The two boxers lay unconscious on the floor of the ring before my feet touched it.
Graciously, I came to a stand and indicated a slight bow toward the Father. His bodyguards hadn’t been able to reach for their holsters yet.
He mimicked applause. “You’re fast and swift. But what would that help you against guns?”
“You may be assured that I’d have taken out your men before they could have used their weapons. But I’m not here for that.”
“What is it then? Their bones perhaps?”
A subtle change of stance brought my female shape forward better. At the same time, I allowed my nipples to harden and show under the black suit. I complemented with the right facial expression, a deeper breath, and I could see his male body parts were stirring. Oh yes, I looked as if I wanted sex now, and these men weren’t able to ward off the subliminal stimuli.
“I’m too tight for you. Even if one of you would manage to force his hard cock into my little pussy, you couldn’t get it out again.”
Add some female pheromones signaling my disposition to mate, slightly widened pupils, and they were wax in my hands. Even Father didn’t remain entirely untouched.
“Enough!” he finally commanded harshly before one of his men could lose his self-control, and pointed at the seat next to him. “Sit down here. Guys, if you need a cold shower now, go and get it. This young lady isn’t here to harm me.”
All four and Mick were about to follow this proposal.
“Take these two with you,” I suggested and pointed at the boxers at my feet. “They need refreshment, too.”
Then I flanked over the ropes, climbed up to Father’s seat row and sat down at his side.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Why are you here?”
As easy as the question seemed to be, as complex it in fact was. Why had I come to his boxing hall, why had I come to Harlem, why to New York? Why of all me, why did I take this personal risk? And what did I want from him?
“I can’t sleep in peace while knowing that someone tortures and finally kills people for his entertainment.”
“Such can heavily burden any honest man’s conscience. But who can fight all this world’s injustice alone?”
“I don’t put my goals that far. But here, I can do something. Each long walk begins with the first step, and every big movement begins with the man in the mirror.”
“And yet—a single young woman, unarmed against a worldwide organization that controls government, cops, and Dragon technology?”
“If need be, that, too. But at the moment, I restrict myself to the regional organization that bribes cops and uses a few chunks of technology without knowing the true possibilities. They don’t control anything, and that’s what I’ll show the people.”
“And how do the individual boroughs’ sub-organizations fit into that picture? You’re aware you’re talking to a gangster boss, are you?”
“I’m a criminal myself. I simply take what I need for a living. Surely I’m not the hero on the white horse in shiny armor, the virtue of who alone makes his enemies tremble in fear.” I eyed him. “I’ve been a prostitute. I’m a thief. I curse. If someone threatens me, I’ll deal out a blow. I’m a sinner, and I haven’t come to relieve this world of all its sins. My conscience won’t suffer if someone collects a protection fee—except if it’s from me. It doesn’t bother me if someone disciplines his followers. I don’t care if someone earns his living from gambling or the placement of love services. Or distributes drugs to people who chose this way for themselves. I do care about human trafficking. Or, as I said, about torturing people.” I focused on his wide-awake eyes. “I prefer an organization that establishes certain rules over total injustice for the poor. Especially if the respective people accept this necessity.”
“You’ve seen how it is. This city is subject to jungle law. The cops do what the Syndicate commands. Again, we black people are the minority—if we won’t stick together, we’ll go down. We adapt—we’re running with the pack, if you like. The Bones were the strongest organization when the winds changed. We’ve arranged ourselves with the Syndicate, so that the blacks have a voice in this city at all.”
“And your people accept that.”
“Mostly. We can’t advertise it all too openly.”
“No.”
“Well—you know who we are and what we do. I know a little of what you are and what you’ll do. But what do you want from us?”
“It would help me if I knew you’d go a bit easy. Put up checkpoints to show that you’re hunting for Velvet—but be a bit inefficient if you hear of meetings. Something like that.”
“That’s a modest request.”
“We don’t want the Syndicate learning of its missing support from Harlem before the decisive moment, do we?”
“Which decisive moment?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m adapting to the situation and nudging a bit here and there.”
“To what end? Or let me ask differently—how can I recognize the decisive moment when I should stay behind?”
I smiled. “You will recognize it. I’m here to cut the Syndicate down and make New York City a place where you can live without fear again.”
“Ha! And you want to do that all alone? You’d need some Dragons to do that!”
“No. That’s where the problem lies—that the people believe they’d have to suffer the bad situation without Dragons. I’ll show them that it can be done without Dragons.”
He pondered that for a while.
“Yes. It would be futile to hope for their return, right?”
“I have no clue what they do, where they are, when they’ll return—or whether at all. But it’s clear to me that they rather think in terms of several millennia.”
“Oh. Yes, of course you’re right. Only, no one ever said it so clearly before. I don’t want to know how many people bear the current circumstances because they hope that the Dragons will soon return and everything turns out well.”
“Nothing will turn out well if we humans won’t get it done ourselves.”
“No, I’ve understood that. I must talk with my people. It won’t suffice for us, either, trying to sit out the situation.”
“Okay. Then I’ll leave you now.”
“Where are you going next?”
“The Bronx.”
“The Bronx? Do you know what you’ll be in for there?”
“No. That’s why I’m going—I’ll find out.”
“Leave it. The Bronx is bad.”
“New York is bad.”
“You don’t understand. The Bronx has different rules. No cops. Even the Syndicate only goes there with an assault team.”
Oh—and then probably with camouflaged armor suits, won’t they? “Which gang’s ruling there?”
“No gang. No uniforms. All together, they’re calling themselves Slicer, but it’s a wild bunch. The absolute scum. Velvet, don’t go.”
“Now, you made me really curious.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I’ve been often accused of that. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.” I pointed at the now empty ring.
“Nothing like that. The Bronx is New York’s ZONE.”
“I’ve been to the ZONE, Father. Several times.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ahead of me on the road, under the bridge, burned car wrecks and all kind of scrap piled up to an almost impenetrable barrier. Only one narrow gap was free—sufficient for one person to squeeze through, but not wide enough for a partner to provide cover. It could easily be recognized that even the Syndicate would have trouble advancing here, except for their armor suits. Naturally, the gap was a trap.
Behind me in the nightly dark lay the 138th Street Bridge from Harlem to the Bronx. Mick had accompanied me to the checkpoint and told the Bones there that Father would ask them to look away.
Of course, that made it easier than with a power-consuming camouflage. However, I’d need it now, because I wasn’t cr
azy enough to provocatively show myself in these surroundings before I knew more about it.
My nano suit’s dull black color already gave me quite good protection—I surely was out of sight now for Mick and the Bones at the checkpoint. The cloudy sky favored my mission, too—no moonlight could cause telltale shadows, and there didn’t seem to exist functioning street lights anymore.
What might be fine for the Slicers in fact was to their disadvantage—at least against a Velvet. I activated my camouflage and blended in with the night.
The only similarities to the ZONE near Houston were the surrounding’s decay and the presence of a few men who were guarding the access with a wild assortment of weapons.
The deeper I advanced, the fewer people I met. Okay, even the meanest criminals usually slept during the hours before sunrise. What else should they do, after all?
On my randomly looped way through the borough, I also passed some venues where nude women and men danced on tables, allowing a grab to the crotch for a few dollars or having sex together for the audience’s amusement. But otherwise, the streets were quiet.
So quiet that the crying of a child couldn’t be overheard.
The sound came from a half-opened but trellised window on the topmost floor of a three-story building, slightly set back against the street. My curiosity was triggered.
Either I’d find a hatch on the roof, or I’d have to damage one of the trellises—or I’d simply take the main entrance. The door wasn’t locked—it opened at a slight touch. So I entered, stepped into the hallway and listened.
From inside, I could still hear the crying, but only due to my fine senses. The male voices from a room to the right were clearer.
“Let’s just get the new little one with the long legs.”
“Hey, she’s not even fourteen.”
“Maybe. She surely had no man yet. You know what? I like when they squeak.”
I didn’t want to believe what I heard, but my Analogy didn’t allow any self-delusion.
One after another, three men came through the door. Their lecherous grin froze when they spotted me in the dim light of the single lamp.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Who are you?”
“I’m Velvet, and you’re dead.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Except for the three men and their victims, the house was empty—well, I didn’t count in the many-legged vermin. Quietly, I climbed the third floor. Here, the grubby hallway was lit, too.
The crying had meanwhile fallen mute. I placed one ear at the door and heard the even breaths of several sleeping persons.
Before I opened the door, I briefly knocked. I didn’t wait for a reply, but entered immediately and stepped to the side, so that I wouldn’t block the light from the hallway.
The room was entirely bare. Five young girls, perhaps between fourteen and sixteen, were lying on the floor, cuddled together. One older girl, maybe seventeen, leaned with her back to the wall next to the window. She had wrapped her arms around the youngest protectively. She stared at me like at a ghost.
“Who are you?” she asked, too.
“I’m Velvet, and I’ll take you home.”
“We’re in the Bronx,” the oldest objected. “Nobody gets out here.”
“We’re in the Bronx,” I agreed. “That can’t stop me. Who are you?”
“April. This here is Rebecca. And the other five are Jasmine, Fawn, Zoe, Penny, and Helen.”
I didn’t ask what the men had already done to the girls. The torn clothes and sore spots on their bodies spoke volumes.
“The best would be—we’d leave tomorrow night, about four hours before sunrise,” I mused. “Can you hold out for that long?”
April gave me a doubtful glance. “Another full day here? And then through the Bronx in the dark?”
“It’s okay. Then we’ll leave now. Can you do it?”
She pushed Rebecca a bit away and rose. “I don’t know who you are, and what you believe you can do, but anything’s better than this hole. So, if you want to leave now, I’m coming with you.”
“Wake the others.”
It hurt to see Rebecca’s puffy eyes. I held out one arm. She jumped at me and hugged me, sobbing. Darn, she towered half a head above me! Where she was totally haggard.
As opposed to her, the other girls appeared emotionally blunted—nevertheless, a shimmer of hope snuck in their faces when April explained them why I was here.
“You’re Velvet?” Helen asked.
“Yes.”
“Why does a white girl go into the Bronx to save some black losers?”
“The color of skin doesn’t count,” I firmly objected. “I was once thought to be a loser, too. Today, I’m making the rules. So—and now let’s not talk but leave soon, while most other people are still sleeping.”
“What about the men downstairs?”
“Rat food,” I grimly explained. “They won’t ever hurt anyone again.”
Rebecca still clung to me. I had to free myself of her grasp with gentle force and hand her to April.
“I’ll go ahead and take out potential dangers. You just walk on, no matter what happens.”
“And when they shoot?”
“They’ll shoot at me, not at you.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Unchallenged, we passed the first three blocks westward to Park Avenue. Under cover of the amply growing bushes between street and subway tracks I then guided the children southward. If at all, we’d rather be spotted from the western side opposite of the tracks, and there I was relaxed.
Twice, we let a subway pass, each time ducking deep under the bushes, before we approached 138th and the barrier. Meanwhile, dawn had broken, and so the danger of someone noticing us grew.
I was worried for the barrier. As I had avoided the gap, I didn’t know whether it might be mined—so I couldn’t simply send the girls ahead. Moreover, I doubted whether they’d be hardboiled enough to run for two blocks while I’d take care of the Slicers around the barrier.
“I must clear the way first,” I told April. “Meanwhile, stay in the bushes. It won’t take long.”
“No,” she objected to my surprise. “Don’t leave us behind.” She pointed at her fellow sufferers. “We can’t stand that—some of us are short of panicking.”
“You, too?”
“Don’t know. Actually, I only want to scream, but somehow—you really think you get us out of here unhurt?”
All girls watched me anxiously, but also full of hope. There was no guarantee, but I couldn’t put it that way. “I’ll get you all out,” I reassured them. “I can’t help the occasional bruise or scratch. You must bear that.” Again, I looked into one after another girl’s eyes. “I won’t leave any of you behind. Okay?”
“Can we do anything?” Penny asked.
“Stay together. If there’s shooting, cower, but keep moving. Stick close to the buildings and be quiet. Most importantly, don’t try to come to my rescue. I can take more than you.”
I didn’t have to tell them it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. But they all knew very well what to expect if they stayed.
Damn. They were too young for this kind of experience. For the violence they had suffered as well as for the violence they’d soon witness—but as I hadn’t been able to protect them from the former, I now couldn’t spare them the latter.
With few firm moves, I tore an opening into the bushes and waved the girls through. Then I passed them and looked up Park Avenue. Clean.
“Come.”
The faster we were, the greater was the chance to simply slip through the loops. We ran through under the railroad bridge, and then the barrier under the street bridge lay before us.
And eight bruisers in leather clothes came from the passageway near the junction to the right. No, I had to correct myself—five of them were bruisers, with bicycle chain, knife, butcher’s axe, baseball bat and chain stick. Two carried sawed-off shotguns, and the last had just started his chainsaw
motor.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Opposite, to the left of our route, I saw a small park between the tracks and the street ramp—a dead end where I wouldn’t be trapped inside.
Despite the saw’s howling, the girls remained bravely quiet when the men slowly advanced on us, the shotgun shooters always a few steps behind. I felt the questioning glances of my protégés in my back when I assumed a shielding position before them.
“Undress,” the chain stick guy ordered. “All of you.”
His partners raised their weapons threateningly—not entirely convincing, as they’d surely prefer to treat us with a different weapon, but I still couldn’t ignore this danger.
“Down!” I commanded aloud, then I jumped at the two shotgun wielders.
Both immediately reacted, simply pulled their triggers, the grain of shot from four barrels prattled hard against my belly and made me bend. The chainsaw swung around, howled at my side from the right, and at the same time the chain stick’s loose end hit my left arm. Behind me, I heard cries of pain.
I already was sufficiently motivated. Fighting trance!
The two shooters stared at me in disbelief when I stretched myself again, thereby covering the remaining distance. Their gaze broke when my claws tore their throats out.
The chainsaw howled and screamed on my nano armor, and then flew away in a low arch when my foot hit the operator mid-body and kicked him several meters away.
The speaker was only a few more steps away from my girls, who had thrown themselves down upon my command—Helen and April bleeding from several small wounds. Not lethal, I automatically assessed. Much more dangerous were the men who’d take my girls hostage.
Only one leap, my claws severing the nerve ducts in two bruisers’ necks—bike chain and knife—and then I tore the speaker with his chain stick away from my girls.
Lioness’ Legacy IV—Torment Page 12