Angelos Odyssey

by J. B. M. Patrick

  Ovo was on, what some would call, a “business venture.” He'd gone from robbing people in the streets and frequently getting busted for dope to a figure in the shadows who operated in the same fashion as the best of the underworld… quietly.

  I remember I stalked Dfari for some time after what happened. Isaac became his companion for a brief period before he was moved to a completely different Quadrant. But Dfari stayed put and continued pulling jobs for Ovo.

  And I watched.

  Dfari had been designated as an “enforcer,” the same rank given to anyone directly below Ovo and a title handed out to Isaac after he’d killed Vic. As such, Dfari had been assigned with taking charge of other crews just like us and getting new kids into the game. He didn't seem to discriminate when it came to age, and I think that's part of the reason he was able to form small collectives so quickly.

  Ovo had an empire in mind.

  --

  I planned to make them hurt; I'd leave my mark and do what I could to avenge people I'd considered family, but I wasn't ready to fight Ovo's entire faction. They were armed, and Dfari always seemed like he was waiting for someone.

  He was waiting for me. A banger like him didn't survive for very long without constantly looking over his shoulder, but it's almost like he knew that I wasn't about to forgive him. Dfari rolled deep now, so I haunted his new crowd and began learning a little bit about the layout of the First Quadrant.

  It had started out as one of the first mega farms to sustain the Citadel population, the First Quadrant quickly evolved into a very congested district that was home to one the biggest concentrations of the lower class in the Federation. Because of this, Ovo had planned to move to this Quadrant regardless of the results of our heist. Our actions hadn't mattered; Ovo was only going where he could grow his business even more. Instead of merging with another mob like I thought they would, Ovo “partnered” with leaders of rival gangs in the area and managed to find his organization a new home.

  On the corner of Wask Street, an old path rounds and will take you down an avenue with holes broken into the ground. The land is unsteady and hovers over a spot the Citadel never reinforced, so it easily became a forgotten area in the city due to almost every Major's reluctance to spend money on necessary repairs. It was a square of land dominated heavily by buildings and shacks often used by junkies. At the southeast corner, there were some old barns surrounded by terrain that had been artificially made. It was a grow site that had been nurtured, raised, and uprooted; Citadel farmers often were able to package up their own crops and transport them across the city.

  So far, this land had remained untouched and generally ignored…

  --

  I was able to follow Dfari on occasion when he wasn't being chauffeured around by one of his soldiers, and so there was one day when I noticed he'd been particularly stressed and as prone to violence as he was on the day that he shot Little.

  His bodyguards walked with him into a cafe on the nicer side of the Quadrant; I'm guessing to meet with someone. It was either that or he really didn't like what he ordered, because as soon as Dfari left he answered a question from one of his guards by backhanding them and yelling, “Not here! What did I tell you, huh?!”

  The bodyguard, who was probably the same age as Dfari, appeared dejected as he scrambled to get the cruiser door for him. The group of them took off in a hurry, but I raced after them on foot and used up all my stamina to keep up before they headed toward a hyper rail. I figured I’d lose them, that they’d enter the rail and disappear before I’d have to seek them out again like I’d always had…

  Except they didn't this time.

  The driver turned away from a rail that would lead to the Third Quadrant and slowed down to follow a route that wasn't frequented very often. I moved much more quietly in order to remain concealed; I knew Dfari would recognize me in a heartbeat if he caught so much as a glimpse. I remained in the distance as my target weaved through different paths that looked as if they hadn't been used in some time.

  They traveled beyond pastures which had been left unchecked and past a group of old farms that had long been abandoned. While I crouched behind the window belonging to the top floor of a condemned house, I was able to get a good vantage point on the mobster. From where I was stationed, everything could be seen rather clearly for several miles. I watched as Dfari was taken to the corner of Wask Street, and the driver brought them before a cluster of barns.

  I pursued them and used the surrounding buildings as my cover, and so I made my way toward a nearby stable as quickly as I could and hid out in a building that still reeked of animals. Surprisingly, I was able to find enough fodder to hastily shove inside of my clothes and cover myself with before trying to survey what was going on without being discovered…

  Dfari and his two bodyguards nervously stepped into an brown, seemingly empty barn. He hurriedly searched around the building before signaling at his men. On cue, the guards walked with rapid steps over to the back of the cruiser and used a tablet to trigger the opening of its trunk. At the same time, Dfari had grabbed a folded ladder from an obscured corner in the barn and extended it before propping it against what I hadn't seen:

  A second floor.

  Because there was literally nothing in the barn other than hay and the ladder, I hadn't noticed that the top shelf turned into a section of its own. The men at the car hefted two small, black strongboxes in the air and brought them over to the ladder before passing them off to Dfari, who shouted: “Hurry up!”

  Afterwards, he ordered them to get in the car and remained himself to conceal what they'd brought with hay. He then looked around suspiciously before placing a chip in his ear: a miniature phone. He began to speak in more respectful, hushed tones and looked… fearful, it seemed.

  I made sure I'd a secure route of entry before sprinting to the outside wall of the barn closest to Dfari. He was silent for a second as I crouched low and attempted to mask my presence. There was a partially broken window above me, and I used it to peek inside and watch my prey.

  “Yes!” He nodded to no one vigorously. “Yes… —yes sir! I-I'm sorry, I… yes sir.”

  The man on the other line who was scolding Dfari must've possessed an intimidating voice. Unfortunately, I couldn't quite understand him from where I was.

  Dfari spoke as if he were pleading for his life. “It just came up in a conversation, ya know how it goes, daw—look, I wasn't asking! … —yes. I'll stop asking questions; I didn't know it was supposed to be on the down low like that, you dig—”

  This time I heard very plainly in response:

  “Shut the fuck up, you punk-ass bitch! If you ever disrespect me like that again…”

  The last part wasn't as loud, and so I couldn't make it out.

  Dfari was sullen in appearance and kicked hard at the ground in frustration. “Aight—I mean: I understand, sir.”

  His resolve just barely returned; his tone became more aggressive. “It won't happen again!” He powered down the speaker in his ear and hurried to the cruiser, looking even more furious than before. He grabbed one of his bodyguards from where he was seated and slammed him against the side of the cruiser.

  “What the fuck!?” The man barked at him while preparing to defend himself.

  Dfari pushed him away and kept shouting with an astonished expression. “Oh, so you think I'm gonna be the one babysittin' the source, huh? I'm a motherfucking Enforcer, dumbass! Ovo's got some shit for me to accomplish!” He rapidly calmed down and pondered something while staring at the ground and clenching his jaw. “So… here's what I'mma need you and your boyfriend to do, okay? If you want to keep gettin' paid the way you been, then the two of you are going to become stash bodyguards—ya feel me?”

  The man he'd recklessly assaulted appeared irritated but reflected on his paycheck before reluctantly agreeing. “Got it… boss.”

  The other bodyguard had gotten out of the cruiser and looked ready to help his coworker take down Dfari i
f it came to that; however, once an agreement was reached he lowered his guard altogether. I took note of the jackets the guards were wearing: thick garments with the ability to conceal most smaller firearms. They seemed professional—even if they were working for the Citadel's weakest crime lord.

  Dfari continued to lecture the guards, completely oblivious to the notion that the two of them could easily rip him apart. “If you cats fuck this one up…” He grinned aggressively and shook his head. “Both you fools’ heads finna roll, ya hear?”

  He glared at them again before getting into the cruiser and being driven off by a third bodyguard, probably to one of the clubs he frequented often to decompress.

  --

  While I'd been creeping on his crew, there were honestly a few times when I could've taken out Dfari before this moment. He wasn't the brightest guy—and he ditched his bodyguards frequently for no reason other than to feel bold in himself. I didn't really believe in killing, but I had to pay him back for what he’d done.

  I'd seen people get blasted in front of me, but, to my mind, it felt like it was the scenery to my existence. I was able to lock away a fragment of how I felt about something in order to keep fighting so I'd survive. I regret this at times, because when I try now to go back and process that person's passing… Eze’s… Little’s… Vic’s….

  I couldn't mourn them. I wanted to, but it had become impossible. The conflict, the war wasn't over for me then, and it never has been. Some part of my spirit moved me to deliver the next strike against my opponent. But this time, I would out-think him; I thought I'd out-smart all of them.

  --

  I conducted surveillance on the two bodyguards for an hour until I was ready to act.

  “Looks like he roughed you up there, bud.” One of them said.

  The other sighed in annoyance. “Bastard's in over his head; what else is new, eh?”

  “Well, I'll at least say I've helped a few clients out who had me getting into some shady business, but this scrawny clown probably tops it for me.”

  “No shit?”

  He continued, “I kept good company until I started rollin' with Ovo's crew.”

  The other man lit a cigarette and sighed, “The pay is good, but he's got us on guard duty for some shit nobody would ever really find, ya know? I mean, what's even in those boxes?”

  “Dfari asked that same question… Tch,” he smirked, “didn't go so well for him.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He thinks he's secretive. Sneaky. Honest to god, Dfari runs his mouth way too much, man. I'll give him props, though.” He chuckled. “He could only say a few words about the stuff we’re on watch for.”

  “Well, what'd he say, fool? I wanna know.”

  The bodyguard pondered his next words before laughing. “Aw, fuck it…” He leaned against the wall and said nonchalantly, “It’s supposed to be what's keeping the operation here in the Quad together, feel me? He called it the 'lifeblood of the cell,' some pretentious shit—I don't get the context, but I'd take it that D Boy and his boss are trying to make a grab for territory. I reckon the Big League himself doesn't work here—or at least if he does, it's not close by. Have you ever seen him?”

  “No. The little punk has me step out of the car whenever he gets called in for a 'meeting'. Sends me down the street like he's trying to make some time for his girl in between… whatever the fuck this cat does, man.”

  “Boss really whips D Boy into shape, don't ya think? Maybe we're working for the wrong guy, eh? Loyalty's fine, but we've got some other options besides just Dfari.”

  “Who's really the 'good guy' in a mob like this, like, somebody we can count on?”

  There's was a peephole in the barn large enough to fit the barrel of the gun I still had from the heist. I’d practiced with it every night, disassembling and reassembling the weapon to keep my thoughts from wondering back to the dead. I think I knew how to fire it properly now.

  The closest bodyguard was a man with red hair and dark stubble.

  I positioned the weapon and hoped the bullet's trajectory would go where I wanted. I've never been as proficient with weapons as some; it's just not my strength, I suppose. My nerves were already taken far beyond their limit by my own twisted conviction to take a shot at a whole mob, and so I can't say that I was genuinely ever nervous. I went through the motions, followed rehearsals I'd buried in the deep layers of my consciousness.

  I took the shot.

  It bounced off the side of the barn and into a stack of hay, startling the two bodyguards. I reacted by firing again! This time I pulled the gun away to watch as my target clutched his burst kneecap while curling up on the ground.

  “Trevor!” The other bodyguard exclaims. “What the…?”

  The remaining guard made his way over to the entry hole where the bullet landed. He inspected the residue and—

  I was already behind him. I came around from the other side of the barn because I'd thought it would be easier to evade his line of sight. And even though he was the most out of shape bodyguard I’d ever seen, he still put up a good defense. He managed to push me away before I could put him into a headlock that would've decided the fight then and there, and he threw a quick but rather weak jab at me.

  I'd become a true scrapper, and so I made it into a game as I searched his body for weak points before striking him with an open palm. I forced him to drop his hands and followed up with a haymaker that caused him to stumble back a few steps.

  The man on the ground was searching for his gun; I saw an opportunity and drew my pistol before slamming it over his head. He collapsed to the ground, and I turned to aim the weapon at the guard who’d already tried to flank me.

  He knocked the pistol out of my hand.

  I guess he felt like he'd secured some kind of small victory for himself. That goofy smile never left his face.

  … Even when I'd hit him hard enough to send him into the dream world for a couple of days.

  --

  I lit a blunt and hid away in a lone building on the other side of town while it rained on the outside. Like an idiot, I'd taken the earpiece and Kom Cell of one of the bodyguards and was trying to access the Universal Web for the first time. I didn’t realize that their Cells could be tracked, and, unfortunately, I didn't have his pass-code and had to settle for a tiny music library he'd built that literally consisted of only two Biggie albums. I thought “Gimme The Loot” would make sense for the occasion.

  There aren't very many ways to transport two black boxes on foot without looking conspicuous. I'd stuck to less populated areas and ended up crossing through territories owned by other mobs in the Lower-City. Even today, the Lower-City remains the battleground for various syndicates vying for supremacy. Sometimes, Majors are paid to look away from those crews; as a result, crime is allowed to thrive in an environment built and structured to sustain it.

  Before I allowed myself to fall asleep on the second night, I pictured Anubis. Could he have died with Eze? Were they… the same person? That creature had made sure I'd survived in the beginning. Anubis had left Sandeze to find some kid dying in the snow; he'd stayed with me when I most likely would've died without his presence.

  And now… I didn't need him anymore. The phantasm had taken the form of a canine to show its interest in loyalty, but its motivation to help was never made clear to me. My vision slowly faded out to a memory I had with Eze, when he'd taken me to church for the very first time. This is a new world, and I still don't fully understand the way religion is set up across districts. It had become a common practice to worship Saint Ava in the Citadel, and it was when I was still getting to know the man on the morning he forced me to wear some old blazer he'd gotten from a flea market. Sandeze wore one of his own that almost matched, so I’d felt like I reminded him of his son while we were sitting in a pew hearing about the warlord known as Avva.

  The priest began praising her as a woman who’d gone from mercenary work to dedicating her life in aiding the poor and
then to being heralded as the most popular God in the country. He said that she'd fasted to gain a vision; Avva, according to him, had perished in her fast. In death, she had a message to deliver to Citadel churches. Saint Ava had some secret, something that would solve humanity's problems once and for all and prepare us for… the “Above,” I think? When I was still in a physical school, I only met a sparse population of people who followed the Saint; it seemed silly to me, so I ignored it then like I do now.

  I was still happy on that day, though. I don't know what it's like to have a legit father, but I was able to somewhat relate to those feelings while I was with Sandeze.

  Now, Sandeze's adopted son, the new “Tavon,” had just robbed a major mob boss in the Lower-City by himself.

  --

  Janelle

  --

  Before Tavon had been returned by Angelos, Brock was forced by hospital personnel to recover next to Detective Kaust. However, the Bureau Agent had remained mostly unconscious throughout the duration of his stay. Furthermore, Brock had been administered a series of opiates to cope with the residual pain from the attack. They were claiming he'd need to be hospitalized for some time.

  The following day, in the very early morning and before he’d rendezvoused with Tavon, Brock couldn't bring himself fully conscious as a short, familiar figure approached. His thoughts were tangled and even more impaired by the sheer blurriness of his vision.

  They said I kept waking up in the middle of the night… must've… drugged me again.

  She stood there strangely. Brock knew her, but he just couldn't remember. He struggled to form words, acknowledging that she was important.

  His strength failed him, and he thought he viewed a smile as he once again faded from the waking world.

  I have to break out of here! What if she's there now!

  --

  Years ago and recalled in Brock’s dreams:

  “You think it's just so fucking easy for me. Don't you understand what this country demands?! It's… i-it's…”

  “Too much for you to be around to take care of us, Brock? Is that what it is?”