Black Rain, page 13
Her smile was a bit shaky, but determined. "Then, it's settled," she said, a mix of trepidation and excitement audible in her voice. Her gaze was steely, her posture tense. It was clear that despite her fear, she was ready to face whatever was coming head on.
And I didn’t know whether to be terrified or reassured by her unwavering determination.
In the glass elevator that was taking us up to Pan Demic and Artemis’ penthouse, I soon saw something that made my jaw drop.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, before hitting the button to stop the elevator.
Knight, who was standing facing the other way, her fear of heights not allowing her to look out through the glass, gave me a look as if to ask what the hell I was doing. “What the hell, Drake? I want off this fucking thing. Why’d you stop it?”
“Look,” I said as I stood staring in awe out the glass.
Across the skyline, in a part of the city that was often cloaked in the shadows, rose an enormous structure, one that seemed both alien and familiar at the same time—a colossal pyramid, towering above everything around it. The sunlight bounced off its black obsidian surface, making it gleam like a jewel amidst the rough cut cityscape. It was a a symbol of grandeur and ambition, its lofty heights reaching for the heavens themselves.
"Good god..." Knight breathed out, her fear momentarily forgotten as she turned to take in the sight. She pressed her hand against the glass, her wide eyes reflecting the black monument.
"That's Giordano's," I murmured, not taking my eyes off the structure. "His new sanctum."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "A pyramid?"
"It's symbolic," I said, "The symbol of power in ancient civilizations. Black Nile Mafia's power, now dominating the city." I shook my head. “They built it so quick… and fuck knows how.”
It was unlike anything else in the city, an audacious display of the Mafia's presence and strength. Its presence was inescapable, a haunting silhouette in the skyline that screamed defiance and authority. The pyramid stood unchallenged, its peak piercing the clouds above, and its broad base almost touching the adjacent river. It wasn't just a structure, it was a statement, a clear message to the entire city of who really held power.
“It’s… it’s…” Knight stumbled over her words, “It’s like it owns the city. Just looking at it makes me feel… I don’t know… intimidated, belittled.”
“Yeah,” I said, pressing the button to restart the elevator. “That’s exactly what it’s meant to do.”
And something told me that sooner or later, I would end up inside that dark sanctum of Giordano’s, helping Kendra take the bastard down… if he didn’t take us down first.
Knight and I couldn’t help ourselves as we kept staring at the obsidian monstrosity from an ever greater height as the elevator took us to the top of the skyscraper, and when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, we were both glad to get off so we didn’t have to be intimidated by Giordano’s new sanctum any longer. Just looking at it felt like a direct challenge, a call to arms from the behemoth that was the Black Nile Mafia. The structure, a stark symbol of power, was unsettling in its silent assertion, a clear message that resonated with everyone who looked at it—you are under the watchful gaze of the Don.
As if I needed reminding…
Walking down the hallway toward the penthouse, the first thing I noticed was the door, which was slightly ajar, allowing the crushing din of metal guitars and pounding drums to escape. But also something else—some sort of hellish screeching sound that at first I thought was distorted feedback layered into the industrial metal music. There were also flashing strobe lights pulsing from inside as well.
But as I pushed the door open and stepped inside the penthouse, I soon saw the source of the screeching noise and the flashing light—a crackling, swirling vortex of pulsating light and energy, like a miniaturized and much more violent version of the Aurora Borealis, floating in the center of the room.
“What the fuck?” Knight said as she took in Artemis and Pan Demic, both working in a desperate frenzy at their towering workstation to try and contain the living entity zapping around the penthouse.
“Oh, hey guys,” Artemis said, his long blonde hair hanging wildly over his face as he hurriedly tapped on a keyboard. Neither him nor Pan Demic seemed particularly put out by the angry mass of energy in the center of the room.
“What the hell is that flying around in here?” I asked them, having to duck as the mass of frantic energy zoomed over my head.
"That," Artemis pointed at the vortex, his voice laced with both exhaustion and excitement, "is the physical manifestation of a computer virus—our creation, with a little help from Chuck.”
"Usually they're harmless, confined within the digital realm," Pan Demic chimed in, "but we pushed the envelope too far this time."
“Shocker,” I said, shaking my head at their antics.
The vortex whirled violently, releasing sparks of energy that left burn marks on the floor. A high-pitched screeching sound filled the room as the entity seemed to react to Artemis and Pan Demic’s manipulations on their monolithic setup.
Artemis, his fingers dancing over a holographic keyboard, shot a glance at Pan Demic. "The containment protocol?"
"On it," Pan Demic said, his voice steady despite the ongoing chaos. His eyes flickered rapidly as he worked his own digital magic, no doubt seeing lines of code in his augmented reality. After a few tense seconds, the vortex began to shrink, its movements becoming less violent, the screeching diminishing.
The code-crafting duo’s concentration was laser focused, their expressions hardened. Their usual wild demeanors were replaced by an intense seriousness rarely seen on their faces. For all their reckless hedonism, when the situation demanded, they proved why they were revered and feared in the digital underworld.
With a final flurry of rapid keystrokes, the vortex collapsed in on itself with a pop, leaving behind an innocuous-looking black cube that floated in the air. Its surface was sleek, shimmering slightly under the neon lights.
Artemis and Pan Demic exchanged a nod, a silent communication that spoke volumes. Artemis, his hair shimmering in the neon lights, held out his arm, and a cylindrical device extended from his wrist. It was a gleaming silver gadget with various holographic screens popping up around it. He expertly swiped and pressed at the screens, his movements quick and precise.
Suddenly, a beam of light shot from the device, hitting the black cube and encasing it in a luminous digital grid that pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat. It gave the impression of a cage of pure energy. I watched as the once ominous entity became trapped, no longer a threat.
Pan Demic turned to his own setup, his fingers dancing over a holographic interface, his tall, black clad figure like a neon-lit specter. An array of symbols and algorithms I didn't recognize appeared on the screen before him, pulsing in sync with the light cage.
"We're creating a quarantine sub-realm," he explained without looking away from his screen. "A specialized digital space to contain it safely."
Slowly, the grid-caged cube began to shrink, fading away until it was just a point of light, and then it was gone. Artemis lowered his arm, his device retracting with a whir. He looked drained, but there was a fire in his eyes, an excitement that was almost infectious. Although that could’ve had something to do with the pile of cocaine on his workstation.
"The cube, or rather the entity inside it, is now in a containment field within our systems," Pan Demic declared, his voice regaining its confident timbre. "It's locked down, completely isolated from any networks, digital or physical."
“Wow,” Knight said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I feel so much safer now, you guys.”
“We always have things in hand, Knight,” Pan Demic said, smiling as he sparked up a fat joint, soon filling the room with the pungent stench of marijuana. “Like we told you the other night.”
“The other night?” I said, frowning.
“Oh, yeah,” Artemis said after taking a blast of the cocaine. “Knight was here partying with us.”
I stared at Knight as she shook her head. “Seriously?”
“I wasn’t partying,” she said, shaking her head at the smiling Artemis. “I just came to get some information.”
“On what?”
“I’ve been tracking the gangs in the city, looking for anomalous behavior. It’s to do with Theron. I’m trying to see what he’s up to.”
“Okay,” I said after lighting a cigarette. “Did you find anything?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I was going to tell you about it over drinks later.”
I nodded. “Watch yourself around these guys, Knight. They have a way of leading you astray.”
“What does that mean?” Artemis asked, all innocence.
“I’m kidding,” I said. “Or maybe I’m not. Remember how you got Haedemus addicted to coke?”
“Oh yeah, that was fucking hilarious,” Pan Demic said.
“Not so much. People died. Horses died.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Pan Demic shook his head. “Still funny, though. Anyway, what can we do for you both today?”
“You called us, remember?” I said. “You said you have footage from the Netherworld to show us.”
“Did we?” Artemis shook his head like he didn’t remember.
“Sorry, Drakester,” said Pan Demic. “We’ve been a little distracted today.”
“I can see that.” I walked to their massive workstation. “Show us what you got. And maybe turn that music down as well.”
“It’s Pitchshifter,” Artemis said as the music volume stayed the same. “From back in your day, Drakester.”
“I remember,” I said. “Good band in the early days, but kinda distracting right now, so turn it down.”
After lowering the music volume to an acceptable level, the technomancers proceeded to bring the footage they had to show us up on a large screen.
“So,” Artemis said. “We used facial recognition on all the victims, and your hunch was right, Drakester—they all frequented the Netherworld. Great club, by the way. We know the DJ. Pan Demic has been trying to get in her pants for a while now.”
“She’s a tough nut to crack,” Pan Demic said. “But I’m getting there. Once she hears the stinking dark techno track I made for her, with a little help from Chuck, she’ll spin her turntables right open for me.”
A look of distaste came over Knight’s face. “Jesus, Pan Demic. You’re such a fucking sleaze.”
“She knows you well already,” I said, smiling.
“Not as well as I’d like,” Pan Demic remarked, earning himself a hard punch to the arm from Knight.
“Anyway,” Artemis cut in, freezing the video on the face of a man in his early thirties. “Here’s your guy.”
The man who filled the screen was every bit the shadowy figure you'd expect to find dealing lethal substances in the dark corners of a nightclub. He was tall and gaunt, his figure exuding a certain unnatural grace. His skin was as pale as moonlight, making the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline appear even more pronounced. He had a narrow face, dominated by a pair of piercing eyes that radiated cold cunning and unmistakable menace.
His hair, long and jet black, was slicked back, falling just past his shoulders in a cascade of inky strands. It contrasted starkly with his pallor, lending him an almost spectral quality. He was slightly goth in appearance, his wardrobe consisting of a black leather jacket, a velvet deep purple shirt, and a pair of skinny black jeans. Multiple silver rings adorned his fingers, glinting ominously under the club lights.
His presence on the screen was as domineering as his physical stature, a sleazy charisma that made him both intriguing and repulsive. This was the face of the man tied to the string of drug-related deaths, the visage of a predator preying on the unsuspecting victims of the Netherworld.
His sharp eyes, however, held a certain intelligence, suggesting he was more than a mere peddler of narcotics. Those eyes, calculating and cold, made it clear that he was a man who knew exactly what he was doing. A dealer of death, unrepentant and uncaring.
“Who is he?” Knight asked, her hard stare saying she hated the guy already.
“His name is Damon Marlowe,” Pan Demic said. “On the street, he’s known as ‘The Pale Serpent.’”
“Jesus, really? He looks like an asshole.”
“Well, he kinda is,” Artemis said. “He’ll deal anything to anybody as long as they pay him.”
“He gets some interesting drugs, though, I’ll give him that,” Pan Demic said. “For pyschonauts like us, he’s our go-to guy.”
“Are you going to arrest him?” Artemis asked us, seeming worried that he wouldn’t be able to buy from Marlowe anymore if we arrested the guy. “Because I can tell you right now, he didn’t have a hand in making whatever drug he handed out to those kids.”
“He only moves the stuff,” Pan Demic added. “He doesn’t make anything.”
“So who does he buy from?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Artemis said. “He’s close-lipped about where he gets his product from.”
“And frankly,” Pan Demic said, “we know better than to ask.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “We’ll ask him ourselves. Where can we find the guy?”
“He has a high-rise condo in the Financial District,” Artemis said. “He only ever comes out at night.”
“He’s not a vampire, is he?” Knight asked.
“No, he’s human,” Pan Demic said. “He’s just a nightcrawler. I just texted his address to your phones.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I guess we’ll go and wake this guy up now to see what he knows.”
“Don’t expect to find anything in his condo,” Artemis said. “He keeps all of his product in a secret location.”
“We’ll soon shake it out of him,” Knight said.
Glancing across, I smiled at her. “What she said.”
Chapter
Twelve
On the way back down in the elevator, rather than stare, like Knight was doing, at the enormous black pyramid that dominated the skyline, I texted Kendra instead.
All good at the yard?
Yeah. Nothing happening. The Hellbastards are on guard. They’re complaining about being bored
Tell them I said Infernum is more fun if they would prefer to go there instead.
:) I’ll let them know
How are you doing?
How do you think I’m doing? My head is in a spin
Keep it together. I’ll be home later. Let me know if you need anything.
I actually need some pads. Can you get some?
Really?
Lol just kidding. I’m sure your face is a picture right now though
Ha ha very funny. Bye.
After exiting the elevator and leaving the building, I got Knight to drive around to Giordano’s new sanctum, just to see the pyramidal monstrosity up close.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” she asked as she drove the Mustang toward the pyramid. “I mean, these guys want you dead, Drake.”
“Just a quick look. That’s all.”
From the street level, the sight was even more imposing. The pyramid loomed over the city like a darkened sentinel, completely out of place yet somehow strangely fitting. It was an alien structure in a familiar cityscape, dwarfing the surrounding buildings and casting long, ominous shadows that seemed to swallow the street whole.
The first floor of the pyramid was almost entirely glass, revealing a lavish casino teeming with life. Well-dressed patrons mingled around polished tables, neon lights from slot machines flickering off their expensive jewelry. Laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed out, a stark contrast to the intimidating facade of the building.
Elegant hieroglyphics were carved deeply into the surface of the rest of the pyramid, gleaming ominously under the city lights. The intricate symbols and images told an ancient story, a narrative of power and authority that was as old as civilization itself. It was a disturbing blend of the archaic and the modern, a symbolic representation of Giordano's vast reach and influence.
As we drove around the structure, we could see men in black suits stationed strategically around the pyramid's perimeter. Their watchful eyes missed nothing, and their presence sent a clear message—this was Giordano's territory, a fortress in the heart of the city. There was an aura of danger that clung to the place, a palpable tension that seemed to seep from the very stones of the pyramid and permeate the surrounding area. It was clear that this was no ordinary building, but a stronghold—a monument to one man's power and ambition.
“Jesus,” Knight said, in awe of the massive structure. “The fact that Giordano even got away with building this things speaks volumes.”
“He’s growing more powerful all the time,” I said as Knight drove away from the colossal sanctum. “So powerful that I wonder if we’ll even be able to take him down when the time comes.”
“You stopped Wendell Knightsbridge, didn’t you?”
“That was different. Knightsbridge was weakened.”
“Then you have to find a way to weaken Giordano.”
“Easier said than done, Knight. But if we can get Luna to help us, I think we might have a chance.”
“Count me in as well,” Knight said.
“It’s not your fight. You don’t have to.”
“It’s not your fight either, and yet…” She let the sentence hang in the air for a second. “Besides, I’m not gonna miss the chance to take down the biggest crime lord this side of the western seaboard.”
“Fair enough. As long as you know what you’re getting into.”
Damon "The Pale Serpent" Marlowe's high-rise condominium towered over the edge of the Financial District, a gleaming monolith of glass and steel. It was an epitome of modern architecture, its lines sleek and clean, reaching toward the sky in a statement of bold elegance. The exterior of the building was dominated by expansive windows, offering glimpses of luxuriously appointed interiors.
