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Quirky Row Chapter 29: Drug Gunning
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 17:00:06 +0000 UTCChapter 29: Drug Gunning
(Monday, November 8th, 2123)
The weekend in Stilwater was quiet. The Sons were watching their borders closely, while a few skirmishes between the Ronin and the Saints had occurred. The heroes had been restrained as well, the prison break on Thursday having taken up most of their time and effort over the last few days. Quite a few inmates had seen Laura’s breakout as an opportune chance to escape themselves.
At the moment, Playa was going over paperwork in his office, having just finished a nice lunch. He was getting ready to release a new line of merch for the Saints after the resounding success of the first set. The Saints themed apparel had sold like hotcakes, especially in the wake of the fall of the Brotherhood.
It wasn’t just locals buying the stuff, either. Tourists were grabbing some of the items as souvenirs for when they returned home. A bit of Stilwater they could be proud to show off.
With hats and t-shirts already being made, along with keychains and coffee mugs, the next set of goods was going to include Saints themed socks, headbands, cellphone cases, posters, and car decals.
That wasn’t all, though. A design for purple biker jackets with the Saints’ symbol on the back was in the works, along with a motorcycle helmet. And plenty of other members of the gang were submitting their own proposals for new items and business ideas, including a cross-promotion with Freckle Burger. The ‘Saint Shake’ was gonna hit stores some time next year if all went according to plan.
There was even a group of Saints that was working on a video game staring certain members of the crew! They were calling it ‘Saint’s Row’ in homage to the gang’s origins, and was going to take place in an alternate reality version of Earth, so as to avoid copyrights and avoid using too many names of real people.
Playa was shaken from his thoughts when he received a call from Shaundi.
“Hey, boss-man, Laura just called, and she’s figured out the secret to our little drug problem,” his lieutenant informed him when he picked up.
“That was quick,” he noted, impressed.
“Told ya she was the best,” Shaundi laughed. “She’s coming over in a bit with the deets.”
“Alright. Bring her in when you do,” he requested, before hanging up. Ten minutes later, and he got a text that the two ladies were on their way.
“You know, a nice robin blue color for the walls would really make this place look good,” Laura said as she walked into the office, being led by Shaundi over to Playa’s desk.
“I was thinking more of an avocado,” Shaundi said with a laugh.
“Ooo, that could work… in fact, I do think I may need to borrow that idea for my own living room,” Laura hummed thoughtfully.
“Ladies, lovely to see you both again, if we could talk about the Loa Dust?” Playa asked politely but firmly.
“Oh, right, of course,” Laura said, smiling at the gang leader. “Straight to business, then.”
“I figured out the final ingredient,” Laura announced proudly, presenting Shaundi with a sheet of paper she took from her purse. She also took out a plate wrapped in plastic as well. “Here’s the recipe for Loa Dust. And here’s a plate of cookies.”
“Sweet!” Shaundi cheered. “This is gonna hurt the Sons! And thanks for the snickerdoodles!”
“No problem, dears,” Laura laughed lightly.
“That final ingredient you mentioned that’s in Loa Dust… what is it?” Playa asked curiously.
“I’m not sure it has an actual name. As far as I can tell, it’s a completely designer chemical compound that the Sons came up with themselves,” Laura admitted.
“It’s not too complicated to make, right?” Playa asked nervously. If it was, they wouldn’t be able to replicate the Loa Dust cheaply.
“Don’t worry, it’s not complicated at all. Keep in mind that the Sons of Samedi don’t have high-tech labs to mix their concoctions in, nor expensive chemicals to make the drugs in the first place. They have to make do with whatever they can get ahold of, and that means common, easily accessible civilian-grade stuff,” Laura assured him. “It’s all included in the recipe.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Playa sighed in relief, relaxing a bit. He then reached for a cookie before Shaundi ate them all.
“Most of the drug’s composition is weed, right?” he asked Laura as he chewed on a delicious snickerdoodle.
“That’s right,” the drug-dealing housewife confirmed.
“Then we need to tamper with the Son’s supply. We’ve been keeping off their radar for now, but I believe it’s time to strike,” Playa declared.
“In that case, I know where we can hit ‘em,” Shaundi said, pausing in her eating.
“That so?” Playa asked.
“That’s right. See, I used to date a guy in college who was a dealer for the Sons. He told me that there’s a massive weed farm somewhere in Stilwater that produces nearly all the weed for the Sons. It’s near the Stilwater U campus.”
“And it hasn’t been touched by the cops?” Playa asked incredulously.
“That’s because it’s a legally owned and operated business that, officially, has nothing to do with the Sons. Weed isn’t illegal in Cali, boss, you know that. The Sons control the farm and pay pennies to the dollar for the good shit that they sell on its own or make into Loa Dust,” Shaundi explained. “I have no doubt the cops know that it’s just a front for the Sons, but they can’t do shit about it. Besides, it’s not like the farm is producing meth or crack. Which the Sons do push. Loa Dust is only illegal because it’s not FDA approved.”
“Fair, fair,” Playa nodded. “Scope it out. We’re gonna raid it, steal as much of the weed as we can for our own uses, and then burn the farm to the ground to deny it to the Sons.”
“The boys in green won’t like that,” Shaundi warned, although her grin was wide and vicious.
“Well, if you need a ride anywhere, my hubby Tobias is a certified helicopter pilot,” Laura revealed. “He flies med-evacs and the like for the hospital.”
“Huh, good to know,” Playa mused. “Think he’d be up for helping us take down the place?”
“I’m sure he would,” Laura said. “He hates the Sons as much as I do. Maybe more.”
“Good to know,” Playa nodded. “Anything else to discuss?”
“You know, Amy is single,” Laura said, waggling her eyebrows at Playa.
Shaundi choked on a cookie at that, and Playa coughed awkwardly.
“Uh, that’s a nice offer, but I’m nine years older than her,” he pointed out. “And her boss.”
“Well, I’m eleven years older than Tobias, and we still love each other dearly,” Laura replied with a smile. “But, I won’t say any more. Ta-ta, dearies!”
She then left the office, the two Saints watching her leave with mixed feelings.
“Well, that was a thing,” Shaundi said before turning to the leader of the gang. “Anyways! We got the recipe! Now we need a name for our new product.”
“I was thinking ‘Nirvana,’” Playa suggested.
“Hmm. Catchy. Sounds better than Loa Dust, that’s for sure,” his lieutenant nodded. She then shot him a teasing grin. “So, you gonna take up Laura on her offer?”
“What offer? You mean, dating her daughter?” he asked, quickly guessing what she alluding to.
“I mean, Mink’s cute. Big tits and an innocent face. Bet she’d look good in a school girl outfit,” Shaundi said with a leer.
“Sure, sure, I could see that,” Playa agreed. “But I doubt I’ll actually go for it, even with her mother’s blessing.”
“Really? She seems like the kinda gal you’d normally go after. I mean, you have a type, boss,” Shaundi said. “You like a gal who can get her hands dirty and doesn’t mind getting a little greasy. And Mink’s a wrench-monkey with a go get-em attitude.”
“That may be true, but I’m not interested in love or romance or even a fuck buddy,” Playa replied with a shake of his head. “Not right now, at least.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe when the city is calm and the Saints rule the city. Until then, I’m not gonna get sweet or hooked up with anybody.”
“I understand,” Shaundi said, although there was a disappointed look on her face for a moment before it vanished.
“Anyways, get some guys looking into this farm you mentioned, and get ready for a raid,” Playa declared. “The Sons are going to bleed.”
111 &&&&& 111
(Wednesday, November 10th, 2023)
It only took a single day for Shaundi to uncover the location of the Sons’ weed farm. Shaundi really went above and beyond, however, when she managed to deliver good intel on the schedules for the deliveries and shipments, the security, and the like.
Although there was a lot of scrambling and rushing around to make sure things happened fast enough, the Saints proved to be up to the task, and were ready to lead a massive raid on the property sooner than expected. A strike team was raring to go, and the day was a perfect one for it.
A massive amount of weed, several tons of it, had been packed up and was prepped to be picked up by a convoy of Sons, who’d then distribute it to Son controlled dispensaries and dealers. The Saints weren’t going to let that happen, and were going to steal it from them.
As such, in the wee hours of the morn, the Saints gathered in a parking complex near the edge of territory that bordered the Sons and Ronin, so neither group would know who they were going after until it was too late, and prepared for the opening strike against the second of the Big Three gangs in Stilwater.
The raid had two objectives. Steal as much product as possible, and destroy what they couldn’t steal. Over a dozen trucks, from pick-ups to moving vans, had been gathered so the farm could be plundered, and the drug-dealing gang wouldn’t be able to retaliate in time properly.
Before the mission began, however, Playa was having a quick meeting with Shaundi, who was dressed in her supervillain outfit, sans the mask.
“You’re sure you want me in charge for this?” Shaundi asked nervously, glancing over to where Jean-Paul’s latest batch of trained gangsters were milling about.
“You’re leading the raid, Shaundi,” Playa stated firmly. “You found the info on the farm, and you know the most about it. Plus, this is for the best. Most of the gang know Pierce, and of course everyone knows Johnny, but you’re not nearly as well-known. You had a good showing as one of my lieutenants during the clash with the Brotherhood and distinguished yourself well enough, but now it’s time to step up and really show off what you can do.”
He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. “You can do it, Shaundi. I believe in you,” he told her.
“Thanks,” Shaundi said quietly, before putting her mask on, becoming Rafflesia. She then strode off, shouting orders at the gangsters, who smartly formed up.
“Alright, that’s taken care of,” Playa muttered. “Now, to go and get ready for my part of the plan.”
He left the gathering site in a rental car and drove to Wardill Airport. There, he made his way to the private hangars, and found Laura’s husband Tobias running the final checks on a sleek black helicopter. Playa quickly changed into his costume before going out to play his part.
“Morning, Skunk,” Tobias greeted when he saw the supervillain stepping out of the rental car. He was still shirtless, although he had on pilot’s glasses and a flight helmet.
“Morning yourself, Tobias,” Skunk replied, nodding politely. “Thank you for doing this on such short notice.”
“No problem. A chance to hit the Sons where it hurts? Of course I’ve got time to spare,” Tobias assured the ganglord. “And I managed to install the hardware you sent me.”
Skunk approached the helicopter, a very impressive Side-Shooter model, and looked it over, noting the addition the pilot had mentioned.
Mounted onto the right side of the helicopter was a mini-gun. Not just any mini-gun, either, but the very same one Maero had used back during the siege of the Brotherhood’s final base. Ammo had been scrounged up for it, mostly taken from looted Brotherhood depots and safehouses, and it was going to be turned against the Sons in what Playa considered to be a fitting new role for the weapon.
“Oh, yeah, this will do,” Skunk said, running a hand over the deadly military-grade weapon. He then glanced at Tobias. “You’re certain nobody will be able to trace this copter back to you?”
“Don’t worry, some guys in the airport’s administration owe me money, so they’ve arranged it for there to be no records of this little adventure of ours,” Tobias assured him, before patting the side of the helicopter. “And this beauty doesn’t belong to me, but instead is owned by an Ultor exec I have some dirt on. He’s lending it to me for the day.”
“Well, damn, you’re on the ball,” Skunk praised. “Is it ready to go?”
“Yup,” Tobias said, tossing the supervillain a helmet. “You’re gonna need this.”
Skunk nodded and put it on, before getting boarding the whirlybird and strapping himself in behind the mini-gun.
Tobias got into the cockpit and did some pilot things, and soon the Six-Shooter rose up into the air, the blades spinning and making a loud racket all the while.
“Kinda feels bad, blowing up all that product,” Tobias sighed.
“Don’t worry, we want to steal as much of it as we can before sending the rest up in smoke,” Skunk assured him. “And you and Laura can corner the market when we’re done.”
“Huh, hadn’t thought of it that way. Actually, hey, Laura and I’s anniversary is coming up soon. Got any hot ideas for what I could get her?” Tobias wondered hopefully.
“Well, knowing Laura, I’d suggest either some new cookware, or an automatic shotgun,” Skunk replied, only slightly joking.
“Hmm, yeah, that could work!” Tobias said with a laugh.
“So, what’s your beef with the Sons?” Skunk asked curiously after a bit while they flew through the air towards their target.
“Well, besides the General tossing my wife into prison, a cousin of mine got addicted to heroin,” Tobias grunted angrily. “Sons sold it to him. It ruined his life. Then, when he couldn’t pay them back, they kidnapped him and his family and harvested their organs for the black market.”
“Holy shit,” Skunk muttered in disgust.
The pilot shook his head in disgust. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a puff every now and then. Hell, I sell drugs with Laura as a side-gig. But some shit just shouldn’t be pedaled on the streets. Especially when the dealers prey on innocent people.”
“Preach,” Skunk nodded, before spotting their destination down below. He checked the mini-gun one last time. “Alright, let’s light this place up.”
Tobias cackled evilly, and turned the helicopter so the gang leader had a clear aim at the farm. Skunk lined up one of the towers containing water, pulled the trigger, and grinned madly behind his mask as the minigun roared to life, bullets whizzing down.
The water tower started to leak madly from dozens of bullet holes, before the pressure of the escaping liquid became too much and it ruptured completely, spilling hundreds of gallons of water everywhere.
People were screaming as they ran around in a panic, terrified he would turn his weapon onto them. Some were swept away by the deluge of water from the collapsed tower, other darted inside the greenhouses.
A few men with guns – likely undercover Sons who kept on eye on the place – tried to take a few potshots at Skunk, but the Side-Shooter was too high, and a spray of bullets from the minigun convinced them to stop.
After looking over the devastation his attack had caused, Skunk shifted in his seat, and aimed the minigun towards a silo that, according to Shaundi’s intel, contained a lot of highly explosive fertilizer.
A storm of rounds tore into the side of the silo, and sparks flew as they pierced through the thin metal, followed by a rumbling explosion as the fertilizer went up in smoke. Literal burning shit began to spew forth, setting parts of the farm on fire, and Skunk smirked at a job well done.
He then directed his attention to a couple of cars bearing the green skull of the Sons of Samedi that were parked at the farm. A rain of bullets put an end to them, preventing anybody from escaping with the goods.
After causing a considerable amount of damage to the place, Skunk decided it was best to end it there before any of the product got damaged. To that end, he pulled out a flare gun and fired it off towards the farm below. A burning purple star soon burst to life above the Sons’ property. The signal was sent.
As the purple flare burned brightly overhead, several cars and trucks zoomed towards the farm, and upon reaching the place, Saints poured out of them and got to work ransacking the entire place, stealing every bit of weed there. Some of them were even cutting down and uprooting the plants themselves and stuffing them into the vehicles alongside the bricks and bags of prepared product.
A handful of Sons tried to fight back and protect the farm and the weed, but they’d been crippled by Skunk’s surprise aerial attack, and the Saints were able to repel them, forcing many to outright flee the fight entirely. Without vehicles, they weren’t going to make it very far.
Narrowing his eyes a bit, Skunk could just barely see Rafflesia on the ground, directing the Saints after she’d kicked the asses of a few Sons who’d gotten too close. The member of his Inner Circle had gotten an upgrade in the form of wrist-mounted pepper spray canisters that she could fire from a pair of custom gauntlets, an obvious homage to his own combat gear.
‘With the gasmask and those gauntlets, people are going to start thinking we’re dating or something,’ Skunk thought to himself in amusement.
“Looks like things are going nice and smooth!” Tobias called back to Skunk after a bit.
“It’s too easy, if you ask me,” the gang lord replied, squinting down towards the city. A moment later, he was proven correct as he saw a large number of vehicles burning rubber towards the farm.
However, they were not more Sons coming to reinforce the place, but a bunch of cops and heroes. Which made sense. Officially, the farm was just another business in Stilwater. It paid its taxes, after all.
“Seems like the General is trying to get the heroes to take care of us,” Skunk noted to Tobias, who grimaced.
“At least I don’t see Silver Swan anywhere,” he noted, which made Skunk bob his head in agreement.
Silver Swan was one of the only heroes in Stilwater who could fly, and that was thanks to her jetpack. This morning she was on the other side of the city, in the Ultor controlled east. He knew this thanks to Aisha passing on her patrol schedule, and Johnny volunteering to run around and make a ruckus near the Philips Building to draw her attention.
“Heads up, Rafflesia!” Skunk said into a radio. “You’ve got some heroes coming for ya!”
“Can you tell who, and how many?” she asked, voice crackling a bit.
“There’s eight police cruisers, and I see Amber and Spincycle,” Skunk replied. Both heroes were on motorcycles, and had a small tail of Sidekicks and lesser heroes behind them.
“Numbers Seven and Six,” Rafflesia muttered. Technically, they’d both been bumped up a space in the rankings due to Taggit getting the boot, but it was easier to remember them by their old numbers. Especially as the rankings hadn’t been updated yet. “Okay, I can deal with them.”
“Don’t fight if you don’t have to,” he reminded her. “Just grab the stuff and get out if you can.”
“They’re gonna block the roads, so we’ll have to fight our way through,” she pointed out, and Skunk conceded the point.
“Alright, I’ll stay on Overwatch up here for you. Stay safe,” Skunk said.
Down on the ground, Rafflesia took a deep breath as her boss hung up, the radio going silent. Turning to her men, she projected an aura of authority and began to bark orders.
“Look alive, people! We’ve got pigs – regular and flying – on our asses, so let’s finishing looting this place to the foundations and prepare to get outta here!” she called out.
As her Saints scrambled to obey, she quickly thought over what she knew of the two heroes Skunk had informed her of.
‘Amber creates barriers, and can also use them as bludgeoning weapons if she smacks them into people,’ she thought to herself. ‘And Spincycle is an Aerokinetic who can create tornadoes at full power, but mainly prefers to fight by trapping his opponents inside cages of wind.’
She didn’t know what their Sidekicks could do, or what the Quirks of the other heroes were, but she’d worry about that when it came up.
Rafflesia checked her equipment, and went to the trunk of her car to fetch her newest weapon. Pepper spray wasn’t her only upgrade.
“Is that a grenade launcher?!” a Saint exclaimed in shock as she pulled it out.
“Yup,” she said, loading some tear gas rounds. “Now, is everything packed up?”
“Yeah! Well, most of it,” another Saint informed her.
“Then hurry up! The police are here!” she said, firing a few rounds at the oncoming cars.
Blue and red lights flashed as the cars screeched to a halt as the clouds of tear gas obscured the road. Cops spilled out of the vehicles, coughing and wheezing loudly as the chemical-laced smoke seeped into their vehicles or drifted in through open windows.
“Weird,” Raflessia muttered. “You’d think the police would have learned by now not to send anybody after the Saints unless they had gas masks.”
After all, it wasn’t just Skunk who used smoke bombs and tear gas, the whole gang was training how to use them. They were an effective tool to non-lethally take down targets. And the Saints styled themselves as ‘gentlemen criminals’ who only killed those who deserved it. Essentially vigilantes, crossed with the mafia.
‘So why did they not bring any precautions against our favorite tactics?’ Rafflesia wondered.
The sound of two motorcycles cut through the air, and the superheroes appeared on the scene, glares aimed at the Saints. Amber and Spincycle were also wearing protective gear, including high-tech goggles and masks.
“Seems like Amber and Spincycle are smarter than the police,” a Saint commented as he fired a handgun at the two heroes. Amber blocked the shots with her barrier, while Spincycle shielded himself with a wall of violently blowing air.
“Hands in the air!” Amber shouted.
“No, you!” Rafflesia shot back childishly, shooting the last of her tear gas rounds at the heroine. It exploded, but the cloud of chemicals was immediately dispersed by Spincycle.
“There’s no escape!” the Aerokinetic hero warned them. “The roads will be closed soon, and nobody will be leaving! So just give up!”
“It’s cute that you think you we don’t have a way out!” Rafflesia scoffed. In her mind, she was silently praying Skunk had a plan.
“Enough talk!” Amber growled. She then revved her engine before driving headlong at Rafflesia, an amber-colored wedge-shaped barrier in front of her motorcycle being used as a ram. The villainess shot a grenade at the heroine, but it was pointless, forcing her to dodge.
When Amber shot past, just narrowly missing running Rafflesia down, Spincycle clicked his tongue and muttered about glory hogs under his breath, before shooting forward as well, a miniature tornado at his side that was sucking up the tear gas in the area and flinging it back at the Saints.
The good news was that the Saints did have gas masks of their own. Not all of them had put them on, however, and were caught off guard. They writhed in pain and Rafflesia grimaced as the operation was starting to collapse.
“Are we done? Do we have everything?” she demanded, grabbing a Saint by the shirt.
“Uh, no, we still have a few…”
“Argh! Forget it, we’re leaving,” she declared, releasing him. “Hopefully what we’ve got will be enough!”
“Where do we go, though?” another gangster wondered. “The cops are blocking the road!”
“They’ve got the road covered, but we can cut through the campus,” Rafflesia said, thinking about the layout of the area. The college was nearby, and there wasn’t much separate it from the farm other than a few empty lots and chainlink fences. No walls or anything else. They could get through that and make it past the growing blockade no sweat!
The sound of a few Saints shouting in panic as Amber and Spincycle ran amok nearby caused her to wince. “We need to take care of the heroes first, though.”
Grabbing the radio, she turned it on. “Skunk! Any ideas on how to get rid of those do-gooders?”
“Uh, no, can’t say I do,” Skunk admitted. “Amber can block the minigun. Not for long, but it would waste enough time and bullets for Spincycle to react. And his tornados can bring down the helicopter. Can’t risk it.”
“So I’m on my own, then?” she asked nervously.
“Afraid so,” he replied. “But listen, Rafflesia, I trust you! You can do this! You’re part of the Inner Circle for a reason!”
“All I did to make the cut was still be alive and outta jail when Johnny returned,” she muttered.
“And you were also helping Pierce keep what was left of the gang together,” he retorted. “You two kept the Saints alive when Johnny and I couldn’t. You’ll always have my respect for that. Now go out there and fuck those heroes up! Show ‘em what the Third Street Saints are all about!”
“Yeah, boss!” Rafflesia nodded, feeling pumped up after the pep talk. As she disconnected from the radio, she glanced back at the heroes, who were fucking things up for the rest of the Saints. Amber was blocking any and all bullets shot her way, and Spincycle was able to negate the smokescreens. Without heavier weapons or better Quirks, it seemed the Saints were doomed.
‘What can I do about them?’ she wondered. ‘They have modified helmets that can block the smoke and gas, so we can’t do anything on that front. And their Quirks are tough enough to make them stay in the city’s Top Ten for a couple years, now. So how can I beat them?’
She knew she didn’t have much time. The longer she waited, the more the heroes could run around fighting them. And the cops would have called for reinforcements, so that meant more police would storm the place soon.
‘I gotta limit their mobility before I do anything else,’ Rafflesia thought to herself. ‘They’ll be less dangerous without their motorcycles.’
But how? That was the question.
Then, as she was looking around, a mad idea hit her.
“Skunk!” she said, contact her boss once more. “I need you to bring down the other water towers and silos! But only when I say so!”
“I can do that,” he replied. “Sounds like you got a plan!”
“A risky one, but it should work!” the villainess replied, jumping to her feet before booking it towards the structures in question.
Since they were near the water’s edge, the heroes clearly thought the villain was trying to flee by jumping into the ocean.
“You can’t get away that easily, bitch!” Amber shouted, circling back towards her and throttling the engine, trying to run her down.
Spincycle hung back a bit, but he was also angling towards her to cut her off from her perceived escape route.
“NOW!” Rafflesia shouted into the radio as she leapt aside behind some bags of fertilizer, and Skunk obliged, shooting the minigun at the towers.
Water and fertilizer gushed forth as the structures were riddled with holes, all of it splattering onto the ground where it turned the surroundings slick and muddy.
Amber cried out as her motorcycle’s tires lost traction and flipped, skidding across the wet dirt before coming to a halt in front of Rafflesia.
The villainess smugly stomped onto the back of the heroine’s head, driving her face into the muck as she tried to rise. Rafflesia then booked it, running back for the trucks.
“GO!” she shouted at them as she flung herself into the back of one of the pickups. She glanced back at the last hero who was now hot on her tail.
Spincycle had stayed back, avoiding wiping out when the water came rushing in, and had three small twisters spinning in the air around him.
“Get back here!” he shouted, flinging one of the mini-tornados at the vehicle she was riding.
“Ah shit! Dodge!” she ordered driver, who swerved to avoid the aerokinetic’s attack. The weather phenomenon curved to follow them, however, and Rafflesia swore.
“How do you stop a tornado?” she asked herself, mostly rhetorically.
“I heard that if you shoot an explosion into the center of a storm you can disrupt and stop it,” the driver said.
“Where’d you hear that?” she asked dubiously.
“In a movie.”
“Fuck it, let’s see if that works,” Rafflesia muttered, out of ideas on her own. Aiming her grenade launcher towards the twister, she loaded and fired an explosive round, arcing it through the air so it landed as close as possible to the center.
The good news was that yes, it did seem Spincycle’s tornados could be stopped with an explosion, as the one chasing them was forcibly dispersed by the shockwave caused by the blast.
However, that left two more, and many others, to deal with, as Spincycle could create more wind with his Quirk than she had explosives.
“Any other ideas?” she asked hopefully.
“Uh, you could try chucking this mostly empty Big Slurp cup at him,” the driver offered.
“No, that won’t work,” she muttered with a shake of her head.
“Sorry, I got nothin’,” the member of the Saints apologized.
“Don’t worry, because I just had a mad plan,” she replied. “Can you take a different route?”
They were approaching the edge of the farm that lead towards the college campus, and the other vehicles had already rammed through the fences blocking them, escaping and scattering into the city. Just as planned.
‘Now I just have to get out of here safely myself,’ Rafflesia thought.
“I can try!” the driver said. “Where to?”
“Bubba’s Bubbly Car Wash. You know where that is?”
“Yeah!” he replied.
“Great! Go that way!”
Her driver obeyed and peeled off down a side street, cutting off some other cars to do so. It was still pretty early in the morning, so the roads were rather empty, and mostly only students and teachers were out and about this close to Stilwater U’s campus.
Spincycle was still hot on their heels, and now that they were in public, he was being a lot more careful about how he was using his Quirk. Pedestrians could get caught up in it, after all.
Soon, though, the pickup reached the car wash, and Rafflesia got out and began to feed money into the car wash’s automatic teller.
Like many things in Stilwater, though, the whole place was shoddily run and constructed, and the automatic washing system was no different.
‘Okay… pay for ten dollars’ worth of the ‘Soapy Supreme’ treatment… set to one minute… and then quickly hit the pound key six times!’ Rafflesia thought to herself as she prepared the trap.
There was a clanking and groaning that echoed forth from the automatic car wash, and the villainess nodded, pleased with her work. Once finished she hastily got back into the pickup, and none too soon, as Spincycle could be spotted roaring down the street towards them.
“Go, go, go!” she ordered, and the pickup truck shot through the drive through, ignoring the water that sprayed them.
For a second Rafflesia was worried that Bubba had fixed the flaw in his machine, but as soon as they exited, what she’d been hoping for happened.
Foamy suds exploded from the car wash, spilling into the street and completely swallowing up Spincycle as he drove after them. The slick, soapy water messed with the tires and he went tumbled before slamming into a bus stop.
“Whoa! How’d you do that?!” the driver asked in shock.
“An old trick I picked up from my Sorority days,” she chuckled as their vehicle got away.
“Wooo! What a rush!” She then got onto the radio. “Bossman! We’re good, the heroes are down. Did the loot get away?”
“Yes, the transports carrying the stolen weed got away safely thanks to you taking care of the heroes,” Skunk praised. “Got to say, that was ingenious. Both plans were.”
“Awww! Thanks, boss!” she cooed.
“Come on back to the Mission to debrief. I’ll be there soon. And let your driver know he’s getting a bonus for quick thinking and acting.”
“Will do,” she replied cheerfully.
An hour later, and they were all gathered in Playa’s office. The Inner Circle members along with Laura and Tobias were facing Playa’s desk, all wearing wide grins.
“That was one hell of a heist we pulled off,” Playa said happily. “Several tons of weed, not to mention a bunch of the plants themselves, seeds, and even some intel on their other suppliers. With this, we can start manufacturing our own Loa Dust and corner the market, while also setting up our own processing sites to grow some of the stuff ourselves.”
He then looked over at Shaundi. “I’d like everyone to give Shaundi a round of applause for her excellent work this morning. Without her, it wouldn’t have gone this smooth.”
“Aw, shucks,” she giggled, happy for the praise as the group clapped for her.
“Now, I’d also like thank Laura and Tobias for their help. And I also want to offer the two a job,” Playa said, turning to the drug dealing couple. “How’d you like to work for the Saints as our gal in charge of the drug operations? You, Laura, would be in charge of selling the Nirvana, and keeping the hard shit off the streets. And Tobias would be in charge of our growing air fleet. We’ve gotten a couple helicopters, but only one other licensed pilot.”
“You mean it?” Laura asked, while Tobias looked surprised. “You really want me to do that?”
“I think you can both do a great job leading this new business venture of ours,” Playa confirmed. “You’re easily the best choice. You’ve got a moral compass and a well-established network of clients and contacts already.”
“Alright, I’m in,” Laura agreed after sharing a look with her husband. “ We both are. Somebody’s got to keep an eye on how things get run around here.”
“Excellent. Talk to Shaundi if you need workers, and speak with Pierce to get a budget set up,” Playa said, clapping his hands together cheerfully, before offering a hand to the two to shake. “Looking forward to working with you.”
“And you, too, boss!” Laura said, accepting his offer. They all shook on it, and she left with Tobias, chatting excitedly about the good news.
Mink looked a little unsure about working with her own mother and step-father in the fastest growing criminal enterprise in the city, but in the end decided that it would be fine.
‘Just hope she doesn’t embarrass me,’ she silently prayed.
“Now, on to grimmer matters,” Playa announced solemnly. “This act will not go unnoticed. The Sons of Samedi will have to retaliate. So be on your guard! Watch our territory closely, and don’t let any Sons sneak in. This is our city! Not theirs!”
His lieutenants all nodded in agreement. The first blow against the Sons had been struck. How would they react?
111 &&&&& 111
It was just another day at Scratch That, the retro music store that sold all kinds of stuff. From actual vinyl records, CDs, and physical instruments to music software and audio hardware, it had everything a lover of sound could want.
Veteran Child, third in command of the Sons of Samedi and the face of its drug running operations within Stilwater, was happily browsing the selection. His DJ gigs were getting hotter, and more people came to the shows than ever. Of course, that meant he had to find new material, but that was something he was happy to do.
Then things started to go wrong when the door to the place was kicked open by Mr. Sunshine, second-in-command of the Son, and the General, the leader himself, stepped inside in his wake.
Nobody noticed due to the loud music playing, and the General shot a look at his righthand. Nodding in understanding, Mr. Sunshine walked up behind a nearby customer and blasted them with an intense beam of light. They screamed as their flesh burnt and melted, and more people screamed when they noticed.
They ran out in terror, leaving Veteran Child shivering in fear.
“Uh, hey, guys, I mean, hello, boss,” he stammered.
“The Saints burned down my farm this morning,” the General informed his minion.
“Sorry? That’s um, that’s shitty luck,” Veteran Child replied.
“A helicopter mounted minigun and several dozen trucks to plunder and pillage it is more than just ‘bad luck,’” the General stated.
“Well, how- yo, back off, man, you’re freaking me out,” Veteran Child whined, glancing nervously at Mr. Sunshine who was looming next to him. “How did they find out about the farm?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” the General demanded, only for Veteran Child to look lost.
“What?”
“Stop lying,” the General ordered.
“But I don’t know how they knew!” Veteran Child protested, only to be grabbed by the man next to him.
“He said ‘stop lying,’” Mr. Sunshine hissed as he slammed Veteran Child against the wall.
“I-I’m telling you the truth, man! I dunno how they found out!” the younger white man whimpered.
“Then you are not very useful to me, are you?” the General retorted.
Thinking fast, Veteran Child hastily said, “I don’t know how they found out, but I have some ideas!”
“Enlighten me,” the General said, lighting a cigar as he waited for an answer.
“I used to date this bitch… Shaundi… that was her name! And there’s a chance… a small chance! That I might have told her about the farm when I was stoned!”
“Where is this Shaundi?” he demanded.
“Word is she rolls with the Saints now,” Veteran Child replied. In response, Mr. Sunshine angrily slammed him repeated against the wall, before raising a machete to his throat.
“Let him go,” the General instructed before the DJ’s throat could be slit. Huffing in annoyance, Mr. Sunshine tossed the drug dealer to the ground.
“Veteran Child, you will find this Shaundi, and kill her,” the leader of the Sons continued. “If you fail to do so within three days, I will have Mr. Sunshine burn you alive. Sound fair?”
“Uh, sure?” Veteran Child replied nervously as he stood back up.
“Excellent. Let’s be on our way.” With that, the General departed, Mr. Sunshine running a finger across his throat as he glanced back at the DJ, causing him to tremble in fear.
‘Fucking shit!’ the white boy with dreadlocks whimpered to himself, before anger flooded in, replacing his fear. ‘And fuck you too, Shaundi! I’m gonna make you pay for this!’
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