Dungeons & Gangsters

by Marco Frazetta

  I looked over and down at Skreech, who was standing next to me and observing the orcs, and, once I caught his eye, I mouthed, “look at this shit. These orcs, with all that fuckin’ muscle, and no damn brains.” I shook my head, and Skreech gave me a quick smile. Brock had turned and saw part of my exchange with Skreech, and came over to me.

  “What’s up?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “You got any better suggestions?”

  “I might,” I replied, already feelin’ tired and knowin’ if I tapped into my magic it would drain me, “but I’m gonna need some concentration and for them to stop kickin’ on that fuckin’ door like it’s gonna do something.”

  “J-Maxx, your hob has an idea here,” Brock called over to the big dumb orc, who was still raging and pounding away at the door.

  “Yea? What’s that?” J-Maxx spat over his shoulder, ramming the toe of his boot into the door.

  “I can open it. I just need a little time.”

  “We ain’t got time,” Brock interrupted.

  I grit my teeth. “I just need a few minutes, and for you big loud distracting fucks to wait outside.”

  “Why, what you gonna do, ask it nicely? You gonna sweet talk it like you sweet talked that orc bitch?” J-Maxx was an absolute savage, sweating and breathing heavy like a lion that’d just chased a wildabeast down. I had a quiet respect for that. Thankfully he stopped his useless kicking on the door.

  “Do you want me to open it or not?” I was losing what little amount of patience I had left. J-Maxx looked from me to Brock, then to the other orc and back to me, nodded to himself more than to me, and walked towards the doorway of the door we had blasted through.

  “Make it quick, Teek, we don’t have all night,” J-Maxx rumbled as he and the other orcs started to file out of the train car. “We still gotta somehow get this fuckin’ thing, whatever it is, back to L.A. and the Dragon.” I didn’t bother to reply and began studying the door and the surrounding frame, when I realized Skreech was breathing next to me, following me around, trying to follow the path of my eyes with his.

  “That means you too, Skreech,” I said, looking down at the little goblin. “Wait outside, I need a few minutes of privacy. I haven’t done this in awhile.”

  “Oh, alright...” he said, a little dejected and crestfallen, then scampered out of the train car. When I heard his last little footsteps on the steps leading down and out, I turned back to the door. I studied the door and its frame more. It had been some time since I had to use my skills, and it definitely wasn’t in such a tense fuckin’ situation, so I was feelin’ rusty. I had to close my eyes for a moment and try to calm my nerves, I tried to remember what that teacher from Magic College had told me once...That sexy human professor that I had fantasized about now and then… ‘Teek,’ she had said, ‘you have a real natural talent, a real gift, and so much potential, but you let your thoughts become scattered. You lose focus at times…’ Focus, I thought, focus hard. I cleared my mind, seeing just the door in my field of vision, and shutting out the noises of the world around me, the orcs making angry comments outside the train car from time to time, Skreech breathing and pacing. A thick trickle of sweat began to wind its way down the right side of my face, threatening to break my concentration. Come on, nice and easy, see it before you, see the hand, it’s your hand, an extension of you, I thought, straining and starting to feel that odd tickle in my head, like soda sloshing and bubbling on top of my brain. Come on, come on, I started to feel the wave gather on my brain, started to tense but remembered that wouldn’t help, I had to relax, had to let the magic do its thing. Releasing the tension, becoming loose to the point that my body nearly started to wobble, I felt the weave open to me, then a red magic wave crash down on my brain. Then I saw it before me, a greatly magnified version of my own right hand with a ghostly red pallor, seeming to float in the air. Fuck yea! I thought, triumphant. It was a more powerful form of the mage hand I conjured back at the IRS building. Tryin’ to figure how I could maneuver the magic hand, I tried to picture it in my mind’s eye simply sliding through the door frame part-way, then working the lock. As I focused hard on that imaginary motion in my mind’s eye, I saw the magic hand, a great, pale version of my own, seemingly hover forward, then, emitting an intermittent glow, the hand tilted some to the left, so that the position of the hand was upside down, and the fingers began to elongate, then became like needle points as they slipped into the lock’s keyhole. My eyes, closed, I saw the inner working of the lock, everything inside my mind red, like the vision in them Terminator movies. If I could just get my magic fingers into the lock didn’t mean that it was all fun and games though. I still had to figure out how all the lock’s mechanisms worked together. There we're still all kinds of gears and springs that I needed to sift through, my mind like a microscopic snake that was worming it's way through all these tiny contraptions. I saw a latch, pulled on it, saw that relieved a certain spring of it's pressure. Damn, this was one of those combination locks, steel two two inches thick that held it together, and not like one of those Simplex locks like the night before. I couldn't just pull one flag latch on this and make it open.

  “Come on! We don’t got all day!” J-Maxx roared. “Even Brock can’t keep the damn cops off us forever!”

  “You’re only making it worse!” I hissed back. The damn lug was breaking my concentration. I refocused. Cogs, latches, springs. If I pressed this latch, then that released this tiny lever looking thing…which allows this cog to turn. If I turn it exactly to this notch, that slips this metal rod into place... My magic finger pressed the latch, then another lifted the lever, and watched as four springs released.

  Jackpot! I said to myself, feeling exhausted but happy and relieved, seeing my magic hand dissipate into the dark air of the train car. The damn lock opened, and the huge metal door swung open with it. Darkness loomed inside. It was a strange darkness, something eerie about it, like a crow that stares at you as storm clouds are rolling behind it during a blood moon.

  “Teek! What the fuck was that?” J-Maxx shouted from outside the train car..

  “I got it open! I don’t know what’s in there...it’s dark.”

  “How the fuck…? Alright, look, I was thinkin’,” J-Maxx nervously interjected, “you go in first and check it out, then come back and let me know it’s clear to come in.”

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously.

  “‘Cause I ain’t losin’ a hand to some fuckin’ booby trap, that’s why! Now get in there!”

  I didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there like a fuckin’ jerk. Booby traps? I asked myself. Fuck...I didn’t even think of that. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 13

  “Yea, thanks,” I spat bitterly over my shoulder, turning back to the ripped open inner door of the train car. I’ll be careful, I thought, cautiously movin’ towards the container doorway, I’ll check it out, see if there’s any lines runnin’ along the floor around the package. If it’s some kinda trip mine they got in there then you’ll see the line runnin’ from the wall to the crate or whatever they got the shwag in, but that shoulda been triggered already by the explosions from the sticky explosives...Hmm…

  I slowly crossed the threshold the inner train car door, and very gingerly tip-toed into the container. It was dark inside, no lights but what little light leaked in from outside. As I peered around, I distinctly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my guts. Where the fuck is the shwag?! I thought, quickly getting frustrated that I saw no boxes, no crates, no money or gold or dope of any kind, not sittin’ clean and pretty and ready for the take nor strewn and jumbled about, no guns, just empty container space. I slowly moved further into the container ‘til I was nearly in what must have been the center of it, looked around, attempted to pierce the darkness with my gaze, but I couldn’t see shit. I started to smell a strong, offensive, familiar odor that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. Might have to cast light or faerie fire, if I even remembered how from the college days, or
had enough juice left. I was about to walk out and tell the gang we’ve been fuckin’ had, tell J-Maxx he fucked up and should have kept that elf prick Raulis alive, clearly he lied, he duped us!

  “What the fuck?!” I hissed, starting to briefly pace around, gettin’ myself gassed up and ready to give the orcs a fuckin’ piece of my mind, the fuckin’ prick was definitely gonna owe me somethin’ on the motherfuckin’ spot after this colossal fuckin’ waste of my time! The fuck do I look like, huh? A dancin’ fuckin’ hobgoblin? You’re gonna have me jump and twist and explode a moving fuckin’ train, and no bag for the effort? Piece of shit...I thought bitterly. When I paced by one of the corners, I froze. I heard a odd little noise, almost like a little bird choking as it held its breath, and I suddenly realized the strong scent I was smelling was fuckin’ piss. I immediately got the very uncomfortable feeling that I wasn’t alone in that fuckin’ container, and my hand quickly dropped down to my modified .40 caliber Smith & Wesson. I brought it up quickly, the safety already off and a round chambered, and I trained the gun on the dark corner, where I thought I could make out the hint of a shape but wasn’t quite sure.

  “Who the fuck is there? Where is the fuckin’ gold?!” I roared at the corner, nearly deranged and feelin’ like I’d been swindled out of my imaginary gold before I ever even saw it or got my fuckin’ paws on it. I waited a couple beats. “I know you’re over there, come out from the corner now!” There was another few moments, and I held my breath, straining to hear any possible sounds comin’ from that dark fuckin’ corner.

  “Okay,” a delicate, girlish voice nervously said from the dark, “please, don’t shoot...we’re not...your enemy…” the same voice said, somewhat oddly, as though the owner of the voice were somehow drugged or in a daze. We? I thought, puzzled, okay, maybe this fuckin’ nut talks in the third person...

  “Sure, we’re the best of friends, now come out from the fuckin’ corner and give me the fuckin’ goods,” I snarled, backing up slowly so whatever or whoever was over there could come into what little light there was coming into the train car container, my modified pistol still trained on the direction the voice had come from. My finger was tensing, ready, wanting to pull.

  “There are no goods,” another, sluggish feminine voice, this one slightly more robust, called out from the darkness.

  “What the fuck? How many of you are over there?! What do you mean, no goods?! Come out from over there now, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ with you!” I threatened.

  I heard movement, somehow sounding like it was comin’ from several people at once, and before my eyes, in front of the barrel of my Smith & Wesson, looking passed it and back at me, were three girls, exotic lookin’ for sure, and all wearing the same kind of black dress. I eyeballed them wildly, not knowin’ what to fuckin’ make of what I was seeing right there before me. There’s fear in their eyes, I thought immediately, seeing them all looking back at me bug-eyed, their pupils fully dilated. For some strange reason, some instinct, I slowly lowered my gun.

  “What the fuck…?” I muttered again stupidly, not knowing what to say, not even knowing what to think, looking from girl to girl, my gun lowered but still in my hand. I looked down at the floor again and around the container now that these fuckin’ girls had been revealed, hoping and wondering that I had missed somethin’, maybe a box of dope in the corner with them, something, anything...but all that even remotely resembles gold was the puddle of piss I had smelled. It was a lot of urine, and it was rapidly expanding out from the corner the girls had just been huddled in. I didn’t know if it had come from just one of the girls or all of them, obviously the action of us causing explosions and a heated shoot-out all around them, while on a moving train, had terrified them badly, and now they were lookin’ at me, expecting the worst, so I decided against askin’ who pissed. I bitterly looked back up at them, coming to the disappointing conclusion that there was no grand shwag in this fuckin’ container that was gonna make me rich this night. I was angry, but I was misdirecting that anger onto these girls, and I felt a little bad about that, which made me even more angry. I looked at the girls again, and I realized there was somethin’ off about what was in front of me. They’re all hybrids, I thought, even more puzzled than before.

  “Yo Teek!” J-Maxx’s voice called to me from outside the container and the train car. “What’s the hold up? Booby trap got your fuckin’ slippery tongue?”

  “I’m workin’ on it, hold the fuck on!” I looked at the girls, studying them, tryin’ to make out their features. The girl to the left was clearly—on her normal, not fucked up and beaten and abused days—a very beautiful and curvy orc and human hybrid, with a midsection that had definition to it, strong, athletic limbs. She had long black and purple hair with one side on her head cropped real short above her ear; the girl to the right of her and directly in front of me was definitely an incredibly pretty and svelte elf and human hybrid, a half elf, with shorter hair, a nice golden color to it; the girl furthest to the right was also good looking, though she had a ring of scales around her human-like face, and large swaths of scales on her body, she must have been a dragonborn and human hybrid, with an enormous amount of dark hair twisted into dreadlocks and pulled back and down from her head and face, eyes with heavy lids on them, exotic looking eyes, and a thin, reptilian tail that flicked behind her. They all wore the same black dress, which hugged their various curves, and nothing else.

  “Are ya sure there’s no goods…?” I asked somewhat anxious and not knowin’ what to say. These three broads were very pleasing to my eye, despite the circumstances, and I was struggling to think of what to say to them, and how I could possibly approach the orcs about what I had found in the fuckin’ container.

  “Yes,” the half-elf girl replied simply, after briefly making eye contact with the other two hybrid girls. The elf girl’s eyes sparkled blue, even in this dingy light. I looked at the three of them together then each of them individually, meeting their eyes for a long moment before moving to the next. I quickly made the uncomfortable observation that something had happened to these hybrid girls, something wrong and fucked up, they had bruises that had clearly come from the hands of men, not bein’ jostled around in this fuckin’ train car container. My next thoughts were that I didn’t want to work for the Dragon or the orcs anymore, definitely not if this was how they were gettin’ down. Drugs and guns, that’s one thing, but I got a fuckin’ code: I don’t hurt kids and I don’t hurt women, and I’m not tryin’ to work for or be in business with anybody that’s runnin’ and hurtin’ girls.

  I can’t hand them over to J-Maxx and the Dragon, was suddenly my overriding thought. I had never even met or seen the Dragon; he was an elusive fuck, but the thought of some hulking monster and his pet orcs goin’ the fuck in on these hybrid girls, breaking and ruining them, was too much for me. I decided I had to try to appeal to J-Maxx. He did bring the score my way originally with good intentions—he couldn’t have known it would end up like this. I had to at least give him the benefit of the doubt, and I just had an idea on how to bring him over to my side of things. Time counted for everything right now and I couldn’t waste a moment more.

  “Stay here, I’ll come back for you,” I told the hybrid girls. They looked at me in silence, and didn’t know or didn’t bother to elicit a verbal response—they were that fuckin terrified, or drugged, who knew. I started to head towards the doorway of the container, looked back at the girls briefly, for what, I couldn’t have possibly explained at the time, then headed out, passing the space with the dead security team and heading down the scorched, warped stairs, into the desert night. The orcs and Skreech were all standin’ around in a sort of semi-circle, waitin’ for the go-ahead to come in and check out the fuckin’ merchandise. A little behind them I saw Maurice laying in the sand, somehow miraculously still breathing, though his breaths were soundin’ real shallow and ragged, painful even.

  “Well, he don’t look like he ran into any traps in there that he couldn’t
handle,” Brock said offhandedly, after my boots touched the train tracks.

  “So? What’s the story?” J-Maxx took a large step towards me. “Ya sure don’t look like ya just became a rich man, so what the fuck? What’d ya find in there? Spit it out, what’d we get?”

  “It’s...It’s not what you think, or whatever you thought it was. It ain’t dope, ain’t jewels, ain’t no guns in there…”

  “What is it, boss? Come on tell us!” Skreech piped up.

  “Shut up,” J-Maxx spat to the goblin. “What the fuck is it, Teek? Are you fuckin’ with me or what?”

  “I really wish I was right now,” I replied honestly, “but I’m not. This shit is fucked up, alright? I’m hopin’ we got the wrong container and this shit’s a mix up, ‘cause if it’s not, I gotta tell you the truth, I don’t want no fuckin’ parts of it J-Maxx.” I glared at the orc.

  “Okay…? You gonna keep me guessin’?” He looked from me to Brock, then back to me.

  “It’s fuckin’ girls, man. There’s three scared girls in there that look like they just been through some shit.” I looked up at him. “I’m not feelin’ it, this package ain’t right.” J-Maxx eyed me up for a moment, then thoughtfully looked at the other orcs, meeting Brock’s eyes and holding them there for a moment longer before turning back to me.

  “So what it’s girls? If that’s what he’s shippin’ in there, obviously they’re worth a lot to the right buyer,” J-Maxx rumbled, beginning to harry that big ugly bottom fish lip again. “So we’ll take ‘em to the Dragon, he’ll pay us handsomely for our troubles, then thank us profusely and send us on our way. For all we know they're like European royalty or some shit—you know, majorly expensive hoes. What’s the problem?”