Dungeons & Gangsters 2

by Marco Frazetta

  “Holy shit!” The guy behind the register dropped the big old revolver on the floor by his feet. “Alright! I’m unarmed, don’t shoot me! I dropped the gun! Please don’t shoot!” His arms had shot back up, the guy was really reachin’ for the heavens this time, and I began to smell the unpleasant stench of this drunk asshole’s piss hittin’ his jeans, dribbling down to the floor.

  “Ew,” Tyzee muttered, coming from around the other side of the counter to stand behind me. “Thanks for telling me about the loaded gun! You promised no one would get hurt!”

  “Alright!” I breathed, ignoring Tyzee’s grumblings behind me, my little revolver still trained on the drunk’s face, a tiny wisp of smoke lazily drifting out of the barrel. “The next one won’t be for that overpriced horse piss behind you, you got me? I’ll put a slug right in your paunchy fuckin’ gut and you’ll bleed out right here on this dirty old floor, like a drunken stuck pig.”

  The drunk trembled. “Okay, okay,” he stammered, “whatever you want, man, it’s yours, just don’t shoot me—”

  “Open the fuckin’ cash register!” I commanded, then I snarled at the asshole still layin’ face down on the dirty floor to my right. “Stay right where you are you fuckin’ jerk, the fuck are you thinkin’ comin’ up on a... tiefling… with a gun? We’re half demonic n’ shit!” I turned back to the drunk behind the register, noticed he was taking his time, so I promptly fired another round right over his right shoulder, BLAM! “Let’s go! Move it!”

  That seemed to get him into fuckin’ gear, ‘cause he jumped then shoved a fat finger down into an old plastic button on the register, making the cash drawer pop open. I had him pull out the cash drawer and take all the bills out, putting ‘em down in front of me on the counter. I quickly counted a little over a thousand bucks.

  “Not bad.” I paused, looked at the drunk’s face and saw his eyes moving shiftily back to the hollow space of the register where the cash drawer had just been. “What else is in there?” I moved around the counter, suspicion creepin’ up in my gut.

  “Nothin’,” the guy whined, “I don’t got nothin’, you took it all.”

  I came up behind him and peeped four crisp one hundred dollar bills sittin’ right there beyond the bottom lip of the now hollow cash drawer space, so I jabbed the barrel of the .38 into his fuckin’ kidney hard, twisting it in, making him yelp in pain and spit up.

  Reaching over and snatching the hundred dollar bills, I held them next to his face and growled, “nothin’, huh? What’s this then?”

  He shrugged his shoulders hopelessly.

  “Fuckin’ prick.” I shoved past him and coming back around the counter, grabbing the little stack of dough on the counter and dropped it along with the hundreds into the brown paper bag with the chocolate bars. I suppressed a laugh as I looked at Tyzee real quick, thinkin’ about the candy bars and why the hell that’s what she would think to steal in a fuckin’ liquor store. I grabbed her by the arm and we rushed out the front door while the drunk behind the looted register, with piss still dribbling down his leg and shoe, looked on in stupefaction, and while the other asshole, the one that had popped up outta the fuckin’ woodwork, had stayed kissin’ the dirty fuckin’ floor.

  As we ran out of the liquor store, holding hands all the way to the car, I heard Tyzee’s soft muffled giggles float into my ear, and when we were feet away from the car I took her in my arms and held her against me.

  “Teek,” she whispered, her voice husky, her body pressing up against me, responding to mine.

  “What?” I pulled off the floppy tiefling mask, and plopped the bag of chocolate bars and cash on the hood of the trunk, then, without even thinking, my paws were suddenly all over her, gliding down her back and over her ass, taking hold of her waist. By fucking Maglubiyet, this woman was fine, her curves sharp as hell, her ass full, firm with just the right amount of give that roiled up primal urges in my body, made me feel at the atomic level that I was holding onto the most feminine, fertile creature I could imagine.

  “Oh,” she murmured, her arms enclosing my neck as my lips grazed hers, my breath tickling her ear, “oh, Teek! That was crazy! And—and—such a thrill!”

  “A thrill?” I croaked, starting to laugh. “Yea, a real thrill alright.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t even imagine—”

  I silenced Tyzee’s hot wet mouth by closing it with mine, kissing her fiercely, intensely, savagely, forceful kisses which she returned in kind, deftly pulling that ridiculous wig from her head, letting her beautiful long black and purple hair fan out as it was released from the netting on the underside of the wig. She laughed mid kiss as she felt her real hair come free and the wig being removed for her, and it was such a sexy little thing that I laughed too, I felt fuckin’ joyous, I felt like I could stay right there in that moment for as long as I lived, kissin’ and touchin’ this gorgeous hybrid orc girl, who was pawin’ and kissin’ me right back. The feeling of Skreech’s MAC-10 in her waist band pressing up against my belly broke the spell and I pulled back from her, making her groan a little in frustration.

  “What? What is it?” she whispered, sounding a little annoyed, her eyelids half closed like she was in some sort of dream.

  I pulled away from her, releasing her luscious body from my grasp. “We gotta hit the Diamonds, remember?” I reached behind her, grabbin’ the brown paper bag.

  “Oh… Oh, right,” Tyzee responded somewhat distantly after a moment, shaking her head and going over to the passenger side door.

  I dicked it around to the driver side and jumped in. I thought I could faintly hear police sirens whirring up in the distance, vaguely comin’ closer to the direction that we were in, so I shoved the tiefling mask and the wig into the bag with the cash and pulled out of the pharmacy parking lot with my lights off, cruisin’ like that for a few and only flickin’ ‘em on when I had turned off Emerald Street onto York, headin’ towards the Dozen Diamonds Townhouses complex. I was startled when I felt somethin’ touch my thigh, but when I looked down I realized it was Tyzee’s hand.

  I looked over and saw she was already lookin’ at me, smiling shyly at me. I smiled back and held her hand in my right while my left gripped the steering wheel. When we were pulling into the Diamonds parking lots, I cut the lights off again and slowly motored around to the back, where “A” building was, and where the real tiefling junkie and his human skank were dipped the fuck out after attempting some desperate, impotent sex then proceeding to shoot up a couple bags of that light beige powder, that infamous, deadly yet wonderous drug that was officially known as heroin number four, a purer form of dope that had recently hit the streets due to a massive influx of it from Asia. I parked out front of the building, and was immediately greeted by the bumping, bassy pulsations of house music being loudly played from one of the adjoining townhouses. Turning off the car, I turned to Tyzee.

  “You stay right here, okay?” I reached into the back seat, felt for the brown paper bag and brought it up, setting it down on my lap. I took out the cash, countin’ out about fourteen hundred dollars and change; I took half of it, passin’ two hundred over to Tyzee and keepin’ five hundred for myself, slippin’ it into my pocket and droppin’ the rest of the stolen cash back into the bag. I quietly popped open the door, but stopped when I felt Tyzee’s hand on me again.

  “Yea? What is it?” I shot back at her over my shoulder.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, then, whispering, “be careful, Teek,” she lightly squeezed my thigh. “And gimme one of those chocolate bars!”

  I grunted a laugh, shoved my hand into the bag and felt around for a chocolate bar, took hold of two and lightly tossed ‘em onto Tyzee’s lap, then I shut the door quietly behind me and hustled over to the front door of “A” building, slipping in and tip-toeing up the stairs. When I had nearly made it to the top, I peered around to make sure no one was looking, then, as quietly as I could, I cleared the landing and looked to see if the scumbags had left their door open, all comer
s welcome to fuck and shoot dope and smoke dope and party to their little dope fiend heart’s content. It wasn’t. They had locked it.

  Chapter 18

  Chills ran up my spine. Now what? My mind was already paranoid, the adrenaline from the stick up still surging through me, so it was hard reining it in. But then as I thought about it, I realized this was actually to my advantage.

  Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing. My mind, my inner sense searched for it: the Weave. Catching hold of it always felt good, like when you try to open a stuck jar and finally pry it open. My eyes flickered under their closed lids. It was a tricky thing, catching the Weave. You had to focus, yet relax, summon a million percent of your will and yet not get agitated, try and yet not try. But finally I caught that fucker. Damn, it felt good, like the first plunge into the finest pussy. Then I conjured some runes in my mind, pouring willpower into them. I searched for that spark of red energy that would form my mage hand. It bloomed like a blood rose, before my eyes. “Come on mage hand, do your thing.”

  I had to feel for the Weave again, as there was a second process to this. The fingers of the hand began to elongate, becoming thin as needles, then they plunged into the door lock. Closing my eyes again I saw the inner workings of the lock like I was a tiny mite riding a key. Taking in the contours of the lock, I molded my mage hand finger to fit that shape, tracing the diagonal rises and falls of the keyhole. Once my mage hand finger was the right shape, I willed it to turn, and the lock turned with it.

  Ya damn right, I thought to myself.

  I slunk over, tryin’ to control my breathing and, just like the day before, gingerly poked my head through the crack. I could hear the snoring again, sounding like it was comin’ from two doped out individuals, accompanied by Janis Joplin’s voice wailing from a stereo speaker somewhere inside the townhouse. I parted the bag open while still in the hallway, then slipped myself into their shithole, sideways steppin’ through the cracked door and taking extremely cautious steps, in case I should have the misfortune to step on some creaky fuckin’ wooden floor board.

  The smells comin’ from inside their place were much more offensive once in there with it, it felt like a fuckin’ assault on my senses, the stench of the shitty bush weed they smoked, the sweaty funky sex they had, compounded by their poor hygiene habits, the hint of junkie urine and shit wafting about in the air. This time one of the squatters had an article of clothing on, the tiefling was actually wearing a dirty, sweat and cumm stained robe and nothing else. He was laid out sort of awkwardly on the couch, a trickle of blood winding its way down his arm from a little puncture in the crook of his elbow. His sweaty, stinking slutty beloved was sprawled out naked, half on top of him, an arm dangling off onto the scuffed up table, where her hand was laying on top of a overfilled ashtray, holding a burnt out cigarette butt, and possessing an identical trickle of blood from a ugly looking puncture in the crook of her arm. They’re sayin’ now that these dope fiends have a disease, I thought, lookin’ at the two junkies in front of me, my mouth curled in disgust, but these two are beyond fuckin’ filthy. Carefully making my way closer to the two, I scanned around for a good spot to stash the liquor store loot. I decided to place it right next to the ugly, busted table right there, where it would be next to them but not within their immediate drugged out field of vision, and, setting it down cautiously, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of the bullets I had taken outta Skreech’s MAC-10 and a round from my .38 Special revolver, lowering them gently into and around the brown paper bag.

  As I was turning to leave, the tiefling’s human junkie whore snorted and her eyes started to twitch, threatening to open.

  I froze, not wanting to make a sound that might make her stir more and I realized I was unarmed besides the little revolver on my ankle that only had two rounds left in it. Shit! My red eyes were glued to the skank who was covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing shallow. If she wakes up and spots me I’ll have to knock her the fuck out, and him, too. Maybe even have to do more... I won’t have a choice.

  Waiting for a good five minutes by my estimation, and seeing that her eyes had stopped twitching under their lids and her face, a face which probably would have been attractive without the wear and tear of heavy hardcore drug use and gettin’ run through by one too many dicks, had smoothed out, lookin’ almost peaceful, I tip-toed back out of the stinking townhouse and silently crept down the stairs and out of the door.

  Making long strides back to the Mustang, I slipped into the car.

  “Teek!” Tyzee hissed as I drove off slowly without sayin’ a word to her or flippin’ on the headlights ‘til we turned on York Road. “Teek!” Tyzee hissed for the fourth time, gripping my thigh, becoming more and more alarmed that I hadn’t said anything, “did it go okay or what?”

  I took her hand in mine and lifted it off my thigh, holding it tightly. “Yea, we’re good. I need to find a...” I spotted what I needed to the left. “Aha! Here we go.”

  I whipped the steering wheel to the left, my tires burning a little rubber as they rotated quicker than the car had been prepared for and we pulled up fast next to a phone booth, leaving a foot of skid marks from the force of the brake. Jumping out of the Mustang and lighting up a cigarette, I walked over to the phone booth and threw the door open, grabbing the phone and dialing 911. I rubbed a tired hand down my face and puffed on the cigarette as the phone rang once, twice, then a monotone woman’s nasally voice came through the receiver, almost robotically saying, “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “Yea, I’ll tell ya what my fuckin’ emergency is!” I raged, giving my voice an obnoxious affectation. “This tiefling and his gal, a real skeezer you ask me and every Tom, Dick, and Haglok in the neighborhood—”

  “Sir.”

  “Yea, right, so...” I puffed my cigarette. “They just robbed the liquor store down the street and came back to the townhouse shootin’ their guns and carryin’ on!”

  “Sir, you said they robbed the liquor store?”

  “Yea, correct, the liquor store on Emerald.”

  “And they were discharging firearms at… where?” The 911 operator’s voice changed from monotone to slightly alarmed.

  “The Diamonds, lady, The Dozen Diamonds townhouses!” I hollered, then, pausing a moment, I snapped, “unit eight!” before slammin’ the phone down and dickin’ it back to the Mustang, seein’ Tyzee lookin’ at me like I was a fuckin’ nut.

  Chapter 19

  As we were drivin’ back to Kobold Town, headin’ up route 13, I realized me and Tyzee had been holdin’ hands for some time.

  I started feelin’ awkward about it now that the adrenaline and excitement had worn off some, so I gently slipped my hand outta hers and reached for a joint in the stash spot, flickin’ the lighter on when it had reached my lips. Tyzee shot me a curious look but didn’t reach for my hand again, and I figured maybe she was comin’ down from the high of it as well, perhaps feelin’ a little strange that she was possibly catchin’ feelings for me, a hobgoblin she hardly even knew, she was kissin’ and pawin’ on me after I just talked her into a good old liquor store robbery that went from pretend to deadly fuckin’ serious.

  I took a few deep tokes on the joint as I tried not to imagine Tyzee walkin’ on a fuckin’ beach somewhere, palm trees all around her, holdin’ hands with some other asshole that sure ain’t me. And here’s somethin’ else to fuck ya up, Teek, ya dumb fuckin’ prick, I thought bitterly, what if you do go all the way with this gorgeous hybrid orc bitch, and she wakes up with her memories of her fuckin’ prince charming back home, and regrets everything she did with ya? How’s that gonna go down? I glanced over at Tyzee for a moment, Not too smooth, that’s for fuckin’ sure. Passin’ her the joint, which she took with a brief smile and a mumbled, “thanks,” I flipped on the radio, lookin’ for somethin’ decent to listen to as we somewhat awkwardly drove back to the apartment. Mariah Carey’s new joint with the cat from the Wu Tang Clan, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, started to fi
ll the car, and as I heard her sweet angel voice singin’ out ‘I’m in heaven...with my boyfriend...my laughing boyfriend…’ I grimaced and moved to change the station, but Tyzee, coughin’ out a nebula of marijuana smoke, lightly pushed my hand away from the radio.

  “Wait, I think I like that song!” She looked at me in surprise, smiling from ear to ear, reachin’ for the volume knob and turning it up.

  “Oh, alright.” I nodded, smiling back but feelin’ my heart sink into the pit of my fuckin’ stomach, jealously thinkin’ that the reason she probably liked it was ‘cause of some boyfriend she had back home, wherever the fuck that was. We passed the joint back and forth a few times and killed it as we crossed over into Kobold Town.

  “You hungry?” I nodded over to Tyzee, not directly looking at her.

  “Yea, sure.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I could eat.” Then, after a pause, she asked, “what’s eatin’ you, though?”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Seems like you got a little sour, broody for some reason.”

  I was caught off guard by her questioning, I wasn’t used to some gorgeous broad askin’ me about my feelings and shit; the most time I ever even spent with a girl in recent history was about an hour or two, and it sure wasn’t to talk about my fuckin’ feelings.

  “I’m good.” I chuckled after a beat. “Ain’t nothin’ eatin’ me, just drained and hungry.”

  Tyzee nodded. “Oh, okay. Ya know...” She grinned mischievously. “I could really go for that chicken and waffles again, what do you say?”