A Rap of Blood and Smoke: Hip-Hop Feng Shui

By Allen W. W. Agard

Welcome to the wondrous yet sinister land of KlaTei! An immense continent full of whimsical entities, their advancements, and the people who govern them. One of those vast institutes would be the far-reaching and ever-omnipresent criminal underworld of Auvadeth. An ever-flourishing web of illegal rackets and robbery peppered with double-dealing machinations that often have murderous outcomes. An organized crime ring long maintained by a wicked wizard and his five underlying bosses strewn throughout the land. Join Lance in recanting the tale from the very beginning. His tale of Casaniel Donavon, the boss of the most powerful and influential family, the Meknisto Dynasty of Phoydan City. The man who irrevocably changed his life forever. A narcissistic, spoiled trust fund baby with raging psychotic quirks, Lance gets entangled with Casey, not knowing the dangers that come with the veiled monster. He's certainly in for more than he bargained for, but is Casey truly a monster? And can he learn to love once more? Meanwhile, Aghanim Luproteza, boss of Nessex City, whom Casey has named false brethren, continuously strives to divide the criminal enterprise that entwines the Sister Cities for good and all. Little does he realize his own naivety has made him a thrall to his own vicious underboss who'd seek to undo everything the Sister Cities have strived to achieve. Recorded within are testimonies from those who suffered and triumphed during perilous battles and tragic happenstance. This is A Rap of Blood and Smoke.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643509143

Book preview

Chapter 1

Time for School (Lance)

Honestly, I’ll never fathom why I ever talked myself into subscribing to this confounded station. Ineffective offal. Only functions half the time in the valleys. I’ll be there by the time I finish my black, then we can go get some decent brunch or perhaps only break our fast? You decide that one, dearie. Hope you are cognizant by the time I get there. See you in a bit. Oh … by the way, if you’re not conscious by the time I’ve made my presence known, then I’m going to let Jack-o’-Lantern wake you up, dearie. I heard the message on Casey’s phone next to the bed, but it was too early for my mind to process words. He had been conked out, snoring hard. By then, I had been up for a little over an hour, watching him sleep. I kept playing with the ornate style of his hair. I gently put my arm around him again, careful not to wake him. He looked so perfect, even in sleep. I couldn’t help but play with his unique hair … until I heard the faint groan of those beastly wood and iron doors as they opened. Then came a curious voice as someone announced themselves.

I couldn’t hear them very good at first. The voice was faint, but the gradually rising sound of their clicking footsteps got louder as they came closer to the master bedroom. I heard something else I had vaguely heard the night before as well, the insane yapping of a gourd. The punkin gourd bounced right in barking at me, then jumped all over Casey, licking him, barking nonstop. I sat up and covered my peanut with a pillow, the canopy had still been retracted from the previous night’s activities. Then I saw the most peculiar being in the doorway, a Xaphor. Xaphors are interesting beings that boast some of the highest IQ rates in the world.

For the most part, no two Xaphors are alike. For instance, I have a mate who’s a Xaphor with rouge skin and large orange eyes. His limbs are gangly, and he’s super tall. Each one is born different with their own unique attributes, such as oversize hands, or maybe a bright-green epidermis. I’d once seen one at the mall with a neck that seemed to stretch on and on. Those are just examples, and one could compare them to cartoons that come alive. Although they hate that comparison and consider it highly derogatory and racist. Calling them walking puppets is far worse though.

This Xaphor was tall, a bit taller than Casey, and extremely slender with gangly limbs and claw-like hands. He sported a beautiful purple cream-colored double-breasted suit. He strutted in wielding a black cane topped with an ivory handle carved in the likeness of a hideous grin. What struck me the most was his long slender neck that ended in a huge smile. Nothing else, just a smile, with gigantic lips and curls at the ends of those lips. Slick and deep purple had been his skin. He was quite a sight to behold as he sat down in an antiquated chair padded with red felt. So allow me to venture a guess. You’re the conquest from last night, am I safe in assuming, young one? A tone as cold as his stance frosted the question.

What is it to you? I fired back a little, taken by his previous statement.

I meant no harm, dearie. I’m only inquiring. You see, Mr. Donavon is my longtime friend since we were about three years of age. He had a certain air to him as he announced his name waving his left hand cordially, I go by the title of Lips DeCraise.

Well, I’m Lance, Lance Bocciato. I’m from north Phoydan, I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

After making our introductions, Lips continued with his droll wit, This feisty fella here be Casey’s gourd, Jack-o’-Lantern. He’s fine. I don’t believe he’ll masticate or maul any part of your being. Just no sudden movements. Lips made a quick snatching motion at Jack-o’-Lantern, and boy did that sucker begin a barking fit that rattled the room. Casey covered his head with a pillow, screaming at Jack-o’-Lantern to shut the fuck up.

Who the fuck let him in! Fuckin’ shit, it’s too early! Casey screamed into his pillow.

I did, dearie. He missed his papa and wanted to see you, Lips said, pursing his lips, making baby noises toward Jack-o’-Lantern. Didn’t you? Yes, you wanted to see your dada!

Casey threw what blankets he had covering himself off and whipped a pillow at Lips screaming at the gourd, Leave me alone!

Lips caught the pillow in his claws and waved his finger at Casey. When oh when did you start teaching schoolboys sex education? Out of your own home no less. Scandalous. Lips seemed to address this with a somewhat condescending tone, You cannot tell me he’s legal, dearie.

Casey smirked as he looked me up and down. By now, he was full frontal naked in front of everyone but didn’t give a fig. If he can manufacture the fun stuff, he’s old enough.

Lips leaned in, resting his grin upon his ivory cane handle and recited a fake mantra that he said Casey lived by. Yes, you know Casey. How does your mantra go: old enough to pee, then old enough for me?

After a bit of banter, Casey got up and took off for the shower. I had been left in the company of a Xaphor and a punkin. All Lips did was turn the telly on to see the Mad Magistrate blathering about something on the morning show with Grael and Drevon. He may have been the Supreme Magistrate of KlaTei, but the fucker was creepier than an exhumed corpse. Casey’s hollering pulled me away from the horrifying entity on the telly. Lance, get your ass in here! I need a morning capper, and you need to scrub your ass! I still hurt like veil from the previous night, but I wasn’t about to deny his request—no, not his request, his demand.

The bedroom’s water closet was an opulent exercise in excess just like the rest of the palatial chateau. Cream marble ran all about, flecked with queer plant life and crystalline stones. A long winding falsetto waterfall twisted like a corkscrew along the high walls, ending in a deer scare, tightly hugged in orchid-covered vines, sitting in a shallow basin of glimmering water topped off with lotus blossoms. A rather poetic setting for a virginal lad to give his first hummer in. I bobbed and gagged on Casey’s manhood while eight gold showerheads rained steaming hot water from above. It went much quicker this time around as Casey had a guest waiting for him, and I needed to make it to school. Ultimately, though, I found I had a problem after our shower.

Uh … Casey, my shirt and sweater got torched last night, plus you literally ripped my pants and boxers off, I said as I stood there, wrapped in nothing but a towel. All I have to wear is a pair of socks and shoes.

Being already mostly dressed in a chic espresso Erothian leather three-piece suit, Casey replied, Well, it’ll take me some time to fix my hair and makeup, kiddo. Look through my clothes and see if any regalia strikes your fancy.

Stupid me. Huh?

Fuck, find something to wear.

After he said that, he pointed to the right where an insanely huge walk-in closet gaped open from the wall like an obscene mouth. It was an extraordinary room in and of itself with mirrors and lights all about. Just remember, whatever you pick out is worth more than your kidneys on the black market. Casey had various tools and product all around while he fixed his hair and makeup in the WC. All my clothes are insanely expensive. I suppose it’s the least I can do considering—again he licked his top lip—you have no garments due to reasons of my carnal designs. Casey continued to get ready for the day while Lips got the daily weather report. By this time, I was worried. First off, I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere last night, but I snuck out of the house while my parents slept. I purposely left my cell behind so they wouldn’t be able to track me down, and if I knew my mother, it would’ve been the first thing she found. Furthermore, they (A) didn’t know I was into dudes and (B) could not find out I got my cherry popped by a man twelve years my senior. Did I regret it though? Never. I eventually found a deep crimson short-sleeved button shirt and matching slacks. The outfit was sleek and elegant and close enough to my size. My tennis shoes, however, had been a glaring omission to the rest of the ensemble.

You have product? I just want to put some gel in my hair or something.

Here. It’s called hibiscus wax. I get it from a cosmetologist in downtown Phoydan. It smells as though the Maker Vanarea herself would have spread it upon her fabled locks of jade.

After gently giving me the mussed look, all three of us took off for downtown Phoydan. At first, I thought they were taking me to Tolly, until I noticed Casey passed the ramp for it. I have to be at school in five minutes, guys.

So what if you’re a little late? It won’t be the end of the world, Casey said, tinkering with the radio. You’ll eat brunch, breakfast, whatever the fuck. Makers damned, Lips. It’s not time for brunch, I swear you’re fuckin’ with me. Anywho we’re taking you to get num-nums, then you can go fill your head with all sorts of knowledge … you’ll never use in your fucking life.

I was a little hurt because at first I thought he was calling me dumb, but then he continued, Smarts you learn on your own. What they teach you in those fucking schools though, garbage. Motherfuckin’ garbage. Don’t ever forget that. I just shook my head in agreement as we pulled up to a nice little dinner with aquamarine terraces. I got a breakfast sandwich. Hickory sausage soaked in syrup with a side of rivel juice. Casey and Lips only sipped on their fancy coffee drinks. Why call it a meal if you’re just going to drink that mess? Now this that I have, this is good, I said, taking a big gulp as I licked my sticky fingers.

Well, kiddo, if I ate that shit, I wouldn’t have this body that tackled you last night. For now, you can get away with it, but in five or four years, you won’t be able to. Casey, let me know, and of course, he couldn’t help himself. Just last night, I was licking my fingers like that as they also had a hot sticky mess all over them. I rolled my eyes. As for my food, I was a growing teenager; that was my scapegoat. Weird that the pretentious Xaphor called it brunch. It hadn’t even been past nine in the morn.

Casey looked at his watch all dapper in his suit and overcoat. Not only was he dashing, but he was still beyond beautiful even in clothing, all imposing and majestic in shiny scaled espresso leather. A similar choker adorned his neck, with matching gloves upon his hands, minus fingertips. His right wrist had been wrapped in a blue gold watch glinting in the morning light.

I reckon we should get the tyke to daycare before the parents take note of his absence. Lips quipped.

Casey smiled and added, I’ve done enough babysitting for one night. What do you suppose I should charge your parents for watching you?

Just tell them you want my ass for payment. Up front, preferably.

Once we were done, I piled in with Casey while Lips said something in passing about having to head to his firm. I did figure out that Lips was a lawyer from the word firm. Then it hit me, his name was DeCraise. Of course, his legal firm, Mouths of DeCraise. It was common knowledge that if anyone ever needed to get off the hook for anything, then Mouths of DeCraise is where you’d head. He’d had very high-profile cases in the news. The triplets of Bell Mountain that slain their parents and ate them got off with an insanity plea courtesy his tactics. Marquis le Frois murdered his son by running him over repeatedly. That was a funny one. Lips argued that the engine was faulty, and the cameras that caught the so-called crime were out-of-date models that weren’t in compliance with surveillance codes for the city. The Marquis was acquitted. My favorite, though, was Madam Debaucharee, a horny old woman who made her grandson fuck her in return for the safety of his mother. Fucking Debaucharee’s own daughter! Beyond revolting! Bitch only got a slap on the hand. Lips argued that Debaucharee was given a combination of meds by her doctor that led to a chemical imbalance in her brain. This chemical imbalance made her commit that grotesque atrocity. Not only did she get off lightly, but she sued her doctor for malpractice and her daughter and grandson for emotional distress. She won on both counts! All thanks to Lips. A grotesque contrast of an individual for a man as beautiful as Casey.

What a friend. I remember thinking, I’d rather be around the Glocken. So after finally arriving at the front doors of Tolly High, Casey and I exchanged a few words. When can I see you again?

Let me think … that’s right, I have to go to Nonemei for a few months. I have my body detoxified ever so often. I won’t be on the gay circuit scene for a while. Sorry, kiddo, Casey told me with a serious look in his face, and in my naivety, I believed him. I was devastated and heartbroken. Even though I didn’t tell him, something told me I didn’t have to. I just shook my head in agreement, and as I began to step out of his vehicle, he gave me some parting words, I have … well, things, Lance. And … well … you’re young, dumb, and full of cum. You’ll find someone more age appropriate since I won’t be around for a while. I didn’t care what he said though. I gave him my cell number even though he was reluctant to take it. Having grabbed my collar, he then pulled me close. I closed my eyes, prepared for our lips to lock in sight of everyone, only they didn’t. Casey slapped me in the forehead with his other hand and burst out laughing.

Fucker. You think that’s funny? I said, smiling.

Case finally quit laughing. Quiet. What? You don’t?

He winked at me, spun out, and then … he was gone. My friend Trish, a gorgeous Hanoe with shoulder-length platinum hair, gold skin, and silver eyes, came running over to me as though I had just been released from kidnappers. Where in the veil have you been? She threw her arms around me, slightly tearing up. Your mother has been calling nonstop, wanting to know if I’d heard from you! And your father said he was going to put out a missing person by two this noon after if you didn’t turn up somewhere! Then Trish cracked me in the head, surprisingly hard too. Where the fuck have you been? I’m your best friend, and you can’t tell me!

I’m sorry, okay? I said, rubbing my temple. I was out last night in the Velvet Lights. You know, the gay district.

Then Trish surprisingly told me, Oh … not the answer I was expecting but … Her face kind of dropped, then she got angry again. You still could have told me ass!

All right, all right, I’ll tell you in full detail. Did you see that beautiful specimen of a man that dropped me off? I asked her.

Trish peeked behind me, but Casey was long gone. Yeah. I briefly saw him. Not that good though. So what? Is he your boyfriend?

I looked back and wondered how to answer that question until I finally said, Yeah, I guess you could say that. We made love all night and held each other afterward. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. Then my heart sank as I didn’t know what to say after that. I knew full well we weren’t boyfriends. He was sweet and gentle. Perhaps the most loving, charismatic man I’ve ever met. Till we meet again … Casey Donavon.

Chapter 2

Milkshakes and University (Eike)

Yeah, so like this has been real fuckin’ easy for me. My head hurt, and I was a stressed mess. All the captains love you. To them, I’m just another snot-nosed punk! I actually thought I was doing some form of something you’d approve of. I let my loving cousin know as he was busting my chops for torching garbage trucks in Nessex. All because of that synth piece of trash Victitious, who by the way had no loyalties to anyone other than the supposed usurped boss of Phoydan, Aghanim Luproteza. Usurped my ass! Aghanim is a pimp! A piece of work. Why do you worry about what that punk’ll do? He’s not going to do anything. Besides, you have Guillotine and the loyalty of the captains that matter. My words fell on deaf ears as my cousin ripped me as he perpetually did when something like this happened … Maybe it was my stupidity.

You’re a fucking idiot and a twat to boot! Do you know that? I’m trying to keep civilities intact, Casey said, with Nessex and therefore Aghanim, as I always have, dumb shit! Why is it I have to worry every motherfuckin’ time you’re out and about with your own synth idiot? What’s his name, Turbo Box? What a stupid fuckin’ name! Case scolded me as he paced in his derelict office stuffed to the brim with papers never touched, coated in fine layers of dust and grime. It was a terribly dank office hardly ever used. A front for my cousin’s operations, something made to look legitimate, a payday loan office. That bitching had only been the tip of the iceberg.

Now, in all likelihood, I’m going to have to do something nice for Aghanim, no thanks to you! You listen to me, you little shit. If you think you’re getting out of this, you’ve got another thing coming. Then I saw him smile and sit on the edge of his long metallic desk. I knew he was about to say something upsetting, So here’s what’s going to happen. Later on today, you and Turbo are going to come with me, and we’re going to head to Nessex. Then you know what? He leaned in my direction and said, Then you two are going to pay Aghanim restitution, out of your own pockets, and give him and Victitious your sincerest apologies.

I angrily shot out of the roll chair I’d been sitting in. Ah, fuck, Casey! I said, heated and frustrated, pacing back and forth as bestirred specs of dust furiously danced in the glaring sunlight tickling my sinuses. I was in no mood for Casey’s rhetoric of tired bullshit, but I knew there was nothing for it. If you really want to cut my balls off, I’ll pull ’em out, then you can just chop ’em right here. I pointed to the metallic gray desk smothered in packets of paper, stationery, and various assorted office crap.

What can I say? Lesson learned the hard way. Casey smirked. This all came from a right shit in Nessex; a drug dealing pimp who controlled the Construction Guilds. A synth named Victitious Alerron, with a double whammy being he was also acting underboss to Aghanim. I hated the fuck and his boss for that matter—the venerable Aghanim Luproteza. Yeah, right! I had guys that were kicking up to me and in turn Casey that had been dealing in Nessex. This all came to fruition when Casey struck a deal with Aghanim that past winter, having to do with some new narcotic called mist. Everything began good enough, but eventually, that fucking synth stuck his beak in and began collecting from my guys. Well, the garbage routes were prime for running drugs, so when the second week came and there was no money for little thug Eike, I decided to handle it my own way. I never went to Casey over the matter though. Fuck that! I dealt with that situation myself. I grabbed my synth friend Turbo Box along with five other guys and decided to run a little operation of our own. We jokingly called it burning trash.

All that consisted of was driving to Nessex and torching about five major trucks on Luproteza routes. I only wanted to do one, but Turbo Box talked me into doing more to send a real message. He was right. Shit, after all, it was my cousin that had the larger city and routes. I’ll never fucking figure out why he took up on behalf of that creep Aghanim. It was nothing but bad blood, plain and simple. Oh well, I just shut my mouth and took my medicine.

Casey gently took my hands and kissed them. You know I love you, Eike. I mean, you’re my younger brother. His fierce blue eyes had been transfixed on mine as he finished, If you ever gave those across the river a reason to kill you, it would drag us all to a dark place. Don’t ever bring us to that. My cuz Case put my hands down and gave me a pat on the back. After kissing me on the head, he continued, I would die for you … I hope you know that. Now let’s head to the mall and get one of those famous frosty shakes. I need something thick and creamy down my throat.

I repugnantly replied, Gross, man … come on now! We were having a touching moment, and you gotta say that shit. I stuck my tongue out, shaking my head. The Shadow Veil would engulf KlaTei before I’d ever have another guy’s dick in my mouth. Snatch now that’s where it’s at. You’re missin’ out, man. I’m tellin’ ya.

I was talking about a milkshake, ya fuck. I don’t know what you were thinking. Plus fuck you and your snatch, Casey said with an innocent glance suggestive of no double entendre.

That’s what I usually do, fuck my snatch!

I guess I didn’t know you had a snatch down there that needed fucking?

Come on now! You know what I mean, smart-ass.

Compared to that growth on top of your shoulders. Casey grabbed both sides of my head as he said, "My ass is pretty smart."

After locking up the office, we strolled to my baby—a 45Q double engine Shrelada, indigo-blue top-of-the-line model. It was great cruising around in that sleek streamlined beast of a convertible souped up with a photon particle accelerator. My new bitch had not been cheap, but she was worth every bell I dropped on her. It doubled up as a massive pussy magnet. On average, I got laid perhaps five days a week, a different chick every time and one for each work day. No shit. Plus, I ain’t bad-looking either. I’m a Zavala after all, which is what Casey’s name would’ve been had his mother been his father instead of the way things were. The only bother was I had been pale-skinned, not bronze like my cuz. No matter how hard I tried to tan, my skin just burned. Well, that’s where the vehicle came in. After firing up the engine with Casey in the passenger’s seat, I began to brag about my metallicized hair, which by the way only one out of ten people can successfully have done. My beautiful hair waved silvery, changing colors in the light. Flowing upon the wind like a rainbow made liquid. I was proud of it, and the ladies dug it too. I even maintained my pubes as metallicized, which drove them crazy. Listen to that engine purr like a gourd. I kid you not, Casey. My pussy to day radio is finally even because of this baby. My baby, I meant. The hair, the car, it all screams, ‘Fuck me!’

Casey gave me a rather peculiar look. You mean ratio?

No, radio. When you compare something to something else, you say radio … like the stations are equal or different, right?

By Destry, some days I think my sweet aunt took the wrong baby from the nursery. Anywho, I could think of twenty other things you could’ve done with the money you spent on this fucking thing other than … well, bought this piece of glorified shit.

I was pissed at what Casey had said. Oh, listen to this guy. I jammed my radio loud. Coming from the man who cruises around and shows off that gaudy armored tank you call a fuck mobile?

You want me to pull that nice metallicized hair out or what?

I’m just saying. I could tell Case didn’t like what I had said. He let out a deep sigh and gave me the look … oh well. I’m not sorry for what I said by the who. Truth hurts, yeah?

You know every word that comes out of that shithole on your face only hikes up your restitution.

Yep, he had to go there. Why don’t we go pick up Turbo Box? I knew I was setting myself up for a slapping here. You like threesomes, no?

Keep it up.

I decided it was best to shut my face; we had arrived anyway. We went in as casually as any other bum would. The mall was big, cool, and always smelled of fresh foliage and wood chips. I liked it a lot. I took my little bro Danny there often. Danny was my mom’s baby and meant the world to me. Sure, he walked around acting tough like he had something to prove to the world. What fifteen-year-old male didn’t?

I like bringing Danny here. We sat in a cool food court as a sparkling metriax came to take our order. Metriaxes were civil entities with hard crystalline carapaces for skin. Tough and with life spans far longer than my own, these walking gemstones varied in hue. The beaut who waited on us that noon after was pink, sparkly, and sweet. Don’t know if I could’ve fucked her though. Never been curious enough to explore one of those pussies.

Two vanilla frosty shakes, Casey gave the order. Both thick, please.

I like to take Danny clothes shopping. I told him when he turns seventeen, I’ll buy him a vehicle. Once more, I got the look. So I braced myself for another lecture.

Casey took a deep inhale and began, You could have taken the money for that top-of-the-line vehicle and set Danny up with a university fund. The look in his eyes said nothing of mild conversation but rather shame. I know your mother has one for him, but she struggles the way it is. We talked about this, Eike. Danny needs to go to school for something.

I know, but—

"Don’t even give me that I know bullshit! He’s a bright young kid. Yeah, he’s tough, there’s no denying that. However— Casey was cut off by the metriax who brought us our shakes. After we each took a long smooth sip, he began in a calmer tone this time. I do not want him involved in certain activities. It’s vicious and doesn’t spare the innocent. I immediately knew what he was talking about. Casey brushed my hair out of my face with his hand. If anything were to befall Danny, it would kill your mother. So figure out what he wants to do after he graduates and get him interested in university. Case took another long slurp. It doesn’t matter where he wants to go … Casey leaned in and continued, Or what he wants to study. He’ll get in."

Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do if he ends up like me? You wanted the same for me, remember?

I do.

So what happens if he tails me around like I did you? Would he turn into what I am to you? I was irritated. I didn’t want Danny involved in this thing either.

We’ll cross that bridge if it comes to it. Danny has a common-sense level that far surpasses yours, so I’m not to terribly distraught. Finally done talking, we got up and decided to take a little stroll in the mall, and wouldn’t ya fuckin’ know it!

Case … Case … I nudged him. Isn’t that … Quakerz? Casey immediately smiled and said looking into Vaneys department store, Quakerz, Quakerz deserves a good smackers. What you say we run down some vermin? So I entered Vaneys and slowly began to walk in Quakerz’s direction. He saw me, opened his beak, and screamed.

The thing with this cocksucker was he had been nothing more than a degenerate fuckin’ gambler who played as investor to high clientele in KlaTei. Everyone from Baroness Vistra to Duke St. Luke. Well, the dirty fuck had been funneling money from his clients for years pocketing their penca into his own personal accounts to keep up his lavish lifestyles and countless debts. Monty knew what he was about and despised him. Monty never let any of his clients with Crystal Sky Inc. get involved with that scumbag. He had been banned from the Lave for going on five years now. Quakerz was a pathetic excuse for a Xaphor or any form of life for that matter. Then the fuck had the gall to take up legal arms against Monty. He attempted to sue him for being prejudice under the guise of unlawful restriction from the Lave. The head attorney who took Quakerz’s case up and vanished, never to be seen again. Convenient.

A few years back, after Monty got the contact info for all of Quakerz’s clients, he advised them to have their assets analyzed by other specialists. Monty, being the wise old wizard that he was, persuaded them to do just that. In less than a window of a month, Quakerz lost 95 percent of his clientele. It was a short while after that NERVA got involved since embezzling and money laundering played large parts. Long story short, Quakerz was ruined. Entrenched in legal fees, awaiting investigations, court dates, with all his assets froze, he had nothing. Still didn’t stop the dumb shit from being a degenerate gambler who happened to be in debt 250,000 penca to Casaniel Donavon. Upon seeing my pretty mug, Quakerz belted out a scream and ran as fast as his little legs could take him, throwing his bags at me in the process. That was fine; I pitched my shake at his head, which didn’t faze him. It only dirtied his shiny head and finely pressed suit.

After the fuck emerged from the department store, I was way behind, but he ran headlong into Casey. Hey, guy, what’s up? I just gotta talk to you about something is all. Did Eike scare you? Casey stood up from the edge of a potted palm he had been seated on. Don’t worry about him. Hey, you wanna grab a milkshake? They’re quite good here. No use talking though. Quakerz made a run for the main doors, and Casey screamed, darting after him. You cocksucker! I’m gonna knock your beak in! Casey was fast, fast as any athlete around. He kept himself in pristine shape and had the strength of a Buffalo-Bell-Bee monster to boot. Strength was needed for Case’s occupation—strength and stamina. Contrary to popular belief, it hadn’t just been for all the fucking he was doing every night either. So there I was bolting out of Vaneys as fast as I could. Sure, I ran into a couple of bystanders gawking around at the department stores like they’d never seen a mall. They wouldn’t know what it’s like to live a life worth living. They’d rather spend the piss money they make on dumb shit they don’t need. The consumer life? Fuck that. Not for this metallicized boy!

Casey was long gone far ahead of me. Dodging people, even jumping over trash cans, benches, and other various assorted objects. I had a general idea of where he was. He had been screaming profanities all throughout the high structure. With his voice reverberating throughout the many halls, Casey was none too happy. For being short and fat, Quakerz was keeping well ahead, but Casey knew where he was in the mall and decided to cut him off. The stout Xaphor had been scrambling, so panicked, all he could think of was to make it to the doors regardless of what was in his way. A few people lay on the slick floor of the mall with items flung around. Fat little shit was just shoving whoever was in his way to the floor. Just as Quakerz was to come to a balcony with an escalator, Casey came sliding on freshly waxed tile from the right. A jutting faux tree had been his cover while his long legs locked and caught the short turd unaware. Then that was it.

Quakerz tripped right over Casey’s legs and flew about six meters right over the edge of the balcony. The sorry bastard went crashing down into a thick glass table where a couple of ladies had been enjoying a box of chips. The two women screamed as Casey jumped to his feet and slid ass-first down the escalator railing. Broken glass had been everywhere, and Quakerz was cut up pretty bad, crying in pain. Please call the ambulance. I broke my back. I know it. I can’t move. I can’t move!

Oh shit, I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there. Casey jogged over with a false look of concern on his face. Your back is broke? Then Casey lifted his foot and sent the thick polished steel heel of his designer boot crashing down right into Quakerz’s right knee. Quakerz squealed in pain. All anyone did was look on, too afraid to do anything. You fuck. Where’s my fuckin’ money! Where’s my fuckin’ money! As Case screamed, the heel came down once more to find the squishy consistency of his gut. The vicious blow drove all the air right out of his gullet as his eyes turned red and glazed over. Look at that, you fat fuck! Your back isn’t broken after all. Your central nervous system is lighting up with pain, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Just then, my cuz drove the steel tip of his boot into Quakerz’s ribs, making him expel any air left in his chest. It was about then I’d finally caught up with them.

Get your ass down here, dammit! I have to do everything myself! Yet again, lovingly being screamed at. I ran down the escalator, which he promptly chastised me for because I didn’t slide down it like his pretty little ass did. Get over here now! Break his fuckin’ arm!

Then two worthless rent-a-cops showed their fat mugs. What the veil is going on here? the first one asked, a male human who looked drab as fuck.

All right, boys, put your hands up! the second one demanded, a very obese Xaphor with segmented eyes.

I slowly walked up to the human who had his Taser drawn. Then with a dash and a crack, he was unconscious. One of many fine traits I learned from Casey, headbutting. The Xaphor stood frozen. A large razor shard of glass found itself in my palm and upon those goofy fucking eyes. As I grabbed those stalks, I said through clenched teeth, Go back to your fuckin’ doughnuts. He hit the tiled floor with a well-placed shove from yours truly.

After that shit was handled, business beckoned. I dropped the glass and traded it for a thick heavy poker from one of the decorative fireplaces in the foyer. The fireplace was fake, glowing with dim lights flickering upward from a plastic mold meant to resemble a burning woodpile. The poker, however, was not plastic, so I decided to put it to the one good use it would more than likely ever get. I began to beat Quakerz mercilessly on his left side more than likely, not only breaking his arm but shattering it. You fat stupid fuck! You like to fuck with other people’s money, huh! Then Casey decided it had been enough.

My cuz knelt down beside the pathetic creature with the slightest of gestures. You listen to me, and you listen good. Quakerz was shattered and crying. I’m sure he’d been pissed beyond all comprehension that all anyone did was watch as if it were a theater skit. Now before you cry and wail like a woman in mourning, wondering how you’re going to go about paying me, you and I are going to have a little lunch in about two days. Being the shrewd, sarcastic asshole he had the tendency to let himself transform into, Casey continued, Sure you’ll be in cziptal, but hey, Monty, Chains, and myself will come and visit you. I’ll even bring you flowers and hold your bedpan. Just once though, any more will cost you higher principal. Then he leaned in and whispered something deadly serious, If you try to skip town or fuck me over in any way, shape, or form, then you have my personal guarantee the last thing you’ll ever see will be Guillotine’s Nightmare. Quakerz defecated on himself upon the mention of Guillotine. My poor senses picked this up through scent. Fucking gross but well understood.

We began to walk away when Casey said, That reminds me, I forgot to get whatever it is he might have in his wallet out of said wallet. After turning to me, Casey poked me in the chest hard. Make your ass useful and grab it. I darted back over to Quakerz, who was lying in his own blood and filth. The Xaphor let out a sharp scream as I flipped him over to get to his wallet. It was nice Erothian leather, so I took the fucker. Here, Case, a little over a thousand, but I want to keep the wallet.

Go ahead, Casey said, thumbing through the penca as we headed out. Probably smells of shit anyway.

Chapter 3

Title 87 (Chains)

Another title 87 meant another jackpot. Most of it chump change by my account but still penca nonetheless. The hustle never ended when it came to my specialty. I swear to the Makers above some days all I ever saw were numbers swimming before my eyes. I’d been a part of the family for many long years as adviser, number cruncher, and father figure. Father, yes, above all else, I was a family man when it came down to brass tacks. I had sixteen children and thirty-three grandchildren and one great grandson. I’d lived long for a human but had no intention of departing the world anytime soon. I’d seen much during my time in this thing of ours, much indeed. It’s amazing at the age of eighty-two I still felt as alive as I did forty years ago. My kids were everything to me after all. Evelyn, dear Evelyn. My eleventh child was my personal secretary at my ship. My massive ship, indeed—Silver Cloud Casino and Resort. The largest gaming establishment in Amresia. If only we got half the business my dear brother Monty did with the only child he’d ever sire, the Zam Lave. Even so, the amount of revenue pulled in was monumental by far, and no matter what state the economy had been in, one truth stood the test of time; gaming was recession proof.

My sweet Evelyn, who had yet to marry or court a man at the age of thirty-two, brought me my favorite sandwich from our awesome food and beverage department. Here you go, Daddy. She gingerly set it on my large desk of ebony wood, carefully opening the black indigo tinged box. It’s that new Monte Cristo that’s on the menu. Just be careful not to down too many of these. They’ll clog your heart.

Yes, my dear. As I reassured her that I would have a salad later on, she gave me a peck on the cheek, then went back to her desk right outside my office. Two of my wonderful children worked in my establishment. Even though it was in the guidelines that an employee in a managerial position was not to have children as subordinates, well, that applied to them, not the acting general manager. I could not complain about things, however, because tidings had been good. This thing had been very prosperous under the tenure of Casaniel Donavon. Casaniel, where do I begin with him? He was a sweet kid, there was no denying that. Smart, insanely smart who knew how to effectively maximize profits, because in the end, we’re here to put food on the table for our families. For about six years, the kid had been our boss under interesting circumstances to say the least. Sure, there had been attributes to him I could leave, such as the gay thing and the potty mouth, but what’s that in this day and age? At least he had the decency to keep his mouth clean around me. Sweet kid. He had always been respectful around me. By choice naturally … unless he was in one of his famous rages. Not once did I ever have to reiterate I didn’t like swearing; Aidar did enough of that for him around me. Not that I had ever complained to the lupin about his language. Aidar was enough to deal with without giving him a reason to be even more off putting than usual.

It was just another day sifting out various assorted documents from accounting, human resources, and all the other lovely departments that kept wind in my ship’s mast. Nothing but headaches, necessary headaches though. All paperwork had to be in accordance with laws set forth by the government. A good thing they never looked to close. With NERVA always sniffing around, it had become increasingly difficult for me to falsify documentation into something legitimate. I remember that Monte Cristo being sweet and salty in one shot. They never got old. That was the day I had rid Silver Cloud of an abscess most irritating. Our assistant cashier manager, Michael Shurwood Jr. An egregious complaint written about my son’s work habits had been penned by his less than admirable hand. Tacky little fruit really. He’d tested my patience for the final time.

I buzzed Dorian from human resources. Could you shuffle loose Mr. Shurwood’s employment with this establishment? It would be deeply appreciated.

Sir Maceil, all due respect, you know he’s high strung and complains about everything, right? He is efficient in that department, plus his boss may be hard-pressed to sign off on the termination.

I can easily name nine other people who could do that job just as good if not better. I was thumbing through my phone with carefully placed code names. See it done, sir. I would greatly appreciate it … Oh, mark it under insubordination.

Sir, I—

Before Dorian finished, I ended the call; I had no time for his nonsense. If Dorian hadn’t been the son to my first cousin, I would have sacked him long before that. Alas, the things I did for family … on both sides of the fence. At the end of each day, I visited the daily drop to see that everything had been in accordance, so to speak. The whole casino was in my pocket, a financial cow just every bit as valuable as the Canis Cartel. A slight knock at my door signaled my brute of a son Eddie. He entered with a pot venting with fresh white steam. At once, I knew what it was, a Jem press. Here, Dad, I thought I’d bring this up for ya. After setting the tray down, he put a small warm porcelain cup in front of me and began to pour. So anything new from the comings and goings of today?

Not really. Just another day in paradise. I shoved my paperwork off to the side. You know what I always say, the battle goes on. My voice sounded weary, and I knew it, which had been out of character for me. At that time, I had been having foreboding feelings that something was coming. As to what, I had no clue. Everyone had dreams, right? I worried too much on trivial things. Then, of course, there had been my youngest boy Trevor, who added to my sleepless nights. A thirtysomething delinquent doing minor criminal activities in the inner city. The only thing that ever got him a pass was his last name. If it weren’t for that, then he would have been fodder for the sub gangs long before that. My poor boy, I did whatever I could to bring him back to me. At thirty-seven, he still acted like a teenage child. Less than a year prior, I asked Casey to find him downtown and throw him a vicious beating for me. Case did and told my boy it was for his own good. In any event, as I said … the battle went on.

Piping hot, the stout punch of the coffee had been exactly what the doctor ordered. I had been ready to call it a day. Eddie spaghetti, could you call down to the count room and see if they’re finished with today’s drop?

Right ’way, Pops. Hoping on his cordless, Eddie called to the count captain to see if all had been wrapped up for the day.

Amazingly by then they had. So I decided to take my leave and collection for the day. Well, my boy, let’s go, I said as I removed myself from my large leather chair embroidered with the insignia of Silver Cloud. Time to collect, I said. As I left and locked the massive armored door to my office, I gave my sweet Evelyn a kiss. I informed her that Mother would be preparing a large feast for the whole family that night out in the country under the twin moons. I can still recall the entrées assaulting the senses. Moo smelk pie, corn on the cob soaked in sweet cream, blueberries glazed with sugar, sweet potato pie topped with fresh whipped cream, hickory ribs charred black and smoky, honey grain bread she’d baked all day, seasoned river maw fish, and lastly but not least, galdren mushrooms swimming in molten cheddar crusted with herbs fresh from the garden. It was a feast not only for one’s stomach but for all the senses to consume. My lovely wife, Deidre, knew how to present a meal, our aged fine traileen china accentuated it all (which had been a most expensive and extravagant wedding gift from Monty on that blessed day). A broad and elongated oak table, rough cut, polished, and gargantuan enough to accommodate my family glistened in the moon’s gentle gaze. A grand presentation garnished with aromatic signatures wafting in from the vineyards. Vintage Vreil wine (from my own vineyards no less) had been the adult beverages while sweet milk and soda had been put out for the kids. We spoke of faith and family, days to come, and good tidings for all. First thing was first, though, the drop.

My mood was broke when about halfway through the gaming floor, Sheva came to me. Sheva was the beautiful yet brutal Omplex captain of my men. Her own father had been my loyal captain before her. A man I viewed as a brother, an Omplex, the likes of which the world would never again see.

Omplexes were part of what was known as the magical trinity; children of Teonyeth, the Maker of Strength. The other two being Hanoe, children of Vanarea, the Maker of Wisdom, and Glockens, the offspring to Destry, the Maker of Courage. Many Omplexes were magically inclined; it flowed in their very veins. Sleek white skin covered their bodies with iridescent scales running down extremities like divine beadwork. Their visages were mostly bereft of any traits we’d sport. A mass of scales began at the bridge of the reptilian nose and ran clear to the back of the cranium. Some Omplexes are born with hair, while many aren’t. Why is anyone’s guess. Who am I to question the Makers’ will? Sheva had hair; she’d shave the left side and drape her long cobalt locks of the right side over it. An ebony flat brim hat that drank in all light always sat on her head.

The swagger of her coattails announced her presence. She’d looked lovely that day in a black ensemble. One would always find my girl with a bolero jacket upon her person paired with a matching skirt that hiked up almost clear to her waist on one side only to do a sheer drop on the other. Her penchant for knee-high heels was also a trademark. Occasionally, she would patrol the gaming floor on busy nights. With a lithe, muscular build, Sheva was more than capable of handling herself. A bit too much perhaps.

Whatever news she had for me, it soured her mood. Those sharp lavender eyes said all. That particular night had been a concert night and Buffalo-Bell-Bee monster races were being bet on. Always on those busy nights, these yuks had to come in and try to pull fast ones. They never learned their lessons. It was always the same type of idiots too. Small-timers operating with half a brain always tried to make names for themselves by pulling a fast one on ole Chains Maceil.

We have some vermin scoured from the gaming floor stashed in the basement. Sheva was not one to tinker with. With an inconsolable rage when triggered, she’d been known to remove a guy’s manhood from time to time. I once remarked that that may have been a touch overboard. It had been therapeutic for her, she told me. Although sadistic, I knew without a doubt Sheva would take a bolt for me if it came down to it. I’d always been referred to as dad by her. It was touching, considering I had a hand in raising her.

She enacted my will in the name of Maceil. All right, I said, shaking my head, to the basement. The drop can wait. As I began to walk away, I bade my son to await my return. I never ever involved my sweet children in affairs of violence and kept them out of our thing as much as I could. Eddie didn’t like it, of course. He had been all muscle and no brains sadly. Sure, he would’ve made good muscle, but I was fine just having him as a loving son. Plus, I would’ve never forgiven myself if any of my children came to harm because of this thing. Sheva and her three henchmen led me to the large iron door leading to the basement. After she opened it, we went down a flight of stairs then came upon another door. A long concrete hallway stretched on with dim mustard lights overhead. As we marched on to the final door, the sounds of our footsteps echoed like the wailing of banshees. Once into the dank basement, I saw three humans under searing heat lamps, each bound to a steel chair.

What oh what in your empty heads would possess you to try to rig my machines? I asked calmly, rubbing my hands together.

I am sorry, Mr. Maceil. I … I …

Chains is fine, son.

I’m sorry, Chains, I … I … we … we … were sent by men who said they were friends of yours. They said if we were caught—the man was obviously frightened as tears began to run down his cheeks—that we would just have to pay restitution to you. We will pay! I swear it!

I know you’ll pay. I removed my glasses and began cleaning the lenses with a soft cloth from my suit pocket. Furthermore, no true friends of mine would ever tell their lackeys to infiltrate my operations for their own financial gain. I strode in front of all three of them. Who sent you? No one wanted to speak; everyone was silent. Okay … the first one to tell me who my supposed friend is gets a pass on their transgressions.

Then the farthest one on opened his mouth; he had also been the youngest. It was Victitious! He sent us here to rig the machines! He was in such a fervor to tell me I was amazed at the quick drop of information. Victitious said it was what you owed him. And you being his friend and all wouldn’t mind. Mike down there is the hands, Frank is the eyes, and I’m the ears of the operation! Please! I just want to go home! He was bawling, this one worse than the other. I want to see my mom again. I’m only twenty-three! Please!

Do you have any children? I asked.

What?

Do you have children? A family to support?

He obviously didn’t see where I was going with this. No … no, I don’t. Just a girlfriend.

I see.

So I made a hard call. All right, Sheva, set him free, I said in a soft forgiving voice. Sheva lovingly drew her Lazer-4015 (standard issue for Silver Cloud) from her coat and promptly put an energy round right into his skull. I didn’t enjoy having to make that decision, but one could not be soft when it came to the business.

Okay. The hands and eyes of the operation you get to live. However, why don’t we take away that which allows you to act as hands and eyes? Sheva enjoyed this as I assumed she would. She went over to a massive metallic closet and pulled out a power saw and drill. They were top-of-the-line tools, large and dangerous, meant for wood and metal, although they had never touched wood and/or metal during their shelf lives. Loud the engine of the saw was, the first to be fired up. Fast as lightning, the sheen metallic blur hit Mike’s wrists, and in a spray of crimson, his hands flew from those wrists. Sure he screamed but small price. I figured he’d get over it, and if not, oh well. After Mike’s hands had been separated from their stalks, she killed the saw, put it down, and on came the drill. The quick spinning bit bore deep into Frank’s eye sockets as he screamed in agony. I always hated the blood, difficult stuff to clean up. The gore, however, was a far more dreadful affair to contend with.

After my dear Sheva killed the drill, I had closing statements, Now you get to go home as cripples. Let this be a lesson to Victitious. Have him pay for mechanical implants. I turned to walk back up to the gaming floor but almost forgot. That reminds me, if you do get implants, don’t you dare ever return to Silver Cloud Casino and Resort … or you’ll simply wished you hadn’t, I said shrugging. Once on the main floor, it occurred to me that my dear Sheva had quite the fright to tidy. My wonderful son stood stoic, awaiting my return. From there, I was off to the count room to see the green.

Yes, the count room, the fruit of my labors. Every day between three and four in the noon after when I was leaving, I would make a little stop by the heavily guarded and sealed count room. It was where all the money from the casino circulated. A heart that only pumped one way, and that way was in. I suppose I should explain the workings of my humble casino. The KlaTeian government spearheaded all gaming establishments within the country that in turn got fed back into the economy. Now I had been appointed general manager some thirty-seven years back when gambling became legal and the major casinos went up around the country. I submitted my application to the gaming commission and was eventually instated after a few minor headaches. Back then, the president of the gaming commission had no love for rumored affiliates of Auvadeth. Well, that was just it. I had only been rumored, never legally linked. That did not matter to Robert Martruide, a shrewd metriax. I knew he hated my guts. Never mind the fact that I had the know-how and credentials.

All I can say is that Monty Perigorella knows how to look out for his own. Monty had always been good for finding out what kind of dirt a person had under their fingernails and Robert’s nails were caked. In all fairness, one cannot say that it was Robert but rather his younger son who had fun in abusing younger girls in quite horrifying ways. Robert had always paid the parents off when these situations arose and saw that legal involvement did not concur with these horrible and false accusations, so to speak. Monty, on the other hand, found out who the parents were and what accusations were made by their frightened children. Power may have been Robert’s strong suit, but Monty had more gravitas. When all the chips were on the velveteen table, he sang a different song entirely. Robert didn’t have a chance. Then acting consigliere Polly Hawthorne, a great and unscrupulous man, convinced Robert that he’d have all the parents take a class action suit against him and his child molesting son if I did not promptly get instated as the general manager of Silver Cloud. So here I am today, still in my well-earned position.

On a sidenote, being a loving father and the type of individual who strongly believes that child molesters should die quite horrifically, I had a certain personal mission of my own not to long after that. Now I had been informed it would be in my best interest not to do anything rash so to speak to Martruide’s son. Suffice it to say, I did not kill the man, I only had him abducted. After he had a brief encounter with a glowering hot pair of garden shears, he had been returned, although not entirely intact.

My eyes never did adjust to the bright lights of the sterile, remarkably chilled count room. With mirrors, microphones, and security sentries peppered everywhere, no one ever got away with robbing those great vaults—other than me, that is. The captain of the count team presented me with a heavy steel briefcase locked four different times with the take every day being one million penca on the spot. Sometimes it was a little heavier; once in a while, a little lighter. The only thing that could alter a good take was a war between families. Thankfully, there hadn’t been one of those since I was but a youth. No one ever said anything, and Silver Cloud made so much revenue in a day the family skimming wasn’t noticeable. Although there had been times in the past that we’ve had to back down for a while due to suspicion. No matter we made do, and I lived quite well on my pay from the establishment, among other assets. I oversaw and signed off on everything in the place. It was my toy, and I didn’t care what the auditors said. During Voree Meknisto’s