Blood City Chronicles, page 1
Blood City Chronicles: To Live in Fear
by
James Garvin
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
James Garvin on Smashwords
Blood City Chronicles: To Live in Fear
Copyright © 2022 by James Garvin & OMC
All rights reserved.
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Blood City Chronicles: To Live in Fear
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Any inquiries send to:
bloodcity2147@gmail.com
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Blood City Chronicles: To Live in Fear
Vol. 2
Table of Contents
1. Greetings
2. Following
3. Enlightenment
4. Rescue
5. Confrontation
6. Conflict
XX. Epilogue
1. Greetings
Phil Drogan: Welcome to the Phil Drogan show on KTWN 88.5 in Kansas City. Today our special guest is the up-and-coming band, The Chocolate Crackers. Many will know their smash hit The Black Petal, and the recently released Wild Cocoa Plants featuring the hit song Time to Play. The band includes lead vocalist, Shine MacNamara.
Shine MacNamara: Hello.
Phil Drogan: Drummer, Sheri Takei.
Sheri Takei: Thanks for having us, Phil.
Phil D.: To the left of Sheri is Lars "Beat" Williams, lead guitarist.
Beat Williams: Yo.
Phil D.: (Laughs) Next is keyboardist, Carl Smith.
Carl Smith: Nice to meet you, Phil.
Phil D.: Last, but not least, bass guitarist Nick Johnson.
Nick Johnson: Hey, guys.
Phil D.: Thanks for joining us. I know you guys don't usually give interviews, so I'm extremely honored to have you on the show.
Shine M.: No problem.
Phil D.: So how did you guys end up getting together?
Carl S.: You want to take this one, Shine?
Shine M.: (chuckles) I think the blame can be placed on the shoulders of Carl. He was a friend of Beat and they used to go drinking in Austin with my brother. Carl has this knack for coming up with ideas while drunk.
Carl S.: Hey, I do my best thinking while drunk. It's the dwarven way.
All: (Laughing)
Shine M.: My brother called me one day and asked if I wanted to talk to a couple of guys in town who were thinking of starting a band. At the time, I was in a band called Soul Fingers and we were struggling for gigs and just about to break up to find greener pastures. We hooked up over the usenet and found out that we had a lot in common musically. That summer, after the semester ended, I drove down to Texas and we started to fill things out. The rest is history.
Phil D.: Who writes the music?
Carl S.: We all do...for the most part. I think everyone has a particular sound and that helps us keep things fresh. Heh, though, if the song is sad, you can bet Sheri wrote it.
Sheri T.: That's not always true.
Phil D.: I understand that you wrote The Black Petal, Sheri?
Sheri T.: I did, but Beat helped.
Phil D.: What was your inspiration for that song? It's such a depressing piece that really speaks to your soul in a way.
Sheri T.: Not much to say, really. I woke up one day, stubbed my toe, and thought that'd make a good song.
Beat W.: (Laughing) You gonna keep telling people that story?
Nick J.: It's her way of being evasive. In case you haven't noticed, she's the joker of the group.
Phil D.: I can tell. So you guys are all from Texas?
Carl S.: Beat and I are from Austin. We've known each other since high school.
Shine M.: I'm from Chicago.
Nick J.: So am I. Shine and I were in Soul Fingers together and he convinced me to make the trip to Austin with him to see what Carl was all about. I almost didn't go.
Shine M.: I had to bribe him with dreams of real home-cooked Texas BBQ. My brother makes one hell of a brisket.
Beat W.: Isn't that the truth.
Phil D.: What about you, Sheri?
Sheri T.: Originally from Japan, but my family moved to Dallas when I was 47. Spent the last 150 years living in Texas, so it's as much my home as Japan at this point.
Nick J.: I still can't wrap my head about how old you are, T. How do you keep your skin looking so great after all those years?
Shine M.: Of course, she uses Nutra Glow. For healthy-looking skin that is to die for.
All: (Laughs)
Sheri T.: You see what I have to deal with on a daily basis?
Carl S.: (Grins) You know we love you, sweetheart.
Phil D.: Seems like you all get along pretty well.
Beat W.: You should see us during writing sessions and practice.
Carl S.: Yeah. Because Sheri can't stop cracking jokes...
Phil D.: We have to take a commercial break, but we'll be back with more Chocolate Crackers after a word from our sponsors.
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The name is Michael Earl Steele. I'm a killer. Well, I used to be. Why did I start off like that? I thought it would have more punch. Okay, I'm not much of a joker. Not much of a storyteller, either as far as that goes. I guess in the world I live in there isn't much room to be funny. Not that people don't try, but if shooting someone in cold blood, then spitting out some snappy comment is supposed to be funny, perhaps I do have a thing for comedy.
Let me start this again. My name is Michael Earl Steele and I'm a detective. The place, Chicago. Not sure what you know about the city, but it's a place where death seems to come at you from all directions. In the year 2145, we've come to accept this as the way things work. It's a place that doesn't feel a bit of remorse for kicking you in the balls, then spitting on you while you're down.
Perhaps I'm a bit bitter, but I'm trying to change that. How can someone be positive in all this darkness? I'm trying to find out.
On this particular day I was going about my normal activities which included a cup of coffee, a bagel, and my datapad for reading the day's news. There wasn't anything particularly interesting outside of the dismantling of John Turley's organization after he was killed by Eternal Darkness about three weeks ago. Turley was probably one the of most powerful men in Chicago and a downright bastard if there ever was one. The general rule when dealing with him was to keep your mouth closed and your eyes shut. If he even suspected you were into something or in any way negatively involved with his businesses, you could consider your life his. No one really liked him, but with that kind of power, he commanded a certain level of respect. He made sure you understood that point.
It was no secret that those in the "business" wanted him gone. Problem was that in order to set him up for a fall, someone would have to take that fall with him. No one hated him enough to throw away their own security. There were a few unsuccessful attempts on his life, but a man like him had spies and moles everywhere. A few men and women found out the hard way, and I don't believe, to this day, all of the pieces of their bodies have been found.
Turley had his fingers in just about everything you could imagine. Drugs, prostitution, extortion, demon summoning, assassinations, slaves, and even body snatching to sell to the vampire lords in South America. Even with all that power, he still wasn't the most powerful man in Chicago. That title belonged to a woman named Sonya Haywood. This simple fact burned Turley with such fury that he'd shoot anyone who even mentioned her name in his presence. He wanted to be the King of Chicago like Al Capone, only with a more glorious death.
What his situation was didn't matter to me. I wasn't sad in the least to see him go. Left to die in an alley by the one man who could really do something about his tyranny. The police couldn't touch him. The government couldn't touch him. He didn't count on Darkness having the means to rattle his cage and it cost him his life. I guess he didn't accomplish all of his goals. Can't say I'm sorry about that, either.
Who is Eternal Darkness? That's a good question. I don't have many theories on who he is or where he comes from. The Underworld has been trying to figure this out for years. The bounty on ED's head was so large that whoever had the honor to take him down would be set for two or three lifetimes even after inflation. However, just finding him was hard, and killing him was even harder. I won't lie, there are very few things that scare me in this world. It's the nature of the business. Things happen, people die, and someone will try to rub you out...eventually. But Darkness is someone you don't even consider crossing paths with. Many have tried and just as many have died. They gave their lives to kill someone who is virtually unkillable. I won't bore you with the details about the legend that is Eternal Darkness. All I can say is that he's someone or something you don't want to mess with. Anyone who has tried has found themselves dead or wishing they were dead. The Chicago City Police has made quite a few statements about how they will bring him to justice. I say let them keep talking. If Darkness figured they could do anything about him, he would have taken them out a long time ago. That's just how he works.
There's a certain science to killing. Whether it's contract killing or a pre-meditated murder. Knowing when to strike and how to strike takes precision, talent, and a certain amount of luck. Many people strive to understand it, but they fail. In my opinion, there are very few masters of the craft in existence. I don't know where I fall on that scale, but you can't survive as long as I have in the game without having a certain level of understanding about the craft. I think Darkness is really a true master. Some wo
Let's take the scene from a few weeks ago where Darkness assaults this bar on the north side. There were 12 heavily armed mercs. Not only were they well-armed, but they were wired as well. Maybe someone could handle two or three of them alone, but not 12. There was one survivor and I wouldn't be surprised if Darkness allowed him to live. That's just how good he is. Does it seem like I have a certain level of respect for him? Perhaps. I don't indulge in the business of death anymore, but I know a master when I see it. For that reason, he scares me. I'm not afraid to admit that. When Darkness comes calling, it's best to run.
I'm rambling. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was reading the news and generally enjoying my morning when my partner walked in. As usual, he was well dressed, hair cut short and brushed, and wearing a pair of reflective shades. He sat down on the corner of my desk and gave me the largest grin he could without looking goofy.
"What's the haps?" he asked.
"What do you want?" I asked in a low tone.
"Ow. Feeling a little grumpy this morning, eh?"
I leaned back in my chair. "Not at all, but you walk into my office, sit on my desk, and give me that 'I want something' grin. I figured you actually wanted something."
He laughed. "One of these days I'm gonna give you the grin and not want something."
"I'll be waiting for that."
"I'm sure you will." He paused to collect his thoughts. "I'm on a case, and I need some information from the CCP."
I grunted. "You can do that yourself."
"I know, but what I need is sensitive. Perhaps you can ask Detective Harmon to assist."
"No."
Derek feigned surprise. "That's cold, my friend. You wouldn't do your own partner, and best friend, this one little favor? I thought we were tight?"
I gave him a cold stare. "What the hell are you talking about? You have better connections than I do. If you need the information, ask her yourself."
This was all just a ploy for me to have a chat with the good detective, because Derek believes that there is something "special" between us. Our relationship is strictly business and has been since I got my detective license three years ago.
My partner, Derek Garvin, is a people person and in some way a direct contrast to myself. Perhaps that's why we get along so well. We went to high school together. Sometimes it's hard to even imagine us being that young, but back then I was angry. Angry at the world and in serious need of guidance. Derek was there to keep me out of trouble. We met on the basketball court and I was about to get thrashed by someone I had no business messing with. It was my nature to get under people's skin and there were times I'd win and others I wouldn't. This particular time, I was about to find myself in the hospital, when Derek stepped in. I was surprised some boy I didn't know would come to assist me, but I realized later that I was also grateful for his assistance in the matter. I'm a lot more comfortable with it now, but don't mention that to anyone else. Since then, he has been watching out for me and ultimately the idea of becoming a detective was his. Again, he saved me when I was struggling with my own place in the world.
"I would like to, but I need to be somewhere else and I figured it would be easier if someone else took one angle and I'd check into another. Just give her a call. Shouldn't take more than five minutes."
I sighed. "No."
He grinned from ear to ear. "I sent you the questions I need. I'll check back with you later to see what you found out."
"I said--."
He stood up and interrupted me. "--you'll call her. Great. It's important, Mike."
I glared at him as he stepped out of the room in a rush.
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Sometime later that day, I was sitting in my office...brooding as I usually do when I heard the front door open, then shut. We didn't have a secretary at that time, because with the way our cases usually played out it was better to not have someone else get involved. This meant we had to handle all of the paperwork, client interviews, and accounting ourselves. Luckily for us, Derek's sister, Jenna, handled most of the books, for a small fee, whenever we needed her.
I walked into the front office where I saw a short standard male standing near the front door of the office. He was blond, a little over 5 feet, wearing steel-rimmed glasses, jeans, and a blue short sleeve dress shirt. Upon my entrance into the room, the man turned towards me and nodded his head.
In a calm voice, he asked, "Is this Dark Raven Detective Agency?"
"It is," I responded. "What can I do for you?"
He turned a quick glance at the front door and let out a quick sigh of relief. "I want to hire you."
I knew by looking at him that this wasn't going to be simple. Something about the look in his eye and the fact that he was shifting from side to side periodically made me worry. Unlike others in my business, we were financially stable and not hard up for work. That gave us a bit of flexibility in what cases we accepted. Derek was more of a sucker for hard-luck stories. He always had a soft spot for someone in trouble, and even more of a soft spot if the client was a woman. You familiar those old gumshoe novels? My partner believes there is some grain of truth to them. Everyone has a quirk. I'll accept that.
With a hand, I motioned him to sit down in a chair across from the front office desk. I coolly sat down on the other side.
I studied him for a moment. "Tell me about your problem?"
He shifted a little, then cleared his throat. "My name is Jack Hamilton. There's something strange going on at work, and I believe one of the middle managers is involved."
"Go on."
"I'm an accountant at United Pharma. I've been working there for almost 15 years. It's my job to manage the books of various departments in the company. About a week ago, I was doing my yearly audit of petty cash payouts and noticed that one employee had been getting a number of cash advances. Nothing is strange about this on the surface since employees who travel are generally given an advancement of credits to spend on expenses such as food, lodging, transportation, etc. What caught my eye was the number of times this one employee had been given credit payouts. In a given year, very few employees travel so often and need that much of a credit boost. This particular employee was only the junior manager of R&D."
He paused glanced around the room a couple of times, then continued. "I took this issue to my boss the day before yesterday and explained the anomaly. He simply told me that the employee had done some services for the company and was paid accordingly. The receipts were correctly logged and I shouldn't worry about it.
"At first, I was satisfied with that explanation, but there was something that seemed off about it. It's hard to describe. I've worked for this company for many years and this was the first time I had seen something like this. I can't put my finger on it, but something smells fishy."
"Were there receipts for the payouts?" I asked.
"Of course. Just like my boss said."
"You don't seem too convinced," I observed.
"I don't know how to describe it. Legally, there's nothing wrong with how the numbers have arranged themselves. That doesn't mean there isn't something amiss."
Taking a deep breath and folding my arms across my chest, I took a long look at Mr. Hamilton. He seemed firm in his belief that something was indeed going on at United Pharma, but I wasn't about to go chasing after conspiracy theories. I'm not a softie like Derek. I need hard facts, or some compelling reason to accept a case. In this case, all I had was an accountant who believed that one of his coworkers was into something shady. That could be said about just about everyone in the city in one way or another. Most people were only looking after themselves, and those who got caught either find themselves dead or doing hard-time with no chance to ever escape.
"What is it you want me to do, Mr. Hamilton?"
"I would like to hire you to find out what you can about the employee who was receiving these payouts. I can give you the information I have on him. Here's a data access card (DAC) with the information I pulled from the company database." Jack held the card in the air for me to see.
