Page 11
“You’re welcome.” Sydney nodded. “Most of the people more useless than you have already been killed though, so if I were you, I wouldn’t get too comfortable around here unless you smarten up a little.
” He clapped him on the back, in an act that was probably meant to be reassuring but was delivered hard enough to cause posterior rib fractures.
“See? See how much easier it is to get along with me when you’re not acting like a complete douchebag? ”
“This has been very illuminating.” Oz intoned emotionlessly. “Can you please go somewhere else now?”
“Nope.‘Fraid not.See…”
“I don’t care.” Oz cut him off. He pointed towards the ICU doors. “Right now, all I care about is Miss Quentin .”
“That bitch is tough as nails.” Poacher informed him with authority. “She’ll pull through.”
“Are you a doctor now?”
“No, but I’ve thrown plenty of people off of roofs, so I have some experience in this field.” Poacher considered that for a beat. “In fact, I’m kinda an expert .” He tossed his tennis ball against the wall again. “Believe me, someone throws Mull off a roof, I know exactly how…”
“What?” Oz interrupted him again. “What was that?”
“I said: ‘I’m an expert on…’”
“No, not that.” Oz’s mind whirled and the fog which had been clogging his thoughts all night cleared in an instant. “Someone threw her!?!”
“Well… yeah.” Poacher sounded confused. “Didn’t we tell you that? Figured it was kinda obvious. No way would she ever slip or take a header off the roof on her own, man. She’s too good at… ”
“Who?” Oz bit out, his hands forming fists.
Poacher shrugged. “Dunno him. Rumor is it’s some norm crime bigwig. Monty says his name is ‘Mercygiver’? They apparently know each other and…”
That was all Oz needed to hear.
He got to his feet and stalked down the hall, growing angrier with each step. All his life he’d had an explosive temper, boiling beneath the surface. He worked hard to keep it in check. Hold back the smoldering darkness which everyone saw in him. But right now, he didn’t care.
Let it burn .
“Uh, Oz?” Poacher hurried after him worriedly. “Where are we going? You got the ‘badass killer’ walk goin’ on and if we’re gonna go killin’ someone, I’d like to know before the shooting starts. It’ll help to avoid any misunderstandings , ya know?”
Oz ignored him, prowling through the nearly empty hospital in search of his quarry.
Most of the Consortium was currently in the field, allegedly “looking for clues,” which Oz suspected involved taking naps, playing skeeball, and getting into pointless arguments with each other about game show results.
His coworkers were idiots .
He rounded the corner of the hallway and spotted the man he was looking for.
Standing near the nurses’ station stood the head of the Consortium’s Purchasing and Production Department, Montgomery Tarkington Welles, AKA “Robber Baron.” The man was dressed as a nineteenth century industrialist, right down to the top hat.
…A hat which good manners would say he had to remove once inside this building, but which Monty continued to wear because he was an evil son of a bitch who didn’t care at all about good manners.
An evil son of a bitch who was apparently friends with the evil son of a bitch who’d thrown Natalie off a roof, and as soon as Oz got his hands on him, that motherfucker was dead!
Monty turned to look at him as Oz prowled forward. “Ah, Mr. Dimico. Is there any news? Should I tell my workers to begin wearing their black armbands or…”
Oz covered the distance between them in an instant, and the man’s smug expression changed to one of utter confusion. He looked downright shocked as Oz grabbed the asshole by the front of his stupid goddamn coat and slammed him up against the wall.
“ Talk! ” Oz shouted into his face as the man’s feet dangled in the air. “ Where is he!?! ”
Monty’s expression returned to its normal smug calmness, bordering on amusement. “Of whom do we speak?”
“Mercygiver!” Oz spat out. “You’re going to tell me where he is, right fucking now!”
Beside them, the hulking form of Monty’s zombie Viking bodyguard, Draugr, reacted instantly. She was several inches taller than Oz and far stronger. She grabbed him by the back of his shirt, putting the blade of her large Dane ax under his chin, preparing to behead him.
The woman was mean and strong and already dead.
And Oz ignored her completely, remaining focused on Monty.
The other man pretended not to understand how bad this situation was about to get. “I fail to see what would be in that for me.”
“How about this: you tell me or I’ll kill you right here.” He met the man’s one good eye. “And you know I can do it.”
“Yes.” A slow smile crossed Monty’s scarred face.
“Yes, I know exactly what you’re capable of, Mr. Dimico.
” He peered at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Hello, Oswald.” His smile grew wider. “It’s nice to finally meet you.
I knew you were in there somewhere. I told the others as much when they voted to allow you into our organization, but they didn’t believe me. ”
“Are you going to tell me or am I going to kill you right here?”
“How about a counteroffer ?” Monty sounded utterly unimpressed by Oz’s threat. “I will tell you what you want to know, if you do a… small favor for me in the future? Nothing major. Just vote with me on…”
“Fine.” Oz agreed immediately. It would be quicker than killing him and digging through his pockets for clues. “I don’t care.”
“ Splendid .”
“Hey!” Poacher bellowed, shouldering his way into the scene.
“What the fuck is this!?!” He pushed at Draugr, trying to knock the woman off of Oz.
“Best put your dog on a leash , Monty.” Poacher growled, pressing the twin barrels of his elephant gun under Draugr’s chin. “Unless you want me to put it down .”
The zombie woman’s creepy glowing eyes narrowed in animalistic rage and she bared her teeth in a snarl.
Poacher rolled his eyes. “ Anywhere, anytime , anyhow, sister. You name it and I’ll fucking be there. ” His voice lowered. “But if you don’t take your hands off my boy there, you’re going to die right here .”
“How about you, Mr. Voldar?” Came a voice behind them. “Where do you want to die? ”
They turned to see Monty’s other constant companion, Higgins.
In recent weeks, Monty’s ever-faithful lackey had taken to wearing a pearl handled Colt revolver at his waist. Oz wasn’t entirely sure why, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t good.
No longer content to dwell mysteriously in the basement, the Purchasing and Production Department was growing increasingly militant and involved in more and more Consortium activities of late.
Ordinarily, Oz would be concerned about that. He’d be gathering information on what they could be planning and holding conferences with Wyatt on the options the company had to counter Monty’s men and their undoubtedly evil schemes.
At the moment though, Oz didn’t care.
Hate was flowing through his veins like fire, and he certainly wasn’t going to back down.
“Kindly back away from my employer and Hildy.” Higgins cocked the gun. “Please.”
Poacher eyed the man, looking unimpressed. His hand ever so slowly moved towards the knife at his waist.
“Don’t.”Higgins warned.
“I assure you, Higgins is quite good with that weapon.” Monty chimed in.
“In fact, the way this deck is currently stacked, it looks as though he’ll be the only one walking out of this hallway tonight.
” He glanced at his lackey. “Higgins? I’d prefer donations to the ‘Montgomery Welles Memorial Fund’ in lieu of flowers at my funeral. ”
“You have a memorial fund?” Poacher asked.
“Of course.” Monty thought about it for a moment. “I’d like it to be granite.” He decided. “Perhaps me on horseback, if that’s not too clichéd.”
Poacher laughed as he inspected the scene and the deadly weapons displayed. “Okay, how about we get this shit going . On three … ”
Draugr and Higgins didn’t seem at all phased by that idea, Monty continued smirking like he’d just won the lottery, and Oz was too far gone to care about the possibility of being decapitated by a zombie.
“One.” Poacher readied his weapons. “ Two …”
“What the hell is going on here!?!” Wyatt’s voice boomed through the room. “ Why is your zombie attacking Oz, Welles!?! ” He demanded, paying no attention to the fact that Oz had his forearm against Monty’s neck, preparing to kill him.
“Dammit.” Poacher made a face. “Leave it to Wyatt to spoil the fun.”
J. Wyatt Ferral was in de facto control of the Consortium of Chaos, since the man had married its founder’s daughter, Harlot.
He was one of the few people in the organization who could maintain even semi-order among the team’s startlingly violent, entirely unpredictable, and ominously insane work force.
Oz didn’t have a huge problem with Wyatt, but that didn’t mean they were best friends either.
Honestly, Oz thought Wyatt’s idea about the group being able to achieve something was basically delusional.
He was willing to go along with it, but Oz understood that he’d have to do most of the heavy lifting in the “heroism” department.
On a pessimistic level, Oz suspected that the man knew it was all a lost cause, but that Wyatt was too in love with his wife to admit it.
Wyatt would get himself killed, trying to bring order to the chaos.
Wyatt was an idiot too, honestly. He just hid it better behind inspirational speeches and lectures.
Monty pushed Oz back and straightened his suit. “Miss Stoneblood and Higgins were just explaining to Mr. Dimico about the importance of friendship .” He smirked. “The man who has the most friends, wins the fight.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11 (Reading here)
- Page 12
- Page 13
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- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
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