"Hey! Wake up!" bellows Ben as he shakes KK awake. "What happened? And who the hell went through my stuff?"
KK wakes up immediately, and starts looking around the room to see where the fire is at. But everything except Ben seems calm enough, so he relaxes a bit. "It was just me, so take it easy," he grumbles. "We had to move you and your stuff to another room so the cops wouldn't find you with the angel."
KK then goes through his pockets until he finds the check he got from Compton, and shows it to Ben.
"He wants us to turn up at some party the day after tomorrow, and if you don't want to you could just send him your share of the money after I cash in the check. He also said that we had to dress up, so I looked up a place called The Formal Noose, which seems to rent out suits and stuff," KK explains in an effort to keep Ben up to date. To make sure that he is up to date as well he checks his watch to see if it's still today and not tomorrow, because that would make the party tomorrow instead of the day after tomorrow.
Ben eyeballs Compton's check. "He's payin' us a thousand bucks each just to show up? I find that difficult to believe. In fact, I don't know why he didn't leave me for CPC to haul away. Hell, it's what I would have done."
KK decides to take advantage of Ben's diverted attention, and gets up from the floor. "Maybe so, but he's rich and we're not. Who knows how rich people think?" he says with a shrug. KK still has some trouble thinking of Compton as more than just an eccentric rich person, or he would've given more weight to the fact that he also seems to be an actual wizard. And who knows how wealthy wizards think?
"Maybe he wants to play horrible mindgames on us? Or maybe not. For your information, he offered me this deal before you showed up, and maybe he didn't feel like letting you spoil his fun," KK suggests. "He wants us to do more than just show up though. He wants us to tell the story of how we found the dead angel. Apparently we'll be acting as some kind of freak show entertainers. And he said he'd be 'gravely disappointed' if you didn't show up too," he finishes, leaving for Ben to imagine what 'gravely disappointed' translates to.
"Great, now we're a freak show," says a disgusted Ben, "what an appealing thought. It just doesn't make any sense. For a grand apiece, he could go out on the street and find any number of people willing to describe their angel encounters. What good is it without corroboration? They might have reason to believe us if we were respected members of the community, but fancy clothes or not, nobody's going to mistake us for fine, upstanding citizens. And besides, if it's a good yarn he wants, he's bound to be gravely disappointed. What the hell are we going to tell 'em? We were standing in the hallway when an angel fell at our feet. It's not exactly a thousand dollar story."
"Yeah, I mentioned that to him, but he's made up his mind. Maybe his friends are some kind of mystic people who can tell if people like us tell the truth or not? And maybe he's got connections that can get him the angel before the party? Seems like we've got a lot of questions without answers, but my gut tells me that he's not going to cut me up and strangle me with my own intestines," KK concludes with a grin.
Then he remembers the CEO and his promise of a similar treatment, and begins to consider the likelihood of a possibly prominent figure in the underworld, such as the CEO, being invited to a party held by a rather unscrupulous and wealthy magician. He decides that while that doesn't seem too unlikely, he also can't let that annoying little bugger run the rest of his life. He'll just have to get a suit with enough space for a knife. Just in case.
"Whatever Compton's got up his sleeve, it'll wait 'til the day after tomorrow," decides Ben. "I'll start worrying about it then." "What time ya got?" he asks KK.
"Well, it's 9:07 pm, and I'm hungry. Know any place where I can get some food?"
Without warning the door to Ben's new room comes crashing inwards. As both Ben and KK whirl to face the door, a half dozen men and women, dressed in clerical garb, can be seen in the hallway beyond. They seem to be wearing heavy soled motorcycle boots as well, and are holding a variety of thick, blunt objects including baseball bats, chains, and hammers.
"Time to die," comments the first one into the room, grinning evilly and hefting his Louisville Slugger.
"Oh shit!" KK gasps. Then he pulls his knife from within his coat and tries to take cover behind Ben. He also glances towards the bed, wondering if it could be over-turned to create some kind of wall shield.
"Hey! I'm no goddamned human shield!" Ben informs KK as he pulls out his own blunt objects, a pipe in one hand and a length of chain in the other.
Looking in KK's direction the lead priest says "Our God is neither just nor merciful - yea, he is one badass motherfucker. Still, if you start walkin' right now then God might overlook you long enough for you to keep your ribs, skull, and teeth intact, rather than smiting you like the sinful heathen pissant wimp that you surely are."
He pauses for effect and then inclines his head slightly towards the doorway. "Take a walk, loser." he snarls.
It looks like the time to die has been postponed for a few precious seconds, which allows KK to waste valuable time asking soon-to-be meaningless questions. And since the homicidal maniacs seem to be priests of some kind, it's not too hard for KK to connect them to another recent event. "Who are you guys? Are you looking for the angel? It's not here you know, the cops took it!" he says, stepping out from behind Ben.
"Speak no blasphemy, foul heathen!" the leader replies. "We are
here for the heretic, and the heretic alone, for yea, is he worth a hefty
chunk of change"
"Verily!" cries one of the others. "A full twenty thou!"1
"You're worth money?" KK asks Ben while studying the marvel that is $20,000 in the flesh.
"Uh... yea, verily," says Ben as he moves to place himself between the dresser and the corner of the bathroom in an attempt to cut off the priests before they can move further into the room and surround him. "As if you didn't already know, or at least suspect," he adds.
"Had no idea," KK mumbles as he moves toward the corner of the bathroom in an effort to help Ben from becoming out-flanked.
Ben stands his ground, more than happy to let the priests make the first
move. "Well? Waitin' for me to die of old age or what?"
Having assured themselves that nobody is going to be departing the scene,
the Judas Priests take just a brief moment to wrap their chains around
their arms (the close confines of a hotel room not being the place to swing
such things with wild enthusiasm), then charge into the fray with reckless
abandon. At the moment they seem to be ignoring KK, however.
Ben isn't putting up with any of that sort of crap, however. Before
the crazed clergy can close for combat he takes a quick step forward and
cracks one in the face with his pipe in much the same manner as a person
might whack a dog on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, though with considerably
more gruesome results. The thug's nose flattens out like a leaky
tire and blood sprays in a crimson rain. The thug staggers back,
screaming in agony, as Ben takes a quick step backwards and just manages
to block a swing to the midsection from thug #2
Ben flicks his chain towards the face of the new thug in an attempt to distract him as he ducks in, and thrusts the pipe underneath #2's chin and into his throat. The thug who takes the place of "Father Rhinoplasty" is a bit more canny than his predecessor, and Ben's distracting chain attack only inclines him further to get his head out of the way of that incoming pipe. Instead of landing a solid blow to the throat, Ben manages only to graze the side of the thug's cheek.
While Ben is engaging his new foe, the second thug engaging him unwinds around 8" of chain from his wrist and snaps it towards Ben's eyes. Even the canny leg-breaker fails to get out of the way of the blow quite in time, though he does manage to deflect it a bit and takes it on the shoulder rather than the forehead. Fortunately for Ben the thick plastic inserts in his armored jacket manage to most of the damage of the incoming blow, leaving him with a substantial bruise to the shoulder and some muscle damage, but no debilitating injury.
Seeing Ben take a hit galvanizes KK into action and he leaps at a thug
with his knife. The pugilistic priest dances back out of range however,
snarling a quick "Ave Maria". The priest behind him tries the same
chain snapping trick on KK, but forewarned by the attack on Ben KK is watching
out for it, and her attack falls short of the mark.
KK meanwhile is doing a dance with his opponent, despite the confined nature of the their locale. Both make a couple of tentative swipes, but neither is confident enough about the situation to actually close and trade blows.
Ben feints with the pipe before sending his chain arcing towards #3's ribcage. Unfortunately, the feint sets him up perfectly for an attack by Thug #5, who just manages to work her way around to Ben's unprotected side in time to land a perfectly timed blow to his face, opening a nice pressure cut above his right eye and ringing his bells but good. This does not, however, stop the heavy chain that Ben is wielding from connecting with a solid "thump" to the ribcage of his opponent., who grunts in anguish but stays in the fight for the moment.
Seeing Ben flanked, KK realizes that the time has come for decisive action, and squares off against one of the thugs swarming Ben. His knife thrust is ineffective and ill-timed, however, missing by inches.
Seeing that his pack of minions is finally in a position to overwhelm
their target, the leading priest steps into the fray and moves to interpose
himself between KK and the rest. "Time to pray for your soul, if
you have one," he grins, eyeing KK like a butcher might eye a hog.
Ben has no desire to give chase. He waves his pipe in the air and yell a bit, though. "COME BACK HERE YOU SONOFABITCHES! I'M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU YET!" That said, he moves over to the doorway and pokes his head out, just to make sure they're not preparing to take him up on his offer. Satisfied these goons won't be back anytime soon, he turns back to his room and studies the neatly stacked bodies of KK and victim #5. Grabbing the priest by the nearest available appendage, he drags her out the door and dumps her unceremoniously in the hallway. He returns to his room and shuts the door before kneeling down and examining KK's injuries. Ben's no doctor but a broken nose and concussion is an easy diagnosis in this case. Figuring KK'll wake up sooner or later, Ben kills time cleaning the blood off his weapons, tending his wounds, and packing up his stuff in anticipation of checking out.
After about half an hour KK wakes up. "Uhh... by hed... by dose... I wath a doctoh", he moans. Then he tries to get up from the floor, but fails. He tries a second time, and manages to get up to a sitting position. There he remains for quite some time, trying to figure out how to get all the blood off of his face without touching his nose.
Ben looks up from across the room where he's busy stuffing several articles of clothing into a plastic bag. "Hey, your not dead after all. I guess I should cancel the funeral. Too bad, I had already picked out a nice dumpster. So you think you can walk or should I call for an ambulance?"
With a quiet grunt KK tries to stand up, and manages to do so by steading himself against the bathroom wall. From there he slowly inches towards the sink and braces himself against the view in the mirror. After spending several minutes of carefully washing up, and groaning with pain every time his hand accidently bumps into his nose, he returns to the bedroom to pick up his backpack.
"Uhh..." he moans and motions for the door.
Ben grabs his bags and leads the way, out the door and down to the lobby and front desk where he plans on checking out of this death trap. Much like a zombie, KK just shambles along after Ben, hoping that they'll head for a doctor some time soon. He keeps his mouth shut though, since he doesn't have the energy for walking and talking at the same time.
Ben and KK head out the door, past the still unconscious priest, now breathing irregularly and lying in a pool of vomit and blood, and head down to the lobby, where Donna Bokundi is working behind the desk. She looks up, briefly shows some consternation at KK's appearance, but quickly slaps a bland, professional face over it, and greets the duo with professional courtesy.
"May I help you, sir?" she says to Ben (who is the one with the luggage).
KK notices that while Donna is speaking to Ben, she seems to be pressing some sort of button under the counter.
Ben drops his baggage and throws up his arms in consternation. "Help!? It's a little late for that now don't you think!?" he says, outraged. "Where was the help earlier this evening when that sword wielding maniac took a couple of major league swings at my head up on the second floor? Where was the help half an hour ago when six thugs kicked in the door to my room an attacked me? You see this? You see this?" he says leaning forward and pointing emphatically at the cut above his eye. "Do you have any idea how much this stings? I think it might even leave a scar. I'm fairly certain I have grounds for a law suit."
KK paws at Ben to get his attention.
"I dink see called schecurity," he says. "Thait now," he then adds, pointing towards the desk. Then he comes to realise that maybe the clerk thought that Ben was the one who'd been pummeling KK's face, and that she merely wanted to make sure KK was safe. Oh, how nice. People who cares about his well-being.
"I wath a doctoh," he says to Donna. A doctor who can give him a healthy dose of painkillers.
Donna puts on her best concerned face. "I am terribly sorry to hear that, sir. Here at Cesar's we are always disappointed when we hear that we have failed to live up to our customer's recommendations." She reaches under the counter and comes up with a couple of forms.
"If you could please fill out our customer complaint form, detailing the nature of your difficulties, we will be happy to give both you and your friend a complimentary gift certificate, each good for dinner for two at Wilma's Cafe just down the street."
At about this time a tall, thin, waxen-faced Al Amarjan man wearing the uniform of a security guard and carrying a large cudgel and a light crossbow as weapons enters the lobby. He (like all employees of the hotel) wears a red dagger pin of Safe n' Sound on his lapel, and also a name tag which reads "Flats". He walks with that professionally nonchalant gait that security guards (at least the non overweight ones) have, and surveys the scene at the front desk with professional interest. His eyes linger over KK for a moment and he frowns slightly as he approaches.
"What seems to be the problem?" he asks in a voice that brooks no delay in answering.
"Some sort of assault," replies Donna before Ben can open his mouth. "What room?" she asks, directing her gaze back at Ben.
"Room?" Ben thinks about it for a moment. "You know, I'm not sure. I was in 216 but there was a problem and I had to move. I believe it might have been 219 but that's not important. The important question here," Ben says as he turns to face the security guard, "is how half a dozen chain wielding hoodlums can just waltz into your establishment and start kicking open doors and accosting your patrons, all without security so much as raising an eyebrow. What exactly does it take to get your attention?"
Flats puts on his best professional face. "I understand your concern, sir, but getting angry about it isn't going to do any good. Perhaps if you explained the situation I could be of some help."
Ben raises a hand and snaps his fingers several times in near proximity to Flats' face. "Hello? I just explained the situation. Were you day dreaming? I'll try once more, speaking slowly this time so you can follow along. Six... thugs... broke... into... my... room... and... attempted... to... kill... me. Got that, chief?"
"Yes, thank you," replies Flats evenly, "that clarifies the situation for me completely. I can see now that any additional details such as what these individuals looked like or why they might have chosen to assault you are superfluous. I particularly appreciate such a lack of information since it means that I can offer no form of assistance or advice, nor can I investigate the situation properly, which means that I don't actually have to DO anything about it." During this monologue, Flats' voice rises somewhat in volume, more for emphasis than anything else. He seems about to continue when he glances over Ben's shoulder for a moment in the direction of Donna. A look of understanding replaces the look of anger on his face, and is almost immediately replaced by a return of the professional bland look.
When Flats looks over Ben's shoulder, Donna (behind the front desk) mouths a couple of words to him. KK is good at lip reading, and Donna is exaggerating anyway, so it is very easy, even in his beaten up shape, to make out that she is mouthing the words "Sir Arthur Compton".
"Why would I want you to do anything?" counters Ben. "You've already shown your incompetence. The job of security is to prevent this sort of thing from happening. You had your chance to do something and you failed. Why don't you just go back to the break room and finish your nap."
Flats starts to open his mouth...
After spending some time putting thoughts together, KK decides to clarify something for Donna and Flats. "Washn't Comton. Othe' guys. Priests. Gang of priests," he slowly declares to anyone willing to listen. Getting a bit annoyed at the gross lack of interest in his state of unhealth, he also repeats his tired request for a doctor.
Flats closes his mouth again and pauses a moment.
"Sir," he says at last, his voice dripping with professional courtesy, "The staff and management of Cesar's sincerely regrets any failing on our part that may have caused any inconvenience. However, it is not the policy of this hotel to provide a private army for its guests. This is a hotel, not a safehouse or high security bunker. I don't know what you did, but if you have managed to piss off an Aries affiliate strongly enough that they would come after you in Sunken then you have only yourself to blame. If you have a grievance to file, I suggest you go to the Aries Headquarters in Flowers - you are certainly wasting your time here."
He looks over Ben's shoulder once again, this time pointedly. "I'll go up and assess the damages," he comments, then turns to go.
Behind Ben, Donna says delicately, "May I call you a taxi, a jitney, or... an ambulance?"
"A taxi to the doctoh," KK replies. An actual ambulance would probably cost an arm and a leg, and KK isn't willing to part with either.
"Certainly sir," replies Donna. "There should be a taxi at the taxi stand directly through the front door. If not, let me know and I will call one for you."
"Coming?" KK asks Ben. Then he starts to slowly and carefully walk towards the front door.
"Yeah, sure." Ben grabs his stuff and follows KK out the door.
Outside there is, in fact, a taxi stand, and two taxis parked there. The first is a sleek, black stretch limo which looks exceptionally sinister and cool, with tinted windows and a guy in a uniform polishing the hood. It is only identified as a taxi by the words "Total Taxi" neatly and discretely stenciled on the front doors.
Behind it is a turquoise 1989 Plymouth Sundance which has seen some rough service over the years. Stuck to the front doors are placards with the words "Giovanni's Cabs" written on them, and there are various stickers from Safe N' Sound, the Aries Gang, the Dog Faces, and other organizations stuck to the lower right-hand corner of the windshield. There appears to be nobody inside, but as the duo approach, the passenger side doors swing open.
Feeling like he'd be better off dead, KK isn't about to treat himself to another ride in one of Giovanni's cabs. Instead he shuffles over to the Total Taxi. The driver hurries around to open the passenger door for him. The interior looks dark, cool, and anonymous, and KK can see that there is a bar, a tv, a VCR, a CD player, and very comfortable looking seats. There is a single laminated sheet lying on one of the interior seats.
TOTAL TAXIThe prices listed hits KK almost as hard as a fist wrapped in a steel chain. As he's trying to recover, he turns to the driver and slowly asks how much it would cost to take him to a doctor. The driver responds immediately, his voice pitched at a perfect tone of professional deference.
Rates
Hourly: $75.00
In-City
Flag Drop: $60.00
Service Charge (by Barrio)
Four Points: $25.00
Great Men: $50.00
The Brink: $25.00
Out Of Town (one way)
Airport Pickup/Drop Off: $95.00
Skylla: $150.00
Traboc: $150.00
The Burbs: $150.00
Freedom City: $495.00A 20% gratuity will be added to your total.
"Do you have a doctor in mind, sir?" he asks politely.
"No. Do you know of any good ones? Reliable, but not too expensive?" KK says, firm in his belief that a good doctor have to be affordable, or else his treatment will have very bad side-effects on the economy of his patient. And then discontentment usually follows.
"Might I recommend the D'Aubainne Hospital and Trauma Center?" the driver replies. There is just a trace of slavic accent in his voice. "They are very understanding about that sort of thing, and have a reputation for creative financing."
"I'd suggest the Kwik Klinik in Four Points," says Ben. "It's cheap, discreet, and, if your lookin' to replace that knife you broke, it's close to Gun Metal."
"Um... sounds good," KK mumbles while trying to make sense of the list of prices. "Yeah...to the Kwik KliniK, please," he says as he carefully slides into the back seat and sinks down for a much needed rest.
Ben climbs in beside KK. "You're paying for this, right?"
"Yes," KK says in a soft voice. He's still got the two hundred that Compton already paid him, and that should easily cover the fare.
The sleek black limo rolls away from Cesars and into Al Amarjan traffic, but all is quiet in the back. The ride is comfortable, quick, and painless. Ten minutes later the limo pulls up in front of Ahmed's Kwik Klinik.
To Be Continued...
