Highway To Armageddon

by Bloemer, Harold

  “Omigosh, really?” Dorothy cries.

  “Don’t worry, they won’t have us go after anyone innocent,” Arrow says casually, chomping on an apple. “Probably just a rival gangbanger. Or, if we’re lucky, we’ll get to go after someone even more corrupt… like a politician.”

  Krystal, Machete, and Lance laugh at Arrow’s morbid joke. Dorothy and I, however, do not. I’m beginning to think we’re the only ones with any class.

  “Another thing,” I say, looking directly at Machete and Krystal. “We should probably only send three of us into Igor’s fortress. That way the other three can act as backup in case things go to hell.”

  “Okay,” Machete says. “You, me, and Arrow can go, and the others can wait outside.”

  I sigh and shake my head. I’m about to break the news to her, that she can’t be part of the infiltration team, but thankfully Arrow comes to my rescue.

  “You can’t go inside with us, Mom, and you know that,” Arrow says sternly.

  “And why not?” Machete growls.

  “Because you’re old,” he says bluntly. “These Russian perverts want young, beautiful women like Boom Boom, and young, strong, attractive guys like me.”

  “And me, too,” Lance says.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, chump,” Arrow replies.

  Before the boys get into an argument, I say, “No offense, Machete, but Arrow’s right. Igor may find you… intimidating.”

  Machete seems to like my answer better than Arrow’s. Intimidate is better than being called ‘old and ugly’. Not that Machete is ugly. But the eye patch and scars don’t do her any favors.

  I’m relieved when Machete grumbles, “Fine, I’ll be backup. But I want in on the mission to nab Mikhail.”

  “Deal,” I say without hesitation. I want someone crazy like Machete on that mission, too.

  We spend another ten minutes fine-tuning our mission, then we head back out to the car. First we stop at a barbershop outside Vegas. Since Lance, Arrow and I are the ones going undercover, we’re the only ones to get any work done. (Although Krystal does buy herself a purple wig. She looks like a cracked-out clown when she puts it on.)

  I get my hair cut off at my shoulder. I really don’t want to do it because I like my hair long, but I figure it’s necessary to drastically alter one of my most distinctive features. I then have my hair dyed dark purple. The transformation is uncanny. I barely recognize myself in the mirror.

  Lance gets his shaggy hair trimmed a few inches and dyed light purple. He looks totally different, too. I personally think he looks sexier than ever, but I don’t tell him that. He already has a big head. If I inflate it anymore he might not fit through the door.

  Arrow absolutely refuses to get his hair cut, and he complains when we try to persuade him to dye it. He does get a few purple streaks put in, though. It’s not quite as important for Arrow to alter his look. He’s not as ‘wanted’ as Lance and me.

  After that we go to a shady-looking tattoo parlor in a back alley to get the most important and convincing part of our disguise: a purple dragon tattoo. Lance and I spend a good half an hour arguing with Machete about just getting a fake tattoo. We really don’t want a permanent mark indicating we’re radical terrorists hell-bent on China’s downfall. But Machete convinces us to get real ones after reminding us what Russians do with people they suspect of being spies and informants. (Let’s just say they make Caesar’s torture methods seem like a mild toothache.)

  At the tattoo parlor, a muscular woman who could easily pass as Machete’s cousin straps me into a chair and goes to work injecting my left shoulder with ink. It hurts like hell, but I bite my lips and tough it out. The woman’s assistants work on Arrow and Lance. Arrow doesn’t say much, but Lance whines about how much it hurts. He finally shuts up when Machete tells him to quit being such a bitch.

  After the tattoo ladies finish up, the three of us stand in front of a cracked mirror and admire our tats. As much as I hate that I had to get one, I have to admit it looks pretty badass. It’s an angry-looking purple dragon with his wings extended, blowing fire out of his mouth. Arrow and Lance got similar ones. Machete, Dorothy, and Krystal go on about how awesome it looks and how they want to get one. I take it the tattoo ladies are flattered by all the praise because they give us a 20% discount.

  After the tattoo parlor we head to a clothing store to buy some leather jackets, pants, and boots. Machete tells us we won’t be able to wear our armor underneath the vests, as that will give us away as spies. I don’t feel comfortable going into a mobster hotspot without a Kevlar vest, but I guess we don’t have much of a choice.

  We then stop at a nearby gun store and ask the owner if he has any electric swords. At first he acts like he doesn’t know what we’re talking about, since they’re illegal to sell, but after we flash our tats he grins and leads us into the back room. There we come across bazookas, rocket launchers, EMP bombs, nerve gas canisters, and even material to make a dirty bomb. This guy totally needs to be investigated by the feds. But we can worry about that later. Right now we need the final piece of our disguise… the Russian weapon of choice, the electric sword.

  The shopkeeper takes us behind yet another locked door, where he opens a steel vault. I find it amazing the electric swords are more well hidden than the dirty bomb kit. The shopkeeper gestures toward a glass cabinet containing dozens of the prized illegal weapons.

  “Aren’t they beautiful?” he asks, his eyes glistening as he stares at the blades in awe.

  “Yes they are,” Machete says lustfully.

  Machete and the shopkeeper should hook up. They both have a psychotic love for weapons.

  The shopkeeper opens the glass case and shows us how the swords work. He flips the handle around in his hand to show us how easy they are to wield and conceal. He then presses a trigger on the handle. A gleaming, two-foot long sword pops out of the end. Another button sends a current of crackling electricity washing over the blade. The last button heats the blade until it glows red. The shopkeeper concludes his presentation by pulling out a block of concrete and cleaving it in two.

  “Awesome little gadget, isn’t it?” the shopkeeper says.

  “Yes it is,” Machete says, licking her lips. Her infatuation with instruments of torture is disturbing.

  “So how many of these bad boys do you want?” the shopkeeper asks.

  I glance at Lance and Arrow. “Three.”

  “Make it four,” Machete blurts out.

  “Hell, I want one, too,” Krystal hollers.

  Dorothy is the only one with enough decency not to request such a vile weapon.

  The shopkeeper greedily rubs his hands. “That will be $50,000.”

  “$50,000?!” Krystal hollers. “What a scam!”

  We fork over the funds anyway, of course. We all place our thumbs against the shopkeeper’s portable scanner and transfer ten grand from each of our accounts. Arrow also buys another quiver full of arrows, and we all load up on extra ammo. We then hi-tail it out of there and head to a small diner down the street to get some supper while we finalize our plan. The sky has just started to turn dark, but it’s still too early for us to be waltzing into Igor’s club. It’s best to wait until it’s much later, when he and his henchmen are inebriated from a night of partying. (My research suggests Igor loves his vodka.) The less coherent Igor is, the more likely we can convince him to let us join his gang.

  We all squeeze into a booth in the back of the quaint diner and order some sandwiches. We quickly find out how effective our disguises are. The waitress is petrified when she takes our order. She keeps glancing at our purple hair and leather jackets. And when Arrow removes his jacket, exposing his purple dragon tattoo, the waitress nearly drops her tray of drinks. She scurries into the back to place our order, and when she brings the food out about ten minutes later she nervously stammers, “The… the boss said the f… f… food is on the house. En… enjoy!” She then dashes into the back.

  The other people in th
e restaurant scarf down their food and quickly leave.

  “Man, this is awesome,” Arrow says. “Everyone thinks we’re Russian mobsters. We could probably walk into a convenience store and get anything we want for free.”

  “We’re using our powers of impersonation for good, not evil,” I say half-jokingly.

  Everyone digs into their sandwiches. I take a small nibble of mine, but I’m not terribly hungry, even though I’ve barely eaten anything in days. I’m too anxious about what we’re getting ready to do. I usually never get freaked out when we’re on a mission, but this is different. It’s the biggest, most dangerous operation of our lives, and it has global implications. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

  “Why you not eatin’, Boom Boom?” Krystal asks, food flying out of her mouth. “Ain’t you hungry?”

  I’m so disgusted that she’s talking with her mouth full that I can’t help but snap, “No, I’m not. Now can you please chew with your mouth shut?”

  Krystal gives me the evil eye. “Well excuse me for not being as perfect as you. Jeez, you and Lance have been awfully grumpy ever since you gave up your drugs. You both could use a joint and some pills.”

  “Shut up, Krystal,” Lance says. “Boom Boom and I are trying very hard to get over our addiction, and it doesn’t help when you crack jokes about it.”

  “I’m not cracking jokes, I know exactly what you’re going through. I go through withdrawal when I don’t get my daily dose of bacon. That’s why I’ve been grumpy. While we’re on the topic, does anyone have any bacon on them?”

  “Sorry, I left it in my other pants,” Arrow says, deadpan.

  We finish eating and head out so the waitress doesn’t have a heart attack. Since we got the meal for free we leave a big tip.

  We head back to the motel and finish figuring out our plan. I check out Igor’s casino on my goggles to try and figure out where he might be. His casino has an actual giant statue of a purple dragon sitting in a fountain, with its wings spread out like it’s about to take flight. Every 60 seconds a ball of fire shoots out of the dragon’s snarling mouth. It’s a pretty kickass statute, if I do say so myself.

  The casino consists of two 1,000-foot tall, sparkling crystal towers connected by four separate walkways, the last one connecting both roofs. The casinos are in the basement and lower levels. The middle levels are hotels, restaurants, and stores. The upper levels are more casinos and clubs. The top floor in the left tower is the most prestigious Russian club in New Las Vegas, the Purple Dragon Lounge. I bet all the gold in China that the Purple Dragon Lounge is where we’ll find Igor. I relay all this to Lance and the gang, and they agree it’s as good a place as any to start our hunt for Rasputin.

  After that we work on our codenames and fake backgrounds. It’s not enough to look like a Russian mobster. We have to act and talk like ones, too. I decide to call myself Ruby. Arrow picks Arkady, and Lance chooses Vladimir.

  We go over our backstories, repeating them until they’re drilled into our heads, then we work on our Russian accents. Arrow gets pretty good at his, but Lance just sounds like he’s constipated. I actually know a little Russian, so I practice a few common sayings, like ‘Pass the vodka, comrade’ and ‘It’s a beautiful day to kill some Chinese’.

  I had hoped my immersion in the Russian language would get my mind off the mission, but it does little to calm my nerves. I’d do almost anything to get my hands on some pills.

  When the clock finally strikes midnight, Machete growls, “Let’s roll.”

  Lance, Arrow and I leave most of our weapons in the motel. Igor’s not going to welcome us with open arms if we have guns and tear gas grenades dangling from our utility belts. We do keep our electric swords, though. I also strap a few blades inside my boots. You can never be too safe when dealing with mobsters.

  The short flight to the Purple Dragon Casino is eerily quiet. No one makes small-talk, no one cracks jokes. Everyone recognizes the seriousness of what we’re about to do. This is what we came to do. This is the End Game.

  Machete drops us off half a mile from the Purple Dragon, so we can blend in with the crowd.

  “We’ll be on the roof of a hotel across the street,” Machete says.

  ‘ “If you need help, holler the password,” Krystal says. “You remember what it is?”

  “Yeah, help,” Lance says.

  You can tell none of us are very good at these stealth missions.

  Dorothy leans over the side of the car and kisses Lance on his cheek.

  “Be careful,” she whispers.

  Lance cups her chin. “I will. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. We’ll be back in Sanctuary 7 before you know it.”

  Dorothy grins. “I can’t wait.”

  I’m proud of myself for not grimacing. I’m actually starting to get used to Lance and Dorothy being a couple. I think.

  Machete and the girls lift off the ground and zoom toward their hotel lookout.

  “You guys ready?” Arrow asks, adjusting his goggles. He looks so vulnerable without his bow and arrow.

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” I reply.

  The only two guys I’ve ever had feelings for walk side by side with me as we make our way toward our target. We do our best to avoid the drunk tourists and gamblers staggering out of the casinos, celebrating their lucky wins or, as is more often the case, lamenting their lousy luck. I cringe at the thought of so much money being blown on a roulette table, or during a round of blackjack. Countless millions that could feed the hungry, clothe the cold, and shelter the homeless. It truly is disgusting that so many starve while the wealthy few go through their piles of cash like Krystal goes through toilet paper after gorging on bean burritos (something she does regularly).

  Even though I’m tense and anxious, I do take in my surroundings. The Vegas Strip is everything the brochures say it is, and more. Bright, neon lights illuminate the entire town. I peer inside several casinos and clubs and see thousands of people hooting and hollering over crap tables, butchering songs during karaoke hour, laughing at stand-up comedians, and giving standing ovations to cabaret singers. Everyone seems oblivious to the fact that the world’s most wanted terrorist is in their midst, or that a war is on the horizon. Ignorance truly is bliss.

  The thing I love most about the Strip is all the music that spills out of the surrounding clubs. Classic and contemporary rock, jazz, alternative, you name it. As soon as you walk far enough along for one song to fade into the background, another song pops up off in the distance, increasing in volume the closer you get to its source.

  Magicians stand near back alleys, performing card tricks and making bunny rabbits disappear in a cloud of smoke. They must be pretty decent tricksters because they’re attracting large crowds. There are also a few street musicians playing jazz on their saxophones, their suitcases overflowing with cash and gold coins from generous passerbys.

  We walk past a 24-hour buffet, and the enticing aromas that waft over me unleash a waterfall in my mouth, as if a dam inside my saliva glands suddenly burst. Lance and Arrow stare longingly through the window at the smorgasbord of fried chicken, country ham, mashed potatoes, multi-colored gelatins, and piles of buttery vegetables. None of us have eaten much during the past several days, and certainly not enough to compensate for all the calories we burned waging war against Nazis, cyborgs, psychotic cowboys, and Mother Nature herself. I probably lost close to ten pounds from all the hiking, running, brawling, and lack of sleep. I can feel my ribs if I press down on my stomach. Lance and Arrow look a little gaunt in their faces. The sooner we get back to Sanctuary 7, the sooner we can refuel our undernourished bodies. I personally can’t wait to spend several hours soaking in a hot bubble bath. The dirt and grime encasing my body is driving me bonkers.

  After walking half a mile through the congested Strip, we finally reach the Purple Dragon Casino and Resort. The fountain with the dragon statue is in the center of the courtyard. The dragon is incredibly detailed, with gleaming scales and glowin
g eyes.

  I focus my attention on the resort itself. I have to crane my neck just to see the top of the monolithic structure. It truly is an awe-inspiring spectacle. The resort consists of two cloud-touching crystal towers that are capped by spires that spiral into the Heavens. The towers sparkle under the moonlight. Walkways connect the towers at four separate points. Even from the Strip I can see hundreds of people walking to and from each tower.

  Lance points at the top of the tower on our left.

  “That’s Igor’s private club. I wonder if I can see through the windows.”

  Lance steps all the way back to the fountain, right in front of the dragon, and looks up. He uses the zoom function on his goggles to peer inside. This would be easier if we had thought to buy a new robotic mosquito. Unfortunately those are incredibly expensive, and our funds are tight at the moment.

  After a few seconds Lance frowns and says, “The windows are tinted. I’m using infra-red, but I still can’t see much from this angle. Just a bunch of people dancing. Lasers are bouncing all over the place, so it must be a rave or---”

  Lance is interrupted by a monstrous fireball that flies out of the dragon’s gaping mouth. He yelps and falls flat on his butt. The fireball shoots out about 20 feet, sending other tourists scattering, before it vanishes into thin air.

  I rush over to Lance and struggle not to laugh at his terrified face.

  “That… that fireball was real?” he stammers.

  Now I do laugh. “Of course. It’s all part of the spectacle.”

  “I just figured it would be a hologram! I mean, the damn fireball went out into the street. Aren’t they afraid it’s going to hit someone?”

  “These are Russian mobsters we’re talking about,” I remind him. “Also, I’m sure most people are smart enough not to walk in front of a dragon’s mouth.”

  Arrow and I chuckle, but Lance glowers.

  “We’re wasted enough time already. Let’s go,” he says grumpily, marching toward the casino’s front entrance. Arrow shrugs and follows him. I bring up the rear.