Phil's on the take.

Phil’s burner phone rang for the twenty seventh time. It has gone to voice mail at least four times now but clearly Jimmy the Scumbag wasn’t going to stop till he finally got ahold of Phil. Phil slowly peeled himself off his bed and walked the three agonizing steps to his dresser to answer the phone.

“You fucking ducking me? You piece of shit, I own you and when I call you fucking answer.” Jimmy bellowed.

“Hi Jimmy.” Phil replied, his voice betraying no emotion at all.

“You fix this shit! I got you on the payroll to handle this shit and you fix it now!” Jimmy screamed at him.

“What shit? Make some sense Jimmy.” Phil said.

“You fucking spic. You listen to me.” Phil hung up on him. Racist slurs got you hung up on even if you were the mob boss that kept Phil living the good life. Phil closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling his back ache as he did it. His phone rang again and he turned it off, Jimmy was useless right now and there was no point in talking to him, but clearly something was up and even if this was supposed to be a day off for Phil he was pretty sure he was going to get called into to the precinct soon enough.

Phil stumbled to the bathroom, took a piss, undressed and hopped in the shower. The shampoo phase of the shower brought more salt and pepper hair falling out and into his hands, soon his bald spot would be far more than the half dollar sized hole it currently was. The shower completed he walked in front of the mirror and took stock of himself. The bags under his brown eyes were still there, it felt like ages since he’d gotten a full night of sleep. His nose was far too big for his face and he was a good fifty pounds overweight and his teeth were the shade of yellow you can only get from a three decade long smoking habit.

“Not looking good for making sixty.” He said to himself as he walked back into the bedroom and started getting dressed. Phil might be a sickly, ugly looking man but he sure as shit had a great selection of suits and he knew how to dress. Today was likely going to be active so a light tan cotton shirt and suit was the choice with a matching pair of loafers. He was adjusting his black and white striped tie as his real phone rang.

“Hello Alice” Phil answered.

“Hello Felipe!” Alice chirped cheerfully. She only ever called him by his given name when she was going to put the screws to him. Given what had happened with Jimmy the Scumbag earlier he was pretty sure the other shoe was about to drop.

“So you ready to make the biggest arrest of your career?” Alice asked him with such insincere joy that Phil wished he could reach through the phone and strangle her.

“And who would that be?” Phil asked.

“Oh you don’t know? You just woke up? You should turn on a TV or check twitter.” Alice told him, the sing-song tone of her voice continued.

Phil walked over to his computer and after a few seconds he was on twitter and his stomach dropped. The hashtag #SammyThePsycho was trending. Sammy was Jimmy’s son and a complete lunatic and it was obvious now that the idiot had fucked up.

“So what did Sammy do?” Phil asked.

“Shot up the Davey Jones. Two wounded one in critical condition. Odds are he was on a drug bender and something set him off. There’s plenty of cell phone video of the final few gunshots and folks running on youtube and we’re processing the security cameras now.” Alice told him.

“So go pick him up.” Phil told her curtly.

“Sammy’s gone running, and since we have you, our resident expert on the Martello crime family handy. I figured you should be the one to go get him.” Alice told him as she hung up. It was an open secret in the LBPD that Phil was on the Martello payroll but Alice was spitting in his face with this demand. Forcing Phil to go deal with Jimmy the Scumbag and ask him to turn over his son was going to be a tough task.

He grabbed his badge and gun and headed out to the Fog night club. Fog was Jimmy the Scumbag’s business front and where he spend most of his time harassing young women. Phil arrived and saw the two armed guards standing in front of the building.

Phil walked up and showed his badge. The men didn’t budge.

“Really motherfucker? We’re going to play this game?” Phil turned toward the security camera. “You stupid fuck, let me in or I let the Street Team run point on finding your fucking kid.” The Street Team was an anti-gang unit who had more than their fair share of shootings in the past few years.

The armed men finally backed down and Phil entered Fog. Seated in the middle of the dance floor was Jimmy the Scumbag and some of his trusted flunkies seated at a table. To look at Jimmy was to hate him, a bloated bald frog of a man with liver spots all over his arms and face. Jimmy had taken over the Martello crime family mostly because nobody else had wanted the job, but that didn’t mean folks liked him running things. He’d survived a car bomb two years ago and a drive by a few months after that.

“How you going to fix this shit?” Jimmy hissed at Phil as Phil walked towards him.

“Fix? What fucking fix you looking for? Your idiot kid shot people on tape. It’s out there, you and all the rest of these assholes should be in a church praying neither of the victims he shot dies or he’s never getting out of prison.”

“If you can’t help me why the fuck do I pay you? Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?” Jimmy snapped.

“Cause I’ve saved a half dozen drug shipments, shipments that kept your little organization tread water till you finally hit it big with the casinos. You need a tip off on an investigation, you get it. You need strings pulled so cops aren’t somewhere so you can wack some fuck, you get it. What you don’t get is the ability to sweep a mass shooting under the rug.” Phil said.

“So what we do?” Jimmy asked.

“Find your idiot kid, have him come in. Buy a few lawyers and a judge and have him plead guilty to everything and odds are he’ll do five years or so and get out.” Phil told him.

“My kid can’t do prison he’s a fucking idiot. He’ll beat up an inmate or a guard or some other dumb shit.” Jimmy pleaded.

“Jimmy.” Phil said as he tapped on the table. “This isn’t even an open and shut case. This is worse than that. Your kid is going down, every lawyer in this town can’t wait to sue you for millions for the injuries to those people your kid shot. The DA has every lawyer on his staff begging for this case so they can throw your kid behind bars and throw away the key and then run for congress promising to be tough on crime. Sammy’s fucked, plain and simple, he’s fucked. Five years in a club fed is the happy ending to this story. The unhappy endings are much worse.” Phil finished.

Jimmy bowed his head. “Can we wait and see if they die before he turns himself in?” he asked.

“You know they sent me here to put the screws to me. I got to have a lead on the kid. You got twelve hours tops, maybe before they rip this town apart looking for him and then I got no promises on if he gets shot or not being taken into custody. Your best bet is to wait eight hours or so and then make a call and start a negotiation with Alice, bullshit with her but keep her in the loop and turn him in within a day. Hopefully it’ll be clear they both are alive by then.” Phil said.

“If they die.” Jimmy started.

“If they die and you try to smuggle him out of the country know you’ll be under a microscope for the rest of your life and fucking nobody’s going to help you. Turn your idiot kid Jimmy. Either way, turn him in.”

Jimmy sighed. His giant mass began shaking as he started to sob. Phil didn’t have time for his misery and he turned and walked out of the nightclub. Phil made it three blocks before he noticed the black sedan that had been tailing him ever since he left the nightclub.

“The fuck you want?” Phil asked the driver.

“Get in the fucking car.” The driver told him.

“Fuck that. I’m not some chump who gets thrown in the back of a car and gets the speech about what a shame it would be if something were to happen to little Susie.” Right as Phil said that he saw the man exiting the back of the sedan and reaching for a gun in his waistband.

Phil’s gun was in his hand in the blink of an eye. The goon slowly pulled his hand away from his piece.

“You were seriously about to draw down on a LBPD detective? Are you really that fucking stupid? I know I don’t look like much, but as you can see my draw is pure and I’m really good at hitting center mass at target practice. Of course right now we’re at point blank range here so I can close my eyes and still rip you full of holes. I’ve only ever killed one man in the line of duty in fourteen years, so exactly why did you go and try to make me double my total?” Phil said.

“This shooting happened on Roger Bosco’s turf.” The goon said.

“None of the Bosco Cartel got shot, it was a coked up idiot making a mistake.” Phil said.

“A mistake that made the Davey Jones lose tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars as your police shutdown our gaming area to investigate the shooting.” The goon said.

“He write the speech out for you? You fucking kidding me? If Bosco wants to start a gang war then that’s fine but to bullshit me that it’s over Sammy’s little hissy fit is a bit much.” Phil told him.

“Well maybe if Sammy was given to us we’d think about not doing something so violent.” The goon told him.

“Get the fuck back in the car.” Phil told him and the goon got back in the car. After a few moments the car drove away. Phil put his gun away and sighed, this was going to be a shit storm and he was dead in the middle of it. 

The Blackmail of Max Roper

Max heard the banging on his office door. It was not a timid knock of a person who was intimidated by the idea of meeting with one of the heads of the revolutionary government. Instead it sounded like the knock of a man with an agenda.

“Come on in.” Max said as he got to his feet and headed over to his icebox, this was likely going to be a meeting that would require alcohol to get through it. “Ah Colonel Rogers, what a pleasant surprise to have the hero of the battle of Sutton’s Pyre here to visit us.” Max said with the warmest smile he could fake. Rogers’ body language was of a man practically boiling over with rage, he was stiff as a board with his fists clenched and his jaw was so tight that Max thought the man’s teeth might shatter any second.

Max pretended to ignore the fact that his visitor seemed nearly murderous in his anger as he grabbed the bottle of black gin and two glasses.

“This is black gin. The berries that produce it are only ripe for two months and then it’s another year of agonizing wait. They are only found in a section of land on the island of the Four Great nations and on the boarder of Tomzzi and Camcamta, pretty sure wars have been fought over it.” Max said as he poured himself a drink and then poured one for Rogers, who didn’t react in the slightest to the offer. With a nod Max accepted the man’s refusal and began to sip his beverage.

“I’m not here to drink.” Rogers said the words almost spat out of his mouth rather than spoken. He reached into his black jacket, and then with a thud the man dropped a small tan book onto Max’s desk. “You know what this is.” Rogers hissed at Max.

Max looked at the book for a few moments, he had a good few ideas as to what exactly the book might be but he never planned to venture a real guess, better to let Rogers play all his cards.

“This.” Rogers began. “This is Pete Blackwell’s journal, his real journal. I served under the man for three years, I received countless orders from the man and I know what his handwriting looks like and this book is his. That pack of lies you got your minions to publish in the papers about how he was questioning the use of poison gas, about his distrust and worry about the king, all of that was bullshit and you knew it.”

Max pondered interjecting but then decided against it. He went back to drinking his rum as he let Rogers keep going on his tirade.

“Pete was nothing but loyal to the king, the king had no reason to distrust him or to assassinate him. It was you. You fucking piece of shit, you and all these smarmy assholes running around trying to make a new government, you motherfuckers are the ones that put that bullet into Pete’s heart. You’re the ones that lied to the army, lied to the whole fucking world about what happened and blamed the king for it.” Rogers pale green eyes stared daggers into Max as he kept talking. “I stood on that hill waving the flag you motherfuckers made. I rallied an army to kill a king because I thought he had killed my general, my leader, the man I’d have done anything for, but it was you, you killed him.” Rogers seethed as he leaned over the desk glaring at Max. Rogers face was bright red, his hand stroked his salt and pepper beard for a moment before sliding towards his hip. Max knew nobody was supposed to have guns in the committee chamber but often officers of the military flouted that rule. Rogers didn’t draw a pistol but his hand remained ominously near where such a gun should be. “Every ordinance, ever decree your corrupt government gives out is written in Pete Blackwell’s blood. You are hypocrites and monsters of the highest order.” Rogers said.

Max took a long drink from his glass before putting the glass down on his desk. He gave a wry smile at the old solider before slowly walking alongside him and beginning to speak.

“You think what we did was wrong? Toppling a tyrant who was gassing his own people, who had abolished the Senate and was seeking to destroy any dissent to his rule in the press, killing reporters, publishers, anyone who that he could get his hands on that spoke out against him got the short drop and a broken neck. Yes Pete Blackwell was a willing thug who committed the crimes his king wanted him to commit, is that what you want to tell the public, that Pete Blackwell was every bit the butcher old king Walter was? That if we’d left him be he’d have gassed Paradise for no military gain what-so-ever because by that point the Believers had their army well equipped with gas masks. That he’d have only killed tens of thousands of innocent civilians in a foolish attempt to take a city his army could never hold.” Max glared at Rogers for a moment before turning to refill his glass.

“Yes we lied, but it was a lie that needed to be told. We needed an army to depose the king, Pete had one and we took it. Yes we took it under false pretenses but I lose no sleep over what I’ve done. It was what had to be done and the nation is better for it. Now that we’ve cleared the air here. Tell me Colonel Rogers, what exactly is it that you want from me?” Max said as he turned and went back to his bottle of black gin.

“What do I want?” Rogers asked with a confused tone in his voice.

“Don’t bullshit me. You didn’t bring that little book to some reporter or folks working to undermine the government that we’re busy at work trying to establish here. You came with it to me and that means you want something, so spit it out, what do you want from me?” Max asked as he poured himself another glass.

“I want the twenty two year term on the National Court. I want to be the longest serving judge in the history of this country you’re building.” Rogers said with his eyes fixed upon Max.

“First of all you have no legal background, you’re a warrior, not a scholar, and second of all Judge Whiteflare has been an outspoken advocate for the rebellion since the first gas attack became public. The man is literally writing the laws this nation will define itself by, if anyone is assured of anything in this new nation of ours it’s him getting the twenty two year term.” Max replied as he started working on his second glass.

“No legal background? You know how many men I’ve executed for desertion? How many crimes both big and small I’ve had to dispense justice for in order to maintain the integrity of my army? I’ve got plenty of knowledge of right and wrong and what the law is.” Rogers glared at Max for a moment. “Even if I didn’t. I still have this book and that means you give me what I want.”

“You really don’t understand how blackmail works do you?” Max chided him. Rogers remained silent with his face twisted in a scowl. “Colonel my good man let me tell you something, there’s not a day I don’t wake up and expect to find out some dark truth about myself or this revolution has been exposed to the light of day. My closet has more skeletons in it than a graveyard. So I know a thing or two about blackmail. The way this is supposed to work.” Max paused as he took another drink. “Is that the blackmailer has information the victim doesn’t want made public, the victim then provides some favor to the blackmailer so the information stays secret. Let’s say that I go to the other folks on the National Court committee and I push for you to get on the court, much less the cherry job there. They’ll know you got dirt on me, they’ll harass me about it, they’ll harass you about it. They might not find your little book but they’ll keep digging till they find something.”

Max drained his glass and poured another one, today was not a day for sobriety.

“And if by some miracle they don’t find some dirt on us to expose our sham relationship they’ll just invent a lie. Same as we did when we murdered General Blackwell, and same as that lie the public will swallow it whole because it’s reasonable to believe. Literally any crime they want to accuse me of will work. Buggery, murder, bribery, it’s all fair game. I give you this job it’ll be the end of my career, and maybe the end of my life as a free man if they want to drum up charges and throw me in jail. There’s no way Colonel.” Max finished his statement by downing his latest glass in one shot, the glass hitting the table with a loud bang.

Colonel Rogers went to speak but Max raised a finger to shush him.

“I’ll get you on the National Court. Not the twenty two year term, not the twenty, but sometime around sixteen I’ll bring your name up. I’ll talk about how you were a hero in the revolution who would bring honor and esteem to the court by your presence. I’ll sell them on the idea that putting a man with no legal training on the court will set a good precedent for future Presidents to be able to name heroes to the bench. Having one or two common folks to rub elbows with all the high minded lawyers and judges will keep the court grounded. It might sound like bullshit but I know how to sell it.” Max paused as he poured himself another drink.

“Rumors will get out that your name is in the mix for the National Court. Reporters will hunt you like bloodhounds to find out if it’s true. You’ll play the part of the doe eyed naïve who never sought this office but if called upon to serve the new nation in this role you will find it your duty to serve. Somewhere between the sixteen year term and the ten year one I’ll browbeat the rest of the assholes who will be deciding who sits on the court to give in. You’ll sit in judgement over the greatest issues of our day and age and issue opinions that will be read for generations of legal scholars to come. You will in short be one of the great men of history.” Max flashed a delighted smile as he slammed down yet another glass of rum.

“You really are a piece of sht.” Rogers said through gritted teeth. He reached to grab the journal but Max blocked him.

“You have my word you’ll sit on the National Court. If I fuck you over you can tell the world you’ve found my love letters to another man. I want you on the court and I will put you on the court. Now get out of here and go talk to everyone, make nice with all the other would be Senators and Mayors and Judges and all the other positions we’re going to make happen in this new nation of ours. Make it so everyone remembers you visited the capital and saw lots of people but they forget about our little closed door meeting. I’ll see you in a few months when we’re busy swearing you in as a Justice on the National Court.” Max told him as he walked Rogers to the door.

Rogers gave him one final glare of disapproval before finally walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Max turned and looked at his desk where the journal was resting. It was in moments such as this that Max was quite happy that he always kept his fireplace well stocked with kindling and firewood. He got out some matches from his drawer and got to work lighting a fire. After a few moments the fire was raging. Max walked over to the journal and slowly walked back to the fireplace with it.

“Oh Pete. You’re a damned hero. Coins and paper money will have your face upon them. Statues will be raised in your honor. Politicians will long to be compared to you and to be cloaked in your greatness. No greater honor could have ever been done you than the bullet we put in your heart. We saved the world from the truth, you owe us for that.” Max said as he threw the journal into the fire. He watched the flames lick at its edges before finally engulfing the book completely. The fire spiked higher and higher as it fed on the pages of the journal, the great lie of the Republic once again feeding itself on the truth of what happened. There was a quick knock on the door and then it opened a crack. Harold his new aide peaked his bald head inside the room.

“Is there anything you need sir?” Harold asked.

“Harold, I’m burning incriminating documents and getting stinking drunk, what I need is to be left alone, cancel any appointments I have today.” Max snapped back at him.

“Very good sir.” Harold said as he shut the door. 

Oceanside Part 3: The Wolf Speaks

Evenstown was a nothing town that lived in the shadow of its giant prison. The Shithole as it was known was by far the most massive building in the city and turned the name tiny suburb of Oceanside into a threat. Even the local stores sold T-Shirts promoting the fact that they were home to a Supermax that housed some of the world’s most dangerous criminals.

          Keith had made the 50 mile drive from Oceanside down to Evenstown to have a meeting with the man that made him famous. Over thirty years ago Keith had captured the psychopathic maniac known to the media as the Wolf. The man was from the same mold as Keith with the same freakish strength and power but unlike Keith he’d used that power for violence and chaos.

          Entering the Shithole Keith felt nervous. He didn’t exactly know what if any information the Wolf would have for him but he knew he had to ask. He felt bad subjecting the guards to having to bring the Wolf to a visitation room and risk their safety in the process. Keith walked past the visitation room for the normal convicts and made his way to the elevator, he was heading deep into the depths of the prison.

          Getting to this point required a waiver that said you promised not to sue if you didn’t get out of the Shithole alive. Keith had one filed on record from the day he caught the Wolf. They had many conversations since that day and every one of them had unsettled Keith. The two men hadn’t talked in over a decade but now Keith was sitting on his side of the glass waiting for the Wolf to be brought to him.

          The door on the other side opened and the Wolf was bound hand and foot in chains, chains Keith thought the Wolf could break with ease if he’d so desired it. A guard on either side of the Wolf led him to his chair while four more men stood in the background with their nightsticks at the ready. Keith figured it might take maybe fifteen seconds for the Wolf to break his chains and kill all six of them.

          The Wolf sat in his chair, his face looked sunken and drawn, and his hair was shoulder length and pure white. For all the weakness his body showed his horrible emerald eyes showed the fire of the man’s soul and the strength Keith knew was hidden inside him. The Wolf smiled a weak smile and a guard helped put the phone up to his ear.

          “No mask? Guess everyone knows who you are anyhow, old man like you, like us don’t matter much anymore anyhow.” The Wolf said in a polite southern accent.

          “What do you know about a criminal named Doc Silver?” Keith asked him.

          “How could I know anything about anyone? You locked me away in here all those years ago. I spend twenty three hours a day locked away in my little cell, then they give me one hour to lift weights and run in the yard. Awful sweet of them to afford me such luxury.” The Wolf replied, a grin crept across his face.

          “We both know you don’t spend your time in your cell. We both know their schedule benefits you greatly, gives you all the time you need to do whatever you want.” Keith replied with anger in his voice.

          “I’ve been to all the beaches in Europe. Climbed the Eiffel Tower. I’ve seen nature at its most primal and raw in Africa. In the past five years I’ve learned how to commune with people. I met a beautiful young girl in Japan and gained her trust over two long years until finally once day she let me enter her body. Do you know what it’s like to get fucked when you’re a woman? The orgasm isn’t so base and mechanical like a man’s is, it’s spiritual, almost beautiful. Of course I had her butcher her boyfriend and three others before the police subdued her. It was quite the scandal in that peaceful little nation.” The Wolf chuckled and Keith winced, his laugh was demonic.

          “Why didn’t you ever try to figure it out? You have the same gifts I do. Only you spent all your time training your body, never your mind. You never unlocked all the secrets you and I were meant to discover. Like how to breed. Not that you’ve even been trying.” The Wolf taunted him.

          “I met a girl last night.” Keith replied with a smirk.

          “Good on you. Of course you can’t get her pregnant. You never bothered to work that out, how to continue our incredible genes. I was obsessed with it once I figured out what I was. It took a few months till I found the answer. Our sperm don’t play by the rules, it’s supposed to be one gets into the egg and the rest lose, but you and I both know losing isn’t an option for us, so the other sperm break in also and kill the egg and therefor no baby, nothing. I used an eye dropper and just the tiniest bit of semen and I barely penetrated the woman. With a half dozen women and working at it for four years I managed to get three children. One played pro football for seventeen years as an offensive lineman. Another was a girl who is a highly sought after body guard. The third sadly was born white and thus his desire for carnage and chaos in Africa leaves him on the outs with the tribes. They don’t tolerate pale faces, but he still does his work, only it’s from the shadows. I’ve done so much, and yet people think you beat me.” The Wolf shook his head as he finished.

          “I did beat you. I put you in here. Everything else is bluster and bullshit.” Keith told him.

          “Those few seconds after we fell off that cliff, it was all dumb luck who landed where. Just so happened that you were on top of me and broke my leg on impact.” The Wolf responded.

          “I shifted my weight. I saw what was coming when the fall began and I made sure you bore the impact.” Keith told him.

          “That’s really why you’re here. To rub it in my face that you won. To remind yourself of your glory days. To look at the only other man who knows what it’s like to be a God like you do and to see if age has broken me down like it did you. Well I got some bad news for you, you won’t have me to torment for much longer. Four years ago they found cancer in my lung, aggressive cancer, the kind of shit that doesn’t wait around for you to make your arrangements for your death and just dropped you quick. They gave me three months but I knew I’d outlast that. I had no idea how long I had, but now I can feel it getting to me. I got maybe three years left, maybe less and this shit will put me down. No amount of meditation or astral projection will fix it.” The Wolf finished and the two men stared at each other for a minute.

         

“I don’t swing by Oceanside much. I don’t check up on you anymore, you bore me, and lord knows you would screw with my astral projection murders, and they take fucking forever to set up. So no I don’t know anything about this Doc Silver fellow who has you all flustered.” The Wolf paused and gave an evil smile to Keith. “You know that Spooky Brian would have the answers for you, but you don’t want to see him. He’s not a reminder of your great victory. He’s the one that got away. The case you couldn’t close. You’ll have to humble yourself and go to him if you want dirt on this asshole.” The Wolf said.

“You want a show don’t you? Want me to rip up these guards like they were nothing, show you how us old men still got it? Well fuck you, you don’t get a show. Maybe I’ll just find your new woman, maybe I’ll start talking to her, chicks dig ghosts. Next time you fuck her, you’ll be fucking me.” The Wolf said and he hung the phone up. The guards took him away as the Wolf stared Keith down until finally the door to the visitor’s room slammed shut.

The Wolf was right about a lot of things, but more than that he was really rubbing Keith’s nose in the fact that he needed Spooky Brian’s help. If there was anyone on either who knew how to defend against a paranormal attack it was Spooky Brian. To get info on Doc and to protect Maggie Keith was going to have to swallow his pride and see him.