Trey held up his hand, and everyone quieted down. “You’re gonna lead the gang, Lachlan? No one’s gonna follow you, bitch. A fucking stray dog you gave a steak to wouldn’t follow you. You’ve never been the brightest guy, but now you’re just being a dumbass.”
Lachlan seethed with rage. “You think you’re so tough, Trey. Fuck you.”
“I don’t think I’m tough. I know I’m tough.” Trey laughed. “Fuck, I don’t even need to prove it. I’ve got an official list of bounty captures that anyone can look at on the net. What you got, Lachlan? Big words? Look at you! You’re just a kid. I know you think you’ve got something to prove. That you are the baddest motherfucker around, or some stupid shit like that. But my patience only goes so fucking far, especially when you involve my nana.”
Lachlan puffed up his chest. “I am the baddest motherfucker, and I don’t want to work with no pussies.”
“You think Staff Sergeant Royce is a pussy?” Trey glowered at Lachlan. “He was fighting terrorists and weird-ass monsters when you were still wetting your bed, bitch.” He pointed at James. “And Mr. Brownstone is such a badass he don’t even have time to beat low-level bitches like you down no more.” He waved toward the men. “This is why we’re here. Know your place. You want to be a tough guy? Fucking prove it.”
“Whatever. I don’t even fucking care about any of you bitches. I only care about me.”
“Fine.” Trey squared his shoulders. “But you should care, and if you want to have a real future, then you need to understand that Mr. Brownstone is your boss now. No, fuck that. Mr. Brownstone is your leader. Maybe I should knock that shit into your head so you understand, motherfucker.”
The men all hooted and hollered. Everyone wanted to see Trey lay out Lachlan. It’d be easy enough to do, but the man needed to be humbled even more, and Trey had an idea on how to go about accomplishing that.
“You think you’re tough, Lachlan?”
“I fucking know it, Trey.”
“Then let me show you what being part of Brownstone’s Agency is all about,” Trey declared. “Shorty, get your ass out here.”
A broad-shouldered man a good head shorter than Lachlan stepped out of the crowd, cracking his knuckles.
Trey nodded to him. “You see, Shorty only came in a month ago. His mouth is three times the size of his dick, but he don’t have the bad attitude you have, Lachlan. He’s learned fucking respect for me, Mr. Brownstone, and Staff Sergeant Royce. How is it that a man who’s only been with us for a month has respect, but your bitch ass never managed to?”
“He ain’t shit,” Lachlan declared. “You ain’t shit.” He pointed at Royce. “And I don’t need G.I. Joe over there to make me into a badass. I’ma take all you fucking bitches down one by one if I have to.”
Trey shook his head a little sadly. Fuuuck, this bitch is stupid. I almost feel bad for what’s about to happen to him.
Royce snorted. The crowd laughed. James continued to watch impassively, understanding the importance of Trey working through the dynamics of his gang.
Trey snorted. “Shorty ain’t shit? Staff Sergeant Royce ain’t shit? You see, here’s the thing. You’ve got no gang, bitch. I had a gang, and now Brownstone has a group of employees who used to be in the gang. That’s what’s up. If you don’t like it, you’ve got one of two choices. You can walk away and don’t fuck with us, or join us and learn how to become a real man, not some whiny bitch.”
“Fuck you. You ain’t my leader anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I ain’t your leader. So this is just about proving who really is a badass. Shorty’s gotten real training. He has discipline. He ain’t a Marine, but he’s been trained by one. He can take your ass down for sure.”
Lachlan gave Trey a feral grin. “Fine. I bet your ass that I can take out that bitch Shorty without breaking a sweat.” He shrugged. “You love playing Marine so much? Then all you fuckers can do two hundred push-ups while I laugh at your asses. I’m gonna go around the neighborhood talking about how weak-ass you bitches are.”
Trey nodded. “Fine, but if Shorty takes your ass out, you’d better join back up and stop your bitching.”
“Whatever. Sure. It ain’t gonna happen.”
Trey stepped back. Shorty advanced, a smirk on his face.
“Don’t beat him too bad, Shorty. I want him to be able to train without having to go the hospital first.”
The other men started cheering Shorty on.
“Better get ready to do your push-ups, Trey.” Lachlan shook out his hands and raised his fists. “Come on, Shorty. I bet your dick is as short as you are.”
The other man advanced, still smirking. “You know what your problem is, asshole?”
“What?”
“You don’t read enough. Staff Sergeant has us doing a lot of reading. Lots of good shit like Marcus Aurelius and Sun Tzu. You need to read Art of War, bitch.”
Lachlan scoffed. “What? What the fuck is that?”
“Sun Tzu was an ancient Chinese strategy badass who studied war and wrote all the good shit down. Staff Sergeant always tells us that being disciplined isn’t just about the body, it’s about the mind.” Shorty pointed to his head. “That’s your problem, bitch. You don’t have a disciplined body or mind.”
Lachlan laughed. “That’s what these bitches have you doing? Reading? That’s making you into badasses? What-the-fuck-ever.”
“Sun Tzu says that if you know yourself and you know your enemy, then you’ll have a hundred battles with a hundred victories.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? Might as well be speaking Chinese.”
Shorty took a few steps forward. “Here’s the thing. I know myself. Staff Sergeant Royce has made me a bitch at times, but he’s shown me the kind of man I am. My limits.” He pointed at Lachlan. “But you ran away, bitch. You don’t know your limits. You don’t know mine. You’re all noise; barking. Fuck, Marcus Aurelius knew all that shit, too, and he was a motherfucking emperor. He said, ‘You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.’” He shook his head. “You don’t know yourself, and you don’t have power over your mind. You’ve already lost.”
Lachlan shrugged and snorted. “What the fuck? I thought this Marine was supposed to be turning you all into badasses, but now you’re running around quoting dead fucks like it means shit. I’m gonna beat your ass down, then you can tell me what motherfucking Marcus Aurelius and Sun Tzu have to say about that shit.”
He took a wide swing. Shorty grabbed his arm and spun in one fluid motion, taking advantage of the other man’s momentum to send him flying to the ground.
The crowd erupted into laughter.
Shorty grinned. “Sun Tzu would probably say, ‘Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.’”
“Fuck Sun Tzu.” Lachlan pushed off the ground. “You got lucky, bitch. You think some moldy Chinese bitch is gonna help you win against me?”
“One battle, one victory.” Shorty gestured for Lachlan to attack. “Ninety-nine more to go, bitch. I could do this all day.”
Lachlan yelled and charged. Shorty sidestepped and slammed his elbow into the man’s back. Lachlan collapsed to the ground with a grunt, grimacing in pain.
Shorty stepped back and shook his head. “See, if this was a real fight, I’d be stomping the shit out of your head right now. Or I would have pulled a gun and put a bullet into you.” He slammed his foot once into the downed man’s stomach. “Marcus Aurelius had some shit to say about being a good man. Guess I failed that test today.”
“That’s enough,” Trey yelled.
Shorty snorted and headed back into the crowd.
“We ain’t done,” Lachlan wheezed.
“The fuck you ain’t,” Trey yelled. “It’s like he said. He only didn’t beat your ass into a coma because I didn’t want him to. You’ve always been a dumbass, Lachlan.” He
motioned to the collected trainees. “You want to be tough? You want to be a part of the baddest motherfucking gang in Los Angeles? Then you join the Brownstone Agency. There ain’t a single motherfucker in this country who is more badass than James Brownstone. He’s proven it again and again and again to bigger and badder fuckers who only thought they were tough.”
James grunted but didn’t say anything else.
“Combat training, fitness, strategy, discipline,” Trey rattled off. “That’s the kind of shit Staff Sergeant Royce is filling the boys with. They ain’t gangbangers anymore. They’re trainee bounty hunters. Men who fucking think before they throw a punch. Men who understand shit like Sun Tzu and understand that the world may change, but some things stay the same. Attitude ain’t everything.”
Lachlan sat up and wiped some blood from the edge of his mouth. “You’re okay with following Brownstone?”
Trey shook his head. “Do you not believe your motherfucking eyes and ears, Lachlan? Mr. Brownstone could kill every last one of our asses by himself without breaking a sweat.” He pointed at James, who shrugged. “He already took down an entire gang, not to mention all those magic freaks.”
“I did have one person helping me some of the time with the Harriken,” James clarified. “But I killed more people. I had to stop counting after a while so I can’t give you exact numbers.”
The men all laughed, and Trey smirked.
“If you want to be something other than a bitch, Lachlan, then join up. Staff Sergeant Royce will run your ass through the grinder, but at the end of the day, you’ll be proud of yourself because you’ll be a real man. Not this weak-ass excuse you are right now. If you’re too much of a pussy to handle what it takes to be a member of the Brownstone Agency, then I don’t give a fuck. You can walk away.” Trey grabbed him by his shirt collar. “But this neighborhood belongs to the Brownstone Agency, and if you fuck with anyone in the agency or their families, we’ll show you just what a little training has done for us. You fucking understand me?”
He released his grip, and the defeated gangbanger slumped.
“Okay,” Lachlan murmured. “I… I guess I want in.”
Detectives West and Lafayette of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department sat in the break room with coffee and a few donuts on the table in front of them.
Lafayette looked at his partner who was scowling. “What? Coffee too strong again?”
West shook his head. “No. Just was thinking about the Red-Eyes Killer.”
“Why? It’s over. Brownstone took him out. That fucker has gone to explain himself to the Devil now.”
“I’m glad he’s gone, but I also can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t had Brownstone here. The Feds may have carted off all those mutants they had in the lower levels of that lab, but Red Eyes only didn’t get to them because of Brownstone. He had the contacts and the power to take the asshole down.”
Lafayette took a bite of a maple bar and swallowed. “Isn’t that the textbook definition of ‘All’s well that ends well?’”
“Maybe, but imagine if Brownstone hadn’t been around. Red Eyes took out a level-four bounty hunter. If Brownstone hadn’t shown up, he would have freed his freak buddies and it would have been a damned massacre. How many people would have died? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?” West shook his head. “Think about that shit in LA with that witch who went berserk at the farmer’s market? We don’t have the kind of AET resources they do. By the time reinforcements or the National Guard arrived, it’d be too late.”
His partner shrugged. “More freaks like to hit LA than Vegas. I don’t know if it’s the Mafia or if we’re sitting on top of some ancient dragon or some shit, but Red Eyes was the worst thing we’ve had to deal with since that few days where they were talking about moving Jessie Rae’s to New York.”
West shrugged. “That kind of muscle could help with other shit, too, though.”
“Like that?”
“Mafia, for one. I mean we had them on the run with the help of the Feds, and then all this magic shit happens and they’re stronger than ever.” West slammed his fist on the table, almost spilling some coffee. “Those sonsabitches were behind Red Eyes. We need more resources. Manpower. People who can go places us cops can’t.”
Lafayette eyed his coffee and picked it up, afraid his partner was going to spill it during his next rant. “I agree, but without a clear high-end threat, it’s not like we can request someone like Brownstone to show up.”
“No, we can’t, but maybe we don’t have to.” West nodded and looked down, his brow furrowed in his concentration.
“What are you talking about?”
“Brownstone’s not just Brownstone anymore.”
“Huh?”
“His agency. We don’t have a bunch of level fours, fives, or sixes running around, but we do have lower-level bounties. We should look into getting his agency to help us. It’ll also help get us in tighter with Brownstone should we need him.”
“Huh. It wouldn’t hurt to check with the captain.”
4
Zavan settled on the leather couch. It was comfortable enough, even if the light color scheme favored in the rental house wasn’t to his taste. They’d paid for three months with the help of a little gold converted to dollars, and they also had access to the human internet. He still didn’t understand it all that well, but Kaella had no such problems, even without the use of the Skill Ring he’d had to give to Reyal.
The other Drow woman had been tasked with getting them a vehicle.
When they’d brought the Skill Ring over from Oriceran, Zavan had assumed they’d need it to use some sort of Earth weapon. It had never occurred to him that it might prove more useful for such a banal task as transportation. They could use magic to fly, teleport, or gate around with ease, but that’d only draw more attention. Blending in, or at least not standing out, would help them with their mission.
“Zavan, come here,” Kaella called from the computer desk.
He stood and made his way over. An image of Brownstone’s mottled face dominated the screen.
“I already know what he looks like,” the Drow declared. “How is this useful?”
Kaella shook her head. “This site, YouTube, is a repository of human recordings. They have many of Brownstone.”
Zavan nodded slowly. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat. “Let’s see what we’re truly up against, then.”
Kaella moved the mouse and clicked on a video entitled Brownstone Beats Down Bikers. Now With Added Soundtrack.
The video began. Brownstone stood in a parking lot with six bikers surrounding him. They rushed him, but his punches sent them flying farther than a blow from a human should. Light classical music played in the background.
Zavan narrowed his eyes.
The short clip ended moments later with the bikers defeated.
“Magically-enhanced strength,” he observed. “But defeating human riffraff is hardly impressive.”
Kaella selected another video called The King is dead! Long live the King!
The shaky video appeared to have been taken from some distance up, perhaps from a human vehicle such as a helicopter.
A flaming man smashed through the window of a bank. A short battle followed in which the pyromancer blasted away at Brownstone, only to end with the bounty hunter pummeling the man’s head into nothingness in a parking lot.
Zavan tilted his head. The defeat of the pyromancer was impressive, but he was more surprised by the large number of human police in the parking lot.
“Resistance to flame as well, it seems,” he commented. “And he inspires enough terror or respect that the human authorities give him a wide berth and let him face down enemies.”
“Look at this one. It’s called Brownstone Stops the Apocalypse in Mexico.”
Zavan snorted. “Humans are so easily impressed.”
Again, the clip appeared to be from an aerial camera, but the quality of the image and the magnificati
on were awful compared to the pyromancer battle.
In the video, a group of shambling humans surrounded a single man who was shooting, punching, and kicking them. It might have been Brownstone, but it was hard to tell given the poor quality and distance.
“The movement of these humans is odd,” Kaella commented.
Zavan leaned forward. “Oh, I understand now. These are undead. Some necromancer, I assume.” The video clip ended up abruptly. “What’s wrong?”
Kaella shrugged. “That’s all that was posted.”
Another video followed: LAPD Drone: Brownstone vs. Magical Russian Mobster (Attempt #5 View before the Man takes this down) Warning: Graphic content!!!!
In the brief clip, Brownstone threw several punches at a larger man in a suit. Despite the bounty hunter’s previously demonstrated strength, his blows didn’t strike the man. Instead, a blue field winked into existence with each blow. The bounty hunter’s enemy grabbed his arm and said something, but even if the drone had managed to record the words, the uploader had overlain some pounding human techno music that drowned out any other sound.
Zavan found himself beginning to wonder how Brownstone would even survive the encounter when the bounty hunter stabbed his enemy through the throat with a knife.
“I’m beginning to think we may have underestimated James Brownstone.”
Kaella nodded her agreement.
The next few hours passed with them watching James Brownstone deliver beatdown after beatdown to a variety of enemies both magical and not, including him marching straight into the local Harriken headquarters after a rather explosive initial attack.
Not every battle the man had fought was available to view online, but various fan websites—including Scourge of Harriken, Granite Ghost Groupies, and Brownstone Beatdown Central—offered detailed descriptions of other encounters, including a telepathic monster in Japan, a soul-stealing assassin, and most recently, a twisted mutant in Las Vegas born of science and dark magic.
Kaella blinked as she finished reading a description of how the bounty hunter had decapitated the mutant to defeat its regenerative capabilities. “There are things we’re missing.”
Fight Fire With Fire: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 7) Page 3