Bring it on.

…

“Masks?”

“Check.”

“Empty sacks?”

“Got 'em.”

“What about your vest?”

I beat my hand against my chest, grinning at my partner in crime. “Nice and snug.” Leroy nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think we're ready now.” I nodded back and handed him his Beretta 92F. His girl was a fairly attractive piece, I had to admit. Nickel-plated, five inch barrel, pearl grips—damn shame she was only a nine millimeter.

Leroy popped a full magazine into his baby and pulled the slide back. “So let me see if I have this right; fire one warning shot—save the rest for any potential risk-takers?” “Mmhmm,” I hummed while opening up Myra's cylinder to double check her rounds, “this is a pretty small joint, so we doan really need a whole lotta weapons to switch between. Your nine millimeter and my forty-five Colt should be more than enough to get the job done.” I closed her back up and smirked at him. “So no need to show off those flashy powers of yours.”

Leroy grabbed his ski mask and pulled it over his head. “I could say the same for your crazy, trigger-happy ass.” My buddy received a big ol' shit-eating grin from me. “There's a difference between skills that were given to you and those that were earned.” He rolled his eyes, dismissing my insight. Alas, that seemed to be the case everywhere I went. As I said before, nobody appreciates the truth nowadays. “Put your mask on before I batter yah.” With one last chuckle, I did as I was told. “Enough chit-chat; we got a grocery store to hit.”

The bright sun nearly blinded me as we emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. If I had to guess the time, I'd say it was around 2:25 in the afternoon. The weather still colored my breath smoky white, very much reminding me that it was only the 13th of January. If Casa do Diaño's winters made New York City's look like light snowfall, I shuttered to think what Spring would be like here. I may need to keep some extra tissues on me at all times—just in case the pollen count is so high that my nose bleeds from all the damn sneezing!

The Mercado Familiar, or “Family Market” as Leroy kindly translated for me, was a humble little store in Northern Oeste District. Their inventory covered just about every major food group necessary for maintaining a healthy diet. Fruits, vegetables, lean meat, bread, milk, cheese—basically anything to keep your lazy ass from blowing all your cheddar at the local burger joint. They even had a small aisle dedicated to junk food for those five year-olds that won't stop crying because they didn't get the G.I. Joe action figure they wanted.

Or, you know, your woman craving really gross shit like sandwiches containing strawberry ice cream smeared on top of turkey and Swiss cheese.

Still think babies are cool, kids?

Just thirty-two weeks and life to go.

Once we reached the front of the store, Leroy took the right side of the entrance while I took the left. “Ready for this?” I whispered. He nodded, confidence lacing his next words. “Let's get this show on the road.”

And so I held up three fingers, putting one down with each number counted.

“Uno, due, tre.”

…

…

I've been here for twenty-one days now.

A combination of strange circumstances and poor decisions led me and my girl to this carnival sideshow known as Casa do Diaño.

With no home, no job and a baby on the way, I was at a loss.

But then, Leroy Barris came into my life like an old friend I hadn't seen since grade school.

…

…

Now, first things first, you are probably wondering why we were trying to hold up this grocery store. You're probably thinking, “Genghis, what gives? If you're gonna do a stupid little time skip, you better cough up the grueling details of what led you two to commit such a dimwitted crime such as robbing a grocery store outta the blue!” First of all, this wasn't a dimwitted crime; it was a brilliant crime. Secondly, this course of action was only partially outta the blue. I'll explain that later, though—gotta rewind this tape a little ways first.

Let's see...French zombie-gangsters, was it?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

After we had successfully defeated Louis Couture and his crew of semi-undead punks, me and Leroy climbed the fence in the back of O Príncipe Modesto. Sure, we could've just left through the bar; it would've certainly been warmer that way. But, as fun as kicking French ass was, neither of us were in the mood for Bauhaus and booze. I dunno—something about the whole “doom and gloom” thing kinda rendered celebratory drinking...well, meaningless. You understand.

“What about the redhead? What should we do with her?” While hanging on the metal fence, I looked at the unconscious Amelia lying on the ground behind Leroy. “Leave 'er. She can pass along a warnin' to any of Louis' men that might still be stinkin' up this city.” The Irishman from Alabama crossed his arms. “Are you sure that's a good idea? I couldn't help but notice that she kicked your arse quite a bit during that fight.”

I bit my bottom lip, grilling holes through the snarky asshole. “I had control of that fight the whole time.” Leroy grinned wide. “Bullshit. You wouldn't of begged for my help if you did.”

Oh, get a load of this asshole.

“You try havin' your nuts squashed by her henchmen! See if you can handle it! Besides, we can't all have overpowered water abilities like a certain somebody here.” Despite my more than reasonable justification, Leroy Barris continued to look at me like he'd just outsmarted me in a game of chess. “There's no shame in admitting that a pretty girl gave a big macho man such as yourself a run for your money. I've seen plenty of women that were stronger than your average man.”

Call me average again, Bucko.

I dare you.

“She got lucky,” I growled through clenched teeth. That got a laugh out of him. “Whatever soothes your pride, buddy.” I snorted loudly and jerked my head back. “You gonna climb this fence with me or are you just gonna dick around until she wakes up?” Leroy shook his head, still giggling like a fucking girl over my humiliation. “No no—I'm good. Let's get out of here, Killer.”

Yeah yeah—I'll show you “killer” one of these days.

He grabbed a hold of the metal to my left and I continued my climb. Once I was at the top of the ten-foot-tall fence, my legs crossed over to the other side. After hopping off the fence, Leroy was down with me in a matter of seconds. A deep breath escaped from my lungs—followed by yet another cigarette escaping from my coat pocket. “Alright, your boogeyman is no more,” I stated casually while lighting up, “What's next on the agenda?” My partner looked up at the night sky, admiring the starry pattern shining above the two of us. “I dunno, my friend. I suppose it just depends on what you're hoping to accomplish here on this island. After all...” He looked back over at me, smirking. “...nobody comes to Casa do Diaño without a reason.”

I chuckled, letting the lit cancer stick hang from my lips. “Right you are, pal. Though I ain't got much of a clue as to what I wanna do, truth be told.” Leroy jerked his head slightly to the right. “Walk with me. Let's see if we can figure out what fate has in store for you.”

Heh, “fate”.

“That ain't got a hold on me,” I informed him as we walked side-by-side toward the main road, “I'm the only master of my future. If I blow up a buildin', it's because I wanted to—not because some ghost said I'd do it.” Leroy snickered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “True, you're the only one that decides what path to take. However, that doesn't give you the right to just sit around and do nothing at all.” He looked over at me as I took another drag on my smoke. “You still have to actually walk down the path you choose.”

I exhaled the cigarette fumes through my mouth and nostrils. “This the part where you tell me to clean up my act? Get a clean shave and a haircut? Get a respectable job?” Leroy shook his head, laughing loudly for about a minute before he responded. “You? Get a respectable job? Not after that bloodbath we got ourselves into!”

I dunno, man.

It seemed to work just fine for the cops back in New York.

We stopped walking once we made it back to my parked snowmobile on the deserted road. “The easy life isn't the life for you, Genghis Boy,” Leroy commented, turning to face me in the dark, cold night. “I could tell from the moment I saw you on that ship that you weren't coming to this island for a romantic getaway with that young woman in the pink sweater.” He took a step closer to me, my face suddenly feeling the warmth of his breath. “You're running from something. The pretty lass just got roped into all the chaos.”

I took the cigarette out of my mouth and blew my smoke away from his face. “The United States couldn't handle me. Shit, I'd go as far as to say that none of the other countries in the world could handle me.” Leroy sighed, never changing his facial expression. “You got into some trouble, didn't you?” I took a step back, allowing at least a little space to be between us. This guy proved to be a trustworthy adversary thus far, but the only times I was okay with other people putting their face that close to mine was if we were fighting or if we were fucking.

“I, uh, killed a guy in a gas station bathroom.” He blinked once, but didn't say a word nor did he make a funny face at what I had said. Taking his silence as a sign that he was interested in hearing the rest of my story, I continued. “A-A weird...thing talked to me afterwords. Took the form of the dude I stamped out.” I took another drag on my cigarette and began pacing. “He suggested that I could make a name for myself here on this island—follow in the footsteps of my namesake, maybe. Of course, I thought I was just goin' crazy. After all, no sane person would have corpses talkin' to them, you know?”

Leroy snorted. “No sane person would kill a man in a gas station bathroom.” I couldn't help but snicker at his honesty. “I'd argue with you on that one, but I can't really.” After one final drag, I dropped the filter onto the ground and quickly extinguished it with my boot before continuing my mindless pacing. “Shit hit the fan eventually. Got my happy ass outta Brooklyn—outta New York altogether. Now, here I am.”

He hummed in response to my tale. “So you aren't sorry for what you did?” I quickly shrugged and let my hands drop to my sides. “Maybe I shouldn't of taken my anger out on that guy, but considerin' I'm here and he ain't...I'd say I did the poor bastard a favor.” Leroy crossed his arms, ready to drop the million dollar question on top of my head. “Why were you angry?”

What do you think, ladies and gentlemen?

Should I give him the entire scoop—fully equipped with all of the brutal details?

Or should I just throw him a half-assed summary?

I rubbed the back of my neck and answered his question with a low, somewhat sheepish tone of voice. “Girl trouble.” His face finally lit up, no doubt amused. “Ah—a regular “Machine Gun Kelly”, I see. Well, considering that you traveled with a rather fine thing, I'd say your “girl trouble” wasn't too terribly awful.” That got a loud scoff outta me. “Shit. If I hadn't knocked her up, she'd still be in Brooklyn with that shrimp-dicked loser, Paul.”

Leroy put a hand in my path, stopping me in my tracks. “I don't think that's true.” He stepped in front of me, staring at me for a moment. Just when I was about to ask him to elaborate, he gave me a fairly warm smile. “If she knows that you're a cold-blooded killer and yet she still decided to come with you to this new land, I'd say she's in this for the long run.” I sighed again and looked down at my feet. “And if you're out looking for me all by yourself in this weather, I'd say that you're serious about making things work with her.”

That's a fucking understatement, my guy.

A fucking understatement.

“Yeah...I ain't got the time to simply “get my foot in the door”. I need to bust through that goddamn door.” I looked back up at him, expression hard as stone. “I ain't got much money, Leroy. Fuck, I ain't got shit. We're livin' in a hotel at the moment...and I ain't one to do some corporal gig—fuck that. My idea of production ain't having managers shovel shit into my mouth.” Not looking away from him, I whipped out my revolver and held it up. “My preferred line of work is much more...hands-on.” A wicked grin plastered itself on my face, voice deepening slightly. “No bosses, no rules. Just me being in charge of some unfortunate dope's destiny. To decide if he lives...or if his blood serves as the aphrodisiac needed to make me feel like a god amongst these wannabe deities.”

Leroy stared straight into my manic eyes. His eyebrows were slightly raised, though his eyelids were still rested over his irises. My words clearly disturbed him at least a little, but he wasn't so appalled that he was trying to yank my gun outta my hand. After a moment of silence, he placed his hands on my shoulders. “Then let's start there. We'll get you enough money to give you and your beloved a good start. Through that trial, we'll surely figure out where your place on this island is.”

My eyes widened a little, surprised that that was his reaction to what I had to say. “You're still willin' help me out?” He chuckled lightly. “You're mad as a box of frogs, Genghis. Nobody can deny that. But, as my mother always told me, the line between genius and insanity is very, very thin. I'm curious as to where you lie on that spectrum.” Leroy's hands dropped to his sides. “Besides, I owe you one, don't I?”

A relieved smile spread across my face. I had to admit that telling somebody this sorta thing made me feel a whole lot better about myself. It was like dropping a large bag of bricks after years of lugging it around on my back. All these fucked up words coming outta my mouth—I'd rather chop my hand off than ever repeat them to somebody like Heidi. Leroy was officially the only person that knew just how far gone I was.

And, shockingly, he seemed completely okay with it.

“I'm glad to hear that, Leroy. I really am,” I told him as I put Myra away. His face lit up again, but I stopped him from opening his mouth by holding up my right index finger. “However, there's now somethin' I wanna know.” I let my teal coat slide down my shoulders all the way to my elbows. With my bare arms exposed, I nodded my head towards the still visible burn Leroy's thumb had seared into my bicep. “Was there a particular reason why you needed to put this on me?”

Leroy's expression stiffened a bit.

“What do you think was the reason?”

That was actually a pretty good question. Considering that an Irish Horse Goddess was the one that allowed Leroy to make this unexpected contact with me, I assumed that the “burning process” was maybe some way to track me. Perhaps he couldn't see me very well in the red portal, so he wanted to mark me—make me easier to identify. After all, there are plenty of white boys that look very similar to me. Of course, I'm easily the most handsome of them all.

“I'm gonna go with “Freaky Voodoo Shit” for five-hundred, Alex.” Leroy made a face and tilted his head to the side, clearly not understanding the reference. “You wanted to find me with some kinda weird Irish horse magic or whatever,” I reiterated. He gave me a half nod, but then shook his head. “Good guess, but that's wrong.”

Of course it was wrong.

Nothing can be simple on this goddamn island.

“Alright wise guy, why doan you enlighten me then? Because the only other explanation I can think of is that you're just an asshole.” With the stage now belonging to Leroy Barris, it was his turn to pace back and forth. “Think back to that faithful day. You and your lass had just boarded the Princess Moura after a series of rather unusual events. You both were terrified of the notion that a giant basilisk was the ship captain for the duration of your voyage...” He took a moment to chuckle darkly at the mental image. “...but neither of you realized that you were never in any danger. Moura may take a terrifying physical form, but she is nothing more than the gatekeeper of this unholy land—a guard bound by duty to defend anyone who found the courage to leave their old lives behind in favor of something new.”

Leroy stopped pacing and looked at me with his hands out. “Meanwhile, I was able to cause you physical pain without even being there.” He stepped closer to me, getting in my face again. Seriously man, did he wanna make-out or something? Give me room to breathe. “Do you understand where I'm coming from?”

No.

No, I didn't.

“You're ramblin'. What's the point of all this?” His hands dropped to his sides as a loud groan came out of his mouth. “What I'm trying to say is that the Unexpected rules Casa do Diaño. Instead of being wary of things that look threatening, you need to be wary of all your surroundings. A lion might be guarding his den, but you don't want to be so distracted by him that you don't catch the King Cobra sneaking up behind you.” He poked my chest with his right index finger. “Because if you focus too much on the big cat, you'll never stand a chance at survival once that snake bites your leg. I don't want to see you die, Genghis. If burning your arm is what it takes to make you understand, I'll ask Danu to assist me in burning you again each time you forget. Expect the unexpected...or else you'll perish before you can even truly live. Do you understand me now, Genghis Dillinger Boy?”

Not gonna lie, I was a little on the fence on how to take his advice.

On one hand, I already followed this principle religiously back in Brooklyn; he was really just preaching to the choir here.

On the other hand, I ain't ever had to deal with goddamn corpses attacking me until Jacob Summers decided to give me a piece of his mind.

I guess it just goes to show that literally anything can happen if you don't pay attention.

So with this in mind, I decided to acknowledge Leroy's advice with a swift nod.

Satisfied with my response, he finally took a step away from me. “So now that we have that settled, tell me: what hotel are you and the little lady staying at?” I blew a little air through my lips as I pulled my coat back up to my shoulders. “This place made outta diamond. Like one hundred percent, grade A diamond. Fuckin' eyesore, if you ask me.” Leroy cocked an eyebrow and squinted. “Are you talking about the “Hotel de Diamantes” over in Oeste District?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His tone of voice slightly amused me.

Something told me that he wasn't pleased with this particular location.

Not that I could blame him, of course; Oeste was a heaping pile of elephant shit from the word “go”.

“So you've heard about it, then?” Leroy gave a rather exaggerated sigh, nodding slowly. “Yes.” He shook his head and spoke again with a somewhat agitated tone of voice. “Yes, of course you'd pick a place fairly close to the docks. Winters here are hard and your lady friend is in no condition to be aimlessly trekking all across the island.”

“You doan approve, I take it?” He sighed again, rubbing his left palm over his face. “It's not that. It's just that I...should've known better.” I was confused at first as to what the problem was. Sure, we were currently a long ways from the hotel, but we could manage. I made it to Norte District in a matter of days. Yeah, the drive was fucking awful, but I survived. So long as Leroy used his powers to help us both, we should be able to make it to Oeste District in much less time. So there shouldn't be any problems worth worrying about, right?

Then I remembered the daydream.

How Leroy had been picked up by two women after being orphaned on the streets.

How they lived in a cottage up in Norte District.

How Leroy summoned Danu in those woods.

How he spoke to me in those same woods.

So that was the catch here.

The problem wasn't the drive; it was him leaving his folks—his home—behind.

After a moment of weighing his options, Leroy reached into his coat and pulled out his Motorola. “I'll need to let my family know that I'm going to be spending a few weeks in Oeste District.” While he dialed the number, I examined my trusty snowmobile sitting next to me. “'Bout how long do you think it would take to get us to Oeste usin' your powers?” He put the phone up to his ear and shrugged. “It would take a few hours to get us to the edge of Oeste District. To Hotel de Diamantes, on the other hand? You're looking at a day long trip at the very least.”

I was right about that, at least.

“Think I can use your phone when you're done? So I can tell Heidi that I'm on my way home?” He nodded at me as he responded to the voice answering his late night call. A smile spread across my face just before mouthing a silent “thank you” to him. Yes, things were finally starting to look up for me, ladies and gentlemen. I had successfully recruited Leroy Barris to my side, giving me the extra manpower needed to fend off all of these super-powered freaks inhabiting Casa do Diaño. Life was close to being considered “good” now.

I looked up at the stars while he had his phone conversation.

Big Dipper told me hello.

…

As Leroy had said, it took us a little over a day to make it back to the Diamond Hotel. He summoned up his fancy snow wave again and dragged me and my snowmobile along with him. I'd say the overall trip conversation was fascinating and memorable, but I'd be lying my ass off. Granted, it wasn't his fault; it was mine for constantly passing out on him during the drive. Don't be judging me, alright? After days of endless travel and ass-kicking with hardly any time to rest, a little exhaustion on my part was completely understandable. The good news was that it made the trip home seem much shorter than it really was.

Of course, where there is an upside, there's always a downside. While I managed to catch a few ZZZs during the trip, Leroy was dead to the world once we reached the short driveway to the hotel parking lot. Well, not literally dead, you know—just passed out was all. I'd have to remember to make this up to him once warmer weather was afoot.

“C'mon buddy, let's get you a room,” I said as I attempted to get him to his feet. Lemme tell you guys now, it was quite the motherfucking struggle. Leroy Barris may have had a smaller frame than I had, but after wrapping my arms around him, it became abundantly clear to me that there was plenty of muscle hidden underneath his clothes. If I had to guess, I'd say he either weighed around the same as I did, or was little heavier.

While I managed to get him up eventually, gravity decided to give me the middle finger and his unconscious body went tumbling over again. “Oh no you don't!” I growled, snaking my arms around his waist. Leroy dangled over the hard ground in my arms for a moment before I attempted to lift him up again. After a quick breath, I leaned him against my side so I could put his arm around my neck.

“Baby steps, Leroy. Baby steps. We can do this.” I took one last look at my snowmobile, which was parked on the sidewalk. “I'll be back for you in a minute.” With those words, I dragged us both slowly into the parking lot. Anytime it felt like he was slipping, I tightened my hold around his waist.

While we made our way to the hotel entrance, I kept my focus by quietly singing the lyrics of the first song to come to my head. “Saraaaa, you're the poet in my heaaart. Never channnnnnge, and don't you ever stop...” Once both the soothing guitar playing and Stevie Nicks' beautiful voice was crystal clear inside my head, I was able to start moving us at a faster pace. It was an age-old mental yoga technique many people used. Whenever you're in the middle of a task that requires your full attention, think of a song you really like. Once you do that, the task ultimately becomes much easier because your mind ain't being reduced to slush due to the combination of frustration and tedium.

Some people prefer to do crossword puzzles instead, but those people are really sad.

Anyone who doesn't appreciate the work of my lyrical goddess is a sad sonuvabitch.

“But now it's gone: noooo, it doesn't matter anymore...” Around this time, we had made it to the halfway point of the parking lot. Once I made this realization, I took a deep breath and continued singing. “When you build your house, I'll come byyy...”

It was some point before I started singing the ending verse—as in sometime during the “Ooooh, Sara” back-up singing—that Leroy began to show some signs of life. “Hmmm...who sings that song, Genghis?” He spoke slowly and quietly, probably still half-asleep. “Fleetwood Mac. Why do you ask?” He opened one of his eyes and tightened his hold around my neck. “You should keep it that way.”

Oh, ha ha.

“Man, shut your bitch ass up. I oughta make you walk to the lobby by yourself.” He chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “I appreciate your help.” I looked over toward the hotel and was pleased to see that we were almost to the door. A smile came to my face as I reached my other arm around to pat Leroy's shoulder. “You better. You're a heavy sonuvabitch.”

Things were smooth as butter once we made it inside the Diamond Hotel. Alexander was more than happy to supply Leroy a room, provided he paid the fee at the end of his stay. Yeah, pay at the end of his stay. I wasn't sure if this was a regular thing he did, or if it was a favor he was doing for me. If it was the former, I really gotta wonder how on Earth has this guy survived Casa do Diaño for so long without getting his ass shot by some gangbangers looking for free hospitality.

Upon entering my room after a couple of days on the road, I barely made it past the door before Heidi got up in my face. She passionately told me things as tears streamed down her pretty hazels...but none of those things matched up. When I say none of it matched up, I mean that the emotions being conveyed were completely outta whack and contradictory. Think I'm exaggerating? Just listen for yourself.

“Genghis! You no-good, sleazy, cocksuckin' motherfucker! I fuckin' missed your sawrry ass!”

See?

“I been so lonely without you here! Don't you care about that at all?! Answer me, you thick-dicked slimeball!”

Well, I ain't ever been called a “thick-dicked slimeball” before.

I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment or—

“I hate you, you stupid prick! I hate you!”

At this point, she was slapping the shit out of my chest. Normally, I'd be pretty pissed off if some broad was using me as her personal punching bag. Hell, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a tad ticked off over her reaction to me doing a thing that she already knew I was gonna do. Any other woman doing this to me would get snuffed right in the fucking jaw without a second goddamn thought. But this was Heidi; me and her went back way too far for me to do her like that.

So instead of chewing her ass out, I just pulled her in for a hug. “H-Hey! Lego of me, you fuckin' asshole!” Heidi tried to pull away from me, but I tightened my hold on her so she couldn't escape. “I ain't fuckin' 'round, Genghis! Let go of me!” She tried to knee me in the balls, which served as the final straw for me.

“You sonuva—hey! Whatta yah—” In the middle of her unnecessary yelling, I lifted Heidi up and walked us over to the bed—her flailing her arms around so much that it knocked my gangster fedora onto the floor. “Put me down! Put me down!” Doing as she commanded, I tossed her onto the mattress. She landed on her back and continued to squirm as I climbed on top of her. “Get off me, creep!” She slapped me hard in the face, but I mostly disregarded the blow while I pinned her arms down with my hands.

She screamed a few more obscenities at me before I finally shut her up with a tender kiss on the lips. And, just like that, all of her wrath seemed to have vanished. All of the thrashing stopped and the tension in her arm muscles eased a little. I caressed her face a few times before breaking the contact.

This action caused the floodgates to open.

Big time.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry baby! I'm so sorry! I'm such a terrible person—oh my God!” Heidi wailed loudly underneath me for a solid ten minutes, at least. Of course, I refrained from opening my mouth until I knew she was calm—I didn't want to fuck up and say something stupid, you know? Anytime she looked like she wanted a response outta me, I either rubbed her cheek or kissed her again.

Once she was finally quiet, I gave her one last peck on the lips. “I need to move the snowmobile real quick. But I'll be right back, okay?” She stared at me for a moment with her sad eyes. “I love you. Y-You know that, right?” I gave her a warm smile as I gently rubbed her small, but ever-growing baby bump. “I love you too, gorgeous.” As soon as I saw that she was pleased with my response, I got back to my feet and left the room.

...

I slept for the entire day, waking up sometime in the evening to the room phone ringing in my ear. Once I answered it, I discovered that Leroy was staying on the same floor as we were. And, apparently, Heidi's hormone-induced temper tantrum from earlier was loud enough for him to hear all the way down the hall. “Your girlfriend...I'm a little frightened of her. Maybe I'll introduce myself when she's not as...fighty.” He heard no complaints from me, ladies and gentlemen. And so we stayed put at the hotel for a couple of days; taking time to relax and plot our next move.

It wasn't until the fourth day that me and him had “met up for coffee” while Heidi took an afternoon nap.

“No security, you say? Fuckin' A!” Leroy quickly shushed me, putting his index finger in front of his lips. Me being me, the excitement over hearing that he had thought of a possible start to our two-man crime spree made it hard to contain my whispers. “Indeed, most of the small businesses in Casa do Diaño seem to suffer that affliction,” he said quietly, leaning over the small cafe table we currently occupied, “They either cannot afford the protection, or their pride is too strong to give in to the demands of the many organized crime syndicates plaguing every district of the island.”

“And I'm guessin' the mob is typically filled with super-powered freaks like Louis Couture?” I asked, leaning back into my chair. Leroy nodded and took a quick sip out of his Styrofoam cup. “Many of the island's strongest individuals aren't satisfied leading less-than-extravagant lifestyles, unfortunately. And, contrary to what you may believe, not everyone in Casa do Diaño is all-powerful. Some people draw the short stick when being given their powers.”

Pfft, he didn't need to tell me that.

I've seen werewolves, zombies, necromancy, super strength, demon steeds, water-manipulation, and now involuntary demon possession courtesy of Jeffrey Hopkins.

I'm the motherfucker that got the lame dream powers.

I leaned forward in my seat, trying to ignore the somewhat bitter feelings of this reminder. “So you sayin' that the people in charge of this “Family Market” are confirmed to be virtually harmless?” He wrapped both of his hands around his coffee. “More or less. We may not make a lot of money from this job, but it's a start.”

Oh hell yeah.

This was the kinda news that turned me on more than anything else.

A bunch of worthless scrubs just going about their day as normal—blissfully unaware that there's a monster lurking in the shadows.

“So, what do you say? Should we survey the area and then decide on a game plan?”

I gave him a wild grin.

“I got a much better idea, buddy.”

…

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen; you're all up to speed now.

You're welcome, by the way.

“Uno, due, tre.” Me and my partner in crime simultaneously kicked in the door to the Mercado Familiar. Immediately upon entering, I was reminded of one of those rinky-dink pharmacies back in Brooklyn. You know the type—white ceramic tiles for walls, three to five aisles worth of merchandise, and the giant nerd behind the cash register that looked like he preferred his women like he preferred his pot roast—chilling out in the freezer until he was ready to cook it up for guests.

Before any of the customers could properly react to the sudden noise, Leroy cleared his throat loudly. “Everybody, get on your knees and put your hands on your head!” The idiots looked around at each other, mouths agape. “He said get on your fuckin' knees! This is a raid!” I shouted, putting extra emphasis on the word “raid” as to signal my partner to fire his warning shot. He took the hint and fired a nine millimeter round into the ceiling.

The customers all dropped to the ground and put their hands on their heads, screaming over the realization that they had just become hostages. I held Myra up and looked at Leroy. “Keep these pansies down while I go grab the goods.” As I made my way over to the counter, I pointed my revolver at several of the hostages on my left. “Anybody that wants to misbehave for my buddy over there will get a face full of lead.” I then switched Myra's direction, now pointing to the hostages on my right. “And anybody that even thinks about being heroic will be knocked off their ivory tower faster than you can say “The Family Market provides only the freshest fruits and vegetables for the entire family”. Got that?!” My ears picked up the sound of unanimous gasping along with some faint whimpering.

Honestly, I was pretty sure half of these bozos didn't even speak English.

We were in Casa do Diaño, after all.

However, the great thing about language was that you could earn any reaction you wanted so long as you sounded a certain way.

By sounding angry, even some foreign-speaking prick could get the general idea of what I was saying.

Once I made it to the counter, I pointed Myra right in the geeky cashier's face. “Time to empty that little register of yours, pal.” Instead of doing what he was told, the sweaty herb just stared at me like a deer in the headlights. “Do you not speak my language or somethin'?” I asked, pulling Myra's hammer back, “I said give me all of your money!” He shook his head, tears slightly fogging up his large glasses. I growled and tried a slightly different approach. “Arrenditi i tuoi soldi o perisci!” Unfortunately, that seemed to only confuse the stupid bastard even more, causing him to speak a language I wasn't entirely familiar with. “Non entendo! Non entendo!”

“Man, fuck you!” I snapped just before shooting him in the face. The blast from my forty-five Colt essentially split his face in half, coating my mask in blood. As his body toppled over, a giant uproar in the Mercado Familiar took place. All of the hostages were screaming their heads off and a couple of them even tried to make a run for the door. But that's okay; me and Leroy figured something like this would happen.

“Leroy, watch the door! Kill anyone tryin' to be brave!” The loud bangs of Leroy's Beretta popping off a couple of customers echoed in my ears as I climbed over the counter. My peripheral vision caught sight of the freshly dead cashier sprawled out on the tiled floor. Taking a quick breath, I faced the corpse and searched his pockets. Sure enough, I found a ring of keys; probably for his car, his house, and his cash register. I didn't need a car right now in this weather and, judging by the potentially low salary he made working in a crappy grocery store, his house was probably a fucking shack. So I once I found the correct key for his register, I tossed the rest to the side.

“Genghis, you got the money yet?!” Leroy shouted over the combined sound of screams and gunfire. “I'm on it, I'm on it!” I responded hastily, stuffing my brown sack full of fichas. Of course, I knew it wouldn't be as simple as emptying the cash register. Oh no—there was bound to be more. Look, I ain't ever worked in a small business before, but it ain't exactly a secret to us low-lives that these small, family-owned joints often had a mini-treasury in the back office. It was often left untouched, only really utilized either when the main register came up a couple bucks short or in more serious emergencies like owing a shitload of dough to the IRS or perhaps some two-bit loan shark.

So once the register was clear, I looked up at Leroy, who was still dutifully guarding the entrance. “Yo Leroy! I'm gonna look in the back office. Be back in a jiffy!” He groaned as he popped another magazine into his pistol. “Don't take too long, okay? My hands are getting sore from working this stiff slide!” I nodded and rushed into the back, letting the door slam behind me.

As far as a back room, there really wasn't much to see. Unlike the main lobby, this room had concrete walls and a gray linoleum floor. The temperature was cool, but slightly warmer than what it was outdoors. And, awkwardly enough, the room was about the size of the lobby. Considering that the room was full of boxed-up produce, my guess was that this area was purposely kept at a low room temperature as to maintain the quality of the merchandise. Not that any of that shit matters, of course; I was only back here for the cheddar.

With no time to waste, I searched along the walls for anything that might've resembled a safe. I knew I was looking for something fairly small. This market wasn't some multimillion dollar corporation or anything; there wasn't gonna be an entire room full of gold bars. Hell, I doubted the safe itself was even around the same height as your truly. My predication was that it would either be one of those tiny lightweight safes disguised as a fucking dictionary, or maybe one around the size of a mini-refrigerator.

I thought the search was going to take a while, but I was delighted to see that I was wrong.

After passing the third rack of kid's juice boxes, I heard the tell-tale sound of a slide being pulled. “I-Isto é tan lonxe c-c-como vaia.” I turned and spotted the owner of the timid voice. Standing next to a cooler full of frozen meats was a tan-skinned woman wearing an oversized coat and white tights. Her long black hair was in her face, but failed to cover the obvious fear written in her eyes. Even with both hands tightly gripping her little black handgun, she still struggled to catch the rapid breaths escaping from her pouty lips.

It was like a cute little squirrel trying to stand up to a burly lumberjack about to chop her tree down to the ground.

“Go home, lady. You're flirtin' with disaster by stayin' here.” She didn't say anything, instead opting to fire a round in my direction. Luckily, it missed me and hit a juice box behind me. I chuckled and held Myra up so she could see that I, too, was packing some serious heat. “Look baby, I just wanna see your safe. Point it out to me and maybe I'll forget that you shot at me.”

Before you say anything, I was fully aware that she couldn't understand me.

I was simply playing along in the hopes that she'd make my job easier for me.

She frantically shook her head. “Deixar este lugar, monstro!” With that, she fired another round that actually did hit me...in the bulletproof vest. The blow briefly winded me, but I was still standing. Thank God Leroy was such a worrywart that nagged me constantly about getting this thing.

“Alright, bitch. That's as far as I'm gonna let you go.” She looked ready to pull the trigger again, but I quickly pulled the hammer back and shot her hand, making her drop the gun. The lady screamed and dropped to her knees, using her other hand to apply pressure to the wound. I walked over to her now that she was properly disarmed. “So I'm gonna ask you one more time...” I stood over her and pointed Myra's barrel against her forehead. “Where. Are. The. Fichas?”

Her eyes widened, tears streaming down her face. “F-Fichas? Q-Queres saír se che dou o que queres?!” I pushed her forehead upwards with the barrel so she'd be looking at my masked face. “Yeah, fichas. You got approximately two seconds to fork them over.” She quickly got back to her feet and motioned for me to follow her. I did so, but kept the gun pointed at the back of her head—just in case she thought she was gonna pull a fast one on me.

We walked about halfway around the room before she pointed at a checkered sheet that seemed to be covering something up. “Take it off,” I ordered her, using my gun to motion towards the sheet. The lady nodded and yanked the cover off the object, revealing a forest green safe underneath. It was short, only barely coming up to the bottom of my knees. It was easy to see why these guys decided to make it blend in with all these other boxes.

Mentally patting myself on the back for being right, I grinned at the scared little lady. “Good girl. Now...” I lifted my other hand up and did a writing motion. “...I want you to write down the combination. Easiest way past this language barrier we seem to have.” Swallowing hard, the woman mimicked my gesture. “E-Escribir?” I nodded in response and she reached into her one of her coat pockets, pulling out a pen and notepad with German Shepherds on the front.

As she clicked her pretty little pink pen, the door to the back room opened. “What the hell is taking you so long? You get lost?” I looked over at Leroy and jerked my head towards the lady. “Gettin' us a bonus, my guy! Earn enough money for the both of us to live a little easier for a day or two.” He walked over toward us and looked over the woman's shoulder. "A safe? Excellent."

I began to nod, but had a sudden thought come to my head. “How goes it with the hostages?” Leroy sighed, shaking his head while still watching the woman write. “All dead. Every single one of them.” I blew a little air through my lips. “Dumbasses. How they got to this island in the first place, I'll never fuckin' know.” The lady finished writing the safe combination sometime during this exchange and handed me the slip of paper. “Alright Genghis, now what?” I poked my head around the corner and pointed. “Over there somewhere is a pistol lyin' on the ground. Go grab it while I open up this safe.” He nodded and left to do his assigned task.

While he did this, I took the lady's wounded hand. She gasped, looking down in horror at me using my middle and index fingers to wipe the blood off her gunshot wound. Before letting go of her hand, I licked my fingertips clean of her life essence. Through an intense moan, I pointed toward the door and told her to leave. I imagine my reaction was pretty terrifying, if the sudden whimpering and lightning quick sprinting was any indicator. But really, I couldn't care less about what she thought.

Me?

I was in eternal bliss.

The sweet-yet-bitter taste of life coated my taste-buds like fine wine.

After too long of being separated from divinity, Papa had found his way home.

“Hmph, the lass tried to fight you with a twenty-two. That takes courage, I have to admit.” I laughed loudly, the euphoria making me shake. “Anyone who t-t-thinks they can take on a God is fuckin—oh...” My inability to finish my sentence made Leroy sigh. “Whatever you say, you fucking psycho.”

…

…

Me and Leroy Barris.

We come from different backgrounds, but we're basically the same.

Just two guys trying to make a name for themselves in this wicked wonderland.

We've been a duo for just over a week now and we still have a long, treacherous road to cruise.

Hell, we've really only just cranked up the engine of our 1990 model Hell Taxi.