Dream City Ch. 13

Sassy's Grave was the local bar and grill located at Jupiter Avenue, one of the roughest neighborhoods in town. Its top patrons were the local biker gang known as the Hurricanes. Jupiter Avenue was their territory and nobody dared to take it from them. They were their own little mafia; murder, blackmail, extortion, prostitution, drugs, the list went on and on, all part of their forte'. No one would ever think to look for any missing person in this particular area; the perfect place to keep Prudence hidden.

When I told Sadie we need help I meant we needed an army for this rescue attempt. The man who can pull it off was a war veteran and a former member of the forces. Razor was the name he chose for his dog tag; soon added Lord when he ran his own night club called Razor's Blade.

"You sure this is wise?" Sadie asked.

"We don't have a choice," I said. "Besides, I know the guy from way back."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Yeah, same here. Stick close to me, we might not be greeted with open arms."

Before entering, we needed to get by the doorman; a two hundred pound black man with a dragoon tattoo on his cheek, wearing pitch black shades.

"Where you going?" He asked.

"I need to see Razor," I said.

"Nobody sees Razor."

"It's business."

"Ain't no business here."

"Look, tell him it's Johnny Octane. I don't think your boss would be too happy if he discovered you threw out an old friend of his."

The big man contacted Razor through his earpiece; taking almost a full minute before Sadie and I were allowed inside. Without hesitation he opened the door, allowing us to enter without incident. Tonight, it was a packed house; the music loud enough to blow your head wide open. As luck would have it, we were the only two white folks inside. It didn't take long for everyone to take notice; looking right at us like we were crazy.

Another guy came our way, telling us to follow his lead, all the way to the back, passed the red curtain where Razor sat, talking business with his crew. He certainly looked elegant in his own way, wearing a grey suit and carrying a walking stick with a crystal cobra's head to match. He'd come a long way since his days on the battlefield.

"Well, well," he said, "look what we have here. Johnny Octane. Bounty hunter extraordinaire. Hot damn. It's been a long time, and you look like shit."

"Yeah," I said, "and I feel like shit, too, so let's skip the formalities, shall we?"

"Fine by me, but let me ask you this. Why are you here, and why should I care about whatever business you want to discuss with me?"

"Because we go back a long way."

"Ancient history. You have to do better than that, homey, unless you came out here to waste my time."

"I wouldn't dream of wasting your valuable time, so I'm going to say this as nice as I can. You, owe me."

"I owe you?"

"Really? You really want to go there? Look, Razor I've had a rough few days and I'm way too tired to argue right now."

"You hear me arguing? Am I raising my voice? I don't have the fucking time or the fucking patience to feel sorry for an old brother in arms."

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I require your help."

"Help? You require my help? You got balls coming here, I'll give you that. But that was always your problem. Your big balls always got the best of you. It's a fucking miracle you still have them dangling between your legs. They are dangling between your legs, right?"

Members of his crew got a chuckle from that little insult I found less than amusing. Little did he know I had a few of my own.

"You still have yours, right?" I said. "You're lucky you didn't leave them behind in that stinking swamp."

Razor didn't take that too well. If I wounded his so called pride, then it wasn't my fucking problem.

"The fuck you say to me?" He said, getting pissed.

"I think you heard me," I said, "loud and clear. Unless you suffered some hearing loss I don't know about."

"Motherfucker, you lost your damn mind. You come into my club and embarrass me in front of my people? I should kill your ass right now."

"Do you always have to be so dramatic whenever you get pissed off? You haven't changed a bit. Same old Razor, taking things a bit too seriously when the going gets tough. As I recall, that attitude nearly got you killed and we wouldn't be having this conversation right now, am I right?"

It started to get intense, until one man stepped up and changed the subject at hand, lightening up the mood a bit.

"Oh, shit," said a member of his crew; young kid, mid twenties looking straight at Sadie for some reason. "Oh, shit it's you. Ya'll, this is Sadie Hill. Holy shit. I love your music. Your music is slammin'."

"Thank you," said Sadie.

"A pen. I need a pen. Who's got a pen?"

That look on his face made it seem like he was seeing Santa Claus for the first time. One of the guys handed him a pen after picking up a napkin for Sadie to sign on. The kid was the luckiest man on earth; he'd probably cherish this moment 'till the day he dies.

"Thank you so much" he said, "and I hate to bother you, but can I please have a picture with you?"

"Of course," said Sadie.

The young man took out his cell phone, stood right next to her while they flashed piece signs. One guy took his phone, snapping the picture himself. Sadie loves to please her fan base; no exceptions.

"My girl is gonna freak," he said. "Sadie Hill in the house."

"You have to forgive brother Marcus here," said Razor. "He's a big fan and never shuts up about it. Last Halloween he got his girl to dress up like you."

"I'm flattered."

Now that that was over, I went back to reminding Razor my reason for being here. It didn't take long until the mood changed right back, but not as much as before.

"Now," he began, "you were saying?"

"I was saying," I continued, "now that we're done comparing balls, let's get down to business, and that is you owe me. Did you forget I saved your ass that day in the swamp? Then you assured me that whatever favor I needed I was to let you know."

"I really said that?"

"Yeah, you did. You also said that if you ever forget I was to remind you, any time, any place."

It all started when Razor and his squad fought insurgents right smack in the middle of the swamp. The battle was fierce and bloody; both sides suffered heavy casualties. Days later my team and I found Razor and a few of his men, laying near the swampy area, half dead and in need of medical attention. Razor suffered wounds from his leg and both his arms; he managed to keep all three.

After being treated for his wounds, he immediately requested my presence. He thanked me in person for saving his life, assuring me that whenever I needed a favor I was to go to him and we'd be even. Now was the right time.

"All right," he said, "I remember that day in the swamp. It's not something I choose to relive again, you feel me?"

"I hear you," I said.

"So, what kind of favor does the great Johnny Octane need from Lord Razor?"

"It's simple, really. I need you to go into battle with me."

Razor and his crew looked at me like I was nuts, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"Did I just hear right?" He asked. "You want me to go into battle...with you?"

"You heard right," I said.

"You got jokes, Johnny? You trying to lighten the mood? Where are we going this time? Have we been drafted?"

"No, nothing like that. Call it a rescue operation. You and I are going to take a stroll down Jupiter Avenue."

Once again everyone looked at me like I was nuts, only this time no one was laughing.

"That's Hurricane territory," said Razor. "Nobody goes there, and I mean fucking nobody."

"Listen, her sister is being held at Sassy's Grave, and I need an army to get her out of there."

"Does this look like a fucking recruiting station to you? Do I look like motherfucking Uncle Sam?"

"Come on, Razor. You're gonna sit there and tell me you don't want payback on those pricks? You haven't forgotten about that kid who worked for you, have you? You and I know damn well they were responsible for what happened that day."

The kid I was referring to was Julius; a couple of years younger than Marcus, ran errands for Razor and brought in more people to the club. Then several months ago the Hurricanes attacked Sam's Deli because the owner refused to pain them for protection. The owner closed up one night and a biker flew by, blasting and killing the poor man. Unfortunately, Julius was caught in the line of fire and paid the price.

No arrests were made. The surveillance cameras on the streets caught a glimpse of the lone biker but no identification was made. Those that saw what happened were either threatened or mysteriously disappeared. In Jupiter Avenue they were untouchable; nobody dared to take them on. Not the police. No one. I counted on this rescue operation to mark the end of their little reign of terror.

"Julius was a good kid, wasn't he?" I asked.

"No doubt," said Razor. "He made my club what it is. I owed that boy everything."

"Now you can kill two birds with one stone and wipe out those cocks from the face of the earth. Come on, Razor. It'll be just like old times."

Meaning the number of opposing forces we took down overseas. Those days were hell on earth and tonight, we were going straight back into it.

"All right," said Razor, "I'm down with you, but I'm gonna need something in return to secure my interests, if this shit goes south."

"Fine," I said, "I'll cut you in on the reward I was offered to get the girl."

"That's cool. I like that."

"But we need her alive and in one piece. If she's not then no one gets paid, got it?"

Razor rose up from behind the table, smiled and extended his hand to me to shake on it and seal the deal.

"Eagles fight free," he said.

"Yeah," I said, shaking his hand, "eagles fight free."

The old Eagle Forces motto never goes away no matter how hard we try to forget about the past.

"Listen up, ya'll," he said, addressing his crew, "we got a job to do."

I took Sadie out of the room, assuring her that everything was going to work out. I was gonna bring Prudence home, alive and unharmed, even if it kills me.

"Listen," I said, "no bullshit this time. I want you on the sidelines. Stay far enough away from the battlefield until it's over, understood?"

"I understand," she said.

"Don't worry, I got all the backup I need. If I know Razor he never backs down from any fight."

"You be careful."

"It's gonna be fine."

Sadie gave me a big hug. Even though I was still hurting, the feel of her arms around me felt right. We were both sick and tired of the charade we had to endure. Hopefully, tonight's battle would put an end to all of it.

"And you bring her back," she said. "You bring her back safe and sound."

"I promise. It'll all be over soon enough."

We stepped back inside, listening to Razor's battle plans for tonight. His crew compiled of ex-cops, ex-cons, ex-soldiers, and cage fighters; all men willing to fight and unafraid to take chances. Under the cover of darkness, Razor and I would lead the charge and hopefully, rescue Prudence unscathed. We were headed for the lion's den; the Hurricanes' very own backyard.

"Tonight," Razor addressed his crew, "we are going into enemy territory and take down the motherfuckers who killed our brother Julius. The Hurricanes think they are tough. They think they are hard. They think they are fearless. They think they are unbeatable. I say, bullshit. We are going to give them the beat down they never got from their mommies and daddies. By the time we're done with them, they're going to be our bitches. They'll be begging like a bunch of pussies, begging like the little punk asses they really are. They didn't show any mercy on Julius, so we won't be showing any on them. They will learn after tonight, that if you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us."

Spoken like a born leader, leaving his crew inspired and pumped up by his words. Operation Flyby was a go.

By twenty-one hundred hours, Razor, his boys, and I got on our sky cycles, making our way towards an old abandoned subway station; the entire area was filled with dust and the foul scent of old urine. Even the four legged inhabitants had declared this their domicile. We flew right over the broken down tracks, straight through the pitch black tunnels. Our headlights lit the way for us, waking up a few homeless men along the way.

"All right," said Razor, "we're right under them."

"About time," I said, feeling anxious.

We had arrived at Jupiter Avenue, at top speed and in fourteen minutes. We made our way off the tracks, right up the stairs, passed the turnstiles. Up ahead were three bikers, laughing and chatting among themselves, unaware and unprepared for what came their way. Razor and I flew right over them, while his crew beat all three down with stainless steel clubs. We made our way in the open with a rush of adrenaline pumping in our veins, ready to make some noise and cause severe damage.

"Light 'em up!" Razor yelled, signalling his crew to launch Molotov cocktails, to draw the Hurricanes out in the open.

The bottles of flammable liquid shattered on impact, drenching a few cycles in flames. The rest formed a flaming circle around the area, preventing anyone from going in or out. Two bikers came out in the open, with arms decorated in tattoos, each getting their legs burnt from the falling cocktails. The rest of the bunch came out in the open, working fast in dousing out the flames. Their leader, gone by the name of Big Jake, managed to get his cycle saved, revved up his engine to lead the charge. We took a big U-turn right back to the bar, straight into a stand off with the opposing forces. Both sides stood their ground, waiting on whoever would strike first. By now the thunderous roar of motor engines had woken up the entire neighborhood. The bikers stood there armed with chains, knives, and whatever they could get their hands on. They were all ready for a fight.

"Hit 'em hard, and hit 'em good," said Razor.

"All the way, brother," I said.

We pumped fists and waited on the next move. Big Jake gave the word to his group, beginning their charge. Razor gave the signal to his own crew with both of us leading our own charge. They drew close. We drew close. We were at the point where we were ready for that collision that could kill us and them. Both sides screamed. Both sides felt the rush building up; a battle about to rock the neighborhood .

Just like that we plowed right smack into one another. Bodies flew and metallic debris rained down upon the street below. Razor and I took down a few bikers; knocking them right off their seats. Both sides scattered, each picking out an opponent to play with. Elbows, clotheslines, fists, kicks; all made contact and causing blood, teeth, and spit to fly everywhere.

I pulled out my shot gun, taking down two cycles, leaving them blazing infernos on the way down. One biker decided to have fun; leaping right off his cycle and onto mine, wrapping a rusted chain around my throat. With one hand on the handlebar I did my best trying to connect elbow shots into his ugly mug, but to no avail. My only solution was to go straight up, right into the nearest streetlight. I ducked my head down but the asshole didn't think to do the same; getting himself clotheslined and falling flat on his face.

I removed the chain and massaged my throat; luckily no serious damage was done. I made a big U-turn, only to be caught in a standoff with a biker that looked as big as Jake himself. We both revved our engines and straight forward we went, playing a little game of chicken. The biker expected me to make the first turn but I stayed on the right track. The closer we came, he steered clear, taking my bluff seriously.

We made our U-turns, making our second standoff. We charged once again, this time he pulled out a club with some gold spikes. I could have blown his head off and end this quick, but where's the fun in that? I did fire a shot, shattering the club to splinters, and once he drew close enough, I decked him with the butt of my shot gun, knocking him right off his cycle.

Razor and his crew had it all under control and I was in the clear to enter Sassy's Grave. I landed safely, ready to barge right in until Big Jake landed his cycle, getting my full attention.

"Where the hell you going?" He said. "No one enters without my permission."

"Yeah," I said, "says who?"

"Me...and Betty."

Betty was the large Bowie knife he pulled out of his holster; it looked big enough to cut off two heads at the same time.

"You got balls," he said, "stepping into my turf when no one else can."

"Too bad for them," I said.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Why? I'll be leaving soon."

"I wanna know before I carve my initials on your throat."

"Johnny Octane. The pleasure is all mine."

The look on his face was enough to say he was thrilled to meet me in person. I usually had that affect on scumbags.

"Is that right?" He continued. "This must be my lucky night. I finally got an opponent that's worth killing."

"I should warn you, I'm not that easy to kill."

"Neither am I, and you gotta be stupid if you think you're walking out of here."

"I got news for you, pal, I know I'm walking out, but you won't be walking. Period."

Jake swung his knife, nearly slicing my face and chest. I grabbed his arm, flipping him right over. Once he got back up he tried again, trying so hard just to spill my blood. I grabbed his wrist, slamming it against my knee until finally he released the knife. The exchanging of punches came next; back and forth we went, causing some bleeding on each other's lips and nose.

"You're a fighter all right," said Jake, wiping blood off his lips, "but Big Jake is still king of this block."

I just love it when guys declare themselves the top dog; the big man who's untouchable. They're all the same and Big Jake was no different.

"It looks to me," I said, "your kingdom is lost. Your boys are dropping like flies, so where does that leave you?"

Jake just stood there, determined to take me down despite everything around him crumbled before his eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "That's what I thought, too."

Back we went at it, connecting one shot after another. It was all coming to an end when Jake decided to go for his knife; I stopped him cold before he even laid a finger on it. I grabbed his long locks, smashing his face against Sassy's front window. One shot from him was blocked and I came back delivering a couple of rib shots. I then finished things off with some lefts and rights until Jake's pretty face swelled up, with a shade of purple in the mix.

With Razor and his crew taking care of business, I rushed inside the bar, discovering the place had already emptied out once the fire started. The only one remaining was the bartender, hiding behind the counter, whimpering like a scared little boy. I caught him laying in the fetal position with his eyes closed tight, talking gibberish.

Then I noticed he was someone I once knew; the familiar scar of a familiar tattoo on his arm gave him away. His face I recognized in a hurry; someone who couldn't even tie his own shoelaces let alone handle a weapon. The guy was gutless on the battlefield and shouldn't have been one of us. His name was Howard, but we all called him Howard The Coward. By the looks of it, he hadn't changed one bit; a coward then and a coward now.

"Hey," I said, "yeah, you. Where's the girl? I know you're keeping her here so don't try to insult my intelligence."

"Downstairs," he said, "she's downstairs. Just take her and go."

I blasted the lock and kicked the door wide open, rushing down those dusty concrete stairs. From there I discovered a lone figure, tied to a chair, wearing a sack over her head. I put my weapon aside, carefully removing the sack, uncovering the face of a young lady, with short dark hair and tear stains on her cheeks .One look at me got her to scream with her gag on.