by J. D. Martin
Danny King—otherwise known as Big King—started out as a drug mule for G-Rule. He carried cocaine, weed, or meth in a backpack to addresses all over Independence. Dropping out of school at fourteen, he started running drugs full-time. In his eyes, there was more money in carrying a backpack of narcotics than having it full of books. King had decided early on that school didn’t make sense when there was paper to be made in the real world.
Moving up through the ranks, he was eventually transporting cash payments back from the drop-off points too. On one such occasion, he was attacked as a rival gang tried to steal the money he was transporting. He successfully protected the parcel and ended up earning quite the reputation in the process.
The story spread that two men tried to take the backpack at knife point, but King pulled out a pistol and shot one of them as the other ran off. He gained respect that garnered him upward momentum in the organization. After running backpacks for two years, he started dealing at sixteen. This meant getting his own delivery boys like the kid on the bike.
King started small, but after four years he had pushed his way into the big time. Moving to Kansas City, he took over a ten-block territory that allowed him a large network of drug mules that ranged from ages twelve to fourteen. He used them to shelter himself by never having the drugs in his possession.
With the added enticement of getting a small cut of the sale, the kids were hooked in as his employees. Only death or prison ever lost him a staff member. Cash spoke volumes in the area of persuasion, and he had plenty of it to speak with. King tried to cover every inch of his supply chain from manufacturing to delivery to avoid the inflated costs of purchasing from a larger dealer. Instead, he made anything he could on his own, and the two he produced regularly were meth and marijuana. It was common for customers to ask for a bag of M&M’s when they purchased to get an assorted bag of both.
Danny had three houses growing pot and two more cooking meth under his umbrella, but he still kept a close eye on everything. However, no matter how meticulous Danny was, problems still surfaced during production. The siren of a fire engine echoing in the distance signaled one of these setbacks.
Its wails were accompanied by police cars rushing to a small building that had caught fire. Accidents happened from time-to-time in this business, but King didn’t enjoy the loss of revenue. He discovered from a call moments ago that the sirens were heading to a meth lab where one of his cooks forgot his competence.
Toxic fumes were venting from a batch of Meth, still cooking, when one of the new cooks chose to take a smoke break without stepping outside of the kitchen. The cigarette lit the fumes which blew him and the product sky high. Normally King would have put two slugs in the asshole for costing him money, but the explosion took care of everything for him. Big King was the kind of leader that sent a message to anyone that fucked with his cash flow.
King sat in his Dodge Charger Super Bee that he purchased outright last month. It was a birthday gift to himself, paid for in cash, which was easy to come by since this was backbone of his entire business. There was plenty of paper to make in the drug trade, and business was good in his section of the city.
He looked up from reading his funnies every so often to keep an eye out for two more couriers he was expecting. He didn’t like to sit around wasting time, and they were running a bit late for their appointment with him. Although that meant they would be running behind on their deliveries tonight, he always allowed for small things that could delay deliveries by up to 15 minutes. However, if you were later than that, Big King’s temper would make an appearance. Right now, only six minutes had passed.
He wasn’t really in the mood to sit around waiting for these kids with the loss of a kitchen weighing on him. Time was money and he needed to locate a new place to cook. Just then, he spotted the first of the delivery boys pulling up on his bike.
After exiting the car, Danny looked around to make sure nobody was around. The street was clear of any possible onlookers, so he leaned back in the car and pressed the button that popped the trunk. In the rear compartment were two large backpacks; one green and one red. Unzipping the small pouch on the back of the green bag, King pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed the pack to the boy who quickly put his arms through the loops and tightened everything to his back.
“Here’s tonight’s delivery address,” said King as he handed him the slip of paper. “You need to make up some time.”
“I will, Big King.”
“Get on then.” With a nod, the boy took the slip and read the address before riding off. In the time it took for the kid to pedal out of sight, King saw the second delivery boy coming up.
Following the same protocol with the red pack, he watched this one disappear down the street as well before sliding back into his Super Bee. He rolled the newspaper into a ball and tossed it out the passenger window. It completely missed the trashcan and bounced down the sidewalk propelled by a gust of wind.
Now that he’d finished handing out work for his troops, King hastened his exit from the area. Turning the car’s ignition, he smiled as it gave off a deafening, guttural roar like a beast waking from hibernation. Revving the engine sent vibrations through his seat and echoed down the city block. Throwing it in first, Big King mashed the pedal and peeled down the street leaving plumes of white smoke behind him.
Arriving at his apartment complex a few miles away, Danny whipped the Charger into a parallel parking spot and cut the engine. Although King had an alarm and a GPS tracker on his car, most would still be afraid of parking such a nice car in this neighborhood. However, this piece of machinery didn’t belong to just anybody; it belonged to Big King, and everyone in this part of town knew it.
After exiting the car, King hit the locks and activated the alarm as he walked to the building’s front door. Although people knew this was his car, King wasn’t stupid enough to not take precautions. If the alarm ever went off, it would simply be warning him that it was time to put a bullet in someone.
As he opened the door leading into the lobby, he noticed a man sitting on the sidewalk with his back against the building. The man wore a pair of jeans that didn’t appear to have been washed in this decade and a dark sweatshirt with a hood. He had a backpack next to him which, based on his appearance, must have contained all his worldly possessions. He sat there sipping from a large bottle wrapped in brown paper.
While this man hadn’t done anything to King, it didn’t mean he wanted a beggar stinking up his front door. Being homeless was a disgrace in his mind, and he didn’t want their kind around here. Stepping up to the man, Big King kicked him in his hip. It wasn’t hard enough to severely injure him, but it definitely informed the beggar who the alpha was in this conversation.
“Get off my stoop you homeless piece of shit.” The man glanced up at King before returning his attention to the liquor bottle, which Danny didn’t take kindly to. Pulling out his gun, he pointed it at the squatter’s head and kicked him hard enough to knock him to his side.
“Did you hear me, asshole? Get moving before I introduce this here bullet to the inside of your skull!” This got his attention as the drunk quickly gathered his belongings and ran off.
“That’s right, when Big King says jump you ask how high, mother fucker.”
Proud of himself, King waited for the man to round the corner before entering the building with a swagger. Walking down a hallway of green tile with yellow splotches of faded paint, he reached the elevator doors. Hitting the button to call for the car, he stood back to wait when there was a chirp from the phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, he read a text from one of his customers informing him the delivery boy just left. Confirmation of shipment meant more money in Big King’s pockets.
About this time, the elevator doors opened with a loud screech of metal in dire need of some WD-40. Inside, he pushed the button for the sixth floor and listened to the noise again as the doors closed. The elevator was in worse shape than the hallway with stained plaid
carpet completely ripped up in the back corner. Above this missing piece was a faux brass hand rail that was covered in rust and dents. One piece hung to the floor at a forty-five-degree angle. In all, you had to really trust the elevator to have stepped foot into it. The bell dinged and Danny cringed slightly to the doors opening again for him to exit.
Walking towards his door, he noticed the lone fluorescent lamp by the stairwell flicker before dying completely. He heard footsteps in the stairwell, which made him chuckle since they were now walking in darkness. Unlocking his door, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
Inside, he pulled out his handgun and placed it on the dinner table next to a square piece of mirrored glass. Danny grabbed the remote and turned on the TV to a reality show that he was addicted to. From in the fridge, he pulled out a plastic ring that held together three beers and a plate with a few slices of pepperoni pizza that he put in the microwave.
As the pizza was nuked, he pulled a can of beer from the plastic rings and tossed the other two onto the counter. The can hissed as he opened it and took a few swigs as he waited for a warm dinner. The timer went off and he removed the plate, setting it and his beer on the table.
He walked down the hall to the bathroom to take a piss. It wasn’t until he drank a bit of the beer that he realized how badly he needed to relieve himself. Standing in front of the toilet with one hand on the wall, he leaned forward to let it flow. Just as he was finishing up, a small creak came from the living room that grabbed his attention.
“Hello?” Danny said, peeking around the corner of the bathroom door. On the kitchen counter was his cat eating from a leftover bowl of cereal. “Dumb fucking cat,” he said, angry that it had startled him.
King walked back to the kitchen and shoved the animal off the counter before pouring some cat food for him. After putting the bag of food back in the cabinet, he opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny box that he carried back to the table with his dinner. He took a few bites of pizza and laughed at the TV when a guy that had gotten too drunk had to be carried into his room. After he finished the first pepperoni slice, he opened the box from the drawer and pulled out a rolled up hundred-dollar bill, a razor blade, and a bag of white powder.
King poured the cocaine onto the mirrored glass and started sliding the razor along it. The blade clicked and clacked against the mirror as he worked the powder into three parallel lines. Taking the hundred-dollar bill, he leaned in close and snorted the lines one after the other. Sitting back in his chair to enjoy the high he was about to achieve, he took another bite of pizza. As he swallowed the delicious pepperoni, a hand covered his mouth and jerked his head to the side as he felt a sharp sting on his neck.
King’s eyes started to flutter as he came out of the strangest high he’d ever experienced. His mouth felt dry, and he felt stiff all through his arms and chest. He wondered if the bumps he took had been cut with something tainted. Opening his eyes completely, he lifted his head and came to the realization that he couldn’t move his arms because his hands were tied behind the chair he sat in and the dry sensation in his mouth was from the gag stuffed in it. The last thing he realized was that he wasn’t alone.
The homeless man that he had chased off was standing in front of him wielding a silver blade the size of his index finger. King hadn’t seen the man’s face while on the sidewalk, but the skin that was beneath the clothing didn’t carry the same layers of filth. He stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed as the realization hit him who the man was that stood in his living room.
“Finally! You, sir, are quite the sleeper. I thought I was going to have to resort to smelling salts like last night, but it appears that you’ve finally decided to join the party.” King shook against his binds trying to find a way out of his fate.
“Don’t waste your time because you aren’t going to free yourself.” The man grabbed another chair from around the dining table and placed it backwards in front of King before sitting down and resting his arms on the back of the chair.
“You have made quite the name for yourself, Big King,” he said pointing the blade at him. “Not a problem on its own. I mean, isn’t becoming rich and famous the American dream? However, I feel that I have to object to how you gained this notoriety.”
King’s cheeks and jaw twitched as tears started forming in his eyes. The man took notice to the change, “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” The chair the man sat in creaked as he scooted closer to Danny. Leaning in enough to whisper, he said “You’re right. I’m exactly who you think I am and you’ve made it onto my list.”
While unconscious, King’s shirt had been removed and the cold blade against the bare skin of his chest made him notice. The sensation went quickly from shock to utter terror as he watched the blade resting there. He’d heard the stories of how the vigilante tortured and mutilated his victims, but he never thought he’d witness it personally.
“You use innocent children to spread narcotics around the city. What you do to entice them into your world offends me. When you add in all the lives you’ve stolen away from others, it’s a surprise it took you this long to have me as a guest in your home.” The man said this as he pet the cat that was rubbing against his leg.
“I do have a question for you though,” he continued. “Are you a fan of dead languages? I’ve always had a great fondness for Latin. Do you know any Latin?”
Danny grunted as he struggled against his bonds. “I’ll take that as a no. I’d like to share some with you if you don’t mind.” King struggled with every ounce of strength he could muster, but it was no use.
The blade pressed harder until it cut into Danny’s flesh. His muffled screams of agony did nothing to halt the knife as he slid across his flesh. He felt like a bottle of soda being shaken as the torment and pain built with no way of being released out of his bonds.
The homeless man from the sidewalk carved four letters into Danny’s chest; R-E-U-S. With his work finished, he stood up from the chair and stepped behind King. Placing the blade to his throat, he delivered judgment.
“Instead of helping the youth of our city, you use them for illegitimate means. You reap rewards off the pain, suffering, and even death of others.” After a short pause the man continued, “No longer will this be allowed to continue.” Plunging the sharp steel deep into King’s neck, he dragged it from left to right and released a red torrent that gushed over Big King’s lap. “Qui tacet consentire videtur.”
Chapter 10
Standing in the hallway of another slumlord-owned apartment building was not how I wanted to start my morning. Receiving the call so early that I hadn’t had my morning coffee had me on edge. I’d even noticed myself being cross with a few of the techs, which had them walking on eggshells in my presence. I could be a different person sometimes without my caffeine fix, but I doubted many of them would hold it against me for too long. We all had our bad days after all.
Thinking of that wonderful black liquid, like a narcotic, dancing across my taste buds to give me my much-needed fix was somewhat ironic with the landscape before me. Waiting for the forensics team to finish up, I stood in the hall, staring into the open door of an apartment on the sixth floor. Inside, a man, clearly having a worse morning than myself, sat bound to a chair. While I was being cranky about a lack of sleep and not having my coffee, this guy’s morning had me beat hands down.
From the hall I could see his wrists duct taped to the back of his chair and wad of cloth taped into his mouth. The victim’s chair was facing the door almost as if to greet anyone passing by. Good morning fellow tenants! On the table beside him was paraphernalia indicating a fondness for cocaine, but that wasn’t the worst of his day. The occupant’s throat was slit and under all the dried blood was that word indicating another Blood Week victim.
“Looks like our man strikes again.” I turned to see Marcus standing next to me holding a coffee in each hand, one outstretched towards me. “From what the lab coats told me, you’re in dire need of this,” he
said with a chuckle. “Did you really threaten to shoot one of them?”
“That’s why we’re issued weapons, right? Thanks,” I said taking the cup. As it reached my lips, that delicious fix I’d been yearning for trickled onto my pallet and kicked me into gear. I savored the flavors that tickled my taste buds while injecting the caffeine my body had been depleted of.
“You look like you were up all night,” said Delgado. “Should we all be thanking our lady coroner for your mood this morning? She must have shown you quite the time last night.”
“You don’t know the half of it, but a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. I will just say that you can trust me on the fact that she is equipped with a plethora of skills.”
“Fair enough, I didn’t get much sleep either,” he said in deference.
“Did our newbie find a little action too?”
“We’ll just say I found something to pleasantly pass the time,” he said with a smile.
“Off topic question; do you play poker?” I hosted a poker night every couple weeks for a few detectives and some street cops. We also did a large poker tournament twice a year where anybody at the precinct could attend. I usually rented out a place and had it catered with a percentage of the night’s take. It wasn’t too bad on the nights I won because I’d bring in enough to pay for the entire night. When I lost, I’d have some out-of-pocket expenses to pay for everything, but I didn’t mind because I liked doing something nice for my brothers and sisters in blue.
However, the poker night I was hosting in a few days was one of our smaller occasions. We took turns hosting, and this week it was at my place. I figured this was another time I could get to know my new partner. It also meant that Marcus could get to know a few of the guys outside of the workplace.
“I’ve been known to. Why?”
“We’ve got a small game at my place Wednesday night if you want to join. It’s a $50 buy in for chips.”