Chapter 13 – The Devil’s Sunday
Dante entered the Devils’ block, impeccably dressed in a black suit, shirt and tie. Yama and Frost stared at him.
"Right. Well… Let's get to it," he said.
"What's with the monkey suit?" Frost asked.
Dante crossed to a locker with a skull and crossbones painted on it. "Last night was a big night. We had three wins. Should be something worth picking up.”
"Yo, Dante. I know you wanna be all business as usual but, shit, come on. What are you thinking?” Frost inquired.
Dante didn't answer or look away from the open weapons locker.
"Do I have to say it?" Frost stepped forward. "You ain't got Mo standing behind you no more.”
Dante looked down to the floor. "I never did, Frost. All I ever had was you and Yama.” He turned away from the locker and looked at Frost, clearly annoyed. "We're still Devils, aren't we?”
"Yeah, man, of course. I'm just saying… " Frost raised his hands in frustration.
Dante looked at the ceiling, "You think maybe we aren't up to the task? You think we should consolidate our power, lay low, something like that?”
"No. Yes. Look. Who you want to collect from? Who first?”
Dante turned back to the task of inspecting the weapons. "Usually we hit Paulie first. But since little Miss Ashley put him in the infirmary… I think, today we should go see Mongo first.”
Frost turned his back on Dante, and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, right, D. He's the one fucking guy… “
Dante plucked a long metal cane, with a skull handle, from the locker. The spine shot down to a needle-sharp point.
"That's right, Frost. He's the one fucking guy. It's time we bury the hatchet. Once word gets around that Mongo is behaving, everyone else is gonna fall right to line."
Yama laughed, but Frost shook his head.
"If it goes south and it's just us… Forget the money. It'll be shift-six on all of us, dead,” Frost said flatly.
Dante closed the locker. "Then we'd better not lose." he asserted.
In the hallway, Dante headed in the wrong direction, away from Mongo’s cell block. "First however, we have to pay a visit to the warden and convince him to deal with that bitch.”
Frost tilted his head. "You're nuts, man. But I'll come with, just to watch.”
"You don't have to do a thing. Just watch," Dante said.
Dante, Yama and Frost entered the district command center and stopped before the reception desk. The duty sergeant ignored them.
"I need to speak to the Captain of the Guard," Dante said.
The sergeant didn't look up.
"It's about Donovan," Dante sighed.
The sergeant scowled. "Take a seat.”
Dante, Yama and Frost sat on the bench anchored to the wall.
The sergeant placed a call. "Get me the Colonel.”
A few minutes later, the sergeant walked Dante, Yama and Frost into a training hall. The spacious gymnasium sported open wrestling mats, weapons racks, punching bags, and a sagging boxing ring.
Colonel Keller and a dozen of his elite guard were practicing throws and strangle holds. The colonel was of medium height, but wide and powerful, and he was the smallest of the group. They stood on a mat, raising them an additional two inches above the orphans.
The practice came to a halt as they approached.
Dante held the cane before him, tip resting on the wooden floor, his hands crossed over it as if he were standing in his own personal gym.
"Captain?" Dante queried.
"Colonel. Who the fuck are you?" he asked.
"I'm Dante," the boy answered.
"What 's with that fucking cane? That's beyond illegal.”
"I took a rather nasty spill yesterday," Dante explained, gesturing to the butterfly bandage on his nose. "I was carrying this to assist me in moving around the facility. I found it in the Gardens. I think perhaps a professor left it behind. Rather morbid, though, don't you think?" Dante held up the wicked skull-handled cane, showing it to the guards for a quick moment. "Anyhow, I was afraid that a child might find it, and since I found myself in need, I took it with me.”
"You'll leave it here," Keller commanded.
"I am rather fond of it. I don't think I will."
Dante raised a hand before the colonel could interrupt him. "But that's not why we're here. I wanted to give you some information about the death of Corporal Donovan.”
"Give," Colonel Keller said.
"It was Ashley Fox.”
Frost and Yama looked at each other.
"Ashley Fox? The fighter, from last night?" Keller snapped.
Dante nodded, "The one and only.”
"How do you know?" The colonel appeared interested.
"Everyone knows.”
"Do you have any proof?”
"Do I need any?”
"I don't have time for games.”
"Really? Nice outfit, captain." Dante gestured to the tight wrestling singlet worn by the colonel and his troops.
"You want to lose your teeth?" Keller asked.
"You want to touch my what?" Dante laughed.
The guards seethed with anger but Keller held them back.
Dante stepped forward, addressing all of them. "Fuck heads, I make more in a week than you do all year. Whatever you do to me, I’ll just get upgraded and be more dangerous than before.”
"Can they bring you back from the dead?" Keller inquired.
"You'd have to kill me first, like little Miss Ashley did Donovan.”
"Without proof, that's worthless.”
Dante smiled. "First off, you do the proof. That's your job, you shit. The fact is she killed Donovan.” The insolent teen continued, "Yesterday, she beat Modred into the ground and killed Leland, all live-stream during an illegal pit fight. There's plenty of proof; pick a fucking crime. Perception is more important than proof. She's not going to fade away quietly. You saw what she did to Lethal. I thought it looked premeditated.”
Keller narrowed his eyes and took another look at the teen.
Dante stood his ground. No longer laughing or smiling, just glaring at the guards. He straightened and somehow, the courageous boy seemed to be standing taller than any of them. He waited a moment and finally rolled his eyes.
Dante turned and slowly walked to the door, his hands folded behind his back; the needle-cane pointed directly at them like a sharp, metal tail. He opened the door with his foot and exited the gym, followed by Yama and Frost, who both shot looks of contempt at the guards for their cowardice and hesitation.
Keller alone smiled. "Find his record and make him eleven years old. He's never getting out of here.”
The guards cackled and dove back into their judo practice.
Dante marched through the district taller than ever before, the silver needle rising from behind his back. Soon he, Yama, and Frost entered the North Wheel, Mongo's block.
Only four circular blocks could be found in the bolt. Three stories of cat-walked cells opened onto a central common area, decked out with couches, video screens, and workout equipment. The resident inmates lounged about, watching TV or playing video games.
Mongo and his buddies sat atop a raised platform.
When they spotted Dante everyone stopped whatever they were doing.
Mongo saw Dante and jumped up. "Well, well, well. All dressed up and no one to blow, huh, cocksucker?"
"Can we just do this, this one time, without screwing around?" Dante replied. The cell denizens were shocked by Dante's scorn. Neither they, nor Mongo moved.
"Who's screwing around, buddy?" Mongo asked, in a serious tone.
"Good. So then give us the percentage and we'll be on our way.”
Mongo laughed. "You think today is the day you get by?"
With a smile to Yama and Frost, Dante waited for Mongo to talk, but whenever he did, Dante spoke too, purposefully and deliberately driving Mongo mad.
"That's not what day it is, buddy,?
?? Mongo said.
"That's bullshit, Mongo," Dante replied.
"Today is not your day," Mongo said.
"I have other pick-ups to make,” Dante interrupted.
"Today is different. This is my prediction... " Mongo continued.
"Stop fucking around and let's get moving here," Dante snapped.
"Today you don't make any…"
"I don't have time for this bullshit, you ignorant monkey,” Dante blasted in reply, laughing.
"Today is a bad day for you my friend,” Mongo yelled, furious.
Dante moved to speak but then yielded the floor.
"I'll give you one chance to improve your fortune!" Mongo offered at the top of his voice. "Get Out! Right now, get out! This is your one chance. I'm being merciful here," he huffed and puffed.
Dante remained calm, cool and collected. He planted the cane on the ground between them, his hands folded over the skull. "As much as I'd like to set business aside, in recognition of our loss, I cannot. The business has to go on, or else we'll have anarchy. Do you understand?”
"I understand," Mongo answered. "I'm looking at this as an opportunity.”
"Why don't we do something about patching things up," Dante offered. "Maybe we can even forgive some of your debt.”
Mongo tilted his head to the side.
"You know, if you and your boys agree to swear in as Devils."
That did it, Dante hit Mongo's soft spot.
He pressed his momentary advantage. "If you don't stay on schedule, I'll have to consider alternative collection measures.”
Mongo came out from around the table, moving carefully, but furious. "Like what, motherfucker?”
Dante dragged his words out, speaking slowly, making Mongo wait, taunting him. "Like, maybe selling your markers to more aggressive, loan-recovery establishments.”
Dante smiled. "You're supposed to get out of here in, what, six months? This kind of thing can follow you much longer than that.”
Mongo took a step closer, but they were still a good distance apart. "How about this, Bitch... You forgive All my debt, I let you walk out of here with no blood leaking out your corn hole?”
Mongo was huge. Not quite as big as Mo, but he towered over Dante.
His soldiers laughed.
Dante stepped forward, the cane held low, behind his back.
The mood instantly got much more serious.
"How long have you been here, Mongo? Something like three or four years now? You're a runaway, right? I fucking HATE runaways.” Dante looked around at the other kids, then back to Mongo. "I bet you were the source of all your momma's problems, weren't you? I bet you had a good home and you, being the shit-bag that you are, you fucked it all up, didn't you? Drove your parents apart, drove your mom nuts. Yeah, you did it. I know you did.”
"Fuck you, Dante! You don't know shit!" Mongo screamed.
Dante stood his ground. "I know I was born here. I've been here all my life. What do I have to lose?”
Everyone stayed quiet, watching, shocked. Usually the kids would cheer on a good old-fashioned fight, but the physical conflicts of the last few days had taken a more permanent turn.
"Who busted up your hoover?" Mongo asked.
Dante flashed a glare at him but didn't reply.
Mongo laughed. "I'm guessing it was the bitch then, wasn't it? Got you too, huh? Probably been telling people you fell.” Mongo's crew laughed riotously.
Dante waited for a lull, before speaking. "They say the best fighters know the outcome of a fight before it starts. Do you believe that, Mongo?”
"You think you can beat me? Is that what you're saying, Don’Tay?" Mongo mocked the use of his proper name.
"If you don't pay, you're going to find out,” Dante answered.
"You fucking bitch, I'm down. Let's get it on." Mongo rolled his shoulders and raised his fists.
"Let's." Dante raised the cane, offering it to Frost.
"No, wait. Keep it." Mongo pointed to a heavy snake of iron links hanging on the nearby wall. "Gimme those chains.”
One of his soldiers pulled the long chain from the hook and handed it to Mongo. He wrapped one end around his left fist and swung the other in lazy circles. "Let's see what you got, bitch."
After a couple revolutions of linked metal, Mongo stepped forward, attacking, the chain already hissing with its wind-up momentum.
Dante sidestepped the clumsy maneuver and buried the cane in the center of Mongo's chest. Eighteen inches of bloody chrome penetrated into the open air on the other side of his back.
Mongo dropped the chain and fell to his knees.
Dante planted a foot on his chest and pushed the dead boy from the silver piece of steel.
Mongo's eyes rolled up as he collapsed to his side, blood spewing from his mouth and chest, the bright crimson pouring onto the floor.
Mongo's soldiers were stunned.
Dante turned to them. "Any of you want jobs?" he asked.
The room was quiet.
Dante swung the excess blood from the cane and wiped it across dead Mongo's shoulder.
"Go tell the other gangs what happened here. I want all payments delivered to my block by tomorrow at noon. I'm offering one day of amnesty in remembrance of Lethal.”
Dante, Yama and Frost walked to the doorway. Dante paused. "One more thing. This is now a Devil's block. If you ain't swearing black, you ain't sleeping here.”
Dante pointed at a big redheaded guy. "Red, who's the toughest guy here, after Mongo?”
"Me," he answered without hesitation.
"How old are you?" Dante asked.
"Fifteen," he answered.
"You're the new boss until someone kicks your ass. You send me an earnings report and your percentage every week. Starting next week, you pay ten percent. Got it?" Dante explained.
"Ten percent?" Red asked. "Mongo was paying fifteen.”
"Mongo was paying eighteen," Dante corrected him. "And that's what I expect tomorrow, but you've got a clean slate.
“Remember, taxes never go down, they only go up, and you've heard what they say about death and taxes.”