by Barry Smith
Pressing another button, a pole rose from the base of the gyrosphere, through Ryan’s spread legs, connecting to a hole, high up, in the ceiling. Ryan shifts in discomfort, as the cold feel of the metal brushes pass his scrotum.
Sage proceeds to undo her g-string and then, pulls herself onto the pole. As he watches her dance expertly around the pole, Ryan finds himself harden all the more; he wants, more than anything at that time, to be inside Sage. Sage, sensing his eagerness, twirls one last time around the pole, before lowering herself onto Ryan’s hardness.
***
Up in Twist’s office, Quade is having a chat with his bodyguard,
“Condor,” he begins, “I have complete trust in you running the Playground operation, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to dethrone my father and end his terrible reign as the Twist family head. You are the one man I can never thank enough.”
“There is nothing to thank me for, Sir,” replies the menacingly-looking man, “I never once agreed with your father’s methods. But the guilt does occasionally eat at me for having to kill your father, my very good friend,” he pauses, as if in sorrow, before continuing, “but then again, what he was doing to the family and even more, to those little girls…” he shakes his head in disgust, “…he just had to be taken down.”
“You are…” begins Quade, before the ring of office landline cuts him off. He reaches for the receiver and brings it to his ear, to hear something unexpected:
“Quade Twist, this is Captain Lloyd McCormack, with the Corbindale Bay Police Department.”
“We received word that Disciple protesters were being shot at, on your property. Care to explain yourself?“
“First of all,” begins Quade, “how did you get this fuckin’ number?”
McCormack replies, “Oh, we have our ways. I’m fully aware of your past, and now that I know your hands are in the wicked cookie jar, I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you.”
“Look, Captain!” returns Quade, “I don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talking about; there were no shots fired tonight. All the security here at Wicked Haven report directly to me, and none have made any mention of shots being fired at your fuckin’ Disciple protesters. Maybe they heard our fireworks and ran away confused.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” shouts McCormack angrily, “Multiple protesters witnessed one of your men firing several shots off, and…”
Twist sharply interjects, “Well, it sounds like we have a mother fuckin case’ of ‘They said, they said’! Look, I would love to help you on your mother fuckin’ crusade of invisible shooters, but I have fuckin’ business to run; there is money to be made! And tonight’s party, hosted by Dax Brayton, sounds like money to my ears! It’s been nice chatting with you, Cap; please tell the Fathers, I said ‘Hello’.” Then he bangs the receiver hard against the desk, while McCormack, on the other end, lets out a string of profanity.
***
Down in the Guilty Pleasure showroom, Jett is anchoring the special event after-party, and is making an introduction:
“Ladies and Gentlemen, here to perform his number one single, ‘Keep Me Up All Night’, Dax Brayton!”
Confetti cannon goes off spraying the room with a tapestry of color and bling, dancers, in all sorts of costumes, are lowered from the ceiling in cages, as Dax steps on stage to entertain a wildly screaming audience.
***
After going multiple rounds with Sage, Ryan is putting on the clothes she gave him as a replacement for the ones she shredded. As he buttons his shirt up, he tries to fathom why he is not being asked for money, again. As he tries to run through a list of probable answers, a female voice breaks into his thoughts,
“Thank you, Renly,” it starts.
Ryan turns to face Sage, who is already fully dressed; she continues, “I really enjoyed that, and also getting to know you.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” replies Ryan, “You are beautiful, talented, and really know your way around a man’s body. I hope to see you again next weekend.”
She smiles before saying, “I hope so as well. I really appreciate your poetry; there is something about your choice of words that really hits home. Goodnight Renly.”
She took a few steps forward, kiss Ryan on the cheek, turns, and then walks out the room. Ryan smiles, as his gaze follows her out the door. Coming back to his senses, he hurriedly finishes buttoning his shirt and made his way out the suite.
Once in the elevators, he heads back downstairs, to the Guilty Pleasures Showroom, in search of Bryce. He finds him and Christian, who is dressed like a cowboy in ass-less chaps. They are both sitting at a bar, sniffing Bliss in large amounts.
“…So, I used to work at ‘Down Low’,” speaks Christian, hardly himself, “that bar & bathhouse at Corner Pocket. ‘Ya know it?”
“Sure do,” responds Bryce just as stoned, “Used to go there for some action myself.”
“Yeah well, Sage discovered me while I worked there. She…”
“Sorry fellas, I’d hate to break up this reunion…” jumps in Ryan, before turning to Bryce, “…but we need to go.”
He grabs Bryce by the arm, and pulls him towards the backrooms. There is no one on guard by the entrance, so they swiftly snuck in, navigate the maze of corridors, and stop by the steel blue door.
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m gonna try and pick the lock. We have to see what goes on behind this door,” replies Ryan, as he inserts his picking pin into the keyhole.
“Ok, I’ll keep an eye out for guards in case they…What the…!”
Bryce’s voice trails off as Christian comes round the corner, wearing even less than before. He is practically naked, stripped bare, with only his boots on his feet, and holding a cowboy hat in front of his manhood.
“I hope you both weren’t going to start the party without me?” asks the dancer, with a smirk.
Ryan’s eyes run down Christian’s figure and rest on his feet; his boots appear to have blood stains on them, and are the same color alligator skin, just like the boots of the young man he had seen the Enforcer lock in his trunk.
Having had his curiosity incited, Ryan asks,
“Hey, Christian! Where did you get those boots?
“Well, I found them in this room,” stammers a flustered Christian, as he points both Ryan’s and Bryce’s eyes in the direction of room .
“The boots were sitting in a trashcan outside another door downstairs, but the weird part was…”
Ryan looks up to find out why Christian stops talking, only to find his eyes go white and roll up into his head, and his body falls limp forward, into Bryce’s arms to reveal a tomahawk, lodged in the back of his skull, and a woman, in a black, glossy catsuit and several meters off, wielding a gun.
“Hello boys,” she cocks her Glock 9mm, “I am Shadowlark, and I believe you are trespassing.”
Two male Sky Kill Assassins joined her; both wielding Uzis. In unison, all three opens fire on Ryan and Bryce.
“Forgive me, Christian,” mutters Bryce, as he hoisted Christian’s body and used it as a shield from the barrage of bullets. Ryan crouches behind him, pulls out his gun, and begins to shoot over Bryce’s shoulder. His third shot is received by one of the assassins in the chest, who falls backwards to the ground, while still firing his gun. The second male assassin coming into his line of fire, rolls out of the way, but is not quick enough to prevent his gun from being shot out of his hand. Ryan, on seeing the second has been disarmed, rushes towards him, and engages him in a fist fight.
Seeing her comrade at Ryan’s mercy, Shadowlark takes her aim at Ryan and is about to pull the trigger when Bryce boots the gun from her hand,
“That’s not happening, sister.”
“You will regret that,” promise Shadowlark, as she brandishes another tomahawk and slashes at Bryce. Both Ryan and Bryce hold their ground against the two initially, but when Shadowlark finds her rhythm, Bryce realizes he and Ryan are out of their depth.
More guns sparks in the dark, as several other assassins surround the four. Shadowlark has just delivered a roundhouse kick to Bryce’s face, and sent him flying backwards towards a wall, where Ryan joins him seconds later.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, kid?” whispers Ryan, as they struggle to their feet.
“You bet I am.”
“Great!” replies Ryan, “On the count of three, let’s make a run for it. 1,2,3…”
Both men run towards a window, crouching and dodging the bullets that are fired off from behind them, and dive headlong, through the glass. They fall for several seconds before they landed, serendipitously, on a pile of garbage bags.
“Come on third leg!” urges Ryan, as he helps Bryce to his feet, “They got us beat; parking lot’s this way.”
Ryan taps his watch and speaks into it while running, “Gloria, bring the car around. We got an emergency!”
As they make a mad dash for the car park, Ryan’s classic red dodge viper pulls up to let them in. They both jump in, and in a panic voice, Gloria asks, “Oh my god. What’s going on?”
“No time to explain. Just get us out of here,” shouts Ryan.
“Powering to maximum overdrive sir.”
The car peels out and leaves a trail of smoke in its velocity. As they make their way, through the streets, to reach the gate of A Wicked Haven, something quickly approaches up ahead.
“What the fuck is that?” asks Bryce, as he points ahead.
There, illuminated by the beam of their headlights, and standing in the car’s path, is Shadowlark.
“Gloria, please run that bitch over!” announces Ryan.
“But sir, I don’t understand. She didn’t do anything. Should I hunk first?”
“No, that woman is a killer. Run her down!” confirms Bryce.
Shadowlark begins running towards the incoming vehicle, and begins a series of tumbling passes. When only a few meters from being pressed to the road, she flips up, easily clearing Ryan’s speeding car.
“I think she’s on the roof,” observes Gloria, as a thud is heard above them.
“Gee, you think!” replies Ryan.
As Ryan and Bryce lean forward to see if they see anything at the top of the windshield, a face soon shoots out from the roof, startling the men. In mid-scream, her head vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared. Then the sounds of hard footsteps are heard at the top of the roof.
“What is she doing to our car? This bitch has lost her mind,” shouts Gloria.
“Let me take over the wheel; you drive like my grandma,” explains Ryan.
Ryan kicks the car into high gear, while Bryce gets his gun reloaded. Another thud is heard on the roof and then silence. Bryce looks at Ryan,
“You think she jumped off?”
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you lean out the window and check?” as they both uncomfortably laugh at each other.
Before their laughter is finished, a tactical tomahawk comes, piercing through the roof, between the both of them.
“Aaw, hell nah. That bitch just fucked up our car!” yells Gloria. “I’m taking back over this shit.”
Gloria initiates a series of sharp turns and insane manoeuvers on the Island’s Central Roundabout, all in a bid to throw Shadowlark from the car. She drives them down a side street, made a sharp U-turn, and still is not able to get rid of her.
“She must be holding on to the handle of the tomahawk,” assesses Bryce, “I think you should…” he stops talking while looking forward, “Fuck! There’s more of ‘em!”
In the not-too-far distance are three other female assassins, standing in the center of the road. They are all dressed in black but diverse outfits; the one to the left has platinum blonde, almost white hair, the one to the right wears her hair in a black pixie cut, with two colors of highlight, and one in the middle has most of her black hair covered by a hood.
The hooded assassin reaches to her side, and deftly throws an object at Ryan’s car. The object slices through the air and then, impales itself in Ryan’s windshield, shattering but not fully breaking the glass around it.
“What is that?” begins Bryce.
“It looks like a claw-like dagger,” answers Ryan.
A second one impales the shield, followed by a third, and a fourth, and a score others. Ryan, peering through his badly damaged screen, tells Gloria to aim for the trio, as she accelerates rapidly. Seconds from impact, the three took unnatural, inhuman leaps out of the way, and lands on the surrounding roof tops.
“Who are these people?” asks Gloria.
“They can’t be human,” thinks Ryan, as his gaze lingers on the hooded assassin.
“Ryan, look!” shouts Bryce, as he breaks into his thoughts.
They are nearing the Central Roundabout, where a beautiful fountain stands erected in the center that is approaching very quickly.
“You got this Gloria?” asks Ryan.
“No problem,” answers Gloria.
The car soon speeds faster, toward the fountain. The dash display lights up like a Christmas tree, and before they know it, the car jumps over the fountain, knocking Shadowlark into the water, before continuing towards the main gates.
As the gates come into sight, a siren goes off, and the gates begin to close slowly.
“Ryan!”
“I know, kid!” replies Ryan, “Gloria, do something about that.”
“I have the gas pedal to the floor; that’s all we’ve got.”
“We’re not going to make it.” Yells’ Byrce.
“Come on! Come on!” Ryan urges, underneath his breath.
They sped towards the gates, and grazed through them onto the bridge, breaking their rear headlights in the process.
“Let’s never come back here again!” says Bryce, as he heaves a sigh of relief.
“You got that right!” laughs Ryan, as he speeds towards the mainland.
***
“What was that commotion?” asks Sage, as she exits the elevator on the first floor of the fantasy rooms. She sees a crowd of people further ahead, huddled around someone. She walks towards them, and pushes through the mass of people. On getting to the front, she found Christian’s body dead, with multiple holes in it.
“No!” she screams, while falling to her knees. She holds her hands to her face as she cries,
“Who did this? Did anyone see anything?”
She raises her head, and through her teary eyes, she sees the elevator doors open to reveal Quade Twist.
“What are you, mother fuckers, standing around for?” he barks without an iota of emotion, “We ain’t shooting a mother-fuckin' movie.”
Turning to a timid man who stands nearby, he shouts, “Jayli, clean up this mess!” while pointing to the two dead bodies and blood, splashed all over the hallway. Then turning to the guards, he says, “Get everyone out of here! And shut down the mother-fuckin' party!”
***
After barely escaping by the hair on their skin, Ryan stops in front of Bryce’s apartment, but before he can disembark the vehicle, Ryan asks,
“Hey, Bryce! I’m whipped and too tired to make the long drive to my place; you mind if I crash at your place for the night? I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”
“No problem, man,” replies Bryce, “There’s actually a sofa-bed in my living room you could use; just park your car round the corner and meet me at the door.”
“Thanks kid!” responds Ryan, before driving off to find a parking space.
Both men go in and share several bottles of beer for about an hour, but when Bryce notices Ryan yawning, he says:
“Let’s get your sorry ass to bed.”
They go over to the couch, and Bryce struggles with the sofa bed,
“Damn this bed! It’s jammed again.”
After seconds of unsuccessful pulling, he gives it one good yank and success, just as he unfolds the bed down.
“Shit, what the fuck!” shouts Ryan.
A dead body rolls out,
from within the mattress, onto the floor.
Bryce screams with eyes wide in horror and shock,
“Who is that?” asks Ryan.
“It’s….. my roommate, Doug.” replies Bryce, stammering to speak.
There he lay, with his camera joined to his face by an arrow, through his right eye socket. His shirt is also ripped open, revealing a disemboweled gut, but this time the numbers ‘7734’ are carved into his chest.
***
Back at the Quist Nightclub, in a private boardroom at the back of the building, are the very best of Twist’s Sky Kill assassins, seated around a circular table.
“These are the fuckers responsible for tonight’s events,” begins the Enforcer, as he throws several photos of Ryan and Bryce on the table.
“The tattooed one is an Investigative Reporter, Bryce Delles, a former Cop and the other one is Police Detective, Ryan Swett. They infiltrated our grounds under the names, Brent and Renly, respectively.”
Fat wads of dollar bills land heavily on the center of the table. Quade, exhaling a puff of smoke from his cigarette, then says:
“I’m offering a large bounty to whoever brings me these mother fuckers dead or alive. I’d prefer alive, so I can put them through hell, before they mother fuckin’ die. I want my best Sky Kill Assassins on this.”
***
“Do you hear anything?”
It is Jett asking Phoenix, who has her ear pressed against the boardroom door, behind which Quade is having a meeting with his heads of security.
“Not much,” she replies, “This door is practically soundproof; something tells me they are talking about the attack in the Fantasy rooms.”
“I can’t believe Christian is dead,” confesses Chloe, with her arms folded, “He was a good friend, I don’t know why someone would want to kill him.”
“What’s going on?”