Virtue Among Thieves: Chapter 2 – Family Over All, but God

Chapter 2 – Family Over All, but God

Today’s job has us in a city that is Suzuki’s home away from home. He takes us to a Tatsu restaurant for breakfast and speaks in his native language to the waiters, which gets us better food and quicker service than the other customers who speak English. Right now, we’re in civilian clothing and just appear to be a group of friends to those who don’t know any better. Scouting moments like this, where we pretend to be normal, are precious to me since I don’t have anything to go back to at my house. I admire the faces of my friends, the youthful appearance of Kelly, who has half blue and black hair, Suzuki’s grizzled face that is a lot like mine, except I have a goatee and grey hairs, while he still looks relatively young, and the always put-together Al with slick black hair and the fires of youth in his eyes.

“Ace, what do you think?” Kelly asks me.

“About what?” I ask.

“About getting better food and service if you speak the language of the natives. It sucks for those who don’t know.”

“I don’t care for it as long as we get good food anyway.”

Al says, “I’m telling you. It’s entirely normal.”

“Does it happen in your Mediterranean restaurants as well?”

“Yes, it happens there and in our marketplaces.”

“Tch. I’ll never understand the discrimination in your cultures.”

“It’s not discrimination. It’s just preference and respect for people who respect our language and way of doing business.”

“Preference is discrimination. They should treat all people the same.”

“Tch. I don’t expect a Slav to understand these things,” Suzuki says.

“I don’t expect hyper-traditional cultures like both of yours to understand my point of view either.”

“This is why I prefer the Chimaera way of doing things. It prevents useless conversations like this from happening,” I say.

“I do prefer them as well,” Kelly says.

The waitress gives Suzuki the paid check and another piece of paper, and he gives her a tip. Suzuki puts away the tip and reads the other piece of paper that’s written in Suzuki’s language.

“What’s it say? Did you get her number or some kind of love letter?” Kelly jokes.

“No. Just information on our targets,” Suzuki says.

“Was she our informer with our organization? I thought we didn’t accept any help from them.”

“Nope. She’s an informer for my family.”

Understanding what he means by “family”, Al says, “Friends of the family are usually better informers than those who are paid to do so.”

“Really?” Kelly asks.

“Yes,” Suzuki says. “Their reward is the preservation of their neighborhood and its safety. For our job, the family and we have the shared goal of getting rid of hostile foreigners.”

“I heard your family helps the Tatsu government a lot in that aspect,” Al says.

“We do, and we heard your family has a hand in that in both your native country of Lupa and the Chimaera States.”

“Okay, okay, boys. We can talk about how good and honorable both your families are yet again some other time. What are we going to do, Suzuki?”

“We’re going to clean some scum out of the neighborhood. Let’s go back to my apartment to get our cleaning tools.”

Going to Suzuki’s apartment, we find it in exquisite condition with not a spec of dust in sight, decorated with both pictures and statues of historical figures of Tatsu and Catholic saints, Mary, and Jesus. Suzuki grabs his revolvers and tanto knives; I grab my long pistols, Al assembles his rifles and puts an underbarrel shotgun on it, and Kelly gets her pink machine pistols. We go out to where Suzuki’s friends instructed him and get there just in time as a Tatsu man is being restrained and about to be publicly beheaded by Middle Eastern men with a curved sword. As we rush to stop it, three other Tatsu men in suits, armed with katanas and pistols, run out from a nearby street and beat us to it. They cut off the hands of the man with the curved sword before cutting off his head while the others gun down the Middle Eastern men.

Picking up the Tatsu man who was almost publicly beheaded, I ask him, “Why were they trying to kill you?”

“I was going after the rape gangs of the Pale Green Horse with a tanto because the authorities won’t protect our sons and daughters, so I have to,” the man says.

“The authorities rarely come down here because of the Tatsu’s relation to the Vorfahren. They don’t want to associate themselves with a race that embraces a hostile ideology to their own,” Suzuki says.

“I can’t blame them for not wanting to associate with you, but I can blame them for not helping you with these situations,” Kelly says. “Why are the members of the Pale Green Horse beefing with you?”

“Who don’t they beef with?” Al asks. “That death cult is hostile to everyone who doesn’t believe in the same things they do.”

“I thought they were mostly hostile toward Israelis.”

“They’re targeting the Tatsu because they’re trying to get us to change and take our children,” the Tatsu man says.

“We have to move and get our job done by taking care of the hostile ones,” Suzuki says.

“We need to do more than that,” the Tatsu man says in a suit with a sword and pistol at his side. “We need to make an example of their men and women and destroy their places of worship like how they’ve done the same to ours.”

“A man of honor doesn’t kill those who can’t defend themselves,” Suzuki says as he squares up with the men in suits, both sides having their guns out.

“You’re weakened by the faith of suffering and mercy that you’ve embraced, brother. They’re all a corrupting force to our country, the men, women, and children, so as far as we’re concerned they’re all threats in one way or another. We’ll handle the dirtier parts of the job that you can’t handle.”

“I won’t let innocent blood be spilled while I’m around. We’re only going to kill those who fight us. Everyone else will get the message when they’re dead and back off.”

“They will, but some may seek revenge. That’s why we need to burn our message into their souls. Stand against us, and you betray the family.”

A few moments of silence pass before Suzuki says, “I have my family behind me, and my God is further above them.”

Staring at each other for five more seconds of silence, both sides back off and put their guns away.

“I can’t argue with a man who will die for what he believes, and I can’t say that he isn’t a man of honor. We’ll do what you want, Suzuki, but if they act up again while you’re gone, then we’re going to have to handle things our way,” the Tatsu man in a suit says.

“Deal.”

“You’re still in the family. You’re still a samurai like us.”

“I am who God made me to be. That’s all I need to be.”

“Okay, okay. Enough with the talk of honor and moral posturing. Let’s get to work!” Kelly says.

The samurai and Suzuki agree, and they lead us to a neighborhood where the people from the Middle East are encroaching on the Tatsu neighborhood. More samurai with pistols and katanas appear from the Tatsu homes, restaurants, and shops and clash with them. The four of us, with four other samurai, go around the chaos and enter the church of the Pale Green Horse. In the church, priests are blessing weapons, explosives, and men and women with explosive vests on.

“Hmm. I think I have the right tool for this,” Kelly whispers as she rummages through a bag she’s brought and then takes out Molotov cocktails. “Haha. It’s a Slav revolutionary special.”

“I like this lady,” one of the samurai says.

“Are you all ready?” I ask everyone as the four of us get our masks on and the samurai get their lighters out. “Let’s get this done.”

We light up the Molotovs and throw them down at the people and explosives below, immediately setting people and fire and blowing up both the suicide bombers and the church. Running out of the church, we escape the scene of our crime to run to an apartment that the samurai says holds the victims and predators of the rape gangs.

One of the samurai says, “Remember. The innocent slaves are the only ones who get to live. The clients and slavers will receive death and nothing more.”

“Fine by me,” Suzuki says, and we all agree.

Suzuki knocks on the locked front door. When someone opens it, Suzuki stabs the man in the balls with his katana, then shoots him in the head with one of his revolvers. Suzuki and the other samurai handle the men and women of the rape gang in much the same way, shooting or stabbing their groins first, then their throats or faces. These men of Tatsu move in unison as if they had already rehearsed the attack. Meanwhile, Al, Kelly, and I are clearing the rooms they don’t charge through. In most of them, we find other Middle Eastern men caught having their way with women of all ages, and we find goats in the rooms for some reason I’d rather not find out.

On the top floor, Suzuki puts away his katana and now dual-wields his revolvers, constantly firing them at everyone who wields a gun against us until they’re empty, only for him to switch to his other revolvers in his jacket. As we go through the rooms, I double back when I see that one of the clients that we shot wasn’t Middle Eastern. It’s a woman of another race, and given her suit on the floor, she’s a woman of wealth. I look through the inside of the woman’s suit is the same dragon emblem that the chief of police from the other job and many others had.

“Cowboy, what’s going on?” Kelly says as she enters the room and sees the dragon emblem in my hand. “You’re kidding me.”

“Does it look like it?” I ask.

“Guys, what’s…no way,” Al says as he comes into the room.

“We have to question whoever is left. Come on! Before the samurai kill everyone!”

Quickly joining Suzuki and the samurai, we help them kill the lesser guards and clients.

“We have to question whoever is important over here. They seem to be connected to a wider plot,” I say to Suzuki.

Taking cover, Suzuki looks over to me, and I show him the dragon emblem.

“Brothers, there’s a greater conspiracy against us. We need to capture the leader of these degenerates for questioning,” Suzuki says.

The samurai surprisingly agree to this as we enter an office where we find more guards and a well-dressed man. We kill the guards, and then the samurai literally disarm the well-dressed man with a slash of their swords and hold him down.

I show who we presume to be a man of importance the dragon emblem and say, “Do you know what this emblem means or what group it’s associated with?”

“No! I don’t know anything!” the man says.

The samurai look at each other, accuse the man of lying, and cut off his toes with their swords.

“Speak the truth!” one of the samurai says.

“Alright, it wasn’t the whole truth! They’re from the city and state government! They offered to look the other way and get more of our people into the country so we can spread our religion through it if we allowed them to have their way with our slaves!”

The samurai and Suzuki then unload their guns into the tortured man, ending his misery.

“It would’ve been better if we took him in alive, but I guess that was never an option,” I say.

Suzuki and the samurai tear through the office and break into the safes and secure cabinets, and tell me to help them look through them.

“These people may be low-IQ, third-world animals, but they aren’t entirely stupid. They have to have backup pictures or files to bribe the officials they’re in league with,” one of the samurai says.

Sure enough, we find the disgusting pictures of the woman who had the dragon emblem that I only look at for a second to confirm it’s her before turning my eyes away.

“You’re right. It’s here,” I say.

“What are we going to do with this and the other compromising pictures of the officials? Anonymously turn them into the authorities?” Kelly asks.

“No,” Suzuki, Al, and the samurai say.

“The authorities were in league with this trash, so they’ll want this evidence erased. We need to put these files into the hands of the people so they’ll become outraged and so that real change can happen, maybe even have the other authorities prosecuted or executed,” Al says.

“I like his thinking. Are you part of a family of your race?” one of the samurai asks.

“I am.”

The samurai smiles at Al, who I have a feeling is smiling back as the two shake hands. Kelly agrees with Al’s idea, and we take all the pictures of the authorities caught in degenerate acts and pictures of screenshots of texts and emails of the agreements between them and the cult of the Pale Green Horse all the way back to the Tatsu neighborhood, where we see them being aided by Mediterranean men and women. We entrust the pictures to a trusted contact of the samurai’s family who is going to make copies of them and distribute them to everyone in the city and on the internet before going out to see what’s going on with this sudden Tatsu and Mediterranean alliance against the Middle Eastern people.

Questioning a man in a suit, he says, “We heard a man in the family needs help, and when a family member needs help, everyone has to chip in.”

Looking to Al, he says, “They were all too eager to help out when I texted them what was going on.”

“Two families from different races working together against a common enemy. I never thought I’d see the Tatsu and Mediterraneans working together like this outside of the old world,” Kelly says.

“Why wouldn’t we? We may have different ideas about what true honor and loyalty look like, but we can at least work together and find common ground, unlike the people of the Pale Green Horse who only want to conquer, corrupt, and enslave,” Suzuki says.

“Are you joining the fight?” the Mediterranean man in a suit says.

“When a family member needs help, we help them. What greater honor is there than to be a servant of love and your family?” Al says.

The samurai and Mediterranean men of honor nod their heads in agreement. The four of us aid the Mediterranean and Tatsu people in pushing against the Middle Easterners until they retreat into their neighborhood. When the cops finally show up, the four of us leave the area and hide out back at Suzuki’s place. Later in the day, our findings are on the news, and the people of the city are rioting against the government and cult of the Pale Green Horse. As this is happening, my friends and I go to a local Tatsu restaurant and toast Sakae in celebration of our success.

“To virtuous counter-revolutionary justice,” Suzuki says.

We toast to it, and despite our victory, I still can’t help but feel unsatisfied and craving more justice. The people with the dragon emblem are not only in the government, but they’re also using criminals to change things in the country; for what purpose? We’ll have to wait to find out. They’re not only a rival criminal organization, but also a disgusting one if their members defile the innocent and associate themselves with a death cult. God, help us to bring justice upon them.

Virtue Among Thieves: Chapter 1 – The Fate of Traitors

Chapter 1 – The Fate of Traitors

Four thieves in expensive suits and clown masks enter a bank and hold it up with high-powered silenced rifles. They shoot the guards, and then two of the thieves keep the civilians in one room, while the other two set up thermite to blow open the vault door. After getting through the door, the four thieves bag up as much cash as possible. The cops arrive just as they are exiting the vault. To push through the cops, the thieves use their underbarrel grenade launchers and flamethrowers to an exit.

The thieves exit the bank and run through the maze alleys of the city until we come out from the shadows and surround them at gunpoint. They’re surprised to see my three friends and me, who are dressed up and wearing masks like them, except we all look unique from one another. I have a plain black suit and tie with a clown mask that has the United Chimaera States flag on it; Kelly McGhee has a red tie and pink ringmaster-like suit, black skirt, and red boots, and has a clown mask with red pigtails; Al Jarrett wears a frilly butler-type suit with a creepy black mask with black strips near his eyes and mouth, and Suzuki Koyama wears a loose black suit with a visible thorny golden cross and a tiger mask with a revolver in its mouth. Looking at us, the thieves don’t immediately shoot at us, and instead, drop their bags of cash and slightly lower their weapons.

One of them asks, “Who are you?”

“Coworkers of the same organization,” I say.

“Yeah? Are we supposed to hand the bags to you, or do you have a way out for us? We need to act quick because the cops are coming. I thought groups weren’t supposed to be interfering with one another.”

“They are, unless you’re higher in rank, like we are,” Al says.

“I thought there was also a rule about not killing cops and keeping damage to a minimum. I’m also sure you’re not supposed to skim any money and merely complete the objective,” Kelly says.

“You, men, have caused more death and destruction than was called for,” Al says.

“Didn’t you read the rules? This dishonorable behavior of yours will result in a cut in your pay, at the very least,” Suzuki says.

“Don’t trust what these guys are saying,” one of the thieves says. “We didn’t choose to have any help with this job.”

“Yeah, but the job description did say to go down this alley to escape and drop off the goods,” another thief says.

“Who cares about the rules?” another thief says. “We’re thieves, criminals, murderers! We do what we want because we won’t let others tell us what to do.”

I shoot the outspoken thief in the face with my long pistol that’s loaded with rifle rounds, killing him.

“Act like that idiot, and you’ll suffer the same fate. Our organization is one of honor, loyalty, and respect. If you thought it was a den of scum and villainy, then you should’ve joined another group,” I say.

“Okay, okay! We’ll do better next time!” one thief says as he puts down his rifle and holds up his hands.

“Don’t do that! They’re going to kill us anyway!” another thief says.

“Idiot, if we wanted to do that, you would’ve been dead already,” Kelly says.

“This is your chance at redemption. Lay down your weapons and give yourselves up to the cops,” Suzuki says.

“What?! We’ll be sent to jail for life!”

“We’ll make sure you receive a lighter sentence if you cooperate and don’t rat on the organization,” Al says.

“Make your choice. Life or death,” I say.

After a few seconds, the other two thieves raise their guns, forcing us to kill them, while one of the thieves leaves his gun on the floor.

“There are always more dumbasses in the world than smart people,” Kelly says.

“You made the right choice. Remember what we said, and you won’t spend the rest of your life in jail,” I say as my friends and I retreat into the shadows.

We stick around to make sure the thief turns himself in to the police before leaving the area and going to a nearby parking lot where a SWAT truck is parked with two officers guarding it.

“How come they told us to park around here with a truck full of gear and outfits?” one of the officers asks.

“What? You don’t know?” the other officer asks.

“Why would I know?”

“Because I asked and they told me to ask you if I was curious.”

“They told me the same thing, but also said it wasn’t important.”

Before the officers can catch on to what’s happening, the four of us sneak up on them, knock them out, and put on the police gear, helmets, and masks to cover our identity.

I grab the radio, tune it to the frequency I was told, and say, “The boys are taking a name on the job.”

“Roger, clown boy. We’ll send some people there to get them up. Thank you for sparing them. You really are people of your word,” a distorted voice says.

Suzuki gets in the driver’s seat, while Kelly, Al, and I sit in the back. As Suzuki drives us to the site of our true job, I go over the plans and purpose of this job.

“Remember the faces we need to see and the faces of those we need to eliminate. They should be in their holding cells when we get there. As for the police chief, he should be on his break soon, so he should be taking a nap in his office,” I say.

“I remember the plan and have the layout of the station committed to memory. I’ll be backing you up while Al and Kelly go for the cameras and secondary objectives,” Suzuki says.

“I also have plan B in mind just in case things get fun,” Kelly says.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, and it’ll all go smoothly. We have to be quick about getting to the cameras, eliminating our targets, and taking what we need before the police catch on to our presence,” Al says.

“What does it mean by getting anything strange off the chief of police?” Kelly asks.

“When we get there, we’ll find out. It’s a secondary objective, so it doesn’t matter as much,” I say.

“It’s a secondary objective that pays a lot, but sure.”

Driving to the police station’s parking lot, Suzuki shows his badge to a man at a security office, who lets us through. He parks in the center of the lot, and Suzuki and I go our separate ways with Al and Kelly. With the badges and security cards we were given, it’s easy for Suzuki and me to move through the police station with ease. No one bats an eye at us, especially with one of the favors we called in being a party that has most of the office workers and officers in the break room and the crime in the city controlled, so that most of the officers out there are on traffic duty. No expense was spared to get us into the police station to accomplish this job, given its importance.

Suzuki and I stand outside the holding cells, and I call over to Kelly using our personal radios and her codename. “Rosebud. How goes handling the paparazzi?”

“They’re about to have some technical difficulties in a second. There we go. You’re clear from their prying eyes, Cowboy,” Kelly says, using my codename as well.

Given the nature of our work, we need codenames to not expose our true identities. Suzuki and I go into the holding cells and to the particular ones that hold our targets, four thieves who are contacts in the police department, who say they’re going to expose our organization. Suzuki and I put silencers on our pistols and switch their non-lethal rounds with lethal rounds. Because of our help within the station, the only cell with prisoners in it is the one we need, so that no other prisoner snitches on what is happening.

“I figured something was up when I noticed we were the only ones here,” the traitor says.

“You have seconds to pray for forgiveness from God before we send you to Him,” I say.

“The Hydra Roundtable is-”

Suzuki and I shoot the four traitors like fish in a barrel after the mention of our organization. I then take a picture of their dead bodies as proof of us accomplishing this part of the job.

“She shouldn’t have wasted her breath, and should’ve prayed,” Suzuki says as he crosses himself.

“We’ll pray for them in their stead later,” I say as I cross myself as well. “Onto the next objective. The rats are dead, Cappuccino.”

“Excellent, Cowboy. We’re doing some cleaning here as well. We don’t need our name being besmirched by what they said,” Al says, referring to Kelly and him scrubbing the records of the Hydra Roundtable’s name.

Suzuki and I next head up to the chief of police’s office. It’s locked, but after a little lockpicking, I’m able to get in.

“Cover me,” I whisper.

Suzuki nods as he stays outside while I head in. Inside the office, the chief of police is knocked out, sitting at his desk. Our insider put a drug inside the chief’s coffee, and since they aren’t a big fan of his corrupt ways, has the chief’s hidden drugs out on the table so that his addiction is exposed once we leave. Searching through the chief’s pockets, I find a strange dragon emblem in the inside pocket of his jacket. The dragon is made of various black lines, has golden wings, a red-tipped tail, red horns, and teeth similar to those of a guinea pig. I’ve seen this same dragon emblem in the hands of other people. I wonder what secret organization these people are all a part of. Taking the emblem, I walk out of the office and leave the door open as we were told to by our insider and make our way to where Al and Kelly are.

Suzuki radios over to them, saying, “We got what we needed. Is everything good on your side?”

“Yes, Byakko. The goodies and transfers are secure,” Al says.

“Good. We’re coming over to help.”

Suzuki and I go over to Kelly and Al, who are transferring people, weapons, stolen goods, and other evidence from failed allies of the Hydra Collective. The people we are freeing have a black bag over their heads and cuffs on their arms as we take them back out to the SWAT truck. We do get questioned by an officer at the station, who we just tell that these prisoners and the associated items are being transferred to another location, and we show them fake papers to prove it. The officer accepts the explanation without really looking at the papers and leaves us alone. With everything and everyone in the SWAT truck, Suzuki drives us away from the police station and toward a Hydra Roundtable hideout.

We take the black bags off the prisoners' heads and uncuff them. They thank us, beg for their lives, apologizing profusely for their failure to get their job done.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You did your best, and you didn’t snitch, so you’re safe. You’ll just have to disappear for a while before doing anything else for the organization. Even though the records are scrubbed of you being there, it’s not like the cops that brought you in will easily forget about you.”

The prisoners thank us and thank God out loud.

“I heard there were unforeseen complications in your job.”

“Yes,” one of the prisoners says. “Security was tighter and their response time was faster than we imagined.”

“You were stealing from a street of jewelry stores,” Al says.

“Yes, but we’re used to it. For us it’s no different than a farmer picking his crops on a hot summer day, but on the day we got caught, it was like picking crops during a hurricane. I’m still surprised that the four of us were alive by the end of it.”

“Our bosses and their contacts will look into it. As for you four, just focus on your own safety and keeping your heads down until you’re called upon,” I say.

Suzuki drives us through a parking lot and down a long hallway with a garage door. The camera near the garage door flashes at us, and the gate opens. Inside, we park the SWAT truck, and people who are wearing various sorts of masks, such as animals, horror creatures, weird faces of real people, fictional characters, artistic designs, or plain colors, help us unload what we have and take them to their appropriate areas. As for the prisoners, they are taken away to get changed and given enough money to survive in secret. I’ve heard some prisoners who are rescued stay in this building for a year or more, helping the Hydra Roundtable’s operations in this building or being its guards. As for my friends and me, we are paid for a job well done.

To celebrate, we go to Kelly’s apartment to celebrate. She orders the best pizza and wings she knows of and brings out a cake she’s made herself. Her apartment is one of the upper-end ones with two floors to it. She’s decorated it with pictures and figures of her favorite cute animals, fictional anime characters, and horror movie clowns. She also has a flag of her home country of the Slav Federation in the apartment, plus pictures of her with her family and friends. News of what we did today at the bank and police station shows up on the news, and we toast to it, like we always do.

“Man, some of these middle-circle jobs are boring. They’re a little too simple for my tastes. When I first joined up, I thought these were going to be more exciting,” Kelly says.

“They were to begin with,” I say. “We did rob and blow up a bank, make the Slavs and Vorfahren fight each other, stop a human trafficking ring, and rob a casino and give its money to the gamblers.”

“Yeah, but nowadays, it’s just go here, check on these other groups, kill such and such people, rob these and that people. It’s all very meh.”

“You better be careful what you wish for. You might get more than you expect,” Suzuki says.

“That’s exactly what I want! Challenge! Excitement! Punishing scum and giving them what they deserve and taking back what they don’t.”

“You Slavish people are always too chaotic.”

“You people from Tatsu are too honorable and by the books. Back me up here, Al.”

“I’m fine with either,” Al shrugs and says.

“What about you, Ace? I know you want to do more with these jobs, making up for your past working for predatory Israeli bank lenders and all.”

I say, “I prefer things to be quiet, but I do want to know more about the organization that we keep coming across, the one whose members have those dragon emblems we keep finding. I mean, even the chief of police is involved with them.”

“Eh. Probably a white collar crime group, given the other people we came across who have the dragon emblem,” Kelly says.

“Could be. They could also be our rivals since they keep arresting our members and trying to get them to expose our organization.”

“Well, I hope we can get back at them or their supporters in some way, rather than just doing the seemingly unrelated busy work we’ve been doing.”

“If God so wills it,” Suzuki says.

“Yeah, if God so wills it.”

My thoughts race as I wonder whether we’ve actually been doing unrelated busywork, since people with the dragon emblem keep coming up. I wonder if the Hydra Roundtable is specifically sending us to various towns, cities, and locations where this group might be operating. Finding the dragon emblems feels like it could be more than coincidence at this point. For now, I can only hope and pray that we resolve this situation with this seemingly rival criminal organization and simply enjoy my time with my friends, who are now all arguing about the best kind of pizza as if we’re all college-aged adults.

My latest book is done and out today!

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Four criminals, Ace, Kelly, Al, and Suzuki, are brought together under the enigmatic Hydra Roundtable. Driven by a shared motivation to rob the greedy, protect the innocent, and punish the guilty, they forge a friendship and carry out covert and high-risk jobs in disguise. Through their crimes, they perform honorable acts while climbing the ranks of the organization, all for the thrill of the game and the desire to do what's right.

Thieves Stealing from Thieves: Chapter 4 – Taking What is Stolen

Chapter 4 – Taking What is Stolen

“Come on, Byakko! You got this!” Kelly yells and jumps up from her seat as Al and I tell her to calm down.

“There’s no way he has anything better than what I have. There’s no way,” another gambler mutters.

Right now, the four of us are in a casino on the Golden Coast. It’s called Saul, and the job associated with it is an exclusive one that the Hydra Roundtable has given us because of our good work so far completing our jobs and the secondary objectives in them. From what their representative in a snake mask told us, we’re in the top five groups of the Hydra Roundtable and deserve to take on such a high-paying yet difficult job to undertake. With no better option, we took it, and all the help the Hydra Roundtable can give us, including this chance to get into the high-rollers club of Saul. Suzuki has been on a winning streak, and because of his unwavering confidence and stone-cold poker face, he’s on the verge of winning it all.

“Okay, okay! Fine! I fold! I ain’t got anything anyway,” the opposing gambler says.

It’s revealed that Suzuki’s opponent had two twos, but as for Suzuki, he only had one seven and won. With that, we get our ticket into the high-rollers club. Besides Suzuki’s poker face, it also helped that the Hydra Roundtable gave us an insider who gave Suzuki better cards and paid certain people to play in a certain way and bail out. The four of us are dressed up even more than usual, given where we are and where we’re going. I have my best black suit and outfit on, Al has a crimson suit and outfit, Suzuki is wearing a striking red and white suit and outfit, and Kelly is wearing a long sparkly pink dress with jewelry on her arms and red high heels. As for our weapons, they’re concealed in our outfits, so we couldn’t bring our usual guns to this job; however, this casino does have an armory that we have the key to thanks to the Hydra Roundtable.

Going into the high-rollers club, we see that it looks even more luxurious than the rest of the casino. The Saul casino is decorated partially inspired by the old Roman Empire and the other half is inspired by the old Israeli Empire. This is because the Campione brothers own this casino in conjunction with their Israeli backers, both of whom are suspected, if not confirmed, mobsters. The high-rollers club has more sparkly and colorful lights, has live music from recognizable singers, and the drinks here are more expensive and likely to get you drunk, all signs and lures to make the high-rollers give back the money they won. Despite everything we see, the four of us walk around calmly and act as if we’re falling for it all by playing the tables, machines, and going to the bar to get ourselves some drinks.

While walking around, we see one of our targets, Arnold “Joker” Ronaldo. The degenerate is drinking and fondling his women like he usually is, while blowing the casino’s money on high bets. The four of us sit at a nearby table to quietly talk and pretend to play.

“Didn’t he fix the World Series and casinos in Sin City?” Al asks.

“He did,” I say.

“He looks like a man of lost honor. There’s no soul in that body of his,” Suzuki says.

“He’s a creep. Don’t expect me to get on his good side to get anything out of him,” Kelly says.

“You won’t have to,” I say. “Our employers have given us everything we need. Speaking of them, I feel like they’re more involved here than in the previous jobs, given all the help they’ve managed to give us.”

“Are you still on about this? Does it matter who they are?” Al asks.

“Who do you think they are? The Campione brothers or someone associated with them?” Suzuki asks.

“Could be. Could also be people with ties to the Vorfahren, given how many Israelis we’ve been after. I mean, we’re supposed to get to other Israeli backers and writers who are influencing the movie scene here on the Golden Coast.”

“It couldn’t be the Vorfahren. Pushing the Israelis out of the Golden Coast means that the mob-backed Catholic studios get to have their way with the movies,” Kelly says.

“So there has to be mob involvement here. What do you think, Cappuccino?” I ask.

“People say the mob is everywhere in business and government. Who cares? Let’s get this job done and the degenerates out of the movie and casino business.”

Looking at Al, who isn’t looking at me, I say, “At this point, I’m assuming your family has a role in this.”

Al looks at me and says, “Is there a problem with that or what we’re doing?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no reason to keep talking about this. Let’s get to work.”

Looking to Kelly and Suzuki, they nod in agreement, and I shrug and nod.

“Let’s get this done,” I say.

We motion to Joker’s girls, who then pick him up and carry him away. Following them to an employee’s-only section, Joker complains about having one more game, but can’t resist the allure of his women and entirely shifts his focus to them. He holds his women, who are actually restraining him for Kelly, who walks through the crowd of women, cuts Joker’s throat, and stabs him in the chest. The women take the dying Joker away and thank us for ending his hold over them, and to make the other Israeli mafia suffer since they’ve had their perverted way with them as well.

“I promise you, they’ll suffer the same fate,” Kelly says.

A few of them come with us to show us where the armory is. We go in, arm up, and put on the clown masks left for us. I take two pistols loaded with rifle rounds; Suzuki takes the revolvers loaded with shotgun shells; Kelly takes the machine pistols; and Al takes the assault rifles with grenade launchers attached to the underbarrel and has their stocks removed so he can dual-wield them. Loaded up, we are led to where the Israeli mafia bosses are, a secret room that only one of them knows the code to unlock. Inside, we find strippers and prostitutes practicing their trade in front of everyone, people betting with their slaves, and playing a dangerous game of liar, where if you’re called out for a liar, you have to play Russian roulette with your life on the line. Everyone in the room has some kind of mask on, so we move around the room to get the best possible positions on our targets before striking.

Just as we go into action, one person playing liar is called out, spins the barrel of his revolver, and shoots himself in the head. It’s then that we start shooting the rest of them, except for the slaves, strippers, and prostitutes who don’t fight back. With all the Israeli mafia bosses and backers of films on the Golden Coast dead, the four of us head out of the room and take a secret staircase down to the furthest floor of the casino, where we find the casino’s vault of cash. Much of the cash is in crates, ready for transport, and on an elevator ready to be taken up.

“You think our employers would notice if we skimmed a little off the top?” Kelly asks.

“Given my suspicions of them, yes, they would, so don’t bother doing anything, Rosebud,” I say.

“Remember, we’re here for a greater reward,” Suzuki says.

“Yeah, I know. I was just saying what my temptations were thinking, Byakko.”

“Let’s get this cash out of here and into its rightful hands,” Al says.

“Let the real party begin!” Kelly says as she eagerly wheels the rest of the crates of cash onto the elevator.

Al, Suzuki, and I help her, and with all the cash on the elevator, we take it to the top floor of the casino. From the very top, which looks down on the main casino floor, we get all the crates of cash near them and open them all up.

I say, “May I have your attention, please? Everyone, turn your heads up, and behold, all the cash you’ve lost and that was stolen from you by this rigged casino. Take what was yours and take even more than that! Today, and today only, stealing is justified!”

Stacks of cash fall down the spiral hole onto the casino floor, where hundreds of people reach up to catch the falling cash and pick it up off the ground. In the frenzy, we go to a nearby elevator, take it to the ground floor, and use the chaos of the situation to find a place to get rid of our masks and weapons and then leave the casino, just as cops arrive to control the situation. By then, my friends and I are watching the situation from afar and sharing drinks.

“I feel for those people who the cops are taking the stolen cash from. I really do,” Kelly says.

“The greedy bastards let their lust for money weigh them down. They couldn’t take a fair amount and leave the casino a different way or before the police arrived as we did,” Suzuki says.

“For me, it was worth it just to bring justice to those degenerates and seeing everyone happy over getting as much cash as they can,” Al says.

“That’s the only reward for us besides a celebration at a high-rise bar restaurant that the Hydra Roundtable is inviting us to because of our good work. There’s no cash reward this time,” I say.

My friends and I stop watching the chaos we’ve caused and go to our celebration at the high-rise bar restaurant that the Hydra Roundtable has arranged for us. Going there, we find the food and drinks to be high quality, and the view of the Golden Coast from where we are is an amazing one, especially with the sun starting to set. All of a sudden, the lights go off for a few seconds, and the view of the sunset is blocked off by metal barriers. The four of us get up with our pistols drawn, and in the next instant, the lights come back on, and we see that everyone in the bar, from the patrons to the bartenders and waiters, is wearing different variations of snake masks, all of whom have their pistols drawn and pointed at us.

“Why didn’t I expect it to be a setup?” I ask myself.

“It’s not the bad kind of setup, Ace Argentum. It’s quite the opposite. Please, put down your guns,” the bartender with a snake mask says.

Looking at my friends, they nod, and we put away our pistols, and all the people in snake masks do the same.

The bartender walks over to us and continues, “You four did great work at the Saul casino today. Fine work, that took restraint to accomplish.”

“It wasn’t that difficult because of all the help you gave,” Kelly says.

“What I mean is accomplishing exactly what we told you. Lesser men and women would’ve taken off with the casino’s money, but you instead gave it to the people. That speaks volumes of the purity of your souls.” The bartender is now sitting with us. He folds his hands. “You may not have been rewarded monetarily, but you will be by entering our middle circle. Inside the middle circle of the Hydra Roundtable are the most secretive, well-paying, but also world-changing jobs.”

“World-changing in what sense?” I ask.

“In the sense that you already know. Given the jobs you’ve taken, you’ll do more of the sort, killing the scum of humanity, stealing from those with excess and ill-gotten wealth, protecting the innocent, and giving back to those who were taken advantage of. The jobs will merely be more dangerous and secretive. What do you think?”

“If it means sticking it to those who deserve an ass-kicking, then count me in,” Kelly says.

“I won’t turn down the opportunity to grow in virtue. I’m in as well,” Al says.

“The more difficult the task, the more honor, glory, and righteousness there is to gain. Of course, I’m in,” Suzuki says.

“Where my new friends go, I’ll go as well. Besides, I’d like to continue advancing in the ranks of the Hydra Roundtable if it means learning more about you shady people,” I say.

“You will, Ace. You’ll get the answers you want, in time,” the bartender says.

The lights flicker off again, and we hear the sound of people moving around. When the lights come back on again, the metal barriers recede, and everyone in the bar restaurant has disappeared without a trace.

“That was needlessly dramatic,” Kelly points out.

“It’s just their style. I kind of like it,” Al says.

“They do have a flair about them. I don’t care for it, but I do appreciate their want to change the world for the better,” Suzuki says.

“That honorable aspect is what is making me like them more. I think I’ve truly found my place to be,” I say.

“And that’s being with us? You’re crazy, man, but then again, so am I,” Kelly says.

“You’re among like-minded crazy saints in the making,” Al says.

“In the beginning, you said you wanted actually to help the poor, Ace. You’ve had a burning desire to make up for your previous work and make things right, and now you have it after proving yourself worthy of the task. Such is the grace of God,” Suzuki says.

“To the grace of God,” I say.

The four of us clink glasses and celebrate together as we move into a more dangerous but exciting future, where four people who are thieves and killers can change the world for the better through what we do best.

The End

Thieves Stealing from Thieves: Chapter 3 – Stealing and Rescuing

Chapter 3 – Stealing and Rescuing

“Given that Suzuki and Kelly picked the jobs last time, can I pick the job this time?” Al asks, to which everyone shrugs and agrees to let him.

He looks at the map, watches some jobs disappear, others appear, and doesn’t press anything until Kelly says to pick something, and he immediately picks a kidnapping criminals and rescue sex slaves operation with a secondary objective to collect any information, weapons, and hidden cash that the criminals may have.

“It’s a simple job with no question of the virtue in completing it. I think we need it after the job we just did,” Al says.

“Agreed, brother. There is no greater task for men of honor like us than to protect and save the weak and needy, brother,” Suzuki says with a rare smile.

Al smiles back and looks at Kelly and me.

“You don’t have to ask me about choosing this job. I’m all for it,” Kelly says.

“Same with me,” I say.

Al accepts the job and the help that the Hydra Roundtable will give us, and we go out to the location where we’re meant to be. The four of us stay in a house of a friend of the Hydra Roundtable, one that has a view of the seemingly normal Mediterranean marketplace in a city where this human trafficking ring is taking place. We sit around having home-cooked meals from Al, who said he was taught these recipes by his nonna.

“Your nonna knows how to cook better than that first bar restaurant we ate at if this is what her cooking tastes like,” Suzuki says.

“My nonna’s cooking is even better. No one cooks like her, not even my mom or dad,” Al says.

Al has a look on him as if his eyes are entranced by old memories, before he looks back up at us. Later in the day, as Al watches the neighborhood, we hear something going on down there, and Al runs down to the market with his mask on and rifle in his hands.

Running after him with one of my pistols in hand and mask on my face, I ask him, “What are you doing? We could get the cops called on us!”

“People need our help. I’m not going to let them suffer!” Al says.

Al and I go to the source of the noise and find a group of three robbers trying to rob a family-owned cheese and wine store.

“How about you put your hands up instead, drop your weapons, and get the Hell out of here?!” Al says to the robbers.

The robbers argue with him and don’t comply, so we shoot them dead. The store owners thank us, tell us that we should get out of here, and they’ll take care of this. Just as Kelly and Suzuki catch up to us and ask us what happened, Al and I tell them that the situation is taken care of and to go back to the house. We put our weapons and masks back in the house, Al goes back to watching the neighborhood, and Kelly and Suzuki go back to talking about whose culture is better while joking about their own.

Sitting next to Al, I ask, “Is this your neighborhood?”

“No. It just reminds me of my own,” Al says.

“Is that why you had to help its people?”

“I don’t need an excuse to help people who deserve it. It’s what I was taught, not only as a man of honor, but also from my family and faith.”

“What about the people we’re supposed to help? If we had the cops called on us, that could’ve made our job to rescue others harder.”

“I don’t really think about the wider picture. It’s always changing and based on what others and I view it as. I just keep my eyes and mind on the here and now. If God wants us to accomplish a task, then we’ll do it, but if he wants us to do something now, and we don’t because we think it might hinder our goals, then it’s held against us, and those who needed the help will suffer or die.”

“Huh. I never really thought of it like that.”

“I know you want to make a difference in the world as penance for your previous life. It’s written all over your face and the way you act. Just remember that we can only do so much in a day and that little actions add up to big ones.”

“I’ll do my best to remember. Thanks, Al.”

“You’re welcome, brother.”

Al and I go on to talk about our neighborhoods, families, and the kinds of food we can make. We also talk about the possibilities of having families after we’re done with Hydra Roundtable, and both of us agree that we’re married to this job of robbing and killing until God takes our lives in a different direction.

Al looks at me and says, “I think you’d make a good family man.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

“You look happy when we’re all talking and joking with one another.”

“If you say so. I think it goes without saying you’d be a good family man as well, given how ready you are to charge into danger for others.”

“Yeah. Both of my families think that, and this new family as well.”

“You consider the four of us a family?”

“What makes a family is two or more people who look out for one another and would put their lives on the line for one another. That’s us, is it not?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

We finish relaxing, and then the four of us go out in the dead of night, masks on and weapons in weapon bags that conceal them. We meet a local contact arranged by the Hydra Roundtable in the backroom of a nearby bar, a woman who “trains” and sells the women. We sit with her and ask where the “goods” are. The mistress is scantily dressed in a long pink see-through dress and red high heels. As she finishes her drink, she taps her feet on the floor and smiles at us. Getting the message, we finish our transaction. Al cuts the woman’s throat, and Kelly, Suzuki, and I quietly kill everyone else in the backroom with our knives, lock the backroom door, and block it with the bodies of the dead.

“That’s the only thing trash like you is good for,” Kelly says to the dead bodies.

“Remember to be as quiet as possible. We don’t want the roaches scurrying away. Alright, let’s get this done,” I say.

The four of us take our silenced guns out of our bags, find the door to the underground, and wander its winding tunnels with a map that we got from the Hydra Roundtable. If we didn’t have the map, we could wander these tunnels for hours since they all look the same with all the dirt, concrete, and lanterns that barely light them up. In our wanderings, we shoot down various guards and buyers who aren’t on our list to take in alive.

“These tunnels are a bit too tight. If we have to shoot someone ahead of us, the people around and behind them will notice,” I say.

“We’ll just have to deal with it when it happens,” Suzuki says.

“Remember. We deal with problems one at a time, Cowboy,” Al says.

“Roger, Cappuccino.”

Reaching the holding cells where both the people we need to free and to kidnap should be, we find it heavily guarded. To our disgust, some of the buyers are “testing” the “products”, and some of the bosses are forcing them to dance and do depraved acts for the pleasure of themselves and the buyers. We take cover and consider our options.

“Are we still going to be sneaky or is it time to get wild?” Kelly asks.

“They may eventually find out we’re here when they notice the room lacking as many people as it once did,” Suzuki says.

“Let’s take it one step at a time. We still have the element of surprise, and at least we have corners and shadows to hide in here,” I say.

I then direct Suzuki and Kelly to take one side of the room, while Al and I take the other. We use our knives to pull in nearby guards and buyers when they get close to us, hide their bodies, and move forward together when the coast is clear. Eventually, we find that there isn’t enough convenient cover to hide behind, so we use our silenced weapons to start clearing the room one after the other. The sound of the suppressed gunfire and bodies dropping catches the attention of the prisoners, who call out for us to help them, and the remaining guards and buyers notice us as well.

“Now it’s time to get crazy, Rosebud,” I say.

“Alleluia,” Rosebud says as she takes out her other submachine gun and dual-wields them.

With her, Suzuki dual-wields his revolvers, and Al attaches a short shotgun to the underbarrel of his rifle. We rush forward, taking out one guard after another. The buyers and bosses are now either fighting back with guns of their own or running away, and we deal with them properly, making sure that none escape alive, except for the ones we need. For the ones we need alive, we shoot their legs and hands so they can’t escape, fight back, or kill themselves in desperation. By the end, we start freeing the prisoners, who unfortunately start beating on the people we need alive, so Suzuki and Kelly have to hold them back and explain why they’re alive.

“Will they get the justice they deserve?” one of the slaves asks.

“Will they suffer?” another asks.

“Let me rip out one of their eyes, like how they did to me!”

“I want to pull out this one’s teeth just like how she did the same to my brother before having her way with him!”

“I promise you they’ll get what they deserve. We’re the real good guys. They’ll either get it legally or illegally,” Kelly says.

Seemingly satisfied with this answer, the slaves back off, some even offering their help. While looking in the office for information, I find files on the locations to which the slaves were meant to go, such as Slav clubs, porn shoots, a casino on the Golden Coast, and a Satanist church of all places. There’s no correlation between any of these places other than their godlessness. Hmm. Maybe I’ll think of one when I leave.

Continuing to follow the map we were given, we leave the tunnels and exit out of the basement of an Israeli church. Huh. It takes me a second to keep walking after the initial shock of seeing where we exited. Outside, a few ambulances and cop trucks aligned with the Hydra Roundtable take away the people we needed to kidnap and the rescue. They’re also here to take any weapons or caches of cash in the tunnels for us.

“We got it from here, fellas. Good work,” a police officer says before him and squads of officers go into the tunnels we were in.

“Godspeed, officers,” Al says.

Suzuki salutes the officers, and Kelly waves at them. My friends and I go back to the Hydra Roundtable hideout and are rewarded even more than the last job. Yet again, we go out to celebrate. This time, I bring my friends to my house. I prepare dinner for everyone, and they seem to enjoy it well enough, not as much as Al’s cooking, but well enough. We put on the news to see if they’ll talk about what we did, and sure enough, they do, leaving our part out of it, giving all the credit to the police force.

“Ah, I’d like at least a little credit,” Kelly says.

“Like what? You want them to say a bunch of gun-wielding masked vigilantes saved the innocent and punished the guilty?” I ask.

“Yes!”

“It would sound like the pulp novels and radio broadcasts I’ve been listening to,” Al says.

“Nevertheless, the purpose of our job is to get paid, kill those who deserve it, and save those who deserve better. We did what we had to and got rewarded accordingly, and I, for one, am more than satisfied,” Suzuki says.

“Alright, alright. I was joking. You didn’t need to sound so much like a high and mighty,” Kelly says.

“A man of honor always must be on his best behavior in terms of his actions and his words.”

“True that, brother,” Al says as he clinks glasses with Suzuki.

“I wish they talked more about what they found in the tunnels. Sure, we got all the good stuff, but the implications of where the tunnels are should be big news,” I say.

“It’ll be big news for the Vorfahren who’ll say they are proven right,” Kelly says.

“I’m sure the Israeli mafia and country have people in power and influence who will lessen the bad image they are being given,” Suzuki says.

“I’m sure they will,” Al and I say in unison.

Al then says, “You have a nice two-story house here in the suburbs. The garden outside is nice as well.”

“Yeah. I got a house out here because I was tired of being in the city, and I do some gardening in my spare time. It makes for better-tasting vegetables and fruits,” I say.

“Speaking of better-tasting food, I ought to teach you how to cook.”

“That’s true. I could teach you some recipes as well,” Suzuki says.

“What? I thought you said my food was good.”

“Eh, Al’s nonna’s recipes are noticeably better. I’m sorry to say it,” Kelly says.

“If we didn’t care about you, we wouldn’t mention our want for you to improve with better cooking,” Suzuki says.

“He’s right. We’ll all get together to cook and share meals all day,” Al says.

“You can count me in!” Kelly says.

I like the idea, but can’t help but feel a bit put down because my food isn’t viewed as good as Al’s, but then again, they are right. How can anyone compete with a Mediterranean grandma’s cooking that’s been passed down for generations? If anything, I’m glad that Al, Kelly, and Suzuki are offering to see me outside of our job to cook and hang out like normal friends rather than work associates. It’s truly a blessing from God.