Highway To Armageddon (41 page)

           
Winston and Bob lead us to the rear of our roof. Eight people are gathered
around a table, smoking cigars and watching holographic TV screens floating
over their heads.

           
Igor is plainly visible in the center of the small group. He’s sipping a glass
of vodka, gazing up at the security footage of his casino while his minions
ramble on about something or other. They’re speaking Russian, so it’s hard for
me to decipher what they’re saying. I am somewhat fluent in Russian, but only
if it’s spoken slowly.

           
Igor appears to be in his early 50s. He looks worn and rugged, with stringy
black hair, a grey-speckled goatee, and pock-marked skin lined with scars. (It
seems every Russian mobster has scars.) The most distinctive thing about him is
the gleaming gold chain dangling from his neck. At the end of the chain is a
gorgeous purple dragon with rubies for eyes. There must be some sort of light
mechanism inside the dragon because every few seconds its mouth glows red, as
if it’s about to hurl a fireball. Igor also has gold rings adorned with
diamonds, rubies, and sapphires on all of his fingers, and his loose-fitting
shirt is made of pure silk. Igor certainly has no qualms about flaunting his incredible
wealth.

           
I glance at Igor’s inner circle, sizing everyone up, trying to determine who
may be a threat. Two of Igor’s gangbangers are guards with shades and black
suits, like Bob and Winston. They could cause some trouble, but we should easily
be able to incapacitate them if it becomes necessary. Two scantily-clad girls
are perched on Igor’s lap, running their hands through his chest hair. They
won’t be much of a problem, either.

           
The remaining three gangbangers, however, kind of freak me out. The two guys
are big and muscular, with long black hair and beards that go down to their
chests. They remind me of grizzly bears. And their partner is a massive woman
with curly red hair. She looks like she could break some bones with her rugged,
calloused hands.

           
Bob marches up to Igor and says, “Hey Boss, Winston and I brought you some new
wannabe gangsters. They seem pretty promising.”

           
Igor and his cronies look over at us. Igor grins, revealing several gold teeth.

           
“Ah, well done, Comrade. You brought me exactly what I asked for. Young,
attractive, strong-looking applicants. Well done indeed.”

           
Bob and Winston smile. They seem pretty proud of themselves.

           
Igor groggily stands up. He sways back and forth, an indication that he’s had a
bit too much to drink. Our plan to come during the witching hour appears to
have been a wise one.

           
Igor staggers over to me and wraps a few strands of my hair around his index
finger. The stench of vodka and bratwurst wafts over me.

           
“Yes, you and your friends look like precisely the type of recruits I urgently
require. The question, of course, is whether or not your appearances are
deceiving.”

           
Igor snatches my goggles and hands them to Winston. I instinctively reach for
them, but Igor grips my wrist.

           
“We’ll give your goggles back after the initiation, my dear. We can’t risk you
recording our
questionable
activities and showing them to the feds.”

           
The muscular, bearded Ruskies and the bulging woman with the red hair wobble
over to Lance and Arrow and grab their goggles as well.

           
Igor and his monstrous, inebriated henchmen proceed to frisk us even more
thoroughly than Bob and Winston. They’re also way rougher. Igor pinches and
prods almost every inch of my body. At first I don’t know what the hell he’s
doing, but I eventually figure out he’s seeing how fit and muscular I am,
making sure I’m not soft and pudgy.

           
Igor also checks for weapons. Unlike Bob and Winston, he finds my blades.
Igor’s henchmen check out Lance and Arrow, but they don’t find anything.

           
Igor and his goons proceed to yank on our hair.

           
“Ouch!” I shout, slapping Igor’s hand. “What the hell is that for?”

           
Instead of being angry I hit him, Igor chuckles. “Ah, you are a feisty one. I’m
liking you more and more all the time. And I apologize for the hair pulling.
We’re just making sure it’s not a wig. You’d be amazed at how many spies try to
infiltrate our ranks. Why, just last week we had to mercilessly slaughter a
group of teens we determined to be government agents.”

           
I gulp and ask. “How did you determine they were agents?”

           
“Their hair came off when we yanked on it,” Igor replies casually.

           
“And they had fake tattoos,” the curly-haired woman says as she continues
tugging on poor Lance’s hair. “Not to mention body armor!”

           
I’m
so
glad Machete convinced us to ditch our armor and go with real
tats.

           
“Thanks for reminding me to check the tats, Norma.” Igor grabs my arm and
starts rubbing his hand over my dragon tattoo. I try to wrench free, but he’s
too strong. He stops chafing my skin a few seconds later.

           
“Yep, it’s real,” Igor proclaims.

           
“The boy’s tat is legit as well,” Norma says, releasing Lance’s arm.

           
“What about the Indian boy?” Igor asks his other two henchmen.

           
“He’s good,” the slightly-shorter man says.

           
The slightly taller goon slaps his shorter partner on the back. “Fred’s right,
boss. These kids are the real deal.”

           
“Don’t touch me, Frank,” Fred snaps.

           
So the curly-haired woman is Norma, the shorter goon is Fred, and the taller
one is Frank. If I’m going to pretend to be a Russian gangster, I might as well
learn the names of my ‘comrades’.

           
 Igor steps back and his smile fades away. His face is now deadly serious.

           
“Now that the physical inspection is complete, it’s time for phase 2: the
interrogation.”

           
Igor narrows his eyes and says, “
Почему
вы хотите
присоединиться
к Пурпурные
Драконы
?”

           
I blink several times. I know Russian, but it has to be spoken slowly and
clearly enunciated in order for me to comprehend it. I glance at Arrow and
Lance. They look equally perplexed.

           
I take a deep breath and say, “
Простите,
товарищ, но
мой слух не
так уж и велик.
Не могли бы
вы повторить
вопрос,
медленно и
четко?
”

           
Basically what I said was,
‘I’m sorry, Comrade, but my hearing is not all
that great. Can you please repeat the question, slowly and clearly?’

           
Igor’s
eyes light up when he discovers I speak his native tongue. I may have just
saved our hides; Igor’s goons have just removed their hands from their gun
holsters.

           
Igor slowly replies, “
Но,
конечно же,
моя дорогая.
Я просто спросил,
почему вы
хотите быть
фиолетовый
дракон?
”

           
My frantically beating heart slows down. I actually comprehend the question! He
wants to know why I want to be a Purple Dragon. Easy enough.

           
“
Потому
что мы
ненавидим
китайских,
товарищ. Мы
хотим, чтобы
китайский
утонуть в
море крови
.”

           
What I tried to say was,
“Because we hate the Chinese, Comrade. We want them
to drown in a sea of blood,”
but I’m not entirely certain I got the
translation right until Igor bursts out laughing. Norma and the rest of the
cronies laugh, too.

           
“Excellent response!” Igor proclaims in English. “Most excellent!”

           
Norma points at me. “I like this one, Igor. I like her a lot.”

           
Lance and Arrow laugh uneasily. They have no clue what I said, but they’re
smart enough to know it kept our undercover operation from being blown wide
open.

           
Igor turns to Lance and asks him the same question he asked me, in Russian.
Why
do you wish to join the Purple Dragons?

           
Lance stares at Igor blankly and utters, “Huh?”

           
Igor and the others laugh. I laugh, too, and gently touch Igor’s shoulder. His
eyes light up when he sees how ‘touchy-feely’ I am.

           
Switching back to English, I say, “Pay the boys no mind, darling. They never
bothered to master the language of our Homeland. Too busy playing video games.”

           
Igor continues chuckling. Lance and Arrow give me dirty glances for implying
they’re not as bright as I am, but they keep quiet so I can continue weaving my
web of lies and deceit. I’m like a black widow, wooing my prospective mate
before decapitating him with one lethal, traitorous blow.

           
Igor wraps his right arm around my waist. “I’m okay with your male companions
not being as well-read as you, my dear. They appear fit and strong, that’s all
that matters. They will make terrific drug and arms smugglers.”

           
Igor goes on to inquire what our names are. I tell him I’m Ruby, Arrow
introduces himself as Arkady, and Lance grudgingly says his name is Vladimir.
Igor grins and says our parents were very wise giving us such excellent Russian
names. He then asks about our families, where we came from and that kind of
stuff. I tell him my parents grew up in Russia and my father worked for the
resistance. One day the Chinese killed him in a firefight, so my mother
smuggled me and my siblings onto a ship bound for America. We eventually landed
in Alaska and tried to rebuild our lives. Unfortunately my entire family
succumbed to one of the many influenza outbreaks we seem to suffer every year,
and I was forced to spend several years of my youth on the streets. I
eventually hooked up with Arkady and Vladimir, who were also street urchins,
and we sort of became a family. I told Arkady and Vladimir all about the evils
of China, and over the years they have grown to hate the Chinese as much as I
do. I finish by saying we were inspired to join Igor’s gang after Klaxton
placed a bounty on Rasputin’s head. We want to do everything we can to keep our
‘Savior’ safe from the Chinese savages.

           
Igor actually tears up near the end of my elaborate ruse. He sniffles and says,
“Your story has moved me beyond words. I would be honored to take you on as
foot soldiers in our war against Chinese Imperialism.”

           
“So does that mean we get to join your gang?” I ask a little too eagerly. I’m
astonished at how easy this has been.

           
“Not quire,” Igor says with a twinkle in his eyes. “Although I appreciate your
enthusiasm, and you are undoubtedly smart, charismatic, and stunningly
beautiful, I still must regretfully request you move on to our third, and
second most difficult, initiation process. We call this the
toughness
test.”

           
“The toughness test?” Arrow says.

           
“Yes. To see how tough you are,” Igor says, deadpan.

           
“Thanks for clearing that up,” I say sarcastically.

           
“No problem,” Igor chortles. He steps back and gestures toward Norma, Fred, and
Frank, who grin and crack their knuckles.

           
“You will engage in a friendly bawl with my three most formidable minions.
There are no rules, just that you last more than five minutes. The contest
begins…
now
.”

           
Igor hurries back over to his seat, where his female companions plop down on
his lap and go back to rubbing his hairy chest. Bob, Winston, and the other
guards walk over to Igor to enjoy the show.

           
Lance and Arrow rush over to my side as Norma and her fellow stooges stagger
toward us, chuckling as they contemplate the various ways they will pound us to
a pulp.

           
“C’mon guys, this shouldn’t be too hard,” Arrow says, jumping around like he’s
a boxer. “We took on a mob of cowboys and Neo-Nazis, remember? And these morons
are drunk! Piece of cake.”

           
Arrow runs up to Fred, the slightly shorter guy, and punches him in the face.
Fred simply smiles, as if the blow didn’t faze him at all. He punches Arrow in
the gut, sending him to his knees.

           
“My God, I think he ruptured my spleen,” Arrow gasps.

           
I’m horrified, but Lance laughs. “Serves him right for being so over-confident.
Tell your lover- boy to watch and learn.”

           
Lance rushes up to Frank, the taller dude, and bobs and weaves as if he, too,
were a boxer.

           
“C’mon, ugly, give me your best shot,” Lance taunts.

           
‘Ugly’ responds by grabbing Lance around his neck and lifting him over his
head.

           
“Whoa, can we talk about this?” Lance cries, flailing his arms and legs.

           
“Happy landings, chump,” Frank cackles as he tosses Lance like a sack of flour.

           
Lance hurtles all the way across the roof before landing on top of the table in
front of Igor and his cronies. Lance slides off the table and crumples to the
roof. Several bottles of vodka crash on top of him. Normally I wouldn’t be too
concerned about Lance crashing through a table, because normally he’s protected
by armor. But all he’s wearing now is a leather jacket. He’s got to be hurting.

           
“Frank, you spilled our drinks!” Igor hollers.

           
“Sorry boss, won’t happen again,” Frank grumbles as he marches over to Lance,
who is struggling to push himself up.

           
I’m about to rush over to help him, but Norma steps in front of me. She cracks
her knuckles so loud I almost think she broke her fingers.

           
“Where do you think you’re going, girly? I know I said I like you, but that
doesn’t mean I won’t bust your face in. Then you’ll look like me! We can be
twin sisters!”

           
I swing my right leg at Norma’s head. I never make contact because she grabs my
ankle and twists it. I cry out in pain and swing my fist at her face. There’s a
sickening crunching sound, followed by blood gushing out of her nostrils. Norma
grins like a sadistic lunatic as the blood trickles over her yellow teeth.

           
“You really are something else, Ruby. I sure hope you somehow beat us because I
really wanna work with ya!”

           
Norma releases her grip on my ankle and grabs me by the hair. She then tosses
me halfway across the roof, ripping out a handful of my hair in the process.

           
I land on my back… hard. Without my armor blunting the impact it feels like
someone pounded my spine with a sledgehammer. I try to breathe, but all the
wind is knocked out of me. I feel like I’m suffocating.

           
Just when I finally get some air back in my lungs, Norma’s bleeding face hovers
over me.

           
“Miss me?” she cackles.

           
I throw a punch and miss by a mile. Normal lifts me over her head and hurls me
toward the edge of the roof.

           
For a second I fear I’m going to fly over the edge, but I do finally land back
on the roof. I bounce once and come to a rest at the ledge. That was close… too
close.

           
I groggily push myself up just as Arrow lands a few feet away from me. I watch
in horror as he takes a huge bounce and goes
over
the ledge.

           
“Arrow!”

           
I scramble to the ledge and practically heave half my body over the side of the
skyscraper. Tears of joy spill down my cheeks when I find Arrow dangling from
the roof. His hands are clutching the ledge so hard that his knuckles have
turned white. I can barely see his eyes through his whipping mass of black
hair, but I can tell they’re wide with fear.

           
“A little help, Red?” he grunts.

           
“Hang on, I’ve got you!” I grab his right wrist with both hands and prop my
feet up against the ledge.

           
“Try pulling yourself up,” I grunt, pulling with all my strength. It doesn’t
help that the gusting wind is trying to suck me off the roof.

           
I just begin to make progress when a pair of meaty, clammy hands wrap around my
neck and lift me into the sky. I don’t have to see her face to know it’s Norma.
I can smell her cheap perfume.

           
“How cute, you went to save your Indian lover-boy,” Norma cackles as she
tightens her grip, cutting off my air supply. “Unfortunately,
cute
doesn’t cut it with the Purple Dragons. We can’t be having you compromise our
missions by trying to save your lover-boy every time he gets in trouble. You
gotta learn to leave your friends behind for the good of the mission.”

           
By now my vision has become blurred. The sky looks darker than it did before.
That’s when I realize I’m blacking out. I frantically claw at Norman’s hands,
but it’s no use. She’s far too strong for me to pry myself free, way too
vicious to show mercy. I just can’t believe after everything we’ve gone
through, we’re about to go down like this.

           
Just when I’m about to fade away, I slip through Norma’s grasp and crash to the
roof. I spin around to find Norma soaked in vodka. A shattered bottle lies at
her feet. Lance is behind her, preparing to hurl another bottle.