by Leo Romero
Just like she did to him.
She reached out and ran a cold finger along his jawline. Her eyes glimmered with desire. Was it real or fake? Troy couldn’t tell. He was too busy experiencing déjà vu to even care.
“I wonder how many more bites, or how many more doses of that green stuff, it would take to fully turn you?” she said to him.
Troy gave her an uneasy grin. “I wouldn’t like to say.”
Veronica laughed, her face reaching for the ceiling. “Maybe we should find out.”
Troy gulped. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Veronica turned her back on him and walked away. “What do you think, girls?”
“I wouldn’t suck his blood if he was the last thing on earth,” one of them answered.
Troy pouted his lips at her.
“Yeah, he looks like you might catch something from him,” another added.
Veronica turned to face them. “He didn’t always look like this, you know? He was quite a catch in his day. Weren’t you, Troy?”
Troy huffed. He was getting bored of all the crap flying his way. “Why did you bring me here, Veronica?”
“I want you to do something for me. Call it payback for running out on me. I mean, I could have starved to death.” She placed a splayed hand on her chest and stared at him with weepy eyes as she spoke.
Troy shifted in his seat. “What is it you want?” he asked, staring at her sideways.
Veronica’s face turned serious, business mode back on. “First of all, I’m looking for a Blood Order vampire. Drake. He’s got something that I need.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, babe, but Drake’s dead. The Dentist’s new lapdog killed him. And that’s old news.”
“The Dentist’s got a new recruit?”
“Yep. Some runt called Dom.”
“Is he good?”
“At killing vamps? Well, believe it or not, he snuffed Leviah’s sister, Magdalena. You gotta hand it to the asshole, that’s some scalp.”
“He’s taking down the orders?”
“Looks that way.”
“Why?”
“Why not? It’s what the old guy pays him to do.”
“And he killed Drake?”
“Yep. Drake was hiding out in a South Side slum. Beauchamp sent our boy Dom down there to slay him as some kind of initiation. The runt passed with honors so the old guy took him on.”
“And what about the relic?”
“Relic?”
“The Eye? The thing Drake was holding for me.”
“I don’t know anything about any relic.”
“The Dentist must have got hold of the relic, otherwise why did he go to war with Leviah?”
“No, no, no. Dom killed Drake, which broke the pact the old guy had with Leviah. Leviah declared war over that and lost. And since then, everything’s gone haywire.”
“No, Troy. I sent Drake to steal the Eye from Leviah. He was supposed to hand it to me. Looks like Dom killed him before he got the chance. So, Dom must have given the Eye to the Dentist. And that’s why he’s going around taking down the orders. To get the relics of Moroz.”
“The relics of what?”
Veronica shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is for us to get the relics.”
“Why?”
“World domination, Troy. Isn’t that what it’s always about?”
“You want the Pink Order to take over the world.”
Veronica shrugged. “Something like that. With Leviah and the Blood Order gone, we need to take control of this town before someone else does. But I need that relic to do it.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about that, so I’ll just be on my way.” Troy went to stand, when loads of guns were shoved in his face. He froze.
“Not so soon, Troy. Business isn’t finished yet,” Veronica informed him.
With a sigh, Troy slumped back down in his seat. He dusted his hands. “What do you want from me, Veronica?”
“I want you to get the Eye for me. I know the Dentist has it, and with you on his side, you’re my gateway to that relic. If I get hold of it, The Pink Order become serious players in this game.”
Troy groaned to himself. He was kinda getting tired of being used for other people’s ends. All he wanted was a peaceful life. A life of money and women with a generous smattering of booze and drugs thrown in the mix. The problem was, the money part was the sticking point. He knew he had to do these errands to get the cash. And that sucked. But right then, the guns pointed at him sucked even more.
“I’ll see what I can find out about that,” he said, and went to stand up again.
“Good. Now onto other matters,” Veronica said, stopping him mid-way.
He slumped back down in his seat with a sigh. “And what would that be?” he asked, rubbing his tired eyes.
Veronica glared down at him. “I want the bitch.”
Troy grinned. He met Veronica’s eyes. They glimmered with hate. “You still mad at her, huh?”
“After what she did. You betcha.”
“Hell hath no fury.”
“She deserves to die, Troy.”
Troy leaned back and sighed. “Well, Ronnie, my dear, when you steal someone’s boyfriend, you should always count on a bit of retribution.”
“And now, it’s time for my retribution.”
Troy sucked air in through his teeth. “Trixie’s... gonna be... a bit difficult. And I mean difficult in that she’s kinda keeping a close eye on me right now, and that also—”
Veronica went and grabbed something from a nearby desk and slung it at Troy, shutting him up. The thing she threw landed in his lap. He rolled his eyes down; they fell on a wad of cash. From a quick guesstimate, there must have been ten grand sitting in his lap. He met Veronica’s stare; there was now a half grin on her face.
“That and any of the girls you want,” she told him.
Troy looked the bevy of girls over; there was a cute blonde, a leggy brunette, a tight redhead. All the colors of the rainbow. He scanned the floor for a second, then met Veronica’s stare. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll getcha Trixie.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I can’t find Troy anywhere,” Trixie declared as she entered the lounge. Dom and Vincent were in there, watching news reports on the TV.
Vincent rubbed his chin. “Hmm, looks like our halfling friend has decided to go underground.”
“I prefer him down there,” said Dom.
“Indeed, but you would’ve stood a better chance of locating Rah with Troy alongside you.”
“Do you have any info on Rah’s whereabouts, Dad?”
“The last I heard of him, he was in Baghdad, but that was a long time ago.”
“Baghdad?” Dom echoed. “Iraq? Man, that place is a mess right now.”
Vincent nodded. “Hmm, you can blame Leviah and Rah for that. Their shenanigans knew no end.”
“I don’t get it,” Dom said. “Why would Leviah and Rah be working together to destroy whole countries?”
“Parasites know no other way,” Vincent answered. “Leviah’s power was greater than Rah’s. He could bully his brother, snatch the resources to allow his own Order to grow in strength, all the while Rah is rewarded with a tighter stranglehold over his own dominion due to this weakening of the Middle-East and its people. Rah can hide in the shadows, bathing in the ensuing destruction. But, it’s not just Rah any longer. His children are all grown up and they control the House of Rah. They act as a buffer, protecting their father.”
“Okay, so where in Baghdad is Rah?” Trixie asked.
Vincent shook his head. As he did, a breaking news report flashed on the TV screen, catching their attention. All three of them turned their heads toward Janice Scott-Sinclair. “We’ve got some breaking news just in,” she told them. “A video has been circulating on social media purporting to show the beheading of an American citizen captured in northern Iraq. Jack Redman was a Chicagoan who entered Iraq of his own will to fig
ht against the Wahhabi group known as The Global Jihad, or Glo-Ji for short. He was subsequently kidnapped and his whereabouts unknown. Now this video has surfaced showing Redman being executed by a masked member of Glo-Ji. Viewer discretion is advised.”
The said video came on the screen with a voiceover. It showed two guys in the desert. Redman was on his knees facing the camera. Standing next to him was a man wrapped in black, only his eyes visible. He had a red scarf wrapped around the top of his head that flapped in the wind. In his hand was a bloodied scimitar. Redman’s face was riddled with fear, his cheeks trembling, his teeth chattering.
“Oh my God,” Trixie gasped, her hand shooting up to her mouth.
“That’s some scary crap, huh?” Dom said.
The masked man pointed the sword toward the camera. “This is what all infidels will receive in the name of the almighty for your transgressions against the holy land,” he barked.
He turned and placed the blade against Redman’s neck. Redman flinched, his whole body juddering, tears streaming down his cheeks. The masked man raised the sword; it glinted under the intense sun. He paused, while he muttered a prayer in Arabic. He said, ‘Allahu Akbar!’ out loud and swung the blade downward.
Trixie gasped again. Dom winced.
Redman let out a scream, just as the video cut off and went back to the CTNN studio and Janice Scott-Sinclair.
Her features were stern like granite. “We apologize if that video disturbed any of our viewers,” she said. “For obvious reasons, we cannot show the whole thing.” She turned to the side where a CTNN reporter was seated. “John, what exactly was going on there?”
John cleared his throat. “Well, Janice, Global Jihad are a group spawned out of the Middle East who adopt a Wahhabi stance when it comes to Islam. They want to set up a caliphate, which will take over the world and rule it under their interpretation of the Sharia.”
“Gosh, that’s terrifying.”
“It sure is, Janice. But we must stress that this group represent a small fraction of the Muslim world and the majority of Muslims do not agree with their stance.”
“Absolutely. So, what can be done?”
“At the moment, not a lot. The group has spread across the Middle East and is currently being funded by an Asian conglomerate, which has aligned itself with the Kremlin. They are teaming up with Global Jihad in order to keep the price of oil for them artificially low. At the same time, the supply of oil from Arab states to the West has been stopped.”
“Stopped? You mean there’s no more oil?” she asked with an exaggerated shrug.
“There’s some, but it’s become scarce thanks to this group, Global Jihad. So, if you’re wondering why the price of gas has suddenly rocketed, Glo-Ji is your answer.”
Janice faced the camera. “Well, looks like we’re in for some rocky times, America, strap yourselves in. Now, what’s going on in the NFL?”
Vincent pushed the pause button on his remote. He backed the news segment up. The hand holding the remote was trembling. His lips quivered, his eyes wide.
“You okay, Vince?” Dom asked.
Vincent didn’t answer. Instead, his focus was fixed on the TV screen. He backed up to the beheading video and paused the TV. He squinted his eyes as they roved around the edges of the screen. Dom watched him nonplussed. The two guys in the video were out in the desert somewhere, in the middle of nowhere. What was Vincent looking for?
Vincent stepped toward the TV. He zoomed in on a section in the top right.
Dom squinted his own eyes. A white colored building of some kind began to dominate the screen the more Vincent zoomed. The bigger the building got, the more pixelated it became, until it was just a white square. Vincent began nodding his head.
“What is that?” Dom asked.
Vincent spun to face him. “The Al-Hurria Palace,” he answered, his eyes wide with excitement. He spun back to face the TV. “He’s still there,” he said in an absent tone. “After all this time.” He turned around to face Dom and Trixie. “Rah is still in Iraq,” he declared.
“Are you sure?” asked Trixie.
“Yes! That’s definitely the Al-Hurria Palace in the distance. It’s on the outskirts of Baghdad. This video is giving the game away. Rah is still in his old hideout. You’ll both have to go over there and destroy Rah once and for all and end this madness.”
“You want me to go over there where those masked nutjobs are running around cutting people’s heads off?” Dom exclaimed.
“Yes,” Vincent replied in a calm voice.
“No way, Vince. Call congress, get them to send the army over there.”
“The army is already over there, Dominic. Since the Iraq war, our forces have remained and occupied large areas of the country. This Global Jihad is giving them a run for their money though. The only way to stop these fanatics is to destroy Rah, the source of this insane ideology. Plus, we have no choice in the matter. We need Rah’s relic: the Heart of Moroz.”
“But how can just us two do anything against this Global Jihad thing?” asked Dom with a shrug.
“You stood up to the drug cartels, didn’t you?” Vincent answered.
Dom gave him a sheepish shrug. “Yeah.”
“And the heads of American corporate hegemony?”
“I suppose, even though I dunno what that is.”
“Young man, you and Trixie are the first in centuries to actually defeat the children of Moroz. Trust me when I say you are special. You are the only ones who can do it.”
“The chosen ones, huh?” Dom stated.
“I have no idea. All I know is something is guiding you along. Call it God, fate, whatever. It’s helping you to succeed in your mission. I have faith in you.” He grabbed Trixie’s upper arm. “Both of you.”
Dom and Trixie both met stares. Trixie shrugged. Dom sighed. “Okay, Vince. I mean, I suppose it is what I’m paid to do.”
Vincent grinned. “Excellent. Now, we must make haste. We have to get you into Iraq. And from there to the Al-Hurria Palace. Get inside, kill Rah, snatch the relic, then make it back to the States. This Global Jihad cult should disintegrate soon after, bringing some semblance of peace to the area.”
Dom rubbed his head. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that simple, Vince.”
Vincent stared at the floor with resigned eyes. “No, I don’t suppose it will. My sense of hope is getting the better of me. It is a deeply troubled part of the world. Nonetheless, we have our duties to perform. If Rah is left unchecked, then the bodies will just keep piling up.”
Dom closed his eyes. He gave Vincent a reluctant nod. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go get ready.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
James ‘Husky Flamingo’ Nixon jumped out of the chopper just as it landed at Langley, Virginia, the Headquarters of the CIA. His confidence was sky high after the successful defense of the I-Sore back in Chicago. His back and ass were red raw from all the slaps of adulation he’d received from the brothers of his new Dragon unit. Not only had he earned their respect, he’d also earned the rank of sergeant in the regiment, taking over from the fallen Blunt. From zero to hero in one night; not bad, even for his standards.
He strode up to the entrance with the buoyancy of a beach ball where he was greeted by General Chuck Johnson. Nixon stopped and saluted him, stamping one foot firmly on the ground.
“At ease, Sergeant,” Johnson said, his voice coarse from one too many cigars.
Nixon kept his back straight regardless.
“Nice work over in Chicago, Jim.”
“It was a pleasure, sir. Glad to serve.”
“That’s good to hear. We need guys like you. Strong, committed. We’ve got a new problem, and we think you might be just the guy we need.”
“It’ll be an honor, sir. What are the details?”
“Come inside and we’ll explain.”
Nixon nodded and followed Johnson into the building.
“Have a seat, soldier.”
Nixon stepped up to the conference table and took a seat at its head, the smell of plastic and dust filling his nostrils. On the wall opposite him was a giant TV screen.
Johnson went and sat on the edge of the table, a little further up from Nixon’s seat. He plucked a remote from the desk and glared down at Nixon with his cold blue eyes.
Nixon sat up in his seat, his back straight, awaiting orders.
Johnson crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “Things are on the brink of FUBAR, Jim,” he said, his eyes grave, the myriad of wrinkles weaved into his face deepening.
“How so, general?”
“Well it was like this. Things were running along smoothly. The Bloods were keeping everything ticking over, keeping it all under control. Say what you like about Leviah, but he was keeping the other factions in line. The Europeans knew their place, the spics were kept busy killing each other, the Ay-rabs were handing over their oil for pennies, the Commies in the east were happy selling us their crap in return for the dollar. But, things have changed, Jim. In fact, you could say it’s all gone to crap.”
Nixon nodded in agreement. “I noticed.”
“Once Leviah was taken outta the picture, the other orders saw this place as an open field. The spics tried their luck and you saw them off.”
“Thank you, general.”
“But now, the Dragons have taken control. I can’t say I’m entirely happy about that. If you ask me, they’re just a bunch of krauts and goddamned garlic-eating limeys. I mean, we were getting along just fine with the Bloods. But, the sad truth, Jim, is that we’re vulnerable. We need to be under the umbrella of one of these factions, and if I had to choose one...” He shrugged. “Well...”
“You made the right decision, general,” Nixon reassured him.
“Thank you, sergeant. Fifty years in the military teaches you a lot. Out of all the orders, Leviah had the closest connection with the Dragons ’cause they had the money. Finance. That’s one thing the City of London’s got right. Rule number one: control the frickin’ cash and you control everything.”