With that last comment, the cyborg turned on its heal and strode away. It was a good minute before Darryl found his voice.
“That was… special.”
“Godfather.”
“Yes, Jim.”
“I think I crapped myself.”
“I think I also did. We bring the dogs next time for early warning.”
“Yes, Godfather.”
Human renegades known as Krakens showed up a week later. They apparently had not gotten the word about the mutual non-aggression that Ishamel had talked about. The first hint there were nearby was a screaming girl. Men and women with weapons responded. Darryl found the half dozen Kraken men and women, tattoos and all, cornered in front of the former Federal Building on Second Avenue. They had young Emily.
“Stay back, or the picaninny gets it!” The supposed leader, face covered with a dark tattoo of some multi-limbed cephalopod, held a blade to her throat. He was used to getting his own way with little resistance.
“Why not let her go?” Darryl called out. “How important can one little black girl be to you?”
“She’s Dark Meat. She gets harvested,” was the shouted answer.
“How did this happen, Jane?” The Godfather asked.
“She wandered off, away from the dogs and us. You know how she likes to explore.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” replied Darryl. He stepped closer to the Krakens.
“What will you take in trade?” The Godfather asked.
“Nothing, She’s dark meat. Cattle.”
“Well at least tell me your name, so I know—"
Darryl would often wonder how such a massive canine as Diana could sneak up and move so fast. So concentrated on Emily were the adults that Diana seemed to explode from behind some stone benches near the Federal Building entrance. She had her Mastiff sized jaws chomped on the head of the Kraken leader before anyone realized what was happening. Emily was knocked aside as the Godfathers people reacted swift and violent. Shots rang out with few returned as the Krakens were shot down like the rabid animals they were.
Diana, having crushed the unnamed Kraken leaders head like a ripe melon, limped over towards Emily as adults clustered around her.
“Hey!” Darryl called out. “Diana’s hurt.”
Immediately, people clustered around the canine heroine. Evelyn Johansen, a trained veterinarian, responded and examined the Mastiff Mix.
“A bullet went in and out of her leg,” she told Darryl. “With some TLC, she’ll be just fine.”
“I know just the person to provide that,” Darryl said.
He walked over to Emily. When the young girl saw the look on his face, she began to cry again.
“I’m sorry, Godfather. I didn’t realize where I was until those,, those—"
The Godfather bent over and looked her in the face.
“Diana was hurt saving you. You realize that?” He asked.
Emily nodded ‘yes’ as she sobbed.
“So, you get to nurse her back to health. Sound fair? No more exploring.”
Emily nodded yes, wiped her eyes with her hands, then hugged Darryl.
“I’m sorry, Godfather,” she said.
“I know you are,” the Godfather answered. “ Doctor Johansen will tell you what needs to be done. Now, run along.”
Darryl stood and watched as his people drug off the dead Krakens after stripping them of everything useful. He sighed. Now came the scary part.
The Sun was beginning to set as Darryl walked towards the entrance way to the former Seattle Aquarium. He held a pristine Sockeye Salmon filet high above him as he walked. He hoped who or whatever acted as security for this place saw the “I come in Peace” gesture, and understood it.
He was surprised as hell when a Tschaaa alien came rolling out of the Aquarium on a six-wheel vehicle, similar to a harvester rob but without the turret. The Tschaaa alien stopped in front of Darryl, examining him with those oversized eyes of theirs. The Godfather noticed a sizeable box-shaped object was suspended by a thick strap around the bear-sized creature. To say he was surprised when English language sounds came from it was an understatement.
“We speak-again, human. More fish I see.”
“You are the female I met before,” Darryl replied.
“Yes. Now another offering of food. Why?”
The man called the Godfather took a deep breath and let it out. The Mafioso assholes he had dealt with in the past did not scare him as these Squids did.
“We killed some humans who work for you. Kraken, they are called. They—"
“So humans killed humans,” interrupted the Tschaaa. “We think killing your own kind is a sickness. But you humans are quite good at it. How is that our… concern?”
“They said they work for—"
“It does not matter what they say. They have no connection with Breeders and Young. I thank you for the fish. Now please leave.”
Darryl knew when to recognize and follow orders. He handed the fish to the Breeder, then turned to walk away. As he did, he mumbled to himself, “Universal Translator. What next?”
No more Krakens appeared. Darryl and company heard radio broadcasts about a man called The Director who had set up some form of government in Key West, Florida. This Director, Adam Lloyd, sounded like he was trying to thread the needle between surviving, helping others, and deal with beings who could kill you at the drop of a hate. To Darryl, it sounded like his career with Organized Crime. He heard some representatives of the Director nosed around, but none directly contacted him. Thus, life went on.
Darryl, as the Godfather of downtown Seattle, became the central authority figure, as well as an actual father figure. He officiated at christenings, weddings, funerals, graduations ( they started a school for the increasing population) Quinceaneras, Proms, you name it. There was soon two thousand human survivors of all types imaginable. Plus, a couple hundred dogs to protect them. Rooftop gardens provided fresh food to supplement the fish and other seafood. The Tschaaa Breeders came around their fishing stations, and Darryl always paid them ‘tribute’ with the best of the fresh caught, for they were the true Dons of the area. Through salvaged solar panels, windmills and generators, downtown was electrified once more. The former Federal office building and surrounding high rises were turned into apartments for the residents. Life was as good as it could be under an occupying force that could eat you.
“Godfather, are you in there?” Angie’s voice and knocking jerked him back to the present. My God, he thought. He’d been sitting here for at least a half hour behind his “Be Back in Fifteen” sign. Early dementia? He hoped not.
“Sorry, Angie. Just thinking.” He went and unlocked the door. Angie had a hot plate piled high with food. She also had two mugs of coffee. Darryl pulled up a stool to the counter and attacked the plate. He looked at Angie sipping coffee between bites of his food.
“Coffee will stunt your growth, young lady.”
“Yeah. Right.” Angie added a derisive sigh to her reply. She set the coffee down and gazed at Darryl.
“Well, spit it out, Angie. I know that look.”
“Two questions, Godfather. First, why did you not remarry? There are a bunch of women here that are interested in you.”
Darryl laughed. He had heard veiled references to that in the past, but leave it to Angie, like a daughter to him, to be blunt.
“I tried it twice before, and it did not work out. Besides, power is sexy. I know people have allowed me power. So, would a woman at my age be interested in me or the power?”
“That is a fair answer,” stated Angie. “Now, the next one.” She pointed at his neon sign.
“Why Vile Smut? What is that all about? It seems like you were disrespecting what you were doing for a living.”
From the mouth of babes, Darryl thought. Angie had grown up for the past going on seven years around various types of pornography most young ladies her age had never been exposed to in any fashion. He had carried legal adult toys that m
ade even him blush.
“Started out as an inside joke. This store was the target of many a ‘clean-up campaign’ by the city fathers. At times I closed it down, then started it up under a new name to throw people off.” He pointed at the sign, lit in all its glory.
“I put that together, Retro neon looks at all, myself. Since people claimed I dealt in vile smut, I figured I’d call it that. But my bosses would never let me put it up out front.”
“And now they are dead,” said Angie.
“That they are,” the Godfather agreed. “But sex and fetish that does not hurt someone are not vile. Sex is part of life—and love.”
“People say the Tschaaa think we are just nasty monkeys, don’t understand how we want to have sex all the time,” Angie added. “ Or to kill each other all the time.”
“Those are the great mysteries,” Darryl agreed. “We humans want to make love, have babies. Then we kill the babies when they grow up. Sex and love changes to violence and hate. Why?”
The two humans sat silent for a few minutes, deep in their own thoughts. Darryl broke the silence.
“Well, tell your mother the food was excellent, as usual. Now, I have to get to work. Being the Godfather is not…”
The bell on the shops’ front door, dinged as someone opened it. Darryl quickly stood up, his hand reaching for a concealed pistol under the counter. People around here did not ignore the “Be Back in Fifteen” sign. He saw an average sized Asian man in a new business suit, something the Godfather had not seen in years. Everything in downtown was recycled. The man saw Darryl, bowed.
“Please excuse my rudeness. I am looking for Mister Darryl Largo.”
“You got him. And you are?”
The man, whom Darryl now saw was Japanese, smiled and bowed again, a hair lower. Then he extended his hand to shake.
“Again my apologies for barging in,” the man said in almost flawless English. “I was told you were the one to discuss…business with, here in Seattle.” He glanced at Angie who stared back unafraid.
“Angie,” said Darryl. “Please tell your mother how excellent a cook she is. See if she could brew some tea for my Japanese Friend and I.”
Angie knew the drill. She would tell Joanne that a stranger was around, and somehow had slipped into the inner sanctum unannounced. Someone would get their ass reamed for that. Right now, Angie and Joanne would make sure Security showed up ASAP.
“Yes, Sir.” Angie slid out the door past the man and was gone in a flash. The visitor watched Angie leave, then turned towards Darryl. He presented an ornate business card with his left hand. As Darryl took it, the Godfather saw the little finger was missing.
“My card, sir.”
Darryl pulled his reading glasses from his shirt pocket, read the inscription.
“Akira Nagato. Import-export Free Japan,” the Godfather read the card out loud.
“Yes, at your service, Godfather.”
Darryl took off his reading glasses, looked hard at the Japanese man. “You know who I am, and somehow got through my people unannounced.”
Nagato bowed again.
“Please. If I have offended you…“
Darryl Largo held up his hand to interrupt.
“Not to be rude on my part, but let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Yakuza, yes?”
Akira Nagato smiled, nodded ‘yes.’
“I should know that someone of your capabilities to survive here all these years could quickly assess who I am.”
“Now the only question is, why are you here,” stated Darryl.
“Why, to do what all of us…different people do. Discuss unique business arrangements.”
Darryl examined the man in front of him Akira Nagato carried himself as the one used to command. He had people underneath him in the organization in which he belonged who would jump if he said “jump” and only ask how high. However, Darryl had no desire to have new bosses. So, things were about to get sticky.
“Well, Mister Nagato…”
“Please. Call me Akira. We are equals here. Or I am the one who may be in the inferior position. For this is your kingdom.”
“You’re not trying to bullshit me, are you, Akira?” the Godfather asked.
The Japanese man smiled.
“In moments, you will have loyal soldiers who could do me harm and dispose of my body in the sea. I have just myself. So, how could I have a superior position?”
Man, this guy is smooth, thought Darryl. He couldn’t help himself. He liked this Yakuza gentleman.
He glanced over Akira’s shoulder and saw Jim and his now seventeen-year-old son standing just outside the front door. Jim had the pistol he had shown up with years ago in his hand, and his son John had an assault rifle. Darryl gave them the “high” sign, and they backed off. Akira was right. He could just have him shot and feed to the fishes. Or the Tschaaa. Darryl chuckled.
“You like liquor, Akira? And call me Darryl.”
“Why, yes-Darryl. I drink bourbon, scotch—"
“Ever had good old American moonshine?” rhe Godfather asked.
“I don’t believe so. Is it flavorful?”
Darryl laughed. “I’ll let you decide that.”
An hour later, and several shots of downtown moonshine, Darryl and Akira were sipping the hot tea Joanne brought down. She smiled at Akira as she gave him the once-over. Joanne would let him know later if she saw something wrong. The Japanese Yakuza had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. Darryl got a glimpse of the edge of the intricate body tattoos Yakuzas were noted for worldwide. The missing little finger told Darryl he had paid a severe debt of honor. Akira smiled at the former Mafia Soldier as he spoke.
“You have plied me with powerful drink and now will take advantage of me, my new friend.”
“I? Take advantage of a Yakuza from Free Japan? How could I?”
“Through stealth and Western alcohol. How else?”
The two men laughed. Then Darryl set his tea down and leaned forward.
“So, despite you having a position in Free Japan, which was not Infested. In fact, your people came here to help the Unoccupied States fight the Squids, which has led to this alleged Great Compromise…”
“It is real, my new friend. Trust me on that. The broadcasts from President Paul, she with the Spine of Steel, are real. The Tschaaa Lords and we will live together.”
“In harmony,” said Darryl.
“In some form of co-existence. The Guardian Angels, former robocops, will see to that.”
Darryl shook his head. “It’s just so hard to believe. After living under the Sword of Damocles.”
“That is the myth about the sword suspended by a hair. With guardians on the Base One, in orbit, the sword had been removed.”
“So that is where the rock that took out the Smith Tower came from?” asked Darryl.
“Yes. And many more,” Akira answered.
“So, you want to make a deal with little ole me. Why?” asked Darryl again.
Akira sipped his tea, set it down.
“In honesty, the Yakuza are the only organization similar to your Mafia in existence. Even the Russians were nearly wiped out. As were the Triads, the Albanians, the Czechneans, various radical Muslims.” He leaned back in his chair, then continued.
“But we are relatively small in number. And are under extreme scrutiny by the New Samurai who help to rule Free Japan.”
“Like Ichiro Yamamoto,” added Darryl.
“Yes. Ichiro and his wife, Abigail, the Avenging Angel. They are legends in the flesh.”
Now the Godfather leaned back.
“So, as I am here, not under scrutiny, you can use me to expand as well as market you…products.”
“Yes, exactly,” responded Akira.
“And the split is fifty-fifty,” said Darryl.
“Hai. Yes,” answered Akira.
Darryl sat thinking. He had a reasonably good set up. However, that was because he had expanded into a vacuum. With the
old U.S. of A being reformed, with that would come more law enforcement, local government, rule, and regulations. They would use Darryl for a while. Then they would remember who he used to be and he would be frozen out. He picked up the DVD Akira had provided him.
“So you have real Squids helping you make this live…hentai. This tentacle sex.”
“Yes,” replied Akira.” And as I explained, the market is for humans and Tschaaa. The Squids seem to become infected with some of our vices. To be honest, we have people working on certain substances that will affect them just as much as heroin and cocaine does humans.”
Darryl stared at the DVD. Then he looked at Akira.
“No drugs to my people. The Squid, I hope they rot in hell. The local Breeders and I may have an understanding, but that’s it. Some piece of shit Kraken or Squid ate my kids, my ex-wives. The ex-wives may have been pains in the ass. But no way did I want them eaten by some monster.”
The Godfather of downtown Seattle dropped the DVD, stuck out his hand. Akira took it and shook it. Darryl held on to it a bit longer.
“Just one thing. All due respect, you fuck over my people here, I fuck over you. I expect, judging by a missing digit, you think the same about me. Right?”
Akira smiled.
“As they said in that classic movie so many years ago, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Two months later, Darryl Largo stood in the former Chase Bank on Second Avenue in downtown Seattle. It was renamed the First Bank of Downtown, with Daryle as the CEO. When the Unoccupied States kept “greenbacks” as a valuable currency, so did other human communities. Money is as much a state of mind as to what it represents than anything. So Darryl dealt both in cash and precious metals which were salvaged from all the abandoned areas. Of course, bartering for certain goods was still done, as with weapons and drugs.
Darryl was waiting for three significant representatives of the now reorganized United States of America. Two were legends he was looking forward to meeting. Colonel Ichiro Yamamoto and General Torbin Bender were both of the Key West Attack. Anyone who killed Squids with blades, as well as offed Krakens. The Godfather wanted to meet. The third person, Paul Miller, he was not so keen to know. For Commissioner Miller was in charge of all Federal Civilian Law Enforcement Bureau activities. Darryl knew he had snooped around in the prior Mafiosos records.
Free Range Protocol- Tales of the Tschaaa Infestation Page 29