sometime.”

  Daniel looked across the pool, the underwater lights glowing orange around the perimeter. “Thanks for tasing me earlier. I would have killed Tom.”

  Cane looked at him. “I know. I think it’s time you told me about Layla.”

  Daniel sighed, but Cane deserved to know. “You know about the day the marked men killed everyone. What else do you want to know?”

  “I see the same old wound I felt when Helen died,” said Cane. “I thought Layla was just a friend, but she meant something more to you.”

  Daniel looked down at the pool and reminisced on the days when his life seemed to have order and purpose. Benito Marcini had recruited him, which had been the break he thought he was waiting for, and his initial goal was to take supreme advantage of the opportunity. In the beginning, Layla, Benito’s ten-year-old daughter, had been a nuisance and a stumbling block for him, but after getting to know her, the two had become inseparable. Layla was an easy person to like; she was smart, witty, upbeat, kind, and was always happy. Her personality rubbed off on Daniel, and after years of friendship, he was a better man because of her.

  Layla had lost her mother when she was six, leaving her with only Sofia, the nanny, to care for her. The other men in the house were cruel to her, and Benito, her own father, ignored her and tolerated his men’s behavior. Once Daniel’s view of Layla shifted, it was only a matter of time before he intervened on her behalf. One night the situation escalated, ending with Daniel nearly killing Nathan, Layla’s chief tormentor and also Benito’s right-hand man.

  Daniel’s explosion worked out for good, however, and after that the Marcini mansion was never the same. Daniel was assigned as Layla’s permanent guardian, and even Benito treated Layla differently.

  For the next five years, Daniel had experienced a life full of happiness he never thought could exist. He made his own money, bettered himself, and most surprisingly, had seemingly conquered his inner darkness.

  He credited Layla with the positive changes in his life, for she helped Daniel find his inner peace and taught him to control his emotions, starting with that fateful encounter with Nathan. If it hadn’t been for Layla, Daniel would’ve ripped the man to shreds.

  It wouldn’t be the last time she talked him down. Layla helped Daniel recognize certain triggers and how to breathe through them, and after a while it became easier for him to snap out of the dangerous moments of fury.

  Their relationship only grew stronger when she reached her teenage years, though in some ways it was more stressful. Since Layla was an attractive girl, she had no shortage of male suitors, and Daniel had set a high bar. Luckily, Layla was just as picky, so Daniel was never put in any awkward situations. In fact, the only boy both Daniel and Layla had mutually liked was the one she’d been getting ready to go to a dance with on the day of the Marcini mansion massacre.

  “In a flash, it all came crashing down,” said Daniel. As he filled in the blanks, a look of recognition formed on Cane’s face. Calvin was the only other person Daniel had ever confided in, but it felt good to get this off his chest again.

  Daniel spared no detail, telling Cane about their early interactions and how he acquired his sense of humor. He even told him about Layla’s toy bunny and how bad it had hurt to see the stuffed animal lying on the floor the day the marked men attacked.

  “It was the first time I’d ever seen one of the marked guys,” said Daniel. “I stumbled across one marking and saw that every one of them had them.”

  “Did you notice they were different? Stronger?” asked Cane.

  “Not until the last guy,” said Daniel. “I was near death, but still, there was something about him. Now it makes sense.”

  “It was Rick,” said Cane.

  Daniel nodded. “I never saw his face. They had shirts covering them because of the smoke. But yeah, it could have been him. In fact, I know it was.”

  “How’d you get out?” asked Cane.

  “Rick shot me and left me for dead,” said Daniel. “The men were in a hurry. I could hear sirens, so I think the police had arrived. Someone must’ve dragged me out, I guess. Maybe it was the cops. The next thing I remember is being at the hospital.”

  Daniel recalled waking up in his hospital bed, restrained. It was the loneliest feeling he’d ever had. “They didn’t know if I was a victim or a suspect, so they cuffed me.”

  “Did they find Layla?” asked Cane.

  “The whole place burned,” said Daniel. “There were a ton of bodies unaccounted for, last I heard. I don’t think she died in the fire, though.”

  “Rick took her?” asked Cane.

  “There were witnesses,” said Daniel. “A few of Benito’s men got out of the house. One said he saw them taking her away.”

  Daniel remembered seeing the trail of blood coming from her bedroom. He’d suspected they had taken Layla, and the witnesses later confirmed it. “I think when they saw I wasn’t there, they wanted to make sure they had what mattered most to me. But after Rick thought he killed me, they had no need for Layla.”

  Initially, Daniel had hoped Layla had gotten away somehow or that the marked men still held her hostage, but her fate became clear soon enough. “If they had taken her, they could’ve used her to lure me out a long time ago,” said Daniel. “But honestly, my rage overcame me in that hospital. I knew she was dead, and all I cared about was finding the men responsible.”

  Daniel knew Cane could relate, for only weeks ago he’d been through a very similar experience. After finding Kristy’s mom, Helen, dead, Cane went on his own quest for vengeance. The difference between Cane and Daniel, however, was that Daniel didn’t have someone to save after Layla died. Cane had Kristy’s life hanging in the balance, which affected the way he approached his revenge.

  “Months later, I met Calvin,” said Daniel. “He helped me get closer to the marked men.” Marcene, the mysterious figure who been intervening in their lives for who knew how long, had orchestrated their meeting.

  “What happened the second time you fought Rick?” asked Cane.

  Calvin had le
d Daniel to a Chicago facility full of marked men over a year ago. Rick had been there, although at the time, Daniel didn’t know who he was. He nearly killed Daniel that night, and not even Calvin knew the whole story.

  Daniel’s apprehension to recall exactly what had happened that night, even to Calvin, partially stemmed from his own pride. He’d always fallen back on the fact that he’d been outnumbered, which was only half true. Honestly, Rick had simply gotten the better of him, which was hard for him to admit.

  There was something about this moment with Cane that proved disarming, and coupled with his recent humbling experience with Tom and Jordyn, Daniel didn’t feel the need to hide any more. “Rick beat my ass that night,” said Daniel. “There’s no denying that. He knew martial arts and was quick as hell. I couldn’t get my hands on him long enough to hurt him.”

  Daniel figured Cane had likely dealt with similar opponents throughout his life. Daniel had only fought in the streets and used his size and strength as a weapon.

  “There’s no shame in that,” said Cane. “Sounds like he was just a bad matchup for you.”

  “He’s really good,” said Daniel. “Faster and stronger than any man I’ve seen.”

  Daniel’s failure had forced him to admit there was a man he couldn’t defeat, although he refused to think the outcome would repeat itself. Nonetheless, it was hard to swallow.

  “How’d you get out of there alive?” asked Cane.

  Daniel had seen this one coming, and it had remained a mystery to even him after so long. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “Rick and his men had me near death. I lost consciousness, and when I woke up, I had a phone in my hand. Calvin came and got me. I have no memory of what happened with Rick.”

  Cane was either confused or didn’t believe him, for he stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Sounds like the first great escape.”

  “It’s the truth,” said Daniel. “I don’t know why Rick didn’t finish me.”

  “Could someone have intervened?”

  “Like who?” asked Daniel. “Unless it was you, I don’t know who else could have taken Rick.”