Nefarious Heroes: Malevolent Prisoners Book Two

by Eddie Jakes

  "What about the wolves? Why aren't any of them here?" Krazek questioned before downing the last sip of his drink.

  "The dogs are still feuding over who is going to be their leader. They are constantly on the verge of killing each other. Pathetic. We have at least convinced them to keep out of sight until the proper time."

  "As they should," said Himmelreich. "I don't trust them any more than you do. They are wild and reckless."

  "Let me keep an eye on them. I'll make sure they don't do anything stupid."

  "I would prefer, Herr Krazek, if you kept assisting Mr. Ketter."

  "No need. Ephrain's got things well in hand."

  There was nothing more exquisite to Ephrain than the moldy smell of polluted water in the morning air. Not because he enjoyed the aroma of foul stench to clean, breathable air, but because it was contributing to the subterfuge of his underground operation. After a year of slumming it from one town to the next, taking on this new role of a well-organized kingpin of sorts suited him well. Not that Ephrain had a thirst for power like his colleagues the Statsnys or Krazek. He liked the idea of being in a position to manipulate other people's power through his unique set of skills. The need for currency didn't hurt either.

  They had finally broken free, but the excitement didn't last long when they were confronted with how much the world had changed for them. Space and time weren't an expertise of Himmelreich’s, but his theory about a constantly evolving time warp seemed to hold up enough. With everything they were dealing with it was evident.

  If it had been up to Ephrain, he'd just as soon let the vampires live on scraps forever. He didn't fear the Statsnys or their clan, but he definitely couldn't picture himself being their best friend either. He was not common by any definition, yet he was still of a human type and conspiring with monsters that would just as soon eat you for dinner gave new meaning to the term "strange bedfellows”.

  Since the vampires couldn't feed and the werewolves refused to align without first killing each other over leadership, Ephrain and Krazek suggested focusing on more practical scenarios. The good doctor had laughed at the idea of going out and finding "jobs" but Ephrain said he thought there might be an easier way. It was the land of opportunity, after all, and true entrepreneurs could always find a way to make their mark.

  It was decided that everyone would hide out in this old abandoned building they had found. There were a few vagrants scattered throughout, but they didn't pay much mind to the invasion of their home. It was there—while Havel was having a fit and trying to bite one of them—that Ephrain had discovered most of them were under the spell of active drugs. The world had progressed in medical science and in dangerous chemistry for pleasure.

  This was Ephrain Ketter's Shangri-La, and it was also the answer to their problems.

  For the next few weeks, Ephrain and Krazek integrated themselves into society’s darker places. Everyone was indulging in some kind of stimulant. They sampled everything that they could and learned about the culture of instant gratification. By Ephrain's standards, most of what they tasted was a complete fraud, and the rest was low-quality garbage. Didn't anyone have any pride in their work anymore? It was insulting to a man who literally manipulated every part of himself for his obsession with chemistry.

  They came up with the plan together: Krazek obtained the equipment and the compounds then Ephrain would come up with a superior product. It had to be clean, it had to be strong, and it had to be harmless.

  Harmless? Everyone was shocked when Ephrain said the words. They thought he had gone soft after spending too much time with the people. But he hadn't gone soft, he had gotten smarter. The modern day police were way too sophisticated to act like all of them did in the past. They had found a way to bond science with brute force, and they had to do whatever they could to avoid leaving a trail. Quick, clean, and safe was the only way to avoid confrontation. At least until they could solve the vaccination problem for the vampires.

  Himmelreich was the most impressed with Ephrain's plan, and he was also the key to getting the formula just right. His work with genetics and manipulation made it easy to devise a chemistry that could not only stimulate the right receptors when ingested but also begin to devour itself into untraceable genetic waste when exhausted. The way that evil old man could program DNA molecules was frightening even to him.

  Once they had the right mix, it was time to test the product. It was too risky to just give to the masses—they were unpredictable and slaves to their own appetites. In his short time mingling with the modern society he had seen children murder other children just for a small taste of euphoria. It was like the world had become a dumping ground for the weak and pathetic. One of them had even pulled a gun on Krazek in an attempt to steal money. There was a glimmer of fear in his eyes. Yes, fear. Fear of the real world, fear of being in your own skin, and the fear of being trapped in your own skin.

  Krazek wanted to kill the young man—he was quite capable of killing him, and with great suffering—but Ephrain had stopped him when he saw the opportunity to test their new merchandise. The thief was desperate, but he was decorated with expensive rings and lots of flowing gold chains. Something told Ephrain that this man knew someone who would be interested in a new and exciting product.

  "Instead of money, why don't you take this instead?" said Ephrain. The young man didn't hesitate to snatch it from his hand before asking what it was. "It will make everything go away for a few hours. When you come back, everything will be better. Guaranteed. Consider it a gift."

  That was the seed which grew into an empire, and that empire laid behind a rusty door to the basement of a dive bar. At least that was the front operation. Ephrain walked down the barely lit hallway and then down some stairs into a huge cafeteria filled with half-conscious workers filling small glass vials with clear fluid. They were all under the influence of Ephrain's less clean chemical forces and were nothing more than zombies on an assembly line. The American way, he thought. He laughed under his breath and proceeded to his office.

  It wasn't surprising to see Craig sitting there as usual. Ever since the attempted robbery of Krazek, he had become a bit of a fixture for Ephrain. Or perhaps just a way for the other business partners to keep an eye on him and their merchandise. Craig was doing his usual routine of skimming through some receipts and shaking his head in disbelief.

  "I don't know how you managed to produce this stuff so cheap," Craig muttered.

  "Let's just say that payroll is not a big issue. These people do it for their love of humanity."

  "Right."

  Ephrain pushed Craig out of his chair and wiped it off before sitting.

  "Hey, Ketter. You know that I trust you. The product you make is out of this dimension. People are paying markups of over five hundred percent right now, and the demand goes up every month. The people I work for are just a little concerned that you may decide to strike out on your own, that's why I'm here."

  "I have no interest in direct sales. That's your specialty. When you're not skimming your own supply, that is."

  "Come on, Ephrain. I'm as clean as a baby's asshole."

  "That's how you define clean?"

  "I'm just saying that I'm not fucked up anymore. Not since you brought your stuff into the mix. I swear that shit got the street junk out of my system."

  "Glad I could help. What else do you want, Craig?"

  Craig sat down on the desk next to Ephrain before responding. "Okay, hear me out. I know you have a sweet deal right now with—"

  "Not interested in names, Craig!"

  "Right. Right. Anyway, you got it good. I've got some connections myself with some small-time guys on the street. It's not the clientele that you usually go for, but I think with a slightly lower price structure, you and I could make a killing on our own. Just the two of us. How do you feel about that? Bigger percentage, larger customer base—"

  "Bigger mouths that don't know how to shut the fuck up."

  "Come on now, Eph!"


  "Ephrain."

  "I'm just making a suggestion, you know? Nothing serious, like."

  Putting on a fake smile, Ephrain stood up from his desk and placed his palms on the surface. He looked Craig dead in the eyes and slowly dropped his sarcastic grin. "I've got a better suggestion. You tell the partners that I am more than happy with the arrangement as it is. If the demand goes up, then we will expand manufacturing. That's all I am interested in. Manufacturing."

  "Hey now. No need to get testy," said Craig, swallowing back his pride.

  "Let's just forget we had this conversation. Now, if you decided you wanted to have it again, I would be forced to cut you up into little pieces, send you back to the partners with a note explaining why it was necessary to disembowel their courier and send the remains back to them with my apologies. Clear enough?"

  "Yeah, Eph," chuckled Craig. "I was just kidding, you know?"

  "Ephrain. Now get the fuck out of my face. I have inventory to manage."

  Craig was visibly shaken while he watched Ephrain walk toward the bottling room. "How do you stay so calm in this business?"

  Ephrain stopped at the doorway. "I guess I've just got some thick blood."

  "You mean skin?"

  "If you say so."

  CHAPTER SIX

  When Javier woke up that morning, he was a little upset that Maddix hadn't given him the opportunity to talk him out of going into town alone. Hopefully it wasn't those years of animosity toward each other that made him decide to go it alone. Maddix was a pretty honorable guy, and he was eighty percent sure that wasn't the case, but after much reflection of himself over the last few days, he wouldn't be surprised if it was.

  He had been the biggest ass to Maddix, and he knew it. Being too concerned with having total control over showing some dichotomy of respect for Maddix's position might have saved them some trouble in the long run. Javier blamed himself for everything going the way it did. His lack of objectivity was certainly a significant factor in the breakout, and maybe if he had worked with Maddix instead of against him they wouldn't be in the helpless position they were. Perhaps when Maddix returned they would have a heart-to-heart and air out all the dirty laundry so that they could just get it over with and move forward.

  They were all on the same team now, and if Maddix wanted to continue to fight then so did he. Technically he was still the chief constable, and crowd control was his responsibility until someone told him otherwise. His men were all slaughtered senselessly by someone connected to the whole operation. That set the fury inside him ablaze like a wildfire. He wanted to ensure that those men didn't die for nothing and that their families would know the bravery they exhibited when it all went to hell.

  Tanya was inside caring for Tara as best as possible. She wasn't human, but she was a fellow woman, and Tara said it was less embarrassing to have Tanya see her at her worse than Javier or Shepard. Tanya was more than willing to step up and help. She was so different from other werewolves. She had a wisdom about her, and a sense of compassion; mostly for her brood.

  He couldn't deny it anymore, though. Javier was attracted to her in a strong way. She wasn't just a beautiful woman with pleasing features; Tanya was also loyal and fierce. She'd do anything to protect her pack, or avenge them if need be. It was like they were both cut from the same cloth. There was one concern that ate at him. Would she stay loyal once she had her revenge, or would she be like the other monsters set loose? He wanted to think the best of her and consider that the two of them could have something, but she was a wild animal inside. Her calling was to create a brood and lead her pack.

  It was all so much to process that it was maddening. Javier had lost track of time and found himself staring at the swirling steam coming from his coffee. The front door to the cabin closed shut, and Shepard walked out carrying a long rifle with an antique silver bayonet attached. It was a strange combination of old and new, but then nothing about Shepard seemed reasonable. Javier thought about the old musket pistol he carried with him when they first met. Considering the timeframe they were currently in, the piece must have been worth a fortune if it was authentic. Why someone would use it for everyday protection was inconceivable.

  Javier started to sip his coffee while he watched Shepard sit down by his extinguished fire pit with his rifle and curse under his breath. Clearly, he had forgotten something, and got up begrudgingly to fetch it from inside the cabin. Javier couldn't take his eyes off the rifle as Shepard set it against his chair. The bayonet was so perfect and shiny that the sunlight blasted off of the tip and into Javier's eyes. He squinted his eyes from the pain, and when he opened them back up …

  The landscape was almost desert-like, and Javier was walking formation with six other men in front of him. They were soldiers in some kind of outfit, but he couldn't be sure what he was looking at. He wanted to ask the man walking ahead of him what was going on, but even though the motions went through his head no words came out of his mouth when he tried. He was carrying a long scoped rifle in his hands and a heavy pack on his back. The heat was pounding down on his face, and it was almost too much to bear, but something inside of him felt used to it and pressed on.

  There were abandoned wagons and buildings everywhere they marched, and the damage from heavy artillery was present all around them. It was evident they were in some kind of war, but nothing about it was familiar to Javier.

  The squad stopped when the soldier in front held his hand up. They were still for a few seconds while he seemingly stared at nothing. The other men seemed anxious but confident in the man leading them.

  "All clear," the man in charge said. He had a thick French accent.

  That was familiar to Javier, and he wanted to run and ask the man a million questions, but his body wouldn't obey his command no matter how loud his mental powers were. It was like being paralyzed and helpless. All he could do was watch the events unfold in front of him.

  "This is far enough for now," he continued. "We'll inspect this building here. Find a defendable position and rest up."

  Whoever this man in charge of the squad was, he was fit and had the perfect balance of leadership mixed with loyalty. Everyone respected him, and as he issued commands to each of them, they obeyed without wasting a single second. By the time he got to Javier, however, his tone was different.

  "Larouche? Can you handle things out here? Keep an eye open so we don't get hit from the rear?"

  The commander sized up Javier with a hint of disdain.

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Then go take a position by the door and alert us to the first sign of trouble."

  "Yes, sir!"

  Javier joined the soldiers who had lined up by the door. The man on point pushed the barely attached door open and check the corners before heading inside. Everyone waited for the all clear before following, leaving Javier outside with his rifle in hand. It was a small, two-story building so Javier expected it would not take long to ensure that it was free of danger. What danger were they fighting, though? What outfit was this and where the living hell were they?

  The sound of whimpering distracted Javier from his thoughts. Someone was trying to hold back tears, and they were close by. Was it one of the soldiers or some injured civilian hiding somewhere? He looked at the surrounding area but couldn't see anyone out in the open. He should report this to his commander right away, but he didn't. He just sat there while the whimpering commenced.

  "Larouche," a voice called to him, "are you crying?"

  "What? No … I'm not."

  But he was. It was him the whole time, choking back his own fear.

  "Well come on, the place is safe, and we're about to take inventory of rations."

  "I'll be right there."

  The soldier shook his head at Larouche and disappeared into the building. Javier took a few moments to wiped his eyes and put himself back together. A deep breath was all it took, and he followed his comrade inside.

  It was a devoted mess of an old store. The
re was glass and shrapnel everywhere with a few decaying bodies still stinking up the air. They didn't wear uniforms but were still holding the burnt remains of military style weaponry. Javier couldn't identify the makes of the guns, but the craftsmanship was definitely there.

  "My God," whispered Javier.

  "To hell with them. Insurgent guerrillas deserve what they get."

  "They are still people. Like us."

  "We are nothing like them," the soldier yelled at Javier before spitting at the dead corpse.

  Javier kept his mouth shut while they walked upstairs and joined the other soldiers. Most of them had already dropped their heavy packs and stretched out their tired limbs. One of the men had his boots off and was rubbing the blisters on his feet. It had been a long journey for them, this much was evident to Javier.

  "Okay, everyone, take one ration and one ration only. We don't have much left, and according to the charts we still have about an hour before we make it back to the base."

  Grunts of aggravation and panic filled the room.

  "We can't make it!"

  "We're running out of ammunition!"

  "We're going to die out here!"

  "Enough!" said the commander, as he swiped the air with a mighty sword hand. "We've made it this far. We have lost some men along the way. Good people, all of them. But you can't start giving up now. Especially you, Larouche."

  "Sir?"

  "You need to keep it together. The last time you panicked you almost got the rest of us killed. Don't think I didn't hear you blubbering outside."

  The men all laughed at Javier, who was almost caught off guard by a ration can being tossed toward his head. It was close, but he managed to find it with some bumbling. The other men chuckled at the slight buffoonery. Trying his best to ignore them, he opened the can and eagerly started to eat what looked like pieces of meat mixed with soggy vegetables. It was gross but nourishing.

  "Sir," said a soldier watching one of the windows, "we have insurgents coming up the street. All armed with rifles."