Finance & Felony

By Jordan Raggio

The year is 2023. In the crime-driven city of Los Angeles, criminal organizations disband while others unite; some of the most unlikely allies must bind together to take down worse enemies whove been digging up dread from the past. Meanwhile, a little girl goes missing, and a desperate mother must find her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543448078

Jordan Raggio

About the author: Jordan Raggio was born October 22nd 2001 in the city of Philadelphia, he enjoys the art of writing, and reading books. He has had a hard life, and through it all hes managed to write these stories and characters to fulfill peoples cravings of stories relating to death and mayhem.

Book preview

Prologue

The city of Los Angeles was a place of crime. The low profited criminals ruled the slums of the fallen city, as the rich crime lords with cash practically dripping everywhere they walked, ruled the towers and bathed in their glory and winnings. The year is 2013. Lots of criminal organizations have broken, gone to war. Nemesis, a trusty man among The Cull, must seek out a way to prevent any death or warfare. But is it that easy? One man can not control the essence of war, nor can he manipulate it. As manipulative as war is, it takes an army before a single being. The Cull and Nightshade are at war. Ever since the new Mister of the Cull has passed, a new one has taken over. One more brooding, and more stricken with the darkness. This new Mister has driven The Cull away from hacking and teamwork, to sacrifices and religion. Nemesis left The Cull, realizing it isn’t what its suppose to be anymore. He has joined forces with the opposing side, Nightshade. As much as Nemesis hates doing this, he has to. The Cull has changed his best friend Benny into a monster. Its influenced him to step under a new array of sudden coldness. A coldness Nemesis never thought he would see in a friend.

Once he had joined Nightshade, he met a man. Carson, the mans name is. But he also went by a nickname. Skullcrusher. Skullcrusher was years younger than Nemesis, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed having someone younger than himself, he could share his criminal knowledge and thoughts with the young. Another man, who is a leader of his very own faction. The Baron, his name is. The Baron is leader of the Riders, a group who rests in the pits of Slab city. Once Nemesis and Baron formed a team, the two then met Skullcrusher. The three settled on Nightshades side, as an untrustworthy Benny straddled along The Culls side. One day, Nightshade abducted Baron. Tortured him, almost killed him. Skullcrusher had the leader of Nightshade, his father, lead a team to go save the man within The Culls territory. Nemesis joined along, and he found himself face to face with his feelings and his past. And most of all, who he truly was inside.

Nemesis crossed down black tinted dimly lit corridors. He heard the unstoppable pleads of help and screams burst off behind him. Good, Nightshade infiltrated the base. They just need to find The Baron and perhaps take this place down. The Cull HQ was hidden under the thick layer of streets covering L.A., the base was huge and connected to a bunch of sewer systems and hidden underground passageways, Many of these unexplored. As Nemesis swerved by barred up rooms and destructed walls, he heard a faint voice scream Don’t move! He paused in his steps. Looks like someone found him. Dammit, he was so close to finding Baron down in this place and this has to happen. Both of his heavy arms slowly arose from his waistline. Nemesis gulped, as he turned right around to meet the owner of the dark pitched voice.

"Benny?" Nemesis asked. His former best friend stood there, wearing a dark black suit. His dirty blondish hair was scuffed back to his ears. His eyes were larger than ever, his ocean blue iris glistening with demand. The gun he held, was the same pistol Nemesis gave him months ago for keepsake. Who would have ever thought he’d be aiming it at him this day?

Don’t move, Nemesis. You take another step and there will be a bullet between your eyes. Benny ordered promptly. Nemesis didn’t move, he barely breathed. He just stared back at his ex friend. He saw how new and downgraded he looked. He watched the hint of craziness flow through his pupils like water going down a drain. What has he become? Why did the new Mister have to turn Benny into his right hand man out of everyone here. Nemesis would rather have had Snoke turn against him than Benny. He and Benny have Been through too much for this bullshit. Nemesis wants to say something that may make everything all better, but every time he tries to speak the words don’t come out. It feels as if they were being forced back by some other unknown urge. But finally, as he met Benny in the eyes once more, his mouth opened and words began to form.

This isn’t who you are. He commented plainly. Benny didn’t flinch, he didn’t shrug, he didn’t move. He just stared. Nemesis felt the weight of his eyes pressing on him, much more sterner than any other look hes ever felt.

This is who I am. Unlike you, I am loyal to The Cull. Mister Hamlet has shown me the true way of what we can do. Hes brought upon so many dreams and wished, and made them come true. He performed a rebirth on me. I feel as new as I ever could be. Why do you flee from such beautiful things? Benny’s voice cracked towards the end. The way he was speaking, the way he looked. The Mister changed him into the complete opposite person Nemesis once knew.

No, this isn’t who you are. The real Benny would choose loyalty for his friends rather than loyalty for a group that died the day the new Mister was chosen. You know this is not The Culls way, Benny. The pistol was still raised. Benny clutched it in an unsympathetic fashion. He drolly smirked as his head shook. Maybe this is just you releasing all the anger within, all the sadness. I heard about your brother, Reed. I know The Mister killed him. I understand what you’re going through, I felt pain just as worse before. Where you think the only way to make up for his death is to fight the world, fight your friends…Well, its not. This isn’t the way to grieve.

Benny just continues to gape at Nemesis. The smirk he bear has completely left his body. It was if all the color had drained from his skin as well, because he suddenly looked so pale. Benny’s arms both twitched, as his lips jerked into a frown. A small bristle of wetness gleamed from under his right eye. This small bristle of liquid slowly oozed down his cheek, crisscrossing until it fell and met the concrete. He broke into tears, dropping the pistol. Everything felt like slow motion, as the gun battered against the floor. He dropped to his knees, staring downwards in his own grief. Nemesis saw his friend, like he never saw him before. Broken. He was going to say something as comfort, but through the corner of his eyes he saw a shadow move. Behind Benny, Hamlet walked, The Mister. Tucked between Hamlets right palms and left hand was a semiautomatic rifle.

And just what in all living hell do you think you’re doing? The Mister asked. He was years older than Nemesis, he’d say around Barons age thirty two. His hair was darker than Nemesis’, and much more frizzy. His nose was thicker and his nostrils spout out like two shotgun Barrels. His forehead was huge, one could dine off of it. Nemesis raised his hands back up, noticing Benny hadn’t looked up yet and was still bawling immensely. He searched for the right words, feeling his innards all jumble and mix like cake batter. A certain kind of perturbation surfaced, as he licked his lips. Words were found, as his mouth departed.

Bringing him back to reality and away from your sick games. Your reign of horror is over. Nightshade has infiltrated this place, and are bringing people back from your wrathful trance. Nemesis spat, eagerly glancing down every few moments to see if Benny was finished his session of pitiful sniveling. The Mister lifted his head back, howling with laughter. Nemesis was sickened by his lack of respect, but he didn’t expect much respect from someone who turned his best friend into a droning zombie.

This isn’t wrath. The Mister shot his response back, clicking something upon the rifles edge. I truly brought The Cull back to what it really was. Before all that hacking and tech nonsense, The Cull of Los Angeles use to be something much more than what you perceive. It use to be exactly like this, lead by a woman named Marge Kelly. After her death, some bastard thought it would be ‘Hip,’ or some shit to turn this all into an overrated clan of computer bullshit. I revived this all, and brought it back to its roots. The Mister hissed, his anger flowing.

Fine, keep your religious crap, I and Benny are leaving. He has learned that he has much more to his life than worshiping you and your repugnant Cull…Lets go, Benny. We are leaving. Nemesis had an orderly tone, a tone that couldn’t quite lift his friend up. Benny still lay there, his tears accumulating puddles, his eyes weary as ever, and his heart sunken in a pool of brokenness.

I-I am not leaving. Benny uttered. He finally got the guts to hoist his own self up on his heels, and look his ex best friend straight into the pupils. Nemesis confusingly stepped forward, soon stepping back once the Mister went back to aiming the rifle. Why wouldn’t he want to leave? After all of this he still wishes to stay in this hell hole? What has overcome him, is he ill? Or is he just plain dumb? I can’t leave…I need to stay here, my place is here beside The Mister. I’m sorry, I just can’t anymore…I give in. This place is the last shred I have of myself, the rest died with Reed. I can’t let this place fall. Nemesis stood there beside himself. Benny is truly lost, forever. There is no way to anchor him out from the sea of brainwash. Hes truly gone mad, and there is nothing he can do. He has to accept this.

F-Fine…You stay. I see there’s no bringing you back from where you have fallen. But as for me, I’m leaving. And I am taking Baron with me. Not for any longer will you people control us, not anymore will you a- Nemesis was angered, angered that he lost his best friend, angered that these people still have Baron, and most of all angered because he failed himself. The Misters voice sliced over his.

Take The Baron, I truly don’t care anymore. As long as you leave, and never come back. If you follow my rules, and have your Nightshade men stand down, you could walk out of this place a free man from my ‘terror’ as you put it. The Mister gave him a deal, a deal worth taking. He knows Benny is lost, and can not ever be found. But what about everyone else here? Shouldn’t they deserve something better than this? A leader more intelligent than Hamlet, a group more comforting than someone as lukewarm as the new Benny, a place more trusty than this underground mockery of a qualified headquarters? The luxuries of tomorrow rested upon Nemesis back, as he must worry about these people he will be leaving behind. The Mister continued to stare, cocking his head to the right side, expecting an answer. An answer has been chosen. Nemesis hardens his cheeks prudently.

"Fine. Nightshade will stand down, leave, and never bother you again. I’ll never bother you all again. Just as long as you let me and my friends walk out here free with Baron. Just as you said, got it?" He demanded, his raised hands crossing. The Mister sinfully smiling. ‘Deal,’ you could hear him whisper under his tainting breath. Nemesis stared to Hamlets right, seeing Benny there. This is it. This will be the last time he sees his friend. Well, someone who was his friend. He wanted to hug him, he wanted to handshake. But all he could do was peer at him dead into the eyes, and nod. Nemesis turned, feeling the two gape at him. He would never see Benny or The Cull again. Not in a decade, not in a lifetime.

And he did never see Benny. Things went haywire, as drama involving street crime lord The Shapeshifter, rose amok. Drama occurred and concluded, as friendships and bonds were lost. Nemesis broke contact with Baron weeks after he broke contact with Benny. Baron had burnt Nemesis’ girlfriend and unborn baby alive in a warehouse right off the L.A. port. He remembers seeing his girl and baby as ash, the wind pushing their remains solely through the crisped wood and rotted floor. Baron denied he did it, saying it was someone else. Someone Nemesis had forgotten the name of. It is ten years later. 2023. Skullcrusher has broke contact with Nightshade, he and Nemesis forming their own business. Skullcrusher would perform assassin contracts for people who wanted other people dead. Nemesis works as an illegal vehicle dealer, selling modified cars and trucks. Together, the two extravagantly ruled the city. Or so they thought. The Baron had become a rival. Hes Tried all he could to speak and plead out for years, but they never heard of him that much anymore. Nightshade become an everyday crime group you heard on the news, as did The Cull. Nemesis is happy just where he is at, Skullcrusher by his side and the world in front him.

Chapter I Part A

The infiltrating hum conducted by the offices air conditioner made the wait a tad more stiff. Waiting was something he couldn’t bear, Nemesis wasn’t the patient type. His posture was also solid, and didn’t slink. His slicked back jet black hair included an array of crimson highlights string through it, streaking back to his neck. His outfit made him look somewhat villainous, he liked it. The clocks undying tick mixed with the rooms eerie filter would make a slacking guard shudder with relentless nostalgia. He didn’t shudder, nor did he twitch or sigh. He was like this almost every day, stiff and still, sitting in his leather seat.

Finally, a voice was heard. A voice calling him, alarming him. The high toned feminine holler caused him to rise from the leather seat, his pants peeling along the quilted seats fabric. He listened once more, knowing who exactly called for him. His assistant, her office was practically wedged right next to his. He knows what this means, They are finally here. After waiting four regretful hours in this damned room they finally arrived .

From the office he walked, down a long corridor with paintings hung up on either side of the wall. He passed an acrylic painting of a man beside the sea. Oh how many times he passed this one, many different occasions. Some occurrences being out of good nature, while others not so much. Nemesis took a turn down the next hall, hastily stepping foot into the white walled waiting room. The albino ceiling lights only dilated his pupils, it was less frostier in here than his office. Karen’s thick undeniable smile greeted him.

Sir, I went ahead and postponed your meeting with the business’ manager, it is set for the following Wednesday at nine AM. His assistant spoke, her eyes on his. Karen was a tall woman, who always had her short brunette hair, painted on velvet lipstick, and it felt as if she wore the same white shirt every day. He wasn’t sure whether it was if he never payed much attention to her walking in here every morning, or she truly does only wear this shirt. Karen’s been his assistant for as long as he can remember owning this place. This place, the highest tower in all of Los Angeles. The U.S. Bank tower. He owns the 63rd floor among many other sections of it, he first owned his office where he debuted his private corporation back in 2019.

Many large business corporations have names corresponding to what they major in, that isn’t the case for this situation. This private business is more into illegal dealings involving specialized vehicles which the owner sends teams out to steal. The business has a tag name. Business # 7824. Anything Below 7824, are all crime business’ as well probably. Nemesis has been in the crime business almost his whole life. He started as a teenager, doing dirty deeds for Los Angeles’ very own gangsters down in the boondocks. But many years after, he had truly found his home when he joined a huge crime organization. Sadly, that didn’t last more than five or six years. Things went bad within the group, and Nemesis hadn’t spoken to anyone apart of that group for a long while.

Karen, also move the next resupply to next week, I want to get business done, not wrecked. Nemesis ordered. Nemesis. Many other criminals taunted him for the ridiculous nickname he has, but its not just some name thrown around for show. His name actually means something. His name is the initials of the first seven people he robbed. Nick Cannon, for N. Evan Ranch for E. Mickey Hendrix for M. Eddy Santa for E. Sarah Jacobs for S. Ian Gallows for I. And finally, the very last of the seven, Sammy Davis for S.

Very well, Boss. Karen grinned subtly, before craning her neck to the side and holding out her right hand, directing towards two individuals who both sat in the waiting chairs. Nemesis grumbled at the sight of them. A man with a head of yellowish gold, wearing a black suit with a tie as crimson as blood. Nemesis knows this man quite too well, his partner in crime. Another man sat aside him, his dark chestnut hair and leather brown suit set off a retro feeling, a feeling which made Nemesis slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the irregular feeling you would receive entering a new area or whatnot, it was a deeper kind of discomfort, one that would keep you from straying anywhere new.

Hello, Sir. The blonde man greeted. Nemesis felt like rolling his eyes at the Sir remark. He wasn’t sure if his friend was trying to look official or something in front of this man, but Nemesis found it personally to be quite pathetic for some unknown reason. They shake hands, as the dark chestnut haired man rose out of his seat as well. Nemesis stared at him once more, seeing dark bluish pools sway within his pupils. It looked like a swimming pool was locked within his eyeballs.

"Glad you two can make it, I’m even more glad that you of all could make it. Nemesis grumbled, his eyes still on the man in the brownish leather suit. Remind me, what is your name again?" He asked, tilting his head to his left side. Nemesis wasn’t good with names, and he highly doubts that he read this guys file at all. His name began with some letter, much close to the beginning of the alphabet.

Anthony. I don’t ever give out my last. Remind me, what is your name? He was out of his seat and upon his heels. Anthony, the name struck Nemesis’ thoughts like a jolt of lightning. That was his name. What a modern name, not much people in Los Angeles anymore with a regular name. You’re always running into maniacs uptown with the wackiest of names. He remembers running into a fellow yesterday near Hollywood boulevard named Clungo. Clungo, now what the hell kind of name was that? Sounds like some sort of rubbish you’d name an island for Christs sake. Nemesis would say he shared a resemblance in height to Anthony, but he sure didn’t share the annoying gap between the mans teeth.

I never give my real name out, call me Nemesis.

Aw jeez, you’re just like this guy, his names The Skullcrusher. With all these nicknames we might as well call me Porky Tutu or some stupid shit like that. Anthony chuckled, seeing neither Nemesis nor Skullcrusher release any amount of laughter let alone a chuckle. Nemesis could tell Skullcrusher rolled his eyes out of annoyance. The man then began to blush nervously and very embarrassingly. You could tell he wasn’t good with people, you could tell he wasn’t surrounded by them that much either.

No corny jokes, we are here on business. Last time I checked, you’re getting paid a pretty penny for this job, somewhere between 10,000 $ to 15,000 $. Skullcrusher reminded Anthony. Anthony immediately wiped the amusing expression off his face and his lips transitioned into a sturdy line. Cash Can wake anyone from their trance. That is what Nemesis believes. They all stood there in front of Karen’s desk, the ceiling lights releasing spotlights of glistening light down on them. Nemesis saw the light sway through everyone, he also saw the dust particles dancing through the crevices between Anthony’s leather suit. He understands the man is trying to be formal, but couldn’t he picked something out that didn’t consist of so many holes and tears?

Right, right..And even after this, if all goes well I was told I could probably stick around a bit, correct? Anthony folded his hands, both his lips simultaneously smacking together out of anticipation. Look at him, he looked like a street slob. It took Nemesis a while to find it but it was there, he looks like one of those divorced fathers that have nothing else to do with their lives other than lock themselves in their apartment and pity them self twenty four seven.

Nemesis squinted his eyes and his brows extended in thought. This guy seemed like an everyday Creighton you’d find on a bar corner, not someone that would know where possible business supplies could be. Was he perhaps just doing this for some kind of attention? Cause if he was, Nemesis couldn’t care less he’d fire a round at him on the spot no questions asked. But first he just wanted to be sure, maybe this guy actually is here on official business. He knows quite well one should never judge a book by its cover, never under any circumstances whatsoever.

If this job goes well, and we escape without any..er uh..unnecessary death on our behalf, then I suppose I could let you stick around to assist I and Skullcrusher with the business… Nemesis almost choked saying the last part. But he was truthful, if things all did go fine he wouldn’t mind having a second pair of hans roaming the tower, just as long as those hands didn’t belong to a complete moron or a thief. Now come, I think we should all have a sit down and discuss the plan, shall we? Nemesis offered, Skullcrusher looking quite convinced. Anthony continued to have the inanimate mug plastered to his face, something that just screamed unprofessional. Skullcrusher had a new look to himself it seemed. His hair wasn’t slicked back, it just was puffed out unlike every other day. He had wicked dark toned bags dangling under his eyes which indicated he didn’t receive much sleep last night. Nemesis couldn’t tell what it was, he wasn’t really focused on his friend honestly. The only thing he was focused on was these supplies.

The three all trekked to the back, where the air was less frigid, and the lighting overall was much more cozy, probably due to the fact that the right side of the room was nothing but glass. Out from that side you saw the other towers of L.A. lingering below, helicopters circling some while dead air swirled around others. Some nights Nemesis would just sit at his office desk and stare out upon the pitch black sky. The city lights swallowed up all the stars and barely visible planets you could view from afar. But Nemesis din’t care, as long as he could see the admirable moon. The circular white ball looked like a simple two dimensional drawing someone had conceived in the sky.

The three each took a seat at the long glass table, which cost a brow raising four grand. Nemesis sat at the edge, while Anthony and Skullcrusher sat on opposing sides. Surrounding them were old paintings and sculptures done by world famous artists. Nemesis’ taste was for art was overly decent, most of his life he spent drawing unprofessional sketches, attempting to be similar to the people he truly idolized. He stared off, not saying a single word for a large amount of time. Skullcrusher had to fake cough to reel him back into reality. He turned, facing the two figures who were seated all the way down the glass tables end.

So, Anthony..You understand why I had Skullcrusher come and fetch you, right? Nemesis asked, his deep voice traveling smoothly through the rebreather masks suede. Anthony uneasily scooted his chair in, so the tables end met his belly. The awkward look of redemption cast upon Anthony’s face. He sleekly used his right finger to grab his shirt collar under his leather suit, and stretch it out as sweat dribbled down his forehead. Nervousness was empirically bubbled around Anthony’s self.

Yes…I use to work for your rival crime boss, The Baron.

Correct. Nemesis replied, his hands folding. And as a former associate with The Baron, you know his stock well..You know where he stores it, his warehouses, his clubhouse, hell I bet you even know where he sleeps at night. Nemesis had a serious tone applied to his voice, one that sent a desperate silence quaking the room. The ceiling lights flickered blatantly. Skullcrusher rubbed his chin and released another cough. Finally, Anthony curled his fingers and spoke.

Well I wouldn’t go as far as knowing where he lounges at dusk, but I do know where one of his warehouses is located. It’s tag is W04, it is located in Slab city. Anthony explained, every time he spoke an unsettling vein along his forehead would bustle up and down. Skullcrusher sat there, smiling as he glanced at Nemesis. Slab city is a small town East of Los Angeles, most of it being sandy and flagged with grime. It was a disgusting little town which was more run down than the burlesque slums located in southern L.A. most of it inhabited by the essence of stewing criminal activity.

Slab city is only a three hour drive, lets be lucky it isn’t somewhere as far as Las Cruces. Skullcrusher was the type to think more positively on a situation than negatively. Positivity is a trait hes boasted for all these years, ten to be in fact. And throughout all these years, Skullcrusher would never reveal his name, at one point in the beginning Nemesis remembered hearing it but that memory is long forgotten. At the time Nemesis knew his friends name, was the time around the beginning of the Culls rebellion against Nightshade. A horrible street war.

"Only a three hour drive? Nemesis stretched the sentence noticing an annoyed grimace form upon Skullcrusher’s face. If we leave now we can make it there before six, and back probably by midnight if all goes well and we don’t die." Nemesis joked. But no one chuckled along, they just gazed at him quite gravely. He sighed, his sense of humor isn’t what it use to be. Laughing and joking use to be a hobby of his, day and night he cracked jokes. Now look at him, hes grown old. Years ago when he was in the peak of his twenties, all he did was drink booze and party. Its so hard to believe someone so full of life can wind down to someone as serious and momentous as this.

As of that time, there aren’t many guards patrolling, six is the hour of maintenance, an hour where all guards leave for dinner and the custodians take over. Bagging a few custodians should be easy. Anthony shrugged, seeing the flame in everyone’s eyes flicker remotely. Nemesis contained the most unruly flame of all, one that flickered out of place and waved horizontally. Bagging a few janitors shouldn’t be much harder than using a slingshot to kill a mouse. They just need to enter the right way and prevent from drawing any unwanted attention. Anthony sat there with his hands still curled. Nemesis didn’t want to say he hated the guy, but he sure was feeling negative waves flowing through Anthony. His cut, his eyes, his teeth, even his broad nose didn’t seem quite right. Every few moments Nemesis would even catch him staring at him oddly, as if he was out to get him. Perhaps he was and they have yet to realize it? Perhaps its all just apart of Nemesis’ crazy mind playing unearthly tricks on him.

Nemesis sat there, thinking of all the counterfeit cash they can rob, at least a Jeep load of it. A Jeep can hold around twenty bags of cash in the back, each bag would contain around two or three portions, three portions would be equal to around fifteen thousand dollars in counterfeit cash, they could probably make a revolting profit of around five hundred thousand in real time money if they sell it to the black market. The black market was always Nemesis’ go-to plan when he couldn’t quite sell his junk anywhere else. The black market has a place for anything, shoes, food, even animals they transport.

I like the idea. We could make a huge profit, and even set that bastard Baron back on his cash by five hundred grand. Nemesis spoke followed by a hidden grin under the dark tinted Rebreather mask.

When are we leaving? Skullcrusher asked.

Right now. He replied, rising from his seat, his leather gloves pressing down on the table glass leaving a circular fading mark. What did you say the name of this warehouse was? L98, something like that?

W04. Anthony repeated, lifting from his seat as well. Anthony saw the confidence swirling in Nemesis’ eyes, and the haunting outfit he wore, he looked like something straight out of a Gothic horror film, with his black quilted pants, and matching Leather top, it was clear he wore no attire suited for the weather of Los Angeles, he just didn’t care was all. The silk which loomed around his belt and paved its way through the quilts was a luxurious silk, a silk very few had in the world.

And this is located where in Slab city? Nemesis questioned.

Near a small area called Niland, its where most of the industrial buildings are located, this where W04 is. Anthony assured him, but Nemesis was poured to the brim with distrust. Its not everyday a trusty random man comes up and tells you he knows about The Barons business. Maybe this guy just wanted to get back at him for the horrible things hes been doing? Because evidently The Baron is one Bad fucker.

If you’re lying, and we walk into a trap, I’m going to use a slab of glass and slowly slice it up and down your face until there is nothing left besides your tattered skin forming a huge opening. Nemesis warned, stepping from behind the glass table, sliding his leather seat in. Skullcrusher rose from his chair, seeing a materialized expression of fear upon Anthony’s face.

I, I won’t…This is an opportunity for me to make some big money, I wouldn’t fuck it up by doing something that dumb.. Anthony stuttered, a huge ball forming within his throat. He couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t breathe, he just stood there stiffly, his skin growing pale and his vision blurring. What did he get himself into? He pledges to help out one of the most richest crime boss in all of Los Angeles, if he screws up hes done for. At least he wasn’t working for someone as wicked and vile as the Shapeshifter, someone who is far more advanced than this.

Nemesis, quit scaring the poor guy, he will do us well, I’m sure of it. Skullcrusher uttered, sliding his phone out of his pocket and setting destination coordinates. If we want to be there by six PM, like you said, we better leave now.

Very well, lets go we can take the Jeep. Nemesis began a stride from the meeting room back out to the lobby, and into the elevators down to the garage, Skullcrusher and a nervous Anthony obviously following behind. Anthony was clearly admirable of the place, every time they passed a sculpture or an ancient work on art he commented on it, saying that Baron’s place is trashy and the crevices between the floor tiles were caked with some kind of battered grease that stuck to the bottom of your shoes. You would have to use a pair of clippers to pluck out the doughy mess.

This three hour ride will be painful for the three, but it will be a pleasant one back if this mission is executed correctly. Once they leave Los Angeles they are in The Baron’s territory, he owns the Riders of grain, a ruthless Bikers club who will kill you on sight if you’re seen as a threat. Nemesis has learned so much in his life, and one of those great things hes learned was to never trust The Baron.

Chapter I Part B

The unbearable three hour ride through California’s scorching deserts has finally concluded, they’ve abruptly arrived to Slab city. They were introduced to the town with an abnormal amount of palm trees nestling near a sign which read: Welcome to California’s finest, Slab City. Anthony found the sign to be irregularly welcoming, while Skullcrusher and Nemesis found it mildly haunting. The three were in a tan Jeep, driving down a road which stretched miles. Skullcrusher couldn’t tell if they had died and this endless road was purgatory. But once they started seeing lonesome trailers at the side of the road his mind had cleared of all these nonsense ideals. Nemesis kept one hand on the wheel, every few minutes he’d check back to make sure no one was following. He couldn’t deny the fact that this was all a trick, yet he couldn’t accept it.

The group drove through town, most of it being Trailer parks and run down shops. Hell, there was a hooker on one corner hitchhiking. They rode down a thick road where the asphalts black color has been faded to a bright gray, and the little yellow line which divided the roads lanes was sucked from its color. The sinking sun clung to the dark bluish sky. For a second Nemesis felt like he was apart of a painting himself, as he took in all the ethnic beauty unfolding right in front of him. Cacti was lined up on the left and right side of the road, its prickly pins stretching out to praise the gorgeous sunlight.

Right here, pull up right here. Anthony instructed. Nemesis side eyed him cynically, but rolled his eyes and furrowed his brows as he leaned onto the brakes, twisting the steering wheel while halting the car on the side of the road. The spinning tires stopped, bristled with grains of sand and clumps of god knows what. Nothing was here. From left to right, to around and about, all you could see is the endless brush of desert and swirling clouds drifting above. The desert itself looked like a long never ending tan blanket which stretched for miles, with greenish dust bunnies resting upon top. All one could hear was the nerve wracking sound of harmless wind blowing past the Jeep.

We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, why the hell did we stop? Nemesis questioned him. Nemesis landed his eyes onto Skullcrusher, and saw him reaching for his pistol slowly. Nemesis and him met eyes. He urged his friend to speedily grab the gun and aim it at Anthony, but just before Skullcrusher could do it Anthony’s loud and annoying voice struck.

No we’re not, look. Anthony didn’t have to point. Off in the distance past hills and grooves of sand, you could see black smoke rising into the air, billowing up into the dark skies from a brick chimney. Nemesis squinted, his brows both congruently lowering out of relief. Skullcrusher wasn’t reaching for the pistol on the cars dashboard anymore. The two both knew how close they were to killing someone. There would have been hell of a lot of blood stains sprinkling the back seats.

I see, and we stopped forty yards away because of why? Nemesis and Anthony met each other in the eyes, Anthony slightly shrugging before placing his right hand on the leather passenger seat.

I Figure we’d think a plan up, it’s better then just running in there. M04 is the only warehouse without key card access, which is good for us because we could just pick any locks that stand between us and The Barons stock. Next, the custodians usually sweep through the building from the North side to the south, we could probably park the Jeep right outside a loading dock, while one man pick locks our way in, and the other has a rifle ready. Anthony explained, his hands annotating as he spoke.

There’s a rifle in the back..What happens if shit doesn’t go according to plan? Skullcrusher asks. Anthony licked his lips, before opening his mouth once more. His gums looked red, while his two rows of teeth on the top and bottom both glistened a distasteful yellow tint. Nemesis gagged, knowing even though he wore a rebreather he brushed and flossed his teeth every morning no matter the circumstances.

Things will go according to plan, there’s no armed guards in there just old janitors with nothing better to do than clean, we got this…We should just hurry though. It’s 6:32 PM, the guards return for the late shift at 6:45 PM. We have T-minus thirteen minutes. If we want to get this done, we better hurry. Anthony sat back in his seat, crossing his arms, a defiant smirk crossing his face, a smirk that just screamed Pettiness. Nemesis glanced back farther past Anthony, noticing a burlap sack snugged between the trunk and backseat. There had to be at least a few firearms in there if not then melee weapons could come into usage.

Nemesis lowered his eyelids and gazed at Skullcrusher, who nodded. We better get a move on then Nemesis distressed, before slamming his right foot on the gas pedal. The Jeep’s wheels spun swiftly, kicking up clouds of sand as the automobile made its way onto the smoother area of grain. It was bumpy, but everyone each held onto a part of the interior sternly. They finally pulled up after minutes of driving over the rough terrain, the entire outer interior of the Jeep coated in a thick strand. Skullcrusher exited the passenger seat stretching his arms. The three hour drive caused his bones to feel somewhat loose like jello. He turned and strode to the back where the trunk propped open and he grabbed some weapons. Nemesis ordered Anthony to pick lock the garage door, and he did. He pulled a simple paperclip out of his back pocket and went to unlocking.

Nemesis spun the Jeep around so its rear was pressed against the loading dock. He kept his foot close to the gas pedal in case of last minute emergencies. Skullcrusher loaded the rifle up, the clicking sound of the firearm echoing between the silence of Nemesis’ heartbeats. Clink! The loading dock doors are unlocked. Anthony raised them, Nemesis saw from the front seat of the vehicle nothing back there but a shadowy abyss. There were no lights on in there, why would the custodians be cleaning in the dark? An edgy feeling soon overcame him. He wasn’t dying today, not just because some punk led him to his doom.

Anthony went in. Skullcrusher aimed the rifle at the entryway while Nemesis continued to just stare, right before he and his friend exchanged a few worried glances and sappy expressions. Finally, a rambled mixture of voices were heard, as gunshots fired. Skullcrusher raised the rifle, as Nemesis grabbed the pistol off the dashboard and aimed it back. Nothing more than silence after that.