Thanks, Dark Lady
Here's part 4 of the story.
Em Cal's Harley parked across Sunshine Casino. It was large and flamboyant with its neon lights and large neon sun lighting up like a Christmas tree. It was easily the most noticeable casino on the strip.
Stomach full of stuffed pizza and buffalo wings, Em Cal felt good. He walked inside.
He looked around at the people at the slots, at the black jack table and at the craps table. His instinct was telling him to go to the craps table. He walked up to one of the tables.
"I want in on this game." he said
"Sir, are you aware that there's a twenty thousand dollars payout this evening?" asked the boxman.
"Well give me forty thousand dollars in chips," said Em Cal
The boxman gave Em Cal his chips. Em Cal tooked the dice and rolled them. The stickman looked at them.
"Seven!" he shouted. "Pay the line."
Everybody cheered as the stickman handed Em Cal the dice. Em Cal rolled again.
"Eleven!" shouted the stick man
"You're on a roll so far big man," said one of the betters.
"I intend to stay on a roll," Em Cal said.
Em Cal rolled ten consecutive sevens. He rolled the dice for the last time. The dice seemed to roll slowly. They finally stopped. The stickman looked at the dice.
"Seven!" he shouted.
Everybody roared. Em Cal went to cash in his chips.
He had earned nearly two hundred thousand dollars. He put all of of his money in a suitcase and headed home.
As he got on his bike, a voice said. "No so fast. Step right into this alleyway if you know what's best for you."
Em Cal smiled to himself as he got off the bike and walked toward the alley. Three men who all appeared in their mid to late 20s, surrounded Em Cal. One of them had a baseball bat.
"Ya'll think ya'll some real badasses, don't you?" said Em Cal
"Shut up," said the tallest of the three. "We're in charge, not you. Now hand over that suitcase or we'll bash your brains in."
"With pleasure," said Em Cal, his voice full of malice. He gave the suitcase to the leader. He opened the suitcase.
"Damn," he said, "it's got to be over a hundred Gs in here."
"And that's the last you'll ever see of it," said Em Cal. He gave a good hard kick to the leader's head, knocking him down, the suitcase falling out of his hand. The other two went after Em Cal. Em Cal was ready for them. The one with the bat, swung at Em Cal, but Em Cal caught it, wrung it out of his hands and gave him two hard shots to the head and back. The other one took out a switch blade and attempted to stab Em Cal. Em Cal grabbed his wrist and snapped it in half. The man let out a cry of pain. Em Cal grabbed him by the throat and threw him into the wall. He fell to the ground.
The one whom Em Cal kicked got up and wrestled with him for a few seconds. Em Cal kneed him in the gut, pulled out a knife of his own and impaled his chest with it. He pulled the knife out, turned him around and slit his throat. He spat on the body and turned his attention to the one with the broken wrist. He was crouched against the wall, holding it, moaning in pain. Em Cal grabbed him up and stabbed him repeatedly with the knife until he was no more.
The one Em Cal had hit with the bat was slumped against a trash can. Em Cal pulled out a .460 S&W. He walked slowly toward the punk and aimed. He was about to pull the trigger. The punk looked and became hysterical.
"Christ, man," he pleaded pathetically. "Don't kill me man, please!"
"You try to rob me and you think I should let you live?" Em Cal said, rage permeating throughout his body. He had a violent gleam in his eye. The gleam he got just before he killed. "Give me one good reason why I should let you live you piece of shit! You've got twenty seconds. You better talk fast."
"I'm good with rumors." said the punk. "Anything that happens in this city, I know about it. I can get you any piece of information you need."
Em Cal contemplated it; This kid could be valuable to him. He lowered his gun.
"Alright you bastard." he said. "You proved your point. Get your sorry ass up."
The punk obediently got to his feet.
"Now here's the deal," Em Cal started, "I'm going to let you live. Under one condition."
"And what's that one condition?" asked the punk.
"You report to me and nobody else." said Em Cal. "You hear something on the streets, you tell me and nobdoy else. Got that?"
The punk didn't look to happy about the idea, but seeing how Em Cal had just killed his friends with such ease, he wasn't in a postion to argue."
"Okay, I got it," he muttered finally.
"Good," said Em Cal. "Now I need two pieces of information from you."
"Okay," said the punk. "What?"
"What's your name first off?" Em Cal asked.
"Saviero DiSanto." said the punk. "But everybody knows me as S.D."
"Okay, S.D.," said Em Cal. "Now I need to know where you live. I need to keep a tab on your ass incase you get out of line."
"I live at 636 North Kush Street," muttered S.D.
"Got it," said Em Cal. "Now I'm going to tell you who I am. The name's Em Cal."
S.D.'s eyes widened.
Em Cal?" he said. "Holy shit! If I'd know who you were, my friends and I would have never tried to rob you."
"Yeah, well you did," said Em Cal. "And look where it got you and your friends. Make wiser choices in the future boy. Now I'm going to leave you to mourn. I'll catch you later....S.D."
He picked up his suitcase and walked out the alleyway.
The next day, Em Cal went grocery shopping. Then he went to the gym and hit on the bag for a little while. After that he headed to the Ragin' Greek for a couple of gyros. He checked his Blackberry for any messages. He had a text message from Paul L. It read. "V.K. wants to meet with the both of us. He said to meet him at Paddy's".
Wondering what it could be about , Em Cal got on the Harley and headed to Paddy's.
V.K. McMahon and Paul L. were there, talking lowly. McMahon looked up and smiled.
"There you are," he said. "I've got a favor I want you two to do for me."
"Okay, what's the favor?" Em Cal asked.
"Javier Batista is a client from Costa Rica." said McMahon "He wants to buy some of my product. I'm sending you two to make the deal with him."
He put the briefcase on the table and slide it to Em Cal.
"He wants us to meet him on the dock at Sundance Bay at five o'clock." said Paul L
"Alright," Em Cal said. "I'm in."
"I knew you'd say that," said McMahon. "Best of luck, gentlemen,"
Em Cal and Paul L. left Paddy's. They both got in Paul L.'s 'Vette.
How was dinner with the wife?" Em Cal asked.
"Great," said Paul L. as he started up the car. "We went to a Thai restaurant. Their pineapple fried rice is to die for. How was the casino?"
"I won nearly two hundred thousand dollars at the craps table." Em Cal said. "Some dumbass punks tried to rob me. I showed them who the man was."
"Way to go," said Paul L. "Wish I'd been there to help you take them out."
"It was four fifty-five when they reached the dock. The two men go out and waited. A few moments later a helicopter showed up. It slowly began to descend. When the helicopter landed, a man came out from the passenger's side. He was tall and dusky with a good build that hid under the expensive white suit that who wore. His hair was thinning.
," said JavietrBatista. "Where's Señor
"He couldn't make it," said Em Cal. "So he sent us. We work for him."
"I see," said Javier. "Nice to meet you both."
"Likewise," said Em Cal.
"So, shall we get down to business?" Paul L. asked.
." said Javier. "Show me what you got."
Em Cal got out the briefcase and opened it.
"100% pure Grade A Columbian." he said.
," said Javier, impressed.
"Yep," said Em Cal. "So do you have the green?"
Javier opened his briefcase
"Twenties and fifties, used." he said.
"Looks like we got a deal, hombre
." Em Cal said.
As soon as they exchanged suitcases, shots rang out. Paul L fell to the ground, a bullet wound in his chest. Javier got hit in the shoulder. Em Cal wheeled around. Several masked men armed with assault rifles, were coming at Em Cal. Em Cal pulled out a silenced MP5. Everything else had been wiped out of his brain. The kill button was on and it was jammed. He pulled the trigger and obliterated every last one of the masked men. After they were all on the ground dead, Em Cal ran to Paul L and kneeled down next to him. He felt Paul L.'s pulse. There was none.
"Dammit," he said. "Dammit to hell."
He went to check on Javier. He was clutching his injured shoulder.
"You better get out of here." Em Cal said. He handed him the suitcase full of drugs. Javier thanked him and walked back to the helicopter. When the helicopter was out of sight, Em Cal went back to Paul L and lifted his body up and put it in the passenger seat of the 'Vette. Then, he went back for the suitcase full of money, and threw it in the back seat.
He got back to Paddy's. He lifted Paul L. once more and carried him to the door.
V.K. McMahon and the rest of MCS were there. When McMahon saw Em Cal carrying Paul L., he did a double take.
"What happened to him?" he asked.
"Some masked men tried to ambush the deal." said Em Cal. "I killed them, but not before they shot Paul."
McMahon fell to the floor on his knees, shaking.
"Jesus," he said. "Not my son-in-law. Not my son-in-law.
Em Cal hated to see McMahon that way. The man was the number one crime boss in Titan City, he was tough. Seeing him break down like that was hard to watch.
After the M.E. took Paul L.'s body, em Cal left Paddy's and went to his favorite bar, the Se7en Spades. He sat at his favorite stool. The owner, Jack was a big rangy man with long chocolate brown hair and gray eyes.
"Hey brother," he greeted Em Cal, "Long time no see."
"Yeah, I've been busy," said Em Cal.
"So what brings you here?" asked Jack.
"Friend of mine got killed," said Em Cal. "Right in front of me."
"Holy shit," said Jack. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah," said Em Cal. "He had a wife and three kids. I don't know what they're going to do without him."
"You need a drink brother," said Jack. "Will it be the usual?"
"Not this time," said Em Cal. "I need something stronger."
"How about some Everclear?" said Jack
"Yeah," said Em Cal, "that'll do."
Em Cal sank shot after shot. He thought about all the good times he and Paul L. had. Things were never going to be the same again.
It was closing time. Em Cal was so sauced, he could barely stand. He called a cab to get him home. He wouldn't be able to take the stairs, so he took the elevator. When he reached his apartment, he went into his bedroom and passed out.
Em Cal, V.K. McMahon and MCS attended Paul L.'s funeral. As the rain poured, and as McMahon said the eulogy, an incandescent rage was burning inside Em Cal's chest. He had a mission to do.
After the service was over, Em Cal walked over to Stephanie, Paul L.'s wife. She held one of Paul L's daughters in her arms. Tears were falling down her face.
"Stephanie," Em Cal started, "I can only imagine what you're going through. I don't have many friends, but your husband was one of those people I considered to be a friend. I promise you, Stephanie, I'm going to find the bastards who are responsible for this. And come hell or high water, i'm going to annihilate them."
He hugged Stephanie. Then, he got on his Harley and drove away, heading to Diamondback Desert for a long ride.