Page 10
CHAPTER 10
ROKKON
W e roll up the gravel driveway, the Escalade’s tires crunching over the uneven ground. Vicki’s eyes dart toward the porch where her mother sits, rocking back and forth in that old rickety chair. Beside her stands a man in a crisp white suit, the kind that screams I own this town . Fester N. Boyle.
“Why didn’t you just take the limo?” Vicki asks, her voice tight.
“I didn’t want to be too ostentatious,” I reply, keeping my tone light.
She bursts into laughter, the sound sharp and edged with nerves. “You think this SUV is subtle or something? It’s a brand-new Caddy. It’s going to stand out.”
I grin, but inside, I’m calculating. Veritas rules hang over my head like a guillotine. I can’t just rip Fester’s head off, as satisfying as that would be. I need to play this smart, human smart.
“Who’s the guy with your mom?” I ask, already knowing but wanting her to say it.
“That’s Fester N. Boyle,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He runs the MSP—the Mean Street Posse. They’re into everything illegal. Drugs, gambling, you name it.”
“And he’s here because…?”
“My mom’s got a gambling problem. She probably owes him money.” She chews her lower lip, her hands clutching the edge of her seat. “He’s not the kind of guy you mess with, Rocky. He’s got the whole town in his pocket.”
I scoff, pulling the Escalade to a stop a few feet from the porch. “Is that all? This’ll be easy, then.”
She shoots me a look, half terrified, half incredulous. “Easy? Rocky, you don’t know Fester.”
I step out of the car, the gravel crunching under my boots. Fester turns toward me, his smile wide and greasy, like he’s already won something.
“Afternoon,” he drawls, tipping his hat toward me. “You must be the new landlord. Heard you’ve been making some changes around here.”
Debbie glances up at me, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “He’s not here to collect rent, is he, Fess?”
“No, ma’am,” Fester says, his voice smooth as butter. “Just came to check on you, make sure you’re doing alright. But now that Mr. Anderson’s here, it seems like a good time to discuss some… outstanding matters.”
I stride up the porch steps, my seven-foot frame towering over both of them. Fester doesn’t flinch, but I catch the way his eyes flicker, sizing me up.
“Outstanding matters?” I repeat, my voice calm but firm. “Let’s hear it.”
He adjusts the lapel of his suit, still smiling. “Well, you see, Mrs. Sloane here’s been running up quite the tab at my establishment. I’d hate to see her… inconvenienced. So I’ve come to collect.”
Vicki steps up beside me, her face pale. “How much does she owe?”
Fester’s smile widens. “Oh, just a friendly ten grand. Pocket change for a man like Mr. Anderson, I’m sure.”
I glance at Debbie, who’s staring at her feet, her hands twisting in her lap. Then I look back at Fester, my purple eyes locking onto his.
“Ten grand, huh?” I say, my tone casual. “That’s it?”
He nods, still smiling. “That’s it.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a checkbook, scrawling out the amount without hesitation. I tear off the check and hand it to him.
“Here you go. Paid in full.”
Fester takes the check, his smile faltering for just a second. “Well, that’s mighty generous of you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Generous? No. A favor? Not at all.” I step closer, my voice dropping low enough for only him to hear. “This is a warning. Stay away from her. Stay away from this family.”
For the first time, I see a flicker of unease in his eyes. But he recovers quickly, slipping the check into his breast pocket. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” he says, his smile returning. He tips his hat to Vicki. “Miss Sloane. Always a pleasure.”
He saunters back to his car.
Vicki’s grip on my arm tightens, her nails digging into my scales through the fabric of my suit. “You just handed him ten grand like it was nothing. Do you know what he’s going to do with that money?”
I look down at her, my purple eyes locking onto hers. “Something nefarious, no doubt.”
Her jaw tightens, and she steps closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “This isn’t just about money, Rocky. This is my family . My mom’s a wreck, my dad’s in the hospital, and now Fester’s got his claws in them. You can’t just throw cash at this and hope it goes away.”
I inhale deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. “Vicki, I must be very careful here. If I act hastily, and cause too many ripples, it might disrupt the sacred timeline.”
Her eyes narrow, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, and humanity might not join the Vakutan and help them win the Centuries War in the future. I know the stakes, Rocky. But this isn’t galactic politics, this is my family.”
Debbie, still rocking back and forth in her chair, perks up at that. “What about a centuries war?”
Vicki doesn’t miss a beat. “We’re talking about a book, mother.” Her tone is clipped, and she turns back to me, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
“I’m not doing nothing, Victoria,” I say, my voice firm. “I am going to help. But I must do so with the minimal disruption to the timeline. I must be…” I pause, the word almost foreign on my tongue. “Subtle. And avoid violence.”
Her eyes widen, and she lets out a disbelieving laugh. “So no ripping off Fester’s arms and legs, then?”
I smirk, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. “I’m not taking the option off the table. But no, I hope to beat Boyle at his own game. For now.”
She steps closer, her voice softening even as her eyes remain fierce. “Please, Rocky. Be careful. Fester’s not just some small-town thug. He’s dangerous. And if he figures out you’re not just another rich guy… I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do.”
I reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her tension eases slightly under my touch. “I’ll be careful, Victoria. I promise. But I’m not leaving your family to his machinations. Not while I’m here.”
She nods, her shoulders slumping in relief, but her eyes are still wary. “Good. Because if anything happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”
I squeeze her shoulder gently, my voice low and steady. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Or to your family. Fester Boyle might think he’s untouchable, but he’s never dealt with someone like me.”
Her lips quirk into a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just… don’t underestimate him, okay?”
“I won’t,” I promise, my gaze shifting toward the road where Fester’s car disappeared. “But he’s about to find out he’s playing against someone who doesn’t lose.”
The hospital looms ahead, its sterile walls a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in Belleville. I pull the Escalade up to the entrance, the engine idling as Vicki and her mother prepare to step out. Debbie’s hands fumble with the seatbelt, her movements sluggish, while Vicki shoots me a look that’s equal parts gratitude and suspicion.
“You’re not going to start problems with Fester, are you?” she asks, her voice low but steady.
I glance at her, my purple eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the hospital’s awning. “There are already problems with Fester,” I reply, my tone even. “I’m going to solve them.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just… be careful. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“I know you’re stronger and faster than humans,” she adds, glancing at her mother to make sure she’s not listening, “but?—”
“You don’t appreciate just how much stronger and faster I am,” I say, my voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Conventional weaponry on Earth in this era has little chance of harming me.”
She snorts, a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Are you trying to say you’re bulletproof?”
I turn to her, my expression dead serious. “No, Victoria. I’m saying I took an anti-tank round once… and it fixed the crick in my neck.”
Her mouth falls open, her blue eyes wide with shock. I can see the wheels turning in her head, the realization sinking in. “Now you’re beginning to understand,” I say with a grin. “But I hope to avoid violence.”
Her hand grips the door handle, but she hesitates, her eyes searching mine. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” I reply, though the smirk tugging at my lips betrays the gravity of the situation.
She shakes her head, her blonde curls bouncing, but there’s a faint smile on her face now. “Vakutan arrogance,” she mutters under her breath as she steps out of the car.
I lean across the seat, catching her hand before she can shut the door. She looks back, surprised, and I pull her in for a quick but firm kiss. Her lips are warm, soft, and for a moment, the tension in her body melts away.
“Go,” I say, releasing her. “Take care of your father. I’ll handle Fester.”
She nods, her cheeks flushed as she helps her mother out of the car. I watch them walk into the hospital, Vicki’s shoulders straight, her head held high despite everything. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for.
I pull away from the curb, the Escalade’s tires crunching over the gravel. The local watering hole, the Dew Drop Inn, is my next stop. It’s a seedy little place on the outskirts of town, the kind of dive where the MSP’s lower ranks might gather to blow off steam or brag about their latest heist. Perfect for gathering intel.
The neon sign flickers weakly as I pull into the parking lot, the words “Dew Drop Inn” barely legible. I step out, the gravel crunching under my boots, and make my way to the entrance. The air smells faintly of stale beer and cigarette smoke, and the low hum of conversation drifts through the door.
I push it open, stepping into the dimly lit bar. The decor hasn’t been updated since the ’70s, and the walls are lined with taxidermy animal heads, including a massive rhino that glares down at the patrons. Behind the bar, a one-eyed man polishes a glass, his gaze flicking toward me as I approach.
“What’ll it be?” he asks, his voice gruff.
“Whiskey,” I say, sliding onto a stool. “Neat.”
He pours the drink and sets it in front of me, his one eye narrowing as he studies me. “You’re not from around here.”
“Passing through,” I reply, taking a sip of the whiskey. It’s cheap, but it burns the way I need it to. “Looking for someone. Name’s Fester Boyle. You know him?”
The bartender’s eye narrows further, and he sets the glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Everyone knows Fester. Why you asking?”
I lean back, my seven-foot frame towering even while seated. “Business. He owes me something.”
The bartender’s expression hardens, and he glances toward a couple of burly men in the corner who’ve been nursing beers. “You ask a lot of questions for a guy just passing through.”
“Call it professional curiosity,” I say. “I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like loose ends.”
The two men in the corner stand, their chairs scraping against the floor. They’re big, but compared to me, they might as well be children. I don’t even bother standing as they approach, their hands clenching into fists.
“You got a problem?” the taller one asks, his voice slurred with alcohol.
I turn to him, my purple eyes locking onto his. “Not yet.”
He swings without warning, but I catch his fist mid-air, my grip like a vice. His eyes widen in shock, and I stand, pulling him off balance. With a quick twist, I have him on the ground, his arm pinned behind his back.
“Let’s try this again,” I say, as I look down at his companion. “I’m here for information, not a fight. But if you insist, I’ll make it one.”
The man hesitates, his eyes darting between me and his friend on the floor. Finally, he nods, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re crazy enough to take on Fester, that’s for damn sure.”
I release the man on the floor, who scrambles to his feet, rubbing his arm. “Good. Now, let’s talk.”
I sit at the corner table with the two men, who introduce themselves as Jake and Mike, their faces still flushed from the embarrassment of trying to take me on. A platter of wings sits between us, the spicy aroma mingling with the stale beer smell of the bar. I push the plate toward them, my purple eyes glinting in the dim light.
“Eat,” I say, leaning back in the chair, my massive frame barely fitting. “And talk. I need to know everything about Fester Boyle.”
Jake tears into a wing, his grease-slicked fingers fumbling as he speaks. “Fester? He’s the king of Belleville. Owns half the town, the other half’s scared of him. Drugs, gambling, protection rackets—you name it, he’s got his fingers in it.”
Mike nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But he’s smart, man. Real smart. None of it sticks to him. He’s got the sheriff in his pocket—his brother-in-law, by the way—and the mayor’s his cousin. State cops? They stay outta Belleville. Word is Fester’s got them on payroll too.”
Sal slides a fresh round of beers onto the table, his one eye narrowing as he leans in. “He’s untouchable. Everyone knows it. You can’t fight Fester Boyle and win. Not unless you’ve got an army or something.”
I take a sip of my whiskey, the burn sharp and familiar. “I don’t need an army. Just information.”
Jake snorts, tossing a cleaned bone onto the plate. “Good luck, man. Fester’s got eyes and ears everywhere. You start poking around, he’ll know. And when he knows, people disappear.”
Mike leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But you’re not wrong about one thing—there’s a lot of people who hate him. Everyone in this town’s been screwed over by Fester and his crew, the Mean Street Posse. They bleed us dry, but what can we do? He’s got the law on his side.”
Sal crosses his arms, his gaze steady. “There’s a meth lab, just outside of town. Abandoned factory. MSP runs it. That’s where they cook their product. If you’re serious about taking Fester down, that’s where you start.”
I raise an eyebrow, setting my glass down. “You’re giving me a lot of information for a guy who just told me Fester’s untouchable.”
Sal shrugs, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “Like I said, everyone’s been hurt by him. If you’ve got the guts to take him on, I’ll point you in the right direction. Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes sideways.”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. I peel off a few bills, sliding them across the table. “For your trouble.”
Sal shakes his head, pushing the money back toward me. “Keep it. If you’re serious about taking Fester down, that’s payment enough. Just don’t mess it up.”
I pocket the cash, standing up from the table. My shadow looms over the three of them, their expressions a mix of hope and skepticism. “I don’t mess things up, but if I do, Fester won’t be the only one who knows about it.”
They exchange glances, but no one says anything as I turn and head for the door. The night air is crisp as I step outside, the sound of the bar fading behind me. I glance toward the abandoned factory on the edge of town, my jaw tightening. Fester Boyle might think he’s untouchable, but he’s never dealt with someone like me.
And he’s about to find out.