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Quirky Row Chapter 27: The Next Target
🕑 Added 2024-12-20 17:00:05 +0000 UTCChapter 27: The Next Target
(Wednesday, November 3rd, 2123)
“Damn, Playa! You looking fly!” Shaundi praised as she walked into his office. Johnny was already there, and they were only waiting on Pierce to join.
“Thank you, Shaundi, it’s gonna be part of our new merch line we’re launching next week,” Playa chuckled.
He was wearing a purple shirt today. Nothing too outrageous. He often wore purple shirts. But what did have his Head of PR grinning was the fact that there was a picture of a bloody Fleur d’Lys covered in thorny vines bursting through the skull of a red-furred wolf. It was a very unsubtle jab at the defeated Brotherhood, and he wore it proudly.
“Ha! Gonna have to get me one of those,” Shaundi said cheerfully.
“Sorry I’m late,” Pierce apologized as he entered a moment after Shaundi.
“No worries,” Playa assured him. Pierce had only been four minutes overdue. He then swept his eyes around the office, looking at his Inner Circle as Pierce sat down.
“Good, we’re all here. Time to start the debrief,” he said, nodding at them as they entered.
“So, first off, upgrades for the team. We gotta keep up with the other gangs, and to do that, we have to get newer, better, gear. I myself am getting a gun, while I’ve modified my gauntlets a bit,” Playa announced. “I want you guys to start thinking about new equipment and ways to leverage your abilities in a fight.”
“Sure, we can do that. But what’d you change about your gauntlets? They were totally iconic. Like the gas mask,” Shaundi inquired.
“The capsules my gauntlets produce can now be turned into gun ammunition,” Playa announced, holding up an example for the crew to examine. The bullet itself had been replaced by a thick gel capsule that fit snuggly into the .45 brass cartridge.
“I have also adjusted the gauntlets’ delivery system so that I can make chem-bullets on demand in the field,” Playa explained, holding one of his gauntlets up as his lieutenants leaned in. He inserted a bullet-less cartridge into a slot on his gauntlet, and after a whirring sound he removed it, revealing that a capsule filled with some of Playa’s Quirked up sweat had been put into it, ready to be used immediately.
“Damn, sweet work,” Shaundi whistled.
“Yeah, Mink has been real helpful. Has a knack for this kind of technical stuff. I’m thinking of making her part of our new Support Item team. What do you think?” Playa asked.
“That the fuzzy pink girl?” Johnny asked, and when he nodded, the shades wearing man gave Playa a thumbs up. “Yeah, sounds good. She’s proven to be a good Saint. I have no objections.”
“Me neither,” Pierce agreed. “And I also like the idea of a Support Item group for the Saints. We’re big enough now we definitely need a dedicated team for that.”
“Right, I can dig it,” Shaundi said. “I have a few names I can add to this new group’s list for consideration. Who’s gonna be in charge of it, though? Pierce is still running our finances and legal stuff, I’m busy with PR and getting dirt on the Sons, and Johnny is basically our Quartermaster, while also having to watch out for the Ronin.”
“Good question,” Pierce hummed thoughtfully. “Whoever gets chosen to lead the Support Item team will need to be a full-time lieutenant. And honestly, we need more of them in the first place. Our gang is growing and we need more middle managers to oversee everything in our territory.”
“Ugh, running a gang is way harder than Hollywood makes it seem,” Playa groaned. “I almost wish I was back in my coma.”
Playa then shook his head, a determined expression on his face. “Alright. That leads into the next item on today’s agenda. Expanding the people in charge around here. First off, put Carlos in charge of recruitment and organizing the street level elements for now. His street smarts ought to work in his favor there, and since he’s still a bit weak and busy recovering, this will keep him from running off and doing anything too strenuous for the moment.”
“Got it,” Johnny said, the other two bobbing their heads in agreement.
“Since we were already talking about her, promote Mink to lieutenant, then also tell her she’s in charge of the Support Item crap. For now, at least,” Playa continued. “Finally, I want you lot to look into a third person to organize and coordinate the Saints whenever we do missions and shit. Look into military veterans or something. We need discipline and a person who can tell people what to do and be obeyed. Oh, and a guy to teach our guys how to shoot a damn gun. Too many near-misses and friendly fire incidents during the assault on the Brotherhood’s base.”
“Cool, makes sense,” Pierce agreed.
“As for the hierarchy… Carlos is gonna be directly under you, Shaundi, while Johnny, you’re in charge of Mink. The inevitable third person will be Pierce’s responsibility. Understood?”
“Loud and clear, boss-man!” Shaundi said. “Now, let’s get down to the fun stuff! Planning on how to hit the Sons of Samedi!”
The three men in the room all nodded at that, and Shaundi grinned at their enthusiasm.
“Now! Here’s what we know! The Sons of Samedi are run by the General. His righthand man is Mr. Sunshine. The main guy who runs the ground level operations is a douche named Veteran Child. The gang as a whole pushes like, seventy-five percent of all the drugs in Stilwater, and control the smallest amount of territory, centered mainly on the University in the western part of the city,” Shaundi happily recapped, giving a quick review of the Sons.
“Their most profitable shit is this,” Shaundi continued, pulling out a lightbulb from her cleavage. The men just stared, confused as to how she’d hidden that in there.
Ignoring their looks, she broke the lightbulb against the wall, before dropping some powder inside and lighting it up with a lighter. All of which she removed from her cleavage.
“Try this,” she offered, and after some hesitation, Playa did so, taking a bit of the smoke into his nose.
“Huh, interesting,” he muttered as he began to feel waves of comfort and pleasure wash over him. “What is it?”
“This is Loa Dust, a designer drug that only the Sons can produce,” Shaundi explained.
“But… you smoke it,” Pierce said slowly, confused about the name.
“They suck at marketing. The point, however, is that this shit is all over Stilwater U’s campus. Frats buy it by the pound, and even the others gangs gobble it up,” Shaundi stated.
“Interesting. And what makes Loa Dust so special? Why grab it instead of, say, coke or Mary Jane?” Johnny asked.
“Because it’s twice as potent as cocaine, can cause hallucination trips like acid or shrooms, but is just as harmless as weed,” Shaundi claimed, and that made all three of them sit up in interest.
Seeing she had their attention, she grinned. “Unlike some of the harder shit out there, Loa Dust is non-addictive and has a crazy high lethal dose limit, meaning you can smoke a whole brick of the stuff and barely suffer any minor issues. Plus, it removes hangovers.”
“No shit?” Pierce exclaimed, and Shaundi nodded.
“Smoke some Loa Dust and your hangover will be gone in minutes. Smoke it before or during drinking, and you won’t wake up with a hangover.”
“Okay, I’m impressed. But why are you mentioning this?” Playa asked, starting to come down from the fluffy white and plaid clouds he’d been enveloped in moments earlier.
“If we get our hands on enough of it, we can figure out how they make it,” Shaundi said excitedly. “Then, we can corner the drug market with our own version by selling cheaper, cutting the Sons’ funding off at the knees.”
“You don’t want to grab territory?” Playa asked.
“Not yet. The Sons don’t actually have all that much, remember? And from my investigations, the Sons don’t actually care for it, aside from a few bases scattered around. They are fine with losing a lot of ground if it means their production sites remain intact. And I have no idea where those are yet,” Shaundi said.
“I see. We need to flush them out, first. And we do that by stepping on their toes in the drug market,” Playa surmised.
“Bingo, boss-man!” she confirmed.
“Alright. How much do Loa Dust do we need?” he asked, and Shaundi shrugged.
“Three pounds? Maybe five?” she replied. “I don’t know the first thing about chemical analysis, but more is probably better, right?”
“Makes sense,” Playa agreed. “Have some of our men buy the Loa Dust we need. But make sure the purchases are spread out and done incognito. No need to tip our hand to them just yet.”
“Aww, no going in to the campus, guns ablazing as we beat up dealers outside of the library?” Shaundi pouted.
“No. They’ve beefed up security around campus ever since we crashed Homecoming,” Playa said, shaking his head. “And there are more heroes than ever with patrol routes leading them close by the university. Too risky to do anything overt.”
“Fine,” Shaundi sighed.
“We should make some moves against the Ronin as well,” Johnny suggested. “Make it look like we’re focusing on them next instead of the Sons.”
“Could work. They might see through the ruse, but it’s a sound plan all the same. But only agitate the Ronin, don’t outright try stealing any territory just yet. We can’t afford a two-prong war. Not yet,” Playa warned.
“Understood,” Johnny confirmed.
“So, what’s the long-term plan, here?” Pierce asked. “What’s the time-frame we’re working with?”
“I want the Sons gone by New Years,” Playa declared. It was bold and possibly rash, but it was the goal he was aiming for.
His inner circle all nodded in agreement, however. They wanted the drug cartel gone just as badly as everyone else did.
“If we wanna to do that, it will be tricky,” Shaundi said slowly. “Tricky, but doable.”
“Where do we start?” Johnny asked, cracking his knuckles and eager to get started.
“The beginning, where else?” Playa cracked, and everyone snorted at the bad joke.
“In all seriousness,” Playa continued, “We start here.”
He tapped a finger against the southern part of the city on the map. “We must consolidate our gains in the docks and surroundings. Letting another gang slip in and claim some of our territory would be a failure and cannot be allowed.”
“Break some skulls and flash the colors to remind people who owns what, then?” Johnny inquired, and Playa nodded.
“Most of the storeowners and inhabitants of the areas we now control won’t all be Brotherhood simps. Odds are they were just trying to live without being stomped into oblivion,” Pierce reminded him. “Try to go easy on them, please.”
“Of course. We need to assess what the Brotherhood was charging for their ‘services’ around town, and lower ‘em a smidge. Only keep the prices up if they can afford it,” Playa instructed. “That will earn some goodwill, hopefully.”
He then clapped his hands together. “And with that, I believe our meeting for today is adjourned. Go and look into the things I’ve requested.”
“Gotcha, boss!” Shaundi said, shooting him finger guns, and the other two Inner Circle members nodded.
Playa grinned. Time to wipe out some drug smugglers!
111 & & & & & 111
Mayor Monica Hughes resisted the urge to sigh as she listened to the droning voice of one of her aides. She couldn’t remember who he was or what he wanted. It all just kinda blurred together after a while. Back to back meetings for days on end tended to do that.
“Thank you for your… presentation,” the mayor said slowly once he was finished and waiting for her to say something. “And I can assure you I will give your proposal the proper consideration it is due.”
The man smiled happily, as if she gave a damn what his project was even about, and waited until he’d left before reaching into a hidden compartment in her desk and taking out a bottle of jack. She popped the top and drank straight from the container, only stopping to breath when it was empty.
“Fuck!” she swore, dropping the bottle into the trash can next to her desk. “His voice was like fucking sandpaper!”
Things were not going well for poor old Monica. She was forced to listen to idiots blabber about matters that didn’t help the city at all, the city itself was falling to pieces around her ears, and worse, she had to put up with nosey reporters hounding her day in and day out.
And they always asked the same damn questions!
‘What do you think of the Saints taking down the Brotherhood?’ ‘How do you feel about the Saints taking control of southside and the docks?’ ‘Why haven’t the police done anything about the Saints?’
It was all they could bloody talk about! It’d been over a week and yet the victory was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Probably because, as much as it galled her to admit, but the Saints were actually having a positive impact on Stilwater. Crime was down nineteen percent and growing in places that had the protection of the Third Street Saints, and the economy was up six percent across the board.
‘And it’s all thanks to that murderous bastard Skunk!’ Mayor Hughes thought bitterly to herself. The supervillain had gotten away with murdering her husband, and people were praising him in the streets for his recent actions!
The damn villain was twisting perception of his antics, making him look like a ‘vigilante’ rather than a hardened gang lord. All the dirt they’d dug up on the Brotherhood had easily allowed the Saints to control the narrative and come out smelling like roses, while the city’s administration looked like incompetent buffoons while they cleaned up their messes.
Worst of all, the heroes were as useless as the police, and nobody seemed able to do a damn thing about Skunk or his thugs!
“You’d think the bounty hunters would have swarmed the city by now,” she grunted.
The only silver lining was that it’d let her clean house a bit, tossing out members of her staff and the city administration who’d been helping the Brotherhood, or been their supporters behind the scenes. A tiny bit of good press had come from that. But it still stung that she’d had to use that villain’s information to do so in the first place!
After a bit, she looked down at one of the proposals that’d landed on her desk a little bit ago, feeling her annoyance and stress ratchet up a notch.
Some idiot in her office had thought it’d be a good idea to invite I-Island to Stilwater, and then without her permission sent off a formal request to the mobile laboratory to stop on by and put on one of their ‘famous’ science fairs.
Needless to say, that overstepping fool had been fired. But what was absolutely ridiculous was that I-Island had actually responded and said, ‘Yes!’ Now, several members of the City Council were pushing for her to accept. And, due to her weak position with the voters, would likely reluctantly agreed.
It would not be immediate. Likely not for another year or two, honestly. But if they wanted to do a good showing and not be drowned in litigations and lawsuits, then the streets had to be cleaned up by next summer at the latest.
Having I-Island nearby would be a boon, certainly, but like the Olympics, would cause a ton of problems for whatever unfortunate city had to host it. Because villains wanted that advanced tech. Rival corporations wanted that advanced tech. Everyone wanted their tech. And they’d flood the streets of Stilwater for the chance.
“Maybe if I’m lucky the crime will actually keep the crowds away,” she muttered to herself.
‘And, if nothing else, it might boost my chances of running for Senator in the future,’ she mused silently.
First, Mayor of Stilwater. Then, Senator of California. And finally, President of the United States of America. Maybe then, she’d be able to have justice for her husband, and stamp out the criminal elements infesting her home!
111 &&&&& 111
Across the city, located in a swanky Ultor built office complex Maya Brown frowned at the files on her own desk.
“These seem a little… childish, don’t you think?” the heroine known more widely as Silver Swan inquired, looking up at her current manager, a plain looking man with brown hair, brown eyes, and electric blue skin. Completely normal!
She picked up one of the files, reading through it. “Charity concert in LA… visiting schools in SoCal… appearances on TV but on less popular venues… none of these are fitting for a woman of my talent and position as Number One of Stilwater and California!”
“Well, the numbers don’t lie, there’s been a slight drop in your popularity,” he replied with a helpless shrug. “Letting the Saints get away at the Ultor Dome didn’t look good. Hence these ‘childish’ suggestions to try and improve your image.”
“That wasn’t my call to make,” she grunted in frustration. “Blame that weasel, Troy!”
“We can, and have lambasted the man on social media,” her manager assured her. “But the public is fickle, and seeing you there but not able to react…”
“I’d like to see them catch a dozen gangsters on stolen dirt bikes after receiving orders to stand down,” Maya huffed, before shaking her head. “Fine. If I must do something to get my ratings back up, then I will. But not this crap!”
“Well, what do you suggest?” her manager inquired.
“The Sons,” she decided after a moment. “I will be focusing on the Sons of Samedi for the foreseeable future.”
“Is that… wise?” her manager asked hesitantly.
“If a white hero goes after them, it’s racist. If a black hero goes after them, they get labeled a race traitor,” Maya replied, rolling her eyes at the stupidity. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I feel much better trying to get all the hard drugs off the streets in that case.”
“Very well, I will ensure your patrol routes going forward are changed so you’re closer to Stilwater U,” her manager said.
“By the way, what’s the word regarding Taggit’s replacement?” Maya asked, changing the subject.
The former Number 4 hero in Stilwater had been taken to task for all the dirt the Saints had dug up and posted on him. Taggit was currently arrested and under investigation by the FBI and the Heroics Oversight Bureau, the entity responsible for managing Hero Agencies and keeping the caped defenders of justice on the straight and narrow.
Oh, and the IRS as well. Apparently Taggit had been stupid enough to try and cheat his taxes, and not just on the bribes and under the table deals he’d been making off the Brotherhood, but also on his official taxes as well.
With three of the biggest US governmental agencies now tearing into him and his past actions, it was unlikely the man would get off lightly. In fact, Taggit was looking at twenty years in the slammer, minimum, according to the gossip Maya was hearing.
Heroes were technically government workers. They earned a paycheck from the government like any other public servant, took certain oaths upon earning their licenses, and had the trust of the nation to not abuse their powers and become petty warlords. That meant Taggit’s crimes could result in him being tried for treason. It was unlikely, although given how the Brotherhood had been revealed to working with the Thule Society, a foreign criminal syndicate labeled as a terrorist group by the US and other international entities, the possibility was still there.
“Split Ends will likely end up moving up from Fifth place into Taggit’s old ranking, with everyone below also being bumped up a rank when next year’s lists come out,” the manager informed her. “And to my knowledge, no new heroes are coming in to replace the ones we’ve lost so far, either.”
“Cowards,” Maya muttered. Stilwater had already been considered a dumpster fire of a posting, hence why she and a number of other heroes in the city had offices in other, less volatile, parts of the country, but with the Saints rising in power and openly targeting heroes, even if they were just corrupt ones, nobody wanted to risk their necks, and were refusing all offers – or orders – to go there.
The heroes had always been lesser in number, unable to challenge the gangs properly, but with the number of arrests and investigations sweeping through the city, that ratio would only further get skewed.
There was opportunity there, however, and Maya planned to seize it with both hands. She’d need to do more patrols and focus on street level crimes for a while instead of taking on modeling and advertisement gigs, but the publicity from being seen as active and against the criminals would be worth it. Once people saw her doing her best against the Sons, the offers would flood in, just like they had when she’d captured Johnny and ‘ended’ the Saints two and half years ago.
‘Hmm, I wonder what they’re planning next?’ she wondered to herself, thinking about her brother-in-law’s criminal antics.
She would soon find out for herself what he was up to.
