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Quirky Row Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2024-08-20 16:02:00 +0000 UTCChapter 15: Bank Error in your Favor
(Friday, September 24th, 2123)
“Yes… uh-huh… got it, thanks,” Playa muttered into his cellphone before hanging up with a sigh. He then leaned back in his chair and cast a morose look over his lieutenants.
They had all assembled in the gang’s office in the mission, hopeful for an update which had finally just come in after two long days of waiting.
“How is he?” Pierce asked nervously, wringing his hands as he waited for the news to be delivered. He had numerous bandages wrapped around his arms as well as one over his head. Bruises littered his body as well, as he’d been thrown about quite badly by the Brotherhood the day before yesterday.
In fact, a lot of Saints had been injured, although no one had died, thankfully. Even the Brotherhood had come out with few outright deaths but plenty of wounded. Not to mention plenty of damaged cars. At least a quarter of the Brotherhood’s overall number of vehicles had been scraped, and with Donnie’s garage busted, their ability to repair their stuff had taken a hit as well.
“Carlos will live,” Playa assured him with a faint smile, and sighs of relief escaped everyone present. “He’s badly hurt, and has been put into a medically induced coma, but he was finally stabilized early this morning and will likely make a… not a full recovery, but at the very least be able to stand on his own two feet again.”
“How? He was shredded to hell and back!” Johnny Gat asked in disbelief.
“His Quirk. He absorbed a bunch of fat from his attackers and managed to use it to cushion his body when they were dragging him around on Wednesday. Oh, he still got mess up, and bad, but it could have been a lot worse,” Playa explained.
“That’s good, but what about the police? Will they try and arrest him?” Johnny demanded, eyes narrowed behind his signature shades.
Playa grimaced at the question. “Maybe? I’m not sure. The hospital will treat him, but I don’t know if the cops are aware that Carlos is a Saint.”
“Have you seen the way he dresses? Besides, I’ll bet they had him pegged as one of us the moment you and Johnny brought him to the hospital yourselves,” Shaundi pointed out. Playa nodded reluctantly at that.
“And don’t forget he did help break you out of prison, so the police already have him on file, and by now probably know Carlos is one of us already,” Johnny reminded Playa.
“However, he’s been pretty lowkey while working for me, so I don’t think anyone outside of the Saints knows how high he is in the ranks,” Pierce commented, trying to assure the rest of them, and Playa grunted in understanding.
“Well, all we can do for now is keep an eye on him. Bribe a few nurses and custodial staff at the hospital to do just that. Make sure they’ll let us know if anybody tries to hurt him or take him away.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Johnny declared, whipping out his phone and hastily firing off a few texts to various contacts he knew.
“What’s the response from the Brotherhood? Or the heroes? Have they made any statements?” Playa asked, shifting his attention to Shaundi and Pierce.
“Silver Swan made some noise on a few social media sites decrying the whole thing, but that’s par for the course for her,” Pierce said. “Given she’s the Number One Hero in Stilwater, she kinda has to say that, whatever her feelings. Still, she’s probably celebrating the fact that a bunch of racists got their shit kicked in. The Brotherhood has never hidden how much they hate her and she’s clashed with them many times.”
He then smiled. “Still, it seems she’s mostly on our side as she hasn’t said anything overtly negative towards us. Having a hero that likes us will be useful.”
“Eh, she’s okay. Silver Swan comes off as fake, though. Like her whole persona is a mask,” Shaundi shrugged.
“Oi, watch it, that’s my sister-in-law,” Johnny said, glaring at his fellow Saint.
“Wait, she is?” Shaundi uttered, and Pierce stared at Johnny with a slack jawed expression.
“She is,” Playa confirmed, before chuckling at the stunned looks on his companions’ faces. “She’s Aisha’s sister. Met her once when we saved her from a sex trafficking ring. She was very nice.”
“Uh, moving on, most of the heroes have toed the lined and said the same as the police and Silver Swan regarding the violence. Only Steel Sponge, the city’s Number Two Hero, has said anything different, though he mostly bashed the Brotherhood and praised the Saints for kicking their ass.”
“Steel Sponge? He’s Stilwater’s Number Two Hero?” Playa muttered, an inscrutable look crossing his features briefly.
“Uh, yeah. Him. Let me guess, you know him too?” Shaundi asked dryly.
“Something like that, yeah,” Playa admitted, and this time it was Johnny’s turn to join the trio with their shocked looks.
“You’ve never mentioned that before,” Johnny said and Playa chuckled.
“It’s been years since we last talked, and he was in Miami before I got coma’d. No idea why he’d come here to Stilwater,” Playa replied. He then frowned. “Hmm. I might need to go over the heroes in town again. Find out who they are and what their Quirks are. I should have known Steel Sponge was Number Two way before now.”
“I’ll make a list of the city’s Top Ten for you to look over,” Johnny promised, and Playa nodded gratefully at him.
“Well, it’s almost noon. I’d love to stick around, but I’ve gotta run,” Shaundi said apologetically as she glanced up at the clock.
“What’s the rush?” Pierce asked.
“Some of my old contacts in the Sons managed to get their hands on the newest iteration of Loa Dust they’re gonna be pushing. Offered to let me get a ‘taste’ before it goes public,” Shaundi said with a smirk. “I figured I could scope out the competition, see what’s up. And maybe find ways to sell it ourselves.”
“They don’t know you’re a Saint?” Playa asked, worried.
“They do, but they’ve got no clue I’m Rafflesia,” Shaundi replied.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Playa warned her as he realized what she was trying to do. “If they realize you’re screwing them over, they’ll come after you with everything they have. And we’re not ready to tackle two gangs at once!”
“Jeez, you sound like an old man,” Shaundi laughed. “Don’t worry, I have it all under control!”
Upon hearing that, Playa’s mind raced back to all the arguments he’d had with Lin over her infiltration of the Rollerz. ‘I have it all under control.’ That had been her catchphrase, and the same thing she said every time to dismiss his worries.
For a painful moment, Lin’s face was superimposed over Shaundi’s, and Playa had to shake his head violently to get that image out of his brain.
“Just… be careful,” he ordered her, and she nodded lazily before strutting out.
“She’s gonna be the death of me,” Playa grunted, running a hand over his face. He then glanced at his other two members of the Inner Circle.
“Well? Give me some good news.”
Johnny and Pierce shared a look before the latter sighed and grabbed some documents. “Well, despite the damages yesterday, we managed to grab some Brotherhood territory while repelling a few assaults on our own turf.”
“Good. Very good. Now give me the bad news,” Playa requested. “There’s always bad news.”
“Word among our informants in the Brotherhood is that Maero is back. Face is still fucked up, but it’s healed, now,” Pierce said. “He’s gonna make a big spectacle for his return, to show his minions he’s not out of the fight yet.”
“How’s he gonna do that?” Playa inquired.
“By hosting one of the largest demolition derby events ever at the Ultor Dome. He spent a pretty penny renting the place out for a whole week to let his goons have fun smashing shit with their pimped-out rides,” Johnny explained. “Starting from tonight, and going until next Friday."
“Damn, that’s gonna be one expensive party,” Playa muttered. “Booking the Ultor Dome and filling it with junk to mess around with is going to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars!”
“Millions, more like,” Pierce corrected. “And speaking of money, our own funds need some work. We’re just barely managing to stay afloat with our protection deals and soft crime rackets. We need to focus on new sources of income, and while we’re at it, establish some places to launder our dirty money…”
Playa held back a groan as he listened to the reports. Who knew running a gang could be so boring?
‘Soon as this is over, I’m hitting Tee’N’Ay for the lunch buffet,’ he decided. ‘Yeah. I deserve a nice break.’
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Shaundi was having a good day. The sun was out, the gangs were mostly quiet after the insane car chase yesterday, and she was smoking weed and hanging out with her friends. Well, her non-work-related friends. She liked the guys in the Inner Circle, and she adored Aisha, but sometimes it was nice to chill with other people once in a while.
So here she was in an empty parking lot after having gotten some weed and intel on the Sons, and just kicking the ol’ hackey sack around with a couple fellows she used to know from college. She’d left her purple bandana and tanktop behind, not wanting to advertise that she was with the Saints while she was off-duty.
“Hey, Shaundi!” one of her friends who had the head of a seal called out as he bounced the tiny beanbag over her way. “Catch!”
“Got it!” she replied, kicking it back over. Then the other guy, an Asian-American with his ears looking like wings, got the hackey sack, before kicking it towards Shaundi. Unfortunately, he misjudged his strength and sent it flying through the air, right into the parking lot next to theirs.
“Oops! Sorry!” wing-ear guy apologized.
“No biggie, I’ll get it,” Shaundi replied, jogging over to the empty parking spot where the tiny bean-filled sack had landed, only to jerk back at the last second as a red sports car came zooming towards the space.
She stumbled backwards and fell onto her ass, grunting in pain and no small amount of annoyance. Especially as the hackey sack was now crushed under the car’s front left tire.
“What the hell?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” a shrill voice called out as Shaundi got back to her feet.
“Look, I’m sorry…” she began to reply, only to trail off as she saw just who it was who’d nearly run her over.
Red hair done up in a ponytail? Check. Red spaghetti-strapped tank top that showed off her midriff? Check. A condescending scowl? Double-check.
It was none other than Jessica, Maero’s girlfriend and the wretch bitch who ran the Brotherhood’s PR and prostitution rackets!
“Ugh! I don’t have time for this!” the red-head in question groaned, before grabbing a briefcase out of the seat next to her, as well as a cellphone that she quickly put up to her ear. “Sorry about that, baby, I almost dented my car on some hippie chick.”
“Hey! I’m not a hippie!” Shaundi protested unconsciously, glaring at the woman. She was ignored however as Jessica just kept walking away, still talking into the phone.
“Maero, I’m fine… Look, I gotta go, I’m about to make the deposit. Sweetie, let me worry about the money. We’ll have enough to cover the shipment, and once that comes in the Saints won’t stand a chance!”
Jessica then walked into the building that the parking lot was connected to, leaving the disguised villainess alone. Intrigued, Shaundi looked at the building in question. Stilwater Savings and Loans.
‘A bank? Interesting, what’s the Brotherhood doing at a bank?’ she wondered. This was in the Barrio District, so it was still in Brotherhood control, but just barely after recent events. ‘It must be important for one of the top members of the Brotherhood to come all the way out here.’
“Yo, Shaundi, we gonna hack or what?” her wing-eared friend asked as the green-haired woman continued to stare after the Brotherhood lieutenant.
She shook her head. “Sorry, bitch ran over the sack,” she replied. “Hang on, though, I gotta make a call.”
Shaundi whipped out her phone and dialed in a number only a handful of people knew. “Hey, boss?”
“Shaundi, I’m watching Bobbie and Amber, can it wait?” Playa’s tired voice inquired as he picked up.
“Wait, Amber as in the heroine Amber?” she asked.
“No, I mean Amber the stripper from Tee’N’Ay,” Playa replied. “So, what is it?”
“I just saw Maero’s girlfriend walk into a bank, the one in Southern Cross. She was carrying a suitcase full of money,” Shaundi replied. Silence fell on the line as Playa digested the information she’d given him.
As she waited for a response, Shaundi couldn’t help but wonder why a flash of irritation had run through her chest when Playa had mentioned he was at a strip club.
Before she could ponder that any further, the leader of the Saints got back to her.
“I’ll be there shortly,” he replied curtly before hanging up. Shaundi stared at her phone for a bit before putting it away, and then she glanced towards her friends.
“Hey, you two like wearing lead, you ought to get the hell out of Dodge,” she suggested. “Place is about to become a bit… Saintly.”
“Well, shit, Shaun,” seal-head grumbled. “Thanks for the head’s up.”
Her two friends quickly vacated the area, and Shuandi leaned against the car to wait.
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Shaundi didn’t have to wait long, as less than ten minutes later Playa pulled up in his Baron, a frown on his face as he caught sight of the red sports car in the bank’s parking lot.
“She still inside?” he asked Shaundi, who nodded back.
“Yup. Bit busy today, so she’s still stuck in line. Or was, last I checked,” his lieutenant replied.
“Good,” he uttered, and he got out of his vehicle with a black garbage bag in each hand. He ushered Shaundi into an alleyway nearby, away from any cameras.
“Suit up,” he instructed her once they were hidden behind a dumpster, tossing Shaundi one of the bags. Inside was her villain costume, and she grinned, before frowning thoughtfully.
“What about the others?”
“I let them know what’s going on. Pierce is cordoning off the entire Barrio District with the Saints, and Johnny is running interference with the Brotherhood as a whole by causing a commotion down in the docks. He’ll draw Maero and the heroes’ eyes, until it’s too late,” Playa explained as he slipped on his Skunk costume.
“Alrighty, then. And what are we gonna do with the bitch?” Shaundi asked.
“An eye for an eye,” he growled out. “She hurt Carlos. Time for her to get a taste of her own medicine.”
“I was hoping you’d say that!” Shaundi cackled as she put on her Rafflesia outfit.
“Alright, let’s go,” Playa declared, and he strolled out with Shaundi – no, Rafflesia – at his back. His villainous companion tossed a smoke grenade through the door as they entered, causing panic to break out.
As the smoke filled the interior, the two rushed in, spotting Jessica amidst the crowd of people in the bank’s lobby.
“What the hell?!” Jessica screamed as the villain grabbed her from behind and held her up as a meat shield. The briefcase she was carrying fell out of her hands and hit the carpet with a thump as she was captured.
“Nobody move!” Skunk ordered, positioning Jessica so that she was blocking any shots the security guards would take. “We can all get out of this nice and easy if everyone plays along! Got it?!”
Scared murmurs of agreement rang out from tellers and patrons alike, and Skunk glared at the security guards.
“Don’t make me do anything rash,” he warned the guards.
Slowly, they exchanged glances, and all of them seemed reluctant to get into a fight with villains and began to set down their weapons. But one of them decided to try and play hero, and made a break for it, slapping a button on the wall before Rafflesia or Skunk could do anything about it.
Sirens immediately began to blare, and metal bars slide down over the windows while large steel shuttered descended to block off the doors.
“Lockdown’s been engaged, Skunk,” Rafflesia told Playa as she knocked out the brave security guard who’d triggered the alarms.
“I can tell,” he said dryly as he glanced at the sealed off windows and doors. “Still, I know a way out.”
He roughly shoved Jessica, forcing her to walk forward. “Come on, move it,” he told her. “We don’t have all day.”
‘Nor that much time before the heroes show up,’ he thought to himself. ‘We’ve got between five and fifteen minutes before somebody responds to the alarm.’
“Rafflesia, watch these guys, make sure nobody tries to do anything else,” he instructed, and she nodded, turning to give her cowering hostages her full attention.
Meanwhile, Skunk dragged Jessica to the back and up some stairs. Once on the second floor, he took her to a hallway.
“Alright, Jessica, you’re gonna turn off the alarms, now,” Skunk informed her.
She twisted in his arms to glare at him. “Yeah? And how am I gonna do that?!”
“Simple. Hit the off button!” he said, gesturing to the wall.
“There’s nothing there,” Maero’s girlfriend replied, confused.
Indeed, there was no switch or button or lever, just a plain, blank wall with a painting of a sunset hanging on it.
Skunk then chuckled and dragged Jessica over to the painting, knocking it off. Set into a hidden alcove behind it was a button incased in glass, which Skunk broke by punching it.
“Go on, press the button,” Skunk urged.
“Wait, but then why can’t you just… oh, you motherfucker!” Jessica snarled. “You want my prints all over the damn thing!”
“Smart lady. Knew there had to be a reason Maero liked you,” Skunk drawled sarcastically. “Now, are you going to press it? Or do I have to make you do it?”
“You bastard…” Jessica growled, before reaching out and slapping the button. All at once the sirens fell silent and the sound of the barricades over the doors and windows could be heard in the distance.
“How’d you know this was here?” she asked incredulously as the lock down was canceled.
“This placed used to be run by the Saints! We’d rob the place, get away with a couple grand in unmarked bills, and then the bank’s insurance would cover the losses. And later we’d take the same money we stole and launder it through the bank itself! Net win for everyone. Now come along, time for phase two of my plan,” he replied, urging his hostage to walk with him back to where he’d left Rafflesia.
“Any trouble?” Skunk asked his villainess partner and she shook her head.
“Nope, everyone was nice and quiet after I broke that guard’s skull,” Shaundi said cheerfully.
“Neat. Hang on, we’re almost done here,” he said. Then, he took out a roll of duct tape from his utility pouch, and slapped a strip of it over Jessica’s mouth. “Cops or heroes here yet?”
“Not yet,” Rafflesia said. “But I think I hear police sirens.”
“Then let’s get out of here before they do! And don’t forget to the grab the briefcase!” Playa instructed his fellow villain, and Rafflesia saluted him before bending down to grab the item in question.
“Oof! Damn thing is heavy!” she grunted. “How did that skinny bitch carry it all this way with those twiggy arms of hers?”
Jessica snarled at Rafflesia for the insults, but since her mouth was covered, her protests were muffled.
“What next?” Shaundi asked in a low voice as they hurried out of the bank.
“Take my car and the briefcase back to base,” Playa replied, tossing her the keys. “As for me, I’ll be delivering this lady back to Maero. And I think I’ll borrow her car to do it.”
At that, Jessica squirmed even harder, trying to break free as Skunk frisked her for her keys. It wasn’t long before he found the car fob and unlocked the Brotherhood vehicle as he dragged his hostage over.
“Damn, a Phoenix? Nice,” Skunk hummed. He then popped the trunk and stuffed Jessica inside, but not before binding her hands and feet with more duct tape.
Before he closed the trunk on her, he leaned in, cruelty flashing through her eyes. “It’s time to pay for your crimes, you whore. For Carlos, and all those other women you murdered and sold, this will be the last time you ever see the sun.”
Skunk then slammed the trunk lid shut, sealing her away inside the darkness of her own vehicle. Skunk then wasted no more time and got into the driver’s seat, and drove off. Behind him, Rafflesia pulled out of the parking lot and booked it in the opposite direction.
That brought a smile to him, underneath his gas mask. Still riding high on the adrenaline of a job well done, he pulled out his phone and dialed in Johnny’s number.
“Yo, Gat speaking,” he heard his second-in-command say as he picked up. “Make it quick it, I’m busy shooting bitches.”
Several loud bangs echoed out across the line, followed by pained screams.
"I'm going to send Maero a message," Skunk said, voice laced with something sinister.
“Ah, hell, it’s the Fog of War,” Skunk heard Johnny mutter under his breath, before loudly saying, “Fuck happened, man? Did the job go bad?”
“No. In fact, everything went… perfectly,” Skunk replied.
“Shit, boss, then why do you sound like you’re about to do something… villainous?” Johnny demanded.
“Because I am,” Playa claimed. “Wrap up whatever you’re doing and tell Pierce to break it up and escort Shaundi back to the mission. She’s in my car and has the money the Brotherhood was trying to deposit.”
“Playa, I swear to god…” Johnny grumbled. “Fine! I’ll get this shit done with. Anything else?”
“Two things. One, do you know where a good car shop is? One the Brotherhood doesn’t own. I’m need to make some… alterations to the car I’m in. And secondly, find out from Pierce if he knows if any of our B-hood informants are working to set up the derby.”
There was silence over the line, and for a moment Playa wondered if Johnny had hung up or something, before the familiar sound of an Uzi firing rang out.
“For your first request, we have a garage that can do quick work in Sunsinger. Near the Arena District. Careful, though, it’s still technically Sons of Samedi territory,” Johnny informed him. “And I’ll get back to you with that other stuff.”
“Thanks, bud,” Playa said with a grin. “I’ll be waiting.”
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Several hours later, the sun was starting to set on Stilwater, and yet the Ultor Dome bustled with activity as dozens of men and women rushed to set up the big Brotherhood event. Cars of all shapes and sizes were being brought inside, piles of scrap was being piled up, and pyrotechnics were set up for a dazzling display.
“Hey, what’s the hold up?” an event organizer in a red shirt demanded, glaring at two guys as they drove up in a purple Phoenix. The sporty little car had a few dents on it, and had a cracked headlight, but beyond that looked pretty intact.
“Sorry, last minute addition to the line for the derby,” the driver called out. He had a red mohawk and a stained wife beater. In the passenger’s seat was another Brotherhood goon wearing shades despite the lack of light along with a backwards sports visor.
“I don’t see it here on the list,” the organizer commented.
“Yeah, that’s why it’s a last minute addition, dingus,” the driver replied as he parked the car and got out with his passenger.
“This baby is straight from the Saints, genuine,” the douchebag with the backwards visor and sunglasses stated, slapping the hood loudly.
“It is?” the organizer asked, surprised.
“Hells yeah, dawg! Can you image the brownie point’s we’ll score with Maero if we put this in as the first crush of the night?” douchey asked, and his mohawked partner nodded.
“Straight up genuine,” he agreed. “So, what do you think? Can you slip it in for us and let the boss know we got it specially for him?”
“Hmm. Fine,” the organizer nodded.
‘Yeah right! If anyone’s getting credit for this, it’s gonna be me, not some sunglasses-douche and his peon buddy,’ the organizer thought greedily. He quick changed some things around and pointed towards the loading bays.
“Get that car in before Maero starts! Move it, you two!” the organizer ordered, and the duo got back into the car and drove off into the stadium. They parked the stolen Phoenix at the end of the line of busted up cars, ready to be crushed by Maero’s truck.
The two goons got out, chatted a bit with some other Brotherhood members and technicians, and then quietly slipped away as the Ultor Dome stands filled up with hooting and hollering gangbangers.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Donnie asked nervously as he gave Maero’s monster truck one final look over. He was the only member of the Brotherhood’s Inner Circle with Maero for the moment. Matt was still in prison, having been caught with a bunch of other members on Wednesday. And Jessica wasn’t answering Maero’s calls or texts. Leaving the poor mechanic to weather the Ink Demon’s foul mood.
It wasn’t an easy job for the timid mechanic. And it was made worse by the throbbing pain in his bandaged up right hand. One broken finger and another shot clean off were the results from Wednesday’s rampage. The hospital had done what it could, but there wasn’t enough of the digit left to reattach it. Thankfully for Donnie, it wasn’t on his dominant hand, so his work was mostly unaffected.
“I am fine,” Maero grit out, and Donnie resisted the urge to say anything else. In his opinion, though, the leader of the Brotherhood did not look fine. The acid-laced ink had done a number on him, and the entire left side of his face was riddled with angry, barely healed burns and scars.
It was only the quick work of a few Quirks to neutralize the acid and graft some skin back on that prevented Maero from losing everything, including his eye, ear, and nose. The acid had ravaged him, and his fury was incandescent.
“I need to remind my boys I’m not gonna be broken by some underhanded trick,” the Ink Demon snarled. He then whirled towards one of his men who was standing nervously in the corner. “And where the fuck is Jessica?!”
“We’re working on it, boss! The Saints took her from the bank, and we lost track of Jessica’s car after it left Barrio. But don’t worry, she’s too valuable a hostage to kill so she’s probably alive in one of their bases, so we’ll find her soon!”
“You’d better,” he growled, before turning to Donnie. “Well? Is it ready?”
“Show time, bossman,” Donnie said, closing the hood and stepping back with a flourish. “Ready to crush some heads. And I heard we got something special to open with. Some of our boys managed to steal a car from the Saints.”
“Really?” Maero asked, a cruel note of excitement tinging his voice.
“Absolutely, already got it set up to be crushed first thing!” Donnie promised. “Now get out there and show them what you’re made of!”
Maero grinned, the sight a ghastly one thanks to the ruined mess of his left side, and he got into his Atlasbreaker and zoomed out. He circled the arena, admiring the set-up his boys had made for him, and basked in the adulation of his gang. This was it. That was what he lived for.
After finishing his lap, he drove to the starting point, and revved his engines. Music blared from the speakers, and Maero shot forward as the song reached a crescendo. His wheels trampled the lesser vehicles, and then he hit the jump, roman candles going off in a blaze of fiery glory.
Flying through the air was amazing, but the wonderful crunch of shattering glass and the squealing of tortured metal as his truck landed on top of the purple car at the end of the jump was utterly euphoric, and the pain that’d plagued Maero ever since the Saints had sabotaged his tattoo session vanished for a brief moment.
He then drove forward, kicking up some dirt, and did a fancy spin that slammed his Atlasbreaker into the Saint’s car again. It was completely pulverized, and he grinned wickedly. Maero then stepped out of his truck, fist raised to the sky as he let his minions cheer his name.
But he frowned. Something was… wrong. The applause… it was slow and sarcastic, and coming from the speakers!
He spun around, trying to find someone to yell at, only for the big screen hanging from the ceiling to flicker to life, revealing the hated image of Skunk, leader of the Saints.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Skunk said as he clapped sarcastically. The Dome rapidly fell deathly silent, the Brotherhood members sharing confused and scared looks with each other as the villain monologued at them.
“You! I’m going to kill you!” he snarled, then immediately cursed himself for losing control like that. The Saint’s leader wasn’t really here. The villain he was listening to was a mere recording.
“However, as impressive as your little stunt was, it was nothing compared to the ruin I will bring upon you,” Skunk continued. He stopped clapping, and from his position on the screen, seemed to be looking down on Maero, which the tattooed gang leader utterly loathed.
“So, when you check the trunk of the car you just smashed, I just want you to remember that you brought this upon yourself. It was your sins that led to this moment. Remember that, and despair!”
Skunk clapped his hands one final time, and the screens went dark, the recording over.
Maero stood stock still for a several long moments, thinking over what Skunk had just said. Then, his eyes widened as he turned to the Phoenix he’d just obliterated with his tricked out Atlasbreaker.
With a cry of fury and sorrow, several tendrils of ink lashed out from his body, tearing into the crumpled wreckage and prying apart the trunk. The metal was peeled back, revealing what had been hidden inside.
“No… Please, no!” Maero cried, falling to his knees as he stared into the blood-stained interior of his girlfriend’s car.
A wail of utter heartbreak rang out from the brutal leader of the Brotherhood, echoing hauntingly throughout the Ultor Dome.
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“That was super reckless, Playa,” Johnny scolded his friend as they drove towards the mission.
“I know,” Playa replied. He was no longer in his villain outfit, and was staring out the window at the handful of stars in the sky.
“Was it worth it?” Johnny asked after a few minutes of silence between them.
“No,” Playa said. “But it was necessary.”
“A necessary evil, eh?” Johnny muttered. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”
He then tapped the glove compartment. “Open it,” he instructed, and Playa complied. There were several files, and he found one marked ‘Jessica.’
Looking through it, Playa’s grim countenance grew.
“On the bright side, we found some of the girls Jessica ‘got rid of,’” Johnny said, keeping his eyes on the road. “We managed to save most of them. The ones who were still alive after their ordeals, at least.”
Playa said nothing, and just closed the file, putting it back into the glove compartment. The rest of the drive was done in silence.
When they finally arrived at the mission, they were greeted by only a small group. In fact, only Pierce and Shaundi were waiting for the duo.
“Hey,” Shaundi said, tossing Playa his car keys back.
“Hope you kept it nice and shiny,” he joked.
“Yeah, no worries. Kept the briefcase safe too,” she said, tapping a foot against the object in question.
“Enough gloom, everybody! We scored a major win against the Brotherhood!” Pierce said loudly. That cheered them up a bit and they made their way towards Playa’s office.
“Yeah! Come on, spill! How much cash was the bitch carrying?” Johnny asked as Shaundi lugged the briefcase into the office.
“Dunno, haven’t it opened it yet,” Playa said as he walked in behind Shaundi. “Got a bit sidetracked, what with the kidnapping, then stuffing her into one of Maero’s cars at the derby… yeah, shit got a bit out of hand back there for a bit.”
“Serves the bitch right for what she did to Carlos!” Shaundi snarled. Pierce, Johnny, and Playa all nodded in agreement at that.
“Ugh, shit’s heavy,” she grunted a moment later, struggling to carry the briefcase with both hands. “Must be, like, a couple mil! At least! How the hell did that skinny bitch carry this thing in one hand?!”
“That’s an I-Island weight adjusting briefcase,” Pierce pointed out. “It’s got super science shit to reduce the weight of its contents by half or more. She probably turned on its weight reduction feature when carrying it around.”
“Really? Ain’t one of those crazy expensive?” Johnny asked surprised.
“Hell yeah, they are. Hundred grand, at least,” Pierce said with a nod.
“Well, let’s not stand around looking like dopes,” Playa laughed as Shaundi dropped the briefcase onto his desk with an audible ‘Thump!’ “Let’s see what in here!”
Using a screwdriver, Playa wrenched apart the lock on the briefcase, popping it open to reveal its contents to the world.
“The fuck?” Johnny Gat uttered, staring at the contents of the briefcase. He wasn’t alone with the disbelief, but he was the most vocal, everyone else being stunned into silence at what they saw.
Inside the briefcase were several gold bars, bullion to be precise. However, the reason Playa’s right-hand man had made an exclamation was due to the symbol stamped onto the surface of the gold bullions.
It was a Swastika in a circle, being clutched by an eagle with spread wings.
“…Okay, can someone please tell me why the actually fuck the Brotherhood had a briefcase full of mother fucking Nazi gold of all things?!” Playa demanded, glaring around the room at his lieutenants.
Nobody said a word, however. All they could do was continue to stare at the treasure they’d stolen from Jessica and the Brotherhood.
