An orange moon set behind tall peaks leaving a clear, empty sky. Dead eyes looked up at the darkening heavens, as two cold hands clutched at a bloody dagger half-buried in a still heart. Clumps of loose dirt rained down on the corpse as two men filled a shallow grave.
“You sure’n he be dead?” asked the tallest of the two men. He had the lean build of a man who had skipped too many dinners, and a red scar that ran across a white, blinded eye.
“Did he fuffin move when ye kicked him?” a bald man spoke through swollen lips and a wispy beard covered in dust and breadcrumbs. “Look, the bastard aint coming back from this un. Old Red knifed the pig sticker heself.”
“Eh, even the bossuns luck ran out this time.” The lean man removed a threadbare hat and held it over his chest.
The two men paused for a silent moment. It seemed almost respectful, until a thin yellow streamed flowed over the loose earth. Steam rose up into the cold night.
“The fuck Serge, that’s still the boss. Have bit of fuckin’ modicum,” said the lean man.
“He be a fuffin corpse,” Serge spit as he talked. “Besides, you aint be know’n what ye saying. Ma always did say he be a halfwit, Tally. The words be, ‘fuckin’ modicum of respect.”’
“Eh, that’s what I said,” said Tally as he clutched his hat to his chest. “Don’t be bringing ma into this. Bad enough she were without summoning no shade.”
The two men contemplated each other for a moment before breaking out in a round of raucous laughter. “Gods keep her below,” they hollered. They returned to their task with tear stained cheeks and short of breath.
“Serves me right, tryin’ to speak like the bossun.” Tully tossed his spade. “Hold on to this, I’ve got need dun water the weeds more respectful like. Hear?”
Serge lifted a shovel full of dirt as his brother disappeared behind the bushes. He glanced down a final time and sighed before covering the boss’s face with dirt. “Fuffin shame it be, Boss. Right bastard ye were, but our bastard.”
“Hello?” a deep voice called out. “Is anyone there?”
“Shades!” Serge yelled. He tossed his spade at the corpse of the Boss and ran into the bushes, gaining several new welts across his face and bare arms.
“May the Circle damn ye, Serge,” Tully said. “I’m still swinging free in the breeze and you be hootin’ and hollering like a god’s darned banshee. What’s got up your britches?”
Tully looked into his brother’s terrified eyes. Serge’s face had turned white and his mouth opened and closed but no words came out. He only managed a few gulps of air and stuttered syllables.
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“Who be the fuckin’ halfwit, now,” Tully laughed. “Snap out of it, bro. You’d think Old Red be un yer heels.”
“It’s the boss,” Serge stammered. “His fuffin shade be after us!”
“That’s cattle dro—” Tully began, before his eyes went wide and the blood rushed from his face. A large silhouette stood outlined by the starry sky. It lumbered forward, grunting, and clutching at it’s chest as it moved.
“Hello?” it asked. “Can you tell me where I am?”
“Bo … Bossun?”
“I’m Kitt,” the shade said. “I think I’m hurt, can you call 911?”
The two brothers stared at each other in slack jawed horror. If this wasn’t the boss, it must be something worse. Gods below protect us.
***
The moon rose above the hills outside of Los Angles. The orb was a strange shade of orange and its light blocked out all but the strongest stars. It would have drawn attention, but all eyes were on the flashing sirens and the wrecked Humvee that rested at the bottom of a long slope.
The vehicle’s pink frame was twisted, and bits of debris littered the hillside. Detective Wheels lifted the yellow police tap and was beginning to make his way down when he was blinded by the flash of a bulb.
“Detective!” yelled a man in a cheap pastel suit. “Is it true Kitty Price was in that crash. Can you conform reports of her death?”
“Get these parasites out of here,” the detective yelled.
“I want this line moved back a dozen yards and block off traffic in both direction. If I see another fucking camera that doesn’t have a badge behind it, I will toss it down this hill. Got it?”
A uniformed officer nodded and grabbed the photographer by the shoulder. Wheels continued to make his way down the steep hill, using an old Maglite to illuminate the treacherous path.
“Couldn’t have OD’d in a fuckin’ penthouse like all the other starlets? Had to drive off the road in the middle of nowhere at o-dark thirty on a Saturday.”
“Detective!” shouted a small blonde woman in a blue tee over long, grey sleeves. “Over here.”
“What have you got, Murphy?”
“Kitty Price, real name Elea—”
“For Christ’s sake, kid. I know who she is. What have you got?”
“Ah, white female, late twenties. Drove off the road approximately thirty minutes ago. Local boy drove by and saw the smoke.”
“And the body?”
“Still trapped in the vehicle. The fire department is working on it, but the EMTs already confirmed death and left the body in situ due to safety concerns.”
“Alright, I don’t want any more fingers in this pie until I get a chance to take a look. Am I clear to approach, or do the —”
A bang silenced all conversation. Detective Wheels dove to the ground carrying Murphy with him. She clung to his chest and let out a terrified squeal as her perfect hair and freshly manicured fingers were dragged through the dirt.
“Get off me,” she pushed the detective aside and looked up. No one was looking at the strange pair as they pushed themselves up from the dust. All eyes were on the smoldering wreckage. A door had been torn from its hinges and launched a dozen feet.
A small frame climbed from the crash, it’s form hazy through the smoke. All eyes watched as it slowly walked forward. A pleasant voice rang out, one that everyone was familiar with.
“Ms. Price?” someone yelled. “Are you alright?”
Detective Wheels watched as a small woman walked from the smoke. She was beautiful but wore too much makeup, now smudged and running down her face. Her hair was highlighted in purple and the undyed bits of her hair looked orange under the unusual moon.
“The name,” she roared. “Is Sever, Marcus Sever of the Black Hand. Now which one of you mother loving sissies is going to tell me what in the hells is going on?”