Hell on Earth

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I know a little about round house kicks,” I told them. “If he simply charges though, I doubt I could land it in time.”

  “Maybe you’d like a teddy bear and a quiet space, Recon,” Lucas blasted me. “That Rankin guy you eventually killed in the cage did a bull rush when you first fought him. You busted his face in with a knee.”

  “Yeah, and he landed on top of me. He nearly crushed me, and Van Rankin was at least two hundred pounds lighter than Katsu. I’ll think of something. For now, I’d like to enjoy a mild celebration at the Warehouse. I don’t like their cutter. Those two Yakuza didn’t get hired for their looks.”

  “I agree with John about the cutter for sure,” Clint said. “I know we’re supposed to be bringing the gangs into line, but at some point, if I see a setback forming, I will shoot someone in the head.”

  “I’m not taking their cutter lightly,” Lynn said. “I can tell he’s not some cheap thug gangbanger. My match won’t be a public spectacle either. Let’s not over think this. It is what it is. Cheese and I will do what we do. The rest of you watch our backs as always. With this Yakuza business and big money stocking the BLM coffers, I’m glad Lucas will be in the nest. I enjoyed Achmed’s handling of Castile. That was the high point of the night.”

  I patted Jafar’s back. “Lynn’s right. You did good, kid.”

  “These are very bad people, John,” Jafar stated. “We must find out more about what is going on.”

  “Achmed’s point is a good one. Quays, Silvio, and I will hit the streets tomorrow. We will find out if any of the Saudi money men or other Yakuza are overseeing this fight tomorrow,” Gus Denova promised. “I too am worried about more Saudi money bringing outsiders into Oakland.”

  “My Mom’s raking me over the coals about the Black Lives Matter gang,” Jess said. “She gets on Facebook every day. The riots, police assassinations, street blockings, and tearing people out of their cars to beat them because they’re white scares her. Mom knows if it’s allowed to continue, we all get tainted.”

  “Flo’s right to be worried,” Dev added. “We can lose all we’ve gained in Oakland if the BLM gangsters get a foothold here. The damn media promotes race wars. You’ve all seen the BLM get run over in the streets when they’ve tried to shut down traffic in other cities. Those folks in their cars know if they get stopped while driving white, they can be maimed and killed. Beat downs on public transportation are on the upswing.”

  “I will have a substantial security force on hand. It surprised me when these Honchos wanted a full fight venue here with an audience,” Alexi said. “There will be film crews. I can lock everyone out of the fight. It would be the only way I can prevent video exposure.”

  “Maybe they believe I will be hesitant in the cage with public scrutiny,” I replied. “I’m thinking we call it a night and head for home. We can celebrate another time. Tomorrow will be serious business. I need to go home and find my teddy bear and my snowflake pajamas.”

  We adjourned in a lighter mood.

  * * *

  Sometimes when I’m joking with Lynn, coaching softball with her, or watching her hold Clint Jr, I forget the coldblooded killer inside our Cruella Deville. Crue arrived early, dressed for war, with game face to match - no witty repartee as we faced off with the Honchos at the agreed upon cutting time. Himura and Lynn faced off at the center of an area in Alexi’s fight arena where we would not be interrupted. This would be a match between two killers. Himura, his slightly annoying permanent leer in place, bowed slightly… and Lynn cut his throat.

  The cutting happened with blinding speed and not a hint of warning. Himura collapsed, his hands failing to still the arterial flow coating everything as he fell. In moments, the last of his violent death throes ended. Katsu roared, brushing aside stunned gangbangers in front of him, only to face Clint Dostiene with an MP5 pointed at his head, calmly from his wife’s side. His was not the only weapon pointed at Katsu and his Honchos.

  “Back off, big boy,” Clint warned, “or I put a burst right through your head.”

  Katsu stomped around, knowing sure death when he saw it, pointing at Lynn. “No honor! You have no honor!”

  “Gee… I’m sorry, Betty,” Lynn replied with a cute shrug. “Is there something about a knife fight you don’t understand? I see you getting ready to shoot your mouth off, Lamar. Best if you gulp it down, pay up, or I do throat surgery on you too.”

  Tommy moved in right away with the minions backing him, MP5’s at the ready. “Well, Lamar, that’s the way it’s done. Next time, bring a cutter instead of a bower. The rest of you can see we’re not here pitchin’ pennies. We’re not letting you assholes have Oakland. Himura’s only a taste of what’s ahead. This is pay to play, Castile. Get your money out or you leave in a body-bag.”

  Castile did as Tommy ordered. “That was murder, Sands!”

  “That was a knife fight, pussy. Step back or get welcomed to the afterlife.”

  “I will maim Harding for what your woman has done. I would have given him an honorable death. He will pay for Ryuu’s murder.” Katsu turned abruptly to walk away, his BLM companions following his lead.

  “Hey Betty… clean up on aisle seven,” Lynn called out. “Ryuu-coo-coo-ca-chu looks like he’s done for the night.”

  Katsu stopped, every muscle in his body tightening. To say we were amused would be an understatement. He didn’t turn, but his hoodie brigade did. There were fifteen in the brigade of BLM thugs who came with all the accouterments of punks, thinking they’re tough - droopy pants, hoodies, ball-caps, sunglasses inside a dark building, and the constant finger movements. I hoped we wouldn’t have to kill them all, but shit happens. After what they saw a real killer do, they looked back at us with a lot less bluster.

  I already dressed for my meeting with Katsu. I had a plan. It wasn’t a good one. I believed like Dev, Katsu planned to charge me as if he were in a Sumo match. At nearly seven-feet tall, even crouching to spring on me, Katsu would be open for a solar plexus shot. I harbored no illusions it would do much more than give him something to think about, depending on the force I could deliver it. Then, it would be dive out of the way, or get crushed. Alexi’s men handled the Himura cleaning. We all strolled to the front. The deep pockets crowd, when they arrived, wanted pictures with me in all manner of poses. I obliged. I was the UFC Heavyweight Champ, fighting in a warehouse arena in the demilitarized zone of Oakland.

  Lucas reported all clear as we strolled to the cage. Katsu didn’t bother mixing in with the crowd. He drew the crowd after entering the cage, silently standing and waiting. I entered the cage with my crew and Jack Korlos. Jack gave us our pre-fight inspection and warnings, for whatever good it would do. This match would end in a death. I could tell if I entertained any other thought, it would be my death ending our cage dance. Patrons familiar with our antics yelled for Dev to give me ‘Last Rites’.

  I chuckled. “Do it, Dev. Bring out the Latin, brother.”

  Devon Constantine, our Latin knowledgeable brother, raised his arms to cheers from the spectators. He gave me ‘Last Rites’ in powerful form, getting a final amen from all of us at the end. Katsu stomped around the whole time, breaking out of his motionless state. Jack ordered the cage crews out. It was time for the show.

  Jack received nods we were ready. “Get it on.”

  Katsu sprung at me as if fired from a cannon. I had one shot. Right foot back, I launched a straight right to his solar plexus, diving to the side after landing it. I rolled to my feet, spinning with a roundhouse kick to his leg joint that would have crippled any other man. He slammed into the cage, turning with less than a happy face. I grinned and waved. At least I hurt him. Katsu didn’t believe I could be fast enough to do it again. He charged me and I was fast enough. This time after I landed my finishing roundhouse to the exact same spot on his leg, he hit the cage and turned with a confused look.

  The sound in the arena drowned out everything else. I could see my crew shouting and waving at my being able t
o stop the giant. He lumbered forward, fists in a more practiced form. I did the same. Before he could throw a punch, I peppered his face with my left-hand jab, trip-hammer. The blows crushed his nose, because he neither had the speed or defense to stop them. Katsu raised his hands to defend, allowing me a left hook to his solar plexus. It hurt him. I didn’t rush in. I stayed where I was, attacking with hurtful body shots, employing everything I could muster behind them. Katsu realized in moments I would pulverize him slowly through five rounds, and he probably wouldn’t get a punch in. Every pawing thrust he threw at me was met with a painful side-hand strike. Round one ended.

  Tommy gripped my shoulders, shaking me with enthusiasm. “You stopped him! That solar plexus shot nearly made him cry for his mama.”

  “It was all Dev,” I replied. “Once he gave me ‘Last Rites’ there was nowhere to go but up.”

  “He can’t block shit,” Jess said. “Keep moving and striking like you’re doing. Damn, DL! Once you changed his mind on that charge, you’ve been in control of the fight.”

  “He will fall back on the charge, John,” Dev said. “He knows he doesn’t have anything else going. Those leg strikes opened his eyes. You’ve landed shit that would have killed a lesser human. Keep workin’ it. Don’t lose focus and let that mutt get his hands on you.”

  “You got that right. I think he actually bent the cage on those other two rushes. Here we go.”

  I stood at Jack’s command. I’m hell-a-fast. Katsu feinted, going with the fists, but then launched into another frontal charge. I held until the last second, dropping in a trip that sent him headfirst flying into the cage. I jumped him then, throwing full power kidney and rib shots as he attempted to pull himself up on the cage. I dinged him like a flea on a dog. Nothing hurt him badly with his padding. I was in for the long haul though. He regained his feet. No way could I prevent it.

  Once on his feet, Katsu plunged through a hail of left jabs destroying his face, but missed any grip on my body. I pulled away, ducked, dived, or anything to keep from being out of position. My leg shots landed at will and they made an impression by the end of the second round. He was a killer. I didn’t turn my back on him while returning to my crew.

  “You have him, John,” Tommy declared. “By the end of the fourth, he’ll be standing in the center of the cage with no offense or defense.”

  “Ah oh,” Jafar said, pointing. “They gave Katsu an upgrade.”

  Oh boy, did they ever. Katsu leaped to his feet, eyes red, and spittle forming on his mouth, hands clasping in crouched form.

  I stood. “Just say no to drugs, guys.”

  Katsu may have thought himself invincible in his new state. When he lowered his head to ram forward, he telegraphed everything he planned. Yep… another charge. Drugs don’t make you smarter. When he charged, I gave him the supreme Karate Kid kick from the movie. My right foot met his chin, smashing upwards to multiply his forward movement. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He stumbled a little before my roundhouse kick to the back of his head pitched him to his knees. I went to the methodical method immediately, pounding kicks, hooks and uppercuts into Katsu until I knocked all his chemical enhancement into hell. I could not knock the big guy out though. He was no quitter. Katsu regained his feet with the crowd howling bloody murder.

  An idea popped into my head on how to either kill Katsu or make him tap out. He didn’t charge. Katsu opened his hands. Hitting only works if you can land the punches. I moved on him, waiting for my opportunity, while busting his face with murderous jabs. Then he did what I expected, grabbing my arm. I snaked around him, breaking his grip before he could get both hands on my arm. I closed a full naked choke before he could block the dangerous hold. I tried to keep my feet while forcing him back, but I couldn’t attain enough leverage, other than at the point under his chin for the choke. Katsu wrenched me off the mat, and could have thrown me over, which may have cost me my life. I wrapped my legs around him as far as I could reach, using the leverage to exert nearly my full strength under his chin.

  Katsu began to pass out, but had enough mental acuity to ram me backwards into the cage. He lost consciousness as the bell rang. He landed on me. If not for the muscles in my stomach and chest, Katsu would have crushed me. The cage prevented permanent damage as he did an unconscious dead cat bounce on me. I fought off the darkness and grainy creeping nothingness. Then I saw SpongeBob doing that idiotic, squawking chuckle. I nearly bit through my mouthpiece as I kicked free of the groaning Katsu. Jack Korlos, recognizing murder after the bell written on my face, jammed in between us.

  “Go to your crew, kid!”

  I grunted something because I had to lip read what he said. My hearing didn’t kick in right away as the Bells of St. Mary’s chimed in my head. I turned to walk only slightly unsteadily to my crew. They were shouting things at me. I waved them off. My hearing began to return, so I could understand what the hell they were saying.

  “Did you plan to get smashed like a bug, genius?!”

  I stared menacingly at Tommy. “Katsu made me see SpongeBob.”

  “Oh shit! Do the rain spell, Dev!” Jess tried to shake me out of the rampage raging across my features.

  Dev did the rain spell in perfect Latin, fists in the air, eyes closed, and head thrown back in concentration. It worked. I chuckled when he glanced around in confusion, while holding his hand out for raindrops. He grinned at me, seeing some clarity returning.

  “They’re still rolling Katsu awake,” Tommy said. “Korlos will end the fight if he can’t answer the round bell.”

  “Shout over to Alexi, Jafar. He needs to tell Jack to give Katsu as much time as he requires to get up.”

  Jafar scooted along the cage to where Alexi sat and did as I asked. Alexi nodded. He stood and called Jack over to the cage wall. Jack acknowledged Alexi’s order. Katsu’s corner crew worked feverishly to get their fighter on his feet. They couldn’t lift him. Only after smelling salts and a cold towel did Katsu shake off the cobwebs. He laboriously turned to hands and knees but crawled to the cage for support getting to his feet. After a moment sitting on his stool, the crew shielding what they were doing, Katsu regained his drug induced power. One problem though – I busted his nose to bloody shreds. He gasped for breath through his mouth, while Lynn clutched the cage near him.

  “Who’s your Daddy now, Betty?!” Lynn continued shouting in a chant while Clint stood between Cruella Deville and the glum BLM hoodies.

  “What do you have planned for this round, SpongeBob Jr,” Tommy asked, while all of us enjoyed Lynn’s rant.

  “One thing I don’t have planned is a rear choke.”

  “Shrewd,” Tommy replied.

  “He can’t breathe anymore, John. Stalk him in circles with leg shots and jabs,” Dev suggested. “The beast might pass out from lack of oxygen.”

  “Do your knife-hand strike to his neck,” Jess added. “You might put him on his knees where you would be safe to do the choke.”

  I stood as the refurbished Katsu got off his stool, blood in his eye, and still trickling over his gasping mouth. Limited to the only approach left to him, Katsu kept his hands open. I landed a lightning fast left jab, smashing into his nose again, causing a free flow of blood. A split second after my jab, I delivered the best leg strike of the night. It buckled the gasping Katsu’s leg. He went to one knee. I swerved around him, landing the knife-hand strike to his neck with full power, leg and body momentum. A crack sounded I could hear even over the crowd noise. Katsu went limp and fell face first into the mat. I walked away. The Sumo wasn’t walkin’ away from that. Now… if I could just get my hands on SpongeBob.

  Jack went through the motions of skipping the count and calling over Alexi’s cage doctor. He may as well have called for a medium to reach into the land of the dead. God only knew how they’d get Katsu the hell out of the cage. Maybe they had a gurney with a hydraulic lift they could roll him on. My guys stayed happy, but silently grim, at the fight’s end. The audience shook the roof w
ith noise after the strike. Now though, they quickly and quietly headed for the exit.

  “We’ll need a lawyer to keep the UFC from taking your belt away, John,” Tommy said.

  I shrugged. “They can’t take me winning it away. Great Latin, Dev! Let’s go get our money, T.”

  “The thugs thought they could slip away, but they got stopped.” Jafar pointed at the area behind Katsu’s crew area, where the Monsters corralled the BLM gangbangers.

  “Let’s go get paid,” Tommy said. “I see Gus Denova giving them options, at least the ones not shipped here by the Al-Kazar family.”

  Tommy arrived on scene to front for us. “Gus has explained the details once again to you gangbanger morons. All you idiots not actually living in the area get the hell out of our city and state. The rest of you can stay, but you will be assimilated into the Oaktown Cartel. Show me the money, Lamar.”

  Castile gave over a small gym bag. “This ain’t over.”

  “It is for you, Lamar.” Tommy threw a left hook that laid out Castile and then kicked him in the nuts. He then gestured at the rest of the BLM crew. “Anyone not local, get the hell out of here now. You idiot locals stick around for the Oaktown rules.”

  Nearly two thirds of Castile’s crew left in a hurry. Gus, Silvio, and Quays took the remainder over to the side for a quick rundown of our assimilation rules. I went over to help Alexi’s guys with a ramp from the cage to the floor. Dev, Jess, and I dragged Katsu down to the floor where we rolled him on a gurney they could jack up manually. Jess looked at me as they rolled Katsu away.

  “Should we say something, DL?”

  I waved at Katsu. “Sayonara.”

  Chapter Three

  Salvatore Mischief and Chicago Cold

  Nick, Gus, and Johnny searched through every entity the Salvatores communicated with, searching for threads leading beyond Ray Worthum and his Worthum Associates. They left nothing to chance, sitting on Nick’s balcony, scouring the Dark Web for more communications.