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fiction: serial fiction
the crown, book one: chapter 4
The sun shone through the window of the Upper Room Restaurant on Slauson as James leaned back in the booth and sipped on his lemonade. Tonya pored over the LA Times across from him, her eyes racing, absorbing.
"I thought I was an information junkie," James mused. "I'm curious, why?"
Tonya looked up absently, asking "Why the need for so much data?"
James nodded, setting his cup down.
"I've learned to see things coming," Tonya said matter-of-factly. "I knew Vietnam was gonna happen two years before the first troops were sent in, just from things I read. I was in Big Bear for a month before and a month after the riots in '92." She smirked and continued, "I haven't looked at the BBC's site in almost two days, messin' with your crazy ass, so I feel a little behind the curve."
Returning her smile, he replied, "Don't like surprises, huh?"
Tonya suddenly got serious. "I don't get many surprises, James. I've gotten very comfortable with that."
James nodded and said, "So, you're the only immortal in the whole world, always staying on your toes, always a step ahead of trouble."
"Since Madagascar?" Tonya asked, eyes returning to the paper. "Yes, avoiding drama occupies most of my brain. But I'm not the only immortal."
James was silent a moment, his eyes like lasers trained on her. "I thought you said there was no way I could be immortal."
"For you, a normal person, there isn't," she returned without looking up. "I never said there weren't other people born immortal, or immortal for different reasons."
"I don't understand."
Tonya sighed and folded the newspaper. "You may be immortal, or you may die. No way to tell for another twelve or thirteen decades. There's almost no chance that you are. Again, learned this the hard way. I do know of a dozen or so people walking around that have been here for a while. Some just have really long lives, some are really unable to die, and some will never die. I can die -- I've come close, I even thought about trying to die for a while, just not very hard. If I stay out of trouble, and eat once a month, I know I won't die. I don't exactly know why, and nobody has ever been able to explain it other than the professors who said I had the Crown, and I could give it to whoever I love."
"Maybe these other people know how to ..."
"Of the people I know," Tonya said grimly, "only two were normal people who lost the ability to die, only one of them wanted it, and he's not very much use to anybody, even himself. Both of those cases were horrible circumstances that I wouldn't wish on the Hyksos. Everybody else was pretty much born this way, for different reasons. I'm the only Crown I've ever known."
James wondered at her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "See, now you got my reporter mind goin' again, but I'll get back to that later, I guess. Is living forever like a club? Do you guys have meetings?"
"One," Tonya said sadly. "In the tenth century. I don't remember who called it, but he thought it would be a hoot if all the world's real immortals could get together, swap stories, and so on. Luckily I was hella late, or I'd have had to fight and run with the rest of them. Some religious zealot from the Byzantine church got wind of it, and decided to eliminate physical affronts to the faith. Burned a whole town in Turkey to the ground. Killed seven of them. I showed up as the whole thing was in full swing, and turned right around. None of us like to clump together since then."
"This is some fascinating stuff," James said, his expression riveted. "I could just sit and ask you questions all day if I didn't have to eat, and you weren't so hot."
Tonya giggled and reached out to hold his hand.
"Do you still talk to any of them? The others?"
"No ... not really," Tonya said absently, and withdrew into herself. The waiter came with their food just then, and Tonya asked, "Can we change the subject for a while? This is ..."
"Naw, it's cool," James said, arranging plates and thanking the waiter. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"We can talk about it later, it's ... it's just kind of complicated."
James nodded and they began to eat, silently.
* * *
"I hope you appreciate the workmanship involved here, Alexei."
The voice came from the shadows. Alexei -- a burly man with a full black beard, matted with blood that dripped down onto his black turtleneck -- was chained to a reinforced aluminum chair directly underneath a bright hanging lamp. It was the only light source in the room, a large section of a Brooklyn warehouse, with crates and boxes piled high all around, and a number of men standing in that darkness.
One walked into the light, directly in front of Alexei. A burly Black man of average height, his wide features betrayed his continental African origin, wire-rimmed spectacles gleaming. He moved to end up about six feet in front of Alexei, and kneeled, the edges of his thick hooded trenchcoat brushing the dusty concrete floor.
"I had them watch a lot of movies to make sure we got the ambiance right for this," the man said, his voice unaccented and calm. "One of the most important lessons I ever learned was the necessity of setting the right mood, sending the right message. Brand management, some would say."
Alexei lifted his chin heavily from his chest, peered at the man through the one eye not swollen shut. "You are a fool, Dare," Alexei managed, spitting blood. "Piotr Niekolenya will not tolerate ..."
"Piotr Niekolenya is in a box behind you," Dare replied quietly, interrupting him. "You are now the underboss of the Russian mob in Red Hook, by right of succession, because the people in front of you are all dead. That is why I've gone to all this trouble, why I rented this warehouse, and had you beaten, and will send you back, alive, to report what has happened to Mikhail Talchenko."
Alexei looked incredulously at Dare. "Yes, I am aware of who you really work for, Alexei," Dare continued calmly, slowly standing. "I am fully aware that I am initiating an act of aggression against sons of the Rodina in seventeen states. I am also aware of your matriculation from the Naval Academy at Vladivostok, so I would sincerely hope you can appreciate the severity of the threat my interests present. I took you from the bathroom of your own restaurant, from a stall with two of your most dangerous guards in the same room. Before this week, you'd never even heard the name Damian Dare, and in the space of four days I've done more damage to your organization than a decade of FBI scrutiny."
Alexei stared grimly at Dare, saying nothing.
"Now, I do this, again, to make sure my message is being received. I don't want any involvement in the smack, the whores, the smuggling. I don't want a cut, I don't want to interrupt any of it. I do, however, have a particular interest in nine blocks of Bedford-Stuyvesant, a place where you have two bodegas and a safehouse."
Alexei gasped.
"Yes, I know about the safehouse too," Dare commented drily. "I do hope that the breadth of my intelligence gathering and my determination to make myself clear are not lost on you. Now, as I noted, I have no interest in interfering with either your operations or your properties. I'll leave a map with you to make sure there's no mistaking what blocks I mean. There will, however, be some things happening in that nine block radius that would normally attract the attention of your men and result in possible hostilities. When you go back, you will make sure that the men you have stationed there will stand down if anything unusual happens. People running. Gunfire. Whatever. It's none of your business, and I'll be done in two weeks or so. If I get the idea any of your men are snooping around, or won't follow directions explicitly, the dear sweet mother that you spent so much to secure in Denmark will be visited by some extremely unpleasant people."
"Monster!" Alexei roared. "I'll punch through your chest and pull out your heart for even thinking ..."
Alexei never even saw the kick coming, a thunderbolt of motion that caught his jaw open, smashing his face and hurling him backwards to the floor. The dull crack of his head on the concrete sent his mind spinning, but Dare was upon him in seconds.
"Now, stay awake, Alexei, I'd hate to have to repeat myself," Dare rasped, his hand clenched around Alexei's throat, their faces mere inches apart. "There need be no further hostilities between us. I am not a rival gang you can run out of town. I am a force of nature that you can seek to avoid. I had to kill several of your people to make sure the survivors would know how serious I am. I cannot allow any of you to interrupt what I'm doing. It is easier to kill a few of you than to have to kill all of you, but know that I am capable and willing."
Dare stood up and gestured into the shadows. Two men -- huge, angry looking bruisers with tattoos and shirts that looked exhausted from containing them -- rushed in, set Alexei's chair up, and returned wordlessly.
"Alexei," Dare said quietly, "you've been kidnapped, beaten for twelve hours, deprived of sustenance and berated. You will wish for days of that when we're done here. This is the thing I will do to insure that you will hear me. I know your Spetsnaz training has worked at the chains, unable to understand why you can't escape them. I know your experience as a hard assed criminal keeps trying to remember faces and voices, to bring your vengeance."
Dare pulled a thin velvet case from an inside pocket of his trenchcoat. "This is to make sure we understand one another."
Alexei gazed, uncomprehending, as Dare slowly opened the case and walked behind him. A pinprick of pain nicked the back of Alexei's neck, and he found himself unable to move. Another prick on each wrist gave no sensation for a moment, but slowly he began to feel himself become uncomfortably warm, and begin to sweat.
"Aaaah ... aaaah, acupuncture techniques, very good Mister Dare," Alexei said through gritted teeth. "This will not break me ..."
"Technically speaking, this isn't acupuncture," Dare said dreamily from behind him. "acupuncture was developed on purpose, this was more of an unpleasant surprise." The case closed quietly, and Alexei heard it being put back in the trenchcoat.
Dare places a gloved index finger on each of Alexei's temples, and pressed, slightly.
"You ... you do not scare me with your voodoo, Dare ..." Alexei said, sweat beading on his face.
"Voodoo would be considerably nicer than this ..." Dare responded quietly, as he slid his fingers back along the surface of Alexei's head until they met at the whorl of his hair.
Alexei began to feel a slight contraction in his lap, and his mouth snapped shut as he contemplated it. He squealed a bit as the contraction became a clamp, as if his testicles were imploding in slow motion from within, taking hair and skin and nerve endings. Alexei's face flushed powerfully, his entire body now saturated with perspiration, a puddle forming below him on the floor. Slowly, slowly, the pain increased, and tears began to flow from Alexei's eyes.
"Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?" Dare asked conversationally, as if he were sitting across a polite dinner table.
"Gaah!" Alexei groaned. "I'll grind your bones and make a paste from you! I'll ..."
"Wrong answer," Dare whispered, gently pushing Alexei's head forward just a bit.
Alexei howled with anguish, as it felt like a needle was rammed directly into the shaft of his penis. Alexei looked down, unable to believe through his tears and suffering that there was nothing there, just the smooth lines of his slate-gray slacks, matted with dirt and sweat from his ordeal.
"Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?" Dare repeated, his tone genial.
"... you ... will ... die for ... this ..." Alexei managed in a high pitched bleat.
Dare pushed Alexei's head another centimeter forward, leading to a powerful bellow of hurt. It was as if the needle were being twirled roughly around inside him, but now his face was angled low enough that he could see nothing there. Alexei's mind reeled as his drool collected in his lap.
Suddenly the pain was gone. Alexei's head snapped back and he gasped in relief. It was as though the whole world had suddenly become more wonderful, now he was free from the radiant anguish. Dare walked in front of him and kneeled.
"Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?"
Alexei looked dumbly at him. "... I ... aaaugh ... wha ..."
Dare repeated, "Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?"
"... kill you ..." Alexei whispered, tired.
Dare shrugged and walked out of Alexei's vision again. Alexei whimpered and tried to look around, but felt one of Dare's gloved hands hold his neck steady and the other palmed the back of his head. Dare pushed, hard, and held Alexei's head down. Alexei's calves ignited in a detonation of despair, a sensation like sharp metal claws inside, tearing flesh, forcefully contracting muscles. Alexei screamed, a full, unabashed, horrible sound unlike any he'd ever made in his life. A sound he remembered, from the times he elicited it from his victims. A sound he didn't like at all in the tenor of his own voice.
Just as quickly the pain was gone, and Dare walked around in front of Alexei again. Alexei breathed heavily, now sobbing, so relieved to be free from the pain. The dull aches of his swollen eye and his battered ribs now were a pleasant pastime comparatively.
"Alexei," Dare called gently. "Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?"
Alexei could only gape at Dare.
"Alexei, the next time, I do both the legs and the genitals at the same time, and perhaps I'll yank off your nipples while I'm at it ..."
"NO!" Alexei yelled. "No! No more, no more ..."
"Will your men interfere with the nine blocks I've mentioned?"
"No, god no, oh god no ..." Alexei sobbed. "God, we'll get out of Brooklyn completely, huh-huh-huh, whatever you want, huh, oh God ..."
"No need for all that, Alexei," Dare smiled. Alexei found himself so happy to see that smile. "That would mean someone else would move in and I'd have to do all this all over again. Your men will do as they always have. Just pretend as if everything is normal, and it will be."
Dare stood up and gestured, and another man -- a slim, older white man in a dark blue suit -- walked out, handed Dare a briefcase, and just as quickly walked away.
"Alexei, do you remember when the Genovese family took that shipment of cars from you last July?"
Alexei's brow furrowed, unable to process the information.
Dare opened the briefcase and spun it around. Inside was several stacks of cash and a dossier. "I am going to offer you something in return for your cooperation, regardless of how I got it. In this case, you'll find the addresses and security layouts of ten men who've been driving you crazy since last July, if not longer. I'm a big fan of covering all my bases. You'll also find inside a list of the names, classrooms, and addresses of every child related to your made men. Just as a reminder. If you're smart and stay out of my way, everybody's happy. If not, I'll kill everyone in your organization, all their families, make you watch, and we'll do the back of the head thing again for about six hours, before I kill you myself."
Dare closed the case and set it down. The first two men emerged from the shadows and unchained Alexei, who dropped exhaustedly to the floor.
"We're gonna put you right back where we found you," Dare said, as one of the men picked up the briefcase. "In the bathroom, on the stall. With this case. You should be busy avenging the past wrongs done, and able to stay out of my way. We will never speak again, Alexei, so best of luck to you and my regards to Mikhail Talchenko."
The two burly men picked Alexei up from the floor and carried him out. After a moment, Dare snapped his fingers, and lights came on all around the warehouse. Numerous men, dressed in black and carrying gas cans, began liberally spreading fuel around the place.
The older blue suited man, adjusting his tie, walked nervously up to Dare.
"Scott, do you have a cigarette?" Dare asked the man nonchalantly.
Scott patted his suit jacket and produced a pack of Newports.
"Segregated marketing be damned," Dare smiled, taking a cigarette from the pack, "these are some damned good cigarettes. Thank you, Scott."
"Uh, yes sir," Scott said quietly. "I, uh, I'm ... not sure why you wanted me here ..."
"You had to bring the briefcase," Dare noted, watching the men work.
"... well, yes, yes sir," Scott stammered, "but ... I'm not sure exactly what ..."
"I'm taking my vacation in Bed-Stuy this year," Dare grinned, "and I didn't want any hassles for my people."
Scott looked agog at Dare. "This was because of a vacation? Were the Russians likely to ..."
"Of course not," Dare said, patting his trenchcoat pockets for something. "They probably would never have known I was there. They still probably won't."
"I ... I don't understand ... then, why all this?"
Dare smiled brightly at Scott. "Boredom, mostly," he offered. "People think they're tough, but there's always somebody worse, more serious, more dangerous. It's almost always me. I like to pick somebody dangerous every once in a while and remind them of that. Keeps us all honest."
Scott worked his mouth, looking for a response, and had none.
"Plus, how often do I get to see my head accountant like this?" Dare said congenially, patting Scott on the shoulder. "Now, let's get outta here before we turn this place into a Michael Bay movie."
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