The Brothers Crunk

by William Pauley III

  TWENTY

  GOING UP

  Jools Dethbryte frantically types in a numeric code on a dial-pad located in a secret location against her back wall. The dial-pad beeps and the keys glow green, releasing the lock on a secret vault door camouflaged perfectly behind a large mirror. Dethbryte pulls back the mirror revealing a small rectangle-shaped cavity inside the wall. She reaches inside and removes its contents: a glossy bright pink hat box.

  She sets the box on top of her bed, just as the lights click off. She is in total darkness now—but only for a few seconds. The safety lights flicker on and the alarm sounds. BLAARP, BLAARP, BLAARP, BLAARP, BLAARP! The alarm blares like a trained seal honking a bicycle horn with metronome-like timing—except as if it were amplified through the speakers in a baseball stadium.

  The faint sound of static hums from a walkie-talkie sitting on the desk in the corner of the room. Click. “Security has been breached! I repeat—security has been breached! Lady Dethbryte, we are sending up our men to help you evacuate the building immediately. Please remain calm. We will have the situation under control soon. Over.” Click.

  Dethbryte lifts the lid off the hat box, seemingly not too worried about the security breach. She pulls out a black velvet bag from inside.

  Click. “Lady Dethbryte, do you copy? Over.” Click.

  She reaches into the black velvet bag and pulls out a grey and black rubber glove—a Nintendo Power Glove. She puts it on over her right hand. The glove fits snug against her slimy skin.

  Click. “Lady Dethbryte?” Click.

  She plugs the cable into the port located on the fat roll underneath her chin. She inhales deeply, feeling the power of the glove surging throughout her body. She slithers over to the desk and grabs the walkie-talkie.

  Click. “Don’t worry about me, blah. I can take care of myself.” Click. She tosses the walkie-talkie back on the desk and slithers over to the window, waiting.

  ● ● ●

  With the alarms sounding and the safety lights flashing, Vandenboom and his Damned Dirt Devils abandon their vehicles and ready their weapons. Krebb opens his glove box and removes Qoser’s cue-ball eye. He kisses it for luck and stuffs it into a small leather sack attached to his belt.

  No matter how lightly they step, the broken glass underneath their feet immediately gives away their positions. Luckily there isn’t anyone within earshot that can hear it.

  They spot an elevator at the end of the hall and quickly run over to it. Vega hits the call button, but the elevators have been disabled. Krebb and Gluum check the steel doors leading to the stairway, but they are locked as well.

  “I could hack into the system and override the alarm, but I’d have to find a port or a direct connection somehow,” T-Dakk says.

  “I think I can manage that,” says Vega, surveying the drop-ceiling. He reaches up and pushes aside one of the ceiling planks, revealing a series of wires stretching across. “Oh, definitely.”

  Vega jumps and pulls himself up past the drop-ceiling. He removes a small blade from his belt and begins to slice through the wires, pulling and loosening them from their ties. He manages enough slack so they reach T-Dakk on the floor below. T-Dakk studies the wires, tossing aside the ones he doesn’t need and bundling up the ones he does. He strips the protective plastic from the wires about two inches back. He then twists them together along with the exposed wire of a hacking tool connected to his laptop.

  As Vega prepares to hop back down to the floor, a sliver of light catches his peripherals. It appears to be coming from the top of the elevator cab. He pulls himself across the ceiling, his back to the floor, using the wires as an electric rope. The space between the ceiling and the ceiling planks is about a foot, a tight squeeze even for Vega, but he manages to make it over to the elevator shaft in no time at all. The sliver of light is actually a small door, an escape hatch for emergencies; the light from inside of the elevator illuminates the edges.

  Vega peeks through the cracks. Five men are inside. Blitzkrieg Bowsers. Two of them are sitting on the floor of the elevator, one of them is standing, talking on a walkie-talkie, and the other two are messing around with the button panel, trying to get the elevator running again.

  Vega twists his head and pops his neck. He smiles. He’s been waiting for this moment for what feels like centuries.

  He pulls open the hatch and drops down on them. The two sitting on the floor immediately jump to their feet in surprise. The man standing drops his walkie-talkie and halfway delivers a roundhouse kick, but Vega throws out his leg and counters the attack. He then sweeps the man’s other leg out from under him, causing him to fall hard to the floor. Two other men throw punches. Vega steps back, just out of range, and grabs their bloody, veiny heads and bashes them together. Their heads collide like two blood-soaked sponges, spraying blood on the walls and ceiling of the cab. The two men by the controls break open the panel and pull out the wires by the handful. They take turns lurching out, trying to strangle Vega with the wires. Vega chops one of them in the throat with the blade of his hand and flips him over his shoulder onto the torso of the other man. They both fall to the floor.

  Soon they are all back on their feet again, eager to start round two—but Vega doesn’t have time for round two. He ducks, pulls out both katanas from the holsters on his back, and rises again, holding out the blades and twirling like a helicopter—decapitating all five in a single motion. Blood sprays from their neck-holes and covers the cab completely.

  Ding. The bell from the elevator sounds as the doors spring open. Vega returns his katanas to their holsters and smiles at the Devils, completely covered in blood.

  “Red suits you,” Krebb says, nodding in approval.

  Vandenboom, Krebb, and Gluum help Vega remove the bodies from the elevator, while T-Dakk works on repairing the severed wires of the control panel.

  “Ready,” T-Dakk calls. The Devils all pile into the elevator. T-Dakk presses the button for the 178th floor. The button illuminates, the bell sounds, and the doors close.

  “Going up!”

  TWENTY-ONE

  DEVILS MAY CARE

  Krumm kicks open the door to Dethbryte’s office and walks in with a ghoulish smile spread across his face.

  “Well . . . I got ’em!” he says.

  “You got the Damned Dirt Devils?! And so quickly, blah!” Dethbryte shouts with glee.

  “Oooh, well . . . no, not them. But I do have something special for you!” Krumm says, rocking his hips and twirling around like a high school cheerleader. The three Bowsers enter the room, dragging behind them Reynold, Pete, and the ostrich. Reynold instantly becomes ill at the sight of Dethbryte.

  “Who the fuck are they, blah?” she asks.

  Krumm’s smiling lips melt into an annoyed frown. “These are the . . . travelers . . . that you requested. Remember?”

  “Travelers? What the gizit, blah?! You’re getting too old for this job! Turn them loose and go get those damned Devils . . .”

  “You stupid shit! These are the ones who traveled through the Doom Magnetic! The ones who were following Vandenboom! You asked us to go get them . . . so, here they are . . .” Krumm throws his arms up in the air in a big dramatic production, and walks out the door. “I’m done with this shit!”

  “Ahh, now I remember, blah . . .” mumbles Dethbryte. “Kill them!”

  “No! You can’t!” Reynold shouts. Dethbryte ignores him.

  Click. “Anybody have any fucking clue as to where the Dirt Devils are?!” she shouts into the walkie-talkie. The three Bowsers, standing in the same room across from her, rush to grab their walkie-talkies.

  Click. “Negative. We do not have a clear visual at the moment,” they say in unison. Dethbryte, enraged by their ignorance, begins to twitch and shiver. Her eyes bulge and pulse along with the beating of her heart. Electricity builds and storms out from her eyes in a mighty bolt, missing the Bowsers and igniting the wall behind them. Reynold tries to duck, but the Bowsers keep a tight grasp on h
im.

  Ding. The bell of the elevator sounds down the hall. The sound instantly brings Dethbryte out of anger. She takes a deep breath and tries to clear her mind. She needs to think quickly, clearly. She may only have one shot at this.

  ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A B A

  She enters the cheat code on her Power Glove controller so quickly her fingers become transparent. A tiny smile cracks in the corner of her mouth as she proudly presses the last button. She gets it on the first try.

  Just then, the door busts open. Vandenboom and his Damned Dirt Devils stand still in the doorway, eyeing Dethbryte from the shadows in the hallway. The Bowsers loosen their grasp on Reynold, Pete, and the Ostrich, and charge at the Devils.

  “You can’t be here!” the three Bowsers say together. “This is a private meeting!”

  “Now calm your bones, boys! We’re only here to lend a hand!” Krebb says, sticking his fist in the chamber of the KREBBOOM and pulling the trigger. The KREBBOOM makes an exact copy of his fist and launches the clone through the air, hitting all three Bowsers with one shot.

  Dethbryte’s skin begins to tingle, as if tiny sparks of electricity are exploding like fireworks throughout her fat, wormy body. “Ha, you’re too late, Vandenboom! It’s already begun, blah!”

  The Devils watch as her bones begin to shift and dislocate. Her arms and tail twitch and expand rapidly. Pink saliva bubbles from her mouth like an unholy percolator, occasionally spurting and spraying long thick streams of mucus across the room. Her body grows wider, larger, taller—becoming so enormous that she quickly fills the entire room, pinning and suffocating Reynold and company against the wall.

  The ceiling finally gives way and topples 178 stories down to the busy city street below. Once the ceiling breaks loose, the pressure on Reynold and the Devils eases and they are able to catch their breaths again.

  Dethbryte grows larger and larger, until she is as tall as THE BLITZ itself. She throws her hands in the air and howls a deep, guttural roar. The wind from her breath nearly causes Reynold to fall to his death, but Vandenboom quickly grabs hold of his arm, saving him from doom. Reynold looks up at Vandenboom in awe, surprised at his savior.

  “Divey?” Reynold asks, hoping Vandenboom’s skin will suddenly split and peel back, revealing his brother underneath, perfectly intact. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, Vandenboom slings Reynold toward the remaining wall at the back of the room and motions for him to get down.

  “Get under the desk. You’ll be safe there,” Vandenboom says. Reynold nods his head, grabs the ostrich, and kneels down under the desk. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that it actually makes him physically uncomfortable. He looks out from the side of the desk and sees Vandenboom walking away.

  “Hey!” he shouts. Vandenboom turns around. A knot forms in Reynold’s throat. “Thank you.” Vandenboom nods, turns back around and begins hammering buttons on the controller inside his forearm. Reynold’s eye wells up with tears as he crawls back under the desk. This is the first time Reynold truly feels as if he is never going to see his brother again. He wraps his arms around the ostrich and sobs.

  Vandenboom huddles with the rest of the Devils. “Remember, we must stick to the plan. No matter what happens, Dethbryte must go down.”

  “You got it, boss,” Krebb says, looking around the room for objects to load into the chamber of his weapon.

  “We’ve been through the depths of hell and back again. Our cards have been dealt in a fixed game . . .” Vandenboom says, “but tonight, we’re the ones dealing. Give her hell, Devils!”

  The Devils cheer and raise their weapons high in the air. Dethbryte screeches and whips her tongue around the building; her eyes light up like a tropical storm.

  Vandenboom lifts his forearm and taps in the rest of the cheat code. His body instantly begins to tingle with electricity. His bones pop, shift, and extend, contorting his body into an even more grotesque and giant creature than he already is. The strength he feels is tremendous.

  TWENTY-TWO

  TOKYO CITY LIGHTS

  The pink cherry clouds are beginning to turn a much deeper red. They hang against the black light canopy of sky making Tokyo look like hell on earth. Giant mutant versions of Vandenboom and Dethbryte stand facing one another, waiting for the other to make the first move, like some old-timey western duel.

  Dethbryte’s tongue whips at her sides in a motion so soft and delicate it’s almost hypnotic. Her eyes are a kaleidoscope of colors—each one fading into the next. She holds out her arms in front of her body and wiggles her fingers, as if typing on an invisible typewriter. She whips her tongue from left to right, licking her sides faster and faster. Pink saliva paints the city.

  Vandenboom stands calm. Even as her saliva pelts his face, he doesn’t flinch. He watches closely as she sways, the way she moves, looking for any signs of aggression or strike.

  Then it happens.

  Dethbryte whips her tongue at Vandenboom, lashing wickedly at his chest. He catches her tongue in his fist and begins wrapping it around his forearm. He uses his other hand to remove the crossbow from his back harness and fires three arrows simultaneously right into the center of her flabby bread basket. She howls and rips the arrows from her stomach.

  Vandenboom’s fingers twist and his skin splits apart, revealing the steel drill hidden beneath. Dethbryte’s tongue gets caught between the grooves and wraps around the drill so tightly it ceases to spin and whines loudly. Black smoke rolls off the hot metal. He jerks back on his arm. The purple muscle of her tongue splits partly and blood sprays out of her severed veins like water hoses.

  Dethbryte scrambles to save her tongue, clawing desperately at his face and chest. Vandenboom shoves his fist into her mouth and grabs her tongue by the root. He jerks his drill-arm back again and severs the tongue completely.

  “Yyyoo boosaarr!!” she yelps, wrapping both of her slimy hands around Vandenboom’s fist, trying to loosen his grasp on what is left of her tongue. He pulls her close, so that they are looking at each other eye to eye.

  “Blitzkrieg Industries has single-handedly destroyed the planet. Lives have been wasted and forgotten. Innocent lives!” Vandenboom yells. “You created us to be nothing more than killing machines—and that’s exactly what we are. I can’t sympathize for what I am about to do to you. It’s not in my blood. This all ends now!”

  “Yyyooo rrriiiggghhh . . .” Dethbryte mumbles, “hhiissss ennnnss noooww, bblllaaaahhhh!” Electricity bolts out from her eye sockets, firing one-hundred million volts directly into Vandenboom’s head. His muscles contract and tremor as the electricity rides throughout his system. The skin on his face begins to bubble, liquefy, and drip off his skull like melted butter.

  “Nooo!” yells Krebb, as he watches the mayhem from inside THE BLITZ. He jams his fingers down into the chamber of his KREBBOOM and pulls the trigger. Thousands of short, stubby fingers go hurdling through the air, pelting her in the face, but doing nothing more than annoying her.

  Dethbryte grabs Vandenboom’s wrist and digs her fingernails into his forearm, ripping the NES controller completely out of his body. The veins in his face and neck swell and his head begins to tremor violently. His long dagger teeth flip outward and sink quickly back into his face, causing his forehead to cave in and his body to suck up into his neck. Reynold stares in disbelief as Vandenboom—his brother, Divey—implodes and shrinks back to normal size. His body seems to hover for a second, momentarily lost in space, before gravity drags him down to the ground like a hungry beast.

  Reynold runs out of hiding, grabbing everything in sight—staplers, lamps, paperweights—and throws them at Dethbryte. Tears glaze over his eye, blinding him. He collapses to his knees and sulks. His journey is over. He has failed his brother.

  The Devils launch a full attack on Dethbryte. Gluum holds out her hands in front of her and closes her eyes. From each of her fingertips shoots black webs, looking like an extension of her fingers themselves. The webs sling through t
he air, gripping and sticking to Dethbryte’s fat belly like tar. Inside the blackness of the webs swirl tiny nebulas, stars, and galaxies. They swirl together so rapidly that tiny black holes form and begin to suck in all that surrounds them. Dethbryte feels an uncomfortable sensation in her gut, as if her innards are slowly being sucked out of her body through a plastic straw. She digs her fingernails along her belly flesh, ripping away the super sticky black web, which then attaches itself to her fingers. Gluum continues to fire her black webs at her, even though she knows Dethbryte is far too massive for them to really have any other effect than to simply keep her distracted.

  Krebb loads everything he can get his hands on into the chamber of his KREBBOOM, but nothing really seems to be too affective.

  “I need something . . .” he mumbles to anyone who cares to listen. “Something metal . . .” Vega unsheathes his katanas, the first things he thinks of, and offers them to Krebb. Krebb shoves the tip of the blade into his KREBBOOM and pulls the trigger. Hundreds of little three inch razors rip into the atmosphere, slicing deep into Dethbryte’s side. She shrieks in pain, trying to bat away some of the shots with her hands. She moves closer to the building behind her and rips a giant satellite dish from its rooftop, using it as a shield. The razors deflect off the dish and come hurdling back toward the Devils.